#might set that up live or do it before I send the link out

[itsmuffiiee]

Heyy guys! I’m currently making some more doodles of all the amazing art people submitted—

Just want to remind people I will be doing a magma as well! No design needed to join just come by and hang out ::D I’ll be active a little the first day than be fully active the 30th and the 3rd! Feel free to join whatever day is most convenient for you!

Rules for the magma:

Don’t draw over people, be respectful!

Merge your layers when finished

Keep things silly! No gore, no horror, no nsfw

most importantly have fun! everyone and anyone is welcome! I just wanna draw and spend time with people ^^ you can draw DCA or any media you like ( just uh,,, no transformers ) you are especially encouraged to draw your sona! I’ll reblog this with the link tomorrow!!

[venus-haze]

Sick as a Dog (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Day 25 - Underwear stealing/sniffing. Soldier Boy is America's first superhero. The greatest man who ever lived. Larger than life itself. A sleazy chauvinist who's getting off on your panties in a motel bathroom. [AO3 link]

Note: Written for @cozycornerevents Kinktober! Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I think this is my first Soldier Boy fic set in modern day…anyway it was fun writing mean and gross Soldier Boy🤭

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Soldier Boy-typical misogyny. Sexually explicit content involving masturbation, panty stealing/sniffing, degradation, voyeurism.

You couldn’t relax around Soldier Boy, not when Butcher and Hughie left you alone with him in that damn motel room. It was almost impossible to focus on the TV with him so blatantly eyeing you like a piece of meat. Tried to do the arm-over-the-shoulder move so he could grope your breast, and called you a prude under his breath when you scooted further down the couch. 

Sure, he was attractive, but you weren’t about to mix business with pleasure—especially not with a guy who, when introduced to you, asked Butcher if they only kept you around as “stress relief,” as if you weren’t even standing in front of him. Maybe you should have gone with MM and Annie after all.

“I gotta use the can,” he grumbled, scratching his crotch before standing up from the couch.

The tension slowly released from your body the further away he got from you. Picking up your phone from the coffee table, you saw a missed text from Hughie: Sorry to leave you on supe-sitting duty. Everything good?

You sighed, your thumbs hovering over the keys before sending back: Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle.

Threw in an emoji at the end so he wouldn’t feel too bad. It was kind of your own fault, anyway. You decided to go along with Butcher and Hughie because part of you still naively believed in Soldier Boy’s heroism, his authenticity. And then you actually met him. Heard the shockingly crass way he talked, a relic of a time you had no interest in reliving.

You were just about to text Annie when you heard it.

A name. Your name. Low and gruff and mean coming from his mouth.

Putting your phone down, you glanced in the direction of the bathroom. 

You knew your best option was to just ignore it when you heard him say your name again—turn up the volume on the TV and ignore the way heat flared up between your legs at the grunts he didn’t even try to keep down. Instead, you stood up, your heart beating faster with each step you took. The motel room wasn’t all that big, didn’t take very long at all to get to the bathroom door, look in where he’d left it open a crack. 

Had he been careless? Or did he want you to watch?  

You gaped openly at him, pumping his hard cock with a pair of your used panties bunched up in his hand, sliding it up and down his length. Black, satin with a little bow, it was one of your favorite pairs you brought with you, too, and you weren’t sure how to feel about him having chosen that one to get off with, to ruin. You looked back at your duffel bag, wide open and clearly rifled through. Supposed you were trying too hard not to pay attention to him to pay any mind to his violating your privacy.

“That’s right, take it, you fucking slut,” he growled. “You might not be their stress relief, but you’re gonna be mine.”

How the hell was this the same guy whose PSAs you watched throughout your school years, telling you to pledge allegiance to the flag and say no to drugs? He was sick, hypocritical, a symbol of the worst of American debauchery. Every subsequent word that came out of his mouth was vile, objectifying—should’ve repulsed you instead of going straight to your pussy. Your brain was screaming at you to go back to the couch and pretend you didn’t see anything, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I’ll make sure you can’t fucking walk tomorrow, have to carry you over my shoulder and tell everyone what a slut you are for my cock.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He squeezed his cock harder, his pumps more punishing, frustration radiating off of him as his precum soaked through your ruined panties. Could you even bear to wear them again, knowing all the things he said and did with them bunched up in his hand, picturing you in their place, bent over the motel room sink, or anywhere else he could think of in that deviant mind of his.

“How bad do you want it? C’mon, I wanna hear you beg.”

“Please,” you whispered despite yourself.

“I know you’re out there,” he taunted, startling you. “I can hear you panting like a bitch in heat. Why don’t you come in and give me a hand?”

With a gasp, you found your legs again and ran back to the living area. Fell over yourself to get onto the couch and make the TV louder, anything to drown out the sound of his groans, your name mixed with curses as he came just a few feet away. 

Your face was on fire, and you sat with your hands folded between your legs, trying desperately to ignore the want that had overtaken you while watching him. You were better than that, better than debasing yourself for someone like him. Still, a shiver ran down your spine when you heard a gruff, drawn out “Fuck” over the sound of the stupid Vought A Burger commercial that was on.

The sink ran. Toilet flushed. Your head was pounding when he walked out of the bathroom and back to the couch. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, throwing your panties at you.

The balled up garment landed on your lap, wet and heavy with his cum. With a reluctant, trembling hand, you pushed it onto the floor.

Your voice cracked as you half-heartedly told him, “You’re disgusting.”

He scoffed, his arm draped across the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder. “You should take it as a compliment. There’s plenty of other broads I could’ve jacked off to—Hayworth, Bardot, Fawcett—”

“But none of them had their panties lying around here, did they?”

“No, they didn’t.” He was silent for a moment before breaking into a grin. “I’m gonna get you to fold sooner or later. Then, I’m really gonna make you beg for it.”

“Don’t bet on it,” you mumbled.

[crushmeeren]

♡ Master List Link

♡ Bakugou/ Fem Reader/ Kirishima

♡ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

♡ Warnings; reader is 6 months pregnant, cursing, pussy eating, blowjobs [ M/F — M/M ], vaginal sex

If you were to describe what it’s like to be six months pregnant with Katsuki’s baby, you would use a few key phrases.

1. — You’re in a perpetual cycle of unease and sporadic body aches.

2. — You’re consistently sweating like a whore in church.

3. — Your belly has been stretched to the point it looks as if a watermelon has been shoved inside.

These occur often, the only difference today is how infuriatingly much your lower back has been smarting. The baby’s weight is really starting to take a toll on you.

So you’ve decided it’s in your best interest to set up camp on the large fuzzy couch in your living room. You’re only wearing soft shorts and a large, worn out Red Riot T-shirt and you’ve stockpiled all the cozy blankets in the near vicinity.

It’d been a few hours since you became a couch potato, aimlessly scrolling through your phone and watching various movies or TV shows.

Katsuki’s been occupied playing some video game in the other room. Loudly enough to wake the dead, you might add. Your ears have been assaulted with his furious yelling on and off for the past couple hours.

He’s repeatedly told Todoroki that he’s the “worst player in existence” and to “fuck off and die.” You sincerely hope Todoroki is ribbing him just as much, but knowing the stoic man, he more than likely isn’t.

And much to your chagrin, Eijirou has been out on patrol all day.

Soft orange and yellow light has begun to cast shadows across the living room as the sun sets. You’re barely paying attention to a Tik Tok when your baby starts to poke and prod roughly at your ribs.

The fluttering sensation makes you squirm and sit up ram-rod straight. The sudden movement sends a bright flash of pain radiating throughout your lower back and it punches the breath from your lungs. The partially frantic instinct to call out to the blonde for help leaves your mouth before you can think twice.

“Kastukiiiii,” you whine for him loudly, a pleading lilt to your tone. You shift your weight, making sure to keep your feet perched on the large ottoman in front of you. You wait momentarily but only silence greets you.

“Katsuki!” You shout, mildly irritated. Your eyes widen and you inhale sharply when a tiny foot kicks you. You place a hand there and rub apologetically. Apparently she does not want you to yell. You roll your eyes and think that your daughter is certainly going to have Katsuki’s bad attitude.

“Baby, I heard you! I’m coming — just a second!” Katsuki snaps. You huff, cheeks puffing and burning when your temper flares a bit in response. You breathe deeply, resting both hands on your swollen stomach as the tiny feet continue to try and burst out of your skin like a scene from Alien.

Katsuki’s soft footsteps signal his approach and he rounds the corner into your living room leisurely. He comes to a stop next to your legs and your brows furrow when you gaze up at him with a slight pout. He arches one eyebrow in return and folds his arms over his chest, pointedly saying nothing.

“Kat, baby daddy, can you do the thing please? My back is killing me.”

Despite your discomfort you can’t help but appreciate his slender frame. His black sweats hang low on his hips and he’s fucking shirtless. He rolls his eyes when he catches you but wears a smug smirk nonetheless.

“Can your dramatic ass wait five minutes while I finish this round of my game? I’m obliterating Icy Hot.” His grin turns a bit feral and he cocks hip to one side, resting a hand there.

You protest accordingly and push your lower lip out.

“That’s too long! Can you do it later? Your baby needs you.” Over exaggerating your movements, you flop back against the couch and run your hands over your baby bump and stare up at him through your lashes. Katsuki snorts.

“It’s five minutes sweetheart. C’mon, Todoroki fucking sucks at this game,” Katsuki says with amusement, absently running a hand through his fluffy spikes of hair.

You press a hand to your forehead as if you might faint.

“You’re the reason I’m like this! The least you can do is help out your pregnant wife.”

“Oi!” He lets out a bark of laughter. “It takes two people to fuck and make a baby, I’m not the only guilty party. Why isn’t Eijirou gettin’ any fuckin’ blame for this huh? He was there too!”

Katsuki complains but it’s with considerable ease that he bends to your whim, shoving the ottoman closer and motioning for you to scoot up so he can get behind you on the couch.

“He’s not home right now,” you mutter childishly, heeding his instructions. The blonde crawls on to the cushions, maneuvering until he slots into the space between you and the backrest. He lets a thigh bracket you on each side and tugs you back into his chest, replying just as petulantly.

“Maybe you should’ve let Ei get you pregnant first then.”

“Oh god,” you start to whine. “Fuck baby, wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad. Blah blah — I’m Katsuki and I’m a giant fucking hypocrite,” you mock in a high pitched, horrific imitation of his voice.

To be fair he did whine those things to you and Eijirou in bed multiple times before you all finally agreed to it. Katsuki sputters behind you and pinches your thigh in retaliation.

“You’re such a fucking terror! I should make you wait until Eijirou gets home,” he growls, pathetic attempt at a threat making you giggle.

His palms are warm when he slips them under your shirt and places them on the underside of your belly, fingers spread. Katsuki delicately presses upwards and you deflate, melting into his chest. The immediate relief of pressure on your lower back makes you moan.

“Yeah, but we both know you won’t,” you reply smugly, hands coming to rest on his. He hums, electing not to respond with words because he knows he’s wrapped around your finger.

Katsuki can deny it all he pleases, but the man loves holding your belly. He’s struck with awe each time he’s lucky enough to feel his daughter kicking. He kisses the back of your head, relaxing into the couch for the time being.

You both turn your attention to the movie you had playing earlier and your eyelids start to flutter. Your chest is gooey and warm, you’re basically a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie in his arms.

Katsuki gets invested in one scene in particular, making snarky comments about the graphics and your daughter apparently recognizes her daddy’s voice, because suddenly she’s playing kick ball again.

Directly into Katsuki’s hands.

“Holy shit!” The blonde jolts, freezing temporarily before pressing the pads of his fingertips into the same spot, attempting to coax her into kicking him again. His heart thumps hard on your back, the heat from his chest bleeding through your shirt.

“She’s been really active today, but she must’ve heard her daddy talking. I think she likes your voice Kat.” You smile softly, adjusting your weight to get more comfortable. “I hope she does the same when Ei gets home, he was sad last time he missed it.” You tip your head back on Katsuki’s shoulder, twisting your neck to get a peak at his face.

“She’s fucking fiesty,” he says with no small amount of pride. She’ll respond to Ei, she loves him.” A tender smile softens his sharp features and your chest cracks with overflowing adoration. Surging forward you brush your lips over his jaw and Katsuki makes a quiet noise of surprise.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum contentedly and Katsuki goes back to holding up your belly.

A familiar vibration pattern breaks the atmosphere and buzzes near your leg. You pick up your phone, taking note that it’s a message from Eijirou and your face lights up.

“Ei messaged that he’s gonna be home soon,” you tell Katsuki eagerly. You can’t help the excitement fluttering in your belly when you think about getting to see the red head soon.

“Bout damn time, my arms are gonna fall off,” he teases, tickling the smooth skin of your belly with calloused thumbs and you laugh.

“Alright dickwad get out from behind me.” Katsuki pokes your ribs in retaliation, ripping a squeal from you and you wiggle in his grip. “You’re lucky I can’t get up quickly right now! I’d kick your ass, you shitty excuse for a bomb!”

Katsuki halts his movements and gasps dramatically in fake offense, squeezing his arms around your shoulders.

“Shitty excuse for a bomb??” He asks incredulously, accidentally chuckling at the end of his sentence. You nod once and he hugs you tight, planting several chaste kisses on your cheek. You laugh delightedly and turn your head briefly to snag his plush lips with your own.

The sound of your front door opening gets you to break apart, both turning your heads to see Eijirou waltz in. The smile he wears is as vibrant as the sun, all his razor edged teeth on display.

“Aww! What a sweet sight to come home too!” Eijirou chirps, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “So cute! All three of my babies snuggling on the couch together,” he coos and strides closer until he’s right by your side.

Eijirou’s dressed in street clothes. He’s got on dark gray sweats, a red tee and a white bandana tied around his head. Per usual, his arms may bust out of the shirt he’s wearing but it’s unbearably hot.

“Get lost on the way home red?” Katsuki taunts. The blonde lets go of your shoulders as you strain to get out of his hold. Katsuki gently pushes you to sit up straight with a supporting hand between your shoulder blades. Eijirou rolls his eyes playfully and shoves the ottoman out of the way to make space for himself between your legs.

“No, I’m actually home earlier than I thought I would be,” he replies, dropping to kneel in front of you. Katsuki takes the opportunity to slip out from behind you and sit next to you instead. You use a lot of willpower to keep a straight face when you speak next.

“Thank God, because apparently Katsuki isn’t strong enough to hold our 5lb baby without his arms falling off.”

You can make out the sound of Katsuki’s teeth grinding together as Eijirou’s bright laughter dances in the air. You’re poking the bear but it’s a breeze to rile up the blonde.

“Is that so?” Eijirou asks, eyes twinkling as he pretends to appear thoughtful when he turns to Katsuki.

“I can hold a fucking five pound baby!” Katsuki snarls harmlessly, yet he throws his hands up in the air. You choke on the swell of laughter that builds in your throat. Eijirou snickers and pushes the red riot T-shirt you’re wearing up to expose your baby bump.

“I know Kat, just teasing,” you placate, sending him your sweetest smile. Eijirou splays his hands on the sides of your belly and you tangle your fingers in his hair.

The blonde scowls but he can’t keep it up for long before he breaks, scoffing with a smile threatening to take over his lips.

“How’s she been today?” Eijirou questions you then, nuzzling his nose over the top of your belly.

“She’s a spitfire.” Katsuki’s chest puffs out a bit.

“So just like her daddy then?” Eijirou teases, brushing his lips over your belly in a sweet kiss. Katsuki’s smirks.

“Hell yeah she is.”

“She’s been moving a lot today Ei, Kat’s just happy she kicked the shit out of him earlier,” you explain, scratching the red head’s scalp. Eijirou hums, tracing the pattern of a heart into your stomach with his thumbs.

“Hi feisty girl, papa Ei is home,” he purrs. “I heard you were trying to kick box with your daddy today. You’re gonna be just like him,” he whispers, the affection effortlessly falling off his tongue. The red head’s eyes flutter closed, resting his forehead against you.

You jerk in surprise when Eijirou’s head suddenly shoots up, narrowly avoiding head butting the shit out of you. He stares at your belly with bright eyes. Your baby just kicked where his forehead had been. He looks up, gaze tracking between you and Katsuki with stars in his eyes as he vibrates with excitement.

“Did you feel that baby? Oh my god! Kat, she heard me!” The red head yells, almost tripping over his words. His cheeks are dusted with a pale pink and your own twinge from smiling so wide. You tug on the soft strands of his hair you have tangled between your fingers.

“Dammit Eijirou,” Katsuki chimes in, crossing his arms. “Stop being so-,” he pauses, looking for the right words. “So fucking cute!” You laugh when the blonde curls his lip, the man’s flushed to the tips of his cute pink ears. A sly expression immediately takes over Eijirou’s face.

He slips your shirt back down and you free his hair from your grip. You meet him halfway when he leans up to give you a chaste kiss.

The red head shuffles on his knees until he’s between Katsuki’s thighs. He leans in, locking his arms around the blonde’s waist and wiggling his eyebrows up at him. Katsuki’s eyes narrow but he places his elbows on Eijirou’s shoulders.

Your toes curl into the plush rug below when the red head smoothes his hands up and down Katsuki’s sides, a shiver wracking through the blonde before Eijirou squishes his face into the others’s chest and hugs him tight.

“Eijirou.” The name spills out of Katsuki breathlessly.

“You’re so sweet Katsuki. I think you’re cute too,” he says, words muffled by a bare chest. Heat crawls up your neck when the blonde tugs Eijirou close and mumbles “I love you,” under his breath. Seeing them like this sets your nerves alight, even with something as simple as hugging.

The moment is picturesque until a pang of hunger rolls around inside you. Placing a hand on the underside of your belly, you worry at your bottom lip. You don’t want to break up the tender scene, but it seems your daughter is hungry.

“I hate to burst the bubble, but our daughter is starving,” you say gently, grinning when they part. Eijirou kisses Katsuki sweetly, making a loud smooching sound when he pulls away. Katsuki makes a disgusted noise and pushes playfully at the red head’s shoulder when they both rise from their spots. “Will you make something Kat?” You ask hopefully.

“I swear you and Eijirou are like bottomless fucking pits,” he grumbles, turning and padding to the kitchen.

He’s not fooling anyone, you all know he loves cooking for you. Especially now that your daughter is almost here. He expresses his love through his food and you all reap the rewards.

You share a smile with Eijirou and the large man flops down onto the couch, trying not to jostle you.

“Thanks Kat!” You call at his retreating back and he throws a hand up over his shoulder in response.

“Sooo, can I hold your belly now?” Eijirou asks impatiently. He doesn’t wait for you answer, maneuvering until he’s lying on the armrest, legs splayed open wide for you.

“You don’t have to ask me twice. She definitely has been missing her papa.” You grab your discarded blanket from the couch, sliding back into his embrace. You pull your blanket up to your chest, covering you both and Eijirou teases his fingers underneath your shirt.

“I love your shirt, pretty girl,” he whispers sweet like honey in your ear, gingerly touch his lips to your throat. The combination sends a warm tingle down your spine. He yanks a tiny shocked moan from you when he bites your shoulder and lifts your belly simultaneously.

“Jesus Eijirou,” you breathe, weaving your fingers together. The simmering warmth pooling in your belly is becoming difficult to ignore. “Are you trying to fuck me on the couch?” You shift back and a half hard cock greets you. Fuck, you’d be a damn liar if you said that didn’t turn you on. His light exhale tickles your neck.

“Maybe,” he says coyly, hitching his hips upwards to rub his cock over your lower back. You pinch his thigh and he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I can’t help it,” Eijirou whines, continuing to lift your belly. “You’re so sweet and so warm like this, I want you.”

“After we eat Ei, I promise. Kat will be up for it,” you murmur, trailing your fingers over his forearm. Eijirou sighs but reluctantly he agrees.

After you ate, it took no time at all for the blonde to usher you and Eijirou into the bedroom.

Since then you’ve been stripped bare, elbows supporting your weight on the short wooden headboard behind you. They ache a bit where the sharp edge digs into the inner joint of it.

Katsuki’s head is caged between your thighs, knees sinking into the memory foam mattress below. His scratchy stubble tickles your skin while he buries his face in your pussy, head shifting from side to side.

You’ve opted to sit reverse cowgirl on his face so you’re privy to the front row view of Eijirou swallowing down Katsuki’s cock like he’s starving.

“Fffuck Kat,” you whine, rolling your hips and gliding your pussy over his plush lips. Katsuki moans, snaking his arms around your thighs and yanking you further down so he can dip the tip of his tongue inside you.

Your head tilts towards the ceiling, eyes fluttering and fingers curling into fists as Kastuki pushes his tongue to your clit, swirling it restlessly. The background is filled with the lewd schlick noise of Eijirou sucking cock.

Katsuki moves his lips from side to side over your clit before once again licking firm strokes and your head snaps back up with a gasp.

You’re starting to squirm, heat pooling in your cheeks as he works you closer to the edge. A prickle of warmth pulses through your pelvis when you lock eyes with Eijirou.

No man should look so pretty with a dick in their mouth. His cheeks are candy apple red and his lips are stretched tight around Katsuki. He seems quite comfortable, snugly fit between the blonde’s thighs and meeting Katsuki thrust for shallow thrust while the blonde leisurely fucks his mouth.

Eijirou sends a wink your way and you’re gawking at him when Katsuki sucks harshly on your clit, wrenching your attention back to his mouth. A let out a yelp and your thighs twitch when he does it once more, demanding your focus stay on him.

Try as you might you’re torn between Katsuki’s warm tongue working you over and the indecent sight of Eijirou.

You’re impatient and desperate to change positions before someone cums too quickly and so you plead for the attention of the man underneath you.

“Katsuki,” you moan, fingers circling his wrists. “Wanna switch baby, please.” He drags his teeth delicately over your clit and your breath stutters in your chest. Katsuki unwinds himself from your legs, pushing against your ass instead of tugging on you and you lift your hips from his face.

Eijirou pulls off with a pop, Katsuki’s thick cock slapping against his lower belly. The red head sits up on his knees, gripping the base of his own neglected desire and pushes back the messy strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Katsuki slips out from under you, sitting between the two of you so you’re able to sit comfortably on your calves.

“Whaddaya want pretty girl? Ei and I will give you whatever you need,” Katsuki purrs, half a smirk tugging at his lips. The red head makes a noise of agreement and waits patiently for your answer. A flush creeps up your neck under the weight of their gaze and you absentmindedly rest a hand on your belly.

“I think I want Ei to position us however he wants. Ya know, since he’s been trying to get us in bed ever since he got home.” You grin playfully at Eijirou when he makes a noise of protest, a pink blush dusting over his cheekbones. Katsuki snickers nearby.

“Oh,” Eijirou breathes, grinning sheepishly and rubbing a hand over his forearm. “Well, I mean — yeah. Yes, totally I can do that.”

Katsuki snorts, waving a vague hand in front of himself when Eijirou takes too long to respond.

“Well? You goin’ to fuckin’ move us around or not?” Katsuki asks rudely. Eijirou ignores him, rolling his jaw a couple times before biting into his bottom lip. You punch Katsuki in the shoulder and give him a pointed look but he just rolls his eyes.

“Okay baby, c’mere please,” he requests warmly, reaching a hand out to you. You comply, gripping his fingers as he helps you shuffle forward on your knees. Once you get to him, he helps you twist until your back faces the edge of the bed.

He holds both hands, slowly reclining you until you’re flat on your back and your head dangles off the edge of the mattress. Your heart rate spikes when you’re slightly suffocated by your baby bump, but it’s comfortable enough for what you’re sure Eijirou has in mind.

“Okay Katsuki, go stand near her head. I want watch you fuck her throat while I’m inside her,” he commands shyly, flush traveling down his chest as he traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He takes his place between your spread thighs. Katsuki starts to heft himself off the bed, closing the distance between you with a few steps.

“Didn’t feel like gettin’ your ass torn up today Eijirou?” Katsuki’s grins with his teeth, cockiness seeping from him.

“Shut up,” Eijirou mumbles, helping you bend your knees and plant your feet. You try to stifle your laughter with a hand over your mouth but it spills out of you despite your best effort.

To be fair, Eijirou does melt into a drooling fucked out mess in the sheets every time he bottoms for the other man.

Katsuki comes to a standstill just in front of your head, reaching down to cradle the back of your skull and force you to look up at him. His flushed cock grazes your cheek and you suck your bottom lip behind your teeth when you finally make eye contact.

“You okay with this sweetheart?” Katsuki’s gaze is intense, the thumb of his free hand swiping over your brow bone. Your throat clicks when you swallow and you nod, fighting the urge to shift your head and kiss his shaft.

“I’ll be fine Kat, if it’s too much I’ll tap your thigh twice.” You reach backwards and secure your arms around the backs of his legs for emphasis.

“So fuckin’ pretty and smart baby girl,” Katsuki coos, voice a rumble in his throat and his praise makes your blood sing. He grips the base of his cock and shifts forward to rub his head over your lips. Your tongue darts out involuntarily to taste him and a salty tang bursts across your taste buds.

“Ei!” You gasp, startling when the red head’s thumb presses into your swollen clit, circling it slowly. You start to squirm and sink your nails into Katsuki’s thighs as your eyes squeeze shut. “C’mon Ei, stop teasing and fuck me.” Eijirou giggles.

“Okay okay. You’re so needy tonight, I love it,” Eijirou gushes. The blunt head of his cock pokes at your clit before sliding down, a steady pressure against your lips before he pushes inside. You cry out sharply, hanging onto Katsuki for dear life while Eijirou’s thick cock stretches you to the max.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. That tight little pussy loves Eijirou, doesn’t she?” Katsuki says breathlessly, moaning softly as he strokes his cock. “He’s so big, isn’t he baby? Feels good huh?”

You can only nod, jaw going slack and eyes rolling back when Eijirou bottoms out with a choked off moan. Pleasure blisters through you when he draws his hips back and thrusts forward roughly.

“Oh my god. You’re a dream baby,” Eijirou whines, settling one hand on your knee and the other on your baby bump. Your vision is obscured by Katsuki’s thighs but Eijirou’s praise burns in your brain.

“Jesus Christ,” Katsuki snarls, tapping your cheek twice. “Open up for me princess.” Your lips part obediently and Katsuki braces a knee of the bed, the other leg standing firm. His groin tightens in anticipation at the sight of you flushed and pliant.

He squeezes one of your tits and tilts his hips down to guide his cock inside and he glides smoothly along your soft pallet. You close your lips and suck tentatively until he jerks forward and smacks the back of your throat, breath catching in his chest.

Eijirou starts to pick up the pace, the obscenity in front of him spurring on his own desire and he hits your g-spot with scary precision. Your resulting moan is muffled by the cock in your mouth as Katsuki fucks your throat and Eijirou begins babbling encouragingly.

“Oh — shit, right there yeah baby? Feels too good, I can’t believe how tight you are. You’re gorgeous like this sweetheart, you love when I tell you how pretty you are don’t you?”

His voice is fuzzy to your ears, the prominent ache in your jaw coming to the forefront. Katsuki’s paying attention, however and taunts him even if the sweet words make his cock twitch.

“God Ei, you just can’t stop yappin’ can you?”

Eijirou whines pitifully, rolling his hips a bit more leisurely to savor the pleasure.

“I can’t help it.”

“Fuck — I’m, it’s gonna make me cum. You want me to cum for you princess?” Katsuki pulls his cock free and you gulp down air, coughing and sputtering briefly.

“Yeah, yeah. Kat c’mon,” you croak, fingers tingling as you bring them up to fist the blanket below you. Eijirou’s moving at a snail’s pace now, stilling inside you to watch the show.

Katsuki runs with it, hooking his thumb along the teeth of your bottom jaw and prying it open. His cock is shoved to the back of your throat and past the unforgiving ring of muscle there. The sensation makes your throat tickle with the urge to cough.

He stays in place long enough for your pulse to thunder before exhaling shakily and dragging himself out of your mouth. He jerks his cock until he’s cumming with a cry and streaking your chest and belly with his release.

It’s still for a moment once he relaxes. The air is warm from all the movement and the only sounds are of the three of you catching your breath before Eijirou laughs incredulously.

“That was hot.” Eijirou is beaming as he slides his still completely stiff cock from your pussy and you protest half heartedly, the other two snickering. Katsuki locks eyes with you, his cheeks rose petal pink and sweat trails down his temple.

“You good?”

You nod as Eijirou grips your ankles and pulls you bodily onto the bed, your neck tingling when the blood rushes from your head.

“More than good. I do want to switch positions though, the baby is suffocating me like this,” you joke. Eijirou pats your thighs encouragingly and smiles vibrantly.

“Sure thing! You want Kat to hold you baby?”

“Please.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes playfully and shimmies up the bed to the headboard. He pauses near Eijirou, planting a kiss to his lips and turning to settle in his new place. Katsuki tilts his head and smirks coyly at you.

“Move your ass pillow princess.” He bends his knees and digs his heels into the mattress. You ignore Katsuki for the moment and take Eijirou’s offered hand. He helps you rise to your knees and shuffle until you can twist and recline against Katsuki’s chest.

He’s covered in sweat, but he’s so warm and a sense of comfort spreads through your limbs. You glance down at yourself and notice you’re still covered in Katsuki’s cum, nose scrunching in disgust but not bothering to wipe it away yet.

Katsuki runs his hands up and down your upper arms and tenderly wraps them around your shoulders, resting his temple on yours. You brace your hands on his knees and then Eijirou is there taking up your attention.

He inches forward and sits on his calves, snugly fitting between your thighs and he lifts his eyebrows in question. You hum softly and encourage him forward with a tug to his wrist.

He pushes at the delicate skin over your inner thighs to coax you open for him. You do so without hesitation and instantly Eijirou’s steadying himself and slipping back into you with a smooth glide.

“Eijirou,” you moan between your teeth, head tipping backwards onto Katsuki’s shoulder. You clench around him and he whimpers, pitching forward and resting his hands on your belly. Katsuki leers from behind you, muttering like the devil on your shoulder.

“Thought you were big and strong Ei. You can make her little pussy cum can’t you, red riot?”

Eijirou’s brows knit together and he nods vigorously, picking up a steady rhythm that you can feel in your toes. You bite the tip of your tongue and dig your nails into Katsuki’s knees.

“Y — Yeah, I’ll make her feel so good, I’ll make her cum Katsuki.”

Katsuki grins wolfishly.

“Good boy Eijirou.”

Your husband wears a dumbstruck expression, cherry red eyes falling shut and breathy moans mixing with yours as he snaps his hips briskly.

“E-Eijirou! Just like that, please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!”

He obeys and the volume of your pleas rise and your voice cracks when Eijirou’s movements become the slightest bit harsher. The red head splays his large palms even wider over your belly and uses the angle to his advantage, pressing upwards with each thrust.

Katsuki squeezes your shoulders and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, nosing at your cheek while your climax swells rapidly behind your belly button.

“Doing so well baby, you take him like a fuckin’ champ,” Katsuki says huskily. “Looks like Ei’s gonna fuck another baby into you, isn’t that right?”

Eijirou absently replies with a whiny mhmm, eyes glued to where his cock disappears inside you. You stare at Eijirou’s flushed face, his lids heavy and jaw hanging open in concentration and then the knot in your pelvis is unraveling.

You inhale sharply, thighs tensing and your own mouth opens in a silent scream as your pussy flutters before clenching tightly on the cock splitting you open.

Eijirou groans, placing his forehead on yours and works you through it like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

After a few brain melting seconds your muscles loosen, a low moan creeping its way out of your throat.

“Fuck baby,” Eijirou pants, cock twitching. “Love it when you cum on my cock like that, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“Give it to me Ei, I’ve got you baby.”

With that, and a few filthy words from Katsuki, Eijirou is shoving his dick all the way inside you to the root. The curly black hair at his base brushes your clit and he’s cumming.

He gasps your name, hands shifting to white knuckle your shoulders as you frame his face with your palms. His cock kicks inside you a few times before he’s melting onto you, listening to your whispered words of praise as his chest heaves.

You all stay still for a brief moment as the post sex haze falls over you and Eijirou decides then to gingerly slip out of your pussy, shifting to lay down beside you like a starfish instead.

There’s a gentle pressure on your back and you lean forward so Katsuki can slide out from behind you. You take his place, pillows supporting your lower back and feeling icky from all the cum on you and inside you.

“Someone please get me a towel.”

Eijirou laughs but Katsuki just hands you a a discarded T-shirt, nose scrunching up.

“Here.”

You take it gratefully, wiping off the drying cum from your belly and handing it to Eijirou. He helps clean any place you can’t reach before balling it up and tossing it like a basketball into the dirty laundry basket. He misses. Katsuki glares at him and points in that direction, lip curling.

“You’re picking that shit up.”

You snicker and Eijirou grins good-naturedly, teasing the blonde until Katsuki’s teeth are grinding together.

Eventually you’re able to convince Katsuki to cook you both more food. He complains about it vehemently but ultimately pulls shorts on and stomps out of the room and to the kitchen.

You smile with amusement and gaze softly at Eijirou as he tugs on old sweats.

“Ya know he’s gonna blow a hole in the wall if you keep messing with him,” you say, awkwardly climbing off the bed and accepting the shorts and shirt Eijirou places in your hands.

“He just makes it too easy to rile him up.”

You can’t help but agree with that, grinning when Eijirou laces your fingers together and leads you to the kitchen.

The three of you relax together for the rest of the evening, both men taking turns reading to your baby and fawning over your belly.

You’re on your toes with anticipation to see how they behave when she’s here. You’re certain they’ll be amazing fathers.

Then, in a couple years, you’ll let Eijirou get you pregnant. You smile softly to yourself, because you’re one hundred percent sure your back will ache carrying his giant baby.

[belovedivies]

Author🙏,

May you show some benevolence to us peasants and give us some crumbs about our albino, Alipede✨

terminal ft. alipede

a/n: i adore yandere alipede with every fiber of my being. cw: yandere content, spoiler for johan’s past, mention of bullying, possessive and obsessive behaviors, manipulation, violent tendencies, implied parentification on reader's part, trashy adults made trashy decisions, injury, codependency (oops). wc: 2.67k ao3 link! m.list

This far into the countryside, you stopped caring what day it was. Every sunrise had the same rooster crowing behind the mountains and every nightfall sounded the same container trucker honking on a distant highway just as you were about to doze off. The same off-brand chips in every local dinner, the same celebrity whose life people tended to gossip about.

You wanted to say again, with conviction, that you weren’t miserable. There was no better fate to be bestowed upon. Maybe in another universe where your dad hadn’t left and your mom cared a bit more, you might have had the chance to act your age. Picked up a new hobby or two. Learned a sport. Went to summer camps. Fell in love. 

Then again, maybe the caregiver role you took on during this three-month break was inevitable. The boarding school your mom worked at was so low on staff that you had to practically live there to play the part of a nanny. Keeping tabs on the kids. Making sure they take their study seriously. Breaking off fights in the hallway. On days when the tension was heavy and the lump in your throat had been too uncomfortable to ignore, you only knew how to smile and suck it up. Sending them away with a pat on the back. 

The reminder persisted: they would always have you to count on, and you only had yourself.

Away from the crowds but never in the corner, Alipede was a strange one. Obedient to his own torment yet glimmering under the unfeeling façade was a rare defiance. He never fought back, never complained. You wondered if he had simply given up. If he had just taken everything with a grant of salt like you did once upon a time. Still, you admired Alipede. And nothing ever stopped you to try and do your best by the poor boy: slipped in extra bread, chastised his bullies, cleaned the dirt on his desk. 

You stared at him like a hawk from the other side of the room. Many times a day, he might have stared back.

—

One noon, Alipede tripped over a tree root outside and scraped his knees. It was midday when the sun was at its highest, and specifically a day so boiling hot that the heat had felt like it was raking red sharp nails down your sweat-soaked back; your toes sticking together in a pair of too-large sandals. 

The grass and dirt sizzled their complaints underneath your palms, but they didn’t for Alipede. Against the limewood, he rested his back with a peculiar look of detachment. 

He hadn’t cried. 

But you fussed over his wounds anyway with wet wipes and a few clumsy attempts at band-aids. Halfway through the heinous process with the tissue already stained with dirt and blood, you realized you might be risking an infection. 

“S-Should I get a teacher? A nurse?” You choked out hopelessly before realizing the only semi-responsible teenager around here were you. “W-We should get you inside first!”

Your shoulders continued to shake the more you forced the words out. The boy’s eyes were dead set on your panicked face, but ultimately no answer came.

You gulped and put on your best caring tone. “D-Does it still hurt?”

Alipede blinked. No answer. A thousand years passed. Silence. Your lips wobbled with anxiety in your guts and an apology behind your lips. He had it so much harder than you.

Still, when the albino extended an arm out to reach something behind you… no, on you. Under you? You flinched. A marshmallow-soft sensation settled on your lap and your gaze instinctively followed where his hand went. A rabbit, fur as pale as snow and eyes as red as ruby, had unknowingly hopped out of its coop and was now curling up on your legs.

His rabbit. 

It might as well have made you drown in guilt before, but that feeling was so far away now it barely registered in your mind. Alipede reached out to pet the creature. It nuzzled into his hand and emitted a purring sound, the vibration tingling your skin. You watched the interaction with relief. 

A good distance away from the common building, everything measured up to a perfect amount of tranquility. There were no cheery nursery rhymes on repeat, no cagey and overly dramatic action movies playing from one classroom to another. You smiled and scratched the rabbit’s head with your forefinger, earning a soft snore from the little guy. 

“You left the cage open.”

It took three blinks to realize that Alipede was talking to you. 

He hadn’t tilted his head up yet, still caressing his beloved pet. Beneath the shades of linden, Alipede seemed so soft and kind—looking every bit the pretty boy he was told to be. Maybe it hadn’t been a compliment at all, and you knew how much the albino detested being labeled as just another darling face. But even then, without spring in his steps and a guide cane in his hand, Alipede had always had this air of helplessness floating in and around him, teetering between the fading line of despair and a sense of willpower just vague enough to keep him going.

Your heart was already in your throat when he continued to say something. 

Was it your name? 

The beginning and the ending seemed to match, but there was no guarantee what had slipped out in between. The sun hid behind a heap of cotton candy clouds, yet your palm remained clammy, uncomfortably hot. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had too wronged the poor boy. That you had fed and played and cared for what was his when he wasn’t around. 

A tap on your shoulder. This time, you gathered the courage to finally meet his eyes as the albino leaned in and muttered again.

So it really was your name.

And your forehead was touching his. So was your nose. Alipede was so close you two were basically breathing the same air, the apples of your cheeks up against one another. And you hadn’t minded the unusually intimate distance, too busy taking in the red in his irises and the flutter of his pale lashes. Only when the rabbit squirmed on your lap again, trying to make some room did you realize that you still owed him an apology. You pulled back and ducked your head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry…”

For touching the rabbit without his permission. For the wounds on his knees. For complaining too much when he hadn’t. 

Your gaze was trained on your lap, waiting. Thomas once whined to you about the scratches on his hand, calling the albino a freak because he had overreacted. You wondered if Alipede would bite you too. His pet did the first time you approached it, leaving a red welt on your arm and a scar on your pinkie. The thought of an angry boy sinking his teeth deep into your skin sounded so silly that it almost made you laugh. Maybe you wouldn’t even blame him then.

He hadn’t said anything either, but when the albino unexpectedly took your hands in his and laced your fingers together, you hadn’t flinched. Alipede was smiling at you. 

“It’s fine,” then came a gentle squeeze. There in those cemeteries of red, you spotted a glint of delight, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Thanks...”

Alipede raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” You mumbled. “I thought you would be mad at me for…”

A lock of white hair fell over his shoulder as Alipede tilted his head. He looked so cute; you wanted to squish his cheeks together.

“If it’s you, I won’t.” 

The comment might have made you feel better if it wasn’t for the dry delivery. Even then, you trusted the boy enough to mellow out with a squeeze back. Did you forget something? Your gaze darted back to his scraped knees and felt your heart jump; you still had to take him inside for a checkup.

“You’re still hurting! W-We should head back in—“ The second you had tried to move away, he gripped and pulled you back in with a strength you didn’t know was possible. Shouldn’t be possible. Eyes wide as full moons, you could only stare as Alipede cupped your cheeks. 

“I’m fine.” 

“But-“

“I’m not hurting.” 

The albino lowered his voice, pleading.

“Can we stay here a little longer, please?”

You nod wordlessly. 

It was only Alipede, after all.

You trusted him just as much as he did you. He didn’t need to talk and beg and cry his way into your free time; you gave it to him willingly anyway.

The albino’s thumbs ghosted over your cheekbones. You wondered if he had felt your silent agreement at all, if he could hear the heart beating inside your chest, the blood flowing in your veins, and the air pumping into your lungs. He might have heard a lot of things you couldn’t.

The rabbit squirmed once more, nuzzling its fluffy head against your thigh. Alipede’s hands finally left your face to continue petting his comfort animal, but his eyes didn’t.

“He likes you,” Alipede said with conviction, and a smile smudged around the corners of his lips like a gallery of oil paintings forgotten in the rain. 

“Oh.” You gaped at him; it always got so unbearably awkward the first time. “Um… what’s his name by the way?”

The boy must have had one ready before you even asked, sonnets of adoration bubbling in his throat and vibrant stars dancing behind his eyelids. And you had waited too—all bated breath, all whispering humbleness. Uncertainty swirled your guts like a desert oasis.

But when Alipede opened his mouth to speak, it was your name that had slipped out. 

And again. And again. And again. 

He said yours the same way people would when they cheered for sport: loud, excited, hopeful. You blinked. You heard him the first time, you just didn’t know what he meant by any of it. A “Huh?”, small and confused, left your lips. Then the cords clicked and the dots connected themselves. 

“Oh, oh.” You dropped your face into your hands with a choked groan; the heat on your cheeks rivaling the scorching sun. Through the crack of your fingertips, Alipede’s smile remained constant.

He had named his rabbit after you.

—

The hallway got dustier and narrower the further you went down. 

Once lunchtime rolled around, it was a maze of spilled drinks and childish destruction—foods and toys and everything imaginable going back and forth in the air until all of them hit the floor in a mass of ruination. One noon, you sighed and tugged on Alipede’s arm, leading him into the teacher’s lounge.

The place was empty. Well, no teacher here had ever bothered to stick with the kids until their second meal of the day, anyway. Once an incoherent excuse was out, they slipped into their cars and drove off into the distance. You never saw them again. 

Your mom was around for breakfast sometimes, downing her portion wearily. She reeked of cheap booze. Of nightclubs and bad decisions. Once in third grade, you flushed her Seropin down the toilet by accident, thinking they were expired candy. Even then, your mom had come home wordlessly the next day with bloodshot eyes and bruised lips, and you hadn’t gone near her medical cabinet since.

Alipede leaned against the wall, a hand clasped over his nose obediently as you cleared out cigar stubs and crushed beer cans on the floor. Turning on the AC and opening a few windows seemed to help with the stuffy air inside. You guided the albino to sit at the table in the middle of the room, on chairs that creaked and felt too adult-like with foam for cushions. There was no one else around, but Alipede clung to your waist with a pout and pulled your seats closer than they already were. You giggled; you loved his clinginess, just as much as he loved you.

“We have—” Still joyful, you paused for effect and peered down the two trays on the table. “—Japanese food today! Curry over rice and miso soup. Have you heard of them before, Ali?” 

Alipede, nose buried in your hair and mind probably somewhere up in the cloud, only blinked. His grip tightened around your waist when he asked, “No. What are they like?” 

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips, “the curry has a thick and smooth texture that feels like velvet against your tongue. It also contains a blend of spices like cumin and coriander. Remember that, Ali? You said you couldn’t stand the pungent smell!” Your shoulders shook slightly as you laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet and pretty mildly spiced. We have carrots and potatoes too! You said you loved them—“

On and on, you went about the dishes with gusto. He kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You used to wonder what Alipede’s world was like. A pitch black. A collision of sound waves and echoes. An overdose of nothingness. Long ago, you read a story about a father who sacrificed his son for the prosperity of their land. The boy grew up beautifully still, slaying demons and taking back the body parts that had been rightfully his since birth. A touching tale about defying fate and pushing forward in the face of adversity. 

Still, Hyakkimaru was a fictional character, and Alipede was not. 

You couldn’t begin to fathom the battle he had to go through every day, struggling to just be seen as a normal person, one with a life just as valuable as others. 

But he hadn’t complained.

He hadn’t cried to you about the bullying either. Months ago before you came, the albino huddled inside a coop behind the school, holding onto his pet bolt-tight. He didn’t need to cry; his fading bruises and healing wounds already did the job for him.

Alipede’s lips curled up against the shell of your ear, dragging you further into the wool of a couch nearby. “You’re right, it’s just mildly spiced,” he whispered, low and content like a purring cat, between the messy tangles of your limbs, “could use a bit more sweetness, though.”

—

“I wanna get out of here,” you sighed almost dreamily by a pond in the garden, legs tucked under your knees in your favorite sundress, “maybe visit Japan one day. Or Korean. Anywhere is nice.”

You raised a hand to point at something. Maybe a bird passing by. Maybe a red hot orb flowing on the horizon, half-submerged by the Earth. What it was, it was promptly abandoned the moment Alipede grabbed onto your wrist and twined your fingers together.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?” Alipede’s pupils dilated in the setting sun, the white of his hair and your dress bleeding into one oversaturated canvas. “You told me you wouldn’t.” 

“Of course not!” The answer came just as quickly, hurt and amusement wrapped up in the form of a pout written across your face. Even then, he hadn’t returned an apology. You had felt silly for even bothering to wait for one, but that was okay.

It was only Alipede, after all.

Instead, you squeezed his hand back, lacing your pinkie together in the naive gesture of a promise. 

“I’ll be your eyes, Ali. For as long as I live.”

You swore through mirthful smiles and hushed voices. Here, tucked away from the common building and terrible adults, the world narrowed down to just you and him. And Alipede—your sweet, adorable, and lovely Alipede—whose head was on your lap and whose heart was forever yours, only stared back unblinkingly. 

Then he giggled, pulling you forward. Against all senses, you held on, and the two of you toppled into the grass. Nighttime prickled at your skin like a bug as you laughed along with him, and the summer dragged on, neverending.

[sinkovia]

Coffee Shop: VII

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee shop Masterlist

The next morning as Simon lay in bed, he clicked on the link you texted him about the adoption website. Navigating to the section for dogs, he was surprised to find only one listing – the last puppy up for adoption.

It was a male German Shepherd puppy, approximately two months old. Knowing the pup was too young for K-9 training, Simon decided that having a companion at home would be comforting until then. Quickly filling out the online form, within ten minutes, the puppy was officially Simon's.

The shelter informed him that his new furry friend would be ready for pick-up at noon. Simon went about his morning routine, enjoying breakfast and engaging in a rigorous workout until it was time to pick him up.

Leaving the shelter, Simon stared at the small canine now occupying the passenger seat. The puppy looked up at him with big brown eyes, tilting its head to the side. Simon reached over and noticed the collar was blank.

“No name, huh?” he mused, and the puppy yawned in response.

"Like a little ghost," Simon remarked, and the puppy turned its head, seemingly considering the suggestion.

"Should your name be Ghost, hmm? Well, that might be a bit confusing on base." The puppy whined and laid down in the seat. 

"Ghost Jr.?" The puppy didn't seem convinced, and Simon nodded, "Yeah, it doesn't have the same ring to it."

Simon reached for his phone and snapped a picture of the puppy, deciding to seek suggestions for a name from the team by sending it to the group chat Johnny had created.

Ghost: Name recs?

Johnny: Bartholomew

Captain: Bloody hell, Soap...

Johnny: What about Ghost Jr.? He has your eyes, L.t.

Gaz: Doesn’t really have a ring to it, mate.

Ghost: Thought so too.

Captain: That little pup does look like a Riley.

Ghost looked at the message and back at the puppy.

“What do you think of the name Riley?” The puppy stood up and started walking over to Simon, nestling himself in his lap before closing his eyes.

“Okay, Riley, I gotta drive, mate; you can't sleep there.” Simon picked him up and placed him back on the passenger seat, but Riley got up and made his way back into his lap.

“Bloody hell. Fine, just don’t move around or I’ll crash.”

Simon picked up a few things for him on the way home and set up a corner of the living room for him. After finishing, he sat down on the couch and took a few different pictures of Riley, sending them to you.

When Simon's name lit up on your phone, you eagerly grabbed it, swiping it open to reveal his notification. Your mouth dropped at the sight of the adorable puppy.

Y/n: WOW, you actually adopted him!? He’s so cute!! Did you decide on a name?

Simon: Riley.

He sent another picture of Riley, the puppy looking down at the camera, lifting his paw up, and you nearly melted.

Y/n: Riley is such a cute name for him. Have you bought him any clothes or toys?

Simon smiled as his eyes read over the message. So, you think his last name is cute, huh?

Simon: Riley is my last name.

Simon: Clothes? Dogs need clothes?

Y/n: Oh, I didn’t know that. The name suits him. He’s like a mini you :)

Y/n: They don’t need clothes, but it makes them look really cute. He might need little shoes since it’s getting colder.

Both you and Simon found yourselves smiling at your phones as you texted back and forth. The conversation shifted, and you asked him about his day. You even sent him a picture of your cat Missy, to which he replied.

Simon: She looks hateful.

Y/n: No, she doesn’t! She looks cute.

Throughout the day, you and Simon exchanged a few pictures. Simon shared more photos of Riley, curled up next to him while watching a movie. In return, you sent a picture of yourself in your garden, busy planting new flowers.

This led to Simon asking more about your garden, and you gladly shared details about your favorite plants and flowers. You took him on a virtual photo tour of your backyard, showcasing a thriving fruits and vegetables garden. 

Simon: What type of stuff you growin?

Y/n: Some onion, garlic, potatoes, cabbage, cauliflower, zucchini, carrots, and some others I can’t remember off the top of my head.

Y/n: I even have a cute little apple tree! 

You snapped a picture of Missy sunbathing next to your basket full of produce. Simon smiled at the stretched-out cat, leaning over to show Riley the picture.

“You fond of cats?” Riley started nibbling on the hem of Simon's jacket.

The following day, in the afternoon, you found yourself finishing the batch of apple strudels you had baked, only to realize you had made too much. A sigh escaped you as you surveyed the pan filled with the pastries and glanced at the abundance of produce you had harvested the day before. The realization hit that, being just one person, much of it would go to waste before you could use it all.

You decided to put some of the strudels into a container. Grabbing an extra basket, you carefully arranged half of the vegetables you had picked yesterday.

I'm sure Simon wouldn’t mind a free delivery?

With a small basket and container in hand, you made your way up his driveway and rang the doorbell. Simon peeked through the peephole and cursed when he saw you on the other side.

“Just a second.”

He quickly retreated to his bedroom, donning sweatpants and a hoodie before returning to the door, opening it.

“Hi, sorry to bother you so randomly in the day. I just wanted to drop these off since I had extra.” Simon looked down at the basket in your hands, and then his gaze went to you. He was about to thank you when Riley went between his legs, walking to you. Your eyes grew wide, and you put the basket down on the ground.

“Hi Riley, aw, look at how cute you are.” Simon smiled down at you, loving the way his last name sounded when you said it. Riley was licking your face, and you laughed.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude if you're busy.”

“Wasn’t doing much before you came.” 

Simon had been lying in bed, watching a Gordon Ramsey cooking video in nothing but his briefs.

“Okay,” you smiled up at him, and he reached over, grabbing the basket you brought. You picked up Riley, and both of you walked inside. 

Simon's living room bore witness to his minimalistic approach to decor, featuring only a couch, a TV, and a coffee table. As you stood in his living room, the blank walls and empty space caught your attention.

“Sorry love, don’t really know how to decorate.” You laughed, placing Riley down.

“There’s actually a Ross not too far from here. Maybe you could get a lamp… or two. Maybe a painting?” You glanced around, noticing the absence of a dining table or any items on the counters in the kitchen.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this house was for sale.” Simon laughed, placing the basket you brought on the counter.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of a Ross.” You turned to face him, eyes wide, “You're joking, right?”

“Dead serious, love.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a picture of the Ross building. “You're telling me you’ve never been inside one of these?”

Simon shook his head again. What was the big deal about this store?

"They have everything in this store! Furniture, clothes, skincare, shoes, purses, home decor, even some spices and snacks, but I wouldn’t trust it. You have to go, Simon! They even have clothes and toys for dogs.” Glancing at the time, Simon looked back at you.

“You have anywhere to be right now?”

“No, I don’t really have things planned on the weekends besides spending time with Missy.”

“You think she’d mind if you were gone for a few hours.” Your smile grew as you caught on to what he was hinting at.

“No.”

Simon placed Riley in the large cage he had bought, and the drive to Ross took only around five minutes. The short trip to the store became a chance for Simon to discover more about your interests and preferences for small talk of course, not that he wanted to know more about you, of course not.

As you walked into Ross, you rambled on about various pieces of furniture and decor, grabbing a cart and leading Simon towards the furniture section. Simon's eyes widened as he checked the price tag for a nightstand.

“Are these things broken or chipped? Why are they so bloody cheap?”

You laughed as Simon added the nightstand to his cart. Navigating through the store, you selected a stylish black lamp, and Simon followed suit, placing it in his cart. Moving on to the decor aisle, you looked at various candles, allowing Simon to sample a few before he settled on one with a pine scent. 

You continued adding small decor items for Simon's coffee table – throw pillows, throw blankets, a rug, a bookshelf, minimalist frames, place mats, and even a skull wax warmer with some clean linen scented melts. Your choices filled the cart with a mix of stylish and cozy additions for Simon's home.

In the kitchen aisle, you insisted on essential items – a fruit basket, organizers for his pantry and fridge, additional pots and pans, and more cooking utensils. Simon, who only owned one pan and one of each silverware, recognized the practicality in your suggestions.

In another aisle, he saw you looking at a cat mug before putting it back and wandering into another section. He quickly grabbed the mug and placed it at the bottom of his cart before making his way to you.

“You ready, love?” You hid something behind your back and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll meet you up front. I just need to look at something real quick.”

You found yourself in the doggy section of the pet aisle, examining various toys and outfits for Riley. Noticing he only had one rope chew toy, you felt compelled to get him more. You selected a little squeaky bone chew toy, a tuxedo, a sweater, and some adorable little shoes – perhaps a size too big, but too cute to resist. To complete the ensemble, you even chose a fluffy bed for him to sleep on.

Doubt crept in – was this too much? Should you put something back? Would Simon find it odd? Shaking off the uncertainty, you shrugged and placed everything in your cart. As you made your way to the registers, you spotted a clearance aisle filled with past holiday-themed items. A cute black and white skull mug caught your eye, and you picked it up.

He asked you to draw skulls on his bookmark, and he really liked the skull wax warmer. I’m sure he’d like this.

 Placing it in your cart, you walked to the registers. Meeting Simon at the front after both of you finished paying, you helped him carry his bags to the car while he handled the nightstand.

When you returned to Simon's house, you dove into helping him unpack everything in the living room. You organized items, rearranged furniture, and experimented with different placements until the layout felt just right.

While you were busy making his home feel cozier, Simon had taken charge in the kitchen, using the ingredients you brought to prepare a meal. He made oven-roasted vegetables and steak, with guidance from a Gordon Ramsey video. Pulling the newly purchased mug from the Ross bag, he washed it and filled it with ice water.

Unbeknownst to Simon, you had stationed yourself on the floor behind the couch, secretly dressing Riley in a little tuxedo. Just as you finished putting on his tiny pants, Simon walked over with two plates, setting them down on the coffee table. Trying to conceal Riley, you quickly grabbed some black kids' sunglasses from the bag and placed them on Riley before picking him up and showing Simon.

“He looks like the dog from the bookmark! I couldn’t find a toy assault rifle, though.” Simon paused for a few seconds, looking at Riley and you holding him up with a big smile. He laughed and picked Riley up, your hands brushing against each other for a moment.

Simon couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat, feeling your hand against his. A foreign sensation of touch, yet Simon found himself yearning for his hand to linger against yours a few seconds longer.

“I have to show the boys this.” Simon laughed, handing Riley back to you so you could hold him up. He took a picture from the side, excluding you, but the moment he sent it, the boys bombarded his phone with questions, asking if those were your hands and if you two were on a date.

“I also got him another outfit, it’s this sweater and some little shoes for when you take him outside when it starts snowing.” Simon smiled as you gestured towards the other outfit laid out on the couch.

“Thank you, love, for spending your money on him. You really didn’t have to.” You smiled and got up, sitting on the couch.

“It’s no problem at all. I wanted to see him dressed up.”

“He’s definitely going to be a ladies' man at the dog park now.” You laughed, finally noticing the two plates on the coffee table.

“Oh! Is this for me?” Simon walked over to the kitchen, bringing your new mug. “No, it’s actually for Riley.” He approached you with a grin and placed the mug down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes grew wide upon seeing it. “Oh my god! I was thinking about getting this mug at Ross!”

“It’s yours, love, and I cooked dinner for us as a thank you for spending your day helping me spruce up my place and for sharing your garden with me.” You smiled, looking at the delicious meal in front of you. Simon had used the potatoes, carrots, and everything you gave him. The aroma filled the air, and you realized how hungry you were. Almost forgetting the mug you had bought him, you dug through the bag and pulled it out.

“I almost forgot. I actually got you a mug.” When you handed it to him, he smiled, looking at the little skulls.

“You know me so well.” You smiled up at him, and the moment lingered for a few seconds before Riley tried to jump on the coffee table to get to the food.

Simon put on a movie, and both of you enjoyed dinner together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch and sipping from the cups you had bought for each other. After finishing, you insisted on washing the dishes he used to cook, despite his multiple offers to handle it. You expressed gratitude for his effort in cooking, considering the least you could do was tackle the dishes.

Once done, you both indulged in an apple strudel, using the moment to learn more about Simon—his favorite color, a few favorite foods, little details that brought you closer. As the night grew late, you decided it was time to head back home.

“I should really head back home; it’s late.” Despite spending the day with you, Simon felt a twinge of disappointment at your leaving.

“Let me grab my keys; I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, are you sure? I mean, I only live a few houses down.”

“I insist; it’s dark out. You only live a few houses down anyway; it’s no bother.”

Strapping Riley to a leash, the three of you walked to your house. You pointed out various flowers and plants around your front door, and Simon mentally noted them down, remembering the ones you said you didn't have.

“I had a lot of fun today, and thank you again for cooking and for the mug.” Simon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket while Riley sniffed around your flowers.

“I should be the one thanking you; my house doesn't look like a prison cell anymore.” You laughed and lightly shook your head. “Maybe next time you could come over, and I could show you how to grow a thing or two. You could meet Missy.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.” You smiled and kneeled down to say goodbye to Riley.

“I’ll talk to you later, goodnight Simon.” You grabbed the keys from your pocket and unlocked your door.

“Goodnight, love.”

When you closed the door behind you, Riley let out a low whine. Simon turned and began walking away.

“I know, Riley. I feel the same way.”

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

OPENASKBOX TIME HERE ARE THE GROUND RULES

1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel

2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written

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4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bullshit, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of assholery, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once

5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before

the proper inbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, but I will probably NOT see my tumblr dms until the event is OVER. If you need to flag me down RIGHT AWAY you're GOING to have to go over to twitch chat ask there.

the BEST CHANCE of getting it written live today is to send in your requests with 3 different asks within the first hour or so of the stream going live. after the first hour, it's not gonna matter if it's in one or three asks cuz I'll be scheduling them out in advance and everything that follows the rules above will get written eventually

If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.

I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch @ miathecalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 10PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.

Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 2 o’clock EST.

Here is a direct donation link to my streamlabs, it works like a ko-fi but I’ve got it set to give me alerts on my twitch so I can see and thank you straightaway for supporting my takeout order

If you would like to receive the card you buy/request for, physically in the mail, here is the shop link:

feel free to dm me first to discuss discounting if you'd like multiple of your cards in a bundle

if you subscribe to my channel on a regular basis, I'll keep your cards back and send them out periodically regardless

there'll be 2 donation goals - one as a forty dollar threshold for ordering food, and the other one will be set at $160 since that's ABOUT the equivalent of living wage for the amount of time I'll be streaming.

[kettlefire]

DP x DC Angst Prompt

Inspired by the song Preacher by Roe Kapara

"This is a distress signal from Amity Park Illinois." A scared teen girl was the face to meet the staticy camera. Red hair pulled up in a messy bun, tear stains clear on her face, eyes rimmed red.

All options were running out. They had two days, two days before the hunt began. Two days before they lose everything.

A distress signal, broadcasted on loop, over and over again to any frequency they can get their hands on with the limited equipment they had.

"This Friday, at 3:15am, my town is going to make an irreparable mistake."

A soft clang rang from somewhere of screen, but that didn't shift her attention.

"My town, my home, has fallen to the manipulation of a deranged woman."

A choked sound came from off screen, sounds uncomfortable close to a sob.

"Amity Park has always been disconnected from the rest of the world. A small town, in it's own small world. Things have been happening here for the past two years, and now..."

She paused, glancing off screen before wiping her face.

"Now we aren't enough to save it. We did took too long to notice the cancer that was spreading. The hysteria combined with fear of the unknown that drove out town to follow her.

My name is Jasimine Fenton, I'm here with my father Jack Fenton. My mother, Madeline Fenton, is the reason the world might be facing war."

The video footage grew worse, static starting to over take the image and the audio.

"Dad, we're losing it!"

"Sorry Jazzy-bear" The new voice clearly came from a man, even if he stayed clear of the camera view. A moment passed before it was fixed.

"We don't know how long we gave before they find us, but... My baby brother Danny Fenton is going to be brutally hunt down Friday morning.

There's no time to put all the information needed in this signal, but I'm begging anyone who sees this. Please send help.

Anyone who has spoken against the plan has been imprisoned, the only ones from the team that's fear is us."

Jazz let out a shaking breath, staring off screen for just a moment before coming back, fresh tears rimming her eyes.

"All Danny every wanted to do was protect his home, and all he got in return was pain and hatred. Please, you might not know us, but you need to know. Danny holds a high position with in the ghostly realm.

Whatever you want to call it, the ghost zone, the infinite realms, or purgatory. Doesn't matter, all you need to know of the living kill Danny, the ghosts will rage war."

A heavy thud filled the room, the camera seemed to shake at the sound. Fear filled Jazz's face.

"Dad, they-"

"It's okay Jazz, finish the recording, they can't get in yet."

Jazz nodded, moving toward the camera. She seemed to cup it in her hands and tried to speak over the loud thud that continued to penetrate the area.

"We're running out of time, I hope this reaches someone somewhere. More than anything, I hope this reaches the Justice League.

Reaches them before Friday. Before the world is in true danger. Danny is the only link to peace between worlds. Don't let a woman driven by hatred be the end."

This time instead of a thud, it sounded more like a crack. The camera shifted and a view of a large man built like a tank was caught. A strange gun in one hand, and what looked like a strange grenande in the other.

"Jazzy-Bear, there's an escape tunnel in the back. Go, I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"Jazz-"

"No. I don't care, I'm no use to anyone by myself. We need to stick together."

"Jasimine-"

"I'm setting the recording to loop."

"Honey-"

Loud crash broke through following another crack. Heavy footsteps followed. Voices screamed through the air.

Jazz's face filled the screen completely as gunfire could be heard.

"Please send anyone, I can't lose my baby brother too."

And just like that, the screen went black. Barely a couple seconds passed before the screen lit up again.

The video starting from the beginning. Hoping for anyone to view it.

A cry for help cycling through an endless loop until it found it's self broadcast for the League.

[colorquest]

~☆~

...

D(ebbie): HEYYYYYYY SAMANTHA!!!!!! V(ilmr): Hiiii!

S(amantha): Hehe, hi Debbie, hi Vilmr. S: Can you see me alright? D: Yeah I can see you, and that smelly boy behind you too. V: I can smell him from here. D: YEAH bleuch! We can smell him from here!!! M(ichael): --Oh! M: Oh jeez, when you said you were gonna call I didn't think you meant like, right away-- D: SAMANTHA can you see us? S: Yes, we can see you too Debbie.

M: Hey you two! M: What's up? D: Oh my gosh he doesn't even know what's up!!! D: Don't you know what day it is?! M: Oh, uh...! M: The... eleventh? V: The twelfth actually, on the other side of the world. D: Yeah DUH. M: I-- I didn't think that was relevant? D: Omfggggg nnnnnnnOTHING. D: You. D: Know. D: NOTHING............... V: It's the twelfth where it's happening right now! V: That's the whole reason we're calling! S: Michael, there's a full eclipse happening soon, remember? S: It's all we've been hearing about for weeks now. M: Oh! M: Shoot, that's tonight? D: Um, uh-durrrr? M: The sun's already setting though :/ M: Too bad we won't be able to see it... V: Aht! D: YEAH AHT AHT! D: That is where you are wrong! S: Michael, Debbie says she's found someone who's streaming the eclipse, all the way from Wootosh. M: Woah, what? M: How did you even manage to access something like that? D: Yeah I mean whatever, you know? D: Only took me all day to find but whatever, like, I have my sources, no big deal. S: It's very exciting, Debbie.

M: Actually Vilmr, I'm surprised you aren't with Maja right now while this is going on. M: An eclipse definitely sounds like it'd be important to her, right? V: Guuuhhhhhh, don't remind me. V: She has been trying to get a hold of me for nearly an hour now. D: Yeah and she can live, it's not like you're the one who believes in that junk. D: Literally no reason for you to be over there. V: Yeah but... it could be one of those times where it's really serious for her. V: She is going to be sooo mad when I get home. V: Maybe I really should get back soon. D: UMMM??? D: No, you're basically an adult now, you're like 18 you can do what you want. S: I don't even think you could make it in time if you left now, Vilmr. S: That's a pretty long walk... D: Yeah it's a long walk! D: So literallyyyyyy, just stay here. D: Don't stress your head all up about what she might or might not be thinking. V: Buh... D: ANYWAY.

[[ Debbie sends a link to the livestream ]]

D: There's the stream Samantha. S: yey -v- S: Michael, are you gonna watch with us?

M: Heck, why not. M: As long as this isn't illegal or anything, right? M: Haha... M: ...Right? S: I dunno about that. M: S: *yawn* S: Debbie? D: Okay Wootosh doesn't own the eclipse, first off. D: So freaking WHAT if it's an orc who set it up or whatever. D: And second, I dug deep to find this stream and NONE of you are gonna chicken out about it. D: And nobody's gonna FALL ASLEEP BEFORE IT HAPPENS EITHER, SMUMANTHA... S: Michael's here to make sure I stay awake, don't worry Debbie. M: Haha, yeah. D: yeah okay sure. V: Hey actually, it sort of doesn't make sense for me to even be here? V: I just realized this? D: Yes it does IT DOES MAKE IT SENSE. D: IT'S THE MOOD. D: IT'S THE VIBES. D: Even if you can't see it you still get to say you were there......... V: But... I'm literally not? D: FIGURATIVELY. D: Open your mind Vilmr. D: Or your third eye or whatever Maja would want you to have open-- whatever! D: You're STAYING HERE DOSH GARNIT. V: I don't plan on going anywhere, I'm just saying!!! V: Åh, Maja förlåt mig...

M: So um, is it supposed to be so grainy? D: Yeah I guess. D: I dunno. D: That's just how I found it. S: It looks like it still has a little while before it starts. V: It starts at 7:15 tonight. D: Sooooo we got like half an hour to kill then. V: Killing the hours away is what we do best, is it not? D: So true. D: That being saiiiiiid...

D: Samantha! D: Michael. D: What are you guys up to, huh? V: ...? D: What's up. D: Over at Michael's place to day huh? D: What's that about? D: Huh? M: Oh, I invited her over, she was home alone and...-- S: ......... M: Samantha, hey, don't fall asleep just yet, haha... D: Samantha I see you falling asleep. D: Samantha. D: MICHAEL WAKE HER UP BETTER SHE'S GONNA MISS THE-- S: *snort* S: mh-- S: Sorry, I'm here... S: What did you say, Debbie? D: Nevermindddddddd, just like-- D: BRRRBBRBTGGRRNGHBRRR....... D: Come on, let's just chat. D: Like let's just keep ourselves occupied, okay. D: Like we gotta see this, when is the next time we're ever gonna see something like this??? V: Uh like, four or five years from now I'm pretty sure. V: If I remember what Maja told me at least. D: And what about it??? D: That's like. FOREVER from now. D: WE COULD BE DEAD BY THEN. M: Oh jeez, I hope not...! D: LIVE IN THE NOW!!!!!! S: Debbie you're getting me so hyped up, hehe... D: GOOD! D: LET'S GET HYPE ABOUT IT AND STAY AWAKE ABOUT IT AND STUFF!

~☆~

<[Last] || [Next]>

🔆

[sundrop-writes]

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode One: "Titans"

Summary:

You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.

Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.

He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.

Word Count: 2,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).

A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!

....

Dick needed some fucking air. 

He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasn’t that different from The Joker. 

Fuck them. 

If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of asshole’s on the Joker’s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a mother’s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking. 

If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Joker’s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny. 

Fuck all of them. 

Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air. 

Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before- 

“So - Robin’s in Detroit now, huh?” 

That voice. 

Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadn’t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part. 

So much for time to calm himself down. 

He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to see you again, he didn’t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact. 

That was always the thing about exes, wasn’t it? 

(If Dick could even call you his ‘ex’ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?) 

That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want. 

But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.) 

Because you looked so good. 

You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time. 

A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy. 

Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return. 

Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him. 

He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny? 

“Y/N,” Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back. 

“Oh, Dickie.” You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. “A warm welcome as always.” 

Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that. 

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit an old friend?” You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance. 

The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be. 

(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldn’t have waited this long to contact him.) 

“Do us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.” Dick replied sternly. “Why are you here?” 

“Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated. 

He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly. 

“I had a vision.” You explained. “A girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.” 

He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didn’t need this. Not tonight. 

He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your mother’s ‘gift’. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasn’t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well. 

So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didn’t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didn’t need this. 

“Look, I’m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-” He began. 

You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ‘but’. 

“Why don’t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donna’s speed, anyway. I’m sure she can help you find this girl, and-” 

“That won’t help.” You told him. “The girl is already on her way here.” 

You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dick’s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy. 

“Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.” Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. “Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“I’m not playing.” You replied, exasperated. 

You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ‘gut feelings’ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didn’t. 

“And you know, you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not.” You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.” 

Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught. 

“You can’t help it, Dick Grasyon.” You declared with intense certainty. “You need to save people, you need to feel like you’re making a difference, you-” 

“So what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?” Dick snapped back. 

“She does.” You corrected. 

“Who?” He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions. 

“The Raven.” You told him. “She needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.” 

You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended. 

But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive. 

He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again. 

He couldn’t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone. 

Dick felt rage boil inside of him. 

How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this? 

This - this was why he was no fucking savior. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further. 

If you weren’t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be? 

“This isn’t about me.” You scoffed. “Or-” 

‘Or us.’ 

You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to. 

“This is about something so much bigger.” You pressed. “She’ll be here soon.” 

Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again. 

“Well, next time you’re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.” He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips. 

You made a mocking face in return. 

“Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed. 

Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment. 

“Hey, Grayson!” Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. “Prentiss is looking for you!” 

When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house cat’s bell. 

But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number. 

…

Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke. 

“Hi, I’m Detective Grayson.” He said, introducing himself. “I hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?” 

“You’re him.” She said, whimpering and tearful. “You’re the boy from the Circus.” 

At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:

‘Oh fuck. You were right.’

...

A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Prologue

Andras x Reader

Summary: a prologue for what will be a Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Warnings: angst! very brief mention of pregnancy loss

Word Count: 1,078

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You knew you were already too late. You could feel it in the ache of your legs. The pounding of your heart. The breath panting through your lips as you race through the trees. He had made his decision, sending another to tell you, worried that seeing you again would change his mind. You knew that you couldn’t stop him, but perhaps you could at least say goodbye. 

Your dress catches on a branch, tearing, but you heed it no mind as you keep running as your destination comes into sight. Two sets of eyes fall upon you.The green eyes of your brother, filled with pity. The gray eyes of your husband, filled with regret.  Your brother nods before stepping away, giving the two of you the moment you so desperately need. You throw yourself at your husband, clinging to his tunic, the silver that had been rimming your eyes finally spilling over. 

"Don't do it. Don't leave me," you sob.

He says nothing, gently brushing the tears away from your eyes, somehow managing to keep his own at bay. 

"Andras. Please," you beg.

He speaks finally. "You know I must. For the Spring Court. For Prythian."

"To Hell with the Spring Court! To Hell with Prythian! I need you!" You pause for a moment, voice growing soft as your hand finds your stomach, cradling the babe growing inside. "We need you."

He places a hand over yours. "That's why I must go. There is so little time left and I will not let my child live in a world that's been corrupted by Her. I cannot bear the thought of it. It may be a fool's errand but it is the only thing that I can think of that might save our child. Save you."

You nod, a fresh wave of tears leaving you unable to speak. 

He holds you for a moment, wishing it could be different. Wishing there was a way he could protect you without sacrificing himself. A way to live and see his child born.  But there was not and so he must. He breathes in deeply, taking in your scent for the last time and kisses you on the forehead before stepping away and nodding at the other male. 

Somehow, you manage to stay on your feet as he leaves you, watching the magic that transforms your love. You walk over to the wolf that stands in his place, placing a hand on either side of his muzzle before pressing a parting kiss there. The wolf gives you one last longing look before slipping through the hole in the wall. 

You drop to the forest floor as your legs finally give out, sobs wracking your body. Your brother sinks down next to you, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight. As if by holding you he could prevent the shattering of your heart. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice cracking.  "I tried to talk him out of it. Tried to convince him to stay..." 

You ignore him, too focused on your own broken heart to listen to him try to make himself feel better. He picks you up then, standing to carry you home. If you can call it that anymore when such a vital piece of it is now gone forever. 

You were in the gardens the day he died. Wandering aimlessly, fiddling with the gold ring hanging on the chain around your neck. You felt it as he drew his dying breath. Perhaps you had been mates after all. Perhaps this was as close as you'd ever get to feeling that bond, that golden thread that would never be, emptiness filling your chest as you sink to the ground amongst the roses. If it had snapped, could you have convinced him to stay? Could you have convinced him that you needed him, needed the other half of your soul? A hollowness fills your chest where you had always imagined the bond might form linking you to him. But it never did. Emotions burn in your throat, and somewhere someone screams. It’s a raw, primal sound filled with grief. Could that be you? You’ve retreated so far into yourself that you don’t even know anymore. Your hand falls to your stomach where it will swell with child, curling around yourself  to protect the babe, as if this grief is an enemy you need to protect them from. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, curled in on yourself, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. You knew this day was coming. He may as well have been dead the day he crossed the wall and went into the human lands. You press his ring to your lips, the gold band cool from the night air. 

It is not your brother who finds you, but Lucien. He picks you up, carrying you into the house that no longer feels like a home. He carries you to your room, tucking you into your bed. He sits next to you, stroking the hair back from your face just like your mother had when you would wake from a nightmare as a child. But there was no waking from this one. He tells you how Tamlin is already going to find Andras’ killer to see if his death has brought the hope we so desperately need. You pray to the Mother, hoping that it hasn’t all been for nothing. And as your eyes grow heavy, the grief finally dragging you down into sleep, you hear as Lucien softly sings a lullaby his mother sang to him as a child.

Months have passed when you wake with a start, tears streaming down your face. You'd dreamt of the forest again. Of losing your love, your home, your soul. Your dream followed him into the mortal lands, to where the human girl had shot him with the ash arrow. You had asked her about it, needing to know. Needing to know if he had been in pain. If he had suffered. 

 Your hand falls to where your child should be growing, letting the tears stream down your face as you stare up at the canopy of your bed. He had done it. Andras had been successful and now the rest was up to your brother. He just had to get the human girl to fall in love with him and your husband's sacrifice would not be in vain. Everything you lost would mean something. And maybe, one day, everything could be okay again.

Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fic with more planned! If you liked it feel free to send a request!

Thanks @azsazz for inspiring me to give fic writing a try!

divider by: @tsunami-of-tears

[illarian-rambling]

Aw balls. I almost forgot an intro

Hi, I'm Katie! I'm a writer with two ongoing wips that I like yammering about, so ima do it here!

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 20

Other interests: art, dnd, the Magnus Archives, anything Cosmere related, martial arts, Critical Roll

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My wips are set in the same universe, on the planet of Illaros, fifth from the last star left living in the universe. There's a continent, some islands, and other assorted junk down there. The gods have a dyson ring, but they don't like to talk about it. The stars are the eyes of an ancient primordial force of destruction.

Honor's Outcasts follows a rag-tag group of delinquents trying to survive psycho pirates with family ties, a siren theocracy, magic that rots in your blood, and the Horrors. Their number includes such mighty heros as: a kid who can explode people with her mind, a buff shark lady who survives regular eldritch encounters by not paying attention, a mute aroace siren man with a bitchy attitude, and the world's sweetest gang mamber. Of course, they're one big family, and what's family without a little religious terrorism?

The Mystery of the Mortal God asks what happens when magic and science collide in a world where ethics panels haven't been established yet. Set a few decades down the line from HO, this story follows a cowboy witch with a chip on her shoulder as she discovers a mysterious robot laying broken and confused on the side of the road. At the same time, in a city on the other side of the globe, a blue blooded detective investigates a cold case suddenly gone hot. In time, all players will meet, including the mage who set this whole conundrum in motion.

The Final Voyage of the R.S. Starbreaker is sci-fi with ghosts! More accurately, as the magical societies of Illaros take their first steps into space, they don't use unmanned probes, but instead call upon the gods to send ghosts to be bound to a mighty runic galleon: the R.S. Starbreaker. This first skeleton crew consists of an honorable former Flying City pilot with a seedy past, a brash elven astronomer infamous for her incomplete work, a meticulous selkie cartographer determined to map the solar wheel, a laid-back fae man with a dangerous set of ideals, and the key to this mission's success: a former part of an eldritch hive mind on a hunt for his extinct people's missing afterlife.

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Anyways, if you're here, feel free to say hi! I'll mostly be posting whatever bullshit comes to mind, but maybe you'll get lucky and something entertaining will come out? I certainly hope so!

Have a bitchin' day <3

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An addition! Here are my characters' playlists! (And intros for those who have them) (All instrumental because I can't write while listening to vocals)

Izjik Meautammera +intro

Sepo Kaiacynthus +intro

Twenari Devaris +intro

Djek Kagura +intro

Daedryn Whitenight

Astra DuClaire +intro

Mashal Darezsho +intro

Ivander Montane +intro

Elsind Cavernsight +intro

Avymere Spearsong +intro

Ghost Ship Radio + wip intro (for the Starbreaker crew)

(Curious as to which character you might relate to the most? Here are some quizzes that might help you out!) (First is for MG and HO, second is for Starbreaker)

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A second addition! Please feel welcome to check out my new Illaros library! These are short stories written (mostly) in my setting that I've shared before on here, but I figured I'd put all the links in one place :)

Down in the Deep Dark - 2,500 words - The tale of how Izjik and Sepo met

Violating the 4th - 11,000 words - Coverage of the first Surgeon case from the POV of Ceyrel (Ivander’s detective partner)

Rel's Haunting - 16,000 words - A story of a fallen angel, the dead god who made them, and finding wonder in the supermarket

Full Saturation - 2,000 words - A short horror story set on modern Earth about saturation diving and places better left untouched

And for some one-shots:

Mashal and Ivander hanging out

Izjik making Sepo a flute in the Trench

The cast of Mortal God gets a beach episode

Mashal teaches Astra to ride a horse

Again, have a bitchin' day <3

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[syneilesis]

[fic] Pampertime

Pampertime

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | Explicit | 6.7k words | ao3 link

Butler Rule No. 1: From the moment you accept the role, be prepared to obey your lady’s every command. The bunny butler outfit makes a grand return. In bed.

Content tags: Established Relationship, PWP, Roleplay, Bunny Butler Xavier, Dom/sub elements, Sub!Xavier, Strip Tease, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Cowgirl Position, Riding, PIV sex, Creampie

A/N: My contribution to the bunny butler Xavier train. Only gave a cursory edit once, so any mistakes still my fault. I'm just glad I'm done, whatever. Divider by @/saradika

One bright and sunny afternoon, Xavier texts you: Emergency can U come up here to help me?

You're in the middle of cleaning your living room, after weeks of neglecting your household responsibilities due to the sudden influx of Wanderers in the neighboring city. The Hunters Association had been scrambling to send out their hunters due to the sudden invasion of Wanderers that resembled bafflingly like corgis—which was both a blessing and a curse, if one were to be asked. Blessing because, well, they were a breed that incited cute aggression and fluffiness, and civilian evacuation had resulted in minimal problems, if one ignores the influx of people into doglike Wanderers. A curse, because—well, they did look like corgis—fluffy like a bread with a cute butt, the kind that you would expect to see in the plushie line sold at Twinkle Toys Store. They're irresistible to drag your hand across their soft coat. A not-inconsiderable number of hunters realized the error of their ways in overlooking the fact that these floof of creatures were still Wanderers, and as a consequence, Linkon hospitals suddenly found themselves busier for a week or two.

Regardless, the corgi Wanderers were easy to take care of, once you saw past their clever ruse. The difficulty lay in the numbers. Like a relentless tsunami flooding the city, they undulate in droves, shaking their butts and bouncing around and generally making an oxymoronically cute menace of themselves.

As one of the hunters dispatched to the area, you valiantly resisted the siren cute-call and eliminated as many as you could. It took you and your team more than a week, and it would have been shorter than that, had Xavier been in the fray. But he had been sent in another region the week before, and was unable to join you in your fluff-filled resistance.

But now it seems that he's back and is in need of your assistance. Flashback to that time when his oven exploded due to his attempt at baking tarts, and you drop everything you're doing and fly outside, towards the elevator, fueled by fear and sheer panic.

When you burst into his apartment, using the spare key he left you, you cry out, “Xavier! Sitrep!”

A cursory survey of the area indicate neither fire nor flood, and his apartment seems undamaged. Fear subsiding, you finally take stock of the situation.

Perhaps it's not a kitchen emergency after all? There’s no smell of something burning, thank heavens for that. You do not want to apologize to his neighbors in his place again.

You call once more, “Xavier?”

“In here.”

His voice is coming from the bedroom, and that makes you waver. Why is he still in his bedroom? Maybe he's stuck in bed? Did he sleep for three days and wake up in an unusual position and in need of assistance to set back his limbs again? Weirder and weirder thoughts spiral in your head, and your lack of response prompts him to speak once more.

“You can go in, if that's what stops you.”

“Why can't you just go out?”

“I ... can't.”

The hesitation captures your attention. Xavier is probably entangled in the bed. You may as well help him.

“All right, I'm coming in then.”

When you open the door, you're expecting some sort of layers and layers of blankets, a sea of them, not just on the bed but also on the floor and other furniture. Xavier might be underneath in any of those blankets, and it's your duty to locate him and fish him out. You're ready to swim against these blankets, fight your way into it. Do your utmost duty as a combat partner.

Except.

Except it's not a sea of blankets that welcome you once you enter the room. It's—different.

So different.

So utterly different that you drop your phone. It clatters muffled against the carpeted floor, where it slightly nudges a gift-wrapped box. And that gift-wrapped box sits next to another gift-wrapped box, and another. And another. Until you lift your widening gaze to see that Xavier's bedroom is littered with a lot of them. And Xavier—

He's on the bed, all right. But he's—

He grins lightly, leaning back from his sprawled position. The pillows behind him sink under his weight.

“Kjalfjdsj?” you say, eloquently.

“I'm glad you came ...” A pregnant pause, before he drops the bomb. “My lady.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Xavier is sprawled on the bed, bunny ears on his head, waistcoat and tie, and—you just know, you can feel it in your bones—bunny tail on behind. It's exactly what he wore when you had your couple's photos back then. The fact that he's wearing it and, judging by the sudden change of interior design of his room, that he's replicated the decoration of the studio—actually, you don't know what you can glean from those points, because you're too busy picking up the remains of your brain matter to form a coherent thought.

He drops another bomb: “Why are you just standing there, my lady?” he says, and going by the quirk of his lips he knows the effect he has on you. Compared with the first time it happened, the shy reluctance is no longer present. “This bunny butler is ready to serve, just say the word.”

Your brain melts.

“Wha—I mean—um, guh—” You studiously reacquaint yourself with the concept of words. “I just—what is going on?”

Xavier blinks, and the bunny ears on top of his head twitch as if they are truly connected to his head. Your fingers twitch themselves in response, that urge to touch and feel them again.

“I just thought,” he begins, slowly at first as if testing the waters, “that you need to relax and get pampered after that difficult mission you've just had.”

The words percolate in your mind and you scrabble for an appropriate reply to that. To be fair to the man, Xavier is sweet thinking of your well-being like that. Or maybe he's guilty that he wasn't there to help during that corgipocalypse of a week. Regardless of his intent, you have to ask:

“You thought I need to relax and your solution is to dress up as a bunny butler?”

He has the gall to think about it at length. “Yes, my lady.”

You don't miss the way he spreads his legs a little wider at that.

And really—you're only human, with wants and needs and desires. It just so happens that the common denominator of those three aspects point to the ridiculous man before you, in that ridiculous bunny butler getup that you secretly love and hope to see again. Which—yeah, it's definitely the perfect solution.

Stomping your hesitation and pride, you stride towards the bed, and Xavier, watching your every step, reclines further, giving you space for you to place your knee on the soft mattress, between his legs.

The bedfoam dips, and he shifts to avoid sinking down the indent your knee makes. Your other knee follows, and you move towards him until the heat of his inner thighs touch the outer sides of yours.

At the proximity between the two of you, Xavier tips forward, and in spite of your positions he doesn't need to tilt his head much upward to meet your deliberating gaze. An anticipatory sharpness falls on his expression and, oh, you realize, he must've wanted this too.

Which is all that you need to fall into this completely.

And it's a transformation: a reshifting of limbs and the straightening of spine, something like a lock unlatching.

“Mr. Bunny Butler,” you begin, low and relishing and shy of being predatory, “bow your head.”

Xavier's nostrils flare at that. After a couple of seconds he complies, and seeing the sliver of his exposed nape opens something within you.

Against your shoulder the bunny ears snag, their length not allowing to fall along Xavier's pose. You bring one hand up to trace an invisible line across an ear, the fur short and soft. Xavier's quiet beneath you, but you can feel him stiffening at your every move. Braced a little behind his sides, his hands clench tightly.

“Can you feel it?” you ask, pinching the colored tip of the ear, pushing it back to observe its make. It's well-made, and you wonder if this one costs more than you'd expect.

Xavier shakes his head. You want to hear him, however, so you tap the back of his head in warning. He exhales loudly; breathes out, “No ...” and then tacking on: “Master.”

Your eyes narrow in pleasure, the flesh of your cheeks bunching from how wide your smile is. “That's my good bunny,” you praise him, caressing the curve of his head. He shivers—whether from the praise or the touch or both, you don't know.

To see him like this—a formidable hunter with centuries of experience, the force of stars pulsing underneath his skin, ready to rupture at his command—head bent low before you, hands closed in restrained fists, the lines of his body intersecting into a show of surrender. Yielding. It heats the core of your belly and your blood, and you can't help but bite your lip as you savor the image.

Leaning back and sitting on your calves, you catch Xavier's downcast stare. His brows furrowed as if concentrating, and when he notices you trained on him, his eyes do something that reminds you of the existence of the concept of puppy dog eyes.

Every time he does that, you think, you want to gobble him up.

Closing in on his face, you raise your left hand and cradle his jaw, tipping it up, gazes never leaving each other. Then you draw nearer, and nearer, until your lips almost brush against his. The sharp sound of his inhale is deafening in this lack of distance. Your eyes never leave his, but his drop down, nearly crossing, as he's distracted by your lips. His breaths are hot on your skin, and finally you aim at the corner of his mouth, and open your own to say:

“Don't move.”

And then you descend, trailing butterfly kisses along the edge of his lips, his cheek, his temple. Xavier goes spine-rigid at the first contact, forgetting to breathe for a second, before slowly exhaling, as if trying to hold himself together. His brows knit again and his eyes flutter closed, the line of his lips sloping downward.

He's controlling himself. And that delights you so much that you shift to kiss his earlobe and tug it once, then whispering directly to his ear, “That's my obedient bunny. Keep this up and I'll reward you.”

You stop to wait, and when nothing happens, you tug his jaw and take a bite at the shell of his ear—he gasps—and continue:

“What do you say?”

Xavier's shoulders lurch. He breathes once, twice, before answering.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Good boy.”

The first reward: a kiss on the lips. A quick, initial press before you pry him open with tongue, and he welcomes you eagerly from the way he surges to meet you. The hand on his face holds him back, but his own hands fly to your hips and plant themselves there.

You slap them away, he resists. You break the kiss, and he makes a disappointed sound, chasing you, and then realizes what he's done.

“I'm sorry—my lady,” he stumbles, putting his hands back in their previous position. He looks so properly chastised, you love it.

Outwardly, you sigh in disappointment, and he whips his head up, stricken. “After I said that you're obedient, you do this. What shall we do, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

“What—” He swallows. “What do you want me to do, my lady?”

In all the times you've tried to fluster him, Xavier doesn't really redden. At best his skin produces a soft sheen of pink across his cheeks that linger over his ears. Never tomato-red though.

But now, his face glows bright pink that gradiates to a noticeable crimson, ending at the tips of his ears. This is good development, you decide, something that you want more of. So you push further.

“Are you truly sorry, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

He nods meekly.

“Then”—a finger pokes at the center of his forehead and pushes, his head docilely tilting back, exposing his slender, beautiful neck—“don't move this time.”

You slip two fingers under his tie and pull it loose. The unobstructed slide of the silken fabric echoes around the room, punctuated by the hitch of his breath. The bunny ears jerk. To his credit, he's still as a statue, and the giddiness that you've been feeling for a while now mounts to a dull yet insistent ache that pools between your legs.

Then you unbutton his collar, which reveals more of that pretty neck. An alarmed sound forms in his throat, and you call his name in warning. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows whatever he's about to say.

And that Adam's apple becomes your next target: your mouth molds around it, sucking, and Xavier gives a full-body shudder. A groan bursts out of him. He's trembling, his hands—leather-gloved and creaking at the strain of his fists—his thighs, his shoulders. You can see how he wants to turn his head, to retreat from your hot mouth, but thinks himself the better of it.

You place your left hand under his head and kiss him under the angle of his left jaw.

“Ah—”

With your free hand, you trace down the outline of his neck to shoulder. His breath catches, he jolts away, his eyes shoot you a betrayed look.

“My lady—”

You plant another kiss in the dip of his collarbone. “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?” you ask against his moist skin.

He releases a shuttered exhale. Behind you, his legs move in a way that comes across as avoidant, as if he's hiding something from you. You glance down and realize the reason for his discomfort.

Saliva pools in your mouth.

But you swallow the surging desire ignited by the image of his arousal. It isn't time yet; you want to draw this out as long as you can.

Head still tipped back, Xavier doesn't see your discovery of his want, his eyes half-mast and his focus directed on reining himself in. If you remove yourself from the scene and study him from head to toe, you'd find Xavier the perfect picture of temptation, restrained, controlled on the surface but a collapsing star underneath, gravity pulling you to him and there's no way to escape.

Not that you'd like to escape in the first place.

You repeat your question, this time against his Adam's apple: “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?”

“My la—” He chokes. Tries again. “Whatever my lady wants.”

Ah. Such a good bunny.

Your hands drift down to the next closed button. His tie is loosened enough that you can remove it in one hard tug. And isn't that a nice thought: one strong pull and he's dragged along by the force, his lips inevitably landing on your lips, a welcome collision.

But you don't follow that path; instead, your hands drop lower, to the last button of his waistcoat. The sides of your hands brush against the seam of his pants, dangerously close to his already obvious bulge, and it dawns on Xavier that you're already aware of his worldly response, if the widening of his eyes is an indication. He whips his head to shoot you a meaningful look, as if begging you to ignore his lapse of control—as if that is an unwelcome development.

Sometimes, you think, Xavier wants to show you a side of him that only exudes assurance, a sharp blade and sturdy shield that envelop you in sidereal protection. Be it from outside forces and his own—and even yours. Physical dangers, most especially, but curiously enough: information. Knowledge. The matters of the past. The matters of the heart. The both of you may have confessed that day, the words of your promises embedded in your heart like an oath under the stars, but there are times when a shadow passes through Xavier's expression, and he seems so far away. Light-years away.

But right now, that thought isn't at the forefront of your mind: it is the way the redness climbs up his neck, his face, his cheeks, painting him a beautiful hue that reminds you of a recently blossomed rose. He truly is gorgeous this way.

One of his hands encloses around yours, stopping your ministrations. Minute tremors hum under his callused palm.

“I'm—” A quick breath. “I'm supposed to serve you, my lady.”

Ah. Truly such a good bunny.

You capitulate, hands retreating from the button of his pants, but not before caressing his trembling hand and squeezing it once. An indulgent smile unfurls in the line of your lips, and you make a snap decision.

The second reward: freedom. Xavier has expressed his desire to serve, to please, and you'll give him the freedom to choose how to enact it—

Under a specific instruction, of course.

“Yes, of course,” you say, tapping his warm cheek fondly with your index finger. “Serve me, then, Mr. Bunny Butler. Strip for me. Slowly.”

He catches that finger quickly with his mouth, bites it lightly, like it's a warning—or a promise. You let him nibble and lick your finger for a couple of seconds, the wetness sending electricity down your spine, and you can't stop the shiver that echoes throughout your body. Xavier narrows his eyes in satisfaction at your response, hints of a smirk around his lips, and that's insubordination if you saw one. So you snatch your finger away from him, and punish him by dragging your wet finger along the column of his neck.

He jumps at the sensation.

“Strip, Xavier,” you repeat firmly. “Make sure it's a good show.”

It just proves how dedicated he is at this roleplay: by this point he should have already ended this little act and would have taken over, but he's holding your critical gaze as his hands settle over the topmost button of his vest.

“I'll try, my lady.” His voice drops to a low, husky murmur, one that summons pinpricks down your nape and the back of your shoulders, crawling in a slow, deliberate tease.

He does try, indeed. He moves back, affording you space to see his torso without having to change your position. One hand to brace his weight, the other deftly maneuvering each button at a comfortable pace. For every button opened, he takes a deep breath, gives you a confident smile, albeit awkward at the edges. But the rhythm of it lulls you, and you find yourself playing with his bunny ears again—a right decision, because he makes a surprised sound, which morphs into a moan.

The returned proximity grants you the ghostly brushes of his knuckles against your clothed stomach when he opens another button. Because of this, the way your stomach contracts every time he brushes you becomes known to him, and Xavier huffs a laugh, and proceeds to be more purposeful with it.

You tug at his bunny ear, hard. “Mr. Bunny Butler,” you warn.

His shrugs his vest off as his reply.

Now, only left with shirt and tie, Xavier stares down at them, thinking about what to do next. You help him by pushing yourself flush against him, making sure that your thigh grazes his cock. He judders, shoving his face on the crook of your neck and groaning. Idly, you continue playing with the furred ears.

“My lady, my lady,” he mutters, and you feel him sighing, “don't tease me.”

You hum. “Then put more effort in your show.”

He peeks up at you under those pretty yet underhanded lashes of his, and you spy hints of a smirk in that mouth.

But before you can question him about it, a hand grabs yours and guides it to his tie, wraps it around the silk fabric, and pulls. Slowly, carefully. From this angle more skin is revealed under your wandering gaze—the tease of a nipple, flashing beneath that white shirt—and you gulp at the flutter in your belly.

Once the necktie is completely off him, he takes it from your hand and, indeed like a show, re-ties it around his neck, a ribboned gift. At this point you're ready to combust—and he's not even naked.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

“Yes,” you rasp, suddenly off-kilter, “very much.”

“Then ...” He resumes undressing, the buttons of his shirt easily extricated, his movements economical, and bit by bit his bare torso opens before your anticipatory eyes.

He stops at the tucked-in part of the shirt. Glances at you, bites his lip, and goes back to pull the front off so the shirt opens just below his shoulders, presenting you such a gorgeous view.

Xavier sinks into the propped-up pillows—and you unconsciously follow—and smiles. “All yours, Master.”

He knows—that little shit—the allure of incomplete nakedness. The gap, the gape, the patches of exposed skin surrounded by fabric. Xavier's using it to his utmost advantage.

By now you could have clawed his clothes away from his body, but somehow, this tastes more delicious, the promise of a tease, the prolonged heat-pulse that thrums in your core, and you're pretty sure, if Xavier's shallow breaths are an indication, that he's into this too.

Well. May as well take advantage of this luxurious present.

One hand descends on the side of his neck, and you see him tamp down the surprised jolt. This hand, light in its touch, ghostly, virtual, traces the edges of the necktie. You can hear Xavier's bated breath, waiting for your next step.

Then down, down, down to his collarbone, the dip of it, your index finger making laps twice, end to end.

Then further: his chest. And this time, it's not only your hand that wants to participate. You brace yourself on his shoulder and bend down to kiss the center of his chest. Xavier lets out a sound, and inhales sharply.

Next: his left nipple, with an additional teasing nip. His hips buck from the sensation.

You stay where you are, lifting your gaze to ascertain his expression. His head is turned away, hiding his face, a hand covering half of it. But it's useless for him to hide, because his ear is in your direct line of vision, and it's a glaring red.

This propels you to indulge more: the hand on his shoulder slides down to pay his other nipple attention. His legs shift, restless. The sounds of his gasps and moans occupy the room. You feast on him, laying your tongue flat on him and dragging it wetly until you hear him stutter your name.

“M-My lady—I—”

You surge forward, and the force topples the stack of pillows behind him. In the midst of this, you reposition your legs so that you're finally straddling Xavier, your skirt bunching up just below your waist, and—teasingly—grind against his straining cock.

He jerks, grabbing at your hips, attempting at more friction, but you remind him who's in charge, and he eventually relents, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry about that, my lady. I'm—I'm good now.”

“That's my good bunny.” Then you continue exploring his body with your tongue.

He tastes faintly of sweat but also the scent-taste of his body wash. He's showered just before calling you up. And for some reason, that does you: you rise to kiss him again, and your free hand sneaks itself under him—and grabs his bunny tail.

Xavier yelps, scarlet, shocked at the action, gaping at you and your smug face.

You squeeze the fluffy ball of a tail in response.

“M-My lady...!” he blurts.

“Shame that I didn't get to play with this last time,” you muse, feeling up the soft thing. It twitches under your curious touch. Delighted, you shift around Xavier's torso to lift his hips and study and poke at the tail repeatedly, entranced at the bounce and fuzziness of it. “A wasted opportunity, don't you think so?”

When you check Xavier's reaction, you have to hold back your laugh. He's clearly uncomfortable, but the discomfort is brought upon by embarrassment, as evidenced by his squirming and the persistence of his blush.

Words have left him, so he just averts your leery gaze, bury his face into the nearest pillow, and groans.

Taking pity on him, you release his tail—but not without giving it one last flick; he jolts—and slide your hands around the waistband of his pants. You're fumbling for the button and then the zipper when two gloved hands hinder your actions.

Xavier's face is rearranged into an indulgent yet mischievous smile. “My lady can enjoy me as long as you like. There's no need to hurry.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? You have already enjoyed him so much and enough that at one point things are bound to snap. He as your focal point of your want, the desire that thrums alongside your veins, almost like blood.

“But Mr. Bunny Butler,” you start, adopting a light, airy voice and tilting your head up at him, “there are a lot of things to enjoy from you. I'm not sure if one evening would do.”

Before Xavier can even get a word edgewise, you tear his pants open and yank his boxers down, freeing his cock.

“My la—”

His cock is a firm, solid weight on your hand, and Xavier bucks at the first contact, a halfway gasp ripping out of him. You watch his reactions as you stroke him slowly—painfully slowly, tantalizingly slowly—as your other hand crawl up his waist, flat palm spanning his side.

You know, intellectually and objectively, that Xavier is pretty. Gunmetal-grey hair that shimmers under the starry night sky. His smooth, unlined skin that you're harboring unholy envy for, soft under your curious fingers, almost pristine, untouched all his life. The column of his neck, strong bones underneath the layer of skin and muscle, the prominence of his Adam's apple. The outline of his body—even and proportioned, balanced like a finely crafted sword. And most of all: his eyes, the most expressive part of all of him. The color of an unperturbed sky, always clear and never lost. A steady glister in the darkness.

Right now, though, he's different altogether. Almost otherworldly in the way he's unraveling under your clever fingers. A shift of pressure and he's biting down the meat of his hand in a poor attempt to muffle his groans. A fleeting trail across the slit of his cock and his eyes flutter shut, his hips jumping off the mattress. He thrashes in chase of the pressure and pleasure you're providing him in crumbs, your need to see him lose that frustrating control of his. You keep stroking him and watching him blossom before you, petal by petal, limb by limb, nerve by nerve.

“My lady—” He's panting, running out of breath, his voice gaining that frenzied quality. It's music to your ears. “Master—Master, haa—”

He's coming, you can feel it. You can see it through his quickening breaths, the flush of his skin all over his body, the white-knuckled fist of his hands, the throb of his cock.

“My lady, I'm co—”

You release him, and the slow transformation of his face is such a fascinating phenomenon. From the crunch of pleasure, then crumpling into confusion. He raises his head to see you leaning back, hands away from him, his hazy eyes taking in what's happening—or its lack of. Then they widen, his mouth dropping open to release a sound of distress, round and full and cracking.

“Why did you ...”

You tug at the ends of the ribbon-necktie. He clicks his mouth shut.

“You said I can enjoy you as long as I like. There's no need to hurry.”

His gaze finally clears, and he gulps, nodding. Near your hips, Xavier's cock leaks.

“Then ...” You lay on top of him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, your belly pressing against his pulsing cock (he freezes at this, and then continues to freeze), and place your arms on the sides of his head so your hands can reach the bunny ears. They still react delightfully under your roaming touch. “I'm going to enjoy these a little more. Don't move too much, okay?”

The room becomes pinched with quiet, and while you're intent on the furry ears atop Xavier's head, you can sense in your periphery his eyes on you. He's careful not to jostle you, the air he breathes catching on your skin, and you feel his arms snaking around your waist, settling on the small of your back.

“You really like the costume that much, huh.”

You hum in acknowledgment, rubbing the area where accessory meets scalp. You scratch it with your light fingernails, and Xavier sighs at the feeling.

When you leave the ears, you turn your attention to Xavier's expression next. He's still observing you, his flush now pale but enduringly distinct across his cheeks, and that entices you to meet his lips in a slow, patient kiss.

“It's nice, seeing you go through such effort to make me happy,” you answer him after you separate, punctuating the statement with a pleased, narrow-eyed smile.

A thought takes over Xavier, with the way his brows knit. Moments pass, you regard him, until he finally opens his mouth to articulate whatever has occupied him.

“My lady,” he begins, hesitant at first, but each word gains confidence, “there's something I want to do for you.”

“Speak.”

“I want you to”—and here his stare morphs into that puppy dog eyes again—“sit on my face. Please.”

You're stunned. The room continues to be quiet, and you're stunned. Xavier doesn't add anything after that; just waiting for your response. He's probably not sensing how you've finally shut down. You, felled by nine words, the last one an imperative period that brooked no refusal.

When he calls you, his face and his voice are tinted with uncertainty.

“Stars, Xavier.” You scramble up to reposition yourselves in accordance to his request. During this transitory moment, Xavier removes his gloves with his teeth. Now bare, both his hands come up to hold your thighs from behind, adjusting their spread and angle. You want to whine self-consciously, but glimpsing Xavier's eager expression as you move towards his head, you stamp that part in your mind. “Okay down there?”

He doesn't reply—instead he just goes for it.

Your hands shoot for the headboard, a surprised cry shocked out of you. Is this Xavier's way of revenge for denying his orgasm earlier? The way he confronts you is not unlike a battle, with his single-minded focus on his goal and his preciseness. He parts your folds with his tongue, pays attention to your clit first: sucks it lightly before dialing it up. You convulse, your hips digging down, and he moans, the vibration thrumming your flesh.

“Xavier,” you sob, “Xavier. Xavier.”

He laps around your clit like a thirsty man, hands kneading your thighs. He must've been thinking about this for a while now, with how methodical he's going by it, strategized to push you into becoming a complete and utter wreck. He kisses your clit then mouths it, moves his tongue in lateral glides that have you thrashing on your position. You grind against him, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly, and behind you his hips thrust helplessly in air, his stubbornly hard cock drooling with pre-come.

One hand nudges you forward and you follow, until his tongue enters inside you—you gasp and shiver at the slick intrusion—drinks you with such loudness that you wouldn't be surprised if his neighbors overhear what the two of you have been doing.

He knows how to prolong the barrage of pleasure, that heat and swell around your core, your undulating hips, sustained until you buckle and collapse from the force of it, your orgasm torrential like a storm.

When Xavier emerges between your legs, his face shines from your slick and his saliva. A fond smile slips out of you, and a finger traces the length of his lips; then your entire hand, cupping the side of his face, a tender caress. A smile of his own appears and he nuzzles your hand, kisses the center of your palm, eyes closed and sated.

“Good boy,” you praise, and he sighs happily. “So good for me. Have to reward you, don't I?”

The third reward: release. You move back to pull his pants and boxers off him completely, and Xavier just watches you with anticipation, breaths in quick bursts.

“You know the drill: don't move.” You underline this order with a tease of his cock, a line-trail from the tip to the base and then a quick squeeze of his balls.

When you align yourself above him and begin to sink down, Xavier goes rigid-stiff, daring not to breathe, careful not to move. You pause from your progress, and send him a worried look.

“Xavier?”

“I—I'm—” He bites his lip, exhales through his nose. “I'm okay, I just. I'm just trying not to react too much.”

“Why?”

He casts you a helpless gaze. “Because, my lady, I'm afraid that my control would slip, and I would have my selfish way with you.”

You falter at that. To be honest that's not such a bad idea at all, but Xavier knows that this is for you and your needs, and what you need right now—and what you want, if one were to ask—is him under you, at your mercy. Just as he is right now.

So you move lower, feeling the head of his cock open you up, slowly. And you can hear the hitching breaths unwittingly made by him, his eyes shut and his whole expression folded inward, as if he couldn't handle the pleasure descending over him.

A groan tumbles out of his lips, low at first, quick and fleeting, but as you inch lower and lower, the feel of his cock molding you inside, the wanton sounds he makes lengthens, gets louder, until he parts those glistening lips and vocalizes his satisfaction.

“My lady—you feel so—”

“Good, I hope.”

He doesn't wait until you bottom out; he bucks his hips to sheathe himself inside you completely in one smooth motion. You cry out from his action, his cock pulsing against your walls, and the feeling of him pulls you in further bliss that your eyes flutter closed and your back arches as the pleasure spreads throughout your body.

“The best, my lady.”

He gasps when you clench around him, your wetness dripping between your joined bodies.

You really think the best position Xavier has ever been is here right now: underneath you, helpless to your demands, seized by pleasure that you're giving him and taking from him. The way his face doesn't know what to do in the undulating waves of pressure as you begin to move above him, your hips lifting and then slamming back down; the film of sweat coating his skin all over, moistening the sheets beneath the two of you. The severe grip of his hands, bunching up the blankets in their deathly clutch. His rapid heartbeat under your palm as you support your weight by bracing yourself on his chest. His moans, his filthy, filthy moans—his moans that you will remember until your dying day because they are so far out of his cultivated normalcy—open-mouthed, slack-jawed moans that come from the core of his abdomen, surging upwards, frantic, crazed, melodiously and sublimely wanton.

“Look at you, Xavier,” you pant, and one of Xavier's legs kicks out. “Look at my bunny butler.”

“Master—Master—”

“What do you want, darling?” you ask, shakily tracing the side of his face. When your fingers near his mouth he turns his head to place a kiss at your fingertips, then drags his tongue out to lick at their length. Your index and middle fingers press flat at his tongue, and he groans around them. His puffs of breath beat in time with the movement of your hips.

One hand crawls towards your thigh, haltingly slides upwards, up to the junction of your hips, where it disappears under the spill of your skirt. Then it reaches behind to squeeze at the meat of your ass, and you gasp, stuttering your pace.

You take out your fingers so he can answer you, but Xavier grabs your wrist with his other hand and brings it back to his lips, trails kisses on each finger, murmurs nonsensical things against your saliva-coated skin until, louder, he tells you—

“Everything you can give me, my lovely Master.”

And, oh, isn't that a wonderful thing to hear? That readiness of his—be it in battle or in bed, he rolls with everything you throw at him, as though there's nothing that can taint you in his eyes, no betrayal to feel forsaken by. As though all that he's done, all that he's doing, is in service to you.

And it's because of this that you use the same hand to cup at his jaw and jerk it in your direction, bowing down to kiss him, bite his lower lip, thrust your tongue inside, lick the roof of his mouth, suck his own tongue—devour him fully and utterly.

He meets your intent with his own, just as intense, just as parched and hungry as you are for him. Every exhale is accompanied by a soft sigh, and you swallow his every sound—that lovely and soothing voice that lingers in your mind and haunts the edges of your dreams. His reaction just drives you to speed up your pace.

He's trembling all over, and tries to shift the angle from which you're riding him. Doing so affords his cock to hit something inside you, lighting up your body, starburst behind your eyelids, and you jolt, a whimper tearing out of your throat that Xavier drinks greedily. His hand on your ass traverses to your clit and plays with it, intensifying the blast of sensations on your lower body.

Obstructed by your mouth, Xavier tries: “My lady, I think—I'm close.”

“Me too, I'm—don't hold back—”

He doesn't. And he doubles his efforts in relentlessly stroking your clit and pounding up inside you, and the pleasure crests and crests and crests until you pulse and clench and come, sobbing at the white-hot crash flooding your nerves, collapsing on top of Xavier, mouths still connected.

And he doesn't stop. This time both his hands bracket your hips; grinds you down as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You're oversensitive but you don't stop him, just clinging to him and whimpering, and he begins to assail your ear, his panting tangible and hot against your skin.

“My lady, my lady,” he chants, voice shattering like glass. “My lady—Master—”

His orgasm feels like an echo of your own release, his spend filling inside you. Xavier gives a few more thrusts before slowing down and stopping. A self-satisfied sigh ripples over his relaxed body, and his hands climb to your back, guide you to pillow your head on his chest, embracing you as you melt on top of him.

Minutes pass, and his breathing evens; you expected him to fall asleep after, but when you look up his eyes are emphatically open.

“Aren't you sleeping?”

He glances down at you. Quirks a smile. “No, not yet.”

“Oh ...”

“We're not finished, my lady.”

“Huh?”

“You've had your fill, Master.” He smirks. Then flips you over, reversing your positions so he's now on top of you. He starts unbuttoning your shirt. “Now let me have mine.”

[slayfics]

Explosive tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter fourteen: You visit Katsuki.

Chapter links

You puttered around your room trying to keep yourself busy. It was taking everything in you not to text and bug Katsuki. It should have been enough for you to know he was safe at home, but you still worried about how he was doing. Surely everything that happened was pretty traumatic for him. Being kidnapped by the League of Villains, and being in the middle of that fight with All Might and One For All.

You mindlessly folded some laundry and put it away as you desperately fought the urge to check on him. You knew he had to be tired from all the questioning from the police and no doubt his parents, so you tried to give him space.

You finished putting away the last of your laundry and eyed your phone on your bed. Ugh- fuck it. He can ignore it if he doesn't want to talk to anyone.

You grabbed your phone and messaged Katsuki.

How are you doing? I'm fine. You don't need to check on me. I know, but it's hard not to worry with everything that happened. I said I'm fine. I'm fucking tired of talking about it. The cops were here for hours. I'm sorry that sounds shitty. Want to come over? I promise I won't ask about it. We can talk about other stuff and pretend it didn't happen for a while. Can't. I'm on some house arrest shit. They don't want me going anywhere. I'll come to you then.

You really want to see me that bad hu?

You blushed reading his last text and before you could think of what to say back Katsuki was calling you.

"Hey," You answered your phone.

"I'm going to give you directions on how to get to my place," he said

"You could just send me your address," you said as you snuck out your window.

"I want you to stay on the phone with me the whole time. In case something happens. I don't need you running into villains or anything on the way to my place. I'd never hear the end of it from the damn police," he grumbled.

You laughed at his remarks. While his words were harsh you knew by now it was just the way Katsuki was. It was actually sweet that he wanted to make sure you were safe the whole way to his house.

"Alright tell me what street you are on," he said.

You gave him the name of passing streets and he proceeded to give you what he decided to be the safest route even though it was a little longer.

"I don't want you walking down any alleyways or shit like that. And hurry up you're walking so damn slow," he said.

"I am not! It's not my fault I don't have a quirk that lets me explode through the sky," You teased him.

"Tch whatever- do you see the house with the brown wall yet?" he asked.

Your mouth hung slightly open as you realized the house Katsuki was talking about. It was a rather huge house, that you hadn't expected him to live at.

"Holy shit-" you said being unable to keep your thoughts to yourself.

"What?" He asked.

"This is a huge fucking house Bakugo, do you have a lot of siblings or something?"

"No. It's just me and my parents. Come to the balcony on the second floor," He demanded.

You looked up and noticed Katsuki coming out onto the balcony. He used his quirk to jump down next to you.

"Just grab on to me," he said holding his arm out.

"What?" You blushed taken back.

"Don't be so weird about it, I'm just going to get us back up," he said as he wrapped his arm around you and set his quirk off again landing you both on the balcony.

"Come on get inside," he said walking into his room and waving for you to follow him.

You looked around his room and noticed he was extremely organized. Probably the cleanest boy's room you had ever seen. It was huge too, double the size of your room, including its own restroom. A few posters decorated the walls and a drum set sat in the corner.

Katsuki sat at his chair by his desk, "Just sit wherever I don't care," He replied when you both heard yelling from downstairs.

"KATSUKI WAS THAT YOUR QUIRK I HEARD!? YOU BETTER NOT BE CAUSING MORE PROBLEMS! EVERYONE'S ALREADY DONE ENOUGH FOR YOU!" A female voice yelled from downstairs.

Katsuki quickly yelled back causing your eyes to widen, "SHUT THE HELL UP I WAS JUST KILLING A DAMN SPIDER HAG!"

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TALK TO ME THAT WAY I'LL COME UP THERE AND BEAT YOUR ASS!" She yelled back.

Katsuki grunted but didn't respond.

"Um- was that your mom?" You asked.

"Yeah, fucking bitch has been driving me crazy under this damn house arrest," he replied.

You stared at Katsuki dumbfounded. By no means did you have the best family relationships, but you'd never expected his home life to be this way. Suddenly, a lot of Katsuki's personality started to make sense to you and for the first time, you almost pitied him.

"Must be rough not being able to get some space," you said sympathetically.

"Hey, you said you weren't going to talk about it!" He barked angrily.

"Right," You looked around the room feeling unsure of where to sit, until you reluctantly decided to sit on the edge of the bed facing him sitting in his chair.

You let out a sigh, having no idea what to say to him now that you were here.

"She's um- not actually going to come up here, right? She sounds like she'd kick my ass if she found me in here," You joked trying to lighten the mood.

"Tch. Nah, she won't. She wants just as much space from me as I do from her," he grumbled, which only made you feel sadder for Katsuki. "How did you idiots find out where to go that night anyway?" He asked.

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it?" You teased him.

"This is different! I'm the one asking the questions now," he replied.

"Fair enough. Well, Yayarozu had put a tracker on one of the Nomu's back at the training camp. She gave one to the police and pros and then made another one for us to follow later. Once we got there Kirishima used some night vision goggles, he bought to look in the building. That's when we saw all the Nomu's and then pros started showing up. Shortly after it sounded like you just teleported there with the other villains," you explained.

"Yeah, it was some teleporting quirk that one villain had. Smelled like shit it was awful," he replied. "And then what?" he asked, encouraging you to keep going.

"We heard you and knew we had to do something. Midoriya came up with the plan for him, Iida, and Kirishima to rocket through the sky to give you an opening."

Katsuki grumbled, "Of course, it was that fucking nerd's idea."

You figured he wasn't going to be happy to hear it was Izuku who had come up with the plan, but you didn't intend to lie to him. "Then when they got you, me, Todoroki, and Yayarozu took off. After that, we met up with the rest of you and you know what happened from there," You finished.

"Yeah- you hugged the shit out of me like I was some weakling you expected to find dead or something," he spoke harshly.

You felt stunned by his words and snapped back, "Hey I was just worried about you! And it was nice to see you weren't hurt at all."

Katsuki rolled his eyes and you both sat in silence for a moment before he asked you another question.

"What kind of goggles did shitty hair have? Did he already have them or just bought them?" He asked.

"I'm not telling you," you said stubbornly still upset at his last comment.

"The fuck? Don't be a brat!" he barked.

"Then apologize! You know I don't think you're weak!" You yelled back.

"I'm not fucking apologizing," he said sternly.

"You're so irritating do you know that! You would think you'd have an ounce of gratefulness for your friends and me! We were risking a lot going to find you! You know that right!?"

"Of course, I know that dumb ass! I'm not a fucking idiot!" He yelled back.

"Then stop acting like one!"

Katsuki stared at you with a bewildered expression, he had no idea what to make of your sudden feistiness. "Ugh," he groaned running his hand over his face.

"Fine- look I don't give a crap about you hugging me or whatever. So, just fucking tell me if Kirishima bought those goggles specifically to come look for me," he pleaded.

You stared at him deciding if you wanted to answer. You figured that was the best type of apology you'd get out of him and gave in, "He said he bought them specially to look for you. Happy?"

"No, I'm not fucking happy, I don't want to owe anyone anything. I didn't ask you extras to come look for me," He grumbled.

"If it was any of us, what would you have done?" You asked angrily, fed up with his attitude.

Katsuki gave you an intimidating stare as he thought your question over. After some time passed, he answered honestly, "Depends who."

"Kirishima. If it was Kirishima that got taken, what would you have done?"

Katsuki sighed, "I'd go get the dumb ass, but I wouldn't have been as reckless about it as you idiots were!" He exclaimed and crossed his arms.

You rolled your eyes at him and stared at the floor as a long pause sat between you both and your next question, "What if it was me?" You asked gently.

Katsuki ignored your question and stared out the window for entirely too long before saying, "It's getting late you should head back. I don't want you walking back in the dark," he said.

You got up without saying anything and stomped over to the balcony, frustrated still by Katsuki's never-ending stubbornness and refusal to answer you.

"Come here, I'll help you down," he said, pulling you to him as he shot off his quirk again landing you both on the ground.

"Same fucking deal alright, call me while you walk back," he said letting you go.

"Fine," you said irritated, and pulled out your phone. "But I'm not some fucking weakling either you know," you snapped at him.

"Yeah, I know," he said, voice softer than before. "Look," he paused and seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment. "Don't think I don't understand what you all did. I get it, I just- I don't know." He grunted and you could see him becoming frustrated with himself.

You sighed feeling guilty for your attitude now. Obviously, Katsuki had been through a lot the past two days. It was asking a lot of him to be happy or grateful about anything right now.

"It's fine, Bakugo... I'm just glad you are ok." You spoke and made a quick decision to test your luck once more as you wrapped your arms around him and brought him into an embrace. To your surprise, he didn't push you off or make some snarky comment. Instead, he gingerly wrapped his arms around you returning the gesture.

You rested your head on his chest embracing the hug for as long as you could. You realized you'd never met anyone as hard to read as Katsuki. One moment she seemed irritated by your very presence and now you felt him giving in embracing you tighter. Your whole body froze as he moved to gently rest his head on top of yours.

You felt paralyzed as if any slight movement would have scared him away like a skittish cat. Although, a part of you wondered what would have happened if you were to have looked up at him. However, the moment passed, and Katsuki broke the peaceful silence.

"Told you, you don't need to worry about me dumb ass. Now get going it's getting dark. And don't forget to call me on your way back." He said, removing his arms from you and breaking the embrace.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle

[imaginesig]

"I just don't understand / how you don't miss me / in the Black Dog"

Ralf Aron x singer!reader

SMAU

After 3 years, is your relationship as dreamy as it looks?

All songs mentioned are linked at the bottom. Originally I planned this to be a Zak O'Sullivan smau, but then I figured Ralf's age fit better (I also wanted to write for him anyway so its fine) but any ideas for Zak are appreciated

f2_updates

liked by user6, user76, user9, and 823,939 others

f2_updates: beloved couple Y/n L/n and Ralf Aron were spotted in the paddock today to supports Paul Aron

tagged: no one

user1 they look so good!!

user2 Ralf might not race but they're gonna show up like he does

user3 best dressed couple

user4 my fav (unofficial) wag

user5 idk if it was planned but the monochrome black and whit fits ate

user6 right?? Like they weren't matching but it was coordinated nicely

user7 that made it cuter honestly

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aronralf posted a story!

Caption: so proud of you @/paularon_! I'm so happy I got to see your podium in Monaco in person and celebrate with you

ynln

like by zak.osullivan, paularon_, user4, and 829,293 others

ynln: little bro got a podium AND Zak won, officially the best trip to Monaco ever!! I'm so so proud Paul (and Zak, what an incredible race). I couldnt have asked for a better tour send off 🖤🤍

tagged: paularon_, zak.osullivan, aronralf

paularon_ thank you for coming!! It means the world

ynln I'd never miss if possible 🫶

zak.osullivan thank you!

ynln this was def one for the books!! But don't party to hard

aronralf stunning ❤️

ynln ❤️

user1 im choosing to take the heart colors as a sign that their outfits were pre-coordinated

user2 awww not her celebrating Zak too 😭

user3 she cheered so hard the entire time

user4 Y/n really became a grid mom for the prema (current and former) boys

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ynln posted a story!

caption: (2) pre-show date at our spot @/aronralf

aronralf posted a story!

caption: Ma armastan sind @/ynln ❤️❤️

replies

ynln

Ma armastan sind ka

thank you so much for coming!! It felt good to know you were watching ❤️

nothing is more beautiful than watching you do what you love

paularon_ posted a story

caption: you're a killer @/ynln

replies

ynln

that picture is so cute!! Please send it to me

*1 image*

you were fantastic

thank you!! It means a lot you flew out to be here

you would and have done the same for me

zak.osullivan posted a story!

caption: you're a star @/ynln!!!

dinobenganovic posted a story!

caption: 💜🤍🩵 @/ynln

olliebearman posted a story!

caption: @/lettiemng, I had a magical night with you! Thank you @/ynln

juanmanuel posted a story!

caption: great music, great night @/ynln

ynln

liked by aronralf, user54, gracieabrams, and 983,832 others

ynln: London, thank you for being an amazing opening crowd!! It is always so special to know that this entire set was a surprise and get to experience your reactions live!! Next stop, Dublin 🫶🫶

tagged: no one

aronralf ❤️💜

ynln ❤️💜

sarbinacarpenter looks amazing! I cant wait to go

gracieabrams loving the purple!!

user1 how am I supposed to be normal knowing this concert was attended by her grid family

user2 omg the confetti!!!

user3 I cannot wait for my show

user4 ugh im so upset the US leg is so far away

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Time Skip-- a couple shows later

Time skip- a few more shows

ynln

liked by user43, user53, user1, and 928,392 others

ynln: Paris what a lovely crowd you were!! This last show has made me not want to break at all, but alas I must rest up before the US leg begins 🫶🫶

tagged: no one

user1 fingers crossed this break helps her relax and let the "Begin Again" incident be a one time thing

user2 yay!! I was missing Y/n and Ralf content

user3 my show is coming!!!

user4 get your rest, it is deserved 👏👏

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ynln

liked by friend1, dinobeganovic, user5, and 983,939 others

ynln: same time next week??

tagged: friend1, friend2, friend3

user1 LYRICS?? Y/N DO YOU SLEEP??

user2 fr girlie is supposed to be on break and rest but here she is writing

friend1 same time every week??

ynln omg please

friend2 its been so great having you home!!

ynln ive missed it so much

friend3 you so owe me an uno rematch

ynln its on

user3 no Ralf?

user4 lets not assume anything, she went home and he's probably busy with racing responsibility, plus its only half way through her break im sure they'll be together soon

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f2_updates

liked by user4, user8, user43, and 823,929 others

f2_updates: Paul Aron and a mystery women have stopped by to cheer Paul Aron on!!

tagged: no one

user6 oh he brought a friend

user7 they didnt look to romantic so thats my hope

user1 ok ik we collectivy agreed not to stress about the Y/n crying situation but between that and now her not being seen here is getting to me

user2 wdym Y/m missed a Paul race?? Y/n never misses a Paul race??

user3 great results today!!

user4 always a good day when the Aron brothers are in the paddock

user5 thats my championship leader!!

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ynln

liked by friend3, user5, zak.osullivan, and 893,939 others

ynln: I have missed you guys so much I decided to gift a piece I wrote first half of my break to hold us all over until we get this show back on the road. It's a piece that I didn't expect to write but I did! "The Black Dog" will drop tonight at midnight

tagged: no one

zak.osullivan a masterpiece I know it

user1 the black dog?? like her and Ralfs special spot??

user2 she read the twitter rumors and said "let me put these to rest real quick"

user3 im so excited, no one loves a RalfY/n love song like me

user4 it'll make a great addition to my playlist

user4 I love the golden look

user5 its very summer

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ynln

liked by dinobeganovic, user54, sabrinacarpenter, and 893,939 others

ynln: I have been overwhelmed and moved by the support for "The Black Dog." The healing process has been greatly aided by your love. I decided to give into the urge to release the songs written during this tour and break in an EP. Enjoy my new EP "Golden Days" out midnight!!!

tagged: no one

user1 I fear I won't be able to take more heartbreak

user2 beautiful visuals

user3 do we think its called Golden Days because she's looking back on those days

user4 omg and despite her getting to be home and see old friends its still not as light as it appears

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ynln

liked by dinobenganovic, user43, zak.osullivan, and 829,093 others

ynln: thank you Saint Louis for a warm welcome back!! It's a new leg and a *slightly* new setlist. It was an honor to go on this emotional rollercoaster with you all and I cannot wait for Madison Square Garden 🫶🫶

tagged no one

user1 best night of my life

user2 when I tell you I screamed by head off when she added the new songs

user3 I dont know if ill survive my show

user4 what a intimate setting it was, her emotions were raw and she connected with the crowd in the high and low parts

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ynln posted a story!

caption: I've spent these past few days in New York (and a pilgrimage to see Harry's banner) just thinking about how blessed I am to get to play a sold out show at MSG!! If you asked little me, I never would have imagine id be on a completely sold out tour much less MSG!! Its a dream come true, and tonight lets rock 🫶🫶

f2_updates

liked by user1, user7, user3, and 928,929 others

f2_updates: F2 drivers have seen entering Madison Square Garden in New York alongside Ralf Aron with potential new girl. Rumors saying that plenty familar faces were going to spend a bit of their summer break to celebrate singer Y/n L/n's accomplishment now seem to be true

tagged: no one

user7 OMG GLASSES PAUL HAS BEEN SPOTTED

user1 stop this was so sweet until the very last slide

User8 fr Prema family Reunion ruined

user9 I would've been just fine with Zak, Dino, and Paul- ralf could've stayed home

user2 the way id burn his house down if I could

user3 awww the videos of Dino and Elvira dancing to the opener are adorable

user4 fr when will it be my turn

user5 the audacity to bring your new girl to your ex's show

user6 fingers crossed Y/n doesn't know (until after at least)

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ynln

liked by dinobeganovic, aronralf, taylorswift, and 923,920 others

ynln: what a night! I dont know how ill move on from finally accomplishing a childhood dream, but after some celebration im sure ill manage. Thank you to everyone in the crowd tonight, you were electric 🍾🫶

tagged no one

friend1 the cowboy hat >>>

taylorswift my imagination didnt give that mashup justice!! You were amazing

dinobeganovic best way to spend summer break

zak.osullivan officially becoming a groupie

friend2 you are a star!!

sabrinacarpenter congrats babe!!!

comments have been limited

~~

Begin Again by Taylor Swift

The Black Dog by Taylor Swift

loml by Taylor Swift

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart by Taylor Swift

Come Back... Be Here by Taylor Swift

The Great War x You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift

The Black Dog x Come Back... Be Here by Taylor Swift

[wolfjackle-creates]

In celebration of my new writing sideblog, I decided to share a snippet of the expanded version of my first prompt fill. Original can be found here. Brief synopsis: Tim and Danny became online friends when they were both neglected and lonely ten/eleven-year-olds. Before Robin and before Phantom. They have been fully open with each other since they first met and that doesn't change, even after it probably should. (This segment is a chat fic.)

Prompt from @gremlin-bot

IKnowYourSecrets = Tim's username

-xXPolarisXx- = Danny's username

Typos in chat are intentional.

Edit: I don't know why the color text is being weird. Each time I get everything to work, new random letters are black.

Edit 2: formatting finally fixed. That took way too long.

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Danny had been playing mindlessly when he got a message from Secrets.

IKnowYourSecrets: Thank god your on

That was odd. Secrets was always laid back and chill.

-xXPolarisXx-: Secrets? Whats up

IKnowYourSecrets: something big has happened IKnowYourSecrets: like top secret big IKnowYourSecrets: and I need advice IKnowYourSecrets: ive set up a private chat IKnowYourSecrets: one that cant be hacked so easily

-xXPolarisXx-: dude youre freaking me out -xXPolarisXx-: whats going on?

IKnowYourSecrets: :sends link: IKnowYourSecrets: not here. Ill explain

Danny clicked the link and put in his username when prompted. He had never even seen this chat room server before. Not that he spent a lot of time on chat rooms. He preferred in-game chats.

-xXPolarisXx-: ok dude spill -xXPolarisXx-: wth is going on

IKnowYourSecrets: I know who Batman is

“What!” Danny couldn’t hold back the shout. He started typing a reply, deleted, started typing again.

“Danny?” asked Jazz from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework. “Everything ok?”

He waved his hand at her. “Yeah! Everything is fine! My friend and I were just killed by something I didn’t even know could be dangerous.”

“Don’t play too long. You still have homework.”

“I know! I’ll be good.”

-xXPolarisXx-: good one secrets -xXPolarisXx-: you got me for a minute

IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment: IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment: IKnowYourSecrets: :news link: IKnowYourSecrets: :news link: IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment:

The links and pictures started coming through even faster. The first was a picture of a family of acrobats and one of the links was to the story about how the parents died in an accident while performing.

The next link was about Bruce Wayne adopting a child followed by one only a few months later discussing Batman’s new side kick, Robin. Then a picture of the Graysons’ son in his circus costume next to a picture of the first Robin. Which were entirely too similar.

“Holy…” whispered Danny. But the links and images were still coming.

Robin stopped being spotted when Dick Grayson moved out. And not much later Nightwing appeared. And then there was a new Robin and a new adoption. And then Jason Todd-Wayne died and Robin disappeared.

-xXPolarisXx-: what. The fuck -xXPolarisXx-: why are you even looking into this -xXPolarisXx-: Secrets! ????

IKnowYourSecrets: your a real friend, right? IKnowYourSecrets: I mean weve known each other for like 2 years now IKnowYourSecrets: no catfisher’d stick around this long

-xXPolarisXx-: course I’m real -xXPolarisXx-: though thats also what a catfisherd say

IKnowYourSecrets: I live in gotham IKnowYourSecrets: Batmans changed since Robin IKnowYourSecrets: Since Jason died IKnowYourSecrets: he needs a robin I think IKnowYourSecrets: hes mean and harsh and people dont feel safe

-xXPolarisXx-: … -xXPolarisXx-: youre planning something

IKnowYourSecrets: help me figure out how to convince dick to go back to being robin IKnowYourSecrets: I think they had a fight IKnowYourSecrets: from what i can find online their last several meetings have ended in fights

Danny stared at his screen, mouth open. Secrets couldn’t be serious. This was too much. But he knew his friend. He might joke during a gaming battle, but he’d never joke about this. Not to Danny, or well, Polaris.

-xXPolarisXx-: Youre gonna chase down Nightwing?? -xXPolarisXx-: isnt he only out at night??? -xXPolarisXx-: dude youre gonna get yourself killed -xXPolarisXx-: how’ll you even find him? -xXPolarisXx-: do NOT tell him you know his secret identity -xXPolarisXx-: what do vigilantes do to ppl who learn their identities?

Danny watched as the dots appeared to indicate Secrets was typing. They stopped. Picked up again.

IKnowYourSecrets: awww IKnowYourSecrets: you like me ❤ IKnowYourSecrets: im not gonna die! IKnowYourSecrets: NIGHTWING will be there IKnowYourSecrets: and I can find him bc I know his patrol routes IKnowYourSecrets: easy peasy IKnowYourSecrets: im going tonight IKnowYourSecrets: just need to figure out what to say

-xXPolarisXx-: dude really??? -xXPolarisXx-: do you even know why they fought?

IKnowYourSecrets: Gotham needs batman IKnowYourSecrets: and batman needs robin IKnowYourSecrets: hes a hero he should want to help

-xXPolarisXx-: Well start with that, then -xXPolarisXx-: if youre going to be an idiot -xXPolarisXx-: and go out in gotham at night -xXPolarisXx-: tell nightwing youre worried about batman

IKnowYourSecrets: worried about nightwing as well IKnowYourSecrets: hes not as bad IKnowYourSecrets: but its clear something is wrong

-xXPolarisXx-: im just a kid from a small town -xXPolarisXx-: how am I supposed to know how to talk to superheroes?

IKnowYourSecrets: they aren’t superheroes IKnowYourSecrets: no powers

-xXPolarisXx-: not the point -xXPolarisXx-: I guess -xXPolarisXx-: start by asking how hes doing -xXPolarisXx-: and how batmans doing -xXPolarisXx-: and say youre sorry about robins death -xXPolarisXx-: but most importan STAY SAFE -xXPolarisXx-: i dont even know your name to follow any news stories

IKnowYourSecrets: its Tim if you wanna know

-xXPolarisXx-: mines Danny -xXPolarisXx-: idk why but Tim fits you

IKnowYourSecrets: dont use it on public forums IKnowYourSecrets: but were safe here IKnowYourSecrets: Danny. I like it IKnowYourSecrets: thanks for the advice!!! IKnowYourSecrets: im gonna use it IKnowYourSecrets: ttyl IKnowYourSecrets: gonna track down dick and talk to him IKnowYourSecrets: he usually starts patroling in like an hour and a half IKnowYourSecrets: and it’ll take me about that long to get to bludhaven

-xXPolarisXx-: lemme know what happens -xXPolarisXx-: im gonna check this chat and the game any chance I have at the computer

IKnowYourSecrets: will do IKnowYourSecrets: by danny

-xXPolarisXx-: stay safe tim

Danny stared at the chat box as Secrets, as Tim signed out. What. The. Hell.

“You all right there, Danny?” Jazz was looking at him from their kitchen table and Danny quickly closed out of the chatroom. No one could be allowed to see that information.

“Yeah, course. Just talking with my online friend Secrets.” Whose name he now knew. “He had to go, though. So I guess I’ll start my homework.”

“Were you two playing that game you like?”

He couldn’t tell the truth, so he decided to lie. “Yeah. We’re hoping to beat this boss so we can get a rune stone that’ll let us craft this super awesome weapon! Then we might stand a chance in the arena.”

Jazz smiled at him. “I’m sure you two’ll get it. What’s this arena?”

Danny described the game on autopilot as pulled out his backpack and books. Holy hell, he knew Batman’s identity.

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Part 2

I also hope to start doing WIP Wednesdays if there's any interest. Probably not every week and they won't all be for this fic, but I've got a few things I've been working on that I hope people will enjoy.

Tag List (I hope you're still all interested so many months later. XP)

@bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @nutcase8691, @dreamingasters, @xysidhequeen

I'm sure there's people I'm missing. So let me know if you want to be added or if you want to be taken off the list. I won't be offended either way.