#rate M

[literatooru]

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧

pairing: f!reader x suna rintarō

warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI), fingering (f!receiving), handjob, unprotected sex, jealousy sex, best friends to lovers

College parties are absolute trash—Suna's known this for a long time, which is why he’d rather stay in his dorm, binge watching shows or something of the sorts. However, he knows you like them, which is why he forces himself to go every time.

He watches you from the distance, the way he’s always done when you aren’t looking. He downs the rest of his beer in one go, keeping the liquid in his mouth for just a second longer, plastic cup now empty in his hand.

It’s been like this for quite some time now; you find some random guy, flirt shamelessly with him, take him somewhere away from prying eyes and hook up. He’s watched the process multiple times, always with the same burning jealousy that makes his blood boil. He especially hates the part where you tell him exactly how they failed to satisfy you because you never keep any details to yourself—you describe from the way their inexperienced hands roam your body to the way they practically asphyxiate you with their tongue and everything that happens after. And Suna just listens because, as your best friend, that’s what he’s supposed to do.

You’ve always taken his random, slightly bitter remarks about your miserable love (and sex) live as him just being a nice, concerned friend, so you never pay much attention to the rolls of his eyes or his low scoffs. You’ve always told yourself it’s him being as protective as an older brother would be, that he couldn’t possibly see you as anything else. You’ve known each other for too long—shared too many moments together. You’re sure the only kind of love he feels is entirely platonic.

Truth is, Suna has a not so small crush on his best friend. He gives a scornful chuckle at the thought; it’s silly to call it a simple crush. Suna Rintarō is —and it was extremely difficult to even admit it to himself— crazy, madly, deeply in love with you. Therefore, all he can do is watch from the distance, the way he’s been doing all night, as you smile up at your new random one night stand.

Really, he’s not the type of guy to say he’s happy if you are, because yes, your happiness is important to him —extremely so—, but he wants to be the reason for it. And it should be him; not some guy you’ve just met a couple minutes ago.

His piercing green eyes remain on your frame from the moment you give that tantalizing smile that indicates you’ve found yourself successful to when you guide the douchebag (holding his hand, which makes him crush the plastic cup in his tight grip) toward the stairs and up. And, heaving a sigh, he strides toward the steps and sits right at the bottom.

It’s not too long before he sees the guy you went upstairs with coming back down with a smug grin on his face (which he desperately wants to wipe with a well placed punch). Rintarō simply huffs, rolls his eyes and starts looking for you. He finds you in the bathroom, hunching over the sink as you look at yourself in the mirror with pursed lips. He quietly walks in, shuts the door behind him and rests his weight against it. Suna watches you as you tiredly rub your eyes with an exasperated sigh and he readies himself; he knows what that sigh means.

He straightens up and walks toward you to stand right behind you. You look into the mirror to meet his gaze through it, and he offers you a smile, which you return feebly.

“Hey, Rin,” you say. He hums softly to acknowledge you. You take another look at your own reflection, a light frown making its way onto your face when your eyes study the smudged makeup on your lids. “God, I’m a mess.”

“A very pretty mess,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

You fight the smile threatening to make an appearance.

“Even with my raccoon eyes?” you ask, pointing at your face.

“Especially with your raccoon eyes.”

You laugh and swat his hands away, turning away to rummage through the drawers until you find some makeup wipes, and start getting rid of the stains on your eyes. You took it as a joke, but he meant it. He does love it when you look like that, because you usually make sure to look your best, and this is something only he’s gotten to see. He treasures the small moments kept between you two, like it’s a secret you’d only ever share with him. Those have always been his favorite.

When you give another deep sigh, his lips form a thin line. He doesn’t say anything, instead letting you do all the talking. And you proceed to tell him all about yet another miserable sexual encounter.

As you explain, you finish wiping your face and take your shirt off —he seriously tries to look away, but even though he’s seen you like that a couple times, he still can’t help the butterflies that wreck havoc in his stomach—, placing it under the faucet to try to rinse a big stain of… something. Might have happened when you accidentally knocked into someone on your way to the bathroom, but you’re not sure. Suna is quick to take off his jacket and place it over your shoulders, and you thank him mid rant and slide your arms into the long sleeves.

“He was rubbing so hard, Rin. It didn’t even feel good,” you groan. “It was just uncomfortable. And I’m pretty sure he came on record time, which obviously means that I didn’t.”

“That sucks,” he says in a low voice, trying to help you with your hair to make it look somewhat presentable. He’s frowning deeply in what you assume is concentration, but really, he’s thinking that he hates the fact that the asshole left any trace of him on you, because how dare he.

“Right? I don’t think I’ve ever given a louder fake moan in my life, he was so bad. It was pretty convincing though, you should’ve heard it,” and then, to his horror, you proceed to imitate the moan —which is very convincing—, and all of a sudden his jeans start feeling a little tighter. You suddenly turn around, and he leans against the sink and shifts his legs in a feeble attempt to hide his crotch from your view. Surprisingly, you don’t notice it. “You know what? At this point I think I should just give up. I’m never going to find the right guy,” you say with slumped shoulders.

You head toward the door and place your hand on the knob, but you’ve only just started opening it when Suna suddenly slams it back shut, hand pressed against it over your head. You jolt in your place, turning to give him a startled look.

“Rin? What are you—”

“Has it ever even crossed your mind that maybe you’ve been looking in the wrong place all along?”

You blink up at him, resting your weight against the wooden surface. There’s something in his eyes—something you haven’t seen before. Something intense, burning. It makes your stomach churn with something oddly similar to excitement.

“What do you mean?” you whisper, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

He gets closer, and that’s when you feel his growing erection against you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you instinctively try to take a step back, forgetting that there’s no space for you to actually do it. Suna brushes his knuckles along the soft skin of your cheek, letting his hand wander downward to brush his fingertips against your throat, then trailing lower until they graze the mount of your breasts. His touch is barely there, ghosting over your skin like a whisper, yet it makes your heart race and your breath hitch in your throat.

Suna Rintarō, with a single touch, has managed to do what no one else has—leave you breathless.

“They could never satisfy you—not the way I could,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers against your crotch. The featherlight touch makes you squeeze your thighs together. “I could make you cum so hard— make you scream so loud. I could make you forget about the whole fucking world… if only you let me. Because— fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long.” He brushes his nose along your neck and lets out a soft groan when your scent floods his senses.

“Suna Rintarō,” you say, gulping as you place your hands on his chest. He pulls back a little, and he suddenly looks terrified, because you never call him by his full name. He’s sure he’s fucked up—you’re going to tell him to go to hell and you’ll never talk to him again. “You’re just drunk,” you say instead, which you already know to be a lie, because you have seen him absolutely plastered, and this is not it. “And horny. You’re going to wake up tomorrow and forget all about this.”

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand with a light frown. Softly, he shakes head.

“I’m not,” he says, meaning he’s not drunk because he’s definitely horny. “Thing is, no matter how wasted I get, I haven’t been able to forget how I feel about you.” He knows this to be a fact, because he’s tried multiple times. “If anything I’ve only managed to forget my own name. But I can’t seem to forget yours.” You suck in a sharp breath, gulping once more when his lips brush against yours when he whispers, “Give me chance to show you what I can do. I’ll make you feel so good… please.”

Instead of giving him a direct answer, you tilt your head to capture his lips in yours, getting a groan out of him when you press your body flush against his.

Suna's dreamed about your lips for so long—wondered how'd they taste, pictured them wrapped around him, kissing every inch of his body— that it takes every single ounce of self-control in his body to pull back and break the kiss. You shoot him a confused look.

“What?” you breathe out.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“I thought it was implied—yes,” you say, latching your lips to his once more.

He doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you so close that not even a sheet of paper could fit between your bodies. His lips are desperate, devouring yours like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have and he’s been starving for years.

His wide hands explore your body, his touch has you panting against his lips, especially when he slips a hand under your skirt to rub his fingers against you. He’s surprised to find your underwear to be already wet—he’s barely even started.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing your panties to the side to have more access.

Suna slides his fingers between your soaking folds, coating his fingers with your slick to circle your clit with gentleness. He’s not too rough; he applies just the right amount of pressure, goes just fast enough. It’s perfect.

He shudders visibly when you mewl softly in his ear, stifling his own groan against your lips as he meets them for another kiss. It’s crazy how much your moans turn him on; his jeans feel extremely asphyxiating, he’s painfully hard.

As if hearing his thoughts, you fumble with the button of his jeans and the zipper, making quick work of them to pull him out. His cock is warm and thick in your hand, head oozing pre-cum. You smear it along his velvety skin with a couple strokes, paying close attention to the sounds he lets out. You know you’ve found the right pace when his fingers hesitate against you and he lets out a soft, whiny whimper you never thought you’d hear him emit, and he curses through gritted teeth. His breath catches in his throat when you run your thumb along his slit, applying pressure. Suna can’t help bucking his hips lightly trying to match your rhythm.

“Wait, stop,” he gasps, clutching your wrist. You’re about to ask whether you did something wrong when you’re interrupted by your own, shaky whimper when he pushes one of his digits past your entrance and starts pumping slowly. “I want to focus on you,” he says. It’s not exactly a lie, but he’s not being entirely truthful, either. He actually stopped you because he was sure he was going to cum if you touched him for a second longer, and that would have been cumming on record time.

When he adds a second finger and curls them in a come hither motion, you moan, “Rin! God, don’t stop.” And he swears he almost passes out.

Hearing you moaning his name —something he had only heard in his dirtiest fantasies, jerked off to the thought of— drives him feral. His lips are on your neck, sucking and biting. He wants to leave a couple marks there, wants the world to know who finally managed to make you cum. He’s imagined how you'd feel on countless occasions —usually late at night, when he’s by himself and has no other option but to find relief by his own fist (which, to be honest, he’s always thought of as pathetic)— but the thought of actually feeling you wrapped around him makes his cock twitch with need.

His fingers do wonders inside you, and you’re so wet that it’s easy for him to push a third digit in, using his thumb to rub your nub. And you don’t know if it’s just that he’s good, or the fact that it’s him, but you find yourself arching your back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as you come around his fingers. You’re clenching them so hard Suna has to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning, and he just can’t wait a moment longer.

He unzips the jacket open, pushes your drenched panties down your legs, picks you up with ease and bunches up your skirt around your waist. His cock slides between your folds, he makes sure to coat it completely with your arousal so there won’t be any discomfort, because he just wants to make you feel as good as possible.

You squeeze your eyes shut and moan loudly against his neck when he starts pushing himself in inch by inch, pausing a couple times to allow you to adjust. And you thought you felt full with his fingers. Huh.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear to comfort you, digging his fingers in the soft skin of your thighs when you clench around him. It takes everything in him to keep his hips still; he’s quick to apologize when he gives an involuntary thrust or two—but you just feel too good. That single squeeze almost makes him cum on the spot.

“Rin, I don’t think I can— ngh.”

“You can take it,” he breathes out, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I know you can take it.”

And take it you do.

He gasps when he bottoms out—the way your tight cunt hugs his cock, how your walls still flutter from your previous orgasm, your heavy breathing in his ear—he must be dreaming. There’s just no way this is real. He wouldn’t be surprised, he’s had this dream infinite times already. But when you kiss him, oh, it’s real, all right.

He pulls back until he’s almost completely out and gives a gentle thrust to go back in, sharpening his hearing to catch even your lightest sigh as he continues giving experimental thrusts. He speeds up little by little until you’re clawing at his back, scrunching his shirt in your fists as he keeps the rhythm up, heaving pants against your cleavage. His breath is hot against your skin, his hands are warm and gentle as they roam your body freely, making sure not a single part of you is untouched—he wants to erase any trace the other guy might have left.

“Rin, fuck, more!”

You arch your back at an especially deep thrust, moaning his name loudly, tugging on his hair. He’s relentless, snapping his hips against yours over and over again until your legs tremble around his waist. He snakes a hand between your bodies to rub your clit again, the loud, wet, squelching sound of your pussy sucking him back in with each snap of his hips fills his ears, and he lets out a series of soft moans and whines against your chest, his voice rumbling against your skin.

“They could never touch you like this, make you feel like this,” he growls. He’s still envious that others had a taste of you way before he did, and he wants to make things clear. He takes a bunch of your hair in his fist and pulls on it to expose your throat to him, which he marks a little more. “I’m the only one who’ll get to see you like this. I’m the only one this pussy belongs to,” he says, giving sharp pats on your clit that make you squirm against him. “They could never love you like I can.”

Your eyes snap open at that last sentence, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything—and it’s not like you could, what with the way he’s pounding into you. It’s not too long after that you’re creaming around his cock. You’ve never cum so hard. You can tell he’s close by the way his breath catches and his hips stutter. Despite knowing you’re on the pill —you’ve literally told him everything there is to know—, Suna starts pulling out, but is stopped by you. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist and keep him in place, and he shoots you a panicked look.

“y/n, let go, I gotta—”

“I want you to come inside me, Rin,” you gasp, clenching around him, and that’s all it takes.

He moans loudly, mouth hanging open as his abdomen contracts with spasms with each thick rope of cum he shoots deep inside you. He rides out his orgasm with a couple lazy thrusts, panting heavily and resting his head on your shoulder when you’ve drained every last drop he has to offer.

Suna pulls out, grimacing at the sensitivity, and lets you down gently. Something catches his eye, and he looks down only to find his own cum slowly dripping down your thighs. He gulps, and watches you as you grab your discarded panties and slide them up your legs.

“Don’t want it to go to waste,” you say, looking him straight in the eyes, and he gives an incredulous, breathy laugh, because—what the fuck that was so hot. He has to look away and hold his breath to keep it down. “So,” you say casually, leaning back against the door. You don’t want him running away. “You said something.”

Suna blanches, and his eyes look at everything but you. He busies himself with pulling his jeans up.

“I said a lot of things,” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle.

“All right, let me help you remember, then. It starts with L, and ends with ove.”

He deadpans at you, the way you said it making him forget his embarrassment for a second as he rolls his eyes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“The question is, were you?” you ask, taking a step forward. He pointedly averts his gaze, eyes downcast as he twiddles his thumbs. “When you said it?”

“Of course I was,” he admits in an almost inaudible whisper, but you’re still able to hear him. It’s the most honest you’ve seen him. “Do you… not want me to be serious about it?”

He fears the answer, but he has to know it. If all you want is to be friends with benefits, he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever you give him—anything you give him.

“I like that you are,” you say, peering up at him and brushing his damp hair back. “Because I’m serious about it too.”

His eyes snap up to meet yours, a dumbfounded expression taking over his features. You did not just say you reciprocate his feelings.

“So… hypothetically speaking,” he starts, trying to find the words. “If I were to ask you out on a date, what would you say?”

You give him a bright smile, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and patting it lightly, cupping it afterwards. He leans into your touch.

“Non-hypothetically speaking, I’d say yes.”

[kyurochurro]

started watching this show and i absolutely LOVE it!!! have some M*A*S*H peeps! ✨

[arelliann]

For @steddiesmuttyseptember Week 3: Lingerie | M

[spacequokka]

In My Bed

Pairing: bf!Jackson x Reader Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Suggestive Rating: M Summary: Jackson fell asleep when he planned to surprise you. Word Count: 0.7k, Request Warnings: dry-humping

After a grueling day at work, all you wanted to do once you got home was shower and get in bed. The never-ending stream of conference calls and meetings punctuated with answering emails left you drained mentally and physically. However, when you opened the front door and spotted a familiar pair of sneakers sitting on the shoe rack, you were immediately invigorated.

Jackson was home!

You all but dropped your stuff on the bench as you kicked off your shoes. It was quiet save for the hum of the ice maker in the freezer. Maybe he was asleep? You tiptoed down the hallway and sure enough, the light of your life was laid out across the bed on his stomach using his arms as a pillow. His expression was a picture of serenity as he snuggled your favorite hoodie. Your heart swelled with affection. How does he continue to surprise you with his cute little habits?

There was no telling how long he’d been home, but you needed your hugs and kisses. You crawled over to his side and laid beside him, gently prying his hands away from his head then forcing your way against his chest. In the midst of your shuffling, he woke up groggy and sluggish as he registered what was going on.

“You’re home?” He blinked slowly, then looked at the window. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost five.” Seeing as he was awake, there was no point in being gentle. You rolled him over onto his side and pulled his arms around you. His scent filled your nose, and you sagged with relief, savoring his warmth. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home today? I would’ve met you at the airport.”

He chuckled at your whiny tone as he drew you close and planted a kiss on your forehead. “I wanted to surprise you. Actually,” he drew back and kissed your lips, “I wanted to show up at your job and take you out for lunch. I guess I underestimated how tired I was and how much I missed our bed.”

You forced a pout, just barely keeping yourself from smiling. “The bed? What about me?”

“Oh, hush. You know I hate being away from you this long.” He hid his face in your neck. “Why do you insist on being all strong and independent? You could come with me! See the world and join the mile high club and stuff.”

You laughed. “Why do I get the feeling the sex is the motivating factor?”

“No, no. It’s a perk. A bonus, if you will.” He kissed your neck, letting his lips linger. “The motivation is having my beautiful girlfriend with me. It’d be so much better if I could wake up with you in my arms.”

You squirmed against him when his teeth skimmed over your sensitive skin. “I’d ruin your image and hurt your sales.” You bit your lip when his fingers pressed into your skin, holding you still as he put his thigh between yours. “Ah, shit. Wait, Jackie. I need a shower.”

His chuckle made it clear that wouldn’t be happening. “Performing isn’t my only source of income, baby. I can stand to lose a few, especially if it means I get access to you when I get off the stage.” He groaned and pressed his hips against you, drawing your attention to his growing excitement. “It’s been too long since I last had you.”

“But I wanna be squeaky clean for you.” Your squirming only served to increase the friction between your bodies, coaxing him to return the favor by rolling his hips and grinding his erection into your stomach. “Jack, please.”

“Ugh, I hear you.” He loosened his hold. “But if you need one, then so do I.”

With the haze of desire messing with your mind, it took you a minute to process his words. “If we slip and fall in the shower, it’s your fault.”

He smiled wide with glee as he hauled himself to his feet. He held his hand out to you, ignoring the tent that had formed. “I’ll make sure to take the worst of it. Now come on, I need you now before I bust in my pants.”

[arathejedi394]

that meme of bucky with the twitter post saying "the winter soldier having flashbacks of gay sex and not knowing why"

“I think I’m gay,” Bucky announces abruptly.

Sam chokes on his beer. Bucky claps him on the back, looking pensively into the dark water. Sam gets a breath, then clears his throat several times before licking his lips.

“What makes you say that?” he asks casually.

“I remember having gay sex,” Bucky answers ponderously. “A lot.”

"A lot?" Sam repeats, now bewildered.

Bucky just nods slowly, his gaze distant. Sam blinks several times, wondering what the hell he's imagining.

“With who?” he demands, looking at him with eyebrows high on his forehead.

Bucky just frowns. “I don’t know. A couple of guys. A big one and a little one.”

Sam looks out at the water, too, mouthing under his breath about how fucking stupid this man can get. Then takes Bucky’s cigarette and drags on it. Bucky snatches it back.

“You’re not a super soldier,” he snaps. “No smoking, kid.”

“Sorry,” Sam replies. “I mean, about – About not remembering… Hm… Oof. That’s, uh, that’s rough, buddy.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, glancing over his shoulder with a grimace for their friend, the one who was little but now is big and is now retired so he can paint large blue watercolors of some vague masculine figure over and over again, that friend. He faces the water again and blows out his breath. Idiots. Jesus Christ man.

Bucky sighs, wistful, then drags on the cigarette himself. The boat rocks behind them.

“Did I hear you say you remember having gay sex?” Steve calls from behind them.

Bucky glances over his shoulder at him. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. “You know anything about that?”

Sam looks at Steve, raising his eyebrows. Steve’s lower lip wobbles for a second and then he just smiles.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” he then says quietly.

Bucky nods, turning back. Sam drops his jaw at Steve, who just lowers his gaze and sits down on a bench, hands in his lap and head down. Like a kicked puppy. Sam blusters, half gesturing between the two of them, but Steve shoots him a glare and Bucky doesn't notice. Sam looks between the two of them for over a minute, just watching these two idiots standing five feet apart because they’re not gay.

“Okay,” Sam declares, “that’s it! I’ve had it up to HERE with the homoerotic tension on this boat!”

Bucky looks up, frowning. Steve jerks his head up, too, his eyes wide. Sam points with both hands at Steve, but looks at Bucky.

“He knows somethin’ about you being gay for sure!” he snaps. “Frankly, I think he knows more about it than you do! Double frankly! I know that for a mothafuckin' fact!”

Bucky opens his mouth, looking bewildered, then glances between Steve and Sam. “Huh?”

Sam slaps himself in the face with the hand not holding his beer. Bucky frowns at Steve. Steve blushes and looks towards the stern of the boat. Bucky suddenly gasps, jerking a hand up to point.

“I fucked you!” he shouts.

Steve blushes harder, bright red behind his beard, as he look down into his lap, then he nods, seeming speechless.

Sam smacks himself on the forehead again, making a face at their stupidity. Then Bucky shoves his cigarette back into his hand, and he storms right up to Steve and hauls him off the bench by the back of his shirt. Steve squeaks adorably for a man of his large size, but Bucky starts dragging him off the boat.

“Okay?” Sam calls after them as Steve stumbles to keep up with Bucky. “Bye, I guess?”

“Thanks!” Bucky shouts over his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Steve says.

“I’m fucking your face in that alley over there, sweetheart,” Bucky announces. "Then I'm coming all over your beard."

“I did not need to hear that!” Sam shouts back. “Didn’t need to hear that! I expect to be both of y’all’s best man at your wedding! And the officiant! And I’mma give both of y’all away, too!” He turns, then pivots, jabbing his finger in their direction. “And it better be a destination wedding, gay ass dumbasses! I wanna go to Bali!”

Steve waves his middle finger behind him as he skips, eagerly, along behind Bucky down the pier. Sam shakes his head, turns, and puffs on the cigarette again.

“Gay ass dumbasses,” he mutters, “one looks over, the other’s already looking away. My ass.”

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the "Mature" rating was ranked most enjoyed by consumers, while those posting works most frequently posted "Teen and Up". Only 16% of those who had posted works to AO3 said they had never posted M/M, while 69% of consumers "Strongly Enjoyed" M/M works.

To see more analysis, including transcripts of all the data shown on the graphs, please view the full results on AO3 for both ratings and relationship types.

[the-one-who-lambs]

Oh I am having an EVENING. I just got back to school, spent the last 2 days amazingly productive and prepping for finals, and an hour ago I tested positive for COVID.

So then I had to email my students over the Learning Management App (which doesn't keep the formatting of the email site) that class is going be asynchronous tomorrow. At the end of the email, I tried to copy and paste my usual signature. I pasted and hit send too quickly for me to realize it did not copy.

This is an excerpt from the next chapter of the fanfic I am writing.

[void-of-unparalleled-chaos]

Slap a Bow on It

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

@deadonmayn Day 1: Courting Rituals | Flickering | Dinner is interrupted by a rogue/gang fight | "Are they gone yet?"

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

AO3 Link

   Danny blinked.

   He could only assume that the crime lord, illuminated purely by the light of the fridge in the otherwise dark apartment, blinked back. The helmet didn't give anything away, red plating and slanted eye whites impassive. Good for being sexy menacing. Not so good for reading emotions.

   Danny blinked again, wiping the rheum from his eyes with pinched fingers. He squinted once more at Red Hood, who for some reason was in his apartment at - Danny glanced at the clock - three in the morning. He seemed perfectly content to be digging through Danny’s fridge, if a little sheepish at being caught.

    He should probably be more angry that his apartment was broken into. He absolutely was when he first woke to the uncomfortable feeling of an uninvited guest in his lair, but after seeing the vigilante’s arms laden with food his metaphorical hackles relaxed. The apartment was shitty anyway. 

   If anything, Danny was confused as to why he was here judging his fridge’s contents and playing Tetris with tupperware. It wasn’t like they knew each other. 

   Danny blinked a third time just to really make sure he was seeing what he was seeing, "...Hi?" 

   "Hey,"  Red Hood unfroze, seemingly recovered from being caught, and resumed stuffing what looked like a container of tamales into his fridge. 

   Danny couldn’t help but feel sullen at the dismissal. He'd woken up only for the admittedly hot trespasser with thick thighs to barely glance at him. Unacceptable. 

   "Do you want anything to drink?"  Danny must have been momentarily possessed by the ghost of Midwestern manners with how urgent the offer seemed. 

   "Nah," Red Hood stuffed another container into the fridge, turning to look back at Danny, "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

   "Nah."

   Red Hood nodded, pulling out a bag of rotten lettuce. He held it away from himself like it might try to bite him. In Danny’s experience, it very well could. 

   “Do you ever clean out your fridge?”

   Danny shrugged, “It’s finals week. I’ve got to keep my GPA above 3.5 if I want to keep my scholarship. No chores. Only study.”

   Red Hood nodded solemnly as he threw the lettuce into the trash, “No chores. Only study.”

   They fell into silence. Danny watched as the crime lord sifted through his fridge, pulling out rotten food as he went. “Is this because I decked that mugger? Cause’ he deserved it.”

   Red Hood very pointedly threw the expired milk carton into the trash can.

   “Okay then…” Danny yawned, “Well if that's all I’m going back to bed.”

   “Kay.”

   Danny shrugged, turned on his heel, and left the crime lord to rifle through his kitchen.

___👻___

   When Danny awoke the next day, he was greeted by a clean apartment. The absence of crumbs on the freshly swept floor felt odd on his feet, although it was certainly much more pleasant. The trash had been taken out and a new bag had already been installed. He passed by the sink on the way to make coffee, the dishes that had been filling it suspiciously absent. 

   Danny would deny to the ancients and back that his knees went weak when he found the coffee maker already set and filled with grounds... his sister must never know. 

   As he waited for the cup to brew, he opened his fridge for creamer only to come face to face with more home cooked food than he’d ever seen in his life. Danny pulled the food out plastic container by plastic container to stare at in disbelief. Tamales, chicken mole, Mexican rice, enchiladas, and carne asada… It was only a handful of containers, but still. It wasn’t as if his parents had done much in the way of cooking with all their time spent in the lab. Jazz could throw together something basic but nothing like this.

   The local hot crime lord slash vigilante had broken in at three in the morning to feed him and clean his apartment. Huh.

  No time to think about that. He has a final on differential equations in five hours and minimal time to cram. Danny stirs the creamer into his coffee, heats up some Mexican rice, and sits down at the untouched mess of notebooks, paper, and textbooks on his kitchen table. 

   He studies until he has to leave for the exam, only getting up to refill his coffee and get more food. The tamales are pretty fricken good, but they make it hard to focus on the numbers scribbled across his notebook. It’s like each bite is urging him to go back into the kitchen and cook, which is odd considering that Danny can’t cook and he already has enough food to last him through the next day or two (courtesy of the sexy crime lord). 

   He leaves the exam room feeling good only for his mood to immediately crumble when he remembers that he has an aerodynamics final at eight the next morning followed by gasdynamics at one. He takes a brief break to faceplant on the table, scream, refill his coffee for the umpteenth time, and eat some more food but inevitably resigns himself to pulling an all-nighter. Time becomes liquid after that. It’s all just a blur of numbers and properties and instructional videos. 

   At some point, he registers another presence in the apartment. Danny recognizes the ecto signature from the night before so he pays it no mind. Let Hood poke around, Danny has to read more about Newton’s Third Law. What was he going to do? Feed him again?

   The answer was apparently yes. 

   The background noise of shuffling in the fridge and washing empty containers stops and is replaced by soft, mechanical-sounding breaths. Hood is standing next to him, plastic container in hand as he watches Danny run through the Quizlet on his laptop. 

   Danny’s got around eighty percent of the terms memorized. Just another twenty percent to go. He types in the answer for a new blank. 

   Red Hood pokes his shoulder.

   Danny grumbles. His response came back wrong.

   His shoulder is poked again.

   Danny ignores it and moves on to the next blank.

   He continues unbothered for an uncertain amount of time. The words on the screen are blurry like he is trying to read underwater. His mouth splits into an entirely too wide, jaw-cracking yawn. His uninvited guest coos at him as Danny rubs at his eyes. The next thing he knows, his laptop is shut closed and moved away. It feels like any and all visual processing is delayed. Danny stares blankly at the spot the computer used to sit.

   Something slides in front of him to replace the laptop. His core chirps when he realizes it's food. Hood’s answering chirp as he guides a fork into his hand is deep and rumbly with the faint stutterings of a purr. Danny starts to purr in return as he sleepily munches on the casserole.

    Before long the empty plate is taken away. Danny slumps down on the newfound table space and tries to fight off sleep. 

   “I think it's time for you to go to bed.”

   “Noooooo! I’v gotta study fr' aero’namics.”

   “You’re slurring your words there, handsome.”

   Danny’s sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. His core chirped to attention, “Flat’ry ain’t gettin’ you nowhere.”

   “It was worth a shot.”

    Danny smushed his face further into the wood to hide his blush and distracted himself by blindly reaching for his coffee mug. Upon noticing, the vigilante moved it out of reach. Danny whined into the table.

   “You can’t overwork yourself like this, Danny,” Red Hood carried the mug to the sink and poured it down the drain. Cruel, cruel man. “I know you’ve got exams but your scores won’t be any good if you go into them like this. You've got to take care of yourself,”  He lightly squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Danny hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. “Can you do that, darlin’? For me?”

    Danny groaned, “F’ne. But only cause’ ur hot.”

   The vigilante snorted. It sounded odd through the helmet but not bad. “I’m happy to hear it! Now let's get you to bed.”

___👻___

   Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid.

   He had been helping his parents in the lab since he was four, and he was nearly a straight-A student before the accident. He was an aerospace engineering major with a hefty GPA of 3.8, and most importantly, he’s had extensive lessons on ghosts, the Infinite Realms, and their culture. 

   He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. 

   So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. The thought kept running through his head as he stared at the food in the fridge, the clean apartment, and the prepped coffee maker. 

   He was being courted. 

   He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street. 

   Danny had never been courted before! 

   Sure, occasionally there was someone who tried to shoot their shot, but it always fell flat in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of being undead. Every human relationship he had felt… lacking. Like it was missing something. 

   Val had come pretty close. All the fighting and shooting felt like a mimicry of ghostly courtship behavior. It's what had drawn Danny to her in the first place, but Val wasn’t fighting him in a display of power and capability. She had genuinely wanted to end him. 

   There was also the incident with Kitty, but she was overshadowing Paulina and mimicking human behaviors. There was never any ghostly courtship involved, and besides, she was only dating him to make Johnny jealous. 

   This is Danny’s first time being properly courted!

   What is he going to do about it?

   He decided that the question could wait until after finals.

   The next few days pass by much the same as before: a tortuous cycle of studying, caffeine, minimal sleep, screaming, and exams. Red Hood continues to stop by and deliver food. Danny has got to figure out the dude’s actual name or a nickname or something. He refuses to keep calling his potential partner Red Hood. When you take away the scary crime lord persona it just sounds like a condom brand. He could always use a pet name, but it feels wrong given that Danny hasn’t shown much reciprocation outside of allowing Hood into his lair. Instead, Danny settles on greeting him with a trill and a series of chirps. 

   As soon as he finishes his last final he flops face down into bed. Tomorrow he’ll get to work on reciprocating Red Hood’s efforts. His kitchen is blessedly clean of any ecto contamination. Without the food fighting back, he should be able to whip up something presentable. How hard could following a recipe be?

___👻___

   Danny was wrong.  

   Staring at the stove which was somehow on fire, Danny couldn’t help but finally understand why Jazz had never allowed him in the kitchen. He quickly rushes to turn off the heat. Danny doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. He’s a broke college student with just enough money to live on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Why would he ever be able to afford a fire extinguisher? 

   Danny slams a lid over the pot to smother the flames erupting from it and wacks the stovetop with a damp towel. As the fire dies down he glares at the somehow burnt gnocchi sitting ever so innocently in boiling water. He probably could have just iced it. The ice would melt into water and put out the fire, right? 

   He takes another look at the ruined food as the bubbles die down and decides he’s probably just cursed. Not all hope is lost though, Danny reasons as he dumps the ruined gnocchi down the garbage disposal. So Italian cuisine was not his forte. That’s okay! He’ll just try a different recipe!

___👻___

   The recipe said quick and easy. 

   This was neither quick nor easy.

   He dumped the carbonized remains of food into the trash with a sigh. It was French toast! How could someone go so wrong with French toast? The kitchen looked like something had exploded in it for ancients’ sake! 

   Danny thunked his head onto the counter, uncaring of the milk and eggs coating it. An entire loaf of bread gone and not a single edible piece of toast to show for it! He groaned. Maybe he just… wasn’t cut out for this whole courting thing. 

   Dejectedly, he lifted his head and began to wipe down the counter with paper towels. He really liked Hood.

   He was funny! While he mostly left Danny alone during his study sessions, Danny had seen the viral videos. Hood knew how to crack a good death joke, and the compilations of him ragging on Batman were something to aspire to. 

   He cared for people! The sponsored soup kitchens and homeless programs were an open secret in Crime Alley, and the working girls were paid well. The street kids knew they were safe in the Alley because anyone who tried to touch them would end up with their head in a duffle bag. Red Hood protected them.

   And ancients was he hot! Thick thighs for days and strong arms that could probably lift Danny like a couple of grapes. Danny wouldn’t mind being thrown around by a guy like that. He would happily let him pin him to a wall and box him in and then Danny could sink his fangs into his shoulder and then- 

   Okay! Stop! Too far! That’s awfully ambitious for someone who can’t even cook a proper courting gift. Think, Danny, Think! 

  Okay… okay. So he can’t cook. That’s fine because Danny can build. He’s been building things since he was practically a toddler. He can make something easy peasy!

   What about a gun? Red Hood seemed to like guns. Danny’s core purred at the idea. If he had to guess, the vigilante had a protection obsession of some sort. A gun was something that could protect Red Hood but also be used to protect others in his haunt and directly feed into his obsession. Yes! The gun idea was good.

   But then again, Hood had been working with Batman more and more frequently, and with that had been using guns less and less. How often could the gun be used? No, no. This courting gift should be usable in all scenarios. 

   What about a knife? Yes! A knife could work! As far as Danny knew, Batman didn't have anything against knives. Surely a knife paled in comparison to Robin's katana. A knife was sneaky and quiet, good for stealth missions unlike a gun, and easier to carry for everyday use. 

   Danny hummed, nodding to himself. He’d do the knife first and save the gun for later. He was going to need supplies. 

   Danny wiped the dripping egg away from his forehead before it could get into his eyes. But first, he was going to need a shower.

___👻___

   So…

   It could’ve gone worse.

   Despite basically being raised reverse-engineering his parents’ inventions, Danny had never tried to make a knife. He could gut a microwave from the local back alley dumpster and Macgyver it into a functioning weapon, but building a makeshift forge on short notice and hammering steel down into a smooth curve was a whole different ballpark. Luckily the local trade school had a forge, and after some good old-fashioned bribery, they allowed Danny access. That was the first problem out of the way. Unfortunately, the second problem remained. It was fine. Danny was used to thinking on his feet. 

  After many YouTube videos and failed attempts Danny had a somewhat presentable blade. With a saw edge on the top and a sharp curve similar to a khukuri on the bottom, it certainly didn’t look like a beginner's design.

   He probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to a more advanced shape. Danny hadn’t managed to fix the slight warp of the blade, and maybe the practice beforehand would have done him some good. Regardless, it was too late to fix it after the ecto wash, and he didn’t think the warp would affect the performance too negatively. Besides, with the ectoplasm infused into it the knife should cut through ghosts with no problem. 

  Danny had spent entirely too long trying to find the perfect shade of red leather for the handle, but in the end, he accurately matched it to Red Hood’s helmet. He had wanted to incorporate some protective runes into the leather, but he had no idea how to make a lasting pattern that wouldn’t affect the user’s comfort. Eventually, he decided it was an idea to be saved for another project. 

   With his courting gift complete, all that was left to do was break into Red Hood’s lair and give it to him…

   That sounded wrong. Give the knife to him. It’s not an innuendo! Great. Now he’s thinking about those thick thighs again. Stop! Bad Danny!

   He shook himself to dispel the train of thought. Danny had a different, more pressing problem to deal with: How could he present a knife to a vigilante without it coming across as a threat? He didn’t have a box for it, and the knife didn’t have a sheath yet. He could always make himself the box and store it in his chest, but watching someone pull random items out of their body was apparently gross and disturbing, or so he’d been told. What if he just-

   Danny yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and began to root around. After a few seconds of sifting, he pulled out his prize and ever so gently stuck it to the knife. The green gift bow was squished on one end but remained comically large on the blade. He bounced up and down on his toes. It was so stupid that it just might work. 

   Feeling the cool rush of invisibility, Danny phased through the wall of his apartment to greet the early morning light beginning to peak over the buildings. Floating in the air for a minute, he absently fiddled with the bow on his courting gift. With the city starting to wake, Hood should be returning to his lair. 

   It didn’t take long for him to fly past the unseen territory lines and into Crime Alley. Danny had crossed through Hood’s haunt before. It had never felt aggressive like some in the Ghost Zone. Red Hood's haunt was more curious, probing with a warning to behave himself. The haunt felt different this time around. Now it felt welcoming rather than wary, warm. If Danny closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being held in a protective embrace. His core hummed in response, seeking out the other’s resonance. 

   Danny had never been to Hood’s lair. He hadn’t even been given directions, but he didn’t need them. He'd simply follow Hood’s ecto signature to where the haunt’s energy was most concentrated. Like the dead equivalent of a bloodhound. 

   Danny took his time meandering toward the heart of the haunt. He’d never been this far into Crime Alley before, and he didn’t want to get turned around. That was a lie. Danny was nervous and stalling. Doubts flew unbridled through his head.

   What if the knife wasn’t good enough? What if the bow didn’t work? What if Red Hood thought he was threatening him? What if Danny blew his shot? Danny had already screwed up so many other things in his life, he didn’t want to screw this up too!

   There was only so long he could stall. Jittery with nerves, Danny floated outside a decrepit apartment building. The entire structure was practically drenched in Red Hood’s ecto signature, but it radiated in waves from a unit on the top floor. Danny took a breath to steady his racing heart and struggled to quiet his core. It was now or never. 

   He cautiously phased halfway through the wall, chirping in greeting. The apartment was clean and orderly. The fireplace and full bookshelves gave it a homey feel that sharply contrasted with the worn and weathered bricks on the outer wall. The lack of weapons was a surprise. Even if he couldn't see them Danny figured they were still there, well hidden in the otherwise normal apartment. 

   A surprised sound draws his attention to the man on the couch. He’s built like a quarterback, lounging on one side as he struggles to stitch a laceration across his ribcage with a needle in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. It's hard not to get distracted by the autopsy scar running cleanly across his collarbone and down to his pelvis. Danny wants to lick it.

   Piercing blue eyes search the apartment, arm lowering the mirror. Danny is thankful that he's still invisible. With the heat flooding to his ears, he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. Danny’s practically drooling at tousled black and white hair and the long scar reaching up from under his jaw to his hairline like a flower stretching for the sun. His crooked nose, clearly broken and healed many times over, only adds to his beauty. Red Hood is truly a modern-day Adonis.

    Hood’s wounded side finally registers in Danny’s brain, rearranging his priorities and catapulting his obsession to the front. Immediately he lets his invisibility drop, absently shoving the knife into his chest for safekeeping. Hood makes a distressed sound as he does so which urges Danny forward. His hands hover worriedly over the man as he pushes as much help/comfort/safety/concern into his aura as possible. 

   He reaches to take the threaded needle from Red Hood’s hand only to be nudged away.

   “It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

   "Hood, let me help."

   "Jason,” he licks his lips, “My name is Jason."

   "Jason," Danny gently cups Jason’s face in his hands, "Please let me help, Jason."

   Blue eyes gaze into his own. The ever-so-faint hints of green within them are captivating, swirling in a hypnotic dance that leaves Danny in a daze. Finally, Jason looks away and nods, breaking the trance between them and passing the needle over.

   Danny allows himself to revert to the mindset of his vigilante days. He stitches the wound with a single-minded focus, practiced hands falling back into a familiar rhythm. Jason watches the entire time, staring intently at his face as he works. Danny struggles to keep his core quiet and pretends not to notice, taping a bandage over the cut. His fingers graze over Jason's body, checking it over for any other injuries. Jason allows it to happen with a distinct feeling of affection/amusement. 

   “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

   “Nah. The kevlar usually prevents stuff like this. I was just unlucky.”

   “Good.” 

   Danny runs his fingers through the white tuft in Jason’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face. His core kickstarts like an engine with a vengeance, humming and searching for Jason’s core song in anticipation. Danny squeaks, stumbling backward. He smothers the sound and quiets his core, but with the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t been quick enough.

   “Sorry!” Danny stutters out, flushing. 

    Jason’s expression shifts to confusion, “Why are you apologizing?”

   “I’m being way too forward,” Danny drags his hands down his face in embarrassment, “We haven’t had a spar yet and fuck! I haven’t even given you your courting gift yet, but here I am! Invading your space and trying to harmonize! I’m so sorry.”

    “Lucky for you I like forward,” Jason gently grasped his hands, lowering them away from his face. His palms felt warm against Danny’s skin, “Is that what you shoved into your chest earlier? A courting gift?” Jason punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss to Danny's slow pulse.

   Danny nodded, stunned. Tearing his gaze away from Jason’s lips, he reached into his chest and pulled out the knife. Jason chuckles, his eyes crinkling in mirth, “You put a bow on it?”

   Danny grinned, his fangs on full display, “Well I had to make it presentable, didn’t I?” 

   He gets down on one knee, head bowed and knife held upwards in offering as if he were a knight presenting a sword to a king. Jason gingerly lifts it out of his hands, cradling it like a precious gem. Danny watches as his fingers trace the edge. 

   “It feels like you,” Jason looks to Danny for answers, eyes wide with wonder and a beautiful flush on his face.

   “I wanted to make sure it was effective against ghosts, but it's hard to find enough clean ectoplasm around here. I sorta just… used my own?” Danny rubs the back of his neck with a wince, “Do you like it?”

   He waits in anxious anticipation as Jason stands from the couch. Jason sets the blade gently down on the coffee table behind Danny before tugging him into his arms, “I love it, baby,” his words vibrate over a purr that Danny can feel in his bones, “Just don’t go hurting yourself for courting gifts anymore.”

   Danny groaned, tucking his face under Jason’s chin. “You have no idea how much that narrows my options down.” 

   Jason laughs. 

   Danny pulls away to look up at him, lightly batting at Jason’s peck “I’m serious, Jason! I can’t cook for shit! You’re gonna need to wait a long ass time until I can get my hands on more ecto. I hope you’re ready to wait because it’s going to take me months to build that gun now!”

   “You wanted to make me a gun?” 

   “Yeah? I was going to have one ready in the next few weeks but-”

   Jason’s smile is dazzling as he leans down to press his lips to Danny’s. Danny forgets to breathe as he melts into the kiss. He’s tugged forward until they are chest-to-chest on the couch, cores close together. Danny’s not sure whose core starts to hum first, but the sound is unmistakable as they waver between pitches. Danny bites at Jason’s lips, making a pleased sound when they part for him.

   It’s weird to be doing this before a spar. It’s backward, unconventional. Danny can’t find it in himself to care.

   It’s a wondrous thing when their cores synchronize. Something finally clicks, like a lock snapping into place, and suddenly Danny can feel so much. The humming harmony of their cores permeates every single one of Danny’s nerves. The rush of giddy happiness is unlike anything he’s felt before. He can feel Jason, too. The rampant emotions fling between them until it's hard to tell whose is whose. In Jason’s arms with a core bond in place, Danny has never felt so secure in his life. 

   This. This is what he's been missing. 

   Danny breaks away from their kiss to nip at Jason’s jawline, paying special attention to the scar. Jason makes a pleased sound, tugging lightly at his hair.

   “Your teeth are sharp as fuck.”

   “Aren’t yours?”

   Jason nuzzles under Danny’s shirt collar and into his shoulder. Danny shudders as he feels canines dig into his skin. They’re sharp, but not as sharp as his. 

   Danny giggles, pressing a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I want to see how skilled you actually are with those teeth. Once you’ve healed we can have a proper spar.”

   “I’ll show you a proper spar,” Jason grumbles. 

  Suddenly Danny is pinned, lying on the couch with Jason’s weight on top of him. Jason kisses his cheek, tucking his head back into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. It's like the world's best weighted blanket, Danny thinks as his eyes droop shut in relaxation.

   They remain like that in silence, basking in the positive emotions and comfort of their new bond. It’s about ten minutes later that Danny finally breaks it.

   “Why me?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Just… why court me? I know I pass through your haunt now and then but we’ve only actually seen each other like… once. What could I have possibly done to catch your attention?”

   “You punched a mugger.”

   “Yeah… so?”

   “You knocked the fucker out in one blow before I could even lift a finger.”

   “And?”

   Jason lifted his head to give him a pointed look.

   Danny stared back.

   Oh…

   Oh!

   “Do you have a competency kink!?”

   Jason flushed, ducking his head back down with a groan. 

[sunnydbeam]

Gamma Code - Chapter 1: Hell In The Darkness

▪︎ Word count: 4,628

▪︎ Rating: M

▪︎ Chapter summary:

Your routine, methodical job becomes a deadly pursuit when you get caught up in a problem you didn't know existed. It turns out to be your problem now.

[mrghostrat]

editor's note - chapter 4/5

[slaps chapter] this baby can fit so much gay panic in it

“It’s not so bad, when you’re not drenched in it,” Crowley thought aloud. Aziraphale gave him a doubtful look over the top of his glass, so he doubled down. “Kind of romantic, really. Like a Richard Curtis film.” Aziraphale followed his gaze to a window streaked with endless drizzle. He watched for a moment, took a delicate sip of Tempranillo, then hummed a complacent sigh. “I suppose so.”

[literatooru]

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

pairing: villain f!reader x pro-hero bakugo katsuki warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI), mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, he calls reader brat, sort of public sex but there's really no one around lol

Bakugō Katsuki, most commonly known as pro-hero Dynamight. If you haven’t heard his name, it means you’ve probably been living under a rock. He’s one of the most famous heroes, loved —and hated— by many. Nobody knows just how many cell’s he’s filled with villains (except him, he keeps count of them… you know, just to prove he’s the best—, and he’s never failed to catch anyone he’s in pursuit of. That is, until you came around.

It’s not that Katsuki hasn’t caught you. In fact, he has. Multiple times, actually, which makes it even more ironic. It’s something he could never forgive himself for — but he’d hate himself even more if he gave you away. Sometimes, the simple thought of you is the only thing that gets him through the day.

And, once again, here you are after successfully robbing a jewelry store, you flee the scene with a bag full of shiny, gorgeous goods, easily dodging the local cops chasing you. Losing them is not difficult — you’ve done it on countless occasions, you know the way they think. You let out a gleeful laugh as you run, exhilaration fueling your body as you dart into the alleyway. That is, until you’re yanked by the arm and slammed against the wall. 

A groan escapes you when the impact almost knocks the air out of you, your right hand flying up to curl your fingers around your attacker’s wrist. And you recognize him before you even actually see him, because you’ve been in that exact position before, albeit in different circumstances.

“I know I usually like it rough, Kats, but you should hold back a little,” you chuckle, wincing when his fingers flex around your throat.

“I don’t believe it,” he growls, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath when he finally lets go, rubbing your sore neck.

“Sorry, I meant Dynamight. My bad.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I think it’s quite obvious.” You give the bag still clutched in your grip a shake, the jewels inside jingle. The sound alone makes his scowl deepen.

He forces himself to take a step back before your scent takes over his senses. Every single muscle in his body is tense, and you notice a vein pop out on his temple when he huffs in annoyance.

“I thought I told you last time would be the last time,” he mutters, glancing furtively around before pulling you even deeper into the alleyway after making sure there’s no one around.

“Yeah, you also said it the time before that. And, like, a week before that. And—” you break off, your face mere inches apart from his. You can feel his hot breath fanning your cheek as he glowers at you, his hand fisting the collar of your shirt.

“Listen here, brat. Drop the attitude or I’m going to fuck it out of you.”

You smirk, your eyes falling on his lips.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Kats.”

He steps forward until you’re against the wall once more.

“I’m not letting you go,” he warns.

You pop your lips and trace them with the tip of your tongue. Bakugo follows the motion, eyes hazy.

“Really?” you ask, brushing your lips against his. You can hear him gulp, his grip faltering a little. “It would put an end to our fun little game. I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”

And you’re right — he’s not. He fucking hates how addicted to you he’s become. There’s not a single day he doesn’t think about you; the way your lips devour his, your taste on his tongue, the sweet sounds you let out reverberating inside his skull for days on end. No, he’s not ready to let you go just yet, and if the smile on your face is any indicator, you’re unfortunately aware of it. He dreams of you, lives waiting for the day he’ll see you again — get to fuck you again. What he had told himself was a one time thing turned out to become one of his biggest problems, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Oh, bite me,” he spits out.

You chuckle with a mischievous glint in your eyes that makes his entire body tingle with anticipation. He knows that means danger, but the way you cloud his senses always make him just a teeny tiny slower than usual, and that’s enough for you.

“If you insist.”

And your lips are on his. His grip on your shirt loosens completely and it is frankly embarrassing how quick he is to reciprocate, almost like it’s the one thing he wished for and has been waiting for it to happen his entire life. He cages you between his arms, pressing his body flush against yours — Katsuki wants to feel every part of you against him, wants you all to himself. He’s planning to let out all of his frustrations on you tonight, and it’s not like you mind.

His lips trace your jaw with unusual kindness, nipping gently on the skin and exploring the area almost as if he's doing it for the first time. When he lowers his head to kiss your neck, he inhales deeply, and his mind becomes fuzzy and he feels as though he’s been drugged. You’re intoxicating.

He cups your jaw to hold your head in place, attacking your neck with his teeth, his actions growing rougher with each passing second.

“You’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you breathe out, pulling on his hair to meet his lips again in another kiss. It’s careless and messy, just how it’s always been with him.

You hook your fingers in the waist of his pants to pull his hips closer to you, his growing erection pressing against you. The light friction makes him groan softly against your skin, wide hands traveling down to grope your breasts over your shirt. You slide a hand under the elastic of his pants and wrap your fingers around him. Bakugo hisses. Your hands are a little cold, but it feels good. He’s grateful that it’s so dark, because then you won’t notice how flushed his face actually is. All he can think about is tearing your clothes off and burying himself so deep inside you, he doesn't know where he ends and you start.

You stroke him slowly, thumbing his cockhead to smear the pre-cum along his shaft, twisting your wrist as you tighten your grip around him. Bakugo’s hips automatically thrust into your touch, soft groans and pants hitting your collarbone. You’re having the time of your life. Big pro hero Dynamight, completely at your mercy. The thought of leaving him like that, needy, wanting and desperate for your touch crosses your mind, but you ultimately decide against it. That’d be going too far, and he’d probably blow you up for it.

“Ngh, you damn tease,” he growls. “Faster.”

And you comply.

You can feel your underwear dampening against your skin. It’s uncomfortable, and squeezing your thighs together is accomplishing nothing. Once you’ve had the best, it’s hard to find anything to replace it, and nothing can quite fulfill your needs the way Bakugo does.

As if reading your mind, he pulls your leggings down —you decidedly choose to ignore the sound of fabric ripping, only hoping the damage isn’t bad enough to have you walking back to your place in your underwear—, hastily sliding your panties down your legs and sliding his entire hand between your folds to lubricate his fingers before sinking them inside your sopping cunt.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” he says, feeling everything with his digits. Your lips part open, and your moan is swallowed by his hungry lips. “Dirty girl. Turns you on, doesn’t it? Knowing we could get caught at any moment.” And the way you clench around his fingers only confirms what he already knows. “Oh, you do. You fucking love it, don’t you?”

“Not any more than you do,” you say with a breathy chuckle, tugging on his blond locks. “Think I didn’t notice? I bet you almost came in your pants just by thinking of it. Like a damn hormonal teenager.”

His free hand goes up to curl his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly, and his cock throbs in your hand. It’s not the general scenario that has him in that state — it’s you. You, with your pretty lips, and your nice hair, and your fluttery lashes. You, the one person that has doomed him to an oddly specific failure.

“I’m going to make you eat your words.”

You’re about to reply, instead letting out a loud moan when he curls his fingers, rubbing that spongey spot inside you, and he has you squirming in no time. He spreads your legs open, lining himself up with your entrance and teasing you with the tip of his cock until you’re begging him to put it in.

“So impatient,” he says, pushing his hips forward. You can feel every single inch of him sliding in, both of you groaning when he bottoms out. He stays still for a moment, but it’s more for him than it is for you, although he doesn’t let it show. He refuses to prove you right by cumming in record time. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and he pulls out ever so slowly, choking out a moan with the way you’re clamping down on him, trying to suck him right back in. “Oh, fuck.”

“Katsuki,” you mewl in his ear, and he curses under his breath again, his cock twitching inside you. You gasp when he plunges back inside you, setting a ruthless pace that has you clawing at his back and crying out his name. The wet sound of your pussy sucking him in and the slapping of skin on skin is so loud that you wonder how no one’s found you out. “Shit, Kats!”

Your sweet, sweet moans fill his ears, and he does everything in his power to keep hearing them. His hands touch and apply pressure on all the right places, choking you, fondling your breasts, tweaking your nipples — his mouth bites, licks and sucks on your skin, marking it. He just can’t get enough of you. He considers to know your body well enough, but he can’t help but wish he had time to discover even more.

The way you gasp his name and tug on his hair tells him you’re close, and he is too. All it takes is a couple more thrusts before you’re crying out in ecstasy and creaming around his cock, everything growing wetter, louder and messier. Your spasming walls are what drive him over the edge, and he shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside you, painting your insides white. He rides it out with a series of grunts and moans escaping his lips, a thin layer of sweat making his body glisten under the moonlight.

Bakugo pulls out, struggling to catch his breath. He blinks a couple times to clear his head (an impossible task when you're looking utterly fucked out and breathtaking right in front of him, all thanks to his doing), sharpening his vision as his gaze falls on your thighs, his cum slowly dripping down them. He lets out a low chuckle, snatching your chin to make you look him in the eyes.

“You ungrateful little brat. You’re not supposed to waste it,” he whispers against your lips, a menacing smirk on his lips. His scarlet eyes darken, pupils dilated. “Guess I’ll just have to fill you up again.”

Bakugo takes a long, good look at you. There you are, the one villain he’s never been able to throw in jail, and most likely never will, because that’d mean letting you. You’re the one who floods his brain, invades his dreams and owns his body, because, like the thief you are, you’ve stolen everything — from his sanity to his heart.

[musicalmedli]

You Wanted This (Optimus/FReader)

Summary: Wanting a normal life, you left the base, but unfortunately your connection doesn’t make it easy. However, it does cause a certain confession to finally come.

Warning: Rated M (holoform human x female human, sexual content, minor language.)

--

You Wanted This

“You wanted this,” he yelled in his deep baritone voice a short distance behind me.

I shook my head and continued walking, the lights of the bar I stepped out surrounding and piercing the darkness.

“You wanted this, a chance of a normal life away from the base. That is what you told your uncle,” he continued.

I clenched my hands into a tight fist before stopping and turning. He stood dressed in a midnight blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tattoos down his left arm listing his faction and role. Occasionally, lights would hint at the red and orange flames that decorated the shirt underneath or the belt that held his dark-washed jeans up. Behind him, I could see the blue auxiliary lights belonging to a specific semi-truck along with the field that held deep gouges from the previous battle.

“I know what I said,” I responded with a frustrated sigh. “I just….” I raised a hand to my head and let out a sigh instead of finishing my thought.

“You didn’t expect to be still associated with me,” he responded as he walked towards me and stopped, hands stuck in the pocket of his jeans. “You lived on base for how long, visited us in our hangar, and you thought they wouldn’t come after you?”

“I was just some random human woman,” I retorted back sharply before shaking my head and sighing.

I was forced to stop shaking my head when fingers gripped my chin. My breath hitched as I watched him lean forward. “You are not just some random human woman. You are the general’s daughter, yes, but you are also in a relationship with me.”

I scoffed, “Maybe I should have ended our relationship before leaving base.”

Bright blue eyes widened before narrowing, an arm wrapping around me before I was crushed to a hard chest. “You knew what you were getting into. My species does not separate as you humans do.”

“We are not even married,” I stated as I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push out of his grip.

“Maybe not in human terms, but I was courting you. I was planning on making you mine.”

“Why?” I asked sharply. “Why put up with me? Why do this with a human when I am sure you have females?”

“Because I fragging love you.”

I stopped pushing and stared at him, my eyes wide and my mouth partly opened. “What did you say?”

He smiled, “I said that I love you. Not an easy thing for me to say either, considering my role.”

I blinked slowly, “You love me, a human?”

“Yes.”

I don’t know who responded first, but our lips crashed against each other while my hand gripped his shirt tightly. He teased my bottom lip with his tongue, coaxing me to open. I slowly opened and moaned against his tongue as he dived in, dancing with my tongue as he claimed my mouth.

I felt as his hands dropped to my thighs, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. We were moving while his mouth continued to dominate my own. I eventually felt the back of metal, his breath coming in deep pants as he sat me down. I looked up to see the semi-truck behind us. He was trying to open the door. It opened with a soft sound before my body was lifted once more and placed on the seat. He followed, closing the door. I heard the locks and saw the dimming of the lights as he nudged me to the back of the semi-truck and onto the sleeper bed.

I fell upon the soft material with him falling on me. His mouth was back on mine, his tongue diving in to dominate my own. His hands moved to cup my face as he pulled back to stare into my eyes.

“I fragging love you, and I plan to never lose you. You are mine,” he growled sharply before his mouth was on mine. His hands moved down my body, where he cupped my breasts through my shirt and bra. He moved his mouth to my jaw and then my neck, sucking on the living pulse.

His one hand slipped under my shirt, pushing my bra up. I hissed, arching against him. “Remove this,” he growled against my neck, pulling at my shirt. I sat up and grabbed the hem, pulling the shirt over my head. His mouth went straight to the skin between my breasts while his hand slipped behind me to undo the clasps.

“You are mine. You should have known this.” He growled against my breasts as he took one nipple into his mouth, teasing the harden bud with his teeth and tongue. He broke free to growl as he lathered my other breast. “Each fragging night I held you in my servo closed to my chassis. Each fragging night, I placed a soft kiss upon your head. Each fragging night, I had you with me. You should have fragging known.”

I moaned as he broke free from my other breast, his fingers digging into my hips as he trailed his lips down my stomach along my waist before stopping at my zipper and button of my pants. I was breathing hard. My lips swollen from our kisses while my eyes were heavy lidded from all the desire that was built inside me.

I watched as he knelt up, undoing the belt, button, and zipper quickly before pulling his shirt off. His tattoo of his faction and rank clear upon his arm. I knew I should have never left him. My instincts told me to stay, but I wanted a normal life. My eyes dropped down to where he was pulling my pants off, his eyes focused on mine before his lips were back on my own. He kissed me as he pulled my pants and panties off, throwing them towards the front. I heard as he removed his own before he broke the kiss to stare into my eyes.

“After tonight, you will be mine. We Cybertronians do not break a bond. We are bonded for life.”

I gasped sharply, my hands going to his shoulders as he thrusted in one quick movement, a deep groan escaping his lips. I felt as he stopped, letting me adjust glad that this wasn’t my first time. Eventually, I nodded. Bright blue eyes stared into mine, harsh to the point that his love shown through each time he moved. Deep thrusts claiming me as his. Mewls answering back as my heart raced, my breath gasped. I loved him. I always did, but I thought leaving would be best, a normal life would be easier. No, I was connected to him. I was truly lost and in love with him.

“I love you,” I gasped with each movement, our hips meeting each other. “I love you,” I said again as my hands grasped his face, pulling to meet my lips once more.

“You better,” he growled as he picked up pace. “Each time. You should have known.”

I gasped as my head fell back. The rolling of his hips as he picked up speed even more, finding that one spot. Even his breathing was coming out in rapid pants. Our ending arriving with one more deep thrust. I cried out his name, arching against him and trembling. He growled upon his finished, wrapping his arms tightly around me and kissing me hard and deep.

Within moments, he rolled, pulling me against him. My heart slowly started to settle along with my breath. I laid my hand upon his chest, feeling the imitation heart that pulsed like his spark. I looked up and swallowed hard. His eyes stared hard before he nodded. I smiled before resting against him. I was connected to them, to the Autobots, to their leader. I was connected to them because I fell in love with him, a Cybertronian, and he fell in love with me, a human woman.

END

[lynnearlington]

how can we be lovers (if we can't be friends) - chapter vi

Supergirl, Kara/Lena, M

“I believe there are no less than ten bedrooms in The Manor,” Veronica says in that voice of superiority she’s so perfected. “But by all means, continue to defile the Buttery.” 

When I have no plans to abandon this fic, I mean it. More Hockey AU to be read: HERE.

ko-fi | fic tag

[mike-wachowski]

“Okay.” Sam takes a deep breath, in and out, and Lena can see the cloud of frost forming around her exhale. The sub-thermal temperature of the freezer is already thawing what was left of Lena’s growing hot rage. “Spill. Why are you acting like a dick?” 

Lena huffs. “I’m certainly not acting like a dick. Jess made a mistake. It’s within my duties as the head chef to make sure everything is perfect—”

Sam raises a hand and immediately silences her. “Lena. I’m not your brother. I don’t want you to be perfect. I don’t need you to be our boss right now. I need you to be our friend.” Sam pulls out an empty apple crate from the bottom shelf and plants herself down on it. “Now tell me what’s wrong. Please.” 

Lena slumps to the floor. She sighs, watching the small puff of ice that gathers around her breath, and buries her head in her hands. 

She whispers, “Kara and I kissed.”

“What?” Sam leans in. “Lena, you gotta speak up, the fan is on-”

“Kara and I kissed!” Lena shoots her head up, making eye contact with Sam. “Kara and I kissed, and… we haven't talked about it or anything, and we haven’t done it since, but I— I made her pizza, and my brother called, and I was so upset, and I kissed her, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

the final chapter of you can tell a whole story with a taste is now live (and its 16k!)

you can read it from the start here.

[spicycinnabun]

@118dailydrabble for day 99 prompt tomorrow ⚙︎ rated: m ⚙︎ pair: buck/tommy ⚙︎ tags: part 15 of android au, h0rny bot, USB blasting

Tommy stood behind a shirtless EB, his back panel open. One of his ports was bothering him.

Tommy wiggled the connector. “It’s really tight.”

He pulled it out and thrust it back in multiple times. EB gasped quietly.

Still too snug.

Tommy braced his other hand on EB’s shoulder to drive it in harder.

EB’s head bowed, hiding a growing blueberry blush.

Finally, the connector slid in smoothly with a satisfying click.

EB moaned.

Tommy stilled, ignoring his bastard mind. Straight to the gutter. “Did that trigger your pain sensors?”

“P-pleasure sensors,” EB responded, staticky. “Since the roof collapse, they’ve been behaving erratically and without authorization. I'm sorry. Maybe after tomorrow’s updates…”

Tommy swallowed. Fuck. “Don’t sweat it.”

⚙︎

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