#to work at after working at other places he calls 'serious heat.'

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 2

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21

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Previous

Chapter 2: Beneath the Ashes

Arriving at Y/N’s place, I park and take a moment to steady my racing heart. I can already see her silhouette through the window, pacing back and forth. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car, determination mixed with dread coursing through me.

As I knock on the door, it swings open almost instantly, revealing Y/N’s fiery gaze. “You actually showed up,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d actually end shit,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, but it comes out more defensive than I intended.

She steps aside, letting me in, and the tension in the room is palpable. “What did you expect? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks! You think I’d just wait around forever?”

I clench my fists, my patience wearing thin. “I’m dealing with a lot right now, Y/N. You can’t just act like I’m the bad guy for trying to handle my shit!”

“Handle it? Is that what you call shutting me out? Not even telling me your grandfather passed? What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her voice rising.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this!” I shout back, the frustration bubbling over. “I thought you’d understand!”

“Understand what? That you’re pushing me away while I’m trying to be here for you?” She steps closer, her anger radiating off her like heat waves.

“Y/N, stop,” I warn, trying to keep the situation from escalating further, but she doesn’t back down.

“I won’t! You think I’m just going to sit here and let you treat me like I’m nothing?” she yells, shoving me back, her hands pressing against my chest.

I pause, staring at her in disbelief. “I dare you to put your fucking hands on me again, Y/N,” I challenge, my voice low and dangerous.

She steps into my space, glaring up at me, unyielding. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

In a split second, the anger surges, and I grab her shirt, pulling her closer. “You think I’m fucking around, Y/N? I told you from the jump: I don’t play that ‘putting hands on each other’ shit.”

What the actual fuck am I doing

Every time she tries to pull away, my grip tightens, the fire between us flaring. “I hate you,” she spits, the venom in her words cutting through me.

My heart sinks, the words landing like a punch to my gut. “You don’t mean that,” I reply, my voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

She hates me..Well I hate me even more.

“Don’t I?” she counters, her eyes blazing with defiance. “Because right now, I can’t stand you!”

Join the fucking club yn. 

The thought cuts deeper than I care to admit, but I can’t back down now. “You think this is easy for me? Losing my grandfather? It’s tearing me apart, and all I’m asking for is a little understanding!”

Her expression falters for just a moment, and I can see the conflict in her eyes, but then it hardens again. “Understanding? You think I can just overlook you shutting me out? You think I’m just supposed to be okay with that?”

No, I just wanted you to be patient with me. Why Can’t I just say that

“You want to throw everything away because I’ve been dealing with my shit?” I can feel the desperation creeping into my voice. “You think that makes it any easier for me?”

She stares at me, breathing heavily, the anger shifting into something more complicated. But the moment hangs thick with unspoken words, and I can feel the walls between us closing in tighter.

“I don’t know, Sukuna. Maybe it’s too late for us,” she finally says, her voice quieter now but still firm.

I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. “No,” I whisper, desperate. “It can’t be too late. Not for us.”

She scoffed while walking away from me. I found myself suddenly following Y/N through her apartment, desperation propelling me forward. 

This can’t be happening. Not now. Please, Y/N, just hear me out.

"You don't fucking get it," I growl, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

"Explain it then," she snaps back, her voice watery, barely holding back tears.

Fuck... she’s crying... She’s crying again... I can’t... Oh god... I can’t fucking do this. 

My chest tightens, 

The sight of her in pain tearing at something deep inside me.

“Please just stay and explain it to me,” she pleads, her eyes searching mine for something—understanding, reassurance, anything.

You want me to explain it? To tell you how much it hurts? To tell you that you’re breaking me into a million pieces and don’t even know it? How will that help anything? It won’t make you want me back. It won’t take back the way I’ve been acting or our fights. All I’m doing is hurting you.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know that. It just... it’s a lot.” My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, emotions crashing over me like waves.

Y/N cuts me off before I can say more. “I’m not doing this anymore, Sukuna.” Her words slice through the air, final and resolute.

Not doing this anymore.

 The phrase echoes in my mind like a death knell. My stomach drops, a heavy weight settling on my chest.

“What do you mean?” I ask, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You can’t just—”

“I can and I will,” she interrupts, her voice rising. “You’ve shut me out for so long. I can’t keep waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and realize what you’re doing to us!”

But I don’t want to lose you!

“I’ve been trying to be there for you, but you keep pushing me away!” she continues, her frustration boiling over. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m not important enough to you, like you’re too busy drowning in your own problems to even see me!”

“I’m not drowning, Y/N!” I shout, the rawness of my voice shocking even me. “I’m trying to stay afloat! You think this is easy for me? I’m lost without you, but I thought I was protecting you by keeping my distance.”

Her gaze hardens, and for a moment, I see the glimmer of hope flicker in her eyes, then dim. “Protecting me? By shutting me out? By pretending like everything is fine when it’s not?”

I didn’t want to burden you…

“I thought you were stronger than this, Sukuna,” she says, her voice breaking. “But instead, you’re just hurting yourself and pushing me away.”

God, it hurts.

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m scared of what losing you really means. I don’t know how to handle all this, and I thought… I thought maybe I could do it on my own.”

Her expression softens for a fleeting moment, but then it hardens again. “But you can’t. You can’t do it alone. You need to let me in.”

“I know,” I reply, my heart pounding in my chest. “But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to explain any of this without breaking us completely.”

“Then don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Just be honest. Just... talk to me.”

I want to. I want to tell you everything, but what if it’s too late?

“Please, Y/N,” I plead, stepping closer, desperation coating my words. “I need you to stay. I can’t do this without you.”

She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Sukuna. I need someone who will be there for me, not someone who keeps shutting me out.”

And I don’t want to be that person.

“I’m trying, I swear I am,” I say, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “But I’m so damn scared of losing you.”

“I’m scared too,” she replies, her voice small. “But I can’t keep doing this alone.”

In that moment, the distance between us feels insurmountable. I can see the pain in her eyes, the hope slipping away like sand through my fingers. “Y/N, please…”

But she’s already stepping back, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t, Sukuna. Not like this.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck…shit…this can’t be happening….why does my head fucking hurt

I know pushing further like this won't help, but I'm desperate. I know I’m being toxic, clinging onto her like this when she’s clearly done, but I don’t care. I could almost hear Jin laughing at me now.

 The great heartless Sukuna, broken up over a girl. Who would’ve thought?

I follow her to her room, watching her collapse onto her bed, her body language screaming exhaustion. She grabs her iPad and starts scrolling on Tumblr, shutting me out. Ignoring me completely.

I sit down beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her, trying to close the distance any way I can. "Y/N," I start, my voice coming out soft, barely a murmur, but she doesn’t respond. She keeps scrolling, her face set in an emotionless mask. I can feel her slipping further and further away.

"Get out, Sukuna," she says, her voice steady but hollow. No anger, no frustration. Just...tired.

But I don’t move. I can’t. My pride might be screaming at me to just walk out, to keep whatever scrap of dignity I have left, but my heart? My heart is keeping me glued here, next to her, silently begging her to look at me.

I reach over and try to take the iPad from her hands, but she quickly turns away, hugging it to her chest. I don’t care how it looks; I lay down beside her, scooting closer, feeling the tension in her shoulders, her back rigid with resentment or maybe…exhaustion.

 I fucking missed this...I love her so much. When was the last time I told her I loved her?

I swallow, nerves clawing at my throat. "I love you, Y/N," I whisper, the words tasting like desperation, slipping out before I can stop them.

The silence is deafening, thick and suffocating. Then, a sniffle.

"Don’t say things you don’t mean, Sukuna," she murmurs, her voice breaking, barely holding back tears.

I'm fucking this up. I’m losing her. God, someone, help me not fuck this up further.

She turns towards me, finally, her brown eyes—the ones I’ve grown to love, that used to sparkle every time I made her laugh—now red and puffy, burdened with the pain that I caused.

Without thinking, I lean in and kiss her, gentle at first, then desperate, pouring every unspoken apology, every ounce of regret and love into it. I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her tightly, as if I could keep her from slipping through my fingers any further.

Her body tenses, and for a second, I think she’ll push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she clings to me, her fingers tangling into my shirt, pulling me closer. The room is quiet, save for our shaky breaths, the sound of our hearts pounding against each other’s chests.

Please don’t leave me. Please, Y/N. Just stay. Just a little longer. I’ll be better; I swear I will.

Y/N’s lips pull away from mine, and she stares up at me, her eyes searching, conflicted. I feel my heart thundering in my chest, every beat a reminder of how badly I want her, need her right now.

"You taste like cigarette smoke, Kuna," she murmurs, her voice a little unsteady. I can’t help but chuckle, sliding my hands slowly up her sides until one rests gently on her cheek, brushing a thumb over her skin.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I say, my voice low, tinged with a hint of guilt, but I can’t seem to let her go. My need to be close to her, to feel her warmth, is overwhelming everything else right now.

She bites her lip, glancing away, the hesitation clear on her face. But my fingers trace the line of her jaw, gently guiding her face back toward mine. "I need you," I say softly, my voice raw with longing. My hand cups her face as I lean down, pressing my lips against the curve of her neck, then biting my way down, savoring the way her breath catches each time my teeth graze her skin.

"Please, baby," I whisper against her neck, my voice almost pleading, "I need you so fucking bad."

She lets out a shaky sigh, her fingers curling into my shirt. "Kuna, we shouldn’t," she whispers, her words barely audible, as if she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this; part of me is painfully aware of how wrong it is to mess with her mind like this, to sleep with her when we’re both standing on shaky ground, barely able to hold each other up. But the ache in my chest, the hollow feeling I’ve been trying to drown in anything but my own thoughts, is too much to bear alone tonight.

"Just... let me forget for a little while," I murmur, my hands sliding down her sides, tracing every curve.

I pull her shirt over her head and slowly kiss my way up her body until I'm staring into her eyes.

"You... you look......... like you want......." she pants. "Like you want to eat me."

Cause I fucking do. God…

"I have never... wanted anyone... more than I want you, right now," I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. It feels intimate as I press my body against hers and then roll my stomach in a slow grind that almost feels like I'm fucking her. I do it twice more, hissing as she shivers with pleasure.

The whimpers. Fuck me... The whimpers. Fuck I forgot how she sounds. It’s been a month.

I kissed my way down her body this time, taking one of my hands to firmly grip her jaw to keep her focused on me “Eyes on me princess.” 

I realize her jaw once I’m sure she focuses on me. I slipped her shorts off, revealing her soaked cunt. 

I spread her legs open, while I slid lower down the bed. I push her legs back “Hold these and you better not drop them, pretty girl.” I slide my tongue from her clit to her close, slowly then around her inner lips. I swirl my wet tongue around her clit 

ONCE! TWICE! THRICE!

"Fuck daddyyy-"! I hear her say. I smile a bit going a bit lower to her hole, I spit, almost drool onto her pussy and slurp up her juices. I feel her wetting my face more. I slip a finger in then another. 

“Kuna, please…please fuck me” she whined, begged.

Fuck she’s…I forgot how sweet her taste is. How sweet she sounds. 

“ FUCK... keep doing THAT... I love the way you beg. Love the way you say my name.”

I slowly suck my way back up to her clit once more, dropping a quick nibble on it causing her to pull away from me. I wrap my arms around her hips and pull her back down and keep my grip on her.

“Come on yn. Don’t run from it. I don’t play that.”

I continue sucking on her clit. I add in one finger then another. I listen to her moans echo through her bedroom. Her pleas in my ears for more…

Or is it to slow down? Fuck either way, the way she sounds is gonna make me bust.

I thrust my fingers in and out faster, the way her my pussy is wet and the squelching sounds it’s making. I stop for a moment staring at her pussy saying “talk to me some more.”

I feel yn’s body get tense under me. That doesn’t stop me. I suck on her clit harder. I arch my fingers upwards grazing her g spot. 

“Su….kuna please please please…ouu fuck..right there…please!”

I slow down causing yn to practically scream at me. “Sorry princess” i smirked

I picked up the speed again this time switching to tongue fuck her while i play with her clit. 

Yn’s moans grew louder, while she grew wetter. Her back arched off the bed, well she attempted to but he pulled her back in, almost stifling me completely. 

I feel her tightened around my tongue then I feel her all over my face. I smiled but I didn’t stop. I kept at it like a crack addict. Switching my mouth and fingers between her clit and her hole. She was fighting and twitching under me.

“Too much Kuna…please…you’re too much”

“Daddy please…Oh fuck! I can’t”

“Mmm gonna cum again..please…”

“Fuck mm coming…Kuna. Sukuna! Shiitt! Oh God.”

I release her legs to strip off my clothes. I watch her stretch her hand and stroke my dick. 

I'm hopeless for her. Fuck! I hope she doesn’t replace me in her life

 "God, I fucking love you," I groan, finally thrusting into her slick cunt, feeling it envelop me. Her cunt grip my dick and her legs are already shaking.

"Please," she gasps, biting her lip as she meets me thrust for thrust.

I swear to god, I could fuck you to death right now... Never been so fucking horny. 

I grab her hips to stop her from taking over.  “Just let me put in the work princess”

 I pushed myself inside her again, going all the way to the hilt—

My voice thick with desire, I confess my innermost desires, "I need you. I've always needed you, even when I pushed you away." 

I slid my hand up her body grabbing her throat, watching the lust and fucked out state all over her face. I watch her smile at me with that devious look in her eyes. The look I’ve missed in so long.

Her pussy is gonna be the death of me..Or is it her love. Maybe both

I release her throat, sliding my hands down her chest pulling on her nipples one by one, I slowly drag my hand lower, and lower until it’s on her stomach. I push down on it and angle my body slightly off to the side, picking up the pace more. 

Thwop Thwop Thwop! The sounds of her skin against mine, mine against hers became louder. “Kuna! Oh…fuck me please…harder!” Y’n is grinding up against her harder than before. 

This is fucking with my head.

"Please... don't... you're breaking me, Yn….fuck!” "I love you. Please..." my frenzied thrusts, driven by madness…maybe lust…or loss…

Fuck I need a smoke right now. 

My eyes were scanning her room trying to distract myself.

“Top draw on your left” yn moaned

“Huh..Fuck baby you’re killing me here..ss..wet and tight.” I groaned out. 

“You…fuck!...cigarettes top draw Kuna.” 

Am I that obvious..Jesus

I pulled out reach for the top draw and fished around, saw a pre rolled joint sitting in the ashtray and decided to take that instead. I quickly lit it up and took a deep drag exhaling then another. I leaned down to yn’s face talking slowly. “I need you yn…fuck. I really do.”

I flipped her over onto her stomach and arched her back nic for me. I took another hit feeling the thc slowly running through my veins. I eased inside her again

I’m slower this time around, “Throw it back on me baby. Take what’s yours. It’s your dick. You know that” I pull her hips back against her everytime she throws it back on me. 

“Oh my FUCKING god,” she cries out, her mouth hanging open as it hits her, rolling her under a wave of pleasure so pure and perfect, even I can feel it. Her body jerks, pussy spasming around my dick.

“Not done with your ass yet yn.” I wrap my hands around her hair and turn her face to the side, then press my body against her back pushing her into the prone bone/ collapsed doggy position. I take another pull of the joint before down and kiss her slowly exhaling all the smoke into her mouth.

 “Take me baby.” pulls out “I know I’ve been stupid these past weeks. Maybe even more” Thrusts in “I love you yn. Please baby. Anything but this.” pulls out “I love you, you matter to me” 

"I've been a fucking mess, Yn. Trying to protect you, trying to be the man you deserve. But I've been failing at both." 

I should shut up. Not say these things. I’ll make it worse

As I continue to move within her, my voice takes on a desperate tone. "I know I'm not good enough for you, but I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're mine, Yn. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you by my side. but you deserve so much better than me."

"My feelings are so twisted up,"

Leaning down, I whisper into her ear, "Why do you want to leave me, Yn? Why end it like this?" I murmur, pulling out briefly before thrusting back in. My words, a mix of desperation and possessiveness. 

“Cause..Fuck- fuck fuck fuck s’too deep- hngh” 

“Nah, ss not deep enough…I know you can handle more.” I sit back on the bed in a kneeling position pulling her hips with me Smack! I grip her ass in my palm, spreading it apart to spit on her cunt from the back. 

I push her head down into the mattress and rut into her.

Mine... You're mine, princess... Every time you move, I want you to feel it. To ache with it. To be reminded that you fucking belong to me…

I flip her back over onto her back wanting to stare into her warm brown eyes. I push my fingers into her mouth. The ones I had inside her, coated with the evidence of her desire. I grab the headboard to give myself more leverage.

Bed squeaking

Sounds of skin slapping, unsticking and slapping against skin

Smell of weed and sex in the air

It’s enough to almost put me over the edge. ALMOST!

Fuck baby... I'm gonna cum...she groans

Her body clenches around me, and that's all it takes.

"Oh god, oh god, oh GOD," she cries out.

"Yes,.. fuck yes...," I groan.

"Oh my gawwwwwd..." i feel her buck under me, trying to pull away from me, I pull her back down to me again

So close, baby... I'm so fucking close...

"So good... So fucking good...," I growl.

“Just take it..... Please, fucking take it.” I feel tighten around me, Her body clenches around me, and that's all it takes to push me over the edge

“I know love, I know. I’m almost there.” I groan, pulling back and thrusting again each thruster harder and deeper than the last. 

There's nothing better than this... Nothing...

My eyes close and I pull back a little, thrusting one, final, time.

I watch Y/N slowly drift off beside me, her breaths steady, her face softened, and for a second, I reach out, wanting to pull her close again. But she shifts, pulling away from me.

Y/N… please. Don’t do this now.

“Y/N,” I say, my voice low, barely holding steady.

Her eyes flick open, tired and worn. "Sukuna," she says softly, like she's already miles away. "Your stuff is in the living room. Please take it... and leave."

I feel something shatter inside me, something small but crucial, and I can barely keep my voice from breaking. "Y/N, ple—"

“Just get out!” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet. I freeze, the final crack resounding through whatever was left of my heart.

They say bad things come in threes… or was it good things? Right now, I can’t remember anymore.

"Okay," I whisper, barely getting the word out. That's all I can manage.

I get up, get dressed, and head to the door where she left my stuff. I pick up the boxes and take one last look around her apartment. And then I walk out, closing the door softly behind me, knowing damn well there’s no coming back from this.

Down the hallway, down the stairs, step by step until I reach my car. I toss the boxes into the back seat, close the door, and finally slump into the driver’s seat. I don’t even reach for the keys—I just sit there, the weight of it all pressing down until I feel my lungs start to tighten, my hands starting to shake.

No, not now. Not here.

I close my eyes, hoping to calm myself down before the panic sets in, but it’s useless. My heart races, breaths coming short, shallow. I try to breathe slowly, but my chest feels tight, like it’s caving in on itself.

I sit there, arms wrapped around myself, as memories crash through my mind like a brutal tide—Jin’s smirk, my grandfather’s steady hands, Y/N’s quiet smile in the morning sunlight. I feel like I’m drowning in them, pulled under one after another, unable to surface.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. How did I fuck it up this badly?

But no answer comes, just the silence and the dark, swallowing me whole.

The quiet stretches around me, wrapping me in a thick fog of despair. I try to steady my breathing, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles ache, but nothing seems to break the emptiness that has seeped into my bones. I sit there, feeling my pulse hammering in my ears, my head swimming with fragments of memories—Jin laughing at some joke he’d cracked, Grandpa teaching me how to tie a tie, Y/N looking up at me that first night we met, her eyes bright with mischief and something I’d been too damn scared to name.

How did I get here? How did I end up so alone?

The night stretches on, thick with silence, and I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of everything I’ve lost. I take a breath, forcing myself to stay grounded, to push back the panic clawing its way up my throat.

I reach for my phone, my fingers trembling as I open my contacts and scroll to her name. I stare at it, the screen glowing in the dark, my thumb hovering over the call button. Part of me wants to reach out, to hear her voice just one more time, but I know it’ll only make things worse. She doesn’t want to hear from me—not after tonight. Not after everything I’ve done.

Let her go, Sukuna. Just… let her go.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel. The emptiness is overwhelming, the silence heavy, and I can feel the despair sinking its claws into me, dragging me under.

They’re all gone now. Jin, Grandpa… Y/N. What am I even fighting for anymore?

I take a shuddering breath, feeling the pain sear through me, raw and unfiltered. I sit there for what feels like hours, lost in the darkness, my mind spinning as I grapple with the realization that I’ve driven away everyone I’ve ever cared about. The regret is a bitter taste in my mouth, choking me.

Eventually, I manage to start the car, the engine rumbling to life, but the sound feels hollow, distant. I grip the wheel and pull out of the parking spot, driving aimlessly through the empty streets, my thoughts drifting as I try to numb the ache gnawing at me from the inside out.

Streetlights blur past, the city stretching out in a maze of empty roads and darkened windows, and for the first time, I realize how truly alone I am.

This is it,

I think bitterly.

This is what’s left. Just me… and a hollow, empty shell of everything I thought I had.

As I drive, the memories claw at me, and I let them, sinking into the pain, embracing it. Maybe, if I let myself feel it now, I’ll finally be able to let it all go.

[undead-moth]

Honestly I think when Sydney told Carmy she used to come to The Beef on Sundays with her dad she was lying.

I just don't think she wanted to admit to Carmy, "I applied here because I found out you were working here and you're my idol."

[chiscaralight]

okayyy but has anyone thought about pussy eater kinich??? bc i have and i must speak my truth. or i just need my pussy ate. one or the other.

i don’t think kinich is a virgin, but he’s not that experienced. and he doesn’t feel the need to have sex, it’s not really interesting until he meets you.

he’s hooked on you like bees on honey, constantly asking you to come over so he can fuck all the energy he has into you in every different position.

and there comes a day where you tell him he’s gotta learn how to eat it! he fucks good yeah, but you miss the feeling of a tongue prodding around you, so you decide to teach him. and my god is he a fast learner.

the speed he has isn’t only limited to his body, tongue flicking and twisting fast in and out of your hole as his nose bumps your clit. in serious contrast to the way he behaves, he eats it absolutely sloppy. egregious noises, your slick coating his smooth face and chin as he hums into your cunt softly shaking his head in your heat.

he also likes the way you cum differently depending on what he does. if he takes it slow, you gush hard, slowly dropping out your climax against him as it ruins his shirt.

but if he’s feeling extra impatient, he’ll nibble down on your clit, pushing a finger or two in and curling them just where he knows you like, causing you to squirt. and he’ll smile after, watching the embarrassment wash over your jittery body as he dives back in for one more.

it even gets to a point where hell show up unannounced, god help you don’t lock the door. he’ll barge in and see you on the couch. then quickly take his place on the floor in front of you, offering wet kisses through your panties to get you going. and it always works.

he also can’t admit that it’s not necessarily all he enjoys, he loves the way you tug at his hair, call out his name. he might just have to make you his one of these days, ensuring that no one else has access to the treasure trove that’s between your legs. you (and your pussy) are just like a drug to him; he’ll keep coming back for more.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Back To Work | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble - 800 words

Retirement, a new house, a romantic evening planned, Bucky just knew that life was all going too well . Especially when he starts being hounded to return to his superhero life.

Warnings: language, fluff, a little angsty at the end. Featuring domestic thunderbolts Bucky.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Bucky, are you ready to go baby?” Your voice carried through from the living room as he clicked his arm back into place, shrugging his shoulder to get the fit right. 

You'd been excited all day, buzzing around the new house and opening boxes, trying to unpack at the same time as finding the perfect outfit. Bucky was only half regretting making plans so soon after moving, sure it was stressful trying to dig out his nice shoes from the piles of boxes and bags, but seeing you so happy was completely worth it and knowing you’d be coming home to your house, together, was just the icing on the cake. 

Now the sun was setting and you had turned on the downlighters in the kitchen, void of your usual clutter it looked lonely. 

“Just checking my phone, Doll.” He called back picking the offending item up from the counter - so many missed messages, he sighed.

 He'd been better recently, replying to Sam and catching up with him every week or so. He'd even managed to facetime Steve in his retirement home. He quite enjoyed the easy freedom of digital communication. But today, of all days, it had been pinging non-stop all driving him crazy during the drive and ruining the relaxing and, he hoped, romantic atmosphere he was trying to create. 

“Come on, baby, I don't want to be late.” You strolled into the kitchen and he dropped the phone again to focus his attention on you instead, taking in your dress and heels, your lipstick perfectly done. How could he worry about a stupid phone when you were together. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you close, tucking you under his chin and planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

He smelt lovely, fresh from the shower but with the hint of cut wood from building furniture. His vest revealed the hint of his dog tags, outlined under the fabric, as well as his tanned skin from a summer well spent outside, your traced your fingers over the chain and up his neck. Tangling your fingers in his long hair you tugged him down for a kiss. 

“Love you, Buck.” You whispered against his lips, heat surging through you just at his presence. 

“Love you too.” His lips tickled your cheek, behind your ear, and then he was swinging you up onto the counter. 

“Don't make us late!” 

“If you don't like it, stop giggling.” His fingers tickled up your bare legs, eyes twinkling with desire. 

Ping 

“That fucking phone,” Bucky growled, grabbing it again. More messages, more missed calls. 

“You should see what they want,” wrapping your arms and legs around him as you tugged Bucky closer, every line and curve fitting against him perfectly. He was sun warmed and cuddly, still ridiculously strong, but the hard lines and plains had softened since his retirement and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Fine, for you, then we're going to go and have a nice dinner and I'm leaving this stupid thing here.” He grumbled, chin on top of your head. 

You giggled again, leaving kisses on his chest. Bucky was so attached to that thing you didn't believe it for a second. Until his breathing went funny, heartbeat speeding up beneath your cheek. 

“What is it?”

His eyes had lost their sparkle, looking sad and serious. 

“I might have to rearrange dinner.” 

“What? Why?” You couldn’t see the phone, but his eyes raced across whatever he’d been sent.

“Where did we pack the gear?”

“The what? Oh - uh,it's in the trunk, in the garage but -” 

Bucky slid away, eyes glazed, focussed, intent and you were suddenly so cold without his presence.Your heart sank listening to the movement in the garage on the other side of the wall. 

He emerged ten minutes later, his smart trousers and vest discarded in favour of leather, the dirty t-shirt he'd been wearing while you were unpacking was back and he’d at least grabbed his soft leather jacket for protection. 

You threw yourself into his arms, tears springing to your eyes. “Are you needed?” 

“I think so,” his voice was low, sinking into the headspace required to take on whatever danger was lurking. 

“Come back to me in one piece, okay?” Your voice cracked, arms squeezing him impossibly tight.

“Of course, doll.” He looked at you then, tears welling in his own eyes, his lips so soft against your own. 

“You're my hero, you know that? You don't have to do anything else?” 

He nodded, letting you slide back to the floor, heels clicking on the tile in a sad reminder of your ruined evening. 

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Don’t let anyone, anyone, in.” 

It was your turn to nod, you knew the protocols, the rules that reassured him. 

His bike roared to life, then he was gone, and you were alone in the echo of your home. 

[corollaservant]

Night in the Net // Shigaraki x f! reader (18+)

Synopsis: You find yourself stranded in one hell of a sexist environment: the small town's internet café. Shigaraki's on the night shift. (3.6k)

Warnings: sex with Shiggy basically, mild degradation and misogyny from our fav incel, dom!Shiggy with a twist (no quirk obviously), use of “dollface” (i like it)

A/N: No dark themes here, peace n luv. Also.. yeah he is always linked to some gaming/electronic business ik!! but I like the trope/hc/almost canon.

You'd never imagine this was how your night would end.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then. 

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited).

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young. 

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear some guy swear, presumably because a girl joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you had to admit, he looked intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy, dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil. 

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up. 

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it. 

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You don't bother with the vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’ 

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

 ‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up... carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ The running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest. 

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch now covers the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone. 

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

-

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave. 

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to. 

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it. 

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’ 

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ He jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’ 

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...He also looks good so (stupid as it is, yes!) you silently want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him. 

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you feel a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening. 

Without saying a word, he carried on. A pad of his finger tip dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he doesn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touches your lower lips and you hiss, his finger traces the wet spot over your underwear while you try to move and speak up. 

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says. 

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins; you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss, you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

(You were so clueless, walking around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?)

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth—he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You whine, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please...fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice. 

The ironic remark he prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking god for not wearing a belt. 

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair. 

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful...too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him; he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck...dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth. 

‘’T-tomura... y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hand finds your swollen clit and circles it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels you squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace, kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart. 

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and morals bit by bit.. it’s–

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only reveal a pair of shoes. 

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand, his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do, clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger. 

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm evident as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger; the delay highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm...too good!) This time he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh, look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and you just came so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. His cum spills inside and he groans, trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder. 

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fasten around your waist with cum dripping onto his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care; ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing are audible as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time. 

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods. 

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part. 

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Tomura hands you a piece of paper and quickly disappears behind the store’s shadows.

[kyokutsu-sama]

Headcanons

A/n: So, I'm going o invest more content on my favorite captains of bc because they're hot , badass and deserve all world's attention. Here's some sfw/nsfw headcanons for them✨️

Tw: Nsfw content

_____________________________

Yami :

Sfw

He's super protective of you and that's something he doesn't hide. If any man messes with you (even if you are strong), that guy is officially dead.

You are the only person he allows to pick up his sword and use it on a battle. He trusts you so take good care of his katana because this man is broke and can't afford a new one.

He also likes to go out with you and take you out drinking or playing cards. If you win a bet against him, be prepared because he won't give up until he wins... or until he falls asleep from drinking. He's a terrible gambler but he refuses to accept that.

You usually train together and he likes to see you push your limits. He also likes it when you go on a mission with him so he can see this. He's proud of you and your power.

If he's having another one of his daily battles in the bathroom, you'll be the only one who can come in and give him the toilet paper he's missing because Asta forgot to change it.

(Asta run for your life)

Nsfw

I don't need to tell you that this man is rough and will surpass his limits in the sheets. Good luck to you and goodbye legs.

He loves being between your legs, devouring you and tasting everything you have to give him, probably even getting "drunk" on your juices.

He likes to see you squirm beneath him, the marks he left on you covering your skin (Yes, he really leaves a lot of marks on you), your eyes rolling and your voice calling him so well. Poor bed and poor other members who will listen to you all night

His hands will be all over your body, a lot of physical contact during the act. He loves it when you run your hands over his body too. You can even scratch his skin and bite, he doesn't feel pain. Only pleasure.

There's a lot of dirty talk.

And don't try to tease him, you don't know the risk you're running. Listen, he has no problem with that thing called public places. He puts you against a wall and does whatever he wants.

Regarding the fact that you can't walk properly, don't worry, he carries you everywhere in his strong arms.

He's just my type fr🤭

William :

Sfw

Super cute and kind to you. He is super careful with you, always giving you those sweet smiles that makes your heart melt.

He always likes to check on you to make sure there's nothing wrong or if you're 100% fine.

He's shy and whenever you hold his hand in public or kiss his cheek, his face will heat up from blushing. You just laugh at his cuteness.

He really likes hugs after a long day of work, he feels like you calm his heart and give him good energy.

He's fallen for you since the day you traced his scar with your fingers softly and told him how beautiful he still was. No one had ever done this and he was moved by this affection.

You were proud of him for who he was and not for his appearance and that made him shed little tears.

Nsfw

Do not proceed without your full consent. He wants you to feel good and comfortable.

The touch is soft and delicate, lots of tender kisses on your skin. He doesn't like to leave many marks like Yami, HOWEVER... if you leave some on him, it will cause "things" in him. (It turns him on but he's ashamed to admit it)

I see him being a sub and will let you take over things a lot of the time because he just loves it when you do.

Touch his body, kiss him, take him deep and slow as he likes. This man will have to fight with himself not to come when you ride him and look into his eyes. He goes crazy.

Very gentle with you after the act, always cleaning you and offering you everything you need.

(William, the door to my house is open... you know?🥹👉👈)

Fuegoleon :

Sfw

He is very serious in his role and always wants to have you by his side.

He loves your presence even though he is working hard, and if you help him he will thank you.

He might be a bit like William in the sense that he may be a little shy when you hold his hand or kiss him in public, although he doesn't blush like him.

He always tries to keep you protected and advises you not to talk to Mereoleona too much, he's afraid she'll make fun of him in front of you or drag you to the volcano where she trains.

This woman is dangerous, but having her as a sister-in-law is a gift tbh. She'll beat the shit out of everyone if anyone touches her brother's beautiful girlfriend.

Leo will probably love you because you love and care for his older brother. You two will be great friends.

He likes it when you run your hands gently through his hair when he is resting. This is comfortable and relaxing.

Nsfw

He's the middle ground between going fast when he's feeling excited (after you teased him all day) and going slow and sensual when he comes into the bedroom tired and just wants you to put your arms around him.

He dominates, he likes to be on top, seeing you beneath him arching when his fingers caress you or when he grabs your thighs and thrust you. He lives to see you squirming on the mattress.

He likes to praise you, whispering in your ear how beautiful you are, which gives you goosebumps.

Please run your hands down his back, he loves it and it makes him go deeper.

He hugs and kisses you a lot after he finishes. He is much more relaxed between four walls than in a public place where he hesitates a little with the PDA.

Nozel :

Sfw

Dear, be patient with him. He may be cold to the core but his eyes... they never lie. His look at you is something that many royal ladies who notice him would like to get from him.

He doesn't make long vows of love but look, he's the best with actions and no one will come close to you because he defends you a lot.

Although he and Yami don't get along, they are both overprotective lovers.

Even if you're not from a royal family or something, he won't let anyone discriminate against you for that. That person will disappear without a trace and it's all the work of Nozel fucking Silva.

Serious, but until you give him that little smile that makes him look away in embarrassment. You can see the tips of his ears turning red and you tease him for that.

He ends up smiling for a second and you feel like the luckiest person in the world to witness this event.

Nsfw

Don't underestimate this man, he is a dom and will always show you who is in control. Although I think he has a certain look that he would like you to take control.

Don't fight back, obey. He doesn't accept a no and if you're a brat to him, he'll punish you for it.

If he's having a bad day, he'll probably come to the bedroom to have you in his sheets and relieve himself. Goodbye legs once again...

He will also mark you, he is the only one who can have you and the marks made for him only turns him on.

Not only in the bedroom does he like to see you squirming and calling for him, but also on the office table while he takes a break from work. I don't see him being shy if someone came in but he would probably threaten anyone if they even thought about telling what they saw.

He makes sure you're okay afterwards and will put you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

Need fluff with logan and a southern reader pretty pretty pls!!!

I’m from a hawt place so a winter man in a winter cabin is needed right about now. Please can I request headcanons or a one shot about the reader that bakes him so many sweets/makes so much food for winter he gets chubby and notices, maybe they swap recipes or bake together? Just so much domestic fluff

It’s a primal need to see this man happy, unbothered in the Canadian wilderness, thriving with anything his heart wants and I know I can make that happen lmao

taste of home

bigdaddy!loganxsouthern!reader

a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3 a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3

wc: 1k

18+ MDNI | sexual themes, FLUFF, the name daddy is used.

summary: Y/N has been a little homesick lately and found a temporary cure through baking for Logan.

"What're you getting all dolled up for?" Logan cooed from the doorframe he was leaning on, his arms crossed. 

Your eyes met his reflection in the mirror of your vanity. 

"Nothin', just felt like being pretty." You smiled up at him as you put on your pearl earrings. 

It was true, you had nowhere to go. Logan's cabin was located in quite literally the middle of nowhere. Miles and miles of trees surrounded the property secluding you both from any and all civilization. 

Back home, it was part of your routine to get ready for the day even though all you'd do was stay home. There was something fulfilling about looking your best every day: if you looked good, you felt good.

You had felt a little homesick lately.

 Logan had dragged you deep into the Canadian forests for the winter because he couldn't stand the southern heat that you were used to. At first, you weren't a fan of the idea, but seeing as how happy it made Logan, it made the move all worthwhile.

He'd let go of his negative ways, he was now affectionate, talkative, and adventurous. His being away from all the stress allowed him to show you some of his other colours and vibrant ones at that.

"What do you always say... as pretty as a plum?" He snorted.

"As a peach. It's pretty as a peach." You giggled. 

"Well then, darling, you're as pretty as a peach." He corrected himself, pushing off the door frame and walking up behind your chair.

"Why thank you, Daddy," You blushed as he placed a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder. 

"God, I love it when you call me that." He groaned into your skin, giving you a soft bite. 

You giggled from the slight pinch and finished getting ready with a few final pats of powder. 

"Mmm, as much as I'd want to do that with you right now, know what day it is. It's my baking day, Lo'." You tipped your head back and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek. 

"Can't you do it tomorrow baby?" He huffed.

"You know it's tradition, Sunday is baking day. Do you want more sweets or what?" You raised an eyebrow. 

"Yes, mam'." He chuckled, taking a seat on the bed and letting you get to your  work station.

He knew how serious you got about your baking, it was your primary way of curing your homesickness. 

You'd always keep a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge and cupboards stocked with fresh bread and goodies. Logan could not bring himself to complain, he had developed a major sweet tooth since being with you. Every time you'd make new batches they would be gone in a matter of a few days. It's as if he'd eat one each time he'd pass by them. 

You didn't mind though, it warmed your heart to see how much he enjoyed your baking. Often you'd find some powdered sugar left in his beard. 

"You should watch it with those," You'd warn him as he devoured them, one by one. 

"I got bones of steel. No need to worry baby, sugar is the last thing that'll take me out." He mumbled with his mouth full, not being able to control himself around your delicious treats.

His favourites were your peach cobbler, lemon bars and peanut butter-chocolate fudge. Those were also conveniently the easiest ones to make. You had tried to teach Logan how to make them on his own, but it never stuck. 

"Why are they flat like pancakes? I followed your recipe," He had come to you while you left him unsupervised in the kitchen. You put your embroidery down and peered into the baking pan. 

"Did you use baking powder?" You poked the gooey top of his 'cupcake.' 

"Yes." He grumbled.

"Are you sure it was baking powder and not baking soda?" You tasted the batter, making a face. Salty.

"There's a difference?" His eyebrows furrowed.

Baking didn't come naturally to Logan, and that was okay. You had your strengths and he had his, which is what made you two work so well together. 

You spent the entire day working up a storm in the kitchen. 

Multitasking the different steps for each recipe with ease. You had spent so much time of your life baking that tackling multiple projects at once didn't even make you break a sweat. Logan turned his leather armchair to face you from across the house so he could watch you. 

He enjoyed watching you get lost in your little head as you worked. The way your plump lips wrapped around your finger when you taste-tested the recipes, making sure they were just right for him. The slight lift of your dress as you bent over to grab some pans from storage. Your flushed skin, glowing underneath the kitchen light. That little sigh of relief would escape you as you tied your hair up from the heat of the oven. Just like that, silently, he'd ogle you from his corner, sipping his favourite whiskey, and watching his favourite doll. 

Of course, at any chance he'd get he'd be there to come help you when you needed him to reach some things that were too high up or lift the heavy sac of flour on the counter for you. 

Today, you had made the biggest batches yet, pans of cooling sweets covered your entire kitchen surface. 

"Whoa baby, what're you feeding, the army?" Logan teased as he walked by shirtless. 

When you first started seeing Logan, he was in optimal shape. He was nothing but an angry mess of hair and muscle. But since he moved you into the cabin, he had started putting on a few extra pounds, most likely from his overconsumption of your treats. 

"No, I'm feeding a Wolverine that's clearly getting ready for winter." You teased back, poking his stomach. 

 He stopped in his tracks and peered down at his hair-covered gut. 

In no way shape or form did he look bad with the added weight, if anything you like him having a few extra layers? 

"You callin' me fat?" Grinned mischievously. 

"I was just playin- ah Logan!" You gasped as he threw you over his shoulder with a swift motion. Holding your ass right next to his face with his arm. He hoisted up your dress with his free hand, revealing your white bow panties. Your legs kicked in protest. 

"Daddy, stop it- you're not fat-" 

"That's not very nice baby, gonna need to punish you." He chuckled giving you a hard spank on the cheek, then placed you back down. 

"Now if you will excuse me, I've gotta get ready for winter." He winked as he grabbed the cookie closest to him. Sinking with teeth in it with that smile you oh so fell in love with. 

🏷️: @babey-fruit-bat <3

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[pucksandpower]

Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx

Whiplash

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate

Warnings: 18+ content

You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.

“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”

Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”

“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”

“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”

You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.

“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”

He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.

You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”

No response.

He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.

You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“For once we agree on something,” you snap.

His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”

You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”

You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”

He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.

“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.

Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.

A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.”

You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.

Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.

Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.

“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”

But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.

You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.

A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.

“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.

“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.

Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.

You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.

His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.

You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”

Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.

You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.

Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.

Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.

“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.

Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.

Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”

You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”

You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.

The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.

You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.

His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”

Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.

Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.

“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.

You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”

With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.

You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.

You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.

“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.

“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.

As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.

Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.

Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.

You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.

“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.

The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.

You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.

After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.

Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.

You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.

“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.

You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.

“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.

Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.

“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.

You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.

“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.

“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.

“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.

You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”

You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.

“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.

“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.

Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?

Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.

You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.

“It’s a date,” you whisper back.

Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.

[screampied]

idk if you write for the charas that hasnt been introduced in the anime (but already in the manga)

but if you do can you please, PLEASEE write cockwarming hiromi as he worked? (I’ll do anything for any hiromi content smh)

☆ : hiromi higuruma x fem! reader

⤷ tags : cockwarming, praise, dirty talk, cowgirl, unprotected sex. wc : 0.9k

an. YESSS SURE

“…baby, i’m on a phone call. stay still ‘n wait,” he murmurs against your ear — his breath was warmth, it brushes against your skin and you moan. the coldness of the watch band higuruma wore ghosted against your skin as you tried to stay put.

he sat in his office chair, his pants just barely hanging down by the him, with you having his cock buried in place.

you squirmed and squirmed, gripping onto his knee and only babbles were your righteous response. “hiro, but that’s boring ‘n your phone calls always take f-forever.”

“perhaps,” he chuckles, his voice was low and a whisper — as he was still on the other line with a person, maintaining business. “just wait a little longer for me, alright? you just gotta be a patient girl,” and then he teasingly slides a hand down your thighs, his rings brushing off against your skin. “can you be my patient good girl and warm me up for me?”

“….y-yes.” your poor pathetic of a response was delayed heavily, and seeing you not get your way, he found it so adorable. “okay, fine.”

“good girl,” he coos, planting a kiss near the back of your head. that’s when he pays his attention back towards his phone, clearing his throat and repositioning his tie. “ah, yes hello? excuse me, i apologize for the interruption. but as you were saying..”

you tried to seclude your moans but it was so hard, higuruma’s cock was so thick — veiny and pulsed inside of you as it stood still. you desperately wanted to move but you had to wait.

every few seconds, you’d hear him chuckle at your constant squirming, your tiny whines and babbles departing from your lips.

“uh huh, yes… i see.” he utters in a low voice, a single hand of his grazing against your waist. his touch was so smooth—you leaned back against his tux, and he kissed the inner part of your neck, whispering a soft, “quiet, princess.”

“s-sorry.” you’d whine, such pout forming against your lips, you were so frustrated. you could hardly think straight.

your vision was nearly blurry, and all you could even process was higuruma’s shaft idly inside of you. no thrusts or anything, you grew bored and was tired of waiting so you started to grind against his lap.

he chokes on his words the moment you do this, and his jaw tightens. right in the middle of speaking, he pauses — and you can almost feel the heated glare he’s giving you from behind.

“my um…apologies, can you repeat yourself?” he mutters, going on as if nothing happened.

the pout on your lips never left, about ten long minutes had passed and he was still occupying himself on the phone.

all when he could have been bending you over his work desk and having his very way with you. higuruma was very serious whenever it came to his work.

you felt him stretch over you to reach for his ballpoint pin and he starts to jot things down on his scattered piles of paperwork. mark after mark, your eyes watch his hands. and all you could think of was his lengthy pretty hands fingering you, he was so good with his hands. his fingers…

how pitiful, you felt yourself starting to almost drool just from the thought. higuruma talking you through an orgasm with his fingers, then once he’d finish, he’d tell you to “open wide” stuffing his fingers down your throat so you can taste how nasty you were for him.

he was a simple man, professional in public yet filthy in private.

“we can go over the procedures one more time, if that’s alright with the party.” he replies in a gruff voice, and you’re a mess. all your fantasizing does just makes you more wet — you want him so bad, and he can tell because at this point, you aren’t even trying to stay still.

“hiro, ‘m gonna cum.” you whisper, and you weren’t, but you were so fed up that you were incredibly desperate. higuruma purposely pretends he doesn’t hear you, talking over you actually just to make you whine. “hiromi, please. can’t hold it, i tried..”

once more, he continues to uphold a conversation with his colleagues, smooth tone and all. he chuckles, glancing at you briefly—and that’s when you moan, feeling him start to bounce his thigh just to irk you even more.

but you couldn’t take it anymore, so that’s when you grab his phone, and moan right into the speaker, “hiromi, ‘m cumming.”

and it goes dead silent, you knew you were probably in deep trouble but you didn’t care—you just couldn’t wait, and it made you giggle on how he suddenly stopped talking. it grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

higuruma then sits up, and you let off a gasp at his sudden movements because he pulls out, immediately bending you over the desk. he doesn’t care about the paper documents flying everywhere. “…oh, princess the nerve is beyond me.” he mutters—and you moaned, feeling him make you arch your back with a single push.

and you bite your lip, awaiting for him to go inside. you wanted to play dumb so you say, “what happened?”

“you know what happened.” he mutters, his tone was full of seriousness. you hear the clanks of his belt dangle against his already pulled down pants and you just couldn’t wait.

and then you moan. “but hiro—you’re still on call. hang up the-”

“don’t tell me what to do, princess,” he hushes you, caressing your ass before bringing a mean spank towards your ass. “all you need to worry about is arching that back of yours. you wanna moan and let them hear, then they’ll listen the whole time while i fuck you. so bend over and get loud for me.”

[writingmar]

hi, can I request the combination A2 and F7 for Spencer Reid smut prompts, please?? Thanks <333

'𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.'

𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Prompt A2: dryhumping + F7: in a car - (prompts lists)

after a long day of working a case, one of the BAU cars broke down, which means that all six of you have to pile into a five person car. luckily, spencer offers his lap for you as a seat...

wc: 1.1k

content & tw: sensual fluff, public, dry humping.

a/n: this is much tamer than my usual writing but i rlly enjoyed it!

'oh, for fucks sake,' JJ says as she turns the key in the ignition. the car sputters and shakes with all its might but it doesn't start. 'i'm never renting from this company again, this thing has been having issues the entire time.'

'here, let me try,' you say as you bend over the center console to try the key for yourself, but obviously, it doesn't change anything. JJ grabs her phone and calls someone. 'hey, rossi, our car has broken down, could we hitch a ride to the hotel..? yeah, i know, we'll squeeze in... great, thanks, we'll see you in a minute.'

'don't the boys have a five-seater?' you ask as JJ hangs up the phone. she looks over at you with a sweet smile. 'yeah, but like i said, we'll squeeze in. and besides, i've been seeing you eye spencer, and he'll be polite enough to offer you a seat.'

you feel your cheeks heat and tell JJ to shut up, but you know damn well she's right. you have been eyeing spencer for a while. in fact, you've been doing more than that. unspoken moments together in hallways, soft touches during long days which end in secret randez-vous in hotel rooms late at night. during those meetings, spencer shows a different side of himself, the built up sensual tension from the entire day unloading onto you, and you know he loves that day long chase.

when the boys pull up, rossi is in the passenger seat with hotch driving. spencer and derek sit in the backseat. when derek opens the door and moves to the middle seat, you can already hear spencer rambling. 'driving with too many people in the car, particularly with one person sitting on another's lap, poses significant safety risks and is illegal in many places. the likelihood of severe injury or death increases for all passengers when seat belts are not used properly. according to the CDC, seat belt use reduces the risk of death by 45% and the risk of serious injury by 50% for front-seat occupants. For those in the rear seats, the reduction in risk of death is 25%.'

you smile as you hear his voice, JJ already having taken derek's spot, meaning the car is now full. you open the door at spencers seat, 'well, then i guess i'll sit in one of the rear seats, seeing as that cuts my risk of death in half,' you say, moving yourself to sit in spencers lap.

'no, wait, that's not what i meant, i just-' spencer starts to ramble again, his cheeks warming as you sit yourself down on his legs. derek cuts him off and says, 'well then you better hold on tight, pretty boy. be her seat belt.'

spencer looks confused and a bit panicked for a second, but when hotch starts the car, he wastes no time and wraps his arms around you. 'kids, behave back there,' he says as he pulls away.

rossi starts talking to hotch about today's case, a serial killer in the midwest, while JJ keeps derek's eyes on her in conversation. you and spencer are in a little bubble, even with four others in the car, no one is focussed on the two of you.

every time hotch turns a corner or hits a speed bump, your ass moves slightly over spencers crotch, and you feel his arms tighten around you. the drive will be about half an hour, but you can tell its going to be the longest thirty minutes of your life when you start to feel something growing underneath you.

you turn your head to look at spencer, who stares straight ahead. you always wonder what happens in his mind, but especially now. after another speed bump, he closes his eyes and his lips part slightly as you feel a twitch under you.

you start to grin, his desperate attempts to keep himself composed absolutely adorable. you decide to push your luck, grinding yourself down on him subtly. he moves one hand to your hip, grabbing it tightly and stilling you. you're afraid you might have gone too far.

when you look back at him, he is no longer staring forward. his eyes are fixed on you, and he starts to pull your hip back and forth. you open your mouth slightly in a surprised gasp, not expecting him to be so bold.

JJ and derek's chatter beside you, rossi and hotch's in front, and the two of you completely silent. the radio plays softly, and you're sure nobody is actually listening, but you will never be able to listen to this song like you used to before. taylor swift's 'wildest dreams' is now the soundtrack to an intimate moment between you two, and you know you'll remember this whenever you hear it again.

spencer keeps his movements subtle and slow, not pulling any attention to the two of you. the tension is almost palpable, and you truly hope nobody notices, but the people in this car are bold enough to say something if they do.

every soft gasp coming from spencer's lips, ever small furrow as his brow, but especially every bit of movement and every twitch from his cock makes you wetter and wetter, and you know damn well that you won't be alone in your hotel room tonight.

his hand that's not on your hip holds onto you tightly, squeezing the skin on your side as he desperately tries to get you closer, maybe even to get you alone.

the drive seems to last forever, but when the car comes to a halt, it feels like only 5 minutes have passed. you hadn't realised how much you had been pulled into the moment, and judging by spencers sigh, he hadn't either.

'well we made it. go to sleep, everyone. this case is far from closed,' hotch says as you all climb out of the car. you smile at spencer, his eyes still fixed on you. 'get some rest, spence, i'll see you tomorrow.'

derek takes one look at you two and smiles at the floor. as you walk towards the door, you hear derek talk to spencer, mocking your words, 'yeah, reid, get some rest.'

'shut up,' spencer said, his voice cracking slightly on the nerves, but you know that in about thirty minutes, he will be knocking on your hotel room door and he will be everything but for nervous...

[forzalando]

logan + caressing their cheek with their thumb 🥲

hi sweet anon! thank you so much for your request. honestly - i love this fic. i'm just going to start calling all of these fics, they were supposed to be blurbs/drabbles but i'm incapable. anyway. i love this one. so much. i hope you love it too💛 logan + caressing their cheek with their thumb 1.4k words, tw: reader injury (nothing serious, she slips and falls)

“Y/N, hey!” You heard a familiar voice call out.

“Can’t talk, I'm so sorry, have to get to the Williams garage,” you huffed out, sprinting past Yuki as he tried to wave you over to chat.

You turned your head to look ahead of you, dodging and weaving through the masses of people. When you finally saw the familiar logo, you almost sighed in relief, but instead of slowing down you kept charging full speed ahead towards your destination. As soon as your feet hit the garage floor, the texture completely smooth, flat, and entirely different from the rough terrain outside the garage, you went flying.

It almost felt like you were falling in slow motion, papers flying out of your hands and your arms flailing to try to somehow regain your balance. You managed to do something right because instead of slamming straight into the ground face first, you toppled over somewhat gently, your butt hitting the ground first and mostly breaking your fall before you fell onto your side.

You heard someone shout, maybe Alex, but the fall had slightly knocked the wind out of you and left you a bit disoriented. All you focused on was trying to lift yourself up to sit up straight, but you had barely moved before someone helped you the rest of the way there.

“Are you alright?” A muffled voice asked. “Can you hear me?”

Within a few seconds the shock wore off and you were staring straight into a pair of familiar blue eyes. Familiar in the sense that you’d stared at the face these particular eyes belonged to more often than you would ever admit.

You tried to shake your head, shake yourself out of the rest of the daze, but your movement was blocked by a pair of hands grasping your cheeks. Gentle thumbs caressing, Logan’s thumbs, caressing them.

“Are you hurt?” He urged, eyes frantically searching yours.

“No, no, I’m fine, just knocked the wind out of me for a second,” you whispered, the familiar heat of embarrassment creeping its way up your neck. Everyone was staring at you – staring at Logan with your face cradled in his hands like you meant something to him. Something much more than what you were – friends by proximity while you harbored an impossibly large crush on him.

“Can you help me up?” You spoke quickly, reaching up to try to pry his hands from your face. “I have to get these press notes to Alex and prep him, he’s supposed to be in the media pen in ten minutes.”

His hands wouldn’t budge, your fingers grasped around his wrists but doing little to move him any more than a centimeter. “Logan,” you squeezed his wrists tighter, “I’m fine, I promise. Can you please help me?”

Reluctantly, he dropped his hands from your cheeks and grasped one of yours, the other slinging around you to help lift you from the ground. When you began to bend back over to gather your scattered notes, he threw you a look that very obviously meant “don’t you dare”, so you stood still and stared at the floor, trying not to make any contact with the dozens of pairs of eyes still staring at you.

Suddenly, Alex’s voice rang through the garage, prompting everyone to return to their work.

“Ok everyone, show’s over, back to your own business.”

When he was close enough, he took the notes from Logan’s outstretched hand. You weren’t oblivious or blind to Alex’s raised eyebrows and questioning look, but Logan only shook his head and turned towards you. He stepped forward, inserting himself between you and Alex before placing his hand gently back on your cheek. “Will you at least go to medical and get checked out after you’ve prepped him?”

You gasped and coughed in surprise at his request – “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll, um, find you later. Let you know what they say.”

“Ok, good. Good. Thank you. And please don’t ever do that in front of me again, or ever again period, almost gave me a heart attack.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you felt his thumb brush against your cheekbone one last time before he turned and began walking towards his drivers room.

Alex barely had time to open his mouth before you cut him off – “Don’t say a word, Albon.”

“How can you think he doesn’t have feelings for you? Are you kidding me? He bolted towards you when you fell, I’ve never seen him move that fast ever.”

“I said don’t say a word!”

“Fine, if you want to continue to be obtuse, that’s fine. You’re just friends – or what is it you say? Friends by proximity or whatever that means.”

“Yes, he only talks to me because I’m your PR assistant and around you 24/7.”

“I think you might be a lost cause, Y/N.”

“Just be quiet and listen,” you scolded, launching into a review of your notes before sending Alex off to do media. All the stress of trying to make sure you did your job distracted you, and now that Alex was gone, you couldn’t ignore the throbbing pain in your lower back and hip from the fall.

You made your way to medical – slightly limping but you’d deny it if anyone pointed it out. When you got there, you spotted Logan chatting with the physios and jumped back in surprise.

“Hey, you kept your promise.” He smiled at you, a toothy grin and dimples on full display. “I was just – ”

One of the physios interrupted him – “Demanding us to tell you if Y/N didn’t come get checked out?”

You stifled a laugh, your hand covering your mouth. “You worried about me, Sargeant?”

“Yes, I am,” he admitted genuinely, gliding over to you in just a few strides. “Can’t have my favorite PR gal out of commission!”

“I don’t even work for you, Logan.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite,” he smiled again, his eyes crinkling which drew your attention to them. He had an enviously long eyelash stuck to his face, right at the top of his cheekbone.

Before you could register what you were doing, your hand reached up to his face, swiping your thumb gently across his cheek. Not so different than the position you were in earlier, but this time the roles reversed.

“You had an eyelash,” you whispered. “Make a wish!”

You held your thumb out in front of his lips, watching as he slightly puckered them and blew softly.

“What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true. And I really want it to come true.”

“Can I have a hint?” You pleaded, completely overwhelmed by the flirty nature that had taken over your conversation.

 “Alright, one hint,” he conceded. “It has to do with this girl – she’s incredibly smart and kind, prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, clumsier than anyone I’ve ever met, and I’m constantly clinging to her boss just to have five minutes to talk to her.

“She sounds lovely, you should definitely ask her out. Tomorrow, though. With flowers. Far away from Alex Albon so he doesn’t immediately say to her ‘I told you so’.” You tried your hardest not to sound over-eager, to keep some impression of mystery and composure, but you failed miserably – every word spoken with glee and matched by a smile so wide it hurt your face.

“I can do that,” he chuckled, endeared by your enthusiasm. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then? Any flowers in particular?”

You froze and your smile dropped when a voice chimed in from behind you – “She likes tulips and gerbera daisies, I sent her flowers for her birthday last year.”

“Perfect,” Logan responded, his gaze briefly fixated behind you. He leaned in and kissed you swiftly on the cheek – darting away before you could say anything else.

Your hand flew up to your face to touch the spot where he had kissed you, warm to the touch and tingling underneath your fingerprints. You turned around slowly, hoping to beat him to it, but at the same time you both shouted at each other.

“Don’t say a word, Albon!”

“I told you so!”

And despite Alex’s teasing, both verbal and glances, for the rest of the day – you couldn’t wipe the giddy smile off your face or get rid of the fluttery feeling in your chest.

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[withahappyrefrain]

Deserve it (Bob Floyd x reader)

Summary: After working hard, your boyfriend gives you several rewards.

Warnings: older BF Bob, slight daddy kink, definitely some dd/lg vibes in here, older BF Bob eats it from the back okay, fingering, language

“Hey sweet girl,” his voice was deep, the gravel showing off his age. The very sound made your knees nearly buckle.

Not that you had to worry about falling; Bob already had one arm wrapped around your waist, the other draped around your leg, long fingers gently tracing the soft flesh of your bare thigh.

His broad chest was pressed against your back, salt and pepper stubble gently brushing against your temple.

Despite feeling so small in his arms, you had never felt more secure.

When Natasha invited you to her co -worker's barbeque a year ago, you knew it was done out of politeness. You had just moved to the area and her sister, your best friend, wanted to make sure you were actually going out and meeting folks. Nat was doing you a favor, nothing more or less.

You just wanted to get through that night, to beat your anxiety over being the youngest person there by nearly a decade. The most you were expecting that night was a few conversations and drinks.

Meeting a real life prince charming that night was not on your Bingo card.

At first, you thought Bob was just being a good host as he spoke to you. That was the polite thing to do, considering he was in his late thirties and you were just a friend of a friend.

Even when he asked for your number, you tried to be realistic. You had been led on before, had placed your whole heart in someone just to be disappointed.

A year later, Bob had more than proved he was serious about his relationship with you. The age difference didn't make a huge impact, aside from childhood references and social media knowledge.

Bob was patient. He understood you hadn't been in a serious relationship until he came along. He was more than happy to guide you, never making you feel stupid or unworthy.

“Hi Robby,” you giggled, feeling his skin heat up at your special nickname. Only you got to call him that, just like only he got to call you his sweet girl.

Bob continued peppering your jaw with light kisses, his large hands continuing to gently stroke your exposed skin.

“How was your day? Did your presentation go well?” His attention to detail was one of the things you loved most about Bob. He was invested in all aspects of your life.

“It did! They're going with my proposal.” It was impossible to hide your wide grin, especially when Bob spun you around to show the matching one on his face.

You only saw that slightly crooked, honey drenched smile for a brief moment, as Bob pressed his lips against yours.

Despite dating for a year, his kisses still made your heart flutter. His hands would cradle your jaw, practically covering the entirety of your neck. He always bent his knees, not wanting you to strain yourself while trying to reach his lips, your comfort always at the forefront of his mind.

“Knew they would,” He murmured against your lips, “So proud of you, my smart girl.”

Your knees practically buckled at the praise. Some would have felt it was condescending, you disagreed. You loved that Bob was proud of you. In fact, you wanted it, wanted to be his good girl.

“Stay here, wanna show ya something.” Bob pressed a gentle peck to your lips before walking out of the bathroom.

You bit your tongue, holding back a comment about Bob buying you things. It was a battle you'd never win. Bob spent his money on you and Lego sets, and that was how he preferred it.

So when he showed you the tennis bracelet he had purchased, you just smiled. No comment on how his money would have been better spent elsewhere.

“May I?” He motioned to your wrist. You held it out so he could gently place it on your wrist. While it was simple, you knew the diamonds would sparkle once you were in light.

Once the bracelet was secure on your wrist, you threw your arms around Bob’s neck, head buried in his broad chest.

“Thanks Daddy.”

You could hear him sharply inhale through his nose, the nickname always drawing a visible reaction out of him.

“‘Course baby,” his hands moved from your back down to your hips, “Did you eat breakfast today?”

You nodded proudly, “And lunch!”

Bob dipped his head down to press a kiss on your forehead, “Been so good today sweet girl. Think you deserve a reward for it.”

You looked at your bracelet, confused, “I thought this was-”

Bob shook his head, a near Cheshire like grin on his face, “That's just because I wanted to. So tell me sweet girl, do you want a reward?”

You tentatively nod your head, heat flooding your face, “yes please.”

He's pleased that he didn't have to remind you to use your words. Bob places one last kiss to your temple before spinning you around, forcing you to face the bathroom counter.

Without even thinking, you lean forward, your chest brushing against the marbled counter.

Bob hums in approval. You've learned quickly.

He quickly kneels down, his large hands trailing up your bare thighs. He's able to effortlessly spread your legs apart, pushing up the hem of your skirt to reveal your bare cunt.

“Been such a good listener baby. So proud of you,” he cooed, holding back a chuckle at how your legs trembled at the praise.

You were so sweet, always wanting to be good for him. It had taken you some time, the idea of being with someone who truly loved you and wanted the best for you was a new concept.

You shuddered upon feeling his breath against your core. Unable to see him, all you can rely on is touch. His deft fingers gently parted your soaked folds, sending sparks throughout your body.

Your body lurched forward when Bob's mouth made contact with your entrance.

Prior to Bob, you didn't know someone could be so enthusiastic when it came to giving oral. It was always seen as something required before sex, not an act that could be enjoyed on its own.

Then you met Bob.

Bob, who cared about your pleasure more than his own. Bob, who didn't view sex as a thing, but as an experience.

The bathroom quickly filled with your breathless moans. Your chest was pressed against the counter, your soaked cunt completely at the mercy of Bob’s mouth. His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, sure to leave bruises.

Not that you mind. Having a physical reminder that you belonged to him was thrilling. You quickly learned that Bob loved marking you, nearly bordering on an obsession. Hickies, hand shaped bruises, bite marks. He couldn't get enough of your body.

“Taste s’good, s’fuckin sweet,” Bob groaned inbetween lapping up your arousal. A large hand snuck around the front of your body, long fingers quickly finding your clit.

Your hand found the back of his head, clutching his sandy brown locks in hopes it would be enough to ground you. His mouth felt like heaven. Each stroke of his tongue pushes you further and further away from clarity and closer to that pleasurable edge.

“C-close,” you gritted through your teeth. You didn't need to ask him permission, but knew Bob wanted to know when you were near.

He loved to watch you fall apart.

Just as expected, his mouth was replaced by his fingers, your cunt welcoming the stretch. His breath was hot on your ear as he was now leaning over you.

“So pretty like this,” he cooed, “I know, you're so close. Just let go sweet girl, I got ya.”

You gripped the edge of the counter as white hot pleasure coursed through your body.

Bob watched you in the mirror, memorized by how your body reacted to his nimble fingers.

What a long way you had come. At the beginning of this relationship, you were hesitant to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state, to have him hear you let out such lewd sounds. You would ask for the lights to be off, would have buried your head into the pillow to muffle your sounds.

Now you felt safe to fully let go, to show him all of you.

“There ya go, that's it.” His voice was soothing, a sharp contrast to how his fingers were thrusting in and out of your soaked entrance, “Comin’ so hard for me, sweet girl. Fuckin’ love it.”

His hand continued its ministrations on your poor cunt, his lips ghosting over your temple. Your body leans into his, craving more.

Before Bob, the idea of coming twice in the same session was preposterous. Unrealistic.

Now it was the bare minimum.

This time when you came, your legs shook, your brain practically blacking out from the pleasure. You could hear how hard you were coming, lewd squelching sounds vaguely ringing in your ears.

“It's okay, I gotcha, Daddy’s gotcha,” He whispered against your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist to help you stand up as you recovered from your high.

“Made a mess,” you mumbled, able to feel how much you came on your inner thighs. But now your head was in a pleasure filled haze, only able to vaguely register that Bob was leading you to bed.

“I know, and I'll clean you up. But I want you to lay down first.” The back of your head gently hits soft pillows, your body melting into the mattress. True to his word, Bob returns with a warm washcloth, gently wiping you down.

“You wanna take a nap, sweet girl?” he murmured in between pressing gentle kisses against your forehead.

“But dinner-” you started, only for Bob to gently shush as he helped you out of your skirt.

“I'll move it back. You had a big day, you deserve to rest.”

“Robby?” You hummed, opening your eyes to find him helping you into one of his old T-shirts.

“Whatcha need, baby?” He asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Can….can I keep you warm? While we nap?”

This time it was his turn to blush. Bob nodded, quickly moving to take off his pants and boxers, laying down on the bed. He didn't need any help, watching you come twice had made him hard enough.

With his help, you were able to move into his lap, your hand finding the base of his cock, wrapping a hand around it so it could align with your entrance.

A content sigh left your lips upon being filled with his cock. You laid your head against his chest, your breathing slowing down as Bob traced shapes on your back.

You were always amazed by how well he filled you. So full, unlike anything you had experienced before.

Without thinking, your hips began to lazily grind against his, the movement causing his cock to shift inside you.

Two large hands gripped the soft flesh of your hips, stilling your movements.

“Later,” Bob said, eyes still closed, “Want you to rest now sweet girl.”

He was far from done with you. But Bob also knew you would need your energy for later.

Besides, good girls deserve a nap.

And you were his best girl.

------------------------------------------

@lewmagoo @sometimesanalice @charmedkim @thepurplelovewitch @sio-ina-bottle @sugajar @briseisgone @idontcare-11 @cherrycola27 @auroralightsthesky @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @mxgyver @callsignspark

[scenesniper]

☆ "fool's gold" | norton campbell ; general nsfw headcanons

pairing / "fool's gold" norton campbell x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / possessive, jealous themes, suffocation, overstimulation, mentions of being passed out, "hunting"

word count / 869 words

⭒ fool's gold is, as we can all tell, towering tall so we know damn well he's packing down there. 8.5 inches and i'm not exaggerating, i am a high believer of 8.5 inches fool's gold.

⭒ fool gold looms over you and is mostly seen being next to you no matter where your destination may be. he follows you like a lost puppy that other survivors and hunters can't help but be galled that this unapproachable man could be so soft hearted.

⭒ fool’s gold simply fucks you like an animal in heat. he isn’t passionate more so, selfish and possessive over you. he’s quite rough, especially forgetting about foreplay at times and just goes down on you. please remind him! he isn't intentionally attempting to hurt you (most of the time). fool's gold isn't the most meticulous of lovers, but what he loves the most is listening to you.

⭒ at first, when giving foreplay, fool's gold would have his finger deep in you. however, it didn't felt right so he started to just eat you out right then and there. and when i tell you, fool's gold eats you out as though you're his last meal. he's a starved man for you. his tongue deep in you and knowing just where the right places are that'll have your toes curling.

⭒ kissing fool's gold is always a battle, a battle that you'd never win no matter. he'd always have you deprived of oxygen by the end of it and yet, each kiss is like no matter you've ever experienced.

⭒ fool's gold loves your chest. he loves to flick it with his fingers or run his cold, pointer finger down on it just to see the way your face contorts with shivers running along your body. and god, does he love to suck your nipples dry (yes i'm serious. this man pretends he's drinking your breast milk).

⭒ fool's gold loves to mark you in any way possible. a visible place where everyone could see his marked treasure. your neck, chest, hips, thighs. he completely marvels at his work after, you will never not be reminded of that love experienced that night every time you see your littered body.

⭒ he loves to bite you (yes, biting). he has a scary set of sharp teeth but rather, don't worry as it's mostly a nibble. however, fool's gold is easily and naturally jealous. he has a keen sense of smell and so, when he picks up a scent that seems to be too close to you, he'd absolutely start biting your neck until it starts to bleed with no hesitations. he loves to give you love bites, yes, but those times of frustration.. he just had to let it out at these kind of moments😪.

⭒ fool’s gold loves to receive rather than give. just stuff your entire mouth into his cock and he’d instantly fold for you. grunting, as he roughly guides you by the hair as he looks down on you taking in all of his length. your head, bobbing up and down, he’s completely entranced by your saliva streaming down your mouth.

⭒ fool’s gold isn’t verbal. if anything, the most you’d hear out of him are his occasional growling and animalistic grunts. despite that, he'd muster out some degrading name calling remarks to you that are compiled with loving praises as well. whether it be praising you for taking his dick, he'd manage to throw in some degradation as well (slut, whore, messy).

⭒ fool's gold loves to experiment with his positions. his one hand tightly binding you above your head while the other hand is completely exploring your body. or your body backed into a surface as he completely fucks you from behind. even the view of your back arching for him as he watches your head buries itself more and more into the pillows. he's completely lost for you.

⭒ fool's gold stamina is endless. once he starts, he can't stop. he fucks you endlessly, his cum deep inside your mouth, everywhere on your fucked face, your body sticky and drenched with his cum. even if you pass out from the overstimulation, fool's gold would continue going.

⭒ he loves your mouth. your lips around his cock, your mouth full of his cum, he can't help but tell you to open your mouth to spit in it. "open your mouth." his voice striking venomously. "now swallow." "good job baby.."

⭒ definitely into the "predator, prey" roleplay. he'd hunt you deep in the forest, giving you a multiple of minutes head start only to catch up to you in mere seconds and taking you right then and there in the forest. your fear draws him in more in which he'd have you backed up against a tree or rather, fuck you as he holds you around his body.

⭒ fool's gold always seems to have his hand around you which would always be a tight grip. fool's gold wouldn't think much of it since in his eyes, you're practically "his" all inside and out. once you've captured his attention, he has no plans of ever having you run from him.

[wheneverfeasible]

When Steve’s parents announced their divorce, Steve told Eddie he loved him. They weren’t dating at the time, though Steve thought that the feeling was mutual to at least some extent since Eddie always flirted back with him, but he hadn’t been certain.

He had known his parents stopped loving each other years ago. Hell, he didn’t know if they had ever truly loved each other, but in any case, Steve knew.

His parents decided to sell the house, to move away from Hawkins with its cursed misfortune and small town gossip, and there was no talk of either of them taking Steve with them. Which, sure, he was grown, he hadn’t been part of the conversation at all.

Steve was left at a crossroads on what to do. So, distraught at his change in circumstances, he’d gone straight to Eddie’s and confessed his feelings because he had to know if it was at all possible for anyone to want him the way he wanted them.

Luckily enough for Steve, Eddie did!

The Munsons still had a decent amount left over from the government hush money after everything, so Eddie took his share (Wayne tried to get him to take more since all Wayne had lost was physical possessions and the trailer while Eddie almost lost his life, but Eddie would only agree to a 50/50 split) and together he and Steve threw caution to the wind and found a small place to rent together in one of the new complexes being built as part of the town’s rejuvenation project.

Things were going great. They still visited Wayne, who could now stop working such long hours at the plant and who had moved to a small fixer upper on the outskirts of town. He even moved up the ladder at the plant after some of the higher ups were lost in the “earthquakes” (R.I.P.), which offered better pay and benefits.

Wayne even started dating again, which Eddie informed Steve of in such a scandalized tone, but Steve could tell that Eddie was happy for his uncle, ribbing the older man when they had stopped by one morning and the man hadn’t even been home, stumbling back an hour later with lipstick stains on his shirt’s collar.

(Wayne had told him that he was going to call the cops on them for breaking and entering while he was gone, but there was no heat in it as they set chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and a steaming cup of coffee before him, having made use of the kitchen while he was out.)

Wayne never introduced any of the women he dated to Eddie and Steve, saying that it wasn’t proper to introduce anyone to the kids yet until he was certain that things were serious, never mind that the “kids” were well into their 20s now.

(Steve also felt a warmth at being included as a “kid” of Wayne’s, however, filling a hole in his heart that his parents had left behind, though his mother had recently reached out to him to rekindle their relationship. His father remained radio silent.)

Eventually, however, there was someone Wayne kept seeing repeatedly, someone he’d met while outside of town when he was at some convention for work and her car had broken down outside of his motel room. She hadn’t left the motel room until the next morning, and Wayne was certain it was just a single night of passion, but…

They had really hit it off, it seemed, and though Wayne hadn’t thought such an amazing and sensual—(“Uncle Wayne! For the love of everything holy, unholy, and whatever’s in-between, please don’t say sensual!)—woman would be interested in him, they exchanged numbers. And then, the day after he’d told her he should be home again from the trip, she called him.

Things only progressed from there, and soon enough there were talks of something committed, of something truly serious, and after a while, Wayne broke the news.

“Boys, my partner is going to be moving back to Hawkins and, while we know it’s a giant leap, we decided to move in together.”

As it turns out, apparently the woman is actually from Hawkins too but had left after the earthquakes tore the town apart, so she is someone that they actually knew. Wayne still won’t tell them who it is, however. He seems a little embarrassed by that, actually, but he also tells them that he is the happiest he’s ever been and he was willing to fight to be with her, so what else can they do but accept that?

They are thus excited for him, excited to finally meet her (again?), and the plan is set that they would have a family dinner together once she was in town. Steve and Eddie are, of course, moderately worried given the whole being queer thing, but Wayne assures them that they will be safe. That Wayne had made damned certain that both his boys would be safe.

(Steve again feels that warmth of belonging to someone, of being loved and cared for and supported in a way he’d never known before.)

And then the day arrives. Steve and Eddie show up early, looking pretty damn spiffy they believe, and help Wayne get the dinner ready, though it’s more like a late lunch really. Eventually, they hear the sounds of tires outside of Wayne’s house.

Wayne, smiling and looking absolutely besotted, moves toward the front door to let his girlfriend in without missing a second. Steve and Eddie hear the door open and close from the kitchen, hear quietly murmured words and what disgustingly sounds like kissing, and then there’s footsteps and—

Steve turns around to greet this mysterious woman, a smile on his face, before dropping the bowl of salad in his hands as shock and something very much like horror make itself known to him.

“MOM???!”

~

Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff

[tommydarlings]

reckless driving | c.l

pairing: mean!dom!charles x reader

warnings: mentions of reckless driving, blowjob, forced blowjob???, gagging, hair pulling, dacryphilia -> extended version! (2.2k)

w/c: 1.4k

summary: After you’ve had an heated argument with your boyfriend — Charles, you decided to leave the house that the yelling took place in, not expecting the night to end with a sore throat…not only from all the yelling.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

The cold air of Monaco hit your skin in a crucial way as you walked through the quiet streets of the luxurious country. Your hands were tightly hugging your body, desperately trying to keep yourself warm as you took deep breaths, eyes focused on the darkness in front of you.

Fighting with Charles was never fun, it was always just annoying and made you either completely shut down out of pure rage, or cry in pure annoyance.

Sometimes it was both. Like today.

You were so mad at him tonight after your argument, that you swiftly left him home alone and walked without another word out of the door, angrily slamming the front door shut before you wandered through the quiet neighbourhood.

“G-Gosh,” you huffed as your hands trembled, it had gone very, very cold by now and the fact that you were only wearing a top and thin sweatpants did not help.

Suddenly, bright headlights from an upcoming car behind you made your eyes widen. You slowly turned around and rolled your eyes as you saw your boyfriend sitting in his red Ferrari with no emotion on his face as you clutched onto your own shivering skin.

“Get in,” Charles huffed before he leaned over the middle console and opened the passenger door for you, barely looking at you though.

You bit your inner cheek, shaking your head at his demand before you turned back around and started walking forwards again.

Charles huffed again, slowly driving right next to your freezing figure, “Get in, now, c‘mon,” your boyfriend sighed loudly, eyes now fixated on your frame, trailing then shamelessly down your shivering body before he licked his lips, “I’m serious, mon amour… I’m not asking again,” the monaguesque raised his brows.

Those stupid nicknames, they were you’re absolute weakness, and he knew that.

You were always quite good at winning arguments, you were always an argumentative person and Charles was very much aware of that.

Just like he was very much aware of the fact that him calling you those silly nicknames during an heated argument was your weakness, the point where you were on the verge of losing while he was on the verge of winning.

You gulped, “No,” you answered in a quiet tone but Charles heard it loud and clear.

Charles huffed, “Get in the car, right now.”

You only picked your pace up and shook your head, the coldness of the air really taking over your barely covered body now, “No!”

With glassy eyes — due to the slight breeze that ran through Monaco tonight — you watched how your mad boyfriend swiftly opened the door of his Ferrari and hastily stepped out of the vehicle with annoyance written all over his face, making you stop in your tracks and stare at him.

Your boyfriend was suddenly standing in all of his tall glory in front of you, dark eyes looking down at you. You gulped as he suddenly gripped your upper arm with his hand, pulling your closer to him.

“When I tell you to get in the car, then you get in the car, am I clear?” He mumbled deeply, fingers squeezing your flesh.

You hissed and looked down at the concrete, clearly trying your best to avoid his intimidating gaze.

But Charles wasn’t a fan of that. In a quick motion, he grabbed your chin with his other hand and pulled your face closer to his, noses almost touching each other while you trembled beneath his touch.

“Am. I. Clear?” He repeated in a slow motion and quiet tone, thumb running along your trembling bottom lip as you swiftly nodded,

“Y-Yes, I’m sorry charles,” you mumbled as you felt his thumb touching your bottom lip in the most gentle way possible.

He took a small step back to get a better look at your face again, “When I tell you to do something, you do it, okay?” He nodded along his words, forcing a nod out of you as well.

“When you t-tell me to do s-something, I do it,” you repeated in the most submissive way as Charles still held your head in place with his big, veiny hand.

He nodded before he slowly leaned forward and kissed your forehead, “good girl,” he whispered, hand brushing some hair out of your face now before he placed it softly on your cold cheek.

After a few seconds of staring into each others eyes, he leaned down and softly kissed your lips, cold lips caressing each other in the most gentle way that you could ever imagine,

“You’re so cold,” he whispered more to himself before he quickly removed his coat, putting it over your shaking body and closing it with it's big, brown buttons.

You mumbled a tiny 'thank you', hands still clutching onto your shaking figure as you leaned into his touch, charles arms pulling you tightly close to him with a sigh.

Charles fingers squeezed your arms, face buried in your hair, “will my pretty girl get in the car now?”

You bit your lip and smiled before you raised your head and looked up at your boyfriend, brows slightly furrowed as your smirked.

He furrowed his brows as well before he sighed whilst his palms caressed your cheeks, “you wanna act like a little brat again, huh?”

You giggled and slowly nodded, “I think I just walk home, get some fresh air, you know?”

Charles only chuckled at your bratty behaviour before his hands left your cheeks, “I think you’ve gotten enough fresh air, don’t you think so?” He said before he leaned down and softly picked you up bridal style, lips grazing your cold forehead as you wrapped your arms around his neck with a smile.

“Charles!” You screeched as he carried you towards his Ferrari, swiftly opening the door of the passenger side and basically throwing you into the rich leather seats with a deep chuckle before he got into the car himself.

He looked over at you, “put your seatbelt on,” he nudged his chin towards your seatbelt.

You huffed and obeyed, slowly putting it on, eyes not leaving the side of his perfectly sculptured face.

“Are you aware of how handsome you are, baby?” You mumbled with a smug smile at him.

Charles chuckled, briefly glancing at you with those gorgeous pair of eyes before he started the engine and focused on the road, obviously — as always — driving with one hand while his other hand was gently placed on your thigh, thumb running up and down your cold skin.

He licked his lips, not looking at you, “Don’t try to charm your way out of this now, baby… it’s absolutely no use, okay?” He raised his brows at you before he looked back at the road with the same smug smirk.

You bit your lip before you opened your mouth again, not backing off, “no use? I don’t believe that…” you shook your head before you looked at his biceps, “have you been working out more lately? You look so… good and muscular.”

You reached forward and lightly squeezed his big biceps with your fingers, eyes focused on his facial expression, gulping in suprise as your focused looking boyfriend only smirked, his fingers squeezing your skin as well.

“If you don’t shut your mouth in a matter of three seconds, mon amour…” he threatened in a quiet and deep tone, eyes focused on the road, not even sparing one glance at you or your hand.

You gulped again, “what are you gonna do then, hmm? If I don’t shut my mouth, charlie…” you mumbled almost tauntingly.

Charles bit his inner cheek before he glanced at you, his hand suddenly leaving your thigh.

After a few seconds, charles reached his hand over to his pants and slowly opened his belt and his jeans, making your eyes widen.

You stuttered, “C-Charles? What are you doing, b-baby?-”

“Oh don’t 'baby' me now…you can see what I’m doing, can’t you?” He smirked at you as he drove a bit slower but still didn’t stop the car, making you adjust yourself in the rich leather seats.

Your boyfriend quickly freed his big cock, palm slowly pumping himself as you watched him with big eyes. His top was already leaking with pre-cum, making you lick your lips whilst your boyfriend looked completely unbothered by all of this.

“What? Now you’re not running that little mouth of yours?” He chuckled deeply before he continued, “little mouth might be a bit wrong, your mouth isn’t so little if it can take my cock now is it?”

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