#admin!reader

[jacksabbotts]

⤷ . ᵒ . 🥼 .༄ dr. michael robinavitch masterlist ! ࿔* ━━ ⋅⋆

main masterlist || inbox ━━━ * ✷ ⊹ * ˚ ✷ dividers by @cafekitsune and @uzmacchiato

* ( contains smut / mdi 18+ )

✧ policy and procedure x admin!reader* in which you ( the reader ) are the new director of administrations for the pittsburgh medical trauma center. without understanding the level of robby's skill to get out of doing paperwork, you offer to take him off your boss and mentor, gloria's, hands. you really should have thought this through. ⤷ series masterlist

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf GENRE: smut SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up. WORD COUNT: 2.6K 🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr

     not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.

     “keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?

     “how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence. 

     rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried. 

     had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.

     keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.

     taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall. 

     the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.

     “you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”

     his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you. 

     he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim. 

     well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.

     something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.  

     you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….

     but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything. 

     sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already). 

     meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.

     “mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress. 

     “missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.

     keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him. 

     “‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.

     before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet. 

     him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.

     “kei…”

     “shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes

     his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul. 

     perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips. 

     it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.

     “keigo?”

     “just relax, dove.”

     he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.

     bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.

     “mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.

     it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper. 

     “fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones. 

     your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

     “don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there. 

     “why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.

     “don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.

     you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat. 

     “nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.

     it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open. 

     “k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.

     but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him. 

     tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.

     “k– kei—!”

     “gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”

     your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?

     “f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard. 

     “nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—” 

     this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

     “k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight. 

     “good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

     “n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—

     “then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!? 

     “huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!

     “you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.

     “i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.

      unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.

     keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.

     and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.

return to KINKTOBER | PRO HERO M.LIST

[manifestobackshot]

CLOSING SHIFT — LEE HEESEUNG (teaser)

UPDATE: SHE'S POSTED HEREEEE!!!!

Since you’ve started working at Target, you’ve always been scheduled with Heeseung as your closing shift manager. Zone, organize, stock, assist—things that were outlined in your job application and employee handbook. Now, nowhere in your job description did it lay out an affair with your manager, Heeseung.

PAIRING: retail manager!lee heeseung x employee!afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 15k (est.) TEASER: 0.7k

TAGS: smut, (semi)-public sex, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, jealous heeseung, and more…

As you rounded the corner, you passed the Women’s section, where someone had shoved what seemed like every style of jeans Target sold haphazardly throughout the display. You started sorting it properly, muscle memory at this point, when a shadow fell across the display.

“Helping out outside your zone again?”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Heeseung.

You looked up too quickly and regretted it instantly. Why was the lighting in this store so flattering on him? 

“Just making sure no one dies in a Universal Thread avalanche,” You said, forcing a smile. “You know. Hero stuff.”

Heeseung crouched next to the cart and started folding jeans alongside you. “You always this dedicated to the greater good?”

“I like my job.”

“I can tell.”

There was something in his voice—not teasing exactly, but thoughtful. Like he was cataloging something. Taking note.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something?”

Heeseung glanced up at you. “No,” he said. “Just saw you and figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh,” You said, very articulately. “Cool.”

Cool?

Fuck, Heeseung.

The moment you clocked in, you knew it was going to be one of those shifts.

The store was understaffed—as usual—and the Ready to wear department looked like a tornado had swept through it. You were halfway through untangling a pile of graphic tees when Heeseung’s voice broke the silence, calling for you, of course.

Heeseung's voice was calm, professional, but you'd worked here long enough to hear the undercurrent of something else. Something that made your fingers tighten around the hanger in your hand.

You pressed the button. "Ready to wear. Doing go backs."

A beat of static. Then: "Copy. Need you in Shoes for a zone check."

Sunoo, who was pretending to organize the jewelry counter nearby, didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Oh wow. Shoes. How urgent," he drawled, stirring his iced coffee with exaggerated innocence. "Should I become HR Sunoo now or—"

Shoes was empty when you got there—no guests, no team members, just rows of perfectly stacked shoes and the distinct feeling you were being watched.

"Zone looks fine to me," you said to no one in particular.

"Does it?"

You turned to find Heeseung leaning against the shelving unit, arms crossed, red tee a little more disheveled since the last time you saw him. His gaze dropped to your name tag,then back up to your face. "I think you missed a spot."

You arched a brow. "Really? Where?"

He stepped closer, reaching past you to adjust some boots that didn't need adjusting. His sleeve brushed your shoulder. "Here."

The air between you thickened, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and woodsy—filling your space. His fingers lingered on the shelf's edge, knuckles grazing your hip—contact you unconsciously welcomed.

It felt dangerous, for some reason. Your body’s willingness to accept him and not resist one bit was telling. Yet still, you were speechless at the situation you found yourself in, pinned between your ETL and some shelves.

No movement, no words. A small gasp is all he got out of you, and perhaps he was expecting more. The way Heeseung had you trapped under him, staring you down as if he were going to pounce on you at any moment, made your heart race faster than you would’ve liked to admit. 

“Say,” he started, “how observant do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, what?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

And again, you were at a loss for words, zoning in on the sight in front of you—he was mere inches away from you, gaze tracing from your eyes, to your lips, and back again. Still, so attentive through his lashes and half-lidded eyes. 

In a low voice, he spoke, “I’d like to ask,” quiet so as to not stir attention, “why do I make you nervous?”

You could practically feel his voice dripping with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I…Hey, this is—”

“Do you like me or something?” he prodded, bringing his arms down to again graze your side, almost resting them along your hips as he steps closer, almost pressing his hips against your—

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Gotta say I used to extensively comment on fics and not just a few words but did some fairly long detailed comments on what I liked but recently I started to get less and less replies on them despite authors (relatively popular ones) sometimes replying to others. And while I understand that author doesn’t owe me anything it did quite demotivate me from leaving as much comments. Why bother if nobody cares in the first place? I know its an unhelpful mindset but I can’t shake it. Any advices?

hi!

as an author who likes to comment on others' works but is notoriously bad at replying to comments I receive on my own works, I can guarantee that 99.99% of writers read the comments they receive and, even if they don't reply back, they love and appreciate your kind words more than you know. I know this may sound cliche and all, but I can wholeheartedly say this because it's true for me, as an author.

yes, I admit that I don't always reply to comments I receive, but it's not because I don't appreciate or care about them. I read them, mostly several times each, I screenshot them and save them in a special folder so I can always come back and read them again. there are just so many kind comments I receive that make me smile to myself for minutes even though I don't reply back. some of them actually make me shed a few tears of joy.

thing is when us authors don't reply to comments we receive, it's mostly because;

we don't know how best to respond that will let the commenters know how much we appreciate them. because if the comments are several paragraph long (we LOVE that!), and we only reply with "thank you so much", then it sounds too short for us. (I know this because I sometimes spend so long thinking about how best to respond that will let my commenters know how much I appreciate them that I sometimes end up don't respond back.)

sometimes we are overwhelmed by several comments from several readers, and responding to all of them are too overwhelming. but we read, love and appreciate each and every single one of them very dearly.

sometimes we reply to some comments and not the others, because maybe we have little free time where we can only reply to some people, or maybe there's something about some specific comments that makes us respond back. but this does not mean we don't care about comments we don't reply back.

sometimes we're simply exhausted from stuff in our lives and replying to comments take time and energy, depends on how long the comments are / how long we want our responses to be / how many comments we receive, etc

writing is hard, but sometimes finding the right words to reply back to comments can be even harder, especially when we want to write several paragraph responses back just to let them know how much we appreciate them. and unfortunately sometimes us writers just don't have enough energy left.

but rest assured that, even if we don't reply, we love and appreciate every kind comment we receive very, very much, and they help motivate us to keep writing.

when I comment on my fellow writers' works and don't get any response back, I know why (for the reasons listed above), and that's totally okay for me because I don't comment on their works just for them to thank me, I do it because I want them to know how I love and appreciate their works, and I believe they do know. and that's really all that matters for me.

so if your favorite authors don't reply to you, please don't think that it's because they "don't care" or that your comments "don't matter" to them.

I mean, of course, I can see why not getting a response back can be discouraging, especially when commenting on writers' works are so encouraged, but as a fellow commenter (yes, I'm an author and also a commenter of fics I love), I always think of it this way; fanfics are gifts we receive for free, we comment on writers' works as a way to thank them for giving us cool fics to read. we don't expect them to thank us back because they've already given us this lovely gift. we comment only because we want to let them know we love their fics. and they know.

your comments could now be saved in your favorite authors' folders and re-read by them over and over again, even if they didn't respond back. they could be smiling to themselves reading your thoughts on their works. who knows? their next 100k word fic could be motivated by you.

[namilettes]

Yan!Shedltesky with Admin!Reader who uses a big ass hammer to ban ppl (similarly like Doombringer)

Basically the whole thing is that Shedletsy (formerly Telamon) was domesticated by a rogue admin who is related to Mr. Doombringer–causing for Telamon to become very obsessed by his own coworker who only viewed him as their own brother (yikes...). When they Telamon (Now Shedletsky) got forsakened, he panics because he could possibly no longer see reader again–unless they get forsakened themselves

AND LO AND BEHOLD LMAO

(The whole thing is very one-sided btw, Telamon is obsessed to the point he constantly follows and slightly touches them so he won't go insane, and reader is just "Look at my clingy best friend! :D")

YAN!SHEDLETSKY X ADMIN!READER

I very unironically love these detailed kind of asks yes BTRRRR give me more character arcs for reader

I wanted to make this mainly headcanons + a drabble because.. thats what i do.. heh...

WARNINGS: Yandere content, sexual innuendos (mention of popping a hard-on.) murder, mental health

YAN!SHEDLETSKY X ADMIN!READER HEADCANONS

Oh this man follows you around like a lost dog for sure.

has a tendency to fall asleep against your hammer when you're not there to keep him company

Even then he keeps clawing at his hair due to how insane the distance between you two is driving them.

He can't focus during the rounds if you're resting due to an injury, or literally just away from him for a second

it's gotten to the point that all the survivors know you guys as 'The admin duo'

Shedletsky was a feared ruler once, the only one to tame him- to take his heart in a leash was you. He needed more of you, his fascination for you grows day by day.

He can feel his breathing and heartrate speed up as you come closer, if you dare to even hug him he might just inhale your scent in and pop a hard-on at the spot.

He still remembers the panic, the fear of not being able to see you again after he got forsakened, he had his sword already pointed at his throat until- it was you! Oh thank the Spectre you're here!

Shedletsky's very territorial of his food, but with you he even wants to give you the most of it.

often jokes about how you two should kiss but totally as friends.

Whenever you talk to anyone but him, he genuinely feels his blood boil. He stomps angrily to his cabin and genuinely harms himself to the point his crying and screaming at himself for not being good enough, the thought that you'll get someone else in your life is gnawing at his insides.

After he's had enough of his breakdown he just latches onto you, shooting everyone a little gaze that screams ''fuck off''

everytime you calll him a friend, hell- somehow bestfriend is even worse- it breaks him from the inside. Driving him further into insanity.

He oh so much wants to obtain you all to himself, he lowkey misses the days he was Telamon just because he wants to make you his personal darling.

When you first appeared in Telamon island with that oversized hammer and casual godlike strength, Telamon was captivated. It wasn’t love at first sight- it was infatuation, like a forgotten god seeing a new form of worship.

you banned him once as a joke ''just to test something'' and he lowkey crashed out at everything

Over time, his obsession warps. He convinces himself you're ''soul-coded' to be together. Even as he became Shedletsky, his broken form clings to the last ''pure'' connection he had: You.

If Reader even brushes his shoulder, he’ll repeat the moment like a cached memory loop, trembling with joy, whispering ''They touched me...they touched me again...''

Shedletsky constantly brushes against you- shoulders, knuckles, even leans against their arm while they’re typing. He claims it ''grounds him.''

You? Just laughs and pats his head like a dog. ''Look at my silly little chicken muncher! He follows me everywhere, I love him 💖''

When Shedletsky is forsaken, stripped of power, he spirals. It’s not just banishment. It’s separation for him and you

Shedletsky fully believes you two are in love. Every friendly gesture is proof. Every time you bonk someone with the hammer? He thinks it’s a show of strength to protect your future family.

reader sees Shedletsky as their emotional support coworker. You've completely normalized his weirdness like: ''Haha Shed’s been staring at me for 3 hours without blinking again!! this is fine!''

you've whacked Telamon with your hammer multiple times- he never dodges. He likes it. He thinks it’s a form of affection.

''You’re not mad at me, right?'' ''Nah, you’re fine- stand still though.'' *BONK*

Telamon was always a little too fascinated by your casual power. The moment you defended him from a fate worse than death, he started spiraling, “they chose me.”

you keep missing all the red flags because you think ''That's just the way he is''

YAN!SHEDLETSKY X ADMIN!READER DRABBLE

[The things you do to me.] PRE-FORSAKEN

They’re glowing again. it’s happening- this is the moment.

''Time to take out the trash!'' you chirped, skipping toward the troll with an innocent smile- deadly as a kill command. You had grown used to this, helping with all the other admins and taking care of troublemakers, trolls, dangerous people, hackers, etc... Hell, you're one of the many chosen ones to hunt down the one and only 007n7. He's a hard one for sure.

The comical explosion sound that erupted every time you hit someone with it, it was oh so satisfying as if justice was delivered in a RoDonald's wrapper and fries.

One hammer swing. The sky cracked, so did his very being, he couldn't stop staring no matter what they did. He felt so pathetic in such an addictive way. His hearts were like a little boy's on Christmas morning. So full of life, so utterly infatuated.

The troll’s limbs splattered like pixels on a windshield. Banished. Deleted. No appeals. You blew imaginary dust off the hammer, sparkles and ban warnings spinning around them like confetti.

Shedletsky moaned softly from the void, eyes dilated in loving bliss. His fingers twitching as if wanting to reach out to you. He would, anyway. But right now he's more focused on containing all his urges inside, keeping them from spilling.

''Oh... oh.''

He watched the way their sleeves fluttered in the wind of corrupted data. The way their hammer rested across their back like an executioner’s lullaby. The sweet smile they gave the collapsing server as if they hadn’t just deleted a being from existence.

Then- then they turned around.

''There you are!'' you exclaimed brightly, as if he hadn’t been breathing heavily in the corner like a stalking wraith. ''Were you watching again, you little creeper?~''

While you joked around like always, he let out a desperate whine, blush building around his cheeks. He fiddled with his fingers as he awkwardly chuckled, looking into your eyes like a mad man as his breathing became rabid.

''I always watch you,'' he murmured, grabbing your wrists and gently rubbing the soles of your fingers as if hoping that you would finally reciprocate all the feelings he so obviously shows, but he felt rather pathetic for even hoping that... ''Every second. Every swing.''

You couldn't help but laugh and hold his hand out to yours. Shooting a loving smile, the same as the day you stepped on Telamon island to tame the all powerful Telamon.

“Let’s go get pancakes. I’m starving after that!”

Shedletsky stared at your fingers like a religious icon. He didn’t care about pancakes. He didn’t even taste anymore. But if it meant walking beside you… if it meant even a second of contact…

He hovered close, his breathing heavy as ever as his psychotic smile kissed the rather bloody hand phasing just through yours- fingertips kissing their palm like static snow.

''Anything. I’ll follow you anywhere.''

In his mind, this was love.

In yours?

''Bestie date!!'

.

.

.

He felt the swing.

Felt it in his spine, his teeth, his nerve system.

He had fantasies of that hammer breaking him.

Not to kill. No. To brand. To scar him with proof: that you saw him. That he mattered.

He pressed his glitched body closer- ignoring the pain, ignoring the rules. You hadn’t noticed him yet. That was okay. He liked to watch. You were always so beautiful when You thought you were alone.

''...How much longer will you ignore me?'' he whispered, grunting as his voice was laced with frustration and old regret. ''How much more do I have to erase for you?''

He’d killed other mods.

Quietly. Softly.

Ones who had laughed too hard at your jokes. Ones who called you cute. Ones who suggested they ''ban together sometime''

They were all gone now.

Not banned. Not reported.

Just... gone.

''Erased for you. I did it for you. You should smile more when you swing that hammer. You should swing it at me. Just once. Please.''

And then-

“Heyyyy! There you are!”

your voice hit him like a light through fog. Cheerful. Unknowing. Warm.

Too warm.

[sukunas-play-thing]

Wanna slob on his knob

Wanna sit on his face

Want my eyes to roll back in my head

Then cook him hot meals

Make him hot bwabble bwaths

And kiss his gorgeous face

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x fem!reader masterlist

you see the hot new lifeguard in town for the first time

you befriend james (maybe you're more than friendly)

you see james working out & he finally learns your name

you get flustered by james flirting back

james joins your friends for a summer soccer match

you watch james save someone from drowning

you take james to a country bar

james saves you

spending the weekend at sirius' holiday house

divider from @saradika-graphics!

[shin-kenooubu]

Confession Headcanons!

featuring: Ranpo Edogawa

(sfw, fluff, gn!reader, no content warnings)

• author's note: more ranpo because i love him.

Ranpo isn't used to being uncertain about things, in fact, there is nothing in the world that he is less accustomed to. He always has things figured, it's always taken him seconds and it somehow takes him Even Less Time to blabber out the answer.

But that certainty comes from cold hard facts. Feelings are far, far, faaaar trickier.

So obviously. Instead of figuring out a way to put his feelings into proper words and going through the grueling feeling of vulnerability and heat rushing into his face and down his neck.

He makes you do it.

Eventually, you won't be able to keep quiet about your feelings and he knows this. But at the rate you're going, it's going to take ages. So he's going to help speed up the process! Because someone needs to confess.

And its certainly not going to be him. For obvious reasons.

So heres now it goes:

- All up in your space. He knows you get flustered when he's near. Filing some paperwork? He's sitting on your desk. Taking a break on the couch? He's sitting down and draping his legs over your lap. You're taking your lunch break? He's hungry too!!! Buy him a treat!!!

- Makes you accompany him whenever he gets sent out. It doesn't matter if you can drive or not, he'll tell you everything he's already figured out about the case on the way there regardless! He's basically figured it all out already anyways. Isn't that impressive? Isn't he the best? Praise him, please and thank you.

- Compliments you. Indirectly. All the other members of the ADA always mention how highly Ranpo seems to think of you. It's clear that he values your input, he finds you incredibly dependable as well, y'know, he's even mentioned that you're pretty easy on the eyes. Don't tell him they told you that, though. (It's all part of his master plan.)

- Shares. His supply is dwindling even faster because of you! You should feel honored. Or maybe not. He doesn't actually mind, don't feel bad for taking anything. Hurry up and eat the damn thing already.

- Listens to you. Actively. He makes sure to show that he's paying attention to you because he knows that you appreciate it. He doesn't really get it, he's always listening even if it looks like he's busy playing around. But feelings are weird and fragile. He'll be a little extra careful with yours.

- Makes an effort to not insult your intelligence. Not that he ever actually means to, his wording is just off. Which is why recently you've found him growing quiet in conversations for a few seconds. A small pout on his lips as he considers his words before snapping right back into place and continuing whatever tirade he was going on. All without throwing out an indirect jab. It's cute, and also very thoughtful.

- Minimizes the opportunities you have to get hurt in his plans. Obviously some things don't come together as neatly as one might hope but damnit if he isn't finding a way to keep you safe. You can be useful And out of harms way.

He's obvious, he doesn't trust you to not brush off his vaguer advances as him simply being friendly. He wants you to get the hint. Needs you to, really, because he's sick of pining just as much as you are.

When you do eventually ask to speak to him privately, invite him into your space and sit him down, his heart pounds.

Ranpo knows the outcome of this, he's set it in motion for weeks, maybe even months, but theres still Doubt.

He can't see the future.

He can infer it, maybe. Can imagine a future where you and him are happy, where everyday, the two of you lay in bed together, and you smile at him as you run your fingers through his black hair and his mind grows muddy.

But this isn't like any simple murder case. He knows some facts, yeah, but none of it will ever, ever be enough to be Certain. Certain of you and him. Together. It scares him.

But when you take his hands in yours, a little clammy from nerves, and whisper your feelings to him, he can't help but surge forward and press his lips to yours.

A wide smile. A simple, "I know."

You can feel his quiet laughter on your face.

He's lucky he didn't wheeze it out, with how tight his chest feels from pure giddiness.

[thru-the-grapevine]

Deep End

Pairing: Choi Soobin x fem!reader

Summary: Soobin thinks you could be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to him, if he let you (or: not even the ambience of a city rooftop can distract Soobin from you).

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), pwfwp (porn with feelings without plot), public sex, established relationship, man is a simp

Author’s Note: the lovely @chanis-banani has allowed me to post the birthday gift I made for her 🥰 I played myself by writing it for her because now I’m kinda nuts about him too. Whoops.

Soobin has never been a particularly possessive or territorial person before, so he’s unprepared for how it feels to see you in his shirt.

He watches you in the reflection of the hotel elevator, mesmerized. The shirt is a button-down, oversized even on Soobin. He’d helped you roll up each sleeve four times just to give your wrists some breathing room, and from how it fits on you, it gives the appearance that it’s the only thing you’re wearing at all. He’s trying very hard not to stare at your bare legs, focusing in on your little painted toenails to try and stay respectful. He’s not sure if it’s working. Nothing feels respectful about the way he looks at you these days.

The two of you are on a weekend trip to the city together, seizing the opportunity for quality time alone during a rare time when neither of you have anything in your schedules. You’d suggested pretending it was a fancy weekend, and Soobin had taken you at your word and sprung for a nicer hotel than usual, particularly because of how your face had lit up at the idea of a rooftop pool.

The two of you are on the way to this pool now, and instead of wearing normal clothes over your swimsuit, you’d insisted on borrowing one of his shirts. He’d agreed without really thinking about it, and once the sleeves were rolled up you’d declared it was perfect.

Soobin can’t disagree, either, because he can’t stop looking at you in it. Something about it being your idea makes it even better. He likes the way you look in it, but in a way he didn’t expect. Some sort of base instinct in his gut is glowing, seeing you in something of his.

Then again, you’ve always fascinated him, even before the two of you began seeing each other. You’ve always lit up every room he sees you in, something about how you carry yourself drawing the klutzy moth of him to you like flame. He’s never wanted to know so much about another person before. He loves learning every little thing that makes you laugh, that makes you chatty, that incites reactions in you.

He can’t believe he convinced you to say yes when he asked you out, amazed you allowed him to keep coming back for more. He feels like a naturalist who got outrageously lucky enough to get close to their favorite beloved wildlife, like he has to drink in and take note of everything he can get of you in case you spook and flee. Like he can puzzle out the mystery of you if he studies you closely enough.

You catch him staring in the reflection and make a silly face. He grins and makes one back, shifting closer to you and watching his reflection drape an arm over your shoulders. He’s realizing recently how often you draw him in, how he’s always looking for reasons to be as close to you as he can. If he really was a moth, he’d be scorched to a crisp by now.

He can feel you practically vibrating with excitement as the two of you step out onto the roof. There’s a huge grin on your face as you gaze around with eyes so big that Soobin knows you wish you had more of them to take it all in.

“Not too shabby, then?” He asks, charmed at the way you flit from place to place, exploring.

“What do you mean, not too shabby? It’s perfect,” you gush, gesturing from thing to thing and bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Look at the view, ugh, it’s so—and the pool? It’s perfect, the water is so pretty, it’s all so pretty here at night, look at all the other buildings lit up, I’m just—!”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, face still aglow. “Okay. Calming down.”

He grins, making his way to a chaise lounge near the pool and sitting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Why is it so empty up here on a night like this?” You wonder, staring up and around at the nearby buildings and night sky.

A private smile twitches at the corner of Soobin’s mouth. “Yeah, seems way too nice out not to be up here.”

“Definitely nice enough to swim,” you muse, turning to him and batting your eyes once. “You’ll swim with me, right?”

It was never a question that he would, but Soobin feigns uncertainty. “Hmm...”

“Just for a little bit,” you insist, shoulders slumping, and he can’t help laughing.

“’Course, that’s why we came up here.”

You pout at him, making your way over to his chair. “Rude.”

He watches you approach, endeared at the little frown line between your brows when you pout, how it makes your lips even more distracting. “You’re just easy to bother.”

You make a face at him. “Just for that, you can have your shirt back.”

His mouth goes a little dry when your hands go to the top button, fiddling.

“Oh no, please, anything but that,” he tries to deadpan, but his voice rasps.

You roll your eyes, amused, as you pop the first button. “Perv.”

He can’t even refute you. It’s like erotic torture, watching you unbutton the shirt—his shirt; god, that really is doing things to him. The buttons are on the opposite placket than you’re used to, which means you move slower, and Soobin watches in an agony of lust as inch after inch of your skin is revealed.

You shrug the shirt off when it’s finally unbuttoned, tossing it into his lap and wandering to the edge of the pool. He tries to get himself back under control, but your swimsuit leaves so much less to the imagination than anything else he usually sees you wear that it’s impossible.

You look back over your shoulder at him, pausing on the steps descending into the water. “You coming?”

He nods, dazed.

You raise an eyebrow, smirk teasing the corners of your mouth. “You good?”

That depends heavily on what “good” means. He considers saying this, knows you’ll enjoy the philosophical banter, but when he opens his mouth his throat is too dry to speak. He shuts his mouth and clears his throat, giving up. “I...yeah. Great.”

His face feels hot when you wink at him, tip of your tongue between your teeth. Jesus.

He watches you wade down into the pool and tries to think of boring things, like taxes and bylaws and coding instructions, anything but how breathtaking every inch of you is. It doesn’t work, especially when you dip beneath the surface briefly, then come back up, swiping your hair back from your face more flawlessly than any model.

“Water’s fine,” you murmur, and something in your expression makes him think you’re fully aware that he’s wrapped around your little finger.

Maybe the water will clear his head. He grabs the scruff of his shirt and yanks it over his head. “Coming.”

He doesn’t bother with the steps, heads straight for the deep end and hops in. The cool water is a welcome shock to his system, as well as the muted quiet of underwater. He lingers near the bottom, waiting until his lungs ache for air to push back towards the shallow end.

When he resurfaces, you’re floating on your back, gazing up at the night sky. He swipes his hair out of his face and rises to his full height, angling to see you better. You have your mouth pursed in a specific way to keep from inhaling water, and your hair splays out around your head in the water in gentle, undulating waves, Medusa-style. There are little twinkling reflections in your eyes of the world you’re drinking in above you. Bliss in your face.

Oh no, a voice in the back of Soobin’s mind says, and looking at you feels like he’s made of glass and is being shoved off a high ledge. But Soobin can’t bring himself to be frightened, can only concentrate on the pleasant swoop in his stomach as he plummets. He thinks he might enjoy being shattered by you.

You jerk in surprise when you catch him watching you, a thrash of water. “Jesus.”

He feels a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all.

“Why are you just standing there staring, you weirdo?” You move upright again, and your mad scientist hair flattens into a streaming curtain down your back. Pale blue pool light reflects in little waves over your skin, and Soobin would believe someone in this moment if they told him you were a water goddess.

He can’t tear his gaze away from you, still grinning like a fool. “You’re interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing smile back on your face.

“Interesting, huh.”

“Mhm.” He starts wading your way at that dreamlike pace water always demands. Moth, meet flame.

“Me, or my tits?”

“I—that wasn’t what—” Soobin stammers. “What—I hadn’t even looked at—”

And he hadn’t, truly. Except of course they’re now at the forefront of his mind, now that you’ve mentioned them, and invisible magnetism keeps tempting his gaze down, a losing fight with the thought of them right at the top of his brain, and now he’s noticing your chest, half-submerged, the gleam of soaked skin and droplets in tantalizing places, noticing the wet cling of swimsuit fabric to curving soft skin. He wonders how it might feel to glide his hands over and under and around, whether you would feel cool or warm under his mouth, and his mind hadn’t been on this track two seconds ago, it really hadn’t...

He hears you snort, tears his gaze back to your face, schoolboy guilt bunched in his stomach.

“Mmhmm,” you say, unbelieving. Your pleased little grin eases the shame, a balm on his heart.

“Yah, I really wasn’t,” he protests. “...but now that you mention it...”

Your snicker is cute, everything about you is so cute, and when did this happen, how did this happen, how did you become the most irresistible thing in Soobin’s world without him catching whiff of it before?

You surprise him when you lunge for him when he’s close enough, your arms flinging around his neck, soft mouth covering his. Like kissing him is a relief, like to you he’s something special, something to look forward to. He’s not going to question why, even if his own appeal to you puzzles him, just pulls you closer with his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

You pull back far too quickly, and he frowns, missing you already. He’s immediately distracted, though, at the delicate feeling of your fingertips ruffling in the soggy strands of his hair.

“Thanks for springing for this place,” you murmur, grateful little smile on your face. “I love it.”

“’Course, baby,” he hums, trying not to feel too smug for nailing it. All of it was worth it just for this.

Your gaze follows a droplet of water traveling down his neck and over his chest. One of your hands leaves his hair, tracing the wing of his collarbone gently.

“You’re really hot when you’re all wet,” you admit, floating off your feet and hooking your legs around his waist.

Your positioning immediately stokes his carnal interest. He blinks, dazed grin spreading slowly over his face.

“Only when I’m all wet?” He teases, hands on a slow glide from your hips to cup beneath your thighs, holding you in place.

You tsk at him, fingers still playing in slow, hypnotic patterns through his hair and over his chest. “Fishing for compliments? Don’t tell me you don’t hear them all the time. We know what you look like.”

He loves watching your mouth when you talk. The shape of your lips is something he’s constantly cataloguing for long-term memory, both from looking at and feeling them with his own.

“I only ever want your compliments,” he says absently, thumbs drawing little circles on your thighs, completely mesmerized. “They’re the only ones that count.”

He can see the reflection of the flickering surface of the pool in your eyes. Something thrills in his chest when the edges of your smile turn a little shy.

“Flirt,” you murmur, leaning in closer.

He blinks, drawing the tip of his nose along yours slowly. He can’t remember what he said. He should try to remember, should take it down to use later, but you’re quite literally hanging all over him and you’re all wet in a swimsuit and your mouth is only inches away and he is not God’s strongest soldier, after all.

He leans down and fastens his mouth over yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the world. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, finding all the ways your mouths can fit together. He teases the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, heart racing when you sigh into his mouth and open for him. God. The taste of you, mingled with pool water and the lip balm you’d borrowed from him earlier, is enough to turn off all the thoughts in his brain.

Mouth still playing over yours, he wades slowly backward, inching towards the pool steps, crouching as the water gets shallow to keep you both weightless in the water. His heel knocks against the bottom step and he stumbles back, kiss breaking as he sits down hard.

Your little giggle goes straight to his crotch for reasons he can’t decipher. He grins, sheepish, lifts himself up to sit on the next-highest step, reaching for your hips and reeling you back in. You straddle his lap without him even having to ask, more proof to his mind that you’re perfect, and when he tilts his chin up you meet him halfway.

Everything about you in his arms feels right, and Soobin feels something unidentifiable deep within him settling into place. All his senses are honed in on you, on your mouth moving with his, on the gentle chaos of your breath, on the soft suppleness of you relaxing into him as he kisses you with slow, consuming ardor. His hands slide in restless patterns over you, and eventually his mouth parts from yours and drags along the line of your jaw.

“For the record,” he murmurs, pausing to nip softly at your earlobe, “you’re really hot when you’re all wet, too.”

Your laugh is breathless, a bolt of heat to his gut. “Only when I’m all wet?”

“Especially when you’re all wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the hollow beneath your ear, savoring how you shiver.

Your skin is cool beneath his mouth, and he makes it a personal mission to warm it again, openmouthed kisses gliding smooth and wet and hot along the expanse of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the wing of your collarbone. He feels you hum and relax further into his lap, tension in your muscles melting you closer against him, candle wax near open flame. He marvels innocently at how incredibly silky you are, even over firmer places, how there’s a hint of you behind the chlorine on your skin, and he needs more of it, feels an itch in his brain for more you in his senses.

“Hey,” you protest halfheartedly as he fumbles with the ties of your swimsuit top. “This is a public pool, someone could come up.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, hearing the words purely at a sound level, feeling the ties come loose in his hands with a slithery tickle. He nuzzles into the inside curve of your breast, nudging fabric away from wet skin, mouth slipping along the plush undercurve. Pure fascination wins out as he opens his mouth wider, bites, sucks.

He feels you twitch in surprise at the feeling, soothes his hands along your back in half-apology, laser-focused on the feel, the taste of you in his mouth. You’re sensitive here, not as excruciatingly sensitive as your nipples, but that just means he doesn’t have to be as careful, can let his curiosity at the feeling of you win unrestricted.

He continues nibbling and sucking in that spot, slides a hand around to your front and tugs the now-loose top away, tossing it behind him blindly. He feels your hands tighten on his shoulders when he settles his hand back on you, cupping your other breast. He eases the pad of his thumb in gentle circles over your areola, mesmerized at the way the skin puckers and tightens to a point under the lazy caress. He hears you swallow back a moan, feels one of your hands slide up and weave fingers through his hair, and that base instinct deep in his gut puffs its chest knowing that he affects you like this.

He lifts his mouth from your skin with a crude pop, other hand sliding from your back to brush a thumb over the hickey. He knows you love when he leaves them on your neck, but it still makes him shy to know other people will see them and make assumptions about what your love lives are like. This one, however, on this pillowy curve of skin that only the two of you get to see, is right up his alley. Satisfied with how dark it is already, he nuzzles your breast and settles his mouth over your nipple.

The little noise you make is adorable, and Soobin finds himself smiling against your skin. He traces his tongue over the budding peak, unhurried, takes your other nipple between his fingers and pinches until you gasp. He can’t resist rolling it slowly between his fingers, twisting one way and then the other as he circles the other in lazy circles with his tongue.

He hears a frayed whimper in your throat, the helpless wriggle of your hips against his inflaming him further. He’s never been addicted to a person before, but he’s hooked on you for sure, wants to take inventory of every inch of you, every reaction he can incite, every texture and scent and movement. He drags his mouth to your other breast and kisses your poor abused nipple gently, massages it better with his tongue as his hand takes over the one he left behind.

All of you drowns his senses—the cool slipperiness of your skin, the little whines you sigh out, the way you keep cinching yourself closer to him, burying your face against his hair, agonizing friction in your laps. He can’t stop himself from groping your ass and tucking your hips in tighter against his, fascinated by the feeling of your muscles twitching and contracting with desire.

He makes a noise of surprise when your hand in his hair tightens and yanks, angling his face up to yours. You crush your mouth over his, and his hands are immediately all over you, roaming restless paths over every inch of you he can reach, urging you closer. He wants to drown in you, be consumed by you, devour you with all five senses at once and then more.

It’s not enough. He wrenches his mouth from yours, panting, tapping your hip.

“Up,” he pants.

You hesitate only a second before moving off of his lap. He stands quickly and takes your hand, sloshing his way up the remaining steps and out of the pool with you in tow.

You seem to be on the same wavelength, to an extent, matching his pace as he makes his way over to the chairs with your things on them. He guides you in front of him, a twinge of fondness in his chest at the sight of your arm attempting to cover your chest, as if that doesn’t just make them look especially sumptuous, and he wants his hands back on you, wants to test how squishable—

“Down,” he pants, hand nudging your shoulder until you sit on the chaise, then nudging again until you lie back. His other hand is already untying your swim bottoms, one side and then the other, gaze laser-focused as he leans in and presses a kiss low on your abdomen, parting your legs.

“I—wait, ‘Binnie,” you protest, hand coming to his head. “Stop—we are outside, someone could look out a window and see—”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, mouth already gliding along the inside of your thigh. The looming buildings nearby, the vague hum of city life stories below, the night sky, the pool, everything is in a foggy haze in Soobin’s mind. His only focus is you, on how downy soft you are, how you shiver as his tongue darts out to catch at water droplets on your skin.

“Easy for you to say, you’re still wearing someth—ah,” you squeak as Soobin yanks your now-completely untied bottoms away, balling them up absently in one hand and hurling them to oblivion. “Wait, I’m serious, Soobinnnnnnngh.”

He groans into the apex of your thighs, mouth open wide and tongue flattened along as much of you as possible. God, yes, this is exactly what he’s after, concentration and essence of you overwhelming his senses. Slowly, he curls the tip of his tongue, dragging his mouth up, the motion gently parting wet layers of inner softness. You slap a hand over your mouth, moaning as the tip of his tongue laves over the sensitive crest at the very peak, and he lingers there for a moment, leaving an openmouthed kiss.

Blindly, he fumbles above him, finding your arm and pulling your hand away from your mouth, anchoring your wrist to the chaise. He feels your other hand tighten hard in his hair as he continues leaving wet, sucking kisses all over the sensitive tucks and pleats of flesh, working you up with ruthless patience.

He daydreams about this more often than he cares to admit, even more so when the two of you are apart, and he’s determined to learn and implement the way you like it best, the way that makes you lose all sense of shame. Admittedly, he gets a little carried away in part because you’ve told him your former partners were merely passable at eating you out. His competitive streak, combined with this growing obsession with you, make him determined to be extra attentive whenever you grant him this opportunity.

It’s difficult to stay focused, though, the hot and wet feel of you on his mouth, the taste of you on his tongue, enough to make him delirious. He easily gets lost in the savoring, mapping every inch of you under his tongue, lingering in places just because it makes you tremble and whine like you’re desperate for him, and he wants you just as desperate for him as he feels about you.

He hums into you, delighted, when your legs close in around his head as he closes his mouth over your clit and sucks. Everything goes muffled, even the little moans of his name you’re trying to bite back, but it hardly matters when he can feel your limbs shaking, feel you hot and throbbing against his mouth. You start trying to buck your hips into his face, and he slides his free arm over your abdomen and pins you down, steadying you both. He tongues over you in wet, languid strokes, feels the clenching flutter of the entrance into your body. Pure fascination drives him again, and he strokes you there again, stiffening his tongue and driving it into you.

Oh, god. The tight, blistering heat of you, the taste, nearly unmans him. He moans into you, guttural, and nearly loses his mind at the way he can feel your inner muscles fluttering and clenching rhythmically on his tongue like a heartbeat.

The overwhelming need to make you come slams into him like a tidal wave. He’s determined now, anchoring you in place and delving his tongue into you in delicately aggressive thrusts, nuzzling into you deeper and deeper. He can hear you whining even with your thighs muffling his ears, the sound increasingly desperate, and he wants to give you anything in the whole world that you want, would roll over and bark if you asked, so he doubles his efforts and slides his mouth back up to suck and tongue at that most sensitive bud, wringing sensation like raw honey from the comb.

He wonders for a brief moment if he could come just like this, completely untouched with his face buried between your legs, moaning into you like your pleasure is his own, and if that makes him a munch then so be it. And then you tense and tighten against him for a full moment and the pleasure uncoils, your whole body arching and shuddering in euphoria. He shoves his tongue back into you and moans, lightheaded at each of the siphoning ripples of fulfillment pulling him in deeper, drunk on the little sobs of pleasure you make.

God. He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to be wrapped up in you right the fuck now. He eases you through the quaking pulses of ecstasy and starts fumbling with the drawstring of his swimsuit, taking care not to touch himself for fear of blowing his load in his pants like a teenager. Raw need claws at his insides like a rabid animal, desire to make sure everything is perfect for you warring against his impatience, his craving to skip over things like a condom and gentleness and—

Condom. Oh. He remembers reminding himself to grab one, remembers seeing the box of them tucked into his bag and knowing one would be needed, and yet here he is, empty-handed. Fuck.

“We have to go back to the room,” he groans, leaning back and mopping his chin with the back of his hand. “Now. I need to be in you more than I need to live another day.”

Through your pleasured exhaustion, a lazy smile forms on your lips. You shake your head, glancing over and gesturing at his dress shirt you’d borrowed.

“Don’t need to go back downstairs,” you breathe, and fuck, your post-orgasm voice is devastatingly sexy. “Get the shirt, I brought a condom.”

He blinks at you, once, twice, not comprehending. “You...”

Color flushes over your skin prettily. “I...I thought it never hurts to be prepared. For anything.”

Soobin is trying to process that you’ve had a plan for being up here that involves a condom. Dazed, he glances over at the neighboring chaise, reaches for the shirt.

“Is there a condom...in the shirt...?”

Your breathless giggle ties his insides into little knots.

“You didn’t notice the weird shape in the breast pocket earlier?” You ask, eyes crinkled in mirth.

Through the haze of oh my god she wants us to fuck, Soobin finds it in him to be indignant again. “I wasn’t looking at—I was trying not to look, you know, at...”

He huffs a sigh as he extracts the condom from the shirt pocket, unable to stay annoyed even as you keep giggling at him.

“Here I was trying to be respectful,” he tsks, smiling even as his ears grow hot.

You snort. “Ah yes, the respectful boyfriend that strips his girlfriend at a public pool and commits sex acts on her where anyone could stumble in on them.”

“No one’s going to stumble in,” Soobin breathes, trying to make his hands dry enough to tear the condom packet open.

“What do you mean?”

“Pool’s closed,” he says, giving up and tearing at the packet with his teeth.

“The pool is closed? Are we going to get in trouble for—”

“It’s not really closed,” he says. “I just paid the front desk to tell the rest of the hotel guests that it’s closed.”

You stare at him for so long in stunned silence that he starts feeling a little antsy. “You bribed the hotel...so you could have sex with me?”

“I would bribe anyone with anything to spend even five platonic minutes alone with you,” he protests, fumbling the condom out of the wrapper.

He stills when you grab his wrist, arresting him with your stare. There’s something at work behind your eyes, something he doesn’t know the name for.

“What?” He whispers.

After a long moment, you swallow. “Nothing. I just...no, nothing. Here, let me.”

You keep eye contact as you slip the condom out of his hand, and he shivers when your other hand brushes down his abdomen. His breath stutters when you take hold of him, and he feels himself twitch in your hand after going so long neglecting himself.

If he doesn’t redirect his attention he may still finish before he can even get inside you. “People might—might still be able to see from windows,” he stammers as you roll the condom on, spreading your legs.

You shrug a shoulder, abashed smile still on your face. “If they see, they see,” you breathe.

Sometimes you make him breathless.

“Remind me not to believe you,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs, “when you say you’re too shy to do this out in the open.”

You laugh as he drags his tip over you, catching on your entrance. “Don’t push it, this is a special ca—ohh.”

Ohh, indeed. Soobin moans and drops his forehead against your temple, feeling what little remains of his sanity obliterating the further inside he eases into you. You’ve been intimate like this before, but no matter how prepared Soobin thinks he is, every time feels like the first time all over again. Nothing ever truly prepares him for the scalding hot, wet glide into unimaginable tightness, for how even when you’re relaxed, he has to bully himself into you inch by inch. He’s shaking with the effort to be gentle, nudges his hips slowly until bit by bit, all of him is enveloped snugly inside.

“How can you feel this perfect,” he groans, most of the willpower left at his disposal exerted on lasting, good god he needs to last even just to feel you around him like this for longer—

You laugh again, breathless, and the way that feels when you’re connected like this is sinfully good. “I try.”

“No you don’t,” he gasps, rocking his hips gingerly into yours. “You just are.”

You whimper as the angle of his hips drives him into a sensitive place inside of you. He grinds into the spot again, careful, his restraint threadbare but hanging on.

“Please,” you pant, hitching your knees further up, and the adjustment of angle forcing him even deeper.

Soobin nearly chokes on his own tongue. Fuck. He thrusts like he’s afraid of himself, mantra of don’t come don’t come don’t come flooding the forefront of his mind, sheer force of will.

“I won’t break,” you plead, voice so breathy and fucked-out it belongs in high-end porn. Sweet merciful god, he can’t do this.

He feels your mouth drag along his shoulder, and then a flash of sharpness. His body reacts to the bite before his mind can catch up, hips surging hard against yours, strangled noise punching out of his throat. Your legs tighten around him, intimate muscles clenching in that way that means hell yes, and the groan from deep in his chest is inevitable as he snaps his hips again. Fuck.

Yeah, okay, he can do this for you. That base instinct in his gut purrs like a feral dragon at the way you can no longer hide your moans, being fucked like this. His new goal now is to build stamina, he’s determined, needs to be able to do you exactly how you want it for hours without stopping. He thinks he might be moaning too but he can’t hear, so preoccupied with drinking in every clench of your muscles around him, every little pleasured expression on your face, addiction to every part of you wrapped around him like this so intense he feels lightheaded.

He can’t tell if you’re shaking or he is, only knows you’re pulling him in like you aren’t already as close as it is humanly possible to be, like that somehow isn’t enough, like you can meld yourselves into a singular being if you try hard enough. Your fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, your breath stuttering in that way that tells him just what’s coming next, and then you shatter around him.

You become impossibly tighter around him, bearing down with rhythmic spasms luring him deeper inside, as if that’s even possible, like he hasn’t been working himself as deep into you as he can go, purely for selfish reasons. He never wants to leave, would live inside you if he could, and he loves that you get like this with him, loves the way you go soft and pliant when the release begins ebbing, god, he loves—

His release hits him with no warning, no buildup, hard as a bullet train. Fuck. It feels like nothing that’s ever happened to him before, and a stab of panic electrocutes him through the feeling. His ears are ringing, alarm bells tolling danger in his bones, and he feels out of control, completely gone, glass making impact at last and shattering into far-flung pieces, impossible to gather again. It’s all he can do to gasp for breath, clutching at you like handfuls of sand that keep slipping away, hips rocking into you, slow, rhythmic, with a mind of their own.

Your arms slide around his back, warm pressure like an anchor point, and just with that, with your tight embrace and each deep breath you take, you’ve found each piece of him, binding him back together. Only now the essence of you fills in the cracks, the healing balm, each sinew of him now limned with your glow. A moth made of flame.

Soobin tries to take as even breaths as possible, tries to sound calm, rests his face against the chaise next to your face and feels a hot stinging drip from his eyelashes.

He knows what that look in your eyes was earlier, he realizes. The unidentifiable emotion. He knows because it’s clicking for him right now, the knowledge that he feels that way, too.

Admin Ellie’s Masterlist

[vanillaxbambi]

+*#behind the camera — ch. 3 || lee heeseung

+*pairing: childhood crush-> idol!heeseung x make-up artist!femreader

+*wc: 6.2k

+*content warnings: smut (18+), heavy emotional angst (i had to throw in some realism and cry cry content okay, i can’t help myself), dom!heeseung, sub!femreader, dom/sub dynamics (sir , toy, slut, amongst other softer nicknames), dumification, dacryphillia, LOTS of dirty talk (mainly on heeseung’s part… he’s A YAPPER), CHOKING, manhandling, size kink, degradation/praise, cum play(plz wrap before you tap), oral (reader receiving), light impact play, orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, secret relationships, and idol industry power imbalances.

reader discretion is advised. this is a fictional piece written for entertainment purposes only and does not reflect the real personalities or actions of lee heeseung. by continuing, you’re acknowledging that you are of legal age and comfortable engaging with these themes.

synopsis: the tension finally breaks. heeseung shows up and for one night, you let yourselves have what you’ve both been craving. and you let him in—completely. it’s hot, slow, and everything you swore you wouldn’t want. but after the high, reality waits quietly at the door. nothing was ever supposed to feel this real.

m i k a 🌷: took me a while to actually figure out which way i wanted to wrap up this story into a bow that was both realistic and bittersweet. i hope you read this knowing that its not supposed to work out and that its a gut wrenching feeling to experience this kind of relationship with someone as famous as a kpop idol. otherwise, i hope you like it and i look forward to all the comments, pms, and reblog tags!! thank you for reading this far!💕

🎀taglist: @heegyukeluv @fatherwound @str8ykids @twancingyunhao @nctrenjunie @allygator-98 @jay-scenarios @hansungie01 @jadedxfemme @sagegreenhairclip @lveegsoi @ninistranaut @srhnyx @simj4ke @jiyeons-closet @hxonieverse @fangirl125reader @his-seung

chapter 2 << chapter 3 (final) || m a s t e r l i s t.

chapter 3.

you don’t know how he finds you.

the stairwell isn’t on the map. no signage, no route markers—just an empty industrial corner of the venue with concrete floors and flickering lights and the kind of silence that feels too still for a city this loud.

but he does.

heeseung finds you.

the door clicks softly behind him. your phone is still open in your hand, but your fingers stop scrolling the second your eyes lift and meet his.

he looks… frayed.

hood up. mask hanging loose under his chin. lips parted like he ran here, or didn’t know what to say until right now.

“you okay?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t speak right away. he just stares at you. at your frame. your face.

and then—quiet, like he hates himself for even admitting it—

“no.”

your heart stutters.

he walks toward you slowly. not with purpose—just with momentum, like standing still hurts more than anything else.

“i can’t do this,” he mutters. “i keep telling myself not to, and then i see you, and—”

he cuts off. his hands press into his pockets. his head dips.

“i shouldn’t feel like this.”

you breathe in, but you don’t interrupt.

“it’s not just…” he glances at you again. “it’s not just about wanting to fuck you. even though god, i do. i think about it all the time and i hate how much i do.”

your breath catches.

his voice stays low, but heavier now. raw.

“but it’s more than that. i want your voice in my ear. i want your fingers brushing mine when no one’s watching. i want you leaning your head on my shoulder when we’re backstage and i’m trying to act like i’m not falling apart.”

he laughs. it’s not funny. “and it’s so fucking stupid, because we both know this doesn’t work. we can’t work. not in this world. not with who i am. not with who you are. it’s not possible.”

your throat tightens.

he finally steps close enough that your backs are almost touching the wall, and his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them.

“i can’t sleep,” he murmurs before chuckling dryly. “well– more than i usually cant.. i can’t rest. i go through ten hours of filming and i still walked off stage looking for your face. and if you’re not in the room i feel like i’m suffocating.”

your breath catches.

he laughs once. bitter. “this is bad.”

“heeseung, we can't–”

“i know,” he cuts you off gently, eyes soft yet burning with a passion that similarly mirrors yours. “i know… but texting you isn’t enough anymore. calling you at night and pretending it’s casual, pretending i don’t notice how breathless you sound when i say your name… it’s not enough. i can’t keep pretending this is harmless.”

he’s breathing harder now. jaw tight. eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, or maybe something else.

“i need more. i need you near me. with me. i want to touch you when i say things. i want to kiss you when you laugh. i want to put my hand on your back when we walk into a room and not have to worry who sees.”

you’re silent. heart slamming against your chest.

“and i want you,” he adds, voice dropping even lower. “so bad it fucking hurts.”

the words echo in the concrete stairwell.

“i text you and it’s not enough. i call you and it just makes it worse. i watch your videos over and over like a sick fuck because it’s the only version of you i’m allowed to have.”

neither of you move.

heeseung swallows. something sharp in his throat.

“and i can’t stop,” he says, breathless now. “i can’t stop needing you, and i don’t know what to do anymore.”

he reaches out, brushing his fingers against your wrist. not holding. just grounding himself.

his next words are softer. quieter.

“just say something. anything. because if i’m the only one feeling like this…”

he doesn’t finish.

he doesn’t have to.

you can see it in his eyes. “you’re not the only one… you think it’s easy for me not to care about you?”

a beat before he continues.

“i’m tired of holding back. of pretending like you’re just some backstage coincidence. could have more than that… i hate that we have to move secretly and be like this…”

his voice honest. broken. burning.

the space that’s forced between the two of you is straining and nearly unbearable. but required and absolute. you both cannot be together. not in the light with so much eyes monitoring.

“i know it’s messy,” he whispers. “but tell me you don’t want me, and i’ll walk away.”

your lips part and the overwhelming feeling of the consequences of being public eats the back of your mind.

you want him. you want him badly. possibly just as much as he wants you. you want him so much that it’s a terrifying feeling to even admit outloud.

but no words come out.

heeseung steps back first. just a little– like he’s afraid if he stays one second longer, he’ll do something irreversible.

the war between what he wants and what he can’t have. the way he’s already grieving a decision neither of you has made. the guilt. the craving. the way he’s so close to you and still doesn’t touch you like he wants to—like he aches to.

and once that line breaks, there would be no coming back.

you take a slow breath.

you don’t know how long you’ve been standing in the stairwell—heeseung’s hand barely brushing your wrist, his words still bleeding into your skin. even though he just acknowledged this can’t work—you know he’s waiting for you to give him a reason to believe it could.

and then, finally, he speaks again.

quieter, steadier but not calm. never calm.

“after san diego,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “there’s a break before LA. just a few days in california. media stuff, interviews, brand shoots, rehearsals.”

you nod slowly. not sure where he’s going with this.

heeseung swallows. hard. his gaze drops—like it’s easier to say it when he’s not watching you search his eyes for vulnerability.

“my schedule’s full. they’ve got me stacked from morning to night.”

your heart sinks.

but then he adds—“except one.”

your breath catches.

“just one night.” he lifts his eyes again.

“the night before LA’s concert. i’m free after rehearsal around 5pm to relax. i don’t even know how that happened, but that will be the only time no one will be watching me– us.”

“us…” you echo as your stomach twists. finding yourself staring up at him with apprehension.

“if we’re going to do this,” he says, low, raw, real, “if we’re ever going to stop pretending this isn’t killing us… that’s the only night.”

he steps closer. his voice is a whisper now. not because he’s hiding– he’s tired of running.

“i want you,” he breathes. “in every way i’m not supposed to. and i know we can’t keep going like this.”

you stay frozen.

“so if you don’t want this,” he says, softer, “if this isn’t something you want to carry with you after…”

his hand lifts. he brushes a strand of hair from your cheek like it’s the only touch he’ll allow himself.

“please…tell me now and i'll let go.”

your throat is tight.

you don’t speak.

you can’t. because you do want it.

god, you need it, bad.

you want that night more than anything you’ve ever let yourself admit.

even if it can’t happen again. even if it destroys you afterward.

heeseung nods slowly at your silence. his fingers linger a second longer.

and then, you speak up, quietly. “i’ll send the room number.”

he pauses, breath shaky. eyes glittering.

a sound from behind the door makes you jump.

a yell possibly from staff. too close of a call.

heeseung has to go now if he didnt want to get your career ruined by being caught alone with him.

he curses underneath his breath before rushing to your body, pulling you into a quick but steady kiss.

a promise. a secret.

before he leaves, he looks at you one last time—like he already knows what you’re thinking.

“i’ll come to you, baby. i’ll be yours.”

then he’s gone.

and you’re left in a stairwell with your hands shaking, lips tingling, your lungs burning, and only one thought in your head:

one night. just one night

* * * * *

you feel like you’re being dragged across the continent in pieces.

city after city. night after night. too many hours spent powdering faces and checking mic wires while pretending your hands don’t tremble when he walks into the room.

heeseung hasn’t spoken to you since the stairwell.

not directly, anyway.

not in front of anyone.

but you feel him everywhere.

you feel him in the way his eyes track your hands when you prep the others. In the way he lingers near your station before heading to wardrobe. in the way he stands closer during group huddles, even when he doesn’t say a word.

he never asks. never crosses the line again.

but he doesn’t pull back, either.

not like he should.

not like you need him to.

and now—three days before California—you find yourself standing on the side of the road in the middle of fucking Arizona because the crew van broke down.

you’re all en route to venue soundcheck. three vehicles total.

yours—the second van—lost power without warning.

and as luck would have it, the only two staffers in this van were you and heeseung.

it’s quiet now. too quiet.

you sit on the bumper while the driver calls logistics and road side assistance.

heeseung leans against the hot metal siding beside you, one foot up on the curb, arms crossed, hair pulled back in a messy low bun.

he hasn’t looked at you since the van died.

but you can feel it.

the tension, the unspokenness between you is so loud that it hums in your throat.

“well,” he says, finally breaking the silence, “i always wanted to see Arizona.”

you laugh. quiet. dry.

“we’re literally in a gas station parking lot.”

“i’m trying to be romantic,” he mutters.

you glance at him.

he’s watching the sunset over a strip mall. his jaw’s tense. his eyes tired. always so tired.

you often caught your stare lingering over him through the mirrors of the dressing rooms the past few venues. between your channel’s shots that you take of the tour, under very strict guidelines, you hated that you couldn’t help but notice when he’d wrap a blanket that didn’t quite cover his body. never enough to warm him.

you’d purposely wait until his eyes blink open to start talking louder in your videos or to others, even if it didn’t exactly make a difference due to the loud volume from others–it made a difference to you.

his insomnia was barely a thought to other people but to you it was the thing that concerned you the most when the hours ran long and the other members were just as exhausted. you could only imagine how tired his body was.

but he’s doing what he loves. although your support was silent and in the shadows, you wanted to do whatever you could encourage him.

now here he was seated next to you on the bumper of the van, trying to mke you feel better about this inconvenient situation.

he smiles—just barely.

“you don’t have to be romantic heeseung,” you say softly. “you barely slept on the car ride.”

His smile fades.

“I know.”

the quiet stretches again.

the wind kicks up desert dust. the heat clings to your spine. your palms are sweating even though the sun’s low.

heeseung shifts closer. he’s still not touching you, but you can feel the electricity crawl down your arm just from his presence.

“you been thinking about it?” he asks.

your breath catches. you don’t ask what it means. you both know.

he’s talking about the stairwell.

you nod slowly. ��“too much, i’m afraid.”

He looks down. “yeah, me too.”

You stare ahead at the glowing horizon.

And then—so quietly, so carefully, it almost sounds like guilt:

“i don’t want it to feel like a mistake.” you turn to him with your fingers fidgeting over your sweater.

he’s still looking at the ground. fingers tapping lightly against his elbow.

“i know it’s just one night,” he murmurs, “but if I’m gonna remember it for the rest of my life, I want it to be worth it.”

your throat tightens. you want it to be too…

he finally meets your eyes and that look right there…

it isn’t just lust. it’s longing. hunger. sadness. hope.

the things he can’t say out loud.

the things he won’t ever be allowed to show in public.

“but it’ll be enough,” he says softly. “even if it ruins me a little.”

you don’t reply. there was nothing else to add.

and still—you sadly smile toward him.

it was always going to be worth it.

even if it only lasts one night.

* * *

he’s late. not by much, just an hour.but youre not surprised or even upset. you're used to waiting for his schedule to end before talking on the phone.

you're used to waiting for his schedule to end before talking on the phone.

used to getting a message in the early morning saying he just got back to the dorm while you leave your ringer on to wake up just in time to fall asleep again with him on the line…

what you arent used to, is the sound of a keycard sliding into your hotel room door lock.

the high pitched beep makes your stomach do things it shouldn’t.

he doesn’t say hi—just enters quietly. black hoodie pulled low over his brow, a black mask around his wrist and damp hair still curled around his temple from shower steam.

he kicks off his sneakers, and drops his tour bag on the floor.

it’s dangerous. him being here. this entire escapade is so risky…

you’re still his assigned makeup artist.

still supposed to be professional.

still on a schedule with the rest of the crew.

still so early into the tour.

on the second leg of the tour where there's at least a day's rest for the boys.

one perfect—stolen—night to finally ravish each other.

heeseung steps into the dim light of the hotel room. his eyes scan the way you’re perched at the edge of the bed, legs tucked beneath you, oversized tee riding up the soft curve of your thighs.

you don’t speak.

neither does he.

both of you know what’s about to happen.

he reached behind him– a small click.

he's locked the door.

heeseung’s hoodie’s half-off before he even reaches you. he drops his hoodie to the chair, and turns to look at you like you’ve been keeping something from him.

god, he’s so beautiful.

his voice is quiet when it finally breaks the silence. “you stayed up for me, sweetheart?”

“you’re late,” you murmur, eyes searching his. “was about to fall asleep if i wasnt so anxious about you coming by.”

he does that slow blink he usually does over facetime down at you while listening to you speak.

you haven’t even touched him yet and your stomach is already curling at the edges. heat flickering low behind your belly button. it’s almost humiliating how easy he gets to you.

heeseung says nothing at first. just brushing his thumb along your jawline. not quite fully touching you. “couldn’t get away. manager stuck around too long.”

you hum softly, peering up at him. not upset. not exactly.

just… already anticipating the time you’ll have to give back the second he gets a text or call. a rapid second and this quiet little world between you might soon have to slip into secrecy.

his fingers brush your arm and your breath stalls in your throat.

“stand up,” heeseung says lowly.

you do.

he moves like he’s done this before.

he doesn’t rush. just watches the way your shirt shifts when you exhale. watches your pulse flutter at your throat when he steps in closer.

“look at me.”

you do.

and god, he looks tired.

not just tired—haunted.

maybe from the stage. maybe from the pressure. maybe from holding back the way his hands are already gripping your waist like he’s starving.

“how long do we have?” you ask softly.

“long enough.” his voice is quieter now. "been thinking about this all week," heeseung mutters, lowering his posture to your level. "about you. what you would sound like in person when you fall apart."

his fingers trace the hem of your shirt.

"take this off for me."

you don’t speak.

you obey.

lifting the flimsy fabric over your head and toss it aside, your bare chest on display like you’ve been waiting to be seen. his eyes drop immediately. widen. jaw clenching like he’s trying to memorize the sight before it disappears.

heeseung sucks in a sharp breath and shakes his head like he can’t believe what’s standing in front of him.

“fuck, y/n… you’re so fucking perfect.”

before you can say anything else, his hand curls around your neck—firm, steady, grounding. just letting you know that you’re his, for however long this moment allows.

enough to make you slightly dizzy.

"you gonna let me ruin you tonight, baby?"

you nod.

"words."

"yes."

heeseung leans in closer. "yes, what?"

your breath hitches. “yes, sir.”

his lips curl into a wicked, smug smile. like you’ve handed him the keys to the kingdom.

“good girl.”

his lips crash into yours like he’s punishing you for making him wait. tongue hot, needy, searching. his hands roam everywhere—your sides, your ass, the soft dip between your ribs. every place he couldn’t touch on camera. every place he’s only imagined in the dark while whispering your name into his sheets.

his thigh presses between yours and you moan into his mouth.

he pulls back enough to speak. “on the bed.”

you move without thinking. your thighs rub together as you crawl onto the mattress, nerves frayed and clenching around nothing. he follows, crawling over you slowly, shirt finally pulled off and tossed behind him.

“god, i love how shy you get when i tell you what to do,” heeseung breathes against your mouth. “your brain just melts from being ordered around doesn’t it, baby?”

“heeseung—”

“uh-uh,” he levels you with his eyes, thumbing over your bottom lip. “try again.”

“…sir.” you correct yourself.

heeseung’s hum of approval brings another wave of heat over your skin. “you’re all mine tonight, you understand me?” although he's desperate and clinging to you like you’ll dissolve into thin air, his eyes are searching. aware of what’s happening— gaze fixed and analyzing every inch of your body to etch into his memory.

“let me pretend you’re mine and i’m yours completely tonight…”

This is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

your chest aches with a feeling similar to fear and anxiety but the burning sensation of subspace dizziness jars you back into focus.

”do you understand me, y/n?” he demands, firmly— desperately that if you weren’t being held so strongly you would hear his tone as a plea rather than a command.

you manage a nod.

because if you open your mouth, you’ll beg.

not to fuck you— which you wanted badly.

that; you’ll beg him not to leave.

no time to pump the breaks.

it starts with him on his knees.

mouth hot on your thighs, then higher—lips ghosting over your underwear before he yanks them down with a sharp tug and groans when he sees how soaked you already are.

“so fucking wet. is this all for me?” he asks, mouth hovering right over your clit.

“yes,” you breathe.

“of course it is. no one else gets to see you like this. no one else gets to taste.”

and god, he does.

he devours.

his tongue is slow, precise, practiced. he moans into you like you’re the one feeding him.

you whimper, thighs trembling as you grind down on his face without meaning to.

“needy little thing,” heeseung growls against your cunt, dragging two fingers through the mess he’s making. “can’t sit still, can you? bet you’d let me eat you out for hours if i don’t stop.”

you’re panting. hands in his hair, legs shaking.

your vision goes white when he curls two fingers deep inside you.

“that’s it. ride my fucking fingers. show me how desperate you are.”

you cry out—loud, shameless.

he pulls back, wipes his mouth on his wrist, and smirks.

“so fucking messy already. you’re gonna soak the sheets, for me?”

“please,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re begging for.

“please, what?”

“please, sir… please— i need, please, fuck me.”

heeseung blinks like his world’s tipped over, then drags you up from the bed like you weigh nothing.

“since you asked so nicely, like a good girl...”

he kisses you. a pure deep, open-mouthed kiss.

his tongue tangles with yours and his hand grips the back of your neck while he walks you backward toward the bed. you fall onto it in a tangle of limbs, and he follows with slow, calculated movements.

once he strips, you can practically feel your saliva collect in your mouth.

he’s bigger than you imagined.

the screen definitely didnt do him any justice.

his cock standing strong, flushed, and leaking at the tip.

you make a sound—something between a gasp and a whimper—and heeseung laughs, low and dark.

“you think you can take it like a good girl for me?” he asks, fist wrapped around his cock as he strokes it slowly, other hand sliding up your torso before wrapping firmly around your throat. “or are you gonna cry for me like you did on the phone?”

you nod so fast your vision spins.

heeseung’s hand doesn’t leave your neck.

not when he’s pushing you down into the mattress.

not when he’s grinding his cock between your slick folds, teasing you, splitting you open slowly like you’ll break if he doesn’t take his time.

and god—he loves that idea.

“you feel that, baby?” his voice is low, ragged, teeth gritted as he nudges the thick head of his cock inside you. “so fucking tight. can barely get in.”

you’re already gasping. legs spread wide, thighs trembling, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other gripping his forearm where it’s curled around your neck.

“so big, fuck—heeseung—”

“sir,” he growls, snapping his hips forward, forcing you to take more. “that’s not what you call me, sweetheart. i wont fucking remind you again.”

“sir—sir, i’m sorry, i—” your words melt into a moan as he bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt, filling you so deep your vision whites out at the edges.

“yeah?” heeseung’s eyes burn into yours. “you sorry for being a dumb, fucked out slut for me?”

you nod frantically, brain barely keeping up with the stretch.

“then say it,” he demands. “say what you are.”

you whimper, hands scrambling to hold onto something—him, the sheets, your sanity.

“i’m your dumb little slut, sir.”

heeseung smiles.

a slow, wicked thing that doesn’t reach his eyes—because his eyes are busy watching you come undone beneath him.

“fuck, i love hearing that pretty mouth...”

his hand tightens just a little around your throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your head swim. enough to remind you who you belong to.

he starts moving then.

slow, deliberate thrusts, the weight of his cock dragging against every nerve inside you.

your body arches under him, already teetering on the edge from the stretch and pressure and the way his grip never leaves your throat.

“you love being used like this, huh?” heeseung pants, sweat beading at his temple. “love being fucked stupid on my cock?”

you can’t even speak.

your mouth opens, but nothing comes out except a desperate moan.

“god, you’re so tight baby—fuck. this pussy was made for me.”

you mewl, head falling back against the pillow.

“say it.”

“it's—“ his thrusts interrupt you. “i’m made for you…” you choke out, tears pricking your eyes from the stretch.

“damn, right you are baby… made just for me to use and abuse…” heeseung presses his forehead to yours, hips moving slowly. so deep. so slow. like he’s savoring you.

“you’re so, so good, babygirl. such a good fucking girl. all mine, yeah?”

“yes, sir.”

“you like being fucked like this? stretched open and stuffed full of my cock?”

“yes—yes, i do—”

“i can feel you clenching, sweetheart. you gonna cum already?”

“i—i don’t know—”

“look at you.” his hand slides up to your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks until you’re forced to hold his gaze. “already cock-drunk. not even halfway through.”

you’re crying now—just a little.

tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as your legs tremble and your cunt squeezes around him like your body knows it won’t be able to take much more.

but he’s not stopping.

you could swear you see a flash of a smile etch his face before your vision blurs with more tears.

heeseung pulls all the way out, then slams back in hard enough to knock a cry from your lips.

“you don’t cum until i say,” he warns. “you understand me, dumb girl?”

“yes— yes, sir! i’ll try—”

“no, you won’t try.” he cuts you off, voice sharp. “you’ll obey. you want to be my good girl, you take everything i give you. don’t you dare fucking cum yet.”

your nails dig into his bicep, your thighs squeezing around his waist as your body bucks beneath him.

he doesn’t slow down.

in fact, he presses your thighs apart forcefully with his much wider frame.

he fucks you through it—deep, punishing thrusts that leave you twitching and sobbing, pleasure building so tight it hurts.

“so fucking wet,” heeseung grunts. “you hear that? listen to how soaked you are for me… messy little toy.”

your cheeks burn.

your body’s trembling uncontrollably now, tears rolling faster, mouth falling open in a broken cry as he keeps going.

and going.

and going.

“sir, please—please i’m gonna—”

“don’t.”

“i can’t—”

heeseung slaps your thigh. hard.

you scream—your cunt clenching so tight he chokes on a moan.

“fuck! you’re such a fucking brat,” he growls. “can’t even follow simple instructions. guess, i’ll have to fuck obedience into you.”

he changes the angle—grips your hips tight, drags your ass flush into his lap and starts pounding into you, fast and brutal. your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

your eyes roll back.

heeseung grabs your chin again, forcing your eyes on him.

“keep your fucking eyes open. you're going to watch me while you fucking break.”

he fucks you harder. rougher. hands gripping your hips as he slams into you with enough force to knock the air from your lungs.

your weak arms do nothing to stop him from pummeling into your helpless body.

“cmon baby, take it. take all of me.”

you’re sobbing now, gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering you to earth.

your orgasm hits you like a train.

oh, fuck.

it tears through you in white-hot pulses, your mouth open in a silent scream, legs shaking, cunt fluttering violently around him.

“you didn’t ask,” he snarls, still fucking you through it. this time gripping your face hard. “again.”

your core reflexifly tries to shove him out, to spasm and clench more than what his girth was allowing you to.

“oh no, you don’t.” heeseung laugh isn’t humorous— it’s angry. he pushes down on your lower abdomen and pins you in place with his dick shoved deeper inside. “greedy fucking brat. didn’t even ask to cum.”

you’re sobbing now—overstimulated, your body locked in place, every nerve ending raw and trembling.

heeseung doesn’t stop.

he doesn’t even slow down.

“don’t think we’re done yet,” he pants. “i’m not finished with you, baby. not until you give me another.”

“sir, i—i can’t—” still drowing in your high.

“no. you will.” he growls. “you’ll give me another like the good little slut you are. i want to feel you fucking gush all over me. cum.”

he slaps your clit. not hard but enough to tip you over the abyss.

you scream.

and then you cum again—harder, messier, your body seizing under him.

heeseung curses, hips stuttering.

“fuck—you’re clenching so tight—“ he throws his head back, before sucking in a sharp breath— lunging forward. “oh, fuck— i’m gonna cum! where do you want it?”

you’re too gone to answer.

“where, baby?” he growls, hand tightening again around your throat. “you want me to make a mess all over you?”

a breathless gasp leaves your lips. his hand tightens its grip. “answer me.”

“yes—sir—please, please, cum—”

he lets out a sound you’ve never heard before. half-growl, half-groan, pure desperation as he slams into you one final time.

heeseung groans—loud, long—and pulls out just in time, spilling hot and heavy across your stomach, breathing hard as he collapses over you. holding himself up with shaking arms.

you shudder, gasping as your body registers the shots of warmth over your sticky skin.

heeseung breathes, face nestled into your neck for support.

“you did such a good job baby…” he whispers. his forehead pressed to yours, while his hand’s still gently curled around your throat.

“my good girl…”

you’re gone.

wrecked.

and for a moment… all you can do is let him hold you there. his fingers smoothing over your aching muscles. your bodies tangled, sweaty, soaked, and clinging to the last thread of something neither of you can name.

for a while, there’s only the sound of your breaths.

then the silence creeps in.

heeseung’s hand finds yours.

you stare at the ceiling.

you feel the reality start to settle in again. the walls of the hotel room close around you.

the clock ticking on the nightstand reminds you this is temporary.

you turn your head to look at him.

he’s already looking at you.

and for a second… you let yourself believe he’ll say it. something more.

but he doesn’t.

he just squeezes your hand.

once.

hard.

then he presses a kiss to your shoulder and says, “you mind cuddling for a bit before…”

he doesnt need to finish his sentence.

you nod. because you already know—

he can’t stay.

that makes it hurt worse when you move against the most logical thing to do; which is leave immediately—and snuggle into his warmth.

because that’s all you can do.

you had this much. this has to be enough, even if it doesn't feel like it ever will be.

you’ve both been fantasizing about this.

and now that it’s happened, you finally understand what it means to have something under your skin.

something that won’t leave.

even when he does.

you’re the first to move.

it’s not much—just a shift of your arm, the turn of your head, the way your chest rises unevenly as you catch your breath.

heeseung doesn’t say anything at first.

he just lies there. facing you. one hand playing with your hair, the other still lightly grazing your thigh like he doesn’t know how to stop touching you.

you glance at him through your lashes. everything feels too still. too quiet. your body’s warm, messy, and sore in ways that make your heart squeeze.

you wish it was enough.

but the seconds keep ticking.

and you know how this ends.

heeseung finally exhales, his deep colored eyes drawing you in.

"you okay?" he asks, voice hoarse from effort. from restraint.

you nod, not trusting your voice.

his fingers find yours in the sheets and squeeze.

you squeeze back.

no declarations. just touches. just these small, impossible moments stitched together by hands that tremble a little more each time they let go.

you want to say something.

want to ask if this means anything to him.

but you don’t.

because you already know what needs to be said and done.

because he’s lee fucking heeseung.

because you’re not supposed to share a bed with him, much less talk to him outside of work.

and because you’ve spent the last few years building something his fans could ruin for you with one single headline.

“i should shower,” you say quietly, the words sticking in your throat.

heeseung’s hands fall away from your body reluctantly.

you miss it instantly.

you sit up, pulling the sheets with you. the ache between your legs is still fresh. raw. a reminder that what just happened was real—so painfully real—and already slipping through your fingers.

he doesn’t stop you when you move toward the bathroom.

but you catch him watching you go.

his jaw clenched. his eyes tired.

the light clicks on. the water runs. and for a second, it’s just you staring at yourself in the mirror.

your hair is a mess. your lips are kiss-swollen. your chest is marked where his mouth lingered too long.

you look ruined.

but not in the way you expected.

when you come out wrapped in a towel, he’s already half-dressed. sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand.

his expression is unreadable.

your stomach drops.

“manager’s asking where i am,” he says.

you nod.

"you should go."

heeseung doesn’t resist or make a move to leave urgently.

time lags.

he just nods while rising up from the bed slowly.

he watches you find your shirt on the floor like it hasn’t already been peeled off of your body before you both shared tonight so passionately.

“you’ll be at rehearsal for the day 2 concert tomorrow?” he finally says.

“yeah.”

a beat.

then softer: “you okay?”

you nod. but you don’t smile.

because the ache between your legs is nothing compared to the one settling in your chest.

you’ll see him again tomorrow.

you’ll have to be around him all afternoon before he performs in the evening.

you’ll touch up his foundation like you weren’t falling apart underneath him just hours earlier.

he looks at you. really looks.

eyes glossed over with unspoken anguish that you can only reflect back with a sad smile.

and for a second—just one second—you swear he wants to say something that might shatter your world and piece you back together..

all he says is:

“you make it really hard to walk away like this, you know that?”

you’re still smiling, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “had to make it worth your while. even just for a little bit..”

he flinches.

just barely.

and you hate yourself for noticing it.

you step closer, pulling on your shirt from earlier, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “it’s okay, heeseung. this was never supposed to be more than a moment.”

he stands, towering over you now, eyes searching your face like he’s memorizing it.

"you don’t believe that."

"doesn’t matter what i believe. our jobs—us. won’t work. no matter how much the fans ship us."

he hesitates. like he wants to say something that would undo it all. that would make this feel like the beginning instead of the end.

his phone buzzes loudly in his hand again. you dont need to look to know who’s calling.

“see?” you press your lips into a sad, tight lipped smile. “duty calls.”

heeseung sighs, eyes filled with a million words that you could easily decipher as longing, regret, dispair.

there’s a weight on both of your shoulders that neither of you can name out loud. not at this moment. not when you both feel how viciously swept up the situations gotten the both of you.

you walk him to the door anyway.

because that’s what you do when someone doesn’t belong to you.

its the right thing to do.

you both knew this moment would come after your short lived fling.

and just before he leaves, he leans in and plants a kiss on your lips.

once. soft. slow.

like an apology that comes too late.

when he pulls away, his voice cracks just a little.

“sleep well, sweetheart.”

“goodnight, ace.” you add nothing else after that.

because that’s what this is.

a goodbye.

a moment.

a secret.

something that doesn’t exist outside these walls.

but god—you’ll remember it.

you sit on the edge of the bed after he’s gone, the scent of his cologne still clinging to your sheets.

you wonder if he’ll think of you when he wakes up tomorrow in another hotel room or when he’s back on stage with ten thousand voices screaming his name

you wonder if he’ll miss the way you whispered his name like a secret meant only for him.

most of all… you wonder if you’ll ever be able to touch someone else again without thinking of the way he said,

let me pretend you’re mine and i’m yours completely tonight…

and how, just for a night—

you let yourselves believe the illusion.

a secret only the two of you will remember and seal away for good.

yet… you will never forget the way he looked at you like you were the only real thing he’s had in years.

and maybe, for now… that’s enough.

[ e n d ]

chapter 2 << chapter 3 ( final )

m i k a🌷: god this was insane to write, i had to pace around a couple times before actually continuing. MY FREAKING HEART mELTED…. may or may not continue the story in a different series, depending on how well this does;)

if you’re looking forward to more stories like this in the future send me a message, ask, or private message me to be added to a main taglist to get notified of future works by me. i’ve got my masterlists pinned in my bio if you want to check more of my work out! (some links don’t work since i changed usernames… but if you seach “masterist” most of them pop up!)

[vettelsbees]

whatever it takes

charles leclerc x redbullracingadmin!reader

fic type: social media au

summary: charles is dating the redbull racing admin which is why there’s a sudden uptick of charles content…but it’s proving to be a hit for engagement so they're just kinda allowed to continue

note: welcome to my second-ever smau. i am still learning kinda how to do these, so my formatting might change as i figure out what works best for me. this one is pretty different format-wise than the last and I'll probably end up somewhere between. and, of course, any constructive feedback is welcome! the next one i have planned (a charles x piastri!reader introduced via arthur) might need a bit of texting so if anyone has recommendations for how to make fake texts - let me know!

disclaimer(s): I try to keep it mostly gender-neutral but I do picture a girl when writing and my pinterest selections tend to be fem coded so it isn't truly gender neutral just be warned. also, i am borrowing content from (obviously) the redbull racing insta and from public instagrams. these are real things redbull posts haha. also i think there is swearing.

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@//redbullracing has posted a Reel to Instagram

@//redbullracing Some classic Maxplaining and Leclerifying

view all comments

@//lecfosi everyone is charles fan

@//dutchlion8 stop i thought this was a fan account not rbr

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@//yourusername has posted on Instagram

@//yourusername day job makes me sleepy

view all comments

@//bestie_estie pop off with the soft launch

@//landogirlz is this one of the f1 workers?? where are the drivers?

@//zhouscloset it's their personal but okay

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@//redbullracing has posted on Instagram

@//redbullracing We are racing in Las Vegas!

view all comments

@//patofan how is charles half of these he's not a redbull driver

@//snowmansandesteban loving the charles content

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@//yourusername has posted on Instagram

@//yourusername just explorin'

view all comments

@//lovefrombrasil Now this has become a proper soft launch

@//maxverstappen1 Hm

@//yukipopsoff this is who we think is the rbr admin @//ln4theresties

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@//yourusername has posted on Instagram

@//yourusername it's kinda hard to protect the feed AND soft launch

view all comments

@//artiesparty then hard launch

@//georgerushing scream, sobbing, foaming at the mouth

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@//yourusername has posted on Instagram

@//yourusername nowhere i'd rather be <3

view all comments

@//ferrariroses FREE RBR ADMIN, THEYRE DOWN TOO BAD

@//whiteandsilverarrows this looks like a certain monégasque...

@//elpadrenando someone ask arthur about it

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@//redbullracing has posted on Instagram

tagged: maxverstappen1, schecoperez

@//redbullracing Looking back through our festive wardrobe

view all comments

@//charleswife16 girl where is charles

@//yukigasly boo bring back sharl

@//rockytherb19 Great team!

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@//yourusername has posted on Instagram

tagged: charles_leclerc

@//yourusername saved him for the priv account this time

view all comments

@//yukigasly THERE HE IS

@//sharllechair god...it's me again

@//tripodgasly girl me too. i can't believe they confirmed it

@//alpharedbull no one tell christian

---

hehe the end

[jacksabbotts]

introducing . . . ADMIN!READER . ᵒ . 📁 📗 🖋️

you are the new director of emergency services administration — but don’t let the title fool you. you are not some clipboard-carrying bureaucrat hiding in an office tower. you are boots on the floor, sharp-tongued and sharper-eyed, calling out code violations and budget oversights in the same breath.

you didn’t leave peds trauma because you couldn’t handle the blood. you left because your ex-husband caught a felony charge and suddenly your daughter needed a parent who made it home for dinner.

you built a new life out of broken glass and court transcripts. clean slates don’t exist for people like you, but second chances? sometimes. if you’re lucky.

you run on burnt coffee and low expectations. you iron your blouses and wear heels taller than your patience. you keep your voice low but your words cut deep. sarcasm is your default setting; exhaustion is your baseline. empathy? well, you still have it — you just learned to lock it behind steel doors so it doesn’t get in the way.

and then there’s michael robinavitch.

the trauma attending from hell. the man who thinks hospital policy is a suggestion and quarterly reports are a personal attack. he’s chaos where you are order. instinct where you are strategy. hands covered in blood while yours are ink-stained with budget reports.

and yet—he’s not what you expected. you thought he’d be arrogant, impossible, unmanageable.

(okay, fine. he is those things.)

but he’s also brilliant. fast. reckless in a way that saves lives and destroys protocol in equal measure. and under all that noise, there’s something quieter. something raw. something that sees the mess in you and doesn’t flinch.

you call him dr. robinavitch like it’s a warning shot. he calls you admin like it’s a dare. this isn’t a romance. not yet. right now, it’s a warzone. but maybe someday—if the paperwork ever gets filed and the walls come down—it’ll be something else.

this isn’t a series — it’s a universe. a collection of standalone stories where tension simmers, tempers flare, and slow burn becomes something neither of you can ignore. angst, banter, quiet softness, and ( eventually ) smut. not today, though.

today, you have got reports to file and a trauma attending to wrangle.

CHAPTER ONE noncompliant ( wc 1.7k ) CHAPTER TWO tbd ( coming soon ) CHAPTER THREE tbd ( coming soon )

michael robinavitch x admin!reader concepts

⤷ tbd ( coming soon ) ⤷ tbd ( coming soon ) ⤷ tbd ( coming soon )

🔖  .  @silas-aeiou @alldaysdreamers @concentratedconcrete @blackirisesinthesunlight @notgothenough @timeofmadness @valkyreally @hiireadstuff

* ✷ ⊹ * ˚  want to join the admin!reader taglist??? click here!!!!

layout inspo ||| dividers by @cafekitsune + @saradika-graphics + @uzmacchiato * ✷ ⊹ * ˚  main masterlist ||| more robby ||| inbox

possible trigger warnings .' lowercase intended!!! medical trauma and emergency scenarios work-related stress, trauma-induced detachment, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and emotional exhaustion, abuse and domestic violence ( from readers ex ), single parenting, possible power imbalances, profanity and substance use, implied threats of violence / retaliation, smut ( detailed per part )

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, katsuki/reader are friends w/ benefits, they are not officially dating, pro hero!katsuki, hickies/bruises/mentions of burn marks, swearing, orgasm denial, inappropriate quirk usage, katsuki’s bad at feelings, katsuki is unreasonably jealous, erm.. light?? blood kink, it’s soft at the end though, happy kinktober everyone GENRE: SMUT & FLUFF SUMMARY: katsuki doesn’t approve of the way shouto was looking at you—even though you’re both single and he has no real claim over you. WORD COUNT: 2.7K 🦊’s A/N: i can’t believe i’m the opening act but here we are; i rlly hope you guys enjoy what we have lined up for y’all :3

     katsuki bakugou is mean and rude, possessive and somewhat controlling, and an arrogant bitch. whatever he wanted, he got; whenever something was his, everybody would be sure to know it. this, of course, translated a little too naturally into his sex life. 

     and when it came to you? god have mercy.

     “shit–! katsuki!” you whine as he bites cruelly at the tender skin of your inner thighs before sucking over the spot, making sure his teeth grazed over the sensitive, heated flesh. 

     “huh?” though on the quieter side, his voice was just as gruff as it always was. 

     “please—!” is all you’re able to breath out as the large, calloused hands forcing your legs apart begin to spark, and—ow! fuck! “katsu! what the fuck is wrong with you!?” 

     “tch, like you don’t know,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes. surely you were just playing dumb. there was no way you didn’t know what the fucking problem was. he thinks back to your little conversation with shouto earlier—where that icyhot bastard practically eyefucked you the entire time (he had not, actually; it was just katsuki’s awful, Awful jealousy and insecurities flaring up despite you two not even being an item). 

     all you knew, though, was that he had been like this all damn night! biting you all over your flushed body — absolutely nowhere was safe from his teeth; your neck and throat, chest and midriff—hell, he even managed to leave hickies along your ribcage for christ’s sake!—and now, he was working on your thighs. 

     but if all that wasn’t already enough, his hands had occupied your hips most of the time as his quirk popped off repeatedly as his grip only tightened, not only leaving bruises in the shape of his fingertips, but also scorch marks on the flares of your hips. 

     “i don’t!” you protest in vain. in your mind, your conversation with shouto hadn’t crossed your mind—so the idea that katuski might be jealous? didn’t even register. 

     “yeah, right,” he barks out a laugh before diving back between your legs, burying his face into the fat of your thighs, where he sucked at the horribly sensitive skin there. and when you tried to close your legs around his head? he used his fucking quirk to keep them spread!

     his sweaty palms had no problem with igniting small scale explosions against your heated and tender flesh, leaving behind little burn marks in their wake.

     “god—dammit, katsuki!” you wail as his mouth gets dangerously close to your cunt, just to avoid it all together. “please—just! what's wrong?!” it's all you can do to choke back frustrated tears as your fuck buddy goes about leaving his physical claim on you—while leaving you all hot and bothered in the process. 

     “nothing's wrong, bitch—” his voice is strained and he sounds…… almost emotional? oh shit, was something seriously the matter? 

     in attempt to check up on him, one of your hands comes up to tug lightly at his spiky hair so he’ll look at you, but instead, he snatches your wrist up tightly, so hard you swear there’ll be bruises soon, as he looks up at you with narrowed, fiery eyes—they seemed…. glossier than they typically were; not that he looked like he was on the verge of tears or anything, but more so that he looked visibly distraught. 

     “keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” he spits out, his significantly larger hand sparking and popping around your poor wrist, and you can’t help but let out a yelp. 

     your faux concern was starting to piss katsuki off, and he physically can’t help the way his brows twitch and furrow in anger. there was no way you were really this dumb? (hey, einstein, maybe just, and here's an idea: tell them directly!) with a snarl, he bares his teeth (like a goddamn dog) and bites down harshly against the skin of your upper inner thigh, and he only bites down harder when you squeal and yell out his name, trying to free your wrist from his bruisingly tight grip. 

     in a desperate attempt to get him to calm down, you meekly choke out an apology—you didn’t know what you were sorry for, but you prayed it would be enough for bakugou to quit seething and just focus on something other than his anger.

     “‘ll show you sorry,” he grunts, picking a new spot on the fatty flesh of your thighs to bite down on—this time, a few tears manage to slide down your cheeks as he bites so hard, you swear to god you felt the skin tear. 

     “ow–! katsu–ki! jesus christ!” your free hand now comes down to try and push his head away from in between your legs as you squirm uncomfortably on the bed. your efforts are in vain, however, as he begins sucking against the freshly marred skin, sloppily laving his tongue over the spot so he could lick up the blood he had, in fact, drawn. “‘m sorry—whatever i did, i'm sorry!” you cry out pathetically, causing katsuki to pause in his actions as his eyes flit upwards to meet your glassy ones.

     “that's funny, you don't look very sorry,” he comments gruffly, the hand still placed on your thigh suddenly begins to pop off and spark against your reddened flesh.

     “nngh–! fuck’s sake! what has gotten into you!?”  

     “nothing, i told you already,” he grunts out, the corner of his lips twitching in annoyance as he looks up at you, and suddenly humping the mattress while he lays between your thighs isn’t enough for him. 

     before you have time to question him again, he had already moved so he was hovering over you as he had been at the beginning of your little rendezvous, and after releasing your wrist, he uses one hand to support himself while the other tugs his all too tight boxer briefs down enough for his almost painfully hard cock to spring free. and in one swift movement, he gathers both your wrists in one large hand before pinning them above your head while his free hand grabs his dick to line it up with your embarrassingly wet slit, barely getting the tip in before he just has to bottom out entirely—right up to the base as he lets out a groan louder than he’d meant to. it wasn’t like it was his fault, though! you just felt soooo good; how was he supposed to keep his cool? (not that he kept it in any other aspect of his life……)

     “aa–aah! nngh–! fuck! katsuki! you—mmfgh!” your words are cut off by a kiss, however, and your eyes widen at the sudden feeling of his slightly chapped lips against yours and your wrists struggle in his horribly tight grip, unsure of how to react — you had both agreed on no kissing when originally setting up boundaries during sex! truthfully, you didn’t think it would have lasted as long as it had — as you had almost kissed him several times prior, but always caught yourself before you had the chance to make a fool out of yourself — but you never would have thought katsuki would be the one to break that rule! ?!?!

     arching your back as he begins to thrust his hips, slowly at first, before quickly picking up the pace, you reluctantly give in to the kiss as your chest presses against his. 

     katsuki, meanwhile, was buzzing with too many unfamiliar emotions to process — it wasn’t that he was a simple man per se, far from it, in fact, but his primary emotion was anger, and was one of the few ways he knew how to express himself. now, though, he finds himself in highly unfamiliar territory as his heart hammers in his chest; the last time he had been this genuinely scared was the time he had been kidnapped by the league of villains, and even then, he thinks he prefers it to the way he felt right now. the fear of rejection absolutely plagued his mind the moment his lips had crashed against yours, but it was way too fuckin’ late to change that now, so instead, he doubles down and allows his tongue to slip out and slide over the seam of your lips before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and nips at it hard enough to draw the smallest bit of blood. 

     “nngh–!” you had no clue what the hell was wrong with katsuki until he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss and, for the first time in. …? as long as you can recall, he looks so…… vulnerable, like he was scared (and he was!), and for some reason, that just broke your heart.

    “just talk to me, katsuki,” you say softly, tongue flicking over your slightly bloody lip as you look up at him through thick, tear-dampened eyelashes. before you two were fuck buddies, you had managed to become good friends; given, the dynamic was a bit odd, as bakugou was not known for being a “friendly” person, let alone perceived as sociable, but. here he was! balls deep in his best friend, whom he wanted all to himself without even realizing until, well, just now, really.

     “i don’t want you talking to that icyhot bastard ever again,” he finally spits out, voice nearly cracking. he keeps his shit together, though, as he continues to fuck you like he hates your guts. “you’re mine, got it?” his cheeks are flushed red (a rare sight) as he pants heavily from on top of you, embarrassed by his own words, even though you obviously needed to hear them in order to remember who you belong to. …even though the two of you never disclosed the other couldn’t fuck anyone else; even though you were fully free to decide who you wanted to suck, lick, n fuck, katsuki hopes—silently prays, even—that you’d decide he was the only one you needed. 

     “what?” your eyes fly open at his words and your body freezes beneath him. “ka–katsuki, ‘m not yours—” he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces before you’re even done speaking, and he has to bite his tongue from lashing out. “we’re not even dating! y–you can’t be possessive over s–somethin’ that’s not— not even yours!” you try to reprimand him until you see the look that came over his face—the way his pouty lips tug into a deep frown and brows furrowed lightly, not out of anger but, rather, confusion—and suddenly you can’t bring yourself to scold him anymore. seeing katsuki, someone usually so outwardly hardened and tough, look this pitiful….. well, it made your heart ache, and your own expression softens as his pace subconsciously slows down as he waits with bated breath until you’re done talking.

     “oh, katsuki,” you sigh deeply, rolling your hips gently upwards to meet his as you look up at him with watery eyes. “you’re such an idiot,” you can’t help but giggle as you crane your head upwards in an attempt to kiss him once again — what the unfortunate blond hadn’t realized is that you had been in love with him within the first year of knowing him. 

     “huh?!” is his immediate response before you had leaned in for a kiss, and suddenly the dots click. he easily closes the distance between the two of you (not that there was much to begin with), and kisses you a little more softly this time, a little less angrily. 

     after a very heated moment, katsuki slowly pulls away and looks at you sincerely — his heart not quite on his sleeve, but as close to that as he’s ever been, ready to shut down at the first sight of genuine rejection; but before he gets the chance to stew on the thought any harder, you break him out of his headspace by saying exactly what he needed to hear.

     “there’s nothing going on between shouto and i—in fact, i haven’t even dated anyone in years because of you,” you tell him, wrists straining against his grip again and, this time, he gets the cue and gently releases them so you can tenderly cup his face and bring him in for another kiss. carefully moving your lips against his, you moan softly, asking for him to start fucking you again, and he happily obliges, with a renewed confidence at your admission. 

     katsuki really does feel like an idiot as his hips roll against yours, fucking you with a different kind of resolve this time.

     “‘ve been in love with you since our second year of high school,” you confess, a little quietly. it doesn’t go unheard by katsuki, however, and a smirk stretches across his face as he quirks an eyebrow up at you. you two had only started hooking up once he had gone pro and desperately needed an outlet for his stress.

     bakugou finds himself rendered speechless for once in his loud-mouthed life and he isn’t quite sure how to process your words. he believed you, mostly, but……. it was just very difficult to believe because….. well, why wouldn’t you want todoroki over him? it seems like the obvious choice, no? and yet…. here the two of you are, bodies sweaty and entwined as you both pant in attempt to catch your breaths, and you move to wrap your arms around his neck when you notice that faraway look in his eyes coming back—falling victim to his own mind once more.

     “‘m serious, kats,” you say sternly, brows furrowing as you move your sore legs to wrap around his narrow waist, crossing them at the ankle and pull his hips flush against yours. “mmh,” your heart is hammering at what you’re about to say, but you’ve already come this far. “i love you, katsuki bakugou,” you say softly, threading your fingers through his unnaturally spiky blond locks as you look up at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

     katsuki’s eyes widen considerably at your words, and instead of bringing himself to choke out an i love you too, he kisses you deeply and shallowly thrusts his hips against yours as his tongue easily slides into your already parted lips, already having prepared yourself to not receive a verbal answer from katsuki. you knew he was absolutely god fucking awful at words, and you didn’t exactly expect him to reciprocate your feelings.

     in your mind, he only picked you as his fuck buddy because he had known you too long and he wasn’t the type to fuck strangers, when in reality it was because katsuki was disgustingly in love with you, not that he had realized that prior to now—your words had awoken something in him and it feels so unfamiliar, and the unfamiliarity is what causes him to almost fumble you—almost, he has enough sense about him to mumble the quietest, raspiest, aggressive i guess i love…. he chokes on the word itself, never actually having had said it before—ever?—but manages to spit it the fuck out so he doesn’t lose the best friend—and pussy—he’s ever had. he sounds confused when he says finally manages to say an i love you, too but the fact that he even brought himself to say something so inherently soft and vulnerable (even if his tone wasn’t) cause your eyes to fly open in raw shock and disbelief, fully unable to believe your ears. 

     “you—you do?” no. there was no way he had just said that!

     “don’t make a big deal out of it, and don’t expect to f'me to say it again anytime soon, y’hear?” he replies, face beet fuckin’ red, blush having spread all the way up to his ears as he moves to bury his face in the crook of your neck to hide it away from your view, where he began to nip and suck at the skin there again, only adding to the collection of hickies he had already left. ah, there’s the katsuki you fell in love with.

     you smile at his words regardless of how gruff he sounded about it, heart (and cunt) so, so full and content, your grin stretching across your face until your cheeks hurt, and you can’t help but giggle quietly as he continues to mark you up, hips moving slowly, but each thrust hitting deep, the thick tip of his dick threatening to kiss up against your cervix if he went any deeper. 

     you would have to have a discussion with him about what you two were after this, but for now, you arch your back and close your eyes as you enjoy the feel of his lips against your skin and the way his thick cock stretches you out so deliciously.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Hi I'm a reader, not a writer. I hope you don't mind the question. I often see writers saying how much they love comments, or being sad that a fic has too few comments, that it demotivates them to write more. At the same time, it's bad etiquette to leave critical comments for fanfiction, they should only ever be positive. So what if I didn't like a new chapter, was disappointed etc. Is no comment better than a fake praise comment? What do you recommend?

if you don’t like it, you don’t have to comment anything at all.

while (positive) comments are encouraged and deeply appreciated, fanfic writing and reading are supposed to be something that bring us joy. so — personally, if you ask me — no reader is under obligation to give someone a fake praise, because then that’d mean they read to praise the author and that is… not the point of reading fanfic for fun as a form of self-care.

if you like something, sure, you’re more than encouraged to let the author know you appreciate their work (and I say “encouraged” not “forced” or “expected”), but if something is not for you, you can always just exit it and find something else to read without commenting anything on that work that is not for you (unless the author specifically and directly asks for constructive criticism).

[the-s1lly-corner]

Random thing #28

Listen... listen... cuddling with Sebastian. I'm still unsure of how bendy his tail would be but for the sake of fluff let's assume he can indeed coil it up fairly well... he makes a 'nest' of himself for you to curl up in. The odds of hostile entities entering his shop are low... but.. never quite zero. In a wordless way it's almost like a Protection thing just in case...

So so so careful. He hasn't had many chances to interact so closely with people in his... new body... the size and strength difference is insane and he truly does not want to hurt you or rattle your trust in him. He doesn't treat you like glass but you can tell his movements are deliberate and planned with you

Not very warm :( he's always about as warm as the space around him- cold blooded... basically sucks the heat from you. Sometimes he's kind enough to give you his coat to use as a makeshift blanket

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Please god give Eddie Munson a belly for the love of god please give him just a little chubby I cannot with the chiseled abs I need this man to have just a little bit of chub because he snacks occasionally and drinks Bud with uncle Wayne and doesn’t work out because he’s too busy writing bulette encounters. We as a society need to embrace chubby Eddie Munson.