#I had to stop watching endeavour because it made me too crazy.

[terribleoldwhitemen]

endeavour || raga

[with-my-calamitous-love]

WOULD YOU TELL ME TO GO FUCK MYSELF?

bakugou katsuki x reader

part 3/3, part 1, part 2

a month after your breakup, you open the door for katsuki.

reminder that love is not a subsititue for forgiveness. this is simply a work of fiction 🪽

inspired by betty

katsuki (do not answer) : have i told you that enough? that i love you?

katsuki (do not answer): im sorry

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you i love you enough

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you how god damn pretty you are

katsuki (do not answer): for not buying you flowers

katsuki (do not answer): for not treating you how i should have

katsuki (do not answer): i know i messed up

katsuki (do not answer): but i wanna make it right

katsuki (do not answer): you're my whole fucking world

katsuki (do not answer): and i do love you

katsuki (do not answer): so open the door, im outside

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

you stared at the texts. evident by the shadow behind your door, he was indeed standing outside your apartment.

the swirl of emotions in your heart threatened to climb up your throat and spill from your mouth at the thought of seeing his face. you should tell him to fuck off. you should send him crying. you should tell him how shitty he is and how stupid he is to come here seeking your forgiveness. you should be smart about this.

but you’re not.

your shaky hand rests on the doorknob, threatening to twist it and see his face at any given moment. but you hesitate, because of course you do. you’re sweaty and emotional and terrified. your hearts been through too much to go through more. how much more were you willing to endure?

just on the other side, katsuki rested his forehead against the wooden door, as if trying to feel your presence from behind. god, he misses you. he’d do anything just to see your face again. the worst thing he has ever done was what he did to you. and the only thing he wants to do is make it up to you.

he wonders if you’ll have him. if you’ll still want him.

and he isn’t sure what scares him more- your answer or your lack of one.

and just as he’s about to turn away, the door creaks.

he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. it doesn’t matter if your eyes are puffed up and your practically drowning in your hoodie. he is physically incapable of finding you anything less than gorgeous. his eyes are glossy, his hair is tarnished, he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink- because he hasn’t.

you sigh. this was gonna be a long night.

“…hey.” his usual gruff voice was replaced by something more sincere. he hopes you don’t notice how sore his throat is from crying.

you don’t say anything, instead opting to step aside, allowing this cheating, unfaithful bastard into your house. you watch as his crimson eyes take in the familiar surroundings, memories erupting from the beds you previously made. you wonder what he’s been up to in the past few months. it was izuku’s birthday recently- they celebrated by throwing a party. you wonder if maybe he went to that party, if perhaps he drank at that party. but you hoped his last endeavour with the liquid poison scared him away from alcohol entirely.

“is icyhot here?” he asks, cautiously. you scoff. of course thats what he wants to know. “no.” you answer, and he sighs in relief. but you almost wish shouto was here. you two never dated like katsuki and many others thought you were, but you’d be lying if you said the photos you had posted on instagram weren’t a bit suggestive. you knew they’d drive katsuki crazy, and they succeeded in fulfilling that goal.

“are you two…?” he trails off, the answer causing katsuki to have feelings he wasn’t able to confront. when you shake your head no, he decides to leave it at that. as long as its a no, he’s okay without hearing the details.

the two of you wander off to your bedroom. seeing katsuki in it makes it feel complete for the first time in months. you two sit side by side on your bed, just accepting each others existences without anything else to add. theres so many unspoken words, so many tears yet to be shed, yet it was the silence that stung the most.

“i’ve you told you this a million fuckin’ times babe but… i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he says, running a hand through his hair. he’s at an honest loss for words. he’s starting to think coming all this way was a mistake, especially when he sees the way you tear up over his words. god, he hates himself for this.

the worst part about seeing katsuki on your bed again was knowing that just a few months ago, he laid on some other girls bed. he took the sheets of the bed you made together and crumpled them up. he deflated the pillows and burned the headboard to ash the moment he crossed the threshold onto some other person. it broke you inside just thinking about it, thinking of the other person he kissed, he touched, he made love to. it made your stomach churn.

“do you regret it?” you shakily ask. you need to know. you need to know that he’s absolutely drowing in guilt, his heart tortured by the past. he looks at you like the answer should be obvious.

“every single day.” he proclaims. “its why… its why i has to break up with us. you deserve so much better than me, [y/n].”

you had never seen katsuki looking like such a mess. he could barely look you in the eye while making his desperate attempt to atone for his sins. and you agreed- you deserved better than him. you deserve better treatment, better love, and a better boyfriend.

and you wanted to scream at the sky, at the universe. scream at them, ask them why that person couldn’t be katsuki bakugou? it was god’s cruelest joke to make you fall in love with a bastard like him.

you look over at him. god, you wanna kiss him, touch him again. feel your bodies pressed against each other, lips on lips while his tongue explores the cavern your words erupt from. that warm, area of limbo between your lips when he ever so slightly pulls away, letting you remove his shirt over his head. you wanna hold him, skin against skin, you wanna love him.

even if it meant tasting that other girl on his lips. if you were being honest, you wanted to kiss that taste away for him.

but you couldn’t bring yourself too. not after the way your heart screamed for salvation, for milk and honey, to be loved without having to give the moon in return.

“i don’t forgive you.” you finally muster out. both of you let out a sigh, yours in relief and bakugou’s from anticipation. he knew that would be your answer, but he let himself believe otherwise.

“i know.” he says, shakily looking down, ash blonde locks hanging low. it was so, so fucking funny- what was he expecting anyway? your forgiveness?

“and. i still love you.” you cry.

“i don’t forgive you. not after what you did. i-i… i can still love you without having to forgive you right now.” your conclusion is what hurts him the most, though you both know its whats gonna have to work. you can still love him, because your heart is so utterly his, and still hate him for how he hurt you.

and for katsuki, hearing that you love him, despite everything he’s put you through, is somehow better than forgiveness.

though he is utterly flabbergasted by your words.

how you still love him is a mystery to both of you. he never wants to taste anyone else on his lips other than you. you’re the name on his lips, the chapstick he keeps in his pocket, the hoodies he puts on his pillow and the person who taught him how important heartbreak can be. he’s fucked up, and he may be the biggest fuck-up in all of japan, but this fuck-up just learned how much he loves you.

he bites his lip, not even daring to ruin the moment. he’s not sure if he’s supposed to stay or go. where does he even begin making this up to you?

but he knows what he has to say first.

“i love you too, babe.”

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

tags! 🪽

@sleepieenaps @suki0 @blue-chup @cookielovesbook-akie @ruu-https @sleepyk0dyz @poemzcheng @suksatoru @naladrawssss @theclassiccherry @sikuthealien

[slasherhaven]

I would be in your dept forever if you wrote something with Brahms and Reader with a size kink 😱 Like a non-established relationship were he first reveals himself and notoces how shes blushing and gets quiet all of sudden when he towers over her because of his height 👀 and maybe.. Something happens between them? Totally up to you! If youre not comfortable writing this its totally ok! I love your work

Brahms Heelshire revealing himself to his Future S/O for the first time, discovering they have a size kink (some NSFW):

You had been the Nanny of Brahms for a little while now, caring for the doll as if it were a real child. At first it was an act, it was just a doll after all, something to keep yourself in a routine. But then it started to show...interesting characteristics.

It would move on it's own and leave little notes for you. At first you thought you were going crazy but you also knew that everything you were experiencing was real but also impossible, right? Something about this doll, or maybe even the house, was alive but it didn't seem to wish you harm. It was benign. So, you didn't fear it, it was just little Brahms after all.

Time passed and this became your norm, until Brahms must have decided you were the right person for the job. You received another note one morning, left on your dresser for you to find. It asked if you wanted to see him, to truly meet him.

At first you were unsure of how to react, but went to 'wake up' the Brahms doll. Eventually you answered him, telling him you did want to meet him.

Honestly, what you expected to be confronted with was a ghost of a child. You prepared yourself to be a little freaked out but calmed yourself with the reminder that it was just Brahms, harmless.

After responding, you heard movement downstairs. Something sounding like a door opening and closing. Assuming that was where the spirit preferred to reveal itself, you hurried down to the living room, far more shocked by what waited for you than if it were a young spirit.

Stood in the lounge was a tall man, dressed in loose pants, a white vest, and a cardigan. Though, the most eye-catching part of his appearance was the porcelain mask he wore, reminding you of the Brahms doll.

The man spoke your name in a familiar childlike voice you had heard from time to time, he then repeated in a more adult voice, his real voice. He was trying to put you at ease, tell you who he was, before revealing the truth.

"Brahms?" you didn't really need to ask, you knew it in your gut. "I thought..." you cut yourself off, knowing it was pointless, it didn't matter what you thought because you knew the truth now. It was obvious to you that he had been causing all the strange things happening in the house. And the list of strict rules now made so much more sense.

You attempted to gather your thoughts, processing this new information. Brahms hadn't died, he was very much alive and now an adult. And he was standing right in front of you. In shock, you had stumbled backwards, back hitting the wall behind you and you lent against it for support.

For a moment, Brahms didn't move, just watching you, waiting for a reaction. Would you run? Scream? Were you afraid of him?

You took some time to take in his appearance before smiling softly. This was your Brahms...so, he was harmless, right?

Noticing your smile and taking it as a form of acceptance, Brahms decided to move closer. As he approached you, his height became much more noticeable. He was obviously tall, over six foot, but the height difference between the two of you only became more intense as he grew closer.

Soon he was standing about a foot in front of you and you couldn't help your reaction, heat rising up your neck and over your cheeks as you turned your face away from him. Embarrassed by your reaction.

He was...attractive, you could tell even when he wore the mask. And he was so tall, something you had always been very attracted too, it always made you flustered, made you warm.

Brahms stared down at you, curious about your reaction. It wasn't fear, you were blushing...

You would barely look at him, only flushing more when you did. You didn't say anything, but when you tried, you stumbled over your words.

Slowly, Brahms began to piece some things together. You were...attracted to him? He could recognise some similarities in his own behaviour whenever he was aroused, his eyes widened slightly when he realised you must have been feeling the same sensation. It excited him. It thrilled him.

He moved closer, closing the space between you, making you even more flustered, but this time you looked up at him. Your lips parted, eyes slightly wide, just watching him, but not wanting to be further away from him.

Brahms lent down slightly, the nose of his porcelain mask brushing along your hairline. He could hear your heart beating against your ribcage, and how your breath hitched.

He said your name again, low and raspy, and it sent a shiver through your body. This was certainly not how you thought your day would go, but you felt a thrill from what your new role here could be.

"Brahms" you gasped quietly as his hands found your hips, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He didn't seem to have an understanding of boundaries, he wanted to be near you, so he would be.

Your hands instinctually rested against his chest, but still made no effort to push him away. You had to crane your neck back to look up at his masked face, seeing the dark eyes of the man beneath it. His pupils blown wide.

Another gasp left your lips when you felt something prod against your stomach, knowing what it was without needing to look down. It made your face even warmer.

He rocked his hips against you, groaning behind his mask. The groan was low, desperate, and it rumbled in his chest. Your fingers curled, clutching his vest in your hands, as your thighs clenched together in search for friction.

Brahms seemed to notice your own arousal growing. He was overwhelmed, he had hoped you would be the one to accept him, to continue to care for him and love him even after finding out the truth, but he never expected you to accept him like this, not so soon. He could barely contain himself.

You didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Only minutes ago you had convinced yourself a ghost was responsible for strange happenings around the house, only minutes ago you had discovered the truth, and now Brahms had you pinned against a wall, grinding against your stomach almost shamelessly.

He lowered the mouth of his mask to your ear, leaving you able to hear his ragged breaths. Just as you thought this was a selfish endeavour on his part, you felt his knee wiggle itself between your thighs. Your own moan surprised you as he pressed up against your core.

The pressure was exactly was you needed and you allowed your body to slump against him, your head dropping against his chest as he gripped you harder and closer. Something about his behaviour and eagerness told you that this was something he had wanted and thought about for a long time.

It was then when you came to your senses, at least a little but. You pulled your head away from his chest and pressed further back against the wall, hands pushing against his chest.

"Brahms, stop" you demanded breathlessly, unable to deny your hesitance in halting the activities.

He was dirty. Dust caught in his clothes and hair, sweat sticking to his skin. Even with you mind being muddled by the man, you had figured he had been living and moving around in the walls. It wasn't a surprise he was so...grimy.

He whined but obeyed your orders, at least you knew he would listen to you, even if he was looking down at you, confused and needy.

"You need a shower" you informed him.

Brahms relaxed slightly, you weren't rejecting him, you were caring for him. That was something.

"With you" he spoke lowly, staring you in the eyes as he made his request.

His words surprised you and the pleased groan at you made embarrassed your further.

"Sure, Brahms...with me" you nodded.

With that, the tall man took a step back but still stood within your personal space, taking his hands off of you. You attempted to quickly compose yourself before holding your hand out to him, giving him a shy smile.

He seemed to meet you with a certain suspicion this time, but took your hand in his much larger one without hesitation. Letting you guide him through the house and up to one of the bathrooms.

This was your Brahms, though different to what you had expected. You cared for him, had developed a certain love for him, and just something about him aroused something within you. Similarly, Brahms had grown attached and infatuated with you, his mind running wild with the possibility of fantasies becoming reality. They already were...

[novamirmirsblog]

Favourite crime pt 2

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 2936

Genre: angsty fluff? or fluffy angst 👀

Request: yes

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, slight coercion into sex (it doesn't happen tho)

Part 1 is here

A/n: The long awaited part two is officially here. I had lots of people who wanted the reader to move on, people who wanted them to get back together and people who wanted both. Thank you everyone for your INDECISIVENESS (kidding. ily). Also Emma was a randomly generated name - I'm sorry :3

Did I write this fic instead of sleeping? Yes. I have no regrets.

It had been a year since you moved back home. The seasons had come and gone and with that, so had your thoughts of Natasha. The same could not be said for the assassin. She had spent a blissful 3 months with Bruce before he had dropped off the face of the Earth and she was missing you. By the 5th month, she had stopped moping about and tried to find you. She searched everywhere but your town was large and unfamiliar and you didn’t want to be found.

Natasha both regretted what she had said and didn't. She regretted it because she realised just how much she adored you once she saw all the areas Bruce fell short in. You knew her better than she sometimes knew herself. You knew when to back off and when to put pressure on. You knew when she needed control and when you needed to take control. You knew when she wanted ice cream or when she wanted brownies. Bruce didn't. However, a part of her didn't regret those nasty things she said because she really didn't deserve you. You were everything she wasn’t, and she didn't know how to measure up to you.

She never voiced these concerns and so they festered and grew until she believed the only way out was to cheat. She knew that was the only thing that could drive you away. Natasha had told you all about her past, how she believed the Red Room had stripped her of her humanity – of her choice whether to become a mother. She knew there were other ways to have children - of course there were, but she hated the fact they had taken that option from her.

You were not like Natasha. You voiced your concerns which is why she knew exactly what to say and do to get you to hate her. Your previous boyfriend had cheated on you with your once best friend. You had watched as your father cheated on your mother and how that made her a hollow shell for a while, her never understanding why the man she loved could hurt her in that way. Supposedly, everyone models their future relationships on what their parents’ relationship looked like. Perhaps that’s why you kept choosing the cheaters. You were content with where you were. You had a forest, a busy town, and a beach all within a 15-mile radius of your house. You were far enough from civilisation that you could forget about reality for a while but close enough to occasionally dip back in whenever you wanted to.

You had kept in contact with Tony and Pepper, congratulating them on the arrival of Morgan and insisting that they should visit. You also continued to occasionally talk to Wanda when Carol was off world. Carol was overjoyed when she found out you had started dating someone new.

You had met Emma when you were taking a dip back into reality at the local supermarket. Her blonde hair vaguely reminded you of a woman you used to know, and you guessed that’s why you felt drawn to her. It wasn’t the electrical crackle that stole your breath away like your first meeting with Natasha, but it was something. Emma could occasionally be a little controlling, but you guessed that’s what normal relationships were like. She didn’t like you going to bars or pubs anymore and you certainly weren’t allowed in any clubs. You didn’t mind it too much as you hardly minded giving up a few nights out if it meant you could have something that resembled normalcy.

“Who’s that?” Emma asked, your face illuminated from your phone as the ding rang out.

“A friend. He’s bringing his wife and new baby over tomorrow and was reminding me to baby-proof the house.” You smiled lightly as you texted Tony back. You hadn’t mentioned to Emma that you were an ex-avenger, but it just kept slipping your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? Where will he be staying?”

“I just forgot. Sorry. He’ll be staying here.”

“But you only have a single bed.”

“Yeah. I was planning to sleep on that and Tony, Pepper and the baby can stay in my room.”

“You mean our room.”

You said nothing, too engrossed in arguing with Tony about how under no circumstances will there be any celery in your house. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Our room, right Y/n?”

“Um yeah.” You wave her off was apparently your second mistake, but you didn’t multi-task too well and so half answers were all you were good for while texting.

“I have been your girlfriend for 3 months Y/n. The least you could do is answer me properly and tell me what’s going on in your life.” She huffed, pushing your feet from her lap, and turning to face away from you, all of which you missed. You really weren’t having that evil green vegetable in your house.

“Seriously, what is even so important that you’re ignoring me right now!” Emma’s voice cut through the fog, and you looked at her with a blank expression. It was times like these that you really missed Na- No. You refused to go there. You didn’t miss her. You were over her.

“No celery.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “You seriously don’t see what’s wrong, do you?”

“No.” You tilted your head, confused at what your girlfriend was talking about.

“Well, I’m not just going to tell you! Jesus. You should know. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emma stood up in a huff, making a lot of noise while getting ready to leave.

“Okay – bye” Your attention was bought back to the phone when Tony sent you a cute video of Morgan crawling about, probably as a bribe to get you to buy celery. You stood, watching the video a few times before you shut off your phone, finally getting around to babyproofing your house.

~~~~~

Babyproofing a house was a lot more work than you originally thought. You had spent most the night picking sharp objects up from baby-height areas and making sure you hadn’t left any weapons about. All the guns taped under tables had to be relocated and you found enough change to set you up for retirement. You just hoped and prayed there were no small beads for Morgan to choke on. You didn’t even get around to putting soft corners on the edges of tables and counter tops, but you told yourself that it was survival of the fittest at that point. The whole endeavour had taken most the night which is how you found yourself with only an hour till Tony, Pepper and Morgan arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and you saw that you were 15 minutes late. Luckily your girlfriend had arrived half an hour before so you figured she could let them in. You shouted down, telling her to get the door as you finished putting on your socks.

“Hiya baby!” You cooed at Morgan babbling in Pepper’s arms, watching as her chubby hands reached for your hair, grabbing on with a crazy amount of strength. “Oh my god you’re strong. Pep, are you sure she’s Tony’s? I’m pretty sure she’s as strong as Thor.” You laughed, looking over at Tony. Your face dropped into careful neutrality as you saw the redhead standing behind him.

“Of course she’s mine doofus. We had multiple paternity tests.” Tony winked.

You didn’t know what to do. You weren’t ready. Your throat went dry as you asked if anyone wanted any drinks, your girlfriend waving them into the living room. You prepared the drinks, and you felt a presence behind you, wrapping their arms around your waist, their head resting on your back. You hated it. You felt suffocated. You took a breath and handed half the drinks to Emma, opting to grab a wine glass and fill it with the wine you had been saving for a special occasion. It might not have been a special occasion, but you needed something strong to get though the next few hours and you knew this would do the job.

You made your way back into the living room and Tony gestured to Emma “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I’m Emma.”

“Tony. This is Pepper, Morgan and Natasha.” Your heart dropped at the mention of her name, realising that she wasn’t some cruel hallucination but was in fact standing in your living room.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce you all.” You smiled and took another large swig from your glass.

“Hey how come you’re the only one with alcohol?”

“Because you’re a parent now.” You rolled your eyes at Tony, feeling Natasha stare holes into your face.

“So I need it even more!” Pepper hit Tony as he said that, causing Morgan to laugh.

“Don’t worry about Y/n getting drunk, she can handle her alcohol pretty well.”

“We know.” Natasha finally spoke. Her voice bought back floods of memories and you realised you missed her voice – just the tiniest amount. “Who exactly are you to Y/n?” To anyone else, the question was flippant, like asking about the weather but you, Tony and Pepper could all hear the carefully laced venom within her words and while the question sounded like it was aimed at your girlfriend, you could tell she was speaking to you.

“Where’s Bruce this fine day?” You shot back, not letting Emma speak.

“My question first.” Natasha finally turned her gaze to focus on you.

“Why are you here?” You felt Emma’s arm slither possessively around your waist. Perhaps if it had been another day, you would have appreciated it but right now, you felt like you were drowning. She held you too tight, you couldn’t move.

“Ah.” Natasha wore a smug look on her face and yet her eyes flashed with hurt. You hated that she had found out information you weren’t willing to give.

“Why are you here Agent Romanoff.” You wanted- no needed her to answer you. You needed to know why she came to you. Then you looked at Tony. “Why would you bring her here?” Your voice was level, Morgan was pulling at your leg to get you to pick her up. You used that as an excuse to escape your girlfriend’s grip.

“We need you back.”

“So you bring your baby to try and bribe me back?” You ran a hand through your hair, lightly bouncing Morgan. “That I can understand but why bring her?” You waved at Natasha, feeling both her and Emma’s eyes bore into you.

“She’s part of the team too and you both need to get on.” Pepper said.

“You were in on this too?” Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t breathe properly.

“I’m sorry but who exactly are you?” Emma asked. Natasha scoffed at her, folding her arms, and rolling her eyes.

Everything was a little too loud and muffled. It felt as if you were underwater. The sun was too bright, and it made everything a little too hard to look at. You could see your furniture, but it wouldn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to fully register it. You placed Morgan on the sofa and took a deep breath, closing your eyes to focus. When you opened them again you looked straight at Natasha.

“I am not going to play nice with you. You broke me and now that I’m moving on you suddenly decide to show up? No. I don’t believe it. Why can’t you just let me be happy? Leave me alone. Besides, I thought I was a ‘fun little distraction’.” You spat at Natasha. You were tired of being the bigger person. She had hurt you and you wanted to watch her bleed. It’s why you leant over and kissed Emma harshly, why you let out a slight moan so Natasha could hear. It didn’t matter that it was completely fake because even though you knew you should feel satisfaction at Natasha’s hurt face, the twinge of sadness upset you more than you would have liked.

Natasha knew the kiss was forced. She knew it was, but it didn’t stop the knife digging deeper into her heart. You had moved on and she had to respect that. She had said some awful things to you, and you really did deserve someone much better than her. You stormed out of the house, saying that you were going for a walk, leaving your girlfriend to entertain your guests.

~~~~~

It was dark by the time you got back. You saw Natasha on the sofa and ignored her as you walked straight to the guest bedroom. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep this horrible day into the past but unfortunately for you, you had a girlfriend sitting on the bed.

“This bed isn’t big enough for-” Emma cut you off with a rough kiss. “Emma not now-”

“Yes now. I want to remind your ex what she’s missing.” Emma went back to kissing you and you wanted to cry. You didn’t like her possessiveness, didn’t like her jealousy. With Natasha that had been fun but with Emma, it made you feel afraid.

“Emma seriously.” You grabbed her wrist, not letting her reach into your underwear.

Emma huffed and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m really tired. Can’t we just sleep?”

“It’s your ex, isn’t it? Why is she even here? I can’t believe you were going to just let her stay here and not tell me!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” You were both stage whispering, conscious of the fact there was a baby that most likely didn’t sleep all that often.

“Then kick her out!”

You said nothing. You couldn’t just kick her out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Oh my god you still love her. You still love her and she’s in love with someone else. Or she was. Ha.” Emma let out a bark of laughter. “That’s so fucking rich. You know what, crawl back to her but don’t come crying to me when she fucks you over again do you hear me?”

“Emma that’s not- I don’t love her anymore. I hate her. She ruined my life.”

“You truly hate her?” You nodded at her. “Supposedly, you can only truly hate someone if you loved them first. We’re done Y/n”

“Seriously?! What? Because I used to love Natasha? Because I don’t want to have sex with you? Grow up Emma. I’ve loved people before you and at this rate, I’ll love people after you too. I’m tired. I don’t have to have sex with you. You can’t make me.”

“I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to want to have sex with me!”

“Well not when I’ve had a long ass day!”

“Guys, I think you might wake Morgan.” You winced a little at the addition of Natasha. You knew this was going to end badly.

“This is my fucking house!” Emma said, not lowering her tone.

“Actually, it’s Y/n’s.” Natasha calmly stated. She really wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Your girl- sorry- ex-girlfriend, fumed next to you. “You know what? Have her. She’s so screwed over from whatever you pulled that I don’t think she can love anyone ever again anyway.” Emma seethed, grabbing her shoes, and slamming the door on the way out. The sound of baby Morgan crying echoed through the house.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran your hand over your face, the exhaustion of the whole day catching up with you.

“No, it’s not. I betrayed your trust over the one thing I knew you couldn’t tolerate. I knew how hurtful cheating is to you and I did it anyway. I know it’s not an excuse, but I guess I just felt like you deserved someone more than me. Someone better.”

You said nothing. You were so so tired. You missed her and it ached, but you couldn’t forget what she had done. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I know but please let me try again. Bruce wasn’t worth it. He only made me realise how much I love you.” Tears were filling up Natasha’s beautiful eyes and you could see just how tired she looked.

“I missed you.” You whispered out, not wanting to break whatever was being formed

“I missed you too. So so much.”

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, but…you can have one more chance Natasha. That’s it. You get one chance at my forgiveness.”

“Okay!” Natasha sniffled slightly “I promise I won’t mess this up.”

“I’m serious Natasha. One chance. I don’t play baseball. There are no three strikes.”

Natasha gingerly reached up to cup your face. “I won’t waste this.”

“Good because I never really stopped loving you and I’d hate to be a simp.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that dove.” Natasha let out a watery laugh.

“Excuse me?” You let out a fake gasp and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you a secret.” Natasha ushered you to lean closer and you did, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “I’ve been whipped for you for as long as I can remember.”

You were looking forward to all the ways Natasha was going to make it up to you and hopefully, you’d get to give Bruce a good punch too. You both knew it was going to be a long road ahead but you both felt a little more ready for what lies next.

[ac3id]

Puppy Girl | 18+

pairings: dabi [ touya todoroki ] x female! reader. 

summary: dabi takes his puppy whore for a walk. 

warnings: pet play, public, humiliation, dubcon, sex toys. 

wordcount: 1.8k |

navigation

It was starting to become a recurring event. He had promised you it would be a one-time thing but lately, he was pulling you to the park naked with him every other week.

 It was a simple bargain the first time. You listen to him and indulge in his deranged, lewd fantasies and he lets you live without a dog collar attached to your neck for a week. 

You were hesitant but the thought of being able to live as a decent human being with at least a small amount of respect even if it was just for a week; was tempting. 

Soon it became a currency. Months after months you’d spend your one day with him, totally humiliated and degraded just for the rest of the week to go by a little easy, and every time he would push your limits even further.

The very first time he took you outside with a leash attached to the collar around your neck was appalling. You were terrified, there was no speck of arousal within you. Dabi had guaranteed you’d find it hot, you just didn’t know before because you had never tried it. But honestly, showcasing your sexual adventures to the world was surely not your kink. It was his kink though, and you didn’t have a choice.

You and Dabi didn’t have the most organic relationship, if it weren’t for the fact that he had brought you to his home with a blindfold and zip lockers around your wrists, you could have at least tried to talk to him about this. You were just his pet. His cute, little, stupid puppy, too dumb to think for herself. No wonder you got caught by him. 

After the Hero-dominated society fell and Shigaraki took over, Dabi was quick to find you and take you away as his little captive. It made many headlines; Previously a brave Hero, now a slave to the evil Dabi.

You never read them though, he wouldn’t allow you any communication with the outside world. It was just the two of you. 

“Da-Touya please, I don’t want to go out like this,” he insisted you’d call him Touya, it was a beautiful name- his real name. It still shocked you, Dabi was the first son of Endeavour. The universe sure had its ways. 

“What’s wrong doll? You look pretty,” his slender fingers caressed your face. He was admiring your form; naked beside the pretty bondage belts wrapping your body, the nipple clamps pinching your hardened buds, the vibrator pushed deep within your cunt, vibrating at such a painfully dull pace, and the pretty tail butt plug buried deep in your asshole.

 With a pair of dog ears fitted over your head along with black thigh-highs decorating your legs, you looked perfect to him; ready to fuck, he dolled up his fucktoy beautifully.

“I don’t want to walk out like this,” you whined. He told you he was going to take his dog out of a walk earlier that day, stupid for you to expect it would be an actual dog.

“You don’t get to decide that, puppy,” he whispers, his nose touching yours his hands pet your head as you are an actual dog.

 “Just be good for me, like a good girl,” his voice drops, his tone gets deeper and serious. “Or do you want to get punished? I’ll send you to the timeout room,”

You freeze at the mention, you still remember the day as clear as yesterday. You were acting up, getting moody, and crying. Pushing him away and screaming at him, Dabi had the patience for a while, and then, later as punishment he let a nomu twice your size fuck you, destroy you. It was still fresh in your memories.

 “No, please-”

“Good girl.” he praises, kissing your lips lightly before tugging on your leash. He looks back at you one last time, watching your feet wobble as you try to walk with both your holes tightly stuffed. It was cute, he liked watching you suffer.

 His eyes roamed your figure, stopping at your thighs. He could never understand why but those stockings which you wore got him going.

 Shigaraki had suggested he should put those on you, he was reluctant at first knowing that his boss is far worse than him but in the end, he took the advice. And, God, he does not regret it. 

“C’mon cutie, walk faster.” he tugged on your leash again and you almost fell over, the vibe hitting a deep spot within you. You cry, drool escaping past your lips. “At this rate, we’ll reach the park after sunrise. Do you want everyone to see you like this?” 

It was currently 3 A.M. Too early or late for anyone to be outside their houses, it was the perfect time for Dabi to his whore out for a walk.

 “We are going to be walking?” you ask in shock, you were sure you wouldn’t be able to make till there without blacking out. “Yes, we are puppy.” he hummed and with a smirk, he pulled on your leash again. 

The walk to the park wasn’t long, barely five minutes but since you were dressed like a slut- no. Not even a whore would let a man do this to her, even a whore would have more dignity than you. You stumbled, the vibrations turning extreme as Dabi messed with the controller. 

“Keep walking,” he commanded.

 “If you fall, I'm not letting you up. You’ll have to walk on all fours like the bitch you are,” Rude remarks from Dabi were nothing uncommon, he lived to degrade you but what haunted you was the way he said them.

 He did not hide how he felt, his face displaying his exact expression. He was always smirking or smiling while talking down to you, he thought it was funny. The ever-persistent smirk still lasted on his face as he watched you try your best not to fall with the vibe fucking your cunt unforgivingly. 

You follow behind him, your thighs pressed together trying to ride out the overwhelming pleasure. Dabi hums the tune of some familiar song that you can’t figure out in your current state. 

Your clench around the butt plug, the stretch still burning in your rear. Moans and whimpers fill the silent night as you lose yourself, the air is warm. It’s summer still, everything around you is silent and dark.

“You might want to keep your voice down.” Dabi starts, his eyes scan a bench. He’s thinking of fucking you on it. Despite the countless times both of you have gone out like this, Dabi has asked for nothing more than a blowjob. But today, he is feeling brave, and besides, your moaning, whimpering, and those cuteass ears and tail have got him going. 

“What if someone sees you here like this, do you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are? Walking around naked at a park like this, do you want them to know you have no shame?” 

Instead of answering you cry. You cry while cumming, the overwhelming pressure which kept building in your abdomen finally bursting. Dabi looks back at you, disappointment was written all over his face. He watches your juices drip down your thighs as you lewdly moan. He clicks his tongue,

“Didn’t I tell you something about cumming without my permission?” He did, a long time ago. You don’t even remember, “‘m sorry,” you cry in a small voice. He glares at you, his blue eyes dancing with furious flames. 

You feel small under his stare, “That’s no good.” He growls 

In a swift motion, he pulls your leash, dragging you next to him. He pushes you on the bench, your naked body hits the slightly cooler seat making you shiver. Dabi feels his jeans tighten when he watches you fall on the bench, displaying your pretty ass to him. Your cute, little tail sticks out between your ass making him groan. 

You turn your head around to Dabi and see him staring at your ass. Taking this as your chance you quickly apologize. 

“I’m so sorry, Touya. I didn- Ah” you get cut off with a slap to your ass. “Dogs don’t talk. Bark for me,” 

Your eyes widened in shock and fear, was he serious? By the look of his face, you could tell he was joking, but there was no way you were actually going to bark for him. Another slap falls behind you shutting you up. 

“Bark.” His voice dark, filled with authority and dominance does make you feel like his little. A tingle of pleasure travels down your spine and in a weak, timid voice you start barking for him. Your cries are quiet and soft, you don’t want to be heard by anyone and the last shreds of your dignity don’t let you raise your voice any higher. 

“What’s that? Are you a puppy? Quit barking like a girl,” Dabi scoffs at his own joke. 

You feel the buzz come back, the vibration which had paused singing back to life. You squirm on the desk, the position you stayed propped against the wooden seat uncomfortable. 

Dabi picks you up and places you on his lap, his lips pressing against your neck leaving butterfly kisses and his hands wrapped around your waist he makes you sit through your second orgasm. 

“These look needy,” his finger inches towards your hardened nipples clamped between the metal. They stand stiff and ready to be played with. He rubs over the buds causing you to moan out loud. Dabi chuckles. 

“Keep barking, baby. You’re a greedy, little puppy with an even greedier, little cunt.” He chuckles in your ear before lightly biting your earlobe. 

You feel yourself reaching closer, the vibe resting tightly clenched between your velvety walls brings you towards your edge. 

“You close, baby?” he pets over your head while his hand travels down your navel. He cups your pussy, his fingers playing with your slit. 

“Woof.”

He laughs, he is not oblivious to the fact about how pathetic this makes both of you look but he 

can’t help it. 

It makes his dick hard. 

His fingers graze along your dripping cunt before settling on your stiff, little pearl. He flicks your cute clit and you cry. Your insides clenching and your mind going crazy, Dabi keeps rubbing onto your clit until you cum.

You let out a loud moan as you feel slick running down your legs. The pressure finally bursts and you see heaven. Dabi still holds you close to him, wrapping his arms around you dearly. 

“That’s the second time you’ve disobeyed me, puppy?” he rasps in your ear and you freeze. The state of ecstasy that you had found yourself in, finally fading away. You open your mouth to speak but Dabi shuts you up by shoving his fingers into your mouth. 

“You’re being a little bratty these days, it’s time we let you in ‘timeout’, right?” 

Your face pales and stomach. 

You cry for forgiveness hoping Dabi would reconsider but we all know, he doesn’t give second chances. 

[tsunderecookies]

Horny HC

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader, Midoriya x Reader, Todoroki x Reader, Shinso x Reader, Hawks x Reader

Warnings: nsfw subjects, choking, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, language as vulgar as my mind, degrading, daddy kink.

A/N: Count on me to make my first ever post spicy. All characters mentioned in this are aged up to 21+. I hope y'all enjoy reading this. (Also i made these headers myself - not the chibis - so sorry if they shit, I tried :)))

Requests are open. Please send lol, imma run out of ideas.

So for my first set of hc I took the 5 heroes I had the most ideas for but I’ll definitely do hc’s for the rest as well. Also i love the villians so lmk if you guys want me to do a part 2 of this for them or any of the other heroes!

This man

This.Man.

He's gonna blow your back out. No cap.

I mean you see the way he treats his friends, you can't tell me he won't be daddy in bed.

Speaking of Daddy. Authority kink. It's either Sir, Daddy or Master. Katsuki has left the chat.

Bakugou is in charge, and you sure as fuck better know it. If not, he won't hesitate to remind you, teaching you a lesson you won't forget anytime soon.

100% brat tamer.

Bakugou loves putting you back in your place when you step out of line. He lives for the sound of your pleas and apologies as he reminds you of where you belong; on your knees right in front of him. ( that sounded so sexist pls don't come for me )

Punishments come in the form of spanking and edging for hours on end. He's not scared to manhandle you.

You gasp at the harsh feeling of your back slamming against the wall, the feeling of Bakugous hand slipping around your throat sending a wave of arousal straight to your core.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said make me.... Daddy." A cheeky smile makes it onto your face as you repeat your words, but just as fast as it appeared it vanishes at the feeling of his hand tightening around your throat.

" Oh princess, you never learn do you?"

His favorite positions includes him hitting it from the back - he loves how he can just push your head into the mattress or lean his chest against your back to whisper dirty things in your ear. Not to mention the fact that he can grab your hair and pull your back flush against his chest as he tilts your head back so you can look at him while he rails you- and missionary with both your legs over his shoulders. He loves seeing the facial expressions you make while he presses his hand down onto your throat, his cock hitting places inside you you didn't know existed.

Definitely not afraid of quickies. He loves the adventure and danger that comes with the possibility of anyone being able to walk in on you at any possible moment.

Dirty talk: on fucking point.

" You like that baby? Yeah? You like it when daddy fucks you hard like this hmm? Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you like daddy pounding into you like this."

You know that kinda whiney type dirty talk tone? Like where their words are kinda dragged out and kinda high pitched? Yes. Yes.

Absolutely fucking loves when you can't speak. He loves how your words can barely slip out in between your moans and gasps, how absolutely dumb you are for his cock.

100% degrader.

Change my mind. You can't.

"That's right baby, yes - fuck. Take that cock. Take that fat cock like the slut you are."

"You like that you whore? You like it when daddy tells you how slutty you look all needy for his cock?"

This man is not afraid to mark you up. Good luck covering up those hickeys the next morning because its impossible. He wants everyone to know you belong to him, and you can bet your pretty ass that he has a shit eating grin on his face when someone notices them.

You can bet he has a shit eating grin on his face later when you try to confront him about it. He’ll also have some smart ass remark.

I can definitely see Bakugo having angry post argument sex. By the time he tosses you onto bed and crawls onto you the cause of the argument is long forgotten, the only thing going through his mind being how he's going to fuck the attitude out of you.

Absolutely loves it if you're loud. He wants everyone to know he's the one making you feel that good and that he's the only one who could make you scream like that.

" That's right princess, let the whole fucking city know who's making you feel this good!"

Definitely gonna have a ton of noise complaints, especially from your roommates if you have any. ( idk why but i picture katsuki sharing an apartment w kiri, sero and denki )

Bakugo isn't really a moan typpa guy, but god he will draw out the sexiest and unholiest groans and growls from the back of his throat.

I also feel like he's the type of guy that guides you through giving him head, telling you exactly how to suck his cock before he just grabs a fist full of your hair and ends up fucking your face.

We all know Bakugou is an overachiever, and this reflects during sex. He wants to make you cum as many times as possible using his tongue and fingers before he sticks his dick in you.

He isn't as romantic as Shoto with aftercare but he definitely takes care of you. He makes sure to go pee as well as make you go before turning on the shower for you both, adjusting the temperature to your liking.

He loves washing your hair for you in hopes that you'd do the same for him. He secretly loves the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp but would never admit it.

He's not super lovey dovey after, but he makes sure to let you know that you're appreciated.

"Love you, dumbass."

"Love you too, Katsuki."

All in all, you're in for a good dicking down.

I feel like this boy pours so much passion into it.

Especially with his history with his parents. The lack of love during his childhood definitely shows during moments like these.

With him it's always making love, its never just fucking. Sex to him isn't just an activity to get off or procreate ( cough Endeavour cough) its a show of both your love for each other, a moment for your bodies to become one.

Your pleasure definitely comes first to him. He would want to get you off at least a couple of times before even thinking of himself.

Shoto also struggles with expressing his emotions so this is a way for him to show you how he feels physically rather that having to convey it verbally.

He's all about the physical contact.

He definitely holds your hands during and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

His favourite position is missionary. He loves the closeness, how he can look into your eyes and feel your shaky breathing while he moves inside you.

It's either that or you on top with him sitting upright with your bodies pressed together. He loves how close he can hold you. His one hand intertwining with your hair as he presses your head closer to his, the other around your back, occasionally moving down to you hip to help you grind down onto him.

Loves the feeling of your chest against his as he slowly moves between your hips, head resting against your shoulder as his hot breath fans over your skin.

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you so much angel, you're so beautiful like this."

He's also the type to light candles and have rose petals everywhere on special occasions.

But just because he makes love to you, doesn't mean he can't rearrange your insides while doing so.

Just hot, sweaty, nasty, rough sex.

But with love <3

Even during the rougher moments he makes sure to show you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.

He'd have his hand all tangled in your hair, some of the unholiest noises leaving his throat as he takes you from behind. His eyes not leaving yours in the mirror placed in front of you.

"Fuck. You feel so good baby - just like that, yeah - look at me princess."

He's very observant. He takes note of the things the drive you crazy so he can work your body even better next time.

Because sex is something more intimate for him I don't think he'd be into sex in public/semi public areas.

He doesn't want anyone else to see the gorgeous expressions on your face while you're at your most vulnerable, or the heavenly sounds that leave your soft lips for him.

I wouldn't go as far as to say he's possessive, but this is definitely something he views as for his eyes only.

He’s not a very big fan of quickies for the simple fact that he likes to take his time with your body and give you as much pleasure as possible rather than just get you both off. He’d much rather prefer waiting for you both to get home and properly take care of you.

Shoto isn't really vocal in bed, but his pleasure will still be conveyed through his shaky intake off breath and the ways his face scrunches up when you clench around him.

He definitely marks you.

Loves marking you as his on your most delicate and intimate parts, painting your chest and inner thighs as his.

He loves trailing his hand over them, rubbing soft circles on the hickeys with his thumb. To him this is proof of the beautiful moment you guys spent together.

The most passionate sex that you both have would definitely be when shoto comes back from a long business trip, his hand could never compare to your body. He definitely plans on making up for lost time, keeping you in his sheets for as long as possible.

And can i just say

The aftercare

Top tier.

He definitely runs you both a hot bath afterwards.

Candles, bubble bath and your favourite bath bomb. The works.

Definitely wants to carry you but won't do so if you feel uncomfortable about it.

He slips in behind you so you're sat between his thighs, his one hand interlacing with yours while the other softly caresses your stomach.

Sets up a little cuddle corner next to the fireplace so you guys can enjoy a movie before falling asleep in each others arms.

Sweet baby boi.

One word: shy.

Izuku knows what sex is and what happens during this intimate act. He’s also watched porn a couple of times so he knows the basics behind it.

But that doesn’t stop him from shape shifting into a fucking tomato every time you start undressing in front of him.

When you both first started becoming intimate you definitely had to make all the first moves and initiate it all because he was too shy and nervous to do it himself.

Even if he was horny as can be and needed you more than anything he’d rather suffer in silence than tell you or ask you to help him out.

He’s definitely not afraid to ask you how to work your body right. Deku knows that not everyone's bodies work the same and that what might have felt good for someone else won’t exactly work for you. So he asks. He asks you how to work your body right and he’ll keep this in mind for future reference.

He marks you but not as much as the others. He’ll litter them on more intimate places both because he doesn’t want to embarrass or inconvenience you and because he’s the only other one he wants to be able to see em. He’ll also get really blushy when he spots them.

This man 100% has a praise kink. He loves knowing how good he’s making you feel and won’t hesitate to let you know as well.

No matter how many times you’ve been intimate before he’ll always tell you how beautiful you look, how much he loves you and how much he can’t wait to make you feel good.

As time goes by and you give him more praise he’ll become more confident intimately.

I can’t really see Izuku having any hard kinks for the simple fact that he doesn’t like the idea of hurting you in any way, especially intentionally.

Like if you were to ask him to choke you or something he’d do it beacause he wants to please you but it would still be the softest shit you have ever experienced. Like for example he’d have his hand around your throat but he wouldn't add any pressure and his hand would barely graze your ass when he attempts to spank you.

He would be down for quickies but he’d be a nervous wreck about em. He’d constantly worry about getting caught and won’t shut up so you’ll just have to make him ;)

“Zuku don’t worry we’ll be fine.“ Your lips mesh together as you pull him closer by his shirt, tugging at the hem to signal you want it off before moving down towards his belt.

“ But y/n - chan I just don’t want us to get caught...” A whine leaves his throat as you start palming him through his jeans before quickly pulling them along with his briefs down to his knees.

“You need to relax more baby.” You press a kiss next to his ear before sinking down to your knees. “In fact I know just how to help you do that.”

Before he could even think of a response his hand flew up to cover out the loud moan threatening to slip out of his ajar mouth as his head fell back.

He’s definitely loud during sex.

Without a doubt.

He lets out these whiny little moans and he definitely tries to hide em. They wouldn’t be especially high pitched but they’d still be higher than usual. Can definitely see him as the type to cover them up with his hand but when you let him know how much you love them he’ll blush a little but let em all out.

You’ve seen how attentive this man is right? How he takes every little piece of info he gets into account when he fills out his journal and comes up with plans?

Yeah your body has its own journal.

Joke lol, but Deku is very attentive and takes note of every reaction he gets out of your body with his touch. How your back arches when his fingers hit that spot inside of you. How your moans get louder when he angles his hips in a certain way. How goosebumps appear when he litters kisses down your neck.

Aftercare with him is the cutest thing ever.

Blushy boi again.

He holds you close to his naked body and pushes his head into the crook of your neck to hide his blush. He’ll thank you for not only sharing moments like these with him but also allowing him to be apart of your life.

Now and then you guys take a hot bath together afterwards but most of the time you fall asleep in each others arms, an occasional kiss being placed on your forehead with a word of comfort.

This man will just love on you so hard.

The first thing that pops into my head when I think Shinso and sex is kitten.

He definitely calls you kitten in bed and he is daddy. period.

Like this man is rough. Without a doubt.

He’s the type that’s really fun to tease because you know he’ll punish you later. Especially if you do it while he’s at work.

A gasp leaves your lips when you feel a familiar pair of arms circle your waist, his warm body pinning you against the railing of the balcony.

"Surprised kitten? I thought you would've expected this, sending me those lewd photos while im at work. "

His hands move to grab onto your waist and push you further into the railing, yours grabbing onto it in turn.

His chest vibrates against your back as he chuckles, you can practically feel the smirk on his face.

"Yeah, you better fucking hold on to something."

I also feel like his pull out game is the best. He mostly enjoys cumming on either your chest or your lower back and face on special occasions.

He loves taking you from behind or on your side while lifting your one leg. He also loves sitting on the edge of the bed with you on top of him with your back facing him while he guides your hips up and down.

He loves these positions because it gives him the perfect angle to please and tease. He can easily reach around and play with your nipples but he can also tease you by just stilling inside of you when you least expect it.

It also gives him better access to the most sensitive parts of your neck so he can mark you up.

I feel like Shinso has a very high sex drive. Like i feel like he's down to go whenever wherever, which is why i think quickies with him is almost a daily occurrence. He loves the risk behind it and he definitely knows how finish you off within 5 minutes. 

He absolutely loves it when you're a brat so use this to your advantage because it will get you r a i l e d.

A loud groan escapes the back of Shinso's throat, his hand tangled in your hair while he rams into you from behind.

"Is this what you wanted baby? Huh? Me fucking the brat out of you?"

He is an absolute king with his hands and he knows it. He knows how to get you absolutely spent with just 2 fingers. 

Definitely jealous as fuck but he doesn't do anything about it until you're alone. He'll act normal up until you get home before pinning you against the wall and reminding you that he's the only man you should be giving attention to.

And oh my god this man can go all night long. He’ll pound you into the mattress until HE thinks you’ve had enough, sweat gleaming on both your bodies in the moonlight as he finally pulls out and pulls you close to him.

He’s definitely very adventurous. He’s not afraid to experiment at all.

I also feel like when he cums he cums A LOT. Like one of his favourite things ever would be you on you knees in front of him, his cock buried deep down your throat as you struggle to swallow everything he's giving you.

Sleepy sex is basically a morning ritual, his hips already rutting against your ass before you've even properly woken up. He loves the laziness of the whole ordeal as well as the closeness. Before you he'd just rub one out before falling back asleep, but now that you're here he can just indulge in you and then fall back asleep. Not that you mind.

Shinso doesn't leave hickeys intentionally. He just gets into it and does it without noticing it. Thinks it's hilarious as fuck when you struggle to hide them and definitely makes a comment about you knowing you enjoyed it so why complain now.

Definitely the type to wake you up and ask you to ride him at ungodly hours.

Member of the suck me off while I'm gaming club.

A little bonus: I can just see both of you going at it and he’s doing you good and then all of a sudden he just stops. Naturally you just assume he’s just trying to be a tease so you buck your hips up in attempt to get him to move inside of you and let out a whiny moan. Shinso would just kinda calmly look at you and go “ Baby... she’s on top of me.” and you’d be like huh???? tf he talking about, and just look up and see the cat you adopted together peeking at you over his shoulder. She lets out the cutest little meow and you both start giggling, taking a mental note to close the bedroom door before you get down in future.

After sex he’d take care of you. He’d clean you up and cuddle you really close. He’d run his fingers through your hair and massage your scalp for you. Will wake you up with breakfast in bed the next morning and a cup of coffee/tea.

Hawks has a god complex in bed and you can't convince me otherwise.

He's the absolute king of oral. He isn't just gluttonous for food if you catch my drift. He knows how to use his tongue, and the way he uses it on your sex is enough to make you see stars.

"Oh god. Fuck, i-i need- oh my god. Keigo, I need mhmmnnmm" your hand runs through his golden locks as you press him closer to your core, hips bucking and thighs threatening to close around his head.

Keigos head peaks up from between your legs, his mouth glistening with your arousal as his hand picks up where his tongue left off. A cocky smile sneaks it's way on his face.

"That's right baby, tell god what you need."

Hawks loves taking you in missionary. Why you may ask. Because this gives you perfect access to his wings. Nothing gets him more riled up than the feeling of your fingers dancing over the base of his wings where they meet his skin. The feeling's enough to draw a growl from within his chest, his hips immediately picking up momentum as he pounds you deeper into the bed.

Just like Katsuki, Keigo isn't afraid to mahandle you.

He loves the sight of your fucked out face as he wraps his hand around you throat, incoherent mumbles the only thing leaving your swollen lips.

He fucks you stupid, tongue lolling out of your mouth and eyes rolling back into your head. The sight of this turns him on ten times more than he already was in the first place.

Keigo will also use his feathers on you 100%.

A small gasp leaves your lips at the feeling of something soft stimulating your sex. You lower your eyes, undeniably turned on by the sight of one of Keigos feathers matching the momentum of his thrusts as his hips slam into yours.

Your eyes travel back up to your lovers face, unable to hold back the moan that escapes your lips as he winks at you with a smirk and picks up his pace.

Undeniably into praise. He absolutely loves when you tell him how good he's making you feel and how he's the only one who possibly could make you feel this way. Definitely gets cocky about it.

Along with his love for praise he also has a love for degrading. He loves the way you instantly start moaning louder and tightening up when he starts calling you his little slut and cocksleeve, it's enough to make his dick twitch.

Definitely possessive and protective as hell over you. Being Keigos sidekick meant a lot of work related arguments about recklessness from both sides. These arguments often times lead to hate sex.

A harsh tug on your arm stops you dead in your tracks as you turn around to come face to face with your fiancee, the scowl on his face giving away exactly what he was feeling before he could even get a chance to open his mouth.

"What the fuck was that." His breath was hot as it fanned over your face, the smell of mint unmissable. "That, Keigo, was me doing my fucking job." "No y/n, that was you being careless! What the fuck were you thinking risking your life like that?!" " Last time i checked that was our job description! We're supposed to be risking our lives to save innocent people, or does that suddenly mean nothing to you anymore?" "I don't fucking care about them I care about you! I have half a mind to remove you from field work thanks to that little stunt!" " For fucks sake Keigo! What are you gonna do?! Tie me to a fucking desk?!"

Within two seconds your back was pressed against a wall, your fiancees hands slamming down next to your head as he moves his face dangerously close to yours.

" Tread lightly princess, or i just might."

Adding to the possessiveness, i feel like Keigo will be one jealous son of a bitch with no shame at all.

Like he'd take you out for dinner at some fancy restaurant to treat you, only to have your waiter start flirting with you. Keigos blood would start boiling, his jaw set as he'd glare at the man flirting with his mate.

As soon as the waiter leaves he'd make some snarky, passive aggressive comments about the scenario before dragging you into the bathroom mumbling " If he can't see who you belong to I guess I'll have to show him"

He'd then proceed to shamelessly pound the fuck out of you in the restaurant making sure everyone, especially that waiter, could hear every single sound the left your lips. He'd leave so many hickeys on your neck. He needs to mark what's his.

"You're mine. You understand me? You belong to me baby, you're all mine." His hand roughly grabs your face making you look him in the eyes. "Say it." He gets impatient, lifting his hand to lightly slap your face, the action drawing a moan from your lips. " I said fucking say it."

Total exhibitionist. You have definitely been pinned against the large windows in your apartment or even his agency, on full display to anyone walking by as he fucks you nice and hard.

I feel like aftercare with Keigo would be little things that don't necessarily classify as aftercare but comforts you both.

After pulling out of you Keigo would lay down next to you, his hands wrapping around your body to pull you closer as his heart hammers in his chest and he waits for his breathing to calm down a tad.

He'd then get up, tug on a pair of boxers and grab the box of cigarettes and lighter on his bedside table before heading out to the balcony.

You'd slip out of bed, putting on his shirt before joining him outside. Your arms would be wrapped around his waist while he smoked, both of you enjoying the slight late night breeze and the sound of the bustling city before heading inside to snuggle up and fall asleep together.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Red hair as roses, and turquoise eyes as orchids

"Dada look!" The bored and depressed blue eyes stood up from his lap to his 6 years old daughter, extending her tiny hands up high in the air.

"Be careful with what you're gonna do pretty doll." He manage to smirk a bit as she pouted, strands of red brushing against her forehead until a huge wave of flames of the colour blue danced around her hands until she jumped and a small prinkle of flames were throw in the air.

She laughed at the sign and clapped her hands in glee at her own little show as Dabi let out a chuckle at seeing the happines of his daughter... instead of him, Emika had the blessing of having a body that could tolerate the heat enough of his quirk that she inherited it from him. Your quirk itself being a huge help for the little girl to not have scars as her father's.

"Did you see Dada?! It was soooo huge and beautiful!!!" She ran towards him only to trip and thankfully landed on the brunette male's lap, giggling with a smile so bright that could've hury his eyes.

"Hmm. Almost like mine princess, im impressed." His hands carresed her chubby cheeks until he heard murmuring behind them.

Of course. Even with his disguise, that were people whose were going to mutter, say bad things... he lost count on how many times Emika had been bullied because her quirk was similiar with the most cruel and wanted villain....

And much to his dismay, Emika didn't take that... very well.

"WHAT ARE YOU WHISPERING ABOUT?! LEAVE US ALONE!" the little girl shouted and the adults only scoffed, picking up their kids and getting out of the park.

"You're going to scare off anyone with that attitude of yours princess." He muttered while carresing her red hair and picking her up as she scoffed.

"They cant say bad things about MY dada!" He smiled at the little girl and sighed.

"Yeah yeah, just lets get out of here before you burn things down."

"Thats something you would do!" She poked his scarred cheek. "Ne ne dada? We gonna visit mama right? I want to bring flowers to her this time!"

His eyes dropped at the ground as his feet carried them to the cemetery...

"We can arrange that."

.

.

.

"Mama was so pretty!!!" Emika squealed as Spinner and Toga showed her some photos as Dabi stared holes into their skulls.

Is not that he didn't wanted his daughter to forget or to not know about her mother... but it was painfull enough to have a father as a villain, now being a mother orphan was just more harder.

Emika couldn't go to school without being recognized as Dabi's daughter. So he brought himself the task to teach her things , being thankfull to his past self that he had studied enough.

"Yeah and she was strong as fuck too according to your dad there." Spinner grinned, showing a picture of you pinning down a hero on the middle of the street.

"Emika-chan, despite not meeting (Y/n) you look so much like her!" Toga beamed with a smile, fangs showing and the little girl giggling when Dabi just yanked her away from the two.

"Naaaaaa dada no bed time!" She squirmed as he carried her to now the comfortable room the league gotten ever since the incident with Shigaraki and Redestro.

"Dont complain or else Im going to take away your toy." He grumbled as the girl gasped and pouted at him much like you would do.

"You wouldn't!" She defies him with a cheeky smile although while settling down on the bed she shared with him.

"Try me." He smirked with a atched eyebrow making her laugh.

Some time passed and Dabi watched as the eyelids of Emika slowly dropped until she called him softly.

"This place we are now... we gonna stay or are the bad man breaking it and we have to move again?" His heart clenched.. she still had the memories when the league had captured that blonde kid and the heroes busted the bar...

With her own view, she saw the villains as the good and normal people despite Toga being a crazy assasin that loved drinking blood, Shigaraki a men that only wanted to destriy the world, Twice a bipolar man and the list goes on...

Emika saw the villains as good people, and the heroes as bad ones... after all, after she found out on her own that her mother died not because of childbirth, but because of a hero that accidentally killed her with a much too strong attack... and only because she wanted to protect the baby on her arms at that time.

So much blood dropped from his eyes... some even dropping on your lifeless body and on the crying baby he soon noticed that thankfully was alive.

He would never forget whem he craddled the baby on his arms and sobbed deyly as his child wailed at not having the warmth of her mother anymore.

Things were tough until they found the league of villains and had at peast a place to crash.

Emika was now soudly asleep as he sighed and brushed his hair.

"When the heroes come to us... I will make sure yoi stay outta of the mess Emika. But you will not like to know the truth about our origins..." he muttered as a scarred hand brushed her bangs and smirked when she nuzzled on his hand... reminding him of how you would nuzzle on him on cold nights...

"Time to sleep off huh? The more we sleep, the pess we have to face the reality." He muttered before laying down and bringing her close to his chest.

.

.

.

"Dada..." she whimpered as fat tears fell feom her turquoise eyes as she tremblingly holded the box of paper towels, helping him clean off the blood from his stapples as he took a final look on the mirror, his white hair finally at show for the first time in so many years.

"Hey," he crouched down and made his best to not wince "I'm fine. Daddy is used to this by now and-"

"bUT I'M NOT!" she yelled and punched his chest with her tiny fist as he frowned and holded her as she sobbed on his chest.

"...Is it true..?" He looked down at the tuff of red hair on his chest "That uncle Twice is not coming back..? That.. T-That grandpa did this to you..m that we are from the family of E-Endeavour?"

He frowned and wiped her tears away as she holded his wrist while sobbing at the loss of Twice, whose always played and made silly faces with her on spare times.

"Yeah... Im sorry for not telling you... but I thought that... Me and your mother actually decided that Emika (L/n) was better than puttingnon a fake and... well, not right name on yours."

"... which hero... killed... mama..?" His heart stopped... should he reaally tell her? She was only a baby of five years.. five fucking years... he was already damaged by society, but her was just a little flower growing...

"Princess.. I-"

"Who?!" She sobbed as his eyes dropped, a heavy sigh as he dinally sit down on the edge of the sofa as he put his hand on his face as the other helped her sit on his lap.

"... your grandpa."

.

.

.

Emika cried heraelf to sleep that night. Wailing that she hated the heroes, that she hated Endeavour, that she hated him for not telling her the truth for so long, that she hated having fo be a Todoroki.

Each word was a spike to his chest as he tried and eventually succeed on calming her down enough, from harsh sobs and eails to soft sniffles and the rest of the tears she had to sheed.

He hugged her just a bit tighter that night as one drop of blood fell from his eyes.

"I thought I could do it (Y/n)... I fucking promised you... but... fuck." He bited his bottom scarred lips to contain a whimper "Everything is just the worst now... why did you have to be so goddamn stubborn and risk your life dammit..."

.

.

.

"Is your fourth bowl of ice cream ya know?" Dabi muttered from his place on the miserable yet comfy apartment you two shared as you stared back at him with a spoonfull of your favorite ice cream on hand close to your mouth.

"I have the right. I'm pregnant. Leave me be." You made a show of putting the spoon on your mouth and moaning out loud as Dabi shooked his head in dismay before taking a place on your side ofbthe couxh before you two cringed at the sounds of the old mobile almost creaking.

"We need to got money to find a new couch." You muttered horrified, just apmost ending all of your money on baby supplies and clothes.

"Or I can just steal one." He smirked at the slight slap you gave to him.

"And have shitty heroes coming our way later? Nu uh mister... maybe just rob a bank though." You muttered before both of you chuckled as you laid your head on his shoulder as he subconsciously placed his hand on the sweel of your stomach and felt a kick already.

"She is going to be a daddy's girl. Im so sure of it." You giggled as he arched an eyebrow.

"How cam you say this already? We dont even know if it is a girl of a boy doll."

"I know is a girl. I just know it. And she has already a favorite parent." You carresed your belly just besides where Dabi's hand was layed on.

"You're exaggerating." He chuckled as he felt another kick "They are going to be a nasty oen though, they kick alot."

"She kicks a lot when your nearby or talking to her. Just like I said, a daddy's girl." You smiled sweetly at him and he never felt so happy...

He looked at your lips for a second as you narrowed your eyes playfully at him before your lips almost touched-

.

.

.

He woke up with a hand tapping on his cheek and soon saw his daughter looking down at him with a pout.

"Can we go walk?" She almost whimpered as he could only stare and slowly nod as he caught his disguise and a very own for her.

.

.

.

She clunged to the black bunny plushie as she walked with pinks connected to him as he stated down at her in worry until she gasped at a convenience store.

"Dada! Snickers!" She pointed as he smiled at seeing a bit of bright on her eyes once again.

"How about we get some, eh?" She nodded with a small smile and soon followed her dad inside.

While she waited for Dabi to get the snacks and pay for them, for once, she gasped when a purple haired boy at the same age as her bumped accidentaly to her making her plushie drop.

"Hey!" She called out with tears on her eyes, being emotionally damaged enough for those past days.

"I'm sorry." The boy said immediatly, kneeling and grabbing the plushie to hand it to her "Its yours?" He tilted his head as Emika grabbed immediatly.

"Of course it was! It was with me until you bunped on me!" Emika slowly dropped her tone of voice at seeing how the purple haired boy seemed genuily sorry as he aproached and bowed once again.

"Sorry, I just am here to grab some medice and a chocolate for my mom and dad. They're both sick and they dont know i went out so I needed to hurry." He smiled as Emika soon dropped slowly her guard down as she muttered.

"Is okay... is just that bunny is speacial to me."

"I can see why. Your mama gave it to you right." Her turquoise eyes widened as she frowned her eyebrows at the boy.

"Kinda of..?" She clinged to the toy "Why do you that?"

He closed his eyes with a tiny giggle.

"Well, she told me as soon as you started to tear up. She is always by your side aparently." Emika eyes darkned and she let go of one hand of the plushie to heat up her hand.

"Say that one more time. I dare you. My mama is not here." She almost cried until the purple boy touched her forehead with two fingers and soon she was not more in the grocery store, but in a blank space.

"HEY YOU!" she shouted "THIS IS NOT FUNNY LET OUT YOU FUCK-"

"Geez, daddy did not spare you of curse words then?" She froze and looked behind her and saw the sane woman Dabi showed photos of and was compared whenever she was laughing or making a trick on others.

She froze for a bit before silently tears started to fall and she hiccupped for a bit before dropping her bunny and running to you as you hugged her tightly.

"Mama! I cant believe-! Is you-! I-I-" she hicupped as you wiped her tears with your thumb and let some of your own fall.

"You're take so much of your dada im so happy... My little girl is just so beautiful..." you whispered as she sobbed while wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"D-Dada!" She gasped before smiling widely and grabbing your sleeve "Dada needs to see this! Mama he misses you a lot he need to see yo-"

"Im sorry princess..." you grabbed her cheek softly "I wanted to see your daddy just as much, but I cant...." her face fell a bit but soon nodded while playing with your fingers and hair.

"Mama? Why did you do it?" You hummed as she looked up hesitantly "Why did youbleave dad? Why... you took.. Endeavour attack..?" She asked sadly as you furrowed your eyebrows but soon closed your eyes and smiled.

"Emika... the day you were born was the day I was gone as well... but when I saw your grandpa recognizing me as a villain and blasted an attack close to where you were... I just had to. I had to protect the feuit of love that me and your father made..." you smiled sadly as she sniffed.

"But you arent with us..." she almost sobbed until you made her look up.

"Emika... Im so sorry for the loneliness you had to endure... the pain... that was the only dowside of the decision I made. My swest little girl..." you cuppex her cheek and wiped a tear "Thank you for letting me be your mother, and Touya for being your father..."

You touched your forehead with her as she noticed your body was slowly turning to tiny hints of lights and fireflies.

"Mama..?" She looked at you crying softly as you kissed her forehead.

"Emika, evertime you see a star in the dark sky it will be me watching over you and your dada... and please understand one thing," you got away from her as your hair floated majestically "Dying for you, was a noble sacrifice I did for love..."

She widened her eyes as she grabbed your hands as you giggled at her expression.

"Say to dada Im watching him too, and that loving him were the happier moments I spend... I love him and always will...after all, he is my canolli, dead or not, okay?"

The littpe girl gasped and looked at the place she was, the grocery store and the boy from earlier retracting his hand with a unsure littpe smile.

"It was your quirk... you... you made me talk with my mama." She says outstruck as the boy giggled but soon gasped at looking the time.

"I have to go! But I hope we meet again." He ran to the door with the bags before looking one more time behind to her "Call me Akira! See you soon Emika-chan!"

She stood there in complete shook before brushing her fingers on the tingling spot you had kissed on her forehead before smiling widely and giggling before knocking her daddy's leg as he grunted.

"Emika what the-"

"Mama is watching us!" She bounced up and down as he atood with a 'what the fuck' expression.

"What the hell Emika?" He grabbed the packs and carried her as he walked on the street.

"Mama said your name is Touya dada! Which I found strange at first but anyway! She kissed my forehead! Hugged me and said how much she loves me and you and is watching us! She is a star dada! A star!!"

His eyes widened. Emika didn't hear his speech to Endeavour. Emika didn't know his real name was Touya instead of Dabi as the league called him... so she was not imagining neither making things up.

"..so you saw mama?" She giggled and nodded while boucing on his arms. "... did she say something else?" He asked hopefully and she smiled widely as much as you would do.

"She said loving you was the most happier she got! And that your are her canolli forever!"

His steps faltered and almost that he dropped his daughter as his eyes widened... only you knew that god for saken nickname you gaved to him...

"Dada?" His daughter words and hands on his cheeks made him ho back to reality as he saw the blood on his little girl's fingers and worried expression "Are you crying..? Dada?"

"Heh..." he wiped with one thumb the blood before smilling at her and continuing walking "Nah. Must be one of my staples..." he stared up as his daughter rested her face on his neck. "Mama is a star then?"

"Ya.." she yawned "Watching us... I bet she is that one." The little girl pointed at the shiniest star on the sku as Dabi smiled...

"Yeah... I also bet on that one."

[notmrskennedy]

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

-------------

If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

#

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

#

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

#

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

#

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

#

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

~

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

.

.

.

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

[jettingtothemoon]

Count to Twenty

➳ pairing: midoriya izuku x reader ➳ genre: fluff if you squint, smut ➳ warnings: kinks, spanking, oral (male receiving), mentions of sex, dom/sub, midoriya being the little sub he is ➳ word count: 2563 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which midoriya unexpectedly moans when you slap his ass.

You'd been dating Izuku since about halfway through your first year at UA. Now in your third year, the two of you had been together for a good couple of years.

Obviously, your relationship with him had a slow start. Izuku was cute and, before high school, had certainly not gained much attention from any girls. Which is why he was so surprised when you confessed your feelings to him. You'd been good friends with him but as you got to know him more your feelings only grew into something different. Something more.

You only worked up the courage to tell him how you felt because he was once again at the centre of the danger, as always with him, and just thinking that something could happen to him without him knowing how you felt was scary. So, you told him and of course, he was a babbling mess. Face flushing cherry red, mumbling nonsense as he tried to come to terms with what you had told him.

Despite that, he managed to confess that he liked you too and so, you began dating.

Your first kiss wasn't until a good few weeks into the relationship, well, besides the cheek kisses he couldn't escape from.

Your first proper makeout wasn't until your second year. That was when your relationship started progressing and getting a little more physical.

The first time you had sex was a little into your third year and, as expected, Izuku was a lure sub. He needed you to walk him through it so that he knew he was doing it right.

That was just how Izuku was. When it came to girls and relationships he was pretty much clueless. However, it was like teaching a baby to walk and once he got the hang of things, although he was still a little clumsy, he was a fast learner.

Each stage of you physical relationship had taken so long to develop. He was just too innocent, it was adorable. However, once you started having sex it was almost like you couldn't stop. You were the one who initiated it ninety-five percent of the time but Izuku was never not up for it if you were. Despite that, he was still so cute and innocent with it. Blushing like crazy, being a little sweetheart and asking you if you felt good because that was what mattered.

It was always about you, always about how you felt and what you wanted.

That was why you hadn't expected him to let a moan slip past his lips when you cheekily slapped his ass. He was used to this kind of thing from you because you had always been more direct than him. Kissing him, cheekily placing a hand on his thigh under the table like that time he came for dinner with you and for parents. It was always you teasing him but this, this reaction was new.

Usually, Izuku would just blush, mumble and stutter like an idiot. Which really was so cute and exactly what he began to do as soon as he realised what he had just done.

The thing was, you weren't alone. You were in the common area of the dorm, a shared space between all students in your class. Although, thankfully, there were only a couple of other people here besides the two of you. However, from the sly glance you received from Todoroki and the almost flustered expression Iida was sporting, you had assumed they'd heard him.

"I- I, um- I'm going to go take a shower." Izuku stumbled over his words before rushing off towards his room.

After the initial shock had passed, you sighed and giggled quietly. This was going to be fun.

And so, you began to follow after your flustered boyfriend.

When you reached his room, you didn't bother to knock and just slipped in past the door to find him lying face down on his bed.

"Izuku?" You called out from where you stood, watching as he simply pushed his face further into his pillow.

You stepped forwards, slowly making your way over to the bed, "Did you just... moan when I slapped your ass?"

He huffed and rolled onto his side as if his soul had just left his body. He pulled his pillow along with him, tugging it to his chest as he curled himself up into a ball.

"N-No."

You raised an eyebrow, "Do you want me to do it again?"

The top half of his face, which wasn't quite covered by his pillow, only flushed more as he shook his head and stuttered again, "N-no. D-don't be ri-ridiculous."

You sighed and sat down on the side of the bed, combing your fingers through his broccoli coloured hair, "Izuku."

Although you had simply expected him to deny it again, he surprised you once again by slowly nodded his head.

"I-It felt kind of... good." He finally admitted, embracing the idea that just maybe it was okay to have liked the feeling of your smaller hand slapping his ass.

You leaned down, kissing his cheek reassuringly, "It's okay to like something like that you know. I'm not judging you. A spanking kink is actually way more common than you think."

Izuku sprung up, back as straight as a pencil, still tightly holding his pillow to his chest, "K-kink? I- I don't have anything like that!"

The tone of his voice alone betrayed him, not to mention the way his face only grew a darker shade of red. 

"Maybe it's just a pain kink but I can't imagine that little slap actually hurt all that much." You pondered, only flustering him more.

"P-Pain?"

"Well yeah, you do get beat up a lot. Maybe you've come to like it?" You giggled, teasing him admittedly a little more than necessary.

He finally pulled the pillow away from his face and instead opted for pushing it into his lap, "I don't like it! At least, not when I'm fighting."

As he spoke it was clear that even he was questioning things and trying to figure things out for himself, although you knew he was already most likely aware of how he felt about it all. He was always good at piecing things together.

"So?" You asked, leaning a head on his shoulder as he came to his decision.

That was how you ended up with him lying down over the edge of the bed with his naked ass in the air.

Before you could begin, he turned his head to you and tried to look for any sign that you were uncomfortable, "Are you sure about this?"

You simply nodded in reassurance, "This is the first time we've actually gone into kinks properly. If you want to try it then I do too."

"O-Okay then." His face flushed again before he hid it into the mattress as he awaited your start.

After Izuku admitted that he wanted to give it a go, you locked the door and told him what to do. When it came to kinks and things, you had your knowledge but it was all very much as new to you as it was him. Especially this particular kink, although you were not particularly surprised to find out that your boyfriend might actually have a spanking kink. It just seemed to fit with his personality.

Izuku lied there almost still except for the way he continued to shuffle ever so slightly in anticipation. He had told you that it was okay for you to do it in your time and that you don't have to if you're not comfortable with it. You had told him that this wasn't about you, this was about him and that he could tell you to stop at any point for whatever reason.

You could tell he was growing agitated waiting and so, you raised your hand before swinging it back down and hitting him. His whole body jolted even though you were sure to be careful because you wanted to start off soft and then slowly raise the intensity of each hit. You would have stopped there and then to ask if he was alright had he not moaned once again, this time much louder than in the common area.

And so, with a newfound rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, you raised your hand again before it came flying back down against Izuku's ass once more.

He groaned, fingers curling into the bedsheets as he waited for the next one and before long it came. This went on for a good few slaps before you started to understand what his preferences were. He seemed to like harder spanks but it still seemed that there was something missing. And so, you decided to try something.

"Izuku."

He groaned again when you said his name, pushing his ass higher as if begging you to hit it again.

"I want you to start counting each one, okay? If you can count twenty spanks I'll give you a treat, deal?"

Although you were somewhat unsure what his reaction would be, your boyfriend nodded and let out a somewhat shaky okay.

And so, your hand came back once again before crashing into his bare ass at its hardest pressure yet. Thankfully, Izuku moaned which only showed that you had not gone too far.

"O-One." He stuttered, hands gripping tighter onto the bedsheets as your hand pulled back again.

You made sure that each hit was harder than the last and watched as his cute little bum began to turn a light shade of red.

"Six."

He was enjoying it, that much you could tell.

"N-Nine."

It made you happy, seeing him enjoying something like this was nice. He always focused his attention on you and, although your sexual endeavours always wound up with both of you feeling good, it was nice to focus on him for once.

By the time you hit your tenth spank, Izuku was talking through gritted teeth. His knuckles had grown white from his tightly his fingers were holding onto the bedsheets.

"We're halfway, do you think you can get through the rest?" Izuku had grown much more comfortable with this as he grew to enjoy it even more and whatever doubt you thought you had about doing this was gone.

Although you were not sure if it was a good thing, it felt really good to be dominating over him like this. To watch him squirm on the bed in front of you, his cock clearly rubbing against the bed every time your hand collided with his ass. It felt good to see him feeling soon good because of you. Despite your growing desire to push this further, you decided to leave that for another day and ew work him up to it. For today, you would leave him with a sore ass and maybe even a little treat if he behaves and gets to the end of all twenty.

He nodded, "I- I can do it."

"Are you sure? Your little ass is looking like it hurts, we can stop if you want."

"N-no. I can make it to the end, y/n. Please."

It pleasantly surprised you that you didn't need to bring up the reward you had offered him. Maybe he still remembers the promise of it or maybe he simply wanted you to hit him more, to hit him harder, to make him beg for you to stop.

"Okay then." You kept your voice harsh but silky as your hand came slamming back down again.

"E-eleven."

By fifteen, he was short of breath and began trying to rut against the bed for release. Until your hand hit him again that is.

"You were behaving so well. If you can survive the last five without doing that again, you'll still get your reward. If you can't, then you'll be sleeping on your own tonight." You tutted, threatening him with not only the loss of his reward but also you for the night.

More often than not, you slept in his room or he slept in yours. Of course, you were not supposed to and had you not been in your last year maybe Eraserhead would have done something about it. He certainly knew that the two of you often shared a bed but he had been your teacher for three years now and he trusted that the two of you were old enough to be responsible with what you did behind closed doors. Although, if he saw what you were doing right now he'd probably split the two of you up for the rest of the year and put you in detention until you graduate.

"T-Twenty."

When his final, shaky count left his lips, Izuku collapsed onto the bed. This was quite possibly too much for him, or maybe not quite enough.

"Good boy. As promised, you get your treat now. Go on, lie down."

He did as you instructed and turned himself over to lie on the bed, seemingly noticing the way his ass hurt just as he put pressure on it. He watched you eagerly as you walked over to him, eyes locked with his as you climbed onto the bed. When your eyes finally broke apart, you grabbed his rock hard cock and slowly began pumping him.

Izuku moaned and threw his head back, only for his eyes to snap back to you when you took him in your mouth.

"y/n..." He groaned, fingers instinctively going into your hair.

You relished in the feeling of his fingers lightly tugging at your hair, know that was a sign he was enjoying it. As you continued to bob your head, your tongue slipping over the tip every time before you sunk back down, you gently took a hold of his balls and began to massage them in your hand.

When your boyfriend groaned through gritted teeth, you knew you were doing a good job. You knew exactly what he liked and had become quite skilled in providing him with the pleasure he so desperately sought. This time around, however, you knew he was getting closer to his release much faster than usual.

Maybe it was because he had been hard for so long. Maybe it was the friction he received from the bed. But you knew what it really was. He was so close already because he enjoyed the little spanking you gave him. It probably wouldn't be too bold to say that he loved it, definitely by the way he was reacting down here.

"y/n, I- I'm going to- I'm going to cum."

He gave you a warning, as he always did, so that you could pull off if you wanted to but you didn't. You held his dick between your lips as he came and quickly swallowed his release before coming off with a pop.

As soon as you were done, although Izuku was clearly exhausted, he grabbed a hold of your arm to pull you onto him. Before you had a chance to blink you were lying on his chest encased in his arms and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you."

He smiled into your hair and gave you a little, affectionate squeeze.

[misssophiachase]

prompt- AH Klaroline. we usually see klaus developing feelings for caroline while she's in a relationship with someone else. i would like to see something where klaus has been in an established relationship with another girl and caroline realizes that she's developed feelings for him. (if you don't have time to do this one, don't worry about it).

Thanks nonnie, I love it so much! Inspired really. Got a bit carried away too, see notes at the end.

Synopsis: One wedding and a completely confused best man and maid of honour.

“And all you never say is that you love me so.”

All You Never Say

Caroline Forbes, Maid of Honour, Invites you to celebrate:

The Bachelorette Party for

Katherine Pierce

On Saturday fifteenth of June, twenty-twenty one at Connaught Bar, Mayfair, London at 2000h

Dress: Party Attire

One week before the nuptials - Connaught Bar, London England, 10:21pm

“What happened to the Kitty Kat I knew who’d usually be dancing on the bar right now and showing the stripper just how it’s done?” 

Although her tone was light and teasing, Caroline was a little disappointed given this was her best friend’s bachelorette party and there wasn’t a tacky veil or penis straw in sight. 

Also, they’d been forced to hire out a venue to avoid unwanted media attention before the big day so the atmosphere wasn’t quite what she was expecting either. 

The word lacklustre seemed a good word to describe it all.  

Maid of Honour Caroline had been banned from most fun things when organising Kat’s last night of ‘freedom’. 

“She’s marrying one of the United Kingdom’s most eligible bachelors, not to mention the youngest Minister in the Government’s Cabinet. That doesn’t really go with the wholesome reputation she’s trying to portray, Care,” Bonnie offered, eating the olive from her martini. “Although, I think it’s a shame you can’t put those pole dancing moves we learned in Cabo to good use.”

“This is one pathetic stripper, just saying,” Rebekah offered, joining them at the bar and stealing Bonnie’s drink from her outstretched hands.

“I was on the other side of the world, I could only go by his rating on the internet,” Caroline argued. “Plus, I also had to find one who kept some clothes on and we all know what that means.”

“What’s underneath doesn’t match the whole package,” Bonnie finished. “We don’t need to tip him, do we?”

When Katherine called Caroline thirteen months earlier to say she was engaged to Elijah, Caroline couldn’t have been happier. They’d all met each other at private boarding school and had stayed in touch ever since and even though they seemed like opposites, Kat and Elijah complemented one another. 

Also, Katherine’s job as head neurosurgeon at one of London’s most prestigious private hospitals and her impressive family inheritance greatly helped matters when it came to swaying his parents on the engagement. 

The Mikaelsons. 

Mikael and Esther were extremely wealthy and well-connected in English society.  They came from family money and owned a large and impressive property portfolio spanning the entire globe and had sent their children to the best boarding school the US had to offer.  

Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire. 

Caroline wasn’t wealthy like the rest of her friends. She’d be lying if that fact didn’t make her feel somewhat inferior. Her father owned the local general store and, if it weren’t for her scholarship, Caroline would have ended up in public school. Not that she would have minded but her father insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up. 

Attending the exclusive boarding school had been an adjustment to say the least and not just because of the ugly and uncomfortable uniforms they had to wear. Caroline was assigned to a room with three fellow students. 

Katherine Pierce, although the daughter of a talented cardiothoracic surgeon and a world class architect, was wild and impulsive and constantly in trouble with the dean for her indiscretions like sneaking out to meet boys and smoking on occasion. 

Bonnie Bennett was the gorgeous but serious high achiever whose parents owned one of the biggest publishing houses in the world. She was taught never to take anything for granted and work hard for what she wanted in life. 

Rebekah Mikaelson, while strong-willed and passionate, was the odd one out from the beginning. She made it her aim in life to drive the other girls crazy with her brittle personality and unwanted opinions. Although it took a while, and a few choice fights that needed to be broken up between her and Katherine, the girls became best friends. 

Rebekah’s brothers all attended the school at the same time but in different years with Elijah the eldest followed by Klaus then Kol and youngest sibling Rebekah.  

The Mikaelson boys and their best friend from home, Enzo St John, were definitely the most popular and sought after by the female student body. Caroline, not being one to conform, refused to play that game. She had no intention of stroking their egos any further, especially head womaniser Klaus. 

There was no doubting he was gorgeous, it ran in their family after all, but he knew it. 

Caroline found that she could have a fun time with Enzo, a deep and meaningful discussion with Elijah and a joke with Kol but when it came to Klaus all he did was tease her and rile her up. 

Of course she told herself it was because he was an immature idiot but wasn’t overly convinced it was the only reason given the looks she’d send his way when she knew no one was looking.  Caroline hoped whatever weird thing was happening would dissipate when they graduated. 

Kol and Bonnie had dated for a year at school, but apart from them they all stayed friends. So much so, that after they’d all graduated and gone their separate ways in life they still caught up for most significant occasions. 

This wedding being one of many. 

Katherine and Elijah had reconnected in Boston and, even though she always said he was too serious, they fell in love and were now on the verge of marriage. 

Caroline was so excited, if not about the bachelorette party. 

“Who are we kidding? I got the wild stuff out when you three were all too busy being good girls in boarding school,” she scoffed. Caroline wouldn’t admit it aloud but she had a point. “And there’s nothing stopping you three from getting up there with the stripper.” 

“Pass,” all three replied, looking up at him ominously. 

“How about we get out of here and see what the boys are up to?” Katherine suggested a twinkle in her brown eyes. 

“Because I think that defeats the purpose of a bachelorette party, Pierce,” Caroline drawled. “And this is Elijah, no offence but poker doesn’t sound all that exciting if you ask me.”

“Says the girl with the special poker skills,” Kat smiled deviously. “Klaus likes to think he’s the best player but we all know you could give him a run for his money. I’d say watching you fleece him is a fun way to spend an evening.”

Caroline had to admit angering the best man and her wedding partner certainly had its benefits. They’d seen each other in passing the previous day on arrival but otherwise hadn’t connected much recently because she was based on the West coast in Los Angeles and him on the East in New York City. 

He was the CEO of a prominent stockbroking firm and, by all reports, had been dating a Texan oil billionaire’s daughter and model, Hayley someone, for the past year.  

Okay, her surname was Marshall. 

She may have read a few editions of Page Six and seen them attending premieres and openings. She was sort of attractive.

Okay, she was gorgeous with big, brown doe eyes and a glossy chestnut mane and legs for days. 

Caroline told herself that she didn’t care more times than she could count but there was also something lingering beneath the surface with Klaus. She would have endeavoured to forget him after school had it not been for something that happened two years earlier and changed her opinion of him completely. 

Bastard.

And with that came the insecurity she hated. Even though she’d carved out a successful career as a human rights lawyer, she’d never fit into his life because she didn’t have a rich family or a huge inheritance like Hayley. Not that she cared but she knew his family did. 

She noticed her friends giving her weird looks, clearly she didn’t realise how much of a Klaus trance she’d descended into. 

“Sure. Why not?”

American Bar, Savoy Hotel, London 11:07pm 

“This is lame,” Kol scoffed, throwing his cards on the makeshift poker table. 

“He’s only saying that because he’s losing,” Enzo laughed, pulling the chips towards him greedily. 

“No, I’m saying that because this is no bachelor party,” he huffed, standing up and going to the bar to make himself another drink. “You couldn’t even organise one, measly stripper?”

As with the girls, the guys had hired out the venue for privacy reasons, not that they were actually doing anything untoward. 

Klaus had won the most money so far but he’d left the table to take a call from Hayley letting Enzo win a few rounds in his absence. She was arriving the next day for the wedding and was calling to check on the arrangements. 

Klaus was certain he’d told her multiple times but she was someone who liked things just right. But she also liked to call. 

A lot. 

At first he thought it was endearing but after a year he was starting to realise it was largely overkill. So too, her obsession with all things materialistic and celebrity and having to be at the opening of everything and anything. Klaus liked to keep more of a low profile if he could and that trait only reminded him of his parents and their chosen life together.

When he’d met her during a wild weekend in Miami, Klaus was immediately taken with her. He even thought it was love but decided that was just the tequila talking and it was most definitely lust. Klaus didn’t do relationships and he assumed she would be a momentary distraction until his parents had taken a strong liking to her.  Or more accurately to her wealth and family connections and future prospects for them. 

With Mikael and Esther it wasn’t much about love but what you did for a living and how much money your family had. Their marriage was case in point. 

Klaus wasn’t one to do what his parents told him but he’d long felt the black sheep given his secret paternity and decided it would be good to earn their favour for a change.  

There was also another reason to entertain the relationship, one that had made him realise that, no matter what, he was always going to have to settle for second best. 

“Are we interrupting anything?” Klaus looked up into the eyes of his future sister-in-law. He and Katherine had acted like siblings from the moment they met so to him her marriage to Elijah was inevitable.     

“Great!” Kol growled from his vantage point behind the bar. “Not only do I have to sit through this poor excuse for a party but now the girls have arrived.”

“Nice to see you too, Kol,” Bonnie said, raising her eyebrows. Although they’d dated over ten years ago everyone seemed to think something was still very much happening between them. 

“As much as I’m glad to see my beautiful fiance,” Elijah smiled, standing so he could pull her into his arms affectionately. “I’m not sure this is the done thing.”

“Oh, you mean like strippers, brother?” 

“You’re more than welcome to our stripper, Kol, we only left him in Mayfair about ten minutes ago so you might be able to catch him if you’re lucky,” Rebekah teased, swiping a few of Enzo’s prized chips from the table.

“Oi, woman!” He muttered, attempting to take it back while she squealed in response. 

Rebekah and Enzo had been play fighting since he was eleven and she was nine.  The rest of the group all knew it was unresolved tension that would finally sort itself out some day so were just waiting for it to click into place. 

“So, what you’re telling me is that the girls were allowed to have a stripper?” Clearly, Kol wasn’t letting this one go easily. 

“Oh would you please shut up, little brother, does it shock you that Elijah didn’t actually want one?” Klaus barked, his brother wearing on his last nerve. 

For the most part his gaze had been surreptitiously trained on the maid of honour.  Attired in a little, black dress that hugged her in all the right places it was incredibly distracting.  She was also wearing her hair just how he liked it, loose and a little wild. How many times had he imagined running his fingers through those waves? Too many to count.

Yes, Caroline Forbes was his dirty little secret. One that he had every intention of keeping because it would do him no good to reveal it. 

“I promise that when you get married I’ll book out an entire strip club,” Enzo offered, stealing the chip from Rebekah’s grasp while she wasn’t watching and sending her a triumphant smirk. “Happy?”

“Are we playing poker or what?” Caroline asked. This got his attention. Klaus looked over at her, his eyebrows cocked curiously. 

“You play poker, love?”

“I dabble,” she replied, taking a seat at the table. “I mean, I used to play with my grandpa when I was about ten. Pretty sure the rules haven’t changed much since then.” It would have been adorable if Klaus wasn’t so competitive by nature. 

“We are playing for real money here,” he warned, giving her one last chance to back out. “I mean I wouldn’t want to take advantage.” 

“I’m a big girl and can take care of myself,” she shot back. “So, just deal the cards, Mikaelson.” 

The others took their place and the game was restarted, even Kol seemed to have gotten out of his funk to play. The first hand went like this:

“All red,” Rebekah smiled triumphantly, laying her cards on the table. After betting her entire bank it was sufficed to say she was out from the get-go. 

“All red? Seriously, little sister? Can you please take her away Enzo and never let her play ever again,” Klaus muttered through gritted teeth. How were they even related?

Second hand ended in Katherine and Elijah being expelled for too much PDA at the poker table. Neither of the love birds minded a little time out in the corner. 

Third hand came down to a poor display of bluffing from Kol while Bonnie complained because all she wanted to do was play Go Fish because it was more entertaining.

Then there were two.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just give in, Forbes?” Klaus asked, leaning back lazily in his chair.  She was studying her cards carefully. Most hands she’d folded before betting anything and he was starting to realise she was too careful, much like the girl he knew in real life.   

“Give me a minute,” she hissed, fastening a loose wave behind her ear. Klaus could tell it was a sign of a bad hand but at the same time he wished he was the one to place it there. 

“Okay, I want three cards,” she asked, placing the discarded ones face down. 

“Maybe you should just fold, love?” He asked, partly because he was concerned but also because Klaus knew he was that accomplished. His straight flush was looking extremely good right now. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do, ass,” she offered, noting his shocked look in response. “I was just trying to counter your love with something equally fitting.”

“Fine,” he murmured trying to pretend not to feel dejected. “Three cards.”

She took them and again studied them closely. Meanwhile the rest of the group had gathered around, no doubt sensing this was their last hand and everyone could finally go home. 

“Okay, how about we stop beating around the bush and I just bet everything I have,” she said pushing it all into the middle. 

“You’re bluffing,” he blurted out, knowing it was impossible she had a hand to beat his flush. 

“I guess you’ll have to bet to find out,” she smiled. All he wanted to do was kiss it off her face and that was just for starters. He shook his head reminding himself that he needed to relax. 

“Call,” she said, her expression serious. They held each other’s gaze for a prolonged period, Klaus telling himself it was to try and read the poker signs but that wasn’t it at all. He suddenly realised that he could stare at her for hours and never tire. 

Not just hours, forever maybe.  

He cleared his throat knowing that everyone was now watching in anticipation. 

“Straight flush,” he grinned proudly, laying it out on the table. She gave it a brief look before placing hers next to his. 

“All red.” Given it was a ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace of diamonds, also known as a royal flush, she was clearly being facetious. 

“You played me, Forbes.” He finally uttered amongst the cheers and Rebekah’s insistence that she must have had a winning hand all along. 

She pulled the chips towards her happily choosing not to respond immediately. His eyes were still trained on her though, desperate for some kind of response.

“And you underestimated me, Mikaelson,” she murmured. 

Yes. Maybe he had underestimated her and everything else.

TBC - Next part will be up tomorrow PM..there’s a chance encounter in the middle of the night, a rehearsal dinner and a slight wedding mishap before the big day. But let me know what you think so far : ) 

Follow on AO3 HERE

[abject-chaos]

The Title Will Give Away The Story So I’ll Just Call This Sneak Peak

@silvermun This isn’t finished, but I got way too excited for my own good. Hope you enjoy this sneak peak of what’s to come!

“Are you hungry already, Lance because you seem to be eating my dust?” The newly crowned king of Camelot quipped as he sped past his trusted knight in shining armour. The barest huff of laughter made its way to Sonic’s ears as he raced towards their designated picnic spot at the edge of the prairie. Before long came a surprisingly well-articulated comeback considering how much Lancelot must be exerting himself.

“That was a clever jest, Sire. Although, and forgive my audacity, your insult would have far more bite if it were not you who was lagging.”

“Huh?” Sonic said eloquently before a dashingly handsome blur caught him by surprise as Lancelot skated past him with the ease of a practised runner. Some things never change.

Luckily in this weird Arthurian fantasy world, Lancelot is no ultimate life form from space so Sonic is still the fastest thing alive and rushes over to match pace with the knight. “I think my joke rings true, Lance,” Sonic says and is unashamedly pleased with the startled gasp he managed to coax from the seasoned knight as he once again speeds past him.

It isn’t long after that exchange that Sonic arrives triumphantly in first place on the hill overlooking the open field below. Lance arrives seconds later, elegantly gasping for breath before he notices his king watching him. He straightens instantly and wills his lungs to settle for shallower breaths. Sonic, thoroughly chuffed that he won, smirks and lays down the picnic blanket. He sits down and pats the seat next to him. Lancelot stumbled over, a lazy smile on his face. Sonic couldn’t believe it had been a year since he’d become king. Looking back on the early days he could see how far he’d come with getting Lancelot to treat him like a friend and not as a ruler.

“It has been a pleasure racing with you, Sire.” Well, almost.

“And it has been a pleasure kicking your arse.” Sonic joked to get the knight to loosen up.

“Careful, Sire. Hubris is often the downfall of a tragic hero,” Lancelot said with a cheeky wink. The pair laughed and joked for a bit longer, tucking into the picnic basket to unveil the assortment of goodies they had managed to sneak out of the kitchen. There were grapes and cakes, bread and cheese, and all sorts of delicious treats that weren’t chilli dogs. Truly a tragedy. Sonic had tried to teach the chefs in the castle how to make them, but the last failed attempt was catastrophic enough to brand itself as the chilli fiasco, therefore convincing everyone involved to never endeavour to repeat the incident.

Lancelot began sharing his take on the whole debacle, animatedly waving his hands about to express the enormity of the failure, when a figure in the distance caught Sonic’s eye. He fixated on that point near the horizon that seemed to host a familiar silhouette. The figure was getting closer, yet the details of their form were still too muddled to make out but they looked so familiar.

Then it hit him.

“Oh, but the scene was grim. The curtains, soiled! The dinnerware, shattered. The only hope of salvaging the dubious concoction was littered on the floor and-”

“Lance, stop waxing poetic for a second and tell me I’m not crazy.”

Lance looked taken aback for a second before he opened his dramatically closed eyes and saw Sonic’s incredulous expression. “Sire?”

Sonic’s voice was barely above a whisper, nursing an emotion that Lancelot had only heard once in the king’s voice as the figure grew closer, steadily advancing the hill on which the pair were seated. “Is that..?”

Just a few metres shy of reaching the slight hill the figure stopped short. Crimson eyes gazed unbelievingly back at Sonic. The king stood slowly on suddenly unsteady legs, overwrought with emotion. “Shadow?”

[anika-ann]

Attached - Bonus

Words Read After the Lights-Out

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5500

Summary: Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Time apart is usually unpleasant and this time wasn’t as exception. With messed-up sleep schedule, Steve helps himself with one of your writing he knows you finished. Will it help him fall asleep?

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, semi-public masturbation, oral (fem receiving), PIV, hints of dom/sub, and fluff… and language (always)

A/N: @donutloverxo​ is ‘bad’ influence on me. Hopefully it will make up for me still not participating in the wonderful weekly challenge.

So here. Have a tiny bit more of smut and then I’m done with it. I am not a smut writer, no, no, no, no… but yeah, I had plenty of fun with this. It’s smut in a fluffy wrapping, because of course it is. I’m me. So, enjoy?

(Also, I copied the start of reader’s fic from the epilogue, so just you’re not surprised)

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve knew he had permission – a half-heartedly mumbled one, somewhere between consciousness and drifting to sleep, but still a permission –, yet he felt a bit dirty.

He had printed the pages few days ago before he left, knowing you finished the story for now named ‘the second encounter with Professor R’, morbidly curious, but hesitant to dive in. These were still your writings, your imaginations and they might have concerned him, but they were still very intimate. And he wasn’t just thinking sexual intimacy – it was simply something coming from the very depth of your mind and Steve honest to god didn’t want to invade your privacy.

However, he had asked if you’d mind if he read what you had written, and you said no. He had asked if he could read it then – and you said yeah.

Here. Permission. Clear as day. And you had left your laptop open, still logged in, as if in invitation. So he had downloaded it and printed it out.

And now he was watching you lying on your stomach, hugging the pillow that was very much on his side of the bed as if you wished you were cuddling him instead and Steve didn’t crave anything but sliding beside you and pulling you to his side.

The problem was that he had been to a conference on the other side of the country and he nodded off on the plane and not even the long shower made him relax properly. And the last thing he wanted was to wake you up, because the last time you Facetimed, you looked like you could sleep for a year.

Steve knew that the fact he had left you alone for the first time since the rumours started that you two were together and it was no surprise that facing the vultures without the possibility to find solace in each other’s arms was taking its toll on you – he wouldn’t like it either. You wouldn’t admit it to him; you kept the distress about it to yourself, not wanting to burden him. The bed was lonely without him, you had said instead, a claim no doubt true as well – and boy, could Steve relate to that.

So now he fished out the few pages and settled at the desk, only the dim light revealing your words to him, as if they were something that indeed should remain a secret.

Steve spent one more glance at your sleeping form, serene, your lips parted as you softly breathed into the pillow, eyes closed, eyelashes casting weak shadows over your cheeks with the little lamp on and Steve couldn’t stop the corners of his lips rising. You were beautiful and his, lying in his bed, practically begging for him to come and take you to his arms.

Steve promised himself that once he would finish reading, hopefully tire his eyes for a bit, he would do exactly that – falling into a blissful sleep with you in his embrace.

He should have known better, really. He should have known that your story would do everything but lull him to sleep.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Your pen was half-heartedly scribbling on the paper, your brain not quite registering the words coming from his mouth.

You weren’t prepared for a damn history lecture; mostly because when you knocked on the door of the professor’s office, you did not expected to find him not alone; his colleague, the grumpy old idiot, was sitting at his desk, making nots from a book which you probably wouldn’t even be able to lift with how thick it was.

Speaking of thick things… one was meant to be between your legs now, but no, the other prof just had to sit there third-wheeling and cock-blocking—dammit.

Now here you were, sitting opposite to Professor Rogers at his desk, pretending to be taking notes while he kindly filled in your missing knowledge, talking about god knew what.

His voice was a balm to your ears, deep timbre echoing in your ribcage, stirring heat in your abdomen. His voice did things to you no matter what words he spoke and from what distance, but you much rather had him whispering filthy suggestions to your ear, teeth grazing your skin, praises for all the things you allowed him to do to you, with his fingers, with his tongue, with his-

“Miss Clark!” Professor Rogers snapped all of sudden, voice stern and minutely louder than before. Your head snapped to him at instant, meeting his intense glare and a raised eyebrow. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who expressed a supposedly genuine endeavour to earn your credit? If you could take notes instead of…” he eyed your wannabe notes with the scepticism they deserved “-doodling, that would be splendid.”

The smirk on his lips gave him away as he met your gaze, rising from his seat pointedly.

“Yes, Professor Rogers,” you said meekly, speeding up the circles and other random motions with your hand. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered off, I got lost in your narrative. It won’t happen again.”

You were so full of shit, because the only thing you got lost in was your own imagination, unholy pictures filling your impatient brain. Professor Rogers certainly knew that too – but he kept the front up for his colleague who just couldn’t seem to leave the damn room if even for a minute.

“It better not,” Professor Roberts commented gruffly, circling the hardwood desk slowly, fingers tracing the top of what he was meant to be fucking you against shall your fantasy come true any time soon. You shifted in your seat, feeling slickness gathering between your lower lips in anticipation. “As I was saying, the battle of Stalingrad…”

A sudden thought struck you when he stood beside you; for the first time in the past hour, you actually wrote something down instead of drawing random patterns.

Professor Rogers looked over your shoulder, reading the line about Professor Banks being a pain in your ass and you going crazy with need for your tutor’s cock. Peripherally, you saw Professor Rogers’ hand curl up in a fist, one corner of your lips rising in a smirk.

If you were to suffer, then so could he. It was a bold move, bratty even, one he might punish you for, but you were willing to take the risk, even feeling a tingle in your abdomen at the premise. Would he punish you? How? Were you in for some impatient manhandling today?

Caught up in your musings, you nearly jumped when his hot breath caressed your ear, a whispered promise causing air to get stuck in your throat, your heart speeding up insanely in your chest.

“Patience. Once he’s gone I’m gonna bend you over this desk…”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your mind supplying you with a helpful visual. You could almost feel his hand stroking the back of your thighs, the curve of your ass over your skin-tight dress, your lower back, and roughly pushing between your shoulder blades to trap you against the desk.

“…the German offensive to capture Stalingrad began in August 1942, using the 6th Army and elements of the 4th Panzer Army. The attack was supported by intense Luftwaffe bombing that reduced much of the city to rubble,” he continued the lecture as he straightened again, as if he hadn’t just vowed to get freaky with you.

His hand grazed the back of your chair, painfully close and still so far, moving to your other side, the heat of his body once again teasing you, his mouth an inch from your skin.

“…and fuck you ‘till you can’t walk…”

Your breathing picked up, your mouth suddenly feeling dry, the urge to lick your lips stronger than you. You glanced in Professor Banks’ direction, but there was no way he could hear what his colleague was whispering to your ear, the filthy promises made in between lecturing you about one of the biggest and most important battles of WW II. How could Professor Rogers even focus-

“You certainly have to write this down, Miss Clark—November 19, the Red Army launched Operation Uranus, a two-pronged attack targeting the weaker Romanian and Hungarian armies protecting the 6th Army's flanks.”

“… and ‘till the only thing you remember from this session is my name...”

You couldn’t even make out the words he spoke on normal volume anymore. Your fingers gripped the pen, the echo of sensations from the last week that had haunted you for days ghosting over your skin, your lips, your-

“…and how good my cock feels in your cunt.”

As if on command, your core clenched around nothing, the desperate craving to relieve some of the gradually building desire causing your thighs to rub together on instinct, hoping to create some friction at least. You could imagine Professor Rogers’ pupils dilating at that, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as one simple sentence of yours backfired unexpectedly.

His lips actually brushed over the shell of your ear with his next words, making you suck in air in a sharp inhale.

“You better get yourself ready, ‘cause I won’t waste any time with that.”

You blinked furiously at the statement, your head once again snapping to the other man in the room, who could turn to you any moment, catching you red-handed if you actually went through with it.

No way, no fucking w-

“Did I stutter, Miss Clark?” Professor Rogers hissed irritably and you dared to look at him, shocked to see a wolfish smile, a hungry glint in his eye that filled your stomach with butterflies, causing you to practically drip into the fabric of your dress.

“No, Professor Rogers,” you whispered obediently, your mind racing as you couldn’t make yourself to slip your hand under and just… listen to the command. “I understood.”

He held your gaze as he stepped to your right to partly shield you from view.

Be a good girl, he mouthed, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine, your pussy weeping for him, something inside you begging for you to obey just so you could hear him say it out loud later.

“Then we shall continue. At the beginning of February 1943, the Axis forces in Stalingrad…”

You inhaled shakily, your hand trembling a little as you let it fall from the top of the table, landing on your leg instead, your thumb grazing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

Professor Rogers’ eyebrows jumped a fraction, his chin motioning for you to go on, his eyes dark and lustful like a night.

Not daring to cast a single glance at the other man, because he would only make you lose your nerve, you moved your hand under the hem of your dress which was slightly below your mid-thigh, fingers trailing up until they reached the very high thigh-highs you were wearing.

“You seem to be forgetting to take notes, Miss Clark, my patience is truly wearing thin. Let’s move to another battle which was critical for the development of the war, the battle of Bulge…”

The words fell on deaf ears. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart as your fingers slid right into the slickness pooled at your core; just like he had asked a week ago, there was nothing in the way, no underwear. You nearly whimpered when the tips of your fingers touched your opening, the barely-there contact blissful and yet torturous as you craved so much more.

You could feel his gaze on you, studying every quickened rise and fall of your chest, every single motion of the tendons in your forearm and thighs, flexing when your thumb circled your aching swollen clit, your eyes sliding shut at the tingle that ran through your nerve endings, your forefinger dipping into your cunt. You bit on your lip to stop yourself from releasing the whimper threatening to spill from your lips.

His stupid talk, momentarily empty promises, his voice on your ear, his lips brushing your skin, the light pressure on your clit, the finger moving slowly inside you— it all felt amazing, way too good considering that you knew you weren’t alone, but by God, did it add a tiny bit of a thrill, causing your heart to flutter, your core to burn.

You could still hear Professor Rogers talking, not one of his words registering until his fingertip grazed your collarbone, a breath of ‘such a good girl’ caressing your ear. You gulped, feeling your pussy clench, a shudder running down your spine.

“Go on, make yourself feel good. Add another.”

You had no idea how he knew what you were doing under the fabric, but he retreated again, to talk armies and bloodshed and all you could think off was being the good girl he had proclaimed you, worrying your teeth over your lips strongly enough to draw blood almost, third finger slipping into your heat. Your eyes fluttered open at the sensation, gaze stubbornly fixing on Professor Rogers’ chair, your breathing shallow and quick as you felt the pressure building.

Your mind was turning hazy as you tried to comprehend whether you liked the presence of the unsuspecting professor or were ashamed doing this while he was right there. You massaged your inner walls slowly, carefully despite how much you needed the release at this point, barely moving in or out in the fright of making noise. Your head spun, your thighs trembling softly with your climax nearing, the pleasure on horizon setting your blood on fire.

And then there was a pinch to your shoulder, nearly making you yelp in surprise—but somehow, even in the fog your brain was in, you understood that it was an order to stop and your hand instantly disappeared, curling into a fist on your thigh.

You tried your best to stop the shaking, to ignore the slickness on your fingers, now hopefully hidden in your palm and not on display – and peripherally, you could see Professor Banks rise to his feet, picking up items from his desk.

Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, air caught in your lungs as you attempted to calm yourself just in case he would look at you. As if your sex wasn’t practically pulsing because of the abrupt neglect, so so close to the release you craved.

In a sudden clarity of mind, you swiftly took fresh paper and set in on top of your ‘notes’ and gripped the pen again, seemingly ready to continue writing down important dates and names. You heard Banks steps nearing and you instinctively looked up. You had no idea what face you made, because you had zero control over your mimic muscles, too busy trying not to spontaneously combust.

Whatever he read from your expression, it made him eye his colleague.

“Don’t keep her for much longer, Steven. I’m sure she deserves some fun today too,” the older professor remarked, shooting you an uncharacteristic smile and walked out of the office, his old-fashioned leather case swinging. Professor Rogers’ ‘Don’t worry, Bradley,’ followed him and finally, the door clicked shut behind him, allowing you to release an exhale.

“He has no fucking idea,” you muttered, tossing the damn pen aside, running a hand down your face, while your other one remained curled up in a tight fist.

“Shut you dirty mouth, babygirl,” Professor Rogers hissed, crossing the distance to the door in few long strides, glancing at Banks’ desk to make sure that the man hadn’t forgotten anything he could come back for, and only then locked.

The next thing you knew, you were on your feet, the edge of the hardwood desk digging into your ass, your wrists pinned by his hands.

Your breath was stolen by his mouth, lips taking yours, warm, sweet, soft and demanding, a hungry kiss that had no end, one of your wrists suddenly free as his fingers curled around your nape, tangling in your hair, pushing and pulling, just to get more of you. You submitted easily, gratefully even, blissed out at the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth, taking everything he wanted.

You gasped for air when he withdrew, his forehead resting against yours for a split moment, his touch on you almost tender now, more so when he brought your wrist to his mouth and left a brief kiss on your knuckles, inhaling deeply, causing your face heat up.

“So obedient, such good girl,” he whispered in a husky voice, thick with arousal, and you could swear you were about to burst. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You were caught between embarrassed and aroused when he pried your fingers open, his tongue tasting your drying juices. Your core clenched in need and as if he could feel it, his hips rutted into yours, his own excitement evident as his cock poked your lower stomach, his mouth once again on yours, your hand trapped between your bodies, his fingers gripping your sides tightly.

“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he mumbled to your mouth.

Recalling just what a vow he had made you with the other man still present, you gladly let him spin you around, manoeuvre you to press your front to his desk with no regard for the notes scattered over it. You instantly missed the warmth of his body, but his hands went to knead the flash of your ass, one sliding to your lower back, the other hiking up your dress.

A groan escaped him at the sight of you bared for him, his foot nudging yours apart, his grip on you tightening, fingers digging into your flesh enough to bruise before they slid lower, dipping into your slickness. His fingertips spread it, circling your clit, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the shot of bliss sent through your veins. A pathetic mewl fell from your lips and you could only imagine the indulgent smile on his face.

“God, look at you, so pretty, so ready for me,” he praised, fingers tracing the lace of your thigh-highs. “I really like these. Good choice…. Hold on tight, babygirl.”

You wasted no time and listened to him, grabbing the edge of the desk as his touch disappeared. You closed your eyes, anticipation building when you heard the tell-tale of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you again and as wrong or right as it was, you couldn’t help yourself, missing him. You knew things weren’t as simple as they could be seen – you noticed the little things, unnecessary tenderness peeking through, showing you that you were more than just a mindless fuck.

His warm palms spread your cheeks almost lovingly, slightly guiding you up so you stood on your tiptoes, bracing on the hardwood desk, so close to beg for him to finally fill you up, so con-

“Oh my-“ you cried out, your thighs clenching when instead of his hard cock nudging your slit, a velvety-soft warmth licked at your opening, eager and hungry, wasting no time and opening you further, the tip of his tongue pushing in, his lips sucking every drop you offered. Blood rushed to your head and to your centre, fingertips tingling, your most sensitive parts feeling like on fire. His beard was a stark contrast to the softness of his tongue, rough sensation making you dizzy. “Prof-“

His fingers applied pressure on your clit again, the circling motions making your head spin, your thighs shake again with the intensity of the approaching orgasm as professor Rogers fucked you with his tongue relentlessly, reaching even deeper, flicking his tongue and driving you absolutely crazy with pleasure.

A cry ripped from your throat as your climax shook your whole world, knees giving out, your fingers weakly clutching at the edge of the desk, your body slack against the wood. And he didn’t stop. He helped you ride it out with vigour, humming against your cunt, sending aftershocks through your veins. Only when he stopped, you felt you could finally breathe— his mouth moved just a fraction, a sting on your inner thigh as he sucked a mark of possession, one he kissed afterwards; even in your haze, a soft warmth enveloped your heart. Not a mindless fuck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself…” he muttered to your skin, stroking, squeezing, kissing, moving up and whispering to your hair. Did he just apologize…? “You’re even sweeter than I hoped.”

Your heart fluttered, your hand blindly finding his as it still clutched on your waist. He didn’t retreat, gently squeezing back, knocking the breath out of you when he simultaneously entered you, his whole length in one swift motion, sinking so easily into your weeping cunt.

Professor Rogers moaned as you gasped, your core instinctively clenching around him.

“So tight… so good-“

His hands moved to your hips, his cock driving in and out, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch, his thick member stretching you pleasantly after such delicious preparation.

“Professor Rogers,” you gasped when he hit the right spot, his grip tightening.

“That it, babygirl?” he teased, purposely changing the angle, barely brushing your g-spot with his next thrust. You couldn’t help the mewl of frustration, attempting to shift and help yourself, only to meet with the steely hold he had on you. “Ah-ah, none of that, babygirl… you want more? Want me to make good on my promise?”

You really wanted to sneer at him, to snap, but—God, he moved so right the next moment, giving you another taste of the delicious sensation and you nodded fiercely, only for him to still in his movements, thumbs drawing a circle on your skin.

“Yes,” you voiced your request then, earning a satisfied hum and a tap of his fingers. Words are good, now do better, you almost heard him say and you clenched your jaw in frustration. For God’s sake- “Yes, please.”

“Please what?” he urged you as he rolled his hips lazily, dragging his cock alongside your walls so painfully slow.

You sighed, rocking yours hips just a bit – vainly, again.

“Please, fuck me against the desk… Professor Rogers.”

It worked like a charm, a kiss landing between your clothed shoulder blades.

“Good girl,” he hummed, the praise giving you as much joy as it did to him, apparently. “Brace yourself, sweetheart, I’m not holding back on you. I waited long enough…”

And that he did; the lecture had been a torture until it changed into a different kind of-

The half-unpleasant memory vanished from your mind, quickly replaced by the sensation of his length filling you up again, and again, again, speeding up, angling his hips so he finally hit the spot you craved to have stimulated, driving in and out with force that made you see stars, sharp gasps escaping your lips with each thrust.

You clutched at the table, unable to hold still, trying to meet him halfway, adding to the pleasure that had tears gathering behind your closed eyelids.

“Shit, I’m gonna-“ he groaned and freed one of his hands in favour to take you with him, playing with your clit and making you moan his name as the coil in your abdomen snapped again, causing you clench around him. It tipped him over the edge and you felt him spill into you, some of his seed tickling your opening as he rode his climax out.

You were both breathing heavily as his body laid over yours, the sweat gathering on your forehead and back be damned. You melted into the comfort his weight offered, pleasantly surprised when one of his hands found yours, still on the edge of the desk, fingers interlacing, a wet sloppy kiss landing on the side of your neck.

You could feel him soften inside you, a new sensation that felt strangely intimate, and yet he stayed a little longer.

“Stay right here, babygirl,” he rasped out, the warmth of him disappearing as he stood up fully and pulled out.

You obeyed despite not being sure what was about to happen… your first thought was a photo and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

However, your first thought was wrong.

You heard rustle as he pulled out a wet-wipe, a sharp exhale following – warming it up, you realized later – and then he carefully cleaned you up, soft and wary of how sensitive you were, his mission ending with a brief kiss on the spot where the bitemark was probably already blooming.

“You can get up,” he encouraged you, standing by your side, hands hovering as if ready to catch you.

Now your head spun for a whole different reason. What the hell was happening? What was he doing? What did this mean? You weren’t about to complain in the slightest, but… what.

Professor Rogers was observing you wordlessly, intense gaze you couldn’t hope to understand and you couldn’t help the shame warming up your cheeks, knowing that even with waterproof mascara and quality lipstick, you were far from looking perfect – and still, he appeared to be feasting his eyes on you.

Before you could try and fix it, he caught your hand halfway to your face, planting a kiss on your wrist and reaching for another tissue, taking care of it himself.

You were rendered speechless, eyes wide, lips parted as his own spread in a gentle smile, gaze almost fond as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“Pretty girl,” was all he said, a kiss landing on your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked several times, unable to comprehend.

You were too stunned to say a single word, frozen on spot and yet you could feel your bones melting under his gaze, still unwavering, focused, boring into yours.

Neither of you made an attempt to move – neither of your reached for your handbag so you could be on your way. You just stood there in silence, lost in how incredibly handsome, beautiful he was up-close, finally having time to fully appreciate it – and with the softness of his features, you felt yourself fall for him, caught in the safety net of his kind eyes.

Your mouth opened uselessly and the pad of thumb moved to run over your lips, ending up in the corner of your mouth, raising it in a lopsided smile.

“You called me my first name,” he whispered, effectively bursting your blissful bubble and invading it with horror.

Oh god, you had? When—oh. Oh. Now you recalled it, a tiny bit horrified that you actually called him ‘Steve’ when reaching your peak.

“I’m sor-“

He shook his head and before you could finish, he pulled you in for another kiss, slow, deep and meaningful, his arm curling around your waist as if he couldn’t get you close enough and once again, you weren’t about to complain, placing one palm on his shoulder, the other on the side of his neck instead.

“I liked it,” he breathed to your mouth, pecking your lips once more before releasing you. “I’ll see you next week, Miss Clark.”

You nodded automatically, still stunned by the whole turn of events and accepted the handbag he gently handed you.

“…thanks,” you muttered and let him lead you out of the office.

When he unlocked the door, you readjusted your dress, making sure that in any normal circumstances people could see the lack of your underwear; what a reminder of Professor Rogers – Steve – being no less kinky than the first time, no matter how his demeanour now. You glanced at his face again and lost all remnants of sanity.

You placed your hand on his broad impressive bicep and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, enjoying the tickle of his beard once more.

“I’ll see you,” you echoed his words, meeting his twinkling eyes before walking out of the door.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Steve had to blink several times as he finished reading, trying to get a grasp on reality again, the words and images still swimming in front of his eyes. He needed few moments to process what he just read for more than one reason; he certainly didn’t feel sleepy as he had naively hoped.

He found the story hot, yeah, he wasn’t kidding himself, he was rock hard and aching, but what took him aback greatly and rendered him speechless was the sentiment. The shift in the relationship, the parts of Steve you got to know that you had implemented into the story with ease, the story in which ‘Miss Clark’ was surprised by the professor’s affection.

Steve read in the words the same astonishment and tender awe he saw in your eyes when you first exchanged ‘I love you’, after he had read the very start of this story for the first time and told you that he loved your mind as well.

Even when he glanced at your form now, so tempting in his bed, practically begging for him to satiate the hunger that your words spurred, it was impossible to ignore the warmth in his chest, his heart suddenly feeling too big for his ribcage.

Delicately placing the pages down, he turned off the lamp and carefully made his way to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the motion drawing an adorable but barely audible whimper from you. Steve smiled for himself and slid beside you, curling his arms around your form and pulling you to his chest as much as he could without poking you with his hard-on, having decided to ignore it until it went away. He just-- honestly, he wouldn’t say no, but just holding you would suffice tonight.

You melted into his body so trustingly and naturally it made his heart ache and sing at the same time—God, he loved you. Then, as your mind registered that he was technically not supposed to be there, your form stiffened before pressing into him further, curling in his embrace, allowing him to nuzzle his nose in your hair.

“Hi,” you greeted him sleepily, but no less sweetly.

Steve dropped a kiss to the back of your head, his smile widening. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m glad to be home and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm-mm, thanks for the report.”

You turned your head to catch his lips in a welcome kiss, one Steve wouldn’t refuse in a million years; sleepy, a bit sloppy, but one that tasted like home. Yours. And with both of you smiling into it.

“Welcome back. I missed you.”

He brushed the strand of your hair from your face, kissing you once more at your admission.

“Missed you more.”

Your grin only widened when you rolled over to him fully, tangling your limbs with his and accidently – possibly on purpose – brushing his erection with your thigh. He hissed despite himself and he would swear he could see a glint of mischief in your eyes despite the lack of light in the room.

“Oh, I see how it is, you missed me,” you giggled adorably and Steve couldn’t bring himself to be exasperated at you breaking the magic of the moment. And he certainly didn’t feel like telling you what exactly got him into this state – at least not now.

“Not just like that,” he grumbled and you giggled once more, finding his lips with yours, your hand surprisingly moving to rest on his chest, right over his heart, rather than heading down his torso.

“I’m hopeful,” you whispered, looking up at him from under your eyelashes and even in the dark, Steve felt his heart stutter. God, you were beautiful. Breath-taking. His. “But we should take care of this.”

Your hand slid considerably lower, giving some attention to his aching hard-on, softly curling your fingers around it and stroking and his resolve was slowly – very quickly – turning non-existent.

“I didn’t want to wake you at all. You need to sleep-“ he tried out weakly and you eyed him again, kissing his sternum, still smiling.

“Don’t feel sleepy. And I missed you too. In all the ways possible. I want to feel you, Steve.”

And fuck, he was lost. To your hands, to your lips, to your voice – when did it grow so sultry? –, to the smell of your shampoo and bodywash and your skin and to your damn face he couldn’t even see properly.

“Hey,” he mumbled in a spur of the moment, catching your hand to still your delicate strokes before they clouded his mind completely.

You blinked in an understandable surprise; but he had an important thing to say, simultaneously making a mental note to emphasize it again when telling you he read the second story too.

“Wha-“

“I truly missed you, sweetheart. I love you.”

Your surprise melted into something much softer and Steve couldn’t but meet your lips again, catching a glimpse of that same awe he marvelled at when reading. Your fingers in his hair were an epitome of bliss as you kissed him back with care.

“I love you too, Steve. So much…” you vowed and then there were no more words needed.

Steve devoured your lips, your body, revelling in every soft sigh of his name. And soon worn out after you both tipped over the edge, you fell asleep, tucked under the covers in his arms, the pair of you finally sleeping soundly again after being apart.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

‘One-shot’ Hurtful Words part 1

S.R. masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

I felt like I owe it to you, to them and to myself after the story she was writing didn’t get to be read (Steve caught her writing it). I hope you enjoyed :)

I’m thinking one more one-shot, maybe, will see how it goes, I’ll be pretty busy from the next week, so...

[aalapdavjekar]

8 Lessons from Vipassana

2010 was a peculiar year. It was the year in which I found the great fortune of stumbling upon a book about the bizarre incidents and experiences of an Australian girl voyaging through the Indian subcontinent. The book — a 21st century rewrite of the lore of the hippie trail, offered little towards cerebral surprises, but made for a curious viewing of the life of someone who was brave (or foolish) enough to have gone through all the trouble that she did for the experiences she sought.

The author chronicled days spent discovering religion and spiritual heaven while avoiding hell — nosy neighbours, opportunistic rickshaw-wallas, and the odd would-be rapist. She portrays an all too familiar India — the world’s spiritual shopping mall serving food-poisoning on Tuesdays, vehicular accidents every Friday, and frightening latrines as a daily course. Not all of her pages carried so much drama, but they laid out a rough sketch of the trials and tribulations of the average foreigner in attempting to make sense of the country.

The smallest chapter in the book spoke to me the most. There was a tiny passage that depicted the joy and punishing solitude of the type rarely considered as thrill — monastic rituals, austere and rigorous routines, distress and hardship — it seemed a bit too much for anyone, let alone a solo adventurer. And yet, it seemed like just about the only thing she really enjoyed during her trip.

That was my introduction to Vipassana. That first memory is still fresh: the desire to confront this awkward specimen of a situation for myself, only because, at the time, it seemed so bizarre. To my ignorant mind, I could not have comprehended the result of ten long days (and nights), sitting around without the utterance of a single syllable. If nothing else, it would just be yet another substance: to taste, chew on, spit out, and rave about having conquered yet another mountain of sensory input; spin it all into a tall tale of profundity and wisdom.

Thankfully, the taste was sweet. To me, this became pretty important. It felt like a gigantic discovery and I often found myself proselytizing like a broken record for days after the first course. I eventually stopped for being seen as a bit of a nuisance, however, my fascination with the practice only grew with time. In those ten short days, I had experienced a deep, resounding change from within. As difficult as the journey had been, I only knew I had to keep going.

That was all ten years ago. 2010 was peculiar, but a dozen Vipassana courses later, life only became weirder.

It’s the stark contrast that gets you; the juxtaposition of life inside a course, and then witnessing the world outside. It is hard to illustrate and is not really the point of this post, but I mention it only because I’d like to warn you that many of the lessons I’ve learnt are all experiential truths. Simply engaging the intellect is not enough. You can’t describe the taste of salt to someone who has never experienced it before, and you can’t learn to swim simply by reading about it.

With that said, understand that even though I have been practicing for a while, it does not mean I have achieved any form of mastery over my practice. I still consider this as the just the first step in a very long path. I share these insights, all of which have broadened and enriched my understanding of not only myself, but of all-encompassing experience existence in itself. My only hope is to encourage you to sit down and focus on your breath.

1. Relaxing meditation is more like aggressive deconditioning…

The mind is a big ball of accumulated, tightly-knotted habits. Habits are not merely mundane proclivities like picking your nose, or a preference for K-pop. Habits are the set of all unconscious tendencies, picked up over the course of one’s life and through generations past, resulting in present thought, action, or both. Natural instincts such as the struggle to survive and the urge for sexual gratification are among the densest of elements residing within the mental landscape.

Mental forces are easiest to imagine when you think of them as analogous to Newton’s Third Law: each action has an equal and opposite reaction. As the mind sees, the mind does. Cause and effect. Through millions of years of evolution, the mind has been shaped to recognize and react to patterns. Certain emotions may result in specific thoughts. Certain thoughts may result in specific behaviours.

When you sit down to practice Vipassana, you essentially train yourself to observe the mind without reacting. The process may not seem like much but, with time, the simple act of observation decreases the rigidity and impulsiveness of the mind. Gradually, the simple act of watching it unravel before you, unveiling its knots until they loosen and eventually fade away, brings about a significant change. This does not mean that after ten days of meditation you will deprogram your mind and achieve liberation. It is a very gradual process. Believe me. Even after all these years, I’ve only scratched the surface and, so far, I’ve managed to adopt a slightly better diet. But I have better focus, more clarity of thought, less anxiety, and things that used to drive me crazy don’t annoy me as much anymore.

Meditation will change your brain. Thoughts included.

2. You are your mind’s weak, pathetic slave.

At any given time, you have very little conscious ability to overrule your genetic programming, emotional state, and natural surroundings (many have even argued that there is no such thing as conscious control and free will is an illusion, but that is a discussion for another time). The goal of meditation is to break free from the mind’s thrall: it’s patterns of thought. That’s the liberation that meditators keep referring to time and again.

If you find it hard to believe how little control you have over your mind, try to focus continuously on the breath just for a few minutes and notice the amount of thoughts that manage to pop up. You’ll quickly see how easily the mind is carried away. It’ll drift away, either to the future, or to the past. Bringing it back and keeping it in the present is a constant, seemingly endless struggle.

Our toxic addiction to our own thoughts creates the biggest hurdle. Over the course of our lives, we have been conditioned by our parents, school, society, even language, to think a certain way. Like the words we associate with objects to learn the alphabet in kindergarten, we continuously associate abstractions — words — to ideas; to the way things work. Our names for objects, people, places, feelings, situations, etc. are just names. They are concepts that are formed in the mind. In other words, our brain holds maps to reality which are drawn and redrawn over the course of our lives. But the map is not the territory, yet we are constantly under the delusion that the map is real.

Our fascination and attachment to our artificial concepts of what is real, important, and urgent is what hinders progress— the practice is essentially training the mind not to identify with one’s thoughts. In other words, to heal trauma, you need to learn to dissociate with the feeling which triggers the trauma. Trauma comes in many shapes. It may take the form of the stories that we forge for ourselves to make sense of who we are. The story we tell ourselves turns into the very bondage that keeps us in indefinite servitude to the mind.

The mind is a slippery serpent, as dangerous when untamed as it is powerful when mastered. Most beginners often find it frustrating how difficult it is to ‘control’ their minds. But therein lies the effort. It is a skill to be cultivated like any other. Exasperation and the desire to stop is a natural byproduct of the conditioning described earlier. There is an inertia to progress that needs to be continuously overcome. With time, it gets easier.

Meditation is simply a tool to harness and rein in the unruly mind.

3. Everything is connected. Every action has a consequence, and it matters.

This can be argued as a simple scientific principle. Richard Feynman in his lecture, “The Relation of Physics to Other Sciences,” describes the artificial divisions we create, forming a myriad of distinct models of understanding to comprehend and explain to ourselves aspects of the same reality. Brian Cox takes it even further.

My understanding leans towards the philosophical side, but bear with me. Most religions and spiritual traditions preach purity of mind, speech, and deed. Whether through scripture or ritual, they teach compassion, loving kindness, mercy and wisdom. I’ve realized that there’s more to this than mere morality.

To greatly simplify this, let’s imagine the world as a closed, finite system — something like a small swimming pool. Any kind of movement results in ripples that gradually extend across the body of water, affecting everything in their path. Eventually, given enough time, those ripples will bounce right back to whence they came. Sooner or later, your actions will meet their maker. But don’t mistake this as a need to be nice out of selfish necessity. The picture is bigger than this.

The world, much like our hypothetical swimming pool, is a melting pot of events resulting from simultaneous interactions causing countless, spontaneous consequences. It’s a chain reaction and an ocean of chaos, with the ebb and flow of individual currents that mingle, coalesce and form waves, crashing into one another to give us the great churning of the wheel that Buddhists speak of, and the agitation that we are almost too familiar with.

The turbulence, in essence, is the mind being washed away with the tide, engulfed and drowned in the vicissitudes of a constantly changing life. To remain steadfast and solid in such stormy waters would require nothing short of supreme mastery in the art of mindfulness. A cornerstone of such an endeavour requires the cultivation of a conscious effort to sustain complete awareness and acceptance for the present moment.

When one remains vigilant of thought, speech, and deed, and acquires a resolute and unwavering focus, then all the torment the ocean can muster will be but powerless against this tranquil state of mind. But even beyond that, tranquility will give way to reflection, understanding, and empathy. In other words, when you respond to anger with love, you cast water over the fire.

With practice, each action undertaken will arrive with more effort, more purpose and consideration. That is the delicate insight to be gained — that every action, every moment, every breath is sacred. Every bit of conscious presence is a gift to be treasured.

4. Nothing matters as much as you think it does…

Vipassana meditation is an exercise in cultivating insight through self-observation. You watch your breath and the sensations across your body as they arise and pass away, each time acknowledging their transient and impermanent nature. That, you come to realize, is the truth of all reality.

You realize that suffering is a form of mental attachment, not to any external object, but to the sensation that object has on your mind. This attachment is sometimes so subtle and imperceptible that it is impossible to witness it without a mind that is steady and calm. These attachments are what cause dukkha or suffering. Attachments are not limited to sensations that feel good. Any sensation that makes you feel like had more of it or less of it — desire and aversion — is attachment. The mind runs after pleasure, runs from fear and pain. These are attachments and they are a hindrance to the practice.

As you grow into your practice, you will gradually slip out of your old patterns of thought, replacing them with a more open, willing, and fluid presence of mind. What once bothered you may gradually dissolve into nothingness. What once seemed as part of you, possessed you, caused emotional havoc when you didn’t get what you wanted, might simply vanish from existence. No, you won’t turn into an emotionless robot. No it won’t make you give up everything in life, turn into a vagrant and move to the beach, unless you already desired those things. Meditation will only help sort out what you really want.

Practice will help you detach yourself from your thoughts until you realize that your thoughts are not you. Feelings come, feelings go. They are impermanent, and they don’t matter. All it requires is time and the simple act of observation.

5. You are not an experiential bubble.

For many beginners trying to embrace the many forms of mindfulness, one of the toughest obstacles to overcome is doubt. It may be doubt in oneself, doubt in the practice, doubt in one’s teacher, and so on. But it’s a natural response to something new, especially to those completely unfamiliar with these types of practices. Imparting trust is a transactional habit. Unless one is certain of attainable benefits and can measure their worth, they may find an unwillingness to take even the first step.

Couple a doubtful mind with the myriad of mental encounters one may face during meditation and the result might just kill the desire for practice. People have reported everything from swirling lights, out-of-body experiences, synesthesia, to demons. This is not unusual. Meditation is a gateway into the unconscious — a surgical procedure as S.N. Goenka, the person who brought the teaching of Vipassana back to India, describes. Through the process of Sankharupekkha (observing mental formations with equanimity), the practitioner encounters dormant impurities in the unconscious that rise to the surface of the mind, and manifest themselves as physical phenomenon.

Juxtaposed with modern-day culture, the meditative experience stands out like a sore thumb, often causing its students great confusion and mistrust in the very quality of what they are learning. It doesn’t help that the ideas and general philosophy presented by spiritual traditions are outright antithetical to “western” schools of thought.

Concepts such as avidya, anicca, dukkha, shunyata, samsara and nirvana are like salt. These are concepts that are almost impossible to understand through mere language—one must personally taste them. They are often horribly misconstrued and usually thrown out, replaced by a far shallower understanding that barely skims the surface of the teaching, conflating meditation with stress reduction and labour productivity. After all, these are the values our industrial societies can easily relate to.

We often make it harder on ourselves by letting our experiences fester. Remember to talk about them, discuss them, debate their true essence, and let them be out in the open. Let these ideas, however alien, achieve coherence and solidity. Give them a better chance to struggle and survive. There are many people out there experiencing the same reality, watching the same movie, feeling the same thing. The emotional outlet, especially when you are starting out in this practice is immensely valuable. It’s a small thing but it matters.

After my first ten-day Vipassana course came to a close, as the new students could finally open their mouths and start speaking with each other about their ten days spent in silence, we could all see the benefits this strange new thing had given us. I was in a room full of fifty-odd people that seemed to have had a similar experience in the course as I did. They all seemed calmer than on the first day, happier for having made it through; in the process, they had visibly changed. That’s what brought forth trust in the system; not only because it seemed to work across a diverse set of people, but because it made me realize that we are all in the same boat.

6. Compassion takes practice.

There is no absolute right or wrong. Understanding which is which requires not only context but patience. An impulsive and ignorant mind does not have the capacity to form correct judgement. An angry and intolerant person cannot be trusted to make rational and thoughtful decisions. Why do you need to develop proper judgement? The simplest possible answer: to progress in your practice. Hence, while Vipassana may bring insight, on the last day of each course, students are taught a slightly different type of meditation.

Metta, meaning ‘loving-kindness’, is a type of meditation that involves concentrating on directing love towards ourselves and others, even those (especially those) who may have hurt us. A daily practice of metta has its benefits, but most significant of all, is the way it complements insight meditation and brings out lasting, positive changes in mind and body.

The feeling is hard to describe, but all I can say is that (at the risk of sounding cliched), through the course of one’s life, pain is an inevitability, but suffering through the pain is a choice. With regular practice in metta, instead of being swept away by one’s emotions, one learns to consciously bring awareness to the suffering being experienced and replace it with compassionate and loving thoughts. Suffering is simply a negative reaction of the mind to any form of pain. With practice, mental aversion to pain gradually fades. Like mental ointment, compassion can heal the deepest of wounds.

But compassion takes practice. Think of it as learning a new language. Even if you have no prior experience reading the script or pronouncing the words, with time, you might just achieve fluency.

Compassion towards all beings, regardless of the situation, is an important goal for anyone serious about walking the path. When you emanate a constant stream of loving thoughts without ever missing a beat, then you might definitely consider yourself having changed for the better.

7. It’s all just glorified play.

By the time children reach the age of 3 or 4, their ego begins to form a cohesive identity — a map of themselves: I am this, I like that, I want to be so and so. Whether through nature or nurture, the child learns to take on a role for themselves depending on what the situation may bring: during interactions with their parents, with other children, and with society in general.

From an early age, children are engaged in play. Their games may be diverse, but are usually a form of role-playing: tea parties, dollhouses, make-believe — simulations of the adult world, to test its boundaries and see how things react. Fueled by curiosity and the joy of discovery, they rehearse and solidify their understanding of their surroundings, finding their place in the greater familial and societal picture, and simultaneously strengthen their masks of identity.

The masks we carry, birthed from the ego, may be necessary for our survival, but they are simply roles — the games we continue to play even as adults, with ourselves and with others. When the student of Vipassana comes to notice their own desires and attachments to the world, the identity of the self is often seen as the greatest attachment. It is the great epic; the story of ourselves that we’re so engrossed in writing and reciting— and madly in love with.

This story never ends. It lies permanently in the state of becoming: I am like this, I like that, I want to be so and so. The attachment to a false idea of oneself is the most difficult thing to witness and understand. It is the biggest delusion of the mind, and the greatest hindrance to one’s liberation from samsara — the endless cycle of birth and death. Whether you choose to believe that is unimportant, but recognising one’s tendencies to cling to one’s beliefs, one’s masks and identity, is a crucial process towards self-discovery and insight.

Recognising the mind for what it is — a constant stream of consciousness always in flux — will bring you a step closer to deciphering it.

8. You Know Nothing.

I know nothing. For knowing involves being certain, but if everything is impermanent and things are constantly in flux, then nothing can be certain.

To understand how truly inept we are at comprehending reality, consider the incredibly narrow spectrum of perception our brains provide. Our sensory organs: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and skin offer only a slice of all the information that they come into contact with.

The eyes, for example, see only a thin slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, which we call visible light. Similarly, our hearing is restricted to frequencies of sound that fall between 20 Hz and 20 kHz. In the same way, we carry only a limited cognitive capability and intelligence.

It’s a humbling thought. At the very least, reminding oneself of the fragility of one’s understanding is a way to minimize cognitive bias. Further, since no one knows anything, knowing you know nothing will actually put you a step ahead of most people.

“I am wiser than this human being. For probably neither of us knows anything noble and good, but he supposes he knows something when he does not know, while I, just as I do not know, do not even suppose that I do. I am likely to be a little bit wiser than he in this very thing: that whatever I do not know, I do not even suppose I know.” — Plato’s Apology of Socrates

Similarly, from the Dhammapada:

“A fool who knows his foolishness is wise at least to that extent, but a fool who thinks himself wise is a fool indeed.”

Lastly, Shunryu Suzuki, a Japanese Zen Master calls the state of knowing nothing the “beginner’s mind,” the constant prerequisite for progressing in one’s practice:

“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind. This does not mean a closed mind, but actually an empty mind and a ready mind. If your mind is empty, it is always ready for anything; it is open to everything. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind there are few.” — from Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind

May all beings be happy.

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 2

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

His body heavy, eyes drooping closed, Adrien released his transformation and flopped on his bed face down. Who in the world thought that him running a fashion empire after spending all day teaching the principles of physics to teenagers was a good idea? Add in Chat Noir’s obligatory patrols, and you've got yourself a sleep-deprived, confused, and stressed disaster of a man. Yet, despite his exhaustion, Adrien’s lips stretched in a smile as soon as his head collided with a pillow.

“I’m so tempted to just sleep,” he whispered into the silence of his bedroom. “There’s always morning for changing clothes and grooming.”

“Do whatever you want,” Plagg puffed. “But I need disinfection. Seriously, you two need to get a room and preferably a kwami-free one. I didn’t sign up for this uncivilized, touchy-feely stuff. Can’t you just reveal identities and free me from being an involuntary participant in your grossly romantic endeavours?”

“If it were up to me, I would've done that a long time ago,” Adrien murmured. His shoes and clothes already on the floor, he crawled under the comforter, yawning. “But, you know just as well as I do that it isn't up to me, and Ladybug might actually be right about it being dangerous.”

“Hawkmoth hasn’t been active for years,” Plagg whined, finishing wiping himself with a sanitizing towelette and immediately heading straight for his stash of Camembert. “He’s probably dead already. Why do you still need to keep these masks on?”

“Hawkmoth not being active for a while isn’t proof that we’ll never see him again,” Adrien replied, wrapping himself around his pillow. “What if he’s just waiting for us to put our guard down to strike?”

“He isn’t that smart.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Adrien yawned again. “The man kept us on our toes for a decade. But even if, presumably, he’s out for good, this isn't the time to start a relationship still.”

“Why not?”

“Plagg, please,” Adrien mumbled, his eyes closed as he snuggled the pillow closer. “You know as well as I do that Ladybug is going through a rough period right now. Her job now demands all of her time and attention thanks to that jerk-boss that ditched them. Her relationship with her roommate—her best friend may I add—seems to worsen every time I hear about it. And have you even seen her? She’s lost weight and looks pale and tired all the time.” Adrien paused, opening his eyes. His chest tightened as he looked into the darkness of his bedroom. “Right now, Ladybug needs a friend who’ll support her, not another relationship to work on. And since I can’t help her with her civilian life, I’d be damned if I added to her problems.”

Adrien rolled over and pulled his comforter over his head. Ladybug needed a friend right now, not a boyfriend, and he loved her too much to add a romantic relationship to her already nearly unbearable pile. So until she got her promotion, he’d support her as a friend and would remain close for whenever she needed him. Once she reached her goal, though, that would change because then, Ladybug would actually have time and strength for a relationship with him. Otherwise, Adrien was afraid he was risking ruining everything before it even started. He’d already waited for her for years, he could certainly wait a little longer.  

“Whatever you say, lover boy,” Plagg murmured and started to settle in his little bed, turning and twisting until he found the perfect position. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight, Plagg,” Adrien replied, his thoughts racing back to his Lady and the effortless friendship they’d developed that tiptoed dangerously on the border of romance. It would come eventually. Adrien knew that, and when it did, he'd make his Lady the happiest girl in all of France. He'd never take her for granted. He'd always—

“Wipe that dopey smile off your face,” Plagg suddenly grumbled. “It’s creepy to grin like an idiot in the dark.”

“How do you even see what I am doing from your wastebasket all the way over there?”

“I don’t need to see it. I can feel it. Now, stop it and go to bed. You have tons of work tomorrow and just a few hours left to sleep.”

“Don’t remind me.” Adrien groaned, flopping on his back. “I should’ve sold my shares and been done with it.”

“Then why did you listen to that dude from your work? You should try it, Adrien,” Plagg mocked. “See for yourself before deciding on what to do: continue teaching or follow in your father’s footsteps. Nonsense, I tell you. You should’ve sold and invested in Camembert production, something useful for once.”

“Max isn't a dude,” Adrien chuckled. “He's a friend, and he has a point. I've spent my life hating the fashion industry only because of my father and his crazy obsession with his work. Maybe—”

“He kicked you out of the house because you followed your passion instead of whatever he wanted you to do.”

“He didn’t kick me out. I left.”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is, this fashion nonsense ruined your life. Why would you want to ‘try it out’?”

“My life isn’t ruined. And I think it’s smart to make sure I really do hate heading a fashion empire instead of simply projecting my failed relationship with my father on the whole industry.”

“A load of BS if you ask me.”

“What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s just for a few months. If I don’t like it by the end of the summer, I’m selling.”

“It’s May now—”

“Almost June.”

“Still May, meaning that there are more than a few months until the end of the summer. And good luck enjoying each and every one of them with Marinette around. She gave you quite a welcome today, didn’t she?”  

Adrien froze, all sleep vanishing at once, events of the past that changed his life forever flashing in front of his eyes.

***

On the day of their high school graduation, Marinette confessed. She blushed and stuttered and was absolutely adorable, expressing in the most beautiful and sincere of ways just how much he meant to her. When she finished speaking, with a trembling, hopeful smile on her lips, she raised her eyes, full of fear and anxiety, to look at him, but stunned, Adrien couldn't reply for the longest time.

He loved Marinette. He truly did, but only as a dear, close friend. He hated to reject her feelings, but even if Adrien wanted to give Marinette his heart, he couldn't. It had belonged to Ladybug ever since the day they’d met.

Speechless, all Adrien was able to do was look back at Marinette with eyes full of regret and apology. She didn’t need words to understand his answer. Whispering something he didn’t quite catch, Marinette escaped before Adrien could do as little as to say how sorry he was.

He’d never forgiven himself for breaking her heart, and if only he had been more careful, Adrien was certain they would’ve gotten through that incident without losing their friendship. Unfortunately, Adrien wasn’t so lucky. A few days later, he learned that Marinette had been pre-approved for an internship at his father's company. He lost his sleep over it because, living his whole life in the shadow of Gabriel Agreste, Adrien knew quite well what working for his father entailed and what it did to people as nice as Marinette. Sure, from the sidelines, being an employee at the hottest fashion house around seemed glamorous and exciting. In reality, there were only two options: you either allow this work to squash you and have a nervous breakdown before your first year was up, or you become just like his father—a cold, emotionless, heartless workaholic. There were no in-betweens or exceptions as far as Adrien was aware.

He couldn't let any of those happen to Marinette. Not when he wouldn’t be there to protect her. Not when, following a massive argument with his father over his plans for the future less than a week ago, Adrien was about to walk out of there himself. As of that moment, Adrien was supposed to move out of his childhood home by the end of the month if he wanted to pursue his dream of becoming a teacher. Otherwise, he’d have to cater to his father’s every whim indefinitely. The choice was clear, and seeing as he was escaping that hell of a company himself, Adrien couldn't silently stand on the sidelines and watch Marinette try to get on board. Not when, unlike him, she didn't know the reality of working for his father. Sadly enough, considering the timing, Adrien doubted that based on his words alone, Marinette would ditch her lifelong dream of working for Gabriel in favour of any other fashion houses that were sure to welcome her with open arms as soon as they saw her portfolio.

That's why he'd done it. That's why Adrien stole her file from his father's office.

He only wanted to protect her. He never meant any harm. He planned to sneak her portfolio to a few of his acquaintances in the other fashion houses that would be a much better fit for Marinette than his father's company ever could.

Perhaps, he could've chosen a better way to go about that, but at that moment, this was all that Adrien could come up with. Better timing also would’ve been nice. With his rejection of her confession, the moment to mess around with Marinette’s passions was as wrong as could be. Still, Adrien was confident his plan would work. The next day, he had a photoshoot for a fashion house that was on top of his list of better options for Marinette, so he stashed a copy of her portfolio in his bag and didn’t think twice about it.

Big mistake.

An hour before he was supposed to leave for the said photoshoot, Alya and Nino dragged him out of the house, picked up Marinette on their way and headed to their favourite cafe for some celebration he couldn’t even remember now. Despite the slight awkwardness between Marinette and him, their hang out turned out to be quite enjoyable. So pleasant, in fact, that Adrien let his guard down and made the second biggest mistake of his life—he’d allowed Alya to rummage around in his bag for mints while he visited the men's room before departing for his photoshoot.

Huge… colossal mistake.

Adrien stopped short of reaching the table on his way back. His friends stared at him in shock; his gaze focused on Marinette.

“Is this the reason no one could find my application when I called them three days ago?” She whispered, looking him straight in the eyes as she clutched her portfolio in her hands. “And the day after that? And yesterday? Today as well? They couldn’t find my portfolio because you took it?”

His body and mind paralyzed, Adrien stood frozen in place. He hadn't expected Marinette to find out. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to do or say.

Hastily, Marinette gathered her things and headed for the door only to halt her steps in front of him a moment later.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I can understand and accept you not returning my feelings; no one can control their heart. But this?” Her voice cracked as tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her face. “Why would you be so cruel? What did I do to you to deserve this?”

Stunned, Adrien helplessly watched Marinette for a few moments, his dumbfounded silence only fueling her already rushed assumption about the situation. When his speech had returned, he’d scrambled to explain.

“You can’t work for my father.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh. And why?”

“It’s a bad idea. You don’t know what working for him can do to you. Marinette, I’ve been there. I’ve seen things… terrible things that happen to people because they can’t handle the workload and demands. I don’t want you there. I don’t want you—”

Marinette raised her hand and spat, “Stop it. I don’t care what you’ve seen there. Those people aren't me. This is not yourdecision to make, Adrien. It’s my life. My decisions. And if it would be a mistake, I want to be the one making it!”

“But—”

“Save it. I thought we were friends, but I guess I was wrong. Friends support each other, not—” She swallowed, looking away, and quietly added, “If my feelings are so much of an inconvenience to you that you didn’t even want me working at your father’s company, you should’ve said so. I would have stayed away on my own. You didn’t have to do this.”

With those words, she walked away. Alya and Nino followed.  

“I can’t believe you,” Alya had snarled. Nino kept looking down as he followed his girlfriend.

They’d kicked him out of their private chat room that same day. Adrien's multiple calls, emails and texts over the next few weeks to the three had gone unanswered. His hope for a chance to explain had been slowly dying, and in the end, it was Chloe—the only friend who remained by his side—who’d convinced him to give up. His heart was breaking, but Chloe was likely right; if none of his friends had responded by then, they’d probably blocked him. Adrien had some pride left, and he wasn’t going to impose himself on anyone in person if they wouldn't speak to him over the phone. There was only so much he could do trying to fix that mess; and he’d done more than enough. By the end of the month, Adrien moved out of the mansion, changed his contacts, and tried to start a new life, leaving everyone behind.

With his move, his relationship with his father had taken a sharp turn for the worse, the two of them becoming as good as strangers. Thankfully, Adrien had enough work and savings to support himself. Soon, he’d found new friends in university, and life seemed to be regaining at least some sense of normalcy. He regretted neither leaving his father nor trying to stop Marinette from entering Gabriel. Quite the opposite, Adrien would've never forgiven himself if he hadn't tried to save her from the claws of the monster called Gabriel Agreste.

Years passed. Adrien graduated and began working as a physics teacher at a local high school, ending his modelling career as soon as he’d signed his teaching contract.

He never heard much from Gabriel until the day his lawyer called from a hospital. A few murmured words of apology from his father in his final moments couldn’t fix anything, but in his heart, Adrien still mourned. He still cared because no matter how estranged they'd grown, Gabriel was still his father and there had been times when Adrien had been happy with him. He wished it could've been different. He wished they could've had a better relationship, but it was a little too late to change anything when his father was taking his final breaths. A failure on both sides. Adrien mourned that as well.

***

Adrien shifted in his bed. He had never asked to inherit anything. He didn’t need this company. It ruined a good part of his life, and for that, he hated it. Being cut off by his former friends, he didn’t know Marinette had been working there, sending all of his sacrifices to hell. But, boy, was he right. That gorgeous woman that snuck into his father’s office today—yes, he had to admit she was gorgeous; Marinette was always pretty but she had bloomed into a beautiful woman—was so exhausted that her beauty was barely visible. A thick layer of exhaustion glazed over her stunning blue eyes; her flawless skin looked pale; the sagging curve of her pink lips did absolutely nothing to accentuate her loveliness. The deep frown line in the middle of her forehead might have been there because of meeting him, but still, Adrien’s heart tightened. Working for his father hadn’t been merciful to Marinette.

Just as he’d predicted.

The worst part of all, however, was that Marinette seemed to not see it herself, fighting for a company that, without a strong leader, was quickly going under. Didn’t she have anyone in her life to care enough for her to shake her out of that trance? Didn’t she—

A thought popped into his head so unexpected and crazy, his eyes widened. It was rather insane, but perhaps fate was giving him a chance to redeem himself?

Whatever wrong he’d done before, his intentions were always pure: to help Marinette. She used to be his friend. He cared for her. Surely fate or destiny or whatever cosmic force that controlled his luck saw that and thought it unfair for Adrien to be condemned for what he hadn’t done. He wasn’t a backstabber; he was a loyal friend.

So, perhaps if he was the bigger person and helped Marinette now, she’d see his noble objective and would have to admit that he wasn’t as horrible of a person as she probably thought him to be. Perhaps she’d even apologize. He was older now, more mature. Surely, he could come up with better plans for how to improve Marinette's life, help her succeed, and prove the purity of his intentions and sincerity of his character.

He did also kind of owe her for breaking her heart. Maybe this was a chance to atone for that as well.

Adrien shook his head and rolled over in his bed. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care for someone who tossed him aside without even letting him explain. He shouldn’t help anyone who wouldn’t even listen to him or give him the benefit of the doubt.

He had been her friend. She had claimed to be in love with him. Why then was a simple mistake big enough for her to dismiss years of friendship and kick him out of her life? Why should he even think about doing anything nice for such a person, even if only to prove himself right?

Because she helped you just a few hours ago despite hating you.

Adrien groaned. Damn conscience! He still shouldn’t! She did it for the sake of her job, not because she cared for him.

She still helped you when you needed help. She isn’t a lost cause yet. There's still good in her.

Adrien pressed his lips together. He wouldn’t! Not after the way she treated him.

Weren’t you the one to deliver the first blow, though?

Adrien sat up, running his hands through his hair. Why was he such a pushover? Why couldn’t he be more like his father when it came to things like these? Why was he already thinking of the ways he could help Marinette?

Because you aren’t your father, and you still care.

“Okay, fine. I’ll help her.” He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Just leave me alone. I need to sleep.”

Settling back into his bed, Adrien closed his eyes and hoped for a few peaceful hours of slumber. Instead, his head buzzed with ideas crazy enough to make him chuckle one moment and bemoan his existence the next. By the time the morning rolled in, there were only two things that Adrien was certain of:

First, Gabriel would have to go. His father had built that company on his employees’ tears and suffering. It wasn’t worth saving, even if Adrien thought he figured out how to do that. It might be a petty, personal revenge move, but Adrien couldn’t find it in himself to care. It would be the right thing to do. Most of its employees had already handed in their resignation letters, anyway.

Second, there was only one way for Marinette to make it in this industry now: find a position in a different company. With her talent, it shouldn't be a problem. He just had to play his cards right and find her a company that would appreciate her more than his father ever did—showing her in the process what a grave mistake she made all those years back when she had cast him aside so cruelly.

Next >

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Ok ok I’ve had this thought for a while now, how about this. When Touya was a lil baby man his “dad” introduced him to his fellow pro hero’s daughter. Maybe the hero is a high ranking pro of another country. They hit it off and become friends. But his “dad’s” shit is too much and she notices his change and asks him and he maybe takes his anger out on her. But she just calmly takes it all, smiling and says after his rant, that he isn’t alone and tells him that her father is the same and that since her quirk (Emma Frost’s powers maybe) is powerful she’s doing the same to her. Then their friendship grows and later somethings happen Touya can’t take his BS so leaves without a trace. Years later she’s a pro hero ranking in top 5 in her country. They meet through pure coincidence. And he sees that she has an engagement ring on, and he’s like wtf and she just gives him a heartbreaking smile and says that maybe if he stayed it could have been him who gave that to her 🥺 you can go on from there Sorry it’s so long😥

I’m not going to force you to write it, just trying to give you ideas to inspire your writing. please don’t think that I’m forcing this on you 🙏🙏🙏 if you want to then ONLY should you write it okay 🥺😭

Can we just take a moment to look at him😭💔❤

Ps: sorry about the quirk part ;-; only after I saw it was a specific one

"UGH!" The once red haired kid hissed in pain as his body double over... sometimes he wished he could just had gained the blessing of not only rememberinh his mother, but inhering her quirk as well... his blue flames accordinh to his father cartied more potential than his... that he was almost perfect...

Yet he wasn't. His body couldn't handle the heat... as well as his mind couldn't tolerate more of the mental and physical abuse Endeavour put him, his siblings and mother too...

His forehead was against the ground as hs gritted his teeth the best he could to not pet out one miserable yey possibly inhuman shout... both of pain and anger.

Although he flinched back up when he fept a touch near his hot shoulder... thinking that was possibly his baby brother Natsuo worried abiyt him once again.

But it wasn't the white haired kid... it was you... standing in front of him with a worried face wjile holding a bucket of possible icy water and some towels.

"What?" He scoffs, doing his best to stand up without trembling.

(L/n) (Y/n) was the daughter of a famous pro hero from America... Her father being a close friend of Endeavour, somehow, introduced his daughter to the old man... the girl was a compassionate soul with a telepathic diamond kinda like quirk. Both of you grew closer as time went by... yet, he couldn't sadly hide it the pain he felt as his father slowly grew to be a abuser...

He couldn't just tell you about it. For what? Ruin the pertect Todoroki family sterotype and for yoi just to rub into his face about your perfect little lovingly family?

He would rather not.. bit todaay he was just fuming. Angry at his father, angry at his quirk... angry at himself

"You're burning up Touya-kun..." you whispered while kneeling down next to his fetal position form "Rough training..?" You whispered softly whiel clenching the towel before slowly rubbing the visible parts of his skin...

He remained silent, a frow present on his features as he clenched his legs closer to his torso.

"... Touya-kun?"he grunted at your call amd tried not to wince at the cold wet towel on his cheek "Is not only training right?"

"Took you long enough smartpants..." he chuckled darkly, brushing you off and putting his legs on a crossstype sitting.

".. wanna talk about it? It usually he-"

"Oh, like talking will just stop my stupid father to beat my mother and treat me and my siblings like shit.." he gritted his teeth at the memory and for spilling out what he didn't wanted to.

He saw how your eyes widened from the corner of his turquoise ones... scoffing at your reaction.

"Touya-kun I.. I know what is-"

"Oh dont come with the "i know how you feel" talk." He growled, glaring at you in anger "The spoiled princess have everything to goods and food in your home. A dad that just doesn't smiles as often as All Might, a mother that always remain by your side no matter what and you come with that bullshit?!" He widened his eyes at the curse he let out and how he shouted at you... a billions of regrets already forming inside his head until he saw a bit of tears on your eyes yet a kind and painfull smile on your lips.

"You think is like that?" You almost sobbed the words until you pulled your sleeves up to show him marks of cigaretes, cuts and purples dots adoring your skin as his eyes widened in horror...

"W..what?" He almost whispered as he grab your arm to inspectes closer.

"The comet hero, example of a father... does this to me every single day he comes back from a fight that didn't ended well or when I mess up with something on my training... while my mom is always drinking and watchs from a safe distance to not be hurr as well..."

Horror was present on his face as anger slowed build inside of him... so this was what heroes do to their children?! Him and you had been suffering in the hands of the most powerful and respected heroes out there...

If he had control over his power he swore he would chase your father down for everything he done to you.

"So yeah... I know how you must feel... Touya. You're not alone..." your arms slipped from his grasp only for you to fill the empty of his hands with yours, interviewing your fingers with his.

He couldn't even answer as he pulled you gently to hug as he craddled your head between his neck and hand, carresing your back with his free one.

If only he could be a little more strong... only to protect you and himself...

Yet that didn't stopped him to vow to himself to get some revenge on both of you.

.

.

.

Finally he was meeting wuth his baby brother Shouto. And now he was ready to burn all of the heroes and students present there just to prove his point that none of them were worth of even living.

Yes he was crazy, a sociopath that killed more than one hundred people. But whose fault was that again? Oh right! Endeavour... Todoroki Enji. His father that could dance with his son on the deepest parts of hell.

Just when he was about to send a attach towards Shoto the chaos around him was mute for a short few seconds.

'You would really hurt your younger brother like that..? Touya?'

"What the fuck..?" He muttered before receiving a kick on his hut wnough for him to gag on his own blood.

Quickly recovering he sended another attack only to see a woman made of diamond standing next to him, panting as her grip on the blades remained.

"Touya..." you blinked and a soon more human like appearance got back as the woman stared at him with horror "What happened to you?"

"Do I even know you sweetcheeks?" He asked nonchamtly before sending another wave of flames towards your direction only for your arm to get back on a diamond like shape as you blocked the attack.

"Seriously?!" You gasped while holding your blades.

He was about to attack before a flash of memories of his childhood appeared as he groaned at the pain it actually felt, but still reamained stood until his eyes widened at a image of his long lost childhood friend...

When his vision got back he stared at you... recogjizing finally after so many years.

"So you devided to become one of those fake heroes too (Y/n)..?" He snarled, forearm in front of him as he lit it into flames, hiding the actual hurt he felt.

"Our parents may have acted this way, but that doesn't mean all heroes belong to a world full of lies!"

"Bullshit." He attacked once again as you dodged, coming closer to him as he groaned and managed to lock you in the ground... seing a golden ring on your left hand as you tried to controp your breathing at seing his hand on your throat.

"What the fuck...?" That was a weeding ring... a fucking weeding ring. The woman that was supposw to be his was married to someone else...

You realized his grip lessen up a bit only because of the sign of the ring on your finger... realization come into your senses as you felt tears start to form in yout eyes as you manage to smile a bit... unknown to Dabi that you were contacting your side kick and husband to come for your rescue.

"... you know..." you brushed your fingers on his scarred face much like you did years ago, making him freeze qith turquoise eyes wide open "... it could have been you.. but.. you .. I thought you were.."

"Dead..?" He mumbled, still on top of you as his eyes narrowed at the golden ring ".. I wish.."