#I think they're hot in a professional way

[fumiliar]

hiromi higuruma being your boss was not for the weak. not only did he give you impossibly hard cases, he was also too hot to handle. due to higuruma's hardworking nature, you were always working as his assistant, never catching a break. well maybe once in a while when you would gawk at him through the glass of his see-through office. you didn't think he'd notice your small crush, but oh he was an observant man.

he noticed. he noticed every single time you'd drool at his arms when he rolled his sleeves, making him do it more often. he noticed when you would shamelessly stare at him, feeling your burning stare on his figure. oh it was so fun for him to tease you.

"y/n, come here," he shouted from the comfort of his office, you rushing to meet him.

"yes, why did you call me sir?" you bit your lip, nervously waiting for his answer.

he loved that name, sir. you were the only one who called him sir, everyone else calling him mr.higuruma or just his last name.

"can you check the files for the case on trial tomorrow? please make sure they're all complete," higuruma purposefully loosening his tie, his lips curved knowing you were exactly where he wanted you to be. "y/n?" he coughed, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"uh..sorry sir, can you repeat what you just said?"

"what's on your mind y/n?"

"sir-"

"me? i'm on your mind?"

"n-no sir!" you immediately answered, unable to control the tint that appears on your cheeks, or the way you couldn't look at him in the eye.

"why not?" higuruma pushed once more, he's had enough of teasing you. he wants you, he wants to get to know you outside of this professional setting. "are you free tonight?"

"uh yes sir."

"can i treat you to dinner?" higuruma leaned back at my place, "at my place."

you were stunned. your work crush and boss had just asked you out to dinner, was this a date? or just a formal lunch.

"it's a date, can you?" he added, it's like he could read your mind.

"i would love to sir."

[dystopiagnome]

Lociet for the duo bingo?

I think they're interesting buut alas no bingo.

Here's the drafts!

and comically some of my slide for the "Date My Son" slideshow!

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Do Black People Blush?" Bringing brown complexions to life

Inspired by this ask

So, do Black people blush?

We are human beans 🤣! Blood rushes through our veins! This isn't just a nonblack misconception either; I know plenty of Black people who think we don't blush. Stop saying that shit. It's not true! If you thought this at any point, I'm glad you learned, TAKE THIS L IN SILENCE! I am sparing you the indignity of saying this out loud, ever! 🙏🏾

Jokes aside, the actual issue usually lies with the depiction or description. Depending on our skin tone, most of us aren’t going to turn ‘bright pink’ with a blush (if you write that in your y/n or roleplaying fics, that’s an easy way to negate a good amount of your potential Black audience). Think of a cherry coke- how you still see the tint of red in it, but it’s still brown? Like that.

One way to dodge this in writing is to say “flushed”, or “ears/cheeks became hot”. This is describing the physical action of blushing, without having to describe the color of someone’s face. If you’re really nervous about not writing us correctly via blushing… there you go!

Colorism

Okay. So this is something I’ll likely do its own lesson on, because there’s no way I could encapsulate it into one little blurb and I’m not going to try! After asking the internet an admittedly confusing question 😅, one thing I was able to reaffirm is that people have different opinions on what ‘dark’/’darker’ skin tones mean. People recognize that different cultural upbringings and contexts will change what that means! And that’s good- that an important part of the larger conversation!

However, I want everyone to understand that you don’t have to be Black to be dark/’darker’ skinned- you can be Black and very pale! We discussed that in the last lesson! There’s no ‘singular point of brown-ness’ that designates a Black person as ‘Black’- there’s an entire sociological conversation behind that!

My point is, this isn’t a ‘oh Black people OVERALL aren’t depicted blushing properly’- because there are ‘lighter’ skinned Black people that wouldn’t suffer as much from this particular issue.

Blushes and Undertones

Three Links for Tips on Medium to Deep Skintones

Different complexions are going to require different colors, there's not a 'one fits all' option. However! What we want to do for deeper brown complexions is to focus on BOLDER, not lighter! Putting light pink or a white person’s ‘nude’ on our skin will often make us look ashy and undercolored. And we don’t like looking ashy.

"It looks like they're ashy!"

What do we mean when we say this about a piece? Well, worse case scenario, it looks like this:

This was NOT one of KD’s better days, and he was thoroughly mocked for this. He got more than enough money for lotion! Anyway, when we say that your art looks ‘ashy’, it means that it feels like the skin of your Black character is gray, or dead. Like a corpse. We don’t look like that unless things are dire.

In fan and professional art, you can sometimes find people user a grey undertone for deeper shades of brown on Black people: NO! We are NOT grey! We are not pitch! Many skin shades of brown can be found based in the oranges and the reds. Based on lighting and depth of complexion, you might even have to go into the blues and purple to capture the brown you’re seeking.

I’m begging us to stop desaturating the browns we use. We can see the difference. It’s usually one of those ‘White Man Painted Brown’ techniques I discussed before; an attempt to ‘make a character Black’ without really committing to it because the brown skin tone ‘doesn’t look good’ to the artist. Brown is beautiful! Commit to brown! Commit to the full design!

Put in the work to create the brown you need!

While this is a traditional art piece (follow Ellie Mandy Art, a Black creator), I want you to notice how she incorporated many colors to create the deep brown for her piece.

-8:05 for the list of paints

-8:05-17:29 for the process

She used black, yes, but it was nowhere near the base color. She incorporated blues and reds and other browns to capture that depth. It wasn’t ‘toss in a bunch of black or grey to get the brown darker’. (SKIP TO THE END TO SEE HOW GOOD THIS PIECE IS, BTW. I felt like I was in the presence of a master watching her do this, fr. We gotta pay artists more.)

I want to use this model as an example to show that while we might get very dark, we're still not 'pitch black'. You can see the flat of the black of their clothes versus their deep complexion. They're not the same!

Even if your character's complexion is very deep brown into black, you still need to incorporate ‘life’ into them (if that makes sense). And you know what? Even if you want to describe your characters as having ‘black’ skin, that’s fine, but there are still other ways to do it- obsidian, the night sky, velvet. Find a way to romanticize our skin (there’s an entire conversation about how ‘black’ is used in a negative connotation in language and storytelling, and we’re ALSO going to have that conversation later!)

A Real Simple Way (i.e. how I do it)

I tried, but I cannot find my skin tones palette link anymore. I’m sorry! But, it’s been essential to my character design. If you don’t ever buy anything else, I would HIGHLY suggest investing in a skin tones palette for your art program.

Everyone say hello to Philia, my OC! I’m used to drawing her, so I’m going to use her as an example. Now remember, I am still an amateur! But this is how I do it!

Admittedly, I do the one on the left when I'm feeling lazy, but more often I'll take the time to do the one on the right. Now here’s the thing- I’m not actually blending the red into the brown. This is on a whole different layer. What I’m actually doing is adding to and fading the color until it’s at a color that I feel is natural. There's definitely an easier, smarter way to do this, but that’s what I like to do- I like to see the stages slowly until I’m comfortable.

You have to mess around and practice; see what looks good and what doesn't. Go into the reds, the oranges, the pinks and observe how it looks- I may go through multiple before I settle on one. It’s really just a matter of getting used to drawing Black skin tones and how they look in different lighting. This one's not perfect for sure.

Resources

Here are some really good posts and Youtube videos on how both to paint skin, and to add blush tones. And remember, as per my usual, the best way to learn how the draw and paint Black people is to follow and learn from Black artists! Another good idea might be looking into Black makeup and Black SFX makeup artists. As people that work with skin on a regular basis, they would be a good place to study what colors can and should be used on different skin colors as a whole.

ami0amii

Likelihood Art

Tiara Anderson

Proko

Sinix

Ross Draws

In summary, focus on bolder colors, be willing to test until you get what you need, and practice! All you can do to get better is to practice! And as always: it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[luveline]

hi, i’m not sure if your requests are open, forgive me if not, but i’ve been thinking about bombshell!reader and spence lately. not sure if you’ve written this already or something similar, but how about them sharing a room on a case? similar to alaska.

fem, 1k

Spencer predicted the outcome of the roommate situation fairly quickly. Ignoring whatever data he might have in his head about the team, Spencer was always going to end up sharing with you tonight, because the universe hates him, and because you quite like him. 

It's nice to be someone first choice, if nothing else. “Me and Spencer will share, obviously,” you say, holding out your hand for a keycard. 

Hotch passes it over without complaint. He doesn't have to say keep it professional, you will (ish), and he doesn't have to ask Spencer if he's okay with this arrangement. Despite endless exhausting teasing, everyone knows that you and Spencer are actually friends. Or, he thinks you are. 

You certainly feel quite friendly as you hike your bag higher up your arm and sew the other arm through his. “Let's go. I'm so tired I might fall asleep on the way there.” 

You don't look tired. Spencer struggles to understand how every emotion you wear suits you. How every time he looks at you, you're prettier. He read a book recently on human attraction, and less factual but perhaps his most strongly believed takeaway from the book was that a person grows more attracted to the person they're attracted to, like a loop, or an ouroboros snake eating its own tail, forced over and over to make the same stupid mistake. What is he doing? Does he really think this is a good idea? Is he in love with you? How couldn't he be? You walk arm in arm to a room you're going to share and you don't care that he smells sickly of arnica and deodorant mixed together. You ignore the dark circles under his eyes, dark circles you never seem to have, always so perfect, always so you. 

“This one?” you ask, coming to a stop. “Room… 108?” He takes your bag and you smile gratefully, inserting the key, and legging open the door. “Tada. Home sweet home, Dr. Reid.” 

The hotel room is small and stale. Clean, sure, but questionably, with yellowing furnishings and sparse furniture. There's a double bed, two nightstands, a cubby bathroom close to the door, and a single chair near a small free standing countertop opposite of the bed, hosting a microwave and cups with hot chocolate sachets. 

“Wow,” you say, beaming, immediately breaking for the bed. 

“Wait, wait! We have to check for bed bugs.” 

You hold your hands up in surrender. 

Spencer peels the sheets back and uses the little torch on his keychain to investigate the mattress while you sit on the floor, one leg crossed beneath you and the other stretched in front of you as you sort through your clothes. You hum as you fold a shirt cleanly and make a pleased sound that may prove to give him indigestion as you unearth your pyjamas. 

“Spencer, can I shower first? Do you mind?” 

“I don't mind.” He turns off the torch, satisfied. “Thank you. For letting me check without being annoyed.”He says the second bit quieter than he means to. 

“Why would I be annoyed?” you ask, standing up in a whirlwind of pistachio perfume. Low notes of something sweet and caramelised haunt him as you drop your hand on his shoulder. “I'm gonna shower really fast, I swear. Should we get dinner? I bet we could order something to the front desk.” 

“I'll see if they have any menus.” 

Sitting in bed with you, later, showered and fed and drinking microwaved hot chocolate from paper cups together, Spencer has a strange flash of pleasure. Talking to you, seeing you with your hair in its protective style for the night, your skin shining with lotions and serums, and to have the revelation that you really do have dark circles under your makeup, it all feels private and special. Because you're still undeniably beautiful, and you act like he's worth sharing that with. 

He feels overwhelmed, in all honesty. 

You can sense it. You do your best to calm him down. 

“Finish your drink, babe,” you say, knocking him on the thigh with your knuckles. “It was a really long day.” 

“I'm fine.” 

“Yes, you are.” You giggle at yourself. “Sorry, I'm being serious tonight, I decided.” 

“Why?” he asks, puzzled. 

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You don't.” 

You put your hot chocolate on the nightstand and sink back into the pillows, looking every bit a movie star as usual despite your fresh face. It's your expression, the confidence behind them, that makes you so beautiful. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask. 

He looks down into his hot chocolate, swirling the drink around and around. “You're beautiful.” 

It catches you off guard. You're quiet for too long, panic festering in his chest. 

“You are too.” You put your hand on his thigh. When he brings his haze to your face, you've closed your eyes, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Wanna brush my teeth for me?” 

“No.” You both laugh. “Sorry if that was out of the blue, before.”

“I say worse to you,” you say. “Lay down with me. We can snuggle.” 

Spencer lays down. You don't snuggle, but your hand stays pressed to the side of his thigh, and the smell of your perfume lingers despite your shower. It must've been caught in your hair. 

“It's weird,” you say, facing the ceiling, “I'm not tired anymore.” 

“It's called learned arousal.” 

Your laugh is a shock. “Oh, is it now?” 

“Not like that. Are you thinking about work? If you think about certain things while you're in bed, it starts to make it so you think about those things on instinct. You've conditioned yourself.” 

“I don't think so,” you say. “Well, maybe. Mostly I just think about you, Spence. And not like that.” You laugh again, so much laughter Spencer could conjure the sound from memory alone. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I promise I'm not trying to harass you.” 

He stares at the side of your face. “I know what you mean. I think about you too.” 

“Well, good to know I'm not in this torture alone,” you say softly. 

It is the worst night's sleep of Spencer's life, but he thinks he might want to do it again. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flag III

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Baby!Reader

Summary: When Emma and Frida found you

Frida is leaving for England.

Arsenal have been interested in her since the season began so it was only natural that she went off there to develop her career further.

But, still, Emma doesn't want to see Frida leave.

Frida occupies a space in Emma's heart that she can't put into words. Frida is everything to her, the air, the ground, the sky and the stars.

But Emma would never discourage Frida from finding her place in a league abroad.

Frida deserves everything in life, even if it's half a world away from where Emma is looking after their home in Sweden.

It will be different in the beginning, Emma knows this, but together there isn't much they can't overcome.

But, still, she'll miss the way Frida's body feels against hers. Even now, as they sneak around the back of the training centre to kiss.

It's not the most professional they've ever been but she just can't help herself when it comes to Frida.

"E-Emma," Frida says in a hushed tone, pushing Emma's roaming lips from her neck," Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Emma pulls away, glancing around for whatever errant sound Frida has heard.

"I..."

There's nothing but the breeze in the wind, the rustle of leafless branches in the height of winter.

It's absolutely freezing. It's predicted that this is to be the coldest day of the year.

"Nothing," Frida says," I must have imagined it."

Emma's lips go back to her neck, leaving dainty kisses all over her skin. Each one a labour of love, red hot in a way that feels beautiful as the snow falls around them.

Emma stops though, pulling away again.

"No," She says," Wait. I think I can hear it too."

It's faint, barely audible whimpers and whines that are getting more and more quiet as they go on.

But Emma and Frida are alone in an icy cold wasteland.

There's not even birds in the trees. Yet, now that Emma's straining her ears, she can hear the noises with crystal clear clarity.

She shivers as another freezing breeze cuts through her like a knife.

"I...I think it's coming from over there," Frida says, looking over at the clump of dense bushes over by the bins.

"Stay here," Emma says, wary of if it's some wild animal," I'll go and luck."

"Emma-"

"Stay here, Frida. I'll check it out."

She approaches the bushes carefully, slowly in case the animal jumps at her.

But there's no animal.

Just you.

"Emma?" Frida calls, watching as Emma lowers herself to her knees," What is it?"

Emma turns, a singular blanket in her hold and, in that blanket, is you.

"I...I think we need to call an ambulance," She says shakily," I-I think she's been abandoned."

You're tiny, smaller than any baby that Frida's ever seen before. You don't look good either. You're obviously freezing, little lips turning a concerning shade of purple and the cries from your mouth are getting quieter and quieter the longer you're outside.

Teammates clamber over themselves to help when Emma and Frida run in with you.

Somewhere along the way, Frida loses her top when it's clear that you're either nearly hypothermic or already developing it. Skin-to-skin seems to be what's best for you as you lay weakly on Frida's chest with layers of blankets over you both.

Now that she can see you properly, it's with a sinking feeling that she realises how underweight you actually are. You're nothing but skin and bones as Frida holds you close while they wait for the ambulance.

"They're calling her the Linköping baby," Emma says softly," The staff and the girls, that is. Word has spread pretty quickly."

"That's unfair," Frida replies, her own voice barely above a whisper as she feels your lungs inflate shakily against her," They can't call her that. She needs a name."

"They don't think she's going to survive," Emma says," Even before the ambulance gets here. She's in bad shape. They don't think she's going to make it."

"And you?" Frida finally tears her eyes away from you to look at her girlfriend. "What do you think?"

"I think..."

Your head barely pokes out from under all of the blankets, your eyes half open. You're not moving much. It seems to almost be too much effort to even breath, like everything in you is fighting to do something as basic and instinctual as that.

Emma didn't know what to expect when she looked in that bush. You were laying there, weak and unmoving in just a singular blanket and a thin onesie. One could almost mistake you for being asleep if it weren't from the stilted way your chest rose and fell and the way faint noises would escape your mouth every so often.

"I think...I think she's a fighter."

"I think so too."

Emma can tell what Frida's thinking before Frida herself even knows what she's thinking. She can tell by the way Frida's holding, you the way she's looking at you, the way she presses a soft kiss to the wispy hair at the top of your head.

Emma can tell because she's thinking the exact same thing.

"She looks like you," Emma says, starting off gently," Don't you think?"

Frida giggles a little bit. "I was thinking she had your nose. What part of her looks like me exactly?"

"Her hair, maybe," Emma says," And I'm sure once she opens this eyes of hers, they'll be like yours."

"You don't know that."

"I think I do."

"She might never open them," Frida says suddenly," If everyone is thinking she won't come out of this. They might never open."

"She will. She's a fighter."

Frida's throat bobs. "But if she doesn't...What would they even put on her grave? The Linköping baby?"

"You want to name her?"

"Everyone deserves a name. No matter how little they are."

"Then name her."

"I-"

"Ambulance is here," One of their teammates pokes their heads through the door," Medics are coming in now. They said to stay put."

"Y/N," Frida says suddenly.

"Huh?" Emma asks.

"She looks like a y/n."

You're tiny and malnourished and halfway to death's door. The possibility of you surviving the night is astronomically low.

But you have a name now and, in Emma's mind, you have a bedroom at home. A bedroom with a soft, warm crib and a dog companion who would just adore you. A bedroom in a house full of toys and soft clothes and two mothers who would adore you too.

A first name and a last name from the mothers who found you freezing cold in the dead of winter, buried in a bush as snow fell over you.

"Yeah," Emma says as the paramedics rush in," She does."

[hotchreid-cm]

Forgot / Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: You tell Hotch to go home after a long case.

It was a long case. One of those cases that as soon as you arrive back at the office you just want to go home. And that's what everyone did.

Except you and Hotch. You weren't ready to go home yet. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't quite ready to let Hotch out of your sight. You almost lost him tonight.

You look up from your desk, your eyes drifting to his office, the light spilling through the slats in the window. Hotch is hunched over his desk, rubbing his temples, you assume with his eyes closed.

You're up and walking before you even realise what you're doing. A soft knock on the door and a quiet 'come in', bring you Hotch now leaning back in his chair looking directly at you.

You clear your throat, "what are you still doing here? I thought you would have gone home as soon as we were back?"

Hotch gestures to the papers on his desk, "I think the cleaning crew may have knocked some papers over and tried to put them back together. Only they're now in the wrong order and I have to file them tomorrow."

You watch Hotch rub at his temples again, eyes screwed shut like his lamp light is too bright for him.

"I'll put them back in the right order. You go home."

Hotch shakes his head, "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's not your job and I'm sure you're tired and ready to go home."

You step into his office fully, "its lucky you're not asking then."

He looks at you with some surprise, and a very faint smile.

You gesture for him to rise from the chair, "it doesn't take a profiler to know that you're in pain and you need rest. Go home, see Jack and get some sleep."

He studies you for a moment and as always you have to fight the urge to squirm under his heavy gaze.

You're not sure if he knows that he has a smoulder hot enough to make a nuns panties go up in flames, but he uses it on you all the time. And let's just say you're glad you're not a religious woman as all the times you've thought about him while in bed would surely be your one way ticket to downstairs.

You've always had an attraction to Hotch from the moment you joined the team. Only he was so closed off that you could never tell if he felt the same.

But after tonight, after he got taken, you knew the attraction was becoming something more. Something dangerous, too real.

You crushed him in a hug and held him a little longer than was professionally appropriate when you finally found him. But you didn't care, nothing matters when it came to losing the people you loved. All you wanted to do was take care of him.

Hotch rose from his desk and reached for his briefcase, "you're sure about this?"

You flash him a smile, "absolutely, I've got no one waiting for me at home, especially no one as adorable as Jack. I'll get the files ready for the morning, after you're well rested."

Hotch nods, walking towards you and the door to his office. He surprises you when his large hand covers your forearm, "thank you."

He looks so deeply into your eyes as he says it, you're afraid he can see every secret you've ever had, your soul laid bare.

And then he's gone, striding down the hall and out of the glass doors.

Your breath leaves you all at once as you move to sit in the chair he just vacated.

The air still smells like him and it comforts you when your brain brings back those terrifying moments of the case just passed.

You just start to sort through the papers when Hotch rushes back into the office.

You stand at the abruptness of the unexpected intrusion, "Hotch? What is it? What's wrong?"

He blows out a breath like he had run all the way back here, "I forgot something"

"What? What did you forget?"

He strides across the room and around the desk, both hands covering your cheeks as he brings your face closer to his.

When your lips meet, your surprise melts along with your mouth against his. Your body naturally leans into his strong one, taking strength you didn't know you needed.

When you open to him, and your tongues meet, one of his hands slides to your waist. He tries to bring your bodies closer, to feel you, and connect you like he never wants to let you go.

When he finally pulls away, his thumb brushes your bottom lip, "I forgot you. But I don't think I'll be making that mistake again. I'll see you in the morning."

And then he was gone, leaving you giggling like a school girl in his office.

A/N: Thank you for reading! It's my first Hotch fic so please be nice 🥹 just wrote this quickly on my phone so not proofread or edited.

[melonnmiru]

being a professional volleyball player had gotten kiyoomi an onslaught of— albeit, somewhat unhinged, fans.

he'd never say he hated his fans. in fact, he appreciated their constant support for his growth as both a person and a way too attractive volleyball player. however, the way some of them would show their support was rather... unique for his standards.

the two of you were sprawled out on the couch, you mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, and him ultimately deciding to do the same. this was one of the few times he ever even went on the damn app and the first thing he's greeted with is an edit of him from his most recent game. he somehow felt inclined to open the comments but a part of him knew his scowl would only deepen if he did.

you leaned over and tried to smooth out the crease in between his brows with a hum. "you gotta give them credit, 'omi. you look really hot there."

"it's a 15 second video of me drinking water."

"still hot."

he rolled his eyes, switching his phone off and leaning on your shoulder. you went back to running through his hair with one hand, and scrolling on tiktok with the other.

while kiyoomi was mainly focused on how nice it felt to have your fingers gently carding through his hair, he was also listening along to the random audios that played each time you scrolled onto another video. eventually, a song oddly familiar to kiyoomi started up on your phone.

wait.

kiyoomi paused, turning to look up at you in a comically slow manner with a grimace painted on his face. you bit back a laugh at his sour expression, batting your eyelashes back at him. "what's wrong, my sweetheart, honeybunch, sugarplum, light of my life?"

"ignoring those disgusting pet names— is that the same edit i just saw?"

the familiar song played faintly as you offered him an innocent grin. you glanced at your phone then back at him, quickly swiping up. "edit? don't know what you're talking about."

alas, the algorithm knew you a bit too well. maybe it was coming after you with the fact yet another kiyoomi edit popped up after you swiped. the two of you stared at the screen silently, your thumb sliding over to press another button.

"...what a coincidence, huh 'om-"

"did you just favorite it?"

you didn't respond. he shifted closer to grab your phone, you leaned away. this ultimately led to you and kiyoomi wrestling for your phone. as you two were tugging at your phone, it slid to unsurprisingly, another kiyoomi edit.

"i'm gatekeeping these, get off!"

"they're literally edits of me!"

eventually, he decided to dig his fingers in your sides, causing you to break into what sounded like a mixture of a scream and manic laughter. he smiled triumphantly, using his free hand to grab your phone from your— now weak grasp and going straight to your favorites.

he scrolled through the random collection of cooking tutorials he knows you won't do, cat videos you've shown him multiple times, and of course, edits of him. from clips of him from interviews to his monstrous spikes, you had it all.

"this is— an invasion of privacy!" you whined, trying to get your phone back to no avail. kiyoomi looked through all your saved edits with an amused look. "think you might be even more obsessed than these fans." he teased, his shoulders shaking as a chuckle escaped his lips.

"god, can't someone enjoy videos of their jaw-droppingly handsome, gorgeous, hot, attractive boyfriend in peace?"

"not when you're right next to said handsome boyfriend, watching those videos on the highest possible volume."

you waved off his quip, "details, details." you propped your head on his shoulder and watched in silent amusement as he regrettably decided to open the comments on one of the edits. he's not even sure how some of these comments slipped past community guidelines, while some were rather tame, gushing about how good he looked, some were so depraved he thought he was going to get permanent frown lines just by looking at them.

"if you though that was bad, you should see what i say on twitter."

for the sake of his sanity, kiyoomi decides against checking your twitter account.

my 31 pending school reqs will not stop me from kiyoomi posting!!

[pia-nor481]

Daniel Ricciardo NSFW alphabet

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex?)

He very much likes looking after her, so imagine long showers/ baths. He is certified skincareologist-he has watched her do the routines so many times that he's a professional now. Plus he loves to rub moisturisers all over her body. He loves physical contact so don't expect to be left alone.

B-Body part (what is their favourite part of theirs and their partner?)

I think he really likes his abs, it's just nice to look at. (The fact he doesn't like his side profile is criminal)

He LOVES his partners hips, perfect to grab. I believe he likes to hold her hips when dancing, or railing her.

C-Cum (anything to do with cum)

I don't think he Cums a lot, volume wise. But he just loves to cum. I believe he has a preference of cumming inside, however he's happy with where ever she wants it.

D-Dirty secret (just a dirty secret of theirs)

I think he’d really want to fuck in slightly public places, a pool is the best example. Just something about it is so appealing.

E- Experience (how experienced are they)

VERY. He's obviously very attractive and so has had many girls. He's learned all of the possible techniques and doesn't need guidance. He loves to try our new methods and can read her like a book.

F- Favourite position

Cowgirl- I don't know what you expected from me. He loves any position where she's riding him. Or maybe where she's up against a wall. He also definitely likes car sex (have you seen the interview?)

G- Goofy (how serious are they in the moment)

75% serious. He likes to really focus on the sex but other times he just can't help but he his funny self.

H- Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

The hair is exactly the same. I will say though he strikes me as someone who's completely clean shaven, but waits quite a while to shave again. It's not a matter of forgetting or laziness, but actually convince. He doesn't have to trim it as often this way. He does have a tummy trail which I think is cute- even though no one asked.

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? Romantic? Pleasure driven?)

Very romantic, he likes to be sweet and loving. Daniel definitely likes to hold hands. But I can also see him just repeating "fuck" as he's pounding her when she's pushed up against some wall, and he's just so desperate for pleasure that's all he can think about.

J- Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Self care king. He actually really likes to masturbate, whether that he by himself or with her watching. He does really enjoy his hand.

K- Kinks (one or more of their kinks)

BDSM- not in a super SM way. He likes restraints and blindfolds, but not necessarily pain. A little is fun, just enough that it doesn’t cause an issue for the following day

Wax- he likes to drip hot wax down her body during the off season. This definitely started with one of those lotion candles and then with some other low temperature melting candles.

Edging- Daniel loves hearing her beg to cum, bucking her hips towards him just for that release. But he doesn’t like to give it to her straight away.

L- Location (their favourite place)

Anywhere in the house-the kitchen is great for bending her over, or eating her out while she's sat on the counter. The living room is perfect for soft/cuddley sofa sex, or when she wants to ride him, but he must have his hands on her.

The car- anytime Daniel gets a new car he makes a point of driving her somewhere, whether it's just the longest route possible or to go to a secluded location. He likes the option of her riding him in the front, or fucking her in the back. Also, road head!!

M- Motivation (what gets them going?)

He loves a sexy phone call, or a really long voice note of her pleasuring herself. He's not fond of sexting but, phone sex is one of his favourites. So just hearing her saying things like "I'm so wet just thinking about what you're going to do to me tomorrow." He just can't resist.

The dancing has made a come back, even if it's very innocent, he'll find a way.

He's a man and so will like visual things, so anytime you're showing him an outfit, or he sees lingerie.

N- No (what turns them off)

Anything typically considered "gross" like piss and such. This might just be me protecting my hate, you do you though.

I also don't think he wasn't to be a cuck. Or a bottom tbh

O- Oral (preference on giving or receiving. Skill)

This man loves blow jobs so much it's unreal. I could spend hours talking about this. He enjoys most techniques, when his tip is up against the roof of her mouth, or pushing against her cheek, or when is dick is down her throat. He loves it all!!! He does also really love giving, I think this is something he's grown more into liking. He might need a little convincing for her to ride his face but once he starts he doesn't want to stop. Pussy DRUNK.

P- Pace (Are they fast or slow? Rough or sensual?)

He loves to be sensual, his love language is physical touch so you should know he's taking his time to really feel absolutely everything. That doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy hardcore. He likes rough and hard, he likes to be fast, when he wants to prove a point ;)

Q- Quickie (their opinions on them? How often?)

He is very neutral. It happens every now and then, he does enjoy them, but would definitely prefer lots of foreplay and teasing, no matter how much he likes to cum.

R- Risk (will they experiment? Do they take risks?)

I don't know if this is an Australian thing, but these lot seem to be up for pretty much everything. So I think he's more than happy to try anything that isn't a hard no. So he definitely takes risks.

S- Stamina (how many rounds do they go for?)

I don't think that many rounds (as much as I love him, he is 34) but that doesn't stop him. Probably 2/3

T-Toys (do they own any? Do they use them? On a partner or themself?)

I think there is one of every kind. But only one toy gets used at a time. You can have cuffs or a vibrator, not both. He doesn't really use them on himself, unless he's

U-Unfair (how much do they tease?)

He absolutely loves it. He’ll be torturing her clit for ages, then just pull away to kiss around her cunt, or onto her thighs. In my mind he always runs his hands over her body in a featherlight teasing manner.

V-Volume (how loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

He groans very loud, and it’s always super throaty. I think he gets out of breath very quickly where he really likes to talk through out. It’s another way of his teasing.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon)

I think he actually quite liked period sex. Idk why, not to bring up the Australian thing again, but I genuinely believe he’d really like it. Just the intimacy and providing relief ig.

X-X-ray (how big are they?)

Definitely quite long, but not that thick. I think either bends very lightly left, or up.

Y- Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not that high, however if she wanted to fuck, he’s never going to say no. I think now that he’s doing a lot more, he’s a lot busier :(

Z-Zzz (how quick do they fall asleep afterwards?)

I like to think that he stays up quite late. Daniel likes to fall asleep to noise (cannon) so he’d like conversations or just generally listening to her talk. Or maybe he’d put some soft music on.

Pinterest wasn’t giving what I needed today. I was looking for such a specific image but it wasn’t providing.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Professor!Theo x Professor!Reader

Major professor vibes in this pic, but it's so funny to me. He looks ready to scold the class lmaooooo.

Controversial, but I totally see him as a history professor, so I feel like he'd teach History of Magic. My other choice would be potions, but History of Magic just feels right.

I see him as a big flirt, so he definitely flirted with you back when you both were students, and possibly hooked up with him once. I don't see him as the relationship type back when he was a student.

But now that he's an adult and you're also a professor with him, he's started developing more of an interest in you than just sexually. He likes how you are with the students and the other staff. You're sweet.

You definitely remember him back from your time as a student, and it did make you a little awkward around him. You liked him and that didn't exactly change with time, and you remember him as this big playboy type who only really fucked around, so you figured he was probably still the same.

He would definitely still flirt with you when he got the chance, and that didn't exactly help your opinion of him. He would stop you in the halls to chat or wink at you as you passed each other, he'd make sure he could talk to you at dinner and flirt even more.

Now for him, he knew he was being obvious, but he thought you would catch onto his feelings for you and not just assume he was trying to hook up with you. That thought didn't even cross his mind. I mean, of course he thought about sleeping with you, but that wasn't his goal.

The students caught onto his obvious flirting and would harass you two about it, but, in this case, you both refused to answer, saying it's completely professional.

Though, now that they did mention it, you were starting to wonder if his intentions had changed or not back from when you were teens. Was it just sex or did he want something more?

You finally thought "fuck it", if it is just hooking up, at least you can hook up with someone hot, and him also being a professor was convenient.

You started flirting back a little and the first time you did it, he was surprised, but just smiled like an idiot. He wasn't expecting that and it actually made him a little flustered the first time.

After a few weeks of this little flirting, he asked you out and you agreed, figuring it would just end up with hooking up and nothing more.

But he took you out to a cute little restaurant in Hogsmeade and walked around the town with you before dropping you back off at your room with a kiss goodbye, leaving you standing there dumbfounded.

In fact, he asked you out a few more times and would only kiss you and nothing more. It made you ask him one night right after he kissed you and was about to leave.

He shuffled on his feet awkwardly before admitting he actually liked you and wanted to do this thing right. He didn't want to make you think it was just about sex, so he'd been holding off.

That melted your heart and you kissed him again before admitting you liked him too.

He smiled widely and told you he still wants to do this right and take it slow and told you you have the lead of the relationship. You tell him when you're ready for things and he'll follow your lead. He's way too nervous of going too fast and making you feel like you don't mean as much to him as you do.

Once the students find out though, they're teasing you about the "strictly professional" relationship.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@call-me-mishi @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Replace ass with thighs in husks's drinking game, and charlie would *also* be downing a whole bottle.

one bottle down, a hell of a lot more to go

Charlie: "-and don't get me STARTED on the whole entirely too hot REST of her!"

Angel Dust: "What, like her winnin' personality?"

Husk: "Her temper sure is fucking hot."

Charlie: "ARMS!!"

Charlie: "Her arms you guys. Hhholy shit her arms...."

Husk: "They look normal as fuck to me."

Charlie: "THEY'RE. SO. FUCKING. STRONG. Do you have aNY idea how strong her arms are!? You ever been CARRIED in them???/"

Angel Dust: "She threw me off a roof once, Chuckles."

Charlie: "Throwing isn't the only way those hands and forearms are good at getting people off!"

Husk: "Fuck this. I need you to be knock out drunk in the next five minutes."

Charlie: (swaying in chair) "She wears those looooog fingerless gloves, all fancy, and I loooove... slooowly pulling them off... giving forearm kisses... knuckle kisses... kiss the scar on the palm of her hand..."

Husk: "DRINK."

Angel Dust: "Hold up on the booze Kitten Man, I gotta professional interest in this now. Go on, Morning Starlet."

Charlie: "The way she -hic-" (goat bleat) "-she sometimes gets fed up and drags me down for other, other kisses half way through heheh -hic-" (goat bleat) "HEH."

Angel Dust: "Now THIS I wanna hear!"

Husk: "Well I sure as bleating don't."

Angel Dust: "What's her technique like, Charlie Chip? I gotta whole personality chart based on how someone locks lips an' I've been DYIN' ta get her on there so's I can roast her in a whole new way!"

Charlie: "She drags me down for kisses sometimes, y'know...? ..a lot of the times..."

Angel Dust: "Yeah sure I heard you, but what KINDA kisses-"

Charlie: "The, BEST, kisses! Breast kisses??? Those- those too."

Charlie: "Vagg- HIC-" (goat bleat) "-ieee...."

Charlie: (giggles) (slumps over)

Angel Dust: "Oh c'mon!"

Angel Dust: (shaking her) "Wake UP bitch! What about booby smooches!? Does she start with upper lip or lower? Open or closed? She don't lead with her tongue does she?? Charlie! OPEN YA EYES AN' SPEAK TA ME, YA WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO THE ACTUALY INTERESTIN' STUFF!!!"

Vaggie: "What stuff."

Angel Dust: (SCREAMS)

Husk: "Your sex stuff."

Angel Dust: (ducking behind husk) "I DIDN'T HEAR NOTHIN' I SWEAR!"

Husk: "I fucking did, all against my will, like usual in this fucking place. I was just trying to get her drunk off her ass."

Vaggie: "You're both lucky her ass looks great drunk."

Husk: "Don't you fucking start."

Charlie: (flops over and right against vaggie's chest)

Charlie: "... oh??? I knoooow these pecs~"

Vaggie: "Hi sweetie."

Charlie: "Vaaaaagggiiii- HIC-" (goat bleat) "-eee hiiiiii...!"

Vaggie: "Maaaa to you too, babe. I'm picking you up now okay?"

Charlie: "Hhm... I think, maaaybe, you need a better one liner than 'maaaa' if you wanna pi- HIC-" (goat bleat) "-k girls up, Vaggie..."

Vaggie: "Lucky me I'm already dating one."

Charlie: "You are??" (tearing up) "So I can't, I can't a-hic-sk you out..?"

Vaggie: (carrying her upstairs) "Charlie. We share a room."

Charlie: "OOOH and we were ROOMMATES??"

Vaggie: "We also share a bed."

Charlie: "ANd THERE WAS ONLY -HIC-" (goat bleat) "-ONE BED!!!!"

Vaggie: "Babe..."

Charlie: "SO I'VE STILL GOT A CH-HIC-ANCE WITH YOU!"

Vaggie: (chuckling) "Always, Charlie. Seduce me later when you're sober though, for now let's just tuck you in."

Charlie: "Okaaaaaa-hic- ayyy!"

Charlie: "...you know what? You look a LOT like my girlfriend..."

Vaggie: "Really."

Charlie: "It's a compliment! She's very preddy~"

Vaggie: "Thank you."

Charlie: "I miss my girlfriend, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Well I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

Charlie: (crying) "I m-hic-" (distant goat bleat) "-miss her sooooo MUCH..!"

Husk: "...."

Husk: "You're one lucky fuck. She could've killed you."

Angel Dust: "She probably will anyway, once her supposedly sexy hands ain't full of dunk as fuck demon lady anymore. I'm living on borrowed time, Huskers."

Husk: "Now that I'll drink to."

Angel Dust: "Bitch~"

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello! I would like to please request a MCYT preference (Quackity, Tommy, Ranboo, Karl, Tubbo, Badlinu) dating a SO who is a model. Their partner always look amazing in photos whether its blurry or not. They can even make a simple outfit look amazing.

You know those viewers pick my outfits videos (example: Dan and Phil)? You bet your ass that they will do it with their partners.

oooo yeah sure!!! ; also sorry if this is like wrong in any way, idk much about modeling lmaooo ; thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy!

MCYT ; model babe

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

the most supportive person everrrrr

you model mostly for alt brands so when a new thing pops up he's ON IT

he's a little dumb when it comes to remembering when you do certain shoots and he's like "when was this???"

always bragging how he pulled a 10

"remembering I have a model for an s/o 😍😍😍"

tubbo replies with "stfu"

you reply to him with "hater era is the worst tubbo era"

"u aren't even that big of a model u model for like hot topic bitch"

"learn to use commas"

he's so jealous of you but he keeps it lowkey

"I wish I had hair like yours" "I wish my smile was as pretty/handsome as yours"

you have to constantly remind him he's a 10 too 😔

RANBOO

plugging your shoots and socials all the time

you do some streams with them teaching them and Charlie how to model/what you do for shoots

you three did a "pick my outfit" video and posted the pics to insta before posting the video 💀

"guys... what happened?"

"I think they got drunk because what is this 💀💀"

"new y/n shoot dropped : we got drunk edition"

"HELP THESE ARE THE BEST"

became the face of tumblr memes for like 2 years after that

you also model for their merch/have given them tips on modeling the merch as well

model duo 😍

FREDDIE BADLINU

sooooo infatuated with you

saves literally every professional photo taken of you

"me and my s/o 😊❤️" and it's the cutest couples video ever of the bf swooning over his gf

always sending you poses to try out and stuff for your own personal pics

he always makes you the center in all his pretty photos and getting you to model / show him how to pose

he's literally so obsessed and thinks you're so fucking cool cause you model

even if it's just content creator merch or small shops, he's just like 🤯

"i went to a shoot with y/n... video drops tomorrow 3pm est"

"you ate that dress up freddie, trust"

yall r THE two pretty best friends

ALEX QUACKITY

BAD BITCH! WITH HER BADDIE FRIEND! TWO BAD BITCHES TWO BAD BITCHES!!!

anyways

sooooo infatuated

brings u on stream when he's lonely just to stare at you for a minute

"this is my baddie model s/o guys, say hi! 🤗🤗"

replies "BARK BARK BARK" under your posts like some crazy stan

the only stan u appreciate

he has a secret fan page for you

he edits too

they're pretty good for a beginner trying transition edits

made you a model playlist so you can get hyped for shoots as well and feel like a bad bitch

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant Pt 4

There are benefits to Lena not being CEO.

For one, she gets to go home at night. She gets to have a life outside work. She gets to go clubbing.

Which Kara only knows because she's standing at a table during Club Velvet's busiest night of the week, watching her boss bump and grind to the music.

She's not alone either. Kara recognizes Andrea, and for brief moment jealousy sparks low and hot in her belly at the thought they might be together. But when it becomes clear that Andrea is focused on a specific man in particular, Kara accepts that they're just here as friends, just like her and Nia.

Lena, for her part, keeps up a steady rotation of dance partners, men and women alike, all outrageously gorgeous and enviably coordinated. Even from her position off the dance floor, Kara can see the sweat clinging to Lena's neck, and feels the phantom feather touch of Lena's swinging ponytail against her skin.

"Holy SHIT," Nia shouts over the music, still barely audible to Kara, let alone others. "Is that Lena?"

Nia has her memories of the previous reality, and Kara knows she's having difficulty reconciling the cozy Lena she knows with the sultry and enigmatic woman currently leaning back against a stranger's chest as her hips move under his hands.

Kara's mouth goes dry. She wants that. She wants to be that man, wants her hands on Lena's hips, her lips brushing Lena's ear.

"Well??" Nia continues, giving Kara a nudge. "Aren't you going to say hi?"

She thinks about it. She *really* thinks about it. About sliding through the throng to grasp Lena's hand and pull her flush against her front, guiding their hips into a tandem rhythm. About burying her hand in Lena's hair and pulling her in to--

Kara shakes her head. "No."

"What? Why not?"

"She's my boss!"

And if her boss knew that Kara was there, ogling her, there'd be hell to pay. She can hear it now-- don't.

At least Nia drops the issue, seemingly accepting that things are different in this reality, as evidenced by the woman continuing to dance along with the beat of the thumping music. Kara manages to go the entire night without bumping into Lena, even if her gaze returns to the dance floor again and again.

It's only until she goes to close out their tab that Kara knows she's in trouble.

"Your tab's already been paid," the bartender informs her.

The message is clear: Lena knows.

Shit.

Kara stuffs a couple bills into the tip jar and makes her escape, anxiety gnawing at her gut. The next day, Lena makes no mention of having seen her, and seems none the worse for wear after her long night. They work in easy rhythm, as Kara keeps to herself and executes her role perfectly.

Right up until Kara enters Lena's office to let her know she's heading out, and finds Lena gazing out the window. The lights in the office are low, and in the glass reflection Kara sees Lena's eyes shift to her, before languidly turning to face her.

"You liked what you saw," Lena says. Not accusation, but simple fact.

"Yes," Kara returns truthfully. She steps closer, emboldened when Lena doesn't protest.

The corner of Lena's mouth lifts. "I'm surprised you'd admit that, after the little diatribe you levied at me your first month here."

"Like I said," Kara reminds her, moving closer still, "I was an idiot."

The way Lena gazes at her sends a shiver up Kara's spine. Green eyes challenge her silently, as though waiting to see just how far she'll go. A small yet confident smile shapes Kara's lips in spite of herself, calming the butterflies in her belly.

She closes what remains of the distance between them, rewarded with a hitch of Lena's breath as Kara crosses the invisible line into her personal space. They're far too close to be professional now, their locked gazes promising exactly where they're headed.

Finally, Kara places one hand on Lena's waist, and lifts the other to brush the backs of her fingers lightly across Lena's smooth, soft cheek. She lets it come to a rest cupping the side of Lena's face, their noses nearly touching.

"Tell me to leave, and I will," Kara offers, giving Lena an out she prays won't be taken.

Lena's hands are already pulling her closer as her response drifts from her lips.

"Don't."

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Dearest Cat, I am on my knees and begging for your consideration regarding my idea. Villain fainting into heros arms. You are awesome and I do not know how to write asks. Have a good day queens

"No, it's..." The villain put a hand against their forehead, taking a deep breath. It felt a little too hot in here. "It's not like that."

The hero still stared at them as if they were about to murder them which - considering the circumstances - wasn't even that far from possible. Breaking promises wasn't the villain's style and getting on the hero's bad side was something they tried to avoid. Most of the time.

"It's a misunderstanding," they tried to explain. They bit their lip and contorted their face when a new wave of pain hit them. It was their stomach, their head...the villain wasn't sure. They took in another deep breath.

"We had an agreement," the hero said. They weren't someone to lose many words but they were clearly and undeniably pissed.

"We did and I...I kept my promise." The villain swallowed. They looked around the hero's office in a panic. No cameras, but guards outside, the villain saw them when the hero had walked in. Fleeing wasn't a smart move anyway. The hero was faster and stronger. "I'm not spying on you."

"And yet, you're here," the hero said, eyeing them.

"I know I promised to stay away but I...god, it's hot in here..." The villain gasped for air as cold sweat ran down their back and chest.

"Is that supposed to be a pick-up line?"

"No, I..." Breathe. "I found information on the project and...I did some digging."

The villain's eyes jumped from place to place, trying to focus on something but they could barely concentrate. What was the project about again? Weapons? Illegal trading? Bribery?

"Someone is working here and using information - your information - to work on the project." The villain felt like they were about to throw up any second now. "I know I am not allowed to be here but...the guards, I couldn't just walk in here..."

"Sit down," the hero said. Their shoulders relaxed and their eyes were big, as if curiosity had gotten the better of them.

"No, it's okay..." The hero walked up to them and pushed them gently into the hero's own chair. Although the villain knew the hero could be hard to understand at times, they felt weirdly safe. The hero wasn't irrational. It was reasonable to be upset about the villain's appearance, since they had agreed on staying out of each other's business.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"They have been selling your information," the villain said. Their headache got worse, spreading across their scalp.

"What did you eat today?"

"A bagel...I drank some coffee."

"From home or did you buy it?" the hero asked, strangely serious, as they sat down on another chair in front of the villain.

"I bought the coffee on my way here," the villain said. The hero sighed. They hadn't seen each other for an entire week. That was long, wasn't it?

"Well, count yourself lucky that you've trained your body to become drug resistent. Mostly," the hero said as they stood up again. They offered the villain a hand and even though they didn't understand, they took it.

"What do you..."

"Think about it, honey. Someone who has access to my data. All my data. Everything. A big amount of that data is about villains. And someone who has access to that knows when they're spotted." The hero exhaled dramatically. "We're dealing with a professional here. Someone who figured out you came to warn me. Someone who tried to poison you this morning."

"That's a reach..." The villain hissed as sharp pain cut through their stomach and through gritted teeth they continued, "but not entirely improbable. That coffee tasted funky."

They pulled themselves up and fell into the hero's arms. They apologised but the hero's arms were already supporting them, pulling them close.

"You're very calm about this," the villain mumbled. Their knees weakened but the hero held them close, making sure they didn't fall.

"You're very hard to kill, speaking from experience." At that, the villain smirked. The tip of their nose nudged against the hero's neck. "Nevertheless, you need a medic."

"I'm fine..." the villain lied. The hero slowly walked with them towards the door and the villain was pretty sure they would die any second now. "This was important."

"You're very sweet for warning me," the hero said. "But I hope you know that I have to get the situation under control. You're not gonna leave this building for a very long time, I'm afraid."

The villain couldn't have cared less about that.

[starlightsuffered]

Be Professional (Part One)

Warnings - name calling, hate sex, thigh riding, light choking, denial of orgasm mentioned, disobeying, cocky

Timmy

Pairing - Timothée Chalamet/Fem!Reader

"Working with Timothée has been so awesome," I lied through my teeth.

"She's very talented," Timothée interjected.

"That's so sweet," | replied.

"Wow," the interviewer said. "The chemistry between you two is crazy! I'm so happy you all got along so well."

We nodded pleasantly. I could not wait to be done with this interviewer, who seemed dead set on seeing me and Chalamet as a couple.

I had disliked him from day one on set. I'd overheard him asking the director why an amateur like me had such a large roll in the movie.

I'd walked straight up to him and said,"because l've actually got talent, unlike some people who rely on celebrity connections and good jawlines." He'd looked stunned at the time, but later he came over to me in the food line and said, "So, you think I have a good jawline?"

He'd continued to tease me, l'd continued to loath him. He couldn't act professional to save his life. I suppose he didn't have to, with how popular he was, there was no way he was getting tossed off a set. It made me furious.

"So y/n, this is your first movie. However, your costar Timothée has many parts under his belt, would you care to tell us your favorite?"

"Um," I was nervous. I didn't know any of his movies, all I knew is I wanted to smack the smirk off his face. To anyone but me and the crew, it would seem like an encouraging smile, but we knew better. Timothée and I had been reprimanded time and time again for our "petty squabbles" as the director put it.

"I mean, how can you pick," I said with feigned laughter. "They're all masterpieces."

"Wow, y/n, thank you so much," Timothée said with mock gratitude that the interviewer couldn't clock.

"I think that about wraps up all the time we have for today. It was a pleasure to meet you all."

I was more than happy to leave. I grabbed my purse, and was ready to go back to my trailer.

"Y/N, could I see you in my trailer for a moment?" Timothée asked.

"No thanks," I said, but then that fucking interviewer had to stick her nose into things.

"Oh my goodness! Secret costar gossip in the trailer!" She squealed. "I'm so putting this on the site."

Shit. Now I had to go. There was no way l'm risking my reputation for this. I decided to put on a smile and play along. I took Timothée's out stretched hand and followed him to his trailer.

"So you don't know any of my movies huh?" He crossed his arms and smirked.

"Does that bother your fragile little ego, that not everyone cares about your film history," I chuckled.

"No, but it bothers me that you don't," he said, taking a step closer. I preferred fighting with him at a distance, up close it was undeniable that he was the most beautiful person l'd ever seen.

"You want everyone to have you on their mind 24/7," I scoffed.

"Maybe I do want that from you. What are you going to do about it?" He demanded.

I yanked him to me, crashing my lips against his. At first I told myself it was to shock him, so that l'd finally have the upper hand, but then it started to feel good. His lips were perfectly slotted against mine as he kissed me with a hunger I'd never experienced.

His hand went to my neck, applying gently pressure as he sucked on my lip. I couldn't help but groan and he let out a dark chuckle.

"So speechless now," he cooed.

"Shut the fuck up," I growled, yanking on his hair to get his lips back on mine. I put all my anger and frustration into the kiss. I hoped he felt it. Why in the world was this so hot? Why did it feel like I was being consumed by a fire.

I gasped as his hands went under my top. He grabbed handfuls of my breasts, kneading expertly. He pulled his hands out and began undoing the buttons on my shirt. I was panting with need as he continued. As soon as he had it off he was removing my bra as well, and for some ungodly reason, I was letting him.

He dipped his head, capturing my nipples between his lips. I cried out at the feeling. A large hand came up and closed over my mouth. He knew people would be around, possibly even that interviewer.

"Shit Chalamet, your really know your stuff," I said, begrudgingly giving him a compliment. He popped off my nipple, and began pulling down my pants. I couldn't help but notice that he was still fully clothed. What was his angle? Was he trying to embarrass me? I couldn't help but not care as his fingers went into my panties.

"Well ook what we have here," he gloated as he pulled his fingers out. They were covered in my slick.

"My, my, someone sure is wet, I wonder what that is from?" he tutted. I wanted to smack him.

"Why aren't you naked," I snapped.

"Why would I be naked?" He asked with mock surprise.

"Aren't we going to.. you know?" I suddenly felt very embarrassed.

"Y/N," he said, putting a hand to his heart. "Fucking in my trailer? That wouldn't be very professional," he scolded, using my frequently said phrase.

"What?!" I could have cried from how frustrated I was.

"Maybe, sometime, I'll take you somewhere where it's appropriate to fuck someone's brains out, but for now," he went to get a chair. He sat on it, and patted his thigh.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm very serious, just like you've always wanted me to be."

"And how is this professional," I snarled.

"You're just sitting on a coworkers lap," he shrugged. "After all, we're suuuuuch close friends, right?"

"I hate you," I said as I positioned myself on his thigh.

"I know, that's why this is so fun," he chuckled.

I began to rub myself on his jean clad thigh, needing release. His fingers went to my nipples, and his green orbs were glued to the wet patch I was creating on his pants.

"Could you at least," I tried to get the words out without moaning. "Move your leg?"

"Beg," he demanded, and I stopped moving all together.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Beg me," he said again. I stayed still, there was no way in Hell I'd beg him. When it looked like I was going to stand firm, Timothée reached down. He put pressure on my clit rubbing it fast.

"Holy shit!" I cried, and then the feeling was gone. He'd stopped, knowing how it would feel to lose that contact.

I had tears in my eyes from the denied release. I needed to come so badly that it hurt.

"Please," I whispered.

"Please what?" He smirked.

"Please, help me come," I whimpered.

"Why of course," he obliged, and began bouncing his leg while I rode his thigh. It felt amazing.

"There you go," he crooned. "Look at you, so helpless. You're getting a stain on my pants. Do you know how much those cost?"

"Fucking, entitled, egotistical, prick," | gasped as I continued to ride, he just laughed.

"I'm close," I warned.

"Say my name when you come," he ordered, but I was determined to be infuriating. The bulge in his pants was the only thing that proved to me that this was affecting him at all.

"Chalamet," | gasped as I came undone. He stilled his leg, but I continued to move through my orgasm.

When I finally came down, I was happy to see a scowl on his face. He bent down to grab my clothing, and shoved them in my arms.

"Get dressed. I do NOT like being disobeyed. Some time I'm going to take you to somewhere, and I'll have you screaming my name."

"Sure you will," I said as I got dressed.

[st4vk1nmybra1n]

I love you, don't act so surprised?!

cont: Model!Gojo x GN!reader, sweet sweet gojo and his silly thoughts!! Wc: 1.5k.

Lovestruck. A little stupid, admittedly. Not charming, and surely not as cool. That's how Gojo Satoru would describe himself in the presence of the only person who can tolerate his ideas, sometimes even surpassing his stupidity to give him a reality check and shut him up. Like really quickly. To the point where he feels embarrassed for himself. And he never feels embarrassed about his beautiful brain and its beautiful thoughts. He knows everything about him is beautiful. I mean– he's a model for a reason, you know?

You were sort of an enigma. You weren't his manager, but sometimes he wishes he could just have you be his manager because you were just that good at making him seem like a saint. He faintly thinks it must be because of those really expensive media training classes his dad paid for. The one that he, you, and suguru had taken. Not like he really paid attention then. Oh well! He has a pretty face, why should he hold back his words? Though he'd definitely argue you'd make a better model. You had the media training, the professionalism, the skill, the knowledge (about a lot of things. Some things, more than the other. But you were smart!), and you definitely had the looks! 

You were gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. You had the right features. No matter what anyone else thinks, he's sure he could probably capture your beauty with a camera. He's no photographer or whatever, but even he knows you can look good under any circumstances. Whenever he watches back his interviews and any and every video of him on the internet (which he does because he knows he's hot. That's it.), you always seem to capture his eyes. You're not even the main focus of the videos in most cases. You appear briefly, fixing his hair or telling him to straighten up a bit more. Or maybe the camera pans to you when you're behind the scenes, grinning at the camera as you make a cheeky remark about him. He thinks you look.. a little too good when you're feeling sly..

You have your own job and life going on, but it's so heavily ingrained in his head that his days can't pass without you in them. It's like the day's exhaustion washes away when he shows up at your doorstep after a long day of shooting. Or when you show up in the morning with waffles for breakfast, first thing in the morning when you know he has a big shoot coming up. He just loves you– or well– spending time with you (???), nothing more. Yeah, for sure!

Most people feel nervous in his presence. He knows he exudes an energy of confidence and self assurity. It may sound egotistical but it's simply a truth, a fact everyone knows. He's not surprised when people stammer and stumble over their words when talking to him, or when their eyes wander over him. He knows it's only natural for them. It's something he doesn't pay much mind to, it just makes him feel even more satisfied. Whenever he'll crack a joke, they'll crack a smile, laugh with their cheeks tinted. It almost feels as though he's entertaining them. Don't get him wrong, he loves being ogled at, but he needs entertainment too! Then there's people who look at him in such a way where he can see the gears of creativity churning in their heads. All the ways they could film him, all the angles they could use to photograph him to bring out his best (which is also something that's just him existing), all the ways they could draw him or paint him. He's observant like that, he sees it all.

But for you, Shoko, and Suguru, it's different. His friends don't have that look of wonder or nervousness when they look at him. They're all used to it, he knows. After spending so many years together, it's clear that's the case. Suguru himself was into photography, though not as much to pursue it as more than a hobby. Suguru often did capture photos of satoru. But he didn't care to skirt around the subject when he felt satoru was doing something he hadn't envisioned. He would tell satoru straight up to pose again, and 'leave out the sass this time'. His friends won't hesitate to shut him up if he says something stupid, maybe even whack him against the back of his head. They don't care to sugarcoat their words, or to conceal the fact that they'll laugh in his face if he does something that they think is stupid. And he likes that! It's something he especially likes about you. That when he cracks a joke, you'll double down with something funnier that'll send everyone into another 10 minute laughing fit. He likes it when he asks if you could pass him something, and you answer 'no' with the straightest face ever, as you hand him the mentioned object. He likes when he asks you a dumb question, you answer with something even dumber. Sometimes to add to the joke, sometimes to humble his stupidity.

 Oh, and he loves when he's taking a video and he calls you over, you'll look up at the mention of your name, and instinctively smile as you see his camera. He loves it when you give him and Suguru ideas on their next photoshoot, demonstrating Satoru's potential poses with a dramatic face, sometimes breaking out into a cheeky grin as you tried imitating satoru. He loves when you get sassy and cheeky, he loves it when you know you've caught him slacking, your knowing and sly grin making him feel even more heated than he could imagine. He probably mentioned that earlier, too. He loves way too many things about you. Next thing you know, he probably loves you! But that's not true.. definitely not! 

He's also a liar. He does love you. A lot. A recent revelation. Shamefully, he thinks the way that most people get nervous around him is oddly reminiscent of how he is around you. Except, he's not boring and dull. If anything, he makes the funniest jokes ever! His eager eyes are always finding your frame everytime he cracks a joke, just to see you burst out laughing at him. He's made himself the butt of the joke more times than he can count, just to see you give him a sarcastic and satire response, or even better– when you laugh at him. Maybe it's a twisted feeling, to feel joy from such a thing. But he really could handle doing anything if it meant seeing you smile at him.

"You've been locked up here for an hour. Do you wanna start getting ready for our photoshoot or do you wanna continue to stare at that photo frame of you and your.. family." Suguru's voice interrupts his thoughts, his brow raised at his friend as he looks over at Satoru, who had been staring at a picture of you, him, and your cinnamoroll plushie and his digimon plushie. 

Satoru remembers that day. It was after Suguru had finished taking pictures of him, and you'd been sitting just watching, with his treasured plushie in your hand, while your own cinnamoroll plushie was also seated on your lap. "Let's get a photo of the whole family. Satoru and I, and our two sons!" You chimed in, rushing into the frame as you leaned in against Satoru. You both took a sequence of photos, ranging from bright grins on your faces, to your faces completely serious, like a true family portrait. And then later on his birthday, you gifted him a large frame of the photo (alongside other gifts, of course), which he put up in his bedroom, without even having to put much thought into it. 

"Are you gonna confess? Stop staring at that frame and do something about it." Suguru chided, clicking his tongue. 

"Give me a break! I only just realized like.. 2 weeks ago. I need time to process everything!" He responded to Suguru, tone whiney and dramatic.

"2 weeks too late, maybe. We all noticed like, 2 years ago. You're late to the party. Do something about it before I do something about it." Suguru threatened loosely, placing his hands on his hips.

"Ey! You can't do that! Mine. Mine only." Satoru gasped in offense, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms, lips forming into a pout.

"I meant I'd air out your business, not ask them out, you idiot!" Suguru sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Oh. Oh! That's good for him, Satoru thinks. He plans on telling you, sooner or later. But sometimes, he just likes to stare at you and admire what you have already. But he knows he can't risk it. You're more gorgeous than he is, and that's saying something. He knows there's a chance someone may come in and sweep you off your feet, and he would never allow someone as beautiful as you to end up with someone who isn't him. It's simple logic, really. An ethereal person such as you, only deserves someone who's as breathtaking as you. Not to toot his own horn, but he's pretty sure he's the only one who fits that criteria. It's just meant to be! You and him. He's known it deep down inside all along. He wouldn't have it any other way, of course.

side note: i just wanna add that i almost LOST the ENTIRE fic and cried for 10 mins before i eventually found out how to restore it! so i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did <3333

[satancopilotsmytardis]

(In)Delicate Touch

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @zehei Dabi has been working as a professional sub at La Vénus for a year and a half and he really does enjoy working there. The rooms are great, the way they book clients is clear and comprehensive, and he likes his boss a fair bit too. But one night a client goes too far and Dabi finds himself in a bad drop and nursing wounds he didn't want. He expects to get fired over causing so much trouble, but Tomura is there to lend a hand in any way that Dabi needs.

Content: BDSM club, sex work, bondage, impact play, safe word use, subdrop, aftercare, hurt/comfort, hand job, anal fingering, anal sex, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, praise kink.

Word Count: 10878

La Vénus is the only place Dabi bothers to take contracts through anymore. The BDSM club is the best in Kamino and it is the only one that really keeps up with the professionals who want to use it as a place to do business. They even have a portal on their website so that professional doms and subs can put their profiles, their limits, their availability, and a secure line for contacting. La Vénus has rules, of course. They're considered independent contractors and they can be removed from the club whenever the owner dismisses them, but they take a very small cut of the money they earn, and the security they provide is well-worth the price. Dabi doesn't have to be scared of giving his apartment address to anyone or going to a secondary location with a client, and V ensures that they are always abiding by the rules by having a row of rooms for their working doms and subs that have open windows, so that anyone can see inside and be certain that their business is being conducted appropriately. 

If he also happens to think that the owner is hot as fuck with his hair pushed back, his deadly fucking quirk barely contained by his gloves, and his perfectly tailored black suit with a blood red coat, and getting to check in with him before every shift is fucking perfect, then that's his business. 

"Just one session tonight, Dabi?" Shigaraki asks, checking his phone for the contract he and his dom for the night submitted for use of one of those rooms. 

"It's supposed to be a long bondage one." He explains. 

"Hmm, are you sure that all of the information you entered is correct? I thought you only used silk and no nylon for your staples." Dabi is genuinely surprised Shigaraki has paid that much attention to him, or at least to his preferences. He's got upwards of three hundred people in this club every night of the week and he's never seen the other man take a day off in the year and a half he's been subbing here. Not only that but he's got twenty doms and subs on rotation, he didn't think that anyone would bother to remember more than the names of the people he's been working with. 

"It was his first time booking, he might have mis-clicked. Can I still make adjustments to the room setup?" There's only another twenty minutes till the club opens its door and Dabi is supposed to be alone for at least an hour before his client arrives. He was planning on putting on a nice little peepshow for people, but he'd rather make certain that the room and everything is all set up for his session with a client. 

"Of course. I can have silk brought to your room." He agrees. "Do you want red to... match?" Dabi's already put up his coat and bag in the private changing area that the performers have access to, so he's just in his dark red lacy panties and the silver body chains with small red crystal dangles hanging off of them. He used to go for a blue look, but to distinguish workers from anyone else just looking to partake at the club, all of the performers from doms and subs to strippers and workshop teachers have to wear a deep red leather collar with La Venus embellished on it in silver foil. He didn't want the accessory to look out of place, and pivoted to wearing red instead of blue at the club. 

"If it's not too much trouble." Dabi always likes to think about his optics. Other people he's talked shop with around the club say they're usually focusing on a scene when they're in it, and that's great that works for them, but Dabi wants to be certain that he's staying constantly vigilant, and that he's setting himself up for future clients too. If their sessions are all going to be observable, then he is going to be a hell of a sight to see, and he's gonna make sure that he's got his aesthetic dialed in. 

"It's no trouble at all, Dabi." Shigaraki tells him easily.. "Does everything else seem alright?" Dabi reviews the contract again, and that looks like the only thing that was entered wrong, and he nods. "Alright, you're going to be in L2 today," he reaches back on the wall, unlocking the glass door and retrieving the key for the right room. His favorite room actually. He likes being on the left side because the bounce light is a little more diffused from that side, giving people a clearer view through the window, and he likes being in rooms two or three in that hall because those are the ones that people tend to linger in front of more, not wanting to clog up the entryway as they try to get to the seating areas that also line the hall. 

"Thanks, Shigaraki." He takes the key, but the owner doesn't let go of the tag for a second. 

"You know you can call me 'Tomura'." 

"Maybe when I'm off the clock, boss." He retorts easily. No matter how hot the other man is, Dabi doesn't want to get distracted. This is his job, he can't go around fucking that up by getting familiar or, god forbid, flirting with the guy who's establishment pays his bills. 

Shigaraki, for his part, looks wryly amused and lets him head out after that, the next person slipping in to confirm their night's plans as well. Dabi heads to his room to finish getting ready and wait for his silk. Maybe he will have a chance to put on that peep show after all. 

///

Dabi spends the first hour that V is open teasing his nipples and palming himself through his panties on the bed getting himself achingly hard and so close to the edge, but easing off of his peak to keep himself 'unspoiled' for his client who asked for him to be pent up and a little frustrated. Definitely a streak of sadist in him, but Dabi isn't a stranger to that, and he's looking forward to getting thoroughly worked over. 

Jin, one of the security team he recognizes at a glance, brings the new client to the door and Dabi is fully not expecting the blonde man to be so much taller than he is even after knowing he would be from his ID when he booked the session. Dabi steels his nerves. "Goto, it's good to meet you, I'm looking forward to our session." He starts with a pleasant smile. "If we can just re-touch on rules and boundaries, then I'd be happy to submit to you. Would you like to sit?" 

"Yeah, sure." The blond only has one eye, his prosthetic in the missing one looking like it's been forced into place with the metallic spikes around it that is kind of intimidating. He sits and Dabi starts to go through his usual spiel, he restates his hard limits, that they'll be using the traffic light system, the hand gestures that he will use if at any point during the session he goes non-verbal for any reason, and then he turns back to ask if there's anything he needs to go over as well. Goto is flat and unmoved when he says, "No." Sounding more bored than anything and Dabi's skin prickles with the first stirrings of discomfort. "Why are there silks instead of ropes?" 

He frowns slightly, "During the consultation, I said that I couldn't use rope over my staples. Since you said you wanted a heavy rigging session, I had it switched for silk since that's something my skin can tolerate." 

The other man considers the silk for a second before scoffing softly. "Fine. But you can take impact, can't you? If we're using silk, I want to use a paddle instead of my hands." 

Dabi doesn't normally love to use a paddle, it's wider and less accurate, meaning partners can overlap his staples on accident and leave him with fresh wounds. "I think that a riding crop would leave prettier marks, don't you, Sir?" He offers instead carefully. 

Goto looks him up and down and Dabi tries to look smaller and softer for him. Clearly he's more of a sadist than he'd originally thought, but the pay for this session is half of his rent this month. He can put up with this if it gets him what he needs. "Fine." Dabi expects him to ask about his levels, to get the toy off of the offered wall of them and test his tolerance. It's good practice for a session like this, but Dabi figures, 

"Remember, club rules state no impact with any implements across the face, and only light impact across the stomach and places prone to injury. My staples are fragile, so please avoid those where you can, but anywhere else is alright." 

"Yeah, got it, can we get started now?" The blond nearly snaps. Dabi bristles, but says nothing. It's his first time at V as far as he said during the booking. Maybe he's uncomfortable knowing the far wall is a window, even if it looks like a mirror from their side. 

He makes concessions on his politeness and breathes out a slow breath, trying to shake his tension and allow himself to slip into the headspace that he needs to. "Of course we can, if that would please my master." He simpers sweetly, trying for doe-eyed and helpless. 

The man starts to loosen some of his tension and tosses the jacket he was wearing over his black mesh tank top onto the chair in the corner of the room for more intimate cucking or voyeuristic sessions. "That's better, whore. I better not hear another mouthy word out of you, or I'm going to have to get rough." 

Not his favorite type of scene, but Dabi is a professional sub, he submits.

///

Goto is rough with him, and he likes his knots tight. They're loose enough, he thinks, for maybe one of Dabi's fingers, but his feel bigger as they move over his skin and knot them into place. He works methodically, not paying much attention to Dabi himself as he works. He occasionally pulls at the silk with an unhappy set around his mouth, but he clearly knows what he's doing, and Dabi finds himself over the course of an hour, knotted into a few different positions, as the other man gets a good look at his body and how flexible he is like this, before he ends up in a ball tie, tipped on his side. When the ropes are secure, thankfully, the other man doesn't actually also reach for a ball gag. He just puts his bigger hand over his ass, and palms him through his panties. He's not really doing much but groping him, and it doesn't really feel good, but Dabi moans anyway. 

The yelp he lets out the next second is real though as the riding crop comes down across the back of his tied thighs so hard that Dabi would put the pain at a seven already. The sound splits the air and he nearly chokes on his breath. 

"Not another nasty sound out of you, whore. You're not here to feel good, you're here for me to use." 

Dabi holds up three fingers to show that he understands, and then bites his lower lip hard as another crack comes down, this time just beneath his ass. And the next overlaps the first. Then across his exposed hip, along the outside of his thigh. It hurts, going up to a nine and holding there as the man hits him again and again with the crop. he goes over his scars, over his healthy skin, and the blood rushing up to the freshly forming welts as they swell, puts an uncomfortable pressure along his seams, especially around his thighs. He swears that between the ropes holding his legs together and pressed to his chest, and the ache of the impact, he's going to pop out his staples along those seams. 

"Y-yellow," he manages as he's panting between blows. 

"Thought I fucking said to keep your mouth shut?" The riding crop gets tossed to the bed, and in that second, Dabi thinks that he is setting it aside to check in. 

But the next robs him of that delusion entirely. Goto's hand fists in Dabi's hair, and he grabs hard to force his face into the sheets. Dabi barely manages to tuck his chin tighter to his chest so that he isn't smothered into the pillows and unable to speak as the man cuts off the other way he would be able to signal that he needs to stop. "Red!" He cries out, wanting to be let up immediately. 

"God, you whores here have had it too good. Thinking you can tell me what to do? When to stop? You need to learn your fucking place." He snarls, using one hand to hold him down while his other goes to-- Dabi hears the metal and leather sliding through each other as his belt is pulled. Fuck, fuck, fuck, 

"Red! Stop--" He hears the other man spit into his hand and his whole body goes hot with his terror. No, no, no, even if he hasn't moved his panties out of the way yet, if he gets that, or anything else in his seams when they hurt so badly, when they're so close to open, then he could get sick. He can't get sick again, he can't. Dabi tries to fumble for his quirk desperately, wanting to burn the silk from around his body, wanting to scare this fucker before he does anything worse to him--

"Don't you know that I own you?" 

It's like every string in him has been cut. Dabi's whole body goes so instantaneously numb that he can't make his quirk work. I own you. It's not Goto's voice that echoes in his mind. Not pain hits his body as he is shunted so sharply to hiding in his room with Natsuo as their father snarls at their mother. It's a stupid fear, it's an old helplessness that he shouldn't let distract himself now, not when he can't stop that memory, but he has to stop this disgusting man from ruining him even more as he hears his hand moving roughly over his cock. 

"Don't!" His voice doesn't even sound like his own, he can barely recognize it. It hasn't been filled with such sharp, anguished terror since he was burning--

"Get away from him!" There's movement, shouting, a scream behind him, but Dabi is only shakily trying to push his quirk away now, so scared he may light the bed on fire accidentally. He can't hurt his seams again, can't use his quirk right now, he'll burn it all to the ground and he's already destroyed whatever place he had here. Dabi sobs against the bed, his fear too big and sharp to make sense of whatever is happening beyond his body. 

There are voices, he thinks, furious and short, and the kind of whispers that come in the wake of something awful. He's the awful thing. He lost control of a session. He's the one who's broken, bleeding now, if not from his seams, than from his eyes as he sobs on the bed. 

"Dabi," the voice comes, addressing him and the bed dips just the slightest bit. He doesn't know who's speaking to him, just that it's not that man. This voice is low and trying to soothe him, he thinks, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the fear choking his chest and his quirk that is rioting beneath his skin. "Dabi, you're starting to smoke." The voice is so gentle. "No one is going to hurt you anymore." He waits but Dabi doesn't believe him. People are always hurting him. He's always hurting himself. Why would this be any different? He sobs harder and there is a longer pause, probably as the new voice decides where he deserves to be hurt when he's already been broken so thoroughly. "Can I touch you, Dabi?" 

He barely croaks, "R-red--" Through his sobs. He needs it to stop. He has to make it stop. 

"The scene is over, Dabi," the voice promises him. "I just want to untie you. Don't you think it would help if you could sit up, Dabi?" 

Would it? Could he make himself small on his own terms then? He sniffles, but it doesn't stop the tears. He barely manages to nod. 

"Okay, I'm not going to touch you. You just need to hold still, alright?" Dabi does his best to do as he's told, but tensing his muscles lightly makes them start to shake hard. He feels a little tug at one of the silks and then he's got the whisper of... something barely heavier than air against his skin, and the restrictive silk is gone. It happens twice more and then Dabi is able to slump against the bed, his limbs under his own control again, and Dabi does his best to push himself up, mind still swimming through a rolling sickness. Sick. He could get sick again. He could get hit again. He needs to focus. 

It feels impossible to do as he forces his mostly numb arms beneath his chest as he tries to turn around. His vision swims through his tears and he doesn't find the hulking man with blond hair anywhere in the room. The far curtain has been drawn over the viewing window, and Shigaraki is sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands resting in his lap. No, no, no. Further panic makes his ribs constrict sharply around his lungs. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" he sobs immediately. He's ruined everything, he's made so much trouble for the club. Oh-- oh god, he's really never going to be able to work here again. He's going to have to go back to what he did before--going to have to take on more clients like Goto, going to have to risk his health, his safety-- 

"Dabi, you don't need to apologize. I just need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" 

He should be able to, shouldn't he? That's supposed to be the simplest thing a person can do, but he can't quite manage it past the tiny hiccupping sips of air that he's making himself in past the hitching sobs that are shaking his body. 

"...Okay, can you look at me, sweetheart?" Shigaraki's voice goes even softer, and Dabi forces himself to peek up at him from the tight hunch he's made of himself up against the headboard. "That's perfect, now I just need you to follow my breaths. You don't have to be perfect," he soothes, "I just want you to try. Can you try for me, Dabi?" 

Shigaraki takes a slow breath in, holds it for a few seconds, and then he lets it out in a long steady stream. Dabi doesn't think he'll ever breathe like that again, not when his chest is so tight, but he isn't being yelled at yet, isn't being hit, and he doesn't want that to change. He tries so hard for the first few breaths, but he can't stop crying for long enough to manage it on those. 

But Shigaraki smiles at him anyway, "That's it, you're already doing such a good job for me, sweetheart. Can you keep going?" He resumes the patterned breathing, and the soft encouragement makes Dabi try harder. He's already made such a mess, he has to be at least capable of doing this right. 

He forces himself to breathe. Each one stutters and stalls until his tears aren't so constant, until they're just a scattered few droplets on his cheeks and his lungs are able to fill a little more. In some vague, dizzy shadow of his mind, he thinks he was hoping that breathing again would make the awful, cold pit in his gut disperse a little. That maybe the breaths would loosen that knot of dread, but he doesn't feel that happen. His dread stays settled against his nerves as those wake up after shorting out to try to protect him from what was happening to his body. Suddenly, he's not just scared, exhausted, and sick to his stomach, he's in pain too, and he starts to shake, a thin whimper leaving him as he looks down at himself. He has to uncurl his knees from his chest to see the side of his thigh that was exposed to the crop. 

The welt he finds across his scar is so puffy that he can see it clearly, and it's shiny. The color is too dark for him to tell if it's blood, sweat, or if it's because it's just so swollen around the fresh wound, but it hurts and he needs... something. He can't get sick again, but he is having such a hard time reordering his thoughts, figuring out what he needs to do next when everything hurts and his mind is so foggy. 

"Are you in pain, Dabi?" Shigaraki keeps talking to him softly, and Dabi barely manages to nod. "I want to get you something to drink and some medicine, but there isn't anything here." He explains carefully. "Do you think that we can move to somewhere else where I can get you those things?" 

He doesn't want to hurt anymore. He doesn't want to get sick. Dabi barely manages to nod his head, the action feeling like it takes every ounce of his strength.

"Good, do you think you can stand by yourself, sweetheart?" 

Dabi doesn't know. He feels weak and his legs hurt more than anything else. He is shaking already when he just manages to uncurl his arms from around them. It's the first flicker of sense that goes through his head when he kicks off his pumps before even attempting to put his feet against the floor. Shigaraki stands as well. 

"Can I come closer, Dabi? You can hold onto my arm if you need help." He smiles at him as he makes the offer and Dabi doesn't have the energy to speak. He manages to hold three fingers against the rumpled sheets and moves to the edge. The shock of the cold floor against his bare feet is such a small thing to make him uncomfortable, but everything inside of him is already so messy that he can't tolerate it, pulling his legs back up. "...Is it too much?" 

He manages another tiny nod. 

"Okay, can I pick you up? I promise I'll be very gentle, and when I put you down, you'll be able to have some water and something for the pain." 

He doesn't want to think. He doesn't even want to exist right now. He leaves his fingers open against the sheets. Shigaraki can do whatever he wants to him now. He's already broken. What's another fracture in his skin? 

"I'm going to pick you up. I need you to keep your hands where I can see them so I know if it's hurting." Why bother? He won't stop if it does. 

It doesn't hurt when Shigaraki picks him up. He's careful as he lifts him off of the bed, supporting his back with one arm and the other hooking under his knees instead of his thighs to keep as much pressure away from the welts as possible. Dabi is lifted and he gives up. He tucks his face against Shigaraki's white shirt and closes his eyes as exhaustion sweeps so completely through him. 

///

He's not certain how long passes between being carried from that room to finding himself blinking as he notices that there's something sugary on his tongue. It's soda, he realizes after a second, lemon-lime soda. The sweetness of that helps him to take stock of other parts of his body. He is aching and sore. His broken body hates him again and it's his fault. It's always his fault. He should have known better, should have been more careful. But he wasn't and now he's hurting and he deserves it. 

Dabi pulls away from the straw that's being offered to him and tries to take in his surroundings. They're in one of the private rooms, the actual private rooms of the club, and instead of having the lights low and a thrum of music going through the sparse bedroom, the lights are on all the way and it's as quiet as it can be with the activities of the club still filtering in from past the door. Shigaraki is sitting on the chair that has been dragged to the edge of the bed that Dabi's sitting on. The backs of his legs hurt, and he shifts a little on the edge as the other watches him, taking the cup away and putting it on the side table when he finishes with that. 

"...I'm sorry." His voice sounds like it's been completely scraped raw as he tries to make his head clear. He needs to go. He made so much trouble. He has to leave. If he leaves by himself, at least, then he won't have to be kicked out. He would rather save some small thread of his dignity than have to give that up too. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Shigaraki's voice is that same low, careful tone that he doesn't deserve. "Are you still hurting? I had Yumina bring some of the bruise salve. Do you want to put some of that on?"

The welts definitely hurt and he would really like for them not to anymore, but he just shakes his head and starts to stand. "Can I get my stuff before I go?" His voice shakes as he asks. It wouldn't be the first time he's just been kicked out without any of his things. But he doesn't know how he's going to even make his rent without V. He can't have to start over with his whole life without his phone too. 

"... If you think you're ready for that, then I need to know if you want me to call the police." Shigaraki asks. 

Dabi blanches, fear swelling through his chest and making it go tight. "What?" Did he break his contract with the club? He thought he would be fired, not arrested. 

"Do you want to press charges against him? I know it's difficult in situations like this, but if you want to have him arrested, we can do that. If you want..." Shigaraki's expression blackens, "Other repercussions made, then we can decide on that as well." 

Him? His head feels like it's still full of fluff. "...Aren't you mad at me?" His voice is tiny when he manages the question. 

That replaces the darkness on his features with something softer and more surprised in an instant. "Of course not, Dabi. You did everything you needed to, there's no reason for me to be upset with you." He watches Dabi as he says those words and Dabi has no idea what his face does, but he is even more deliberate and careful as he keeps speaking. "I'm sorry that happened, I'm sorry that I didn't get there faster. But you're not in trouble, and we're going to make sure that Imasuji never does something like this again." 

His seams beneath his eyes hurt and he feels something hot and wet drip against his thighs. 

Shigaraki sees him start to cry and shifts slightly before catching himself. "Can I touch you?" 

Dabi hesitates, half expecting to be hit again, but he finally gives a tiny nod. Shigaraki gathers him up, and pulls him close, tucking Dabi's head beneath his chin and getting him to sit at an angle in his lap so that the worst of the welts don't have any pressure against them. And then his hands start to pet so gently over his skin. He holds him and he speaks, 

"I'm so glad you called out for help. I'm so sorry that happened and I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that nothing like this happens again. I promise that you're going to be safe if you want to keep working here." 

"...I can stay?" 

Shigaraki looks at him like he wishes he could pull all of the pain out of Dabi's skin. He curls a hand gently around the back of his neck and he rests their foreheads together. "Of course you can, sweetheart. I wouldn't want you anywhere else." 

The tears fall a little faster and Dabi tangles his fingers into Shigaraki's shirt, clinging to him as he begins to sob fresh. 

///

It's not until he notices the pain getting more intense in his legs that he tries to take stock of himself again. Shigaraki reaches over to the side table and takes one of the tissues to help dab away the blood from under his sore seams and crusted under his staples. He hisses slightly from how broken and achy they feel and is hit with another jolt of fear over how bad they must be. 

"Are you in more pain?" Shigaraki glances at his watch, "You can have another dose of pain medicine if you want it." 

Dabi doesn't remember even taking the first, but that must mean it's been hours since the last one and he feels sharply guilty for forcing the other to stay for so long dealing with him. "I'm okay," he can be. He will be, he thinks. Maybe. If he's not actually broken from everything that happened before. "I need to go home--" He tries to shift and can't help the sharp sound of pain he makes as he puts a little more weight on the welts and his aching seams. 

"Dabi, I won't make you have anything you don't want, but I need to know you're going to be alright if you decide to leave." 

He swallows, not wanting to look at him, but not trusting his muscles much after how much just that little shifting hurt. "...I need my medicine." He admits quietly. 

And Shigaraki doesn't blink. "Okay, is it in your bag? Do you want me to have someone bring it for you?" 

"...Okay." 

Shigaraki shifts his hold on Dabi's body slightly and he sees him pull out his phone and shoot off a text to Jin to have someone bring Dabi his things. He gets an affirmative, and after just a couple of minutes, Shigaraki is picking him up again so that he can put him on the edge of the bed while he goes over to the door to retrieve the bag. He brings it over and Dabi pulls out the alcohol wipes and his salve before being faced with the location of the hurts and how he's going to manage to check them. 

"Why don't you lay on your stomach? I can help you." He offers gently. "You can watch in the mirror and let me know if there's anything you need." 

He considers protesting, but he doesn't have a better option if he wants to see how these look and how fucked he's going to be trying to get back into his tight leather pants before he walks home. If he can even manage that. "Okay," he agrees quietly, making himself lay on his stomach, the chains and crystal beads pressing against his skin. He takes a shaky breath and turns his head so that he can look at himself in the mirror that's suspended above the bed. 

The welts are dark and crusted with tacky deep red scabs at some of the highest points and the places where they overlap with each other. That's not good, but Dabi is more scared of his seams as his attention goes lower. His staples are doing their best to keep his skin together, the sections there so swollen with irritation from either side of his skin being abused that they've nearly expanded past their limits, but they are, technically, shut. He gives a soft sigh of relief. Shigaraki makes sure he's watching and then starts to clean him up with gentle, deliberate movements, always giving Dabi enough time to ask him to stop before he touches the next place on his body. And each touch is light and careful. His skin is cool through his gloves as he opens the alcohol wipes and dabs away the bits of blood before going to the salve Dabi spends most of his money making sure he never runs out of. 

He immediately lets out a shaky sigh of relief at the first cold touch of the creme against his skin. The medicine is a thin antibiotic lotion that has a slight numbing effect that takes away a lot of the lingering discomfort. Knowing that he is getting what he needs, that his seams aren't actually open, that helps to take away the threads of fear in him, and he lets himself watch Shigaraki in the mirror as he rubs the medicine into his skin. 

He moves in soft circles, making sure to get along the welts and along each line of his seams and puncture of his staples. His hands are delicate, not looking to hurt him any more than he already has been tonight, and Dabi... starts to drift as the fear, pain, and worry ebb. He's being taken care of. He gets that so rarely. Normally he barely lets himself have a minute or two of aftercare once as session is over, and even then, he's usually using that time to try and get his client to book another session while they're still coming down from the high of their domination or while they're still aching for a release they'll need to find on their own elsewhere in the club. But this feels good. He can't remember the last time someone else helped him put the medicine on his skin. 

More of the pain fades as he finally allows himself to relax a little more against the sheets and he sighs. Shigaraki's hand stills for a second, but when Dabi timidly leaves three fingers open against the sheets, he feels three open in return against his thigh before he keeps tending to the wounds and swollen areas of skin. It puts a soft kind of warmth in his body that makes him want more of that. He's being careful, he's listening to him and taking care of him. Dabi wonders distantly if it says something sad and pathetic just that is enough to make his body temperature creep up a little higher the touches continue. 

He doesn't mean to let out the little moan that slips his lips when Tomura's fingers move along his seam towards his inner thighs, but it feels so nice to have a soft touch there. Dabi opens his legs a little more and shifting against the sheets lets him feel that his cock has started to harden too. Tomura stops when he hears that soft sound of pleasure and Dabi is reluctant to look over his shoulder to see his face, instead watching him stiffen over him in the mirror. A sharper fear goes through him. He wasn't supposed to make any noises, was he? Is he going to be hit again?

"Does that feel better, baby boy?" Tomura's voice is a little thicker, lower, and his fingers trail from the inside of his thighs along to the outer edge so that he's not touching any hurts anymore. And he puts two fingers against Dabi's skin, waiting. 

Is this a scene? Could it be? Dabi wants to take away the unpleasantness still echoing around in him from what came before. But... he doesn't know if he'll be allowed that, even when it's Shigaraki's collar looped around his neck. "...Yes, Sir. More?" He chances, keeping his hand as is. 

"Of course baby, just have to tell me if there's anything you don't like." He strokes along his thighs again, and Dabi watches in the mirror as he goes from just trailing two fingers over his skin, to both of his palms open, the soft leather touching his seams and healthy skin. This touch goes between his legs, up a little higher, light and good. A nice touch after the angry ones, and Dabi lets out a tiny sigh. "Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" 

He tucks his face into the sheets, giving up on the mirror, and manages a nod against them. Dabi doesn't normally get to be soft after something so rough, but the contrast feels so good. Like it's putting fluff around all the hurts that were written into his soul and skin. He shifts and Tomura's hands immediately retreat, but Dabi only wanted to push up a little, getting his knees a little more under him so that he would be able to lift his hips slightly as he starts to get harder, and to spread his legs a little more. 

"Good boy," Tomura murmurs, his hands going back to his skin and tracing circles up his thighs, deeper between them. He goes higher, but not where Dabi wants them. He wants something that feels good now. Tomura's already made things so much better. He can take away the last sharp bits of unhappiness in him, he knows he can. "You just have to show me what you need, baby boy, I'll give you anything." And he sounds a little breathless as he speaks. 

It makes the neediness in him go a little hotter and he makes himself let go of the sheets so that he can reach back and find Tomura's arm. He hooks his fingers in the edge of his gloves and feels his face go hot as he pulls at him. He lets his arm be moved and Dabi brings it further between his legs, until his fingers are grazing the edge of his panties. Tomura takes over from there and Dabi is holding onto the sheets again as he moves his fingers lightly over his covered balls and up to his hardening cock. 

"You want to feel good, sweetheart?" His voice going hotter. 

Dabi manages a little nod, still certain he won't be allowed that after before. 

Tomura's fingers stroke up his cock, cupping him through the lace as he hums softly. "I can do that, baby boy, but I need you to move for me." His hand retreats and Dabi wants it back, so he lets Tomura get him onto his back, and Dabi is confronted with the sight of himself in the ceiling mirror. His face is flushed and still a little blotchy from crying. He looks dazed as the chains glitter in the light of the room, his legs spread wide, knees bent to keep the worst of the welts from touching the bed. And his cock is hard and stretching his panties. Tomura moves between his spread legs, leaning over him carefully and blocking his view in the mirror. And there's not a trace of cruelty in his look. His eyes are warm and he's smiling at Dabi softly. "Can I take off your panties, sweetheart? I want to make your pretty cock feel good." 

Dabi bites his lip and nods. 

"Can I hear your color? It will make me feel better if I know you're using them." He asks, reaching to cup his cheek and stroke his thumb just under one of his aching seams. 

"Green, Sir." 

"Good. But you don't have to call me that, baby boy. I can be whatever you need from me right now. What do you want, sweetheart?" 

He wants to be safe. He wants to feel good. He wants the softness and sweetness that he never gets, let alone after something bad has happened. And he wants to be small in the wake of that. "Daddy," he whispers, his face going so hot with his shame, terrified that he can't have this either. 

Tomura's smile makes his eyes warm too as he leans over him, his hand shifting so that he can push his hair from his forehead. The kiss he presses there feels like a balm as much as his medicine did against his hurts. "You're doing such a good job for me, baby boy. Lift your hips a little more." 

He does and Tomura makes sure the thin fabric doesn't rub against any of the welts as he pulls his panties down his legs. Dabi kicks out of them when they're low enough and then he chances reaching for Tomura, getting one hand in his hair that is as thick and soft as he's always wondered. He lets himself be pulled up, but when Dabi wants a hard, messy kiss to reassure him that this is something he can have, he's instead given one that is so soft and achingly tender that it makes him breathless. His whole body gets a little warmer as Tomura kisses him, his hands moving lightly over his skin, stroking up his thighs before he shifts over him.

 Dabi almost whines, but he feels him reaching and hears the rustle of plastic as he finds the bowl on the side table that holds the variety of lubes that are in every room for the club-goers' use. Tomura picks one at random and brings his other hand up to tear it open, and when he wraps his hand around Dabi's length, his glove glides across his skin and makes Dabi's toes curl with pleasure. The touch there, after the pain from before, after denying himself even earlier, makes him gasp, wrapping his arms around Tomura's neck to keep him close as he touches him. 

He moans, his hips moving, trying to get more of that good sensation after a night of bad. "Daddy," he pleads. 

"I've got you, baby boy." He murmurs, pressing a kiss softly to the seam aching under one of his eyes. His fingers move over him, making sure to rub along his ladder and around his head, bringing Dabi's pleasure higher. He whimpers when he tightens his thighs around Daddy's hips and it makes his hurts ache a little. But he doesn't have to hurt for long. Tomura immediately shifts so that he has one hand under his hip, lifting Dabi's weight a bit and moving it higher on his back, making sure that none of the welts are rubbing against the sheets and that he doesn't have to try to get him closer, not when he's holding onto him, his legs supporting his lower half. And letting him feel Daddy's cock is getting hard too where it's pressed against him. 

Tomura doesn't pay his own arousal any attention, his hand moving deliberately over Dabi's cock, searching and finding every place that makes his pleasure sharper. His body is already so exhausted from the night, that it's not hard for him to get lost in the feelings, for his head to start to float into that soft good space that makes him love being a sub. And when he moans and tries to move into the pleasure, he doesn't get yelled at, he doesn't get hurt, instead Daddy gives him more kisses. 

"There, you're doing such a good job, baby boy. I'm so happy that you're letting me help you feel good, sweetheart. You're so pretty when you're blushing like this." And the words put more of that needy, squirmy heat in him through the heavy fog rolling in. He twists his wrist as he strokes him and Dabi moans loudly, hips jumping up into the touch. Daddy sees how much he likes that and he keeps doing it on each stroke, making him shiver and tremble, moans spilling off his lips and his fingers tugging at Daddy's suit jacket as his cock leaks. 

It only takes a few more of those tight, perfect strokes before Dabi's back is arching again, smoke curling out of his throat, as he cums, spilling all over Daddy's hand and his own stomach. He gasps, trembling against the sheets as that bliss soaks through his veins and leaves him absolutely boneless. 

"Perfect, baby boy. You did such a good job for me. I'm so proud of you, precious." He starts to shift, reaching for another wipe to clean him up and even floating, Dabi knows he doesn't want to get cleaned up yet. He doesn't want to stop. He wants Daddy to make him feel so good that he doesn't even remember the welts against his thighs. 

"Daddy," Tomura pauses and Dabi struggles to find more words, "More? Please?" He tries to be careful, making sure to only put pressure on the inside of his thighs as he tightens them around Tomura's hips. And then he rolls his hips down, breathless when he feels how big and hard Daddy's cock is. 

"Are you sure, sweetheart? All I want is to take care of you. We don't need to do anything else." He reassures him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Dabi knots his fingers in his jacket a little tighter and pulls at it, nodding. "Green. Please, Daddy?" 

"Of course, precious. But if you change your mind, if you don't like something, all you have to do is tell me, and then we'll be all done, okay?" 

"Mmhm," he mumbles, pulling at his shirt again. 

Tomura gives him another kiss, and then only partially disappoints Dabi because he does have to move away if he wants to strip himself of his clothes, the fabric getting tossed item by item onto the chair until he's only wearing his gloves. Only what he needs to make certain that Dabi is safe before he moves back between his legs and kisses his lips again. Dabi loses himself in that, his hands now getting to move over all of the pretty pale muscles that have been hiding under his clothes. 

Daddy's hands move over his skin too, touching his chest, pushing his chains out of the way so that he can play with the rings through his nipples, and over his sides, down his stomach, up his thighs. He goes slowly, his mouth going across Dabi's jaw and along his neck and collar bones, looking for places that make Dabi's skin go warm again. When his hands go lower he opens his legs wider, when his fingers, slick again from more lube touch him tentatively, he gasps, "Green," again before they start to move against him. 

He has to keep one arm around the back of his neck, still scared of being tossed aside while he's getting so close to the perfect floaty place he rarely ever gets to find, but the other knots back against the sheets, needing something else to hold onto. Whimpers and moans spill past his lips as Daddy circles his hole until those nerves are prickling with need. When his first finger presses in he feels gone, as the pleasure aches through him as his cock starts to harden again. 

Tomura opens him up with the same deliberate, gentle movements as he did to soothe his hurts and by the time he has three inside of him, moving against his prostate, he is near tears again from how good he feels this time. "Tomura!" He can't help the sounds spilling from him, his cock pressing against his stomach and drooling fresh pre from how needy every touch is making him. "Tomura, Daddy, please, please!" His nails bite into the sheets and the back of his neck. "Please, I want it, please, want your cock." 

"I'm going to give it to you, precious, just have to wait a little longer." Tomura gives him another kiss before he shifts again, pulling a condom from the bowl of them and Dabi waits with breathless impatience for  him to get it on before he's pulling him back in, and shifting to help him line up. His head rubs against his hole as Tomura untangles his fingers from the sheets, catching that hand and threading their fingers together. Before he can feel overwhelmed from the tenderness of that action, he starts to press inside and Dabi is lost in the stretch of him inside. 

It feels like it takes an eternity for him to be so deliciously, perfectly full. Tomura presses more soft kisses across his face as Dabi pants and whimpers, every breath makes his nerves sing like his whole body is trying to make up for the agony from earlier by amplifying every flicker of pleasure. He's hazy with it as he demands, "Green, Daddy," when he can't possibly stand to wait a second longer for it to get even better. 

Tomura breathes a laugh against his skin, leaning back just enough so that Dabi can see him smile. See his pretty eyes looking at him like he's the whole world. "Okay, baby boy, but you know what to say if it's too much?" He nods weakly and Tomura gives him another kiss as he starts to move. 

Dabi has never had sex like this before. He has never been so deep in the cloud of his subspace, never been touched like he was something precious. He has never had someone moving inside of his body, doing everything they could to make him feel good the way Tomura is. He makes sure that he's rubbing against his prostate, going at a slow, deliberate pace that keeps from putting any hard pressure against his seams or bruises, and he doesn't lose his patience with that. He keeps fucking Dabi so carefully instead of chasing his own pleasure, and he looks at him, holds his hand, like this is all he needs. Like seeing Dabi falling apart under him is all he could ever need in the world. Like he's not a burden, not an inconvenience, not an employee, but something... precious. It all makes his head so messy in such a different way than before that Dabi is smoking again as his quirk heightens alongside his pleasure. 

He is so hazy that he doesn't know how long Tomura is moving with him, kissing him, his hand tightening against Dabi's as they both build their ecstasy higher and higher. But Daddy's fucking him slow, so it must be a while. He doesn't know if it matters though, because when his cock starts to ache again, his balls going so tight, and just before his orgasm pulses through him again, he finds himself squeezing their interlocked hands together a little tighter. 

"Tomura," his name is a gasp and he's not expecting the other to whisper back, 

"Dabi," like he's the most important thing in the world. He really doesn't mean for that to push him over the edge, his body thrumming with pleasure that goes even higher as Tomura bottoms out inside of him as they cum together. Dabi doesn't think he's ever managed that with a partner either, but his fog is far too thick for him to care as Tomura captures his lips in another all-consuming kiss. 

///

They lay in bed together for a while, Tomura pressing more kisses and praise into his skin until Dabi stops trembling with his pleasure. Until his fog rolls back from his mind and after the night he's had, all he can do is feel exhausted. Tomura didn't bother taking off his watch when he was getting ready to fuck him, so Dabi catches the edge of his glove and pulls on it so he can see the time. 

"Fucking hell--" he starts to sit up out of the circle of the other's embrace as he realizes it's dawn. He started his session at eleven. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" His stomach sinks. Fuck, fuck, he cause so much trouble for the club tonight and then he'd fucking slept with his boss. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Tomura tells him immediately in the same even tone as he did before, with the same warmth in his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" 

He hesitates, taking stock of himself now that his head doesn't feel nearly as out of sorts as he had since he dropped. "Yeah... thanks for taking care of me." 

"Of course--" 

"No," he pushes a little harder, straightening his spine. "You didn't have to do that. You could have left me to deal with it myself, you could have called the cops and let me come down barely-clothed in a police station. But you made sure to take care of me here, and treated the bruises. Thank you." 

Tomura doesn't dismiss the words this time. "...You're welcome, Dabi. Is there anything else that you need?" 

"A shower, breakfast I guess, and the patience to deal with cops and heroes for a couple of hours if I decide to report that douchebag for assault." 

Shigaraki's expression darkens. "This room has a bathroom attached. If you want to go clean up, I can go get your day clothes from your locker and bring them in for you. I can't offer much as far as food goes, but I might be able to help ease the stress of the last part." 

Has Goto been held here the whole time? He'd asked if he wanted to go to the police earlier, but Dabi hadn't been thinking clearly enough to put that statement into any more context. "Okay." Tomura hesitates a second, and then leans in and presses another kiss to his forehead. 

"I'll be right back, firefly." 

///

Dabi goes and takes a shower, and by the time he's finished and dried with the towels that smell sharply of the detergent used to make sure they're clean, Tomura is all buttoned up again and Dabi's day clothes are waiting for him along with another soda, bottle of water, and a bottle of Tylenol. He takes the pain meds, downs the water, and dresses. If he goes to report this then it's going to be a long fucking day to start without a lick of sleep. He should have asked for an espresso martini, though he doubts that any of the bartenders are even still here. 

When he's dressed, white t-shirt, leather pants, leather duster, boots, and his backpack with his medicine, heels, and club clothes inside, he figures there's no putting this off anymore. 

"Okay, let's deal with this fuckwit." He says with more bravo than he feels. 

"If anything is too much, you just have to say the word, and I'll deal with it, Dabi." 

"I appreciate that, Shig, but you can only fix so much." 

Tomura doesn't stall anymore and they leave the private rooms, going through the main area of the club. It's not that unusual for Dabi to be leaving after closing, but it's definitely later than he usually leaves. He's never seen the club completely empty, even the janitorial staff having finished for the day and abandoned it. They go out of the main area and into the hallway of red rooms, and Dabi startles to find the second room on the left has been roped off with velvet barriers because the glass is gone. Dabi pauses, staring at that gaping nothing that's letting him see that the room has been thoroughly cleaned and reset even though he doubts anyone will be using it until the glass is back in place. 

"What happened?" He doesn't remember hearing any glass break. 

"I was in the main room when I noticed the commotion. I didn't want to lose time by running around to the back hallway." 

"You broke the window?"

"No," he says, continuing to move down the hall. "That could have sprayed you with glass. I decayed it." 

"You're insane." Dabi barely manages to say through his thick throat. 

"When I took over this club I said I would make it a safe place for everyone who comes to indulge. I'm not about to let one of my staff, one of my best members of staff, get hurt here." They leave the hall and Dabi doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses to remain silent. 

Tomura takes him down the service elevator, unlocking the buttons that lead to the basement level with a key and Dabi is a little concerned. He didn't know anyone ever went to the basement levels for anything. But once the elevator is moving again, he reaches back for Dabi's hand and laces their fingers together again, bringing them up so that he can press a kiss to Dabi's knuckles. It puts a warmth, a comfort in his stomach that he's never had the luxury of before. They take the long ride down and when the doors open, Dabi finds the winding pipes and cords that he expected of a place that holds the guts of the skyscraper. Tomura coaxes him out into that tangle of piping, and Dabi follows carefully behind, his quirk sitting hotter under his skin. 

He's led around two corners before they reach a doorway that Tomura knocks on once. He hears a couple of locks being thrown and then the door opens-- revealing Jin, who sees him and immediately breaks into a smile. 

"Hey, Dabs, you doing better?" 

"...Yeah." He wants to ask what exactly is going on, but the other man moves out of the way so that they can see into the room and Dabi bristles, smoke getting trapped behind his teeth as he sees Goto, a gag in his mouth, and his arms cuffed behind him with dampeners where he is strapped to a metal chair that's been bolted to the ground. "What--" Tomura pulls him into the room gently with their entwined hands. 

"Like I said before, we can call the police if you want us to. You have a written contract and a lot of eye-witnesses that will prove that he was in violation of that." He lets go of Dabi's hand to go over to Goto. The other is glaring, his teeth bared as much as they can be around his gag, and Dabi notices that part of his arm is gone. The cuffs are hooked above his elbows because on the right side, everything from the forearm down is gone. And Dabi sees a dangerous thing in Tomura's neutral expression as he takes off his glove, resting four fingers against the back of the chair. "Or we can take care of this now." 

"'Take care of' how?" But the coldness already starting in his gut is answer enough. 

"My quirk doesn't leave anything behind for anyone to find. There isn't even DNA in the dust." He doesn't say it outright, but there's no mistaking this proposal for anything but what it is. And immediately Dabi thinks he should be scared. For as gentle and caring as Tomura just was with him, he can and has, apparently, killed people before. He is dangerous. But he is watching Dabi with that tentativeness from before. Trying to make certain, he thinks, that Dabi is alright just like he has all night. "Jin already sent a double on his way with both arms intact. He can go around living his life until he gets hurt and when that happens, there will be nothing to trace it back to you. You'll be safe, Dabi. No matter what." He promises. 

He'll be safe, he thinks, even if they do go to the cops. He'll be safe, have a club full of witnesses, and his contract-- and he knows that they still won't care. Muscular will get a slap on the wrist, if anything, and then the next time he wants to get his rocks off, he'll go find someone else who isn't in a club full of people who care about what happens to each other. He'll find someone desperate, helpless, and alone, and he'll go further than he could with Dabi-- if he hasn't done that already. "...Your quirk works on anything?" 

"As far as I'm aware." He replies evenly. 

Dabi takes a step forward and Tomura waits. Goto glares at him with his one working eye. Looks at Dabi like he can't understand how someone as low as him could possibly warrant anyone bothering to care about what happens to him at all. It makes that shattered thing inside of him sharpen into something with teeth. He reaches for his face, a flame already in hand and grabs on. 

He can't go hot enough to turn his skull to ashes, not without his seam hurting badly, but it is immensely satisfying to hear him screaming around the gag as it melts over his teeth and tongue as his eyeball boils in his skull. He takes a step back when his hand starts to hurt, and Muscular is still thrashing in the chair, letting out muffled screams. 

Tomura lets it go on for a few more seconds before he catches a part of his arm where the fire hasn't spread yet, and holds on. He screams until he crumbles away. When there's nothing on the chair but dust and the air is filled with the lingering, unpleasant scent of burning hair, Tomura steps around the chair, pulling his glove back on deliberately. Jin slips out of the door, though Dabi sees him lingering outside of it. 

"There. He can't ever hurt you, or anyone else again." He starts to move closer and Dabi takes a step back. 

"Red." The word stops the other man in his tracks, hurt flickering across his features. He takes a deliberate step away from Dabi and doesn't come any closer as he finds the rest of his voice. "...You could though," he says, feeling the prickles of anxiety under his skin. Fuck. Fuck, what did he just do? He might have gotten rid of that bastard, but Tomura owns him now. Even more than he already did. 

"I wouldn't. Not ever, Dabi. If you don't want to work here anymore, then you're free to go. If you'd like a letter of recommendation or a referral to any of the other clubs in this area, I'd be happy to provide it. If you want to stop doing private sessions for a while, then that's alright too. If you want, you can put on some classes-- or you can dance if you want. Kenji mentioned that you two have been practicing together. I can be your boss again," and Dabi doesn't expect the way that makes something go sharp behind his ribs. "Or I can be... nothing to you." 

Dabi hesitates, but Tomura keeps his distance and he can't find even the slightest hint of a lie in his eyes. He just sees them sad and worried, the same way they were when he saw how badly he'd been broken. And Dabi wants them warm on him again the way they had been when he'd held his hand as they came. It's probably wrong, probably insane, but Dabi thinks he could be very happy with Tomura, even knowing that he would destroy the world if it hurt him. He hasn't ever had someone who would take care of him. He's certain Tomura will unless he tells him to stop. And.. he knows now that Tomura will stop if he ever tells him to. 

He's the one who crosses the space between them. "I want a week away," he demands breathlessly. "You don't call, you don't check on me, you don't mess with my profile. You let me leave, knowing I could go to the cops." He catches the lapels of his suit, hands hot with barely contained flame. 

"I can do that, firefly. But," Dabi's stomach sinks, "you need to go up and see Atsuhiro to get your pay for the week. I don't want you to leave without it if you decide not to come back." 

Dabi pulls him into a hard kiss.

///

When he comes back to V a week later, his locker is exactly as he left it, and he doesn't see Tomura until he's getting ready for the consultation. He walks in and finds the other holding himself with his spine straight, looking at his tablet with a furrow in his brow. 

"Dabi, welcome back. I'm sorry, I'm having some kind of technical difficulty. Your bookings for tonight aren't showing up on the schedu--" He catches the edge of the tablet and sets it aside before stepping right back into his space like their last kiss was a minute ago and not a week, and gives him another. 

Tomura goes still against him before his hand wraps around the back of Dabi's neck, his other arm going around his waist, and he kisses him back like he's the only thing that matters in the whole world. Like he's trying to tell him that he'll never be broken again. 

"Canceled them. Just want you to take care of me." He breathes when they part. 

Red eyes go surprised before warming. "I will for as long as you'll let me, firefly." Tomura promises. Dabi seals those words between them with another kiss. 

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