#anyway despite working for the agency he's not a good person

[hopesprung]

a point of interest for those looking to interact with dazai: he has a twisted spirit and is pretty much always plotting something. though there are a few exceptions, generally speaking, if he can torment you ( and have fun doing it ), he will. whether it’s harmless or not depends on who you are to him.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 1

| Part 2 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Tags: None (Originally this was a one-off, but I found a good stopping point part-way through so I'm ending it here and posting the rest later)

You're his secretary. He's your boss at his self-established Pro Hero Agency. But you're right around the same age.

It's a little strange, really. You knew what you were getting into when you applied during the hiring process but it's still shocking to see someone your own age so much more accomplished in you. Makes you wonder what you're doing with your life when someone else is already so far ahead.

However, Bakugou (or Dynamight) sees potential in you and takes you as his personal secretary. Everyone else was fired because he wasn't too fond of any of them, so there was an opening. Despite him taking you on, you're really nervous about your job prospects given the graveyard of secretaries he's built up. But the pay is too good and you need the money.

Everyday at work, he's expecting your best. He's constantly barking out orders to any and all of his workers, and you wonder if this violates some "harassment of employees" policy that you're sure nobody really cares about at this point. At least he's not barking at you in particular. He's even slowed down to explain some things to you, which you really appreciated.

But your co-workers often talk about him when he's not around. They grumble about his aggressive attitude and protest against his constant criticisms. But they're here for the same reason as you (the pay rate), and on the bright side at least they know that Dynamight isn't corrupt or evil boss. Just a handful.

Your best efforts eventually become known at your organization and Bakugou gives you some rare praise. No gruffness, no insults, just genuinely saying "This is really well-done."

You almost couldn't believe it when you heard it. You laughed when he said it and then immediately regretted laughing when his eyes shot to yours.

"Sorry, I've just never heard you compliment an employee's work!"

He looked offended and he was about to say something but then he held back.

"Guess I shouldn't forget to do that."

Was he actually taking your criticism to heart? Who knows.

But Dynamight truly is one of the more perplexing bosses you've likely had to work for. You don't really have drinking parties outside of work with your boss or your colleagues, unlike other Japanese companies and organizations. Some other typical company traditions are eschewed, which you may or may not appreciate. Dynamight isn't really the type of person who would like any of those things. He's too straight-edge, too much of a workaholic. He doesn't see the point. But this makes it hard for anyone to get close to him.

Still, there is one day where you invite him out after work for coffee or tea, whichever you prefer. There's no ulterior motives, no wish for a pay raise, you're just honestly interested in his life.

The worse he can do is say no. Actually, he can do much worse than that, but you try it out anyways. To your surprise, he agrees immediately! It's a little funny how quick he was.

He's got the best taste in dineries, since he has high standards and all. He takes you to a really fancy restaurant and you're gobsmacked at the prices. You don't have that kind of money, but he brushes off your concerns. He's got money to burn.

You learn more about him. He's still pretty informal as ever, despite the suit and tie he's wearing per the restaurant's formal dress expectations. He doesn't really mince words with you or talk politely, inside or outside of work. But he's quite expressive and more willing to share about himself than you would've ever believed.

He's telling you about his high school years and how it led up to this point. You're familiar with the story since you've seen him at the Sports Festival and you just kept hearing about him and the other U.A. students from there. He states your Quirk is good enough to be a Pro and outright tells you he'd personally train you if you wanted.

You've got your hands full with your current life as is so you can't take the offer, but you're pleased he even suggested it!

"Maybe if I train, I'll even surpass you someday!"

"Don't get cocky!"

It's really easy to joke around with him and get into a nice flowing casual conversation. You've never seen him act like this. Even with other Pro Heroes it usually took a lot of time for their friendship to remotely get to that point.

In fact, you point that out to him, as well as his aloof reputation with the public. Normally you shouldn't tell your boss those kinds of things, but Bakugou isn't your normal boss.

Bakugou sneers at your playful observation and says if he doesn't need to open up then he doesn't do it at all. He says you're looking too much into things.

But he's smiling at the end, and he bites back at you with his own observation, saying that you've got a lot of time on your hands if you're keeping a close eye on him.

You say he's got some food stuck in his teeth and successfully distract him from the subject.

Okay, maybe you DO like him. Maybe you do fancy one of the highest ranking Pro Heroes in the country who acts just like a good friend with you when he's not in the office. It's not your fault. He's just so kind to you.

But he's your boss, and you know he's dedicated to his work above all else...

Still, you find him the next day at work greeting you first thing in the morning, remarking about your evening together. He's recalling it with a rare soft smile on his face.

You're glad it's a happy memory for him.

[naddiesflower]

Flirting with them as a hero

Characters: Shigaraki, Dabi, Kai Chisaki, Mr. Compress

Shigaraki

You wouldn’t see each other often when you’d go out on patrols

But oh boy, when you did

Poor shigaraki bro

To a person who didn’t know either of you, it would like you are the one harassing shigaraki

“Can’t you go do hero stuff somewhere else?”

“I could, but i wouldn’t be able to see you.”

Scratches his neck more often in your presence because, “they make me feel nasty inside”

SHIGARAKI DISCOVERS AFFECTION FOR THE FIRST TIME NOT CLICKBAIT

It’s obvious you can’t see what he looks like under the hand he wears

And Shigaraki has curiously inquired a couple of times why you’re so flirty if you don’t know what he even looks like

Like clock work you always answer:

“Well i think you probably look cute under that hand.”

And cue Shigaraki trying to escape from you claiming that

“You’re weird and annoying.”

You’re one of the few heroes who come across Shigaraki so often

Its because he finds you so interesting and he semi-memorized your patrol schedule to bump into you more often 

HE HAS YOUR ENTIRE SCHEDULE MEMORIZED DON’T BELIEVE HIM HE’S A STALKER

Anyways, during one of your guys fight you somehow manage to knock the hand off his face and-

Oh wow

And he has a mole right by his mouth?? 

Omg how does he look good with a bloody nose

You recover from your short trance

“Looks like i was right about you being cute.”

You’re so glad you were able to knock off that bothersome hand off his face or else you would have never seen his reddening cheeks

You reach for a part on your hero suit and rip off a piece of fabric

You reach towards his face, Shigaraki surprisingly doesnt pull away from you, and wipe at his bleeding nose

Shigaraki only stares at you starstruck during this

After you deem your work satisfactory you toss the fabric to the floor and stand up and walk away 

You call out to Shigaraki

“That was a cute look on your face back there.”

Shigaraki just watches you walk away and out of the abandoned warehouse you guys were fighting in

Eventually he also walks away but not before picking up the discarded piece of your hero outfit, making sure he kept his pinky far away from the fabric

Dabi

Likes you cuz you’re not the cookie cutter type of hero and you’re actually fun

“A hot guy with a fire quirk, i don’t think it’s mere coincidence.”

You catch him off guard so hard 

He thought you would be an uptight kind of hero

The last thing he ever expected from you was to flirt with him

“You seem fun.”

And you did end up being fun

From then on the both of you would bump into each other more frequently

Dabi concluded that the more buildings he burned down, the more you would show up 🤭

“Why is it that your always on my tail?”

“Well maybe it’s because i want to see your face more often…also because you keep committing arson.”

Another thought that came to you is that fire really did suit Dabi

You would never admit out loud, but he did make chaos look like such a beautiful thing

“Hey what do you say, when i finally send you to the cellar how about we have a jailhouse date?”

“It’s a shame you’re a hero or else i would take you up on your offer”

Over time you’ve come to notice his disdain for heroes

Yeah villains normally hate heroes, but something was different about his hatred

But even with your position as a hero, Dabi was fond of you despite objecting this himself

“Join us, i’m sure we could offer you more than those crappy hero agencies.”

You pause and Dabi thinks for a second you might really consider his offer

But you murmur something he barely catches

“Maybe at an earlier point of my life i would have.”

You don't give him a chance to ponder on your statement before you’re charging to fight him

Something about that last encounter shifted something in yalls situationship

This was very evident when you had bumped into him in the most unexpected way

You were off duty and was walking down an abandoned alley way (because that’s totally normal)

But the sound of pained groans catch your attention and you snap quickly into hero mode, looking for what you assumed to be an injured samaritan

the injured part you guessed correctly

the Samaritan part not so much 

you stare at the bloodied form of Dabi huddled next to a garbage bin

Dabi finally takes notice of your presence and he immediately starts trying to burn you

"HEY! look im not going to hurt you!"

you bring your hands up in a surrender motion

Dabi only stops when he's aware that you're out of your hero uniform 

but he's still wary as he sneers at you

"You here to take advantage of me? finally put me behind bars like you wanted?"

"Shut up and let me help you asshole"

Dabi has no choice in the matter as you're already tending to his wounds

and quite frankly he's too tired to fight you

he stares at you and he can't help but think how much more attractive you looked up close 

and how stupid you were

You could have taken advantage of him in his weak time

But you’re here helping him

a villain

“Your kindness will be your downfall you know?”

“It is my job you know.”

when you're done you stand up with a huff and look like you want to say something but settle with

"go to a real doctor and get that thoroughly checked out."

Dabi watches you walk away and thinks

In another time maybe the both of you could have been partners in crime

Chisaki

Absolutely despises you at first

He’s never seen a hero like you before (derogatory)

The first time you both met was during an undercover mission you were assigned to

Acting as a villain trying to work under Kai

You lead him down the alley way

“Sorry we had to meet in this dingy place, i’ve heard how much you despise dirty places.”

He’s almost impressed that you’d consider his ick

Almost, so the most he offers you is an acknowledging grunt

“It’s not the worst i’ve seen.”

And it truly isn’t

Just when he thinks people can’t any nastier they just somehow do

“Alright so what do you say about my proposition?”

Kai feigns thinking

He already knew who you were

And he thought you an idiot for trying to take him on your own

“I think you’re foolish.”

You hear your hero name being called through the earpiece you have

“You need to retreat right now!”

Thankfully your reflexes are fast or else you’d be reduced to nothing

You look up to where you were once standing and catch Kai’s eyes

They catch you off guard so hard you can barely hear the yelling in your ear piece

You just blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind

“Kai you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

“Another word and i’ll make you disappear”

“Not even when it’s singing your praises?”

“Sing them in the afterlife.”

Kai was never able to disintegrate you

And you got away mostly unscathed

You also got a serious tongue lashing from your company, but it’s whatever 🙄

His eyes still on your mind when you go to sleep that night

Kai’s mind is also plagued by that night 

He can’t stop thinking how idiotic you were

But his mind keeps replaying the compliment you said

He’s not great at feelings, but even he could feel the sincerity that oozed from your voice

He doesn't have to imagine about you often though

Because somehow you’re always able to sneak your way inside the hideout

He theorizes it has something to do with your quirk, since it was never explicitly stated to the public what it was

Which leads to a kind of back and forth between you guys

You usually sneak in to gather intel

But you mostly do it because you like to mess with Kai

You’ll never forget the time you had managed to get into his office

Which you weren’t aware of at the time until he walked, wide eyed upon seeing you

He’s not surprised to see you, only disappointed

Mostly in his men for letting you get past them

“What are you doing in my office?”

“Oh wow, no bird mask-? Wait, this is your office?”

You say as you spin around in his chair, you had just entered into the first room that you came across

A sly smile crosses your face

“I guess you could say it’s fate that we cross each other like this huh?”

At this point he’s used to your sugary words, but he can’t help the way his cheeks heat up, thankful for the mask he’s wearing right now

He doesn’t know why, but he feels like entertaining your shenanigans 

He walks over to his swivel chair and he can see the way you look at him

With apprehension, but mostly curiosity

He grabs the back of the chair, spins you to face him, and places both of his hands on the arms of the chair

Kai leans in, getting close to your face and manages the most sultry voice he can manage

“Fate? Or is it because you like me so much?”

He notices your expression start to change

And he’s so sure you’re going to be a flustered mess

What he doesn’t expect you do to is to hit him on the chest, effectively pushing him back, and start laughing

“What’s so funny?”

“Hahaha! No nothing- what you did was just cute.”

Honestly what he did made your heart race

And the way he looked at you omg-

Your laughing was out of nervousness, but he didn’t need to know that

Kai glares at you and huff, “get out of my office.”

Finally calming down, you stand up from the chair

“Yeah yeah, i need to get going anyways.”

You walk up to Kai and pull down his black face mask

Kai’s eyes widen and he flinches back the slightest

This causes you you smile a little bit and you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek

“I knew you would be handsome under that mask.”

With that you walk away from him and out the door all nonchalant

Kai stares at your form the entire way

He would have liked to meet you under different circumstances, but he knows that could never happen

And it never did

He’s apprehended not too long later and you knew it would eventually happen

But that still doesn’t stop the ache in your heart when you find out

Compress

Will flirt back

“Oh you’re fun, you probably wear that mask to keep people from falling in love with you right?”

He immediately matches your energy

“Then should I take it off so you can do just that my dear?”

Compress usually has fun fighting against heroes, but not as much as he does with you

You’re like a breath of fresh air compared to the usually serious heroes he comes across

He looks forward to bumping in to you 

Him flirting back with you was an absolute surprise

It’s not that you flirt with every villain you fight, you had just assumed he would be some being filled to the brim with anger and rage

And you wanted to provoke him

Well he wasn’t one bit provoked and for once you had fun fighting

You both see each other a handful of times afterwards

But one of the meetings had stuck by your mind among the rest

You bump into compress during patrol

But this time he's not alone

He’s with a young blonde girl

You would have immediately thought the worst and jumped into fighting him if you hadn’t already been aware of the kid’s description in the League of Villains files

You can’t help but feel sad about her situation, society failing her and making her turn to unethical means to survive

You’d be sympathazing with her in your mind had she not interrupted your thoughts

And what she says catches you severely off guard

“Is that the hero you have a crush on compress? They’re so cute!”

Not once did her ever say he had a crush on you (though that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true)

He just mentioned your encounters off handedly to the group and it somehow led to Himiko gushing over one of your fansites whilst smacking his arms and saying, “look, look!”

Compress is half expecting you to be disgusted

“Is that so?” You look over to Compress and and raise an eyebrow

“Have you already fallen for me so quickly, though I can’t really blame you.”

You playfully flutter your eyelashes at him

“It would be hard not to fall for you my dear”

Himiko is squealing about how cute the entire thing is and Compress just can’t help but laugh

You begin to walk in their direction and pat Compresses’ shoulder

“Don’t make me work extra tonight.”

They weren’t doing anything yet, so you’d let them be

Before you walk away, Compress pulls a rose from one of his sleeves and hands it to you

You take it from him with a smile and walk away from the pair

Eventually you notice he’s gone for a while 

You would understand if he was making himself scarce from other heroes, but it’s like he straight up disappears

IT’S BECAUSE MANS IS MISSING A LIMB

And you’re secretly kind of sad about it

But he was a villain and him disappearing should have never surprised you

But one day you spot him, funnily enough where you both met each other

You thought you might have been hallucinating because you had come to accept that he kicked the bucket

The first thing you notice is his left robotic arm

Concern flashes across your face, that surely had to have been the reason for his absence

Villains also had their own enemies, so you’re 100% it wasn’t some freak accident and someone did this to him 

You want to ask him if he’s okay, joke about it but the only thing that comes out of you is

“Who was it?

He looks at you questioningly, you’re usually so playful with him, but he likes seeing this new side of you

“Worrying over a villain my dear? I must say that’s not a very wise thing to do.”

That’s right, as much as you wanted to worry about him, your job wouldn’t allow that freedom

“I was only wondering who got to the mighty Mr. Compress before I could.”

Compress huffs out a laugh and walks towards you until he’s right in front of you

He takes of his mask

Your breath hitches, not expecting him to ever do such a thing

And then he removes the black fabric from his face

You’re too busy admiring how handsome he is to even notice him reaching for your hand and grabbing it

“Please,” he raises your hand and places a kiss to the back of it. 

“Call me Sako.”

You repeat his name, making sure to look into his eyes the entire time

You knew nothing could bloom between you two, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep playing this dangerous game

[rockwgooglyeyes]

the juxtaposition of the main two couples is so interesting to me because of the god/believer parallels, amongst others, but that none of these parallels are obvious from the outside.

if you looked at ivan/till, you would probably think that ivan is the god out of the two of them and I think that the fact he isn't is a purposeful subversion by the writers. Ivan being the moon to Till's sun adds so much to their characters, the self-destructive solar flares (erratic but no less passionate for it, bright and well known yet people know little of substance) and the quiet but impactful wash of the tides (steady, persistent and powerful for it, difficult to change or sway), it feeds into the personalities they have beneath the personas that have been built around them and that's so important to me. but additionally, there are the parallels between Till's "suffering is art" and Ivan's "art is suffering" which makes them so much more compelling to me. Ivan doesn't seem to enjoy being part of the public eye, it's a chore, it's work, that's the painful part for him, not the work itself whereas with Till, the work is the pain because of the way that his owner has made him "suffer for his art." Both ways of doing things rob the person involved of their agency, Till may enjoy art but he is forced to suffer for it, and Ivan is ambivalent to it but is forced to do it anyways. There's also the "admires hope" and "admires the fight" in ivan/till that makes me a little crazy because they both admire the person they love for something that they do not have themself. Ivan has no real will to fight against the system, seems resigned to apathy of some kind, and Till doesn't seem to have any real hope of change despite the fact that he fights. he just seems like he wants to go out with a bang rather than a whimper, to be honest. With Mizi and Sua's god/believer parallel, it's a little more muddy on first glance, it could go either way and so Sua being the god of the two of them isn't so strange. Mizi seems to love Sua more than anything else, why else would Sua be Mizi's god, but Sua loves her just as much and does so much for Mizi that it would make just as much sense the other way. They have moon/sun parallels, too, though they're simpler (Mizi being the sun, warm and crackling with energy, and Sua being the moon, a reflection of Mizi's light who gets brighter the more Mizi loves her), but more interesting to me is the ice/fire, with Sua being ice and Mizi being fire and Sua investing heavily in Mizi despite the fact that it will hurt her in the end and Mizi spending time with Sua despite there being little to no benefit besides on an interpersonal level. Mizi makes Sua's life better but she will make Sua melt and Sua tempers some of Mizi's worse impulses. They're so fascinating because almost all of their symbolism/metaphors are just about choosing each other and loving each other and it makes me a little insane.

tldr; mizisua have dynamics that play into each other and highlight their relationship and how good it is for each other, whereas ivantill have dynamics that also play into each other but highlight them as individuals more than it does their bond which makes me go a little feral

[g1rld1ary]

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

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Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-one: impact play kink

>>> this right here is my girl dinner. i need him so so so so so so so so so so so so bad like PLEASE bakugou when you see this baby come home the kids miss you 😢

>>> starring: katsuki bakugou x curvy!f!reader >>>cw: fwb to lovers, impact play through spankings, choking, holding your head down, multiple rounds, breeding, one pregnancy comment, jealous katsuki, degradation, praise. >>>wc: 3k >>> event masterlist

you were the most annoying person he’s ever met, and that’s saying something. he would willingly dethrone even himself to crown you the biggest bitch in the entire world. maybe it was because you were a foreign exchange pro-hero sent to mingle and visit for relations between japan and your home country—though you’ve far overstayed your welcome. maybe it was because your quirk seemed to give you some air of importance like you were just as good if not better than everyone else, but either way, you were intolerable—at least he tried to pretend you were.

everyone else was eating you up though, as always. kirishima was dumb enough to follow you around with heart eyes, shouto knew how to play it cool enough—but bakugou knew he was vying for your attention. even shinsou and monoma gathered around to gawk at the way your hero uniform clings to your body like a second skin. they should all be embarrassed. you’re assigned to work at his agency anyway—there was no point in sweet talking you. you belong to him. at least, at work—and he hated it.

it was a special layer of hell to have you at his side. you were bossy, bubbly, and absolutely brilliant. your body was irritatingly perfect. his suit was tight too, you know, and raging boners as he carts around his guest was hardly his ideal patrol. you’re unafraid of getting your hands dirty and you’re even less afraid of him—which he lov—enjoys very much. you match his mouth and have never once backed down, which is probably why he’s so perplexed and fascinated and for the lack of better word—or maybe just the right one—obsessed with you.

you’re smart enough to know it, too. you smile extra big when you bring him breakfast every morning and you perch at the edge of his desk just to hear him grumble at you. you let him kiss you and feel your body, but you don’t let him call you his. you aggravate him on purpose, enjoying the way his eye twitches and his nose scrunches before he starts tearing you a new one. you know very well the effect you have on katsuki bakugou, so why do you toy with him like this instead of just ending his suffering?? why do you let your fan club follow you around in his agency when you could be sitting in his lap making out with him in between mountains of paperwork like usual—but no, you’re being way too flirty with kirishima for his liking.

all well and good, they know better than to touch you—at least he thought they did. but clearly monoma has no idea what lengths bakugou will go to to prove that despite your airy behavior—you’re his and his alone.

as soon as he sees monoma’s arm wrap around your waist, he’s standing in front of you, arms folded over his broad chest and arched eyebrow nearly lost between the spiky tufts of ash blonde hanging over his forehead. he’s waiting for you to denounce the behavior—not because he needs you to, but because he wants to see just how far your brattiness goes. you smile at him with those heart eyes, but ultimately choose to say, “hi dynamight. did you need something?”

oh goddamn, he’s fuming. apparently your brattiness knows no bounds. he can feel the steam pouring out of his ears as he grabs onto your wrist, nodding. “yeah—need my bratty little skank in my office right now.”

“ooh somebody’s madddd.” you giggle, though the other heroes seem surprised that he spoke to you that way. all it does is make your pussy tingle—you’re truly shameless and just as annoying as he claims you are. “don’t worry boys, it’s a loving pet name, i promise.”

he doesn’t let you explain further, deciding he isn’t going to chance you misbehaving. he lifts you up with ease, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of laundry. the gesture gives you butterflies—by no means are you petite, yet he throws you around like you weigh next to nothing.

you dangle over his back, waving goodbye to all the hopeful toys you’ve used as a means to this end—to drive him so crazy he just has to claim you in front of everyone. and thank god this worked.

see katsuki may act like you’re the problem, but he’s no saint. he has women bowing at his feet now that he’s a six foot four two hundred and fifty pound top of the leaderboards pro-hero—not that he gives them the time of day. the problem is, he wants to be private, or in other words, a secret. you’re not down with that. the paparazzi follow you regardless, what difference does it make if the world knows? it only gives you the right to crush those rude bitches that went to school with bakugou that try to sing their praises now. fans are fans—you hate the other sidekicks and heroes and friends that eye him right in front of you—all because no one knows that you’re a thing.

so if that’s how he wanted to play, you’d make sure you won.

though winning is subjective, and bakugou clearly thinks he’s coming out on top. he stomps to the elevators with you hanging off of him like an accessory, but his anger still bubbles over his face. he grimaces at his peers, his firm grip on your ass should be enough to send a message but he won’t be done there. no, he won’t stop until your screaming is bouncing off every wall of his agency or until he has to pay fines for noise violations and workplace harassment. he won’t stop until you’re broken of your behavior.

the elevator doors aren’t open all the way before he’s sliding out of them, grumbling about your behavior.

“are ya fuckin’ dumb, princess?” he shakes his head, palming your ass. “wh’kinda man ya think i am? just gonna let my bitch flirt with some fuckin’ extras in front of my face? you must not know me very well.”

“big talk, hot shot.” you huff, your voice vibrating a little with each heavy step he took towards his office. you repress your giddiness. “finally change your mind? you want people to know i’m yours now, huh?”

you’re clever. he’ll have to give you that. in his rage, he hadn’t noticed that he all but confirmed those workplace rumors—that this will leak to tmz in a few hours anyway and all his moping and sneaking and stewing over you was pointless. because in the end he is a beast of nature, and can’t handle anyone having even a fraction of what’s his. this is as close as they’ll ever get, he thinks to himself as he shoves you over his desk—not patient enough to fiddle with the zipper of your hero costume. he is a strong enough man to pull it apart though, shredding it to pieces and grunting in approval of your nakedness before him.

“yeah smartass, i changed my mind. gonna make sure everyone knows yer mine.” he groans, so many ideas of how to get you wailing and declaring your love for him rush to his mind. you’re biting your lip already, hoping he has you bent over like this for a reason. you hear his gauntlets clank together on the ground, and you wiggle your behind in the air excitedly.

“don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy..” you giggle, throwing that out to help your case. he knows you’re still bratty, not nearly worn down enough to be his babbling baby girl just yet. he smirks anyways, clever all on his own. his eyes focus on those perfect globes of your ass jiggling before him. you love his hands on you, warmed with his quirk with just enough spark and pressure to turn you to mush in just a few minutes. coincidentally enough he loves turning your ass into a custom painting of his own doing—and you get so noisy when he spanks you, that it’s clearly the best option.

“i’m not threatening, skank.” he pops your ass once, just a touch of warmth to your skin. you jolt forward, humming at the pleasant buzz. “tryin’ to get me all worked up in front of my friends?”

“oh they’re your friends now? i thought they were just extras.” you taunt, stretching your arms out in front of you to lay your face against the cool wood of his desk. his hand grows warmer and a little harder as it hits your ass in the same spot as before, a matching one falling to your other cheek within a second. it makes you squeal out a bit in glee, the sting was addictive.

“both, depending on how i feel—mouthy brat.” he huffs, though he is admittedly amused. he relishes your sweet little moans as he smacks your skin in rapid succession, his hands steadying their heat with each collision. as he smacks harder, your skin broken and bruised in the shape of his hand—you still moan in pleasure, getting louder the harsher he got. “this is all my little whore wanted hah? not’ta be able to sid’down all day?” he chuffs happily, giving you three more harsh smacks in a row, all to the same spot. you’re whining at the top of your lungs, making him smile successfully.

“mhm! yes daddy—jus’ wanted your attention~” you purr, his ownership of you bouncing off the walls and hopefully echoing downstairs to those shitty betas who put their hands all over you—kirishima would be dealt with separately.

his hands are so hot and blistering, the force enough to physically ripple your fat cheeks. it makes tears spring to your eyes and you shake your head in submission, throwing in the towel as your skin welts up before his lidded eyes. he slides warm fingers between your legs, swiping at your cunt. he cackles at the slick dribbling down his fingers when he pulls away.

“soaked. geezus, just from fuckin’ whoopin’ ya.” he licks his teeth, thinking of all the ways he could take you against his desk, but decides to start with a little reprieve for you. his suit is peeled back effortlessly, curved hard on gathering all the slick that littered your thighs and dripped from your pretty hole. “ain’t even gotta finger ya open, bet my greedy princess has been plannin’ this all day, hah?”

you can’t restrain your confirming giggle, your head already in the clouds just from his handling. it was moderately embarrassing how easy it was for him to work you up, but he supposed that was some sort of payback for how easily you consume his every waking thought—and some of the sleeping ones too.

he chuckles, kicking your legs a little wider so he can take you just like this. you gasp in excitement, smiling greedily as his tip catches on your clit before dipping to your entrance and back again. he played your game, so you could play his and beg like he wants you to.

“stop teasin’ me daddy.” you pout, tossing him that soft stare over your shoulder—the very same one that makes his heart stop each and every time. it will never get old, clearly. “please…been wet for you all day.” you bat your lashes.

fuck, you’re getting it. he puts his hand on the back of your neck and pushes your face to the desk, slipping his girth in your puckering hole without any ceremony. his other hand wraps under your hip to keep you from collapsing as you squeeze down and adjust to him like it’s the first time you’ve ever experienced his length splitting you open. you gasp for breath, straight hot fire melting into a tingling warmth requiring all your concentration.

“oh what’s a matter brat? goin’ quiet on me.” he grins his satisfaction, drilling into you without remorse. you feel him bumping against your womb, tearing at that entrance that he shouldn’t have access to. it hurts, he’s drilling you into jelly and you can only grab at the desk in a vain effort to ground yourself.

on command, your voice returns to you. you cry out your pained pleasure, nails scraping at the desk as every drag of his cockhead against your cervix had you tearing up. you can’t form words, and he doesn’t care. it’s too delicious—you’re too fucking tight for him to control himself, there’s just no way he could hold himself back when you’re so loud and absolutely drenched just to make all this easier on him. he angles one of your legs up on the desk, turning his curved shaft towards your spongy relief. your moans are even sweeter, heat flooding every sense in a mixture of something natural and something influenced by your lover’s quirk.

“yes! yesyesyes ohmygod yes daddy!” you scream, your throat ached from the sheer power behind it, your pretty little pussy kept fluttering around him as it stretches to fit him.

“better not cum. yer gonna hold it.” he commands, smacking some of that tender skin from earlier. you nearly fold at the impact, you whimper at the outrageous demand, shaking your head quickly to tell him you couldn’t possibly hold this back—the way he abuses your cunt was too intense to control your response. “if you cum—“

you can’t listen. it was all his fault anyway—fucking you like that and expecting you to be able to do anything but cream all over him.

“dumb brat.” he sighs, eyes fixated on your drooling hole leaving a pretty white ring of your essence along his shaft and coating his dark pubes. he shoves some of the extra shit off his desk, shoving you all the way on it once it’s barren. he puts you on your back like you’re a doll to position—holding your legs straight in his massive hands. you wince when your ass contacts the cold wood, “ya coulda got off easy—you just keep makin’ it hard on yerself.”

you mewl as he pins your hips to the surface below, his palms splayed across your abdomen—making every poke of his rod feel that much more intense. you grip his forearms; you were nearly crying already—then katsuki moves his hand to your clit, using the heel of his palm to send you into overstimulated jerks. “now you better learn to fuckin’ listen ‘r i’m cummin’ in that trashcan beside ya.” he snorts.

you cry out at the threat, nodding your understanding. what an evil thing to say—he knows you feel that much more complete after getting his load—like he’s giving you all his love and trust without him having to say a thing at all. you can’t let him take away your favorite part, so you clench your thighs and try to think about anything other than the beautiful ridges of his cock sliding in you like you’re nothing but a sleeve for him to use. you try, but his raspy grunts and groans in your ear keep you wailing and clawing at him desperately.

“can’t hold it daddy—too good! too much, pleasepleaseplease~” you cry, eyes screwed shut tight in pleasure as your body bounces around him with every devious pump of his cock. you feel so good to him, every clamp of your walls has him wondering how he hadn’t busted all up in your shit anyway.

“fine. now.” he orders, feeling the rush of your release and his control over you all in the same moment. it’s exhilarating, and you’re so picture perfect that he’s filling you up seconds later, his threat earlier as empty as they come. this was his pussy, and he would fuck it stupid and full and then send you back downstairs to your stupid fan club.

he stays hard, fucking into you relentlessly. hearing your sopping wet cunt squelch from being so full of his load combined with your elicit high pitched moans kept him thrusting like he hadn’t just reached one end.

“think you were getting off that easy, my little skank princess?” he mocks, dragging your limp body to the edge of the desk to give him full control of your hips. “i wanna hear how loud you can go. gonna fill this greedy little cunt up again.”

you nod, feeling his length shove everything deeper—cum so far down you’re sure you’re pregnant already. you wail your sensitivity, a mess of babbles and broken sobs. even as spent as you are, your gorgeous face twisted with satisfaction and your lips still called for him so perfectly. his hand finds it’s way to your throat, curses rolling past his own curved lips at the sputtering breaths you take as your moans turn to squeals. it doesn’t take much more than that, his second spurt just as heavy as his first. he uses his grip on your hips to hold you still, your legs a shaking mess as you went numb a while ago. he stills in you, chest heaving from all his hard work, but he watches you with a satisfied grin.

“gotta set a clothes you can wear. can’t clean up that pussy though—gotta show that off before we go home for round three.” he grunts, kissing your jawline roughly—saving your lips for last. he’s tender here, holding your face in his hands like he’s holding a delicate flower. “want them to see ya all fucked out. ‘s the only way they ever will. ‘m feelin’ generous.”

you struggle for your breath, rolling your eyes at him. you don’t mind the notion—you don’t care if pictures show up in the magazines the next day. all you care about is being his—and winning. though, it’s plenty safe to say you did

[hinamie]

i normally don’t contribute much of my opinions on chapter content n themes bc a. i think my role in fandom spaces is that of a fanartist and I want to keep my art at the forefront, and b. I am Insecure about how little of the manga I have actually consumed and don’t think I have a solid foundation on which i can offer any coherent arguments or insight. generally I like to leave the long meta 2 people who have been genuinely invested in delving into the manga with the intent of analyzing it . y'all do gods work u are the reason i am not flying through this series completely blind

that being said, i am not here to give criticism on pacing or story cohesion bc quite simply, that is not my wheelhouse. i do, however, want to offer my 2 cents on the concept of choosing to live for others as someone who (like a lot of people is the vibe i’m getting) also struggles w depression and self-worth issues and sees aspects of themselves in megumi as a result. i want to reiterate tht this is not an analysis, these r just my gojo voice personal feelings n u r allowed 2 feel differently based on your own experience :)

let me just say first of all that I can 100% empathize with people wanting to see megumi choose to live fr himself after a lifetime spent in a system notorious fr stripping people of their agency and turning them into tools. i think in a perfect world he Does come to the realization that he’s worth living for. but i also think that him /not/ having crossed that bridge yet is also a very valid n realistic outcome. he's a kid, he's just had the worst experience of his life, he's traumatized and then some -- i only have a bachelor's in psychology and god knows i'm no doctor but personally i wouldn't call that a mental space where self-love is likely to stick

it’s hard to claw yourself out from rock bottom. to expect someone to immediately be able to make the transition from being in the worst mental state of their life to realizing that they are worthy as a person is a tall order that i honestly don't think many people wld b able to fulfil. /I/ certainly haven’t been, and living for others has honestly been what’s kept me going for a long fucking time. even when I’m not necessarily at a low point, I still rly struggle w liking myself n thinking i’m a good person, but what’s been a genuine lifeline fr me when i can't love myself is to direct that love Outwards. If nothing else I know that I have things I can create, and things I can offer others. I've spent countless hours forcing myself to acknowledge that, no matter how much i don’t believe them, if the people around me insist that they see something of value in me or in my work; something tht makes them love me Despite, then that alone is worth staying alive for.

i personally (although i can see how others wld disagree) don’t view the 'living for others' frame of mind as waiting for someone to save you, but rather as holding out hope that there is More out there than your own self-loathing will let you believe. For megumi, it wld seem that his something more was the people he cares about. Yuuji gave him the agency to choose whether or not to keep living, and megumi made that decision of his own accord, which fr someone at their absolute lowest is still a huge achievement! there was agency in that decision, there was selfishness--regardless of the underlying motivation it proved that he /wants/ to live. little side note but i think that megumi Making a selfish decision to live for others' sake should also give a bit of hope that he does have it in him to eventually be able to b equally selfish in the value he places on himself.

anyway that's what i got source: i'm depressed . n look i get that with so little of jjk left, it Is frustrating that we probably Won't see megumi come to the conclusion that he's worthy and that he should live for and love himself. but at the same time i don't think that his decision to keep living for others should b condemned either, bc as someone who has also yet to cross that bridge, sometimes that rly is the first step

[kaelohver]

@KAELOHVER☆

THEM WITH A S/O LIKE MITSURI KANROJI

•DAZAI OSAMU

-You met at a café where he caught you gushing at him quite loudly…

-He approached you and you both clicked immediately!

-Your personalities are similar yet so different but it seems to work even more because of that.

-He’d be surprised of your constant compliments towards others and him at first but quickly gets used to it.

-Might get jealous of you complimenting others so he’ll pester you a bit, but won’t let you know of his jealously (as you’re more than likely oblivious if you’re like Mitsuri).

-Might baby you a bit, but not in a way he’d act like you can’t do anything. He’d just be really affectionate!

-Extremely protective! He would already be protective due to his loss of people in the past but would be even more so if you’re so sweet towards others.

-If you have an ability then he’d get you into the armed detective agency for sure (if you’d want to join).

-If you did join the Ada then prepare to put up with Dazai clinging onto you when you’re doing paperwork whilst Kunikida yells at him to do his work..

-Overall, you two are definitely like besties & partners at the same time.

•DOPPO KUNIKIDA

-You two probably met through work, considering him.

-I’d guess that he heard you talking loudly about how smart and cute he is..

-Probably freezes up then checks if you really said all that for a second.

-Might go on a rant about privacy as he’s increasingly flustered at your words, might not.

-You two are the definition of one fell first and one fell more (though you could easily compete with him falling more).

-Would appreciate your compliments about him and wouldn’t mind you complimenting others (as he seems like he’s not often jealous).

-Would absolutely admire your physical strength, being extremely surprised when he first saw you fight someone.

-He’d appreciate that you’d probably try to work around his schedule (despite it being quite literally a whole day being planned..)

-Might invite you to the agency (with permission, of course) if you had an ability. Though he might possibly be unsure of this choice for a bit.

-If you did join then he’d quite literally go mad if you gush at Dazai (considering if you’re like Mitsuri, you gush at everyone). He’d throw him at a door (/hj).

-Overall, you’re an extremely sweet couple <3

•CHUUYA NAKAHARA

-Y’all probably met outside of work… I can’t rlly see a reader like Mitsuri being in the Mafia but I think it would be extremely funny if they were.

-If you met in the Mafia he’d kinda wonder how the hell you even managed to get yourself stuck into such an organisation.

-If you met outside of the Mafia, he’d be hesitant to have even friendship with you, considering his role at work.

-However you manage to charm your way into his heart, he’d enjoy the comments you make about him and would love you a ton.

-Is likely to get jealous but more on the insecure side and will only really stop sulking like a big baby when you give him one of those hugs that make everything better (grown man my ass).

-If you had an ability, he wouldn’t really care much for it. Like, he’d admire it and your strength but overall it’s just an ability to him

-Would put off using corruption even more when you’re around (whether Dazai is present or not, which he wouldn’t really like anyway) to keep you safe.

-Will go mad if you gush at Dazai… He will literally throw him at a tree.

-Would also probably heavily dislike it if you gushed at Mori… He respects him but there’s no way he wants him near you.

-Would love that you’re physically strong, it’s a good skill to have!

-Not joking, he’d seriously stop and watch you beat up someone brutally whilst he’s just ‘???’ with some dumb blush on his face.

-Overall, a sweet couple that will probably be together until they die! (Ignoring the manga rn)

•YOSANO AKIKO

-Y E S

-Definition of powerful gfs (or partners)!

-Wouldn’t be necessarily hard to get into her life but you’d have to be trustworthy in her books to not get a glare every once in a while.

-Wouldn’t really look for compliments but would appreciate them.

-Though she’d be a bit surprised on your constant praise for others, she’d find it endearing.

-Not likely to get extremely jealous but if she does she’ll just glare menacingly at the person she’s jealous of until they run off in a hurry before then turning to you with an innocent smile.

-Would be supportive of your strength for sure, she’s at the back whilst your beating tf out of someone, smirking proudly.

-You’d be a good team, healing and physical strength, whether you have an ability or not.

-Protective like most bsd characters but she’s not gonna stop you from doing things, she’ll just come with you if she can.

-Overall, probably one of the least-toxic & sweetest relationships!

•FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY

-It would be extremely hard to get into Fyodor’s life and it might be even harder with your personality.

-I’d imagine that you’d have to either be his enemy or ally, not a random citizen, to be involved with him.

-However you manage to be aquatinted with him, he would find you particularly interesting.

-He would make a secret of his enjoyment to the compliments you give him, not visibly showing emotion when complimented apart from a possible smirk.

-He is a possessive man so it’s not far fetched to believe he’d be a rather jealous man at times.

-He would probably just do that thing where he smiles unsettlingly at someone if he’s jealous.

-Depending on what level he feels jealous, he might find where they live and resort to violence, though depending on who they are to you.

-His opinion on your strength with or without an ability wouldn’t change much.

-If you had an ability, he’d see it as a win due to the increased strength you’d have.

-If you didn’t have an ability, then he wouldn’t really care much. Seeing as you’re like Mitsuri, you’re strong physically and able to defend yourself either way.

-His opinion on your overall strength is that it’s a useful and impressive asset.

-Overall, a surprisingly non-toxic relationship for him but one that lacks affection. You’d be safe and cared for, so it’s basically a win!

•RYŪNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA

-Well…

-This man would be so hard to warm up to so it’s a wonder how you’d be able to.

-When you do, he’d still be a bit annoyed by your antics.

-He’d be fighting seriously and then there’s you in the background doing the splits & all that whilst somehow still winning in a fight by a mile.

-Would secretly seek your compliments and won’t be afraid to glare at someone when you compliment them.

-If your like Mitsuri and you meet Atsushi, he’s going to go mad.

-Would admire your strength and the fact that he doesn’t have to protect you.

-Please don’t gush over Dazai, he will be so sad.

-Would appreciate the fact you don’t start arguments & if he started any then you’d make an effort to sort it out before it got any worse.

-Keeps you away from most people in the Mafia unless you’re in there.

-Very protective, he wouldn’t want you hurt or sad, it completely ruins his mood.

-Overall, unbelievably sweet for a seemingly cold and ruthless Mafiaso!

[lookingforhappy]

Hi! I just wanted to say I really like your blog and the ideas you have for TUA. I have a question if you don't mind? If you've read the comics (I just got to read You Look Like Death and....my head hurt alot after) is there anything you wished they had kept from the comics for the show or vice versa? Personally I wish they had kept Luther and Five being twins in the show. I get why they chose not to do so but come on.

Five doesn't get his dog and then he also doesn't get his biological brother? I love the Pub scene from season 2 and it would have fit really well for them to learn it (just my opinion)

Thank you and I hope you have a lovely day! :)

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy my ideas!! I love asks lmao so no problem at all!

I have read the mainline comics and a few spin offs (the Diego & Vanya band AU one comes to mind??) but I'm a show main sadly. I like the comics as an informant to the show, so generally I prefer how the show depicted things.

I do want to briefly (edit: it was not brief... i am so sorry) talk about the Five DNA thing because that's one of the things I love in the show.

in the comics Five is genetically altered by the commission

this only works in the comics for me because every character is an asshole, Five especially (he literally prefaces this moment by bragging that he's fucked a lot of women). So for Five to have this excuse? to show horror at the very idea? that's a redeeming quality.

but in the show, they make every character likeable to an extent (recall that in the comics Allison rumours Luther into loving her), so this wouldn't have the same impact because it just makes Five less of his own person - removes the agency from his actions.

Five in the show is someone forced into a corner, and his actions in accepting and carrying out his job as an assassin, as well as his willingness to kill innocents and his own brother throughout s1 show how his experiences have made him desperate and ruthless in his pursuit of love and happiness.

it's a psychological exploration/study.

which to me, is infinitely more interesting. Five doesn't kill the board because his DNA dictates he will, he kills them because he chooses to. He is not cruel because his DNA dictates it, he is cruel because his experiences have made him that way.

and I think overall, this approach is adapted very nicely to fit the tone of the show, as all the same beats are hit. Five has been made into the Commission's killing machine against his will, and he is resentful of it,

but that doesn't mean he can undo the damage done, his psyche is forever attuned to this line of thinking no matter how much he hates it he doesn't know how to break the cycle of violence inflicted on him,

but because Five hasn't been genetically altered, he is fully responsible for his actions and he has to live with that.

the DNA altering in the show would feel like a cop out to me. and also the interesting aspect from the DNA altering is that he is essentially made into a psychopath (most famous serial killers are - Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, etc.), which means removing his empathy.

because despite his dislike of the non-consenual genetic surgery, comics!five doesn't have empathy.

and show!Five is interesting because he has so much empathy, yet he remains a killer. he is never given the opportunity to use that for good.

without that empathy we wouldn't get scenes like this where he admits guilt,

and in all honesty, isn't it more interesting that the best and most prolific killer in the show possesses a large amount of empathy?

idk sorry I got sidetracked - I've seen a lot of people who say they prefer the DNA plot of the comics and I just feel like it's very contradictory to what a lot of people love about Five.

anyway, the only element of the DNA plotline that i'd want to see adapted further is the non-consenual surgery itself

largely because I love Five!whump and despite comics!Five claiming it was painless it's fairly obvious to see that it wasn't (and I love when this is expanded on in fics so much - no time, no time, dear brother o' mine is an amazing read because it deals with this)

but I also think it would do a good job at reinstating the commission as the villians they are rather than the weird, nebulous thing it currently sits as (Five would never entrust Herb or Dot to the Commission it's so ooc and it's canon??? Dot and Herb were both 100% in support of the commission's ethos, even if Herb was a bit shit at his job. Dot literally was in charge of the apocalypse and saw Five arrive & at no point thought that this was fucked actually).

plus, we already know they waited until Five was hopeless, alcoholic potentially passively suicidal, weak both physically and mentally, desperate. all likely to better control him.

what's to say they didn't also pick up him just in time to prevent his death? 45 years in a polluted wasteland can't be good on the body - and I don't about the general population, but most of the people I know in their 50s aren't fully grey. the stress was probably killing him all on its own.

they could have seen his death and gone back a few years/months/days to recruit him. but then that would mean they still have to fix whatever illness was killing him, and how do you do that? surgery.

perhaps that's how they recuit all of their agents. maybe that's how they get away with it not disturbing the timeline, take someone who was going to die anyway, and then force them into a debt of gratitude for saving their lives. idk.

I also think AJ was criminally underused. He's supposed to be the big bad of the commission, his character was originally adapted into the Handler but then they decided they wanted his design in the show or something.

I think his role in the comics is much more interesting, as a person who selected Five from a line up of assassins already in the commission and gave Five personal training, and assigned him to the JFK case,

I think he could have been adapted a lot better than he was, and like the surgery, he could have steered the commission back towards the villains they were always supposed to be - instead of The Handler (as amazing as Kate Walsh is to watch on screen I love her) we could have had AJ manipulating Five throughout s2.

as for Five & Luther, I don't mind them not being twins, because honestly their genetics are so different (Aidan is 20 something and he's probably going to stay at 5'5" while Tom is like 6'5", plus hair colour, skin tone, bone structure etc.) and we already know that they weren't planning on making them twins from the pilot script (Five is born a singleton to a polish teenager I believe).

I do think it would have been fun to repurpose this plotpoint for another pair. of the Umbrella's I actually think Five and Viktor pair quite well as they both have similar heights, hair colour, they both have that square jaw too. but I also think that this could have been an interesting way to give depth to the sparrows - Jayme and Alphonso could have been the twins.

Pennycrumb was... a let down? I don't think he should have been a big part of Five's character, but I also don't think he should have had 0 affect on it either.

otherwise??? honestly Hotel Oblivion was wayyy more interesting in the comics than in the show. I would have preferred something more in line with the comics but I think they were afraid of the classic horror elements and the classic superhero elements.

like the faceless bus boy guards

the hotel rooms, seemingly ordinary, being prison cells

the prisoners having enough freedom to move around the hotel and have relationships with each other but not enough to feel safe hanging around the hotel

i just.. i wish more of this had been incorporated into the show.

also.. art deco buildings.. my beloveds

this could have been the hotel Oblivion..

like ik they planned to go to japan to film s3 and that got fucked over by covid but like.. art deco is such a good aesthetic for a horror setting compared to the japanese style hotel we got (i've heard it called hotel orientalism as well so, theres that too).

if I had been in charge I would have had s3 focus on the mothers, develop their stories & why the umbrellas were given up for adoption & then linked this all to the 43 being the 16 instead. have the reveal be not that theyre dead but missing, non existant. because the children were taken by hargreeves to power Oblivion. if we somehow keep the kugelblitz then we use that as a distraction as to where and why all the sparrows keep going missing, and eventually the umbrella's numbers start to dwindle. until Oblivion is discovered and we find that every hotel room corresponds to a member of the 43 - maybe even have the brellies/sparrows numbers correspond to their door numbers somehow, or floor level.

idk I'm not a good writer but thats a bit of how i feel about the comics being adapted into the show..

sorry idk if i even answered your question? thank you again for the lovely ask!

[ineffablyendless]

Im sure im not the first person to suggest this, but. Post the events of DBD where Crystal and the Boys bring Jenny Green along into the UK after her butcher shop exploded.

Crystal lives in the old flat that doubles as the Agency Headquarters, bc there ARE bedrooms but the boys hardly use them anyway. But Jenny isnt part of the Agency, and she wants her own space. She goes looking for a new job and flat and finds an advert for an employment+housing in this pub about an hour from the Agency, just outside of London.

The place is called the New Inn, though it's hardly new anymore. The proprietor was kind and warm over the phone, and he's even kinder and warmer in person. He says the pub is tribute to another, older relic of a building down the road, passed down from his great-grandfather, and he lives in one of the flats above, but there's another one available if she could also work full time. Most of his other employees were college kids, since he's a history professor. He'll even train her.

It's literally perfect, without being TOO perfect. Despite it's name, the New Inn is drafty and old, and the hours are long, hard, and the crowd was overwhelming. Her boss was kind, but not TOO kind, professional and understanding and fuck-he even gives her health insurance. Crystal and the boys pop over to see her all the time to ask her how she's doing and she tells them it's not good, but it's better, and she thinks it might be even better than the butcher shop than Townsend could ever afford to give her.

She's settling in so well, and Hob was really happy to see how much she liked it here. He could never bear to tell her he can see her talking to the ghosts who come visit here through the mirrors in the pub.

[nipuni]

Some various lighthearted life updates 🏃‍♀️

It's been a very busy last few months! in a good way mostly. We had a friend visiting us from overseas so we showed him around the city and took him to all our favourite places. We also met new people and were invited to a bunch of events so it's been very fun! We are all out of social battery tho so now we are slowing down a bit and getting back to work. Nicolas is on a short work trip to Berlin and I'm back to painting. We also started running! aaand we are also back to watching a bunch of shows and to me talking about it here to like five people 😌

Under the cut cause it's a lot as usual!

We finished watching S13 of Doctor Who! (we still have the specials to go but after that we are all caught up!) I haven't updated in ages so here are lot of opinions!

We really did not enjoy S11 😞 I was aware it wasn't very popular but we were hoping it was for all the wrong reasons, sadly we found many to be valid. Some of the episodes were baffling, Rosa? Kerblam?! the writing of the whole season in general felt like a rushed school assignment. The first part of Spyfall was a strong start for the next season but that ending in the second part was really not it. We did love Sacha Dhawan's Master tho!! and we really love Jodie too, 13th is adorable and reminded us of Ten at times! Jodie is such a fantastic actress that it makes the quality of the writing and everything else around her even more frustrating 😫 S12 was an improvement in general. In the last few episodes It felt like the writing team suddenly remembered the companions could have a personality and agency lmao. Highlights for us were Spyfall one, Fugitive of the Judoon and Haunting of villa Diodati, tho we did also enjoy most other episodes of the season despite their issues.

The timeless child plot reveal felt a bit underwhelming? The idea on itself has potential but it felt mishandled (and it had a bit of a Moffat flavour to it? and not in a good way). I think it was meant to add more depth to the Doctor's lore but in a way it ends up having the opposite effect. Then the flux was just a complete mess. It read like a Marvel sort of plot, very comic book like which is alright I suppose if that is something you enjoy but it felt out of place. But mostly it was just way too much, it got out of hand. Anyway we still have the specials to watch! and I think the Master is in them so we are looking forward to it 🥰

We also watched Broadchurch!! and we LOVED it. We ended up binging all three seasons. Chibnall's writing on this is surprisingly great and Jodie's acting is spectacular she really shines here. Olivia and David are always brilliant!! honestly everyone's acting was amazing. This series had us both tearing up every five scenes. The direction and the music are outstanding. I could watch Hardy and Miller solve crimes forever I really love their chemistry and dynamic. We went into it expecting the usual detective fiction but it ended up being a whole study on grief with such a focus on family and community and trauma and a ton of touching interconnected character arcs, just really really good!!

Then we also watched Taking over the Asylum!! MAN we were not expecting to have our hearts wrung out like laundry by this!! We thought it was a lighthearted show!! GOD we are still not over it, what the fuck!! It was so good we loved it!! but we were not prepared lmao what do you mean 'the end'?? we'll be thinking of this for months, I was expecting an extra scene after the credits or something. Excellent characters, refreshing depictions of mental illness and trauma and so crushingly realistic. Every character is so loveable I really wish this was longer 😭

And our quest to watch everything with David Tennant on it continues. We watched Decoy Bride on Valentines day too and it was terrible but such a hilarious fever dream kind of bad that it was fun, it has David on it and he never disappoints. I feel so lucky that Nicolas and I are both in love with him, get yourself a man who shares your celebrity crushes lmao it's so fun!! We feel like teens again chatting about him and drawing little hearts next to his pictures haha 🥰 We watched the BAFTAs just for him and speaking of the baftas!! I was not expecting that last drawing of his outfits to get that much attention oh my god 😭 thank you!! you are all insane and I appreciate it so much!! and thank you for all the support in general, about my art and photos and just everything. I feel very lucky and grateful 😭 anyway I'll end this before I get sappy, that is all for now! I hope this week is kind to you all, I'll be sharing some more art soon 😊

[dear-kumari]

Okay, topical Malevolent ep 44 reaction. Based on the wiki, it looks like the characters' choices to not return to the windmill and to get the witch's body were made by voting patrons, which further convinces me that the votes don't improve or even significantly change the story most of the time. Whenever Jorthur (yes, Jorthur) make a Patreon decision they usually have to justify it in-universe with a little debate, and besides just being kinda tedious, the justification often doesn't line up with the story's action. The patrons understandably wanted to explore the hallways over the windmill, which was justified in-universe by saying Arthur was too weak and injured to climb back there. But then the only interesting loot on offer is a piece of the witch, and once they chose that there's suddenly a big pool in the way and the world's most stabbed man suddenly has incredible lung capacity (I checked, he's underwater for 3:20 minutes and is yelling as they're launched out) and can swim with a metal breastplate on and cut through limbs once he's down there. He even conveniently brought all his shit with him despite the potential for water damage, so they didn't lose their inventory by being unexpectedly spat out. (John doesn't even sound like he's all that worried about him drowning either lol, though that's a separate issue of him being a slow horror podcast narrator first and an active character second.)

I understand why you would gamify a story loosely based on a role-playing campaign, but as someone who already doesn't get the appeal of listening to other people play TTRPGs, I struggle to imagine what the patrons get out of this (besides financially supporting a show they like, obvi). It's not really like a role-playing game because you don't control everything the protagonists do or have the context you need to make the best decisions (in this case, the characters know they dumped the witch in a deep pool, but the patrons probably didn't), nor is it really like a choose-your-own-adventure story because you don't get to try the alternate paths and everything will lead back to the author's planned narrative anyway. It's good for the story but presumably not much fun for the players that the author has an outline and an ending set in stone iirc.

Since someone could see this and go "well here's when the voting really worked for me," I did want to be fair and find an instance where the voting mechanism (probably) led to a good story choice. I like that the seemingly innocuous choice to ring the doorbell in ep 33 leads Arthur to realize that he fucked up several episodes prior by leaving his name at the hotel. That was a nice reveal, and maybe the lack of context actually made the vote more fun. It would have been revealed either way by Daniel being shot at the door, but ig Arthur stopping him before he opened it saved his life or something, idk. It feels pointless to speculate on when we're never going to see what happens if he knocks. Ultimately the difference between that and ep 44 to me, a non-patron, is just that Arthur fucking up by trying to be smart and realizing it at the last second is a good story beat, one with a clear line between cause and effect. Jorthur faffing about in the halls when they apparently could've just left through the windmill and then diving with armor on to mutilate a woman's corpse because the author is on a birth imagery kick is not.

Uhh other thoughts, I guess I am pretty glad they're finally out of the weird yonic caverns, even if I can tell that Jorthur entering civilization will lead to more ~historical liberties~ that will cause me actual pain. The voice acting is great as always. I like Yorick. I don't like that we're getting more dad!Arthur moments because come on. Also personally I would not have named the cute owl sidekick after the heavily implied CSA victim with no voice or agency from Oscar's grimdark edgyboy backstory, but that's just me

[keulixeutin]

Hard, Harder, Hardest

a/n: hi.

summary: during a hero panel, bakugou thinks about how he can’t help but orbit you and obey.  bakugou x fem!reader.  

cw: suggestive. 18+.  no pronouns used, but fem!reader in mind while writing + mention of female anatomy; also, reader wears lots and lots of pencil skirts.  bakugou pining after you and imagining the nasty.  sub!bakugou and dom!reader vibes (at least, i tried anyways lmao).  reader wears glasses.

word count: 2,183.

Despite the nonchalant way Bakugou was leaning back in the chair, anyone could see he was stiff and irritable: he was scowling and rigid, the curve of his back not quite following the curve of his seat.

He couldn’t help it though.  He was supremely uncomfortable.  He hated this shit, hated being on the stage, following some stupid itinerary, dealing with stupid activities and games to get people to see the “softer” side of him.  What the hell did people need that for?  Wasn’t it enough for him to do his job, protect the city, beat down the shitty villains, and be the fucking best?  Number two hero or not, he didn’t sign up for this stupid celebrity shit.  They could write a slew of articles complaining and criticizing him, but he hated sitting around in the spotlight.

You, his personal assistant, fucking knew this, yet you still, behind his fucking back, worked with his PR team (and that fucking Shitty Hair Hero) to accept the Hero Convention invite and add it onto his schedule (his schedule that you knew he didn’t look at because he trusted you to be good at your job)—and then to not even to tell him until ten minutes before he was supposed to get ready for it?  He had been fuming.

Bakugou’s leg shook underneath the table impatiently and irritably.  A woman dressed in a maid outfit with home-made Hawks wings stepped to the microphone and asked Round Cheeks about her martial arts usage in battles.  The next fan, someone with blue scales scattering across their face and arms, asked a question to a sidekick three seats away whose name Bakugou didn’t know and didn’t care to know.  Internally, he was pleased with this current line of questioning.  As long as no one addressed him, he could sit and pass the time with an annoyed glare until this whole thing was fucking done.

But, obviously, the universe loved dashing his hopes.  The next person that stepped up to the microphone was cosplaying an older version of the Dynamight costume, which was ego-boosting and cool to see, of course, but that itself wasn’t enough to make any of this entertaining or interesting.

“This question is for Dynamight,” the fan began.  “What would you consider your hardest battle?  Also, I’m your, um, number one fan…!”

It was an easy question.

People wanted to know battle specifics, but his hardest fight?  To date?  Currently?  

Controlling his fucking raging hard-on whenever you with your stupid perfume and your mean laugh entered the room.

Bakugou hadn’t wanted a personal assistant.  Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes stubbornly pushed their agenda onto him whenever they noticed at the beginning of the year that he had been swiftly losing control over his wildly hectic schedule.  Between the patrol, the agency work, the hero work, and the unending meetings—all just the tip of the iceberg—he had been struggling to find any time for himself, personally and professionally.  Despite his violent vehemence, Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes still strong-armed him by nagging him until they were red in the face and accepting applications on his behalf, narrowing it down to a set of five that he was to choose from.

He had picked you because you looked meek in your photo and you were soft-spoken in the interview; he figured that you’d run off after being on the end of his short fuse for a week straight.

But, by the end of that week, with him having just yelled about the type of tupperware his food was packed in, you had very softly and very firmly told him to watch his fucking tone, or you’d make sure that the only time he sat down for the next six months was on stage in front of an interviewer and audience with a fiercely binding contract that ensured he couldn’t skip without heavy monetary punishment.

(“I have my ex-lawyer-boyfriend wrapped around my finger,” you had said, your voice deadly calm as though you were telling him you had started a new hobby and not threatening your boss, the number two hero.  “I will make sure there is so little wiggle room in that contract—every single Hero Convention from here to goddamn China will have you by the balls for the next six months in the strictest legalese.  Do you understand me?”

He couldn’t lie—he was shocked into silence by how fucking hot that was, how fucking hot you were, wearing the tightest pencil skirt, shifting your metal glasses while you threatened him.

“Now eat your rice.  The leeks, too, please.”)

He couldn’t explain it.  Ever since then, things were—different.  He was hyper aware of you, of how far away or how close you stood near him, of how you were usually in some sort of skirt; his eyes were glued to your backside, to the sneak peek of upper thigh every time you shifted in your seat, mind wandering to how it’d feel to have that thigh pressed against his neck and his face. He was suddenly obsessed with how you spoke, realizing he had mistaken your quiet for meekness, for submission. You were soft-spoken, yes, but there was a weight to your words, one that required obedience from those you were speaking to.  Now he could see that your smile sometimes curled at the corners into a sneer, and that your eyes were sharp, narrowing with a finality he found himself unable to ignore.

Fuck, he was even aware of how you smelled.  He often caught himself inhaling deeply as you passed by, trying to preserve the smell of your shampoo inside his chest.  Whenever you leaned over to show him something on his calendar, he had to fight the urge to press his nose into your hair, to bury his face into your neck where your veins pulsed with perfume. Once, you had left your jacket at his place after a long night of explaining and rearranging the weekend itinerary to ensure nothing would be amiss while you were out of town. He had fallen asleep with his face pressed into the fabric the entire weekend, your scent lulling him into the most comfortable and serene sleep of his life.

Things got even harder when you caught on.  Quick, too, two months in.  The skirts got shorter; your shirts were unbuttoned enough for a heated glance of cleavage; and he frequently found you in compromising positions, bending over his table to grab something instead of walking around, or dropping things at his feet requiring you to lean over to pick up.  It was hardest when you used this newfound power of yours to get him to do things he didn’t want to do—like attend interviews or take off-days.  In his frustration and confusion in the early days, he had once furiously asked if you had a quirk he didn’t know about, to which you laughed wildly in your eyes but coolly said no.

“Dynamight?”  The host pulled him from the memory that had began to take over Bakugou’s attention—the one where, after getting caught in a heavy downpour, you had graciously changed in front of him and cruelly wouldn’t let him touch.

Bakugou was about to respond that nothing had been hard because he was too fucking strong, but he made the mistake of glancing to you, standing off to the side with your phone against your ear.  You were good enough at your job that you were able to efficiently multitask, paying attention to both the conversation on the phone and the Hero Panel.  As if you could feel his intent, you gave him a hard stare, your fine eyebrow raising expectantly at him, almost daring him to put one toe out of line in this nationally broadcasted panel.

The look boiled his blood—and the heat went straight down south.

Yes, things had gotten extremely bad when you had realized your effect on him.  

He was grateful for the table.

Bakugou gave an answer about a villain whose name he couldn’t remember but whose shadow soldier-producing quirk had irritated him the entire fight, and then he ended the response with a muttered thanks to the fan.

He glanced back to you, another mistake—“Good boy,” you mouthed.

Fuck.  He bit back a groan.

There was a mean glint in your eye as you held his stare; it wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to create a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach; it was enough to make his heart stutter and jump.  You turned away first, breaking the eye contact to finish the conversation on the phone, yet it felt like he was the one who had caved.

The rest of the panel continued with Bakugou scowling at a spot on the table or the wall behind the audience, but he participated more than he had originally decided to.  He answered the questions directed at him and remarked offhandedly on other people’s answers whenever he felt like it, eliciting laughter from the fans and eye-rolls and playful arm smacks from Round Cheeks. 

At the end of the panel, the heroes had twenty minutes to decompress before the meet-and-greet. Bakugou and the others were ushered off the stage and back into the make-up room to relax.  After the make-up artist checked that nothing needed to be reapplied, you appeared with a phone against your ear still and a tote bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll check his calendar and get back to you,” you said.  “By the end of tomorrow at the latest.  He’s currently doing the Hero Panel, but if I can find a moment to check and confirm, I’ll let you know earlier.”  

You paused, listening to the person on the other side.  Bakugou took the moment to rake his eyes over your form.  Your pencil skirt stopped inches above your ankle, but there was a slit over your left leg that traveled up—up, up, and up—to your tantalizing thigh.  Your skin was creamy and smooth with lotion or oil.  Whenever you shifted your weight in irritation at something that was said, the fat of your thighs rippled in a way that had his mouth watering.

 “…As I said,” you continued, “Dynamight is currently occupied with the Hero Panel.  If I can grab a moment, I will check with him and his calendar, but I’ll be sure to give you an answer by the end of tomorrow.  Yes, of course.  Yes, you, too.”

Your voice was light and polite, but dry and firm.  You hung up, and then your attention was fucking finally on him.  

You pulled several plastic containers out of your tote bag and set it on the table in front of him.

“Don’t scarf it all down,” you advised.  “But eat a little.  Regain your energy and pick up your mood so you can meet the fans.”

“Not hungry,” he grumbled, wondering if he could convince you to let him rip the slit a little higher.

“Eat the fruits at least,” you said, moving the containers around until the smallest one was on top and opened, revealing grapes and cut apples and mangos. 

“You eaten yet?” he asked.

“No, but I’m fine,” you said, but you picked out a grape anyway.  His eyes honed in on the way your fingers push the fruit past your plump lips.

Bakugou swallowed, neck tense, heart hammering in his chest.  He didn’t know when the leash had tightened so heavily.

“What?” you asked, noticing his gaze.

“Nothing.”  He averted his eyes.

“Oh, I see,” you said, amused, and he found that he hated your tone and simultaneously ached for it.  “You want a reward for earlier, hm?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to.  Despite his attempt at disgruntled nonchalance, his body was obedient to your voice in a way he couldn’t physically deny or control, no matter how much he dug his nails into his palms or ground his teeth.  There was always a twitch and shift in your direction; there was always a fiery red on his cheeks; there was always the need to orbit and obey.

“You don’t get anything for properly answering a question the way you’re supposed to, Katsuki,” you remarked.  

“Tch.  Whatever,” he grunted, suppressing the involuntary shudder at his name on your lips.

“But if you do well today”—you plucked another grape and then pressed it against his mouth—“maybe you can get a reward later.”

You slid the grape into his mouth, fingers lingering at his lips in a scandalous way that journalists would kill to capture.

His body was buzzing at your words.  He couldn’t help but hoarsely ask, “What’s the reward?” 

“Whatever you want it to be,” you answered, smug as if you could read his thoughts, as if you knew he was imagining you suffocating him with your cunt and thighs, as if you knew that he hadn’t been able to help himself on stage, looking to you as though he would’ve said anything to hear good boy again.

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Gay wrongs tournament, round 2 of the losers bracket

Propaganda:

For John and Jack:

So, they both are literal murders. One of them is a little bit more insane than the other. Okay, the little bit part is not right, totally insane that is John, yes. But gonna love him though. He had been in rehab for alcohol, drugs, sex and murder. Don't kiss him, he might be wearing poisoning lipstick. They are canon mlm. They had been stuck in a two week time loop for five years, which was like leading a married life for them. They didn't actually marry, but they were partners, both in business and sexually. They worked together for an time agency. Then Jack's memories of two years were erased and he left. He went into  independent self deployment, doing scams using his knowledge of future events. After that he build an alien hunting institute in Cardiff, Wales. When John and Jack see eachother again after years, you don't know whether they will they kiss or fight. They do both. Did I tell you that along this story Jack became an inmortal who can't stay dead? No matter how or how often he dies or is killed, he keeps coming back to life. This is all very scraping on the surface, but oh boy, would it be at least a novella to describe them.

They worked together in the Time Agency where they did horrible things to the extent where Jack had two years of his memory stolen so that he couldn’t know what he’d done. They were also in a time loop together for five years where they canonically thought of each other as the wife (John was a good wife :3), and were basically married. Then they had a divorce arc and they both separately went rogue from the Agency to become conmen, although they still worked together/clashed on occasions, always still with that spark of passion. “Frenemies with benefits” Jack called them once, although John preferred “my lover, my rival, my nemesis and destiny. And bane of my bloody life.” Canon finds us where Jack has tried to reform and be a better person, but John is still chasing cons, and all he wants to do is bring Jack back to the stars with him, back to the crime and the glitter of the galaxies (it doesn’t work and he shoves Jack off a building but Jack got himself immortal so he’s fine <3) anyway I am very normal about them xoxo

In John's introduction to the series he shows up on a roof where some guy is mugging someone, grabs him by the throat and dangles him over the edge of the building while this guy begs for his life before dropping him just because he felt like it. When John and Jack interact for the first time in the show there's a super cool guitar riff, very evil western vibes, they walk up to each other, look deeply into each other's eyes, make out, then start throwing punches to Blur's Song 2. In one of the audio dramas we're told about various times where these two conned people, stole a bunch of money and gold and gems and stuff, then had sex with whoever it is they conned before (sometimes) killing them. When Jack devided he was done and left John to die John escaped and married the queen of England (Victoria) then locked Jack up somewhere to take his life force and live forever, destroying the timeline in the process. John has tried to kill all of Jack's friends at least twice to have him all to himself. He found Jack's long lost brother and when the brother turned out to be a terrible person with a vendetta against Jack John did everything he could to save Jack. Their relationship is canon but very one-sided most of the time

just this video

For the Doctor and the Master:

Immortal genderfluid war criminals <333

So we all know the Master has killed plenty of people, but, despite their reputation, the Doctor has killed a more than average number too. Sure they undid the whole destroying their own planet thing, but that's still something the Doctor did. Also there's apparently a novelization out there where, when they were children, the Doctor killed one of their childhood bullies but then made a deal with Death so that the Master had the memory of it and became Death's champion, which is pretty messed up and murder husbandish. There are plenty more war crimes on the Doctor's hands, and the Master has killed countless people in a variety of creative ways. Also, I'm having trouble finding the quote, but I swear the Master once said something to the lines of "trying to kill the Doctor is just my flirting" or something similar. But I do know Missy (also the Master but female at the time) described their relationship as "older than your civilization and infinitely more complex". They love each other, they're constantly trying to destroy each other, they are the only friends they each have who can even begin to understand everything they've been through; they've known each other since childhood and they've watched (and helped) civilizations rise and fall together. They may not be who you first think of for murder spouses but they really are a beautiful example.

[ae-neon]

I find it incredible how a crack ship like rhysta has more traits in common than the two canon ships f/eysand and n/essian

I think I can understand why fans of those ships like them but I also think sjm's writing is so weak I can't get over how shallow the canon ships end up being.

The potential is there but she always fails to fully develop the individual halves so the whole just ends up looking like 60% [aesthetics + 5 quotes/scenes] and 40% [fanon or lost potential]

I won't talk about Nessian because I cannot stand the fundamental Taming of the Shrew dynamic behind the ship. It was never gonna gonna get me.

So let's talk F.eysand (in a surprisingly more positive light than I thought)

Like I said in another post, Rhysand being the younger sibling would have made F.eysand make so much more sense to me and given me something to root my understanding in.

One of my favourite moments of character clarity is Rhysand telling Feyre it was her defiance reminding him of Cassian that made him fall in love.

That speaks volumes. It tells us about him and his admiration for this downtrodden bastard boy who stole his clothes. It tells us a part of Rhysand feels helpless despite his power so he really appreciates powerless people who overcome that to be brave anyways.

But then it's retconned to him feeling Feyre was his mate even before she set foot in Prythian and I just... Like oh, nvm then, it's just an immaterial magical bond that doesn't care about who each person is that ties them together

And let's say you're a reader who really cares about mates and the bond, then the "like calls to like" nature of Prythians magic also makes rhysta and feyssian logical pairs with their own unique dynamics that would have been interesting to read

Also idk sjm just can't do enemies to lovers in my opinion. One party (the young woman) always feels like a victim whose healing is centred on becoming a suitable partner for the mmc instead of genuinely working through their trauma

I mean Feyre goes from nightmares of UtM to being in that same outfit in the CoN (also under a mountain) and is simultaneously dissociating and but also okay and even empowered?? These things happen at best 3 months apart like ☹️ she's just a kid, it's actually gross

The argument for rhysta here is that Nesta has no UtM trauma, would not have been manipulated into playing sex pet even if she agreed to go to the CoN, would have some leverage because the IC needed her cooperation to reach the queens. It's not a complete dismantling of the set up but it feels less idk icky??

Like had Feyre been given more agency I could accept more, that's why I really think Frost and Starlight should have been a novella about Nesta going to the Continent and the next book in the series should have been Feyre with the Valkyrie plot so she can reestablish herself outside of being Riceball's plus one

I could go into smaller details but I think this is the general view of my issues. Also I don't really like Hades and Persephone, Good Girl Bad Boy vibes so there's that

[seangelfish]

Hello there, how are you? :)

My mind has been thinking about HiMERU finding cold-hearted&toughfem!reader drinking alone, and takes her alcohol away, suggesting to do something else.

I leave the rest to you.

NSFW pls.

Ignore if you want. Thank you 😁

A/N: Hello there! I’ve been doing well, thanks for asking! ⸜( *ˊᵕˋ* )⸝ This is my first ever NSFW request so I’m pretty excited. HiMERU is my fave member from Crazy:B, so I hope this goes well... (I keep forgetting he refers to himself in 3rd person lol). Anyways, enjoy!! (´ ε ` )♡ This was actually kind of hard to write, so I'm sorry if it's bad! I also decided to change the theme to my NSFW works! I hope you all like it!

Stress reliever

HiMERU x Reader ♡ Genres/tags: Smut (NSFW) ♡ Content warnings: fem!AFAB reader, oral (receiving), missionary, vanilla sex, not proofread! ♡ Word count: 2,710 ♡ Summary: HiMERU has always cared about your well-being, even to a point he’d try to meet you everyday to ask how you were. Unluckily for him though, you were one of the coldest producers at Cos Pro who would constantly shake his advances off.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! NSFW below the cut. Please proceed with caution.

It wasn't love at first sight.

On HiMERU's first day at Cos Pro as a new idol, you were rather unwelcoming. He had greeted you, bowed too, but you merely nodded at him and walked away. He didn't mind it though, he already knew what he was getting into when he decided to become an idol. It was inevitable to encounter someone like you in the industry.

However, despite that encounter, whenever HiMERU would bump into you, he still made the effort to greet you a good morning or afternoon. Because you were still one of his producers, he wanted to be polite and respectful.

“Good morning, Miss (Y/N).”

However, you continued to give him the cold shoulder. He didn’t understand this until another producer informed him that you were like that with everyone.

“You should just leave her be, okay? I don’t think (Y/N) even cares for socialising.”

But HiMERU couldn’t leave you be. He wanted to talk to you all the time. He wanted to know about your well-being. Even when you’ve only exchanged a few words with him, he was completely smitten with you.

Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or the way you did your work. You were so focused with work that you were able to finish it in a day or so. Even when your personality was as cold as ice, you were seen as the most reliable producer in the agency.

Not only that, but you were beautiful. HiMERU’s eyes would light up whenever he caught a glimpse of you. He’d never miss the opportunity to say hello.

Fortunately for him, you were assigned as one of Crazy:B’s producers. Unfortunately for you, Crazy:B was the last unit you’d ever think of working with.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” you said. “Nice to meet you all. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). From today on, I’m your producer. I’ll be helping you with all your work.”

Rinne immediately tried to woo you, but you completely ignored him. Niki tried thanking you for your time, but you blankly replied with, “No need to thank me. It’s my job.” Kohaku could understand that you didn’t want to be a part of this group, so he merely bowed and left you be. HiMERU, however…

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said. “HiMERU hopes we can get along better now, Miss (Y/N).”

You stared at him for a moment before replying with, “Keep hoping.” You then picked up your belongings and walked away. He watched your figure speed off, your heels clanking sharply at the floor.

However, by time, you did warm up a little to the group. You were still cold and tough as ever which showed a lot in the work you set them, but you smiled a bit more. HiMERU liked seeing this progress.

His relationship with you has also seen some progress too. Whenever he’d greet you, you actually stopped to greet him back. Of course, you were still cold with it, but you were getting there.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” you said, wrapping things up. “Now go home and rest. I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.”

Before the idols could say anything, you had already left. As the rest of Crazy:B talked about what they needed to improve on, HiMERU caught sight of your planner. You had forgotten it.

HiMERU picked up your planner and dashed out of the room, leaving the other members confused. It was 7pm by the time Crazy:B was finished with rehearsals, so that meant you were heading home.

HiMERU hoped he’d be able to catch you, but you were way too fast. Thankfully, you had informed them of your address and phone number if they ever had anything important to talk to you about.

He tried calling you, but you wouldn’t pick up. Ah, that’s right. It’s after work hours now, so of course you wouldn’t pick up. The last resort was to visit you on the way home.

Now, how was he supposed to get there?

It was 9pm by the time HiMERU finally reached your place. He was held up by other idols in the agency who tried talking to him. As polite as he ever was, he joined in the conversations. He didn’t want to make himself look bad after all.

But he was finally here. He knew how important your planner was since you brought it with you everywhere. He knocked on your door and waited.

After a few seconds, it opened up.

“Eh, HiMERU…?” you groaned. “Why are you here at this hour? …Did something happen?”

“I… uh…”

HiMERU couldn’t look away from the outfit you were wearing, but he knew that he should. You were wearing nothing else but a silky nightgown that accentuated your curves. He could tell why you wouldn’t care about your appearance because gripped in your hand was a bottle of alcohol.

“Well then, what is it?” you asked, kind of irritated. You took another long sip of the alcohol and sighed.

He avoided your gaze as he handed you over your planner.

“You left this in the rehearsal room,” he said.

But before you could take it from him, he snatched the bottle away from you.

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “That’s mine!”

“Miss (Y/N), you’re a producer at Cos Pro, HiMERU doesn't think you should be drinking the night before work tomorrow,” HiMERU stated blankly.

“Ugh, this sucks! You seriously don’t understand how much anxiety and stress I’ve incurred during my days at Cos Pro! This is the only way I can cope! So, give me back the bottle now, and leave me alone!”

HiMERU never really thought about how you might of felt. He always thought you were well kept and organised, but seeing you in front of him now said otherwise.

“Give… it… back!” you cried, trying to reach for the bottle, but HiMERU merely lifted it higher in the air.

“Miss (Y/N), there are many other ways to deal with stress,” he said. “Alcohol shouldn’t be one of them.”

“Ugh, whatever! It’s not like you have better ideas!”

“In fact, HiMERU does,” he replied, sighing. He couldn’t believe that his crush was an alcoholic.

“Alright then, tell me,” you challenged.

“HiMERU just needs your consent first.”

“Nghh... ah~!" you gasped.

You were spread out on the sofa, your nightgown pulled up to bare your nakedness as HiMERU's tongue licked your soaked folds slowly.

This wasn't what you expected when HiMERU told you he had a better idea. What you expected from him was a mature suggestion, something such as exercising to calm down your nerves, but THIS? You would have never guessed he was going to go down on you?! No wonder why he asked you for your consent and the levels of your alcohol tolerance.

And it's a good thing you had such high alcohol tolerance because the feeling of being eaten out like this felt so good. You'd hate to miss out on this.

Wait, what on earth are you thinking?!

“Ah~ mhmm…”

You couldn't believe that you're just letting him eat you out like this! Out of all people as well? HiMERU?! ...Well, it's not like you ever hated him. Sure, you've treated him coldly, but that's because you're at work to do work, not to make friends. All you ever cared about was surviving. You were only working in Cos Pro to earn money to live. So, keeping up a cold, tough act was one way to do it. Unfortunately, work at Cos Pro was absolutely aggravating and depressing. That's why you had resorted to alcohol.

But this... this seems to be more pleasurable.

His hands kept your legs secured and spread out as he continued to lick and suck on your pussy, leaving trails of kisses here and there across the inner parts of your thighs.

"Ahhh~ feels... so... good~"

He smirked. He liked the sounds you were making because of him, and he was happy that you were enjoying yourself too. He knew that sex was a good way to reduce negative emotions, and it's a lot more healthier than taking in alcohol. However, he also knew that this was something he would never think of doing with his producer let alone his crush. Was he perhaps... breaking out of character...?

He was only planning on making you feel good, so you were able to get a good night's rest before tomorrow morning, but a tent formed in his pants too. He wanted you so bad, but he knew he shouldn't. He vowed that once you came, he was going to leave. He was only doing this for you and you only, it wasn't about himself.

Out of the blue, you grabbed his blue locks and shoved him closer to your pussy.

"Ahh~! More...! Please give me more...!" you pleaded. "Ngh~!"

He gagged a bit, but obeyed. The flicking of his tongue inside your pussy sped up, causing your moans to build up too. As he looked at your face from below, you made eye contact with him. His gleaming yellow eyes looked particularly sexy from down there, it made your face even more hotter than it was before.

"Mmm~" you went. Something within you wanted even more than this.

Your pretty figure arched at his touch.

"HiMERU, I'm... I'm going to c-come...!"

"Hah..." he groaned, lifting his head up from between your legs. "Then come..."

You did as you were told. He watched you squirt all over the sofa, soaking it in the process. You panted in exhaustion, but you couldn't help but smile at how good that felt.

"You came... that's great..." he muttered, panting. "HiMERU will get you cleaned up now. Have a good night, okay? HiMERU will taking your alcohol away too."

He stood up, but you immediately grabbed his hand, yanking him back down. He caught himself before he fell right on top of you, his arms on each side of you as he looked down at you from below.

"Please stay..." you whispered, reaching for his neck. "I want more of you... I want you inside me..."

HiMERU's cheeks instantly turned pink. He couldn't believe the words that came out of your mouth. "(Y/N), I can't..." he said, dropping the honourifics and looking away.

"Please, HiMERU... you want me too, right?" you said, eyeing his boner. "I'll let you have all of me."

He was silent for a bit, but then looked back at you. You looked desperate and extremely needy. Sweat rolled down your flushed face, your eyes begging him to completely rail you.

He sighed and leaned down a bit so that your lips touched his ever so slightly.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered. "I won't hold back."

"Yes... I'm sure... I want you to fuck me..."

"...Alright."

Your arms wrapped around his neck once he completely laid his body weight on yours. He kissed your lips tenderly, but on the other hand, you bit his. You kissed him roughly which he didn't seem to mind, so he returned the action. Saliva started to form between your tongues as you parted, a thin string swung.

"Hah..." he moaned. He still couldn't believe that he was doing this with his producer, someone in a higher position than him in the industry. He couldn't believe that he was doing it with you, his crush in the industry, the beautiful yet cold woman he had fallen in love with. He was rather lucky if he thought about it.

He unbuckled his belt as you waited for him excitedly. He pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung out. It was big and hard, precum had already seeped out of the tip. It was such a pretty cock that even you would love it if he shoved it down your throat.

His tip brushed against your flaps causing you to moan. He did this several times as if he was teasing you, but he just loved the sight of his dick just stroking your pussy, and the sight of you being irritated that you hadn't put it in yet.

"HiMERU!" you cried. "Just put it in alr–"

HiMERU shoved his dick into your hole before you could finish your sentence. He began to ram into you as fast as he could.

"Gyah~!" you cried. "Ahh~ ahh~!"

"Hah... you're... tight..." he mumbled. "Ugh... fuck... this feels... good...!"

Thrusting his dick in and out of you, HiMERU pulled your nightgown even higher to expose your breasts. He nibbled at your nipples which were hard from how aroused you were.

"Ahh~! H-HiMERU...!"

"(Y/N)... fuck..."

His tongue swirled around your nipple as he began to suck on it roughly, another hand caressing the other boob slowly.

"H-HiMERU..." you moaned. "I can't... believe that we're doing this... haha... I can't believe I'm doing this..."

"Neither does HiMERU," he replied, thrusting into you with no intentions of stopping. "HiMERU doesn't understand why you're okay with this... when... you never wanted to look his way..."

You were silent for a moment, avoiding his eyes.

"I just hope... you don't hate 'me'..." he mumbled. "'I' like you a lot, (Y/N)..."

"I don't necessarily 'hate' you..." you said slowly, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I never hated you."

You smiled at him, a genuine, pretty smile that he has never seen you pull at work ever. This was new to him, this emotion that you were portraying. You looked like a completely different person now from the producer he had fallen in love with.

He was in awe, he was in love. He wanted to see you smile like that all the time. Still, he loved the cold, tough woman you were at work too, but this version of you was something he could adore as well.

He smiled at you sadly. "You really are beautiful," he stated, kissing your forehead softly. "I hope you can smile like that more..."

Your hand made its way to cup HiMERU's cheek. "You're so nice to me even when I haven't been as nice to you... don't do that to yourself..." you whispered, eyes beginning to water. You couldn't believe how kind he was to you, a woman who was seen as cold-hearted.

His pace slowed down. He held your hand and shook his head, "No matter what you say, or anyone for that fact, I won't ever stop being kind to you. As I've stated before..." he continued to his cock deep into you. "I love you, (Y/N)."

"Ah... ah... H-HiMERU..."

And as on cue, you came right on his dick. He kissed your cheek as you panted uncontrollably. Pulling himself out of you, he rubbed his dick a little bit before coming onto your naked body. Warm cum dripped onto your chest, coating it in a white finish. HiMERU would like to admit that he liked the sight in front of him, having you covered in his cum.

"H-HiMERU... thank you..."

"Of course."

He helped you clean up before he left. Once he was outside your door, you called after him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Um... would you... be able to help me out again?" you said sheepishly. "Uh... with my anxiety and stuff..."

He snickered. Holding your cheek gently, he nodded. "If you ever need me, I'll be there for you... no matter what you need me to do, I'll do it."

You watched him walk down the hallway and down the steps of your apartment. You closed the door with a sigh. A smile crept up your face.

"Heh... that was a good stress reliever~"

After that one night, the two of you began to relieve each other's stress with even more sex. Whenever you were stressed out at work, HiMERU was willing to give you a quick fingering in your office... or whether he was having a bad day due to Rinne, you would reciprocate with a quick blowjob in the bathrooms. Although the two of you kept it professional within the workplace, you just couldn't help but touch each other and help the other out. As the days progressed, perhaps the two of you would turn this little playdate thing into a more established relationship where you're able to fuck HiMERU to your heart's content.

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