I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.
“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.
“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.
you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.
you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.
he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.
“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.
“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.
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“Not a soul assigned to their case at the Bureau could make sense of their existence. There wasn’t a single scientist, parapsychologist, doctor, or specialist with over a dozen PHD’s under the sun that could figure them out. Pyrokinesis in a human? They defy every law of nature, yet they exist amongst humanity regardless. How do you explain that?”
“The truth is that there are a lot of unknown things out there in the world that mankind hasn't even begun to scratch the surface of. Everyone flocked to this case trying to find rational answers, but there aren’t any. Look at the files in your hands. By the eyes of science, Pyro should not exist. Don’t you know what happens to things mankind doesn’t understand? The Bureau has done sickening things to them in the name of research.”
“That’s why I helped them escape, Conagher.”
Excerpt from the novel INCENDIARY; A TF2 Pyro origin story
Read the latest chapter of 'Incendiary' on AO3 here!
Artwork created by the incredible @narklos ♡
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tease tuesday + wip wednesday 🕊
(i'm smashing these 2 days together because i like to break the rules)
anyway have a lil bit of hoa eddie, uh, getting a hard dick for buck before dinner with his Nemesis
“You’re staring at me.” Buck shuffles forward, a few steps away from Eddie; he smells like mint and vanilla because he used Eddie’s shampoo like he always does and roses, too, that expensive cologne he pays half an arm for.
“I am.”
“Do I look bad?”
No. Not at all. He’s wearing tight black jeans that hug the length of his long, thick legs in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination and a black knit sweater that has his biceps bulging and his tummy poking through and it’s obscene because he’s so goddamn thick that even normal clothes look small on him.
Buck looks all different kinds of great and Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that or the tickle in his chest, the heavy heat in his gut. The gold chain with the little sunshine at the bottom sits pretty between his tits, a present Chris got him last year for Christmas that’s a fucking gift right now for Eddie.
Christ.
He blinks. “No,” he says, maybe a little too fast, but he can’t be blamed. Especially not when Buck looks as gorgeous as he does, in front of Eddie and in his bedroom with a door that locks. “You look pretty. That color is nice on you.”
“It’s black.”
“Okay?” Eddie bristles. The tips of his ears burn. “It looks good.”
Buck fingers the hem of his sweater. “Thanks,” he says, whisper-soft and ruddy-cheeked like he’s embarrassed or something, before looking up and giving Eddie a dazzling smile. “You, uh, look good, too.”
And Eddie does. He’s wearing his best pair of blue jeans and a dark green sweater he found in the back of his closet that he knows looks good on him because Marisol couldn’t keep her hands off when he wore it, but he has nothing on Buck. Nothing at all.
“Buck—”
“I need—”
Christopher barges in the room, knocking the door against the wall like he pays the bills. “You guys take so long.”
tagged by @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, and @wikiangela mwah i adore all of you!
tagging @callmenewbie, @callaplums, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @honestlydarkprincess, @wildlife4life, @thewolvesof1998, @try-set-me-on-fire, @exhuastedpigeon, @fortheloveofbuddie, @giddyupbuck, @ladydorian05, @loserdiaz, @monsterrae1, @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, and anybody else who wants to share 🫶🏼
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