#i was not supposed to spend my sunday drawing

[purplepixel]

Two reallys.

Redrawn panels from IDW #42 but with the rise turtles

I wanted to see what it'd look like. Tweaked the dialogue just a tad so it fits more with the rise characters. Realistically, I'd have to squint really hard to be convinced this exact scenario would happen with the rise turtles. Mainly bc Leo can portal. Draxum can portal. THE FOOT can portal. Donnie would not need to build a portal machine. Ahem anyways. I wanted to mess around with color.

One day I'll actually draw the idw turtles

[willowser]

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds. 

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating. 

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is. 

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

[feyhunter78]

PLEASE TELL ME PT 11 IS OUT SOON PLSS OH KY GODD.

It's out rn babyyyy

Pink Pastels Pt 11

Description: You spend some time debriefing, teaching, and putting up with parents. Pt 12:

“You did what?” Janey yelps, slapping a hand over her mouth as you recount the events of Saturday night.

“I may or may not have been eaten out by Spiderman…and called him by Mr. O’Hara’s name.” You whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“I’ve been there.” Melissa comments, “not with Spiderman though, with my ex-husband.”

Janey’s eyes were wide, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Girl, what? How? What about your boyfriend?”

You close your eyes, groaning as you remember the guilt you felt when you returned to your apartment on shaky legs, passing a still unconscious Todd before you locked yourself in your bedroom and tried to forget what happened on the roof.

“He doesn’t know, obviously, Spiderman is like his favorite hero, it’ll crush him.” You say, dragging your hands down your face.

“I feel like the cheating part will crush him more, but ya know, that’s just me.” Melissa pats your shoulder as she exits the teacher’s lounge. “Keep your chin up kid, he’s not worth the stress anyways.”

You sink down into the couch. “Ugh Janey what do I do? And oh my gosh, how am I even supposed to look Mr. O’Hara in the eye?”

You feel the couch cushions dip, and Janey wraps her arms around you. “It’ll be okay, you just need to figure out your next steps. Let’s just get through today, then worry about what you’re going to tell Todd.”

You nod and return her hug. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, I’ll just focus on teaching, and then I’ll figure the rest out.”

You walk to your classroom, smoothing down your skirt, breathing deeply through your nose as you try to calm yourself.

Todd was gone by the time you woke up on Sunday, and you had taken a relaxing bath, running your fingertips lightly over the strange marks on your thighs. You hadn’t felt any pain that night. Honestly you felt nothing but blinding pleasure, your breathing growing heavier just with the thought of the way his tongue and fingers curled inside you, the way his husky voice deepened as he lapsed into Spanish. You hadn’t felt that good since your first wet dream of Miguel—

“And Spiderman has talons, and fangs! I saw them on the news!” You catch a brief snippet of conversation as you pass an open classroom, and your mind reels, your steps stuttering keeping you by the door.

That’s what those marks are.

“I heard his fangs have venom in them that paralyze anyone he bites.” One of the boys says, excitement clear in his tone. Spiderman is a hero, the city’s hero. He defeated every villain the rose to power until there were none left. Now he spends his time protecting the average civilian, like you…

Paralyze? The thought lingers for a moment, your mind whirling, flashes of images, Spiderman biting into your thigh, your body locking, free for him to play with as he desires. Good girls take cock. Would he fuck you like that? Arrange your limbs as he wished, toy with your body, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you, while you lay pliant beneath him.

It would be so nice to not have to worry about it. To surrender to his hands, to let him fuck away every thought in your mind, leaning over you, his breath on your skin, his deep voice whispering, such a good girl, you take my cock so well, querida.

“Ms. Y/N, I lost my tooth.” Dahlia’s mouth is bleeding, and she’s holding her tooth in her hand proudly.

“Oh, oh my goodness, that’s so exciting, let’s go to the nurse and get it all cleaned up.” You smile at Dahlia, banishing all thoughts of Spiderman from your mind.

Now was not the time to be horny, you had a job to do.

Once you got Dahlia’s tooth situation sorted out, you took her back to the classroom and began to write the date on the board, and the day’s schedule.

It’s not unusual for Dahlia to be here a bit early. You know both her parents work, and you told them it would be fine for them to drop her off early and wait for school to start in your classroom.

Sure, it might mean you can spend less time in the teacher’s lounge before class starts, but you know how tough it is for working parents, and Dahlia is a good kid. She always comes in with some wild story to tell you, or she tries to get a head start on her next assigned reading.

“Ms. Y/N, can I ask you something?” Dahlia’s voice is quiet, not something you’re used to. She’s a confident girl with a quick wit, and no problem making sure she’s heard.

You set down your expo marker and kneel beside her desk. “Of course, sweetheart, you can ask me anything.”

She rubs at her eyes, already beginning to sniffle, and your heart breaks. “I just don’t understand this.” She pulls out yesterday’s math homework, and places it on her desk.

It’s crinkled, filled with scratch and eraser marks, and your heart breaks further when you see the little sad faces she’s drawn instead of answers.

“Oh, honey, that’s okay, math is hard.” You rub her back comfortingly and smooth the paper out. “Why don’t you tell me where you’re having trouble, and we’ll go over it together?”

Dahlia sniffles but nods and begins to point out where she’s getting stuck.

You go through it with her, explaining step by step, breaking it down, so she understands the process.

Soon she gets it, though she still stumbles, sevens are especially hard for her, and you can feel her getting frustrated again. After her third wrong answer, she throws her pencil down and buries her face in her in arms, the butterfly clips in her braids clacking against the desk. “I can’t do it, I’m stupid.”

“No, no, no, you’re not stupid, Dahlia, you are so, so, smart, you’re just having a hard time. It’s okay, Ms. Y/N, is bad at math too.”

She peeks up at you. “Really?”

You smile and fold your arms on her desk before resting your chin on them, so your eyes are level with hers. “Yeah, I had trouble with math the entire time I was in school. I still have trouble with it, but that’s okay because I know I’m smart in other ways, like reading, and history.”

“I like reading.” She mumbles, her small hand catching onto the sleeve of your blouse, seeking wordless comfort.

“And you’re very good at it, I always tell your mom and dad about how well you read, and how you help your classmates when they’re struggling.”

“I like helping.”

“And I think that’s one of the many things that makes you special, so don’t be mean to yourself just because math is a little tough. You’re a very smart girl, you just have to take a bit more time with math, and that’s okay.”

She wipes her nose on her sleeve and nods. “Okay, Ms. Y/N, thank you.”

You squeeze her forearm then stand. “Of course, sweetheart, I’m always here for you.”

It’s six ten, Tommy’s mom is late. You tap your foot against the linoleum, watching the door as you wait for her, stomach churning with nerves.

Todd was blowing up your phone, and you couldn't even stand to look at it, too nervous to even read, so you slide your phone into your desk drawer.

“Ms. Y/N?” A woman’s voice caught your attention, and suddenly who you assumed was Mrs. Tompson was seated before you.

“Mrs. Tompson, yes, hi, thank you so much for coming in.” You stick out your hand for her to shake, but she just looks at it then crosses her arms, leaning back in the chair.

“You said Tommy has been having some issues with the other kids?” She says, her eyes flitting across the board, uninterested.

“Well, actually…he’s been the issue. He’s disruptive, and I know he’s not trying to be bad, or disrespectful, but his actions are aggravating his fellow classmates and I don’t want him to end up driving away his friends.”

She looked at you, her lips pressed into a tight line. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

You blink. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re his teacher, can’t you just force the kids to get along?”

You take a deep breath. “Ma’am I can’t force the kids to get along, they have their own minds and opinions, all I can do is help ease the tension, but everything I’ve tried isn’t working. That’s why I wanted to talk to yo—”

“So, you’re saying this is my fault?” She snaps, sitting up in the chair.

“No, no, I wanted to talk to you so that we could work together and find a solution for Tommy, I really do think that maybe he could benefit from some testing, he’s showing a lot of signs of ADHD, which isn’t a bad thing—”

“My son is not a freak; he doesn’t need testing.” She narrowed her eyes at you, anger seeping into her voice.

“No, he’s not a freak, he’s a good kid, I just think he might need a little extra help, and—” You pull out the pamphlets and hand them to her—“if we work together, I really think he could thrive in class.”

She takes the pamphlets, flipping through them, then she threw them back onto your desk. “Obviously you can’t handle your students, and you just want them drugged up, so you don’t have to do any actual work.”

“Mrs. Tompson, I assure you that is not the case.” You hold up your hands, pacifying.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, you had done your research, started off calmly, and reiterated that Tommy was a good kid. You just wanted to get him some extra support.

She stands, rolling her eyes, her voice cold. “I’ll be going to the principal about removing Tommy from your class, he doesn’t need to be dragged down by a subpar teacher who obviously doesn’t care about her students.”

“Mrs. Tompson—” You call out to her, but she’s gone, the sound of her heels getting farther and farther away.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650

[the-guilty-writer]

Is This Home?

Request from anon: Can you do Derek ! Daughter reader (15) she’s still getting used to savannah being there with them, and maybe she gets upset that they don’t hang out as much because of her, and reader has a breakdown and leaves the house in the middle of the night and she gets lost and hides in an abandoned house until someone finds her (maybe a neighbor of Derek’s) and they call Derek to come get reader and she’s just like no I don’t wanna talk to him and he  sits down and is like listen I know you don’t like me being with someone since your mom and I understand that but you will always be my baby, and they go home that night and she sleeps in the middle of them

Derek Morgan x daughter!reader

Summary: Ever since Savannah moved in with you and your dad, you feel like you’ve been losing him. The night he forgets about your special father-daughter time you flee to a place that feels more homey than your actual home.

A/N: I changed it up the abandoned house part just a little bit because I thought this would make it more meaningful, but overall I tried to stick as close to the request as possible. I hope you like it!

CW: I had fun with swear words in this one (I swore a lot when I was 15. Tbh I still do.), reader's mother is dead, kinda angsty with a fluffy ending. Reader loves her Aunt Penny.

---

“Alright, (Y/N). You think you can hold down the fort tonight?” Your dad, Derek, asked playfulling, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaning over the couch to look at you.

You put down your phone and made a face. “It’s Sunday night,” you said.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the Y sound like he always did when you said something obvious. “Which means that I trust you’ll be in bed by the time Savannah and I get home from our night out.”

“But-” you started, but it didn’t matter; your dad was already headed upstairs to get ready for his date. The only way he would hear you now was by yelling to remind him that you two ALWAYS did movie night on Sunday. Your mom had died when you were ten and since then your dad had made it a point to spend as much of his free time with you as possible. Unless he was away on a case, movie nights were never interrupted. For five years that was how it had been.

And then Savannah came along.

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t mean. But she wasn’t your mom and sometimes it felt like she was taking your dad away from you. The first time it happened, her and Derek had just started dating. You were so happy that your dad was happy you failed to notice that the same day he took her to the park was the day he was supposed to take you to the firing range. The second time it happened you took the metro from school straight to Quantico to show him that you’d gotten straight A’s on your report card, only to find that he had left work on time for once to take Savannah to see a play (at least your Uncle Spencer was impressed and Aunt Penny took you to get ice cream on the drive home). The third time it happened was the day Savannah moved in with the two of you. The Saturday that was supposed to be spent practicing for your judo certification was instead spent lifting and moving boxes.

Since then it had all gone downhill so fast. Dinners that were usually spent on the couch with just you and your dad shooting the shit about sports turned into dinners at the table making small talk about what everyone’s day was like. The messages he sent to you every night when he was away on a case came to your phone half the time and Savannah’s the other half. Even restoring houses with your dad wasn’t the same anymore. You loved to sit around the table with him and pick out colors for the walls from the swatches he brought home, but of course he had to show the options to Savannah first. She always seemed to throw out the fun colors in favor of more “tasteful” ones before you could give your opinion.

And now your dad was ditching you on movie night to take her out to dinner.

If she was a serial killer you wouldn’t have minded- you were used to your dad having to miss movie night to catch criminals- but he was abandoning you for his girlfriend. His girlfriend. You would much rather have been ditched because Hannibal Lecter was on the loose running wild through some town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere than be left alone so your father could go out to dinner with some woman you hadn’t known for all that long. SSA Derek Morgan would have a good excuse for missing movie night then, but he wasn’t a Supervisory Special Agent right now- he was your dad… and he forgot about you.

You went up to your room, not bothering to turn off the TV which already showed which movie you had picked for that night. Sitting on your bed, you picked up the picture of your mom that sat on your nightstand. You weren’t sure if you were listening for an answer from her spirit, or if you were just lost in the moment of missing her, but it felt like you looked at her picture for hours.

There was a knock on your door. You put the picture of your mom down before calling, “Come in!”

Derek was dressed up a bit more than normal- he traded his typical leather jacket for a blazer and his jeans for casual slacks. “So?” He spun in a circle. “How do I look?”

“Like you asked Uncle Dave for fashion advice,” you told him- if there was one thing you were in the Morgan household, it was honest.

“Okay, ouch.” Your dad brought his hand to his chest. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you said. “The slacks make you look old. Wear black jeans instead.”

Derek smiled. “Okay, well I’m gonna be late since I have to change again. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, dad. I-”

The door shut.

“Love you,” you whispered to yourself. You picked up the picture of your mom again, gazing into her fearless eyes. Oh, mom, you thought to yourself, or maybe you were praying to her. You really didn’t know which one. What am I going to do?

---

You rolled over and looked at the clock- unable to sleep. It was nearly midnight and you dad still wasn’t back yet. How long was dinner supposed to take? How had your dad forgotten about movie night? How had your dad forgotten to tell you he loved you? The questions spiraled in your head over and over again, anxiety building in your gut until you burst into tears.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be in your room, or the house, or anywhere that made you think about how your dad had forgotten about you. You were still in your clothes from the day, having been too upset to change into pajamas. Silently crying you ran down the stairs and out of the house- needing to get as far away from it as possible.

The logical part of your brain knew that this was the best possible way to get kidnapped- a young girl running down the street alone in the dark was the start to just about every horror movie ever. But the logical part of your brain wasn’t working. All you knew was that you had to run.

You were lost in your thoughts and high from the adrenaline that you lost track of where your legs had taken you. Your vision adjusted to the dark and you looked around. You were somewhere you had been before, but you weren’t sure exactly where. If it was light outside you might be able to pinpoint a landmark or a trail and find your way back, but the night was dense. All there was to do was walk.

Your head was starting to ache from crying and your legs were beginning to feel weary. The taste of copper filled your mouth from running in the coolness of the night. You needed a place to stay but you didn’t want to go home. In the distance you spotted street lights- they were dim but it was better than nothing. Maybe from there you could find a metro stop to take you closer to your Aunt Penny’s- surely she would let you stay with her for the night.

The closer you got to the lights the more you recognized your surroundings. The neighborhood was older, but still in a safe location. The houses were charming on the outside, with wrap-around porches and large grassy yards. You knew the place because Derek had bought a house here years ago, when it was just the two of you. It had always been part of his dream to restore a house like it so he insisted that he would wait for the perfect time to start the project.

Of course there was no such thing as perfect timing. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t touched the house in years. Most of his other restorations were bought and sold within months, but this one just sat. The only evidence that he owned the place at all was that he mowed the lawn every two weeks.

You walked up to the front door and pulled a bobby pin from your pocket, picking the old lock with ease and making your way inside. The house was bare of any furniture or decorations. Paint was flaking off the walls and old plastic covered the hardwood floors. You walked around the house, imagining what it would be like to see the place restored in all its glory- with new crown molding and fresh hardware on the doors. You imagined it with a fresh coat of paint and pictures on the walls.

But at the moment it looked abandoned, withered, and unloved- just like how you felt.

---

It was 1 AM when Derek got a call from an unknown number. The first time he let it go to voicemail, but when the same number called him two more times he had to pick it up. At first he thought it was a prank call- some kid trying to mess with him that one of his houses had been broken into by his own daughter- but when he got home and saw that you weren’t in your room he knew it was true.

He was sure that he broke every speed limit getting to the house, but he didn’t care. What was so wrong that you felt like you had to run away? What had happened and how had he not seen it?

Derek pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car, Savannah right behind him. His neighbor was standing in the driveway holding a flashlight, waiting for him to arrive.

“Thanks for calling,” Derek greeted the woman- she was a nice older lady. “I’m sorry if she bothered you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” the lady said. “I’ve raised three teenagers myself. I know how they are. She says she doesn’t want to talk to you, but deep down she really does.”

Derek sighed. “I appreciate that. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, please let me know.” The lady smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

Derek sighed heavily and turned to Savannah. “I’ll be back.”

Savannah rubbed his shoulder supportively. “You’re a great father, Derek.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go and making his way into the house.

It didn’t take him long to find you. You were curled up in a corner, legs pulled up to your chest with your face buried into your knees. You didn’t even look up when you heard his footsteps. He came closer, kneeling next to you so he was on your level, and reached out to touch your hair. At the contact, you quickly leaned away.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice full of concern. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Your words were sad with a slight venom behind them. “Just go away.”

Your dad sighed and sat down on the floor in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Suddenly, all the emotions from earlier came flooding back. You couldn’t help it- sobs racked your body as you pulled your limbs tighter towards your body. You kept your head down and your eyes shut tight, not wanting to even get a glimpse of your dad.

“You forgot movie night-” you managed to choke out between sobs. “You have Savannah now. You already forgot about mom and now you’re forgetting about me too.”

Derek felt his heart crack. He really had forgotten movie night- the one constant promise that your mom would always be a part of him and you. He took a deep breath and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered. He felt his eyes begin to water. “I did forget about movie night.” He pulled back to look at your face. You had grown up so much so fast. JJ was always telling him that if he looked away for too long he would miss it entirely and he almost had. “But that doesn’t mean I forgot about your mom and it sure doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about you. I know it’s hard to see me with someone who isn’t your mom- I get that- but Savannah isn’t replacing her. I will always love your mother and you will always be my baby girl. No matter what.”

The mention of the nickname he only ever used for you and your Aunt Penny brought the tiniest smile to your face. Derek pulled you into another hug.

“Can we go home now?” you asked quietly.

“Of course.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you to your feet, holding your hand as you walked out to the car. Savannah was standing there, a sympathetic look on her face. Your dad helped you into the back seat first before helping her into the front. You were so tired from the emotions and adrenaline that you fell asleep before the car even pulled out of the driveway.

---

Derek gently took your seatbelt off and pulled you out of the car in an effort not to wake you up. He was thankful that Savannah was there to lock the vehicle after him and open the front door so he could carry you up the stairs and towards your bedroom. If working out was good for nothing else but still being able to carry his baby girl at 15 years old, it was worth it.

“Derek,” Savannah whispered from behind him before he opened up your bedroom door. He turned to look at her. “Let her sleep in our room tonight. She’s your baby, but she isn’t going to be for much longer.”

Derek smiled softly and walked to the main bedroom, laying you down in the middle of the mattress. He looked down at your face, sleep softening your features. Changing quickly into his pajamas, he snuggled next to you, pulling your body closer to his. Savannah laid down on your other side, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the two of you together.

For the first time since your mom died, Derek felt whole- like the wound to his heart had healed over with a faint scar to remind him of what was, but allowing him to move forward.

“You know,” Derek said quietly. “I’ve let that house sit for a few years. It is kind of a dream project come true so I’ve been waiting for the right time to work on it.”

“Oh yeah?” Savannah whispered.

“Well it’s bigger than this place.” He ran a hand down your hair. “And there are more kids around (Y/N)’s age. The neighbors are nice and the school district is the same. It’s about 10 minutes closer to the hospital and Quantico.” Derek sighed. “I guess I was waiting for a time when the house could become a home.”

Savannah smiled sleepily. “You think you could make it a home?”

Derek’s smile grew. “I think we could make it a home. Together.” He still had his arms around you when he fell asleep that night and by the morning, Savannah’s arms would be around you too.

Soon there would be a restored house, with more dinners on the couch, nights you could spend with your friends when your dad and Savannah went out, a park nearby to walk in, and a large grassy yard to practice judo. But ultimately, it didn’t matter because the three of you would always see one another as home.

[eldritch-nightmare]

heyy!! can i request LJ and Candypop ( ,,if you write for him) sharing a fem!reader? (headcanons or something else) i don’t mind <33

a/n: I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT CANDY POP WAIT omg he's one of those creepypastas that i heard about but never really looked into so. first time writing him so i hope i did him justice for you! i wasn't sure if you wanted something more lighthearted or something darker so i did my best to keep it balanced.

LJ and Candy Pop sharing a fem!reader.

warnings: my knowledge of candy pop comes from the creepypasta files wiki page so just a heads up if i get something wrong, opted to make reader a creepypasta here but it's very vague, lj and candy pop are like frenemies in this i suppose, sorta hints that the reader might've been forced into this relationship, my hand slipped and i dropped a 'good girl' in here somewhere i couldn't help myself, possessive behavior from both of them, implied unhealthy relationship.

Man, what's it like having a 7ft tall imaginary monochrome clown that terrorizes children and a 7ft tall colorful Night Terrors possessed jester be in love with you? It's probably a strange experience.

They both argue over who caught feelings for you first. LJ swears up and down that he fell for you first, but Candy Pop claims it to be love at first sight. Honestly, you've just chosen to believe that they both fell for you around the same time.

The two of them were definitely hesitant to share you, though that was more on Candy Pop's side than it was LJ's. Listen, sharing a body/soul with the literal demon king makes you a bit possessive over things, okay?

You don't particularly mind either way, to be honest. They're both a bit... much to handle at times, but you guys make it work. Like... literally. You had to plan out an entire schedule and everything because they kept bickering about how much time the other spent with you.

LJ gets you on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays while Candy Pop gets you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sundays are days you spend alone because it's always good to have some time for yourself.

Of course, they don't... follow the schedule that often. Why would they? They aren't confined to the mortal chains of schedules.

They are both equally romantic in their own right, and you won't lie, you certainly have enjoyed a few of the spontaneous dates they've taken you on. Sometimes, they'll even get together long enough to plan out an outing for all three of you. They can get along, see?

Now, we can't forget that they are both murderous entities. One is an imaginary friend turned serial killer and the other is... something. A demon? A poor possessed soul of a jester? Whatever he is, he's deadly. Shall I provide some examples?

Example one: Laughing Jack was abandoned by the one person he was created to befriend, so trust me when I tell you that he has some deeply rooted abandonment issues. He's all fun and games until there's even the slightest possibility of you leaving him. Even if someone makes an offhand remark about how you should leave him, his entire persona does a complete 180.

Suddenly, his hold on you is just a bit more tighter than it normally is, and you can feel his nails digging into your skin, threatening to draw blood. It's a subtle, silent threat of what he could do to you if you ever tried leaving him.

Example two: Candy Pop, as a whole, is somebody you have to be wary around because his mood can flip like a switch. He'll be happily humming away about some random topic one moment, and the next he's pushing you up against a nearby wall and looking at you with such a crazed look that it's almost hard to believe that this is the same person who claims to be in love with you.

He's the type to remind you of where you belong. You belong by his and LJ's side, so don't you ever forget that, okay? You really don't want to see what'll happen if you do.

In the end, though LJ and Candy Pop have a habit of bickering with each other, they'll make one hell of a team if it means keeping you in their grasp. You don't fit with anyone but them, and you don't need to fit with anyone other than them. They're the perfect match for you, and you'll come to see that sooner or later. So, all you need to do is be a good girl and stay by their side, got it?

It's Sunday. Sundays are supposed to be your day. You had plans to hang out with the other girls, maybe even play dress up with Sally if she was up for it. So, why the hell were you currently stuck in bed, sandwiched between a clown and a jester?

You have no clue because you just woke up and they were already here. Sure, you could just… wiggle your way out of bed but then they would wake up. Do they even need to sleep? They aren't mortal like you are, so sleep doesn't seem like a necessity to them. But it's not like you can just stay in bed all day either. You had things you wanted to do!

So, with a very silent sigh, you slowly start to sit up, untangling yourself from the mass of limbs trapping you to your bed. You were able to sit up with relative ease, the hard part would be crawling over either LJ or Candy Pop to get out of bed. That would be… that would be difficult.

Even if you were to try and crawl over one of them, you weren't able to because before you could even decide which one to crawl over, you were being pushed back into laying down again by Candy Pop.

You let out a small 'oof' as soon as your back hit the mattress.

"Where do you think you're going?" You hear LJ ask, and with one quick glance at him, you can see a slight pout on his face. It was almost enough to make you forget about the feeling of his nails gently grazing your stomach.

If he just decided to dig them into your--

"She's not going anywhere." Candy's voice murmurs directly next to your ear, effectively cutting off your train of thought. You only belatedly realize that he had buried his face into your neck, his hair brushing against your face, "Right, angel?"

Well… it seems like you're not going to be getting rid of these two today, so whatever plans you had for the day were going to have to be put on hold until next Sunday. You just hoped the two of them didn't make a habit of this.

[hyperfreaksating]

Gonna put your characters in a modernish au because an Au where Groar is a bit apprehensive because they are supposed to open for the rather notorious rockstar Buggy the Clown, who’s been known to be… difficult to work with, but they actually see their chance at getting somewhere trying to do this band thing more professionally, so they take the opportunity and… turns out that Buggy has mellowed out in the past years after his marriage to his bassist Red and the birth of their three kids.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still an asshole, but him sitting them all down to tell them just EXACTLY what he expects from them and how he WILL not tolerate tardiness and how he WILL just get someone else to open for him is just a tad diminished by three toddlers being present and him very obviously just wanting to cut to the chase so he can get back to spending the Sunday with his wife.

Law watches him down an, non alcoholic, beer and set it down on the table, while one of his kids is drawing and the other is just bouncing around the couch next to him. „If you fuckers break ANY of my equipment you can haul your asses back home.“ he states, glaring as intimidating at them as a man who’s just opened a new box of crayons for his son can glare at someone. „I don’t care how punk you think you’ll look smashing guitars or dropping mics, every single floorboard on this stage is worth more money than all of your instruments combined and I - Blaze be careful.“ He sends a chopped hand after his son who was just about to tumble off the couch, catching him by the ankle and dragging him back to safety. The kid giggles and squeals in delight and the clowns lips quirk upwards for a second. „… Well?“ „huh?“ „DID I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR? GOD DID YOU SHIDIOTS NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAID?“ „We’re clear!“ Osha interjects hastily. „Of course!“ Killer turns his head over his shoulder to Bepo, who they planned to bring along as a sort of buffer / intimidation tactic. Just tell the Mink to stand behind them with his arms crossed and he doesn’t even have to say anything. Should have been an easy job. To bad Bepo had immediately been confiscated by the daughter of the triplets and is now too busy cooing over her and flipping trough various kids picture books detailing the sea creatures of the grandline while she babbles happily.

They are saved from this mildly uncomfortable and confusing situation when Red herself finally comes in and Buggy shoos them out, rattling the rest of his rules (Don’t out flashy him, don’t touch his instruments, no rotisserie chicken parties, don’t look at his wife, don’t smile at her, don’t even breathe in her general direction etc.) before slamming the door behind them.

All in all this could have gone much worse.

OK SO.

First of all : THANK YOU SO MUCH. I LOVE THIS. OMG. I love every single part of it. Even if I had to google what a rotisserie chicken partie and everything I found was kinda sexual

But ALSO hold my beer because I actually had something like this (crossing Redbomb & G.R.O.A.R in a kindof modern punk AU) in mind for a while and your message was the kick in the ass I needed to work on it.

SO

In this AU Buggy is a former rockstar and a producer (fit wells with the "I'm lazy but I go and look for treasure"), he met Red as she was singing in a bar and begged her to join his label. Also in this AU life isn't a bitch and parents don't die (well, except Law biological parents) so Corazon is still alive an he comes to. every. single. G.R.O.A.R concert. and has their merch.

[vynnytypesstuff]

Hello! Im here for a request if you dont mind, i loved the platonic stuff you wrote for lmk and wanted to request a platonic drabble with Sun Wukong and Macaque. If you don’t do that then can i get some headcanons? Enjoy your vacation!!

꒰୨୧﹒Lego Monkie Kid - Platonic Drabbles for Sun Wukong and Macaque

Ngl I had fun writing this request. I think I favor writing platonic stuff lmao

Thanks for your patience and here you go <33

Warnings: None

Sun Wukong

(Word Count: 430)

[Name] yawned, stretching their arms outwards as they laid on their back against the firm mattress of Wukong's couch. With the long week they've had to deal with, a lazy Sunday was the exact crowning jewel they needed to kick back and unwind, and what better way to spend them than with one of your closest friends?

Resisting the urge to let their exhaustion coax them into slumber, [Name] turned over onto their side, curious to see what Wukong had been up to during the time they had been staring at the ceiling. The Monkey King had been seated on the floor, surprisingly too focused on whatever task he was trying to complete to respond to [Name]'s movements. Upon closer inspection, in front of him was a piece of paper with art supplies scattered around him.

[Name] blinked, "since when do you draw?"

That seemed to be enough to grab Wukong's attention. "Uh, since always? Didn't I tell you this before?"

"Yeah, but… I kind of figured you were bluffing."

Wukong looked at them with false offense, sputtering in exaggeration, as if he were actually upset by that comment. "Wha- I'm shocked! Offended, even! I have my hidden talents you know. See for yourself!"

Reluctantly, [Name] rolled off the couch to get a look at Wukong's supposed masterpiece. A lingering part of them still expected to see a humorous assortment of scribbles, yet they were completely blown away once they witnessed his scarily realistic and accurate depiction of Flower Fruit Mountain, fully sketched down to it's finest details. It even had Wukong's little monkeys companions, who's sketched counterparts were scurrying around the mountain.

"How is your work not on display in a museum?!" [Name] exclaimed questioningly. They felt a little guilty about underestimating Wukong's artistic talents. They just weren't expecting him to be insanely good.

"Stage fright, or something," Wukong nonchalantly shrugged.

"Or maybe being the Monkey King is just a cover for your true identity as an artist," They mused. "I can't believe you've had a secret identity all this time and you didn't tell me."

He laughed, deciding to play along with the joke. "Caught me red-handed! And if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

Their exchange of friendly banter went on for quite some time before [Name] finally decided to abandon their original Sunday plans of having an intense ceiling-staring session, choosing to watch Wukong color his work before grabbing a piece of paper for themself and joining him in his makeshift "art studio." Overall, it was the perfect close to a weekend of relaxation.

Macaque

(Word Count: 446)

"'Come hiking with me' you said. 'It'll be worth it' you said," a muttered complaint spilled into the air, courtesy of [Name]. Macaque and [Name] had been hiking the same mountain for a little over an hour. The rugged terrain combined with the narrow twists and turns of the trail wasn't helping with [Name]'s growing exhaustion. "It feels like we've been at this for ages! How much further until we're there?"

Macaque's voice rumbled in a soft, fond chuckle, clearly finding amusement in his friend's whining. "Relax, we're almost there. Besides, I meant what I said. You'll be thanking me once we've reached the top. Would I lie to you?"

[Name] opened their mouth to respond, but Macaque beat them to the punch with a quick "don't answer that."

Thankfully, Macaque had been truthful. A mere ten minutes after that small exchange, they had finally reached their final destination. It was the height of the Spring season, so despite the gentle chill of the flowing breeze hitting their skin, the weather was warm and comfortable. The view itself was breathtaking. The natural assortment of flora below them shone vibrantly against the sunlight, resembling the picturesque nature of a meticulously painted landscape.

The awed look on [Name]'s face didn't escape Macaque's gaze. "Told you it would be worth it." He grinned, finding a spot near the mountain's edge to sit down. "Honestly, even I forgot how beautiful the view was from up here."

"You haven't been here recently?"

Macaque shook his head in answer. "I used to come up here all the time with an old friend, so it just brings up a lot of memories, you know?" Perhaps [Name] was imagining it, but it almost sounded like there was a hint of sadness in his voice. They chose not to question it, instead letting him continue. "I wasn't sure how I'd feel about coming up here again."

'It's part of the reason I invited you,' a sudden thought that went unspoken. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes.

[Name] walked over to where he was sat and settled next to him. They didn't speak after that, instead choosing to take in the view in comfortable silence. There was nothing awkward about it. Believe it or not, Macaque wasn't always the most talkative, so having someone he could sit with in silence was a pleasant change of pace.

Time passed, with [Name] being the one to break the silence. "Thanks for inviting me, this was actually pretty nice."

"Glad you like it. Does that mean you'll stop bugging me by asking 'are we there yet' every time we climb up here?"

"Don't count on it."

[bleubrri]

۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs — ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛɪᴛᴀɴ

ft levi, zeke, hange, jean, eren

contains- black!fem!reader, fluff, slight family-centred angst (jean), nonbinary hange (they/them pronouns used)

༄ؘ LEVI ACKERMAN

loves when you burn incense

when you first started dating, he wondered how your room always smelt so good. it was a different smell to your perfume, but he couldn’t quite place it . and he was too nervous stubborn to ask.

it was only when he saw you organising the little draw in your nightstand that he rested his chin on your shoulder and peered over you in curiosity. you laughed through your nose at his refusal to ask when he was clearly intrigued. “incense.” you told him, leaning your head against his and producing a stick, “you burn it. comes in different flavours.” his lips quirk up and an amused tch slips past them, “scents.” he corrects, “they come in different scents.” you roll your eyes and flick a lighter on, holding the stick to the flame, “oh so now someone’s an expert.” he watches you purse your lips and blow out the flame, smoke dancing round the room and filling his senses with a familiar comfort.

when you move in together, your little collection of incense sticks and holders, lighters and matches is the first thing to be unpacked. when you’re both finally settled, the last remaining cardboard boxes nestled in the corner of your new shared bedroom, levi slides a black box tied with a satin ribbon over to you. you frown and open your mouth, ready to protest that you didn’t get him anything, but he cuts you off, rolling his eyes and telling you to “quit being a brat and just open it.” you slide off the ribbon and peek inside the box to find every scent that your favourite brand sells. he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you close, “so we can find our favourite flavours, together” he smiles, pressing his lips to yours.

༄ؘ ZEKE JAEGER

loves that your knowledge compliments his

Zeke is aware that he is academically intelligent. he also knows that he has zero street smarts and could definitely improve upon his common sense. you’ve told him, this is how he knows. he now has a little notebook where he jots down your pearls of wisdom. *cough dork cough*

it started as little pieces of advice. you’d be cuddled together on his bed watching a murder docu when you’d pipe up, “you know you should dry your knitwear flat or you’ll ruin them babe.” he blinks and looks up at his sweaters and cardigans hanging from the laundry rack. “uh, yeah i should.. yeah.” he follows up by asking you the best temperature and spin cycle to wash them on.

he’s pulled out of his stupor as he feels you firmly tug on his hand. you’re frowning as you both walk past the commotion occurring at the end of the dim alley on your way home. once you’re a good distance away you turn to him and hiss “why would you stop?!” he stutters and tries to rationalise, “i don’t know! i was just.. curious i suppose.” “…” “…” “next time you hear arguing in an alleyway at 11pm.. keep it moving. understood?” “yes ma’am.” he replies sheepishly.

he loves sundays- it’s farmers market day. you’re grabbing your matching tote bags and keys, heading to the door. you’ve got the routine nailed by now- he spends the morning accounting for your weekly budget while you make a list of the necessities. “okay and remember,” you start, “i don’t buy anything until you can haggle with the stall owner.” he continues, “and i make sure i count my change and don’t overspend.” you finish. “ready?” he asks, opening the door for you to step out first. “set!” you smile as he locks the door and slides his hand into yours. “go team.” he laughs, pecking your forehead and beginning the usual walk to the marketplace.

༄ؘ HANGE ZOE

loves ‘assisting’ you on wash day

it’s mostly just them lingering in the doorway and observing you. or taking note of all the ingredients in your hairmasks and leave in conditioners.

“so what’s your hair type again?” they ask for the fourth time, their glasses still foggy from the showers steam. you sigh inwardly and use a towel to wipe their lenses. “i love you, but you know you don’t have to sit here the whole time right? i’ve still got a while to go.” they pout and put down the detangler they’re examining. “it’s just.. fascinating really. the work you put into maintaining it. i wanna know how you get it so perfect everytime!” your heart swells at their endearment and you hold up the first product in your routine. “okay, step one.”

you hear your name being called before the front door even closes and hange is bursting into the living room. their hands are full with bags branded with the hairstores logo. “hange.. i asked you to get me a bonnet. one. singular.” you say in bewilderment, rummaging through new products and accessories and hair tools. “i know i know i got carried away but that place is amazing!” they gush, “you have to take me back there next time you go!” their eyes are wide and sparkling as you chuckle, wrapping your hands round their neck. “we’re gonna have to go back anyway, love,” you say as your noses brush, “you forgot the bonnet.”

༄ؘ JEAN KIRSTEIN

loves when you cook home food

Jeans vegetarian, aspiring to be vegan like you are. he adores watching your eyes light up when he compliments your cooking skills.

he was with you when you cut off your immediate family. he knew it was hard for you, knew you missed certain aspects of the family dynamic. he’d heard you mention that you missed your cultural foods and that you were determined to make them on your own now. the pot on the stove is bubbling at a simmer and the apartment is shrouded in a hearty, comforting aroma of spices. he’s leaning against the counter as you bring a wooden spoon loaded with a sample of the dish to his lips. his eyebrows lift and he hums in bliss as he savours the taste. “wow. it’s great baby. like.. incredible actually. wow.” he repeats. your shoulders slump in relief and you thank him before turning to plate everything up.

after he’s washed the dishes, he brings a plate of strawberries over to the couch where you pull back the blanket for him to settle next to you. you’re browsing through your recent shows and biting into the fruit when he cups your jaw and turns you to face him. he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, shining from the juice of the strawberry. “thank you. for sharing such a big part of yourself with me. i’m proud of you, you know.” you give him a watery smile as tears wet your lashline and you bury yourself in his neck. he runs his fingertips along your spine as you both whisper i love yous to eachother, knowing you’re not alone.

༄ؘ EREN JAEGER

loves helping you with your braids

he’s a sucker for your protective styles; his favourites are your regular knotless braids and the butterfly locs you sport on vacations.

eren is actually very helpful when it comes to your hair, and he claims he enjoys it so you have no qualms letting him help you. you binge a film series (this time it’s star wars) as you both work to take out your most recent box braids. you’re about to start empire strikes back when you turn to him and ask, “need a break?” he puts down his comb and huffs at you “again? we’re almost done!” “erennn,” you whine, “we’re not almost do- how have you finished more than me? ugh my fingers are cramping like crazy.”

you’ve given him free reign with the accessories this time and are not disappointed. he hands you the handheld mirror and you turn your head this way and that, admiring his handiwork; your braids are decorated with silver coils framing your face, gold cuffs at different lengths, the occasional ring placed sporadically and a little ‘E’ charm sitting by your right temple. he’s mixed both silver and gold but somehow it just works. he’s smiling smugly as you continue looking at yourself. “well well well mr jaeger, we just might make a stylist of you yet.” he leans in to ghost his lips over yours and whispers, “you couldn’t afford me, baby.” he’s snickering and dodging your attempt at grabbing his own dark locks, dramatically clutching his imaginary pearls. “i believe a thank you is in order!”

a/n: self indulgence! at every turn! anyways..

[bullet-prooflove]

Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz Masterlist

Mouse x Reader

Sunday Mornings With Mouse - Waking up with Mouse on Sunday Mornings.

Mouse & His Sobriety - Reflecting on Mouse’s soberity.

Mouse On Reading - What Mouse loves to read.

Living With Mouse - What it’s like living with Mouse.

Married To Mouse - What it’s like being married to Mouse.

Nightly Routine With Mouse - What is Mouse’s nightly routine?

Small Gifts - Mouse asks you out after receiving a gift from you.

Stolen Moments - Mouse sends a little time with his and your daughter.

Anything But Casual - Mouse admits his feelings for you aren’t casual.

Honeymoon With Mouse - What it’s like being on a honeymoon with Mouse.

Friday Nights With Mouse -  How you and Mouse spend Friday nights.

Working in Tech With Mouse - Two nerds get it together.

Dating Mouse and Being Jay’s Sister - Mouse frets about telling Jay.

Aggressive Guy In A Bar - How Mouse responds.

Neck Kisses (NSFW) - Mouse loves lazy Sundays.

How Long Have You Been Hiding This - Mouse challenges you about something you recieved in the post.

7 Months - Mouse comes home to discuss the future. - Companion piece to  How Long Have You Been Hiding This.

Shaking Hands - Mouse tries to hide his shaking hands.

Anal Sex (NSFW) - Mouse loves your ass.

Bad Day - You and Mouse both have a bad day.

Rainy Day with Mouse -  You draw Mouse as he sleeps.

Seen - Mouse helps you recover after you are injured.

Return On Investment - Greg points out the problem with the guys you’ve been dating.

Empathy - You are there for Mouse when he struggles with depression.

The First Time - Mouse knows there’s a reason you don’t talk about your first time.

Voice Mail - Mouse can’t face a life without you.

Suicidal!Mouse:

Falling - Mouse ODs on the beach.

A Safe Place - You return to the place where Mouse commited suicide. 

Series:

Placeholder - You don’t love your boyfriend and Mouse knows it.

Placeholder Part Two: Promises (NSFW) - Mouse comforts you during your break up.

PTSD!Mouse - Can be read as stand alone or part of a series (Completed)

Part One: Night Terrors - Mouse experiances night terrors as part of his PTSD.

Part Two: Making Plans - Mouse and you make plans.

Part Three: Reflection - Jay Halstead - Jay isn’t sure a relationship is a good idea.

Part Four: Coming Clean - Mouse comes clean.

Part Five: No Pressure - Mouse walks you home.

Part Six: Self Care - Greg Gerwitz  (NSFW) - Mouse has an experiance he hasn’t had in a long time.

Part Seven: Lucky - Mouse can’t believe how lucky he is.

Part Eight: Home - Mouse and you have the perfect first date.

Part Nine: Baby… - (NSFW) You give yourself over to Mouse.

Part Ten: His - The Morning After

Five Sentence Series: Addict!Mouse

stay up all night all alone waiting by the phone?

Holding on through, every night

I thought that I was the exception I could rewrite your addiction

“Well how the hell was I supposed to know that?

Thrashing the covers off

I was losing my mind

THOTS:

Fun - Mouse loves the fun the two of you have.

Mouse’s NSFW Dirty Alphabet:

Alone Time

Bondage

Crying

Quiet

X Dressing

Yes Sir

Zones

Chats

Discussing Mouse’s previous OD - Erin Lindsey x Greg Gerwitz - Friendship

Discussing the kiss - Greg Gerwitz x Reader

Olinsky catching up with your Dad - Al Olinsky x Reader - Friendship

Discussing Mouse Dating - Jay Halstead x Greg Gerwi

[rainsoakedphoenix]

Sorry

calum ross x actress!reader; he's been all I can think about since I started watching the show a few days ago and I'm bummed he's only in the first episode but alas I'm on a rowan/calum kick right now so I've already got a few ideas of fics for him

warnings: none that I can think of, but as usual if you see something I should've added please let me know; minimal use of Y/N; mostly short and sweet

summary: you are a castmember of the new Wednesday show; you and calum are friends outside of the show and there appears to be a spark between you two that he makes known during your livestream; not proofread

"Joy, how am I supposed to know which of these is which? They're not labeled," you asked. She chuckles, looking over at the different pieces of makeup in your hand to inspect them for you. "This one is blush; this is foundation," she points to each one as she tells you what they are. You nodded as she spoke.

"They all look the same to me," you smiled to yourself in amusement. You were currently in an instagram livestream with Joy Sunday, your new best friend who played Bianca in the Wednesday show on Netflix. Just for fun, you two were practicing doing your own makeup for the stream and clearly she had more knowledge of what she was doing. Not knowing what you were doing wasn't a big deal to you though, even if there were hundreds or thousands of people watching you right now.

"Just use them in the same order as me, and do what I do," Joy responds. The two of you spend the next 20 to 30 minutes finishing your craft, talking about random things, and answering questions from fans.

You happened to look at your phone screen again when you see a comment saying "(Y/N) you need to blend a little more on your forehead, there's smudging." You look back into the bathroom mirror to try and see what she was talking about, then look over to Joy. "Is my forehead smudged?"

"A little, let me see..." She grabs a blender and it only takes a few seconds for her to fix it. You turn back to the camera and ask with a giggle "is this better?"

"I think you did amazing!" you see another costar, Emma, comment.

"Hi!" you draw out, "thank you Em!"

As you're focused on your phone screen, you notice a comment from yet another costar, Calum, that makes your heart skip a beat and you freeze in place for a second. It was a simple compliment, but yet he had never complimented you like this before.

"Damn, you're so beautiful in every way," it said. And of course, you weren't the only one to notice. After blushing and saying a quick "thank you" to him, fans suddenly started flooding the comments of the stream, saying things like "OMG are they dating??," "I totally ship them, the writers need to put them together on the show," and "He definitely likes her," among other things.

You felt a nudge in your arm from Joy, who you noticed was now paying attention to the commotion and most likely saw Calum's comment as well. You looked over at her, still blushing, and gave her a small shrug of the shoulders after seeing her suggestive smirk.

Turning back to your phone yet again, you see a text message come across your screen from Calum. "Sorry :("

[steddieas-shegoes]

Been a minute since I’ve given a life update!

I’m on track to graduate in May and I did indeed spend $60 just to make sure I had a cap to put Eddie Munson’s STUPID ADORABLE face on it even though I’m not even walking in the ceremony

I’ve finally been able to hire someone at work and I’ve been training them all week so my life is gonna be a lot fucking easier!!!! I can actually do the things I’m supposed to do at work and not constantly be distracted by customers calling in!!!!

Liams travel hockey season is drawing to a close as state championships start tomorrow and go through Sunday. His team placed 3rd in regular season in their division so they’ll be fighting it out this weekend to bring home the banner, trophy, and medals for 1st! I’m not gonna mention my anxiety because I’m certain everyone will be able to hear my heartbeat from wherever you are in the world. I’m so so proud of how far he’s come this season. It blows my mind that when he made the team, he was convinced he’d play defense and was still hesitant to touch the puck and he’s going into state as a left wing forward with 10 goals and 20 assists. We’ve spent so much time at the rink it feels like a second home, the bartender makes me and Liam special drinks every Wednesday, and we’ve gotten closer to some of the hockey families than I’ve probably ever been with my extended family 😂 He’s already signed up for spring training and a couple things over the summer for development and ice time, but tryouts for next season are in May and we’re already preparing for it.

Oh and I’m writing my first bang fic! So that’s gonna consume a lot of time soon but it will hopefully be incredibly worth it for everyone 👀

Hope everyone’s doing well! I swear I’m gonna catch up on ao3 comments next month!!! I fell behind writing for @steddielovemonth and that’s consumed all of my free time, but next month I’m making it my top priority along with finishing mechanic Eddie finally!!!

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Hey everybody!! Here’s a drawing I did for the wonderful @bogglle, as part of an art trade! I wasn’t sure when I’d get the time to draw it, since I’ve been so busy lately, but I had all of Sunday free, so I just decided to crank this out, finishing after about seven-eight straight (or not straight 😉) hours of drawing. I did some touch ups yesterday, and while I’m still not fully happy with it, I think it’s as good as it’s gonna get, ha.

My description of my process ended up much longer than intended (what else is new??) so I’ll put it in a Read More to prevent it from clogging up dashboards. :-)

The prompt I was given was that either Mondo or Taka was supposed to be learning an instrument of my choice. I immediately decided that I wanted one of them teaching the instrument to the other, and of course I decided to go with guitar for it, since it’s one of the best to force two people close together, the instructor’s arm wrapped around the learner to try and “help them understand the chords better.” 😉😉😉

Ha. But yeah, that was my thought process. I also like the idea of Mondo knowing how to play guitar, Daiya helping him learn to try and control his anger issues or something. It’s just a cute head canon to me that I’ve now officially adopted into my head canon repertoire.

Also, I hadn’t originally set out to make it a semi-realistic drawing; I just wanted to experiment with having less lines, wanting lines in some areas but not others. But the more I went along, the more detail I added, and the more lines I removed. Until suddenly my whole drawing was line less except the face, and I was like “… well, why not just make it a completely line-less, semi-realistic drawing now??” So… I did, ha. I still have the original drawing with Taka and Mondo’s cartoony faces on the realistic bodies and it’s, uh… very uncanny valley 😅😅😅 Maybe if people ask nicely I’ll release the forbidden art.

Anyway, I hope y’all like it! Maybe I’ll do more drawings in this style, since I honestly kinda like it. The faces gave me so much trouble, since they were a game time change that I wasn’t really prepared for. And while I love realistic art, I usually need a reference to make it look super realistic, and I didn’t have one here. I just winged it, which might be clear, ha.

Oh! And since I’m terrible with perspective, if it’s not clear they’re supposed to be sitting on Mondo’s bed!! I didn’t want to spend ages on the background, so it was a real quick and easy draw, but my perspective drawing skills suck (my brain does not compute perspective when I’m drawing, no matter how hard I try, unfortunately) so it turned out a bit questionable.

Finally, I may write something based on the same prompt, since that was part of the trade Bogglle and I have, but I have no idea when I’ll be able to do it. I’m currently writing a long fic for another fandom, and it’s taking up a lot of my time. I have this week off of work and internship since my dad has COVID and he’s my ride to and from both, and I have next week off thanks to Spring Break, but still. This fic is turning into a beast (literally, since it’s a Beauty and the Beast AU fic) so it may take me a while to finish it. So… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thanks for reading! I hope you have a great day!

[blackquillchillin]

Attending a life drawing class has helped me be so much more normal about body hair and body fat on fictional characters.

Like, before i went to collage, my biggest art inspiration was Batman the Animated series, which I love dearly, but has mostly two body types-broad shoulders man, and hourglass woman. There are a few exceptions, like Scarecrow and Baby-Doll, but ones deliberately supposed to look thin and the others trapped in a body reminiscent of a child, they are the exception not the rule.

Now, I'm a cis female, and have three siblings who were assigned female at birth, and we all shared a room growing up. I knew that wasn't what women looked like. Most of my teachers were middle aged women, my mother was a stay at home mom, and my Sunday school teachers were all middle aged women or older. Tons of examples.

But, despite knowing that wasn't what men looked like either, I had no friggin clue how to draw a masculine body in a less exaggerated way, and even feminine bodies I tended to just make a touch less thin.

Drawing humans from life, as part of a course has helped so much.

I encourage everyone who has a chance to take a few life drawing classes, even if you don't draw much or like drawing highly stylized works, (not a bad thing, dont worry) spending time observing humans in a deliberate, professional and safe setting really does help adjust your perception on what a normal human looks like in a healthy way. If you can, see lots of different models. Right now my class only has one, and it's already helped. It's also good for understanding proportions so you can follow or break those guidelines deliberately as you see fit.

10/10 would take again

[sunlessea]

[ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ] + [ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲 ] - wintas :)

in which i try rly hard to participate with sunday memes / [ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ] : sender and receiver are having sex to reduce stress. + [ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲 ] : sender and receiver are having a steamy makeout session. / @londonfallen

"weren't you supposed to be my better? you look pretty pathetic now, for someone who used to spend ninety percent of the time we were together bragging about your dick size." a vulgar figure of speech, not literal, and far beyond fitting the image of what london thought the sainte artist himself was like, behind closed doors. they all mooned over their image of him, a kindhearted, gentle, blushing prince charming who would sweep them off their feet, treat them like the princesses they all were ... yeah. sure. no one in their right mind would've married him, knowing who he actually was. that's why they'd eloped, he supposes. silas is out of his fucking mind.

the expression he looks down at his once self-proclaimed rival turned husband with could be described as cold, emotionless even, to those who knew little about him. he's subtle, even when they're deep in the depths of the dark alone together, tangled in sheets crossing over and around their legs. there's a slight flush to his cheeks where his breath hasn't quicken yet, and beyond that, a subtle furrow to his brow where he never smiles, or at least, didn't always. he does more, now-a-days, sometimes, every once in a blue moon. maybe most of london would find him angry, in comparison to what they knew of him in public, and draw back from this intimacy before it even started...

oh, but not silas. smug little bastard, tangled even more in the blankets than he himself had ended up, eyes alight like fire. he's desperately trying to work at the zipper of winter's slacks, the last remaining of the clothing between the both of them. his own lust is a subdued sort, blink and it's missed, in comparison to his partner already flushing pink to his exposed shoulders at the very thought of swallowing him deep.

he does look pathetic. it's sexy, too. but mostly pathetic.

"you used to have more patience when you hated me, didn't you? mm, look at you now..." he's making fun of him, where he grabs his hands and snatches them away right when silas finally starts to pull them down winter's waist. before he can complain, he shifts his knee 'tween the other's legs and presses up roughly to push him forward against his chest. he's polite, catching him by the jaw and pulling him hard, instead, into a kiss, fang pressed down into lip. where he holds his chin, his other arm wraps 'round his waist, and lets him slide forward until he's sitting over his lap, atop the hard bulge still hidden by his clothing. how vulgar, but the pressure makes him moan still where his lips part for him. his chest is warm against his own, heart thrumming where they're pressed bare against one-another. he steadies his hand 'gainst silas's hip, holding him there whilst he adjusts them more comfortably : the kiss is broken, saliva caught in string between them, but not for long. once he has him flush against him, more easily able to grind up into him ( well, he isn't the saintly sort ), he tilts his head and pulls him in to bite his lip, again.

[joshscurlyhair]

☽ 𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕔 - 𝕛𝕠𝕤𝕙 ☽

Summary: Meet Willow, she likes to spend her time in cafes and read. She likes to be her own person and is mainly introverted, what happens when she unexpectedly meets Josh in a cafe. Josh can’t seem to take his eyes off of her, there’s just something about her that’s incredibly intriguing. Will he go up and talk to her?

Warnings: language

☾Join the Taglist!☽ : @jordierama @fangirl-problems-blog

Word count: 500

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“For Willow?!”, the barista yells in the air as I subtly jolt going up to the counter where he set it on. I gave a nod and a smile then sat down next to the window.

I got out my laptop doing some assignments typing away on a APA paper I needed to finish writing. I took a sip of my iced drink and began to notice that the cafe was getting a bit packed for a Wednesday.

Hmm interesting

I shrugged it off and continue to type away on my paper. I took another sip of my iced macchiato but couldn’t shake my gut feeling of someone staring at me. I looked up and locked eyes with a guy who had curly locks, facial hair that was placed above his lips and below his chin. He was wearing light brown khakis, white shirt with a couple of layered necklaces over a brown winter coat.

He’s definitely attractive

He smirked at me and I gave a shy smile and looked down due to nerves and began typing once again.

“For Josh?!”, the barista yelled out

Josh, that’s his name

You saw he took his hot coffee and turned around searching for where to sit. He began making his way towards me, I looked down.

Oh shit he’s coming towards me

I could hear footsteps come closer to me until I saw white converse on the floor. I looked up and saw him give a cheeky smile. “Hi! Is this seat taken?”, he asked pointing to the empty chair that was in front of me. “U-uh no go ahead” I said giving a smile and adjusting myself in my seat.

Holy shit holy shit

He took a seat and placed his coffee directly in front of him. He adjusted himself in the seat then gave another smile. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you-“, “Oh no not at all! I was just finishing up” I say lying through my teeth. I closed my computer and placed it in my bag then adjusted myself in my seat once more. He clears his throat, “What’s your name?” He asks as he sipped his hot coffee. “Willow, I’m guessing yours is Josh?”, “Ah stalker huh?” He raised an eyebrow that I found attractive as hell. I gave a chuckle, “No I just heard the barista shout your name”

He gives a chuckle, “I’m just teasing ya” he says giving a wink. I began to instantly blush as I looked down. “You come here often?” I looked back up trying to keep the conversation open ended. “Yeah, I come here maybe like three times a week”, “Hmm how come I never seen you around then?” I raised an eyebrow as he chuckled noticing I was mimicking his movements. “Well, when you usually come here?”, “Only Friday through Sunday”.

“Ahhh that’s why. I come Monday through Wednesday.. maybe I need to start coming Friday through Sunday then” He says giving another wink. I chuckled and bit my lip nervously. “Well, Willow what are your hobbies?”. There was a slight pause to me thinking and gathering my thoughts. “Well, u-uh I like to read, write and maybe draw sometimes” I say giving a shy smile. “Mmm your very enigmatic”, you chuckle “I suppose I get called that a lot”.

He stared at my lips then up to my face analyzing me. “Yeah but, you’re very intriguing. Like something is pulling me to you”. You couldn’t help but start to blush again. He kept the consistent eye contact and smirked

This man has GAME!

There was a ringing in the air

“Ughh one sec”, he grabbed his phone out. “What? I’m busy”, “Seriously? Okay I’m on my way”

He hung up and looked at me. “I’m sorry I’m gonna have to go, my brother somehow lost our music sheet that we need for our next practice”

He’s in a band??

“Look I do find you very intriguing and I think I would like to get to know you. Would you like that?” He asks placing his phone in front of me with the new contact screen showed up. I began to type my phone number then my name in the blanks. I pushed the phone to him, “Yes I would Josh”

[soulnottainted]

Such a flirt! Well, I suppose... Do you get to see Kelsey often, Lucifer? If not, when you do get to see her, how do the two of you spend the day(a) together? Has she ever roped you into something that you acted like you totally hated? (I know you!! And I'm sure she knew too that you were enjoying yourself!)

F/Ovember

"Well it's just in my nature, dear. You are talking to the devil, after all.

I don't see Kelsey as often anymore, mostly since she has obligated duties with her husband. But that isn't to say that she and I don't get together once in awhile; either that or I just...show up during a sermon on Sunday and let the whole flock of the ministry gawk at me as I am just there to say hello to my daughter. Every single time I draw a crowd, I wonder why?

When Kelsey and I do spend time together, I take her to places she has never been before. We can do anything she'd like to, go anywhere her heart desires. Kelsey hasn't been many places, since she hadn't been on tour with the band, so I'm happy to show her other places in the world. But sometimes all she wants is to spend time with me in my apartment above my club. She is a quiet girl and many times needs breaks from doing things, especially socializing. I can tell when she relaxes on the couch while I play the piano, that she is thankful for moments like this.

As for something Kelsey has roped me into? Oh that is easy. Every year she goes to comic conventions. I never really got the point of those. She went off to do her thing mostly while I walked around, taking in everything. The madness someone has to have to make some of those costumes! I don't know barely any of what is being represented, but what I do know is that my daughter had a good time. Although...I did find it amusing to see people dressed up as angels and demons. The fascination humans have of evangelical being ceases to amaze me. At first trying to find appeal in the sweaty sardine can that is walking in a sea of humans trying to walk around, but...it did grow on me."