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kiss-inthekitchen · 7 months

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pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room.

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off.

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not.

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night.

That is, until you opened the door.

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said.

“Sure looks that way.”

"At least it's a queen?"

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time.

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began.

"I mean, I guess I don't really–"

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–"

"–mind as long as you–"

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement.

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be.

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window.

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.”

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.”

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team.

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it.

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep.

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still.

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke.

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind.

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers.

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right.

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that.

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again.

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you.

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together.

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell.

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal.

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation.

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.”

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him.

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“Sorry,” you managed.

“For what?”

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.”

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.”

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further.

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.”

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!”

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.”

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.”

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.”

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him.

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat.

“You just said ass.”

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.”

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.”

“I knew you’d agree.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed.

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting.

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed.

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep.

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself.

Eventually, exhaustion won out.

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what?

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black.

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?!

“Hey, you okay?”

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.”

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well.

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.”

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand.

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated.

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way.

“You were on my pillow, by the way.”

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him.

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.”

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again.

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back.

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest.

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious.

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing.

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?”

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.”

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer.

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.”

“Don’t profile me.”

“I’m not. I just know you.”

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.”

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.”

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.”

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.”

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip.

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.”

“I told you to stop profiling me.”

This time, he just hummed in response.

“And so what if I stuttered?”

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.”

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list.

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–”

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed.

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.”

“That all makes total sense.”

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved.

“Now tell me the rest of it.”

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well.

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and–

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream.

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent.

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing.

“Yes.”

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word.

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it.

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry.

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–”

“It is.”

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.”

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.”

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back.

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you.

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked.

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.”

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.”

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed.

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.”

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?”

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.”

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.”

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.”

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.”

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you.

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed.

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside.

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again.

“Okay, was it just me, or–”

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?”

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless.

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.”

“Well, you kissed me.”

“I did.”

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed.

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.”

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.”

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.”

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.”

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist.

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it.

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.”

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer.

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages.

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.”

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“You’re such an ass.”

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up.

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you.

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker.

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left.

You text back: okay?

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night.

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face.

You: what did u say?

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first.

You: i think u should say yes, obviously.

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded.

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success.

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you.

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;)

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh.

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask.

Shit.

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat.

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you?

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate??

Spencer: Yes

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace.

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn.

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth.

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed.

#so they have flip phones but i didnt want to write everything in shorthand so theyre just really fast at it. go with it #spencer texts with perfect grammar bc of course he does #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #my fics

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mangostarjam · 4 months

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knot happening (part two) — bnha, alpha!bakugou katsuki x f!reader, aged up characters, established relationship, a/b/o dynamics, use of "baby", "pipsqueak", "brat", "little shit" as pet names, dubious HR ethics, questionable sex toys, reader wears a skirt at the end, smut, creampies, oral sex, knotting, omegaverse!au for the spring fever collab run by @lorelune ! 10k words lmao

part one

your new company has some interesting policies for employee heat cycles, but your boyfriend and mate has no intention of letting you off easy

It starts with cravings.

All of Bakugou Katsuki's well intentioned efforts to keep you from dying of malnutrition or scurvy fly out the window as you enter your pre-heat. Your Pro Hero boyfriend and mate turns his nose up at the strawberry pocky you crunch on the couch, rolls his eyes at the cherry and dark chocolate chip ice cream you scoop after dinner, and pouts at the mango and sticky rice cups you devour after work.

"It all has fruit in it," you point out. "And besides, you always steal half my daifuku mochi before I can finish it. Complain about that, you thief!"

Katsuki, to his credit, retaliates by making your favorite veggie-laden meals for the cute bentos he puts together for your lunches. You pop open the container and you're greeted by stupidly cute penguins crafted from seaweed and rice, mushrooms and bell peppers nestled next to perfect rolled egg omelettes, carrots cut into little stars and cucumbers that look like clouds.

You take a photo of your lunch and send it to your boyfriend. He texts back "?????" and you frown at your phone.

Katsuki calls a moment later. "Don't tell me you're suddenly allergic to cucumbers."

His voice is rough and low — he must be in the office, if the distant chatter of his fellow heroes is anything to go by — but he's probably turned off into a side hallway because Eijiro's teasing has lately turned into casual remarks about marriage, and… yeah, of course Katsuki's gonna marry you, but he doesn't need his best friend to bring it up every time he's on the phone with you.

"I might be allergic to how cute these are," you say, but there's laughter in your voice and he scrunches his nose, so pleased he can feel the tips of his ears heat up. "How am I supposed to eat this?! This poor rice penguin has never done anything wrong in its life!"

Katsuki snorts quietly into his gloved hand. "D'you want me to make your food look ugly next time?"

You beam down at your bento and kick your feet beneath your desk. "Thanks for making me lunch, loverboy."

"Can't have you dyin' while I'm fuckin' you dumb," Katsuki's already low voice gets lower. The rough timbre of it so intimately in your ear sends a thread of desire straight to your core and you shift uncomfortably, glancing around your office. Luckily, it's empty — everyone's out for lunch because it's such a beautiful spring day, but you forgot to take your allergy medicine and you don't want to tempt disaster. "Leaving you in bed this morning was a crime."

"H-huh?" you set your feet on the ground and sit up a little straighter. "Babe, shut up. What if someone overhears you!"

"Then they'd be too damn close to you and I'll need to punch their lights out," Katsuki states matter of factly.

"So protective," you tease, settling back into your seat. He's trying to rile you up — he knows what his low tone does to you — but you're going to make it through your pre-heat without alerting your company even if it kills you. "I'll see you later, 'kay? Kick some ass, baby."

Your boyfriend mumbles something that sounds suspiciously cheesy before he hangs up, and you eat your lunch with gusto. It's day two of your pre-heat and so far it seems like nobody can tell. Your cravings are easy to pass off as a strong sweet tooth, and Katsuki's patrol schedule has kept him away from picking you up after work. You slapped a pheromone suppressor on your neck this morning and then styled up your business casual outfit with a loose silk scarf, so it should be… fine.

Your phone vibrates with a text and you swipe it open without thinking. The sound that leaves your mouth at the sight that greets you is unholy and you slam your phone facedown on your desk.

What the fuck.

"…You alright there, newbie?" Akane from Sales pauses in the act of draping her jacket over her chair. "Did you get a spam call?"

"Just peachy!" you croak out. You clear your throat as more of your coworkers file back in from their lunch break. "I thought I saw a bug, that's all!"

More like a closeup photo of your boyfriend's bulge in his hero suit, clearly stiff and straining hard against the heat resistant fabric, his easily recognizable gloved hand dangerously close to palming the thick outline —

Akane makes a funny face. "And you smashed it with your phone?"

"It was just instinct," you say sheepishly, "I'm fine with bugs where they belong, and they don't belong on my desk!"

Akane and your other coworkers nod at this and the conversation shifts, so you take advantage of everyone's inattention to pick your phone back up. You do it gingerly, as if there really is a bug squished underneath, but really you're just trying not to accidentally flash Pro Hero Dynamight's crotch shot to the world.

You can see the headlines now:

"Pro Hero Dynamight Ready to Blow!"

"Dynamight Explodes Up to the Top Ten Sexiest Pro Heroes with Infamous Shot!"

"Is the Great Explosion Murder God Packing the Heat?"

Katsuki's PR team would kill you. You quickly slide your phone beneath your desk and swipe away from your texts, breathing a sigh of relief when the (annoyingly tasteful) shot disappears from your screen.

Your phone vibrates with texts the rest of the day. No more photos (you can't tell if you should be grateful or mournful about this) but judging from the text previews you hastily swipe away on your screen, Katsuki's clearly out to get you. He seemed normal this morning — his lips brushed your cheek gently as you drew the blankets up to your chin — so what is his problem?

You finally get a chance to read his texts while waiting for your train at the station. Your eyes widen as you scroll through the messages — they're filled with his typical profanity, but he's practically written an instruction manual on all the ways he's imagined fucking you today. Your hand rises unwittingly to your pheromone suppressor patch. Maybe you should wear it at night, too, so he won't get so worked up? Though you kind of doubt it's working at all, since reading his texts is making you shift where you stand, heat pooling in your core.

The station is crowded with evening commuters — packs of students giggling and chattering among themselves, other tired office workers tapping away at their phones, little kids holding hands so they won't get separated — and nobody is paying you any mind. Maybe your suppressors are working after all? Wait — are they supposed to keep your pre-heat pheromones from leaking out or in?

Your ears perk as the pleasant tone signaling the arrival of your train jingles through the crowd. It's a quick ride three stops down to your apartment, which is one stop away from Katsuki's agency Ground Zero. When the two of you were looking for a place together, Katsuki insisted that it be just outside of his patrol range — close enough for him to get there quickly, but far enough that he would be able to actually relax at home. You can hear the familiar sound of a knife meeting a cutting board while you toe off your shoes in the genkan, lifting your nose to the air as the comforting smell of rice cooking wafts towards you.

"I'm home!" you call out, bypassing the kitchen to strip out of your work clothes. You sigh with relief as you toss your pants into the laundry basket, dragging one of Katsuki's well-worn hoodies over your head and tugging a pair of his workout shorts up your hips. They smell like him — smoky and rich and a little bit sweet — and you burrow into the comfort with a hum of pleasure.

The sizzle and crack of veggies and rice hitting the pan fill the air as you make your way into the kitchen. You follow your nose and ears happily, mouth already watering at the thought of eating more of Katsuki's cooking, but you stop dead at the entrance and make a funny strangled sound.

Asshole. Is he doing this on purpose? He's totally doing this on purpose.

"Welcome home," Katsuki says, rising from a crouch to his full, intimidating height and giving the pan another flick of his wrist. Sometimes you forget how broad your Pro Hero boyfriend is, but it's abundantly clear when he's standing in front of the stove shirtless like some kind of wet dream. He barely gives you a once over, just a casual glance of red that sends heat rushing to your cheeks before he turns his attention back to the stove.

You know — and you know he knows — that certain instincts flare up with your pre-heat. Everyone has different symptoms. The food cravings are one thing, for you, but they're manageable and easy to pass off as unrelated. Wanting to be covered in your mate's scent is another thing entirely, and while it's a relatively common symptom, it never fails to embarrass you, especially because you know how much Katsuki secretly likes it.

"What're you making?" you ask. Katsuki keeps his eyes on his pan, so you take the opportunity to ogle him freely, admiring the strong set of his shoulders and the firm lines of back muscle on full display. Stupid Katsuki with his stupid workouts making him look like a goddamn god. From your position at the kitchen entrance, you're close enough to see the pale scars crisscrossing his skin and the way the edge of his lips lift in a smug, self-satisfied smirk as he catches you checking him out. He's easily the hottest man you've ever seen in your life.

"Chicken fried rice," he says, snapping you out of your blatant stare. "It's almost done."

"You're telling me a chicken fried this rice?" you joke, grinning widely when Katsuki snorts and rolls his eyes at you. "Here, lemme set the table."

The two of you prepare for dinner companionably, though Katsuki definitely hovers more than usual. You can't help but lean back into his firm (and very naked) chest as he stands behind you while you reach up for plates, his hands heavy on your hips to help you balance. He also sets your plate piled high with fried rice next to his own at the table instead of across as usual, and when you make a questioning sound he just arches a brow expectantly.

"What? Sit and eat your fucking vegetables, pipsqueak."

"That's not my question," you giggle, accepting the seat he holds out for you. He spins it sideways easily, so that you're suddenly facing his own chair instead of the table, a casual show of strength that sends a shiver up your spine. Then he sits next to you with a grunt and immediately grabs your bare legs to drape them over his lap, forcing you to cling to his arm in surprise. "What the hell!"

"Shaddup," Katsuki mumbles, keeping a firm grip on your bare legs. "You can eat like this, right?"

You can, though you have to wiggle a bit and hold your plate in your lap. The changed angle gives you a perfect view of your boyfriend's profile, and you look at him for a moment, admiring the cut of his jawline and the slope of his nose.

"Quit starin'," he says. The pale scar along his cheek lifts when he shoots you a smug grin. "Your food's gonna get cold."

"You're the one who made me sit like this," you point out. You scratch at the side of your neck absently, but your nail catches on the suppressant patch and you pause. "Do you know if these patches are to keep the pheromones in or out?"

Katsuki takes a big bite of his fried rice and chews carefully. "Nothing's gonna stop your pre-heat from affectin' you," he says evenly. "And normally it'd keep 'em from leakin' out, but," he takes a deep breath and finally meets your eyes, "I'm your mate, so that shit doesn't work on me."

"Oh." Your voice is small even to your own ears. Katsuki's red hot gaze stays fixed on you for another long, torturous moment before he drags his attention to his food. "Is that why… you sent me a dick pic?"

Katsuki chokes on the spoonful of fried rice he just brought to his lips and his hand comes up to slap against the table. You crack a grin and pick up your own spoon. "That wasn't — wasn't a fuckin' dick pic, you perv."

"Sure looked like it to me," you say cheerfully. The fried rice is delicious and you nearly moan with satisfaction, wiggling in your seat as the flavors burst along your tongue. "It was a photo featuring the area of your body where your dick is at, so obviously, it was a dick pic!"

"Fuck off," he mumbles, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. "How was work? Anybody notice?"

"It was great," you say, "and nah, I don't think anyone noticed. I wore a scarf to hide the patch, y'know. Pretty good, huh?"

"You're a smart one," Katsuki says, and you preen under the praise. "You gonna wear a scarf the rest of the week, then?"

You shrug and wiggle your legs a little just to get Katsuki to clamp down on them with one strong arm. You flex your feet, feeling his thighs tense in turn, and eat another spoonful of dinner. "I don't think I can. It's supposed to get real hot this week and besides, I wanna… wear one of your shirts."

"Hah?" Katsuki nearly drops his spoon. "How're you gonna do that? It'll be too big for you, pipsqueak."

"I'll figure it out. I've done it before!" Your grin turns mischievous. "Want me to model for you after dinner?"

Katsuki shoots you a look. "You tryna get into my pants already, sweetheart? What happened to resisting pre-heat?"

"It's not like we'll be doing anything," you point out. "I have faith in you, babe."

Your boyfriend doesn't answer, but his hand tightens around your thigh, leaving indents in the soft give of your body. The two of you switch to safer topics, like the old ladies who ran into Katsuki on patrol (again) because they wanted to pass on their grandkids' sketches, and your new friends Akane and Shimizu who complimented your scarf. You do the dishes afterwards, but Katsuki stays glued to your back, thick arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

"I think you've got too much faith in me," Katsuki frowns, holding one of his button ups against your frame a bit later. You shed his hoodie and your shirt and bra, tossing them in the direction of the laundry basket and holding your arms out for him to dress you in his shirt. He eyes your chest openly, sending a spark of heat zipping down your spine, but slides the sleeves over your arms and helps you button it up without saying anything else.

His hands are careful as he slides the buttons home. You force yourself to breathe evenly as he crowds into your space, that smoky sweet scent filling your nose as he presses his lips to your temple and noses at your ear. His big hands with all their callouses and scars are gentle as he smooths the fabric over your shoulders, leaving a wave of warmth as he slides them around to your back to tug you closer into his embrace.

You hug him back, resting your palms against his shoulder blades and pressing into the skin there as he shifts. It's quiet as he breathes you in, his chest rising and falling against your own. Distantly you can hear trains rattling on the tracks, teenagers being rowdy in front of the nearby konbini, babies wailing for bedtime several doors down. You close your eyes and listen to Katsuki's heartbeat instead, though a furrow forms between your eyebrows as his heartbeat quickens.

"Are you… good?" you whisper.

"…'m fine."

"Okay… are you having a heart attack?"

"Don't be stupid," Katsuki snorts. "As if I'd get worked up over a lil' huggin'."

"Sure, sure," you grin up at him, smiling wider as his eyes soften at your expression. "It's not like I'm your mate or anything. It's fine if you get worked up, babe — I think you're pretty hot, too."

"Aren't you supposed to be figurin' out tomorrow's outfit?"

You detach yourself from him reluctantly, though he doesn't let you get very far, latching onto your wrist and padding along behind you as you go to peruse the closet. Katsuki pulls you into his chest again as you eye the various options. Despite favoring athletic, technical clothes — fabrics that are easy to move in at a moment's notice — he does own a wide range of clothing thanks to his various sponsorships.

"Does it ever bother you, wearing clothes with these brands associated with them?" you ask, rubbing a silky suit jacket sleeve and peering up at him.

"Nah," Katsuki shrugs. "My team's halfway decent 'bout choosin' who we partner with, so it's not a big deal."

"Should I be less sensitive about my company's branded sex toys?" Your voice is small. You turn back to the clothes so you don't have to look at him, but Katsuki presses a kiss to the back of your hair and huffs.

"If it bothers you, it bothers you," he says gruffly. "We're good, baby. You don't hafta tell your company squat. I'm still your mate no matter what."

You repeat Katsuki's words to yourself the next day, swathed in his button up shirt tucked into a pair of his trousers with the ankles rolled up, as Akane and Shimizu show you the storeroom where they keep the company branded sex toys. Everyone's email notifications had pinged this morning with the news that Kensuke in Accounting would be entering his heat soon, so your two new coworker besties had dragged you along on a mission to prepare his celebratory heat cycle package.

"Wow," you say blankly, "they really are branded."

Shimizu holds up a cock ring with your company's name emblazoned along the side. "When you're in the moment, you really don't notice the name, but I guess it is a little garish, huh?"

"It's just so… big," you say, pulling over another box. "Is the company worried we'll forget who we work for or something?"

"I think they just want to be supportive," Akane laughs, holding up a dildo that wobbles wildly in her hand. "We'll need to have our drinking party at the end of the week, I think. Kensuke-san said he'll bring his mate if it's late enough for her to make it. I guess her alpha senses get really sensitive when he's this close to heat."

"You'll come, won't you?" Shimizu asks you. She works in HR and it shows as she packs up a care basket with ease. "Most people don't bring their mates unless it's their own pre-heat party, but I'm sure everyone would love to meet yours!"

You wrinkle your nose before you can help it. The idea of alcohol and Katsuki and your coworkers sounds like a bad combination, especially when you're desperately trying to hide your own pre-heat symptoms from the company. "He doesn't really drink…"

"There'll be nonalcoholic drinks served too," Akane says. "My mate gets her panties all in a twist when I come home drunk."

"It's alright if you don't want to," Shimizu assures you. "We'll just meet him when it's time for your own pre-heat party!"

You freeze in the act of pulling out a package of anal beads where each bead seems to have one character of your company's name stamped on it, but luckily neither of them seem to notice. "Can you do me a favor, in the spirit of our new friendship?" you ask, "Could you guys please choose the toys with the least amount of branding?"

Akane and Shimizu laugh. "Aye, aye, boss!"

"We should just start prepping yours now," Akane says breezily. "That way we'll be ready when it hits you!"

"We can even give it to you early," Shimizu adds, "and I'll just mark it off in your file. You've got next week off, so maybe you can put it to good use ahead of time."

She winks and you laugh nervously, but thankfully they don't know you well enough yet to pick up on it. "That would be great, actually," you say, fidgeting with a packet of flavored lube. "I'm sure my boyfriend will love that."

There's a knock at the door as the three of you dig into boxes and sort misplaced toys into their proper shelves. Someone you vaguely recognize from the IT department pokes their head in and immediately zeroes in on you. "Ah, sorry to interrupt," they say sheepishly, glancing at the fuzzy handcuffs Shimizu is brandishing, "but it looks like your mate is here, and he says it's important."

You stare at them. "My… mate…?"

"Uh. Yes," they say, "Mr. Dynamight?"

What?

You wave goodbye to Akane and Shimizu and thank the IT person for the notice before speed-walking towards the entrance lobby of your building. The elevators always take too long, so you head for the stairs, even though it'll take you out towards the back end of the building. There's no reason for Katsuki to show up at your workplace, especially not when he should still be on patrol. He hasn't messaged you much today, either, but that's not unusual. Did something happen? Is he hurt?

Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that you nearly miss the gruff "whoa!" as a densely muscled arm suddenly swings out to snag you by the waist. You're lifted straight off your feet and shoved into a supply closet before you even have a chance to open your mouth and scream, but Katsuki is quick to slap a rough hand over your lips.

"Shh, it's just me, shit, sorry," he grunts, wincing as you bite his hand. "Fuck, your teeth are sharp."

"Katsuki!" You have the presence of mind to keep your voice low as you shout. He must have a reason for ambushing you in the back of your company building, so even if you don't know what's going on, you know better than to risk getting caught. "What are you doing here?"

The closet is dark, though light seeps through the bottom of the door he's shoved you against from the hallway he just caught you in. You can barely make out his deep red eyes with the lighting and his gauntlets and gloves resting on the shelf by his shoulder — everything else is cast in shadows. "I needed to see you."

"… huh?"

"I'm not losing, you got that? I'm just makin' up for yesterday."

"What're you talking ab— hey!" You back up into the door with a thunk as Katsuki leans forward, his thick arms caging you in on either side. "Bakugou Katsuki I swear on your All Might trading cards I'll knee you in the balls if you blow my cover here."

He snorts and ducks his head closer. You can feel the soft puffs of his laughter against your neck as you crane your face away, desperate to maintain the upper hand here even though his proximity is triggering something alarming between your thighs.

"Knew you'd look hot as fuck in my clothes," he mumbles, inhaling sharp along the soft skin of your neck. "You smell so fucking good, too."

"I used a strawberry lip balm today," you breathe, careful to stay pressed back against the door. Katsuki is close enough now that you can feel his chest rumble when he laughs.

He presses his lips to the hammering pulse beneath your jaw. "I'm not gonna blow your fuckin' cover," he says lowly. "I'm just gettin' a little taste."

And then he nips at your skin, mere centimeters away from your scent glands — and you moan.

Loudly.

Desperately.

Fuck him. You're sensitive this far into your pre-heat. Desire thrums through you like a plucked string and you lose your tenuous grasp on your self control. All you can think about is Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki as hormones flood your bloodstream and your subdued omega instincts rise to the surface, pheromone suppressor be damned. Your hands are in his hair before you've registered it, yanking him up to kiss you. It's a testament to Katsuki's iron will and his love for you that he lets you drag him into place, though he can't quite kiss you properly because he's smirking too hard. You bite at his lip in retaliation, but that only makes him groan low in his chest and the sound zips straight to your core.

You're so warm. Hot, even, flames of pleasure licking up your spine. You grab onto his shoulders and tremble as he shoves one hard, muscled thigh between your legs, flexing and pressing upwards until your weight rests firmly on top of him. "K-Katsuki…"

"What's the matter, baby?"

"This is so fucking unfair," you whine, tugging at him until he drags you forward by the hips. The friction is delicious and intense, even through your borrowed trousers and the thick fabric of his hero suit, and you can do nothing but hold on for your life as Katsuki guides you into riding his thigh. The easy way his biceps flex and his overwhelming strength turn your mind a little fuzzy. "Why'd you — why're you —"

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about you, brat," Katsuki grunts, pressing his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bare your neck for him instinctively, presenting for him, but he tilts his face up to nip at your ear instead. "Wearin' my clothes and smellin' like me —"

"You're my mate," you gasp out, fisting his hair. "Don't I always smell a little like you?"

Katsuki laughs and stops dragging you along his thigh, shoulders shaking harder when you whimper in protest. You can feel the sharp wave of your impending orgasm recede with every rough chuckle exhaled against your skin. "You want me to keep goin'?"

"You started this, you asshole —"

"Beg for it, then."

Oh. Wait. "Fuck you," you hiss, shoving at him to let you down. He obeys easily, keeping his large hands on your waist to steady you. Desire is still humming hot in your veins, but the cold logic of your brain is working overtime to bring you back down. He's just trying to get you to lose, huh? "Did you come here just to rile me up? What's your problem?"

"Your pre-heat is gettin' to me," Katsuki says, nosing at your temple. Your already flushed body spikes with embarrassment at the tender gesture. "I didn't wanna leave you this mornin', and you were so fuckin' hot yesterday. You sure we can't just kickstart it early?"

"I thought you said you could resist me," you mumble, "what happened to that?"

"I am resistin' you."

You pull away slightly to shoot a pointed look at his body caging you against the door. You get an eyeful of his firm chest and those strong arms you love so much, which doesn't exactly help your predicament, but Katsuki just grins, sharp and beautiful even in the dim light of the closet.

"Baby, if it were up to me, I'd be balls deep in you right now," Katsuki says. Your toes curl in your shoes as you bite back a whine. "But we're tryin' to keep it a secret, yeah?"

This was a mistake. You know — you know your boyfriend has a competitive streak a mile wide, and there's no way he's going to let you walk away from calling him weak for you. Never mind that he's been behaving himself so far — letting you try on his clothes in front of him, sending dirty texts but not acting on any of them — now it seems like he's ready to fight back. Making dinner shirtless last night was definitely a small test for your own self control, but now he's breaking out the big guns by ambushing you at work.

"You're terrible," you breathe, and Katsuki just grins.

"Better get back to work, or your coworkers'll come lookin' for you."

As if your coworkers read his mind, behind you come the distinct sound of clattering footsteps going down the hall. You hear someone beyond the thin barrier of the door you're still pressed against. "Do you think Dynamight will give me his autograph?"

Katsuki meets your glare in the dim light and his grin shifts into a smirk, though his red eyes are unmistakably fond as he regards you. "I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

"You suck. You're evil. They should take away your Pro Hero license."

Your boyfriend laughs quietly and leans forward to brush his lips along your cheek. You tilt your face up into the smoky sweetness of him and manage to kiss the edge of his jaw as he pulls back. He hums with pleasure, but his smirk is still sharp as he eyes you. "Yeah, yeah. You're the one who poked the big bad alpha, you little shit."

Katsuki gets the two of you out of the supply closet and disappears before anyone in your company can corner him for an autograph. You spend a few minutes splashing water on your face in the bathroom, hurriedly trying to cool down as the lingering aftereffects of nearly getting marked race through your bloodstream. Once you deem your reflection (and raging hormones) passable, you head back upstairs and get back to work.

Or at least, you try to get back to work. The stacks of reports are less enticing to you now that you know Katsuki is really trying to get you to beg for him. It all makes sense to you now. The dirty texts and shirtless cooking were testing the waters — his way of seeing how affected you are by him, as if you haven't been mated for years at this point — and now he's ready to leverage your omega biology against you any way that he can. There's no rule saying you can't fuck during your pre-heat, but neither of you have tried thanks to the unspoken agreement that it would make this silly competition less fun.

But you really, really want to fuck him.

"Is everything alright?" Shimizu's voice snaps you out of your vivid fantasies and you blink at your reflection in the dark screen of your monitor. "Your computer's been asleep for ten minutes now. Is your mate okay?"

"O-oh, he's fine," you flush with embarrassment at getting caught slacking. "He just needed to give me something I forgot at home."

"Oh, was that all? That's so nice of him," Shimizu says. "Make sure you ask if he wants to come to the pre-heat drinking party for Kensuke-san."

"Is that really okay?" you ask. "It won't set anything off for Kensuke-san and his mate?"

"Nah. They're bound to be all over each other, anyway. We're all used to it — the drinking party is always more for everyone else to send them off with well wishes," Shimizu explains. "The company picks up the tab, too. It started out as a one-off, and we didn't think the company would keep doing it, but we're all in agreement that if the company is going to pay, then we're going to go out and play."

That… makes sense. Even in a company as supportive as this one, of course it doesn't erase the fact that you're all working under them. "Is that… what happened with the sex toys?"

"Yeah," Shimizu slides into the seat next to yours as she picks up on your interest. "At first, everyone thought it was super cringe and weird, right? Why would we want company branded toys? But it's free stuff, and even if we've got great benefits and paid time off and work isn't unbearable, it's still free stuff. Nobody passes up on the free stuff. We all need to work, so we might as well take advantage of everything the company is willing to give us!"

"And you said you don't really notice the branding…"

"I mean, honestly, you've gone through heats before, haven't you? Are you paying attention to anything besides your mate?"

You snort in agreement. "Back when Katsuki and I were figuring out our mating bond, he triggered my heat on accident and I climbed onto his lap in the middle of an izakaya. He had to help me through it in one of his friends' apartments because it was the closest he could get to a private space nearby."

The two of you ended up buying Denki a whole new mattress and bedding set to replace everything you irreparably messed up that week. His friends were gentle in their good natured ribbing, but you'd unfailingly blush any time you passed by that izakaya, and Katsuki couldn't eat there after patrols anymore without popping a boner.

"That sounds typical," Shimizu says, grinning. "I don't care about mates, myself, but I love hearing about the crazy shenanigans the bond ends up putting you through."

"Is that why there's a company-wide announcement anytime someone is about to enter their heat?" you ask. It's a little risky, bringing it up, but Shimizu is nice and clearly eager to chat on company time. "Most places just mark it as time off."

Shimizu twirls her hair around her finger as she hums in thought. "That started before I joined the company, but I think it's more like… public image? I heard it's the vice president who fully supports heats and likes buying all sorts of new toys for everyone to try out. And if we're celebrating it all so publicly, the president can't protest without looking bad!"

"That's… good," you say. You don't know what else to say to this — but thankfully Shimizu hops out of her seat and waves goodbye cheerily as a chattering group of coworkers enters the room. You try to refocus on your work, but not even a packet of chocolate dipped dried mangoes is enough to help you through more than a few reports.

Hearing about the company policies from a coworker's mouth and seeing everyone chatting excitedly about the end-of-the-week drinking party lifts your spirits. Like you told Katsuki originally, you know you'll get used to the idea of everyone knowing about your upcoming heat. It's just taken some time, and seeing how nobody treats Kensuke from Accounting any differently helps.

Now that you're feeling marginally more comfortable about the whole thing with your company, you feel like you can turn to the real task at hand: teasing your mate and winning this silly game of who can make the other beg for it first.

You skip your stop on the train ride home and hop off at the station closest to Ground Zero. Eijiro was delighted to conspire with you in sending Katsuki back to the agency a little early on his shift and the front desk receptionist lets you into the upper floors with a wide smile. If Katsuki can ambush you at work, it stands to reason that you should return the favor.

You slip into his private office and silently thank Mina for insisting on having strong frosted glass for the windows separating their offices from the cubicles of the sidekicks outside. Katsuki's office is plain overall — there's a large wooden desk with a cushy chair behind it, but otherwise it looks like a normal office space at first glance. As you walk around in it, however, you spot a few All Might collectibles, and there's an omamori hanging off of his desk lamp that you picked up for him at your first shrine visit of the year. He also has a polaroid photo of the two of you — his arm slung around your shoulders as you laughed, his free hand flipping off the camera — washi taped to the bottom of his monitor.

"The fuck're you doin' in here," Katsuki demands, striding into the room and shutting the door behind him with a slam. You jerk up in surprise. He got back a lot sooner than you expected.

"How'd you know I was here?" you ask curiously. Katsuki rolls his eyes as he begins dismantling his hero outfit, the loud clanking and clicking of his gauntlets filling the room as you walk over to help him.

"Smelled you from the station," he says. "As if I'd miss you tryin' to sneak in here."

You grin to yourself, somehow pleased that he sensed you even though he's ruined your chances of surprising him. "I just wanted to help you out," you say, trailing your hands up his arms. Katsuki raises one ash blonde eyebrow, clearly sensing your aim, but he lets you shove his hero mask up into his hair, exposing his forehead.

"Oh yeah?" His gauntlets hit the floor with a thunk and he rips off his gloves, tossing them aside as well. "Help me with what, brat?"

"Just, y'know," you bat your eyelashes up at him just to make him crack a sharp grin, "returning the favor from earlier today."

You kiss him first, a deep, melting kiss that makes your knees go a little weak even though you're the one initiating it. Katsuki's eyes narrow as you sink to your knees, but he doesn't stop you as you palm at his already hard erection through the fabric of his hero suit. "Oi, don't start something if you're not gonna finish it."

"I just want a little taste," you say, grinning as he glares down at you for throwing his words from earlier back at him. You hurry to unbutton and unzip his pants, dragging it down his hips and catching on his thick thighs as his cock springs free. He's leaking at the tip, pearly white and oozing, and he groans when you lick your lips at the sight.

"Fuckin'… don't stare at it."

You tsk. "So impatient." Katsuki threads his fingers through your hair gently as you lean forward to press your tongue against the slit, sliding his cock into your mouth with a wet suck. His hips jerk forward as he grunts, but his hand is endlessly gentle in your hair.

"Motherfu— oh, that's good," he pants, tipping his head back and exposing the strong lines of his throat as he groans. You hollow your cheeks and suck his cock down, settling into a familiar rhythm of bobbing on his dick, sliding your tongue along the underside and teasing at the slit as much as you can. You keep one hand on his thigh for balance and use the other to grab the rest of his length, squeezing in tandem with your bobbing. Wet, slick sounds fill the air as you choke and drool around his cock, and the way he throbs in the heat of your mouth sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sh-shit baby, yeah, just like t-that, fuck," Katsuki moans, his husky voice cracking a little on the words. He tips his head forward to watch the way his cock disappears down your throat, thumbing at your cheek and the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "You little — you little shit, you're gonna make me fuckin' come —"

You let go of his cock to cup at his balls, hanging heavy at the base of him, fondling them as you suck him deeper into your mouth. The strain on your throat makes you choke around him and he grunts, all of his muscles straining as he struggles not to blow his load. You choke on his cock a few more times, your omega senses singing in your veins with the thrill of pleasuring your mate, but as soon as you feel the telltale signs of his impending orgasm, you pull yourself off of him.

Katsuki nearly knocks you over. "You little — I'm gonna eat you alive you — fuck —"

You suckle at the tip of his cock, smiling up at him as he throbs concerningly in your loose grip. He huffs with the crash of his ruined orgasm and stares down at you in aggravated silence. "You want me to keep going?" you ask innocently, close enough that your lips get smeared with precum and saliva as you talk. Your voice is hoarse. "Just say the magic words, baby."

Your boyfriend seems to realize what you want a few seconds after you speak, as if it takes him a moment for his brain to comprehend full sentences. You peer up at him, blinking slowly, his cock mere centimeters from your lips as his face goes through approximately three different stages of grief.

"You're the worst," Katsuki grumbles, shoving you away and folding himself into a squat. You swipe at your face with the back of your hand, grimacing at the spit as you clean yourself up. He notices, because of course he does, and you watch with interest as Katsuki shoves himself upright to wobble to his desk. He tosses you a few tissues and pulls up his pants and boxers before crouching beside you to help you wipe your face. "The second your heat hits, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to feel your legs, you brat."

You suppress a shiver at his words and scratch at your suppressant patch, hidden beneath the high collar of your borrowed shirt. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Katsuki laughs, a short bark that makes you grin. "I hope you're ready, loser," he says, eyeing your lips. "C'mere and give me a kiss."

You wrinkle your nose. "I have dick breath."

"Like I give a shit, pipsqueak." Katsuki nips at your lip as you smile into the kiss, holding onto his shoulders for balance and sneakily smoothing your hands over the dense muscle there. "What're you smilin' about?"

"Just feeling you up."

"Hah?" He's so pretty when he blushes, pink rising high on his cheekbones and staining the tips of his ears red. You nuzzle into his strong neck, inhaling his comforting smoky sweet scent with a sigh of relief. You can feel your omega instincts settling as his scent envelops you properly. Katsuki seems to feel it, too, nudging into your hair and wrapping strong arms around you to keep you close.

After a moment, your legs start to cramp up from the awkward position, so the two of you clamber back up to your feet. Katsuki keeps a firm grip around your arm as you wiggle the feeling back into your toes, and you take advantage of his support to lean heavily against him. "Hey, Katsuki," you say, peering up at him sideways, "when did you steal my fruit themed washi tape?"

"I didn't steal it," he says. You arch an eyebrow. "I just borrowed it." You blink up at him. "Quit fuckin' starin'. It reminds me of you."

Oh. Your heart does a funny little flutter in your chest, which is a little ridiculous considering how long you've been together and the fact that he's literally your mate, but you let the feeling wash over you anyway and beam up at him. "I love you, too."

Katsuki's expression promptly freezes before he rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft. "Let's go already. It's gettin' late."

He holds your hand on the walk to the train station and acts as your wall against the crush of evening commuters. You're clingy — tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, slipping your fingers through the belt loops of his pants — but Katsuki indulges you, clearly feeling the effects of your pre-heat just as much as you are.

Dinner is a comfortable, teasing affair. You bury your nose into the strong lines of his back as he cooks, pinching the skin of his stomach whenever he makes a snarky remark. He asks about your day and makes you laugh while recounting one of the old ladies on his patrol route who's taken to giving him pointers about how to make cuter bentos.

"You could learn a thing or two from her," you giggle, breathing in deeply.

"Watch it, brat, or I'm puttin' those rice penguins in jail."

The two of you refrain from riling each other up the rest of the night, sinking into the other aspects of your pre-heat instead. He watches with a wrinkled nose as you down a strawberry sando picked up from the konbini after dinner, but he lets you pat your night cream onto his skin and nuzzles your neck while you're tending to your own nightly skincare routine. Katsuki keeps a heavy arm around your shoulders as you tuck yourself into his side, throwing a leg over his thighs as he settles into bed with you.

This is your favorite part of the day — listening to the steady thump of his heart with his scent all around you, teasing him and feeling the low rumble of his voice as he snarks back, running the pads of your fingers over the scars crossing his chest idly and basking in the safety and security of Bakugou Katsuki being in your arms. It's always nice when you can fall asleep with him, when he isn't holed up in his office poring over mission reports or out on the streets taking down villains. You know he'll never say it out loud, but he always kisses you before leaving for patrol in the early mornings, always tucks the blankets back up to your chin to keep out the pre-dawn chill. He has spans of time where he's out more often than not working on taking down big missions, but he always comes back to you.

And with your heat approaching quickly, he starts pawning off his later patrols in order to pick you up from work. This is something like torture for you, personally, because he always smells so fucking good and looks so hot all rumpled and cozy in his post-work clothes. Katsuki makes a funny sound in the back of his throat when you greet him with a hug, slipping his hands a little lower than normal to squeeze your ass and smirking when you squeak and rip yourself away from him.

Luckily he's agreed to meet you a few blocks away from your company building, so you can escape before any of your coworkers notice the two of you. Katsuki gets handsy the closer you get to your heat, but he doesn't push it any further than blatant groping when you pass by him at home, so you retaliate by feeling him up whenever possible. You have no idea if blue balling him at work earlier in the week put the two of you in a stalemate, but you keep your guard up anyway and play by his unspoken rules to keep it to touching only.

It sucks, though.

Every touch makes you shiver; every graze of his lips makes you warm. You can feel the deep, intrinsic ache of your heat simmering just below the surface, the wellspring of desire thrumming through your veins. You're tense — Akane and Shimizu cajole you into fancy beverage breaks because they think you're stressing out too much about work — but your omega senses quiver like a roiling sea being brought to boil, only partially satiated by Katsuki's frequent touches and attention.

It all comes to a head at Kensuke's pre-heat party. Honestly, you should've begged off, but you didn't want to draw suspicion and everyone kept saying how they wanted to meet your mate. Kensuke himself brings along a Dynamight t-shirt in the hopes of a signature, which is just so cute you can't bring yourself to ditch the party.

"Congrats and good luck with your heat," you beam, toasting with Kensuke and his mate, a very pretty brunette who keeps her hand firmly around Kensuke's arm. She gives you a grin and a wink.

"Thanks," she says, "though we shouldn't need it. Ken-chan and I are old hats at this now."

"Your mate's scent is pretty strong, huh?" Kensuke says, tilting his nose up in spite of the grilled skewers being handed around. "It's almost like you're the one in pre-heat with how overpowering his scent is over yours."

"Haha," you swipe a skewer and pretend to be intensely interested in the slightly charred yakiniku. "You're probably just confusing my scent since you're in pre-heat, Kensuke-san!"

"Hm, I guess so," he says easily. His expression suddenly perks up, but you don't need to turn to see why. Every hair on your body raises as that comforting, overwhelming, smoky sweet scent washes over you. "Oh look! It's really Dynamight!"

Fuck.

You feel his red hot stare burrowing into you, and you know without a doubt that he's caught the way you've tensed up. You can feel your nipples perk against the silk fabric of your shirt, straining through your bra, and your panties get undeniably damp as his gaze drags along your form. You feel warm, warmer than you should be in this partially outdoor izakaya, and the air suddenly feels stifling, like you're swimming in smoke.

Katsuki's hand is heavy on your shoulder. You feel his touch like a brand, searing straight through your meager defenses, a spark that flickers as it drifts down to the well of your desire. You know — you know that once it catches, once it alights — you're both screwed.

"Hey, babe," you chirp, leaning into his arm as if your entire body isn't thrumming with want. "This is Kensuke-san and his mate! He brought one of your shirts — would you pretty please sign it?"

Katsuki's red eyes flash as he nods. To everyone else at the party, he probably looks normal. Just a regular Pro Hero alpha, strong and exuding power, all dense muscle and grace and skill, little sparks flying from his hands as he adds a tiny explosion smudge to the end of his signature on Kensuke's merch shirt. The guest of honor and his mate thank Katsuki profusely, and you take advantage of their distraction to slide away towards the bathrooms inside the izakaya proper.

This isn't good. You need to figure out how to get out without anyone noticing that Katsuki's been eye-fucking you since he got here, and then you need to bolt home so you can collapse into your heat in peace. One more touch from your mate and you'll probably drop right into it, but there's no way Katsuki will be able to keep his hands off you tonight.

You press yourself flat against the concrete wall in the hallway for the bathrooms, heart hammering in your chest. Forget worrying about your company's pre-heat shenanigans — you have a new fear unlocked: going into heat at a party full of coworkers.

"Whoa, hey!" Akane's a little louder than usual, a little wobblier on her feet. "The bathrooms are here, yeah?"

You manage to laugh, though there's a pitch of desperation in it that she thankfully doesn't notice. "Yup, they're right here! I just needed a breather. Hey, what happened to sticking to the nonalcoholic stuff?"

"Aw, yeah, I'm having those next," Akane flaps her hand at you breezily. "I'll sober up before I get home! Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout me! Hey, have I ever told you how nice your skin looks? Like, whoaaa."

This makes you giggle. "Do you need help in the bathroom?"

"Nope!" She shoots you a thumbs up. "See ya soon!"

You watch with amusement as she stumbles into the bathroom, but she doesn't hit anything on her way inside, so you lean back against the wall again and take a deep breath. You're aching — a deep, insistent pulse throbbing between your legs as a rich smoky caramel scent tickles at your instincts. Oh, shit.

You barely manage step away from the wall when suddenly Katsuki's there, looming big and broad and setting off every alarm bell ringing in your head. He eyes you with a flinty glare that's more black than red for a moment before he huffs and grabs your hand.

"Uh —"

"Zip it or I'll fuck you right here," Katsuki grits out. Oh, god. Your panties are sticking to your folds, tacky and damp, and you bite back a whimper as he pulls you along. His hand is warm around yours, and even though he's tugging you towards the back entrance of the izakaya, he never moves too quickly for you to keep up.

The two of you burst out into the back alleyway and Katsuki spares a quick glance around before he's on you.

He keeps a hand on the back of your head as he slams you into the dirty brick wall, shielding you even as he wrenches your waist towards him to grind his incriminatingly hard length against you. He kisses you like he wants to eat you alive, wiping out all coherent thought in your brain as your senses strain towards him. "You're gonna kill me," he grunts. You whimper into the kiss and clutch at his shoulders for dear life as he licks into your mouth, filthy and wet, swallowing down your pitched moans as he rocks his clothed cock against your center.

"What d'you want? Fingers or mouth?"

Your eyelashes flutter open in confusion. Your mind feels hazy, lost in the smoky sweetness of your mate, your focus entirely zeroed in on the throbbing of your pussy as Katsuki swears low beneath the clattering of the izakaya door opening.

"Wh— whoops!" the voice sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it. You blearily try to turn your head towards the sound, but Katsuki anchors you closer to him, covering you with his broad shoulders. "I was just — oh! You two should head home! I'll let everyone know you had an emergency!"

The roar of the crowds inside the izakaya rises in volume again before the door clangs shut. Katsuki picks you up before you can figure out what's happening, a strong hand tucking beneath your thighs as you cling to his neck. "Hold on tight."

"What're you— Katsuki, what the fuck!?" The loud, snapping, popping sound of explosions echo in the night before you're suddenly shooting straight into the sky, air rushing past you like you're flying. You tuck your face into his neck and swallow down an aborted scream, because, well — you are flying, propelled through the city skyline by Katsuki's explosive power.

Your boyfriend laughs. The shaking of his chest is familiar, at least, and you concentrate on that and the strong, sweet scent of his scent gland right beneath your lips. It would be downright disastrous for you to bite him now, while you're soaring through the city leaving fireworks in your wake, but you can't help kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck and shoulder as your body shivers with want.

There's a thud as he lands heavily and then a muttered curse before the tinkle of glass meeting concrete filters into your ears. You take a peek and catch sight of your apartment's balcony curtains fluttering in the wind, but the perspective is all wrong — why're you looking in as if you're —

"Katsuki," you pinch one of his strong shoulders, "did you just break into our apartment?"

"I'll get the glass replaced next week," Katsuki says, stepping inside and kicking off his boots. You're shivering, hot, feverish. He's warm, too — as usual — but sweat beads across his brow and you know you're close. "Bed, now. Or all our neighbors'll hear you screamin' my name."

Katsuki doesn't put you down. He carries you in a princess hold, the hand supporting your back smelling like smoke and soot, and he kicks the bedroom door shut with one socked foot. "Katsuki, Katsuki," he mocks, and suddenly you realize you've been chanting his name, fingers clenching tight to the hairs on the back of his head. "What d'you want, baby? Fingers or mouth?"

"I want you —"

His laugh is rough, a tortured sound spilling from his lips as he drops you on the bed and immediately kneels between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat as he slides your shoes off and tosses them aside. You lean up on your elbows to watch, wide eyed and breathless, as he trails his lips along the bare skin of your calf, hiking your skirt up with every beat of your heart. "I want you, too," he mutters, pupils blown wide with lust, his smirk pressing into your thigh. "But answer the question."

Your body thrums with anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your core like a siren song. "Katsuki, please —"

Katsuki snaps. A loud riiip tears through the air as he tosses aside the ruined fabric of your panties and then he's on you, his tongue licking dirty and insistent through your folds. You choke on a moan, hips canting into the air as pleasure sparks in your synapses, chasing the feeling as he eats you out like a man starved.

"Katsuki, Ka— nghh, Katsuki, please —"

Your boyfriend swirls his tongue around your clit and you nearly sob as you clench around nothing, your inner walls spasming with your near orgasm. Your thighs are tense, locked tight around his head. Katsuki doesn't seem to mind, lapping at your slick and groaning into your warmth, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to hold you down.

Distantly you hear yourself whimpering and whining, but Katsuki continues to torture you, bringing you to the brink and pulling back as soon as you start to spasm. Somewhere in the depths of your mind you know there's a way to get him to — to fuck you properly —

You release the blanket you've been twisting in a death grip and scrabble for the pheromone patch on your neck. It takes a few tries as you pant helplessly, your fingers sliding off your sweaty skin, but as soon as your nail digs under the edge you rip it off and drown.

"Haah, fuck you —"

Katsuki rips himself away from your fluttering pussy with a groan and shoves his pants down awkwardly, the thick fabric catching on his thighs but low enough that his cock springs free. You whine at the sight, reaching for him, and he huffs out a laugh as he clambers over you. "You asked for it," he warns, but his voice cracks as the tip of his cock nudges against your wet folds.

"Oh, god, please please please. In," you grab at his arms and tilt your hips up, "Please get inside me."

"Fucking — hell —" Katsuki groans as he pushes inside, but his self control is at an all time low. He doesn't want to hurt you, but you're so wet and warm and your velvety walls are practically squeezing him in a vice grip.

He shoves every hard inch of his cock into you with a grunt, kissing you hard as you fall off the edge into bliss.

White. Sparks. It takes you a moment to come back to your senses, a moan punching through your chest as Katsuki pants into your neck. "Fuck."

"Yeah?" He rolls his hips and you whine at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock, wiggling as best as you can beneath him. His skin is sweaty and sticky against yours, and you realize pulled his own shirt off. He's shoved your borrowed shirt up and off so that you're nearly naked, and out of the corner of your eye you spot your bra dangling from the doorknob where he tossed it away.

"Katsuki, c'mon, move," you plead. He digs his elbows into the mattress on either side of your head and rolls his hips again, dragging every rock solid inch of him against your insides. You clench around him, sparks skittering up your veins as he bullies his way back in, and then he's gone.

Katsuki fucks you into the mattress. You can barely string together a sentence, holding onto his arms as he shoves himself deep with every thrust. The overpowering scent of him fills the air along with the smell of sex and sweat and your choked off moans. You cling to him as best as you can, tilting your neck up as an offering as his thrusts get deeper and harder, crying out when he reaches to rest your legs on his shoulders, ankles dangling by his head as the changed angle lets his cock kiss a spot inside you that makes you sob.

"Oh, oh, Katsuki, fuck please I need you I want you please please please —"

"I — I got you," he grunts, "just fucking — hah you've gotta —"

"Oh I'm gonna cum, I'm — Katsuki I'm gonna cum!"

Katsuki growls as you leap off the edge again, pressing a strangely sweet kiss to your lips before leaning down further and licking along the side of your neck. You barely have a moment to register what he's doing before his body locks up and he bites you, marking you as his cock spurts and kicks inside you.

"Oh, fuck —"

The heady rush of pheromones sends you spinning dizzily higher, a pleasure so intense lighting up your nerves you nearly black out. Distantly you can still feel Katsuki cumming, thick ropes of white painting your insides as he rocks his hips in tiny, incessant motions against you. He lets go of your neck with a grunt. And then you feel it.

"Ah. Ah." The swell of his knot is thick and alarming, but you force yourself not to tense as he locks up with you. The overwhelming feeling sends your nerves buzzing and you tilt your head to kiss him, languid and sweet.

"How's it?" he asks, breaking the kiss just to press his sweaty forehead against yours. You meet his deep red eyes and brush a kiss along the pink swell of his cheekbones. "I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you sigh. Your heart is still thumping like a drum in your chest, but Katsuki is warm and solid and unyielding around and inside you. You're so full. You nuzzle into the neck of your mate. "You're lucky I'm so damn bendy."

The first knot is always the most lucid, the relief of sliding into heat lending clarity to both of your senses before dissolving into a messy, incoherent sex fest. By the end of the cycle you'll have lost track of how many times and how many ways Katsuki takes you — though you know he's fond of the shower and he used to like propping you up against the balcony doors…

"Did you really break the balcony door?" you ask suddenly, disrupting Katsuki's careful kiss to your jaw. Your boyfriend snorts, slowly sliding your legs off his shoulders and wincing lightly as his knot jostles inside you.

"If I had to go through the apartment I would've taken you in the goddamn elevator."

"Oh." You wince as his knot slips slightly. Another thought leaps unbidden to the front of your mind. "Who was that at the izakaya?"

Katsuki shrugs. "Some chick. The one you were helpin' to the bathroom."

Your brain still feels fuzzy with endorphins and the afterglow of white hot pleasure, so it takes you a moment longer to figure out who he's talking about. You groan. "Oh, no… not Akane…"

"She said she'd take care of it," Katsuki assures you, nosing along your neck. "And 'sides, that's not what you should be worried 'bout."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

The grin Katsuki shoots you is shit-eating and terribly, annoyingly endearing.

"You begged for it first."

A few days later, while Katsuki heats up some premade food so neither of you die of malnutrition, you finally remember to turn on your phone. It pings! with notifications, but one flagged as "important" catches your eye.

Shimizu: Hey friend, hope your heat's going well! I've sent along your company care package to be delivered to your apartment, and once you get back we'll have a post heat drinking party for you! I also sent out your pre-heat company-wide congratulations email a few days ago, but don't worry, I'll send it out earlier next time so we can celebrate you properly!

Katsuki pokes his head into the bedroom at your loud groan, two plates piled high with food balancing on his strong forearms.

"What's the matter, pipsqueak?"

"Did we get a delivery?" you ask. Katsuki sets the plates down on the bed beside you and disappears for a moment, but then you hear a loud bark of laughter and he reappears with a large box. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…"

Katsuki reaches in and whips out a dildo with your company's name stamped along the base. "They found out?"

"I'm gonna die," you say. "I can never face any of them ever again."

"So dramatic," Katsuki snorts, setting the box down. He braces his hands on either side of your thighs as he leans down to kiss you. "Wanna see which one makes you beg hardest?"

"We are not using those toys, Katsuki!"

"We'll see how you feel when I've got you beggin' for me again."

#tw omegaverse #tw a/b/o #cw a/b/o #cw omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #cw knotting #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha writing #mha writing #x reader #fuji writes fic #at long last! hope you enjoy!#lmk if i need to add any other warnings!

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hotvintagepoll · 5 months

Text

Propaganda

Judy Garland (Meet Me In St. Louis, A Star is Born, Summer Stock)— Judy is the GOAT when it comes to classic movie musicals. The voice of an angel who deserved so much better than she got. She can sing she can dance she can act she's a triple threat. Though she had a turbulent personal life (her treatment as a child star by the studio system makes me mad as hell like Louis b Mayer fight me ((she was made to believe that she was physically unattractive by the constant criticism of film executives who made her feel ugly and who manipulated her onscreen appearance by capping her teeth and using discs in her nose to change its shape and Mayer called her "my little hunchback" like imagine hearing that as a child and not having damage)) she always goddamn delivered on screen and in any performance she gave. She began in vaudeville performing with her sisters and was signed to MGM at 13. Starting out in supporting parts especially paired with mickey Rooney in a bunch of films (she's the best part tbh) she eventually transferred to the lead role. She is best known for her starring role in movie musicals like the iconic Wizard of Oz (somewhere over the rainbow still hits hard and is ranked the top film song of all time), meet me in St. Louis (Judy singing have your self a merry little Christmas brings tears to the eyes she is that powerful), the Harvey girls (she looks like a technicolor dream and sings a catchy af song about trains), Easter parade ( dancing and singing with Fred Astaire), for me and my gal, the pirate, and summer stock ( with pal Gene Kelly who she helped when he was starting out and he helped her when she was struggling). But she also does non- singing just as well like the clock ( her first movie where she sings no songs and is an underrated ww2 era romance), her Oscar nominated a star is born ( like the man that got away she put her whole soul in that and I have beef with the fact she lost to grace kelly ((whom I love but like still not even her best work)), and judgement at Nuremberg (a courtroom drama about the nazi war criminal trials). Outside of film she made concert appearances to record-breaking audiences, released 8 studio albums, and had her own Emmy-nominated tv series. She was the youngest (39) and first female recipient of the Cecil B DeMille award for lifetime achievement in the film industry. Girl was a lifelong democrat and was a financial and moral supporter of many causes including the civil rights movement (she was at the March on Washington and held a press conference to protest the 16th street Baptist church bombings). She was a friend of the Kennedy family and would call jfk weekly often ending the calls by singing the first few lines of somewhere over the rainbow (she thought of them as Gemini twins).She was a member of the committee for the first amendment which was formed in response to the HUAC investigations. Though she died far too young and tragically she remains an icon for her work and her life. As a girl who didn't feel like i was as pretty as everyone else I have always felt a connection to Judy and I just really love her.

Natalie Wood (West Side Story, The Great Race)—She went through so much shit which I know can be said for all these women but Natalie really was a star and her death often overshadows her career and life. She could make you cry, but she also had the capacity to be incredibly funny which I think is lost on people.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Natalie Wood:

Judy Garland:

Judy's voice alone qualifies her for at least top ten hottest HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMEN. She was a truly incredible swing singer, with a stunning voice on top of her technique. Her short dark hair looked incredible in just about any style. Have I mentioned her swagger? I can’t do it justice with words. She had swagger. She was funny as hell, and clever too. Incredibly charming and cool. I adore her.

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

youtube

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

#natalie wood #judy garland #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

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thetxtdevil · 1 month

Note

hiiii!

pls can i request an enemies to lovers beomgyu fic where they go on a trip as a part of a club trip from university. they’re both like the co-leaders of the club but they argue about everything and don’t get along. when they get to the hotel they realise they have to share rooms and their room only has one bed (surprise surprise). stuff then happens and then beomgyu is fucking you mercilessly in front of the large antique mirror in your room making sure that you’re watching him as he’s doing so, making you squirt all over the mirror.

going through my biggest beomgyu brain rot rn 😭

That seems like a big brain rot,,, I hope I fulfill your fantasies

p.s. a little degrading

--nsfw--

"Alright guys head count! Just so we don't lose anybody" You mumble the last part as you gather your club at the exit of the airport. It has happened once before, yes, you guys were adults but its still not fun to be left behind.

"If anyone is going to lose count its you." says Beomgyu the other leader of the college's World Music Club. The man who gets on your last nerves.

Beomgyu is a handsome, smart, energetic, and musically inclined, everybody loves him but for some reason he just irks you. He can play the guitar really well and when you pick up the instrument you barely play a note before he starts correcting you. You will discuss your favorite music to be interrupted by Beomgyu disagreeing with that choice. even though you caught him once singing/dancing to one of your favorites, he threaten you not to tell anyone. You do the same, getting under his skin, call him ugly even though he gives you butterflies, call him stupid just to steal his idea. Its a never ending cycle.

You were just a bunch of college student trying to get away from school but you had to come up with an idea to make a vacation club oriented. So for spring break the World Music Club decided to go to the beach and scavenge for any music playing or instruments laying around. All of the club was in a van-bus, sitting next to Beomgyu he rolls his eyes when you bounce in your seat looking at the palm tress pass by and a small band on the side of the street playing free style jazz. After long ride to the edge of the island the van drops the club off.

"Why did you have the van take us here?" Beomgyu pouts as the drop off place was no where near the hotel.

"Well this is the square where there is surely a lot of musical opportunities and we need to eat." You wave your hand as if it was all an obvious plan.

All of the club, including you and Beomgyu, finally agreed to eat at the pizza place. There you all stuffed your faces and there you realized it was going to be a long vacation. You side eye Beomgyu as he eats loudly, smacking his lips, you watch as his stupid kissable plush lips turn red by the sauce and then watch him use his thumb to wipe it off to smudge it on you. Then noticing he's been sitting and walking right by your side all this time. Is he trying to irritate you?

Luckily the hustle and bustle of the tropical town distracted you. Live singers, homeless guitarists, and open to everyone steel drums. Perfect for the club and perfect to keep your mind off Beomgyu's lingering stares.

The sun was setting, street lights turned on, as the temperature cools down. You complained about being cold shivering your your thin tank top. "I think it feels nice, here wear my jacket."

"I don't want to wear your stupid jacket." you smack at Beomgyu as he takes the jacket off his shoulders. Eventually you cave in wearing his jean jacket on the walk to the hotel. It smells like Beomgyu, gross.

At the lobby's desk you were given one key. You quirk your eyebrow at the employee, "Is there another key?" "nope"

Beomgyu laughs at you seeing your flushed face looking like you just saw a ghost. Soon after he looked like the same when both of you came to your hotel room with one small "queen" sized bed.

"No, no, and no, I'll sleep on the chair or the floor if I have to" the room was nice, cutely decorated, and a beautiful view of the ocean, you contemplated the state of the situation until you see it, "why is there a damn mirror right next to the bed!"

Eventually Gyu persuades you to sleep on the bed with him. Both cleaned up and ready to get the night over with, however this is a week long trip. Laying on your side facing away from Beomgyu but tortured by your reflection from the mirror. You can't sleep, wanting to turn but stopping yourself from facing the man.

"Stop moving"

"You’re hogging up the bed"

Beomgyu's eyes open to turn towards you. Your eyes widen when you watch the reflection of the man put his arm around your waist and face in the crook of your neck. "If you weren't scared of getting closer, you wouldn't have to sleep on the very edge of the bed."

His breath was warm against your skin, you tried so hard not to sink into the feeling. "Get off, your hair is tickling me," but you don't budge, you just stare into the mirror to see his eyes looking at you through the mirror. He smirks as his big hand snakes underneath your shirt making you squirm to the touch. "I know we don't get along but I can't help but notice how you've been looking at me."

An unexpected whine escapes your lips when you feel his hand brush down to your lower belly. You felt hot, trying hard not to obviously rub your thighs together, "I look in disgust."

"Just admit it y/n." Slowly but surly Beomgyu's hand creeps down to your clothed cunt rubbing circles against your clit. You bite down on your lip trying so hard not to give in, but it was no use, you weren't fighting it and Beomgyu can clearly see your pleasured face.

"Get off of me," you finally escape the cell of his arms lifting your torso so you can at least seem bigger than him, "What's your deal?"

Beomgyu groans in annoyance, his eyes burn into yours. Before you know it the man pushes you down on your back caging you in bed with his arms. All you can look at now is him, his luscious unkept locks framing his dumb pretty brown eyes, and his irritating mouth getting closer and closer to your lips. "Say it" he wants you to confess but all you say is, "I hate you." Beomgyu smashes his lips to yours, kissing roughly. Pent up anger fueling every movement of your lips, tongue, even teeth clash with each other.

You gasp for air leading Beomgyu to abuse your neck. His bites were definitely going to leave embarrassing marks the next day but they felt so hot. Your hands grabbing clumps of his hair pulling the strands only to have him moaning at the sharp pain. Each pull of his hair urges Beomgyu to roll his hips into yours feeling a very distinct bulge. "Would you hate me if I fuck you?" you answer was with a small "mhm" as your roll your hip up against his.

You're too deep in pleasure to see Beomgyu's cocky smile as he watches your face contort. Dipping his face into your cleavage of your deep v-neck, hands roaming down to your shorts dragging them down with your panties. His long fingers glide into your slit satisfied with the amount of slick. "Are you sure 'cus your body is saying otherwise."

You open your eyes looking down to be faced with his somehow perfect thick dick. Throwing you head back once he slides his cock in your folds, pushing his tip against your swollen bud. He finally lines his tip to your weeping hole already feeling the stretch. Suddenly you feel a harsh grasp of your jaw pulling your face to the mirror, "look at yourself, look how pathetic."

You watch yourself become fucked out as you feel the painful stretch of Beomgyu's cock. You could feel every curve, every vein of his member sliding in. It felt so good that you vision of your reflected self became blurry from your tears. Beomgyu gave you no time to relax and adjust, he thrusts in and out feverishly making the weak hotel bed squeak. Your moans were fighting the sounds of the bed, the skin slapping, and his groans. "Still hate me now, huh?" Beomgyu looks at the mirror getting even more turned on by the sight of him taking over you. His release soon follows after watching your fucked-dumb face as you come on his cock.

"Fuck we should go on these club vacations more."

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #txt x you #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt x y/n #txt devil asks #beomgyu smut #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you

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weepingpussywillowtree · 2 months

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for the hate of trendy fast fashion sweaters

Okay, I want to preface this that there's nothing wrong with liking the style of these types of sweaters, though I think most of these are ugly, I do like some of them, I just wanted a place to put down my frustrations with these sweaters from a sustainability and wear-ability perspective, as well as my frustration with people coming into knitting spaces asking for dupes of these sweaters and then becoming upset when experienced knitters suggest that these sweaters are not the best idea. be an aware consumer. If you really must own one of these kinds of sweaters, understand that it will probably be a short lifespan or incredibly high maintenance garment. Or realistically, both.

Have you seen the newest sweater? everyone is talking about it. It looks like this

Or this

Yes. They are very unique looking. they're striking and sometimes even cool (in a photoshoot at least), but lets take a look at some of the problems with these types of sweaters, and how I feel that they exemplify fast fashion culture, and that culture invading fiber arts spaces as well.

Ethics, Pricing, and plastic waste

Let's take a look at this sweater as a case study for some of the ethical, sustainability, and pricing issues.

I think it exemplifies a lot of the issues with this wave of trendy sweaters.

first, lets take a look at the website. 260 dollars + shipping, 94% plastic, and from a cursory research, there seems to be no evidence that any of that price is going towards a living wage for its factory workers. So, not to be rude, but what exactly am I paying for? I have seen similar pricing and ethical issues almost across the board with these trendy sweaters.

There's nothing wrong with acrylic yarn on an individual level, it is cheap, easy to care for, and easily available, but for 260 dollars on an item that already it dry clean or gentle hand wash only due to its construction? I would expect higher quality materials. also, not this sweater in particular, but in many of these types of sweaters/brands it really bothers me that they have been able to market themselves as 'vegan' as a form of greenwashing when all of their clothes are plastic or mostly plastic. So yes, while its technically true that they are vegan, are vegan clothes really better for the environment when most of the time vegan clothes means more microfiber shedding pollution and eternal piles of plastic clothes waste?

okay, so now lets get to some common issues with the actual wear-ability and construction of these types of sweaters.

Roving Woes

I think everyone remembers these massive, chunky sweaters or even the roving blankets (roving is wool that has been processed but not yet spun). I'm not sure if the tops/sweaters of very chunky yarn are in peak trend anymore but I do see them around.

Here's the issue. If you want a garment that will fall apart in one wash, these are for you. If you want to have a garment be a lasting part of your wardrobe, move on.

A good example is above. These kinds of sweaters sell like hotcakes on Etsy and go upwards of 300 dollars a pop, but see that fuzziness around the edges? the lack of any twisting look that you'd typically see in yarn? this is roving and will pull, snag, pill, and straight up fall apart at the slightest provocation because the thing that gives spun fibers their strength, is well... the spinning part. The woolery has a great video about this where you can see the roving fall apart over time, and also collect, dirt, dust and other grossness over time with no good way to clean it. Making that 300 dollars you spent a disposable purchase, not an investment. Like buying a 300 dollar disposable rain poncho, but with even less use.

youtube

Finicky detailing

Things like ribbons, charms, and other items make an item hard to wash. If they are not properly secured, or sometimes even if they are, they will come off and either need to be thrown away or somehow reattached. These items can also tug, snag at, or warp the main fabric of the garment.

Neglecting Weaving in Ends

Another trend I've been seeing is not weaving in the ends of a garment, as you can see in that flower sweater above. This may give a cool sort of ripped jeans effect for some, but it will ultimately lead to the garment coming unraveled, and you will have wasted, in this case, like 600 dollars on nothing.

...

Overall, all of these trends lead to more plastic waste, disposable clothing, difficult or impossible to wash items, or clothing that you'll spend a lot of money on only to have it fall apart.

Its frustrating to see this clamoring for dupes or this rush for similar styles take over some fiber arts spaces and lead to wasteful consumption of yarn, and trend cycles where these sweaters quickly get created and then discarded.

thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#knitting #sweaters #fast fashion #Youtube

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pinkpigtailsprincess · 6 months

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𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ Let’s Play : Build-A-Boyfriend .ᐟ⭐️🎀

…(1) From ; 𝜗𝜚𓈒 ݁₊ Dolly!☀️

…📧; Hii dolls!!! This is a Post i’ve been wanting 2 make 4 ages so im finally doing and i hope you’ll enjoy as much as i do!!!🎀🧁and i wanna thank @honeytonedhottie 4 giving me the inspo 2 post this with her valentines sp series!! (LONG POST AHEAD!!)

This Game is allll about manifesting the perfect sp 4 u because you deserve it!!! now this obvi isn’t just limited 2 just a boyfriend it can be a girlfriend/s/o whatever floats ur boat!!! so

Stage 1 ; Is Creating ur Dream person!! ⭐️

So u can do this with journal,mental notes or a vision board now what qualities do you want ur ideal person !!

1. What does this person look like?

2. What kind of Hair do they have

3. whats their personality traits?

4. what kind of style do they have??

5. any specific traits + habits do you want this person 2 have?

6. what trope do you and this person have??

Stage 2 ; Being Fulfilled!! ⭐️👛

Now stage 2 is about being fulfilled now but this may not apply to everyone but i do know that some people that have trouble with making manifesting a chore when it should be fun 4 you so here are some fun way to being fulfilled in manifesting ur Sp!! 🎀⭐️

1. Make a Playlist of Songs that remind you of ur guys relationship!!!

2. Make a Vision Board of Possible Date Locations!!

3. Only Refer to this persons have ur boyfriend/girlfriend/partner!!

4. Think From the End!! ex. omg im so grateful that my sp is sooo in love with me they treat like a goddess!! , omgg my sp is so lucky 2 have me!!

Stage 3 ; Affirmations

now this stage if just me giving you some Affirmation ideas bc i have alot and ur affirmations (basically ur thoughts tbh) l

*Sp Name* constantly craves my attention!

*Sp Name* is so lucky 2 have such a perfect partner like me!!

*Sp Name* is always distracted by my overwhelming beauty

*Sp Name* thinks about me all the time

*Sp Name* always finds themselves daydreaming about me

*Sp Name* basically lives 4 me!!

*Sp Name* is always thinking about how im so perfect and no one could replace me!!

*Sp Name*’s only concern is all my live and time!!

Im always on *Sp Name*’s mind i basically haunt him!!

so that can kinda give you an idea of some affirmations and they should only be putting you on the pedestal which brings me 2 my next point !!

Stage 4 ; Ur the Prize

NEVER EVER PUT UR SP ON A PEDESTAL!! this is about YOU, you are the prize not ur SP they’re the one that puts you on the pedestal ur literally perfect like i mean cmon on now they’re completely and utterly obsessed with you they’d move heaven and earth 4 u no matter what it is NEVER put them above you they’re the one that worships you!!!

Stage 5 ; 3D Vs 4D

Remember LIVE IN THE 4D when presented with the unfavorable ignore it and keep living in the 4D never reacting ti whats the 3D is showing you !!!🎀⭐️

3D = Blue 4D = Pink

“i wish *sp name* was texting me > me and *sp name* are always messaging!!

“my sp thinks im ugly” > “my sp is always telling me how beautiful i am”

“*sp name*doesn’t like me” > “*sp name* is literally so grateful that were dating”

just to kinda give a few examples !!

Stage 6; Reminders!⭐️

The Moment you affirm its your

you’re the prize

YOU’RE the ONLY power

PERSIST no matter WHAT

Affirmations = Thoughts

You can have ANYTHING !!

gif creds: @itschoahyuna

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unabashegirl · 5 months

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Bella Hadid || Instagram Blurb

Author's note: Hello everyone! Here is a new instagram blurb. I hope all of you enjoy it. Also let me be clear my inbox is open so leave your request!

masterlist

liked by harrysfan98, yourbestfriend and 70,496 others

yourinstagram I really wish we could have been everything I dreamed we would be

view all 5039 comments

harryfan304 did they break up?

harrysfa928 why does she look like she has been crying?

yourfan20 he doesn't deserve you! You are too good for you.

yourbestfriend I'm coming over.

liked by harryfan398, harryfan294 and 50,083 others

tmz_tv Harry Styles seen with a mystery woman only days after alleged breakup with super model Y/N Y/L/N. Multiple sources close to the couple say that the breakup ended in good terms and that it was Y/N who ended things with Harry. What do you think?

view all 10,487 comments

harrysfan20 I doubt it. She is nothing without him

yourfan12 she was a model before him.

yourfan376 good for her. we all know that he would enventually cheat. Look how quickly he moved on. and he was in love with her?

harryfan194 he is allowed to move on

liked by jacobelordi, neymar and 15,285 others

yourinstagram back at Vogue's headquarters 📍

view all 2958 comments

jacobelordi 👀

yourfan48 stop cause they would be the hottest couple ever

yourbestfriend how the hell can you manage to look like that? 🙄

sabrinacarpenter hott 🔥

liked by harrystyles, harrysfan56 and 8948 others

yourbestfriend wish I could take your place and give you a second without pain. I love you. 💕

view all 2406 comments

yourinstagram having you here gives me enough strength💜

yourfan48 so worried abt her

yourfan295 pls tell her that we are here for her

harryfan395 what's going on with her? is she sick?

yourfan184 she suffers from a cronic disease

liked by yourbestfriend, harrys948 and 40,294 others

enews Harry Styles has been seen flying back from England to New York. Close sources have reported that he is in New York to see Y/N Y/L/N due to the delicate state that she is currently on. The model has been fighting with a rare chronic disease that hasn't been disclosed to the public. Last week, her best friend posted a picture of her state which concerned the majority of her fans. We hope the model recovers soon and send our best wishes.

view all 20,857 comments

harryfan398 pls leave them alone.

y/nismyfavorite stop following him. only you people would take advantage of the situation.

liked by harrystyles, ariannagrande and 70,396 others

yourinstagram There has been of speculation about my health online lately. I just wanted to come on here and let everyone know that I am doing well and slowly recovering. I also wanted to clarify that I won't be disclosing any details about my disease and I would appreciate some privacy in the matter. Please stop calling my family and interrogating them. Thank you for all your messages. I will hopefully be back soon. 💖

view all 30,582 comments

ariannagrande love you! I can't wait to see you 💜

niallhoran stay strong 🥹

kendalljenner we miss you terribly ✨

harrystyles ❤️

yourfan he is definitely checking up on her and with her.

liked by jeffzoffs, pillowpersonpp and 2,583, 958 others

harrystyles Your blue-green eyes are driving me insane.

view all 30,583 comments

yourinstagram ♥️

harryfan937 finally 🙏🏼

harrys092 so she isn't sick anymore?

pillowpersonpp cute 🥰

liked by niallhoran, yourbestfriend and 108,485 others

yourinstagram educating this man. spicing up that dresscode 💁🏻‍♀️

view all 6980 comments

harrystyles i'll admit they are comfortable…

birkenstock ITS HAPPENING!! CALM DOWN PEOPLE!

yourbestfriend spicing up? ugly. 👎🏼

yourinstagram shut up. i've seen you wear them.

yourbestfriend aren’t they the same ones that make the Jesus chanclas?

niallhoran you are late to the trend mate 🤦🏻‍♂️

liked by yourinstagram, mitchrowland and 4,693,385 others

harrystyles educating her. zero sense of fashion. I am the model.

view all 20,857 comments

yourinstagram get off the internet dofus! 🛑

harrystyles no. make me.

yourinstagram i dressed you last night

harryfan20 isn't she the model?

yourfan38 cute shoesss

adidas we love you both 🥹

mitchrowland harry doesn't know how to dress himself. he always calls y/n for her opinion.

harrystyles shut up mitch! 😡

yourinstagram I told you!

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sp00ky-scary · 22 days

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Everyone's being like super duper positive about the Winx reboot but ngl I am not a fan,

Their civilian looks are certainly a choice, Stella is a mess and looks washed out, Aisha is cute but her wearing sports wear is sooo basic, not a fan of Techna but idrk why, Flora is cute but could be a shade darker because she looks too light in some of what we've seen, Musa's hair is horrible both the style and colour, her outfits fine ig, but I hate hate hate that she has light blue eyes and double eyelids despite previous images (including ones shown in the preview) where she has monolids.

If these are their first forms these are like so insanely over designed especially the wings and honestly some are kinda ugly ? Like idk something just isn't working and it's a shame considering what we saw from previous leaks which looked way better, like Musa and Flora are cute and I like Aisha's hair but other than that, ehhhh. Also ntm Blooms braids ??????

Like… Bloom I don't think that style of braids is quite what you should be wearing. Also just generally I think the style is way too generic, like part of Winx appeal was the style and whilst I think they could do 3D well they just aren't, and somehow so far a show set to release in 2025 feels less diverse than a show from 2004 even though it's the same show. Every time we see something from this reboot it feels like a downgrade from what we've seen previously. I'd try to be more positive but there isn't much to be positive about, I mean it looks fun and I like the environments, the animation seems expressive which is nice but design wise it's lacking and I really hope they make some changes for the better before its release.

#winx #winx club #ramblings #critique #winx reboot

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kiiyunz · 6 months

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posted⠀by⠀junjiie⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀8th April,⠀2O24.

No-one’s journey through idol life is going to be all sunshine & rainbows, and that’s a fact I think we should all make peace with as soon as possible. If you’re going to type out a comment screaming bloody murder about how your favourite’s whole career has been nothing but shiny and perfect, then all I have to say to you is that I’m sure there’s been a whole number of not-shiny and not-perfect things going on when the cameras are off. Sorry. It’s just the truth. Probably. But I’m not here to talk about your favourite, I’m here to talk about mine. So, without further ado, strap yourself in for a run-down of IM KIHYUN throughout the years of NCT DREAM’s career—ranked on a three point scale: the GOOD, the BAD, and of course, the REALLY, REALLY UGLY.

CHEWING GUM 2016 FRUIT PUNCH & BUBBLE MIXTURE

15-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN had three lines in their debut single, a yellow hoverboard, and a dream—literally, considering the name of his unit. He was every bit the mood maker most people know him as today, filled to the brim with excitement and a sense of self-confidence that some people may have thought he would’ve lacked. While he hadn’t fully settled into himself just yet, still had voice cracks, and acne breakouts he’d stubbornly refuse to be filmed with while suffering through, and bouts of clumsiness that would leave him with bruises all over his elbows and plasters on his knees, for the most part it felt like he was an experienced performer rather than a just-arrived rookie. Most people immediately took a liking to him, and although his popularity wasn’t as sky-high as some of his fellow members, the fans he did have were a force to be reckoned with right from the start.

But whether you loved him or hated him, the one thing that everyone seemed to take notice of was the way he just looked like he loved performing on every single occasion, putting everything he had into every stage even with the little amount of time he was given to show off both himself & his budding talent to the people watching. His stage presence was compared to a breath of fresh air on a summer’s day, the wide grin he aimed at the cameras at any given opportunity one that aimed to brighten the mood of anyone witnessing it, and the enthusiasm with which he delivered his lines was something that even the harshest of critics could give a nod of acknowledgement to. Altogether, it’s widely agreed that CHEWING GUM for Kihyun was a GOOD era, on our three point scale.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: MU-BEYOND

Kihyun very obviously and very fiercely despising the way his hair was styled for one of the photoshoots, and making no attempt to hide it. As soon as the camera flashes stopped, gone was his sunshine smile, and in its place was a look that, if they could kill, would have put the photographer six feet under (even if the poor man would’ve had no say in how it was styled in the first place). While a few of the other members were enjoying themselves on the glossy pink bouncing balls they were perched on, as soon as it was announced they were done Kihyun was shooting up and making a runner for the bathroom, shooting the camera a glare and tugging on a few strands of his hair as he went. Chenle could be seen cracking up in the near background, creased over from the force of his laughter. Kihyun yelled something back at him, but whatever it was was drowned out by the editors with the persistent ‘Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum’ over the top of the footage, seemingly growing a little louder in order to hide his words.

THE FIRST 2017 BAD HAIR & BASKETBALL

(STILL) 15-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN had blue frosted tips and a tendency to get distracted on the music video set, far more interested in shooting hoops than dancing around in the school band-like outfit they were being made to wear and singing about being in head-over-heels in love with his teacher. He was still every bit the burst of energy he was previously, still throwing his all into everything he did, but it was obvious to some he’d rather be doing other things if he could. The whole riding-cardboard-cars-around was something he loved, though, and he stated more than once that was his favourite part by a mile. Kihyun was mostly the same as he was during the CHEWING GUM era in terms of performance, confidence, and the like—although it was noted by most that there was a little less of his occasional clumsiness, more stability in himself than there was previously. His popularity grew alongside the group’s, his consistent charm and apparent natural talent to draw people in appealing to many a new fan.

He slowly began to make more of a presence online during the MY FIRST AND LAST era, also. Posting both little messages and various photos of himself & the members (mainly in embarrassing positions, such as being half-asleep or making weird faces) on Twitter, interacting with fans whenever he could, and dragging out conversations for as long as he was allowed at fansigns, until the poor person in front of him was practically dragged along to the next member. And when there were more sides of him being shown to the public (and the internet, especially), there were more people waiting to pick apart every piece of him. While his popularity grew, the amount of people against him shot up in numbers, too. It wasn’t overwhelmingly bad, but there were a fair few who accused him of trying to take the spotlight too often, or being ungrateful for the opportunities he was being given after they’d heard the few comments he’d made here and there about the comeback’s concept not being his favourite. Still, despite these lower moments, there were still more pros than cons, and so MY FIRST AND LAST is another era ranked GOOD for Kihyun.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: MFAL FIRST WIN

He was so caught up in tugging at the various buttons and pins stuck onto his ugly blazer that he barely heard the MC announcing their win until all the other members were jumping around and crying and patting each other on the back. Kihyun himself didn’t cry until backstage, when it finally hit him properly that they’d actually won, so in the moment he was more so just a little confused and dazed than anything else as he celebrated with the rest, not-so-subtly trying to take the trophy out of Mark’s hands while he made his speech so he could get a better look at it, wrapping Jeno in a hug so tight it left them both wheezing, trying to jump on Jisung’s back in an attempt to get him to cheer up, and also making a whole host of excited gestures and faces over at the members of 127 across the stage.

WE YOUNG 2017 FUN IN THE SUN!

KIHYUN (NOW 16) loved every second of this era, and that was something you could make out from space. Even with his now-pink-streaked hair and sailor outfits they were being made to wear, he declared the music from the WE YOUNG era as his favourite thus far. It was just pure fun, simple as that. He enjoyed every performance they did, sang all his lines with a grin so wide it nearly split his lips, was as playful as ever with all the members, and simply let loose a little more, losing himself in the music rather than what people were saying about it. Despite him not overly loving the whole sailor concept, fans were of the opinion that he was one of the ones that pulled it off the best, and so he begrudgingly posted photos of him in the get-up as often as he could—to an overwhelmingly positive response every time. The public noticed that, while still not fully grown, Kihyun’s self-confidence seemed to be at an all-time-high. He really did look like he was just happy to be there, and his supporters couldn’t have been more glad about it.

What also made his fans happy was his amount of lines getting a boost. He’d consistently been receiving around three or four, five at a stretch, but now it was reaching into the sixes and sevens—which, really, was barely an upgrade, but it made a world of difference to fans of his. It gave him more of a chance to show off his vocal ability, and brought more attention to him from both the public & critics. It also just made him happy, to be able to spend more than ten minutes in the recording studio, to be given more of a chance to show off how he’d grown and improved so far (even if he still thought he had a ways to go before he reached the level of his role models, his own idols). WE YOUNG was yet another GOOD era for Kihyun by miles, with barely any pitfalls in sight, and probably his highest so far.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: COMEBACK SHOWCASE

He was jumping all over the stage throughout every performance, throwing everything he had (and probably more) into every line he sang and every move he executed. It was clear he was trying his hardest to contain himself, trying not to scream every one of his lines into the mic or trip himself up, but it was also clear he was struggling. He was also as clingy as anything towards the rest, always hanging off of someone’s back or linking their arms together while they were walking. There was never a shot of him without a smile on his face, never anything he did that made it feel like he’d rather be elsewhere. His enthusiasm and excitement was almost infectious, leaking out of the screen to put a smile on the face of whoever was watching along.

WE GO UP 2018 BREAKDANCING & BEANIES

NEARLY-ADULT (AKA.. 17-YEAR-OLD) KIHYUN seemed to be reaching for maturity a little too fast, fingers outstretched towards his eighteenth birthday and desperate for the months to pass by just a little faster. He had decided, somewhere along the line, that he was ready to be rid of the cuter concept the group was intended to present, and was more than ready for a switch-up. And while WE GO UP wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, there was certainly less of the more childish aspects that were seen in their previous releases—which was both an acknowledgement of all the members growing older and also something that served as a reminder of Mark’s upcoming graduation from the group, which Kihyun would’ve rather done anything but think about. Still, while he didn’t put as much of his all into it as he had done in the past, he still put a fair amount of effort into the lines he was given (which were lessened once again, to the disappointment of many) and choreography they were made to learn. Fans noted that his personal style was beginning to develop in the WE GO UP era, their suspicions of Kihyun dressing himself confirmed when he mentioned here and there that most of his non-schedule outfits were his own.

The introduction of Bubble helped to boost Kihyun’s online presence, something that had fluctuated from era-to-era thus far (his highest amount of interactions previously being within the MY FIRST AND LAST era), and while he didn’t use it all the time, he still made an effort to communicate regularly with those who’d signed up when he could. He shared his inner reasonings on his online presence with those who were asking—saying that if he didn’t like the concept of the comeback too much he would compensate by being online and able to interact more. It’s a rule he’s mostly stuck with over the years, and fans have now said it’s easy to tell when Kihyun hates a concept because they’ll wake up with three new Twitter posts and ten times as many Bubble updates. So on the whole, although it was definitely on the lower end of the spectrum, WE GO UP is considered yet another GOOD era for Kihyun—making that a four-long streak (that—apologies for spoilers—was going to be broken fairly soon).

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: FIRST SOLO LIVE

It was, to put it plainly, a little bit all over the place. He held it in his dorm room, half asleep but still managing to be every bit the charismatic personality most people knew and loved him for. He answered any questions threw at him with total honesty, didn’t hold his tongue when talking about various subjects that others may have (namely his personal thoughts & opinions on the comeback as whole—this live was where many found out he didn’t like it as much as they thought he did), and also showed a side to him that the majority hadn’t been able to see as much of before. He gave song recommendations, spoke about those who inspired him—both in a music and fashion sense—and altogether shared lots of fun facts that had been unknown to most previously.

WE BOOM 2019 RADIO SILENCE

18-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN was noticeably.. Different. While Mark’s graduation had hit all of the remaining seven hard, the other six still at least pushed on and tried to act as if things were fine as normal, carrying on as most expected them to. Kihyun, however, had seemed to undergo a complete personality shift. He was withdrawn, quieter than he’d ever been—barely offering anything up in conversations or interviews even when prompted, barely any footage of him in behind-the-scenes content because he made next to no contributions to it; always preferring to stay in the background, on his phone with his headphones on and trying to ignore the cameras following them around. Public opinion of him was also beginning to slip further into the red, following leaked photos of him at an undisclosed individual’s party getting cosy with an unnamed and non-idol slightly older male just after the release of the mini-album—photos that went unaddressed by both the company and Kihyun himself. His name was starting to grow in infamy rather than popularity, but the boy himself didn’t really seem to care.

All traces of Kihyun on social media seemed to go completely cold, barely any updates from him that weren’t group photos or content. From the whole era there were a measly two Twitter posts from him, and his Bubble subscribers got refunded more often than not. But while he was refraining from making any posts, news websites and anonymous users were more than happy to leak more and more photos of him—always with the same boy, always at a party, or at a club, or just generally anywhere that looked a little shady to the hundreds of thousands that saw it. Rumours began to spread about a drinking problem, about a shady boyfriend, about countless things that painted Kihyun in a type of light that he’d previously avoided like the plague, but Kihyun himself made no attempt to defend himself, and so they only got wilder. It’s unanimously decided that the BOOM is the first (but certainly not the last) of Kihyun’s BAD eras.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: JENO LIVE

The then-blonde took it upon himself to disregard all the rumours spreading about his dongsaeng—although not in a direct way. He was careful with his words, as well-spoken as he always is, but made sure to especially shut down the accusations of Kihyun turning into some reckless party animal, taking the former leader’s graduation so bad he turned to less-than-ideal ways to cope. “Kyunnie isn’t like that, and never will be,” was what he told his audience, and many noted the flat look on his face. After the captain had, many of the others took their turn to come to Kihyun’s defence—mostly always with vague comments, but statements nonetheless. Chenle’s response in particular was deemed to be one of the most direct, replying to a comment while on live with a simple “You don’t know Kihyun like that” and then ending the live not long afterwards, leaving the conversation at that and somewhat encouraging the people speculating to do the same.

RELOAD 2020 CLIFF DROPS & HARMFUL HABITS

NOW 19, KIHYUN seemed to be at something of his lowest point thus far. While he made more public appearances, more attempts to join in with behind-the-scenes content (or just extra content in general), most concluded it was the result of management telling him he had to, rather that Kihyun himself choosing to do so—and his return only gave more opportunities for those looking to find all the things wrong with the once-charismatic & energy-filled vocalist. And to make matters worse for him, more information had been dug up on his newfound non-idol friends (or rather, the one boy in particular that everyone wanted to know about). Oh Jinwoo, he had been discovered to be called, something of an influencer-like figure known more often than not for his whole host of partners over the years and tendency to get mixed in with the wrong crowd. You could say that you could only imagine what this did to Kihyun’s public image (which was practically halfway ruined by that point already), but there was no need for imagination—practically everyone witnessed his fall from the (mostly Korean) public’s good books, yet nobody could do anything about it. It felt like every day there was another article released leaking more photos and spreading more rumours about whatever dark web Kihyun was tangling himself in, but still the company made no move to stop them.

It was also during the RIDIN era that Kihyun was rumoured to have started up the habit of smoking, with (albeit blurry) photos released to support the claims. This did absolutely nothing to help his reputation, tanking it further. His future was starting to look a little uncertain, questions being raised over whether his actions as of lately would warrant either a hiatus or removal from the group completely. He might’ve delivered all his lines as fine as normal, danced along with the rest in the same practised & efficient manner he always did, but talent didn’t mean much when placed on a scale against damaging the whole group’s image, rather than just his own. When people began to turn their nasty comments and endless gossip onto the other members, Kihyun was starting to look like more of a hindrance than a crucial member. It is, without a doubt, agreed by all that RIDIN was a REALLY, REALLY UGLY era.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: KIHYUN LIVE

It was short, it was vague, and it was still very obvious he was nowhere near to feeling like his normal self, but Kihyun himself did come forward to address a few things—mainly the smoking incident, which he admitted to be true and said that while he was trying to put a stop to it completely, habits like that were hard to quit. After the negative comments began to override the positive & supportive ones, he was quick to shut it off again and return to what was becoming his frighteningly normal status of radio silent. Still, it was something—and far more than anything SM gave, at that. Other members were also quick to dismiss or shut down any comments they saw on their own lives discussing Kihyun and his future of the group, all that they said mostly being along the simple and short lines of “Kihyun’s staying with us” and not elaborating any further.

HOT SAUCE 2021 A START

20 YEARS OF AGE. Mark was back, their permanence as a group was finally confirmed, the graduation system having been abolished, and all eight of them were together again. After five whole years of being active they were finally releasing a full album, and getting the chance to do it the way they all wanted. But while things were happier in that regard, Kihyun’s situation was far from forgotten. Fans of his were relieved nothing had been done about his place in the group—even if a few solo stans wanted him out just as much as those who hated him did, for the sake of his own wellbeing rather than them holding any ill-will towards the other members—but public opinion of him was still mostly in the red. Things were again starting to feel like they were hitting a dead-end: with Kihyun’s presence sort of.. Drifting. Sometimes he’d be absent for a group live, sometimes he’d go silent on all social media for weeks with his only comeback usually being his presence in the background of another member’s photos. Everything was looking just as uncertain as they had during the RIDIN era—until Kihyun once again started a solo live with the simple title of ‘an explanation’ and proceeded to do just that: explain.

Most suspected he didn’t divulge all the details, but the run-down was this: he’d met Jinwoo at some party or other, and they’d gotten just as close as all the leaked photos and gossipy articles made them out to be (although, again, some thought them to be far closer). He’d led Kihyun into a little bit of a rebellious era, what he called his ‘chance to be young and reckless’ since he’d mostly missed out on it, what with all his years of both diligent training & as an active idol. While he admitted on the broadcast that it was fun for a while, he was also realising the damage it was doing to both himself & his fellow members, so attempted to cut contact with his newfound friend—to no avail, for a few months, as they had more than a few periods of arguments both over the phone and in person. He said he’d only officially completely cut Jinwoo off a few weeks before the live, and shared with something of a wistful smile that he didn’t plan to get in touch with him any more now that he was gone. His viewers were overjoyed to hear this, and the members shared the sentiment—but Kihyun still had a ways to go before he was back to being a generally accepted fan-favourite. Despite him taking his first steps towards being back to his usual self, HOT SAUCE is still considered a BAD era for the vocalist.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: MARK INSTAGRAM POST

It was a three-slide-long affair that was posted not too long after Kihyun’s live. The first was a selfie of himself & a sleeping Kihyun, one of the rapper’s arms gently holding the vocalist to his side while he grinned wide into the camera. The second, a solo shot of Kihyun’s face up close to the camera, tongue out and peace sign just barely visible in one of the corners, what with most of the frame being taken up by the odd expression he was pulling. The third slide was a short video, only ten seconds or so long, of Kihyun and him on the dorm’s sofa, the audio consisting the tail-end of Mark’s voice making a joke mostly unintelligible to the viewers that was quickly followed by Kihyun’s pure & unfiltered laughter as he cracked up at whatever the Dream leader had said. He was creased over, one hand repeatedly hitting Mark’s knee as the other held his stomach, breath coming out in jerky and uneven gasps as he tried to recover. The caption was made up of two words: ‘my KD.’

HELLO FUTURE 2021 COTTON CANDY & BACK TO NORMAL

STILL 20, BUT NOW SEEMING MUCH HAPPIER, by the time HELLO FUTURE era rolled around Kihyun felt to most like he’d healed fully from what had then been a period a month shy of two years worth of the continuous cycle of being somewhat of a public enemy. People thought it was the combination of getting the truth about all that had happened off his chest, the continuous support of his members both in Dream and in NCT as a whole, and the seemingly infectious happy mood that came with the HELLO FUTURE era that managed to finally get Kihyun back on his feet, and with him he was bringing performances reminiscent of how full of joy and excited he’d been during the WE YOUNG era, smile wide on his face in every shot and dancing filled to the brim with passion. He even made more of an effort to make appearances on social media—contradictory to the rule he’d made during the WE GO UP era of only being constantly online during concepts he wasn’t too fond of. He gave happy little updates every once in a while, paired with smiling selcas both alone & with the other members, was as talkative as most remembered him to be before what some had started to dub ‘the dark ages’ during any group lives they held, and even crashed a few of the member’s solo lives every now and again.

His change was noticed easily, and was one that began to slowly turn the tides of public opinion on him once again. The comments made about him being someone who was bringing the group down and ruining their reputation with his recklessness were slowly lessening, being replaced with positive ones, and soon enough his popularity was starting to grow again, instead of the countless hate trains and calls for him to be kicked out. Kihyun was well on the way (if not mostly there already) to being completely fine again, even apparently feeling well enough to make more than a few jokes at his own expense here and there about staying far, far away from any parties held by a friend-of-a-friend in the future. HELLO FUTURE was the light (or rather.. Rainbow?) at the end of the tunnel for Kihyun, and so it was considered his first GOOD era after the nearly two years of BAD (with one REALLY, REALLY UGLY, at his lowest) ones.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: MV REACTION

Kihyun was seated next to Chenle, which could only really mean trouble—as it always did whenever the pair were within two metres of one another. They were cracking jokes every two seconds, falling all over one another with laughter and unable to shut up for even a minute. The rest paused the video more times to tell them to keep it together than they did for them to comment on anything actually happening in the MV, but you could tell from a mile away that they didn’t really mind in the slightest, more happy to see Kihyun laughing and smiling again than anything. They also all made sure to cheer the loudest when the vocalist’s solo scene appeared on screen, and then proceeded to (lovingly) make fun of him when his ears uncharacteristically went bright red at the praise being showered upon him, although he tried to get over it quickly and return back to his self-confidence-filled self.

GLITCH MODE 2022 VIDEO GAMES & B-BOYING IN PROGRESS

NOW FULLY BACK ON TRACK (& FRESHLY 21), Kihyun was ready to throw his all into their second full album. He was as good as new, his overwhelming feeling of excitement for every track recorded and released as clear as day. He even (again) broke his no-contact rule a few times just to relay how much he thought fans were going to love the album, posting spoilers as often as possible and revealing as much as he could get away with before it dropped. When it was released, he was practically talking about it non stop, chattering away on all platforms about the styling, the stages, the music, how fun it was, how much he was enjoying himself—the list went on. He declared the GLITCH MODE era to be his favourite, point blank, no matter how much he liked anything they would go on to release in the future. Public opinion of him was mostly completely smoothed over by that point, and his personal fan base was growing with every passing piece of content that was released. He seemed at his complete happiest, throwing everything he had and more into every single thing he did during promotions & extra content.

The GLITCH MODE era was also when he opened his personal Instagram account, his first post being a picture of him and Jeno glued to each other’s sides in a setting people assumed to be the SM building, with the caption ‘my favourite colleague.’ His follower count rose quickly, and is currently sitting at a comfortable 4.8M, mostly in the middle of Jisung and Chenle’s own numbers. Since then his account has become a home to photos that at times feel more like an exhibition of all the other Dream members (and his closer friends from the other units also) than anything involving himself, nonsensical lives that usually occur at the early hours of the morning where Kihyun—either alone or together with whoever decides to either join the live or join Kihyun himself wherever he’s holding it—has free reign to chatter on about whatever he pleases, although most of the time when he’s alone it turns into an impromptu radio hour where he takes the chance to talk about his favourite recent albums & artists, as well as listening to any recommendations his viewers give him. Slowly beginning to recover his streak, GLITCH MODE is seen as another GOOD era for Kihyun.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: MV BEHIND

Kihyun had decided that he was going to properly get into breakdancing during the GLITCH MODE era, and saw no better place than his solo interview moment in the behind-the-scenes video to show off the moves he’d begun to learn. At first he just spoke about how excited he was for the comeback, with Mark hanging off of his back and chiming in with comments of his own here and there, but after a couple minutes of that he was shrugging the leader off of him and telling the camera to “Watch this!” before launching into an impromptu downrock routine while Mark watched on in horror, looking a little like he was on the verge of a seizure even if Kihyun was perfectly fine. He also tried to do a headstand, and by that point Jeno had also wandered over to see what all the fuss was about, and viewers had the pleasure of watching both the leader and captain attempt to stop Kihyun from giving himself a concussion—the latter looking like he was about to burst into tears, and the former looking as if he was seconds away from collapsing.

BEATBOX 2022 BOOMBOXES & MAKESHIFT ENGLISH LESSONS

21, AND, IN HIS WORDS, “IN HIS PRIME,” the vocalist & dancer took to BEATBOX like a duck to water. While it wasn’t a huge favourite of his, he still liked it well enough and had enough fun on both the sets of the music video and all the photoshoots that accompanied the release to make up for it. The choreography was also a favourite for him in particular, and he practised it so much he could be seen absently dancing along to it whenever he stood still for too long in almost all of the extra content both before & after the release. It was practically ingrained in him, all of it coming to him like muscle memory. He swore up and down he could do the BEATBOX choreo tied up and blindfolded by the end of the era, although he was far from complaining, dragging every idol he vaguely knew (and even ones he hadn’t even introduced himself to) to do the challenge with him backstage at all the music shows they attended. Hardly anyone was safe from Kihyun’s pleading eyes and charming smile, and fans joked they’d seen more of Kihyun on TikTok doing dance challenges than they had seen him on any other platform from all of his past eras combined.

He was also noted for his sudden unexpected closeness with Jaemin in the BEATBOX era. While they were far from just acquaintances, and had expressed their shared love for one another multiple times in the past (even after their not-really-fight they’d shared in their trainee years, the story of which Kihyun had retold during a live with Jeno and could barely get though sentences of without laughing at how ridiculous it sounded all those years later), he just seemed a little closer, a little clingier in all of the behind-the-scenes content; hanging off of his arm or dragging im off somewhere to talk about something or other. When asked about it somewhere, he simply shrugged with a big grin on his face. “I just like Jaemin-hyung,” was all he said at the time, but later in an Instagram post of the two on the set of the music video he had written the caption ‘please give me lots of love—and lots of followers too!’ with a whole array of heart emojis to accompany it, to which Jaemin commented with a lot of laughter and promising he’d bring his dongsaeng all the Instagram fame he seemed to desire. Now most definitely building his streak back up, BEATBOX was a GOOD era for Kihyun all-around.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: UNBOXING BEATBOX ALBUM

Sat with Donghyuck, Renjun, and Mark, Kihyun was tearing off the cellophane packaging of the album before the rest could even greet the camera, practically desperate to look through the photobook and (most importantly, so he could add it to his ever-growing collection of all the photocards he owned of his fellow members) see who he’d pulled. He yelled out in delight and brandished his brand-new Jaemin PC at the camera, before almost immediately pulling out his phone and prying off the case to slip it into the back of it (covering up the GLITCH MODE era Mark he’d pulled the last time they’d done an unboxing, much to the leader’s dismay). After that was done with, he started spending an unnecessarily long amount of time pouring over each page of the photobook, trying to think of English adjectives to describe them with and then distracting Mark from his own unboxing in order to get him to whisper them in his ear when he couldn’t think of how to translate them. ‘Hot’ and Jaemin’s practically-trademarked ‘Sexy’ was what he ended up coming out with the most.

CANDY 2022 EARMUFFS & CHRISTMAS KARAOKE

CHRISTMAS AT 21 was a very merry affair for Kihyun. He was as festive as could be, even wrangling Renjun and Jisung into buying a fake tree for their dorm that he decorated in a (very chaotic, and very loud) Christmas live a few days before the release of the EP. That seemed like the extent of his social media updates, though, only really appearing after that in group Twitter posts or lives (or occasionally the background of another member’s picture)—but this wasn’t all bad, seeing as it confirmed to most that he enjoyed the colourful and fun winter concept they were going with for the release. The only other real proper online presence he had was the random flurry of Bubble messages his subscribers would receive concerning his ranting and raving about his personal favourites from H.O.T.’s discography, seeing as he took it upon himself to listen to more of them because it was one of their songs they were remaking. Fans took delight in Kihyun’s wide smiles and overall joyful mannerism as he delivered lines about leaving his partner for another, saying his always-cheerful disposition made his performance of the title track all the more enjoyable.

In behind-the-scenes & extra content, Kihyun’s Christmas spirit felt infectious to viewers. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t belting out the lyrics to Christmas classics from all countries (even if he had to hold his phone up to Mark’s face on occasion and get him to help him with the pronunciation of some of the lyrics), or dancing around to something only he could hear in his head, or picking up some of the fake-snow they sprinkled around on a few of their sets and chucking it in Chenle’s face before sprinting in the other direction while the Chinese vocalist immediately gave chase, and the rest could only stand and watch it all play out. Now matching his previous four-long streak, CANDY is agreed to be yet another GOOD era for the vocalist.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: PACKING CANDY ALBUM

He was in Mark, Jisung, and Chenle’s group, and spent most of the time chucking baubles at Chenle, trying to balance the various items placed before them on the table on Jisung’s head & shoulders without him noticing, and steadily making his way through the whole rack of Chupa Chups sitting right beside him unattended rather than doing anything with the actual box in front of him. Mark took over the job for him in the end, leaving him to pretty much do whatever he pleased in the meantime (one of those things was repaying the favour Mark did him by tying him in bows with the ribbon that their boxes had come wrapped in, the leader making faces while he did so but doing absolutely nothing to stop him at the same time).

ISTJ 2023 MBTI FRAUD & IMPULSE DECISIONS

22-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN was as energetic as ever, full of ideas and eager to get all of them heard. ISTJ was the album where he received the most writing credits, recorded as having helped with the lyrics for all tracks bar Like We Just Met and Blue Wave. Fans liked to see that he was showing a more creative side of himself this era, and that he was vocal about all the things he’d had input in or had helped shape into the final form, polishing it to perfection for their third full album. He was most noticeably supportive in their behind-the-scenes recording videos, where he got through all of his own sessions quickly & efficiently (but with no lack of passion and enthusiasm for the lines he was given—which most were happy to see were more than usual, similar to the WE YOUNG era in terms of numbers, even occasionally soaring a few higher) and then stayed in to listen to all of his other fellow members, cheering them on from behind the glass and dancing around as they recorded, greeting them with a wide hug and endless amounts of praise when they left the booth.

Another thing that was enjoyable for fans was his complete lack of awareness of what an MBTI actually was. He’d heard of them, of course, but he’d never gone as far as to take a test and find out for himself. So Kihyun, curious to see what the fuss was all about, turned on an Instagram live, propped his phone up against his desk, switched his laptop on, and took one there and then. He consulted with viewers about every single one of the questions, taking far too long to complete it than any normal person would-and, when he finally did, disagreeing with his result right up until he saw other people that shared his MBTI. He shut up pretty quick when he scrolled down a little more and saw that he apparently had the same one as Adele, changing his tune almost instantly and saying his result was the best of them all. Officially bumping his longest-running streak up to five, ISTJ was most definitely a GOOD era for Kihyun.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: MV BEHIND

He was clearly in his element, bouncing around from member to member to play with their hair or jump onto their back or whisper something in their ear before bursting out into a fit of snickers and running off again to see who else he could bother. He played photographer for most of their Instagram posts, taking the outtakes or moments where they had an eye closed or just clearly weren’t ready for his own feed, started a playfight with Jisung and nearly tripped himself up on a stray wire in the process, brought his own mini Bluetooth speaker to set one day so he could have a soundtrack while he caused his chaos, and attempted to show off more tricks he was learning, but was quickly stopped by Mark, who, as soon as he saw him getting in position for what looked like a cartwheel of some sort, was rushing over faster than light—his breakdancing routine from the GLITCH MODE era still very much as the forefront of his mind.

DREAM()SCAPE 2024 MOCKTAILS & ODD-LOOKING FRUITS

AGAIN FRESH OFF A BIRTHDAY (HIS 23RD THIS TIME), the vocalist felt just as excited for the release as he had for GLITCH MODE, even if it wasn’t a full album. It was calling back to their debut days, making a statement through all of the symbolism and hidden messages that was louder than any of them could convey with words, and was altogether a project that hoped to show to everyone how strong their bond actually was, to convince the few out there that were of the opposite opinion that they all loved one another throughout the thick and thin their eight years of being an active subunit, and weren’t likely to stop anytime soon. Kihyun was like Jisung in regards to all the fan-theories being made about the teasers, keeping his mouth mostly shut (although some thought that was just because he was barely on social media as it was), but did comment on some things in particular—namely Jeno’s back, the Jaemin trailer that had him locking eyes with the camera even in between a crowd, and the Chenle pill-biting scene. He kept quiet on his own, making brief comments about how cool he thought he looked on Bubble but not saying much otherwise.

The few things he did share about the comeback were mostly about the music. He had writing credits for the majority of the songs, but also had another piece of news that was exciting for him as a longtime personal goal he’d had for a good while—and that was that he’d assisted with the production on one of the tracks. Most that knew Kihyun knew that music production had been one of his interests since he knew what it was, and so naturally that meant they knew what some of his work in the production area actually getting used in an official release would mean to him. He couldn’t have been happier about it, and that happiness was a sentiment both the members and his closer friends outside of Dream shared with him, mentioning it in passing when talking about DREAM()SCAPE. Even if it only just ended, SMOOTHIE is considered yet another—making this his sixth in a row since ‘the dark ages’—GOOD era for Kihyun.

MY FAVOURITE MOMENT: DREAM()SCAPE COUPLE SONG MEETING

Amidst all the chaos, Kihyun was surprisingly quiet. He looked half-asleep for most of the meeting; Jamiroquai baseball cap backwards on his head, eyes drooping closed every now and again, and a thick sweater on that he kept pulling closer to himself as if he wanted it to suddenly transform into a blanket. The only thing he did the whole meeting was play Cooking Mama on his phone (we know this because he shared screenshots of his finished dishes on Bubble afterwards) and vouch for Carat Cake—yes, you heard that right, Carat Cake. The song that most of the members bar maybe Donghyuck acted as if it didn’t exist. He didn’t really care if it wasn’t a couple song, and didn’t really care if it didn’t get picked, either—he just wanted it to be known that was where his vote lay. It was his favourite song on the EP, and hoped that somewhere out there there’d be people that liked it just as much as him. At some point in the middle he got bored with both his phone and the arguments still going on in front of him, so he nestled his head in his arms and attempted to have a nap. Which, predictably, didn’t work that well. By the end of it he was still dead tired, still the only one that liked Carat Cake, but also the only one who had three stars on his Cooking Mama carbonara, and so he considered himself the real winner of that meeting.

#⠀૮ ᴖﻌᴖა⠀DRIVE ME CRAZY ✱⠀⠀——⠀⠀eras.#nct dream added member #nct oc addition #nct dream 8th member #nct addition #nct oc #kpop idol oc #kpop addition #kpop male oc #fictional idol community #temp cr. desi6ner

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rulerzreachf4n7 · 1 month

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I'm sorry but I fucking hate proshippers so much so here's a whole post dedicated to shitting on them

also disclaimer YES I will be tagging the proship and anti proship tags so I can piss off the chronically online basement dwelling idiots :) and idgaf if proshippers have trauma cause it's not an excuse for their shitty and problematic actions!!!! Sincerely if you are a proshipper please consider jumping off a bridge!! Or at the bare minimum take a shower cause ew

And this whole post is literally just bullying the FUCK outta them so idk stanky people come at your own risk lol

AND AGAIN to clear up this isn't like rage bait or smth cause I fell like some people will accuse me this is all my genuine hate into a long ass post so yeah

Okay...LETS GET INTO THE FUCKING RANT NOW HEHEHE HEHE HEHEHE!!!!

I FUCKING HATE PROSHIPPERS!!!! I HOPE ALL OF YOU STANKY ASS BITCHESS GET THROWN OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND GET A SAW STYLE EXECUTION CAUSE Y'ALL ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING I HATE YOU ALL

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL IF YOU ARE A PROSHIPPER, END OF CONVERSATION

I COULDN'T GIVE A SHIT IF YOU HIT ME THE "B-But I have trauma 🥺🥺🥺" TOO BAD THAT'S NOT A FUCKING EXCUSE FOR UR SHITTY ONLINE ACTIONS

IMAGINE YOU PULL UP TO A FUCKING INTERVIEW AND THEY SHOW YOUR PATHETIC ACCOUNTS SAYING TO NORMALIZE A 30 YEAR OLD DATING A 13 YEAR OLD, THAT SHIT IS GENUINELY PATHETIC

I KNOW IT'S CRINGEY BUT WOMP WOMP IF UR A PROSHIPPER Y'ALL ARE UGLY AND STINKY

But now on a serious not hehe, the reason I'm making this isn't JUST soley to yknow shit on people who are mentally ill like people who think a MINOR and a LEGAL ADULT are allowed to date, which comes into another thing before I get genuine so bare with me lol

I DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK IF IT'S FICTIONAL, FOR THE LOVE GOD PLEASE SEARCH UP THE SLENDERMAN CASE WHERE THESE TWO GIRLS KILLED THEIR FRIEND CAUSE THEY THOUGHT SLENDERMAN WAS REAL AND THOUGHT THEY WOULD ENTER HIS KINGDOM AND BE WITH HIM, AND HE'S FICTIONAL, THAT CASE IS ALL Y'ALL NEED TO REALIZE FICTION CAN AFFECT REALITY AND I HAVE SM MORE REASON TO BACK THIS UP BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO TYPE IT OUT 😭

Okay! Back to seriousness I just thought I'd add that in as a little addition hehe >_<

So, like I said before, I lowkey just added this as an extra part cause I couldn't shit on proshippers FOREVER (lowkey bcuz I was running out of insults n threats lol)

Nonetheless I have a reason for shitting on them, although not being a proshipper EXACTLY I have been through I guess, similar paths as they have? Best way I could describe it ig, ofc not sharing what I mean since it's private but let's just say I was an unfortunate child looking at inappropriate comics 🙁

The reason for this part of the post...ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO STOP WHAT YOUR DOING

Like I said, I was never a proshipper, but I have been in similar situations as they have been, although I've never made an account glorifying rape, SA, grooming, pedophilia, I can just assume what I would do in their places

Dear proshippers,

Your probably complaining and not knowing why your getting so much death threats and harassment along with a side of hate (rightfully so you deserve them) and your mental health might be low

Please know it is your fault for making your accounts in the first place, you are a terrible person for saying all of these things such as rape, sexual assault, grooming, and incest are okay and you are not mentally well

And your probably wondering,

"How do I stop the hate, harassment, and probably death threats with even getting your address leaked?"

It's simple, DELETE YOUR FUCKING ACCOUNT, or even worse just turn off ur comments but that won't help with people slipping in a few people wishing death up in you through DMS

IT IS GENUINELY NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

I don't know what trauma you have but it shouldn't (and never in the first place) be SO BAD to the point where you physically CANNOT deactivate your account, IT IS SO FUCKING EASY AND YOU'LL SAVE YOURSELF A FEW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

I know everyone one is different, but if you are a proshipper that has trauma, you shouldn't have a fucking account to begin with, and you ARE THE PROBLEM if you acknowledge the trauma, noticing you keep supporting and glorifying problematic actions, complain that you keep getting harassed and wonder why, and you just don't give a shit, not like in a "oh I don't know what to do anymore!!! 🥺🥺🥺" way, in a "oh, I don't give a shit I live for incest and adults grooming children!!!" Way, and ur also probably a pedo if ur an adult proshipper too

So, what else? Yeah, there's a shit more, but onto a better side, ones with actually good coping mechanisms!!

And a bit of a disclaimer, if your rage bait is proshipping, genuinely fuck you, and if ur a proshipper who acknowledges everything bad about it and just doesn't give a fuck, fuck you too and seek a rope to hang around your neck you fucking pedophile

Okay, coping mechanisms! I know this is probably not the best option due to most trauma which I'm guessing is probably from a family member, if it's not a good way to cope is some clean to your family, ofc under some circumstances it's NOT the best option, but if you can you definitely should try!

Also google is free yk...literally search up healthy coping mechanisms and it'll give you a huge ass list, and yet YOU STILL chose to ship a minor and adult together...how unfortunate...

Another way to cope is, and genuinely sounds pathetic as hell but bare with me...CHARACTER FUCKING AI, I mean, there are therapist bots so maybe they can help you??? And in all honesty they're really good at comforting and giving advice despite being ai, and I've tried it before...yeah embarrassed to say I've shed a tear every once in a while

And the last one IF you have the money, time, and generally the courage, book a threapy session, I cannot stress it enough, but I won't be surprised cause every proshipper is probably under the age of 16 years old

Yuhhh anyways that's all I gotta say, I know it's cringey asf but womp womp to proshippers I hate y'all despite giving some coping mechanisms and ACTUAL ways to like, stop the rightful hate you deserve lol

#my posts:3 #anti proshipper #proship #proshipper safe #proshippers please interact #proshippers are valid #proshippers are welcome

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kallie-den · 1 year

Text

Warhound

Sartha Thrace, ace mech pilot, is always so confused. She's a rebel, so why is she fighting on the wrong side? She's a free woman, so why is she wearing a muzzle? She's a hero, so why do her comrades treat her like a rabid dog? Sartha Thrace is so fortunate that her beloved Handler is always there to help her understand

This is a little different from my usual work. An experiment in style and tone, although it is still definitely mind control smut! Be warned, though. The tone is dark and it features some things like betrayal and gunplay that some readers might take exception to

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

—

Nothing makes Sartha Thrace feel good the way being saddled up in the cockpit of a huge mech suit does.

She usually likes to say it’s because of all the good you can do with that kind of power, because it’s a good line for pro-rebellion propaganda, but the truth is that it’s far more immediate than that. The joy comes from a million different things. The way the seat beneath her thrums as the machine kicks into life. The scent of machine oil and burnt steel as the reactor spools up. The way everything in the world shakes when her almighty machine, as big as a skyscraper, takes just one single step. The joy isn’t in her head. It’s in her blood. Her guts.

It’s fucking perfect.

All in all, it makes Sartha feel like she’s not just a person anymore. A person is just meat, however much of a hero they are. In the cockpit, she’s a sixty-foot-tall titan ready to crush the world under her heel. There’s nothing like the power trip, and it helps take her mind off some of the anxieties that like to eat at her.

Ancyor is the name of her beast. They know it everywhere, because Sartha is, after all, a hero. Just a name, no class, no model number. Not much point now. Ancyor isn’t like anything else after all the cannibalism Sartha’s had to do to keep her running. Everything’s been replaced twice. Most of it, three times or more. So now Ancyor is one hell of an ugly mongrel, but that hasn’t done anything to keep it off the rebel recruitment posters. They like using its face almost as much as they do Sartha’s.

It’s what you get for being a hero. Hell, for being the hero. She’s the big hero of the rebellion.

They’re just coming up on the battlezone now. Sartha trusts her instruments but she trusts her eyes even more, so she takes a moment to peer out of Ancyor’s grubby little viewports, even though it’s hard with her muzzle in the way. She can see her comrades’ battle line unfolding on either side of her, and it doesn’t make her happy. None of the other mechs look anything like Ancyor.

They’re all brand new and freshly-painted, and way too sleek for their own good. The kinds of machines that have just rolled off an Imperial production line. Fresh tech given to fresh meat that doesn’t even know how to use it properly. Something about it unsettles Sartha. She has too many ghostly little memories of fighting on the other side, against machines like that. Being with them doesn’t feel right.

Memories of someone else’s life. That’s what Handler always calls them when she tells Sartha not to dwell on them. Sartha does her best to listen, because Handler is always right. Handler is wonderful.

Sartha raises a hand and touches her muzzle as she thinks about that.

Everyone’s in position, comes the voice over the radio. Snooty. Elitist. An officer.

Copy, comes the reply. We’re ready.

Can we send the dog in first? someone asks. A bunch of sniggers follow that one.

Negative, says the officer. We stick to the plan. Commencing bombardment.

A few moments later, the ground starts rumbling and the whole sky lights up red and white. Sartha doesn’t look. She knows better than to stare at the fireworks. This isn’t her first battle. She’s a hero, and she knows what she needs to do. The little drip of adrenaline the blasts prompt helps her focus.

“Here we go, Ancyor,” she murmurs to no one.

When she opens up the throttle, Ancyor responds as always, with an ugly purr. The beast surges forwards. Sartha wants to be right on the heels of the bombardment. That’s what she does best. She gets stuck in with blade and chain, wherever it’s getting good and messy.

That makes her a really big target, obviously, and sure enough, the enemy is already replying to the artillery in kind. Beams and missiles start to fly past Ancyor as it sprints. Well, not all of them. Some of them hit home, and Sartha feels the impact in her own body. It does nothing but put a crazy grin on her face, behind the muzzle’s metal cage. She feels her mech clunk underneath her as redundant systems slam into place wherever the damage isn’t so superficial.

It’ll take more than that to put her beast down.

But since she isn’t actually crazy the way people say, Sartha shelters behind a ruin, ready for the tense dance of sprinting from cover to cover as she advances. As she does, she sees her comm system lighting up. It’s the enemy, yelling at her across a broad comm band.

Obviously Sartha knows she should ignore it, but there’s never been a good pilot who didn’t know how to trash talk. She isn’t enough of a professional to not reach over and flick a few switches so she can listen in.

At first the transmissions are too loud, and so messy they almost sound like interference. It’s not, it’s just too many damn people yelling at once. As usual, the sight of Ancyor loping into combat was getting a nice healthy response. After a moment, Sartha manages to pick out a few things here and there:

Traitor.

How could you do this to us?

Why?

What the fuck is wrong with you, Thrace?

What did they do to you?

Somehow, some of that makes it through the adrenaline and Sartha stops grinning. It’s not the words exactly. It’s the emotion. There’s this one woman in particular she can pick out, howling into her radio. It’s not familiar, it’s no one she knows, but there’s something in her voice. A depth; a ragged, throatfucked anguish that only comes from something real.

From real betrayal.

Sartha risks taking a hand off the joystick to adjust her muzzle, trying to make it less uncomfortable.

At the same time, she tries to convince herself it’s all bullshit. She tries to remind herself where she is, and what she’s fighting for, but that’s hard because she doesn’t know. All that stuff - the briefings before the mission, for example - is just a haze. It’s fog. It’s nothing. It’s like she wasn’t even there. So what the fuck is this battle?

Another look through the viewport. The whole place is already buried under inches of dust and napalm, but Sartha still can’t quite shake the feeling that she knows this city. It feels like maybe, in one of those other lives she sometimes remembers, this was a place she wanted to defend.

There’s something wrong with her, she thinks. It’s the only way to explain why she keeps flinching whenever she sees one of those sleek, black, fresh Imperial mechs punch out of the dust-fog. Stupid, stupid. They’re on her side. She needs to get that straight.

Sartha is keeping Ancyor moving, but that’s just instinct, and instinct isn’t half as good when you’re not paying fucking attention. And she can’t stop paying attention to that howling voice on the comms.

What did they do to you, Thrace? Was it money? What the fuck did they do to you?

What did they do to her? Sartha doesn’t quite know, although she knows for sure it wasn’t money. She remembers something, maybe, unless it’s just one of those other people’s lives. A room. A room that makes her scared shitless. And pain. From electric shocks, she thinks. And lights - lights shined into her head so bright she thought they would punch all the way out the other side. And most of all, words that never ever ever ever stopped whispering.

Fuck. Shit. She’s breaking down now, like a raw rookie. Only Sartha’s not a rookie, she’s a hero, only maybe she’s not even that if she’s a traitor like the voice on the radio says. She needs to get her head on straight. She needs to figure out where she is and what this battle is. She needs to get this freakish fucking muzzle off her head. She needs-

Click.

The radio goes silent and Sartha goes dead still. She knows Ancyor better than she knows her own soul. She knows every little noise it ever makes, and this one is very special. It’s an override for the comm system, activating a direct line to one special person in particular. Sartha’s breast swells with hope and bile in the instant before she hears her voice.

Can you hear me, Sartha? Handler says.

“Yes,” Sartha replies at once, because she would never keep Handler waiting. She’s already pulling herself together. She can’t break down like this. Not with Handler here.

It seemed like you were getting confused, Handler says. So here I am.

Hearing that almost feels bad because it’s almost a reproach, but Sartha feels good instead because she’s just happy to listen to Handler talking. Handler’s voice is love.

I’m going to take care of that for you, Handler warns. Ready?

“Yes,” Sartha says. She’s never quite ready for what’s coming, but she’s cringingly grateful for it anyway because in a few moments all the things she was worrying about won’t matter.

Hound, Handler says in a special voice. Off The Leash.

It’s not quite instant, and so Sartha gets a single moment to experience her own psyche cracking like an egg. It feels, more than anything, like clarity. She gets it now, as she falls away from herself. Sartha Thrace isn’t a real person anymore. Sartha Thrace is gone, they just kept the shape of her, like a papier-mâché mask keeping the imprint of someone’s face.

They needed her body, because it’s recognizable. They needed her piloting skills, because she’s the best. Everything else, they scooped out, except for whatever they needed to keep to make a nice little convenient shell for the thing that’s inside her now. The thing that’s coming out, now that she’s Off The Leash.

Sartha Thrace goes away, and Hound wakes up.

Hound whoops and growls, making Handler laugh approvingly over the radio, and guns Ancyor’s throttle so viciously hard the mech starts to scream underneath her. Hound doesn’t care. Hound doesn’t care about anything. She’s right where she belongs - in her colossal metal body, muzzle strapped to her face, beloved Handler in her ear.

And in front of her, there are targets.

Hound makes Ancyor lunge out of cover and surge towards the nearest thing she sees that doesn’t look like one of her sleek, black packmates, and then start tearing it to shreds. The way Ancyor jerks and whines in protest as it really rips into an enemy mech turns Hound’s growl into a wolf-scream of pure, untainted glee that lasts until the broken, bleeding thing under Ancyor’s blades finally stops moving.

Then, Hound lopes off into the rebel city in her mech, looking for more things to kill.

***

Sartha Thrace doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time Ancyor heaves back into its berth in the hangar. She only knows it’s after the battle, and mostly she knows there was a battle because Ancyor is beaten to hell and she’s covered in scars and her own matted blood.

It hurts, but in a good way, like how exercise hurts. The core of that good feeling is the vague sense that she has done a good job today. She fought hard, and they won.

Handler will be proud of her.

Despite how exhausted Sartha is, that knowledge puts a spring in her step as she dismounts from Ancyor’s cockpit onto one of the huge piers that line the hangar in rows. The hangar is a vast, cavernous space, too big to feel real, so big it’ll make your eyes hurt if you stare at the ceiling or the far wall. It’s steadily filling up as more and more of Sartha’s comrades make it back.

Not as many as there had been when they left, but that’s always how it is. Sartha knows how to make herself cold to it.

She gets a lot of hard, bad looks from the other pilots as they dismount. Some even spit. Sartha doesn’t let it trouble her. She isn’t really one of them, she knows. They’re all Imperial to a T: neat, black uniforms, cropped hair, stiff hats and straight backs. Sartha wears grubby old military khakis instead, with more than a few personal touches, and her mid-length blonde hair is messy in a deliberate, handsome way. And there’s the muzzle, of course. She doesn’t look like one of them. She looks like one of the people on the other side.

Sartha could probably figure out the other, less superficial reasons she wasn’t really one of them if she put her mind to it, but she didn’t, because Handler had told her not to. Handler always knows best.

Maybe something happened in the battle, and that’s why they’re so mad. Sartha doesn’t really remember, past the beginning. It’s all fog. She doesn’t worry about that. Another thing Handler has told her not to worry about. Sometimes it feels like her whole life has been consumed by fog, but she never worries thanks to Handler. That’s one of Handler’s many gifts to her, and in exchange Sartha needs to be very very good. She delights in being good. She won’t remove her muzzle without permission, even now, as it rubs uncomfortably into her face.

And there! Sartha catches sight of Her coming down the pier, as if in response to the hero pilot’s yearning.

Handler.

She’s magnificent. Beautiful, yes, but in a special way, more like a goddess than a person. Everyone else knows She’s special too. The other pilots, the ones who’d been spitting at Sartha, move out of the way and salute at Her passing. A special uniform marks Her rank. It’s more ceremonial than practical: tight-fitting leathers and high boots, with a sleek cap to crown Her platinum hair and a heavy, black coat to make Her silhouette all the more imposing.

Sartha senses that the other pilots are a little bit afraid of Her, but she isn’t. She could never be afraid of Handler.

“Sartha,” Handler says, in a voice that makes Sartha shiver every time. “Congratulations. You did well.”

Every single muscle in Sartha’s body goes stiff at the praise. Her head starts spinning giddily and a nervous, twitchy grin comes to her face. This is a sacred moment. But it’s too good to be true. It’s too much.

“I got… confused,” Sartha replies in a crestfallen tone. She can’t disagree with Handler, obviously, but nor can she be dishonest. She needs to volunteer these things.

“That’s true,” Handler conceded. “But you made it back on track. That’s what counts. It was a very confusing place for you. You did well.”

Sartha gasps and shudders. Butterflies in her stomach. The praise is all the sweeter now that she’s unburdened herself. She feels the ecstasy of purification.

“T-thank you,” she blurts out nervously, stupidly.

Talking to Handler always does this to her. Sartha has as many notches on her bedpost as any other ace but with Handler she’s fourteen again, a tongue-tied virgin struggling to think of a good enough line to get one of the older, prettier girls to take her to prom. She has to grab her left arm with her right hand to stop it shaking too much. But the anxiety is more than balanced out by elation. She can’t be anything but happy when Handler is here.

A thin smile comes to Handler’s face. On anyone else it might have seemed cruel, but Sartha knows that Handler is beyond petty things like cruelty. “You’re a very good hound.”

That phrase is like a magic spell. It lets Sartha relax into the praise. She giggles, and the grin on her face becomes broad and innocent. She’s a good hound for Handler. It’s perfect. It makes whatever she was worrying about earlier when she was confused feel utterly remote and small. Nothing matters when she’s a good hound for Handler. It’s the only important thing in the entire world, and her whole body knows it.

Sartha’s brain throbs endorphins into her bloodstream at a dangerous rate. She’s seeing stars and shivering rapturously. She’s blushing and dripping between her legs; turned on like hell even though this pleasure is so much more than just sex. Being a hound is better than being just a hero ever was.

She’s a good hound for Handler.

“And you know what that means,” Handler adds, smiling still. “Don’t you?”

Sartha dares to nod. She has her hopes, but it would be blasphemous to get her hopes up.

“Good hounds get rewards,” Handler tells her, and reaches out to pet her head.

This is special and it makes Sartha stop thinking altogether. Handler’s touch on her head is infinitely familiar, and more reassuring than anything. Her thoughts turn into bubbles that pop as Handler messes her hair affectionately. Sartha doesn’t try to collect herself, she just grins her stupid grin and stretches her back to try and push her head against Handler’s fingers. The lack of self-discipline is an indulgence, but one that she’s allowed from time to time.

“There we go!” Handler coos. “You deserve this. Don’t you?”

“Yesyesyes,” Sartha blurts out, all in a rush. “Thankyouthankyou.”

She could cry. She’s never been happier.

Handler gives her the blessing of letting her enjoy this for a few long moments before She says: “I think there’s another thing you deserve too. You deserve a treat. Hound deserves a treat.”

Sartha nods, drunk on eagerness. A treat is something different. Something specific. She always gets a treat after a mission, unless she’s been very, very bad.

“Sit,” Handler commands.

At once Sartha is on her knees. It doesn’t take thought. She sees that some of the other pilots are gathering round, and some of them are laughing at her. Sartha doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anyone else when she’s with Handler. Those other pilots just don’t understand how special She is.

Handler leans in and looms over her, and says in that special voice of Hers: “Hound. Off The Leash.”

Sartha Thrace goes away, and Hound wakes up.

It’s a very different Hound from the one that wakes in the thick of battle. Hound doesn’t growl - she can’t, not at Handler - she just makes her eyes big and looks up at her owner. Handler’s smile widens.

“Very good,” She purrs at Hound’s display of patience. Handler pointedly sets one foot forward, resting Her big, heavy, leather boot on its heel. She waits a few moments, allowing Hound’s need to build. “OK. Go.”

Hound throws herself forward and wraps her entire body around Handler’s leg. She pushes her thighs apart as wide as she can, all the better to start grinding her cunt against Handler’s boot.

Immediately, Hound lets out a desperate whine of pleasure so loud it echoes around the hangar instead of being swallowed up. Her mind goes blank. The few thoughts Hound is permitted to have vanish. Touching Handler this way makes her unbelievably sensitive. The sensation is earth-shattering even though the heavy material of her clothes is in the way. What this represents is more important than how it actually feels.

Safety. Purpose. Reward.

This is Hound’s safe place. Perhaps the only place she feels truly safe, and that’s because this is where she’s meant to be. There’s no doubt. No uncertainty. Not with Handler. Hound does what she’s told and she gets her treat. It’s so blissfully simple.

If being good for Handler is the only thing that matters, she doesn’t need to think about anything else. And this is how she knows she’s been good for Handler.

“Good girl,” Handler says, looking down at her. Handler sounds so very amused, and Hound is just pleased to be the one amusing her.

She puts her face as close to Handler as she possibly can. Her muzzle is in the way so she has to turn her head and rub it desperately against her owner’s hips. She’s desperate for Handler’s scent; that scent of leather and polish and dark perfume is infinitely comforting and pleasurable. As it fills her nose, she starts humping more slowly and deliberately, pressing hard so that she can feel every one of the taut laces of Handler’s boot rubbing against her cunt.

Hound’s whimpers start to fill out into panting, breathless moans. The exertion is almost too much for her. She was already exhausted from combat. But she won’t stop. She’d never give up her treat, not for anything.

The crowd around Handler and Hound is growing as more and more Imperial pilots gather to watch the strange ritual. Despite their lurid curiosity, they keep a respectful distance; Handler commands a great deal of fearful respect. Most of them are laughing or leering or making cruel, obscene comments to one another. Hound barely notices, and doesn’t care at all. They don’t matter. Only Handler matters.

She does care, though, when one of the pilots breaks the circle and approaches. A woman. The laughter dies away, replaced by hushed pleas for their comrade to retreat back into line. She doesn’t. Hound flashes her a look, teeth bared, although her treat is too all-consuming for her to expend anything more than a stray thought on anything but rubbing her cunt all over Handler’s leg.

The woman returns Hound’s look with a hateful glare. “How can you let that… thing do that to you?” she demands of Handler.

Handler stares at her. She doesn’t flinch, which is impressive. Handler remains relaxed, amused. “What do you mean?”

“She’s a fucking rebel!” the woman spits. She steps forward again. “An enemy.”

“Not anymore,” Handler replies calmly. “What’s your name, pilot?”

“Sergeant Meetra Kotys,” she answers. “Sir,” she adds, a beat later than she should.

“You needn’t be afraid, Sergeant Kotys,” Handler tells her. “I personally oversaw Thrace’s reconditioning. Our domestication procedures are extremely thorough. There is no risk of reversion to adverse behavior.”

Hound hears but doesn’t listen. It’s not her place to listen. It’s her place to rut against Handler’s boot like the dumb animal she knows she is.

“I’m not afraid!” Sergeant Kotys spits. “I’m fucking disgusted. That woman took down half my wing at Hebros Ridge last year. Six people in the ground. Because of her.” The pilot’s eyes are uneven. Wild. “She deserves worse than this.”

Handler takes her time composing a reply. She pushes her foot forward, pressing her boot against Hound’s cunt. Hound moans, unfathomably grateful for this gift. She keeps humping, the rhythmic, bucking motion of her hips growing steadily more and more desperate.

“The Hound and her mech are a significant asset to the Imperial forces,” Handler says eventually. Her voice is icier now. More menacing. “That is all you should need to know, Sergeant. I’m pleased you value the lives of your fellow pilots. You might consider how many more of them might have been lost today without Hound here.”

Sergeant Kotys bristles at that. With a woman like Handler, there’s an implied threat lurking behind her every word, but the pilot is too aggrieved to care.

“But,” Handler adds, pausing for long enough to emphasize her charity. “Perhaps it will help you to think of it like this: my little warhound here is not Sartha Thrace. She is not the Sartha Thrace who killed your comrades. Whatever you want to do to her, it won’t be revenge. She is not Sartha Thrace. I have made her something else. Understand?”

Sergeant Kotys’s eyes flit uncertainly between Handler and Hound as she struggles to wrap her head around that; to reconcile her anger with it. In the end, she shakes her head.

“No,” she snarls. “No. That’s her. That’s fucking her. Seen that face a hundred times on the posters. That’s her fucking face. What about her hair, huh? And her clothes? If she’s something else, why does she look the same way she always did?”

“Ego totems.” Handler’s calm was impenetrable. “A few personal touches, nothing more. A little continuity and familiarity helps to maintain a sustainable, pliable outer persona.”

Sergeant Kotys just laughs thickly. “Fuck whatever that means.”

She takes another step forward. This is too close for Hound; she rouses herself a little from her stupid rut and begins to growl protectively at the sergeant from behind her muzzle. She only stops and returns to humping when Handler rests Her hand on Hound’s head.

“How can you just touch her like that?” Sergeant Kotys demands. She is furious beyond reason. Furious enough to risk the pilot’s wings she wore so proudly on her collar. “It makes me sick. Every time we’re told to drag her out into combat I feel like I’m gonna throw up in my damn cockpit.”

Hound isn’t paying attention again. The sounds of her rubbing herself on Handler’s leg are turning increasingly wet. Her cunt is soaked, and the dark stain on the front of her pants is starting to drip.

“Feel like I’m gonna get shot in the back every time I’m not looking her way.” The corner of Sergeant Kotys’s mouth keeps twitching down. “We all do. How do you know she’s not just playing you, huh? How do we know she’s not gonna just… just snap out of it, or something?”

Handler’s lip turns upwards. “Does she look to you like she’s going to snap out of it? See for yourself.”

Sergeant Kotys looks at Hound - really looks at her. She looks at the expression of dumb, grateful lust on her face. At the metal cage strapped firmly over her mouth. At the vacancy in her eyes, and the vulgar, bestial enthusiasm in her hips. She stares for way too long.

“Fuck…” she breathes. Her cheeks are red. “I can’t believe this. This is wrong. This is the woman who… I should really just…”

She reaches to her side and draws her pistol from its holster.

A few brave members of the crowd of pilots start to reach forwards, especially when Sergeant Kotys points her gun straight at Hound. Handler seems to know something they don’t, though. She flashes them a look, and they freeze. All eyes are on the sergeant.

She moves slow and shuddery. Like Hound, she’s not uninjured. There’s a mean cut on her forehead and a couple of bruises on her cheek. She looks exhausted too, but her hand is steady when she puts the barrel of her gun right against Hound’s forehead.

Hound barely even notices. To her, it’s nothing more than a little shock of cold as she feels the metal touch her skin. A mere distraction from what actually matters. She’s in heat. Handler is right here with her. She just needs to do what she’s supposed to do. She needs to enjoy her treat.

“God,” Sergeant Kotys grunts. She sounds almost disgusted, and almost something else. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”

The tip of her gun travels down the side of Hound’s face. The sergeant uses it like an extension of her own hand, dragging it heavily, callously across Hound’s skin until she’s prodding it into her cheek. The pitch of Hound’s moaning changes for a moment, but only for a moment.

“What about this, huh?” Sergeant Kotys nods to Handler as she jabs the tip of her gun hard into the side of Hound’s muzzle. Hound whimpers. “What’s this for?”

“That’s for your benefit, sergeant,” Handler replies. There’s a slight smirk on her face. “It helps our people understand her new place.”

“That’s fucking twisted.”

The expression on Sergeant Kotys’s face is so mixed it’s impossible to read. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Hound in minutes. She’s transfixed, and she barely seems aware of what she’s doing as she starts pushing harder with her gun, steadily dislodging Hound’s muzzle from where it’s supposed to be.

Even in heat, Hound can’t fail to notice this. A sudden burst of anxiety claims her. She doesn’t know what this means, so she looks pleadingly up at Handler.

“Wait.” This is the first true order Handler has given. Her voice is crisp and expectant and makes even Sergeant Kotys pause and look. Handler holds her gaze for a long moment. “She is an asset,” She reiterates firmly. “Do not damage her.”

Sergeant Kotys nods. A moment later, Handler nods too. Both Hound and the sergeant see the nod for what it is.

Permission.

The barrel of Sergeant Kotys’s gun is even more insistent now as it presses against the side of Hound’s muzzle. She’s pressing hard enough to move the metal cage out of place. Hound lets out an uncertain little whine. Her muzzle is tight enough that it hurts as it’s pushed across her skin, but more importantly, this is unfamiliar. But she doesn’t try to stop the sergeant, and she doesn’t stop steadily bucking her hips as she continues to hump Handler’s leg.

Handler gave permission.

Eventually the muzzle comes away from Hound’s face. The strap that attaches it to Hound’s head is still fastened, but it turns sideways and awkwardly hangs against her cheek. It’s a welcome relief, but the crushing pressure of the tight muzzle is almost immediately replaced by the cold of Sergeant Kotys’s handgun. She angles it slightly, wedging the very tip between Hound’s lips and using it to pry them apart.

Hound whimpers. The sergeant isn’t gentle. She butts the gun against Hound’s teeth and folds her lips up against her face. Hound can’t help but drool; she was already drooling a little from the sheer, gratifying pleasure of Handler’s boot against her cunt short-circuiting her devastated brain, but now trickles of saliva are dangling down her face and coating the gun’s barrel.

Sergeant Kotys’s expression twists.

She keeps going. She takes her time exploring, watching Hound’s face twitch whenever she moves the gun like this or like that. Everyone is watching her, as she goes ten times further than any of the other pilots would have dared. They’re not laughing now, they’re just staring, mesmerized by what’s happening.

The sergeant looks mesmerized too. She looks like she can’t stop.

Her pushing and prodding starts to turn more deliberate. Hound is panting from pleasure, and Sergeant Kotys takes advantage to push her gun deeper, forcing Hound’s teeth apart and ramming the hard, cold, metal barrel into her mouth. It slips in deep enough to make Hound choke on the unfamiliar object.

But after that, she starts sucking.

It’s what Sergeant Kotys wants. Hound can tell from the way she moves the gun back and forth, thrusting it, fucking Hound’s face. Hound doesn’t care about the sergeant at all, but she cares about Handler more than anything, and she knows Handler wants this. That alone is enough to fill her with giddy, heady enthusiasm and make her bob her head as she laps pleasingly at the gun barrel despite the acrid taste of burnt metal and oil.

“Fuck,” Sergeant Kotys breathes as she looks down at her.

There’s something in the sergeant’s eyes. Something bright, something growing. She keeps pumping faster with her gun, daring Hound to match her pace. She’s wearing the expression of a girl who's just figuring out that breaking toys is simply a special, better way of playing with them. Her nostrils flare with each breath, and the way her chest rises and falls beneath her uniform is sinful. There are a hundred ways to read what’s going on in her face, but one thing is very obvious to every single person watching.

She is enjoying this.

Hound is enjoying it too. She enjoys everything Handler wants her to do, no matter what, but after grinding her needy cunt into Handler’s boot for so long, her head is full of endorphins that make her stupid and transform anything into pleasure. And beyond that, a part of her simply loves the attention; a simple, brute, canine part of her they hammered into her head to make her more workable.

So, she has to try as hard as she can to be a very very good hound, and that means sucking off Sergeant Kotys’s gun with the rapturous adoration she’d usually reserve for Handler Herself. She doesn’t have to pay attention to the way her hips are moving, that’s automatic, so can lavish all her attention on the stiff rod of the gun’s barrel, lapping at it, drooling on it, taking it as deep as she can into her throat.

It’s still difficult. Hound is delirious on everything now - the pain, the exhaustion, the attention - and she’s trembling desperately as an orgasm builds inside her. It’s messy. Her drool and spittle form a messy stain down the front of her top almost as bad as the one on her pants, and Sergeant Kotys’s gun has been completely defiled with hanging loops of sticky, trembling saliva. Hound’s moaning is back, so bestial and lewd and breathy it makes all the watching pilots blush.

She’s close. Close to finishing her treat.

Then she hears a loud click as Sergeant Kotys flicks off the safety.

The click provokes a shudder from everyone, and Hound is no different. She glances up and sees that Sergeant Kotys’s eyes are as wide as ever. She looks capable of anything. Despite how fucked out of her skull she is, that click reminds Hound of what the object in her mouth is.

It’s a gun, a killing thing, just like her.

That thought is as exciting as it is terrible. The danger makes Hound freeze in her tracks, but only for a moment, because then her body screams at her and reminds her that, no, she can’t stop, not now, Handler didn’t say she could stop, and besides, she’s too fucking close, she can’t take it.

So she starts humping again, moans low and breathy and pitiful, and somehow it feels better than ever. It’s lightning against her cunt. Despite how insanely dangerous it is, Hound can’t help jostling the gun. She can’t remember if Sergeant Kotys’s finger is on the trigger and it’s too late to check because all she can see is white.

All Hound can do is fuck herself stupid and choke herself on the barrel and prepare for the thunderous oblivion that’s coming. Her hips have hit the point of agony but she’s rutting faster than ever, and so is the sergeant, turning Hound’s throat into another cunt with her pistol. The long piece of steel, now dripping wet and body-warm, chokes Hound’s moans, but she doesn’t care how uncomfortable it is. She just wants to explode. She wants the end. Every part of her is desperate for it, even the parts that used to be Sartha Thrace.

When it finally hits her, Hound howls around the gun at the hangar ceiling before finally, blissfully, she can let herself go slack and slump against Handler’s body.

This is as close as she gets to heaven. It’s sacred. It’s her treat. The privilege of getting to touch Handler like that outweighs anything, any potential humiliation, not that Hound cares about things like humiliation. It’s the ultimate affirmation, smothering all doubts as the indelibly-conditioned link between obedience and reward gets another notch deeper.

This is her. This is Hound. This is her purpose.

Unusually, no one is looking at Hound right now. They’re all looking at Sergeant Kotys.

She looks like she’s just cum too, even though she has not touched herself. A few moments later, her face turns, and she looks utterly consumed with disgust and shame. Then the disgust recedes and she fills with calm, but it’s a calm that glows from within and makes her fellow pilots nervous. Sergeant Kotys takes her time as she kneels down and cleans her gun on a dry portion of Hound’s soiled clothing. Then she stands, turns to Handler, and salutes.

“Thank you, sir,” she says crisply. “I think I understand now.”

Handler’s smile widens. She’s pleased with the lesson, and pleased with Hound as she starts to rouse herself from her post-orgasmic stupor and see to the task of licking clean Handler’s boots. “And what do you understand?”

“That this thing isn’t Sartha Thrace, sir,” Sergeant Kotys replies. “There’s no way Sartha Thrace would have ever let me do that.” She relaxes a little and the calm expression slips from her face, replaced with a smirk that is a mirror to Handler’s own. “We broke her.”

She’s still pushing it by speaking to someone as senior as Handler this way, but she senses - correctly - that she can get away with it. The two of them share something now. An appetite, perhaps. An understanding that her fellow pilots have yet to partake in.

“That’s right,” Handler says. “Now, sergeant, please report to my office tomorrow. We need to discuss your conduct today.”

It isn’t a threat. It’s an opportunity. Sergeant Kotys salutes again as she is dismissed. “Yes, sir!”

Handler turns next to her charge. “Up, Hound.”

Hound is so exhausted and stupefied by her orgasm that it takes her a moment to register what’s being asked of her but inevitably, she obeys. With some reluctance, she hauls herself to her feet. Handler’s boots aren’t clean yet. It’s a task that mustn’t be left half-finished.

“You can finish that later, in your kennel,” Hander instructs. She always knows what’s going on inside Hound’s head. “Now, here.”

She reaches past Hound and properly unfastens her muzzle, only so she can fix it back in place and tie it tight. The way she does it is strict, but not even slightly cruel. She makes sure not to pinch Hound’s skin or knot her hair. There’s something gentle, even loving about the way she attaches the muzzle - which the crowd of watching pilots obviously finds extremely creepy.

“There,” Handler says, once she’s finished. And then, in her special voice: “On The Leash.”

Hound submerges instantly, but it takes a long while for Sartha to truly wake up, leaving their body to sway emptily for a moment before Sartha finds her footing. Once she does, just smiles. Handler is here. All is well. Being able to bask in Her presence washes away any lingering confusion, and the aftershocks of pleasure in her own body simply add to her mood.

She doesn’t question them. She has no need. She’s with Handler.

“Come along, Sartha,” Handler says, turning away. “I need to debrief you.”

Sartha nods and trots after her so she can stand at her place, at Handler’s heel. The debriefing is important, she knows. She never remembers her debriefings, but she knows she needs them to stay good. The two of them walk across the hangar deck to the elevator, Handler’s boots clacking loudly against the metal floor. Before they leave Sartha turns back to look.

All her fellow pilots are watching her. Some of them are smiling. Some of them are laughing. Some of their faces are filled with awe. Sartha isn’t surprised by the way they’re staring. She’s used to it. It’s only natural.

She’s a hero, after all.

—

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#story #Warhound

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