#me ignoring all my wips for a hot man?? it's more likely than you think

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

[clotpolesonly]

Trick or treat!

you get a section out of an "X swipes left on Y without realizing Y is standing right behind them" trope Sterek fic WIP frommmm 2018 apparently lakdfjgalkfdh

.

“Wow,” came a voice from very close behind him. “You’re hard to please, aren’t you? I thought that was a pretty good picture. My selfie game’s not usually strong, but all my friends agreed that one was a keeper.” Beanie guy was peering over Derek’s shoulder, thick glasses sliding down his nose. Big brown eyes flicked up to meet Derek’s and pretty pink lips spread into a smile. The same smile from the last picture. Because this was the same guy, who had apparently just watched Derek reject him. Derek’s face burned, but he would be damned if he let embarrassment get the better of him when this nosy asshat had been watching over his shoulder like a total creep. “You need your friends’ help to get laid via phone app?” “Trust me, I don’t need anyone’s help to get laid,” the guy said. “Via phone app or otherwise.” He winked. The easy smile on his face told Derek that that usually worked for him. Well, not today. “Funny,” Derek said primly. “I would never have guessed.” He turned back to the counter just in time for his order to come up, studiously ignoring the noise of indignation behind him. He collected his drink with the most pleasant smile he could manage out of some sort of misdirected spite. The barista almost dropped it in shock. Derek returned to his table, fully intending to bury himself in his phone for as long as the battery would hold out. He hadn’t been there two minutes—nineteen left swipes—before the chair opposite him was pulled out and the beanie guy dropped into it with a huff. “I gotta hand it to you, man,” he offered. “That was a pretty sick burn. I respect well-thrown shade, even when it’s thrown at me.” He tipped his own coffee in Derek’s direction like a toast, then downed half of it in one big gulp. “So what made you swipe left? Was it the weird lighting? I always thought the lighting was kinda weird there.” Derek hadn’t thought so. Better than the rest, actually, considering most pictures on Grindr were refracted camera flashes in fluorescent-lit bathrooms. This guy’s had been natural sunlight, outdoors at what might’ve been a pool party, if he recalled the slivers of background correctly. It had made him look pretty radiant, backlit like that. But Derek wasn’t going to say that. He had already made the first choice to not be interested, and the second choice to not give this guy the satisfaction of— well, any kind of satisfaction. So he sipped at his new coffee and said:  “Maybe it was the complete and utter lack of any discernible personality in your profile.” The guy made another of those insulted noises, this time complete with a hand over his heart. “You think ‘dog-lover, frequent wikipedia editor, federal agent, and avid Star Wars fan’ constitutes a lack of personality?” he said, clearly scandalized. “Did you miss the ‘Star Wars fan’ part? That alone just screams personality!” Damn it, Derek loved Star Wars. And dogs. And, honestly, he was intrigued by the federal agent part, even if he was a little skeptical of that claim considering how young and slouchy and un-intimidating this guy looked. If Derek weren’t wholly dedicated to tanking his obvious ego, he would regret not actually reading his profile before swiping left on it. But he was too committed to being disinterested to back down now. Doing otherwise would only fuel the ego. So Derek shrugged. “Never seen it.” “Oh my god, you too?” The guy shook his head like he had never heard a more disappointing statement in his entire life. “First Scott, then Liam, and now Super Hot But Hard To Impress Airport Guy. No one has any taste nowadays.” Derek pointedly did not let that title fluster him. “I’m not hard to impress,” he lied. “You’re just not impressive.” Also a lie.

.

trick or treat with me!!

[liecastillo]

The Game // Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd Hansen x female reader

Summary: You didn't behave according to Lloyd's expectations and he has to punish you.

Warnings: bondage (nothing hardcore), sex toys, slight knife play, hints at overstimulation and squirting, nicknames, use of sir (like once)

Wordcount: 1.3k

!!beware of all the mistakes, English is not my native language!!

A/N: Was this on my WIP list? No. Was this my top priority for the last two days? Absolutely yes.

Enjoy!

Lloyd's hand firmly gripped my forearm as he dragged me inside his bedroom and threw me on his bed. With a shriek, I bounced on the mattress and giggled.

“Oh, you think this is funny, baby girl?” he growled. 

“Yes.” I kept on giggling like crazy while I brushed my hair off my face. Angrily he pointed his index finger at me.  

“You embarrassed me in front of very significant people, there is nothing funny about that.” 

Perhaps he was right. But I was still having a lot of fun. 

I knew this evening was important to Lloyd and yet… Yet I couldn’t keep myself down. 

I was horny for hours while he was ignoring me because of them, so I decided to have at least a little bit of fun and dance for a second.

But apparently, it was more than Lloyd would ever allow me to. The dancefloor was crowded, everyone’s body was rubbing on someone else's body and everyone was touching everyone. Including me and the man closest to me. A very hot man, may I say. Though, not as hot as Lloyd right now.

No. He was pissed because I was touching someone else in front of his own eyes. And when he’s pissed, he’s very hot. 

He growls like a feral animal and becomes very dangerous to everyone, including me. And I knew that and still decided to start a fire.

Because I wanted to have fun.

And fun I’m going to get.

He reached into his pocket and took out a knife. His moustache moved as he snarled while he kept on watching me very closely.

“What do you think it looked like when my own girl started flirting with some cheap ass douchebag, huh? Do you think you can play with me like that?”

His stormy blue eyes narrowed when he raised his hand and with the knife in his hand tore my dress apart right in the middle. 

I was left totally bare like the day I was born since I opted not to wear any underwear underneath my dress. My breasts were finally released from their tight prison. They nicely splayed on my chest as I laid there and waited for what would happen next.

Blue eyes roamed my body and tried to survey the situation in front of them. The very horny body with full swaying breasts and wide hips was in front of him on a golden platter.

“If you think that… Then you are very wrong, baby,” he spat out. “Because no one plays with me like that.” An evil grin appeared on his face as his hungry eyes gave me another once-over. 

“But if you do want to be a playful kitten, perhaps I could offer you a game of sorts.”

Oh yes, please. Whatever it is, I want it. Now. 

I was very much desperate at this point. His strong body was hovering above me and his cold eyes were staring straight into my soul. His stare was so intense, that it sent shivers down my spine.

“I think you’re going to like it. A lot.” He lifted one corner of his mouth. “It’s a game exactly to your taste.”

He looked around the room before he ordered: “Move up!”

I moved up on the bed and laid my head on the soft pillows covered in silk sheets. They were cold against my burning skin but I welcomed the stimulation as I was finally able to feel at least something.  

While I did that, he went to one of the drawers and opened it. He took out a couple of ropes and a vibrator with a big head.

Oh yes, please, just give it to me.

He quickly went back to me and with his skilful hands tied my arms and legs to the bed. Whilst my wrists were tied together, both my legs were tied to the bed separately so they were nicely spread in front of him.  

Yes, this really is a game to my taste. 

Out of pure curiosity, I tugged with both my arms and legs but was met with resistance against the rope. As always, he tied it tight with precise knots and gave me no chance to escape his torture. 

Not that I wanted to.

I looked up at his face with a satisfied smile on my lips but I quickly changed my expression.  

“Please, sir, give it to me. I want it. So so bad. Please,” I pleaded without hesitation. I knew he would ask me to do so in a matter of time so why not get it over with as soon as possible so we can get quicker to the more interesting part? 

“Now you want it and aks for it,” he smiled slyly. “But in a second you are going to say the opposite. You’ll beg me to stop, to give your poor pussy some rest…” There was a fire in his eyes whilst he was telling me this. A fire that burned only for me and won’t be put down until he is satisfied. 

“But you asked for this and you’re not going to get any rest nor mercy. Maybe you should think first before you say or do something you shouldn’t, you stupid little girl.” 

Without giving me a chance to somehow react to his vice words, he pressed the vibrator against my clit. I moaned loudly at the sensation. I was already tremendously slick from the fact I was tied to this bed and waiting for whatever he might do in the next couple of seconds, so it was easy for him to move the vibrator around my clitoris and my folds without any resistance. 

I knew this toy very well, he used it on me frequently and because of that I also knew that this was the lowest setting out of eight. Which was odd, because he usually liked to start with a solid three so we can get everything going. But this time… This time it was different. 

My hips bucked up from the bed and my legs started to slightly shake. I closed my eyes to fully enjoy the sensation of the upcoming orgasm while my breathing quickened up. 

Despite it being the lowest setting, I came fast and hard. My lips were widely opened as I came and screamed. 

Finally, I got what I wanted, although Lloyd’s dick would’ve been ten times better and cuming on his dick? That would’ve been a hundred times better. But I’ll take whatever I can get if it equals pleasure. 

I smiled widely and breathed out when the pleasure subsided. My chest was quickly rising and falling as I was trying to recollect my thoughts. 

“Oh, do you think this is it?” he asked. His face appeared in front of me as he hover above me. He had a deeply neutral face going on at the moment that I could not read very well. His eyes were frosty cold and his lips were pulled into a tight line. 

“Do you think I’m done? Sweetheart, this was just the beginning,” he said. With a curious face, he looked at the huge vibrator he was still holding in his hand and wondered: “How many settings does this thing have again? Eight?”

He looked me dead in the eyes and smiled. But not in a happy way. No, no. In a very evil way. 

“Baby, I think there is a long and gruelling night ahead of you,” he says and playfully presses the vibrator against my hard nipples. I tip my head back and moan.

“Because I want you to cum again and again until you soak this bed to the brim and you squirt all over my face.”

And with that, he once again pressed the vibrating toy on my clit. Only this time it was on the second setting.

A/N: I am very nervous to post this since this is not the usual stuff I write, but I still hope you enjoyed it and you'll leave me some feedback!

Tag list: @keanureevesisbae

[starry-eyed-never-satisfied]

Fandom Ask Game! 6, 7, 12, 15, 18, 19, 22, 23, 24

7. Is there a piece of clothing you think [character] is particularly fond of/that you imagine them wearing a lot or like to draw them in?

In terms of drawing, I've drawn Paul in his Destroyer costume most often, because it's really easy to draw, and he looks hot in it. But he looks hot in anything so....

When I was writing Let Me Know, that was hard because when I described Paul as dressing like a rock star, I was envisioning 80s or 90s, ripped jeans, leather jackets, band ts, that sort of thing. I knew a bit about girls clothes in the late 60s, but not a lot about guys, so when I googled it, it was a bit of a shock, and I still struggle to picture him at that time.

12. What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

I don't really do AUs like putting them in completely different worlds/situations, so the most AU I get it using stories not from Kisstory. Take It Off is one of those, that scenario with Paul stripping is completely made up, although we all would love to see it I know. It was fun to write and picture him like that.

15. Have you noticed your style change over time?

I think so, my stories are getting longer and more detailed. I'm adding more action

18. Type [charater]'s name and tell us what the autocomplete suggests as the next word

Paul Stanley ass

I am ashamed. What is wrong with me.

19. What's your favourite thing about [fandom] (the people in it, not the media you're all enjoying together)?

The fact that I think all of you will understand the answer to the previous question and not think there is something wrong with me

22. Give us a headcanon for [character]

When Paul is trying to fall asleep he plays with his chest hair

23. Has your favourite character/ship changed over time?

No. Stardemon for life!

24. What's your favourite thing about [character]?

I love so much about him, its hard to just choose one. I guess that he just has the most beautiful soul. He's been through so much, yet has never lost his positive outlook on life, just constantly believing that things can be and will be better

6. Show us a bit of a WIP!

Okay, this is pretty new, so is most likely not in it's final form. One of my very first stories is called I'm Watching Over You, its the story of the morning after the drunken Hotter Than Hell photo shoot. This one has the working title I'm Watching Over You - The Night Before

Paul grabbed another drink.  A hand rested on his arm.  Gene.

“How much have you had?”

Paul shrugged.

“Paul.”

“What?  I’m a rock thtar, ‘member.  Thith ith wha’ Im meana do.” He swaggered off towards a couple of girls.

---

Peter opened his eyes.  The room was spinning.  He looked over.  Paul was unconscious.  Paul?  Peter blinked a couple of times.  No it was definitely Paul.  And there were men around him.

“Gee –“ Peter couldn’t move.  “Gee!” he cried, looking desperately around for the one person he knew would be sober.

But Gene had already seen.

“Get off him!”

Gene in full demon mode made an impressive sight, bearing down, shoving the would-be rapists aside.

“Hey, sorry man,” one laughed lasciviously.  “Didn’t know he was yours.”

Ignoring him, Gene crouched and carefully picked Paul up.  His head flopped limply against Gene’s shoulder.

---

Gene got Paul out the back door.  It was slightly cooler out there, and Gene leaned against the wall.  “Oh, Paul.  What am I going to do with you,” Gene whispered into his curls.

[coff33notforme]

Masked dread

A/n: Just a Ghostface wip because I love this rat man ♥️ Also I plan to finish all my request don't worry I just had writers block and wanted to write something for me. Also gn reader ^^

EDITED because the format was atrocious

Warning: Cursing, Knifes, Blood, Mention of injurys

The walls of this silent house seemed to scream in anguish. Hot blood trickled down your bruised and muddied hand, the crimson liquid spilled out tainting the polished floor beneath you. Your hair was matted together, tangled alike with blood and dirt.

You knew the cloaked figure would be on to you in a matter of seconds, your trembling gaze shifted desperately to the red locker pressed against the concrete wall. You quickly limped to the locker. Your heart sped up, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the situation you now found yourself in.

Your ragged breath was going to give away your now painfully obvious position, if it wasn’t that then surely the blood trial now tracking behind you was.

Suddenly your body froze, at the sound of the heavy slow footsteps getting gradually closer. Swiftly you opened the door, backing all the way up to the back of the locker in one clumsy panicked movement, you slapped your unsheathed hand over your mouth.

Eyes darting from what you could see from the small misshapen holes in the locker. Your heart-stopped, your entire body ceasing to make as much as a sound.

The dreadful black robe, and taunting white mask, covering the face of a person you’ve oh so grown to hate. Every round you had with this man was fucking hell, he’d go out of his way to chase you completely ignoring the other survivors.

Any chance he got he’d use it to leave some sort of wound on you, you’d never leave a match untouched.

The masked man hunched down slightly, moving his head to the locker slowly. Your face went pale, as he slowly stepped closer and closer and closer until he was pressed up against it.

“I know you're in there…” he whispered, your eyes widened and the pit in your stomach twisted, as the doors flew open.

You let a mangled scream fly out of your mouth as you tripped trying desperately to scatter away from the locker as quickly as possible. Your heart sunk as you felt a harsh grip take hold of your shoulder.

You felt your body being pulled back as you coiled with the wall of the building, knocking the air out of your lungs in one harsh movement. Your muscles were yelling in pain as you laid defenseless, unable to move.

The man clicked his tongue solemnly, crouching down to your level, taking a hand full of your hair as you let out a pained gasp.

“Aw, I really thought you were going to put up more of a fight than that” he mocked, venom dripping from his snake-like tone. You felt the cold metal of a sharp blade being placed to your completely exposed neck.

“Don’t expect me to be gentle when you're the one who decided to make things difficult” he spat, his voice climbing down an octave leaving a hollow feeling in your gut.

“Now just hold still and be a good little -” he wasn’t able to finish his cooing as he was silenced with a swift punch to the face, his mask flung to the side. Revealing a raven haired man behind, now scowling at you with the fresh blood dripping from his nose.

“Still got some fight for me to stomp out?” he seethed the words managing to slip out from his gritted teeth,

“Fuck you.” you spat at him stumbling to arise quickly from your slumped position. You didn't get a second to think before you were being lunged at, the masked man now atop of you.

He held the knife dangerously close to your throat once more except this time you could feel the stinging pain of the blade now cutting through your skin. He smirked

“Tell ya what? You want to get out of here? You give me something and I’ll go easy on you, the rest of the round” he sneered, his voice oozing with confidence, he knew you couldn’t refuse he had the upper hand here and anything you tried to fight back with would be easily avoided leaving you with another bruise.

“What do you want from me?” you seethed, through gritted teeth, trying your hardest to avoid any movement that would send the blade deeper into your throat. “A kiss.” your eyes widened

“What!? No!” he shrugged,

“Your loss” you felt the blade cut deeper. You frantically tossed your head away from the knife, only cutting your neck a little.

“Fine! Fine! Just put the knife down” you shouted, eyes clenched waiting for the feeling of your throat being sliced in half, but to your surprise you felt a weight being lifted off of you.

You looked up to see the man now standing above you with a shit eating grin. You glared at him, he closed his eyes pointing to his cheek cockily. You rolled your eyes

“One kiss okay?” you said taking a deep breath you hesitantly leaned in. Suddenly the dark haired man turned to you grabbing your jaw harshly, as he pulled you into him kissing you passionately.

His lips were so soft, they brushed against your lips hungrily with a feather like quality to them.

As he pulled away smirking at your now flustered estate, you stuttered trying to think of something to say, anything, you weren’t sure whether you wanted to slap him across his stupid face or kiss him again with twice the force this time.

He came closer to you, his hot breath tickling your bare skin leaving a shiver crawling down your spine.

“Call me Danny” and with that he crept back into the shadows leaving you behind, light headed and trembling in delight.

‘Danny huh?’ perhaps he was starting to grow on you

[klcthebookworm]

WIP Wednesday: Evil Jack: Till Death Do We Part

So the real surprises of picking up long-lingering projects (*waves slightly* it's been fourteen years BMFM fandom and I never got a chance to watch the 2006 revival so I will ignore it) was

transporting my notes and outlines into Scrivener that I use now

it has been a hot minute rewatching any episodes but between this writing and Trigun: Three of a Kind, I have found many details lodged into my long-term memory that I totally didn't expect

picking up the narrative, if only ALL my writing projects could flow like that

Moving things has been complicated because the desktop tower computer a lot of stuff was saved on died and I need to buy a new hard drive for it. The files are fine because of backups. Automatic backups are the best octane; set them up. But there are extra steps to me getting what I'm looking for which is annoying. Me putting details into the stories that I double check and find canon evidence has just been fun. And wow, I've been able to write longhand rough draft on paper, which I have been blocked in other projects to need to have my fingers on the laptop keyboard.

So for everyone who's been introduced to Hannah Davidson in Trigun: Three of a Kind, this is a story from when she was five-years-old, the fourth one in the Evil Jack series.

Three figures get out of the ship and walk to the back door of the garage that led into the downstairs kitchen. They all had big ears and tails and one was a lady. Hannah pushed the window. It slid up easily, letting in all the cold air of December. At least it had stopped raining tonight because these new mice hadn’t brought umbrellas. Dad said there was time for the rain to become snow before Christmas.

They stopped half in the circle from the light over the back door but she could see they all had the same kind of olive green pants. “We definitely miscalculated local time,” the tallest said in a low voice, a man mouse for sure. “Just how late is it?”

“I have only been here once,” the lady mouse answered, equally quietly, “and you expect me to have the local time calculations in my head?”

“I expected to call for a welcoming committee once we got past the Plutarkian patrols,” he said back with a sigh.

“And I want to actually succeed at this mission and not get apprehended,” she snapped back without making her voice louder.

The shortest one heaved out a sigh. “I’d feel bad about waking Charley-ma’am up. She works. Uncle Modo won’t be as asleep at the scoreboard.”

Hannah leaned out of the window. “He’s your Uncle Modo too?”

All three of them looked up at the window and the shortest one moved more into the light. He had pale tan fur, lighter than Dad’s but darker than Uncle Vinnie’s white, and his hair was a dark brown except for a streak of orange between his antennae. “You must be Hannah.” He smiled. “I’m Rimfire, and Modo is my uncle. Is your Mom awake?”

“You live on Mars.” Hannah looked over at the spaceship hidden in the shadows since they turned off the lights. “Nobody said you had a spaceship. Is it broken?”

“No, because I actually know how to fly them,” the lady said. “Can you get your mother? It is important.”

“Okay.” She hopped back from the window and ran around the couch to open Mom and Dad’s bedroom. “Hey! We got company from Mars! Though he wants to go see Uncle Modo and I think he got told no.”

[spotsandsocks]

Throwback Thursday

A lovely idea from @blaidddrwg1982 who was lovely enough to tag me this morning and by the time I actually got round to this so had @rogerzsteven @imsupposedtobewritting @the-likesofus

Here’s one of my early fics, I and my first try a smuttiness (so works for thirsty Thursday too thanks for that tag too @imsupposedtobewritting ) was a bit worried rereading it but it wasn’t too bad!

Tags for @elvensorceress @hetrez @ajunerose @loveyourownsmiilee @fleurdebeton @jacksadventuresinwriting @sibylsleaves

rules: post something from an old work, maybe a wip you never finished or a passage you really love from a published fic!

A date or not a date, that is the question 3.4K M/E

Buck sighed as he made up his mind, he didn’t really want to have to do this but he was desperate for some clarity. Fearing the worse but letting his optimistic sprit swing him forward he walked over to the kitchen took a deep breath and jumped in,

“So I’ve got this friend and .”

Two head turned to him, fixing him with their undivided attention. It’s a little alarming.

“A friend?!” Chim interrupted him looking amused, his tone already full of disbelief and suppressed amusement as he glanced at Hen.

Buck’s heart sinks, yeah, this was going to be bad. He decides to persevere anyway.

“Yes, a friend,” Buck said firmly. “Who has this problem.”

“What’s his name?” Hen asked helpfully

“His name?” He probably should have thought of that.

“Yes your friend’s name, it’ll help me create a better picture of him” Hen said deadpan

“Chad” he said flatly, choosing at random.

“Chad?”You actually have a friend called Chad?” Chim asked no longer even pretending to believe him.

“I could do! Anyway, that's not important and it’s hardly his fault if his parents called him Chad is it?!” Buck defends his imaginary friend’s, imaginary name.

“Ok ok fine.” Chim smirks, hands up to calm him, “so what’s Chad’s problem?”

“He’s got a friend.”

“Your friend’s friend is your friend’s problem?” Chim said the smirk breaking into a full grin.

“Chim” he’s moments from turning around and abandoning the whole thing “are you gonna help me or not?”

Chim’s face said it could go either way but he stays quiet so Buck continues.

“Chad and his friend. I don’t know his name,” Buck said pointedly as Hen opened her mouth again. “Well they’re going out together to get some food, just them,”

Here’s the tricky bit ,“and this friend,”

“Your friend or the friend’s friend?” Hen looks far too amused in Buck’s opinion.

A weary sigh escapes before he answers, “The friend” he continues rising above his unhelpful colleague’s comments “said and I quote “it’s a date” and I… Chad doesn’t know if that means it’s a date date or you know just a date.”

Chim nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully “quite the dilemma you, uh Chad have there Buck.”

“What day is the ‘date’?” Hen asked.

“Friday”

“Traditional date night” they said together.

“You think?” Buck had thought that too.

“Any um ‘sexual tension’ between Chad and his unnamed friend?” Hen asked, dropping air quotes alongside a raised eyebrow.

Buck blushed, “uh I don’t know maybe, a bit”. He looked down, I mean Chad likes this friend more than just as a friend you know, but he’s never said it to him.”

“Does this friend of Chad have anyone special in their lives?”

“No.”

“I see, is the friend hot?”

“Yes. I mean Chad says he is.”

“Is Chad hot?” Chim asks

Buck rolls his eyes, “Chim that is not the point. Is it a date?”

“No idea, sorry man.” Chim laughed.

“Uh! You two are useless.” he complained and stormed off to find someone more sensible, ignoring Eddie coming past in the opposite direction.

“What’s with him?” Eddie asked glancing back at Buck who was muttering to himself as he disappeared out of sight.

“He’s freaking out.” Chim supplied, “His imaginary friend Chad has a date.”

“Or doesn’t” Hen added helpfully.

“His what now?” Eddie face screwed up in confusion.

“Anyway,” hen throws Eddie a grin “you all ready for Friday, hot stuff?”

“Definitely” Eddie replied with a slight blush and a smile. “Looking forward to it, it’s been a long time coming.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Chim agreed.

Once Eddie left them, Hen looked at Chim. “You don’t think we should put Buck out of his misery then? Or at least tell Eddie he’s having a crisis.”

“and ruin all the sexual tension, no way!”

[blissfulalchemist]

WIP Wednesday

Been a hot second but tagged by @unholymilf and @adelaidedrubman to share and I have something a little substantial (and something I am going to finish). Tagging: @florbelles @belorage @heroofpenamstan @strafethesesinners @statichvm @confidentandgood @jackiesarch​ and anyone else that wants to! Tag me!

This is from a Riverdale prompt and Liz you need to know Kate should be thanking you, since this ship get to live on main (eventually). But have a 21y/o Sib and one of the suitors her mother has picked.

Emperor Souls shuffles in, the hunch in his shoulders and brow does nothing to hide the piercing golden gaze he holds for nothing in particular. Wrinkled, pallor skin makes stark the permanent dark shadows under his eyes and the man himself stand out among the bright rich colors of the household better than the nearly all black attire he wears. Siberite scrutinizes his hair wondering if the darkness of it is natural considering the single white streak in the front feels almost purposeful, a thought quickly dismissed as she recognizes the same shimmering effect of the inlaid grey that happens with her father’s hair in this lighting. Finally he stops with a heavy sigh and a crossing of his arms that pulls the fur lined coat closer despite the fact Katla let the temperature rise in the house to better accommodate such a frail being. A wonder you can still carry the weight of that coat, Emperor Solus, let alone yourself and the rumored twenty layers beneath it, Siberite thinks, turning to take in the other two men that follow. Men that one could easily tell were related, with similar long blonde hair, high cheekbones, hooded eyes, and so close in height, towering over an old man that still has quite the height on Siberite even with her heels. However, like Siberite and her mother they differed in their eye color, the older man with his hardened gold eyes and his son with an empty sky blue. She frowns seeing the armor inlay on the father’s clothing, padding out what Siberite assumes to be a smaller frame, more prominent once his red cape is removed. The son, her potential betrothed, is more built and wears clothing tight enough to show it off, he neither frowns nor smiles, hasn’t even deigned a glance to his surroundings, Maybe we both are of similar mind in not wanting this. Another six guards follow with one of them alerting Khutula there would be another dozen soon. The auri man gives a sigh and strained smile, Siberite watching as once more the guards ignore his direction. “Emperor Solus,” her mother greets, bowing her head and curtsying, “it is a great honor to be hosting you in our home.” “It is quite quaint,” he mutters after a cursory glance, “Certainly colorful.” Lady Akagane’s smile twitches, her husband clearing his throat, “I thank you for meeting me here, Emperor Solus. Allow me to formally introduce you to my wife,” he gestures to the older woman curtsying once more. His expression and hand moves to his other side, “And this is my daughter, Siberite.” A moment passes before she turns her gaze back to them and bows her head with a curtsy, “A pleasure, m’lord.” “Charmed,” he says flatly, “I believe you’re to meet with my great-grandson. Introduce yourself my boy.” Siberite’s gaze flicks back to Khutula and Katla arguing quietly, the older woman’s lips thinning as she runs a hand through her grey hair, wrinkles multiplying by the second. “Pardon my interruption, Emperor Solus,” she snaps, her mother’s eyes going wide with a tightening jaw, “but I do believe your guard is not giving our head of security the courtesy he deserves. While I do not doubt their ability to protect you, they are not familiar with our home so how are they to know the proper locations for optimal security?” “Siberite,” her mother says slowly. The old man’s eyes narrow slightly, Siberite’s serene smile never leaving, “I personally find it highly offensive that my family’s own personal security is doubted this much. Unless you do not trust us to begin with.” She looks up at her father, “Trust is a very important foundation to any kind of business, would you not agree, father? Mayhaps it is best to reconsider.” “Is that so,” Solus’ eyes look around at the guard, “It’s not as if you have that much room to begin with.” “If they were positioned where our head of security guided, none of us would feel so claustrophobic. I assure you there’s plenty of space for us to breathe.” He sighs, “Just listen to the man. I’d prefer we get to business sooner rather than later.” Yeah I bet you do, Siberite thinks, You may hardly make it through the first course. “Of course. Right this way.” Lord Akagane leads the party to the dining room where much of the guard stands around, shifting in ways that bar the walking areas for the staff. Siberite notices the china has changed from what her mother normally considers the best to the rare set stored away only to be displayed. Never once used in Siberite’s lifetime. A pristine white with inlaid magenta gems, rose gold borders, and rose gold lotus flower designed in a Doman fashion, a relic from their family’s homeland and a reminder of where they started, and it sits upon the wooden table that has been painstakingly polished once more. Napkins folded in crisp lines, the centerpieces exactly spaced out and lined up for their square bottoms to be parallel to the table, and crystal glasses that start to find themselves filled with what Siberite assumes to be some of the finest wine to be found on such short notice. Absolute perfection, the closest one could ever see and it hardly seems to phase the men who start to take their seats.

------------------------------

Siberite looks over the table once more, finally noticing that her mother brought out a smaller table, Of course you would hope being physically closer would spark something. Siberite huffs, feeling his eyes on her sending a warming chill throughout her. “Is something amiss?” “Not at all,” he answers lowly, “I must reiterate how appealing you look in such a dress. I typically would assume a woman of your status to dress more modestly.” “I’d simply die of heatstroke if I dressed how women of my status normally do. I am surprised anyone in your party has yet to suffer from such a thing in your time here.” “Only the weak willed would succumb to such a thing.” “So you are saying I’m weak willed?” “Have you ever been tested to your limits?” She gives a saccharine smile, “I believe I see where you are going with this. Does this charm you are attempting normally work for you?” He smirks as the first course is presented to them, halting any conversation for the time being. Conversation that never picks up as they all make it through most of the third course, save for the mutterings of Katla and other staff over the lack of room they had to work with. Siberite clears her throat, “Mother, may I be excused for two minutes? I just need a little air, I feel as if I am suffocating in this room.” “Siberite,” she starts in the tone that normally is followed with a no, glancing over everyone with a smile, “Of course. Two minutes and I’ll let them take your plate in the meantime.” “Thank you.” She stands making her way to the door where one of them men have blocked half of it, with no indication of moving. Head held high she goes to move past him, making sure much of her skirt covers his feet, before promptly stomping on his foot. He lets out a cry, flinching from the door, her eyes going wide with a small gasp, “Oh my, I am so sorry. How clumsy of me. It is a rather tight spot wouldn't you agree?” She glances over her shoulder where her mother’s eyes narrow, “I think it might be a good idea to maybe have a few step out of the dining room for a bit? I do very much apologize though sir.” “It’s-. Ah,” he hisses, “It’s okay m’lady. You may possibly be right.” “When am I not,” she mutters making her way out the balcony, leaning against the house with a groan.

[macyqwrites]

credit to @yvesdot for this template!

happy almost new year! 2022 was the first year in a very long time that i consistently wrote every month, so i'm excited to look back on it! my writing this year was dominated by my latest wip, next day after dawn, including both canonverse content and a lot of stupid au bullshit <3

details under the cut!

january

in january i was still very much in dearer than a friend mode after finishing the first draft in november, but with no progress to make on the book itself i ended up writing some speculative post-canon (and very non-canon) nonsense involving preston getting into a terrible terrible relationship with another man. this one was a collab with @inkgel for which we definitely wrote a sane and normal amount of content

It’s not that he intended for this to happen. But the truth has been bubbling up for so long now, and eroding him a little more each time it does, wearing away at whatever remains of his willpower, his sense of himself, his belief that he has anything left to lose. And he’s already damned. He knows that deep down. He could repent, he supposes. Maybe God would forgive him. But Val won’t. He doesn’t really see the point. And it’s because of that too. Because he’s alone now, in a way he never has been, never could have been for the past eleven years of his life, because he always had someone who was supposed to be his. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to forget it when it feels like a piece of him has been ripped out, leaving a gaping wound that throbs and bleeds and refuses even to begin to heal. So he has to find someone to fill it, even if they don’t fit quite right.

february

in february i was mostly focused on my classes, but that did involve reading paradise lost and briefly getting very fixated on eve. i wrote less than two pages of this, but i was having fun with some dialogue between eve and satan. it was interesting to try to figure out what the pov of someone so ignorant of the world might look like

“Are you an angel?” I ask. That creature that he is talking to as I am talking to you. I do not really know what an angel is. He would not let me listen with him so it could be explained to me. But I know that an angel is something greater than me, and you are greater than me, but you are not Him, so I think maybe that is right. “I was an angel,” you say. “Was?” “I don’t know if I can explain it to you.” I feel something when you say that, something that I have no name for, but I know it is something that is bad to feel. Frustration, I think. I am good at naming things. I am as good as him. Sometimes I wish that He had left some of the animals for me to name too, but that is something that is bad to wish.

march

in march i decided i needed to get out of endlessly spinning dtaf mode. i also read gtn and remembered how much i love ensemble casts. and lo and behold, next day after dawn was born. this was one of the very first scenes i wrote, between mona and her mother austra when mona is (spoilers) experiencing life threatening illness moments. their mother/daughter dynamic is everything to me

“Don’t lie,” she said, and tried not to think about the fact that she sounded more than a little like she was begging. “Don’t—Selene can’t lie for shit, and she told me everything was fine, but she probably just wanted to avoid a difficult conversation, probably thought it was for the best, because she’s an idiot, but if you lie—” The room felt suffocating, stuffy and overly hot. She was suddenly viscerally aware of the sticky dampness of sweat beneath her shirt, and that, somehow, was more overwhelming than the pain that spiderwebbed from her pounding head all the way down her back. Her mother was silent, her face still very nearly impassive, but there was something in the slight furrowing of her brows that Mona thought looked terribly sad. “Don’t you dare,” Mona said furiously. Her eyes were burning. She blinked hard to clear the definitely-not-tears forming there. “Don’t you dare act like I’m going to die.”

april

more ndad snippets! this was from the first full scene i finished, which ended up being prince cyrus' pov of the first night after the coup. he is so mentally ill

Cyrus thought that was a nice enough idea on paper, given the circumstances. But when it became clear that it involved putting on his least comfortable court clothes and shuffling into a musty, overly crowded hall where three scuffed tables and a dozen mismatched chairs had been pushed together in some imitation of a royal banquet, he very quickly began to have second thoughts. Cassandane tried to motion for him to sit at the head of the table when they came in. He sat just to the right of it instead, as he would have if he really had been at court. If the king had been here. But the fact that he wasn’t didn’t make it feel any more right to take his place. So Cyrus didn’t. No one else did either. The chair sat untouched at the front of the room, a ghost in an empty seat. Not a ghost, Cyrus tried to remind himself. Just not here. He would be back soon. They would all be back soon. He couldn’t handle thinking anything else.

may

ndad strikes again! this is going to be most of this. here we have the first darcy pov i wrote, featuring them being sent to woo princess cassandane for prince cyrus and falling head over heels in love with her themself. (take a shot every time someone in ndad has a line about being or not being their father's son)

“I am not a real princess,” she told them after a long moment. “But I am interested in becoming a queen.” She looked one already, Darcy thought. Her eyes were diamond hard, her jaw and cheekbones carved from marble. She could have knocked her father’s statue to the ground and stood on the pedestal in its place and put it to shame. She could have told them to do anything for her, and it wouldn’t have crossed their mind not to obey. She was all that a queen should be. And Darcy was what they should have been. They were not truly the King’s ambassador, nor the Prince’s surrogate. Their loyalty went only as far as their self-interest. They were not their father’s son. But they were, if nothing else, an excellent liar, which was why they could never fully explain the sudden urge they felt to tell her the truth.

june

in june i wrote a short story for a shakespeare-themed horror anthology! it did not get in, but this was my first shot at horror, so i had a ton of fun anyway. i'll probably post this one on ao3 soon -- it's fun little examination of the inherent freakiness of the ending of all's well that ends with, this time with 100% more black magic

Here’s my confession: I don’t love my wife.  Confession’s probably the wrong word though. Cause it’s not like I can tell anyone. Everyone around here thinks we got our perfect miracle of a storybook ending, so maybe I’m the one who’s wrong for not wanting it. Maybe I deserve this. My happily ever after. I don’t know how they believe it. Well, they believe it because I said it, I said I love Helen, and the lie came out smoother than it should have, given the circumstances, because God knows I’ve had too much practice. Maybe I sounded like I meant it. What I actually said was that I’d love her forever. I never said I was smart.

july

we're back in ndad land, and oh boy, this was a month. july was the first time i've ever beaten nanowrimo, fully unintentionally, simply because @wren-is-writing and i went fucking insane with the au fanfiction. but the piece that started it all was renan's backstory, aka renan's spiral into destroying every part of himself over his love for a terrible little boyboss war criminal (hi king cyrus). this is the first time the two of them meet, when cyrus is still in his rakish misbehaving prince era. brainworms are found in the gay old men

The others are already drinking deep again, eager to accept another newcomer into their circle for the night, but your mouth has gone dry. It’s almost hard to look at him. It’s harder to look anywhere else. He notices you staring. When he catches your eye, it makes your heart jump into your throat. “What?” he asks. “Something in my teeth?” You’re barely breathing. “Your Highness,” you manage, and you can’t read the look that crosses his face. Hebes slaps his hand down on the table so hard it makes your glass rattle, and lets out an incredulous, booming laugh. “Stars above, Renan, is that Prince Cyrus?” The boy next to you winks and flashes another incandescent grin. “Just call me Cy.”

august

and here we come to just a small selection of the insane au fanfiction wren and i engaged in. not ALL of it was about cyrenan, just most of it. here's some darcy and cassandane in the criminally extensive college au. darcy's pining, what else is new

It would happen, though, they told themself. It would happen eventually. Because she loved them, they were sure, even if neither of them had phrased it that way exactly. They’d as good as told each other more times than they could count. They had always worked that way, reading between the lines but knowing they were on the same page. “You’re brilliant, you know,” they murmured, dropping their voice so low they were sure only she could hear it. Just one more way of telling her. They knew she’d understand. “At dancing or in general?” “Both.” “I do know,” Cass replied. Her slow, curving smile made them flush too much to hide.  “I want to do this more often,” they whispered. They risked stroking their thumb lightly across her shoulder, a gesture they hoped was too small to catch. “I want to do this all the time.” Forever wasn’t a word they would pull out in public regardless of how softly they were speaking, but they were sure she got that too.

september

we're back to canonverse ndad, thank god. more backstories! this one chronicles austra's girlbossification, and this moment specifically is right after her daughter mona is born

She’s not going to make it. That’s the first thing the doctors tell you. It’s the first thing the Church proclaims on the matter too. You’re still confined to your hospital room. You can’t witness it pronounced in a chapel or read it in a star chart. You have to hear it from your husband’s mouth instead. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. You haven’t been. You’ll break down when there’s nothing left to fight for, not a moment sooner than that. Your daughter needs surgeries that haven’t been performed in a century. Your daughter has long brown eyelashes that flutter when you kiss her while she sleeps. Your husband tells you that her doom is written in the stars, and he says it like he thinks it’s true.

october

and i actually followed austra's backstory up with castor's, because apparently i spent some of this year being semi productive. castor's terrible little psyche revolves around the fact that his brother (everyone's favourite son) died when he was a teenager and he thinks it's his fault for not being a hardened soldier at 17. here he is trying to be a hardened soldier (it's not going well)

You’re not a natural. You’re not even a hard-won talent. Even when you’re not half sleepwalking, you’re slow, clumsy, unsure. Your sword arm grows sore after barely an hour. The straps of your armour chafe against the skin of your neck and leave it raw. You’ve tried your best, memorized a hundred manoeuvres in sparring sessions, but somehow you still freeze in the field. The first time an enemy makes a swipe for you, you run like a coward. By the fiftieth time, you’ve learned to stand your ground, but you don’t know if your allies feel the difference. At night, every comrade you couldn’t save has your brother’s face. He had scars when he—when you saw him the last time. A barely-there line through his eyebrow, another tiny one on his chin. Your father has the gouged-out pit in his left cheek, the mark that proves he is and isn’t invulnerable. Every time a blade flashes in your face, you wonder if you’ll end up with a matching one. It never happens, probably because you’re too quick to flinch back from the strikes that might get close enough. Your skin remains despicably pristine.

november

wow, a new wip? well maybe. this one is still in very early stages, but i got seized by brainworms consisting of "what if richard and bolingbroke from shakespeare's richard ii were lesbians (and not cousins) and fucking hated each other." also it's the 80s, i think. rielle is our larger than life femme richard who's never met an emotion she couldn't turn into a performance, and the narrator here is jack, butch bolingbroke, who has a lot of daddy issues and hates rielle so fucking much.

Don’t get me wrong. My dad was an asshole. He was a dyed-in-the-wool red-blooded homo-hating bigot and I didn’t shed a tear at his funeral. But he was the kind of asshole where if I called my hair a pixie cut and ditched the Doc Martens for mascara when I came around for dinner, he’d happily keep paying my tuition. He’d even hug me, sometimes. Mostly after Mom died. Both arms around my shoulders, like he meant it. So I had my reasons, basically, for not wanting to publicly tell him to go fuck himself.  And even if I hadn’t, she was the last person I owed an explanation. Easy for her to say she’d cut off her parents in a heartbeat when she didn’t have any, just an inheritance ten times the size I was ever getting and a bunch of framed tabloids with pictures of a Rolls-Royce twisted around a lamp post and a cherub of a girl who knew, even at ten years old, how to cry pretty.

december

this past month i've been juggling grad school apps and finals and prepping for my thesis, so i haven't written a ton, but i went back to fun shakespeare fanfiction collabs with @inkgel for a bit! here's me attempting to write julius caesar pov `for our caesar/antony character study that we did after playing those characters on zoom (and playing them as in love, of course)

He could do the same with Antony. Antony wouldn’t make him ask twice for it—wouldn’t make him ask at all, probably, because he is always so delightfully quick to capitulate, all it would really take is a finger ghosted over those plush and slightly reddened lips. But Caesar doesn’t like him to be carved out of marble. He likes it when Antony stumbles, the laugh bubbling up from his throat loose and lazy, the perfect planes of his cheekbones marred with a ruddy flush. When Antony clings onto him, half for balance, half because he’s surely looking for any excuse to. When he hangs on several moments longer than he needs to, his pupils blown, his hair mussed not-quite-artfully, and kisses him with the heady scent of wine still on his breath. Perhaps sometimes he would deign to think he loved it, but it’s been years since that word has been his to offer. These days, it’s only for lesser men to give.

if you got this far, thank you so much for reading! see you all in 2023!!

[dogmomwrites]

Heads Up Seven Up!

Hey hey, hi hi! I fell way behind! :D It's so nice of you guys to tag me so much, you're all so sweet! I was tagged a couple times back in November and a couple times more recently in December, so to avoid spamming everyone, I'm gonna group them together by month lol

In November, I was tagged by @oh-no-another-idea, @crypticcodexcreations, and @eli-writes-sometimes. Thanks so much for the tags guys! Sorry it's taking me so long to get to them!

I've been stuck in a non-writing phase, so I haven't gotten anything done for my main wips, but I did write a little drabble yestereve, so I'll use that. It's focused on my dnd character, a paladin named Kiormo, and another pc, a vampire named Alucarcio. I don't intend to turn it into a wip, but the scene was stuck in my head so.

It's a little longer than seven lines (even per person), but that's cuz I took so long so I'm apologizing with extra lines lmao

Soft tagging @blind-the-winds, @briannaswords, @pandawriterstuff, @inkspellangel, @j-1173, @junypr-camus, and @lockejhaven, as well as an open tag for anyone else!

Kiormo flicked an ear. “Do you consider the Nine Hells a hot springs resort?”

That made him laugh. “That is one place I have actively avoided visiting,” he said, and they lapsed into silence. “So what’s keeping you up?”

“Thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it helps.”

“Is it helping now?”

“Not really.”

Raising a hand, Alucarcio called the bartender to him, politely ignoring how the man stared at his tell-tale features, and said, “I would like something to chase away this chill. Mulled cider, please—one for me and another for my friend.”

“Four copper each,” the man said, and Alucarcio tossed him a silver coin.

“Keep it,” he said. He noticed the slight crease that formed between the man’s brows and almost laughed. Hard to dislike someone who pays you extra, isn’t it? Even if that man be soulless and damned. Turning back to Kiormo, he said, “It looks to me as though you are brooding rather than thinking.”

Glancing at him, Kiormo noted the hint of a smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. He often seemed amused even when there was no humor. “They’re sort of the same thing, aren’t they? You can’t brood without thinking.”

“But you can think without brooding. That’s the difference. Fingers and thumbs, and all that.”

“Fingers are thoughts now?”

“And thumbs are brooding,” Alucarcio said, his smile winning out.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

[0risha]

RECOGNITION

series m.list

PAIRING : sukuna x fem!reader

SUMMARY : when an exchange student comes to jujutsu tech, Itadori is set on finding out why the King of curses is so interested in you.

TAGS : fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, jjk anime spoilers, some curse words, reader is described as a black female

NOTES : i’ve read a couple of works where sukuna meets his reincarnated lover so I wanted to try it out too, hope you enjoy. was supposed to make progress with my wips but I was in a sukuna mood. (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Sukuna feels your presence before he sees you. It’s one of those cliché moments where time puts its hand up to signal a standstill. Yuuji can feel it too when you pass by, your long braids swishing with each step.

He’s sure that he’s never seen you before but his shared body buzzes in remembrance. All the while, his emotions are overtaken by the unbridled feeling of wanting. 

After that, Itadori never took it upon himself to ask Sukuna about the matter because the curse didn’t seem to want to.

Sukuna had become more and more suppressed, his usual pop-ups were a rare occurrence, even when Megumi was around. However, for the whole month you’d been at Jujutsu Tech, the King of curses had been intent on observing from his throne of woven carcasses, body hunched over to just watch.

You’re an exchange student, Itadori recalls Gojo’s past conversation about a new second-year that would be coming from the states. You’re strong — at first, Itadori couldn’t help but think that this revelation was the reason for Sukuna’s interest —your cursed energy being perfect sediment for close combat and dealing precise blows, all the same, Itadori could feel a grappling hook of something that seemed to be festering.

It’s dark and brooding and it stirs every time you come into contact with him. And Yuuji thinks he might go crazy because he wants to know your connection with Sukuna and it’s not like he can ask you because your aura screams — unapproachable.

His chance comes when all the first-years are assigned to a mission, you're there for extra measure. Gojo’s shaman instincts telling him that this mission was far too exceeding for him, Nobara, and Megumi.

Though just as Gojo predicted, it goes terribly wrong and Itadori keels over with an empty hollow where his heart should be.

His last thoughts are consumed with a screeching mantra of his late grandfather’s words. In the crevice of his flickering mind, they're big bold letters that drip with poisoned regret.

Before his vision goes black, the last thing he sees is a heart-broken Megumi and your face which is flooded with guilt.

When Itadori comes face to face with the King of curses, the stench of rotting death overpowering his senses, he mulls over the terms laid out by Sukuna to come back, alive.

To be reunited with his friends and become some type of savior —sukuna's words, not his— he'd give up the reigns of his body so Sukuna could talk to you whenever he chose.

For the exchange of his life, the rules weren’t bad, a part of him knows that this selfish override could cause problems for you in the future, but he still agrees.

When he wakes up to a pure white ceiling and the smell of bleach he doesn’t expect to see you towering over him. Moving up to a sitting position, his cheeks nearly bleed red because he’s naked. His eyes frantically flit over to Gojo who’s sitting in the corner of the room, watching the exchange. The white-haired sorcerer shrugs in a ridiculed manner —silently telling Itadori that it wasn’t his problem.

“You called me,” your voice filters through the bright room. His eyebrows crinkle in confusion. Sukuna must've did something.

When his eyes flit back to you, he’s met with your monotone expression, your cascade of braids framing your face. And for the third time in his life, he’s scared. 

Your cursed energy, which for your level should leave little to no residual, is flaring with onyx undertones. Its sharpened jaws nearing closer and closer to Itadori in a beckoning manner. He's not sure why it's visible in the first place.

Gojo stays silent.

Brat, let me out. Sukuna, for the first time in weeks, pops up with a wide mouth on the palm of his hand. Without a second thought, Itadori allows him. 

Whilst wading in his domain of subconsciousness, he watches the exchange. Your expression stays the same as you study Sukuna’s marked face. 

“So hostile,” Sukuna bares, his powerful aura sifting through the room. You roll your eyes and crack a smile. Seamlessly ignoring the other man in the room— who you know Sukuna has a grudge with. 

“Am I not supposed to be?” you cross your arms and ask. “Being friendly would get me in trouble.”

“You remember me?” The King of curses cuts straight to the point, the question being so unexpected that Gojo shuffles in his seat, his spine rigid with anticipation. 

You nod stiffly. "I didn’t at first, not fully at least, but after coming into contact a few times, yeah.”

“It’s a shame I don’t have control over this body,” Sukuna presses a palm to your cheek, no doubt a loving caress. His deep baritone voice causing your skin to erupt into a turnpike for goosebumps to situate. “Do you remember how we parted last?”

“A sorcerer killed me or something,” you scratch the back of your neck under his intense stare. “Right through here,” you confess, pointing to the middle of your sternum.

“And you’ve become one?” Sukuna quirks an eyebrow, shoulders stiff with anger. 

“I didn’t even know I knew you until a month ago, calm down,” you wave in dismissal. Itadori takes note in the way Sukuna visibly relaxes, your words washing him in a bucket of warmth. “Is that all? I’ve got a mission in thirty minutes.” 

“I’m coming with you.” Sukuna jumps off the steel table, his bare feet touching the cool ground. You turn your eyes away from the bottom half of his body, ears growing hot in embarrassment.

“Eh? Is that allowed?” You turn to Gojo who’s still analyzing the situation beforehand and he shrugs with complacency. “Don’t let anyone see him,” Gojo warns, his stare serious even under his blindfold. You're not exactly sure what Gojo's thinking but you grasp the opportunity.

When you leave the autopsy room with a naked Sukuna by your side, careful to avoid any areas where Sukuna’s aura might be felt, you make it to Itadori’s dorm.

“Here.” You throw him Yuuji’s formal uniform and a pair of brown boots you find in the corner of his room. “I’m not wearing this,” Sukuna interjects.

“Huh?” Your upper lip curls up in confusion. “Then you’re not coming with me.” You turn to leave but he catches your arm in a tight grip.

“Fine, since you’re so damn adamant.” He releases his grip on your arm to slip into Yuuji’s clothes, when he finishes he turns to you with a glare.

“Good boy,” you praise, patting his tattooed cheek.

Internally, Itadori’s too bewildered to tease the curse. In all of his time spent with Sukuna in his body, he’s never seen the King of curses voluntarily listen to somebody else’s demands. The murky water he stands in ripples as he sits to observe everything that’s transpiring. 

When you both reach the site you were assigned to, you sigh in annoyance. “What is it?” Sukuna asks, hands in pockets as he studies your face.

“I was hoping to have an easy day, they’re not dangerous or anything but there’s more than a dozen in there.” You point to the abandoned building, its steel beams bending with age.

“I’ll exorcise them for you.”  

This is going completely against this guy’s morals, Yuuji thinks. 

Your eyebrows fly to your forehead as you grow giddy with happiness. “Really?” You exclaim clambering up to wrap him in a hug.

“If you don’t let go, I won’t.” He grumbles, head in your neck while inhaling your sweet scent. 

“Okayyy,” you inhale, trailing off, Sukuna not too far behind. 

The exorcism is completed in fifteen seconds, tops. You stare in amazement at his lithe movements. His sharp fingers extinguishing cores with precise stabs— the same way he did his vessel. When he’s done he turns to you with an eyebrow raised, his hands wet with unspoken substance. You turn away with a humph. 

“Was it not fast enough?” He walks towards you, concern written all over his expression.

“It was too fast,” you proclaim.

“Huh?” 

“You’re a show-off,” you turn to exit the building, your braids whizzing past his face. You hear his roaring laughter behind you as you make it outside.

The smell of freshly churned earth enters your nostrils as you walk down a fenced sidewalk with bent daffodils. “Where are we going?”

“A ramen shop.” His gaze flicks over to study your face which is softened with what seems to be tranquility. His heart tides over with pride once he realizes that you feel content with him, a 1000-year-old curse.

However, he knows it’s the result of your memories that tie in with his; shared massacres and intertwined fates. Multiple restarts of what seemed to be a never-ending cycle of mingled hearts. But this time jump was different than the others. 

You being a sorcerer is not the only obstacle, at all.

“Sukuna? Hey– you’re spacing out.” You wave a hand in front of his face to grab his attention. 

“We’re here.” He looks up to see a small ramen shop, its logo old with age. As he enters the shop, he somehow finds contentment in being in a place that you like. 

—

“You know you’re probably attracting sorcerers and curses alike as we speak?” You inquire, grabbing your ramen bowl from the waiter who nervously glances at Sukuna. His tattooed face also attracting unwanted attention. 

“Mhm, I’ll just kill them if they interfere.” You whip your head to turn to the waiter who you’re relieved to see, had already left.

“I knew you’d say that,” you stuff your face with a handful of steaming noodles. 

“Sukuna?”

“Mhm?” 

“What’s gonna happen between us?” You flick your index finger back and forth. “It’s not like the other times, I’m a dedicated sorcerer.”

“So?” 

“You’re the King of curses, I’m a sorcerer.” You repeat, dropping your wooden chopsticks to place your head on your propped fist. 

“Already made a deal with the brat, I can talk to you whenever and wherever I want,” he pulls his face closer to yours. 

“Yeah? What happens when they execute Itadori?” You curl your hands into balled fists, an unfamiliar emotion welling up in your throat. Somehow, it doesn't fit. It crosses your veins in a parasitic manner and your eyes glaze over.

“I’ll just come back.” He states matter of factly, voice coated with arrogance.

“You promise?” You whisper, holding out your pinky finger. You nearly scoff at your own action.

Ignoring the finger you bare out, he presses his lips against yours. It’s the same as he can remember, centuries ago. His body elates with a hum of electricity. And it's as if his body's creating a second space of void in which he feels his every sense being sharpened; the smooth curve of your full lips and the salty taste of previous ramen.

But before the kiss can go any further, you're pulling back.

“That was uh…” You blink once, twice, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. When you look back to Sukuna, you instead are met with Itadori’s clear face.

“The hell are you doing, brat?” Sukuna bares his teeth on the right side of Itadori’s cheek. ”I- I’m sorry just got a little uh.. flustered.” 

“The fuck are you getting flustered for?” Sukuna growls. 

“I- uh..” 

“It’s okay Yuuji, you can switch again another time,” you sympathize with the boy. His cheeks are coated in red.

“It’s getting late, eat some ramen so we can go.” You chuckle. Itadori nods as his hand reaches towards a pair of chopsticks.

“Touch my ramen and I’ll kill you again, you damn brat.”

back to m.list

[todoscript]

SYNOPSIS: Years of memories pouring out, Katsuki and Shouto confront their feelings for you in your very hospital room.

pairing(s): bakugou katsuki x fem!reader, todoroki shouto x fem!reader

genre: angst.

word count: 4.5k+

warnings: really self-indulgent fic, characters are aged-up, implied sexual content, mentions of drinking alcohol, jealousy, reader identifies as female with she/her pronouns, 

author’s note: so i found this pretty old wip i wrote before i made my blog, and after reading it over, i decided hey why not publish it? so i finished it up, did some cleaning, and heres what we got. sorry if it seems kind of shaky, i did my best with what i initially had!

“Bakugou… what are you doing here?”

Shouto enters the room with freshly bought peonies in his hands—one of the many dozen he had brought to this hospital already—his steps coming to a halt at the sight of the Explosion Hero near your hospital bed. Katsuki looks up and narrows his eyes, aggravated by the offender’s question.

“What? You got a fucking problem with me being here?” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to disturb the entire hospital wing, knowingly admitting to how loud he could be. But that doesn’t suppress the bite in his tone.

“Just because you’re her fucking boyfriend doesn’t mean you’re the only one that’s allowed to worry about her,” he nearly spits, and Shouto’s face mirrors Katsuki’s own irked expression.

You have been unconscious for a week now. The cause of this incident was due to your encounter with a dangerous villain who had been wanted by the police for quite some time. Months of evading capture down the drain, the villain had unfortunately ran into you as you patrolled the streets during your nightly shift.

In the end, you won the fight, but at the cost of damage done to your body and overuse of your quirk. As a result, you entered an unconscious state, recovering in this hospital bed to be monitored by medical staff throughout each day. The doctors assured them that you would eventually wake up but will need time to heal on your own through rest.

Ever since the day you’ve been admitted here, Shouto has been visiting your bedside. However, this is the first time Katsuki’s shown up.

Shouto only points a glare to the blond, ignoring him while he sets his bouquet down next to your bed. He notices the already present vase of hydrangeas, surmising that Katsuki must have brought them. He places his bundle of peonies beside them.

The dual-haired man sits on the opposite side of the bed from Katsuki, whose attention is brought back to the girl’s sleeping face, patched with wraps and bandages as a result of your tribulations with the villains.

If I had finished my jobs quicker, I would’ve been able to see you the moment you had to stay in this damn hospital. The thoughts ring in Katsuki’s head, hands clenched into fists out of frustration.

Knowing you had to deal with that whack job of a villain on your own—that your overprotective and valiant nature wouldn’t allow you to let this criminal walk away when you encountered him, and that they weren’t there to prevent you from getting like this—killed both him and Shouto on the inside. They especially hated not knowing when you would wake up or if what the doctors said about you eventually regaining consciousness would even be true.

Shouto takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. Katsuki catches him pressing delicate kisses against your lightly bruised knuckles from the corner of his eye, the young man not caring that he was performing these intimate acts in the presence of another man. Shouto especially did this in order to make a solid point:

She’s mine.

Katsuki knew very well how possessive Shouto could be while he was in their presence. And honestly, he couldn’t blame him. If he got to call you his and keep you all to himself, he’d make sure everyone knew they couldn’t have you—that your smile and attention were all his and his alone. But in this case, they weren’t, and all he could settle for were envious emotions and fantasies of what could’ve been.

•

•

•

Bakugou Katsuki’s feelings for you date back to as early as your high school years at U.A.

At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what made these feelings arise. Having his goal of becoming the Number One hero plastered at the forefront of his head made romance and love trivial concepts down his path. Katsuki had no time to be chasing after girls, going on dates, and devoting a chunk of his time to a partner.

However, at one point, things started to change. He felt ripples affect the still waters that were his life, and he noticed that only you could calm this torrent. You were the one person he sought comfort in, the one person that understood who he was and why he acted the way he did. And the one person who mended him physically and mentally without belittling his character or crushing his pride.

Through all of that, Katsuki had begun to appreciate and admire all the little things about you. Like your beaming smile and the twinkle in the lovely hues of your eyes that you’d give him as you two interacted. It was such a welcomed contrast to the fearful looks the other students would have etched on their faces whenever he so much as called out their name.

He always took note of how you adjusted his food to his preferences during times you were assigned to cook that night at the dorms. And how you’d go and try to tend to him after training, when his muscles ached and his bruises were settling into his skin.

At first, Katsuki thought of it as a sign of weakness—to accept help from someone else when at his most vulnerable state. Yet you were persistent.

He recalls a particular memory after a battle during his internship where he was reduced to resting in bed to recover. Not many of his classmates came up to check on him during that time. Mainly because they figured he wouldn’t bother to open his door for them anyway. Though one night, he heard a knock sounding from his door. He glanced up from his bed, already thinking about ignoring the visitor in favor of staying in bed to rest, but a voice spoke beyond the threshold.

“Katsuki? I hope you’re not asleep yet. It’s not much, but I made you a little something to help you get better.” He didn’t reply upon recognizing your voice, hesitating to see what you’d do if he didn’t respond.

There was a pause of silence until you eventually continued. “Well, I’ll leave this in front of your door for you to have… If not, I’ll come back and retrieve it, okay?” That was the last you said before Katsuki picked up a light clank near the bottom of the entrance. Afterward, feet padded lightly down the hallway till they returned to the elevator to descend to the bottom floors, and the blond was by himself once again.

He weighed the option of leaving whatever you left for him untouched, but knowing you made an effort to arrive at his door to check on him caused him to waver. Before he knew it, his feet treaded to the spot to discover a hot plate of curry at his doorstep, followed by a note and painkillers. The plate perched on one of his hands, he opened the letter with the other.

Get better soon! We’ll be waiting for you!

Closing the note, he tossed it on his desk before plopping down on the edge of his bed with the plate of curry in his lap. It steamed and dispersed heat on his sore thighs, piping hot and ready to eat.

He gripped his spoon between his fingers, an irregular grin surfacing his lips. He scooped up the spicy bits of curry, gobbling the dish down to its very last grain of rice until the plate was clean. And in that time, every bite he brought to his mouth made him think of you.

“Dumbass, there’s no way I’m falling behind.” Feeling thoroughly full, he transferred the finished plate to his desk, where he had left the note. Before he had even realized it, he reached out for the paper, glancing over the words one last time. He fished a pen from his drawer and scribed a reply of his own for when you would return for the dirty plate.

Thanks, dumbass. It was good.

•

•

•

The Icy-Hot Hero, Todoroki Shouto, loved you too much to let you go.

You were the girl that shaped him to become the person he is today—who taught him to embrace himself for who he was and not let his past define him and what he stood for. You were the person that brought him out from the dark hole he trapped himself in and cast him into warm light. You’ve stuck together through thick and thin throughout your journey to becoming Pro Heroes, protecting one another and watching each other’s backs. It wasn’t long before he noticed his feelings for you had developed into more complicated emotions. Emotions that made butterflies flutter in his stomach and his face unusually hot whenever he even glanced in your direction. As he began to actively seek you out for comfort and support, he thought of you differently in comparison to all of his other classmates.

Initially, these foreign feelings troubled him. Yet, he could never quite piece together why you could garner such flustered reactions.

Then after consoling these newfound sensations with his close friends and family, he realized that you meant so much more to him than just a classmate, an ally, a colleague. Todoroki Shouto was—is—in love with you.

And the feeling was mutual.

Whether it was the intense looks you two sent as your gazes naturally drifted to each other or how your hands would always brush across soft and calloused knuckles in a silent plea to lace your fingers together, it wasn’t long before he discovered that his feelings for you were reciprocated.

Interestingly, you and Shouto never had to confess anything to each other. Your feelings came almost naturally for you both like you were telepathically linked and on the same wavelength. You came to one another like magnets attracted to their opposite poles, and in just a blink, your lips had met one day, and you took each other’s first kiss.

From then on was the start of many more “firsts.”

Shouto remembers the first time he let you hang out in his dorm room, talking about simple things like school, studying, and internships.

He remembers your first date to a cafe his older sister recommended—the one with flavorful milk teas he knew you’d take a liking to, with bountiful flowers decorating the interior of the tea house.

He remembers inviting you into his home to meet his older siblings, have dinner with them, and letting his family get to know you as his significant other.

He remembers taking you to see his mother at the psychiatric ward his wretched father had admitted her to, finally letting the two most significant women in his life meet and watching as his mother took a relieved liking to the girl he loves.

He remembers the tension that hovered in the air over an argument you two had one day, which was eventually mended through communication and reaffirmations of love.

He remembers embracing you in his bed, devoid of nothing but yourselves in your purest forms, eliciting sweet sounds from your lips that intoxicated him with lust and drove him to desire more and more until he monopolized every crevice of your body—every ounce of your soul—and intended to burn your beautiful, sinful image into his memory.

He remembers so much of the little things and the significant things about your love that he could never, ever hand you over to anyone else. Less of all to Bakugou Katsuki.

•

•

•

Katsuki was one of the first people to notice that they were in a relationship.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. The two made a point to keep their romantic bond a secret among their classmates and teachers not to complicate things and be the subject of teasing. They also considered the fact they needed to focus on their studies and hero training. Kisses and other affectionate touches were done behind closed doors or whenever they knew no eyes could discover them. These sneaky tactics proved to be effective and not many questioned them about relationships, aside from the occasional girls/boys talk they’d do. They’d ask each other things like “who would you date” and “don’t you think ‘so-and-so’ is cute” and many other curious asks. Their answers to these inquiries were inconspicuous enough that most of their friends didn’t suspect much of anything. Except for Katsuki.

Katsuki was never one to pick apart details, not as much as his childhood rival, Deku, anyway. But the more he looked at them, the more he was aware of the particular hints and their subtleties of tenderness. Such as the way the red-and-white-haired boy would perk up at the sound of your name or the chime of your voice from across the dormitory’s common area. Or the way you two would hover around each other more often than you would your classmates as if maximizing the most of your time together in public. Or how you’d go on small study dates together and hold each other’s hand underneath the table in the library, thinking no one would notice.

Perhaps, the most significant indication, however, was the expressions on each of their faces.

Maybe Katsuki had started becoming very hyper-aware, unraveling your mannerisms and making out even the smallest of singularities, but he felt your faces alone were an obvious giveaway.

The looks you gave each other were ones harboring nothing but pure love and adoration. He could discern the glow you exuded simply basking one another’s presence. Those looks weren’t ones you would give to a close friend; they were something more. He would know. That look Shouto gives is the same one Katsuki has for you, after all.

Except, his is never reciprocated.

That pretty smile, the flustered expression across your cheeks, the sparkling hues of your eyes—all those little details were reserved for Shouto, not Katsuki.

It hurt to know that the gaze you give Katsuki wouldn’t ever be the same one you give to Shouto. Katsuki knows this, and yet he still can’t seem to get past you.

The moment he was aware of his feelings—reluctantly fathoming the fact that you were with Shouto—Katsuki did everything in his power to stop these feelings.

No, not just stop. He had to get rid of them. Cut any connection with them. Dealing with an aching heart was too much work and pain for a boy with heavy aspirations to bear. So he ignored you—erased you. He didn’t so much as spare you even a glance as if you were just another extra. Whenever you appeared, he made a move to leave, spouting excuses such as “I’m going to sleep,” or “I don’t have time to be around you losers,” the usual Bakugou Katsuki response to any form of unnecessary socializing. He had to act like you didn’t exist, put his mind on something else—anything else.

But darn that girl and her need to check on and care for other people.

Noticing something was wrong with the boy, you sought Katsuki out, cornering him. You asked him what was wrong, to which Katsuki gritted his teeth, unable to look at you in the eyes, knowing that those feelings would bubble up inside him again as they conjured troublesome butterflies in the pits of his stomach. Yet it was no use.

He couldn’t deny that he missed those times together—when you would patch up his wounds and bruises after training or when you’d let him try out your spicy ailments before half-and-half because you always knew he had a preference for spicy foods. He still had it bad for you.

And he continued to harbor those feelings even after you all graduated after your third year at U.A.

The heroes-in-training were ready to take on the real world as Pro Heroes and sidekicks. By then, you and Shouto had admitted to the class about your relationship. Some were surprised, while others, specifically the girls, expressed their rounds of “I knew it!” likely noticing the chemistry between the two long before. Katsuki had decided to play dumb and acted like this announcement meant completely nothing to him. Just useless news. That was what he told himself, anyway.

After that, Katsuki didn’t see much of the couple around. All of them were busy with work and trying to get their names out in the public to compete on the Billboard Hero Chart.

Which was good news for him. With his goal of becoming the Number One Hero still lodged into his head, the blond threw himself into his heroic duties. Often, he didn’t stop, persisting on job after job until the agency he was under forced him to take breaks whenever they deemed necessary for his health. In those times, Katsuki found himself slowly forgetting about you. But occasionally, he’d see glimpses of you again.

As expected of one of the graduates under Class A of U.A., you were definitely making a name for yourself and propelling in popularity. Whether he wanted to or not, Katsuki would see articles and advertisements glowing with your resplendent features plastered on headlines, covered by your hero name.

God, did you look as beautiful as always. Katsuki would think before jolting his mind back to reality, remembering that you weren’t his to ogle.

The last part was hard to bear, especially when his former class announced a reunion party at a restaurant Momo had reserved for them when everyone had hit the legal drinking age. Katsuki was definitely not keen on going. However, his friend Kirishima had convinced him to come along through relentless persistence.

Ultimately, he attended the reunion. He and Eijirou arrived together and appeared relatively earlier. Well, earlier than at least half the class anyway. Eventually, more of their former classmates trickled into the food establishment and greeted one another with boisterous cheers all around. Which, unfortunately for him, included the people Katsuki dreaded to see the most—you and Shouto.

Your hand was already laced with half-and-half’s when you two entered, resulting in some of their classmates teasing you about your public display of affection. Both didn’t mind though. Over the years, you’ve grown quite comfortable with hand-holding and even hugging in the open.

You know who did mind? A certain explosion hero, of course.

Save that shit for when I don’t have to fucking see it. He almost hissed out loud but bit his tongue at the last second.

To his luck, you had ended up sitting next to him, with Shouto at your left. Though you were sandwiched between two guys from your former class who were infatuated with you, Katsuki felt like he was more suffocated than you were.

The reunion that night went by relatively smoothly. You would chime in some small talk with Katsuki during certain intervals of time while everyone was holding their own conversations in the background. He did his best to keep his cool and not let himself act like a high schooler in love. To some degree, he thought his facade had worked as he played off his usual “Bakugou responses,” albeit with a lot less yelling and venom in comparison to how he spoke to everyone back in high school. Dare he say, he might have even softened up a bit. What he didn’t notice was Shouto glancing at him from the corner of his eye while in the middle of a conversation with Midoriya.

The night continued with rounds of alcohol poured across the table of twenty-one heroes. They made their cheers before helping themselves to their spirits. Conveniently, Shouto and Katsuki were very adept at holding their drinks. You? You weren’t as great. By the end of the night, you passed out from how drunk you were and had ended up laying your head on the table, head floaty and light.

By then, everyone else had left aside from maybe five or so people. Momo graciously helped the couple secure a cab home safely for the night, and Shouto had gotten up to help confirm some information. Katsuki was left to his own devices with you next to him.

His eyes couldn’t help but wander toward your form. You were so vulnerable in front of him, with your soft lips, splayed hair, and long eyelashes turned in his direction for him to see. Though a bit of that smell of alcohol lingered, he could still make out the flowery aroma you always gave off. You smelled of lavenders, daisies, roses—every fucking flower under the sun—with a hint of honey. Your scent intoxicated him. He started to wonder if this is how you smelled like at home, or if your scent became even more potent whenever you appeared fresh out of the shower and—

Katsuki hadn’t realized his hand had subconsciously gone up to brush a stray hair from your face until he managed to pull himself away from his thoughts. Thankfully, he retracted his hand back before committing himself to the act. But the gesture did not go unnoticed by the heterochromatic-eyed man who had appeared again to gather you in his arms.

Shouto had taken his coat and wrapped it around you before hooking his arms beneath you to cradle your body.

“Mm, Shouto…” you hummed against him, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you nuzzled further into him while on the verge of sleep. Katsuki’s heart throbbed hearing those half-dazed murmurs that left your lips, which hovered so close to that bastard’s neck. He wanted the privilege of holding you close and taking care of you at your most vulnerable.

“Come on, love, we’re going home,” he said fondly at your resting state. Katsuki didn’t catch the cold glare Shouto sent his way as he looked elsewhere to avoid the couple’s intimacy right in front of him. All he could hear after that was the engine of their cab rumbling in the distance, trailing back to their humble abode.

•

•

•

“...I know.” Shouto finally breaks the silence within the hospital room, eyes still trained on his beloved as he rubs his thumb across your knuckles to the base of your hand.

Katsuki looks up at his words incredulously. “The fuck is that suppose to mean.” He narrows his brows into a pressed glare.

“I know that you’re in love with her.”

Katsuki deadpanned, his eyes wavering at the man’s declaration. Should he deny it? Make it seem as if the icy-hot head was delusional? No. He knows that the signs must have been obvious coming from the one man in his way of vying for your attention, the man that would go to so many lengths for you that he’d travel to the moon and back in a heartbeat if it were in your name. Katsuki can’t pry himself out of this one.

He takes a glance at you. Was this really the place to be confronting him about this? In the presence of your unconscious state resting in this hospital bed between them?

“And what about it?” Katsuki counters his claims.

“I don’t plan on letting her go no matter what.” As if to make a point on his words, Shouto’s hold on your limp hand is firm, unmoving. He slowly shifts his gaze to the ash blond, crossing his look of anger. “So stop playing this game.”

When the words travel across the hollow hospital room and to Katsuki’s ears, his fists tighten in response. “Game? Game?!” He raises his voice, body shaking. “You think my feelings are some sort of joke to you?! That I’m only looking at her like this for fun?!” His eyes find Shouto’s blue and gray, red with ire. The young man in front of him is unfazed in the wake of his indignation.

“Let me tell you something fucking straight…” Katsuki starts, stepping forward, finger pointing fiercely in Shouto’s direction. “I won’t deny anything I feel for her at this point. I’m in love with her, alright?” he admits without hesitance and notices the subtle quirk of Icy-Hot’s brow. “And I’ll tell you that if she were mine, she wouldn’t have gotten in this position in the first place.”

Those words are what finally make Shouto’s unnatural composure crumble. He releases your hand to stand from his place and face the blond at eye level. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Crossing his arms, Katsuki scoffs at the question.

“You’d think I’d even let that villain get near her if this was gonna happen?” He gestures in the direction of your patched-up form, asleep and littered with bruises. “If she were looking at me, I would’ve already been on the scene to back her up. And just what were you doing, huh? Helping old ladies cross the street?” Katsuki is unfiltered as he hurls his insults, but three years of dealing with him as a classmate has made Shouto immune to his temperament.

“Let me get this through your head then. She was never looking at you. She was looking at me.”

Ouch. The blond would be lying if those words didn’t stir a pot of hurt inside him.

“And as both her partner and a fellow Pro Hero, I more than trusted her enough to finish the job on her own. Even if this isn’t a game to you, you’re already losing a battle you can’t hope to win.”

“Not sure why you’re the one calling the shots for her,” Katsuki quips. How ironic the girl they’re both fighting over lays comatose in this very bed between them.

The atmosphere is layered in dreadful silence afterward. The monitor next to you beeps in eery succession. It is the only thing heard in the hospital room that is wrapped in tension so taut it is bound to snap at any moment.

The knot of strife is undone by the door sliding open to reveal a nurse entering the uneasy state of the room.

“Mister Bakugou and Mister Todoroki, I’m sorry, but visiting hours at the hospital are closed for the evening,” she informs them as the two had yet to realize the sky veiled darkening orange with the setting of the sun. Eyeing the clipboard hugged to her chest, they knew it was about time for the hospital to assess your condition again.

The two make their leave, taking the time to thank the nurse before doing so, but the suffocating tension follows them even outside the hospital. They don’t speak a word afterwards, only sharing bristled looks and heavy steps until they’re forced to head off in their respective paths, not sparing any more kindness.

To Shouto, Katsuki would never understand the lengths he’d go for you because Katsuki could also never experience what the two of you went through together in the same way. All those years together, forging unforgettable memories of love and tenderness, could never be replicated.

But the blond isn’t bothered by those facts. It doesn’t unnerve him that he was unable to encounter all those firsts with you because in his mind, he’ll just create new memories—ones that you’ve never experienced and ones that will make him the last and only person you’ll ever want by your side. He’ll blow fucking Icy-Hot out of the atmosphere.

ending note: heyyy congrats if you’ve made it to the end. i think at the time i was writing this, i had an idea on how to progress the fic, but i decided to leave it on this. not particularly sure if i’m going to continue this, i may just leave it up to your interpretation. does katsuki steal the readers heart? does shouto protect his love from being severed in front of him? will the reader even wake up? find out on the next episode of dragon ball z

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Bratty

Summary: Chris didn’t like being ignored.

Pairings: Jealous!Daddy!Chris x Black!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, arguing, reader slaps Chris, slight sugar daddy vibes, swearing, jealous Chris, PR stunt, wall sex, oral (female and male receiving), reverse cowgirl, riding, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, creampie, name calling

Tagged: @titty-teetee , @harrysthiccthighss , @iam-laiya , @mariahthelioness29 , @night-of-the-living-shred , @liquorlaughslove , @blackmissfrizzle , @stargazingfangirl18, @whiskey-cokenfanfic, @olyvoyl , @zaddychris

(A/N: Knocking out these WIPs by combining some WIPs. Like, reblog, enjoy and all that jazz.)

No one knew about your relationship with Chris. He was the hot guy that every girl around you wanted. Girls were always trying to shoot their shots. You hadn’t done much, but ignore him a few times when you started being friends with his brother’s boyfriend and somehow that ended up with him asking you out. From then on, you’d been a part of a very intense sexual relationship.

Your friends didn’t have an idea. Sure, they knew you were at the very least fucking around with someone. Somehow you managed to get away with not disclosing who anytime they bugged you about it. Your friends were great, but you couldn’t exactly trust them to not tell everyone and their mothers. It wasn’t even like they’d be doing it maliciously, but the scandal it’d be if people had found out that you and Chris had ended up together would be astronomical. 

This is why you were able to save face when you saw another one of those publicity stunts with him and some actress. They were Hollywood’s hottest couple. Gag. You couldn’t even go to the grocery store without seeing pictures of them all over at checkout.

Whatever.

You were Y/N L/N. You didn’t need him anyway. You didn’t have time for fuckboys. No matter how good looking or rich. No matter how good he dicked you down in bed.

So, why did it hurt so bad. 

Again, it’s not like Chris was your boyfriend. Did you even have the right to be upset? If anything, it hadn’t been more than a booty call. You wiped your tears quicker than they could fall because why the hell were you even crying. He wasn’t even worth it. Deep down you kind of knew this was always going to happen. The man was a commitment-phobe. If he really wanted to be with you, he would’ve made it official months ago.

So, you tried to not think about him. Even if you had to see him every time you went to the grocery store. Even tuning out your mutual friends. Then threw out those stupid forever flowers he’d bought you. You could pawn the jewelry, at least. Maybe give the clothes to charity. 

On second thought.

You’re keeping the clothes. Those Chanel bags were staying firmly in your closet. Someone could pry those Christian Louboutin heels out of your cold dead hands. Okay so maybe you were more like a sugar baby than anything else. You needed to stop trying to figure out what you even were because who cares fuck him.

Either way it still stung. 

Fuck it. You could go on a Chris Evans diet. You didn’t need him.

--

Hey baby I’m back home

Let’s get dinner tonight

He’d texted you as you were getting ready. It’d been almost a month since you’d heard from him. Maybe his girlfriend dumped him or his agent told him he didn’t have to play along with what you were sure was a stunt. It didn’t matter. You were no one’s second best and you had a date tonight. With someone that actually wanted to not play games.

Your palm itched because you wanted to text him back so bad. Wanted to tell him to leave you the fuck alone. Except you were trying to go cold turkey. Instead you muted his contact before finishing your hair. 

The dress you were wearing was one he’d bought you and so were the shoes you wore. Not that he cared, but it felt more fun to use the stuff he brought when going out with someone else. You knew that it would have at least gotten under his skin. Your date was some guy your bestie kept trying to push on you.

He was cute enough. Made good money. In the back of your head, though, not that you would ever say it out loud he was no Chris. You weren’t sure any other man would be able to do you like he did. To fuck you so hard that you forgot your own name. How he’d get you into all these crazy positions. How he spanked you and made you call him Daddy. 

You shook those thoughts away. You didn’t need him.

Anyway, you’d gone on like two dates with Devin. He was okay. You liked him so far. You weren’t really expecting much to come out of it, but you were having fun with him. At least he texted you back in a timely fashion. 

There was a knock on the door so you went to grab it seeing your date on the other side. 

You’d been trying this new thing. Where you didn’t kiss to quickly or have sex to soon. Which you’d told Devin your boundaries right off the bat. Dinner was nice. He was cute enough anyway.

Your mind kept wandering to thoughts of him which was annoying. You didn’t want to think about him. You wanted to feel like you were living in a post Chris Evans world.

When he took you home you could tell he was trying to kiss you on the lips. You turned your head at the right moment so he got your cheek. You weren’t surprised that he tried to.

As you were getting ready to take off your shoes and retreat to your room, happy that your roommate was spending the night at her boyfriend’s so you could spend the rest of the night walking around naked there was a knock on the door. You groaned as you looked through the peephole and then backed away seeing the man you were trying to avoid on the other side.

Your stomach turned and suddenly you wanted to throw up your dinner. Maybe if you didn’t make any noise he’d go away. “Y/N, I know you’re in there,” his Boston accent was so thick.

You took out your phone, going to his contact. Seeing all the messages. Then the final one.

I’m coming over

He’d of course been in your apartment before. Sometimes when your roommate had gone to visit her family or stayed with her boyfriend, he’d come over. You’d end up having sex all over just because you could.

“Open the door!” He said. You didn’t want your neighbors to think you are crazy. So, you did. Anything to get him to stop.

“Are you crazy?” You asked in a quiet voice. “My neighbors can probably hear you.”

He pushed passed you with his face all red. “Who the fuck was that guy?” He asked.

Your heart started to race. Stick up for yourself. Like you do in your head. Tell him you’re tired of his shit and tell him to leave.

You took a deep breath before finally opening your mouth to speak. You could do this. “I was on a date,” you finally said with your head held high.

Chris quirked his eyebrow. “What the fuck? Why?”

You shrugged still trying to maintain your composure. Cool, calm, and collected. “Why not? You go on dates with other women. I haven’t heard from you in a month and you think you can make demands?”

He clenched his jaw, scoffing at your words. “That’s work and you know it.”

“Did work tell you to fuck her? To ignore me for a month.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t know shit, Y/N.”

“I don’t care. I saw you! Every time I went on Twitter. Every time I went to the fucking grocery store, I had to see stupid tabloids with your stupid faces on it.”

He pursed his lips and sighed. “Look-“

“Did work tell you to wait a fucking month before texting me? Oh, hey let’s go out for dinner,” you mocked him. “After ignoring me for a fucking month! Like fuck off!”

“And look you hopped on another guy’s dick quickly like a fucking slut.”

You’d never laid your hands on someone before, you always felt like you were above that but you gasped and before your brain could even think you’d already slapped his face. Tears welled up in your eyes when you realized what you’d done. “I’m so so so sor-“

But before you could finish what you were saying, he cut you off with a kiss. He slammed you into the wall before lifting you up with one arm and wrapping his hand around your neck. “Think you’re in charge here. I was about to apologize, but you just couldn’t shut the fuck up, huh.”

He pushed up your dress so you were completely exposed to him. It didn’t take him very long for him to undo his pants. Before you knew it, he was pushing into you. Your head lolled back as he started fucking you. Not even giving you the chance to push him away.

You hated how good he felt. How his thick dick made you not even care anymore. You just wanted it. Wanted him. Needed him to fuck you.

“Fuck, Daddy,” you moaned.

“That’s right. I’m your Daddy.” He hissed. “I’m your fucking Daddy.”

You bit your lip as he moved you into the wall. Like he was about to fuck you through it. “Right there,” you gasped as he started fucking into your spot. Right where he knew you liked it. “Don’t fucking stop.”

“See you naughty little slut. You fucking like it.” He was pounding into you.

You nodded trying to move back against him because you still needed it. It’d been two months since you’d last had sex with him. “Yes, I love it.”

“Yeah. You love Daddy’s dick?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Fucking say it.”

“I love Daddy’s dick.” You moaned trying to keep your voice low so no one could hear you.

He hissed before letting out his own moan. “Louder, Baby.”

“I love Daddy’s dick,” you cried.

“Fucking louder. I want your fucking neighbor to hear you.”

“I love Daddy’s dick! I love Daddy’s dick!” You said a little louder as you tightened around him cumming all over his thick dick. He carried you over to the back of the couch, still stuffed inside of you.

He leaned you over the back of it so that he could kiss you. Thrusting in and out of you. It hurt so good.

He suddenly pulled out of you, grabbing your waist so he could make you turn around. Chris started kissing down your back getting on his knees pushing you up so you were leaning over. He finally tugged ag your panties ignoring the rip that he’d put in them as he pulled them off of you.

His tongue went to your pussy as soon as possible, licking and sucking up all the juices that were there “Fuck,” you mewled. “Don’t stop.”

He swirled his tongue around inside you. Licking you like he was making out with your cunt. His hands came up so he could jiggle your ass.

You started rubbing your clit. Needing to touch the nub because it was like it was throbbing for attention. He smacked your hand away as he started doing it himself.

His fingers were rubbing you so good. His mouth working at the same time. You could feel your orgasm so damn close. Chris didn’t let up until finally your drippy little pussy was gushing as you came hard. He wasted no time in standing up and pushing into you.

Your face felt flushed as he started moving into you again. Chris was never satisfied unless he made you cum so many times you were begging him to stop. Even then he might push you a little because he loves how whiny you get when you’re over stimulated.

“Did you let him fuck you like this?” Chris slammed his hips into you. Needing to keep fucking you as rough as he could.

“No,” you whimpered.

“Just me, huh. No one else could do this to you.” He smacked your ass leaving a stinging pain behind. “Bet you didn’t even let him hit it, huh.”

“No,” you answered.

“Why?”

“Because no one fucks me good like you.”

He chuckled clearly getting some amusement out of your desperation. Before he could cum again, he tore away from you leaving your pussy clenching on nothing as he grabbed your neck so he could take you to the carpet.

He signaled for you to get on you all fours and you thought he was going to make you suck his dick until he got down beside you. He grabbed you hard so he could put you into position. Grabbing a throw pillow to place on the ground before pushing your head into it.

The anticipation of whatever he was about to do was scaring you. Your body trembled as a reminder of the two orgasms he’d forced you through so far. He grabbed both your arms, holding them behind your back so your face was kind of dependent on the pillow that was about to be stained with your makeup for balance.

Oh, he was about to destroy your cunt.

The first thrust was so deep your body tried to pull away before you could even think about it. “No. Don’t you fucking run from me. You take it.”

The only thing you could do was take it since he was holding your hands behind you. He was violating your pussy and there was nothing you could do about it. You gasped with each thrust not being able to even wrap your head around how deep he was. You could feel him in your stomach. 

It was like this switch in your brain had turned off. All you could do was think about how much you needed Daddy’s dick. All you could fucking do. You wanted to be his bitch. Wanted for him to own you. You needed him to never ever stop.

“Oh, no. Did I fuck you stupid, Little Girl? Your stupid little brain couldn’t take it?” He sounded so condescending and it only added to how far gone you were. “Who am I?”

“You’re my daddy,” you whispered.

“I can’t hear you.”

“You’re my daddy,” you whimpered. You bit your lip, burying your head into the pillow because fuck you’d just buy a new one. Your roommate would understand.

He moaned seeing how fucked out he’d gotten you. In the same way your mind had slipped into the subspace, he felt him hit this feeling where he felt so dominant. Like you seemed so small compared to him and what he was doing to you. He reeled in these moments.

“I’m gonna cum,” you cried because right when you announced it, it hit you so deep. Your pussy juices cascading down his length. If he wasn’t stuffed inside of you, you would have probably made a mess everywhere.

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head. It felt so fucking good. Tears sprouted from your eyes and you knew you probably looked as messy as you felt.

“That’s it, Baby.” He let go of your arms, seeing how far gone you were. He pulled out of you so he could pull you into his arms. He cradled you bringing you close. “I’ve got you.” He kissed the side of your head as you cried softly. Your eyes were glazed over from how hard you came.

You sniffled burying your head into his chest. He kissed your nose before getting up with you in his arms and sitting you on the couch. He helped you pull your dress over your head because until then it’d just been bunched up. He undid your bra next so you’d be more comfortable.

“You need some water?” He asked.

You nodded, but didn’t let go of him. You needed him to be close. He chuckled, standing up with you still in his arms as he walked to the kitchen. It was fine he could hold you and get you water at the same time.

“Daddy,” you whimpered.

“What is it, Darling,” he whispered kissing the top of your head.

“I need you.”

“I’m here,” he sighed as he carried you back over to the couch. He brought the glass of water up to your face helping you take a sip. “That’s a good girl.” He set it down on the side table. “Need anything else?”

“I need to pee.”

He chuckled. “Well I can’t help you with that.”

You took a minute in the bathroom to wash your face so you could wake yourself up a little. The night was far from over. You knew that. He was just nice enough to let you take a break.

When you walked back into the living room, he was right there stroking his still hard cock. Your poor Daddy. You’d left him like this. As soon as you got closer to him you got on your knees, ready to take him into your mouth like a good slut.

He licked his lips as you got leveled with his thick cock. “It looks so yummy,” you said, before licking the underside. 

He groaned, bringing his thumb to your cheek. “That’s it, pretty girl, suck Daddy’s dick.”

You got to work. Slobbering all over him. You wanted to leave another mess on him. You could taste yourself on him and it only made you want to work harder. 

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, eyes hooded as he watched you. It was such a pretty sight seeing you on your knees before him. Your mouth worshipping his dick. “Did you suck his dick?”

You shook your head, looking up at him with big eyes. You held your tongue out as you bobbed your head up and down. He could feel the back of your throat every fucking time. Then you went all the way down his dick disappearing into your mouth completely. Your soft lips around him while your throat felt like it would swallow him whole.

“God damn,” he moaned, putting his hands in your hair so he could pull you off and then shove it back in. He fucked your throat and you let him, gagging on him sometimes, but still trying to be a good girl and take it. You didn’t want to let your daddy down. “That’s it, Bitch. You’re a good girl. You knew better than to fuck someone else, huh?”

You hummed around him, nodding your head. “Mhm.”

“Even when you’re a little fucking brat you know this is daddy’s cunt.” He groaned. “Daddy’s mouth. You’re fucking mine. You hear me?” You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him as he yanked your head up by your hair. “When I ask you a question you fucking answer me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.

He grabbed your face before slapping your cheek. “Who owns this pussy?”

“You do.”

“See, that’s a good little slut.” He grabbed your hair so you’d have to lean up to kiss him. He made you stand up then turned you around so you’d have to sink down onto his cock again. You yelped as he stretched you out all over again.

His legs were spread wide as he started to move you up and down his length. Fuck he loved watching your ass as you rode him in reverse. You twerked on his length and watching your ass shake like that with your pussy full of him was so damn sexy. “Fuck, Daddy.”

See, perfect. Where the fuck else was he going to find a girl that let him do such depraved things and twerk on his cock while also calling him Daddy then thank him for it.

“Did you kiss him?” He suddenly asked, suddenly feeling irritated all over again. He fucking hated that you even thought it’d be okay to go on your little date.

“He just kissed my cheek,” you answered honestly.

Even the thought of that was enough to make him mad. He pushed you off of him, turning you back around so you had to climb onto his lap. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever pull some shit like that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you moaned.

You heard the keys in the door and he got up quickly so he could get you to your room without your roommate getting an eyeful of either of you. He closed the door, locking it behind. You put your head against his chest, laughing. He chuckled before kissing your forehead. “That was a close one,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry you haven’t even been able to cum.” You giggled. 

“It’s okay we got all night,” he said, smacking your ass.

There was a knock on your door and you groaned. “Um,” your roommates very clearly amused voice came from the other side, “as glad as I am that you’re moving on from the asshole that broke your heart, can you please keep it in your room.”

You scrunched up your face before looking at Chris who did not share your roommates’ sense of humor at the moment. “Sorry,” you said through the door. “I thought you’d be gone.”

“I will be. I just forgot something,” she replied. “Have fun with Devin.”

Chris slammed you down onto the bed. You purse your lips before trying to back away from him. “Just wait for when she leaves. I’m tearing this ass up,” he threatened.

And he did because as soon as you heard the front door close, he started pounding into you again. Spreading your legs wide open as he fucked into your cunt.

“Want me to cum in you?” He asked. “Fill you up?”

“Yes,” you cried.

“Look at it,” he grunted grabbing your hair again so he could force you up to watch his dick go in and out of you. “This is my cunt. Don’t you get forget that.”

“I won’t,” your voice got all whiny again as you started to cum again. This time he started to shoot inside of you giving you every single spurt. “Daddy!”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned himself hips stuttering as he shoved his cum into you.

Finally, as the two of you started to settle down getting you wrapped up in your blankets, he laid next to you to pull you into his arms. You were breathing heavy as he kissed your face. “You better break up with him,” he said so sweetly.

You groaned softly. “Chris... you still did what you did.”

“I promise nothing happened. It was just for the photo op.”

“Yeah, but they’re going to keep thinking something is going on because you don’t want to make things official with me. If you can date so can I.”

He groaned. “Is that what this is about?” He asked. “You need to hear the words?”

“It’s bigger than that. It’s about you respecting me.”

“I do, Baby,” he replied. “Fine. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.” You poured before kissing his lips. “Was that so hard?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s just that I thought you were already my girlfriend and that you just wanted to keep a low profile.”

“Oh...”

“And I wasn’t ignoring you. I broke my phone and wasn’t able to get one right away,” he said. “If you hadn’t been dodging Scott’s calls, he would have told you.”

“Well now I feel like a jerk.”

He sighed. “It’s alright. I should head home, though.”

“Why?” You poured.

“I don’t want Dodger to be alone all night,” he replied. “Wanna come?”

You nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Okay, but on one condition.”

You huffed. “What?”

“First of all, lose the attitude,” he said. “Second, you gotta breakup with David.”

“It’s Devin,” you corrected him.

He gave you a very pointed look. “I don’t give a shit. Breakup with him right now or I’ll spank you.”

You groaned tossing your head back. “That’s so mean we literally just went out.”

“I don’t give a shit. Break. Up. With. Him. Now.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes.

After getting ready to go, he made you sit down on the couch so you could write your message. “Can’t I call him? It feels less mean.”

“Either you do it right now or I will,” he said. “Keep complaining and I’ll make it worse.”

He looked over at your shoulder as you typed before snatching it out of your hands. “Chris!” You protested.

“You took too long.” He shrugged before standing up, pulling you into his arms. “See isn’t that better?”

“You’re mean.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you how mean I can be when we get to my place.”

[cafeacademic]

Marshal Commander Hardass

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors dni)

Warnings: light degradation (use of the word cockdumb mostly), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (wrap it before u tap it)

Word Count: ~3.4k

A little (and by little I mean several thousand words) something for one of my favorite Clone Commanders. This is one of several current WIPs, so it felt good to finally finish this one up! Hope you all enjoy lovelies <3

*Read on AO3* or under the cut!

You huffed as the door to the bar swung open and half a dozen clone troopers walked in. You were used to seeing a single soldier here and there, but a large, fully armored group meant trouble. Sighing, you excused yourself from the conversation you were having with a regular patron and returned to your place at the center of the bar.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you deadpanned, not at all in the mood to have to deal with the war today. Your planet had been lucky enough to stay relatively neutral, but the arrival of the soldiers reminded you how fragile that neutrality was.

“Good evening, miss,” the presumed leader of the group said. His armor was slightly different from other clone troopers that had stumbled across your bar in the past; his helmet was framed by an orange visor, and a rank insignia was affixed to his chest plate. “We’re looking for a man named Tost. Do you have any information about his whereabouts?”

“No,” you snapped, hoping to shut down the conversation. “If that’s all, I do have patrons to get back to,”

“Are you sure? Any information would be very helpful--” you waved a hand dismissively, silencing the trooper.

“I don’t know anything, and I don’t want to get caught up in this war. All it does is bring destruction to the planets it claims, and we refuse to offer ourselves up for annihilation on a silver platter,” you said impatiently. “So either order a drink or get out of my bar,”

The regular you were chatting with earlier snorted at your little speech, and a very drunk group in the back broke out into a loud cheer. You raised a single, challenging eyebrow at the soldiers.

“Come on, the General is probably waiting for us,” another clone spoke up from the back of the group. The leader nodded, not even turning to look at the clone who had spoken, seemingly too transfixed on you.

“You’re right, Boil,” he said calmly. “If you can think of anything that would be helpful to the Republic cause, please don’t hesitate to come to one of our outposts. Ask for Marshal Commander Cody, and I’ll see to it that your information is in good hands,”

You scoffed and folded your arms over your chest defensively. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,”

As the troopers filed out, you were sure that you could hear one of them swearing at you, but you chose to ignore it.

Later that night, when darkness had fallen completely and drunk patrons would fall off their stools every so often, two of the soldiers came in and tucked themselves away at a corner table. You grumbled a swear under your breath before walking over to the table and standing there, a single hand on your hip. The clones, now without their helmets, looked up sheepishly at you.

“I know you told us to get out earlier, but we’re not here for the Commander. We just want to unwind and have a drink,” one of them stuttered, obviously reciting a speech he had planned since before they walked in. You softened slightly as you watched the two men; it wasn’t their fault they were stuck in this war. Offering them a small smile, you took their orders and brought them their drinks, a little extra poured on top as a sign of goodwill.

“What’s up with them?” one of the men sitting at the bar asked you.

“Don’t know for sure,” you replied. “The whole squad came in earlier, asking for information. I get the feeling their commander is kind of a hardass,”

“Bet they just need to blow off some steam then,” the man said, and you nodded in agreement. With a sly look, the man glanced over at the troopers. “I’m sure you could offer them a much better way to relax,”

“You’re such a creep,” you deadpanned back, and the man laughed. “Besides, I don’t think clones are really my type,”

The door swung open with a clatter, and the orange-visored Commander stood in the doorway once more. You winced at the sudden loud noise.

“Is that Commander Hardass?” the man at the bar asked, and your grimace was enough to answer his question.

“Crys, Wooley, get back to camp,” the commander ordered, not even needing to raise his voice. The tipsy clones mumbled apologies and tossed a handful of credits on the table before shuffling out of the bar.

“What the hell!” you snapped at the clone commander. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“It was their turn for watch,” the clone said, sliding onto one of the unoccupied stools at the bar. The man you were speaking with earlier looked between the two of you, amused. “I’d like a drink. Corellian whiskey,”

“It’s after last call,” you lied.

“Since you won’t give me any information, the least you can do is give me a drink,” the commander said, taking off his helmet and setting it on the bar next to him. You stood there for a moment, simply taking the clone in. He somehow looked older than the other clones; perhaps it was just exhaustion from the war. His face was partially marred by a scar, but it only served to make him look more striking. It was the challenging look in his eyes, however, that made you pour him a glass of whiskey.

“So, you must be Commander Hardass,” the man at the bar said. You braced yourself for a fight, but instead, the clone just sipped on his drink, not even glancing at the other man.

“That’s Marshal Commander Hardass,” the clone replied. “But I much prefer to just be called Cody,”

“Well, well! We’ve got a big man in charge, here!” the man said, obviously inebriated. You glanced at the clock on the wall; it was probably time to start clearing everyone’s checks.

“I think you’ve had enough, hun,” you drawled to the man, taking his now empty glass away from him. “You should be getting on home,”

“Come on! I just wanted in on the fun!” the man protested, but Cody shot him a glare, and the man dropped credits on the bar and left without further complaint.

You went about your nightly duties of wiping down tables and clearing tabs, only having to break up one drunken argument before it turned into a brawl. By the time you were finished, the Commander was the only person left in the bar.

“Time to go,” you said, voice clipped. Cody looked up at you, still nursing his glass of whiskey. You couldn’t help but find yourself staring as an errant drop of liquid ran spilled over his lip and down his chin, trailing a path down his neck. You swallowed hard.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay and chat,” he countered, as if daring you to throw him out once more.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” your reply was weakened by the slight crack in your voice as you watched Cody grip his drink tightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly in his throat as he swallowed the whiskey, and your eyes traced over the movement.

“No more little speeches?” he taunted you. “I even went so far as to buy a drink,”

“I told you, I don’t know anything about the guy you’re looking for,” you said, a hint of resignation in your voice. “And if I did, I have no reason to trust you,”

“Your lack of trust certainly isn’t stopping you from eye-fucking me from across the bar,” Cody countered, and you blushed bright red. So he had noticed.

“I think you may be misconstruing my looks, Commander,” you tried to regain your blasé attitude, but it was no use.

“No, I think I’m quite right,” he said mildly as if he wasn’t laying all your dirty secrets on the table for him to peruse. “For someone who hates the war, you sure do seem to want a big, bad soldier to put you in your place,”

You gave up on trying to act aloof: “Hating the war and recognizing a good fuck aren’t mutually exclusive,”

A gloved hand fisted into your blouse and pulled you over the bar, and Cody crashed his lips into yours with so much force you felt your teeth clatter together. As you melted into the kiss, you weren’t quite sure if you had won your little battle of wills with the Commander, but at the moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

With surprising grace, Cody climbed over the bar and pushed you backward, framing your body by placing his arms on either side of you. He kissed you once more, less violent, but no less passionate. When you let out a soft whimper, Cody seized your moment of weakness and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Mm, cyare, look at you,” he breathed out, and you felt your face get hot at his praise. One gloved hand ran over the curve of your hip and up the side of your ribcage, before dragging up the side of your neck and gripping your chin between his fingers. “Absolutely at my mercy,”

As much as you were sure you looked the part of a good submissive, eyes glassy and mouth slightly agape, you refused to give him the satisfaction of having won so easily.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Commander,” you taunted, dropping one hand to press against his codpiece. He hissed at the contact, even though it wasn’t direct, and you smirked.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Cody said darkly in your ear. “Don’t get in over your head,”

“I won’t,” you replied confidently, mustering up all your strength to keep your voice even, despite the way one of his large hands was kneading the flesh of your waist. “I’m quite sure that you’ll be a mess for me by the end of the night,”

It was like you had flipped a switch in Cody’s head, and any sort of softness he was holding onto flew out the window. The hand that was gently touching your waist soon captured your wrist in a bruising grip, and he pulled you flush against his body.

“Is there somewhere more private that we can do this?” he asked, and you nodded frantically.

“I have an apartment above the bar,” you managed to stammer out.

“Good,” Cody said, grabbing his helmet and dragging you up the stairs by the wrist. You followed along but made sure to walk slowly, just so he’d have to put the extra bit of effort into getting you there. As you resisted, his fingers tightened slightly in warning.

When you had gotten upstairs and into the bedroom of your small apartment, Cody finally released your arm. He dropped his helmet on your dresser and pushed you back onto the bed, kissing you again. You whimpered as he slipped a hand under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra.

“Cody--” you gasped between kisses, but Cody only smirked and pinched your nipple roughly. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, trying to press into his touch.

“No, no. Address me with respect,” he said, and you whimpered as he looked down at you. One of his legs slotted between yours, and he held himself over your chest with his free arm. All you could think of was how he looked over you.

“Commander,” you said in a mockingly sweet tone. Cody growled and kissed you again, this time trailing kisses and soft bites down your neck and jaw. The hand that had been covering your breast was now toying with the edge of your shirt, and you pulled back to let him take it off. When your shirt was discarded, Cody made quick work of your bra, and you had to hold back a moan as he looked at your now exposed chest reverently.

“See something you like?” you teased, but the dark look in Cody’s eyes shut you up immediately. He looked near feral, as if he was trying to stop himself from lunging at you right then and there. Involuntarily, a grin started to creep across your face.

“Something funny, pretty girl?” Cody said, reaching out and grazing his thumb over one of your nipples.

“You just look so eager--ah!” you were cut off as Cody took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers. You could feel him smirk against you as you continued to whimper, your breathy moans turning needy as he continued his work.

“You like that, sweet girl?” he teased, sitting back so he could watch your chest heave as you sucked in labored breaths.

“Cody, I swear if you don’t fuck me right now,” you said, but your threat had no force behind it. Nonetheless, Cody started to remove his armor, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re not very patient,” he said, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been known to be a bit demanding at times,” you said, pleased that you got what you wanted.

“The only thing you’ll be by the time I’m finished is a cockdumb little whore,” Cody challenged, and you swallowed thickly. He had finished taking off his armor and was now pulling his shirt over his head, and you tried to memorize the plains of his body as quickly as you could. The muscles in his abdomen flexed as he relaxed, and you couldn’t help but notice the thin trail of dark hair that crept down below the waistband of his blacks.

“See something you like?” he parroted back your earlier words. You nodded, and Cody smiled as he tugged you closer to him once more. His hands worked at the button on your pants, and before you knew it, he was shimmying the garment down your hips, leaving you in just your panties. With a gentle push, you fell back against the bed and Cody positioned himself between your thighs.

“You’ve soaked through your panties, pretty girl,” Cody said, tracing one finger lightly over your slit. You whined, trying to jerk your hips up for more friction, but he merely chuckled and placed an arm over your hips. “No, you’ll take what I give you,”

“Yes, Commander,” you looked down at him with glassy eyes, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over you was almost too much. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because Cody pulled your panties to the side and dove in, lapping up the wetness you had already created before wrapping his lips around your clit. Your mouth dropped open with your loud moan.

“For all your bravado, you’re quite easy to control,” Cody said, voice rumbling against you in a way that sent sparks flying up your spine. He was right, as much as you hated to admit it; the way he was working your body right now, you would’ve committed murder if he’d asked. His tongue traced lazy circles over your clit, occasionally dipping down to thrust into you for a moment, making you squeal.

“Ahh! Commander!” your moans were whiny, and you could almost feel Cody’s ego inflating as you writhed underneath him. Suddenly, he slipped one thick finger into you, and you clenched around it so hard that Cody throbbed in his blacks.

“That’s it, take my fingers. Have to prepare you for my cock, pretty girl,” he growled before giving your clit another teasing lick. A second finger joined the first, and you bucked your hips up to meet them. Cody laughed. “It’s so easy to make you squirm,”

“Don’t get smug on me,” you tried to scold him, but it came out as a whine. You could rapidly feel your orgasm approaching, and you tried to warn the man underneath you, but your words all turned into moans as you tried to form them.

“Come on, pretty girl, let go for me,” Cody ordered, and you did as he asked. Clenching around his fingers, you whimpered as he worked you through it. It wasn’t until you were too over sensitive to bear it that he finally pulled away.

“Holy shit,” you said dreamily, head still a little fuzzy from your orgasm. Cody kissed you once more, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Commander, please,”

“Please what?” he said back, and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what I want,” you said, trailing your hand down until you could rub him through his blacks. He groaned as you palmed him, and you smiled innocently.

“Ask for it nicely,” Cody teased. He was nearly as impatient as you were, however, and he was already reaching for the waistband of his blacks.

“Please fuck me, Commander,” you said, rolling your hips against his in an attempt to get some friction. Your shame had flown completely out the window, your brain now singularly focused on the man above you.

Grinning eagerly, Cody pulled off his pants and discarded them, and your mouth hung open slightly at the sight of his cock. You quickly closed it when you heard Cody snort in amusement, and pouted as he lined himself up.

“You still want this?” he asked, face so close that you could feel his breath on your neck.

“Stop teasing and just do it already!” your voice pitched up as he slowly pushed himself in. You could feel him stretching you, and Cody swore under his breath as he bottomed out.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned, rocking his hips slightly to let you adjust to the movement. You hooked one leg around his waist, trying to pull him deeper into you.

“Please, I’m not gonna break, Commander,” you gave him your best doe eyes, and Cody growled and thrust into you hard, pushing you up the bed slightly. He kept a steady pace, making sure to press his cock as deep as it would go with every thrust. He grabbed the leg that you had wrapped around his waist and pulled it up until it was sitting on his shoulder, letting him hit a whole new angle inside you.

Your whimpering turned into loud moans as he continued pounding into you, hitting the bundle of nerves inside of you that sent spots flying through your vision. Cody gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as he fucked you. His face was dusted pink from exertion, and his pupils were blown so wide that they nearly eclipsed the soft amber of the iris.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” Cody groaned, his grip on your chin tightening. “Want my pretty girl to feel good,”

“So fucking good, feel so big inside me,” you stammered, unable to think about much other than the way he was fucking you. Your back arched off the bed as Cody dropped your chin and trailed his hand down to your clit, rubbing tight circles on it.

“There’s my little cockdumb girl,” he said, a tinge of admiration in his voice. “Taking me so fucking well,”

“Yes, please, anything!” your words were jumbled, but Cody seemed to know what you meant. His thumb worked faster on your clit, and you squirmed, trying to lean into the touch and wriggle away from it at the same time. Cody held you in place, watching your chest heave as he brought you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he said, and you did, a broken moan of his name on your lips. He fucked you through it, his thrusts getting erratic as you tightened around him. As you trembled with the aftershocks, you were able to see Cody pull out of you and jerk himself a few times, before spilling all over his hand and your stomach.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” you said. Your voice was still a little shaky, and Cody laughed at how fucked out you sounded. He swiped a towel from your attached ‘fresher and cleaned you off, before falling into bed beside you.

“Practice,” he said smugly, and you rolled your eyes. “So was I?”

“Hmm?” you mumbled sleepily, snuggling your face into the clone’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you comfortingly.

“You said I looked like a good fuck. Was I?” he said, kissing the top of your head playfully.

“Well, I’m not completely cockdumb like you said I’d be,” you said, a mischievous smirk on your face. Cody sat up, a wicked look in his eyes. A surge of arousal pooled in your stomach.

“Guess we’re not done, then,”