#proud of this despite fucking up the date for my final and turning it in late lol

[idonutlose]

doing the thing where I make the face of the person I'm drawing and it's actually accurate for once (I'm drawing myself and it's 3am in both the drawing and irl as;dlfkjasdf)

anyways uhhh look at a part of my art final boy sorry she's so dark

[gavisuntiedboot]

Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

~

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.15 bffs with the rookies+ "come pick me up I'm scared"

Okay, I was in my feels when I wrote this one, sooo- it's sad as shit 😭, this is a CW, I think?

| Masterlist |

"Well, I didn't ask," You responded to Logan, who kept you company as you walked from your dorm to your university in the UK, he had been struggling with jet lag as he was back home for the two-week break for the Vegas GP.

"Well, why didn't ya?" He called out, you told him to do jumping jacks to help go to sleep, you didn't know how it would help but the thought of him jumping around made you laugh.

"Mate, I've gotta call you back," you looked at the huge crowd of men and women with expensive cameras and microphones in front of her university's gates, "Bruv, there's gotta be a celebrity or someone dead."

"Okay," he said, panting, "I think it worked, imma go sleep," he cut the call.

"Scuse me, imma just pass through, to actually study here," you pushed through the crowd till someone grabbed your book bag and yelled, "IT'S HER- IT'S Y/N L/N."

And then, the chaos started.

The cameras began flashing till you couldn't see, mics shoved in your face making scarps and bruises as people pushed and pulled you, yelling questions in your face.

"How do you know the F1 drivers?" one yelled,

"Are you dating any of them?" came another,

"Is it true you're related to Fernando Alonso?" A woman asked, grabbing your hoodie.

The whirlwind went on for a few more minutes, you tried your best to get out of the storm without saying something that might negatively impact their reputations, but then came those questions.

"How's the cushy life since you've got baby Schumacher's pockets?" you heard someone yell.

You finally found an exit, that's it, just five more feet and you'd be free, you know you could outrun them, "Hey, y/n! Who fucks better?" Some guy called out from behind you.

"Your Mother," you yelled back, throwing a punch at the disgustingly proud-looking, fifty-something-year-old man. Shock rippled through the crowd where laughter had run at the question just a few seconds before.

You used the distraction to run back to your dorm room, only your phone in hand, your bag having been yanked off your back in the mess.

"What the fuck?" You panted as you saw your dormmates outside your room, cash in hand, you pushed them aside and ran in, only to find your laptop and iPad missing, along with the camera Lando had gifted to you, the signed 'inchident' from Max and Charles, the polaroid of you, oscar and Logan camping in when you were teenagers and the 'Build a bear' Arthur had gotten you with him saying an inside joke.

You felt your face warm as anger and tears pricked at you.

You turned around to find the unreadable faces of your dormmates, "Where the fuck is my stuff?" You asked, hoping it was all a joke like you hadn't just lost everything that gave you hope, that gave you happiness.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SHIT-" You yelled, slamming your hand on the room door, making your friends move back, one tried to speak, trying to make excuses, "DON'T CHAT TO ME, FUCK YOU-" you could hear your voice breaking, "fuck you," you did your best not to cry but it was becoming tough to not.

You ran out of the building, and despite their protests, you made your way through back alleys and corridors that only locals would know of, pulling up your hood in case anyone recognised you.

You thought of who you could call, Logan was in America, god you wished Logan was here with you, he wouldn't have let this happen in the first place, you laughed to yourself. Oscar and Arthur weren't around either. Max, Charles and Lando were all in Monaco, and you definitely not going to let Mick, someone you'd known barely for a month see you like this, and he wasn't in the UK.

You wiped your hands down your face, and dialled on your phone, "Alex..." your voice trembled against his cheerful greeting, making him worry, "Can you come pick me up please," you tried not to break down. How did it get to this?

"Yes, give me a few, are you okay? Y/n? Hey-" You cut the call, sending him your location. How were you asking for Alex's help? The same man who'd pat you awkwardly on your head every time he saw you. Someone who'd begun treating you like a little sister, along with Logan, bringing you food from the cafeteria, sneaking in Redbulls. Someone who you'd tease calling your older brother, making him cringe about 'I'm not that much older', so maybe he was the right one to go to.

You saw a car pull up and you knew it was Alex, seeing him through the driver's side window. You got into the car, only phone in hand and the clothes on your back. "Hey, what are-?" Came a protest from George, who was in the passenger seat, but stopped as soon as he saw you sitting in the seat, you really didn't want this to be your first impression.

The car didn't move, like he was waiting for some form of explanation, "You'll see," you whispered, making him sigh and drive.

As he passed the gates of your university, they saw what you had been running from, and both their eyes widened. Alex looked into the back-view mirror at your face and decided not to say anything. George on the other hand, began cursing the crowd, calling some people on his phone.

You couldn't make out what he was saying, too tired and too scared.

"Hey, y/n wake up," Alex moved your arm, startling you awake, you saw you were in a car park and got out the car, following mindlessly, behind George, who was typing his code in. If Alex noticed it, he kept it to himself, but you could tell he was concerned about something.

You followed as they led to the apartment, you sat on the couch, if it were a normal, visit you'd be off the walls about the beautiful place, with floor-to-ceiling windows and plants everywhere, terracotta furniture to match the gloomy blue-grey sky.

"Um, George's place was closer, hope that's okay," Alex spoke, softly like it would spook you. He was right.

"I'll make tea, then," George nodded and walked off.

"M-My phone's dead, I think," you sniffled out.

"Y/n, that's not really-" He began,

"Can I charge it please?" I asked, if I tried to pretend this disaster didn't happen, maybe it would be like it wouldn't have.

He took the phone out of your half-stretched hand, attaching it to a charging cord, a small 'ding' telling you that it was indeed charging.

"Y/n, what happened?" He asked sitting next to you on the sofa.

"They took everything," you began, making him frown, George too, was out of his depth, placing the tray with three mugs of tea, "M-My frie- roommates, sold my laptop and iPad, and all the things I'd gotten from you all." You began, but this time you couldn't hold in the tears that pricked at your eyes.

You cried into the sleeve of your hoodie, curling into yourself on the sofa.

All those memories were lost. You had photos all the way from your childhood on that laptop and now they were gone.

"Oh, um," He went in to hug you and patted your head, making you laugh.

''See! There we go!" He smiled wide, making you laugh more, "Here," he passed you a mug of tea, it had cooled off a little, so you could drink it.

"You punched someone?" Came George's voice, it was the only thing he'd said to you.

You looked sheepishly at your right fist, the knuckles of which had turned a nasty red.

"No worries, I'll go get a first-aid," He said, walking to get it, when he was back he sat you on your other side, "You know," he poured some anti-septic onto a cotton pad, "I think, you handled it quite well, they were some stupid questions," He said as he moved onto your face.

You hissed, "Wait, what?" You asked, "It's already on the net?" You felt another wave of anger and tears.

"Yup," Alex said, moving his phone to you, showing a reel on Instagram, where the man was asking you that question, edited with the 'your mom' sound and a 'thwack' when the punch landed, ending with an edit of you in cat ears and a high-pitched fast-paced song.

"What... the fuck?" You didn't know where to laugh or cry.

"Mate, why the edits?" George asked scoffing.

"Wait, check Twitter," You suggested suddenly seeing the hilarity of the situation, "ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME?" You yelled, gulping the last of your tea, "YOUR MOTHER IS TRENDING??" it wasn't on top of the trending list but it was there.

"Y/n... I think you're going to love this," George showed something on his phone, they'd turned your voice into an audio, and there were already hundreds of videos being made on it on TikTok.

"Fuck my life."

.xX A few hours later Xx.

George had given one of his flannels, noticing how dirty your hoodie had gotten.

The three of you ordered takeout and watched The Walking Dead all afternoon, he genuinely reminded you of a posh London Mother.

In the middle of season 2, George got a call, "Hello-" He began but was cut off almost immediately and you could hear the man on the phone's voice till out.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Another voice yelled, "IS SHE OKAY??" All the sudden noise made George flinch and pull the phone away from him.

He quickly passed the phone off to you, and you were bombarded by three heavily accented Monganesque accents, "Hi, guys it's me," You responded making the call go silent for a second and then they all began screaming again, loudest was Arthur, then came Charlie's voice. Lastly, It was Lorenzo who got both the others to keep quiet.

You used the peaceful moment to excuse yourself to another room.

"Are you okay, y/n?" He asked and you replied with a small yes, he hummed and passed the phone.

"Y/n, oh my god, I saw the posts," Charles began, "Those people were stupid to attack you like that," He comforted you.

"Thank you, Charlie," You said, a small smile on your face.

You waited as words were exchanged in French and you heard footsteps on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry Y/n, that should have never happened, it is all because of us," his voice rang sad.

"It's okay, Arthur, we'll talk about this when we're together okay?" You responded, and he kept apologising as he cut the call.

Next came Logan's call, just as you were about to call him, "What the fuck is wrong with people?" He questioned, his tone angry, "You could have gotten hurt. Like seriously hurt. This is bullshit." He yelled, but then his voice softened, "You aren't hurt are you?"

"No, not much, I've got a few bruises and cuts but all mint other than that." He hummed as you spoke, and began asking you other questions and you told him about what your roommates had done, you could hear that he was livid but kept trying to be calm for you.

And when Oscar called, that's when it finally hit you again, that feeling of losing everything that you held dear, "Y/n, please don't cry," came his voice from the other end, "Please don't cry while I'm away cause then I can't do anything about it," his voice broke.

"They took all our stuff, Osc, all the way from the first time we met to the last time we got McDonald's together, everything," you sniffled and you could hear the frown in his voice.

"I'm sure we can get it back, don't worry y/n, we'll figure it out, ya know, we've all got your back, speaking of which, you'd better call Max right away, he's with Lando, his bombarding my phone as we speak," He complained, returning some normalcy to your situation.

You cut the call and called Max, and it was Lando who spoke first, cursing at the media and complementing your punch and quick response and then Max took over.

"Firstly, are you okay?" He asked, making you say yes, "Secondly, I've got a lawyer ready, tell me and we'll fight this. We can find a way to get your stuff back." you didn't know what to say.

"Yes, yes, please," you spoke for a little longer before you had to excuse yourself. You had to call someone, someone you know who was going to be livid.

"Hiiiiii," You spoke into the phone, awaiting a response.

"Y/n, how are you, kiddo?" Your uncle's voice rang out. He had been taking care of you ever since you were a teenager, not that you needed much, a place to stay and school.

"I'm fine, it was bound to happen one day," you exhaled at the unfairness of it all.

"I know, I heard what your bastardas friends did," and you could hear the anger in his voice, "Names, and I will get it sorted," He asked making you giggle, he'd always been like this ever since you had showed up on his doorstep.

You told him not to do anything rash but that Max had gotten you a lawyer, he seemed proud of Max for that.

You told him you had to leave since it wasn't your phone you'd been using.

You walked inside, apologising for hogging the phone but George just waved his hand, too invested in whatever episode that was playing. He'd gotten out a bottle of wine (Of course he had,) and he and Alex were busy deep-diving into the show's lore.

He'd kept you a glass, which you gladly accepted.

As the day progressed, you took your leave, but not before George offering you the guest room, saying Alex would take the sofa, which made the other man kick the taller blonde, as you took your leave, having booked an Uber and hotel room for the week, you could still hear them play fighting.

As you were in the car, Mick called you, and you were surprised he had.

"Hey, Y/n! How are you?" He asked,

"Good, you?" You were good at pretending everything was okay, you got an A+ in coping mechanisms class in school!

"Can't be worse than, you know, punching someone," he laughed, you had realised, that the both of you had a sense of humour that really just clicked.

"Oh mate, that was the good part!" You made sure that your payment had gone through with the Uber driver and walked into the hotel. They already had your room ready (courtesy of George, you were sure,) and you only needed to show an ID to be led in, without any other questions.

"Yeah... I saw all the clips on Instagram," He sighed.

"It was kind of crazy, I can't even imagine how it must be for you guys!" You put the phone on speaker and looked through the room service options.

You were going to have lunch in your dorm's cafeteria but that loan had kind of fallen apart, and anyways tea and wine wasn't nearly enough to make you forget the shit show that happened today.

"Mate you won't believe what else happened," You told him about the laptop.

"What the fuck,"

"RIGHT- anyways, I hope they don't get into my drive 'cause I have some in there that is not for public eyes, like imagine they saw the video of your horrible Ghostface impression?" You laughed at him, making him remember the party.

"Oh, Please, it was amazing, I scared you!" He yelled,

"And then you shrieked when Logan did the same to you,"

"Well yes, but he was dressed as Anakin, y/n! I'm not competing with that!" He gasped, shivering at how the hair on his neck raised when Logan did the voice.

"Oh mate please, but that's not even the worst of it, I've got a video of Max and Charles, slow dancing, and literally everything Lando and Carlos do is incriminating."

"That is true, I didn't see them for half of the party," he insinuated.

"Well, you and Arthur were pretty busy seeing who could down more shots," You snickered.

"Well, it wouldn't have become that big if Oscar didn't egg us on!" He complained as he had for days after the party but all he got from Oscar was a smug smirk, with an evil look in his eyes whenever he did something like that.

You spoke till room service came in and then excused yourself to drown in pasta and Netflix.

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat @allenajade-ite @megatrilss1885 @squirreljoe @jsjcue @s4turnsl0ver @yl90 @elijahslover

[shogunish]

𝗼𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿.

pairing. student! gojo satoru x reader

genre. fluff, slice of life, idiots in love

warnings. tooth-rotting fluff

summary. and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.

words. 901

note. don't imagine falling in love with toru in autumn, sharing hot chocolate, cozy movie dates and him giving you his sweater bc yours don't keep you warm enough

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

satoru doesn't know why you love autumn so much when it's not only the busiest time for sorcerers, but also annoyingly windy with sudden downpours out of nowhere. days are cut short since the sun would set earlier than usual and dark skies would envelop tokyo at five pm instead of at nine in the late evening. autumn is the season in which everything starts dying or hiding away; may it be trees drying out and shedding their once lush leaves or that small hedgehog across the street searching for a cozy, safe place to hibernate.

a scowl rested on satoru's handsome face. the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks are bitten red by the chilly temperatures lingering in the streets. snot runs from his nostril and he sniffles. even the coat paired with the scarf wrapped around his neck can't stop his runny nose. satoru isn't sick, oh no. if anything, he's sick of the weather.

chilly temperatures always equal a runny nose for satoru.

he sighs, cerulean eyes rolling behind pitch black shades. "next time, you go on that walk by yourself. my doctor will hear about you if i get sick."

a light bounce is in your step. turning to face satoru, you smile at him. "stop exaggerating. i just wanted to see you and spend some time with you." satoru is right next to you, eyeing you from his peripheral. "you've been away so much ever since autumn came."

he just scoffs. luckily, satoru's cheeks are already red or else you would've called him out on the blush blooming across his cheeks. he likes to pretend to be tough and immune to your words when in reality, each of your honeyed words cut through his defenses like butter.

"must miss me real bad, huh? how cute." satoru puffs his chest out, proud of the comment he's just come up with.

a little pout rests upon your lips and all of a sudden, you feel a little shy, because yes, you do miss satoru real bad and feel almost..lonely without him. but with an ego as massive as satoru is tall, you can't give him that sort of satisfaction. so all you do is huff in response. "all i heard is that i'm cute."

selective hearing, hm?

despite the several layers of clothes hiding your skin and keeping you toasty warm, satoru knows how to worm his way through every single layer until he is underneath your skin, flustering you and making you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

popping into your personal bubble, he wears a smug smirk on his chapsticked lips. "ohhh, you do miss me!" satoru chirps, tosses his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

occasionally, satoru forgets how strong he is compared to you and is a bit rougher with you than he should be. the pull is sudden, makes you squeak as you slip on a damp leaf and lose your balance. instead of finding yourself in satoru's arm, your butt lands in a pile of dried leaves.

dumbfounded you stare at satoru, owlishly blinking at him while a few leaves get stuck on the top of your head. he thinks he fucked up, will get a real good scolding from you, telling him to be more careful, but your nagging never comes.

instead, you laugh heartily with round cheeks and your teeth showing off. a melodious sound that fills the park and drips right into the cracks of satoru's heart, turning the snow into sweet, saccharine honey.

his heart does this funny thing again. the thing where it skips a beat and pumps just a tad bit harder, making him feel warm from the core up.

before satoru can even think about teasing you, a handful of leaves is flung right at his face and he finds himself laughing along with you. "what was that for?"

"for letting me fall and getting my ass wet!" you're still laughing, then your face scrunches up as satoru flings his own fistful of leaves at your face.

you begin chasing him with two fistfuls of leaves. suddenly, red, yellow and orange is stuck in his hair and you realize..it makes his eyes look even more mesmerizing than they already are. how unfair.

"not my fault you're getting your ass wet over me!"

oh, he's having the time of his life chasing you around the park, flinging dried leaves at each other and laughing so carelessly without a worry in the world. your laughter mixes with his, creating a symphony that only something akin to love could compose.

"oh, shut up, will you?!" playfully, you shove satoru into a pile of leaves, but if he's going down, he's taking you with him.

grabbing you by the collar, satoru falls into the pile of leaves with you and laughs alongside you. a tangled mess of limbs and puffs of white smoke fill the space around you. your head rests somewhere on satoru's chest while his arms and legs are sprawled out like a starfish.

"i'll only shut up if you make me, darling." satoru wiggles his eyebrows at you, all in good fun.

and when you laugh at his stupid comment, leaves of all colors and sizes in your hair, cheeks red from the low temperatures, he finally knows why you love autumn so much.

taglist; @torusmochi

[lightseoul]

asymptōtos

synopsis. you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

cw. fem!reader, student-turned-worker!reader, busy prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~22 yrs old), established relationship, fluff, hurt/(may or may not have) comfort

word count. 5.8k words

The first time it happens, it leaves you more in a state of awe and adoration than worry and disappointment.

In your defense, you never thought you’d end up dating anyone in college, let alone during your very busy senior year marred by senioritis and thesis woes, but the universe decided it has other plans for you.

And so here you are, on your first date with the #2 Pro Hero, no less.

Of course, credit must be given where it is due. All of this wouldn’t have happened without the notorious meddler and your elementary best friend Ashido Mina, who took it upon herself to be Bakugou’s wing-woman during her housewarming party two weeks ago.

Not only did she serve as the pesky glue that resisted all of your attempts to stray away from Bakugou’s immediate circle, but she also later on confessed to having begged him not to delete your number that she not-so-sneakily saved in the man’s phone.

You got so embarrassed when you received your first text from him, imagining him being held at gunpoint by Mina just to send the darned message. You contemplated not replying to save the poor guy but decided against it. You’re glad you did, though, because he ended up surprising you with his responsiveness and consistency, resulting in daily texts until he finally asked you out on a date.

In a very roundabout way, too:

Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.

Which brings you to the present, post-said dinner, seated on one of the benches in a park you’ve never heard of until now, admiring the view.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head whips to look at Bakugou, surprised at his sudden statement. Things have been silent since you left the sushi restaurant.

Well, until now.

“What—go out on a date?” you joke, meaning to lighten the mood.

At that, he visibly reddens, and looks away.

“Dumbass,” he mutters under his breath.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I just thought—you being you—you’d have far more experience than I have.”

You can see him hesitating before looking you right in the eyes, “Wow.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “This is the first time someone’s referred to my being ‘me’ as a compliment.”

“Really?”

He merely gives you a firm nod. You can tell he’s trying to be cool about it, despite how much vulnerability this topic is requiring out of him.

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

His voice is quiet when he replies. “...Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “I mean, I like you. Being Bakugou Katsuki should make you proud.”

You don’t realize the carelessness of your comment until you see his eyes widen in shock. Yours follow suit upon realization, “I mean–”

“Yeah–”

“I didn’t–”

He interrupts, “Don’t worry. I get what ya mean.”

You could only stare at each other in astonishment until you look away in embarrassment.

Fuck.

You’re about to change the subject in the hopes of clearing the air and replacing the awkward silence that has befallen the two of you when you feel a feather of a touch graze your pinky.

You hold your breath in anticipation—willing your palm’s sweat glands to magically close in case Bakugou’s making a move to hold your hand—but that’s when it happens.

A piercing wail echoes throughout the park, and you both rip your hands away from each other.

Embarrassed (Bakugou), confused (you), and alarmed (both), you whip your heads towards the source, only to find a crying kid and who seems to be his father crouched down, frantically shushing him.

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what’s the matter from your spot on the bench.

“Kid’s dumb cat got stuck in that tree,” Bakugou points with his right hand, and sure enough, an orange Tabby cat is perched comfortably on the sakura tree near where the kid and his father are standing.

How he managed to figure out the problem in a millisecond is beyond you, but you couldn’t spare a single moment to marvel at his hero senses because Bakugou’s now standing up, palms cracking with mini-explosions.

He sighs heavily, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was annoyed.

Whatever scowl he might’ve had on his face is schooled into a neutral expression when he turns back to tell you to give him a second.

You nod, too stunned to speak, and the explosions on his palms begin to heighten in degree. He starts toward the direction of the civilians, before hesitating in his steps.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, back still turned towards you.

“...For the record,” he looks up to the cat still balanced expertly on the tree’s branches, possibly to avoid your gaze for what he’s about to say next.

“I like you, too.”

The second time it happens…is a bit different. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware this sort of thing was coming. On the contrary, you anticipated it, knowing full well what you were getting yourself into the moment you agreed to become Bakugou’s girlfriend.

But expecting and dress-rehearsing for pain doesn’t make it any less wounding once the actual thing does roll around.

It was your graduation day, and everything was going swimmingly. Bakugou got to officially introduce himself as your boyfriend to your parents while you were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but just by his body language alone, you could tell he was fucking nervous.

(Later on, during dinner, he’d whisper to you how he barely got any sleep the night before. Who was the one graduating between the two of you, again?)

Your parents’ reception of him was favorable, thanks to the briefer you gave them about his media presence not at all being an accurate depiction of the real thing. Your father tossed you a somewhat withering look after the encounter, but you chose to let it go. You weren’t going to let anyone rain on your parade today.

By all accounts, everything was going great. At the end of the program, everyone who you wanted to be present was there congratulating you, giving you bouquets of flowers, and taking pictures for remembrance’s sake.

After bidding goodbye to your college peers, you then headed to your favorite high-end restaurant to celebrate, where you sit now, listening in amusement as Bakugou gets grilled by your family and friends.

“So, Bakugou-san,” your mother continues, “what do you like about our Y/N?”

“Mom!”

Needless to say, you didn’t expect to be dragged into the grilling session.

Your mother only looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost your marbles. To your left, you can hear Bakugou snicker under his breath. You elbow his side in retaliation.

“What? You can’t expect me not to ask him that.”

“Yeah,” your cousin chimes in from the end of the elongated table, “we’re curious.”

You glare at her, “Shut it, C/N.”

“Y/N!,” your mother exclaims, “Don’t be rude.”

You could only pout in response while Bakugou clears his throat beside you, and you find yourself anticipating his response despite the circumstances.

“Well, she’s the most caring person I know,” he eyes you, and you can’t help but look away, feeling bashful under his gaze. “And is incredibly sharp, and she makes me feel understood and appreciated.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from the table, and you laugh in embarrassment at his words and everyone else’s reactions.

Bakugou pinches your thigh to catch your attention, “What?”

You snort, “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirks, “Says the one blushing.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s sporting redness on his cheeks the same way he’s saying you are. You can’t help but grin in response.

The noise dies down upon hearing your father clear his throat, “Bakugou-san, what do you do for a living, again?”

You internally roll your eyes. On the outside, though, you look at Bakugou, who straightens his posture at your father’s questioning.

“I’m a Pro Hero, sir.”

Your father hums in acknowledgment, “You’re Pro Hero…Dynamight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone’s silent as you watch the tense conversation unfold before you.

“You face a lot of danger in your line of work, then?”

Bakugou remains unwavering as he goes through the kind of questioning that would otherwise annoy him, “Yes, sir. But we’ve undergone extensive training and immersions to be able to handle them accordingly.”

This time, your father only grunts in reply, returning to his plate of Grilled Akita Beef Sirloin as if he hadn’t just interrogated a guy. In the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou deflate, from relief or disappointment, you can’t tell.

“Anyway, Bakugou-san,” your mother interjects in an attempt to salvage the conversation, “what’s it like having a job of a Pro Hero? Nobody in our family took that career path, you see.”

“Well, I—”

He barely gets two words out when All Might’s voice comes booming throughout the entire restaurant, and you see Bakugou lose his cool and scramble for his phone to turn it off. Everyone’s eyes are bugged out, probably reeling from the fact that the #2 Pro Hero has such a corny ringtone.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. You chance a peek at the caller ID, which reads ‘Deku’, and you look up to see the frustration in Bakugou’s eyes.

Despite yourself, a sense of worry settles in your stomach. Midoriya never calls Bakugou unless it’s something important, and he’d already been informed about Bakugou being MIA for tonight. Surely he’s not calling for nothing…

“Who was that?” Your mother asks.

Bakugou presses the lock button on his phone and pockets it. “Sorry—it was just a colleague,” he frowns, “I don’t know why they’re contacting me, I already filed a leave for today.”

“Well, if it’s nothing important, I guess we–”

The ringtone, once again, floods the entire room, but this time you urge him to take it as he tosses you and everyone else an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Please excuse me.”

With that, he stands up and heads towards the corner of the restaurant, leaving you with the rest of your family and friends in silence.

“He seems nice,” your cousin offers, and you shoot them a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about him, Y/N?” your other cousin asks, and you can’t help but freeze upon hearing the question. “Dating a Pro Hero doesn’t seem like easy business.”

“I bet it isn’t,” your father adds gruffly.

You’re about to spit out the best defense in history when Bakugou rushes toward your side, although he doesn’t sit back down. You brace yourself for what’s about to come next.

“That was Pro Hero Deku—there’s been a sighting in the Chofu district of this high-profile villain we’ve been tracking down for weeks,” he fixes his gaze onto you, “And they need both top heroes on the field, ASAP.”

You spring onto your feet with no hesitation, “Okay, but be careful, Katsuki.”

He nods, “Of course.”

With that, he faces everyone else and bows, “I apologize for having to leave early. I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He doesn’t wait for their responses, attention now shifted back to you.

“Congratulations again, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a smile on your face in the hopes of easing his worries. He bends down to kiss your forehead, shooting you an apologetic look before excusing himself for the last time and heading for the exit.

You hold onto that congenial smile plastered across your face as your eyes trace his disappearing figure. Once he’s gone, you go back to your seat and will yourself to meet the eyes of those around you.

You see the all-too-familiar worried look on your mother’s face, while your cousins and friends have their eyes down on their plates. Your father, on the other hand, has the same withering look he’s been wearing around you and Bakugou the entire day.

“I bet it isn’t,” your father mutters under his breath, but you heard him clearly.

The third time it happens, it hits closer to home than you expect it to.

After a flurry of important firsts with Bakugou, as well as major life changes that have gotten you breaking down more often than you’d like to admit, your birthday finally rolls around.

As you’ve gotten older, birthdays have indubitably become more mundane. Nevertheless, you went ahead and took the day off of your new job as recruitment personnel in Mirko’s agency, not to celebrate it in crazy ways but in the hopes of spending the entirety of it at home with Bakugou.

Ever since you landed your first job, time spent with your boyfriend has become more and more negligible, with schedule conflicts and inflexibilities of work commitments barring you from seeing each other.

Today was no different.

You wake up to the scent of Bakugou and his citrus body soap, who, as per your request, spent the night prior in your apartment. When you reach out to his side of the bed, though, you’re met with cold emptiness, and your heart sinks in disappointment upon the realization that he’d left.

You at least wanted a good morning kiss for your birthday.

Half awake and reaching blindly for your phone, you bring it up to eye level and check your messages.

It’s only 9:07 AM and your inbox is already flooded with greetings, but none of them is Bakugou’s. Instead, the one text message from him reads:

Hey. Sorry I had to leave early, got some agency-wide meeting Shitty-hair and I are presiding today or something. See you when I get home.

Despite yourself, you deflate at his lack of acknowledgment of your birthday. You shake your head, feeling the ugly emotion of hurt creeping up your spine. Instead, you choose to focus on the fact that he just called your apartment home. Besides, he’s probably just busy right now, you think to yourself. He’ll remember later.

He didn’t remember.

At least, as of 11:45 PM, he hasn’t.

You were still optimistic about things when the day started, going around the house—cleaning to soothe your racing mind, as well as opening the gifts your friends and family had sent to your apartment. By the time lunch rolled around, you had food delivered from your favorite restaurant, which you happily devoured while rewatching a comfort film.

Now and then, you’d thumb at your phone to check if Bakugou’s messaged you a greeting or an update, only to be met with messages and notifications that were the least of your concern.

You lost count of how many times you’ve sighed in discontent, restless for the moment he comes home and proves to you that he absolutely, positively, certainly, hasn’t forgotten.

But before you know it, it’s already 11:45 PM and he still hasn’t walked through your doorway—the last you’ve heard of him being the one text message he left you this morning.

You’re staring blankly at the dinner you’ve prepared for the two of you, devoid of any more expectations, when the door finally clicks open at 11:47 PM and he stumbles in, decked out in his hero costume and visibly exhausted.

“Oh, you’re still awake.”

He seems stunned to see you.

“Patrol went overtime,” he curtly explains as he toes off his boots, “I’m fucking beat.”

You only stare at him from your position on the couch, eyes following his figure as he marches towards the bedroom, possibly to wash off the day’s dirt and grime, barely sparing you a second glance.

“Hey, babe,” Bakugou calls out from the bedroom, who, from the sounds and smell of it, has already come out of the shower.

You hear a rustling noise, “What’s with all these fuckin’ wrappers? Is it your birthday or some shi–”

He falls silent as realization dawns on him, and you shut your eyes in dreadful anticipation. Earlier, when you were still fired up with the day’s anger, you thought you could handle this confrontation (if he ever realized what day it was), but you might’ve overestimated yourself.

Because now, you’re on the couch, hugging your knees and feeling completely pathetic as you hear his footsteps get closer and louder.

Suddenly, your face to face with Bakugou Katsuki, who’s kneeling to peer at you.

And he looks absolutely guilty.

“Y/N, I am so sorry—”

You shake your head. That shuts him up.

“I’m not in the mood for apologies, Katsuki,” you start, “I’m—I’m not mad at you for not having prepared or set aside anything.”

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you press on, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I understand.”

He eagerly nods. You sniff to help hold back the tears that are threatening to spill out, and Bakugou’s hand shoots up to cradle your face in response.

You let him.

“I’m just…” you look down, unable to meet his eye, “disappointed, Katsuki.”

You will yourself to look at him again, “I figured you’d at least remember what today was.”

“Fuck,” he warbles, and now you’re both crying, “I’m sorry, princess. I…”

He trails off, and some twisted part of you is thankful for it. You already know what was going to come out of his mouth—either their staff was a pain in the ass today and he had to step in, or a villain came around to stir shit up, resulting in overtime and him not having the time or energy for anything else.

This way, he could spare both of you the excuses that have seemed to etch themselves onto the tapestry that is your relationship.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says instead.

You don’t know how he plans to do that, but at this point, you’re too tired and hurt to ask or fight back. You gingerly nod your head in agreement.

And with that, he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, all the while trailing soft, almost hesitant, kisses at the expanse of your neck.

He lays you down gently on the bed, and he climbs on top of you, hovering, until he has his forearms at both sides of your head.

You find yourself melting under the intensity of his loving, albeit guilty gaze.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Bakugou whispers, before diving in for a scalding kiss.

And make it up to you, he did.

The day after your birthday, he files for a leave in his agency, as well as cashes in Mirko’s favor from when he saved her ass in a past mission together, successfully giving you an extra paid leave for the day.

He ends up taking you out to a fancy soba restaurant recommended by Todoroki, and to an exhibit you’ve been wanting to see for the longest time, but haven’t gotten around to due to the ungodly wait (thanks to his Pro Hero card, though, you were able to get special passes).

And, it was at the end of that art exhibit when Bakugou pulls you into a private room and tells you he loves you for the first time.

Needless to say, you were over the moon.

But as a great author once said, one can’t undo the pain one caused. One can only atone for it.

Despite yourself, a seed of unease takes shelter and grows inside of you.

The fourth time it happens, it finally escalates into a full-blown fight.

It was a Saturday night, and you were enjoying a nice, stay-in dinner with Bakugou in his penthouse. By some miracle, he was able to take the night off despite the busyness that came with December and the looming holiday season.

“Stop staring at me,” he had said while expertly chopping the assortment of vegetables you bought fresh from the market earlier that day.

You grinned at him, “Not my fault you look sexy when you’re cooking.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted, but there was no bite to it. If you knew any better, you’d say he was blushing. “Now come help me with this.”

And that, you did. More like fumbled around his luxurious kitchen while he took the lead, but you tried your best. Which brings you to now: you, seated across from Bakugou at his corner coffee table, overlooking the city skyline.

“Eat,” he commands.

You happily indulge him.

Scooping a spoonful of the imoni stew he graciously prepared for you, you bring it to your mouth, all the while not breaking eye contact.

“Mmmm!” you exclaim the second the flavors explode in your mouth, “this is so good!”

He only smirks in response, but you can tell he’s pleased with himself with the way his chest puffs up with pride, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.”

You giggle at how his words juxtapose the way his tone sounds so smitten. Hastily chewing the cabbage, you regard him after you swallow, “Right, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

At that, he visibly stiffens, and your stomach drops, feeling a shot of dread replace the elation that’s been coursing through your blood ever since the night began.

“Yeah,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” you mentally slap yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looks you dead in the eye, “And I think it’s about time we move in together.”

You can’t believe your ears.

That’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he places his utensils back on the table, “Think about it, we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and my place is closer to the agency and Mirko’s.”

He shrugs, “And we rarely see each other these days. I figured we can solve that by having you move in with me.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out stilted, “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to move in with you, Katsuki.” At that, he deflates in what you think is relief.

“But I have to ask—what prompted this? We’ve never talked about living together before.”

He looks down at his clenched fists on the table, and you can’t help how your body tenses in anticipation of the worst.

“This has nothing to do with asking you to move in with me,” he starts, “but there’s another thing I have to tell you.”

Your voice comes out meek when you reply, “What is it?”

“I got chosen to go on a very important solo mission.”

What’s the caveat? your mind immediately conjures the thought. Instead, you say, “Really? That’s awesome, Kats. Congratulations!”

He flashes you a grim smile, “Thanks.”

You force yourself to smile back, chuckling, “But?”

At your utterance of the three-letter word, he sighs, smile now erased from his face, “It’s overseas. Estimated to take about two months.”

You stay silent, just staring at him. He takes this as a sign to drop the last bomb.

“It starts next week.”

At that, you spring onto your feet, “Seriously? Do you even know what you’re gonna miss?”

He follows suit, “Of course! Shit—I’m not a fucking idiot,” he looks to the side in frustration, “I know, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I can just pass up.”

The snarky rebut of ‘It actually is’ dies in your throat when the fact of how much being the best matters to Bakugou crosses your mind.

“...But you promised me you’d spend the holidays with my family.” Your tone is quiet now, in stark contrast to earlier. You don’t even get started on the two-month absence.

He huffs, “I know. But I—”

“I’m sorry Katsuki,” you look down in shame, unwilling to look him in the eye, “and I know this is unfair of me, but I just can’t help but feel like you’re choosing your career over me.”

“But this mission could possibly make me number one,” he pleads, “Over shitty Deku, Y/N.”

You can practically hear the pain in his voice when he murmurs the next few words: “Number one.”

You shake your head in resignation—you know where this is going. You’ve gone through the motions of these arguments a hundred times before.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

“I know.”

At your quiet affirmation of his reasoning, Bakugou circles the table and wraps his arms around you, albeit cautiously. Tightening his hold on you, he whispers a soft thank you, and you feel your heart clenching in pain at how awkward and distant he feels despite being so close to you.

You have the urge to ask him if he only asked you to move in with him to soften the blow of what he was going to say next, but you hold your tongue. The last thing you want is for you to go on your separate ways for two months while in the middle of a fight.

You did end up going back to your hometown for the holidays, although with one less companion. Having to answer your family about Bakugou’s whereabouts was a huge pain, with you eventually resorting to terse responses the more times the question got reiterated.

Your family got so involved in the state of your relationship, with your father dropping I told you so’s ever so often that you finally decided you’ve had enough on the night of Christmas, and resolved to leave for Tokyō the next day.

You were planning to just spend the rest of the holidays in your apartment (you never got around to moving into Katsuki’s home), and wallow in your sadness over your relationship, but fortunately (or unfortunately), you ended up going out of your unit to spend New Year’s at Mina’s instead.

You note the profound role her persistence has played in your life.

Fast forward to now, with you having stepped out of the crowded party in her living room and onto the balcony, grateful for the cool, night breeze.

You hear the sliding door creak open behind you, and you don’t need to look over your shoulder to see who it is.

Footsteps pitter-patter against the floor until you find Mina standing there at your right, uncharacteristically quiet.

You don’t want to hear any comforting words about Bakugou’s absence, so you speak ahead, “Thanks, Mina.”

Her head whips to look at you, and she smiles warmly, “For what?”

“For inviting me to celebrate here,” you will yourself to smile back, “I think I needed this.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes you, “Of course. I—uh,”

She pauses, and you look over at her expectantly, “You what?”

She slowly lets you go and fully turns towards you, the ledge supporting her body weight as she leans into it. A serious expression now adorns her face.

“Just that…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”

You mirror her stance, facing her and narrowing your eyes, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, “Don’t tell him, but Bakugou’s actually the one who told me to check in on you.”

You take a step back from her in surprise (or hurt, you’re not sure—the emotions you’ve been feeling these days have been nothing but complex), but Mina’s quick to step forward and grab your hands, holding it in hers.

“He sounded really sorry about having to leave you alone for the holidays, you know.”

You feel the pinprick of tears at Mina’s words, bringing you to look down at your feet as a means of hiding your sadness from your best friend, even if you know that barely conceals how you’re feeling.

“Come here,” she ushers you in for a gentle embrace.

And you do.

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity, with her rubbing small circles on your back and you crying silently on her shoulder.

“He really loves you, you know,” she whispers, after a long pause, “Eiji and I have talked about it with the rest of our friends—we all agree how it’s practically clear as day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and allow yourself to bask in the gravity of Mina’s words.

“I know.”

The fifth time it happens, you astound yourself with your lack of resistance.

While Bakugou was out in the US for his solo mission, you decided it was the perfect time to put in the extra effort in your own work.

Whether it was to make something of yourself or to distract yourself from the loneliness that came with Bakugou’s absence, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was you finally had something to work towards, and it felt good.

You’ve been eyeing this promotion to be the Recruitment Lead in Mirko’s hero agency for over three months now, with the deliberation process taking longer than you’d like, only for it to end with you falling short of the other candidate.

You clench your fists at the thought of having received the news earlier that day.

Insecure and dismayed, you’ve been waiting for Bakugou to come home so you can tell him about it. It’s gonna have to be a long story, seeing as you haven’t even gotten around to telling him about wanting the promotion in the first place. In anticipation of the conversation, you stocked up on his favorite snacks and drinks.

Finally, at 8:54 PM, you hear the lock open with a click.

You rush to the entryway of your now-shared home, and flash him an inviting smile, “Welcome home.”

He’s in his regular clothes, having stripped himself of the grime and dirt back in the agency. Good, you think to yourself, you’ll have more time with him like this.

You’re about to ask him if he’s eaten dinner and if he can spend the night talking when he practically, and unceremoniously, collapses on top of you.

You’re agile enough with your arms shooting up to help carry his body weight, clutching his waist and arm to keep you both steady.

“Katsuki?” you squeak.

He only burrows his nose in your neck and huffs, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Let’s go to bed, please?”

You can’t help but ache at the sight and sound of you Katsuki beaten to exhaustion like this. So, like the good partner that you are, you nod in affirmation and assist him as you walk to the bedroom, and help him out of his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

Now lying on the bed and under the covers, he holds his arm out open for you.

His voice is low and rough: “C’mere.”

And you do.

You climb into bed next to him, settling into his side as a muscled arm drapes across your waist.

You look up at his face, and a part of you hopes his eyes are still open and twinkling with invitation.

For conversation. For intimacy.

For anything.

But you’re only met with the peaceful, sleeping face of your lover.

That was the fifth time it happened.

And the last.

“Is there any reason you dragged me out of my pajamas to come here at–,” he checks his phone, “8:14 PM?”

You ignore Bakugou’s incredulous question, choosing instead to look around the view of the park from the bench where you’re both seated.

You glance at him, all in his bedhead and glasses-wearing glory. He had a long day, as per usual, having arrived home thirty minutes after 7 PM, but you had to have this conversation sooner than later.

“You seriously don’t remember this place?”

“‘Course I do,” he says in a heartbeat. “This is where I took you out on your best first fucking date ever.”

You snort, “That was yours.”

He sits up and scowls at you, offended, “Fuck that shit. That was both of ours.”

You laugh, unable to tease him any longer, “It was. You even flexed your hero skills to me and all.”

He slinks back into the bench, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Damn straight.”

You roll your eyes, “Show off.”

He snickers, “Simp.”

You shake your head, trying to fight off the grin that’s spreading across your face. Now was not the time for flirty banter. Not with what you’re about to tell him…

“But really, though,” Bakugou pipes up after a few minutes of silence, “what’s up?”

You can tell he’s trying to sound more playful than he usually does. Still, there’s an air of tense anticipation surrounding the both of you, and it’s been there since you asked two weeks ago if he could clear out tonight’s schedule, as you had something important to say.

Here goes nothing.

You exhale, albeit quite shakily, and close your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him holding his breath, visibly on guard.

Bakugou’s smart. You’re sure he knows what you’re talking about, if not because of his intelligence but of the way he gulps nervously, no matter how imperceptible that was.

But he still retorts with, “You can’t do what anymore?”

You gesture vaguely at the distance between the two of you. That’s only been growing in the past few months.

“This. Us.”

You heave in a deep, shaky breath, refusing to look at him. He takes your hand into his.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Forcing you to choose between your hero work and me.”

You chance a glance at your Katsuki, and he’s staring at you, eyes brimming with tears and with such intensity that knocks your breath away.

Still, you march on. You have to get this out of your system before you chicken out.

“It hurts me to make you choose. Especially knowing how much you love what you do and how much you’re needed by other people.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but you still end up choking, “But I need you, too, Kats.”

“And, I can’t keep on getting disappointed and hurt like this every time I don’t get chosen.”

At that, you finally let the tears you’ve been holding onto fall down your cheeks, “It’s all too much.”

A part of you still hoped he’d hop onto his feet in protest and beg for you to stay with him and proclaim how he’ll try harder, despite knowing, more or less, that no objections will pour out of his mouth.

True enough, Bakugou remains silent, like the tears that quietly drip down onto his clenched fists.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew, from the very beginning.

Before he even decided to keep your number. Before he plucked up the courage to send you that first text. Before he sucked it up and asked you out on that first date.

He knew—that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t meet you halfway.

tagging. @katsukis1wife

extra credits. katsuki's first date line (tweet). quote about atonement.

[dragonmaiden39point5]

No Escape (1)

Been working on this for months, was a one shot but now it's not. Lol. As usual hope you enjoy.

All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

Summary: You grow tired of Bakugo's bad behavior and after 4 years as a couple, you make a run for it.

Katsuki Bakugo x Black!Reader

Darkfic. Stalking, humiliation, dub-con, mild Daddy!kink. Potentially some untagged triggers.

@palettesofrenaissance as requested I am tagging you on my first part!

The stars had abandoned the sky, leaving the night black as pitch. The bladed edge of the cold air sliced at your ashen skin as you shuffled through woods. Here amongst the silent, barren trees, you were safe-- Far from the disaster of turbulence that was your relationship.

Katsuki was not right for you, a fact that you realized all too late after you were already involved. He didn't come on super strong when he first asked you out; He honestly had behaved as if he could've cared less if you were interested. However, within weeks of that first date, he was blowing up your phone with calls and texts every second of the day. It was cute-- even endearing at first, but as the honeymoon phase ceased, it was beyond overbearing.

With no regard for when you were at work, he was ceaseless in his seemingly sudden obsession. When you finally did hang out, he was all over you in near desperation, yearning for your completely undivided attention. It felt like you were suffocating as he consistently crowded your space and cut out all of the people in your life that mattered. You're not even entirely sure when you moved in with him. More and more of your stuff just kept turning up at his house, until he 'convinced' you not to go back to your apartment.

The clingy attachment got worse after you yielded to the pressure of living with him. You weren't allowed to keep a code on your phone anymore and only hung out with people he knew personally (most of which looked as if they wanted to go into a rut when they saw you). These things weren't something you took quietly though. There were countless screaming matches and arguments, all of which ended with him taking advantage of your heightened emotions and fucking you stupid across the nearest surface or piece of furniture after you had given up and started crying (you weren't exactly proud of that fact).

The highest point of contention after you'd yielded everywhere else, had been your job. His parents died and left an unspeakable amount of trust-fund money, so he didn't work which (to him) meant you shouldn't either. Plus, with you being in real estate, he outright said that he didn't want you, "Dressing up to be surrounded by a bunch of low-life bastards." There was also, the fact that you could ride around sometimes one or two towns over for hours ignoring him-- which especially caused him grief.

His solution was to track your car, stalking your every move when you left the house and actively attempting to make you quit. At one point he'd slashed all four tires of your car while you showed a house so that of course, you had to call him to pick you up. A different time, you took a (male) client and his son out to lunch to show him what the local attractions were like, and you went outside to a kicked in windshield, as well as all 4 windows busted out. Not even the sideview mirrors were spared.

Your management team was able to turn a blind eye those times and let you lie and claim random acts of vandalism or mistaken identity, especially with all the love you got from clients and other customers alike. However, not to be defeated, Bakugo upped the ante and had his buddy from the police force send SWAT to a house that you were doing a walkthrough on. They kicked in the doors and windows with guns and helicopters claiming that they received an active shooter notice for the address. You had been scared shitless, that is until the SWAT team carried you out and you saw Iida suited up, looking completely unbothered despite the 'severity' of the situation. He actually lit a cigarette and subjected you to an entirely unnecessary, way-too-thorough body search behind one of the police cruisers. Seconds later a familiar orange mustang with orange rims drove by and you knew what was going on. Luckily, the police presence spared you from being fired, as management had believed there was real danger. (The event was breaking news and blocked traffic for hours).

With that one having backfired and you crying and throwing a fit, he bought you a dog to 'apologize' though he never actually said the words. He later proceeded to double down on arguments about you quitting your job and broke your phone. Of course he ended up replacing it with a fancier more expensive one-- But you soon realized that it had only the contacts of people that had earned his approval and a monitoring software.

It was never ending with him, but trying to leave or break up face to face only made him hold you hostage until you promised not to leave. After waking up handcuffed to the headboard the last time you tried that, you chose not to try it again.

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Meanwhile, hard work and dedication (and screaming matches with your boyfriend) afforded you the senior salesperson promotion, meaning you were one step from a sales management position. With this title under your belt, you could step into a leadership role with more freedom than before.

To build reputation and show management potential, you were given the chance to sell a house of your choice and then would go through a shadowing and training process, meaning you were about 6-8 months shy of your dream position if everything worked out okay.

You'd spotted the perfect property and bought it on behalf of the company. There hadn't been too much confidence in it due to its age compared to other homes in the area, but with the right renovations and staging, and a well advertised open house, buyers would flock; that much was certain.

Late nights, early mornings, a dozen gallons of coffee. There was nothing your heart desired more than for the success of this house-- the success of you. It would be perfect and even set a new standard for open house events within the company.

There were unfortunately several out of budget expenses, like hiring a caterer and setting up before and after photoshoots for the property. The cost of landscaping had gone over due to several rotted tree removals, and sod placement for quite a bit of the back and side yards. There was also no way you were going to fill in the inground pool, which would become a major selling point after fixing it's disgusting condition. Repiping, rewiring, new insulation, trash removal (it was previously a hoarder's house), and a pool remodel... Everyone warned you about taking on a foreclosure sight-unseen for your first solo reno, but in your excitement, you tended to be exceedingly ambitious and with no HOA there were no limits.

At this point your job was the only thing you had control over, the only thing that gave you relief. And as you nitpicked yourself to a perfectionist's standard, your boyfriend remained oddly quiet. He actually volunteered his own money so it didn't look to anyone that you had technically far exceeded the company budget. The words of encouragement he offered while you worked were foreign, but you appreciated not having to fight when you were so tired. He was acting all warm and supportive like everything mattered to him so much..

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The house had turned out incredibly. Inside and out, there was no sign of the safety hazard that it had been, only an amazing dwelling that would belong to a happy family, hopefully in the near future. Before leaving home, you checked that all of your equipment was fully charged and ready to go: Laptop, tablet, phone, and USB that contained all the photographers pictures and video edits of the newly revived property.

Bakugo had a prior engagement and would be at the grand opening of his friend Midoriya's gym (a timing overlap that was very intentional on your part), though he would be dropping you off to the open house. The ride was silent, but not due to the aftermath of a huge argument; it was because something was up with Bakugo. All of his body language read that he was on edge, frequently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He only behaved this way when there was something on his mind.

"You good, Kats? You look really tense."

He smiled gleefully before glancing your way with sharp red eyes. "I'm alright."

"Aight then." You shrugged. "Make the next right and the place is at the other end of the street, on the cor-"

"I know where it is."

"Of course you do." You sighed, throwing your hands up.

Pulling up to your destination a few minutes later, you got out of the car and Bakugo followed suit. Grabbing your bag for you, he stood on the sidewalk for a moment.

"Wow." He commented, admiring the property. "Way to turn this shithole around. Nice job."

"Uh, Thank you." You smirked, heat creeping up your cheeks. "You look surprised."

"Well, I haven't followed you in like a month. Been busy helping Deku with his shitty new hires."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. It wasn't like you didn't know that he did it, but you preferred he not mention the stalking.

Showing Bakugo around the inside, you wanted to make sure that everything was in place for guests. Design wise, it was perfect; Every accent wall on the first level of the house had the same pattern which became the theme for the furniture colors and pillows. The upstairs followed the same trend, just with a different color/pattern combination. The curtains for each level were in the respective opposite color of the accent walls-- But it was the little details that mattered, so you went from room to room spraying air freshener and placing a scented candle in each; it combatted the smell of recently dried paint. You also needed to sit out the gift bags that had your business card and number tucked within and set up the projector so that it linked to your laptop.

Bakugo was actually impressed and would've stayed to watch you all day (his own words) but he had to leave for Izuku's event. Meanwhile, the caterers had arrived and were putting together shrimp cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, in time for the early bird guests showing up.

It didn't take long before a steady stream of potential buyers filled the property. They were encouraged to mingle and look around on their own or join in as you gave a tour with details about the artwork on the walls, insulation, and the re-pipe/rewire. One of your assistants also helped you to do a live stream showing each room, while another managed the gift card raffle, and the third made sure that every single guest left with a gift bag.

The event went on for roughly 2.5 to 3 hours, which you were on your feet networking for the duration of. You'd picked up 4 more potential buyers for a few different properties after chatting up countless people, as well as several who wanted this one. A bidding war was most certainly on the horizon.

For everyone that stayed to the end, a film reel of before and after shots was assembled. You and your co-workers had the remaining people gather in the media room of the home, where the projector had been set up at. "Alrighty ladies and gentlemen! This will be the final act of our showing. We will put on display what each room looked like before the transformation, with side-by-side images recapping the final product you've seen here today-- The point of which is to highlight just how hard earned the beauty of this house is, and why it would be perfect to live and raise your beloved family in."

The video came on in clear, perfect hi-resolution, starting with a series of credits for all the companies involved in the renovation of the property (clean up, photography, landscaping, pool fix etc). In the meantime you slipped out of the room and down the hallway, heading to the mother-in-law suite on the front side of the house and closing the door. You wanted a hair and makeup touch-up before it was time to shake hands and say goodbye.

Pushing your blazer off and stepping out of your heels you went and opened the chest of drawers to pull out your tote bag. Out of habit, the first thing you did was grab your phone but strangely enough, there was only one text message from Katsuki awaiting you from about half an hour after the open house had started. "Made it."Was all it said. You hummed curiously, tossing it on the bed in favor of your makeup bag, flats, and spray bottle. It was severely, out of character for him, but you had to worry about closing out the evening.

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The audience sat politely through the first minute or two of the presentation. It consisted of the credentials and numbers for the separate business entities that collaborated on the house. Completely normal.

However--

Things took a turn for the worst just moments later after you stepped out.

The screen went black for about 5-10 seconds and the gruff voice of a male could be heard in the background. When the image on the screen resumed, it was of a man in peak physical condition from the chin down, proud erection sitting between toned thighs as he stroked it rapidly. There was a plain black band on his left ring finger with a diamond studded behemoth on the middle one. He had a sleeve of colorful tattoos and spider bite piercings under the right corner of his mouth ."I love these little tantrums you throw, Baby." He grunted through his teeth. "Gets me so fucken hard when you act like a spoiled brat..." He stopped stroking with his hand and began to thrust fiercely into it instead. "But no matter how mad you get..." He said, breathing ragged and labored, "You'll always belong to Daddy." He moaned, shooting his load straight up, allowing it to land on his incredible abs.

It felt like an eternity for those watching, but the clip was less than 20 seconds long. Some astounded viewers quickly vacated, while others lingered feigning disgust, gasps and whispers.

But not one of your coworkers-- the so-called 'work family' moved to stop it, even as the next clip started immediately.

This one was of the same man, face still obscured, but from the point of view of the woman he was on top of; you. The camera seemed to have been recording from just above your head and tilted downward, so your face wasn't showing either. It was likely placed in the headboard.

Length buried fully into you, with your legs wrapped around his waist, his usual tone was down to a gritty pur. "Shit girl... I fucking love when you act like this...You want Daddy to make you cum?"

Your hands ran up his arms as you pulled him down flush against you. "Yes please.." you whimpered from beneath him.

"Louder." He hissed biting your neck.

"--Yes, please Daddy! Make me cum!"

"Hehehe...Of course.." He pulled completely out for a moment and you began to protest.

"Wait, please, I--" you whined, before he soothed you:

"It's alright Baby Girl, just hold on."

Pushing your knees up to your chest so that your ankles were on his shoulders and getting into a kneeling position, he sunk into your tight pussy from a new angle-- both of you groaning unified bliss. Suddenly, his pace was fast, breathing labored as he fucked into your wet hole.

That's what you saw when you were finally coming back from your bathroom break-- just in time to look down the corridor that opened up into the media room and see yourself squealing in delight as you squirted all over your boyfriend.

It was so astonishing you stopped dead in your tracks, staring confusedly down the hallway for a minute as you tried to figure out what you were seeing and why. A vicious pang of sadness struck your heart as tears began to ruin your freshly redone make-up.

Meanwhile, a third clip started-- This one with you standing, facing the camera from the neck down, with Bakugo sitting behind you on the edge of the bed. There could've been plausible deniability that this wasn't you, that this was a data breach of some sort and the computer had been hacked-- but right there, dangling between your gorgeous bouncing titties-- was the necklace that currently adorned you. It was too distinctive, (a diamond studded hand-grenade with a flash behind it, engraved with the date you and Bakugo met) and you wore it every day.

Less than 2 minutes of footage, had effectively ruined your entire professional life.

Had you not been afraid of someone keeping or distributing this imagery, you would've marched right out of the front door and never looked back. Instead, you dragged your feet the rest of the way down the hall into a room full of scornful sneers from colleagues, and horny perverts that didn't care to avert their eyes from the video of you getting fucked.

It looked too good; with him having pulled you back on to his lap and lifted your legs up. The view of how accepting your tight cunt was of such a big dick would live forever with these people, partnered with the sound of your moans as your pussy was filled with cum.

You slammed the laptop shut and snatched it free from the cords of the projector, numbly walking out of the room to get your bag and go. After all of the measures that were taken to keep something like this from happening, it still ended up being a disaster. The laptop that you were using was at least 6 years old. You kept it as messy as possible, with file folders saved across the home screen and the taskbar full of miscellaneous interests. It wasn't synced to any accounts, all apps that weren't games were deactivated for the most part. No Docs, no Cloud, no Adobe suite. Just plain PowerPoint, which was over a decade old at this point. You wracked your brain, trying to figure it out; Where had you gone wrong? How did Katsuki even manage this!?

Heading down the walkway, the orange monstrosity that he drove was parked on the sidewalk waiting for you. The negative emotions within you undulated like snakes in a pit. You slammed the car door as you got in and didn't spare him a glance.

He didn't react, other than the smirk that he forced himself to suppress, expecting a blow-up any minute but it never came. Instead, you cried silently. The tears just started pouring down your face as you stared straight ahead. Immediately he felt a wash of guilt. He hated when you cried but you really forced his hand; You liked to go to work and pretend he didn't exist, like you were single and work was your everything. So it was your own fault. Still, he would forgive you with no hesitation as soon as you shed a tear.

"How?" You asked, voice low, still not looking at him.

"I switched the videos when you dozed off last night...You left everything open."

You didn't bother to respond, a massive sob coming from you instead as tears kept coming.

Bakugo was certain that he had never seen anyone cry like that; almost completely silently with no noise other than the occasional sniff and nose wipe with a handkerchief. Definitely a far departure from your usual. You winced when he rested his hand on your thigh but otherwise did not protest.

"Kats, I'm tired. Please head home, I've been on my feet all day."

"Uh, yeah." He didn't know how to respond.

"Thank you."

The rest of the ride was silent. You had screamed, shouted, and broken things more times than you could count and at this point, you just didn't have the energy to do that. Tired and angry for sure, but at the core of it all you were sad. That he could do such hateful things. That he could care less about what you wanted for yourself. That he would be so unnecessarily cruel, while still claiming to love you.

This was the last straw.

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For a few months, you plotted and played your role. If you wanted to go somewhere, you asked him to bring you. You wore overly revealing clothes and climbed all over him in public. You stopped using his name, referring to him exclusively as Daddy no matter who was around. You would initiate sex, begging him to fuck you; beg to fuck him. You even took to sending him video and pictures of you playing with yourself when he left you at home, sometimes in his oversized clothes, other times nothing at all-- (which would make him come back much faster, if he could help it). You really made him feel his victory.

Kats was too busy loving that you didn't resist him anymore and was all too eager to have you all to himself; You, he, and the dog had been to 5 countries in the three months since. It was easy to get swept up in the gifts and vacations (and mind-blowing orgasms) and forget he was something that you needed to get away from, since he had been absolutely perfect since you started acting the way he wanted. You almost felt bad about your brewing plot to leave.

Well, it actually wasn't much of a plot, you were you going to take a few thousand out of his home safe, get the dog, and ghost. He was just too unstable and insecure, and at this point it was clear that he could only behave properly when you were 'obedient'.

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The sole opportunity to leave came with the passing of another month. When he wasn't traveling, Bakugo habitually visited his parents' headstones on the Saturday of every third weekend, at sunset. It was the absolute only time that he left you devoid of incessant phone calls, messages, and his suffocating presence. A cloud of guilt shrouded the decision to leave at such a time... But you'd never know peace if you didn't. What other choice did you have? You had learned from the last several times you attempted to break up with him that it would only intensify his crazy.

When he left that evening, you waited until receiving the text that he was there to make your move. You left absolutely everything behind other than Thunder with his dogfood and cash from Bakugo's safe-- On foot, hence lurking through the woods that started on the edge of the property instead of taking a main road. The location of motion cameras on the edge of the acreage that surrounded the house were something that you had carefully mapped out the boundaries of-- And after almost 4 years, you knew where they were by heart.

There was also a small plan that was put into play as a distraction; He always took the smaller, more low key of the cars when visiting the cemetery. In turn, you sent his chef to a store over an hour in the opposite direction of where you were going, in his easy to spot orange car.

It would be hours before he knew you were gone...

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[seokmthw]

crying eyes | shen ricky

⇢ pairing: insecure!ricky x reader

⇢ warning: angst, fluff, mentions of poor self-esteem but nothing major

⇢ word count: 955

prompt(s): #3 "hey, it's okay to cry" + #5 "you don't have to be so brave with me" + #6 "how long did you think you could hide this?" + #19 "oh sweetheart, come here"

⇢ note: hello to the anon who requested this! i took a bit of a different spin on this one, so i hope it's everything you wanted! i wrote this so quickly and i genuinely don't know how, but i'm pretty proud of it! enjoy~

JOIN MY TAGLIST!

ricky stared at himself in the mirror as he danced, eyes trained on every single move and every single mistake he kept making despite his efforts. he had stayed well after practice, trying his best to perfect every part of his routine for his upcoming show, but just could seem to get the ending right no matter how many times he redid it.

nearing the end, he spun, but instead of landing how he was meant to, he lost his balance. he cursed at himself under his breath, angrily shutting off the music and standing there for a moment in disbelief. he wasn’t quite sure what to do from here, but his frustration was beginning to get the best of him as he worked.

he took a swig of his water before turning the music back on, but skipping to the ending to try and perfect one of his final spins. much to his dismay, he was off-balance again, this time tumbling down to the floor with a thud. he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, hair messy and sweat dripping down his temples, and all he could say was, “this is so fucking pathetic.”

he quickly rose to his feet, beginning to mutter things under his breath about how horrible he was and how he didn't think he deserved to have this dance solo. unbeknownst to him, you'd been watching him the past few minutes, feeling your heart break each time he beat himself up over making a mistake.

unable to handle seeing him like that anymore, you walked into the room, snagging the boy's attention with your presence almost immediately. he looked tired, the bags underneath of his eyes evident of his hard work over the past few days. you gave him a sad smile, softly telling him, “i thought i might find you here.”

“i was just finishing up,” ricky attempted to lie, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, but it was no use. he knew you'd caught him in the midst of him beginning to break down.

“i know better.”

upon hearing your words, something shifted within the boy’s head and tears began dripping down his cheeks, though he angry wiped them away as soon as they fell, “sorry, i didn’t think this would happen.”

“hey, it’s okay to cry,” you reassured him, stepping forward to get closer to him. ricky hung his head, finding a new interest in his shoe laces the more you approached his figure. more tears fell, but this time, he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

“i just don’t understand what i’m doing wrong, y/n,” he managed to sputter out in between his cries, “no matter how hard i word, not matter how many times i try to fix it, i just can't. and i feel like all i’m going to do is let my team down,” by now, his shoulders were shaking with with sobs, and before you knew it, the barrier he had built up was slowly beginning to break down right in front of you.

you were finally in close enough proximity to grab onto one of his trembling hands, “oh sweetheart, come here.”

upon hearing your words, the blonde practically melted into your touch, allowing you to hold him as he let out a noise you'd never heard him make the entire time you'd been dating. he buried his face in your shoulder, balling his fists up into the fabric of your jacket, almost as if he believed you would disappear from his grasp if you didn’t.

you stood like that for a while, allowing your boyfriend to cry as much as he needed to. you sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. you almost felt bad you hadn't detected this sooner, but you knew ricky was capable of putting on a front that was believable, even to you.

“do you want to talk about it? would that help?” you offered, rubbing small circles on his back as a way of comfort, “you don’t have to be so brave with me, you know.”

he nodded, voice muffled against your skin as he spoke, “i know i don’t. it’s just a lot of things bottled up that picked now to explode. the pressure of getting my routine right, of not letting the other members down, and not burdening everyone around me.”

you pulled ricky away momentarily, surveying his face intently. you forced him to meet your gaze, questioning, “how long did you think you could hide this? it’s not healthy to keep all of those emotions to yourself.”

“i don’t- i don’t know, truthfully. i just didn't want anyone to worry about me.”

“you listen to me right now,” your voice was stern, but gentle, “you will never, ever burden me with talking about how you feel.”

“y/n-”

you stuck a hand up to shush him, “i’m not done, mister. you can always come to me, no matter what. and for what it's worth, you are extremely talented and you're severely underestimating that. you put everything into your practice, so just because you keep making mistakes doesn't mean you're bad. got it?”

you could see him fighting off a smile, “yeah, i think so.”

“good. i’m never going anywhere if i have any say in it,” you stood on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips, “no let's get you home so you can rest.”

he nodded, pulling you in for another hug, his chin rested on your shoulder and eyes fluttering closed upon feeling you squeeze him back. he sighed, “thank you for reassuring me. it means more than you know.”

“anything for you, my love.”

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Get a Little Action In

Set in The Shape of Youniverse 

Summary: A standard date night with your boyfriend ends by revealing a side of him you’ve never seen before.

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader (Reader eventually marries the system)

Word Count: 2.7k 

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

CW/TW: Minor violence involving a gun, references to Marc’s trauma and emotional distance, relationship angst and insecurities, shower sex, fingering, p in v sex, and a nearly unbearable amount of ~softness~

A/N: Despite the title of this fic being a line from a rather jaunty Elton John song, this came out with mucho feels and romance! It’ll be reflected on the masterlist, but for all you friends following along at home, this takes place in the first year of reader and the boys’ relationship where she only knows about Marc. 

Also special shoutout to darling @romanarose​, this is kind of a leftover, unrequested 500 follower celebration prompt that she inspired me to go ahead and write it!!

It began as a normal date night. You met up with Marc after work, your overnight bag in tow, since the plan was for you two to convene at the restaurant you’d all but harassed him to take you to, and then spend the weekend at his place. 

You didn’t think anything of the neighborhood Casa Fofó was in. Hackney, and the whole of the East End of London in general, had long been gentrified. Which is why, as you two ambled back to the Tube, the man accosting you came as such a surprise. 

“Gimme your wallet. And her purse.” 

Your heart dropped. Yet where you froze, Marc fought. He pivoted right away, moving so swiftly and smoothly his body nearly blurred, instantly disarming the mugger and wrenching the gun –oh my god he had a gun?!-- from his hands. 

Your boyfriend didn’t stop there. Although the mugger clearly admitted he’d been had, backing away with his hands in the hair, Marc advanced on him. 

“Hey���hey! Alright bruv…m’sor–” he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence however. Marc pistol-whipped him, forcing the attacker onto his knees with the weapon. 

Until then, you’d felt as if you were in the midst of an out-of-body experience, simply too stunned to act, reduced to merely watching everything unfold. Something about the image of Marc towering over the mugger got your mental faculties whirring back to life again, and you hollered, “It’s enough! Please…just stop!!” 

Marc turned to look at you, horrified, as if he’d forgotten you were there. You thought he would heed your request, but instead he delivered one final blow to the mugger with the barrel of the gun, so hard that it knocked him out cold. You watched in cold-blooded shock as the assailant’s body collapsed. Meanwhile, Marc calmly ejected the magazine from the weapon, wiped his prints from the gun, and tossed both at the unconscious man’s feet. 

“Holy shit,” you exhaled. Even though you’d spent the entire confrontation just standing there, you were out of breath. 

Marc approached you cautiously. “Honey…”

“Fuck, you really weren’t joking about the combat training, were you?” 

“Yeah. Listen, I’m–”

“I’m gonna to call an Uber,” you announced.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Well, yeah. We’re going back to your place, right?” 

“If you still want to.” 

“I do…don’t really want to be alone right now,” you confessed. Before Marc could respond, your phone trilled. “The driver’s 2 minutes away from the high street, I picked there because—“

Marc didn’t need you to explain. “Got it.”

He followed you to where you’d set for the car to collect you. All the while, he kept a safe distance, regarding you like a startled animal. 

It fit, didn't it? Marc had been quite the predator just now, and it was both jarring and concerning to see such a casual display of the lethal power your boyfriend could channel. You knew he’d served in the American military, and had even done some work as a mercenary that he wasn’t proud of, but it was one thing being told this information, and quite another to witness it for yourself. 

Even more distressing however, was how attractive you found it. It was one of those frustratingly primal things that your psyche couldn’t override your biological programming on. Your big strong boyfriend had protected you from a threat and as stupefying as the violence was, you hated the part of you that relished he was capable of it, and that he’d chosen you. 

Despite the ride back to Marc’s flat being all but silent, an internal war of reason versus instinct waged in your head. You were grateful that Marc had protected you, angry that he used such excessive force, turned on by the display, then angry at yourself for being turned on….your mind ran in circles. Only when the driver pulled up outside of Marc’s building did you shake yourself out of your thoughts. 

The quiet persisted until you two were within the privacy of your boyfriend’s place. Marc shattered it with, “So what, are you mad at me?” 

“I…I don’t know, actually.”

“You don't know? Because you didn’t say a single word in the car. Usually the silent treatment means you’re angry.” 

“Marc, I didn’t say anything in the car because I didn’t want the driver overhearing us,” you countered, “besides I was trying to figure out how I felt.” 

“Really? Because it’s written all over your face.” 

“Okay, you tell me then,” you challenged him, taking the bait. 

“You’re shocked and disgusted–”

“I’m not disgusted–”

“My mistake. You’re just terrified then, you’re looking at me like you don’t know me.” 

“I’ve never seen that side of you before, okay?” you replied, “It was intense, because usually you’re so contained. You’re the one who said we needed to wait until your contract was up before we started dating, and I know you’ve mentioned the military and the merc stuff before but God, Marc, you turned on a dime! I’m allowed to be a little freaked out.”

“So you are scared of me.”

“I didn’t say that!!” Marc was really riling you up now. “I was also…I don’t know, weirdly comforted that you protected us? Or my inner cavewoman was very pleased by it. I’m not judging you, alright? So why are you now all cross with me?” 

Marc muttered something you couldn't hear. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“As usual,” you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Marc had a pesky habit of speaking under his breath to himself, and it never failed to piss you off, since you suspected he was saying something about you. 

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Marc said, his voice so low and menacing it came out as a growl. “The door is right there!” 

“But I want to be here! I want to talk about this with you! I hate when you do this, you push me away and I haven't even done anything! And okay yes, I am scared. Not of you…I’ve never been attacked like that and it was fucking terrifying and I don’t want to go back to my place alone!” You tamped down on your quivering lip. Marc was not going to see you cry over this. You could handle yourself like an adult. “And you did take it too far actually! You didn’t need to knock the guy unconscious!” 

“I was trying to protect you! The safety was off on the gun!” Marc hollered. 

You didn’t know that. How could you? You’d never so much as touched a gun. 

When you didn’t reply, Marc continued, “You know I’d never lay a hand on you, right? Is that what you’re so worried about? Because I’d never, I’d rip out my own fingernails before I did tha–”

“No, no Marc,” you crossed to him, but he didn’t let you into his space just yet.

“The ride back here…it looked like you were doing the math if you thought I was capable of snapping on you.” 

“I wasn’t,” That was a lie. “It crossed my mind, I’ll be honest, but the thought left as soon as it came. My brain’s been a mile-a-minute, and I think I’m in shock, and I’m angry at myself because I completely froze. Baby, it’s clear you just saved my life just now, but I don’t want you hurting anyone for my sake either.”  

“I’d do anything for you,” Marc admitted quietly. 

You stepped toward him again, and this time, he allowed you to wrap your arms around his torso and lay your cheek against his chest. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want you to have to.”

“You think I push you away?” he asked in a murmur. 

You didn't think it so much as you knew it. But the fact Marc was even somewhat copping to it was major. You could work with that.

 “A bit, yeah. It’s something I’ve noticed,” you tipped your head up to look him in the eyes. “You’ve built some high walls around your heart it seems.” 

Marc bristled under the openness and trust in your gaze. This was hard for him. It occurred to you then that perhaps he was the frightened animal in this scenario. He needed to be approached with caution and compassion, otherwise he’d lash out like he did with the mugger. 

“Yeah. And then you showed up with a sledgehammer,” he added with a small grin. “It scares the shit out of me. I’d rather fight a hundred muggers.” 

You chuckled at his candor. “This doesn’t have to be a fight. At least, I don’t want it to be. Can we promise to give each other the benefit of the doubt going forward?” 

His back muscles under your hands at the suggestion. “I mean, I’ll try but sometimes I–” 

“All I ask is that you try,” you assured him. 

“Okay,” he agreed. 

Both of you stood there quietly, simply reveling in the other’s closeness. The steady rise and fall of Marc’s chest lulled your still-racing mind, and you began to ponder what made Marc construct the walls he had. He’d never mentioned his family to you, though he did share that he’d been married before…whoever had hurt him had left quite the scar. As you continued to ruminate, it dawned on you that his defensiveness about your reaction likely came from his own shame and judgment over how he handled the mugger. Marc expected you to blow up at him for it, he’d nearly craved it. 

Problem was, despite not speaking it aloud yet, you were madly in love with him and weren’t going to give up on this relationship that easily. You could maintain your boundaries and meet Marc with compassion, something he seemed to lack in his life up until now. 

You gently extracted yourself from his grasp. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“‘Kay,” he whispered. 

Halfway to the bathroom, you turned and tossed a come-hither glance at Marc over your shoulder, “Well, aren’t you coming with?” 

The corners of his lips quirked upwards before he followed suit. Despite the invitation to get naked and wet with you, your boyfriend was nothing but tender. You individually stripped while the water warmed, refraining from touching each other until you were under the spray. Strangely, the fact you hadn’t pounced on one another right away made the act feel more intimate, more domestic, as you were comfortable enough with each other to just be.  

…it didn’t last very long however. Marc offered to wash you, and the sight of him with his wet hair slicked back, his criminally striking bone structure so close, took your breath away. His sure, strong hands, capable of so much violence, delicately soaped the most vulnerable parts of your body, while he dropped gentle kisses on the length of your shoulder. His worship of your skin made you tilt your head back in search of his lips. 

Marc couldn’t deny you much, therefore he met your silent plea, slotting his mouth against yours, his palms tracing up the curves of your hips, then your waist, to their destination of your now-heaving bosom. He cupped your breasts as you traded passionate, desperate kisses. 

His erection bumped against the small of your back and the swell of your ass, and while your boyfriend didn’t seek any friction beyond the involuntary twitch and shudder he’d wring from your slick body against his, you were ready for more. You slithered out of his gasp only to shut off the water and step out of the shower. It was time to take this to the bed. 

After a cursory toweling off, you reconvened atop Marc’s turned down sheets. He coaxed you open with his fingers, his mouth all but devouring the sensitive skin of your neck as he did so. 

You communicated your readiness to take him inside of you with a particularly pitiful keen, and Marc straightened up, guiding you to the edge of the bed to straddle his broad thighs. You captured his lips once more, probing the cavern of his mouth with your tongue, then reached between your still-damp bodies for Marc’s straining cock. 

In an effort to draw out your lovemaking, you merely circled his tip around your entrance, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the feel of it. Marc groaned, his grip tightening around your waist, and unable to deny either of you any longer, you sank down on him. 

You let out your own strangled mewl of ecstasy at the feel of becoming one, and draped your arms around your boyfriend’s shoulders for the leverage needed to begin moving on top of him. Barely a word had been exchanged between the two of you since you stepped into the bathroom, tonight you and Marc were communicating with your bodies. Words were not enough, not to mention unnecessary, for what you two were sharing right now. 

While sex with your boyfriend was always stellar, tonight felt different. Instead of using sex to express your attraction, your appreciation for each other, it felt as if the meeting of your bodies were helping you to truly connect and express the depth of your emotion. If you could stay caged inside his bulging biceps forever, your bare skin pressed against his, you would. 

Marc glanced down to where you both were joined, where you writhed on his thick girth, and looked back up at you, his gaze heavy-lidded, blissed out, and oh-so-seductive. His hips began to meet yours. Usually, Marc liked to make a show of his strength in the bedroom, something you unabashedly enjoyed, but his movements were softer than usual. He moved languidly, using his grip on your waist to guide you further, both of you finding the perfect pace and force in which to bring your bodies together. 

“Wanna make you come,” he husked in a rumble that drifted into your ear. 

“Touch me,” you gasped. 

Marc didn’t hesitate, his hand dropped from your left hip to the apex of your legs. He took a quick detour to feel where you were stretched around his manhood, ripping a whimper from your throat, before his finger skirted back up to your clit. He brought you to release with confident, practiced strokes on your bud. 

You buried your face into the juncture of his shoulder and neck while your climax flooded you. All you could say was his name, coming in a fit of ecstasy and litany of “Maaaaarc”. Once the blinding pleasure had somewhat abated, you found the strength to lift your head from his muscled chest and collide your lips together once more. Marc welcomed the liplock, dominating your kisses until he had to break away, his respective peak surging through him. 

You watched him, bewitched, as your lover’s pleasure played across his face, a mix of grunts and groans leaving his lips as you felt his cock pulse inside of you. At last, his eyes focused and met yours, though neither of you knew what to say. You couldn’t think of a single word in the English language that could begin to capture how you felt. 

Marc lifted you carefully, still inside of you, to deposit you amongst the sheets. He gingerly pulled out of your channel, whispering “I’ll get you a towel” before disappearing and emerging from the loo.

His attentions made you feel like glass, not in the way earlier in which you believed he saw you as a fragile object, but rather a treasure to be adored. Your heart swelled at the thought. But after he’d toweled off, tossed it away to be dealt with in the morning, and collected you into his arms, your words, the ones you were so sure of, died on your tongue. 

It was too soon. Well not too soon for most relationships, but too soon for Marc. He needed time and more healing. An errant, reckless part of you wanted to say it anyway, but you couldn’t risk the inevitable devastation if your boyfriend couldn’t return the sentiment, or worse, left you altogether.

Marc surprised you however, when he asked you, “Why didn’t you get angry with me?”

“Because I could tell you wanted me to.”

He let out an amused short at your immediate reply. You burrowed impossibly closer into his side, demanding another kiss from his lips before you both surrendered to sleep. 

A/N: Sometimes Marc and reader just need to have tender, romantic, sexy sex, alright?!?! IS THAT A CRIME?! Working through the asks/fic requests in my inbox as inspiration strikes and time allows, but I’m also *dangerously* close to 1k followers and have a special fic planned for that milestone too! 

Taglist: @twwcs, @rmoonstoner, @hot-mess-express1, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp, @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6, @harrys-tittie, @ninebluehearts, @lucianadraven32, @dawnsutopia, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul @missmarmaladeth @welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[sysakiddo]

I finally edited chapter 6 of diplomacy au y'all! I struggled a bit with a burnout after getting my degree in january lol but hopefully it won't take so long for another chapter to appear!!

ao3, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“It's like watching the most awkward first date happen in front of your eyes. And you know, of course, that they are not going to fuck.” Max says after taking a long sip of his third gin and tonic. 

Everybody who hears him laughs, already watching the couple standing by the bar. Charles tugs his ear in what seems to be a nervous tick while Sebastian casually leans on the chair, even though he is everything but casual. He watches every move of the man in front of him, shuffling his feet a bit when Charles licks his lips after a sip of his skinny bitch. 

“Pathetic,” Alex laughs, not unkindly. “It seems to me like there is no salvation for them,” George adds, leaning forward on the couch they all squeezed on to see the show in front of them. 

Anne doesn't feel like this is something she can ask them about. That is not to say that she is not terribly curious and confused about how one could refuse Charles Leclerc giving them heart eyes while biting his lips. Instead, she breaches a topic she thinks is a safe zone. “If you think this is tacky, how did you guys meet?” 

Daniel looks at his hands immediately, a nervous huff escaping from his lips. He hates telling that story. He rarely ever thinks about that time now unless he really needs to. The swirling of the ice in his negroni makes a loud noise. 

Because truthfully, Max met Daniel at his lowest. It was in his LA house, where he spent most of his time, the D.C. office vacant more often than not. They turned up just as the sun was setting, Sebastian and Max. It was the older man who insisted on introducing them.

Daniel straight out refused. He didn't care about Sebastian’s little charity project. It went too far, saving aggressive puppies, Jesus. He did not want to meet anyone named Verstappen when he wasn't paid to do so. 

Daniel was barefoot, his swimming trunks still a bit wet. The LV shirt had an obnoxious pink print and it was slipping from his shoulders. It was late enough that he was glowing from the sun, the diamonds on his necklace shining. He looked at the wunderkind, at Max, the youngest ambassador in the US ever. 

Max wore a three-piece suit despite the day being too hot for it. His Berlutis were gleaming, and he was straight-up glaring at Daniel.

“Howdy,” he grinned at them. Sebastian assessed Daniel's pupils, shaky hands and a sheen of sweat on his forehead with a grim face. He gave him the pep talk about easing off the drugs just a few days ago. Max extended his hand, and Daniel shook it. It was a reflex. Max’s palm was warm and soft. 

Sebastian cleared his throat. “As I told you, Max, this is Daniel-” 

“I, of course, know who he is.” Max didn't let Sebastian finish his sentence, coming off unnecessarily rude. Daniel laughed awkwardly. 

“Sounds like I'm famous, baby.” he winked at Sebastian and from the corner of his eye, he saw Max visibly cringe. 

“We met at work, Anne. Sebastian introduced us when we were all in the USA. He is painfully proud of that, calls himself a matchmaker and everything.” Max huffs out a laugh. He knows Daniel feels uneasy and puts the target on his back to protect him. Like usually.

“Who did the first move then?” Anne asks, just as Charles, who lost Sebastian somewhere on the way between the bar and the table, makes it back to them. 

“Oh, Daniel did. It was very romantic.” Max says matter of factly. When Daniel finally looks up, he is surprised to see his eyes foggy, as if he is experiencing the moment for the first time again. 

Nevertheless, Daniel huffs, mad that Max always uses his version of the story. “Romantic? You slapped me!” 

“Well, it is only right I did,” Max shrugs. “I, of course, thought you were making fun of me.”

Charles giggles, which is honestly progress. He was the one who took the fall, consoling Max after he returned from their dinner, fidgeting with his fingers, two red stains high on his cheeks. His voice sounded like he was eating gravel for dinner when he told him Daniel had kissed him. He was rapidly blinking like he was trying too hard not to cry, and Charles still thought it was the best proof of his professionalism, the fact that he hadn’t laughed to his face right there. But. He locked himself in the bathroom after Max somehow calmed down, turned on the faucet, and laughed hysterically. 

Max originally feared Daniel had figured him out and was just playing mind games. He thought Daniel was ridiculing him, or worse, he tried a new technique to manipulate and eventually blackmail him. What enraged him the most was the fact he wasn't prepared for it. He hasn't read a tutorial named what-to-do-when-your-counterpart-kisses-you in any of the assigned readings in the university. 

The only emotion Daniel felt when Max slapped him across the face immediately after the kiss was pure humiliation. He couldn't believe he read the signs wrong, him, Daniel Ricciardo. It was unheard of. Plus, Max did kiss him back for a few seconds. But then. 

And Daniel felt stupid and walked home alone and got drunk alone and fell asleep alone. 

Now, Daniel looks at Max with deep empathy. He squeezes his thigh, smiling. 

“Well, that shitshow was still a lot better than Baku,” Charles says with a grimace. That wasn't Max stuttering and rubbing his red eyes furiously; that was Max throwing random things across the room, his scream ricocheting through the whole hotel floor. 

Daniel snapped at Charles, “No, we’re not talking about Baku!“ Charles smirked, looking at him with a look that meant trouble. But Daniel has never in his life been scared of Charles. He was such a sweet kid before he fell under Seb’s influence. He takes a second to mourn the version of him he knew before he introduced Seb to him. 

“Always you are mad because you don’t want to admit you were wrong. Christian also said you of course did not act according to the protocol.” Max buts in, chronically unable to get over things. 

Daniel turns to Max with a stormy expression, the empathy all but gone. “Christian would also suck your dick if you asked, I don't see how his opinion is valid in this situation.” he spits out.

Charles hums, taking another sip of his skinny bitch. “He does seem to touch you an awful lot, when you are together, Max.” 

“That’s exactly my point, thank you, Charles.” Daniel is done, scoffing. 

Max, however, is just about to start another rant. “But Daniel, I told you your tactic wouldn't work. You pulled out of the negotiations too soon, it was very amateurish from you, you must admit at least that. Who leaves the negotiating table with no backup plan?” he gets into it, flaring his hands around like an octopus. “It just buggs me, you know, that you still blame me. You of course made a mistake, Daniel, and that happens but it was a stupid rookie mistake and you should have apologized-” 

Daniel stands up abruptly. “Hey, Max?” 

For a frightening second, Anne thinks he is going to deck his husband right there.

Max just hums, looking up. “I love you,” Daniel says surprisingly, bending down and giving Max a loud, smacking kiss. Then he turns around and leaves to the bar to stand next to Sebastian who resurfaced in the meantime. 

When Anne looks at Max, he is red as a tomato, glaring at the straw in his drink. “Well, what was I saying-” he stutters, interrupted by the laughter of the men sitting across from him. 

“I can't believe this shit is still working out for him, oh my god.” Alex wheezes. 

“Manipulative bitch,” George quips, still giggling.

Max is unimpressed. “Don't call him that.” he snaps and glares at him, George shutting up immediately. 

Charles looks at Anne and smiles a little. “I think maybe it is time for us to go home. I'm terribly tired. What do you think?”

Anne nods, pointedly not saying anything about noticing how Sebastian kept yawning at his spot beside Daniel. 

||

Daniel doesn't understand why he wakes up at first. It's pitch black, the blackout curtains doing their job properly. He stares at the ceiling for a bit, then closes his eyes to make himself fall back asleep. 

“Ik zal het oplossen.” Max meowls in Dutch next to him. “I just need more time! Ik zal het halen, dat beloof ik. No, no!” 

It clicks for Daniel, Max's rigged breaths, which he has not noticed before. The night air is suddenly too cold. 

He runs his hand up and down Max's forearm, not saying anything but his name to wake him up. When Max snaps out of his dream, his whole body violently twitches, and he slaps Daniel's hand away. 

“Hey, it's okay now,” Daniel isn't deterred, his hand finding a way to Max's hair, waiting him out. “It was just a dream. You are safe.” 

Max's breaths come out staggering like he just returned from his run. After a few minutes, he finally opens his eyes and looks at Daniel. A macabre grimace is on his face, something that wanted to be a smile. 

“I wasn't prepared again, Daniel,” he whispers. Daniel hums, not answering in any way, even though he subconsciously clenches the fist that's not playing with Max's hair. 

“You are safe with me,” Daniel says, trying to ease Max's shivering and make the haunted flicker in his eyes go away. He never shared any gruesome details about his time in military school. But. It's not like he had to. “Do you maybe want to take a shower?” he asks him and Max hesitantly nods.

They only fall back asleep when the birds are already chirping outside.

[daisynik7]

Primetime

Part 3 of Dirty Thirty

🎶 Baby it's a prime time for our love, ain't nobody peekin' but the stars above. It's a prime time for our love, and heaven is betting on us. 🎶

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: Switching POVs (Kishibe third-person, reader second-person), vaginal sex (cowgirl, doggy, missionary), nipple play, spit play, cunnilingus, spanking, breeding kink, daddy kink, lots of fluff, pet names (princess, baby)

Word Count: ~6.5k

Summary: You and Kishibe are officially a couple. These are the little moments that all lead up to the big one.    

Notes: I did it. I wrote a Part 3; I hope you all like it! Title inspired by the song “Primetime” by Janelle Monae ft. Miguel, definitely recommend listening to this to set the mood right! Please read the first two parts, linked below! Likes, reblogs, and comments are all super appreciated, would love to hear what you all think!

Part 1 - Dirty Thirty | Part 2 - After Last Night | ao3

Kishibe doesn’t know how to be a good boyfriend. 

It’s been almost a month since he and his girlfriend started dating. This morning, he displays a photo booth picture at his cubicle. She convinced him to do it while they were at the beach boardwalk this past weekend, and of course, he couldn’t refuse her. He never can, despite being opposed to corny shit like that. But even he can admit that the photos turned out decent. 

Nobody is at their desk unless they’re filling out paperwork, so he doesn’t think anyone will notice. However Himeno, one of his current protégés, is keen, observant, and a goddamn nosey pest. 

“Master, is this your girlfriend?” She points at the photo strip, a hint of excitement bubbling behind her typically calm demeanor.

Not wanting this to be a bigger deal than it needs to be, he casually answers, “Yes.”

“I see.” There’s a clever smirk on her face, as if she’s plotting something cheeky to say. He’s surprised when instead, she comments, “That is a very nice picture.”

He grumbles in response, not used to small talk involving his personal life. 

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost a month.” He pretends to be preoccupied with organizing all his forms, avoiding eye contact, wishing for this conversation to end. 

“What are you doing for your anniversary?”

This gets his attention. “Huh?”

“Your one-month anniversary. What are your plans to celebrate?”

Finally, he meets her gaze, setting aside his stack of papers. “People celebrate that?”

“Well, couples do, yes.”

He stares at her, unsure how to react. It’s been decades since his last relationship, probably during grade school if he’s remembering correctly. Obviously, the standards have changed since then, but to celebrate a month of dating? It seems trivial to him. Then again, he hasn’t had a serious girlfriend as an adult. It’s going extremely well between them, and he doesn’t want to mess this up, especially only after a few weeks into it. 

Too proud to ask his junior for advice, he takes his lunch break to eat a bowl of ramen while scrolling through his phone, searching every article he can find on how to celebrate anniversaries. He finds a few ideas that he can get on board with, and some he completely tosses out the window because of how fucking ridiculous they are. 

By Friday night, the actual day of their anniversary, he has a plan. A little before 6:00 PM, he buzzes her in and waits for the familiar knock on the door. When he opens it, she greets him with a warm smile. “Kishibe.”

She wears a modest dress, having just come from the office. Overnight bag in hand, ready to spend another weekend here at his apartment. Once inside, she drops her belongings and wraps her arms around him. “Hi.”

He returns her embrace, inhaling the pleasant scent he yearns for on the days they’re not together. “How are you?”

“Tired. I’m ready for a nice, relaxing weekend with my boyfriend.” Every time she calls him that, his chest swells with an odd sensation. He hasn’t gotten used to it yet, but it’s not unwanted. In fact, he quite likes it.

As she removes her shoes by the door, he sneaks into the kitchen to retrieve the bouquet he purchased earlier from a local florist. Thirty red roses, one for each day they’ve been a couple. He read online that this is considered romantic. 

He walks towards her with the bouquet in his grasp, her eyes and smile widening at the scene before her. “What’s this?”

“Happy one-month anniversary.” He thrusts the roses forward, hoping she takes it. She continues to stare at him with a big grin on her face.

“What?” He’s blushing now, nervous that this is all wrong. “Say something.”

She grabs the flowers, lifting them towards her nose to sniff. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He clears his throat. “We also have reservations at your favorite restaurant in an hour.” 

At this, she lets out a small squeal. “Really? You didn’t have to do any of this,” she says, face still buried in the flowers, clearly enjoying this.

“I wanted to.” 

She sets the roses down on the counter, stepping towards him to tug playfully on his tie. “You really are the sweetest. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I’m such a terrible girlfriend.” 

“The worst,” he smirks, sliding his hands around her waist. 

“Can I make it up to you?” She kisses him, slow and passionate, using his tie to pull him deeper. “Show you how sorry I am?”

He plays along, knowing exactly where this is leading. “You better be sorry. I’m pretty upset.”

“I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, then.” 

“We’ll see.” They walk to the couch in tandem, gazing into each other’s lust filled eyes.

When he’s sat, she straddles him. “Do you remember the night we first met? We were right here on this couch.”

“How can I forget?” He roams up and down her back, the fabric of her dress silky on his calloused fingers.

“Well, my memory is a little hazy. Remind me.” She guides his hands to her chest, kneading her breasts.

“You’re being very naughty right now,” he mutters in his low voice. “First, no gift. Now this. Seems like you want to be punished.”

“Yeah, I do. I need to be punished. I’m a very bad girlfriend.” She peers at him with a desperate expression, eyes gleaming with desire. He can’t help but falter under her gaze.

“Fuck, you’re asking for it.” He lifts the hem of her dress over her ass, feeling for her panties. Sliding his fingers beneath the lace, bunching it in his fist it to bury between her ass cheeks, exposing her beautiful bottom. Perfectly bare for a good spanking. She sucks in a breath, anticipating it, aching for it. He presses a gentle kiss to her ear before delivering a loud smack, focused on the jiggle of her supple flesh upon contact. 

“Fuck, baby. Do it again,” she demands, grinding on his lap.

He repeats, this time on the opposite side, massaging the tender skin after. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She presses her forehead to his. “You never do. Don’t worry.”

They kiss as they strip their remaining clothes. Soon, they’re completely naked on the couch, her on his lap, kissing along his neck. He reaches his fingers towards her pussy, caressing his thumb on her clit. 

“Baby,” she whines. “I want you inside me. I want to ride this cock until we both come.”

“Then do it, sweetie. I’m all yours.” 

It’s reminiscent of their first time. They were hasty that night, desperate for a quick fuck with a total stranger. Indulging in wicked fantasies they both needed satiated. This time, it’s more intimate. He pays attention to the sound of her heartbeat, the warmth in her cheeks, goosebumps forming on the most sensitive spots of her skin, the angelic sounds coming from her lips. Memorizing it all until it’s ingrained in his mind.

His cock is sprung against his abdomen, already leaking precum at the tip. He grabs hold of his erection, rubbing the head onto her puffy clit, tapping it loudly. Wet slaps spurring her to rut into his lap faster. Her hands are clasped around her tits, fingers pinching at her hardening nipples, erotic as ever in front of him. It’s a captivating sight he’s seen before, but always marvels, still in disbelief at his luck one month ago when he first laid eyes on her.

He strokes himself, spreading precum along the shaft, though it’s not enough. “Spit on it, princess. Get it wet for me.”

She nods, bowing her head to dribble a warm stream of saliva down onto his cock, coating his dick. Slick enough, she lifts up to position him at her entrance, sinking down gradually until she’s sat on his lap again, wiggling her ass to get herself comfortable. 

He hums, relishing the sensation of being nestled inside her precious cunt, holding her in a snug embrace. They stay like this for a moment, him sliding one hand around her breast, kissing her nipple. 

“Kishibe,” she breathes out, eager for more. 

He sucks it plump against his lips, flicking his tongue on it, listening for her pleasured moans with each lick. His cock twitches inside her, still hard, surrounded by her wet heat. The temptation to fuck her is almost irresistible; however, seeing her in this blissful state is too marvelous to rush. 

“Baby, fuck,” she whines, as he works on her other tit, pulling it taut with his mouth. It’s his favorite, witnessing her unravel on top of him. And tonight is a celebration. It makes it all the more special.

Releasing her, he leans back, holding her sides once more, watching her slowly rock back and forth on his thighs. “Go ahead. Ride me. Fuck me till we both come. You can do it.” 

Using her knees for leverage, she rises slightly, keeping just his tip inside, them sinks back down, repeating so that she’s bouncing on his cock steadily. 

“There you go. Use that cock, baby. Just like that,” he whispers, staring at his dick disappearing into her pussy. He stays still, letting her do all the work, resisting the urge to slam his hips into her. He wants to savor this, indulge in it as long as he possibly can. 

Cupping her face, he teases her lips with his thumb, slipping it inside her mouth for her to suck on. She holds his wrist, sticking it further down her tongue, spreading her saliva around him. He pulls it out, a string of shiny spit connected to her lips as he reaches down to touch her clit. 

“Ah, Kishibe. That feels so good,” she praises, riding him faster. 

“You’re getting close, I know it. Come for me, baby. Make us both come.” He holds her close, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths, messy and wet. His thumb toys with her swollen clit, her wanton moans vibrating against his lips. His abdomen is clenched tight, ready for release. He wants to spill inside her, give her his all, just as she does for him.

Unable to resist any longer, he grips her bottom, holding her in place. He starts thrusting up into her, feet planted firmly to the floor, couch squeaking with every plunge of his hips. She’s tight around him, slick already creamy on his shaft, her fingers rubbing fast on her bud to reach her climax faster. Her high-pitched whimpers and obscene squelches of arousal spur him on, driving him further and further off the edge. They come together, cum filling up her pussy until it’s leaking between them, the sticky aftermath evidence of their passionate love making. They catch their breaths, Kishibe relaxing on the couch as she slumps over him, face buried in his neck. Soon, she starts giggling. He can’t help but join. 

“You really are a terrible girlfriend, making me come right before dinner,” he teases her.

“I had to do my part after you planned such a lovely evening.” She sighs happily. “I’m so lucky to have a thoughtful boyfriend.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he waves off.

“It’s definitely something. I’m truly so lucky,” she reiterates, nuzzling comfortably against him. “So lucky.”

A while passes before he reluctantly suggests, “We should get ready soon.”

“Wait. Let’s just stay like this for another minute or two,” she murmurs, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckles, thankful she suggested it, because that’s exactly what he wants to do too. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Happy anniversary, Kishibe.”

“Happy anniversary, princess.”

~~~

The first time Kishibe tells you he loves you, he’s drunk.

He has an assignment outside of the city, food and lodging included, staying at a hotel with his protégé, Himeno, who you’ve met several times in the three months you’ve been dating. You’re well acquainted with her, so much so that you even have her number, in case of emergencies. However, she often texts you anyways just to chat, which you don’t mind at all. 

On the last day of his mission, he informs you that he’ll be out for drinks with his partner and a few other members of Public Safety. It must have been a successful job, considering there were no deaths, either civilians or devil hunters. It’s always a relief, knowing that Kishibe has survived another day.

You lie in bed, scrolling through the myriad of texts you’ve exchanged with him over the past week. Although he considers himself a man of few words, he never fails to send you a message whenever he can, whether it’s a good morning text, a quick check in, even a snapshot of what he’s eating that day. Tonight, he barely contacts you, busy celebrating with his comrades. You can’t blame him, but there’s no denying it; you miss him.

Being in your own bed on a Friday night, in the dinky apartment you share with your not-so-stellar roommate, is a feeling you’ve happily become unfamiliar with. You wish you were in Kishibe’s luxurious king-sized bed instead, snuggled in his strong arms, being kissed and licked all over. His gruff voice hot in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make you melt. 

Without thinking, you send him a text, simply stating I miss you. You don’t wait for a reply, distracting yourself with a show, surrounded by blankets and pillows to fill the void left by his absence. When did you become so needy? 

On the verge of sleep, the vibration and ping of your phone stirs you awake. It’s almost 11 PM. Your heart flutters, hoping it’s your boyfriend. You’re surprised to see Himeno’s name on the notification. 

It’s a picture of Kishibe, slumped over at a table, clearly drunk. His other colleagues pose beside him, some waving peace signs, others sticking their tongues out, all of them holding beers. You chuckle at the image, happy to see all of them smiling and lively. Even if your boyfriend is intoxicated out of his wit’s end, at least you know he’s alive. Death is a new fear you’ve inherited since being seriously involved with a devil hunter. You spend every waking moment together, treating it like it’s your last, because you never know if it is. 

As you admire the photo, you suddenly get a call from the sender. “Hello?” you answer.

Himeno’s voice is soft through the speaker. “Hi there, friend. Did you like what I sent you?” You imagine her leaning on the wall outside the bar, preparing to smoke.

You laugh. “I do. Thank you for that. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“On the contrary, he was our source of entertainment tonight.” On the other end of the line, you hear the drag of her cigarette.

“Really?”

She lets out a puff before answering, “Yes. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is.”

A rush of heat surrounds your cheeks, either from flattery or embarrassment. “What?”

“He kept gushing on and on about you, it was non-stop.”

“That doesn’t sound like Kishibe. Are you sure you’ve got the right one in there?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she chuckles. “To be fair, he’s had quite a lot to drink. And his tolerance has turned to shit. What’s up with that?”

You’ve recently noticed the subtle changes in his drinking habits. His flask stays on the dish rack all weekend, coincidentally whenever you’re visiting. He rarely orders liquor when you’re out to dinner. He only indulges in a bottle of wine the two of you share occasionally over a home-cooked meal. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, not wanting to admit anything on Kishibe’s behalf. 

You hear her hum in response, taking another hit of her cigarette. “I think it’s because he’s happy. He doesn’t need to forget anymore because he’s got you.”

The words hang tight in your throat, leaving you speechless.

She giggles faintly, aware of the depth her statement holds. “Anyways, I called in case you want the address to our hotel. Master is staying in the room right next to mine. Given the state he’s in, he may need his lovely girlfriend to take care of him.”

You think about this for a minute, still reeling over her touching sentiment just a few seconds ago. Before you can refuse, she offers, “I’ll call you a cab and charge it to work. Consider it a service you’re fulfilling for Public Safety, assisting our highest ranked Devil Hunter.”

Eventually, you agree, thanking her for the idea. She chats with you a while longer as you hastily pack a gym bag with all the essentials, excited to reunite with Kishibe. You hang up with her once you’re out of the apartment, cab already waiting for you. Ten minutes to your destination, you text Himeno your status, allowing her time to bring him back to the hotel to meet you. 

You’re waiting in the lobby when you hear the doors open to see Kishibe hunched between Himeno and another colleague. Her face lights up when she sees you, prompting her to nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, Master. Guess who’s here?”

He lifts his head up slowly, eyes completely blitzed, as he rasps, “Huh?”

You approach them, grinning from his ridiculous expression. It takes a while for him to process, blinking rapidly, as if correcting his vision. When he finally realizes it’s you, he stands up a little straighter and whispers your name. 

“Surprise,” you say, waving in front of him. 

He repeats your name again, removing himself from his coworkers to wrap his arms around you. The smell of liquor is intense, indicating just how drunk he really is. 

“I guess our work here is done,” Himeno smirks. “I think Master is in good hands now. Let’s go, Arai.” She passes you the key card to the room, giving you one last wink before they leave towards the elevators. 

“Kishibe, let’s go to the room now,” you tell him, his body drooped over you. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whines, voice husky from inebriation. 

“I’m not, we’re going to your room together,” you explain, rubbing his back. “Can you walk with me to the elevator?”

He nods languidly, dragging his feet beside you as you make your way up to his room. Inside, he immediately shrugs his overcoat off and collapses into bed face first. You sit at the end of the bed, patiently removing his shoes from his feet. 

In the bathroom, you soak a small bath towel in warm water, wringing out any excess liquid. You grab a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and crack it open, pouring it into a glass for easy access. Kishibe grunts into the pillow as you sit beside him, rolling him over so he’s face up. When he sees you, he grins. “Am I dead?” 

“Of course not, sweetie,” you answer, placing the warm towel on his forehead, gently pressing your palm on top. 

“Then why is there an angel here with me?” He lifts his arm to point at you. 

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your sleeve. “The only thing that’s ridiculous is how fucking beautiful you are.” He lays your hand on his cheek, nestling into your palm like a puppy. It’s a side of him that you’ve seen brief glimpses of, but never to this extent. 

“You’re drunk,” you tease him, tapping your thumb at his chin.

“Drunk in love,” he replies, chuckling to himself.

Love. Maybe you’re both too old to put such meaning into words. There’s no doubt that it’s there, never admitted out loud. Why bother saying it when it’s so obvious?

You caress his cheek, tracing the scar that you love so much. He’s told you the story behind it more than once, each time, a new detail added that you tuck away into your treasure box of him in your brain. 

You love everything about him. His past, his present. Flaws and perfections, or the lack thereof. He’s rough around the edges, definitely not sugar-coated, even a bit intense. His immense strength is hidden beneath his stoic demeanor, reserved specifically to hunt devils, never fully revealed to you. Still, you feel safe with him, as if all potential dangers are thwarted in his mere presence. You’ve heard it enough to know that he’s a force to be reckoned with, a serious outlier in a job where young people die and growing old doesn’t exist. He’s the exception. 

And you’re the same for him. A life beyond the confines of devil hunting. An escape that doesn’t involve a bottle. A chance at normalcy in a world where nothing for him is normal. It almost never happened. The first night you met, he warned you about his lifestyle, watched you walk away for your own sake. And now, you’re the exception. 

He gazes at you with half-lidded eyes, still intoxicated, but fully aware. Smiling, he whispers your name. “I love you.”

You stare at him, startled by his candid confession. The words are on the tip of your tongue, easy and effortless, because you truly feel it. But you don’t say it back, thinking he’ll forget this conversation in the morning. You want it to be special, not in the midst of his drunken stupor. 

So, you keep quiet, gradually removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his belt. After you change and brush your teeth, you return to him, coaxing him into drinking water, which he does, before you both settle under the covers, cuddling. Eventually, he falls asleep, you following him soon after. 

In the morning, you wake up to Kishibe caressing your cheek, delicately petting your temple. He’s turned towards you, shirtless and smiling. “Good morning, princess.”

You bite your lip, happy to see him. “Good morning.”

“You surprised me last night, didn’t you?” He pulls you in closer. 

You burrow your face against his bare chest, last night’s booze almost completely worn off. “You can blame Himeno for that. She’s very convincing.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. Somehow, she knew that I needed you.” He cradles you, kissing your forehead. “By the way, you owe me something.”

“What?”

“You know what.” 

You look up at him. “You remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispers, “I love you.”

The second time Kishibe says it, he’s completely sober. And this time, you say it back. 

~~~

When he asks her to move in with him, he almost doesn’t go through with it. 

It’s a Sunday morning. They’ve been dating for six months now, spending most of their time in his apartment, snuggled in his king-sized bed. She often complains about her place, the typical grievances of an adult woman living with a roommate she doesn’t particularly get along with. But it’s not her woes that convince him to ask her. It’s his own selfish desires. 

He wants to wake up every single morning to her pretty face, to that warm smile that ignites every nerve in his body, that cute laugh that plays like the most majestic melody in his head. He doesn’t need drugs or caffeine to give him that energy boost. He needs her.

Today is different than other Sundays. She warned him the night before; she needs to leave early to attend to some roommate business. They’re having issues with the refrigerator, and she, apparently, needs to be there to deal with it. 

They cuddle in bed, enveloped by blankets and body heat, kissing each other softly. This usually leads to something steamy, but not today. When she pulls away to get ready to leave, he’s disappointed, enough that he mutters, “Don’t.”

She turns to face him with a confused expression. “Don’t what?”

He pauses, doubting himself if this is the right moment, so he keeps quiet. 

She returns to the bed, hopping on top of him, palms at his cheeks. “Don’t what, sweetie?”

“Don’t leave,” he musters, through gritted teeth.

Giggling, she nuzzles her nose against his. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t. Not if you live here with me.”

“Are you asking me to move in?”

“Yeah, I am.”

She squeals, smile incapable of being any bigger. The reaction he was hoping for. “Took you long enough. I can’t believe I get to live with you.” She kisses his scar, then his forehead. “My baby.” A smooch on the lips. “My new roommate.” 

He keeps her there, kissing her deep, tongue slipping inside her mouth. She moans into him, grinding her hips on his lap. 

“I’m taking this as a yes, then?”

She nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Mm-hm.”

“Don’t you have to meet your roommate soon?” he reminds her, slipping beneath her shirt to fondle her breasts.

“I don’t fucking care anymore. I’m going to be living with my boyfriend soon. She can get mad at me all she wants.”

He never gets sick of hearing her call him that. Her boyfriend. He’s hasn’t been anyone’s for the longest time. It feels good to be hers. “Are you still sore from last night?” He reaches his other hand down to rub her clit over her panties. 

“A little bit,” she answers, scattering kisses along his neck.

“Let me eat it then,” he whispers, sucking on her ear lobe, slipping past the fabric to slide his finger up and down her folds. “Ride my fucking face. Give me my breakfast in bed. Want to eat this pussy until I’m full.”

It’s safe to say that the relationship with her old roommate is properly ruined this day, in favor of her new one.

~~~

Kishibe is the first to mention having kids. 

A year into your relationship, he tags along to your niece’s birthday party. The mother, Hina, who is your best friend, has already met Kishibe on multiple occasions, but never in a setting like this. A children’s party is another level of crazy that even the insane devil hunter himself might not be able to bear. 

After the usual round of greetings, your niece, Maki, immediately stands in front of him to peer at his face, curious. In his gruff voice, he greets, “Happy birthday, Maki,” proceeding to pat her awkwardly on the head. 

She continues to stare at him, a glint of suspicion in her expression. “Are you an FBI agent or something?”

For some reason, he decided to wear his work attire to a children’s party. You’re trying to contain your laughter as he clears his throat to answer her. “Actually, I am a devil hunter.”

Maki’s eyes go round. “Devil…hunter…?”

“Yup.”

Without taking her gaze off of him, she starts yelling for all her friends, who come running immediately, all marveling at Kishibe. He glances at you, brows twitching slightly in concern. All you can do is grin at him, knowing he’s in for it.

For the next hour or so, the kids take advantage of this opportunity to entertain their premiere guest, challenging him to see how many of them he can carry at once, demanding to be shown his “special” moves, even go so far as to gnaw at his overcoat, acting like true devils. He takes it all in stride, his stoic expression cracking occasionally into the tiniest smile.

You sneak him a few slices of pizza as he bicep curls three of the kids, including birthday girl Maki. Before he eats, he gives you a smooch on the cheek, indicating that he’s actually enjoying himself.

From the other side of the room, you sit next to Hina, who’s carrying her other child, baby Kenji. You’re playing peek-a-boo when your friend asks, “So, do you think you and Kishibe will ever have kids?”

“We haven’t even talked about marriage yet, we’re for sure not thinking about kids.”

“You two don’t talk about that stuff?”

It’s been a year now since you’ve been with Kishibe, and it’s still going extremely well. You’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the relationship that you haven’t thought to discuss important matters yet. You shrug and answer, “No, not really.”

“Well, don’t you think you should bring it up?” 

You think for several seconds before answering, “We’re taking it one step at a time. We’re fine where we’re at now.” 

She gives you a look, as if she wants to say something else, but she ends up dropping it. Maki’s voice rings out from the living room, calling for her. “Oh shoot, can you hold Kenji for a bit? Maki needs me.”

You agree, holding your arms out to cradle him. He peers up at you with the whimsy and wonder that most babies radiate. You smile, finding a comfortable position to hold him in. 

“You’re a natural.” You look up to see Kishibe standing in front you, a birthday hat on his head, probably forced there by the rugrats.

“And you’re a hit,” you reply, grinning. “The kids love you. Are you having fun?”

He removes his hat to place on you instead. “I don’t mind it.” He hovers over your face to give you a playful pinch on your cheek.

Kenji starts to fuss, to which you focus your attention back to him, cooing until he’s peaceful again. From your peripheral, you spot your boyfriend watching you intently.

“You’d make a good mother,” he states, quietly. 

You look up at him, surprised by his statement. “Really?”

“Yeah. You look good like this,” he comments, nonchalant, as if he’s playing it off. You remain silent, still unsure how to respond. 

Then, he comments, “I think we’d be good parents, you and I.”

“You do?” You beam at him, impossible now to contain. 

“Yeah. We’d be great,” he reiterates, gazing at you with a soft, loving expression. 

On the drive home from the party, Kishibe rests his palm on your thigh as he steers with the other. There’s a new vibe between you now, knowing that you’re both on the same page about having children. He actually seems excited about it. 

Back at the apartment, after you put away all of the leftovers from the party, you both retreat into the bedroom to change. While you’re stripped almost bare, aside from your bottoms, he approaches you, hugging you from behind as he kisses your nape. 

You giggle, craning your neck to face him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers, grazing your ear with his lips.

“About what?”

“Making a baby with you.” His voice is low and sultry as his hands glide to your waist, slowly slipping under the elastic of your pajamas. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“Mm-hm.”

His fingers find your pussy, rubbing the fabric against your clit. The other hand tugs your pants past your ass, causing them to fall to the floor, bunched at your ankles. You let out an exasperated moan, almost annoyed at his timing, but most definitely turned on. You lift your feet to shove your clothes away, reaching behind to palm his erection. Of course he isn’t wearing clothes, clad in only his boxer briefs, which are tight around his growing bulge. You’ve been ambushed, and you don’t know whether to be worried or horny. Probably the latter. 

Within a minute, the two of you are naked on top of the bed, not bothering to lie under the covers. He kisses you all over your body, starting at your needy lips, dragging his tongue down to abdomen to nestle his face into your plush stomach. Seconds later, his mouth is surrounding your clit, swishing his spit, swirling his tongue, your whimpers filling the room. You spread your thighs wider, grabbing onto the top of his head, binding his hair into a fist to pull him off when it gets too sensitive. Though he never lets you, always relentless when he eats you out. 

When you come, he slurps on your slick until he’s satisfied, dipping his tongue deep into your pussy walls, collecting every drop of you into his mouth. Once he’s finished, he climbs on top, kissing you on the lips, still wet with your arousal, tasting it for yourself. You wrap your fingers around his hard cock, stroking him before he stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him to position himself in front of you. You hear him open the bedside drawer, retrieving the regularly used bottle of lube, the snap, squelch, and click a familiar sound.

He guides his dick into you slowly, pulling away at the slightest resistance, only to thrust back in gently. Your cunt squeezes around him as he fucks you, bent over your chest to suck on your nipples simultaneously. Without warning, he releases you from his mouth to hoists your legs up onto his shoulder, cock plunging farther into your pussy. 

Surprised, you cry out, “Kishibe!”

His eyes are wild, an animal in heat, fucking you harder and deeper. “I want to fuck a baby in you just like this. Breed you until you’re round in your belly.” He slides his palm over your stomach, stroking around your navel. “Right here.”

There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, your throat dry from the excessive moans he’s drawing out from you. All you can do is take it. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you? I’ll be such a good daddy to you and our baby,” he grunts.

You nod your head erratically, babbling, “Fuck, I want that so bad. I want that so bad, daddy.”

He chuckles, breathing staggered. “You like calling me daddy now, knowing I’m going to breed you. Knowing I’m going to give you my fucking seed.” He’s hitting your sweet spot over and over, fingers rapidly toying with your clit. 

“Fuck, right there!”

“Daddy’s hitting it good, huh? Giving it to you so fucking good. Gonna fill this pretty pussy with all of my daddy cum, isn’t that right, princess?” He huffs filthy words at you, completely immersed in whatever carnal instinct is controlling him in this moment. 

You tremble all over, skin hot with passion as you climax. He pumps his cock into you, spilling his load until his balls are emptied out. He pulls out slowly, watching his creamy cum leak out of your slit, enjoying it like a masterpiece that he helped paint. 

He lies beside you, both of you calming down from your orgasms. “Was that too much?” he asks, rubbing your belly again.

“No. It was great,” you reassure him, smiling as you cover his hand with yours, entwining your fingers. “Didn’t think you’d have a baby fever all of a sudden.” 

“To be fair, I wasn’t sure I wanted kids. Not since recently.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because now I have a chance at a life like that. I never knew that was possible for me until I met you.”

Your heart swells at this, blinking your eyes to rid any residual or oncoming tears. You lean close to kiss him softly on the cheek. “I love you, Kishibe.”

“I love you too, princess.”

~~~

He proposes on a sunny afternoon in the middle of the week during spring. Cherry blossom season. 

A few months ago, on a whim, they went ring shopping, for shits and giggles. She got her finger sized, which he noted, and she gazed at a particular ring for a good two minutes, a twinkle in her eye that was unmistakable. He knew that was the one, just as he knows that she is the one. 

He bought it two weeks later, and since then, it’s been in his pocket, rolling around in there for months now. He’s been close a few times already, grazing the box with his fingers, ready to whip it out during an especially romantic moment. Still, it never felt right. 

That is, until today. 

They’re both on their lunch breaks, walking off their meal at a nearby park, fingers interlaced seamlessly. This has become routine for them, something they’ve become used to. But every time, he craves it more and more. The intimacy of it. The normalcy of it. He’s getting accustomed to feeling human, and not solely a devil hunting machine. And it’s all thanks to her. 

It’s been two years now, living together in domestic bliss, practically inseparable, aside from their day jobs. He’d carry her around in his pocket if he could, or he’d shrink himself down to be in hers. Either way, he wishes they were always with each other. 

He’s become a man dependent on a woman. If you’d ask him three years ago if he’d ever become like this, he’d scoff and deny it. Now, he doesn’t bat an eye to admit it. He’s fucking needy, and unashamed about it.

They are by no means perfect. A relationship without flaws doesn’t exist in the real world. They argue, as regular couples do, but never going to bed angry. No matter who’s right or wrong, they both listen to each other and talk it out. What he loves about her is that she’s neither a dream nor a fantasy; she’s real. Perfectly imperfect, just as he is. He never has to worry about waking up and finding out it was his imagination all along. He knows she exists by the way her body feels around him, the warmth of skin against his, the lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillows and sheets. Bits and pieces of her scattered through their apartment, mixed with traces of him, combining into a beautiful, cohesive mess. 

Kishibe never considered himself a sentimental person, not until her. Now, everything has meaning. Nothing is too little or insignificant to cherish. Movie stubs, blurry polaroid pictures, a Dirty Thirty! sash and sparkly tiara still hanging on the corner of the vanity. It’s reminders that their time together has never been wasted, especially when life can be cut short in any moment. 

They find a park bench to sit at, watching soft, pink petals float lazily through the breeze. She rests her head on his shoulder, observing all the blossoms falling from the trees. “I wish we could stay like this forever. I don’t want to go back to work.”

He squeezes her hand, hoping his palms aren’t sweating. “Me too.” It’s rare for Kishibe to be nervous, but for some reason, he is. In his pocket, he feels for the vechalvet box, housing the ring. Second guessing himself if this is really right.

“Let’s run away. Quit our jobs and live off the grid,” she teases. It’s not the first time she’s joked about it. They often do, wishing they could neglect the responsibilities of the real world to indulge in each other endlessly. 

“Why don’t we get married first. Then we’ll plan our escape.” 

“We’re practically married, aren’t we?” She nuzzles her cheek against him. “I already consider you my husband.”

He swallows hard, adrenaline coursing this his veins. The moment finally here. “Let’s make it official then.”

It’s a Wednesday afternoon, as mundane as the last, when Kishibe asks her to marry him. It becomes the most special day of his life because she says yes. 

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

End Notes: Thank you all for reading this Kishibe fic! I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Taglist: one of my fave people on here @liliorsstuff-blog! thank you for always showing me love and supporting me, love you! 💜

[lolokouhm]

FUSHIGOVER pt. I [THE LEAKING]

1 / 2 / 3 / 4

this ff is a fix, we’re living post 235 chapter. The rest is irrelevant

Loving him felt like cheating.

I was a fucking cheater.

I've cheated countless times in my life. There was a part of me that was convinced that this incredible luck I for some reason possessed would finally run out one day. I mean, everyone had their limits.

Well, that day definitely was not today.

I was in love with Megumi Fushiguro.

And I was more that ready to tell him that.

Actually no, scratch that. I wasn't. Despite being relatively brave (I was a jujutsu sorcerer after all), I'd much more prefer to exorcise another curse than tell him the truth. Reasons? Multiple. He was my friend. A good one at that. And the blood-freezing amount of shit we've been through together...

I mean, it takes two to tango, right?

Well, let's just put it that way. I didn't see myself tango-ing with Fushiguro anytime soon.

Maybe I was blind. Maybe I needed Gojo's Six Eyes to see what I've been so desperately wanting to see for the past few months, but unfortunately, this technique was, for some reason, reserved only for him. Well, that sucked. Almost as much as my mental state that morning.

'Didn't sleep much?'

The bed was definitely too small for two people, but I didn't really treat Nobara that way - she was a part of me by that time. A whole year of studying together, training together, shopping together, crying together was enough to blend us into one human being. Sort of.

'I'm so done.' I sighed. What would I give to hide under the bedsheets and never come out. At least for the next 15 minutes. 'It's insane that we still have classes.'

'It is', she nodded and snuck under my bedsheets to hug me tightly. 'Two more years and you'll be in the clear. So get up and let's go. We've got things to do.'

I stood up and slowly went into the bathroom, to make sure nobody would confuse me with a curse and I wouldn't get exorcised by mistake. That would suck. I shivered in front of the mirror, fixing my hair and putting on some sunscreen. Nobara joined me a moment later, being the only girl in the whole school that actually understood the importance of SPF filters, especially in this field of work. We were exposed to the weirdest shit on the entire planet, so the least we could do was putting on some cream.

'I've heard that he's coming back.'

'Today?' I tried not to sound too excited, but I apparently failed, as my best friend suddenly chuckled.

'Yup, today. So, is that it? Is that THE date? Should I prepare for being the only single person out of us two?' Nobara put the cream back in the drawer, delicately tapping the rest onto her right cheek.

'No.'

'Phenomenal. I've endured your mental breakdowns for the past four months, so I'll guess another few won't kill me. I mean...' She pointed at the left side of her face. The scars were getting less red by the day, but we both knew - they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. 'I've survived that. But still, (Y/N). You're hopeless.'

'I'm considerate.'

'You were.' Nobara nodded, catching my glance in the mirror. 'But he's fine now. Or... relatively fine.' She shrugged. 'Whatever. It's not gonna get worse. Someone has to unpack his trauma. You're the best choice. You were the first one to crack the 'fushigover' joke, weren't you?'

I was. And I wasn't particularly proud of that.

'I was drunk. And you were the one who gave me that... Vodka Sour, so it's technically your fault.' Alcohol wasn't my best friend, but Nobara and booze got along pretty well, so sometimes I got dragged somewhere in between them. 'I... Can you even imagine that?' I turned around to face Kugisaki. 'What would I say? Hi, Fushiguro. I've just wanted to tell you that I think I might kinda love you. I know you probably have more important things on your mind than that, but I was about to explode, so please, just don't think about it too much.'

'You're hopeless.'

'I'm realistic', I corrected. My morning routine was over. I was ready to go out. Finally. ‘I can’t just go out like that. It’ll be a disaster.'

'GIRLS!' Somebody opened the door and barged inside my room. 'Have you heard? He's back!' Yuuji suddenly appeared next to Nobara. His eyes shone in excitement. 'Fushiguro's finally back!'

My heart skipped a beat.

'Already? Gojo's back too?'

'Yup.' Yuuji nodded and looked at me. 'Oh, (Y/N). He wants to talk to you.'

I frowned. Gojo wanted to talk to me? Right after he and Fushiguro came back from Kioto? That was... surprising, to say at least.

'Now?'

'Yeah. Asap. That's why I came actually.' Yuuji smiled. He was an angel. 'I kinda got too excited. Oh, is that THAT SPF?'

I exchanged a look with Nobara. She seemed quite amused, but a small crease forming on her formed made feel me a little anxious.

Praying I wouldn't see Fushiguro on my way to the Gojo's office, I almost run through the corridors. I've been desperate to see him for the past few weeks, but when the day finally came, I wish I could fall under the face of the Earth and never come back.

It's been almost a month since Gojo got Fushiguro out. Or rather, since Gojo got Sukuna out of Fushiguro's body. That day... I couldn't say I remembered it very well because of the sheer amount of emotions I went through, but even the slightest thought of Megumi's body, laying there lifeless, was making me shake. Oh, that picture was tattooed in my head.

If only you could erase it.

'You're leaking.' That was the first thing I've heard when I entered the room.

'Huh?'

The white-haired man sat in front of me. His gaze was piercing. Gojo smiled and pointed a finger on me.

'I've been wondering for a while now. Sukuna is hiding somewhere, so some disturbances are normal. I'd be surprised, if there weren't any.' Gojo scratched his head. 'But the amounts of cursed energy in this school are ridiculously unbalanced. So I figured, someone has to be in a very bad state.' Gojo crossed his arms, but he didn't really look intimidating - rather amused. 'And it's you.'

'Me.' I repeated after him, not really sure, what to think. 'That's...'

Gojo tilted his head a bit, looking like a curious puppy. No way this man was the most powerful sorcerer.

'That's a very suggestive thing to say.'

The sorcerer chuckled and stood up.

'That was a good one. But nah. Your cursed energy is leaking out of you.'

If Gojo was joking, then the joke didn't sit right at all. What was even worse, most of the jokes we usually cracked together landed perfectly, so combining that with his piercing gaze made me feel even more confused. He wasn't joking. He was serious.

'(Y/N), I seriously adore you. And your sense of humour is just the best. But I've had my eyes on you since that day.' The stronger sorcerer alive, my ass. He suddenly looked somehow apologetic. 'I don't think...' He sighed and I felt weak. 'Let me put it this way. I felt your cursed energy during the fight, even though you were pretty far away. How is that possible?'

'I...' I was speechless. 'I have no idea.'

'You lost control. And you haven't regained it ever since.'

'It's not possible.' I panicked a little when I realised that my voice was actually shaking. 'I've got it all under control. I don't feel bad. Or any different.'

'You're lying.'

I was.

'You have to get it sorted out as soon as possible, otherwise we're going to have our hands full again. And I seriously want a break.' I've never heard Gojo speak like that. Right there, in that moment, he seemed... tired. 'But anyway, congratulations.'

'What for?'

'For getting him out.' The air in the room suddenly became colder. 'If it wasn't for your cursed energy, things might have been... different.' Gojo's gaze wandered for a second, looking for something behind the window. When he finally turned back to me, his fatigue vanished instantly. 'Whatever. I'm glad it happened. Just get it under control. Want some mochi?'

'Yeah.' I needed the sugar to process everything my teacher has just said. 'Maybe even two.'

'Take three.' Chewy rice balls felt somehow calming. 'Oh, and Megumi can't wait to see you. He was sulking most of the time in Kioto, but seemed weirdly excited to come back. And I'm good at connecting the dots. If your cursed technique was able to get his will to live back, then I guess he'll be more than happy to see you.' Gojo stretched his arms. 'Just don't scare him.'

'With what?'

'You know.' Yeah, I had it coming. 'The leaking. Megumi's inexperienced.'

'That was awful.'

'I know. But you laughed.'

I guess I really did.

———

It's really going to be an unhinged series. But we're going to have a lot of fun. Muahaha

[kukuma-kit]

Club Night

Ao’nung

┯━━━━━━━━━━ ●●● ━━━━━━━━━━┯

☆: * parings: human!Ao'nung x curvy! human!reader ☆: * warnings: AGED UP! 22 characters, maybe oc Ao'nung?, attempted proofread, cursing, mentions of Ao'nung and readers body, maybe some flirting? not rlly fluff or angst ☆: * Na'vi glossary: skxáwng- idiot ☆: * word count: 5,971 ☆: * Note(s): I was just experimenting with this and how tumblr works, feedback would be really helpful! I haven't wrote in a while but I've been wanting to write and I use to, so this'll be my first one. Not really proud of it but we'll see:) credit to the person who drew Ao'nung as a human! by @CrazyTom0712  on twitter!

┷━━━━━━━━━━ ●●● ━━━━━━━━━━┷ ✧* Summary: Having to be stood up and accompanied by the rain isn't exactly an ideal introduction of meeting a new possible friend..

The sound of raindrops falling on a quiet night would have been a soothing and peaceful experience, if it weren't for the fact that you had just left a noisy strip club and were stood up by a blind date set up by a friend. Frustrated and grumpy, you shouted into the empty sky, "As nice as it would be to enjoy the rain right now, now's not the time!!" You knew deep down that the guy wasn't going to show up, but you were still angry at the wasted effort and the terrible weather conditions that made it impossible to get a cab or any other transportation.

You cursed yourself for not checking the the hours of transportation properly before leaving, as you quickly pulled out a spare jacket from your bag, thanking yourself for checking the weather. The thin material of your dress was no match for the cold rain, and you rushed to find a chair to sit on one of the bar's patios. As you sat there shivering, you couldn't help but think of the friend who had dressed you in the black dress that didn't provide any warmth, putting the jacket you brought around your shoulders. While skin tight clothing was never really your thing, your friend convinced you to slip into a black dress that reached down to your mid-calf. The dress had a subtle slit on the side that reached right below your panty line and hugged your curvy hips. Although the fabric was stretchy, it still felt snug in all the right places. The thin material was perfect for your sensitive body heat, and you appreciated how it was loose enough to allow for easy movement. Despite all of this, you still cursed 'Otxä for forcing you into this dress and for having the nerve to dress you!

As you sat there lost in thought, the door to the patio opened and out walked a tall, muscular man with a tanned complexion and a thick accent that immediately caught your attention. He let out a sigh of relief and stretched his broad shoulders, revealing the outline of his muscles underneath his shirt. Ao'nung wasn't fond of his co-workers and their silly antics, he wanted some space so his headache would go away.

"ah..finally, some fresh fucking air" You couldn't help but notice the way his accent slipped off his tongue and melted into his words, making you feel a little more alive and a lot more turned on. Thighs clenching instinctively to put some sort of pressure on the throbbing that happened in between your legs, you pull out your phone to distract yourself from the man. The sound of your sigh fills the air as you look at your unanswered messages, left on delivered. Making said man avert his eyes to your screen, not realizing someone else was there with him. The impatience within you grows and you stand up, almost colliding with the man.(why he so close?) You feel his hands grip your biceps, causing your jacket to fall as your phone slides off to the side. As you stare up into his ash-blue eyes, you gulp, taken aback by his sudden rudeness. "Do you not look where you are going?" he huffs at you. You snap out of your daze and remove yourself from his grip, irritated by his behavior. Furrowing your brows, you create a crease in between which he can't help but notice.

"Well, excuse you. You were the one near me, why are you even that close?" you cross your arms underneath your breasts, making them pop out as you lean on one side of your leg, your hip poking out as you stare at him. He's surprised by your response; no one has ever spoken back to him like that before. You were also very pretty, even gorgeous, causing him to feel flustered and intimidated. His eyes scan over your figure, lingering on certain parts for a few seconds. "R-right, are you alright?" he asks, briefly regaining his composure. You chuckle before sitting down at the nearest table, facing him. He picks up your phone and jacket, walking over to you and setting them on the table.

"You aren't the best with words, huh?" you say, observing him as he gruffs. He feels bad about getting your jacket wet and sees you shivering, unable to resist a glance at your breasts as they pop out more. "Uh- yeah, something like that," he stammers, handing you his blazer. You inspect it, leaving him speechless before he blurts out, "It's like it's dirty! Why're you- just put it on or give it back, woman!" You laugh and put on the blazer, sighing at the warmth it provides. "I was only kidding. Thank you…uhh?" you trail off, realizing you don't know his name. Ao’nung, a member of the Metkayina clan, leans on the table as he introduces himself. You're left wondering about his clan, but before you can speak, you accidentally say out loud, "Metkayina..? As in one of the clans from Pandora, the reef people?". Ao’nung confirms your suspicion, grinning at your knowledge and causing his face to glow in the moonlight. As you continue to chat, you can't help but notice his earrings reflecting the moon, giving him an almost ethereal glow. When you inadvertently stare, Ao’nung asks why, and you quickly come up with a silly excuse. "why're you looking at me like that, woman?" "well that's one way to address me, fishface. besides no one's looking at you with that attitude" you huff out in annoyance at his rudeness. Taken aback he quickly defends himself before you burst out in laughter, Ao'nung wasn't having it as he yells at you. You both engage in some good-natured teasing, sharing laughs and quick insults that lead to a competition. As the night grows late, he offers to give you a ride home. Seeing that he was your only way of transportation, you accepted. The ride was surprisingly comfortable, and you both enjoy chatting and getting to know each other. You end up exchanging numbers with the promise to hang out again soon. As you step out of the car, he warns you not to wear certain clothes in a club where guys might stare at you, but you tease him about having a "fishface". You say goodbye and head inside, collapsing on the sofa and falling asleep with a smile on your face.

[igotanidea]

Lost: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x reader

Summary: Red Hood make a mess and leaves Jason to deal with aftermath. Requested by angst lover.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) version of this plot is here.

A/N: reader is older than Jason, member of the old Titans, Jason's only ally when he was still Robin. There;s no romantic relationship between them, more like an older sister - younger brother vibe.

„Jason?”

„Yn?” former hero, now self-appointed Red Hood stopped and turned around to the voice of the only person who could made him do it. “what are you doing here?” he put the gun down and took a step towards the girl.

“I could ask you the same question, Jay. Or should I say Red Hood? Because that is what you are now, huh? A villain? How does it feel?”

“Yn, listen to me….”

“No, I won’t. I’m done with all the bullshit and playing around. Just because you had a fight with Bruce or Dick or whoever, I don’t care. It does not give you any ground to terrorize Gotham. Do you even see yourself? What happened?”

“Titans happened! You all are the very same! Always making me look like an outcast! I was done with it! Being put aside!”

“I never put you aside!”

“Didn’t you?” he smirked mischievously “really? You go round listening to Grayson like a lost puppy you are. Never had an opinion of your own.”

“Jason…..”

“Look at me and tell me I’m lying. You let him pull all the strings, order you around and you blindly follows. Wasn’t it like that during the old Titans days as well? I wonder why is that?”

“Don’t you dare…..”

“oh, wait…. “ he titled his head and tapped his chin in fake reverie “it’s because you are soooo in love with him, isn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up!” she was angered like never before. And all because Jason Todd was right. He saw right through her, exposing all her insecurities and worries. Always had this effect on her since, whether they both liked it or not, they were a lot alike. She might have been older than him, but she saw a lot of herself in the boy taken by batman as a replacement. He was right about the old Titans. It was a team but she never felt like she truly belonged. Doing all she could to get respect and acknowledgment but being left behind on everything. It always felt like she wasn’t good enough despite all her skills and abilities. And Dick…. Well, better not to talk about it.

“Oh, you poor thing” he mocked “always put in the second place. Tell me, how was it like to watch him date Barbs? And Dawn? And now, that he clearly takes interest in Starfire? How was it like when he was constantly putting you aside. And still does, doesn’t he?” he shrugged knowing well enough what effect this words would have on her.

“That is enough!!” she jumped forward trying to tackle him to the ground but he was just too fast. Red Hood grabbed her arm and twisted it, making her gasp in pain of a broken bone.

“You are pathetic.” He hissed towering over her, while she winced on the ground “full of fear. Look at me, I finally got rid of that! I’m invincible, everyone’s at my mercy! I even got you, the famous H/N down.”

“Are you proud of yourself then?”

“What?”

“Like you said, you used to be an underdog, so how does it fell to raise to the top of the world?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he squinted “don’t turn this thing around.”

“I am not. You used to have family, maybe a bit broken and messed up, but still. What do you have now, hm? Mr. fearless?”

“Don’t you have enough pain for once?” in a blink of an eye he was crouching next to her grabbing her chin in an iron-clad grasp “you are clearly masochistic playing with me like that.” He put more force into the it, making sure to leave a bruise.

“You turned into a monster” she hissed, not able to hold her tongue and not caring about the pain. “Face the facts and ….”

“Will you shut up!?” he lifted her up by a throat making her choke and fight for air “this is bullshit! This city! This fucking town! They need someone to put order to it!”

“And…. And…. You think…. That is ….. what you are doing?” she panted, her legs dangling above the ground in futile attempt to get some footing.

“YES! The fuck yes!”

“Well …. Maybe…. “ it was getting impossible to get any air into the lungs “ look around you…..” she was seconds away from passing out.

“Why can’t you see it?!” he yelled “they will abandon you as well! You mean nothing to them! You hear me?! Nothing! You never did!”

“That is not true….” She whispered, her face pale like never before. It was even more terrifying given the fact she was illuminated by the blue neon light, reminding him of the dead people he saw while fighting alongside Batman. That memory slowly crept inside his mind making him realize what he was doing but before he could react a voice from behind made Jason drop the girl and release her from the grasp.  

“JASON!” an escrima stick flew in his direction making him loose balance. Nightwing and Conner came for the rescue and were prepared for the fight but Red Hood just looked at them, then turned around and focused his gaze on the girl, who was now clutching on her throat breathing heavily and  without taking any further action run from the place.

“ You’ll see…..” he interposed towards the girl “you’ll see it soon….”

*** A few hours later YN woke up in one of the many rooms in Wayne manor. Memories of what happened and harsh words of her former friend still fresh and painful in her mind. She could not clearly say when Jason became so violent. Maybe it was after his fall? After the failed mission he was so dead set on succeeding in? Anyway, it did not give him any right to turn this anger and pain as a weapon aimed at her. The thing was, she was always on his side. Sometimes, standing against the rest of the team. Even when Hank, Dawn and Donna got mad at her for defending him. Even when Dick called her crazy and irresponsible for protecting Jason. And now, he was a villain in the story. The worst part, he was hurting not only her, not only Gotham but also himself. He just didn’t realize yet, how destructive burning the bridges was.

“Yn? Are you all right?” Conner stood up from the nearby chair.

“Besides a broken bone and a few mental bruises I am fine. I will be fine. Thanks for coming to the rescue, Superboy.” She smiled lightly and the younger boy reciprocated, looking at the ground sheepishly.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I could do something good”. Conner was with the Titans for a while now, but he was still worried about his darker part, coming from Lex Luthor, so every time he did something positive it made him shy.

“You are a good person, Conner. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

“Thank you, YN. Do you…. “ he hesitated scratching his head

“What, Conner?”

“do you want to talk about what happened? I don’t really know this Jason guy, but wasn’t he a part of the team? Isn’t it a hero turned villain situation?” there was almost invisible glance of fear in his eyes.

“It won’t happen to you.” she simply said squeezing his hand reassuringly “Jason…. got lost. I feel like it was partially my fault. I think I let him get lost and ….”

“It’s not your fault….” Third voice came into the discussion and Connor and YN turned their gaze towards Dick who walked into the room “I pushed him away too far, should have listened to you when you warned me about the consequences…”

“Not the first time, right? Guess you will never learn to listen to the smarter people” she smirked

“Good to see your injury did nothing to your sense of humor. Conner, can you give us a minute please. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Sure. I will wait outside, but. …. I’d really like to talk to you more, YN.”

“Won’t leave you hanging” she smiled and the boy left “he’s worried he might turn into a villain too” she sighed looking at Dick. “we can’t let it happen. We mustn’t repeat that mistake.”

“We won’t. But speaking of villain…..”

“What happened?” she propped herself up on the healthy arm, getting nervous.

“Jason wants to meet you.”

“When?”

“You cannot be serious YN” Dick scoffed “after everything he did you still considering going?”

“Where?” she turned deaf ear toward his words

“YN!” Nightwing was appalled by her words “You are not going anywhere!”

“You won’t tell me what I can and cannot do!” she spat, remembering Jason’s words “sorry…” she mumbled soon after

“Is that how you feel? Really? Like I’m ordering you? Yn…. I’m just worried about you.”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“What did he tell you?” Dick became suspicious “was he trying to play with your mind? YN, you know you are an important member of the team, right? It would not be the same without you….”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes not feeling in her best capacity to deal with this matter now “we can discuss this later, we have more urgent things to take care of. Tell me the details.”

“You really want to go? You are hurt, you need rest and healing.”

“Dick.” She warned him.

“Fine. But you can’t go alone. I will go with you. Or you can take Gar, he is the second person after you to have any faith in Jason left. “

“Dick. It’s my problem to solve, all right? I appreciate your effort, but I’m going by myself. Hoping for the best.”

“You have always been too stubborn for your own good.”

“Details, please, Nightwing.”

*** Of course Jason picked the abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere for a secret meeting in the middle of the night. Darkness, quietness and remoteness of the place fitting well with his new imagine of Red Hood. There was not a soul around and even her quiet footsteps echoed through the entire building. It made her even more vary of the surroundings. He could be hiding anywhere and despite her high hopes she was prepared for everything, for any potential danger from his side.

“Jason!” she stopped in the middle of the space looking around “I’m here.  I’m alone. Stop playing hide and seek and come out.”

“You came…” a dark figure emerged from the shadows in front of her “wasn’t sure if you will, after what I said. “

“What you said?” she scoffed “I don’t care about the words…” that was a lie on her part “but all you did…..”

“For what it’s worth I am sorry. For everything. Mostly for hurting you…. I.. I don’t know what’s happening to me….”

“Is that what you said to Hank before bombing him?” the memory made the boy freeze. “is that what you are going to do to me?”

“YN….” He took his helmet off and she saw tears and pain in his eyes “you know I would never….”

“I don’t know a thing anymore, Jason. I don’t know if you are telling the truth or playing  a part in Crane game. How can I tell the difference?”

“I need your help, YN. You are the only one who…..”

“Right, now you see it.” She shook her head “why didn’t you notice it earlier? We could have prevented so much damage, Jason.”

“I’m sorry….” He looked straight at her “please….”

“Jason….” she sighed

“Please, YN. I want out…. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know. Not now, but maybe in the future…..”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. We still got damage control to do.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Of course you will, you have no other option. And there’s one condition.”

“What?”

“You will stay down.  Titans won’t know about you helping”

“So, I’m a dirty secret now. Grayson will figure it out in no time.”

“I don’t care. It’s not about him. I’m making my own choices. Look, Jay, I want to help you and even if you will never be a titan again….” she shook her head again and sighed deeply “I still feel like I owe you this much. So are you game?”

“You’re the only person who could make me, so yes, let’s safe this fucking city.” @pinksirensong @somest1

[romanarose]

Life update if anyone cares.

I only post this bc i was posting my depressing shit for months and a lot of people were reaching out in concern <3

cw sever depression, self harm, suicide, csa, SA, all the bad. but also lots of good <3

TLDR: Despite a god-awful semester, i got all a's and b's

Everyone thats been following me the last few months has seem my personal posts about how fucking awful things have been for me.

I've dealt with fact I can no longer deny that what happened to me was CSA, despite being on a milder side of things. That sparked an absolutely spiral. I didnt sleep for months which made things worse. School, I got an F on a midterm and i NEVER get F's on writing assignments.

Work had its complications and i quit and then rescinded that quit two days later. I was so constantly depressed in my dorm my roommate literally told me i needed to go to the basketball game with them bc i was sitting in a depression hovel none stop. I only went to services twice this whole time, one shabbat and once for Rosh Hoshannah.

I burned the ever living fuck out of my fingers, yall remember that one? lol.

In novemeber i had relapsed so severely on self harm i thought i had accidentally killed myself. I should've called 911. I thought I was bleeding out and/or going into shock. I then worked myself up more by going down pages of the internet about medical shook and people dying from it. that did not help my heart rate. I couldn't stand, I couldnt see straight for a while.

I could not afford an ambulance or a hospital stay as i am uninsured and only ork 25 hours a week. not a lot of money.

All this happened and I didn't miss work. This is not a brag, this is me not being able to makegood choices for myself.

Finally, thanksgiving break hit. Thank fucking god. I WANTED to use those 4 days of absolutely nothing to get to my TWO BIG RESEARCH PAPERS I HADNT STRTED YET but alas, I was SICK. I was so sick, in fact, and so hoped up on cough medicine for 3 days i was incomprehensible.

I was so physically ill, i couldnt even think about how mentally ill i was. I slept and slept and slept. And by the time sunday hit, I felt so recharged.

My failed midterm was so bad and so not me my professsor reached out to me. Im close with him (in a v appropriate way lol, hes a bruce springsteen fan too) and i felt comfortable telling him essentially that for a few months there things were severe, and I really should've gone in for a 72 hour hold multiple times and i was not safe. through a few lines of resources, I ended up back in therapy bc my school added a new therapist that is a woman (i stopped going last year bc i didnt like seeing a man)

I like my new therapist.

Anway, in about 2 weeks I wrote 2 12 page research papers, 2 book report papers, 1 science paper did 2 presentations, took 2 finals, wrote 2 more finals with essay questions, and at the end of it all, not only did I not fail any classes...

I GOT ALL A'S AND B'S! Which means my gpa is still high enough to renew my scholarship for my last year

I am so fucking proud of myself for accomplishing all this despite suffering so fucking badly. I havnt felt pain like that in years, just agony.

I had a down turn again over christmas bc my siblings were literally ass, upto and including making fun of me for not ating (i am multiple accounts of sexual trauma from several people, so im scared of dating), making fun of my eating, and my sister slapping me and my older brother hitting me. Was a bad time. But for right now, im in the place im staying for break (all january) im back at my old day care and they love me, and olive garden at this store has been going great

Im hoping next semester to be better, im hopful at least

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has supported my writing has supported me through these times. It makes me happy that i came her to share my silly little moon knight x reader series, not really intending on writing a whole lot, but next thing i know, i have friends and a lil community. so thank you <3

[andithiel]

End of year wrap up

I am so super late to this, but I’ve done this in the last few years and I think it’s a nice tradition to look back at the accomplishments I’ve achieved. 2022 was a very bleak year writing wise, and I’m happy to say that I’ve slowly started to get my mojo back a bit. My AO3 wordcount for 2023 was 36,936 words, but I’ve also posted some shorter things on tumblr, and I actually made a spreadsheet to track my progress and tally all my written words, including those that get deleted and also those not yet posted, and according to the spreadsheet I wrote 10k more. I still have a lot of WIPs hanging around in my drive, but I’ve managed to finish some of them, and I feel like I have more energy and excitement to finish some more, so, here’s hoping that 2024 will be the year that I actually end up with fewer WIPs at the end than at the beginning (something I tried back in 2020, before the world went up in flames).

Under the cut is what I published in 2023:

January 

Fading in Love (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 5k) I wrote this as a belated birthday present for @sassy-sassy3, it’s an 8th year secret relationship with a lil’ sprinkle of magical theory regarding the Dark Mark. 

February 

I decided to try a few prompts for HD Candyhearts and ended up having a lot of fun with them: 

Second Date AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 1,3k) with an insecure Draco after having spent the night with Harry.

The microfic Taste the love (for the prompt Sweet treats)

How deep is our love? AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 762 words) featuring established Drarry bickering and absolutely ridiculous Valentine’s cards.

The secret language of flowers AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 2k) featuring the classic tumblr post the fuck you bouquet.

Pillow microfic with Draco being a little shit

Charm me 8th year drabble FWB/secret relationship sort of vibes.

March

Take that ride (Drarry, Teen, 1,6k) I finally managed to write a fic idea that’s been scrambling around in my brain for ages. I wanted to create a mood and a feeling with this and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

I also wrote a short fuck or die drabble that I’m super proud of: Let me show you  

June

Hold back the tide (Drarry, Teen, 2k) Another idea that’s been with me for years that I finally got out (despite not having written the fic that preludes this).

October

Thunderstruck (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) My god, my beast, this fic resisted me and to top it all off I got covid right when I was about to finish it. I struggled with this so damn much, also wanting to create a vividness that doesn’t really come natural to me, but I’m so happy with how it came out in the end. Plus I got to collab with the amazing @fictional who, as usual, knocked it out of the park with her glorious art.

November

The Potter Malfoy bathroom war of 2007 (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) Another fic that’s been with me for some time, although “only” a year. I saw the prompt for last year’s Suds when claims had closed, so I tried to forget about it but it wouldn’t leave me. I had so much fun writing this, I love writing Harry and Draco bickering and fighting with each other when we as readers know it’s basically their form of foreplay. 

December

When it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night (Drarry, Teen, 6k) This was also a fic one year in the making. I started writing it to post on last New Year’s Eve, but I couldn’t finish it in five days (to my own astonishment), but I’m happy it got to marinate for a while because I added a scene with Scorpius that I’m very fond of.

I wasn't tagged by anyone and I'm sure people have already done this, but if this means you get another tag, consider pointing me to your own year wrap up so I can see it! @sassy-sassy3 @fictional @mystickitten42 @uncannycerulean @goblinmatriarch @phdmama @crazybutgood @dragonbornphoenix @wo2ash @rei382 @nv-md

[reimeichan]

God, this "recovery" thing is insane. Yes I've been doing poorly recently. I was pretty intensely triggered by one of my partners for the first time since dating them (it was absolutely unintentional, one partner triggered another and the triggered partner's reaction ended up triggering me), which resulted in a lot of back-and-forth of the two of us being triggered and activated by each other. After a while, however, I was finally able to sit down and examine why I was acting that way and what I wanted to accomplish, and I realized: ah. I've been over-relying on fawn responses because I'm scared of said partner pushing me away and no longer loving me, but instead of just saying so I over-compensate which felt infantilizing for said partner who would then push back against me, resulting in a pretty awful cycle until we were finally able to break out of it.

And I just. The old me absolutely would not have been able to do that. The old me would have continued to have us in an activated state without realizing we were, the old me would not have had the insight to know how to stop the cycle. But the current me does. And that's kind of amazing.

Unfortunately, that's kind of the end of the positive interactions I had with that partner. Things kind of continue to spiral out of control for them and we've had to end things between us. And it sucks. And I've been dealing with the grief that comes with ending a relationship so suddenly, and the anger of my trust having been broken, and the dissociative numbness as I tried to process through everything.

And yet, still... despite this week having been one of the worst weeks I've had in years, I'm doing surprisingly alright all things considered. I'm still mourning the loss of that relationship, but I've been able to continue to live my life without wallowing fully in despair. I've actually picked up job searching again. I've made plans with my other partners on how to move forward with our lives. And I've cried, so many times, but that's okay and to be expected.

I've put in so much work to get to where I am today, where I'm able to grieve and both allow myself time to grieve while also trudging forward bit by bit. I've found ways to get myself to keep moving forward, both in spite of my emotions but also because of my emotions. And in my darkest moments, I may not actually feel like I've done enough, as I'm screaming and sobbing and wondering where I went wrong and what more I could even do. But also I know that... even if I'm not okay right now, it's going to be okay. And I'm so proud of how far I've come.

But, also, when I'm low again, that doesn't mean I fucked up. It just means I hit a low, that sometimes life doesn't turn out the way I thought it would. But at least I know how to keep going when things are rough, and I know how to stand back up when I'm knocked down.