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crushmeeren · 7 months

Text

Bakugou/Fem Reader/Kirishima

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+; continue scrolling or block if you’re not into this

Warnings; fluff & smut, reader is 6 months pregnant, cursing, pussy eating (Katsuki is a champ at eating pussy), blowjobs (deep throating, M/M & F/M), pregnant vaginal sex (Eijirou has a filthy deep stroke), squirting, dirty talk (Katsuki has a nasty mouth), cream pie, katsuki paints your tits with cum

Word Count; 8k

AO3 Link; Back Aches

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Eternally uncomfortable. Way too sweaty. Belly stretched into the shape of a medium sized watermelon, because hell, it sure feels like you’re carrying one around 24/7. These are only a few phrases you would use to describe the way it feels to be 6 months pregnant with Katsuki’s baby. Today however, you seem to be really struggling with all the lovely side effects that come along with it.

Specifically, your lower back. It’s been twinging horridly whenever you take so much as one step. So you’ve set up camp on your large, fuzzy couch. Cozy blankets covering your bare legs. You’re only wearing soft shorts and a large, worn, Red Riot T-shirt. You’ve been out here for a while, aimlessly watching different movies and shows, scrolling through your phone.

Katsuki’s playing some video game in the other room. Quite loudly, you might add. You can occasionally hear him yell at Todoroki that he’s the worst player in existence and to fuck off, venomously. You hope Todoroki is taunting him just as much. Sadly, Eijirou is out on patrol today, not coming home until later in the evening.

Now, the sun is getting close to setting, and you’re in the middle of watching a Tik Tok when your baby starts to wiggle around. The fluttering sensation makes you squirm and sit up ram-rod straight. Which in turn, causes a bright flash of pain to radiate through your lower back, up your spine. You desperately need some sort of relief, so you set your phone down on the armrest.

“Kastukiiiii,” you whine loudly, dragging out the i, wishing you could summon the blonde telepathically. You shift your weight in the seat, keeping your feet perched on the large ottoman in front of you. You wait a few seconds, hearing nothing except the background noise from the movie you’ve left on. What the fuck, you think.

“Katsuki!” You yell this time, his name falling sharply from your tongue. Your eyes widen significantly as you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. You rest a hand on the lower part of your belly, rubbing the spot soothingly when you feel a tiny foot kick you harshly. Apparently she does not want you to yell. Yeah, your daughter is certainly going to have Katsukis bad attitude.

“Baby, I heard you! I’m coming,” Katsuki yells back, tone slightly irritated. You huff, cheeks puffing and heating as your easily agitated temper flares a bit in response. You take a deep breath, both hands now placed on either side of your stomach as the tiny feet continue to try and burst out of your skin. Like a scene from fucking Alien.

Your attention turns to Katsuki, when you hear the blondes soft footsteps as he rounds the corner into your living room. Your eyebrows pinch, lips turning downwards. He comes to a stop next to your legs, eyebrow arching as he crosses his arms over his chest. He pointedly says nothing and waits for your request.

“Kat, love of my life- baby daddy, can you do the thing please? My back hurts.” Pouting up at him, you openly appreciate his slender frame, despite your discomfort. It doesn’t help that he’s only clad in mid thigh length black sweat shorts and a black tank top. It gives you access to the lean muscles of his shoulders. Motherf-He’s so fucking hot. He notices your wondering eyes, rolling his own when you call him baby daddy, he hates that. Nevertheless, his facial expression is soft when he gazes at you.

“Do you think you can wait five minutes while I finish this round of my game? I’m about to kick Icy Hot’s ass,” he says, smirking when he places his hands on his hips. You know the unwarranted spark of anger you feel is not fair to him, but you can’t help it. You sit up a little straighter, wincing when your back cramps again.

“That’s too long,” you groan dramatically. “Can’t you kick his ass later?” you whine, over exaggerating your movements as you run your hands up to the top of your baby bump. Katsuki is more than amused at your behavior, finding it unbearably adorable at how much you want him to be in here with you. He smiles, snickering softly. You glare playfully at him.

“It’s five minutes sweetheart, Todoroki fucking sucks at this game.” Laughing, Katsuki runs a hand up and through his spiky hair.

“It’s your fault I’m like this Katsuki,” you complain. You press a hand to your forehead as if you might faint if he doesn’t do what you want right this second. His head tilts back in another laugh.

“Oi! You know it takes two people to make a baby right? I’m not the only guilty party,” he retorts. “Why isn’t Eijirou getting any blame for this huh? He was there too! Maybe you should get him to hold your belly,” Katsuki teases, ultimately giving in to your request. Todoroki be damned. Katsuki pushes the ottoman flush against the couch so you can scoot forward, making space for him behind you.

“He’s not home right now,” you pout. “Eiji’s actually nice to me, he would help his pregnant wife,” you joke, getting comfortable. The blonde crawls on to the cushions, maneuvering until he sits in the space between you and the backrest. He’s got a thigh bracketing both your hips and you recline into his chest.

“Should’ve let red get you pregnant first then,” he murmurs, stretching his legs out, pinning your blanket under his thighs. You smack his thigh in retaliation, making him jolt.

“Oh god, kitten, wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad, blah blah, I’m Katsuki and I’m a giant fucking hypocrite,” you mock, in a high pitched, horrific imitation of his voice. To be fair he did whine those things to you and Eijirou in bed multiple times before you all agreed to it. Katsuki sputters behind you, feeling his face burn as he pinches the soft flesh of your thigh.

“Oi! You’re such a fucking terror!” he says, voice colored in laughter. “I should make you wait until Eijirou gets home,” he taunts, slipping his hands beneath your shirt. His palms are so warm, comforting, when he places them on the underside of your belly, fingers spread. Katsuki gently presses upwards. You melt into his chest, letting out a soft moan of pleasure, relief immediate as he takes the pressure off your back.

“Your actions say otherwise,” you reply smugly, resting your hands over his. He hums in agreement. Katsuki loves holding your belly. He’s always hoping he’ll be lucky enough to feel his daughter kicking. He kisses the back of your head, relaxing into the backrest as he holds you, feeling the flex in his biceps. You both turn your attention to the movie you had playing earlier, your eyelids starting to flutter every now and then, feeling gooey and warm. Like a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie.

Your baby must have recognized her daddys voice. It’s not even 10 minutes later, when the blonde makes a snarky comment about the current scene on screen, she’s playing kick ball again. Directly into Katsukis hands. You giggle when he gasps, accidentally releasing his hold on your belly.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, in awe. He presses the pads of his fingertips into the same spot, trying to get her to hit him again. His heart thumps hard, excitement swirling around in his chest, when she responds, kicking him once more.

“She’s been really active today. She must have heard you talking.” You smile softly, placing your hands on top of your stomach, letting him have full range to feel below. “I hope she’s this way when Eijirou gets home. I know he was upset last time he missed it,” you remark, tilting your head where it lays on the blondes chest, trying to get a look at his face. He’s still staring at your belly when he speaks.

“She’s fiesty,” he coos, rubbing soothing cirlces into your skin when she kicks him once more. “She’ll respond to him, she loves him,” he murmurs lowly, genuine smile tugging on his lips. The amount of love you’re feeling bubbles up to the brim in your chest, spilling over at his actions. You surge up, lips brushing his jaw swiftly in a sweet kiss, before turning back to the movie. He lets out a soft sound of surprise.

“I love you too,” he teases, kissing your temple. You hum contentedly, and Katsuki goes back to holding up your belly. You feel a vibration near your leg recognizing the pattern as a text. Picking it up, you see it’s from Eijirou. Your face lights up instantly.

“Kat, Eiji messaged that he’s gonna be home soon,” you tell him, eager to see the red head.

“Bout fucking time, my arms are gonna fall off,” he rasps, teasing as he runs his thumbs over the smooth skin of your belly. It tickles.

“Get out from behind me then, ya dick,” you laugh, gently removing his hands, back feeling significantly better. He softly tickles your ribs in retaliation, making you squeal with laughter. You’re wiggling in his grip. “You’re lucky I can’t get up quickly right now Katsuki! I’d kick your ass, you shitty excuse for a bomb!” Your voice high pitched, blushing to the tips of your ears. Katsuki stops, gasping in fake offense, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Shitty excuse for a bomb??” He sounds incredulous, but unbelievably entertained. You nod, unable to hold in a giggle. He squeezes you tight and plants several quick kisses on your cheek. You turn your head the best you can, briefly snagging his lips with your own.

You’re only able to hold your neck at the uncomfortable angle for a second. The sound of your front door opening makes both your heads turn, watching Eijirou waltz through. He’s wearing a smile, bright as the sun. All his sharp teeth on display. The red head melts into a pile of warm mush when he spots the two of you snuggling on the couch.

“What a sweet sight to come home too,” Eijirou happily sighs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “All three of my babies snuggling on the couch,” he coos, walking around the side, coming to a stop next to the ottoman. He’s in street clothes. Gray sweats, red tee and a white bandana tied around his head. Per usual, he looks like he may bust out of the shirt he’s wearing. It’s unbearably hot.

“Get lost on the way home red?” Katsuki teases, smirking and raising his eyebrow. The blonde lets go of your shoulders as you strain to sit up. You struggle trying to brace your feet on the ottoman, Katsuki notices. He brings his feet up and pushes the furniture away for you. Making space for the red head. Grin never leaving his face, Eijirou rolls his eyes playfully, shoving the foot rest further away so he can fully get in front of you.

“No, I’m actually home earlier than I thought I would be,” he replies, pausing to kneel in between your spread legs, since your feet have come to rest on the floor. Katsuki slips out from behind you, sitting next to you instead.

“Thank God,” you sigh. “Apparently Kat isn’t strong enough to hold our 5lb baby without his arms falling off.” Straight faced, you explain to Eijirou, trying extremely hard not to smile. Katsuki growls next to you. You can practically hear his teeth grind together as Eijirous bright laughter fills the air. You know you’re poking the bear, but sometimes he’s just too easy to rile up.

“Is that so?” Eijirou teases, looking at the blonde as he grips the edge of your T-shirt. Eijirou notices your red riot shirt, looking up to wink at you. Cheeks turning red, you watch the red head push it up over your belly until it rests on top. Exposing all your smooth skin.

“I can hold a fucking five pound baby!” Katsuki snarls, harmless, yet he still dramatically throws his hands up. You choke on the swell of laughter that threatens to tear out your throat. Hearing Eijirou snickering as the red haired man settles both his large hands on your belly, fingers spread wide. His hands are so fucking warm. You let out a soft groan, weaving your fingers through Eijirous soft hair.

“I know Kat, just teasing,” you laugh, giving him your softest smile. The blonde can only hang on to his scowl for a moment, before the corners of his mouth curve upwards in what resembles a smile.

“How’s she been today?” Eijirou questions softly, nuzzling his nose near the top of your belly.

“Feisty little shit,” Katsuki croons. The blonde is smirking now, chest puffing up a bit. He’s definitely proud of it.

“Just like her daddy then?” Eijirou teases, brushing his lips over your belly in a sweet kiss. A soft giggle leaves your mouth.

“Absolutely,” Katsuki says, with complete certainty and confidence. Eijirou laughs.

“She’s been moving a lot today Eiji. Kat’s just happy she kicked the shit out of him earlier,” you explain, scratching the red heads scalp softly. The blonde makes a protesting sound but Eijirou hums, speaking to your baby girl now.

“Hi my feisty girl, daddy Eiji’s home,” he purrs. “I heard you were trying to kick box with daddy Kat. You’re gonna be just like him,” he whispers, affection falling off his tongue. He rubs his thumbs back and forth, caressing your soft, silky skin. Eijirous heart swells up to the point of bursting. Warm love oozing out of him when he places another sweet kiss above your belly button. The red heads eyes flutter closed, resting his forehead against you for a moment.

You jerk in surprise when Eijirous head suddenly shoots up, narrowly avoiding head butting the shit out of you, looking at you with wide, bright eyes. Your daughter has rewarded his affections with two thumps right where his head had been resting. The red head looks up, gaze tracking between you and Katsuki with stars in his eyes. He’s almost vibrating with excitement.

“Did you feel that baby? Oh my god! Kat, she heard me!” The red head yells, almost tripping over his words. You nod, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. You tug on his soft strands between your fingers. When his gaze locks with yours, you’re overwhelmed by the sight in front of you. Up to your eyeballs in the amount of love you’re feeling for your little family.

“Dammit Eijirou,” Katsuki growls, crossing his arms. “Stop being so-,” he pauses. “So fucking cute!” You laugh as the blonde crosses his arms, lip curled. You chance a look at his face. The blonde is flushed red up to his hairline. A sly expression immediately takes over Eijirous face.

He slips your shirt back down over your belly and you let go of his hair. You meet him halfway when he leans up to kiss you briefly. For being made of rock half the time, his lips are also so soft against yours. Your tongue pokes out to wet your lower lip, warmth burning through you when he pulls away.

The red head shuffles on his knees until he’s between Katsukis thighs. He leans forward and wraps his arms around the blondes waist, wiggling his eyebrows up at him. Katsuki narrows his eyes but places his elbows on Eijirous shoulders. Your toes curl into the plush rug below as the red head smoothes his hands up and down the blondes sides before squishing his face into Katsukis chest. Hugging him close, his tight embrace pushes the air out of the blondes lungs.

“Eijirou.” It comes out of Katsuki in a squeaky, gravelly tone.

“You’re so sweet Katsuki, I think you’re cute too,” he purrs, muffled by the material of a black tank top. Eijirou breathes in deeply, taking in just how good the blonde smells. Feeling the warmth of his chest on his face. You’re starting to flush as the blonde wrap his arms around Eijirous neck, holding him tight, mumbling I love you under his breath. Watching them together also sparks a fire inside of you. Even if it’s just something as tame as hugging.

The intense pulse of fondness you feel at their embrace, squeezes pleasantly in your chest. It’s a picturesque moment, until a pang of hunger rolls around inside you. Placing a hand on the underside of your belly, you chew your bottom lip. Not wanting to break up the tender moment, but it seems your daughter is hungry.

“I hate to burst the bubble, but our daughter is starving,” you tease gently, grinning as you watch them part. Eijirou kisses Katsuki sweetly, making a loud smooching sound when he pulls away, before the blonde stands up. He pushes playfully at the red heads shoulder when Eijirou rises from the floor as well. “Will you make something Kat?” You ask, puffing out your lower lip. Usual smirk etched onto his face as he lets out a scoff.

“I swear, you and Eijirou are like bottomless fucking pits,” he grumbles, turning and making his way to the kitchen. He’s not fooling anyone, you all know he actually loves cooking for everyone. Especially now that your daughter is getting closer to being born. He likes to express his love through his food. You and the red head share a look, laughing as the large man flops down onto the couch with you. It jostles you a little bit.

“Thank you Kit Kat! Love you,” you coo, watching as he throws a hand up over his shoulder in response.

“Sooo, can I hold your belly now?” Eijirou prods, way too excited for something so mundane. One of your eyebrows lifts as he shifts around until he can lean his back against the armrest. Planting one foot on the couch, letting his knee rest on the back side of the cushion. He lets the other dangle to the floor, opening his arms, making a grabby motion.

“You don’t have to ask me twice. She definitely has been missing her other daddy today,” you joke, picking up your discarded blanket from the couch, slotting yourself into his embrace. He lets one leg be pinned between you and the cushion as you get comfortable, pulling up the blanket over both of you, relaxing into his thick chest. Eijirou plants his hands on the top of your belly, slowly sliding them down to the bottom of your shirt.

“I love your shirt, pretty girl,” he whispers, low and sweet in your ear, soft lips pressing on your neck, snaking his hands under the soft material. The combination sends hot tingles down your spine. He forces a tiny, shocked moan out of you when he sinks his sharp teeth into your shoulder, spreading his fingers and lifting up your belly. He brushes his lips over the bite.

“Jesus Eijirou,” you breathe, placing your hands on his. The low heat pooling in your belly is very enticing. “Trying to fuck me on the couch?” You shift, feeling his cock is half hard. Fuck, you’d be a damn liar if you said that didn’t send a sharp flash of arousal straight to your pussy. His laugh tickles your neck.

“Maybe,” he says, sly voice tickling your ear. Pressing his hips upwards a little, he runs his cock over your lower back. You pinch his thigh. He groans softly. “I can’t help it pretty baby,” Eijirou whines, continuing to hold your belly. You can’t say you aren’t extremely tempted, it’s just- you are really hungry.

“After we eat, promise Eiji. I’m sure Kat will be up for it,” you murmur, trailing your fingers gently over his forearm. You can physically feel the red heads pout, but he hums in agreement, more than likely not wanting to bother Katsuki while he cooks. Which is smart. You wrestle with your own arousal as you let Eijirou hold you, and talk about his day. All the way until Katsuki calls out for you both to get your asses in the kitchen.

🍓💥🍓💥

You were right. Katsuki immediately flushed red, when you casually mentioned wanting to get fucked, once you all had finished eating. The blonde had you and Eijirou ushered into the bedroom no more than five minutes later. You’re completely naked now, elbows resting on the headboard behind you. They ache a bit as you strain to hold up your weight, bone at the inner corner digging into the wooden frame.

Your thighs are bracketing Katsukis head in a harsh grip, knees sinking into the mattress below. The sensitive skin of your inner thighs being tickled by the blondes barely there stubble while you sit on his face. His mouth buried in your pussy. He’s got you sitting backwards, so you can enjoy the view of Eijirou swallowing the blondes cock over and over as he lays on his belly between spread legs.

“Fff-uck, Kat,” you whimper, rolling your hips so your pussy slides slickly over his lips. The blonde has one arm snaked around your thigh, his other hand braced gently on your belly, thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth. A gasp tears from your chest. Hot shivers sluggishly traveling up your spine when his tongue slips up through your folds, moving up to circle around your clit.

God, you’re so wet, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks on your sensitive bud. He flicks the tip of his tongue up and down as he continues to suck. The pleasure is searing. Not helped by the sinful, wet schlicking sounds that are coming from Eijirous mouth. He’s so enthusiastic at giving head.

Your eyes shoot open, jaw dropping as your fingers curl into fists, elbows still braced uncomfortably on the headboard. Katsuki is humming against your pussy, moving his head side to side, tongue barely poking out to hit your clit with each pass.

The vibrations resonate through your pelvis and the change in direction is enough to make the muscles in your lower belly clench tight. Thick, warm sensation of an orgasm starting to curl up behind your belly button. You whimper when he switches back to licking firm stripes into your clit.

You know your cheeks are a soft peachy color, eyes drooping when your gaze connects with the red head. A zap of electricity races through you at the sight of his pretty lips stretched tight around Katsukis cock, cheeks blooming a sweet shade of pink. It’s unbelievably erotic, the way his fingers grip the thick flesh on the underside of Katsukis thigh.

His other hand rolls the blondes balls. Katsuki has his knees bent, feet planted. The red head fits perfectly between his legs, snug between slender thighs. Katsuki shallowly thrusts his hips upwards, like he can’t help himself because it just feels too good. Eijirou dips his head in time with each motion, taking his cock completely, easily. His lips kissing curly blonde hair at the base of Katsukis cock each time.

Your pussy throbs over Katsukis lips when Eijirou sends a wink your way. Your pulse kicks, as you start to pant, tongue flicking out to wet your bottom lip. A yelp rings out from you when Katsuki secures both arms around your thighs, pulling your pussy further into his mouth. He starts alternating between licking firm stripes into your clit and sucking on it with his tongue.

It makes your hole clench around nothing, insides twisting, as you feel your slick coating the blondes chin and mouth. It’s too good. You may not cum like this, but you’re getting as close to the edge as you can be. Your eyes flutter, catching on the way the blondes belly is twitching.

His muscles are starting to clench, stomach rolling and folding periodically. It’s an obvious sign he’s getting close to bursting down the red heads throat. You know you want to get Eijirou more involved before that happens. After all, it was originally his idea to have sex tonight.

“Kat,” you whine, cutting yourself off with a groan. Your fingers wrap like bracelets around the bones of his wrists. “Wanna switch, baby, please,” you gasp, as he bites your clit gently, before patting the side of your ass twice, pushing you up from his mouth. You hover over his mouth for a moment, trying to get your bearings about you again.

Eijirou stops as well, pulling off with pop, letting the blondes, thick, glistening cock slap wetly against his pelvis. Blonde curls at the base of his cock taking the brunt of the saliva and precum that had accumulated. The red head sits up on his knees, hair starting to fall around his eyes from its original style. His cock is flushed, hard, as he wraps a hand around the base. Contact making warmth bubble in his belly.

“Whaddaya want pretty thing? Tell me, you know Eijirou and I will give it to ya,” Katsuki purrs, lips brushing over your slick folds as he speaks. Eijirou hums in agreement. You squirm, peering into the red heads eyes as you make a decision. Hands coming to rest on your belly out of habit. Eijirou wiggles his eyebrows at you. The action forcing you to smile.

“I want Eiji to position us how he wants. Since he’s been so horny all day today,” you tease, chest rising and falling as you, with difficulty, swing your leg from Katsukis head, settling back on your calves next to him. Elbows aching from holding your weight, you stretch them out in front of you. Eijirou turns as red as his hair, looking back and forth between you and the blonde, who has also sat up. Leaning back, weight resting on his hands.

“Oh,” Eijirou breathes, looking at the blondes chin, wet with saliva and slick from your pussy. He wants to lick it clean. His cock twitches harshly in his grip, thinking about what he wants. “Yes! I mean- yeah, totally I can do that,” he says, failing to hide how eager he is. The red head takes time to look between both of you. Katsuki snorts, waving a hand in front of himself. Vaguely inquiring how Eijirou wants them.

“Well red, how do you want us?” He coos, a sharp edge to his tone. Teasing, but mean. In a way that he knows will crawl under the other heroes skin. As well as yours. Eijirou rolls his jaw around a couple times before biting his bottom lip. You lightly punch Katsuki in the shoulder for his attitude. All he gives you is a smug look from the corner of his eye.

“Okay, pretty baby c’mere,” he speaks warmly, reaching a hand out to you. You do as told, grabbing his fingers as he helps you shuffle forward on your knees. Once you get to him, he helps you twist until your back faces the edge of the bed.

He grips both your hands until he can slowly recline you, back flat on the mattress, head hanging off the edge of the bed. You feel a bit like you’re suffocating, baby sort of crushing your lunngs, but it’s comfortable enough. You’re still a bit unsure of what the red head has in mind until he speaks.

“Alright Kat, go stand near her head. I wanna watch you fuck her throat while I fuck her pussy,” he says shyly, flush traveling down his chest as he traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth. He sits in between your spread thighs.

“Didn’t feel like getting your ass torn up today Eijirou?” Katsuki remarks, condescendingly. You raise your head up in time to see Eijirou stick his tongue out at the blonde, watching Katsuki slide off the bed. Lazily making his way towards you.

“Shut up,” Eijirou mumbles, helping you bend your knees and plant your feet. His blush has traveled up to the tips of his ears. You can’t help it, you laugh along with Katsuki at your sweet red heads embarrassment.

To be fair, he does turn into a drooling, blissed out mess everytime he’s fucked by the blonde. Katsuki reaches you, placing a palm under your head to support your neck. Your throat is dry when you swallow. Katsukis cock is right next to your cheek, looking every bit of flushed and thick. Your pussy throbs in anticipation when you think about the position you’re in.

“You okay with this sweetheart?” Katsuki purrs, intense ruby eyes looking into yours. You fucking flush again, forehead starting to sweat. The room feels sweltering, but you nod up at him either way.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine Kat. I’ll tap your thigh if it’s too much,” you dreamily sigh, as he lets your head fall, base of your skull resting on the edge of the mattress.

“Such a good fucking girl, already knows the rules,” the blonde coos, a rumble in his chest. He grips the base of his cock with one hand, running his slick tip over your lips. You whimper, tongue darting out to barely lick at his head. He hisses.

“Eiji, go ahead love, I’m ready,” you whine, desperate. Wiggling when the red head places a calloused thumb on your slippery clit, rubbing circles into it.

“You’re so fucking wet pretty girl,” Eijirou murmurs, thumb trailing through your folds. He grips his own cock, sliding his tip over your clit, down to your entrance, slowly pressing the head into your pussy. He leaves his other hand braced on your knee for now. A moan gets stuck in your throat, hands gripping the blanket below you tightly. Soft material bunching up under your damp palms. Eijirou is fucking thick.

“Fuck, that’s it. Let that tight little pussy swallow Eijirou whole,” Katsuki breathes, fisting his own cock as he watches Eijirou fill you out. You whine loudly, pussy stretched to the max. The way his cock pushes at your walls, the friction as he pulls back, then rocks in again, teasingly.

It makes your eyes roll back, pleasure blistering through your veins. Eijirou feels his stomach tighten, watching as your silky, slick pussy hugs him just right. His cock throbs once as he starts a slow rhythm.

“Oh, oh god, pussy so perfect f’me,” Eijirou whines, one hand coming to rest on the underside of your knee, the other he places sweetly on your swollen belly. You can’t see anything besides Katsukis thighs, but Eijirous words burn pleasurably in your brain, pushing a low moan out of you.

“Fucking christ, open up that mouth for me sweet thing,” Katsuki growls, speaking directly to you. A little lost in the bliss Eijirou is giving you, you just nod, letting your mouth drop open, pink tongue poking out as well. Katsuki brings up one leg, bracing his knee on the bed, other one standing firm, muscles in his thighs flexing. A syrupy heat swirls in the blondes gut, groin tightening in excitement.

He braces a hand on the bed and grips the round flesh of your tit with his other. As he guides his cock into your mouth, your soft pallet becomes a track for him to fuck against. Instinctively, you wrap your lips around the middle of his shaft, sucking as he curses, hips jerking forward a little until his tip hits the back of your mouth. You groan around him when Eijirou snaps his hips harshly by accident, the image of the Katsukis cock in your throat spurring him on.

“Motherfucker,” the blonde chokes out, starting to pump his cock in and out of your tight, hot mouth. Electric tingles start in his groin, flaring down to his toes as you suck on him every so often. You’ve relaxed your throat, but struggle to breathe through your nose as he fucks your mouth. He’s not moving too hard, but a dull ache starts up in the muscle of your jaw. You need something to anchor yourself with, so you secure your arms around the blondes thighs.

Eijirou can’t control the little whines that keep spilling from his lips. The way your tits bounce, the sensation of your belly moving under his palm, he thinks it’s so fucking hot. He pushes your thigh back to get his dick deeper into your pussy. He can’t pull his eyes away from the rolling motion of Katsukis slow, deep thrusts into your mouth.

The way his abs flex. The sweat trailing down the side of his face, over his jaw, onto the corded muscle of his neck. God, Eijirou wants to lick it off. The thought sparks his arousal even more and he thrusts forward harshly, curling his hips. He hears your muffled wail, realizing he must’ve hit your sweet spot. He keeps going.

“Fuck, pretty girl, ah-shit, right there yeah? S’good, feels too good,” Eijirou moans, bullying that spot inside you. You whine, the lightening like heat radiates in waves from your pussy to your toes every time.

Katsuki moans continuously, a gravelly edge to them. The blonde feels himself throbbing in your mouth, pulling back to let you breathe. You gasp, lungs burning for air as he squeezes your tit once more, pinching the nipple, before letting go. He pets your throat in a soothing motion as your bounced a bit by the red heads thrusts. Steady rhythm to Eijirous movements.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon baby, want me to paint your chest?” Katsuki coos, running a thumb over your lips.

“Y-yes, please, paint me Kat,” you whine, stuttering between moans as your lids squeeze shut. Eijirou is still fucking you so deeply. Katsuki hooks his thumb into your mouth, gripping your bottom jaw, prying it open with a growl. You dig your nails into his thighs again as he roughly slides his cock back into your mouth, slipping into your throat.

It burns, an uncomfortable tickling sensation as you get the urge to cough. Forcing your throat to relax enough that he can thrust all the way in and out, to the root. You’re able to focus on the cock in your mouth a little bit more as Eijirou slows his movements for the time being. Presumably wanting to watch Katsuki cum.

Katsukis palm is slick with sweat, when he rests it on your belly, next to the other heroes hand. You free a hand from his thigh, smoothing it up over his hip and lower belly. His breath hitches when your nails dig into his slick skin, muscles flinching away from your touch. The threat of his orgasm is coiling tightly in his groin. His heart is in his throat as he reaches the peak right before he climaxes.

Katsuki makes a strangled noise, hearing going fuzzy, as he thrusts into your throat once more before pulling out completely, bracing his weight to lean further on the bed. Taking the hand from your belly, he strokes his cock quickly groaning lowly as he cums, painting your tits and a little bit of your belly with his warm, sticky release.

“Shit,” Eijirou laughs incredulously, movements having stopped completely at the sight in front of him. “That was fucking hot Kat,” Eijirou beams, running a finger over the release on your belly, then quite seductively, sucking it off his finger. Katsuki laughs, breathlessly, dick throbbing at the sight before he leans back standing on both feet again.

He’s trying to catch his breath, chest heaving. Your hands fall away from the blonde, letting them dangle as you try to remember how to breathe. Eijirou, reluctantly, pulls out with a hiss, slick cock bobbing. A whine pulls from your throat. The other two snicker.

“Are you alright pretty thing?” Katsuki asks, voice scratchy. You nod, as Eijirou grips your ankles, yanking you up the bed, so your head no longer dangles off.

“I’m definitely good, although can we switch around now? The baby is suffocating me,” you joke, laughing a little. Eijirou pats your thighs encouragingly.

“Of course my little love bug!” He says, brightly. “You want Kat to hold you baby?” He coos, gripping both your hands and pulling you up to sit.

“Please,” you giggle, angling your head to watch the blonde crawl up on the bed near the headboard. He pauses near Eijirou, to kiss him swiftly, making the red head giggle. He turns then, setting a couple pillows up so he can rest his back on them.

“Yeah yeah, c’mon needy thing,” he teases, smirking as he bends his knees and lets his heels dig into the mattress. Eijirou flicks his knee in retaliation and helps you get to your knees, holding your hands until you can shuffle around and sit on your ass in between the blondes legs.

Only having to lean back a little bit, your heated flesh comes into contact with his chest. His skin is too hot, making you immediately sweat a little. You look down at your chest, noticing you’re still covered in the blondes release, but they for damn sure won’t wipe it off until you’re done. Truthfully, you find it kind of hot, but you’re eager to keep going.

“Eijirou, c’mon, wanna cum please,” you beg. Voice so sweet and needy when it reaches the red heads ears. You let your thighs fall open for him, reaching out for Eijirou. He grins, sharp teeth fully on display.

“Course baby girl,” he purrs, inching forward on his knees till he’s right there, hard cock brushing over your swollen clit. You whine, feeling the blonde snake an arm around your middle. His fingers spread out on your belly, the other gripping your tit, pinching your nipple. Katsuki bites a kiss into your neck, laving over it with his tongue. You tilt your head to give him more access, bracing your hands on the blondes thighs.

You moan softly, Eijirou placing a hand on the underside of both your knees, pushing until your feet are off the mattress. Not too high, belly stopping you from being folded further. He raises up to his knees, angling his hips until the head of his cock catches on your slick pussy. So stretched out he can slide all the way in with no resistance.

“Eijirou,” you gasp, mouth falling open as he splits you completely. Your nails dig into Katsukis legs, pussy clenching involuntarily and the red head whimpers, feeling his cock throb in response. Eijirou’s suffocating in your silky pussy, eyebrows pinching together in concentration so he doesn’t cum too fast.

“C’mon red,” Katsuki purrs from your shoulder, chin digging into the muscle there. Ever the snake in the garden. “You’re big and strong right? Make that pussy cum,” he teases, voice low, curling down into you and Eijirou. Twisting your guts with arousal.

“Fucking hell Kat,” Eijirou pants, moving his hips in a testing pull backwards, before smoothly pushing in, until the dark hair at the base of his cock brushes your clit. You feel like he’s in your throat, telling the red head just that. “Ah, I’ll - fuck, make your pussy feel real good sweet girl,” Eijirou promises, starting slow at first.

Katsuki stares at the scene below, biting his tongue roughly, as he’s assaulted by the sight of the thick cock that disappears into your pussy over and over. He’s getting half hard again just watching. The blonde squeezes your tit, fingers biting in to the squishy flesh. You cry out, gripping Eijirous shoulders as he picks up the pace. His eyes are glazed over, eyelids hooded as he fucks you.

Your teeth clench, eyes rolling back as he hits the spongy spot inside you. Pussy clenching, toes curling as your head thumps back onto Katsukis shoulder. Something snaps inside Eijirou after that, because his deep stroke is fucking nasty from then on out. Hips curling upwards as he fucks into you, slamming your sweet spot repeatedly. You howl out his name as he moves relentlessly, dull nails scratching at his skin.

“E-Eijirou, oh my god!” You almost scream, feeling Katsukis hand rub up and down your belly soothingly. The blonde brushes his soft lips over your neck, releasing your tit and trailing his hand up to grip your jaw. His fingers dig into the muscles, yanking and forcing the angle of your head down, so you have to watch as Eijirou pummels your pussy.

“That’s it, watch Eijirou baby girl, doing so good, taking him like a goddamn champ,” the blonde growls. “Looks like Eijirous gonna fuck another baby into you, isn’t that right red?” He mocks, winking at his husband. The filthy mouth Katsuki has never ceases to push the two of you closer to the edge.

Eijirou whimpers out a mhmm, watching himself fuck you, cock so slick. The lips of your pussy stretching on his cock with each thrust backwards. His palms are slippery under your knees, sweat gathering in the hollow of his of neck, chest glistening. The wet sounds of skin meeting skin is unbearably lewd in the otherwise silent room.

“I - oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you choke out, sounding and feeling surprised at how fast you’re about to climax. The warmth is winding up so tightly behind your belly button, pussy fluttering and feeling amazing. The angle making you feel like you might squirt. Katsukis half hard cock jerks against your back when he hears what you said, gripping your jaw tighter.

“Fuck yeah, cum for him sweetheart, he feels unbelievable huh?” Katsuki murmurs in your ear, voice smooth as silk. You nod the best you can, Katsuki letting go of your jaw so you can look into Eijirous eyes.

“Give it to me baby, please,” Eijirou begs, mouth falling open as your pussy flutters around him again. He leans in closer to you, the two of you breathing the same air. You nod quickly, lips brushing his, toes curling as the coil tightens to the point of snapping.

Water balloon of pleasure popping, gushing waves of warmth throughout your limbs. Your body tenses, mouth open in a silent o shape as you cum, hard. Eijirou licks into your mouth once, behind your teeth before he can stop himself. Katsuki has stayed silent for the majority of this, breath hot against your ear as he’s bewitched by all that’s happening in front of him.

Hot shivers vibrate down your spine as Eijirou fucks you through it, choking on his own tongue as you clench him tightly. Pussy acting as a vice. A few more thrusts of that filthy deep stroke, one of Katsukis hands comes down to thumb at your clit roughly, forcing you to squirt all over Eijirous belly. It runs down your thighs, pooling on the sheets. You feel dizzy with pleasure and you wail, pussy trying to push the thick cock out of you.

“Oh shit, just like that sweet girl, squirt f’me baby, ah f-fuck I’m gonna c-cum,” Eijirou whines, through gritted teeth, dropping one of your legs to rest his hand over Katsukis on your belly. Both holding you almost protectively as you breathe heavily, trying to get some reprieve from your high. Katsuki takes his hand from your pussy, placing both hands back on the baby bump.

“Fucking- cum Eijirou, such a good boy, fuck her full with another baby sweetheart,” he says, voice edging on a growl. Eijirou pushes his cock all the way to the root inside you, sobbing through his teeth as his balls tighten. The sensation of his climax washes over him as his dick pulses, cumming hard. Stuffing your tight pussy with ribbons of warm, sticky cum. You kiss the red head, swallowing his moans as his orgasm fades.

Breaking apart, you whine, holding onto his forearms as he lets your other leg go. Eijirou places his other hand on your belly. All three of you take a moment, catching your breath, letting your souls return to your bodies. Your limbs are warm and gooey, feeling content. Eijirou sets his forehead against yours, pressing your lips together once again. You hum softly, lips sticking when he pulls back. He swiftly kisses the blonde as well before leaning back, pulling out slowly.

“My god, that was really fucking good,” you say, cheeks burning as you unstick your back from Katsuki, leaning forward a little.

“You felt so amazing pretty girl,” Eijirou coos, grabbing a discarded shirt to help clean you off. Which he does, wiping the slightly tacky release off your chest and belly. He sweetly cleans his release which was starting to leak from your pussy.

“It was a goddamn great fucking show is what it was,” Katsuki boasts, slipping out from behind you, sitting next to you. Eijirou agrees and you laugh, reclining into where the blonde was sitting, pillows giving your aching back some relief.

You all are feeling the sweet afterglow of sex, atmosphere warm and cozy. You hadn’t felt any movement during sex, but now you place a hand to your belly, feeling your daughter kicking you, moving around. Your stomach growls and you curse yourself for being hungry again already.

“Kat,” you mumble, looking over at him. He hums in response. “I’m hungry again,” you say, giving him puppy dog eyes. Eijirous laughs brightly as the blonde gives you an incredulous look.

“I guess we did just burn a shit ton of calories,” he snickers, rolling his eyes playfully. “Alright, get dressed you insatiable thing. Let’s find something to eat,” he teases, patting your thigh and getting up to get dressed.

“I mean now that you mention it, I’m hungry too,” Eijirous says, agreeing with you. Katsuki sputters.

“Fucking of course you are! You’re a mountain for a man!” he says harshly, jerkily tugging on his sweat shorts, tossing you a clean shirt and some shorts.

“How else would I be a top ten hero, if not for all your amazing food Kit Kat,” he coos, winking at the blonde. Katsukis cheeks turn pink and he stomps out of the room. You giggle, watching Eijirou pull on his own mid thigh length, red shorts. He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it out of face. You greatly appreciate the fact that they both remained bare chested.

“He’s gonna blow something up if you keep teasing him,” you say, smiling as you take the hand offered to you by the red head. Climbing off the bed, pulling your own clothes on.

“It’s just too much fun. Besides you’re just as bad,” he replies, framing your face with his hands and squishing your cheeks. You giggle, holding his wrists as he leans down to kiss you dramatically. You return the gesture, love blooming brightly in your chest. Smirking as he lets your face go, you lace your fingers with his.

“Guilty as charged,” you muse, letting the red head tug you out of the room. Katsuki, despite his dramatic actions, does end up making you all a snack. You all sit in the living room, enjoying the food and watching a movie. The boys taking turns whispering sweet words to you and your baby.

The three of you enjoy the rest of the night, relaxing together until it gets late. You can’t wait to see how the boys react when your daughter is born. You know, without a doubt, they’ll be amazing fathers. Then in a couple years, you’ll let Eijirou get you pregnant. You laugh to yourself, because you know, with certainty, your back definitely is gonna hurt with his giant ass baby.

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stvharrngton · 8 months

Text

kinktober: day six

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, deep throating, oral (m receiving), sort of can be read as a part 2 to day five

word count: 0.7k

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @wheel-of-hyperfixation @mooonyweasley

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

“Baby,” Steve cooed.

The boy crawling back up to you, his mouth wet with your slick, his nose skirted along your jaw, his lips pressing featherlight kisses along the skin there. Your chest rose and fell as you tried to catch your breath, your body still shaking from your orgasm.

“Y’did so good,” he hummed, his hands planted on your waist, rubbing up and down over the skin. He squeezed at you now, a kiss to your cheek and one to your nose.

You knew what the deal was, you’d be good and let Steve finish the job and you’d get to repay the favour. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you moved yourself so Steve was sitting on his heels, his cheeks flushed pink and his hair running riot.

Tugging at his boxers, you pulled the material down his legs, setting his cock free from its confines. Steve’s cock was hard and aching, the tip angry and red, leaking precum, the veins in the shaft prominent.

Before you let yourself get comfy, he gripped your chin between his finger and thumb, bringing your gaze back to him. He leant into you, lips an inch away from your own and he whispered,

“You gonna suck my cock real good, yeah pretty girl?”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you nodded, big eyes blinking up at him as he spoke once more,

“Gonna get it nice and wet f’me? Wanna see you take all of it in, until my cock is hitting the very back of your throat and you’re gagging,” Steve smirked as he spoke, his lips practically on yours, “can you do that for me, honey?”

You nodded enthusiastically, scrambling to get into position between Steve’s legs. Flattening your tongue as you licked a stripe up the shaft of Steve’s cock, an obnoxious moan spilling from his lips.

Tongue swirling round the tip, sucking and licking as you took him in, inch by inch. His cock was heavy on your tongue, and thick in your mouth. Steve wrapped his fingers in your hair, holding it away from your face, making a makeshift ponytail.

He watched through hooded eyes as you took him in, his jaw hanging agape as he groaned, toes curling and stomach tensing. Your mouth felt good, too good.

“Fuck,” he moaned, the exhale strung out and raspy. His free hand gripped the sheets as he gnawed on his bottom lip, the temptation to buck his hips and fuck your mouth way too strong for Steve to handle, “sucking my cock so fucking good.”

You hummed around his length, your free hand coming to cup his balls, rolling them in your hand as you picked up the pace, the tip seconds away from hitting the back of your throat. You liked to tease though, just as much as Steve did, almost getting there but never really hitting the spot.

It drove him crazy, insane rather, making a mental note to get you back for it later. You soon gave in though, knowing the sounds and filthy words it would pull from your boyfriend, you simply couldn’t resist.

You inched in further, the tip of Steve’s cock finally hitting the back of your throat, once, twice, until you were gagging. Releasing his length with a pop as you took a second to catch your breath before you went back for more.

“Oh, Jesus,” Steve groaned, head thrown back in pleasure, his thick neck on display for you to ogle, “fuckfuckfuck, just like that.”

His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, hair wild from where he’d been tugging at the strands, his thick torso littered with indents of your nails that you’d left in your wake. You kept going, no matter how much your throat burned, to get Steve to the edge was your main goal.

He held your head with both hands now, guiding your mouth up and down his cock. His grunts were getting deeper, his breaths getting shorter. Thighs and stomach tensing as he moaned out,

“Fucking Christ,” his jaw slack as he planted, “‘m gonna fuckin’ cum so hard, baby, shit—“

You took that as your queue to speed up, to roll his balls in your palm. You went down again, the tip hitting the back of your throat once more and Steve was done for.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, eyes squeezed shut as he hit his orgasm like a brick wall. Ropes of hot cum shooting down your throat as you gladly swallowed, Steve moaning and whimpering oh fucks and pleasepleaseplease above you.

The boy above you was fucked out and gorgeous and you were goddamn lucky that you were the only one who got to see him like this.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #kinktober2023 #k.fic

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ohnoitstbskyen · 9 months

Note

I know Riot would never do it, but do you feel like there's any champion in League that could benefit being split from their kit? Meaning the kit is perfectly fine, doesn't merit a rework, it just doesn't fit the Champion and their lore the best. If I were to give an example I'd say Morg.

When her Blackthorn skin came out I felt like it was such a perfect match for the kit and made a great case for why the kit deserves to be on a swamp warlock/witch. With its grasping vines and poisonous ground. This would give Morg the chance to get a new kit to better support her lore as a protector of the people and rivalry with Kayle.

I mean, yeah, Morgana is a great example of that kind of thing - her character's whole vibe is resistance against unjust exercise of power, forgiveness and redemption, but her KIT is nothing but chains and pains.

Her abilities are like Q: imprison a person, W: make them walk on flaming coals, E: a shield, and E: imprison even more people.

Of those, only her shield, which protects from crowd control, really works thematically with the idea of her as a liberator or a guardian against undue imprisonment and punishment. If anything, her kit seems like a much more natural fit for Kayle as a character.

Blitzcrank is another character whose kit isn't that great a fit for his character - in his story he's a heroic service-robot who spends his time helping the deprived of Zaun, cleaning up toxic waste and averting disasters. Like, his Q should at LEAST be useable for dragging allies out of danger as well as hooking enemies, but basically none of his kit supports that character fantasy AT ALL, and his ult straight up sucks for what he's supposed to be.

Kennen has the problem that his powers... it's not that they're a BAD fit for his story role, it's more that they're NO fit for it. They don't detract, but they also don't support it at all. He's supposed to be the agent of balance between the Eye of Twilight (Shen) and the Fist of Shadow (formerly Akali), a diplomatic mediator spurring the Eye to action and the Fist to calm, and that's just... NOT at all related to his lightning powers. Like, at ALL. They seem like utterly separate things.

Which is the same problem Skarner has - no real connection between his abilities and his story, although I guess maybe the rework is about to do something about that. Theoretically. If it ever comes out.

#tb answers #league of legends #morgana league of legends #skarner #kennen league of legends #blitzcrank

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munsster · 1 year

Text

gold-skinned eager baby

A/N: touch tank was written for billy and i'll die on that hill

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: “He tells me he’s gentle when he wants to be/So I think he wants to be gentle with me.” 3.3k.

Warnings: this song is a riot, billy hargrove, enemies to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, babe, peach[es]), cursing, bullying(?), an accidental clueless reference 🫣

"You're an asshole."

You'd done a lot of shoving in your lifetime: other kids down the slide, cackling friends' shoulders, handsy creeps. But you haven't done nearly as much shoving as Billy has. So when you shove him—two fingertips to the chest—he takes a step back and scoffs.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

It was supposed to be a birthday party. It was supposed to be your birthday party, but Billy found you crying over him in the backyard and immediately made it known how drunk and horny he was. You poured the rest of your glass of red out onto his leg—albeit on accident, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit, shoulder-checking him on your way inside. But he grabs your wrist and stops you for a second. And the cold air seeps in, a sheen of frost creeping over your bones when he really grips your arm. "Let go of me—"

"You ungrateful little bitch, I'm here for you, the least you could do is say something fuckin’ nice.”

"Oh, I'm sorry you took time off your busy panty-dropping schedule to be here, but I'm not in the mood to suck you off, alright? Let me go."

There’s a huff of dissatisfaction and rejection on the tip of his tongue. It turns stale in the cold, bubbling up into a fog and through the cloud he sees the glimmer of heartbreak gracing your waterline. When his stomach turns, he can’t tell if it’s the ambrosia in the punch bowl or the vomit-inducing heartache you leave him with. Either way, he feels like dying.

—

He watches you from the driver’s side of his car. The dark red stain on his thigh turning his jeans into a watercolor of self-loathing.

Then you look at him. With something like disgust and pity, though you can’t exactly bring yourself to look away when he stamps out the butt of his cigarette and whips his car door open. He glances at you just before he ducks in and peels out of the lot. He’s exasperated, and he can’t put his finger on why.

“What are you looking at?” the girl on your right chirps.

And the girl next to her says, “Not a what, a who.”

“Nobody,” you huff.

“It’s Billy—!”

“Nobody.”

—

“I lost Max. Can’t fuckin’ find her.” He’s panicked over the phone. You’ve never heard him so sick. Shaky, that’s what you’d say. He sounds nervous and cold, and he called you, of all people, to find his little sister.

“So what? She’s not with me.”

“I—” he sighs, “I know. That’s obviously not why I called.”

“You asking me for help?”

He can tell you’re tugging on your sleeve by now. You used to do it when you got too cocky. Manicured nails picking at the hem. A compulsion. It’s compulsive. But it takes the weight off, and he takes a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He’s nursing a deep regret in the pit of his stomach, but he’ll call it resentment. That’s it; he hates you. And you hate him. And that won’t change tonight, and it certainly won’t make him any less stubborn. Not even when you get into his car with a casserole dish in your hands.

“Leftovers,” you mumble, “She forced me out here with the tupperware, couldn’t stop her.”

“‘S fine. Shut the door.”

And you do. “Real nice, Billy.”

“Compared to you, I’m a ray-of-fucking sunshine.”

“Are you implying that you’re nice?”

“When I want to be.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoff.

“I can be nice.” He nearly whines, but he’s not that desperate. He doesn’t want your approval that bad. He doesn’t want it, and he’s not getting it. But despite everything—the loathing, the foaming at the mouth—it makes him feverishly starving for it

“I’d like to see you try.”

—

Billy’s been stewing over you for weeks. It’s become a mantra, and his friends spare each other glances every time he utters your name.

And honestly, he forgot you worked here. It was an accident, and it wasn’t even his suggestion. Some shitty diner, that was the criteria. Cheap food, low lighting, and the hostess making eyes at him. It’s just what he needed until he saw you in that sorry excuse for a uniform. As if a miniskirt could ever be company policy.

“Look, Hargrove, it’s your girl.”

“Not my fuckin’ girl, dumbass.” Oh, but does his heart flutter at the idea. Somersaults when you smile at a customer. When you could be his girl. He could brand you his and keep you safe from the old guys at the bar and sneak through your window on Friday nights. But that’s where it begins and ends: an idea. It would never happen. He’d die before letting it happen.

“Well, in that case, don’t mind if I do—Ay, sweetheart, grab me a coke, would’ya?”

Your head whips around, and you smirk at the sight of his freckles. Almost old friends. Just a familiar face, really.

“Hi, Tommy,” you coo, and Billy puts his cigarette out on the white vinyl table with a grunt. “Billy.”

“Actually, how ‘bout one for my friend, too, huh, babe?”

“No problem. Anything else? How ‘bout you, Billy? Want a side of fries with all that brooding?”

“Atta girl,” Tommy howls, “lay one on me before you go, sweetheart.” Billy watches you dip down and plant a soft kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and it gets him green. Zaps the color from his face until he’s clenching his jaw into a frown.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Hagan.” He pushes off from the table and storms out without another word. You watch him from the kitchen, his soft curls ruffled at the back of his neck. In a way, it made you happy to see him leave. Though, it also made you impossibly frustrated. You felt thwarted—defeated and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Neither could he.

—

“Max, where’d you put my lighter?”

“I didn’t take it, I don’t know,” she hollers, winding up to shut the door to her room. His palm stops it before it can slam, and when it creaks back open, the air is punched from his lungs.

You’re perched at the foot of Max’s bed, peering up at him sweetly and yet devoid of care. All friendly. He licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes flicking back to Max with a half-sneer.

“Well,” he sighs, “if you find it, would you let me know?”

She cocks her head back like she’s confused. This is usually the part where they toss threats back and forth until it turns into a screaming match. So why was he being so calm about this? He had just accused her of stealing and then took it back in the blink if an eye.

“I… yeah, sure.”

“Thanks”—he’s about to leave when he taps on the door frame and glances at you over her shoulder. You take her headphones off and set them around your neck, doe-eyed and demure so much so that it takes him off-guard. Cranks up the elevator music and makes him feel dislocated in a way that makes him thrilled—“How long is she staying?”

You butt in, “we were gonna watch a scary movie. You’re welcome to join if you’d like.” God, does he want that. Like his life depends on it. Like he can feel your head on his shoulder and his palm on your knee and his nerves alight at the sound of your breathing. But Max puckers her lips at the sour taste in her mouth, and it makes him shake his head.

“I think I’ll stick to Neil’s six pack of pale ales,” he says.

You chuckle. The soft sound makes him nervous beyond belief, so he backs into the hallway and slumps to his room.

—

Billy had raced up to your porch, and for once in his life he didn’t know what to say. His mouth felt glued shut. He felt weighed down. Yet here he was, cemented to your welcome mat, knuckles rapping hard against your door.

And you open it groggy, in your pajamas, and glowing nonetheless. Beautiful, but he’d never say it. He shoves his hands into his pockets, mouth hanging open like he’s a flytrap. He feels sticky like one, at least. There’s a faint orange glow haloed around you, and maybe he’s dead. No.

He’s standing on your porch drinking you in just to spew you out. Days have gone by, weeks, months, and not a minute has passed. You squint at him when he shuffles around in his big boots. He makes a lotta noise and it makes him cringe.

“Earth to Billy?” you coo, waving your soft palm in front of his face, tilting your head to the side when he puffs up his chest. He put on a new shirt for this. And it makes him feel like a child. He drove to the store for a brand new goddamn shirt just to impress you. Just in case you noticed and thought a little sweeter of him. It’s futile, and yet it makes him feel better when you peer at the flat-ironed collar in stunned silence.

“I just…” he grumbles, shrugging. The words escape him like his fingers are covered in oil and he’s grasping at straws. He has so much to say, so why can’t he. “I was just stopping by.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing behind you at the clock. He’s just stopping by at eleven o’clock on a Wednesday. When you turn to look at him, he’s got these puppy dog eyes that catch you by surprise. Wide and blue and pleading. Like he’s got something sick to hope for. “D’you wanna… come inside?”

“Oh—no. I, uh… I gotta go,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck, not taking his eyes off you. His stomach churns, and there’s a lump in his throat when he turns and treads back to his idling car. He hears your door click shut, and he exhales from so deep in his chest it aches.

“Who was that, honey?”

“Billy.”

“What did he want?”

“Dunno. Looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

—

The next time you saw Billy, it was summer. Indiana’s hottest and grossest. But he looked cute in those swim trunks, and the whistle dangling from between his teeth had all the pool moms swooning. You couldn’t care less, of course. He’s just another lifeguard. But you have to admit his hair looks softer now. Taken care of. And when his eyes sweep over you, you have to look away for fear of grinning about it.

“Hey, stranger.”

It comes up from behind you and sweeps your feet out from under you. Suddenly, you’re smiling at him and you guess he’s right. Stranger. You’ve been to his house, been to your shared classes, been to Tommy’s parties, but Billy always found a way to avoid you. And maybe you missed it. The way he used to hang around. Even the scowl on his face was better than nothing.

“Been a while, huh?”

You nod, and it feels a little silly to be so casual. But you can’t stop your jackhammering heart and the way he shuffles closer.

“You look good,” you huff, raking over his damp skin and drowning in it. Forcing your mouth shut when you catch how sun-kissed he’s gotten. Freckled softly across the nose, evenly tan head to toe, though the tan line peeking out at his hips would imply otherwise

“Thanks, peach. I like your suit. Strappy” Oh, and the way his brow cocks upward is unfair. He’s all supple and dewy under the sun and slathered in tanning oil. He smells sweet like warm vanilla or toasted coconut. And he compliments you like nothing. Like it’s not heart-stopping and world-ending and fire-starting.

“You’re making me sick,” Max groans, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, boo-hoo,” he teases, “I shut my mouth when you bring Sinclair around.”

You freeze. You know Max and Lucas are dating. She brings him up every possible moment, so why on Earth would Billy compare them to now. It gets you honeyed and melting, but that could be the solar radiation. Billy puts his hands on his hips when Max shrugs.

“Yeah, well, at least we’re not gross about our flirting.”

Flirting. She thinks you’re flirting. She thinks you’re both flirting. But Billy flirts with everyone, so it would be silly to leave you out, right? And that look on his face is probably from heat exhaustion anyway. But he grins, and you feel yourself growing fonder when sweat pricks across his chest and he winks at you.

—

Max had passed out sprawled across the couch cushions, popcorn bowl tucked under her arm, snoring into her other hand. And you sat at her feet, pressing the power button on the remote. You sigh and pat her calf before standing.

“Hey,” Billy whispers, softly reaching into the crook of your elbow when you stumble across the carpet in the dark and into his chest. And his fingers go pliant where skin meets skin and his heart-rate verges on heart attack.

“Sorry, can’t see shit,” you mumble, nose still hovering mere inches from the warmth of his body. You never noticed how warm he ran until now. Breathing this close, his palm sliding to your wrist, his lips parted in a smile.

“I noticed,” he teases, “C’mon, I’m thirsty.” You follow him close to the kitchen, the cold tile and the moonlight and the breeze against the old window plaguing you with goosebumps. You rub at your eye when he reaches for two glasses from the cabinet.

“Time is it?” you coo, staying close though you can see where you’re going. It’s just easy warmth, and you’re a heat-seeking missile.

“‘Bout one in the morning. Want ice?”

“Mmh.”

He turns the tap handle, and the water splashes out into the cup and sloshes around the bottom until it’s filled to the brim. He holds it out for you, and you take it in your cupped hands.

“How was the movie?”

You swallow a mouthful of the liquid, and it cools the pit of your stomach and makes you feel real in your socks in his kitchen.

“Alright. Probably wouldn’t go out of my way to watch it again.”

“Alright,” he says, peppering a chuckle in behind it, and when he lifts the glass to his lips, you feel giddy at the sight of his bare arms. You realize that he’s in a wife beater and plaid boxer shorts and the conversation falters under your tongue. You snap your mouth shut and take a long sip of water.

“I gotta admit something. And you gotta hold me to it or I’ll back down.”

You take a soft breath in when he turns to face you, hip leaned against the counter. “Deal.”

“I’ve been…” he sighs, “an idiot.”

You scoff, “Yeah, to say the least—”

“Hey, I’m trying to be serious over here.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“Alright—”

“But you did kinda disappear without warning—”

“Listen, I was dealing with something. Didn’t feel like sticking around.” He sets his glass down, and even in the dark you know he’s glaring at you.

“Yeah, well, seemed all too willing to completely cut yourself off from everyone. I mean, from your own sister, Billy. From me.”

“But I’m here now—”

“Not even a goodbye, Billy, we were all confused and hurt—”

“God, don’t you get it? I couldn’t stay away from you,” he huffs, hands on the edge of the sink and facing the window. His head is slightly tilted back, enough to bare his neck to the night. To drench himself in gentle moonlight and take a deep breath. He barely gives you time to process, and you’re stuck still, head and heart rolling over and desperate.

“I can’t stay away from you. Believe me, I tried. All it did was give me fuckin’ withdrawals”—he chuckles heavily, all hot air and panic when he blinks at you—“I missed you. I missed your voice and your laugh and the way you’d look at me like I meant nothing and everything at the same time. I felt so fucking pathetic listening to you and Max talk about random shit from the other room. Tommy used to call and tell me every time you asked where I was. And it used to happen everyday. I got so sick of hearing about you. But then week after week passed and it wasn’t everyday anymore. And then he stopped reaching out, and I felt like a piece of shit.”

You feel small. Collapsed when you rest your glass in the sink.

“It was kind of a dick move,” you whisper.

“I know!” he huffs, “I know.”

He’s watching you like a hawk when you finally look up at him. And there’s that look. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from frowning. He’s embarrassed. If the lights were on he’d look sunburnt and out of breath. But it’s dark, and it makes you nervous to look at him for too long.

“You know I missed you, too,” you say, “Felt so stupid looking everywhere for you. Even went to parties just to see you. Never did, of course, but I wanted to. God, I wanted to see you. You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I fucked up, I know it.”

“Good.”

Billy’s fired up enough to bury his face in his hands. When you shuffle closer, he thinks you might deck him for your troubles. But you poke his side, and wait for him to lift his head. You smile.

The sweetest thing he’s seen in months. Your eyes twinkle when you tilt your head, fingers slinking up to tug the curled piece of hair drooping at his brow-bone. He swears your hip presses against his just then, but maybe it’s wishful and a waste. You’re still smiling, though, and it makes him giddy.

“Don’t go feeling all sorry for yourself over it. I’d hate to have to take pity on you,” you tease, swiping an innocent thumb across his cheek but the pull away can’t come soon enough. You’re just stepping back when his eyes go wide, and he catches you like fireflies in the late spring. Oh, if only he could keep you in a jar. If only it were that easy.

“Well, I’d hate to cause you that kind of suffering, peach.” You tuck your chin—demure enough to get a rise out of him. With his big hand on your hip, you’re feeling shy, but he’d call you coy for fun. He’s never seen you so reduced.

“Guess I better put you out of your misery then, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Got any ideas? I’m at a loss unless steak knives will suffice.”

“Here, I’ve got a better idea,” he hums, “C’mere, it’s a secret.”

“Were the only ones—”

“Just play nice. It’s my misery, isn’t it?”

“Touché, Hargrove,” you say, and you lean in to where he beckons you, where he brings you close with the palm of his hand. You’ve never been near enough to smell his cologne until now, and you’re glad it lingers on his skin the way it does. The way it seeps in until the scent is so purely Billy you don’t know the difference.

When you lean in, cheek-to-cheek, he can’t hold back any longer. His index finger swoops under your chin, and he catches your bottom lip between his. Sure, he ducks a little, but he doesn’t mind. And the way you purr and melt under his touch is delightful.

His stubble scratches your mouth softly until you’re giggling about it, and he pulls away drooling and dizzy.

“What’s so funny? Taste weird or somethin’?”

“No way—just… glad you got tired of waiting ‘s all.”

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yaimlight · 1 year

Text

A continuation of this.

The second time you meet Katsuki it’s because of work. Yours and his, though it’s not the kind of work he’s used to.

It’s been a couple of months since your first meeting and with the new rankings and increase in villain attacks you had been too busy to really spare the incident with the blonde hero more than a passing thought. It had been all feature length articles and one off spotlight pieces that had kept you away from the top five heroes and focused on the newer and more unique ones stumbling onto the scene. This was supposed to be a break from all that, a little bit of fun so you didn’t go mad with all the serious stuff. You were glad for the chance to get out of your stuffy office but you really wished you had paid more attention when your boss had been rattling off what heroes would be present so you could at least have prepared yourself, not that you were sure that would even have helped.

For all intents and purposes you were crashing a photo shoot with a whole host of heroes from multiple different agencies. It was a charity thing, all of them coming together to make a calendar to raise much needed funds and you were the lucky reporter who had gotten the pleasure of going round and interviewing each and every hero present to find out why they were doing it. It should have been easy and for the most part it was, everyone friendly and welcoming as you made your way from one hero to the next. Well, all bar one that is.

You weren’t expecting to see Dynamite. This wasn’t the kind of thing the pro hero would do, not unless he was under duress and considering the way he was scowling at Red Riot it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise if that was exactly what had happened. It’s a bit embarrassing but as soon as you see him, only half in his hero costume and ranting like a mad man your struck dumb. You completely tune out the assistant escorting you, coming to a stop and just staring wide eyed at the blonde like he was a ghost.

It’s rude, unprofessional as well and you had been in this business long enough to know you shouldn’t get all fangirl on the heroes. They were people too, granted they were very brave and powerful people but still people all the same and treating them as such had gotten you the inside scoop more than once or twice. That being said, this was Dynamite, untouchable and commanding without even really trying and just like the last time you can’t help but fixate on him. It didn’t matter that you still felt embarrassed about how you had acted last time and how idiotic you have been trying to come up with some grand and convoluted explanation on why he had been so nice. You were captivated by him, fascinated even and at this rate it was going to get you in trouble. With him and your boss if you were super unlucky.

You have no idea how many times the assistant had to call your name before you actually heard them, blinking rapidly and turning back to them with a hum. They don’t look impressed, making a dig about you being here for a reason and it wasn’t to ogle the heroes. That had you flushing, both embarrassed and angry because that wasn’t what you had been doing. Yes he was attractive and yeah you had definitely made eyes at him once or twice in the past but this wasn’t that. You were just surprised to see him, that was all. It is a bit of a reality check though, reminding you why you were here in the first place. So you make a conscious effort to pay attention, keeping your back to the blonde to avoid the temptation to stare a hole through his head.

Work is the perfect distraction and soon enough you find yourself getting sucked in and actually doing your job. There’s twelve heroes, all male and all in various stages of undress. The room you're in is acting as a dressing room, dozens of staff rushing around as they try and get the heroes ready before the illusive photographer summoned them to whatever corner of the large estate they were going to be photographed in. It’s chaotic and you have to quickly duck and weave around haggard looking makeup artists and wardrobe assistants as you make your way from one hero to another. The assistant who had been acting as your chaperone had ditched you a while ago to go deal with some emergency or another, giving you a firm instruction to stay put. And you had, at least to start with.

You start with the ones you had interviewed before, getting the easy ones over and done with, so to speak. Suneater had been the first hero you had approached, the quiet and shy man stammering and fumbling through every answer and desperately trying not to look at you. It was cute and you had told him as much when he apologised like he always does, waving and winking at him as you moved onto the next hero. Next was Mind Jack, the perpetually tired mind controller seemingly falling asleep halfway through your conversation. That doesn’t bother you like it probably would other journalists and a quick flick of his ear had the man jerking back awake quickly enough, apologising for always dozing off on you and swearing it’s not your fault.

From there it was onto Grand, though you didn’t spend long with him before moving onto Gale Force. The vibrating hero creeped you out and though GaleFore could be loud you preferred his booming voice to the other heroes' false kindness and friendly demeanour. Chargebolt was as excitable as ever, barely able to stay still as he recounted you with one of his many stores but you had interviewed him enough by now to know when to duck to avoid a flailing arm. On and on it went, you moving from one hero to the next and asking the same questions again and again. It was monotonous, the whole thing only keeping your interest because of the actual heroes you were talking to. Their personalities more than made up for the repetitiveness.

From then you moved onto the ones you hadn’t interviewed before. Real Steel and Vantablack were next on your agenda, the latter seeming bored with the whole affair whilst the former appeared to be having a great time. Deku was a little sweetheart, polite and smiling as he rambled about the charity they were all there to raise money for and Icy Hot was frustrating with his simple and monotone answers, though that was somehow strangely endearing.

It had taken you just over an hour to get through the nine heroes, your notepad over half full and bursting with stories and notes that probably wouldn’t make it into the finished article. You had three left to go and two of them were directly in your path though you weren’t sure you wanted to go over there just yet.

Dynamite was scowling angrily at Red Riot as he batted off the rather insistent makeup artist who seemed determined to give him panda eyes if the size of the eyeliner pen was anything to go by. You had done a good job of avoiding him so far, having purposely kept your back to him as you moved around the room. Thankfully it had been so loud in there that you hadn’t been able to hear him either so you had done a pretty good job of pretending he wasn’t even there. That wasn’t an option any more though and with a heavy sigh you had made your way towards the two heroes, already giving yourself a pep talk in hopes you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

The anticipation and nerves you felt at approaching him were honestly quite ridiculous. He probably wouldn’t even remember you and even if he did it would only be as the idiot who had almost gotten mugged because you hadn’t been paying any attention to your surroundings. Much like you weren’t doing now. Having a crush on a pro hero wasn’t something new, everyone had their favourites who they made heart eyes at and gushed over and though Dynamite was your favourite, your celebrity crush, you had always done a good job of keeping that to yourself. He was unattainable, out of your league and completely and utterly married to his job. You knew without a doubt that he would be an unattainable fantasy for as long as he remained in the spotlight but then you had gone and met him and everything had gone up in flames.

Ahead of you Red Riot nudged Dynamite in the side, gesturing your way and whispering something that had the blonde's head snapping in your direction, those deep red eyes focusing in on you instantly. You hadn’t noticed last time how intense they were, the dim light on the street lights not doing him justice. Now though in the bright light of day you could make out how sharp his cheekbones were, the black of his eye makeup and mask making his eyes seem more vibrant and hypnotic. You felt like prey, frozen under the predator's sharp and cunning gaze, knowing you were caught and waiting for it to strike. You didn’t think you would care that much if he did.

You hadn’t even noticed you had come to a complete stop, the two of you staring at one another and completely oblivious to the rest of the world around you. That was until someone slammed into sending you stumbling forward as they breezed past, yelling at you for being in the way. You hadn’t been able to right yourself, losing your footing and hurting towards the floor. In front of you Dynamite seemed to snap out of his weird stupor, pushing people out his way as he marched towards you.

He didn’t make it, two strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back onto your feet before he could even make it half way towards you. You only just caught a glimpse of Dynamiter, hands balled into fists at his side, his jaw checked and red eyes dark with anger. Before you could even begin to wonder what was wrong you were being spun round and looking up at golden eyes and a charming smile.

You had met Hawks before, having had the pleasure of interviewing him a couple of times before and on one memorable occasion having helped sneak him out of a rather boring and tedious press conference. Because of this you had a familiarity with him that allowed for you to be a little more relaxed around the man, a feeling he seemed to share because no sooner were you facing him was the number two hero throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close to his side whilst loudly asking where his postcard was after your little trip. That seemed to get people attention, heroes and staff alike turning their attention towards the two of you and murmuring under their breath. Used to his antics by now though you just rolled your eyes and told him it’s in the post.

That gets you a laugh and the tension in the room eases a little, everyone going back to what they were doing beforehand. You can feel it though, someone’s eyes boring into the back of your head and you desperately want to turn round and see if it’s Dynamite but you don’t get the chance, Hawks nudging you forward and keeping you pinned to his side as he heads towards the room's exit. You don’t really know what you would have done if you had been able to look back, no clue what it would have meant if you had found those red eyes still staring at you.

It’s easy to talk to Hawks, more like a catch up with an old friend than an interview. You talk about his ranking, about the charity and why he wanted to take part but you also talk about his cat, his latest attempt at making Tonkatsu and the latest trashy reality show that everyone was watching. It distracts you and you barely even notice how much time has passed as you follow him around the large house to the room he’s in for his shoot. You stay for the first ten minutes or so, watching him go from one pose to the next and trying not to laugh when he rolls his eyes and pulls faces when he’s asked to steadily ditch items of clothing. You fail miserably and eventually the photographer dismisses you with an insistent snapping of their fingers and a shooing motion. You take the hint, waving goodbye to Hawks as you go. It isn’t until you're out in the corridor with the door firmly shut behind you that you realise you have no clue where in the big house you are or even how to get back to the heroes dressing room.

Instead of going back in and risking getting a camera thrown at you, you instead began to aimlessly roam the hallways, not in any rush to get back and finish off your assignment. Part of it is that you're enjoying yourself, the calm and friendly atmosphere helping with that. A bigger part of it though was that you knew what was waiting for you once you got back to where you were supposed to be and honestly you didn’t know if you would be able to handle talking to Dynamite, even if you were only asking simple and predictable questions. You weren’t scared of him, you were just unsure of what the hell was even happening and you hated how unpredictable that made things.

As you passed by a seemingly empty room a dull thud and shuffling had you stoping, eyes narrowing as you looked in through the open doorway. The worst thing about being a journalist was that you were curious by nature and a seemingly empty room with strange noises coming from within was a curiosity you were willing to indulge. It was most likely something stupid like a bird or rate but you still stepped into the room, flicking the light on as you went to make it easier to see within the darkened room. It was neither of those things that you found hiding amongst the darkness.

As soon as the light came on Dynamite snapped his head round, brows already furrowed in a scowl and red eyes full of anger. You froze, one hand curled around the handle and the other still outstretched towards the light switch. You're just kind of stuck there, staring at each other and neither of you making even the slightest attempt to say something.

It felt as awkward as that night in the alleyway except this was ten times worse somehow. Was it the fact you had admitted to liking him, something you hadn’t done since high school or maybe it was the fact you had acted like an incapable idiot in front of the hero? Whatever it was they were your excuses not his so why was he acting just as weird as you if not more so considering he hadn’t started yelling at you yet whilst letting off tiny threatening explosions?

Now that the thought had entered your mind you couldn’t shake it. You could blame your idiocies on being start struck, an embarrassing thing for you to admit considering you were around heroes all the time but still a reasonable explanation for being struck dumb. Him though, not so much. You were a nobody, just a random extra as he would say and yet here he was looking at you like he was as shocked to see you as you were him. Which, ok, yeah, to start with you could understand that. He didn’t know who you were and to suddenly see you here must have been a little weird but that had been a couple of hours ago now so it wasn’t like he didn’t know you were wandering around. It was weird and the more you thought about it the more you wanted to find out what was going on.

You don’t get the chance to ask him, the blonde seeming to snap out of his sudden stupor as suddenly as it had set in. He’s a scowling, huffing mess, stalking towards you with a quick few strides whilst demanding to know why you were there. You were a little taken aback by the suddenness of it but you had dealt with agitated heroes before. This was familiar, easy even and it gave you a confidence that you probably wouldn’t have had if he had stayed silent.

Your all easy smiles and calm words, admitting you had gotten a little lost after getting kicked out of Hawks shoot. That got you a huff and a scowl, the blondes eyes darkening with anger at the mention of the other man’s name. You don’t press the matter regardless of how interested you are in that reaction. You don’t do gossip, it’s not in your wheelhouse and whatever has Dynamite angry at the number two hero you don’t want to make it worse by drawing attention to it. Instead you're quick to ask why he’s hiding. That gets the reaction you thought it would, the blonde angrily declaring that he’s not hiding, that he doesn’t hide from anything. You could have sworn he blushed when you said you knew that, that he was reliable and fearless and that was why people liked him so much.

It was a bit telling, how complementary you’re being with him but it was the truth. He may have a rather prickly personality but he alway achieved whatever he set out to accomplish, alway standing tall in the face of adversity even if he was hurt and bleeding. It’s one of the reasons you liked him so much, that and his determination, intelligence and loyalty to those closest to him, as well as his more obvious assets. He really did have some amazing arms that you wouldn’t mind feeling wrapped around you but that really wasn’t the sort of thing you should be thinking about right now, not when you were supposed to be working anyway.

Before he can say anything that would have you blushing and trying to hide like Suneater you start talking, asking him why he was even there and pointing out that it wasn’t something you thought he would ever do. He takes the bait and from then on it’s surprisingly easy to talk to him, the hero answering your questions seemingly honestly even if he was being sarcastic and a little rude. For all intents and purposes you conduct the interview you were meant to though never have you been slowly circling a room whilst the person you're interviewing does the same opposite you, the two of you curling one another like you were getting ready to fight.

It’s strangely easy to talk to him, to get sidetracked by things that he probably shouldn’t be talking to someone like you about. Like his dislike of journalists and the media in general. He calls a few of your colleagues out, huffing and puffing about how insistent and intrusive they can be. You think for a moment that he might be including you in that, after all you had disterbed his solitude as soon as you had walked through the door but he doesn’t ask you to leave, doesn’t call you out for it so you carry on, a weird fluttering in your chest that you're not really sure what to make of. He outright laughs at you when you tell him it doesn’t hurt to have a friend in your line of work, the sound loud and booming just like his quirk. It makes you feel warm, a wide smile spreading across your cheeks and making them hurt. You let out your own low chuckle when he claims he doesn’t do friends, a statement that you're quick to rebuff with a promise to let Red Riot know when you see him next.

You're not sure how long you stay in that room, circling one another and talking about everything from his ranking to society's expectations of heroes but eventually it comes to an end and you're left feeling disappointed that it couldn’t have gone on just that little bit longer. It’s Deku that comes looking for him, his head popping around the door with wide eyes and a blush on his cheeks. He apologises of all things, for getting in the way but Dynamite is needed for his shoot and the photographer is getting annoyed with having to wait.

The easy relaxed feeling disappears quickly, Dynamite's face hardening back into his usual cowl as he rolls his shoulders back and stands up straighter. He’s gone within seconds, striding across the room and barely looking back at you, though he does yell back at you to stay out of trouble. When you tell him it was nice to meet him the hero does actually stop, one hand curled around the door frame and head turned to the side slightly so he could see you out of the corner of his eye. There’s a long few seconds of nothing before he grunts out an indifferent whatever and carries on his way, disappearing down the corridor with Deku in tow.

The room was horribly silent and still afterwards, almost like everything had dulled now Dynamite was gone. An impossible thing but whilst he had been with you everything had seemed so much brighter and sharper but then all your attention had been focused on him and now he was gone the rest of the world had come back into focus, reminding you that though you had been enjoying yourself you were still here to do a job, you both were and making moon eyes at the pro heroes wasn’t what you were being paid for.

Sighing you made your own way out of the room, quickly finding your way back down to the hustle and bustle of the main area. You found the assistant who was supposed to have been watching you with little to no effort, cutting off their rant about wandering off before they could get too far into it. You said your thanks and your goodbyes in the same sentence, insisting you had everything you needed when they had looked at you a little funny. They didn’t stop you though when you left, no one did, both heroes and staff were too busy to notice you silently weaving your way through the crowded hallway and out the front door.

The walk back to the station is short and yet your mind races like a bullet train without breaks. You can’t get Dynamite out of your head and how easily he had opened up to you despite being notorious for being uncooperative with the press. Was this just another way for him to get the public to see him in a positive light? Normally he wouldn’t give journalists the light of day but with you he had taken the time to give you actual structured answers instead of the clipped one word answers that frustrated people so much. His relationship with the media was one of the biggest issues with his image. If he improved that, let it be known that he was actually playing nice with the press instead of threatening to blow them up then he would be one step closer to becoming one of the top ranked heroes.

Though Dynamite was currently ranked third Deku was close behind him and early opinion polls showed that the greenett was likely to overtake him and push the blonde down a rank or two at the next ceremony and a lot of that was down to how the public perceived them. There was no arguing with the fact that Deku was an amazing hero, always willing to go the extra mile and put his life on the line but it wasn’t just that that was boosting his numbers. The public absolutely adored him, with his cute looks and sweet personality, not to mention how polite he was along with the fact that he always had time for his fans and the general public. Dynamite wasn’t as welcoming as the other hero, often refusing to stop for photos and autographs and completely ignoring people when they asked him a question, something that had gotten him in trouble more than once.

That excited and bubbly feeling you had felt almost the entire time you had been talking to the hero was gone now, instead replaced with disappointment and resignation. This was just like last time all over again, your emotions getting the better of you whilst your mind sped ahead before logic could set in. Well you were thinking logically now and you really didn’t like what you were seeing. To him you were just a pawn, a means to an end and the sooner you realised that the better off you would be. You weren’t in high school any more, all crushes got you these days were bruised egos and a broken heart, two things you could very well live without.

It’s not till you're halfway home that your Dynamite obsessed brain finally takes a breather and you realise you never actually spoke to Red Riot. Groaning you sink back into your chair and make a mental note to call his office the next day and arrange a brief telephone interview. This had to stop, Dynamite was just another story waiting to be written and if you were going to be the one to do it you needed to get passed whatever idiotic and childish feelings you had and start acting like the serious journalist you were.

Easy.

If only you could forget those too intense eyes and that deep rumbling laugh then you would be fine. Maybe you should ask for a transfer to Osaka. That would probably be easier.

You really were an idiot.

Part 3 ->

@reyathens @antiwhores @trash-heichou-kacchan @phrogfungi

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hella1975 · 8 months

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hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

#seriously another shout out to my mutuals #id particularly like to say thank you to boom who's always right there for me no matter what's happening or how insane im being #and also everyone in our little discord that wound up having to make a whole new channel for venting #bc i was there so often like 'today's weird ask isssss.... telling me about my cupsize!! rip them to shreds!!!'#hannah and theo especially being there and pushing me to finally turn off anon. war is truly over #and of course rori bc the shamelessness u show when hating on my anon asks has been genuinely really cathartic #sometimes u really do just need a rottweiler mutual to tell random people online to kill themselves 😭#okay weird oscar acceptance speechcore gratitude over. i do just rlly love my mutuals #like i went three years not telling anyone about the worse side of internet popularity for fear of looking spoiled and ungrateful #so for the first time to open up about it and be met with outrage on my behalf and people saying in fact it's MORE fucked up #than i initially realised bc ive grown desensitised to it is. yeah cathartic i guess #they are singlehandedly reassuring me of the good this cursed app still holds #so everyone thank them and send them flowers NOW #okay im done i think. see you guys soon. i truly do want to come back asap bc like i said i NEVER EVEN WANTED TO FUCKING LEAVE #SOME ASSHOLES JUST HAD TO PUT GRENADES ON WHAT I ASSUMED WERE VERY UNIVERSAL AND OBVIOUS BOUNDARIES #if you're reading this like 'ohhh fuck i defo sent something invasive lately. i thought it was a joke/we were friends'#then 1) we arent friends if you're on anon. it immediately creates a power imbalance where you know me and any necessary context #but i have no idea who you are or how much you know about me. that's already a fucked dynamic #and 2) I HOPE YOU FEEL BAD. LIKE GENUINELY I HOPE YOU FEEL AWFUL AND HAVE A GOOD LONG LOOK AT YOURSELF #okay i think that's all. ta-ra lads??? how tf do u end something like this #ive queued this to reblog a couple more times throughout the day

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omgthatdress · 1 year

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Julie’s Funky Flower Outfit is definitely the most egregiously 60s of Julie’s collection. While go-go boots and miniskirts were still very much a thing in the 70s, they were very different than this.

(1stdibs.com)

I’d like to see a purple minidress with a huge collar and these boots:

That would be a great 70s look! I love that they tried to bring Disco into Julie’s collection, but uh.... disco was very much an adult scene.

Disco dresses tended to be long and flowy. Pantsuits were shiny and sparkly. They moved with the body and were meant for dancing.

In the beginning, disco was a scene dominated by people of color and gay men. Disco was fundamentally Black music.

youtube

Disco didn’t really become mainstream until 1977, with the release of Saturday Night Fever, which was based on an article that was entirely fabricated. That kind of ruined it. It lost its edgy coolness and became whitewashed and lame.

However, since straight White men cannot let anyone else have fun that doesn’t involve them, there was an almost immediate “Disco Sucks!” backlash. It was unabashedly racist and homophobic. Its main supporters were “manly” rock’n’roll fans who apparently just hated dressing up and having fun. In July 1979, the Chicago White Sox tried to get fans to see a game with a “disco demolition night” that would burn a bunch of disco records, and it ended in a riot.

1970s proto-incel radio host Steve Dahl built a career out of shitting on Black and gay people just having fun and looking better than him, and then had the gall to say, “I’m worn out from defending myself as a racist homophobe” yeah poor fucking you. The glory of disco will live forever. There’s a reason “I Will Survive” is the ultimate disco anthem.

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“I Will Survive” isn’t just a fun disco bop, it’s a declaration and a rallying cry that took on a very literal meaning during the AIDS epidemic. After the Pulse shooting, I broke down crying when I heard the chorus:

“Oh no, not I, I will survive Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive I've got all my life to live And I've got all my love to give and I'll survive I will survive!”

I can’t help but feel it’s once again taken on new meaning today when people are out there openly calling for trans people to be erased. Disco is powerful and meaningful. It’s hope and something to hold onto, a beacon of light in times of immense darkness. We will survive!

#1970s #American Girl #Julie

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sweet-lover-girl · 1 year

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Almost(Sweet Music)

The title name comes from the song “Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier! I just feel like the song fits the vibe of the story.

Awe thank you so much hun, I really appreciate that, I love you too! the moment I saw this I started to write shit down…but I kind of twisted the order and I hope that okay..I also wrote this while high sooo yeah there’s that. I’m sorry if there mistakes—I don’t have a proofreader and I suck at it..This got much longer then I wanted..also the sex scene is a little rushed and I’m sorry…And I goofed again but this time I had put the ask I was working on in queue and couldn’t find a way to take it out…I can only hope the sweet Anon who sent this finds it..T.T

Warning(I think): Abby calls her strap-on her cock/dick, reader body isn’t specific but is mentioned to have thick thighs, Abby and reader drink wine in this, drunk sex, ummm yeah think that’s it?

Word count: 2377

———

All you heard was Abby’s laughter and the white noise of the comedy movie. You and girlfriend have just finished your finals for the year, so to celebrate the both of you had decided to drink some wine and order pizza, and while waiting Abby suggested you two watch a funny movie.

“Fuck, it’s hot in here.” Abby’s voice pulled you from your head and you look to her to see her struggling to pull her shirt off. She giggled as her arm got stuck and you couldn’t help but giggle too.

“Here, let me help.” Leaning over to her you helped pull up her shirt and she sighs once the shirt is off, now just in her black sports bra she felt like she could breath a little easier. She looked to you with a starry gaze in her eyes and a goofy smile, clearly drunk. you wiggle in your sit—as you already felt the familiar heat in your cunt from the wine, but her looking at you made it ten times worse. You can’t help it, she’s just so handsome, so gorgeous.

You bit your lower lip and stare back at her, Abby’s head was now leaning back against the couch as she looked over your curled up form. “What?” You giggled out, your eyelashes fluttering.

She sighed sweetly and rested her hand in your knee,”You’re just so beautiful.” You felt your face flush tenfold. Her touches and sweet words always made you feel like your whole world was aflame. She made you hot and bothered, the butterflies in your stomach causing a riot every time.

“Are you okay?”

You hum and snap your eyes up to look at Abby sending her a questioning look, having not heard what she said.

She frowned and repeated herself,”Are you okay?”

You smile and nod “Yeah, I’m just hungry.”

She chuckled and looked down at her phone”Well I just got a text saying the pizza is thirty minutes away.” She turned off her screen and looked back to you.

You make a soft sound in acknowledgment, and blink at Abby. “So, what do you wanna do?” You asked with a smile.

She just stared at you, the look in her eye was nothing new. You knew she was thinking naughty thoughts about you, the grip she had on her phone tightened and you could hear the phone squeak softly from the sudden pressure.

“I don’t know but I’m gonna get another drink.” She quickly looked away from you and stood up, walking into the kitchen of your shared apartment and poured herself more wine.

You try to hide your silly smile by hiding your face behind your hand. You knew what she wanted, she just got too shy to ask sometimes. You stand up with a stretch and a soft groan—groaning loud enough for Abby to hear it. Her fingers twitch around the glass in her hand as she took a big drink, watching you from over the rim of her glass.

You bend down to grab you glass off the small living room table, your shirt barely hiding the supple shape of your ass—and if Abby looked close enough, she could see the outline of your pussy through the thin cotton of your panties.

You sigh out dramatically as you walk over to the little kitchen, placing your glass down on the counter you lean against Abby’s shoulder, laying your head on the broadness of it. You watch as Abby places her glass down and slightly turn her head towards you with an arched eyebrow. You smile as you look up at her and ask,”Can I have a drink, pretty please?” With the sweetest voice you could muster up, fluttering your eyes lashes up at her with the cutest smile.

Abby swallowed the lump in her throat as she handed her wine glass to you, and you quickly lean up to take it from her. Her wine always tasted better—even though you two were drinking the same thing.

Abby watched as your throat bobbed from taking drink, the way your throat expanded. She wanted to watch your throat expand around her dic—

Abby felt her own pussy throb at the thought, making her grip the counter with clenched fingers. Turning her head back to you, she saw you finished her glass. She stared at you with her mouth agape, making you laugh into the empty glass and you quickly cover you mouth with your hand—trying to keep all the liquid in your mouth and you use your free hand to push Abby away.

She stood up and quickly grabbed the glass from your hand, placing her free on on your back to rub it gently,”Okay— holy shit don’t chock please.” She said with a worried voice, leaning over your trembling form as you continue to laugh.

Once you got your laughter under control you swallowed the warm wine with a grimace. Abby grabbed you arm with a tender touch, helping you stand up straight again. “Are you okay?” She asked with a giggly voice. You couldn’t help but laugh too, her laugh was so contagious. You lean into her with a sigh, closing your eyes as the room spins slowly—making you sway and giggle.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” she leads you over to the couch and tries to lay your down gently, but she just ends up dropping you instead. You land on your back and let out a puff of air, clenching your eyes shut from the cushioned impact.”Shit I’m sorry!” Abby giggled once more as you land, you just roll your eyes at her playfully with a smile. She was to strong for her own good.

Abby walks back to the kitchen to grab you some water when you mumbled something. She turned around and the first thing she saw was your thick thighs spread—your pink cotton panties barely hiding how wet you were. Abby knew you got horny while you were drunk but holy fuck—you mumble out again as you squeeze your thighs together, making your pussy lips get smushed between the thickness of your thighs.

Abby shook her head and had to literally tear her eyes away from the filthy scene in front of her. she looked up to your face to see you had a grand smile on your lips. You totally caught her looking.

“W-what did you say?” Abby stuttered out.

“I’m horny.” You repeat, biting your lower lip as you slowly rocked your knees side to side, waiting for Abby to do something. But she stood there as a familiar look formed on her face while she stared you down. You grip the rim of your shirt in your hands anxiously.

Abby stands there for a minute—as if weighting something in her mind, she ends up walking over to the couch, watching your body the whole time. Once she makes it to the couch she sits down next to your hip and looks you in the eye as your smile grew, you won her over. She runs her hand along your inner thigh, feeling the soft plush skin there. “Yeah?” Abby questioned, gripping at the softness of your inner thigh—digging her nails into the flesh softly.”My little Pumpkin feeling hot and bothered?” She asked in her husky voice. you nod, dipping your hand down to hers and held it making her smile. Abby lets go of your thigh to lift your hand up to her lips and placed a gently kiss there. Okay, she mumbled against your hand. She got up from her spot and spreads you legs open for her to lay down in between.

Abby went straight to work on you, placing a gentle kiss on your cotton covered clit—like she always does before you two have sex. Before she uses her fingers to pull your damp panties to the side so she could see your wet pussy. You have also neglected to shave, so your hair was thick and course but Abby loved it. She ran her nose along your slit, breathing in your scent before licking at your dripping hole.

“Oh Abby,” you moaned out, sitting up on your elbows, you use your right hand to caress her cheek as she licked at your cunt.

“Feel good?” Abby asked after she pulled away from your clit just enough to mumble the words out before she sucked your little button right back into her mouth, looking at you with shining eyes. You nod and she hums— the sound vibrating your sensitive clit. making you whimper. Abby nuzzles her cheek against your palm and closed her eyes, you mouth falls open into a small ‘o’ sharp as your eyelids droop a little, trying as hard as you could to keep your eyes open to watch Abby.

She huffed and puffed against your cunt, generouslycleaning up the mess you have made. Pulling you closer by your hips so she was face deep in your cunt, she sucked at your clit vigorously. shaking her head a little as she hummed around your swollen jewel.

“Abby— feels so good,” you whine as you grip at her hair, pushing her head impossibly closer to your cunt. “Taste so fucking good Baby,” She growled. Abby then licked a long strip across the lips of your pussy, groaning at the sweet salty taste of you. Rolling her hips against the couch to try and ease the pulsing ache in between her thighs, Abby continues to make out with your cunt.

Abby’s hands travel to your ass cheeks and then pulls your hips up to her mouth, groaning against your clit sending the vibrations up your spine. “Please-” you try to get out the words to tell her to speed up. Abby gets the message but she doesn’t listen, only placing a soft kiss on your wet pussy and then one on your twitching clit before she sucked your clit back into her hot mouth and then she gently scraped her teeth against the bundle of nerves, making your hips twitch up against her mouth. Arms becoming to weak to hold you up you end up collapsing, you arch your back as you hold onto the the little couch pillow under your head and cry out. “Fuck, I love how sensitive you are Baby.” Abby growled, placing another hot kiss on your clit making your hips jolt upwards slightly.

Abby was indeed making out with your cunt. Licking and sucking at your clit, making it twitch and pulse. Licking at your dripping cunt and fucking her tongue into you. It was messy. Abby had her drool and your slick dripping down her chin—smeared across her cheeks and chin as her red lips were coated in it. Your breath picked up as you rolled your hips once more, feeling that familiar heat in your lower abdomen. Abby released her hold on your hips and slid her hands up to press down on your stomach gently. You let go of the pillow under your head and reach down to hold onto her wrist as the sudden need to cum creeped up on you and you squeal out as your grip on Abby’s hand tightened, your thighs squeezing around her head. Abby moans against your wet pussy, keeping soft pressure on your stomach as you try to pull away from her mouths assault.

“Abby please—“ you mumble out the rest of your sentence, feeling embarrassed to say it out loud.

She looked up at you with narrowed and pulled away breathless,”What did you say baby?” Your cum shining on her lips and your eyes follow as her tongue cleans up the mess.

You wiggle your hips and whine as you pull her closer,”I want you in me..” Your voice was barely audible but Abby caught what you said and she smiled.

“You want my cock sweet girl?” Abby asked sweetly.

You nod your head quickly with a whimper and wiggle your hips up against her hand, grinding your clit against her warm palm when she brought it down to your mound. She groaned and rubbed her hand against your messy pussy, her finger tips teasing at your dripping hole— dipping in before retreating quickly just to repeat the motion, making your hole clench tightly around her fingers.

Abby crawled up your body and placed a gentle kiss on you lips,”Fuck— okay,” Abby took a dip gulp,”I’ll fuck you later—okay? I just— I need to taste you again, please baby.” She whispers against your swollen lips.

You nod and sigh out contently as she slides back down your body and lays in between your legs once more, as she settles down and places a small kiss on your pussy— suddenly the door bell rings making you both jump.

“Fuck.” Abby cursed as she scrabbled to get up.

“Are you gonna answer the door naked?” You giggled when Abby quickly got up.“I’m in my sports bra.” She grinned as she grabbed her wallet off the coffee table and opened the door, her pants hung low enough to show the white band of her boxer. Her hair was messy from your hands and her lips were red from the wine and kissing you— she looked a mess. Abby also made sure to stand to the side a little to show you off, as you were in no better state. Swollen lips from kissing, panties barely hiding your pussy and your shirt (that was Abby’s) was riding up your thigh as you kneeled into the couch.

The poor girl delivering your pizza had wide eyes and a bright red blush of her skin. She shakily said the prices and quickly accepted the money— plus the large tip that Abby gave her. She mumbled out her goodbyes with averted eyes and walked away, not looking where she was going and almost ran into the wall.

Abby chuckled silently as she closed the door, locking it and walked back over to the couch. She sat down and placed the pizza on the table and mentioned you over with opens arms. You hun happily and crawl on your knees over to her and she grabs you by the waist, sitting you to were your legs are across her lap and you were holding the pizza box.

“Shall we rewatch the movie since we weren’t paying attention really?”

“The comedy one?” You ask and she hums. “Sure.” You say as you lift a piece of pizza to you lips and take a bit. You wiggle your hips out of happiness and your eyes were shut from how good the pizza tasted. Abby chuckled softly and kissed your forehead, “Sweet girl” she whispered. Finally with the movie replaying, you fed both yourself and Abby as you both enjoyed each other’s company.

———

Slightly weak ending and I’m so sorry for it..but I hope you enjoyed!

#lovely people #anon ask #abby anderson #abby anderson/reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #wlw #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fan fiction #abby the last of us #abby anderson fluff #abby x reader #abby anderson/you #abby anderson tlou2 #Abby Anderson Blurbs

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goggles-mcgee · 1 month

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Can y'all imagine if the nerds actually got away with the unaliving of Max Jagerman and they were just living their best lives. Everyone at school is nice, and it's just great, and Stephanie Lauter is getting closer to her pretty boy Pete. They are toeing the line between dating and not by like a thread. Steph is elated! She's even considering just saying fuck it and asking him to be her boyfriend when it happens.

It's lunch, and everyone is sitting wherever they want. Steph used to have her table before, it was basically the popular kids table and it kind of sucked since it was in the middle of the cafeteria and it was needlessly eye catching since Brenda and Stacy decorated it. The decorations moved to a table closer to the doors but not too close, Pete had said it was logically the best table, and Steph didn't even bother to argue. She had it bad...bad bad.

But, she actually really liked it. She got to sit with Pete, Ruth, Richie, and yeah, sometimes Grace if she wasn't sitting with the Bible Study Club. But she also got to sit with Brenda and Stacy, who had made it their personal mission to help "glam" up Ruth's headgear. Kyle and Jason were there too, usually sitting closer to Richie to talk football, and surprisingly, anime. It seemed like Kyle got really into it, and Jason wasn't far behind from falling. Trevor was there also trying to talk to Ruth about drama and it was all just really....nice.

It had been a normal lunch until Pete took off his glasses to clean them because Richie had been describing a new anime he started, and he got too excited and smacked Pete in the face. Which resulted in Pete muttering about smudges. He took them off and , look, Steph had seen him without the glasses briefly when he had the godawful black eye, but it was different up close with nothing like a black eye to distract from his cuteness. She didn't even hear what was said, but it resulted in Pete laughing and completely forgetting his glasses.

Stacy shrieked, which startled everyone, but then she said, "Oh my god! Pete! You're so cite without your glasses!"

And yeah, Steph felt the ugly jealous monster creep in at that, but she knew Stacy wasn't into him. If that had been it, it would have been fine, but after that, it was like girls were talking to Pete more and trying to get him to take off his glasses.

Richie and Ruth teased Oete that he was in his "Y/N Era" whatever the hell that was...

But Steph didn't like it! She noticed Pete and his cuteness way before anyone else! She mentally called dibs and yeah she knew that was wrong, but if one more girl or actually it was some boys too, if one more person tried to hit on her man she was going to riot.

#starkid #npmd #starkid npmd #npmd headcanons #npmd spoilers #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #ruth fleming #richard lipschitz #richie lipschitz #brenda and stacy #jason jepson #kyle clauger #max jagerman #grace chasity

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

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Trouble in Paradise | 0.4 | Bradley x Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Part | Next Part

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), smut, p-in-v, unprotected sex

…

Bradley considers calling Mav. He’s sitting in training, trying to listen to the instructor talking on and on about the mission — all he can think about is how badly he has fucked up.

Mav has broken a lot of girls’ hearts, he’ll know what to do. Then it occurs to Bradley that that’s stupid. If he listens to Mav then both of you will end up hating him. He considers for a moment if he would ask his father for advice.

Sure, he knows that Goose would’ve loved to be there for him and teach him right from wrong and how to be a good man. But he hadn’t been here and Bradley had had to teach himself.

No, he wouldn’t have gone to his Dad for advice about this. How could he tell a man who had loved his family so unconditionally that he had fooled around on deployment and now was stuck between his fiancée and a bartender that’s a decade younger than him?

He would have to figure it out on his own.

Amy was the clear choice. She fit into his plan. They were the same age, they had memories and shared opinions, they were both at similar points in their career — he had wanted to marry her once, he just had to get himself back into that headspace.

To do that, he had to stop thinking about you.

He tries.

He takes cold showers, he works out mornings and evenings after work to keep himself busy. He calls Amy every night. He was doing okay — he figured he wasn’t far from what a good fiancé should be.

He even managed on Thursday, his one day off. Amy was busy, his muscles were screaming at him to stop and he knew you were working today. It would’ve been so easy to go find you. Instead, he let Berlin talk him into a few holes of golf at one of the resorts with a couple of the other guys. It wasn’t so bad.

Then it’s Saturday. He’s a couple thousand feet above the ocean — it’s a routine training exercise preparing them for the real mission. Enemy surveillance, it’s run of the mill and he’s not in any danger. But, they train for dog fights anyway.

“Rooster, on your six!”

Rooster looks over his shoulder, finding his instructor on his tail. He pulls up abruptly, clearing himself from the danger behind him.

Riot is next to him. He’s just a kid, really. From the island, fresh out of the academy, on his first assignment. Rooster, being the more experienced aviator, is his wingman for the exercise.

Being the more experienced aviator, he should have noticed that Riot was a little too quiet on the comms. Riot had seen that the instructor was pursuing Rooster, he wasn’t paying attention. He was a little too close.

“Shit!” He breaks right to avoid getting too close to Rooster. Rooster watches it all happen. It’s two gulls. The hard right sends Riot straight into them, they hit the canopy and are sucked into the engine.

The next two minutes feel like they happen in slow motion. Rooster is silent on the comms, it’s the instructor who’s yelling his way through what to do. Rooster just watches Riot panic.

Both engines are out and he falls into a spin. Rooster watches him eject. He watches Riot hit the canopy.

He doesn’t even remember landing his own plane, but he’s back on solid ground before he knows it and Riot’s being rushed off to the infirmary.

“Rooster, you okay?” He blinks and turns his head. The instructor’s hand is on his shoulder — he hadn’t even felt his presence, let alone his touch. Rooster’s reminded that no one out here knows him. Or his dad.

“Is Riot gonna be alright?” He asks gently.

“Yeah, his shoulder hit the canopy, they think he broke something but he’s gonna be fine.”

Rooster pulls the collar of his T-shirt away from his neck. He hates shit like this. He knows he’s been given shit for being too careful his whole life but this is exactly why. You don’t pay attention, this happens.

“His replacement should be here the tomorrow afternoon, someone more experienced,” Bradley furrows his eyebrows slightly as he turns his head toward the instructor.

“Replacement? — you said he was fine.”

“He’s going to be be fine, but you can’t fly with a broken arm, Rooster. Someone’s taking his place for a couple months til he’s back on his feet.”

Rooster nods his head. He feels guilty for a moment, knowing that this kid just had a huge set back because of a training exercise that he was in charge of.

“I told the Admiral that you’d show the new guy around. He’s bunking right next to you so figured it would be convenient if he needs a buddy.”

If he was in a better mood, maybe he would’ve laughed at how much the Captain just made deployment sound like summer camp. Instead, he just nods and heads back to the dorms. He looks at the door next to his as he passes it and hopes whoever turns up tomorrow just stays out of his way as much as possible.

His phone is exactly where he left it, charging on the dresser in his dorm room. As expected, he has a couple of different texts from Amy. Then one from you. It's recent, only delivered fifteen minutes ago. He swipes the message open, brows raising slightly as he examines the picture. He's glad he didn't take his phone with him.

The picture is less than safe for work. You're sitting on your bed, he recognises the poster behind it. Wearing a cute pair of blue panties, but they aren't the focus of the picture. Under the picture, you've typed out 'Won't fade ):' in reference to the three purple bites on your bare chest from the last time he saw you.

He doesn't even bother changing, just grabs his keys, wallet and heads out to his truck. He texts you before setting off, letting you know he's on his way.

"Oh fuck!" You laugh, pushing yourself down from the counter as his reply lights up on your phone screen. Ella's eyebrows raise in intrigue as she drops the dish she was washing into the soapy water as she cranes her neck to look at the screen.

"He's on his way? - I told you!" She slaps your arm, making soap fly across your tanktop. You dip your hand into the sink, flick water into her face and dip out of the room before she can retaliate further. You weren't expecting such a swift reply.

You collect the mess of books on your bed, lifting them and dropping them into the closet, slamming the door shut. Ella listens to you busy yourself around your room. You busy yourself so well that you don't even hear him knocking at the door. Ella answers it for you.

Their brows furrow slightly. Ella looks him up and down, impressed by his uniform, then she steps aside, "She's in her room."

"Thanks." Rooster breathes, patting her shoulder as he passes her.

You spin to face him as the door opens. Rooster watches your lips part as you look him up and down.

"Fuck, you look good in uniform." You breathe, grinning at him. He nudges the door shut behind him, letting out an almost relieved breath as you lurch forward and rise up onto your tiptoes to kiss him.

You open your mouth, pulling back and furrowing your brows slightly. You look him over. He’s tense, you can see it in the way he’s carrying himself. Rooster knows you’re about to ask about his day. He can’t stand the thought of talking about it.

"Where are you headed?" Rooster asks, glancing down at your outfit. You're wearing a grey tanktop and denim cut off shorts. The kind of shorts that the pockets peek out the bottom of them.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over so soon - I have work in an hour." You admit. You don't admit that you like the way he clearly disapproves of your outfit choice. He grabs your hips and turns you around, nudging you a few steps forward to evaluate exactly how short they really are.

Deciding to push him a little, you bend over slightly and wiggle your hips, then look back at him over your shoulder, "You like them?"

Rooster scoffs. He raises his palm and smacks your ass, making perfect contact with your ass cheek thanks to the lack of coverage from your shorts. He grabs your hips and pulls you back against him, kissing your neck, "I like them, I don't like the thought of a bunch of drunk idiots liking them as much as I do."

You press you ass back against his crotch, grinning to yourself. You shrug your shoulders, "I mean, that's how we met. Could be a good opportunity for me to make some more friends."

"Shut up." Rooster grumbles against your earlobe, fingers curling around your hips as he grinds his crotch forward against your ass. You take your lip between your teeth, purely to keep from grinning.

"What? - What's wrong?" You tease. His hand snakes around to your front, popping open the button of the shorts, dragging the zipper down, whilst his other hand holds you tight against him. He shakes his head softly and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw.

"Once I get you out of these, nothing." He murmurs, rutting his hips forward as his hand dips into your shorts.

You giggle as you try to pull yourself away from him, only to be tugged back against his chest before you've managed a step. His lips press against your neck as he nudges his hand into your underwear.

"I told you, I have to be at work - you'll have to wait." You push against his grip again, hoping he'll keep you exactly where you are. His fingers stroke gentle figures against your clit as his other hand covers yours. He takes your hand and places it over the bulge in his flightsuit. You squeeze his cock gently through the material, heart fluttering at how hard he is already.

"Does it feel like I can wait?" He teases. You can't help but laugh. He kisses your shoulder, "I'll have you there on time, don't you worry."

You push your ass back against him once more, letting your head rest back against his collarbone. Rooster hums as he grinds himself against you, circling his fingers over your clit.

“You started it, sending me dirty pictures whilst I’m working.” He tuts, catching sight of you smiling. He kisses your jaw softly.

“Are you saying you didn’t like it?” You feign innocence, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. Rooster uses the opportunity to kiss your lips, grabbing your jaw with his free hand and keeping it facing him.

“Don’t be stupid.” He shakes his hand fondly, “Half tempted to make it my lock screen.” He’s joking, until he catches the look in your eye. The excitement — almost validation. He lets go of your jaw and withdraws his hand from your shorts, instead grabbing ahold of the bottom of your tank top and tugging it up.

You lift your arms for him to remove it, watching it land in the chair in the corner. Then you hear the zipper of his flightsuit and he’s kicking off his boots. You gasp as his chest presses hard against your back, forcing you forward until he has you pressed into your mattress.

“Up.” You lift your hips obediently for him, the shorts are thrown to the same place as the tank top.

He tugs your hips up, closer to him. You gasp at his mouth hits the backs of your thighs. The tickle of his moustache is a juxtaposition to the sting of his teeth as he nips softly at your skin. He pressed his lips to your ass cheek, making you giggle as he sucks a kiss to your skin. He nuzzles his mouth against your clothed core, stroking his tongue across the fabric of the cotton until it’s spit-soaked and almost see through.

You whimper softly.

“Want you to think about this when you’re at work later.” Rooster murmurs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the skin of your ass cheek, dragging his teeth over the spot. “Since you’ve got me thinking about you all the damn time anyway.” He nips at your cheek, slapping it playfully.

You hum contentedly as you push your hips back against him. He hooks a finger into your underwear and tugs it to the side, finally gracing you with his mouth as he flicks his tongue against you.

“Trying to get under my skin really does it for you, doesn’t it, baby?” He realises, pulling your hips harder against him as he presses a finger into you without warning. You whine at the fresh contact, fingers curling around your sheets, desperate for more.

“You like trying to make me jealous?” He asks, adding a second finger and curling them inside of you. Your soft moans are always music to his ears. You choose not to answer his questions, figuring they're rhetorical for the most part.

“Come on, you know you’ve got all my attention anyway, right, baby girl?” Your pussy clenches around his fingers as he kisses your hip. He raises an eyebrow, “You like that?”

“Fuck, Rooster — please.” You practically cry out. You push yourself up onto your knees and push back against him.

Rooster shakes his head, his hand on your hip steadying you as he fucks his fingers into you, “So needy.”

The sound of him discarding his flight suit has never been such a delight. He brushed his cock against you, just stroking his tip along your core. He groans gently as he rocks his hips forwards into you, leaning forwards and kissing your spine.

You push back against him, humming contentedly as you're met with the growingly familiar stretch of him filling you. Rooster's fingers curve around your ass, grabbing at the skin and squeezing. In this moment now, he just knows he's going to be thinking about you like this for the rest of his life.

He pulls you back against him, rutting his hips forward to bury himself as deep into you as he can. You rut yourself back against him, met with more force this time. You gasp as he drives his cock into you, hard. His hand skims along the tanned skin of your bare back, curling his fingers around the nape of your neck and pushing you down against the mattress.

Your cheek presses against your sheets, stifling the soft moans spilling from your lips as he fucks you. He snakes a hand around your waist, slipping his fingers between your legs.

"Shit, Rooster." You breathe out, fingers curling tight around your sheets as you lift your hips and push back to meet his thrusts. He leans forward and presses his chest to your back, grunting softly as he drives his hips hard into yours.

"I've got you, baby," He hums, pulling you tight against him as his fingers work over the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs.

It’s dirty and hard, and both of you know that you don’t want it any other way. You’re out of your mind around him, and you know that too. Rooster cums on your chest, sitting back against his ankles with him lip between his teeth. You barely even remember that you’re supposed to be at work that afternoon when you’re leaning back on your palms, grinning up at him.

It’s Rooster that reminds you.

“Come on, Baby,” he grabs his boxers from the floor of your room, letting out a heavy breath, “Said I’d get you there on time, didn’t I?”

Your eyes widen, “Shit!”

“You’re fine, we still have — twenty minutes.” He checks his watch and shrugs his shoulders before stepping into his underwear. You groan as you grab make up wipes from your nightstand to clean yourself up.

Rooster dresses himself first, then tosses you your tank top. You watch him cross the room to your dresser, brows furrowing.

“What, I can’t wear the shorts?” You ask playfully, passing him as you stand up to go and grab them. He shrugs his shoulders casually as he pulls open the drawer he has seen you find shorts in previously.

“You can wear whatever you want, baby girl. Just wasn’t sure you’d still want to.” There’s amusement just dripping from his voice. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering what he finds so funny. He glances back at you, then nods to the full length mirror in the corner of your room.

You cross the room, turn and examine.

“Rooster!” He tosses you a different pair of shorts. The ones he has chosen are slightly longer, they’ll cover the three new hickeys on tops of your thighs.

“You liked the ones I gave you before.” He teases, kissing your cheek, “Now get dressed, you’re gonna be late.”

You try to glare at him, watching his grin widen.

You have to admire his commitment to getting you to work on time. You’re still half-dazed as he’s opening the door to the truck for you. He seems more at ease now than before.

“Hey, Rooster?”

He hums to show you that he’s listening as he looks ahead.

“Are you… okay? — You seemed kind of… wound up when you came over.”

He almost winces, but holds it together. He thought he had made it through without being questioned.

“I’m fine.” Rooster glances over and immediately registers that you don’t believe him. He sighs softly, “There was a fuck up today at work, someone got hurt. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You reach out and slide your hand into his, “Wanna talk about it once I’m off of work?”

“No, no — I hate talking about work after work.” He shakes his head quickly. He watches you eye him curiously. “It’s nothing anyway. Just happens sometimes.”

“If you say so, sailor.” You shrug, taking off your seatbelt as he pulls closer to the bar. Rooster goes to take off his seatbelt too.

“Wait, you can’t come in.” You grab his arm, stilling him. He furrows his brows curiously at you, fingers still curled around the door handle.

“Why not?”

“We aren’t allowed to fuck customers. No boyfriends or fuck buddies in the bar, it’s Abi’s rule — saves arguments.” You explain. He watches you turn the rear view mirror toward you and check that you still look okay. As such, he has to turn his head and look out of the back window as he reverses into a spot.

“So does Abi know about me?”

“Fuck no.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you fix your hair. You debate pulling it back, but the hickey under your ear stops you from doing that.

“Cool, so I’m just a regular customer. Promise not to fuck you.” He leans across and kisses your cheek, then slips out of the truck. Your cheeks heat up as you follow him.

“Rooster.” You catch up to him before he makes it around to your side. You stop in your tracks, awestruck by the soft, sweet smile on his lips as he slips his palm gently into yours and squeezes. How the hell is this the same person who had you face down in your mattress twenty minutes ago?

“I’ll be good,” He promises you, “No rule against paying customers coming to see their favourite bartender is there?”

“I guess not.” Rooster brings your knuckles up to his lips, kissing them softly, then releasing your hand. He’s satisfied with that answer.

“So, I’ll see you in there.”

“You can only come in if you promise to tell me about your day.” You pull your hand out of his and poke your index finger into his chest. Rooster narrows his eyes fondly out of you. He tries to make you back down.

Realising that isn’t going to happen and that you’re really going to be late if he doesn’t give in, he groans, “Fine. Move it.”

You glance toward the bar, making sure you’re out of view, then lean forward and kiss his lips quickly, “See you soon!”

His lip quirks as he watches you hurry inside ahead of him. He remembers the thousands of arguments he has had with Amy about him keeping things to himself, especially about work. It’s never been easy to open up — he just doesn’t want anyone to worry about him. He especially doesn’t want anyone to think he doesn’t have everything under control.

You’ve just made further progress in a casual conversation before work than Amy made in six years, and you don’t even know it.

…

Tag list

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #miles teller #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #trouble in paradise

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gigicreates562 · 5 months

Text

If I Die- Get it On Camera

Finnick and You go to what’s left of District 9 to shoot more propos for Coin, but you won’t both be coming home.

TW: Hunger Games level violence, Blood, Death

WC: 1190

No use of Y/N

Authors note: sorry in advance

—-----------------

The brisk air tickled your nose as you walked through the rubble of District 9. The capital had shown little mercy on the factory workers after the riots, leaving nothing behind but charred walls and drifting ashes. Your eyes wandered over the smoking ruins, hopelessly scanning for survivors. The smokey air choked in your throat. You tried your best not to think about all the lives that had been lost here.

“Come on, Coin said in and out,” Gale reminded you. Coin had requested more footage for the propos, but seeing as Katniss was still recovering from Peeta’s assassination attempt, you and Finnick were her next best options. So here you were, trudging through the debris.

Finnick’s fingers squeezed tightly around yours, “You okay?” he whispered. His soft eyes met yours.

“Yeah,” you half-smiled in return. He nodded, seeming to understand.

“Let’s have you right here,” Cressida pointed. You followed her finger to a mostly standing alleyway just off to the left.

Everyone began to move towards their respective positions when gunfire erupted from behind.

“Get down!” Boggs shouted. Everyone scrambled to safety. You felt Finnick’s hand guiding your shoulder. Following his lead, you sat down behind a broken wall and shielded your head with your hands. A short spurt of gunshots pierced your ears, stopping after a couple of seconds.

A deadly silence fell over the air.

“Stay here,” Boggs ordered as he crept into the now-settling dust. You sucked a breath in through your teeth and grabbed for Finnick’s hand. Together you braced for gunfire you hoped wouldn’t come.

Luckily it didn’t, but the unsettling feeling in your stomach remained. You had felt this feeling twice before, once in your first games, and once in your second. Neither instance was a particularly happy memory.

“All clear,” you heard someone say. The others began to crawl out from hiding. You began to move as well, but for some reason, you just couldn’t make your legs stand.

Finnick shifted to get up, keeping his eyes on the alley for potential danger. A shiver spread throughout your body, and were you lightheaded? What was wrong with you? You’d been through the games twice, and you’d never crumbled under pressure before. You had always- Oh. Oh. Your eyes sank down, beholding a dampness spreading in your jacket. The thick black material masked the color of the substance, but your intuition told you all you needed to know.

“Let’s get this filmed and leave,” Boggs ordered Cressida, and once again everyone began to get set.

“Finnick,” you called out faintly. At the sound of your voice, he stopped and turned to you. One look at your face caused goosebumps all over. His brow furrowed as he rushed over to your side. At the sudden movement, the rest of the group’s attention shifted over to you.

Finnick took your hands into his. You hadn’t even noticed you were trembling until he grabbed them. Tears clouded your vision as you glanced downwards, too afraid to confirm your thoughts for yourself. Finnick swallowed heavily as he moved his hands to your zipper. Cautiously guiding it down, he revealed exactly what you were afraid of.

“Oh my god,” His voice cracked out, “We need a medic, please!” The blood already covered most of your abdomen. The metallic tang of it punched you in the nose, stirring your stomach. A soldier appeared at your side, frantically tending to your wound, but you were disinterested. You couldn’t really feel it anymore anyway. You were more focused on the boy in front of you with panic laced in his expression.

“Finn-” You whispered and his hand came to your face.

“You’re okay sweetheart, you’re okay,” he comforted you, sweetly caressing your cheek. His eyes searched your face up and down, begging for a sign that you were okay. In your peripheral vision, you saw a camera raise.

Before you flew out you had both told Cressida, If we die, get it on camera, and show everyone exactly what the capitol does to their victors. You figured he might play it up for the camera, but you could tell by his eyes. He wasn’t acting.

“Stay with me, alright? Just look up here,” he soothed. Both his hands cradled your cheeks now, attempting to keep all your focus on him.

Beams of sun hit the blonde curls falling lightly over his forehead. He really was beautiful, even in a time like this. You smiled softly up at him, if you were going to die, you were glad he would be the last thing you would see.

“Honey, stay with me. You’re not going to die, I won’t let you.” He pressed a hot kiss into your brow, still holding your face with his soft hands.

“Finn,” you hushed his anxieties as a tear rolled down your cheek, “It’s okay.” You smiled sadly. His eyes frantically combed your expression, not understanding how you were so calm.

Your heartbeat slowed in your ears as your limbs grew heavy. Little black blurs crept into the edges of your vision. It didn’t take a genius to know what would happen next. You know that you should be freaking out, but for some reason you weren’t scared. An overwhelming calm had settled into your skin. It felt like the waves back home. That feeling when the sun kissed your cheeks while the salty water lapped at your toes. You could practically see Finnick’s cheeky smile staring back at you from across the beach. After a lifetime of hunting and being hunted, you finally felt at peace.

Finnick’s pleas brought you back to reality, “Stop it. Please don’t leave me,” his lip quivered. He was crying now too. It was evident by his face that his thoughts were racing. You only hoped that he would feel peace like this one day too.

A sad smile crept onto your lips, heart aching for your lover. Tenderly, you pulled his chin down to press his shaky lips against yours. They were swollen and chapped, perfectly Finnick. A glowing warmth spread through your chest to your fingertips. Whether it was from the kiss or the blood loss you weren’t sure, but you chose to believe the former. Your body tingled as you felt one of his hot teardrops hit your cheek and slide away. That’s the last thing you remember before the world went dark.

He pulled away from the kiss slowly, his heart wrenching as your body went limp against him. Trembling, he shook you lightly, a last-ditch effort to keep you with him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept, clutching your head to him, “I’m so so sorry.”

The medic began to pack away his things, “No! Please! Help her!” He screamed, desperately looking around for anyone to help. Instead, he was met with a crowd of sympathetic eyes.

Finnick clung to your body as he pressed his face into your hair. The cameras stopped at the command of Cressida. Your death may be broadcasted all over the districts, but his grief was too personal to share. The group mourned for you in privacy as Finnick wept by your side.

#fanfic #reader insert #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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sapphic-woes · 2 years

Text

Sevika x Fem!Reader - Two Faced

A/N: I just really like her. Anyways Sevika witnesses a woman tell off her shitty boyfriend and thinks it’s a riot, so of course she follows her to the restroom. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4k. AO3 Link

Pt. 2

__________

You had standards. Admittedly, they were insanely high.

“Fuck off!” You shoved past your disappointment of a boyfriend, heels clacking with purpose. What was it with your luck these days? It had hardly been a month, and already he was grinding your gears. It seemed all the universe had to offer was one useless man after the next, and it was starting to become redundant.

You stormed into the ladies' restroom, pissed out of your mind. From the moment you’d met up at the club to party with his friends, he’d been the same; inattentive, dismissive, and rudely belittling. Worst yet, he only ever remembered your existence when there was an itch between his legs–and you wanted anything else but that.

“Mother fucker…” You muttered, eyeing the alcohol spilled on your expensive, tiny, off-the-shoulder, red dress. Sure, you were dating, but you hadn't done anything yet. Like every guy before him, sex in your mind was something to put off for as long as you could. You didn't get the hype–men were gross, annoying and sleazy–or at least, those were the excuses you told to yourself to avoid the obvious.

That maybe, just maybe…you simply weren't interested in men at all.

When your stiff reactions to his advances became clear as day, his slimy ass didn't give up. No–he had to try and trick you into stripping off your dress. Like hell you were dumb enough to follow him to a secluded part of the club just so he could “dry you off” after dumping half his fucking drink on you. That man was a walking red flag, and you were done. Either you were picking up another boy toy tonight, or calling it quits altogether.

At least, if he wasn’t standing right outside the bathroom door. Which, while you didn’t know that for certain…with the way he was acting tonight? It was highly plausible.

“I should take my Louboutins," you groaned in frustration, hands gripping the sink counter, “and castrate him.”

“That…would definitely be a sight.”

You jumped, having not noticed someone else come in. You frowned, ready to tear this person disturbing you a new one before glancing to the side. Shit. You did a double take, and despite wanting to hide it, your eyes widened with fear.

No one in this club didn’t know that face, or that body. She was impossibly tall, with intimidating broad shoulders and a scowl formed by the devil himself. Sevika entered, and suddenly the bathroom felt too small for the both of you. Her presence alone was that overwhelming, making you suck in a shaky, terrified breath.

If having a problem with your boyfriend was a threat, having an issue with Silco’s right hand was a death wish…and no matter how prideful you were, even you knew better than to cross that line.

Well, at least you thought you did. Your friends would probably swear otherwise.

“I couldn’t help but see what happened back there. You made quite the scene.” Had you? Oh right–

–you splashed your entire drink over his head when his hands got too close to the hem of your dress, ignoring his sputter of surprise. You rose, downing his own shot of whiskey he claimed was too strong for you before wiping your glossy lips with the back of your hand.

“First of all jackass–even if we were the last people on earth, I’d rather jump off a building than have your nasty dick shoved up my ass. Seriously–what the fuck is that? It looks like you need to spend the night with a fucking doctor, not me.” You hadn’t seen shit, but yelling it loud enough would make him never set foot in this club ever again…and well, you were too mad to be nice anymore.

“Second? You’re boring as hell. Why don’t you go find a personality instead of spewing the same misogynistic shit every dude still living in their mom’s basement says? Yeah I’m hot, I’m stuck up, I’m a goddamn slut–but guess what?” You flipped him off as you gathered your things.

“This “stupid whore” still isn’t going to fuck you. So you know what you should do instead? Fuck off!” Oh. Looking back, you guessed you had made a bit of a scene. Was she here to kick you out?

“And…?” You inwardly cursed at your disinterested tone, turning back to the mirror and eying your makeup. “I didn’t know you dealt with stuff like this." Were you egging her on? No, no, no–there was no way you were dumb enough to–

"...Being his right hand and all.” Fuck. You were egging her on.

Your heart pounded in your chest, hairs standing up on the back of your neck. Where you expected a furious reaction, you were met with a look much, much worse. A devilish, downright sinister grin spread around her cigar. Tense, you studied her from the corner of your eyes, plagued over how she would eventually react.

No matter what she does, she demands attention. Maybe her lack of retaliation was a tactic. If so, it was working. Your eyes were glued to her, and you had to admit, seeing Sevika simply standing there made your heart skip a beat. The woman was as equally captivating as she was terrifying, and this situation only made that fact more evident.

Sure, her mechanical arm glinted like it was one twitch away from gutting you, but her clothes fit her like a glove. Those fine arms and the peek her top gave of her scar-riddled waist was damn near criminal. If I’m going to die tonight, I might as well get a closer look, right?

You’d only ever seen her passing by or talking with a group of people equally as intimidating as she was. Now she was less than a few feet from you, and despite her smile, she didn't do anything at your snide remark. Rather, she let out a short puff of her cigar, smoke escaping past her lips with an easy chuckle.

Then, there was silence.

It would have been better if she reacted with rage. Anger was something you could handle. But this? She hadn’t said a word in response, yet you still felt like a caged animal. You were running out of things to fake your attention on while you watched her, dabbing the same patch of alcohol on your dress for the twentieth time. After several seconds passed, your patience ran thin.

I can't just stand here waiting for her to kill me. Who cared if that man was waiting for you outside, you needed to get out of the bathroom as soon as you possibly could. However, just as you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Sevika suddenly caught you staring at her through the mirror. Shit–!

Quickly, you turned away, moving to open your purse as if you were busy. Sevika snorted, and you inwardly cringed. You were painfully aware of the long drag she took of her cigar. She let it out as a slow puff, shamelessly eyeing you up and down as she did. Where her gaze lingered, your body burned, and you weren’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or fear. Sevika moved to put her cigar out on the bathroom’s marble countertop, and you were certain that if anyone else had done so, Silco would have killed them.

Hands in her pockets, she took her time walking towards you. There wasn't any reason to rush, the both of you knew why.

“I don’t.” Her voice this close was smooth, running down your spine as she stood behind you.

“Not unless I can gain something from it.” Damnit. You calmed your pounding heart.

“You're cocky,” you raised your eyebrow at her through the mirror, “not that I’m surprised.” The corner of her lips twitched. You knew this was a dangerous game to be playing. It wasn't like you'd never seen her work before. In fact, you wished you never did. She didn't fight for an opponent to recover, no–if she didn't kill them, she broke them–and, you thought with horror, what if she did the same to you?

You looked away from her, becoming too scared to hold eye contact. However, there was no way in hell you were going to show her that. Instead, you pulled out lipgloss, intending to obnoxiously fix your makeup. The plan worked.

Slowly, you dragged the strawberry shimmering substance across your top lip, and Sevika didn’t shift her gaze away. You spread the gloss over your bottom lip next, dramatically pressing them together to even it all out. The entire time, Sevika watched the action in a near predatory manner. The taller woman didn't look away when you spoke, lips drawing out a teasing statement.

"My eyes are up here, darling." To your surprise, the Sevika froze. It was less than a second, but you caught her off guard. It was clear you were the type to say a lot of bullshit, but to call her darling? When she was twice your height and width? Sevika thought you were something else. Definitely in over your head, but still… Her eyes narrowed, and she took a moment to study you, taking in the little shiver you tried to suppress.

Cute. She wondered what it would take until you could no longer hide your fear, or even better, your trembling.

“Do you talk like this to everyone?” You paused at the tinge of annoyance in her voice. A part of you wanted to backtrack and profusely apologize. Another told you that was exactly what would get you killed. In the end, you played off freezing up by simply offering her a smirk.

“Please, you followed me all the way here…then expect me not to believe my attitude isn't what you like?” You were bluffing, sort of. Even if it was a fairly logical explanation, it was still hard to fathom the Sevika wanting you. It wasn’t like you weren’t a catch–being gracious, you considered yourself to be an 11/10–but you were still a nobody. Sevika was a name whispered in hushed voices out of fear that she might show up. Yours?

“You fucking bitch!” Banging came from the door, making you flinch in surprise. Sevika didn’t even move, eyes still trained on you. “I can’t believe you said all that shit–come out! You can’t stay in there forever!” Well, you didn’t even get the decency of someone actually using it. Fuck, I almost forgot about him. What were you going to do? He was right, you couldn’t just stay here–

Your focus was elsewhere, and perhaps that's why you missed her advances until it was too late.

“You’re right. I am interested. You walked in here looking like arm candy, only to explode and leave that man without a shred of dignity left. His company wasn’t worth your time, but mine?” When had she gotten so close that the heat from her body warmed the back of your neck? She was bigger than you, that was obvious enough, but the proximity made it suffocating.

She loomed, making the air around you fill with earthy spice. Whatever she smoked, it was expensive. To your alarm, a large hand rested on the countertop to your right, and another to your left. You were caged in, and you didn’t dare move–not when the slightest shift created friction between you two, and Sevika’s eyes darkened in a way you knew all too well

“Sweetheart…” Her voice was an enticing rumble by your ear, and no amount of self control could stop you from shivering in delight. “I’ll do everything he could never do.” It was a bold claim, though you doubted it came without experience. That asshole is still out there…and the bathroom isn’t soundproof, right?

You were a bitch alright. The worst of them all. To fuck Silco’s right hand man while your shitty ex heard it all? You couldn’t pass up a chance like that, even if it was dangerous. With a casual hum, you fixed a goading stare on Sevika through the mirror, prettily tilting your head to speak.

“Well…I suppose I can let you entertain me for a while.”

_______

You’d been in out of your head, that was for sure.

You’d never come across greed in the form of hands, let alone commanding ones. Sevika’s touch was everywhere; over your hips, waist, and breasts, as if she was trying to consume all of you at once. Your breath was faulty, tingling all over as her rough palms memorized the shape of your body. How was this so good, already? She had yet to even slip a hand underneath your dress, yet you felt naked. It was as if the barrier of the dress meant nothing, and her touch shot little fireworks through your skin regardless.

“W-wait...” You were breathless, gasping as a hand flicked over the peak of your breasts from over your dress. You instinctively buckled, but an arm wrapped around your waist brought your back flush against her. Her metal arms reached up, soothing against your burning cheeks as Sevika held your face in her palm.

“A word of advice?” Her voice was a sultry drawl, muddling your mind as she turned your face to look up at her, “don’t go biting off more than you can chew.”

With that, she closed the distance between you two. The kiss was hot, carnal in nature as your lips parted and she took the invitation to kiss you deeper. It was focused and intense, with her hand holding your face exactly where she wanted it. You swore you were melting, becoming a puddle from that first kiss alone, and when she pulled away to look into your glossy eyes, Sevika smirked.

“You might just choke on it, darling.” She was never going to let that go. Too bad you weren’t known for not being petty either.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” You muttered just as a metal thumb brushed over your smeared glossy lips, “you go down smoother than wine.” The woman snorted, dark lips curling as she moved to kiss your bare shoulder.

“Is that so?” That was all the warning you were given. Suddenly, a hand on your back pushed you forward. You let out a startled gasp, hands slamming against the sink counter.

“What are you doing?” Your pissed off words dwindled in your throat as Sevika finally slipped her hands under your dress to hike it up over your ass. A hand gripped the side of your panties, and in a split second you knew the answer to your own question.

“No, wait–!” The sound of threads breaking apart made your heart stutter, and your eyes widened as Sevika unceremoniously ripped your underwear right off you. That was expensive!

“What the fuck is your–ow!” Another forceful shove had you completely on the countertop, sideways with your heat exposed to the towering woman before you. You huffed, shuddering under the dark eyes tracing over every part of you. Sevika looked at you like she had been starving for weeks, her own chest heaving as she hummed. She let the fabric in her hand drop to the floor, stepping towards you and making your breath hitch in your throat.

“There’s no difference whether you wear it…” Her hand caressed the inside of your thigh, gently spreading your legs so she could step between them, “or not.”

Oh God. You watched with wide eyes as she lowered herself, shrinking her overwhelming shadow until she was kissing the top of your neck. She trailed down, leaving her marks everywhere until she got to the top of your dress.

She took a single finger to pull the garment down, exposing your breasts for her to adore. You moaned as hot lips suckled them, breaths shallow as you crumbled underneath her.

“Ah…shit, my fucking heels…” She chucked into your chest as you struggled to kick them off. They loudly clattered onto the bathroom floor, but you didn’t care, able to wrap your bare feet around Sevika’s waist now. A bite was given as a reward, and you jolted in pleasure, hands moving to caress the side of Sevika’s face.

Again, the woman was surprised by you, pausing at the gentle touch you offered. Usually, when she picked up cute little things like you, they were too scared to dare touch her back. Even if they were lost in pleasure, it seemed no one could see past the metal arm, or the power Sevika held.

However, from the moment she’d entered the bathroom you treated her no differently than anyone else. If anything, you were more aware than most–the way you studied her like a prey looking at a predator told her so–yet despite that, you’d sneered and judged her anyway. Now, her eyes flickered up to look at you, taking in your rosy cheeks and lopsided smile, eyes half-lidded as you spoke.

“You're laughing? Those shoes cost my entire paycheck, jackass. No way I’m messing them up just for you.” Your nose scrunched up in an adorable little snarl, or what Sevika believed was supposed to be one. It hardly did the job of one. Rather than appearing threatening, your attitude only invited her to do more.

“Poor thing,” She muttered, mouth trailing down over your dress until she got to your exposed ass, “it must be hard being so high maintenance.” The mocking words earned her a glare, but it quickly disappeared as her hot breath tickled the inside of your thighs.

“How about this,” your breath grew rugged as she nibbled on your sensitive skin, full on biting to garner a shuddering gasp from you. Her deep voice switched into a commanding tone, and it was hypnotizing, making you hang on every word.

“If you take this well and let out that pretty little voice of yours, you won’t have to worry about ruining another pair ever again.” Her hot breath against your dewy folds only made them soak more, and you bit your lip. Your voice was weak as you attempted a retort.

“And if I don’t?” She scoffed, hands shifting to hold your legs shamelessly wide apart. You swallowed at the firm grip–there was no way you could get out of that–and when Sevika saw the realization finally start to set in your eyes, her lips curled up into a wicked smile.

“Trust me, you will.”

_______

“W-wait–it’s already been–ah!” Frankly, you’d never been so disrespected in your life. Sevika did what she wanted, in the most devastating way possible, leaving you a shivering mess clinging to the mirror behind you in an attempt to pull yourself away. She was skillful–too skillful–turning you into a numb puddle of ecstasy only to go down on you again. Was she never satisfied?

"F-fuck…" Her tongue did wonders, making your back arch and voice cry out. God, was it rude–the way she simply pressed harder whenever you tried to cling onto some sliver of dignity, relentless until you did exactly as she told. The gruff mutter of louder, against your folds before she went right back to her assault had you spiraling, shuddering as you attempted to comply.

“Shit, Se-Sevika–” That wasn’t good enough, and suddenly she focused more on your twitching bud, quickly turning you into a blubbering mess.

“Wait–please–it’s good! Fuck–God…” Tears filled your eyes as you whimpered, hands weakly gripping fistfuls of Sevika’s hair. You felt her lips smile, smug as she simply continued. This bitch–! The burning in your core built up, and you let out a string of profanities as you reached your peak once again. In the midst of it you hit your head against the glass behind you, though you hardly processed it. However, Sevika did, just now starting to realize how bunched up you were on the countertop.

“Here,” it was all she said before she flipped you over, lifting you up at the waist with her mechanical arm. She brought your back flush against her again. However, this time she held you up completely, toes only occasionally brushing against the floor. Processing this new position made your cheeks burn and swallow nervously, your voice hoarse as you complained.

“I can barely reach the floor…” The slight embarrassment at your height difference didn’t go unnoticed by Sevika. She snorted, then hoisted you higher up against her, until you dangled like a rag doll in the mirror.

“I’ll hold you up here…” She tightened her grip around your waist, and her other hand snaked downward, “and here.”

Without another word, she plunged two fingers deep into your heat. You buckled, nails digging into her metal arm as she fell into a torturous rhythm.

"Ha–ah." You couldn't handle yourself, squirming in pleasure. They were so impossibly thick, making you struggle just to properly breathe. Your knuckles turned white as you held onto her, neck arched back to look at her through teary eyes.

"Se-Sevika, ple-ase, it's good–so good–" You were reduced to barely comprehensible babbling. Sevika herself had furrowed eyebrows, cheeks colored with a tinge of pink. Pretty... Mindlessly you reached up with a shaky hand, softly pulling her face down to kiss her. You felt her lips falter against yours for a moment, but when she kissed you back it was the kindest she’d ever been. It was sensual, and she tasted you as if you were a sweet delicacy she wanted to be tender with.

Though, her hand was anything but gentle.

You gasped against her lips, letting out a strangled sound of startled delight as she drilled her fingers into you faster, deeper thrusts making your toes curl and legs straighten out.

“Shit!” It was the only word you could muster as you saw stars again, overwhelmed with pleasure before finally the euphoria ebbed away. Mercifully, Sevika finally stopped–though you weren’t sure if it was because you physically deflated in her grasp, or because she was actually satisfied.

Vaguely, you sensed her gently setting you down on the bathroom counter to wipe you down and fix your dress. Your shoes were retrieved and placed back onto your feet, and you mindlessly giggled when Sevika’s touch tickled them. A murmur of hold onto me, had your arms lazily wrapping around her neck, and before you knew it she was carrying you in her arms and out the door.

“Finally, now who the hell were you fucking–!” You had completely forgotten about your ex boyfriend, but now he stood in shock, looking up at Sevika carrying you bridal style. You offered a weak, sneering smile, lifting your hand to flip him off. You could see the anger boil up in his eyes before it sputtered out at Sevika’s warning glare, and with a huff he stomped away, pushing through the crowd.

At that you laughed until your exhaustion quickly took over, snuggling into the body holding you. Sevika stiffened before relaxing, and as she began to make her way out of the club she muttered with a raspy voice into your ear.

“Sleep. You did a good job for me, darling.” The praise made you sleepily smile, and you lifted your head to peck the corner of her lips.

“Mmh…” You wanted to say something witty like, and you were good entertainment, or something, but your mind was shutting down faster than you could speak, slumping completely in her arms as you fell asleep.

While you pleasantly slept, Sevika simply stood.

She was frozen, and the place where you’d kissed her tingled more than anything you’d done before. For a moment, she stared down at your squished face against her chest. The noise of the entire club grew silent in her mind.

When she moved again, it was with a loud grunt. Others around her shuffled out of the way in fear she was angry, but Sevika knew herself that she was feeling an emotion much, much worse.

#sevika x reader #arcane sevika #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #arcane #league of legends #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #wlw #lesbian #smut

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7-wonders · 1 year

Text

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 2 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: As the weeks begin to stretch on with no solution as to why you can't remember Morpheus and the Dreaming when you wake up, you begin to lose hope. Can yours be the rare tragedy with a happy ending?

Or, part two of "yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up."

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: Thank you guys so so so much for being patient with me as I dealt with one of the worst months I've ever been through, as well as your sweet messages. I cannot thank you enough for your support. I can only hope that, amidst the grief and the stress, this makes some sort of sense.

Let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going and make me happy, and my inbox is always open to chat about whatever!

Part One of Two

“...and for some reason, instead of choosing fight or flight, my body chose fight and flight.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. So anyways, that’s how I got a five-year ban from the biggest haunted house in the city.” The man sitting across from you finishes telling his riot of a story about when he punched an actor playing Michael Myers in the face while simultaneously screaming and trying to run away, making you laugh harshly into the glass of water you’re attempting to take a sip out of.

Derek is 27, a software engineer who loves science fiction and photography. He’s handsome in a nerdy way, his big brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and his brown hair simultaneously sophisticated and messy. Polite and with an understated sense of humor you’ve been laughing the entirety of tonight. Your friends have set you up on a date with him, insisting that he’s just your type and that you need to get out and meet new people.

And they’re right. Derek is traditionally your type, everything you’ve historically gone for in a potential partner. That’s why it’s so confusing that you’re really not that into him. He’s nice, to be sure, and you’re having fun, but in the way that you’d have fun when hanging out with one of your friends. It doesn’t feel right to call it a date.

You haven’t been feeling right the past couple of weeks, if you’re being honest with yourself. For some reason, it all seems to stem back to your sleep. Where before you would wake up everyday feeling refreshed and happy, now you find yourself defeated and upset before you can even get out of bed. It’s frustrating, even more so because you don’t know why it is that you’re feeling this way since you can’t remember whatever it is you’re dreaming about.

Maybe that’s why you’re surreptitiously checking the time on the clock above Derek’s shoulder, hoping that the next time you look, it will be an acceptable amount of time that you’ve been on this date and can suggest that it’s time for it to end. Maybe it’s just because you don’t feel a spark, which is too bad. You’ve enjoyed tonight, but on a strictly platonic level.

Eventually the date does come to an end. Derek drives you back to your home and even walks you to the door–a perfect gentleman, and normally a move you’d swoon over. Instead, you’re just feeling tired and more than a little bad at the fact that you don’t reciprocate the feelings you know that he has.

“I had a great time tonight,” Derek says, shyly shoving his hands into his coat pocket. He rocks back on his feet, trying to remain a respectable distance away.

“Yeah, it was fun!” You’re not lying to him; tonight was fun, just not romantically.

When his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, you decide to beat him to what he’s inevitably going to start leaning in for and give him a kiss on the cheek. To his credit, he hides the disappointment very well.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” you ask.

He nods a little too enthusiastically. God, it’s gonna suck having to tell him that you don’t want to date him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You smile and wave goodbye at him as he walks back to his car. The moment you close the door, your cheerful facade drops and you sigh heavily. Well, you think, at least it’s over.

Derek later texts you as promised, and you respond with a smiley face emoji and wishes for sweet dreams before setting your phone to ‘do not disturb.’ Tomorrow, you decide before you fall asleep. You’ll rip the bandage off with him tomorrow.

When you open your eyes in the Dreaming, guilt immediately begins to eat at you. There it is, your nightly refresher as to why you’re so miserable as of late; because you can’t remember the love of your life, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, unless you’re asleep and with him in said realm. The moment that you open your eyes back in the Waking, which is where you spend the majority of your time, it’s as if Dream of the Endless doesn’t exist. Hence, the date you allowed yourself to be set up on.

While you’re certainly not doing any of this on purpose, that doesn’t make it any better. You’ve basically just cheated on Dream and had no qualms about it since your stupid Waking body doesn’t know that you’re in love. Though…maybe, subconsciously, you do? That’s really the only reason you can think of as to why you were so turned off of everything about the evening’s events and your date. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, but knowing that there’s a chance that your very soul knows who it belongs to (just as the holder of your soul belongs to you) does help.

Regardless, the guilt leads you to not leave the library and actively seek Morpheus out like you usually would. You’re definitely not hiding from him when you grab one of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished novels and tuck yourself in a small alcove with a window giving you a view of the mountains that are home to both dreams and nightmares. No, you’re just…making yourself scarce and catching up on some reading you didn’t know you had been wanting to do. Besides, Morpheus is busy running a realm and being Endless. Surely he has more, and better, to do than hunt you down?

Apparently, you’re mistaken. Barely an hour (at least, you think it’s an hour; time is a fickle, funny thing in the Dreaming) passes before the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and Morpheus appears in front of you. The stars in his eyes, which have always been your true indicator as to how he’s feeling, twinkle with all of the joy that his barely-there smile hides. It makes your heart, heavy with the knowledge of your betrayal, ache.

“My starlight,” he greets, holding a hand out for you to take.

Your knee pops when you stand, and you stifle a laugh at the horrified look on Morpheus’s face. It’s fun getting to see his reactions to the normal plights of humans, including joints that make odd noises.

“Hi.” You lean in to kiss him, and the look on his face after you do so tells you that nothing’s going to get by him.

“Something is wrong.”

Dammit. And just when you had decided on the course of pretending like everything was a-okay.

“What makes you say that?” you stammer.

“Your eyes.” His hand comes to your cheek, and his thumb strokes the skin under your eye. “You’re…sad. Uncertain. Why?”

Dammit.

Instead of answering, you throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. You can’t look at him, not when you whisper, “I went on a date.”

Morpheus hums, not hearing what you said. “What?”

“I said, I went on a date.”

He stiffens under your hold, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pull away from him, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to keep them from shaking so violently. They still continue to shake, but at least Morpheus doesn’t see it.

“I didn’t even like him!” you try to explain. “I went because my friends basically forced me on a date and I wanted to get them off my case. We had dinner, it was nice, then he drove me back home. That’s it. But then I woke up here and I’m so ashamed at what I did. I couldn’t keep something like this from you.”

Morpheus is silent as he tries to keep his composure, and you don’t blame him. You’d be mad too, even if there are extenuating circumstances that led to the aforementioned date. Though you want to keep talking and trying to explain yourself, you know that this would just lead to you continuing to dig a bigger hole for yourself, so you wait for him to make the first move.

When he does speak, he does so quietly. You’re staring out the window, too nervous to face him, but you can feel his gaze on you as he says, “You are not at fault here.”

You scoff. He repeats this phrase so often lately that you wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the new Dreaming slogan. You know he’s speaking truthfully, that he doesn’t hold any sort of contempt towards you for this. As he’s said to you so many times now, he can’t be mad at you when you quite literally don’t remember any part of the Dreaming when you wake up. You, however, can and will be extremely mad at yourself.

Days of research into why you don’t remember and how you could potentially remember has turned into weeks of research, which has now become months of research. And still, you’re not any closer to finding an answer to this question that’s plagued both you and Morpheus. Any of the rare potential solutions that you’ve come up with have been unfeasible: witches asked too high a price with no guarantee that anything they tried would work, Morpheus’s few mortal contacts could not find any lead to help, and the Dreaming’s library didn’t hold any answers.

The only real fix that anybody had come up with would be for you to move to the Dreaming permanently. While that was certainly a plan that you had, you also still enjoyed the life that you live in the Waking, and there would be loose ends for you to tie up in order to move. Morpheus would basically have to kidnap your unknowing, Waking self, and neither you nor he were willing to deal with the potential trauma of that, no matter how desperate you were becoming.

“Well it still feels a lot like I am,” you say, “especially when it’s causing you so much pain.”

“You are in pain as well,” Morpheus points out.

He’s right, of course. You really hate it when he’s right; and he’s right a lot. Another perk of being Endless, you suppose. That, or being alive for a really long time just gives you the natural ability to always know what to say.

“You’re not mad at me for basically cheating on you?” you ask.

You’re not at all expecting Morpheus to laugh at your earnest question. Though you’ve heard his laugh before, it’s always a little disconcerting; harsh and grating, like it’s coming from someone who’s both never laughed and never heard a laugh. Even still, you love his awful, full-throated laugh. You just didn’t think that this situation would elicit such a reaction from him.

“I would hardly call one miserable evening spent with a male suitor who did not have any sort of chance with you ‘cheating,’ my love.” He seems awfully pleased about all of this, and while you’re happy for him, you’re also a little confused. “You said it yourself that your friends forced you to go, and that you had no interest in the man. I am jealous that I was not the one able to take you to dinner in the Waking, but there is nothing for you to feel any sort of guilt over.”

It’s certainly a relief to know that he doesn’t hold any grudge against you, nor does he see this as the same grievous error that you do. You’d feel a whole lot more relieved, however, if you didn’t have to worry about any of this at all and could just be happy with your love in both of your realms.

“What do we do?” you ask finally, today’s Waking events giving you a bad feeling about things to come.

“We continue to search, and in the meantime, we love each other as we always have.”

“You still want me?” You’re only half-joking, and he knows it. “Even with all of this trouble?”

“I want you in any way that I can have you. If, one day, you were to decide that our love was not meant to be, I would still be content with being a mere observer in your life.”

“I would never,” you say earnestly. “You know that, right? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”

“And what an honor and a joy it is,” he says before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

The odds, you know, are insurmountable. But for now, here, in Morpheus’s arms, it feels a little more doable.

•••

Morpheus remains in his throne room long after you’ve returned to the Waking. Though he did his best to take both your mind and his off of the troubles you’re facing, the awareness of said troubles always remains on the periphery. Now, he stares up at the galaxy that swirls above his head, hoping that the stars will hold some sort of answer within their constellations.

What if there is no solution? What if this is just the universe’s way of truly expressing its disdain for Morpheus; by giving him the love that he had only wished to have, just for his lover to be doomed not to remember him when not in the Dreaming? Some would call him dramatic, but he believes that, were this to be the case, he would not survive such a heartbreak. Now that he’s had you in his life, he simply cannot go on living any sort of an existence without you.

He’s teetering precariously on the edge of a dangerous thought spiral when Matthew lands on his throne with a caw, breaking him out of such morose thinking. “Boss, you got a minute?”

“What do you require, Matthew?” Morpheus asks.

“Lucienne is looking for you, she wants you to meet her in the library when you get the chance.”

It’s not as if he’s doing anything but brooding (moping, you would call it), so Morpheus stands from the stairs that he finds preferable to his throne when he’s not required to conduct official business and nods at his emissary. “Let us not keep her waiting, then.”

Lucienne looks as though she’s been waiting for Morpheus to arrive since the moment she sent Matthew off to request an audience with him. She’s already looking down the long aisle that gives her a direct view of the main doors from her desk, and she stands in recognition when Morpheus and Matthew appear.

“Matthew said you were looking for me?”

“My Lord,” Lucienne greets. “Do you remember when Lady Constantine completed a task for you in 1794?” She has the tact to not say what that task was, knowing that giving more detail than necessary will do nothing but bring more heartbreak to Morpheus.

He nods. “Of course.”

“You had her drink from a spring near the Shores of Creation, so that she would remember the conversation she had with you about how to escape Robespierre. Might that same spring be an option for her Ladyship?”

Even in such dire circumstances, Morpheus still finds himself fighting a smile at the title Lucienne addresses you as. You hate being referred to so formally, and always insist to everyone that they just call you by your name if they need to address you. Most have adjusted to the request, but Lucienne still holds steadfast to traditional conventions.

“When I rebuilt the Dreaming, the spring did not come back. I know not why, nor do I know how it came to be all those years ago,” Morpheus explains.

“So we must attempt to find answers through other avenues. Perhaps we peek into the past?”

“Do we know any time travelers?” Matthew muses lightheartedly.

Morpheus shakes his head and says, “The last time traveler I knew, I have not seen in almost three hundred years.”

Matthew’s feathers ruffle as if he’s about to comment on how he was just making a joke and didn’t expect time travelers to actually be real, but Lucienne cuts in with an idea before he can speak. “The Fates could potentially help.”

“As you said to me once before, the Fates speak in riddles. I do not believe they would be particularly insightful in a matter such as this.”

She nods, and thinks for a moment more. “Your sister has continually reminded you that the family is willing to assist one another, given such assistance is asked for. Might Destiny be willing?”

His first instinct is to emphatically turn down this suggestion. But Lucienne is right; the Endless siblings (most of them, that is), for all their interpersonal troubles, are also more than willing to help out another member of the family should they ask. For most members of the family, their price for assisting with such a request would be far too steep. However…

He has two siblings that would be the most open to helping, and only one would do so solely based on a sense of duty. That same sibling would likely hold the most information about the past, which is the information that he needs. However, this could also be a dead end. For all that Morpheus insists on sticking to the rules that help to keep his realm in order, his older brother somehow makes Morpheus look like a rebellious teen when it comes to following rules.

It’s a gamble, but it seems to be pretty safe. With that in mind, Morpheus makes his decision. “As far as my siblings are concerned, Destiny is the one that would not require any sort of favor from me. If it is written in the Book that he is meant to help me, then he shall. Likewise, he will not help if that is what the Book commands.”

“It is likely the lowest stakes you are going to get here. And if Destiny cannot help, the Fates can serve as a backup plan,” Lucienne points out.

“I shall contact my brother, then.” He waits for Matthew to land on his shoulder before turning back to look at his librarian. “Thank you for your wisdom and assistance, Lucienne. It is…much appreciated.”

Lucienne flattens her lips against each other, but it does nothing to stop the smile that’s fighting to appear on her face. “You’re most welcome, my Lord.”

Morpheus nods and tries not to look as humbled as he feels. He really must stop taking Lucienne and her counsel for granted. How many times throughout the course of Lucienne’s long, long life spent as a creature of the Dreaming has she talked Morpheus off of the proverbial ledge?

As he walks into his gallery to request a meeting with his brother, the first frame, the one containing a large book, begins to glow. “Dream,” a voice says from the frame, “it is I, Destiny of the Endless. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, brother. Won’t you come through?”

This meeting was meant to happen, then.

“I will go alone, Matthew,” Morpheus directs. Though Matthew shifts uncomfortably, like he’s not quite sure he wants to let Morpheus do this without him, he jerks his head in a nod nonetheless.

“Good luck!” Matthew wishes before taking off through the open door and making his way back into the Dreaming proper. With a sigh, Morpheus rolls his shoulders back to make himself stand straight and proud as he steps through the portrait frame and out into his eldest sibling’s realm.

The Garden of Forking Ways is always a little disconcerting, no matter how many times Morpheus has visited the realm of Destiny of the Endless. There are an infinite number of paths that one might take, so many that it becomes almost dizzying to look at, and Morpheus imagines it would be quite easy to become forever lost in this never-ending labyrinth. Thankfully, his brother has been expecting him, and is there the moment that Morpheus appears.

“Well-met, Destiny,” Dream greets.

Destiny stands as tall and imposing as ever, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his unseeing, milky eyes. Those that know him, which is really only his siblings, would argue that, though Destiny is blind, he, in fact, sees all, even that which everyone else cannot see with normal vision.

When Dream arrives, Destiny lays a hand over the book that is forever chained to him. Evidently, the book has told him whatever it is he needed to know, for he nods and gestures Dream closer to him.

“My brother, I thank you for answering my call.” This is as warm as Destiny will ever get; Morpheus, however, has had an eternity to get used to these mannerisms, and knows that this is uncharacteristically tender coming from Destiny.

“You call on the family so little, and I can hardly recall the last time you summoned me individually. What is the matter?”

“Father Time visited my realm some time ago. He said that he had a boon for you, one that was granted as some recompense for your imprisonment. Father, being who he is, could not remember if your boon would help you in the past, present, or future. At least, I believed that he could not remember, for when I asked which it was, he simply said ‘yes’ before taking his leave.”

Morpheus would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t believe he deserved some sort of restitution from the universe or the Creator for all that he had gone through. Still, he never imagined that said amends would be coming from Father Time, who, at best, has only ever shown a vague disinterest in the lives of his children.

(He would also be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t at least a little jealous that their father had deigned to bless one of his children with a rare visit. Of course it was Destiny; the eldest, the wisest, the favorite. He thought that he had long-since come to terms with his family and their strange dynamics, but something about being directly confronted with such a fact has him feeling every bit the middle child that he is.)

From within his robes, Destiny produces a vial which he holds out towards his brother between his thumb and forefinger. Morpheus stares at the pink liquid within and wonders if he should really get his hopes up, or if this is just simply a cruel joke. But no, it’s not. He can feel the dreamstuff that the liquid is made out of, for he is also dreamstuff, and the dreamstuff is he. Like recognizes like.

“I now understand what he meant, and I believe you will as well. Do you know what this is?”

Of course he knows what it is. How could he not, when, for all intents and purposes, it appears to be of his realm? “Water from the spring that used to run near the Shores of Creation?”

Destiny nods, and Morpheus feels his chest tighten. “Thus, his comments make perfect sense now. The past, being that this spring no longer flows in your realm. Presently, you are looking for a solution. With this, your future will be achieved, one way or another.”

He very much agrees with that hypothesis, though the last statement does cause him to pause. “What do you mean, brother? ‘One way or another’?”

“I have said what is to be said.”

To be fair, it’s more than what Destiny would typically say in such a situation, and Morpheus is grateful for it. Still, he remains wary; when has his family ever been clear in their actions without any sort of ulterior motive? “And it is mine? There are no…stipulations, or deals that I must adhere to?”

“It was given freely, for you to use as you wish. A gift, and nothing more.”

For the first time in weeks, Morpheus feels like he can breathe freely. “Thank you, Destiny. Truly.”

“I wish luck to you and your bride. I shall see you soon, when realms meet and the old converges with the new.”

Morpheus doesn’t bother trying to decipher his brother’s cryptic words. What will be, will be, and only once it’s happened will the connection to Destiny’s prophecy make sense.

His own gallery appears before him in a flash, Destiny having sent his brother back to his own realm upon their business being concluded. The vial of spring water still remains in his hand, and he closes his hand around it tightly to remind himself that it’s here and real. The solution that they’ve been searching for, housed in such a small container that he almost worries that he’ll misplace it.

For the rest of the day, he can only halfheartedly complete the tasks that he had intended to finish. His mind is so distracted that, at one point, he’s pretty sure that he gave The Corinthian (remade without certain traits that made the first iteration a failed project) permission to take a day trip to the Waking. That will surely have to be addressed later, but it can wait. It has to wait. The only thing that he can think clearly about is the small bottle currently sitting in his pocket, which might finally hold the key to your problems.

Morpheus can feel you pass through the barrier separating your realm from his almost as easily as he can feel Matthew do the same. So when you finally, finally fall asleep, he’s there in the library at the exact same moment as you. When you see him, you jump in fright, obviously not expecting him to be right in front of you.

“Give a little warning next time you feel the need to try and send me into a heart attack!” Regardless of your feigned chagrin, you kiss him in greeting before smiling at him.

“Hopefully you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I have good news.”

“What kind of good news?”

Morpheus feels as though every atom in his body is vibrating from the excitement, so much so that he glances down at his hands to see if they’re physically shaking (they’re not). “I appear to have been granted a boon from my father.”

You look bewildered, but it’s not towards what Morpheus had been expecting you to be confused about. “You have a dad?”

“Time.”

“We’ll focus on that later,” you say, shaking your head as if to draw yourself away from this new fact. “What did he give you?”

“Long ago, a spring ran through the Dreaming. The waters of this spring, when consumed, allowed the drinker to remember what had happened within the Dreaming as easily as if they were recalling their day in the Waking. After my imprisonment, when I rebuilt my realm, the spring was absent, for reasons unknown to me.

“Father told my brother, Destiny, that I was owed recompense for my capture, and that the gift he entrusted Destiny to give to me was such payment.” Morpheus reaches into the pocket on the outside of his coat, the only one with lining not made of the universe, and pulls out the glass vial. “The gift was water from the spring, water that I did not believe would ever be in the Dreaming again.”

“So, if I drink this, then…” You don’t say what you’re thinking, not wanting to get your hopes up. Morpheus, having been in your shoes mere hours before, knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“You should be able to remember everything about the Dreaming, about me, when you wake up.” Morpheus hands you the glass container, pressing it gently into your palm. “I will not force you to drink it, however. The choice is yours.”

You scoff and tease, “Do all of the declarations of love and fidelity mean nothing to you?”

The top of the vial is pried off with the nail of your thumb, and you take an experimental sniff of the liquid inside. Once it’s passed whatever test you’ve just administered, you toss your head back and take it as though it’s a shot of liquor. Morpheus doesn’t ever recall actually being one to take a shot, but one sees their fair share of creatures imbibing on all manner of alcohol when one converses with the likes of Faerie and gods.

The actual act of you drinking the water is anticlimactic, and the disappointment shows clearly on your face when you say, “I don’t feel any different.” Still, Morpheus is not discouraged.

“Though it has been about three hundred years since the spring was last used, I do not recall any instant symptoms to show that it had worked. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Despite his reassurance, you still pout. “Well, that sucks.”

“I am quite sure that we will find some way to pass the time until you wake,” Morpheus says, as if you’ve forgotten that you can quite literally do whatever you want when in the Dreaming. “In the meantime, there is something that I wish to give you.”

“Something else besides magic water?”

“Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, of course. He moves to stand behind you, reaching into the air and pulling down the gift that he has been intending to give you. His long fingers work to fasten a clasp after he lays the chain around your neck, and when he finishes, he lays his hands on your shoulders. Taking that as a signal, you open your eyes again and look down.

A beautiful silver necklace rests just under the hollow of your throat. He watches as you hold the charm in your hand and run your thumb down the notches of the vertebrae-like trunk. Once you realize that it’s his sigil you hold, you turn in his grasp to meet his eyes.

“Morpheus, this is–” You’re stunned at the significance of such a gift. While he had discussed his desire to give you a wedding ring, being aware of the mortal custom for married couples to wear such jewelry, for Morpheus, this is his version of such a token that signifies devotion and partnership.

“It is yours, and shall remain on your neck when you return to the Waking. My hope is that you will remember me when you wake. If that is the case, you need only call for me while holding my sigil, and I will hear you.”

You kiss him repeatedly in thanks until his head feels like it’s spinning and he starts to think that he understands what mortal dizziness must feel like. “Thank you, truly. I’ve never received such a meaningful gift before.”

“Let us hope you can actually use it come tomorrow. Now, I believe I promised that I would let you win our next chess match?” He had promised such a thing after you had begged him to teach you how to play and then witnessed your subsequent frustration upon continually losing to a being who has played the game since its invention.

“Just announce it to everybody that I suck at chess, why don’t you,” you say fondly before taking his offered hand and letting him do his best to help find some way to pass the time until you wake.

•••

When you open your eyes and catalog the mid-morning sun filtering in through a crack in your curtains, you notice that this is the best that you’ve felt after waking up for weeks now. You roll over, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep since it’s the weekend and you have nowhere to be until the afternoon. A sharp poking on your chest has you aborting the idea of laying on your stomach, and you sit up instead to see what it is that’s disrupted your plan.

Around your neck lies a necklace that you most definitely did not go to bed wearing. The charm is like nothing you’ve seen before; if you had to guess, you’d call it some weird, mosquito-like creature. Your thumb traces the spiny trunk as you turn it this way and that to study it, and you watch the light glint in the two rubies that you think are meant to be eyes. A bolt of familiarity runs through you, but you’re not sure why.

Then, it hits you. This is Morpheus’s sigil that you’re wearing–a miniature figure of his helm, his main tool of office.

Morpheus, the love of your life.

Morpheus, the man who you normally don’t remember when you wake up.

“Morpheus!” you gasp, holding the necklace against your skin with both hands. “My love, I hold the necklace with your sigil on it, which you told me to use to call for you. Can you hear me?”

The seconds stretch out longer than any you’ve ever experienced as you wait agonizingly to see if your summoning worked. Then, the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and a smile grows to match the one that the man with starry eyes that appears standing before you wears.

“You called?”

•••

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