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#but as a bisexual i think it's unfair

murdrdocs · 20 days

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mentioned sex tape; some weird bisexual stuff happening here; fingering MDNI 18+ w/ PATRICK ZWEIG & ART DONALDSON (mentioned)

"i think we should show him the video sometime."

patrick's words are almost covered by the way his lips press kisses into the side of your neck. like usual, he's sloppy with it, not giving you as much love as he's giving you devotion.

you're fine with that. you like it like that.

you hum as a filler, taking time to consider who and what video patrick is referencing. eventually, it clicks.

"patrick," you warn, no real intentions for any bite to succeed your bark.

patrick laughs as he lightly takes your earlobe between his teeth. "come on," he speaks around your flesh. "it's a little unfair if we don't, right? i mean, he is technically part of it, isn't he?"

and patrick is right. even if art isn't aware, he was a crucial guest in the tape you and patrick filmed. you remember it, despite how often you try to block it out.

patrick had his hands between your thighs, his lips still tasting like your arousal as he talked to you. "what're you thinking about?" he asked, his grin audible through his accusatory words.

at the time, you hated how well patrick knew you. it's like he knew the answer to the question he'd asked, and he wanted you to say it yourself so he could hold it over your head. but you knew if you didn't tell the truth, and if patrick sensed it, the repercussions wouldn't be favorable. so you meekly replied, pushing down your embarrassment and avoiding patrick's gaze.

"him," you told patrick, your back arching as his long fingers found a patricular spot.

"art," patrick corrected. "'s okay to say his name. he's not here." on the tape was a pause, one where the camera was able to pick up the wet sounds of patrick's fingers forcing themselves in and out of your greedy cunt.

eventually, patrick had filled that silence. "but you wish he were here, don't you?"

without much resistance at all, you nodded, your eyes squeezed shut as your legs lifted and your abdomen tightened, your body preparing you for an orgasm.

and here, without a camera taking up one of his hands, patrick fondles your tits while simultaneously pushing the hem of your pants off of your hips.

"he would be flattered, you know." he speaks to you head on this time, letting you see the sincerity within his green eyes. "he'd probably cream his pants. it's his wet dream come true."

#patricksworld!#artsworld!#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #celeste writes challengers

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bibluebutterfly · 6 months

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It is truthfully so impressive to watch how we've watched Stolas grow as a seemingly asshole character to a genuine person who truly does want the best for the person we love. (HEADS UP: This is LONG)

Now, and we're only going to lightly touch on this because the Pilot isn't cannon, but it still contributed to the public opinion on Stolas. In other words, he was borderline predatory in a way that made EVERYONE uncomfortable. (It makes sense though since he was innitially supposed to be the villain. Which thank goodness that was changed because we already see enough bisexual predators in media as it is. Yes, I'm headcannoning that Pilot Stolas was bi.)

Then we get official episode 1. Stolas is... not much better. Although to his credit, he's not as bad or as creepish. The unfair power dynamic is very there, and he definitely talks down to Blitz, but at least he waits until Blitz agrees before getting to the pilot level of sexual.

And then we kind of just keep this up until episode 7. Stolas is VERY sexual and VERY horny with Blitz, and you either like it or you don't. It was consensual, nobody forced anything, and even Blitz says that he doesn't fuss about banging Stolas, but that power imbalance is very much there.

Stolas is calling him by pet names like "my little imp" and is baby talking him, which really comes off like his fetish is sleeping with the lower class. Again, you either like Stolas at this point or you don't.

HOWEVER, despite all his baby talk and just generally inappropriate behavior, we are shown very early on that Stolas has a loving side, mainly in the form of his daughter. "You Will Be Okay" was the thing that got most people from hating him to actually liking him. It was the thing that separated him from just being a horny owl.

Then Ozzies. Hooo boy. This is where we finally get to see Stolas apart from Blitz's POV and as it turns out... he's kind of a pathetic dork more than anything else. We see him go very low. Like the man is alone in his big house eating cereal for breakfast in his bathrobe and watching telenovelas. It's hard to go lower than that. More importantly, it's a stark contrast from how we saw him just one episode ago.

Not just that, but when he's asked out on the date he is genuinely so excited and awkward that you just can't help but feel bad for the guy.

And then we have Hells healthiest couple have their dick moment which leads to Stolas covering his face, validating every and anything Blitz had feared, which lead to him calling out Stolas which leads to them both crying at home.

AND THEN WE GET THE THING THAT MAKES EVERYONE EITHER LOVE STOLAS OR THINK THAT HE'S RUINED.... THE CIRCUS.

Yeah, so it turns out the arranged marriage theory was true, and that Stella has been verbally abusive for who knows how long. But the real kicker is how much it explains Stolas's behavior from season 1. As it turns out, Blitz coming on so strong that night resulted in Stolas trying (badly) to copy that energy. And it turns out that when Blitz told him to stop that first night, he still ended up tying Stolas up and banging him. So... understandable. It turns out that Stolas never wanted to be malicious with his intentions, but genuinely thought that the arrangement was something that they both wanted.

But at the same time, he realizes that misunderstanding or no, a part of him did recognize that Blitz wasn't as happy as he was, and that he can't gaslight himself into thinking otherwise anymore.

Now the big thing about season 2 we all need to talk about, is how hard and fast it took Stolas off the regal and powerful pedestal that I think we all subconsciously put him on. Whatever mystery and darkness that surrounded him in season 1 went completely out the window in season 2. But personally I believe that this fits as season 1 was mostly told from Blitz's POV while season 2 takes place in Stolas's when he's there.

Stolas does not see himself as something regal and powerful. Stolas, as it turns out, is a romantic as well as a MASSIVE dork. Like he's disney princess levels of dorkiness. The man even gets his own slapstick moment for crying out loud.

But aside from that, he's highly intelligent and a genuinely good person who will put others before him if he can recognize the benefit.

Also, while we're on the topic, I don't think that Stolas is as powerful as we or Blitz were led to believe. Like yes, he's got immense power to those who have none.

But at the same time, put him next to Asmodeus, and this demon who seemed so strong before is actually tiny in comparison. Especially when noted that Ozzie was still holding back in this scene.

Now we have the "Look My Way" MV. By now, any dark mystery is gone, we know who Stolas is, but what we didn't expect to see was how blatantly Stolas realized his mistakes and took responsibility. This whole season we saw him be sad over his relationship with Blitz, but we never expected him to realize just how badly he messed up.

But he did. And it was glorious. And again, we realize how much he truly cares for Blitz, this isn't just him saying "I care about him" then doing nothing. This is him realizing he cares about Blitz, and wanting to do something to make it right. Even if that means Blitz will never want to see him again.

Anyway. If you made it this far, I'm impressed. As I've said before, I'm proud of the owl boy and how far he's come as a character. Tell me if you think I missed anything.

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

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“Who was your first kiss?”

“Depends what you mean.” Steve hits the joint Eddie passed to him. They are sitting on the roof of the trailer, stargazing. It is the first clear night of summer. Steve feels lighter than he has in months.

“I'm not really sure if there is another way to ask that, Harrington.” Eddie laughs around the tip of the joint. “It's a pretty simple question. Besides, I thought this was secret time. No need to get shy on me now.” Eddie spins to his side dramatically, tucking his hands beneath his face. He stares at Steve with joy in his eyes.

Steve takes the joint, pulls, and huff smoke into Eddie’s face. A soft laugh escapes him. “Well, I mean, do you mean like the first real kiss? Or, like, when did I start practicing?”

“Practicing?”

“Yea like, figure out how to, and what its like before the real deal? So it doesn't count.”

“I'm sorry—” Eddie scrunches his eyebrows “—I’m confused. Why wouldn't it count?”

“Cause it was with a guy.” Steve shrugs because he doesn't think it's a big deal. He doesn't understand why Eddie is hung up on it.

But then, Eddie's face does this thing for a second. Like he isn't sure whether to be angry or sad, but then it relaxes. Instead, a look of puzzlement takes over his face. “Steve, it counts. Like—even though you're not attracted to guys, that still counts as a first kiss. It’s like—kinda hurtful you think it doesn't.”

Steve tilts his head and goes over what he said in his mind. He can't recall saying anything ridiculous like he does when he is high. “Okay, now I'm confused.”

Eddie stares and says nothing.

“No! Not like confused as in I don't get why your upset, but more like confused who said I was straight?”

In shock Eddie manages, “What now?”

“Never said I was straight. I just meant that if we're talking about first kisses, usually people mean a girl. So the guy doesn't count. Especially because I didn't know I liked guys then. Think even if I was straight this right here—” Steve waves a hand between the two of them “—is pretty homoerotic so I think straight went out the window.”

Eddie swallows, looks down at Steve’s lips, and looks back into his eyes. “There is so much to unpack there. But first, thank you for telling me. Second, Steve. That is like not how it works. Just cause a kiss is practice doesn't mean you didn't kiss. Like just cause you're hitting balls at practice instead of the game, doesn't mean you're not hitting them.”

Something settles in Steve. “Huh, I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Eddie grabs Steve by the shoulders. “I'm glad you understand, but onto more pressing matters. Who was this boy you practiced with?”

“Oh, it was Tommy Hagan.”

Eddie drops his hands in shock. “Hagan?! C’mon Stevie, I thought you had better taste.”

Steve giggles at Eddie’s antics. He can't help but take in how pretty Eddie is when he gets all worked up. It is unfair in Steve’s eyes. How someone can be so wonderful even when they are losing their mind.

Steve can't resist the urge to finally flirt a little. “He wasn't my type Munson. Like I said, just practice. Wasn't really into it. Pretty sure he liked it more than me. I think if I liked him, I would have figured out the whole bisexual thing a lot sooner. No, my type is definitely more in the dark curly hair nerd department.”

Eddie swallows nervously, “Nancy?”

Steve isn't offended by Eddie’s question. Steve knows he's scrambling, can tell by the blush on his face. Steve feels hope spark within his chest. “No, she's great and all, but I was thinking more masculine. With pretty doe eyes, a deep laugh, a kind soul, and horrible taste in music.”

Eddie sputters, and Steve watches his blush spread, “My music is great!”

“Hmmm, sure.”

“Hey Stevie? Do you feel like you need more practice?” Eddie leans in close brushing his nose against Steve’s with a sudden rush of bravery.

“No, i’ve had enough practice. Think I want the real thing.”

“Okay I want to be smooth but I have to google d response to that so I am going to kiss you now.” Eddie rushes out.

“Sounds perfect.” Eddie closes the gap before Steve can say anything else. Eddie tastes like salted chocolate and weed. It's sweet and musky and so very Eddie. It starts soft, the softest kiss Steve’s had, just plush lips pushed against each other.

It slowly builds to more. Steve’s hands travel up Eddie’s sides and into his hair. He wonders how a wild thing could be so, so soft. Steve gives a gentle tug, and Eddie moans deeply into him. Eddie’s hands grab Steve’s waist and yank him forward. His hands are to cause bruises surely, and the thought leaves Steve giddy. The sounds Eddie makes are getting desperate, which causes Steve to release his own moan.

Eddie doesn't waste a second taking advantage and shoving his tongue inside Steve’s mouth. He’s warm and wet, and oh God, Steve wants more, more, more.

After a few minutes, Eddie pulls back. “Wait, who did you really think was your first kiss?”

Steve rests his forehead on Eddie’s. He can't help but think his answer is a little funny. “Carol Perkins.”

“Wait, wasn't she dating Tommy?”

“Oh yeah. He was there actually. Kinda encouraged it to happen.”

Eddie looks torn between laughing and being disgusted. “Again, so much to unpack, but I don't think I want to touch that with a ten-foot pole. At least not tonight. Can we go back to making out?”

“Yes please.” Steve all but begs, a while releasing into the space between them.

They don't pull apart until their lips are swollen and their throats are raw from moaning. It’s Steve’s best first kiss yet.

---

originally this was more angsty and going to be more reflective on my personally experience of the very popular thought of “if my first kiss is with a girl it doesn't count” that I see a lot of bisexuals like myself (and other sexually fluid people...honestly an experience the whole LGBTQ+ community has) have. Like having that realization made me re-evaluate myself. But it ended up being more light hearted and using another experience of mine which is being out but refusing to count the first kiss because of who it was with. Steve and I...we have regrets. I still might write the other one, we shall see :)

#steddie #eddie brings up steve’s brief stint unknowingly in a throuple all the time #Steve screams it was one time #Eddie doesn't stop its too funny #he finally gives up when steve admits he thinks carol is gay #eddie munson loves steve harrington #steve Harrington loves Eddie munson #stranger things #cw: heavy making out #my first time writing making out be kind please #have literally wrote dirty talk and not making out??#ficlet #my writing #tommy hagan #carol perkins #steddie fic #ao3

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t00thpasteface · 26 days

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i seriously donut care what you ID as, if you're attracted to women and you love my flagrant pinups of serana volkihar and admin shelly and major houlihan, then more fuckin power to ya. i really do hate the division between lesbianism as something Pure and Wholesome and straight attraction as somehow unequal and exploitative. it's not empowering, it's justifying established, unfair power structures and reducing women (cis and trans) to something inherently gentle and sexless. i am sexually attracted to women as a butch lesbian who likes short submissive femmes, and yeah i don't think it's ultimately any different from what a cishet man can feel, and i also don't think that's a negative thing. isn't that the whole point of queer liberation? destroying these boundaries and the puritanical obsession with certain groups of people being inherently anything? cis and trans lesbians, cis and trans bisexuals, cis and trans straight men, let us join hands in a show of unity and kinship, for we are all united in this great and ancient cause of Woman Hot Awooga Boing Boing

#shebbz shoutz

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for indulging in my boyfriend's cuck kink?

Alright, so for some background, both me (25, M, panromantic asexual) and my BF (28, M, bisexual) live in a VERY conservative rural area, literally NOBODY knows we're together even though we've been dating for years and the community is pretty tight-knit, that's how much effort we've put into hiding ourselves. We've thought about moving out but honestly other than the constant threat of being found out our life here is pretty great, we know everyone in the community and are on very friendly terms with them, we were both born and raised here so we're honestly kinda scared of losing everything and starting over in a new place, plus I really want to stay to support my dad because I know he can already get pretty lonely as is (mom works out of town, only visits for holidays if even that, plus I don't have any other siblings to keep him company) and me moving away would hurt him a lot.

Now, with that out of the way onto the actual situation: the cuck thing is something me and my boyfriend have discussed about at length, he's not shy about it to me and I'm always glad to make him happy so I'd be open to trying it if the opportunity arose. The thing is- I never really thought there WOULD be an opportunity for it due to the circumstances described above. Well, that was until a girl we both know confessed to me on Christmas Eve. That girl- let's call her Ellie (23, F, straight(?))- is someone I've actually had feelings for a while now (my BF knows and told me he'd be fine with me dating her as an 'official' relationship, but only if I keep us a secret), however I never did anything about those feelings. I was honestly kinda shocked when the confession happened, but in a good way, and I ended up accepting in the heat of the moment, so now me and Ellie have been 'officially' dating for about a month.

Here's where I think I might be the asshole: since that happened my BF has started to hang out with the two of us while we're acting like a very lovey-dovey couple and he's obviously been getting off on that (as in, it's obvious to me, doubt anyone else picked up on it) and I've been having mixed feelings about this. On one hand we did talk about it and agree to it, but on the other I do think this is unfair to Ellie in a way that I didn't realize previously because I never realistically considered this happening. My BF is reassuring me, saying that it's best we keep hidden anyway and that so long as nobody finds out no harm is done, but I still feel kinda bad about it, yet at the same time I don't really know what I should do in this situation to make it right. The whole thing only gets even more complicated when you account for the fact that Ellie is our pastor's granddaughter and as such comes from a very well known family in our community, a family that has a reputation to uphold, and if the thing about me and my BF came out it would surely impact her badly in that way as well. On the other, she really gets along with my son (8, M) and I really think that she'd make a great mother to him so I don't want to deprive him of that and break things off just because of my own personal drama. On the other OTHER hand I also don't want to break up with my BF because it would feel cruel in my opinion, especially when I very much still love him.

So, AITA for keeping my promise and just going along with this and keeping quiet to save myself and my BF?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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chaussetteblanche · 10 months

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I had this idea in my head for a while; With Kit Connor x gf reader, where she comforts him when he was pressured to come out

thank you <3

pairing : kit connor x reader summary : you are by kit's side as he deals with being forced to come out word count : 900 words warnings : swearing

note : the fact that some so-called "fans" watched the show and had the nerve of accusing him of queer-baiting and pressured into coming out when he was only eighteen is just disgusting to me, check yourselves y'all

You'd been dating Connor for a while. Being an actor, you'd met at some party he had attended with the Heartstopper cast. You'd met Yasmin first, and had immediately hit it off. She was unbelievably funny and down-to-earth. She had introduced you to the rest of the cast, and, naturally, you'd been drawn to Kit. You had exchanged numbers through shy smiles and shaky hands, the rest was history.

Dating someone in the acting world was both a blessing and a curse. As an actor, Kit understood and could relate to your struggles with roles, management, fame, social media... just the industry in general. You bonded over similar experiences as bisexuals who could pass as straight and who didn't always bother with labels or clarifying their sexualities. But as an actor, he was also often on the move, filming thousands of kilometres away from you or in a different time zone altogether.

But even with all this, being with Kit was easy. You both clicked, you just worked. You communicated your feelings and needs and even though you'd had your fair share of arguments, you loved him more than anything. He made you and your life so much better.

So you can imagine that when people he started being accused of queer-baiting and being pressured by people who missed the meaning of the show entirely to come out, you didn't take it well. You loved Kit with all your heart and would tear the world to pieces just for him.

"I just can't believe these people! How dare they? How can they just- sit there and demand this of you!" you'd ranted one night. "You're eighteen for Pete's sake! You don't owe them or anyone anything! Fucking cunts, it's just ridiculous that they think so!" Kit watched you from where he was sitting on the couch, running a hand over his face. You sigh, licking your lips as you trudged over to him. "I'm sorry," you speak softly, standing in between his legs. He looks up at you, shaking his head. "You've got nothin' for apologize for, luv," "But I shouldn't go off like this, it's not fair to you, this negative energy..."

He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. Your hand immediately goes to his hair, gently scratching his scalp as the other wounds itself around his shoulders. "I would make them vanish off the face of the Earth if I could, I swear, I-" "You did all you could, my love, it's already more than enough." He meant the countless posts you'd made concerning his situation as well as other actors', speaking up on the issue in many interviews... He was right, you'd done everything in your power. But it still wasn't enough. And it was killing you.

"But it's not, though. They just won't stop! Where is their bloody decency? And you don't deserve this, any of this. It's so unfair." "I know," He lifted his head up to look at you. Your hand cupped his jaw before you kissed him deeply. "I can take it," he assured against your lips. You pulled away, frowning. "But you shouldn't have to. It's so unfair. I wish we could just shut them all up, tell them to fuck off." "But you've done that already, haven't you?" he chuckled. "Yes, but clearly the message didn't get through." He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. "Stop worrying about me. I'll take care of it." "What will you do?" "I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out."You'd seen the tweet before you'd seen him. He was supposed to come over to your place for Halloween, you were planning on attending a party together, dressed as Shaggy and Velma. You were halfway through getting ready. You had your outfit on and were just getting started on your makeup when your phone started blowing up. Confused, you picked it up, seeing Kit's tweet everywhere. You slapped a hand over your mouth, scrolling down Twitter. Even though you were furious at the people who had brought him to this, you couldn't help but feel proud of him for taking control of the situation and coming out on "his own terms", if they could be qualified as such.

Your doorbell rings and you all but run to open the door. Outside stands Kit, looking absolutely beaten. You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing. "I just saw," you breathe. He walks in and pulls you into a big hug, sighing shakily into your hair. You rub his back. "Oh, baby," you coo, "I'm so sorry, you don't deserve any of this,"

You usher him to your couch, closing the door and start making some tea. You set both your cups down on the coffee table, sitting down next to him. You take his hands in yours, caressing his knuckles. "How do you feel?" "I- I'm just disappointed, I guess. I thought people, especially after watching the show, would be more understanding, empathetic... just- more human, I guess." "Yeah, people are disappointing." "But I wanted to be the one to say you, you know? I didn't want that taken away from me, I didn't want to be outed." "And you were totally right, you took control of the situation and I'm so proud of you. You changed the narrative." He gave you a small smile.

Kit laid his face in your lap, hugging your thighs. "It still sucks, though," he spoke, voice muffled. You nodded, running a comforting hand up and down his back. "Yeah, it sucks. Do you wanna stay here tonight and watch some scary movies?" "Yes, please."

#kit connor x reader #kit connor #kit connor x you

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 7 months

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I think it's time to put this out there :3

EDIT:

To clear up confusion, I left off Apollo & Nico because

1) Apollo would SLAUGHTER everybody on this poll because He Is The Queer Rep and

2) Nico is very very popular and the poll would be rigged if I put him in, giving him a very unfair advantage over Every Other Very Very Good Queer Rep we have here.

Also apparently Reyna is AlloAce instead of Aro...huh. To me she gave off some strong Aro vibes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, I understand Will Solace is Bisexual in TSATS- however, in as few words as possible, there are so many retcons in TSATS that contradicted canon, so I do not see TSATS as canon. Reasons why are a whole essay that I do not want to write.

Because of this, I still see Will as Gay, as do many others in this fandom. There is absolutely no disrespect intended from this-remember, this is a fictional book series about fictional characters. We are allowed to interpret characters in different ways, and I just so happen to interpret Will as Gay.

Please do not get upset over this, all character interpretations are just as valid as yours. Thank you.

#the trials of apollo #percy jackon and the olympians #the heroes of olympus #hemithea #pjo josephine #pjo emmie #emmie and jo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #alex fierro #magnus chase #piper mclean #lavinia asimov #hiss-majesty #will solace #pjo hoo toa #toa #pjo #hoo #trials of apollo

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leeloooonfire · 1 year

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Oblivious Steve starts calling himself 'bi' after learning Italian in community college, thinking it's short for bilingual.

No one dares to correct him.

He is a bit bewildered when he gets strange, sometimes even hostile, looks from others (what's even wrong with Italian?!), but doesn't really care. He loves the language, loves that he managed to learn it despite too many people in his life claiming he is dumb.

So he tells people, "I'm Steve, I'm from a small town from Indiana, I like sport, I'm a kindergarten teacher and I'm bi - I speak Italian!☺️"

It's not until Eddie seriously starts flirting with him. Steve receives tiny, earnest compliments, Eddie holds the door open for him wherever they go, brushes Steve's hair out of his face, always has spare batteries for his hearing-aids in his bags, gets Steve food.... (flirting?! "Sometimes I'm overcome thinking 'bout it. Making love in the green grass. Behind the stadium with you. My brown-eyed boy" - that man start serenading Steve).

Its then and there that Robin breaks and tells Steve that he's used the word 'bi' wrong for the last 2 years.

And yeah, that's -honestly- kinda embarrassing, but it makes so much sense. The way people looked at him: girls losing interest in him or others congratulating him for being so 'open and brave' about being bi. He always thought it was a bit overdramatic of them congratulating him for speaking another language, but he, you know, just rolled with the punches?! It makes so much sense now, SOOO much!

"It's just," Robin is saying with an apologetic frown, "Eddie really likes you, and he thinks you are available - which is kinda unfair. You should tell him you're straight, lay it out on the table before the man seriously falls in love with you." (She is unaware that Eddie has already done that ... too late).

And somehow, Steve feels...

Lost? Dejected? Like a fraud? (Like he is the troyan horse in person, rolling himself into the lgbtq+ community under the disguise of being bi while actually just talking about mastering Italian?!).

Steve doesn't know how he feels.

Just that telling Eddie about him being straight or not bi feels like a lie.

And that he doesn't want to lose Eddie's attention, doesn't want him not to brush Steve's hair out of his face and doesn't want him not to compliment his eyes.

Steve likes Eddie singing Van Morrison "Brown Eyed Girl" to him.

And it's then that Steve realises that he actually wants to do all these things to Eddie too - compliment him, run his fingers through his hair, hold the car door open for him, share ice cream from the container with only one spoon.

It's then that Steve realises that he probably never lied when he said that he is bi. It's just that he never realised it before, never thought too much about the tickling sensation when Eddie pushes his feet against his calves during movie night or when they share a smoke and Steve can feel Eddie's spit against his lips.

With that realisation, Steve simply corrects his introduction, "I'm Steve. I'm from a small town from Indiana. I like sport. I'm a kindergarten teacher. I speak Italian, and Im bisexual."

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #fanfiction #eddie stranger things #friends to lovers #steve and robin #robin buckley #robin stranger things #steve being bi - lingual #anyways 😁

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iagi-san · 6 months

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Kvothe is ambisextrous (bisexual) but he hasn't realized yet, an essay:

Okey, so this is my delulu shit and you can go with me or against me I don't care. Here we go:

Disclaimer: The author is totally cool with that idea so don't think that it couldn't be canon, because it COULD.

First, HAVE WE SEEN HOW OUR BOY TALKS ABOUT SIMMON?! Like dude, you have a gigantic crush on your mate, we get it. The only time the word "I love you" is written in the whole books is directed to Simmon from Kvothe. He says that they argue like newlyweds. When Simmon is reading that poem Kvothe makes the point to describe how handsome is Simmon. When he returns to Imre Simmon says that he is dating Fela, Kvothe makes a monologue on how Sim is the perfect boyfriend and he is just a turd (this boy as zero self esteem at his core)

Second, at the begining of the second book, at his first encounter with Denna, he gets jealous because that gentleman is really hot and has a lovely voice and it's totally unfair (we get it kid)

Third, all that bit pre-adem with Tempi, that boy got a crush on Kvothe and there are so many scenes when it could be turned out as a slow romance lol (they would be so cute as a couple)

And last, we get to his relationship with Bast. Patrick himself has joked multiple times that they are couple, or at least that Bast has a MASSIVE crush on our innkeper lol. So Kote and Bast own together the Inn, what two other men have an Inn? Exactly, Deoch and Stanchion who are a polyamorous couple and is where we discover the word "ambisextrous" that casually Kvothe knows and no one else among his friends (has he looked it up on the Archives? I totally can see our young Kvothe searching more info about his feelings)

Getting back with Bast, he is a Fae, a pansexual satyr nonetheless (pun intended), their chemistry doesn't go unnoticed among readers, specially the tenderness (that scene with Bast singing a lullaby to a wounded Kote), care (how he stitches him up and swapes his injuries althought Kote says that it's not necessary) and how he talks to him and about him to Chronicler (that bone chilling oath he makes towards his master).

At his own Kote sees Bast as someone a bit immature and who is like a child, I don't see quite romance on his side but who knows, he treats him with a lot of respect and care to not hurt his feelings.

Finally, my take is that Kvothe may not be as straight as he portrays himself to be and I'm desperate to read more fics with that in mind.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

#kingkiller chronicle #kkc #kvothe #patrick rothfuss #the name of the wind #bast #Kvothe is bi period #the wise man's fear #Ambisextruos #Tempixkovthe deserved better #Persimmon has golden retriever energy and Kvothe orange cat energy #We want to know more about Willem too

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Text

fuck your inhibition. | k. bakugou

♢ tags ; very big age gaps (19 years), questionable ethics, ex deliquent / runaway reader (22), fighting / violence, brief mentions of living on the streets, retired pro-hero bakugou (41), emotionally charged sex, afab + masc!reader, top!reader, bottom bakugou, reader is really rough around the edges, backstory for reader, arguing, oral (both receiving),rimming (m!recieving), strap-ons (not a dom thing. no particular power dynamics), prone-bone, dirty talk, size difference (reader is smaller but no specifics), happy endings sort of.

no explicitly gendered terms for reader. usage of words like clit / cunt for readers body parts. reader is implied bisexual.

(also while this fic is certainly intended to be read as masc., it can just as easily be read as completely gn.)

♢ wc ; 10.2k (two days. this is so alarming)

♢ a/n ; happy birthday to my favorite guy. sorry in advance. this fic is so disgustingly self-indulgent. str8 self-inserty ngl. i simply dont want to look at it djskfgdf. this fic is pretty tame tho age gap aside. been a while since ive written for him. title is from "lemme know" by vince staples

♢ synopsis ; who knew that the boudoir pictures you've been getting off too your whole life would look so much better in person?

You’re not convinced there’s any way to get used to getting your lights knocked out.

At this point, your fighting prowess is good enough that you can dodge swings from even heavy handed opponents. Just agile enough to bob and weave. Your reflexes are good too, from years of getting into with cops or otherwise. So getting absolutely dusted in a single, swift motion is not a frequent occurrence.

That’s why you are sorely caught off guard when it happens to you in the back of an alleyway, tucked into a corner of Osaka—a long ways from home.

You were fucked from the minute you stepped foot off the train; you knew that instinctively. You haven’t been back in years and it’s not like you’re here for leisure. And sure, you took the job knowing there was some possibility you’d run into some old foes but shit. They couldn’t’ve waited till the week was over?

3 days in and your life as a runaway comes back to bite you in the ass. Worse, they catch in front of the very storefront you were working up the nerve to visit at the end of the week. If that old man catches you 1. making a ruckus in front of his cherished bakery and 2. fighting like those “worthless punks” that he openly detests, he’s definitely gonna be on your ass.

It’s amidst conflict, you decide to take the beating and wait it out. Hopefully, whatever higher power is looking over you will let you get out without busting your lip.

But fuck, this last hit is leaving you worse for wear. You blink your eyes open and you’re still surrounded by him and his bunch of goons. What was this dudes name again…? Aka…Aka-something, you think. Without warning, you get another punch, a clean left-hook - this time to your side. You cough at the sensation.

Ah, life is so unfair to you.

He grabs you by the front of your collar, dragging you upwards until you’re nose to nose. This fuckers breath is hot. Something warm slips down your nose, a rivulet of blood over your lips. You grunt.

“I should’ve beat the shit out of you the first time.”

You blink slowly as you regain your vision and sense. Despite many transgressions and altercations, your time in Osaka as a fugitive is notable. This bunch of fiends are a somewhat half-assed motorbike gang. It’s an old story. You stole and ruined not one, not two, but four of their bikes total. In your defense you were a young kid scrounging for change - hotwiring and deconstructing for parts was always pretty profitable. And stealing flashy bikes was a hell of a lot easier than scratching up your knees in the scrap yard.

Ah, there was that other thing too. Why you’re pretty sure this guy has held such a grudge against you for god knows how long. Irritable with a bad sense of self-preservation, you give up on behaving well.

“Yeah? No need to sulk now, right?” You grin, hands practically itching to throw him onto the ground. A familiar sense of adrenaline burns in your stomach. You should just hit him, but you don’t - instead opting to aim where you know it’s gonna piss him off most “How’s your little sister by the way?”

Red flashes in his eyes, nose puffed like a bull. Despite your self-satisfaction, you close your eyes and pray to god he doesn’t actually kill you. There’s still some ass you have to tap before you die and it’d be a real shame to die only inches away. You cover your face when his fist winds up. Riling him up was probably a bad move.

Before you get your lights punched out forreal, an angel comes to rescue you.

“Oi, you fuckin’ punks—go take this shit somewhere else or I’m gonna singe every last goddamn hair on your head.”

You smile, almost drunk on the adrenaline. An angel, indeed. A cursing, blonde, abrasive angel.

“Oh, shit—we gotta get outta here. That dude Dynamight doesn’t fuck around”

Before you know it, said group of miscreants disperses like a swarm of flies. You find yourself stumbling back against a bunch of crates, back hitting them and sliding down, snagging in your work clothes. The leader says something about “not being finished with you yet,” but you don’t catch it with how your ears are ringing in your skull.

You rub your eyes and groan, seeing double. When you open them again, your favorite blonde old man is standing in front of you. Arms crossed over his chest, sporting that signature glare you’re so fond of.

Your head is throbbing. Fuck it hurts.

You only manage one sentence before promptly blacking out.

“Did I die and go to heaven?”

—

You wake up in a familiar bed.

A bed you spent a lot of time resting in when you were out at on the streets here, something like four years ago now. The memories of the time aren’t entirely pleasant - being a homeless runaway was pretty shit. But meeting your life long hero (and getting your rocks off in his bed) are quite fond regardless. You’re surrounded by nice, white linen sheets that you’re pretty sure cost more than you make in a month. He’s not really much of a flashy character despite his career, but he does have an eye for the finer things.

You haven’t been back here in a while. Since moving to a different prefecture, you haven’t had any good reason to come see him. This week was a good excuse for just that. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening like this, but you can’t really win 'em all. You’d consider being back here a win on your part regardless.

The fact that you’re here instead of molding in the pouring rain means that he dragged you up there by himself. A fact you try not to put too much stock into, because he’s still a pro even if he’s retired. What makes it hard not to feel giddy about it is the fact you’re all cleaned up. Bandaged wounds and all, he even took off your shoes. Jeez, he’s gonna kill you one of these days acting so cute.

You turn to lay on your back, reaching your hand to the ceiling and making a fist. Your knuckles are still pretty bruised up but it’s clear he took some time to check over them. You drop your hand down, squeezing a fist over your chest and sighing. You roll over again.

“Still giving me so many mixed signals.” You say, half in jest, trying not to be too affected by it “Ah, fuck, this is bad. Gonna end up doing something weird just like old times.”

Before you commit another act of degeneracy in the bed of your long time crush and childhood hero, you sit up with your legs over the edge. He took your pants off too, a pair of boxers hung low on your hips. Your back is fucking killing you.

You stand to your feet, scratching the back of your neck as you turn to examine yourself in the mirror. You pull your tank up over your side, a bruise the size of a melon developing on you. It goes from just under your chest all the way down to above your waist. You press your finger to it and wince at the sensation of pain, dull but throbbing so deep in your nerves you can’t help but feel it.

You examine the rest of you, turning to either side. Work tomorrow is gonna fucking blow, but considering you don’t have any broken ribs - you think it’s not the worst it could be. No stitches either, so a win overall. If the rest of the week passed by silently that’d be perfect.

You look around the room for your things. They’re in a neat chair in the corner of the room. Bakugou’s cat is over there too, asleep on your uniform. You can hear something faint from downstairs, the sound of a T.V. playing. You should drop down there since you’re awake but you’re reluctant. You wonder if he’ll chase you out since you’re up. If he still has as much of a soft spot for you as he used to, it couldn’t hurt to test your luck.

You open up the bedroom door and shut it quietly before padding down stairs.

You end up finding him where you’d expect him. He’s in the kitchen with an apron on, a fitted gray shirt with a piping bag in hand.

He looks older every time you see him. His hair isn’t all gray yet but the platinum is starting to turn brilliant white. There’s lines in his face that weren’t always there, even with the scars and fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s still as jacked as he used to be, but it’s softened up. Mostly it’s his personality, you find, to be mellow. Only someone with patience could take up such a tedious hobby after an entire life out in the field - killing baddies and chasing thugs and whatever other shit hero’s do.

It’s kind of ridiculous that he’s piping delicate little designs onto some pastries, but unfortunately for you it only adds to his charm. You lean against the wall coming into the kitchen, in the frame. Half-dressed with your lips quirked up in a coy smile.

“Whatcha makin’ old man?”

“Don’t break my concentration you noisy brat,” He says straightforwardly “Sit down and shut up.”

“So cranky,” You muse, but ultimately comply, sitting at a chair on the kitchen island. Looks like he’s on his last round of whatever he’s making.

You get by on staring at him. It’s pretty typical for you even now. Sitting here in front of him doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected, which is worth something. When he’s finally finished, he puts the piping bag on the counter and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Permission to speak, sarge?” You ask, sarcastically. He frowns at you.

“Not granted.”

“Cold as ever huh,” You say, leaning your elbow on the counter - palm on your cheek “Thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?”

“That only counts if there’s fondness in the first place.” He says with ease. This time you scoff at him, but he cuts you off before you get a chance to reply “You wake up with any pain?”

“Worry about yourself, you old bastard,” You say impudently. You see the corners of his lips twitch as he stares at you “‘m fine. Got a nasty bruise on my side but my ribs aren’t broken. Work tomorrow is gonna suck.”

“That why you’re back here?”

“For about a week, yeah.”

“Confidential?”

You shake your head and lean back.

“Nah. Bodyguarding some rich dude’s kid. Birthday tomorrow. Spent the first two days being a lousy maid but the pay is good so I can’t complain.”

“Shit. The party is tomorrow? I have an order for tomorrow.”

“Guess you’re not senile yet, old man.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou says, not bothering to hide to his expression “How old’s the kid?

“A little younger than me I’d guess. 19 or so.”

“Isn’t this a good opportunity to get laid?” He suggests like he’s purposefully trying to irritate you. He already knows how you feel. Why he insists on pretending is beyond you but it never fucking fails to piss you off.

You shoot him a glare.

“Nevermind. You’re definitely senile. Might wanna try some puzzle games to keep your shit in tact before you start peeing in public and buying ten pairs of the same pants.”

“You’re still just as mouthy as I remember.”

“Learned from the best.”

A comfortable silence settles as a weird feeling overtakes you. Fuck, you’re still pining your youth away after all this time. Maybe getting laid would fix some of your issues, but no one is gonna hold a candle to having the real thing. You rub your temple in preemptive apprehension. Bakugou starts working on cleaning up the kitchen, and you resign yourself to thinking about what you’re gonna do.

It catches you off-guard when he talks to you first.

“Earlier,” He says, opening up the fridge to rearrange it “Why weren’t you fighting back?”

You don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry hearing him ask. You don’t feel like softening the blow with your usual shit, so you give it to him straight.

“It doesn’t suit a tactical genius to play dumb, old man.”

He stiffens, then sighs.

“Still hung up on that, huh.”

Oh now you’re gonna get pissed.

“Don’t.” You warn, low and indifferent. He sighs, sliding a tray into the fridge and “Don’t piss me off, alright?”

“Hey. You shitty punk. When are you gonna get it through your thick skull I’m doing this for your fucking sake? Stop—”

“Next time, just leave me in the rain.” You seethe, venom in your voice, making you numb and agitated. He stops, breath hitching “I don’t give a shit if you’re a retired hero. I’m serious. Leave me out in the alley next time if you’re gonna pull the mentor act again..”

Man this sucks.

Not like you were expecting some heart warming love story out of a guy like him but still. You didn’t think he wouldn’t budge at all. You can feel yourself getting angry just thinking about it. It might’ve been better not to come. Mentor or not, his whole dismissal never fails to annoy you to your core. You knew that before the week started he might be like this. Maybe if shit went your way - you could’ve had a regular reunion. But now, he just had to see you getting beat up on purpose and he just had to fucking ask about it.

Seriously, where’s his decorum? Prick.

“Kid.”

“Don’t—I needa get outta here. I shouldn’tve—fuck, this blows.”

You stand to your feet before you have a chance to look back. You feel kind of pathetic running away again but it’s still the preferable option to having this fight a second time. It’s something you’re just too sensitive about to deal with head on. Getting rejected twice by the guy you’ve been in love with since you were nineteen is bound to fuck you up abs you don’t have it in you not to drink yourself into a fit.

So you’re practically running up the stairs, but you can hear him calling behind you. You go into the bedroom to get your things and Bakugou follows you into it predictably, shutting the door. You turn around to him, annoyed.

“Get outta my way.”

“No. Not while you’re all pissy. Gonna get yourself hit by a car.”

“What’d I just say about cooling it with the mentor act, man?”

“It’s not a fuckin’—it’s not an act.” He says, with a sigh that almost makes you feel bad, “I haven’t seen you in two years.”

“Two years is nothing. Old age is making you soft,” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest “But I don’t need your sympathy. My feelings haven’t changed.”

“Kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, alright? Cleaned my act up, got a job and a license and a place. Haven’t slept in a cell in two years. Been off the streets that whole time just like you told me to do. The least you could do is take me seriously.”

“I didn’t want you to do that shit for me. I wanted you to do it for you.”

“Too bad,” You reply back almost immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose “Save your lecture for the next injured bird you raise up and leave me out of it.”

“I’m trying to put you on the right path, you ungrateful little jackass. Don’t act like—“

“Spare me the goddamn lecture.”

There’s a quiet silence befalls the both of you. Shit is going nowhere fast and you both know it, Bakugou as much as you do. Memories of your last argument come back to you almost instantly.

After you turned eighteen, you were run out of the orphanage you’d spent part of your adolescence at. It’s a pretty regular sob story and you’re quite the sad sap. A dead mom in Mustafu and an absent father. You had a strong quirk, and hell maybe if you grew up different - you could’ve been a hero.

Shit didn’t work out that way, so at 11 you were thrown to the wolves. It’s not a fun time to look back on and you figure there’s no use thinking about the past. You did whatever you had to to survive which mostly meant being in and out of orphanages and running away whenever the next worthless schmuck tried to take advantage of you. You always got away by the skin of your teeth, and made money doing whatever you could. If it put food on the table, you’d have probably done it at least once.

It’s something of a cliche, but Dynamight was your idol. You liked that he wasn’t like other heroes. He was crass and hardcore and liked to talk shit. He was cool. You spent a lot of time hanging around T.V. stores watching him through the glass, watching interviews on your first hand-me-down phone. Even though he didn’t really have the tragic backstory, you always thought he was courageous and honest.

A celebrity crush and idol combined, you stole more of his pin-up magazines than you’re entirely comfortable with. A lot of them you still own, shoved into the back of your closet.

Once you’d turned 18, your life of petty crime had brought you all the way down to Osaka. It was also the worst year of your life. Social agencies seem to get off on tossing kids into the streets as soon as they can and with a criminal record like yours, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do.

You spent the first 6 months knee deep in all sorts of shit. That’s when you ran into that biker gang for the first time. You hung around bars and slept with strangers for a place to sleep. A lot of bad shit happened and it wasn’t getting any easier.

It was a cold, rainy day when you met Dynamight for the first time. The worst day of your life, more accurately. You got mugged and lost your job all in the same few hours and you were pretty sure god himself was spitting at your face.

But it wasn’t all bad. Cheesy as it sounds, meeting your hero was worth the trouble.

He was different off camera. That was the first thing you thought when you talked to him. He had a softer way of speaking and he was weirdly perceptive. He didn’t talk much, either - at least not at first. You spent a lot of time in comfortable silence. The first time, you didn’t do much more than share a meal. He asked you about your life. He gave you money for a hotel too. The only thing you could think to do was ask when you could see him again.

He was 36 at the time. Hadn’t retired yet, either.

That was the beginning of your long relationship. To this day, you don’t know why he decided to involve himself with you. It’s a mystery you’ve yet to get answers for and maybe you never will. Sure he was a hero, but you’re sure he’s seen a lot worse. Why take pity on you in particular? Whenever you ask him about it, he usually just scoffs. Sometimes he’ll tell you that you reminded him of someone. Who that person could be is lost on you even now.

It was a gradual relationship. You were young and persistent, but he never turned you away either. Sure he’d been a good influence, but stopping a life of crime wasn’t easy. You got arrested for some months after meeting. Bakugou took you in when you were 19 and homeless - let you stay with him. He retired at 37, opening up a bakery in Osaka. The place you’re staying in now is just over it. The same one you spent two years of your life falling in love with the old bastard.

It was hard not too. You’d admired him for a long time, and he managed to supercede your low expectations. It wasn’t the first time you fell in love but it was definitely the strongest sensation. You tried to ignore it for a while but that didn’t work out for shit either.

You confessed to him on your 20th birthday. Made a whole big deal with flowers and candles and shit. And again - it’s not like you were expecting romance out of the motherfucker. A flat-out rejection would’ve sufficed.

But…that wasn’t what you got either.

The whole reason for your fight wasn’t just because he didn’t have feelings for you. He made it a whole big fucking deal trying to tell you about your feelings. That you needed to get your shit together and grow up and that it was a phase that you’d grow out of. That he “really cares about you, kid” and that he’s just trying to do what was right by you as an adult.

(“You’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m like either. Been through some tough shit and you latched onto me, alright? So don’t go wastin’ your time.”)

You don’t really give a fuck about how old he is or about his status. None of it matters to you in the slightest. What was pissing you off all that time was him not taking you seriously after everything you’d been through together. Trying to tell you would fucking grow out of it and that it was a waste. You got into an argument after that, and like you’ve been doing your whole life - you ran away. Back to Shizuoka where you started to get your life together.

Hit the books and studied your ass off, graduating late from a night school and then picking up a vocational school to fall back on. Some old connections got you a job in security and you bounced from place to place in the meanwhile. You even got your license and bought a beat-up cruiser that you fix-up when you have the chance.

You grew up so to speak. You came back here trying to prove that. Being dismissed so fucking quickly makes you feel rage beyond reason so you’re trying to step back. Seriously, two fucking years and nothing. Not even a pity “I’m proud of you.”

“Just admit it,” You sneer, inching closer to him “It’s not about any of that shit, is it?”

He widens his eyes as you stalk towards him.

“The fuck are you—“

“Don’t play stupid. You feel guilty, right? Feel all wound up cause you know it’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing”

This time he goes silent. Fucking bullseye.

“You thought I forgot? How you kissed me all tipsy? Thought I didn’t notice you looking?”

Oh it feels good to let it all out. He shrinks, this time unable to say anything. You both know it’s true.

“Look—“ He puts hands on your shoulders as you back him into the wall “You’re too fucking young for all this. And about me, you don’t know—”

You lean into him, face inches apart. You already know what he’s gonna tell you, almost word for word. Trying to maintain some innocence you hardly have anything left of.

“You sure? I heard you through those walls plenty of times. You take dick like a champ.”

“Shut the hell up. This is for your own good, we can’t do this.”

You can hardly believe he’s still being like this.

“I used to know you were home. When I brought people over,” You whisper low against his skin. His eyes widen “You heard me too, I’m sure. So, be honest Mr. Dynamight, you think I can’t give you what you want or are you too afraid to find out?”

“You’re such a fucking punk.” He grits out. Still not denying your words.

“That’s right,” You muse, words heated and heavy “I’m a worthless street punk trying to fuck the old man upstairs ‘cause I don’t know any better.”

It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Bakugou in your life. The first time was when you came over to his place tipsy. In front of all the other pro-heros you had admired so much. It’s different this time. Not only are you both shockingly sober, there’s an aggression in it that wouldn’t be there before. No matter how begrudging he acts, he’s still kissing you back just as hard as you’d expect him too. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, arms wrapped around your neck. Fuck he’s still so huge. How much does he work out to still be this jacked?

You can’t even imagine how that’s gonna look when you finally get to fuck him. Shit, just thinking about it sends electricity through your spine. You groan a little into his mouth, your hands tucked on his nape and tugging at the fine hairs. You push your incisors into his lower lip and tug, pulling away just slightly to intake how fucking flushed he is.

He looks like a pornstar,

You pull away, hand cupping his jaw and forcing his mouth open. You’re gonna lose it if you stare too long.

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” He mumbles. You laugh lightly at him.

“Your cocky attitude is pretty sexy too,” You hum, amused. You kiss him one more time, hands reaching for the thickest part of his waist. He’s built like a trunk, but his reactions are almost girlish. The contrast is making you twitch.

“Can’t say the same for you.” He spits. Your grin splits your face as you pull away from him, teeth nipping at his jaw. You can feel the scruff of his skin, unshaved as you let your tongue travel over it.

“Aw, what? You don’t think I’m sexy.” You nudge a knee between his legs feeling the half-hard outline of his cock. You shudder “You sure about that?”

“What the hell are they feeding brats like you?”

“Liquor and cigarettes.”

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Helps me relax after work,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe before “I get pretty stressed out. Sure you know something about that.”

“Hngh, fuck. Fuck you.”

“Do you even know how? Not like that thing gets much use, huh?”

You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans, hard against the palm of your hand. He pushes his hips up slightly, sharpened glare. He pants.

“You sound, shit, so fucking sure.”

“I am sure. I’m looking to fuck you, not the other way around. Not sure how that’s gonna work since I don’t got my stuff on me.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say. This whole thing is feeling like a fever dream you can’t wake up out of. Maybe he’ll give you a suggestion on what else to do.. But instead of that, a blush crawls onto his face. It leaves you floored. He looks away from you.

“...Your shits still where you left it.”

It takes you a second to register what he means. When you do, you can feel your brows hit your fucking hairline. There’s no way he’s saying what you think he is.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d come to pick it back up but you never did, and I went to go move it into some boxes. I didn’t have any reason to toss it.”

A thought crosses into your mind.

“Hey. Old man. Where is it?”

He stares at you. You grasp onto him firmer, making him gasp. You can feel how heavy his cock is in your hands, rubbing it through the cloth of his sweats. You whisper harsh into his ears.

“If I open your goddamn drawer right now, tell me, am I gonna find my old strap in it? Clean and getting use? You been fucking yourself with the thing I used to lay dick with?”

When he doesn’t answer, pure glee ignites in you. He can’t answer, apparently. But his face is a harsh, permanent red now and his cock is painfully hard. You want to rail him into the fucking floor just for that. You wouldn’t make up some shit like that in your wildest dreams, so the fact that he’s not denying it makes your insides feel like they’re melting. You rub yourself against him, feeling how slick and hard your clit is just thinking about it.

“Go lay down.”

“Are you telling me what to do?”

You grab his ass as hard as you can before landing a hit on it that makes him nearly topple over. Even though he’s bigger than you in more ways than one, he reacts like that. His anger only lasts so long before it morphs into want.

“Of course I am. And you’re gonna listen.”

“What makes you so sure about that, huh? You think you can satisfy me?”

“You think you’re gonna intimidate me into backing down? After knowing you fuck your tight little ass to the thought of me? Fat chance.”

“I didn’t say anything like that.”

You laugh “You implied it. Now go lay down. Where’s your lube?”

He frowns at you.

“In the same drawer.”

You give him a knowing grin to which he shoves your face away. Ultimately though he listens to you, lying and making himself comfortable in the sheet as you grab whatevers in his little sex drawer. He wasn’t kidding about the strap, the lube seated next to it. You grab both quickly and join him, hovering over him.

You opt not to talk, slowing your pace to appreciate the view. You think he’s says something. Asks about what you’re doing and why - but you tune the words out as you run your hands over the curves of his body. He’s a wall of fucking muscle, his arms especially with a torso just tight enough for you to grab. The fabric of his shirt doesn’t leave much for imagination, but you’re still overwhelmed as you pull it up over his waist, his chest, his arms. The fabric comes loose and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve got plenty of porn mags in your back pocket and even more boudoir shoots from him that you’ve stared at for hours.

But seeing it in person is completely different. You can see the rise and fall of his chest - the raised skin of a scar and plenty of over scratches and wounds. Fuck, he is so sexy and you are so drunk on lust you almost feel sick.

“Somethin’ catch your eye?”

His voice draws you out of the trance you're in, a lazy smirk spread on his face. You laugh.

“I get why you’re such a show-off,” This time you lean forward to kiss him - a hand wrapped around his throat, spare going to grab his chest. His tits are soft, they look like hard muscle and sinew but the fat is squished in your palms to perfectly for that“Fuck.”

“You’re acting like a horny teenager.” He says flatly.

“Been thinking about fucking you that long, so I guess so.”

“Are you serious?”

“Why’re you so shocked?” You make work kissing down his neck slowly, down his chest, one tweaking his nipple while your mouth makes work on the other one He swears above you, another wave of heat pulsing in your body “Don’t you hear shit like that all the time?”

“Shit that feels—I didn’t think you were, hngh—serious.”

“Obviously not. I still have all your slutty ass photos in my apartment somewhere.”

He pants. Makes the prettiest fucking sounds for you as you grope and squeeze and touch his body. You bite, hard, into his tits leaving a red mark of teeth that makes him shudder. You need to do it all over again.

“Haah, fuck. What the fuck?”

“You’re way sexier in person if that’s worth anything,” You groan, a shudder passing through you “Like way sexier.”

He looks like he wants to say something to you but the words die in his mouth. You laugh as you peer over him. His reactions are fucking adorable. Face is hot with a flush, watery eyes. Pretty. As much he’s rugged and strong and downright handsome, he is annoyingly fucking pretty. Having him underneath you is making all the power go to your head. Nothing feels more appealing to you right now than the idea of wrecking him completely.

You kiss down his body until you’re at his waist, taking his pants off unceremoniously. You have half a mind to rip them but you’re sure they’re expensive. He lifts his legs for you anyways, leaving a tight pair of boxers that leave nothing for the imagination at all.

“What the fuck,” You mumble, getting face to face with it. You pull the boxers off slowly, kissing his hip as you do. His cock pops out slowly as you pull it down. What an asshole. His dick is impossibly big too. A tuft of well trimmed blonde hairs sit neat at the base and the tip is a harsh red. There’s a little drop of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft that makes your brain feel fuzzy. It’s veiny too, tight balls sitting net at the base.

Another shiver wracks through you, as you reach your hand out to touch it tentatively. He groans sharply. You stick your tongue out, licking up from base to tip. He tastes of salt and skin, but it isn’t bad. You let your tongue lick at the slit, elated looking at him squirm underneath you.

“Nice dick.” You say back plainly. He snorts.

“Fuck off.”

‘’m serious,” You add, letting your eyes lid to look more serious “I don’t blow just anyone.”

You open your mouth wide, pulling lips over teeth as you ease the tip slowly. It’s hot. Hard as steel and intrusive against your tongue, you can feel it throb. Pulsing relentlessly, you lower yourself onto it slowly - taking as much in as you can. It’s difficult and messy, tongue out to cover as much as you can. You suction your mouth slowly, hollowing your cheeks. There’s something that feels so good about having him in your mouth, something even better about watching the faces of pleasure he makes above you.

You hum in appreciation and the vibrations prove to be too much as he nearly thrusts his dick into your throat. You brace yourself for it happening again - setting an even pace. He looks good like that, drowned in pleasure and unsure of what to do with himself. You wonder if it’s been a while since he’s acting so fucking cute about it. You assume as much.

What he said before, you wonder if he was picturing it. If he felt guilty about it. The idea of him jerking off in shame over the thought of his dick in your mouth makes your spine tingle. You cup his balls in your hand, squeezing gently as you get into a steady rhythm. You feel him above you trying to hold it all in, the muscles in his abdomen tightening each time you manage to get down further. It’s hard to breathe, the back of your throat feels narrow. Your skin is on fire.

“Fuck, fuck—where’d you learn how to—fuck!”

You feel him getting ready to cum, so you pull off swiftly. A delicious, needy whine comes out of his throat that leaves you mesmerized.

“What the hell?” He mumbles, heaving. You laugh.

“Hey,” You hum, lifting his hips until you can see his hole - pink and twitching “Every had someone eat your ass?”

“Are you offering?”

“Yeah.” You say back, kissing the insides of his thighs, gripping the muscle “I wanna know if it feels good for you.”

For whatever reason, this statement in particular makes his skin tinge pink. You hold back a laugh internally.

“So fucking weird.”

“Is that a no?”

“Do whatever you want.”

You chuckle at that. You sink your teeth into him again, this time working on the build up. His muscles give tension to your incessant biting, hard bone against muscle as you mark up his thick thighs. His ass is nice like you’d expect, tight and muscular. You work your way towards his hole slowly, thumb circling the tight ring of muscle first to gauge his reaction. He shudders, making you hold back a laugh.

“Kinda sensitive,” You say amused. You can feel him glaring without having to look “You can’t cum without it now, right?”

You’re mostly saying it in jest but the prolonged silence leaves you at a loss for words. Your eyes snap up at him, watching him huff and puff in embarrassment. Heat rolls through your body.

“It’s not like I fucking can’t ever, alright?”

“You’re too cute for your own good.”

“Don’t fucking call me cute you shitty little brat.”

“But you’re acting kinda adorable, old man,” You say slyly. You stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe against him. He shakes “Blushing up a fucking storm. Been a while?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, so it’s just ‘cause it’s me then?”

He looks like a fucking cherry. You laugh.

“To think you were so against it. How’d you hide your expressions that long? Did it help you to masturbate to the thought of me fucking you?”

“Would you shut up?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Before he can scold you any more, you let your tongue slip against the exposed rim. The reaction is tentative at first, slow licks trying to gauge if this is something he’s even into. You do it again and again, burying yourself deep. He makes a noise that you recognize to be a muffled moan. You groan in appreciation, repeating the action - letting yourself dip into the tightness of it. You can feel the muscles of his body go taut as you grip him - hands over the tops of his thighs. The action is more shameless the longer you let yourself indulge.

You’ll have to fuck him open anyways before you actually get on top. You think doing this much will make everything easier. Mostly you’re doing it because you like seeing him embarrassed. The gap in appearance vs expression never gets old. Seeing like this repeatedly proves to be novel and fuck knows if he’s gonna let you do it again any time soon. You’re more than determined to squeeze out every last ounce of his pride.

You want to see everything.

And frankly, pleasuring him like this is driving you all kinds of crazy. Not like you’ve ever been a selfish lover. Always aiming to please or whatever. But he’s got such a raw fucking sex appeal looking the way he does it’s making you drip. You’re pretty damn sure you’ve soaked through everything you have on and you’re not sure how much longer you’re gonna make it without touching yourself.

It’s all material you’re committing to memory, either way. If anyone saw him like this, you’re pretty sure they’d fall head over heels just like you. It’s hard not to give him everything he’s ever wanted Not to want to fuck him within an inch of his life, just to see his big muscular frame curl in on itself. He’d look so good all messed up, all knotted with pleasure.

You can feel it again this time, another wave of desire that makes his cock twitch. You wrap your finger around the shaft, holding it around his balls so he doesn’t cum without asking you. He lets out a noise of disapproval that you ignore, pulling your mouth away. Pre-cum dribbles out of tip. You use your finger to swipe it up and lick it.

He looks scandalized.

“Not bad. You eat clean huh.”

“You’re going to kill me someday.”

“You’re too young and too healthy to die.”

He makes a face of disapproval at you. You toss him the lube before grabbing the strap.

“Think you can work yourself open for me tough guy? Normally, I’d do it myself. Edge you out nice and slow, get you all soft. But I’m dying to fuck you already and I wanna make you cum on my cock.”

He looks at you exasperated.

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“Casual sex and porn mags. You don’t like it?”

“It makes you sound your age.”

“Want me a little more suave? Tell you that I’m gonna make love to you?”

He snorts. You take off your boxers and sit up on your knees as Bakugou opens the lube in his hands. You watch him idly, mostly focusing on wiggling yourself in the harness and making sure it’s comfortable enough to fuck in.

He takes a deep breath, and you watch him reach between his legs. How it’s difficult since he’s so muscular. You almost want to help him, but instead you get between his legs again. Stood on your knees with a heavy bit of silicone weighing you down. You connect the tip to his, watching him push a finger in slowly.

“Not if you say it like that.”

“Having trouble there?”

“You piece of shit.”

“A worthless punk or something. C’mon, just say it. Ask me to finger your ass so I can fuck you. Or you want me to say something more delicate?”

“Fuck, c’mon just, help me already.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“....Please, you worthless asshole.”

You grin, grabbing the lube from the bed and squeezing it into your fingers. You laugh, leaning over him.

“Got some manners left in you after everything, huh?”

You pull him down towards him by the waist, pulling his legs up. You kiss the inside of his knees, nudging his legs apart as you position your hands, warming the lube between your fingers. He’s surprised by your strength, but you don’t do anything but grin.

“Keep your legs up for me, yeah?”

He scoffs but doesn’t go against your will. He looks good waiting for you like that, so you don’t take too much time trying to split him open. His hands are thicker than yours, so your first finger slides in like it’s nothing. He’s soft and hot on the inside, and the way he accommodates you lets you know this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

It doesn’t irritate you as much as you think it should. Maybe you’re a little screwed up to think it’s sexy but the idea of him getting fucked at any point is turn on. Once you’re down to the knuckle and you can pump in and out of him easily, you use a second finger to stretch him further. There’s more resistance so you slow, feeling up against his walls for the place you know it’ll feel good.

You know you find it because his whole body tightens up in front of you. His eyes shoot open and he’s all breathy and fucked out. You relish in it.

“Right there?”

He must be feeling good with how little he’s combating you.

“Y-yeah.”

You lean forward to plant a kiss on him again but this time it’s tender. He must feel really good because he wraps his arms around your neck to keep you there. You moan in surprise and when you pull back he looks hazed out of his mind.

“Didn’t know you could make a face like that.” You say, amused. He frowns at you.

“I’m not happy about it either.”

A laugh falls out of you and you catch the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips that has you kissing the corners of his mouth. He catches himself before he leans into it too easily, but you notice before he can shy away.

“Looks like I’m making your heart flutter. Forget the ethics for a little and let me.”

“I should toss you out of a fucking window.”

“You’re not gonna though.”

This he doesn’t reply to. You slip a third finger while he’s distracted and he gasps. This time he’s almost stretched completely. You give him a minute to breathe, swallowing up the little sounds he makes with a hearty grin. It’s so fucking good just doing this. Incredible. Way better than you could’ve ever imagined.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” You say, bemused. He’s delirious enough to laugh.

“The stamina of youths scares the hell outta me.”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a retired pro.”

This time he grins. You find yourself pleased with the development.

He’s stretched now, and restless. You pull your hand away and rub the remaining slick onto the tip of your cock, giving him a look.

“Do you know how you want me?”

“It’s your fantasy fuck,” He says, semi-sarcastically “Do whatever you want.”

You laugh, tapping his ass lightly.

“Turn over and stick your ass up a little.”

“Don’t wanna see my face?”

“Wanna see how you swallow my cock up like it’s nothing, more like.”

He curses under his breath. You feel accomplished. He turns over just like you’ve asked him too and fuck the sight of him is way too much. You can’t get over it. He’s big and strong and trembling with desire and it’s driving your sex-drive as high as it can possibly go. You move so your knees are on either side of his thighs. Leaning forward, you lick up from the small of his spine all the way up his shoulder, before sinking your teeth in the junction in between.

He groans underneath you, and your hands make themself present around his hips. Most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The fucking arch and the scars and the ruggedness of all of it.

“You’re damn gorgeous.” You say, with utter and sincere appreciation “It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“Save your smooth talk.”

“I’m bein’ serious,” You say, pulling his ass apart with your palms “Like. Woah.”

He snorts “Real poetic.”

“I barely graduated school, asshat.”

In the midst of your bantering, you let the tip of your cock slip into him slowly. It steals the words of reply out of his mouth in an instant. You can feel him melt underneath you. At the intrusion, at the feeling. At every single sensation. You feel the phantom of it in your spine. Like there’s fireworks in all your nerve-endings, just watching how his ass looks around it. Just the tip with no movement, no adjusting.

He’s silent, shuddering - holding onto a pillow. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He has little dimples in his back. You groan.

“Shit. Look at you.”

The praise seems to make him keen. He’s always been one to like the attention. You roll your hips, fucking another inch into him agonizingly slow. He moans like he’s deflating, breathing ragged and voice raw. You rock back and forth until there’s no longer anything to resist, then push in and in and in.

Once you bottom out with his ass against your pelvis and your hips on the back of his thighs, you lean forward and press your weight on top of him. You think he’s expecting something else, because he seems surprised. But you let yourself weigh upon him, then with a heavy grunt - cup his jaw and tilt his head to kiss him.

“You like that?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon. Be honest. You look like you like it. Ears turning so red.”

He groans.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Still not gonna budge huh?” You say. anchoring yourself at his sides with a deep sigh “So stubborn.”

When you feel stable enough to move, you don’t hesitate to fuck him with all of the expertise you have. You give it to him in just the right way, measure up to where he needs you but don’t give in quite enough. It’s a strenuous affair but you keep it at. A steady pace that’s hard and deep but not good enough to make him cum. Something to leave him on the edge, you fuck him just like that. The sound of skin hitting skin and short, broken moans echo in the room.

You focus on taking him like that, making sure each and every thrust is precise and calculated until he gets where you want him to be. You can practically feel when it’s starting to really get to him. When he can no longer hold himself up, so resigns to smushing his face against the pillow and going limp. You lean up, moving so you can pull his hips back with you - hovering off the bed on his knees instead of laying on his stomach.

This time you reach deeper. His whining gets louder, more in tune with everything. You laugh as you reach around him, hands gripping at the base of his cock. It takes patience to unravel him like this, matching your hands to your movements until everything is in a slow, steady synchronization. Fast but not fast enough. Hard, but not hard enough. Close but not close enough.

He lets out a heady groan that reverberates in his chest, opening his mouth finally.

“C-c’mon. Just. C��mon.”

“Aw what?” You say, rolling your hips up against him, where you know he wants you most “What is it, hm? Did you want something?”

“Fuck. Just. Fuck me already.”

“I am fucking you, though?”

“You know what I mean!”

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Make you cum? I thought you didn’t like it.”

He groans, dropping against the pillows again.

“I didn’t say that. C’mon just. Please.”

His voice is hoarse when he asks. You laugh against his shoulders, listening to his requests. Giving it to him how he needs it. Harder and a little deeper, you can feel it now. How you knock into the place inside him that leaves him trembling and shaking. You can read his cues now, when he starts getting close. But of course it’s not gonna be that easy.

You keep the pace stand, putting your hand on the tip of his cock. You rub your thumb over the slit and hold it there. He sucks in a breath, whining a little.

“Wanna cum so bad?” You offer, mouth twisted in a feral grin “Tell me you love me.”

This knocks the wind out of him.

“What?”

“Say you love me with all your heart and I’ll let you cum.”

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

You fuck into him hard right where he needs you. He moans.

“Nah. My fantasy fuck, remember? Right now, we’re playing love birds.’ Like’ works too, I guess. If you’re too scared,” You half-way mock, starting a pace now that borders cruel “Now say it nice and sweet and I’ll let you cum.”

“You’re such a—agh, fuck,” He shudders against the bedsheets, repeating himself as you pound him. It’s easy to piston your hips. He’s so sensitive to begin with that it doesn’t take much “You’re insane.”

“C’mon, old man. Confess your feelings to me like we’re sweethearts.”

“In your dr—oh, shit.”

“What was’at? Did you wanna say something?”

You can practically feel him turn it over in his head. You’re mostly doing it to mess with him. Punishment for all of his beating around the bush and bullshitting. Getting to fuck him has been more than enough.

So you’re not expecting him to stop you. To turn over flat on his back and lay with his legs spread and wrap his arms around your waist and stare at you through hazy, flushed eyes. This time you’re really looking at him. At the lines on his face and the scruff and an expression torn with time and desire and lust. Your heart nearly falls out of your fucking ass when he wraps his arms around your neck, palming your nape and pushing your foreheads together.

When you’re nose to nose, he looks very serious all of a sudden. You swallow something in your throat, unsure of what else to do.

“Gonna say this one fucking time, only. So listen up cause I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

He’s got to be fucking with you.

“Love you..I love you or whatever. But that doesn’t mean—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you put your hands up under his knees and fuck him for all you’ve got. Half-way as revenge for the shitty confession and half-way because if you think too long about what he’s saying you’re pretty sure you’re going to collapse.

He sounds good under you, as you fist his cock and laugh in absolute fucking delight. You stare at him hard. At his fucked out expression. You’re gonna cuss him out as soon as this shit is over, you swear. What an asshole.

“O-oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna, g-gonna cum.”

You goad him cause you aren’t sure what else you should do at this point.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Show it to me. Let me see what you look like.”

The words are enough to push him over the edge. He gets unraveled right before your eyes, his whole body pulled like a bow before losing all the tension. You can feel his cock twitching hotly in your palms. Thick strings of white covering your fingers as you fuck him through it. He sounds so perfect like that, so fucking good for you. You can feel your whole body ready to give out just watching.

When Bakugou finally finishes, he releases you from his grip. You pull out only seconds after, staring at his flushed state in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Were you serious?” You ask, because it’s the only thing you can think to ask. He sighs, tired.

“Yeah.”

Where the hell is this dudes class?

“Fuck.”

He laughs, laid down before poking his head back up to stare at you.

“You didn’t cum yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question. You shake your head.

“Not yet. I can take care of it.”

He clicks his teeth.

“No way. Come ‘ere.”

You undo the harness of your strap before crawling over to where he’s laid. You end up standing on your knees. He props himself up on his elbows, and you look down at him absolutely mesmerized. He crinkles his nose at you.

“That fucking lovesick look on your face is gross.”

“Been like this for four years.”

He flushes.

You stand in front of him, bare on your knees. He reaches forward, brushing the hair over the hood of your clit gently.

“You’re so wet.” He murmurs. You laugh.

“Yeah, no shit.” You say, too tired to do much arguing “Lemme borrow your mouth,”

He snorts “Got it.”

You fist your hands into his hair and tug, bringing his open mouth to your clit with a sigh. Your cunts sort from being pushed into and neglected. Even the barest brush of his mouth is making you shiver. Bakugou must know a little something about this, because he latches onto you without thinking twice. The sudden added pressure has heat building your stomach at the speed of light. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so on edge in such a short period of time.

Plus looking down at him while you hump against his face is enthralling.

“You’d make a cute little wife, old man,” You say thoughtfully, dull pleasure aching as you tuf his hair at the root “You can cook, clean, bake and you know how to use your mouth fucking perfectly.”

He gives you a look of exasperation, but the warmth down his neck tells you he likes it. You laugh, throwing your head back. The visible sight of arousal flowing down his chin and making his face messy is making you more horny than you know what to do with. You don’t have the energy to cum more than once but you’re sure when you wake you you’re gonna be horny all over again.

You try not to think too hard about it as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter before unraveling all at once. Your insides are hotter than lava, the entire lower half convulsing as the strength in your thighs and legs gets lost gradually. Bakugou sucks until you’re nearly overstimulated, and you have to pull him away before it really gets to be too much for you.

“You taste good.” He says thoughtfully. You laugh.

“Got plenty more if you want it.”

“We should clean up.”

“You’re not kicking me out?”

“I’m not a villain, damn it.”

“You feel like one for that loser ass confession, but I’ll let it slide. I need a fucking nap though. Getting my ass kicked and having incredible sex in the same day is exhausting.”

He laughs as you lay down besides him, sitting up. Even in your half exhausted state, you catch the feeling of his lips on your forehead.

“Get some rest you brat.”

You wake up in a familiar bed.

If the sore feeling of laying pipe wasn’t in your hips, you’re pretty damn sure you just woke up out of a dream. What the fuck just happened to you? Your back and body is sore, but you’re clean like you’ve been wiped down. You’re stark naked though.

The idea that he could give you a wipe but not dress you makes you laugh. When you sit up, all of your clothes are sitting still on a chair. There’s some new clothes on top of them though, his clothes. You stand to your feet, your back cracking as loud as possible as you examine the wounds. You have some hickies now (when the hell did he leave those) and when you turn there’s some scratches on your back. You feel self-satisfaction as you get dressed. You should hit the showers when you feel less lethargic.

When you’ve reconciled with the fact you didn’t just conjure up what happened a few hours ago, you trek back into the living room. You find Bakugou where you expect him, bent over the stove making dinner. You lean on the frame of the door with a grin before walking over to him.

You don’t hesitate in sliding your hands on his waist under his tank top. Better, he doesn’t react like you’ve shot him dead. A laugh blooms in your chest.

“Morning grandpa.”

“You fucking—if you don’t sit down.”

You snort, but sit yourself down at the counter like you did a few hours ago.

“Whatcha making for dinner.”

“Grilled fish and rice. There’s sides.”

“Sounds healthy.”

His ears turn red.

‘“You have work tomorrow but you need to recover.”

You couldn’t smile more if you fucking tried.

“We gonna talk about what just happened,” You ask, pouring yourself a glass of water as you sit down. You take a long sip “Or are you gonna pretend to keep washing rice?”

He sighs, putting down the dry rice and the cup to measure. He almost looks furious, but he’s too cute for it to mean anything to you. You grin.

“Hey. Fucking. Look. Alright. You’re way too fucking young. I’m old enough to be your father a-and you only just barely got your life together, so yes I told you whatever I told you. But no fucking funny business until you’re at least 25 and your brain is developed more than a peanut.”

You nod..

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda a coward old man?” You say thoughtfully. He looks pissed again but it’s too funny for you to care “What’s funny business? Sex? Cause if it is, I’ve got bad news.”

“We just. We have to be careful.”

“So I can kiss, hug, fuck you in private but keep it outta the press?”

He stares at you, scratching his neck. “Yeah. Basically.”

You give him a thumbs up, grabbing a snack off the tray on his table. Chips, the fancy kind. They’re good.

“Got it. Can I stay over? I don’t feel like driving down to my hotel this late.”

“....You’re not pissed?”

You laugh.

“Are you kidding? I wasn’t mad the first time cause you rejected me, I was mad cause you were acting all fucking ethical and holier-than-thou. I figured it was gonna be something like that anyway. And I’m not much of a romantic, so dates and shit are whatever to me,”

“Forreal?”

“Yeah. Having sex and staying over to hang out for a while is cool. It was your fat head worrying about it, not mine. Did Mr. Deku managed to talk you out of your crisis while I was asleep?”

He gives you a look. Bullseye again.

“You two keep in touch?”

“He’s a good dude and he buys me a meal when I’m short on change. Jealous?”

He turns away from you before answering. His ears are burning. You feel your heart squeeze.

What shit taste you’ve got being head over heels for this old bastard, you wonder.

“Just shut up and eat your chips.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #writing tag #age gap cw #the craziest part of this is me reading this back and thinking. oh man. i could make this so much longer #im tainted beyond repair #the fact this is ONLY 10k is quite literally a miracle

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bidisastersanji · 7 months

Text

In this episode of I can’t do anything without thinking of ZoSan please go listen to “Lay all your love on me” by ABBA and imagine it from Sanji’s perspective I swear. Maybe someday it can be a fic featuring:

Sanji struggling with his feelings of jealousy when women keep accosting and flirting with Zoro

He thinks he’s jealous because he wants the women to be flirting with him but as time passes he realizes he’s being possessive of the stupid marimo and his head is so far up his own ass he doesn’t clock that Zoro has never shown interest in a woman ever

What drives him even more nuts is that this means he feels some resentment towards WOMEN and that’s a big no no these feelings are wrong and bad and should be buried because he’s a gentleman and women can do no wrong and he would never think bad thoughts about a woman his only vice is smoking after all

But now it isn’t true - and he comes to turn with these new feelings- feelings of attraction towards a man, which he hasn’t had before, and it’s just completely overturning his self perception- so he’s bisexual apparently???

At every party his possessive jealousy gets progressively worse, he begs higher powers that zoro notices him, not the women flirting with him, nor the men that he sometimes sees the marimo walk off with into the night

He yearns, he yearns so much for the swordsman’s love, daydreaming about his touch, his voice- the way he calls him by stupid nicknames- completely distracted as he cooks by himself. He wants it all, he wants it so much it hurts but there’s no way Zoro would want him.

When he looks back on it, it’s truly unfair how easily the swordsman made him fall for him- a little talk and a smile and his insides were turning to mush - it’s embarrassing, really, how he as an adult man fell so easily, like shooting a sitting duck

After Thriller Bark it gets worse- sometimes he feels a sharp flash of fear run up his spine, a faint echo of the abject horror he felt when he found the bloodied swordsman on deaths door, and he, panicked and against all logic, needs to find him and make sure he’s ok, needs to have him near. Zoro looks at him quizzically as his excuses when he does find him get weirder and weirder

Back when he was at the Baratie, he’d had a few little love affairs- and Zeff would always scoff at him when he claimed he had found the one and gush about whatever woman had decided to string him along that week, chastising him about the ease at which he gave his affections away- he’d told him repeatedly that it wasn’t love- that he’d know love when it really hit him

And oh god had it hit him now. Pining from Momoiro island does nothing for his poor little heart and his mind goes crazy over not knowing where his nakama are and what they’re doing and he’s definitely not worried about the marimo possibly being off on some island with a better, stronger, more beautiful man than him

Iva and the candies notice him moping and decide to coach him to get his man

Sanji’s mindset is completely different two years later - he’s determined to get ALL of Zoro’s attention, his love, his devotion, and he’s not afraid of using every weapon the Candies of Kamabakka taught him

#zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #zosan has truly taken over my life #but I’m not complaining #I just love imagining a pining Sanji #but also him post time skip #putting on some criminally hot shorts at fishman island to get Zoro’s attention #letting his hands give discreet little touches as he moves about his kitchen or gets a plate from in front of zoro #and more scandalous schemes that Iva told him to do #like going around in a bath towel #abba #zosan fic #one piece zosan

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beautifulhigh · 1 month

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Hi hi!! It's unfair of me to ask you to actually write the full essay on the rwrb red room kiss scene, but I saw your tags and am very interested in at least what the main thesis would be, if you feel like sharing!! No worries if not 😊 Have a good night/day/whatever time it is where you are!

The last few weeks have been, well. They've Been™ and I'm going to use this wonderful ask to dust off my overthinking tag and write a meta post on this movie, these boys, and then hope more than three people care what I have to say.

The Red Room kiss scene is Iconic™ and Important™ and in this essay I (really) will discuss agency, framing, and why it always had to be Alex to be the one to make the move.

While book!Alex takes book!Henry to the Red Room, here he's waiting. Bundle of nervous energy. He doesn't know what to do with himself, how to hold himself, how to present himself when Henry turns up. He's backlit in this (which is a theatre technique, I see you Matthew) but it also adds to the drama and tension of the scene.

The (in)famous painting of Hamilton, about to bear witness to things.

We jump cut between Alex trying to find... something. Here he is realising his shirt has come slightly undone and he wants to try and be somewhat presentable. At least for the moment. But it speaks to Alex's physicality in this scene because he is shifting and moving so much that his clothing is shifting. There's also an interpretation that this suit represents the formality of the situation - the Prime Minister's dinner, at which he (the First Son) and the boy he wants to kiss (the actual Prinec) are supposed to be front and centre and the picture of formality.

He's coming undone in this moment because he's the First Son and he's waiting for the Prince, but he's also Alex and he's waiting for Henry.

Ah, yes. The casual lean against the wall. Fancy seeing you here, your Royal Highness, what do you think of the menu? But there's grounding here too. When you're spiralling focusing on a physical point of contact between you and and something can help ground you.

It's also a defensive stance in a way. You shall not pass, I'm not moving. Alex is claiming space and territory and he's controlling it.

"How dare you fucking kiss me, run away, ghost me, then walk into the White House like nothing changed." This is closed off, defensive, protective - probably why it's the quickest of the poses to be dismissed. He's got his back against the wall like he's scared or ready to come out fighting. And, in a way, both of those are true.

Book!Alex is mid-crisis on his bisexuality and while he logically knows he is very much into Henry, he's not gotten to the point of turning theory into reality.

Movie!Alex is more chill about being into guys, but this attraction to Henry is confusing him. He hates the guy. He wants to punch him in the mouth. With his mouth.

(What? That's literally book canon: and if he weren’t already hell-bent on destroying Henry’s infuriating idiot face with his mouth right now, he would consider doing it with his fist.)

Casual lean against the table, less staged and jarring than the extended arm against the wall.

But then Henry walks in and Alex stands to attention and he is... rapt. He is calm and composed and he is focused. We're back to the back-lit position which helps frame him with a near-halo effect.

And you can see that he is relaxed. There's a slight drop in the jaw, his shoulders are sloped and rounded. Because none on what he was trying to convey before matters. Henry is here.

"Look" he starts with - he's expecting a fight. He's expecting Alex to go off on one for the kiss, for the liberty taken. Even if Alex is willing to forget that it ever happened, take Henry's secret to the grave, Henry gets one thing right in this.

"my behaviour was appalling"

Because it was. Look, Hen, I love you and I'm with Alex in the feeling that I will go to war for you to see you happy and safe. But you did kinda kiss him without consent (harsh reading) and you did ghost him without apology (soft reading) and for a boy raised in the Royal Household that... well... it's pretty much top items on the Very Bad Behaviour list. He did not act with decorum or dignity, he did not act in the way that his status and position demands.

(That's OK, Hen. Because the boy under the linden tree wasn't the Prince. It's OK to not be him, and Alex is going to spend the rest of his life loudly loving the man, not the prince.)

"Shut up, stop talking." // “Shut up, shut all the way up, oh my God,” Alex hisses

Because even though both versions of Alex said he wanted to talk to Henry, in the moment that's the last thing he wants to do. And actions speak louder than words, right?

Why it had to be Alex

Henry needed to make the first move, that New Year's kiss, because there needed to be something to make Alex realise that this thing he's feeling is very much reciprocated, and that Henry wants it too. If Alex had kissed Henry for the first time on New Year's Eve/Day then it would have been too much of a leap. Alex, at whatever stage of his bisexual journey, has no clear idea of Henry's orientation at that party. It's only with retrospective viewing that he realises that Henry was low-key flirting, and that the sharing of these deeply personal moments wasn't just a "two bros in a hot tub" thing.

So Henry had to kiss Alex first but then he had to run because there was no way that the mostly-closeted, private Prince could accept that a) he fucking kissed a boy, b) said boy is the one he's been dreaming of since Rio/Melbourne, and c) the boy kinda?? kissed him back?? Henry will have been having a low-grade anxiety attack all through January (and trying to reclaim some control with the date he went on in the book).

In this moment, Alex knows all the pieces. He's played this logic game to its conclusion and he knows all the facts. 1) Henry is gay. 2) Henry is into him. 3) He's into Henry. That last fact is something Henry isn't fully aware of (or at least can't bring himself to believe it to be true) and so it has to be Alex.

He doesn't want Henry to say something that would get in the way of this, doesn't want to hear any kind of pre-prepared speech of "yeah, we're better off as friends" that always happens when the couple get too close to getting together too early in the run time. Alex is full on shutting that down, shutting Henry up, and he gives as good as he got.

"Wait a minute" // Henry’s too shocked to respond, mouth falling open slackly in a way that’s more surprise than invitation, and for a horrified moment Alex thinks he calculated all wrong, but then Henry’s kissing him back, and it’s everything.

And this time it's both of them. Framed between Hamilton and the books. The American political trailblazer and the literary. In the space between? There's our boys.

Alex's hand is on the wall again and he's controlling the space but Henry is very much in it. He's protective but in a different way.

In one frantic motion, Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes Henry onto it so he’s sitting with his back against—Alex looks up and almost breaks into deranged laughter—a portrait of Alexander Hamilton. Henry’s legs fall open readily and Alex crowds up between them, wrenching Henry’s head back into another searing kiss. They’re really moving now, wrecking each other’s suits, Henry’s lip caught between Alex’s teeth, the portrait’s frame rattling against the wall when Henry’s head drops back and bangs into it. Alex is at his throat, and he’s somewhere between angry and giddy, caught up in the space between years of sworn hate and something else he’s begun to suspect has always been there. It’s white-hot, and he feels crazy with it, lit up from the inside. Henry gives as good as he gets, hooking one knee around the back of Alex’s thigh for leverage, delicate royal sensibilities nowhere in the cut of his teeth. Alex has been learning for a while Henry isn’t what he thought, but it’s something else to feel it this close up, the quiet burn in him, the pent-up person under the perfect veneer who tries and pushes and wants. He drops a hand onto Henry’s thigh, feeling the electrical pulse there, the smooth fabric over hard muscle. He pushes up, up, and Henry’s hand slams down over his, digging his nails in.

The sensibility of the suits is on its way out, they're not the First Son and the Prince. And Alex is taking the lead.

Agency

Henry is somewhat passive in this - although he is fully engaged - but it's Alex who set this in motion. Pun intended. Alex who pushed him against the wall. Alex who pushed him up onto the table and hiked his leg up around his hip, Alex who is driving in. Because Alex needs Henry to know that third fact. The one he's worked out, the one that Henry is just catching up with. This isn't payback, it's not some prank. Alex Wants™.

There's a scene I'm writing in my current FirstPrince WiP in which Alex and Henry have a charged moment. And Henry wants to act on it but those princely sensibilities get in the way and he can't let himself be led into doing something that could be used against him. If Henry made all the moves then the accusation of him taking advantage, of the inherant imbalance that comes with status and titles and positions of power. So in the scene, and here, Alex takes the lead. There's no way anyone could accuse Henry of forcing Alex into doing this.

(Good luck getting Alex to do ANYTHING he doesn't want to.)

So Alex gives and Henry takes and he gets the memo very quickly.

Fact number three. Alex wants this too.

Then Movie!Amy walks in on them (which IMO is way funnier than Book!Amy hissing through a crack in the door) and these idiots try to act like they weren't redefining International Relations a second ago. Alex is by the painting, Henry is by the books. They've gone back to their sides and they're playing at being interested in what they find there. But they're not, it's all for show, someone who gives a passing glance at this point sees this part of them, this side of them The First Son and the Prince: the politician and the literary.

They're both backlit, they're in line even if it doesn't look like it, Alex is no longer on Henry's right, and they're both trying to act like the people that others could see them as.

But we - and they - know better. 1) Henry is gay. 2) Henry is into Alex. 3) Alex is into Henry.

4) Everyone is on the same page now.

(Also I know Casey talked about seeing the Red Room on a White House tour and so that's why they included a scene in that room in their book, but I cannot ignore the fact that red = love and passion and danger and fire [the counter to the water motif] and it's a warm colour designed to excite.)

#jen answers stuff #overthinking jen is overthinking #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #meta post #long post #henry fox mountchristen windsor #otp: history huh

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