#pasta flinging hours

[waratah-moon]

rockstar eddie x famous reader with

‘im gunna marry you one day’

🥺🥹

9. I'm gonna marry you one day. 100% sold. 🎂 other birthday week drabbles 🎂 masterlist / send me a message

It had been a while since Star magazine had broken its story that the two of you had been spotted holding hands. America's sweetheart and the terrifying leather-clad front man of the most popular metal band in the world.

It had been a while since the tabloids and gossip rags had taken bets on how long the so called "fling" would last; saying everything from the relationship being a revenge plot against your mother, to Eddie making a deal with the devil to get you to fall in love with him. They saw something between you two that they didn't understand and tried to make sense of it. None of it was true, not really.

In reality, you'd met Eddie at a party at some famous person's house in the Hollywood Hills. You'd heard rumours about him, that he was a playboy, a womanizer, and some part of you was attempting to break out of your "innocent" shell by associating with him, but once you'd actually spoken to Eddie that had all changed.

He asked if you wanted to go somewhere, and when you agreed he'd took you to the lookout on Mulholland Drive. There were no ulterior motives behind it, he just wanted to show you the view, maybe smoke a little and talk. You ended up staying together for hours, watching the sun come up over the city skyline. Eddie wanted to get to know the real you, not the you that was plastered billboards advertising jeans or the you that the world thought they knew. But the you beneath the surface.

The more you and Eddie got to know each other, the more you fell in love. Eddie was different from anyone you'd dated before. For one thing, you'd chosen him yourself, instead of having your mother strategically pick him out for you. It wasn’t without it’s ups and downs, though. You had your own issues of insecurity and trust; mostly stemming from problems with your mother and past relationships where your exes had used you for your fame. Eddie tried his best to be make you feel safe and loved, something you were slowly starting to accept; underneath his rough leather exterior, Eddie was a big softie, something he trusted you wouldn't tell the world.

Eddie was absolutely enamoured by you. He couldn't believe that Hollywood's princess slept in his bed almost every night, or that her toothbrush was next to his in the bathroom cabinet, or that half his closet was filled with her things. He pinched himself every morning when he woke up to see your head on the pillow next to him, wondering how on earth he'd gotten so lucky. Eddie didn't like to admit it, but he was a little insecure too. He was constantly questioning why you'd chosen to be with him, he hadn't grown up in this life like you. He was just some poor kid from Indiana who'd struck gold and been thrust into the limelight. You were a modern day goddess who deserved much more than he could ever give you, but he would try everyday to be worthy of you.

He'd never believed in soulmates until he'd met you. From the moment you'd snuck away from the party to the lookout at Mulholland he knew you were special. You made him feel whole, which was weird because he'd never felt empty before. He wondered if he'd just gotten so used to the feeling he hadn't realised something wasn't quite right until you'd given him the part that was missing.

Eddie had always thought that the moment he knew he was a goner was going to be big. That they'd be fireworks and grand love declarations. He didn't think that the moment he knew he wanted to spend his life with you would be come when he was making dinner, especially not with Jim Croce playing in the background.

Eddie was tipping a box of pasta into a pot of boiling water on the stove when his hand got splashed. He jumped back, swearing in pain.

You looked up from your magazine, eyes wide, "what happened?"

"I got splashed."

You rushed over, turning on the tap and pulling his hand under the cold water. "Things happen, babe." After a few minutes you turned off the tap and kissed his hand. "Sit down, I'll finish dinner."

"I'm fine, baby, I promise."

You pouted, "can I at least help? I'll grate some cheese." You pecked his lips, heading to the fridge. "'Cause every time I tried to tell you the words just came out wrong, so I'll have to say I love you in a song," you sang along with the song.

Eddie smiled, watching you grab a block of parmesan from the shelf, "I'm gonna marry you one day."

You were still humming along to the song, "what'd you say?"

"I said I love you," he grinned, kissing your cheek before going back to the stove.

- This kinda turned into a character study, so sorry if that's not your jam. My characters always end up with too much baggage and lore. I've got a few more rockstar!eddie drabbles in the works and then I'm going to do a series! Sorry in advance, famous!reader, your backstory is a little tragic... but as we say on this blog... only fluffy endings!

#waratah-moon's birthday 2023 #rockstar!eddie #famous!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #maggie writes

[purpleyoonn]

Petrichor 14 Preview

P E T R I C H O R

Petrichor /ˈpeˌtrīkôr/  (noun)

“a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.”

Summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Pairing: CEO BTS x Chubby MC

Genre: werewolf au, ceo au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, workplace discrimination, fat phobia, sexism, insecurities,

Some warnings may be added to the beginning of individual chapters.

Will be updated every other Saturday at 5pm PST

Masterlist // Taglist

COMING SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29TH: 5PM PST

————————————————-

You spent some time making sure you had enough marinade for the amount of steak Jungkook grabbed for you, knowing that the boys have large appetites. You ended up having to triple your recipe, but you were more than glad you had enough to do so. While the steak was marinading for a couple hours, you worked on making the pasta from scratch, one of your favorite cooking activities.

Turning on one of your playlists on your phone, you grabbed the olive oil, eggs, flour, and salt. You sing along as you work, mixing the eggs and the flour until you got yourself a ball of dough. Separating it into four smaller squares, you let that sit covered in plastic wrap. 

You were at the sink washing your hands when a pair wrapped around your waist, their front flush against you as a small kiss was placed on your nape. Looking down, you saw the tattoos moving up Jungkook’s hand until they stopped underneath his sleeve.

“I thought you said I could help you.” He had a little whine to his words, making you smile at his tactics.

“Oh you stop it. I didn’t know if you were home or not.” Jungkook grinned as you spoke, making it seem like you were calling their home your home. He loved the sound of it. Loved the idea of coming home to you.

“Well, I am! So, my beautiful and amazing mate, I am at your service for the rest of the day.” Jungkook exclaimed as he turned you around, looking down at you with his mischievous grin.

“Oh… I think I like the sound of that.” You grin back, your hand going up to run through his hair as he grips your waist tighter. However, before anything can go further, you push him away with a teasing slap to his chest.

After the dough was ready, you had instructed Jungkook on how to do the noodles, flattening them out with the rolling pin before placing them through the handpress so the noodles would come out well.

He seemed to be doing well enough; the boys would definitely know the food was made with love. You could just hear him giggling and making sound effects for everything, making you laugh yourself. He had even thrown some left over flour at you, once he heard you laughing.

“Hiyah!” He made an elaborate hand gesture, one you recognized from the movie as he flung some flour at your head. You couldn’t help it and lunged for the flour, flinging some back at the alpha.

“Two can play at this game.” You grinned, more flour in your hand as you go to throw more, loud giggles leaving the alphas lips as he watches you.

“What are you doing in my kitchen?!” Jungkook and you turn your heads over to the entrance of the kitchen, where your two eldest mates stand still, watching the scene unfold. Your eyes widen at being caught, but then you realize they were home.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up! But you two have to get out! We are making a surprise dinner for everyone.” You put on the puppy dog eyes, knowing that it would be hard to keep them out.

Jin’s mouth was wide open, staring at you in shock, kicking him out of his own kitchen. He began spluttering, going from asking why he had to leave to wanting to know if he could help. He wasn’t used to others being in the kitchen, and he saw the way Jungkook was passing the dough through the noodle hand press, making him nervous.

“Nope!” You shook your head, moving forward and placing a quick kiss on Jin’s lips, your arms already pushing him by the chest until he was out of the kitchen. When you turned back around, Yoongi was standing by the grill, leaning over it.

“Hey! That means you too!” You rush over, tugging him by the back of his jacket. Yoongi grunts at your actions, his gummy smile on his face as he lets you drag him out. Jungkook just waves enthusiastically at them, noodles waving in the air as he does so.

#bts #bts au #bts werewolf #bts werewolf au #bts ceo #bts ceo au #ceo wolf!bts #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts mates #bts mates au #bts x reader #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly! #poly!bts x reader #bts x chubby reader #chubby mc #bts omegaverse #petrichor #purpleyoonn

[bomberqueen17]

stressy

so today we got up, and i drank some coffee and made some plans for the day, because huzzah, no work today due to driving bans still in effect also the parking lot at work has not and cannot be plowed. 

First order of business was to shovel out the driveway though, so I ate half a granola bar and girded myself in snow gear and out we went. We own a small snowblower, which has a mouth that can take up to about twelve inches of snow. Given that the total for our area was around 49″, that wasn’t gonna work. But what we could do, was use the snow shovels and a garden spade to shovel out a patch, and then chop the snow drifts into that patch and run the snowblower over that patch again and again, to take the snow and fling it up over the very high snowbanks.

So we did that, Dude and I, for an hour and some change. And at the end of it, we had busted the huge drift that was blocking us off from the street.

So we came inside and had toast for breakfast, and congratulated ourselves. and then I set to work on cleaning the house. Farmsister and her family are staying here on the night of the 1st, and the guest bedroom is full of my clothes and the living room is full of all the debris I never unpacked from various trips back and forth and back and forth to the cabin.

First thing I did was fasten some adhesive hooks to the wall where my coat rack fell down last year; I’ve been keeping my coats in a pile on the floor ever since because if I put them into the closet I lose them forever. That was a great start, but then I... think the stress of the last couple of days weeks months really caught up, and i spent the next several hours wandering fretfully in circles. I did get a lot of tidying done but in tiny intervals, cycling among tasks in little microbursts of activity that, while productive, were not in any way organized.

I did make a hearty lunch-- we have no milk in the house, so when I made box mac n cheese I had to use sour cream-- and we had a few lil smokies sausages left, so what I did was that I browned an onion for a very long time in butter, then threw the lil smokies in, chopped, and then deglazed the pan with some pasta water, and stirred in the sour cream to that and then added the cheese powder and then the cooked macaroni and voila, gourmet, bone apple teeth. We needed something substantial after all that shoveling.

Dude caught on that I was stressed, and asked what he could clean. i asked him to clean off the bathroom counter. He spent two hours on this, which is fantastic-- removed every item, considered it, and threw it out if it wasn’t still good, and put it back if it was still good. Now that counter is presentable. The floor is not, but he did the tub last week, so it’s almost like grown people live in this house.

I found my long-lost kindle, which had slipped into a drawer in the sewing desk in the living room. i also de-silted the sewing desk, so I could set up my new electric spinning wheel there. Am very excited about that. Also excited because my mother gave me an enormous bag of beautifully prepared wool from Battenkill Fibers, a gorgeous silky longwool of some kind, pin-drafted, just off-white, suitable for dyeing.

I wanted to write. I’m so so so close to an update for Awakening. And I’m not like. *far* off from an update for Golden Towers. I want to finish both by the end of the year, know I won’t manage it, but at least I might finish the first one. I have so many ideas; I put a bunch of little things into the Wanksmas round, and some will wind up being in the main continuity and some will not. I wrote neither smut nor really to any of the prompts, but I did manage drabbles, and really it’s just nice to be involved in something.

(One thing I wrote, I left on anon by adding it to the anonymous collection. Wonder if anyone will guess which one it was!)

Anyway, we hiked over to Dude’s mom’s house again, where she had prepared christmas dinner for just us. A twelve-pound ham, split three ways! but there was nothing to be done, no room for the whole thing in the freezer. We couldn’t get Dude’s aunt there, due to the driving bans; she’s not quite spry enough anymore to walk that last tenth of a mile in the deep snow, and her oven isn’t working well enough to have her host it (Dude’s mom could probably make the walk and we could’ve picked her up, but it wasn’t worth the logistical hassle and, to be fair, it is rather a difficult walk.)

oh i forgot to finish this entry. Well, I’ll post it this morning. We had a lovely dinner of Too Much Ham and some very decadent potatoes and of course the variant on greenbean casserole that his family eats. And we helped her clear some snow from shrubberies in her front yard, and had intended to help clear her driveway but her neighbors had already done so. No plows have been by so there’s not much point doing more.

I’m terribly sore now from shoveling and moving boxes to clean the house. I’m glad I did as much as I did heavy lifting-wise yesterday. Now it’s morning and I’ve awoken before 5 to discover that yeah I’ve mildly fucked up my back, so that’s awesome. But I have had many healing cat snuggles and also like a handful of ibuprofen so I have some hopes of the situation resolving itself.

I can confirm that about four more inches of snow fell overnight but it looks to be fluffy so we’ll be fine.

#about the author #real life #blizzard of '22

[butterfliesandblueeyes]

24 HOURS

📰 24 hours post 'Destined'

pairings : Bucky Barnes x reader

w/c : 670

warnings : mentions of shocking

a/n : As always, I hope you enjoy reading and thank you for the support!

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Your eyes fluttered open as the sunlight peeked through the blinds. Your fingers glide along the soft sheets of the unfamiliar bed. A bang of a pan makes you sit up abruptly, your eyes scanning the room. You find your ruined clothes piled on the floor. You look down at your body to find someone's black shirt covering your body. 

You sigh, peeling the blankets from your body and standing on shaky legs. A dull ache still resided between your legs. 

Your reflection caught your eye in the mirror hanging from the wall. Turning your body to face it, you took in your appearance. Your hair was a mess, red purplish marks covered your neck. A small necklace sat around your neck. 

Your fingers brushed along it, it didn't belong to you. You tried to pull it off but it didn't budge. It was secured tightly around your neck but not tight enough to strangle you. 

Noise from the kitchen pulled you out of your daze. Must be Bucky you thought. You slowly opened the bedroom door, worried it would squeak and reveal that you're awake. 

Stepping out into the hallway, you tiptoed towards the entryway of the kitchen. You peaked around the wall to find Bucky shirtless and his back towards you. He was standing in front of the stove, stirring something that was cooking on the stove.

Your eyes found the front door and your mind was already made up. You would try to escape. Slowly creeping towards the door, you kept your eyes on Bucky, afraid of him turning around and spotting you. 

When your back was towards the door you took a deep breath in and counted to 3. Opening the door would make a lot of sound so you only have a few seconds to open it and run outside. 

You turned around, gripping the door handle and flinging it open. One foot was outside when a painful shock travelled through your body and you were flung backwards. You landed on the ground with a hard thud. Your hands held your throat where the necklace, which you just found out was a shock collar, was. 

Bucky stood over you, his hands on his hips and a disapproving look on his face. He tsked at you before kneeling down beside your head. "Steve told me to put it on you. I really didn't think you would try to leave after our night together but here you are." 

You coughed. "I'll do anything to get away from you."

Bucky stared at you before standing up and walking towards the kitchen. "Lunch is ready." He threw over his shoulder. 

You stood up and stumbled towards the dining table. Bucky pulled a chair out for you and you reluctantly sat. After placing a plate of pasta in front of you, he sat himself opposite you. 

"It's good, doll. You should try some. You need to keep your appetite up." Bucky broke the silence after a while when he realised you weren't eating but instead glaring at him.

You pushed your plate towards him then folded your arms over your chest. "So stubborn," Bucky breathed. 

"The police will find me here and I'll tell them what you and Steve did to me then you'll be put in jail." You spoke. 

"Jail?" Bucky laughed. "Aren't you the one on the run?"

"That's none of your business." You quickly replied, not wanting to go into further detail as to why you were. 

"Well it kind of is my business if we're going to get married and have kids."

You gave him a shocked look in which he returned with a charming smile. 

 "Whatever you have planned for me, whatever you're going to do with me," you began. "I'll fight you every step of the way. I won't submit to you, ever." You promised Bucky. You stood up from the table, the chair legs scraping along the floorboards. The bedroom door slammed shut, causing Bucky to blink in reaction.

"We'll see doll, we'll see."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

[metagalacticx]

1,2, 9, 10 for scott/stiles 🥰

1. Who cooks?

scott cooks! he’s fairly good at it, too. stiles can survive on his own cooking skills: eggs and bacon, pasta and any combination of meat and veggies. they both started cooking at an early age and they cook for each other a lot. sometimes they’ll each make a dish with an exact serving of one. scott makes enough bacon and eggs for stiles to have breakfast which is ridiculous, and stiles says in that appreciative, squeaky tone, "dude. what are you gonna eat?" and scott just grins at him waiting for him to start digging in. stiles will make enough chili for scott to have two meals which is so ridiculous, so scott says he’s full when he’s not and leaves the rest for stiles, which stiles then leaves for scott. it’s all very ridiculous and when melissa visits she has to throw out so many containers of single servings of chili because no one wants to eat scott’s share.

2. Who’s the messiest? The cleanest?

they’re both messy, but scott is on another level. stiles’ messy is clutter and hoarding old things he should either trash or give away. scott’s messy is empty cartons on the counter and banana peels on the table. neither of them has an issue with the other’s lack of cleaning skills. melissa and the sheriff do, though. weekly facetime calls are now what scott and stiles refer to as "judgement day" because melissa will definitely ask to see around their apartment and scott is both too scared and ashamed not to tidy up before she sees the mess. one day she calls the day before she usually does and they panic but wordlessly decide scott will stall with his "most conniving little con artist ever smile" plastered on the screen, while stiles is crawling around flinging garbage into bags and kicking clothes under furniture. then he pops up behind scott suddenly like, "heyyyy, what a surprise, didn’t see you there did you want see our apartment?" and melissa is like, "no, i just called to say hi… and i could hear you the whole time, stiles."

9. Is someone multilingual? Do they try to teach another language to the other? How does it go?

scott speaks a little spanish, and he begs melissa to speak more to him in spanish now that he’s older, and she does. surprisingly stiles understands more of what she’s saying than scott does. scott also knows some french he picked up from allison and isaac, and japanese he picked up from kira and mason. he calls the yukimuras every month and they try to speak to him in both japanese and korean, which he is so delighted by every time. stiles knows random phrases in different languages and will respond accurately to scott practising japanese… they share a look and stiles mutters, "i have… no idea how i know that…" which scott responds to with silence. then he’ll touch his shoulder or lean his head on some part of him and tell him it’s fine and it’s not a big deal. they’re always quiet for a while whenever it happens, though.

10. Any pets? Or plants?

they do not have pets or plants. scott wants pets, but he feels bad he can’t take care of one properly because of his day&night job. they have fake plants because of lydia, who thinks their living space is in need of a serious facelift, even after she spent two hours trying her best to "spruce up the place". vet!scott sometimes takes home animals for a couple days and stiles gets attached to them very easily. they both like dogs, stiles does not like birds.

#asks #this was so fun i love them sm #stiles/scott #scott/stiles #thank you for sending !

[separatist-apologist]

I like the way you sound in the morning For tamlin and Adelina please!

I Like The Way You Sound In The Morning- Tamlin x Adelina (976 words)

“STOP RUNNING!” Adelina shouted from bed not for the first time. Tamlin grinned beside her, door still firmly shut. He ought to get up and chase down his errant children. He could hear Finn and Saoirse squabbling loudly. Alexander was nowhere to be found and if Tamlin had to guess, his eldest son had taken to the woods for some privacy. It was getting harder and harder to fuck his wife inside them when his teenager was so good at showing up in places he shouldn’t be. 

“I like the way you sound in the morning,” Tamlin murmured, teasing Adelina with both his words and a kiss.

“They can’t give me another hour?” she grumbled, gingerly shifting. She was so, so pregnant. Another Calanmai baby, just like Alexander. This baby was a girl. Tamlin could feel it in his bones. She’d be born in Summer though hopefully not on the hottest day Spring had ever had like his eldest had been. It had been a miserable day, compounded by a long, difficult labor. 

It would be any day now for this newest baby. Tamlin was too excited to meet her, to see if she looked like her mother. Surely this would be the baby with Adelina’s dark hair. His children were far too blonde, far too green-eyed. It was disrespectful how strong his genes were and more than once he wondered if he might have better luck if he sired his children in his regular Fae form.

Tamlin sent a spark of magic curling around the room, warding it so she couldn’t hear the destruction he was certain was happening just feet from their door. Another ancient, shattered vase would be ruined, her garden trampled, and all the nicest cheese she’d spent days making devoured. 

“They are insatiable little beasts,” he murmured, fingers dancing over her rounded belly. 

“They get that from you,” she replied, her nose wrinkled. She was grumpy as she so often was, uncomfortable and tired. There was little he could do to help at this point and though the mere sight of her so heavy with his child made his teeth ache with want, he knew better than to try and touch her.

She might lack a physical beastial form but Adelina had sharp claws and even sharper teeth. She’d shred him to ribbons before he had the chance to beg for help. “How would you like to spend your day?”

Adelina frowned. “In labor.”

That was fair, he supposed. “I’ll have that spicy pasta dish—”

“No,” she said breathlessly, flinging the blanket off her body. Tamlin peered at the sheet, stained darker with what was clearly fluid. Their eyes met. “My water broke.”

He flung himself from the bed, nearly tripping over a chair in his effort to get pants on his body. It was his fourth child—he ought to know how things went by now. Adelina had gingerly sat upwards, braiding her long hair over one shoulder while he paced for a moment.

“The midwife, Tamlin,” she reminded him. He grabbed his tunic and dragged it over his head before flinging open the door.

“Stop your arguing,” he snarled at Finn and Saoirse, ignoring the broken remains of a thousand year old bowl laying at the top of the steps. “And find your brother. Tell him to keep watch over your mother until I get back,”

Eyes wide, both Finn and Saoirse nodded. They knew what his mood was for. He heard Saoirse whisper, “Baby,” before the pair turned, ignoring the mess entirely to go check on her. It was agony to leave her behind, even just to fetch the midwife in the village nearby. The wizened old female had delivered all four of his children. Tamlin trusted no one else. 

Back in the estate, Alexander had both Finn and Saoirse lined outside the door, the three peering into the room with big, wide eyes. Alexander stood at attention when he saw his father guiding the gray haired female upwards, trying not to snap at her to move quicker. His mate was alone, unguarded. Anything could happen to her. Tamlin wanted to shed his skin, wanted to pace the hall with fangs and claws to ward off anyone who might harm her.

Inside, Adelina’s forehead was already coated with a shiny sheen of sweat. She gripped the bedpost, grimacing when he stepped in. The midwife said nothing at all, merely placed her hands on Adelina’s hard stomach.

“Each new baby comes quicker than the last,” she told his wife, who nodded. Tamlin began to pace.

“What can I—” “Watch the children,” Adeline interrupted, her tone a mockery of softness. It was clear she wanted to yell at him.

“You know what to do, High Lord,” the midwife added. “Go do it.”

By the time Tamlin had shredded enough cloth for the bowl of hot water, he could hear the first squalling cry of the new baby. He nearly forgot the bowl entirely, sloshing water up the stairs as he went. Adelina was in their bed, hair mussed, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She was alright. The instinct in his chest settled at the sight. She seemed to glow, holding the new baby, bundled in a thick blanket, for his inspection. He set the water on the dresser, leaving it for the impatient midwife.

“A girl,” she said with the same apprehension when she’d offered him Saoirse. A Spring Court princess was rare, practically unheard of. There hadn’t been one in living memory. Two, though? Well, that was a blessing. 

Tamlin took the baby, pressing his nose against her dark little curls. She was a furious looking thing, her eyes so blue they nearly looked black. He kissed her little button of a nose as Adelina murmured, “Aine.”

“Perfect.”

#tamelina #all in my feelings about this one

[bakingblakemadden]

✘ ╱ lily collins + female + she/her ╾ better keep an eye on BLAKE MADDEN whenever they are around. Shady gossip describes the TWENTY NINE year old as ANXIOUS + FAWNING, close sources say they’re COMPASSIONATE + SELFLESS. Can be easily found in PASTA LA VISTA working as PASTRY CHEF.

(pregnancy tw, death tw, heart attack tw)

Born in Los Angeles, California twenty nine years ago, Blake had a fairly normal upbringing. Living with her mother and father The Valley she showed a low of art and cooking from a young age which her parents were more than happy to encourage. Her mother worked at a bank and her father managed a car dealership, so neither of them were particularly creative but they loved to see it from their daughter. Even if they had no idea where it had originated from. When she was six Blake’s father walked out on his family, leaving her mother and Blake alone to fend for themselves. To the little girl it had come out of nowhere, although behind the scenes the fractures in the relationship were constant. The little girl never saw the man again. Left with no one but her mother to cling to the two become increadbly close, Blake considering the woman her best friend, and although things were tough they managed to carry on in a relatively normal manner. She was a bright little girl even if school was never really her favourite thing her grades remained steadily good.

It wasn’t until she was seventeen when her mother had an unexpected heart attack on a routine hike with her daughter that everything really changed. She had been set to head to collage to study nutrition on a scholarship, something her mother was incredibly proud of her for. Yet her mother’s death was the jolt the girl needed to realise she didn’t want to spend her life where she had been born. She wanted to see the world in some way and found a pastry two year course in Florence that would teach her European baking, the kind she had grown up seeing on tv but never really experiencing herself - an exciting prospect to say the least.

Still grieving the loss of her mother she spent every spare moment she had working two different jobs so she could save enough money for her schooling in Italy. The foreign country was a breath of fresh air for her almost as soon as the plane touched down on the tarmac, things were starting to look up for her and she was determined to make the most of the opportunity. It was a magical two years that opened her eyes to a plethora of things, but was sadly over too soon, forcing her back to the city of her birth. She worked odd jobs to keep her head above water including nannying, freelance cake baking and decorating, temping as a secretary, you name it Blake had turned her hand at it. But she missed being in a kitchen, she missed getting to be creative everyday, and longed to get back to that.

The offer of a position in Staten Island in New York at an Italian Bistro called Pasta La Vista was too good to turn down, she just couldn’t refuse, and maybe getting out of LA again would be something that was good for her. That was five years ago now and she had made New York firmly her home since then. Working at the restaurant all five of those years until she felt like the people she worked with were more than colleagues they were her friends. No, her new family. Her boss trusted her enough to allow her to combine her creative and technical baking skills - it was a dream come true. All through this she never really had any kind of solid relationships - preferring to focus on her work. After all working for hours on end at night at the restaurant was not exactly conducive to dating. Her love life consisted more of casual flings or short term relationships, but nothing stuck.

When she met Dominick. It hadn’t been something the girl set out to find but one day in a small bakery off Broadway the man next to her had expressed confusion over deciding which baked good to purchase. Well, if that wasn’t the baking lovers specialist subject and had launched her on a earnest conversation with him where she nerded out over all things pastry, cookie, and cake. One thing led to another and for some reason this man wanted to hang around with Blake more after her embarrassing gushing over food, leading to the two hooking up on and off for a while. She had no idea if he felt anything for her but being the girl she was - a hopeless romantic at heart, she developed a crush quickly. The handsome, mysterious man who didn’t share too many details about himself had sucked her in. However their time spent entangled in the sheets on more than one occasion and it resulted in an unexpected pregnancy. Their fling ending before she told the man, in fact she’s now four months pregnant, and only a few trusted friends are privy to that information. A people pleaser in some ways. Her concerns about becoming a mother are also heavily financial, although she gets paid well for her job that doesn’t change how much everything costs in New York. Hence why she’s shy to scour craigslist for things she might need for her new baby or her apartment.

Admittedly she has a terror of being alone can mean the woman is known to settle in various areas of her life. A true weakness of hers. She is overprotective of her friends, a little bit dramatic in a lot of ways thanks to this fear, things that aren’t so bad can seem huge to her because she’s seen things blow up so quickly in her life. It’s the anticipatory anxiety that can hurt her. When she is in the kitchen though…well she can be almost trance like, getting herself wound up about making sure everything is perfect because her baking and decorating is how she shows her love. Spinning it into sugary confections that look as good as they taste. She will try and buy friends by making them cakes, it’s her love language entirely. Birthday? She will design and hand frost you a cake. Wedding? Cake. Half birthday? Cake. Lost your job? Cake. New job? Cake. It’s her go to for everything and everyone. In general she is an open, sweet girl who just wants to make other people smile when they are down, find her Prince Charming, and have more children so she can give her baby siblings. Ever since her mother died, breaking the only family she had and always loved so much, the girl has been determined to build another of her own.

#bio #about #scrapbook #muse

[taheng]

eileendean is. making irish soda bread at 3 in the morning because both of them can’t sleep.

his nightmares are constant sometimes—things that he can’t get out of his head. hellhounds, michael. when he walks into the kitchen, she’ll be there, sitting on the counter.

sometimes she doesn’t realize how small she is—where she’s at puts her almost at the same height as him. she sets down the mug, stretching out her hand palm-side down and gesturing at him until she has his attention.

“you okay?” she points at him, then finger spells okay.

dean draws his hand down to his chest, thumb braced against his sternum and taps twice. “i’m fine.”

she stares at him a bit longer, contemplating. he doesn’t want to look at her—brown eyes too understanding.

but he does, scared of missing something. of being rude. after a while, eileen draws both her hands into a y shape and brings them down, then braces her fingers into a fingerspelled b against her chin and taps while shaking her head. “no talking today?”

dean shakes his head back, shuddering an inhale. it’s been some time since he went non-verbal.

eileen smiles sadly. hops down from the counter and wraps her arms against his waist.

today is not a good day for dean. but they’ll get through it together.

#the historium #spn #deahy #eileendean #deaneileen #pasta flinging hours

[tteokdoroki]

BUT WHEN HE LOVES ME. | K.BAKUGOU.

ʚ♡ɞ SYNOPSIS: relationships are never easy. some are meant to last, blossoming into white weddings and white picket fences with a loud dog barking in the front yard. some part ways, love carried in their hearts as they walk separate paths. some are doomed from the start, breaking like glass from the slightest touch. and katsuki bakugou’s? well, his was never meant to last.

ʚ♡ɞ PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

ʚ♡ɞ WC: 14.8K.

ʚ♡ɞ RATED: mature, 18+, mdni.

ʚ♡ɞ GENRE: pro hero!au, angst, fluff + smut.

ʚ♡ɞ CW please read !   heavy!angst, toxic!relationships, mentions of violence, arguments, cheating, bakugou is a really bad boyfriend, heavy smut, literally 7K words of it sdhbfb,  ( characters aged up to mid-twenties ), heavy!body worship, heavy!cumplay, daddy!kink, dacryphilia!kink, praise!kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral sex ( female receiving ), handjobs, tummy bulges, choking, spitting, mindbreak. reader is picked up during the smut scene.

ʚ♡ɞ A/N: hello everyone!! good evening, today i present to you one of my favourite fics i’ve ever written, i’ve been meaning to write some angst for a while + this is my contribution for the bakugou prompt collab from the BNHAREM server! my prompt was ‘it wasn’t supposed to end this way’ (and yes i did base this off that one tiktok audio). please check out everyone’s works here ( thank you emme for the masterlist )

ʚ♡ɞ special special thanks to @bakugous-trauma​ and @doinmybesthere for beta reading some!

ʚ♡ɞ masterlist | requests | kofi

— “I HATE ALL MEN.” 

from your seat in the cafe, you can watch the world go by. children running down busy streets with flustered parents in tow, businessmen and women and people chasing their trains with worried expressions— late for whatever boring meeting they have to waste the hours of the day on. you note the number of couples that walk by too, you look for the quirk in the corner of their mouths to see if they’re really smiling, the tight clasp of their hands so hard that their knuckles turn white. 

your hand warms on the clothes table, feeling empty and alone, even when you’re surrounded by many of the people you love.

katsuki’s friends are like family to you. they, mina, kirishima and ochako had all attended high school with one another— but mina you had known from freshman year of college, she decided to keep her options open despite being a pro hero in the making. when your boyfriend, katsuki, had told you he wanted you to meet his group of friends ( surprisingly enough, he still had them, ) and you hadn’t realised the world was so small.

you liked katsuki’s friends, and they loved you— treating you as if you were one of their own, much to your boyfriend’s chargen. so once a month, the four of you met up for brunch to catch up as your lives moved on and the world continued to spin on its own. 

to occupy your empty hand, you grasp at your silverware fork and twirl it around your basil pasta— mina had picked somewhere new to try, claiming she felt like treating herself over the success of graduating alongside her new fling. you couldn’t order your usual, but she’d told you the green stuff was always your best bet for a fancy, up-market place like this. 

“sooo, what’s she like?” you hear ochako coo to your right, leaning forward on her elbows with a dreamy twinkle to her chestnut eyes. the wistful tone to her voice pulls you from your lonesome thoughts about the dreary world and you shove your fork into your mouth to avoid conversation. 

mina grins brightly to your left, hands clasped together as she swoons. “i think she's the one, i might be in love with her!” 

“you say that about all the girls,” kirishima scoffs over a sip of some expensive looking cocktail— it was fruity, he always had a thing for the sweeter drinks in which you shared. after ashido, you’d consider the redhead your second closest friend, his bright eyes and kind smile were always quick to put you at ease. you felt safe with kirishima, and over the years he had helped you understand bakugou in ways you couldn’t in the early stages of your relationship. 

bakugou was a fire you couldn’t tame, not a droplet of water could control the havoc he wreaked. not even you. 

you slump and reach over to swipe eijirou’s drink as mina whines and gushes over her new love. romance talks never did you any good. “what?” she whines, brushing through the pink curls on the back of her neck— seemingly bashful. it must be love, you think, you’ve never seen her like this so it must be true. “i didn’t sleep with her til after graduation!” 

“now,” you wash down your pasta with what kirishima allows you to take and grimace as you tip the glass to your old time friend. “that’s a first for you,” there’s a teasing lilt to the tone of your voice, one that makes mina slap her hands down on the table in protest, the gesture followed by the rattling of expensive silverware. the esteemed guests of whatever the hell this place was called, shift their unimpressed gazes over to your rowdy crew and you shrink in your place, suddenly feeling shy.

“moving swiftly on,” mina comments, a burst of laughter teetering on the tip of her tongue.

ochako joins the other girl in her chuckling fit, replacing the cool atmosphere with a light happiness. “izuku and i are moving in with one another,” she comments while trying to suppress her laughter and you pretend it doesn’t hurt. to see two of your longest friends happy and in healthy relationships, with no one to relate to your struggles. it wasn’t easy to admit to yourself that you and bakugou were struggling to stay afloat— and you attended these brunches with the hopes of forgetting all the pain that you left at home with your significant other. 

but the love was everywhere— in the air, at your table choking you from the inside out. you were filled with a queasy mix of jealousy and hatred, one that you couldn’t shake even with more forkfuls of the pasta mina had recommended. you murmur a quiet congrats along with the rest of your friends, smile not quite reaching your eyes that flicker around the table in order to avoid sympathetic stares from those that know your pain. 

they all know what’s really going on with your relationship, they’re just too kind to say.

“kaminari’s as dorky as ever,” eijirou adds to the conversation swiftly to delay all attention landing on you. he knows and gives you enough time to push away the monster green with jealousy who sits contently in the base of your rib cage and toys with your precious heart. katsuki had called the sharp toothed redhead and his boyfriend ( denki kaminari ), the condiment duo. a complete pair of idiots destined for one another as he’d put it. 

your heart hurts because you so badly want that for yourself, to be seen as the couple who were made for one another and to never be apart, to share goofy smiles like you used to and tell jokes that only the two of you understand— but as the table of your most loved and dear friends shift their attention to you, you know that the ideals of kirishima and kaminari’s relationship is far from reach. 

taking a deep breath, you look to your expectant friends and allow a moment to pass. seconds tick by without a word from you, mina’s cool hand filling the empty space of your own so with your free one, you make a mad dash for your fork and scarf down another mouthful of four star rated basil pasta.

“hey, don’t do that,” eijirou scolds your bad habits, sensing your hesitation  while your eyes flutter shut and your mind tunes out the dark grey of the world outside— the basil tastes bitter, aligning with your mood for the entirety of the brunch. shaded with the colour of your jealousy too.

hesitating, you let kirishima pull the remainders of your food from in front of you, so you don’t pull another stuffing stunt again.  “katsuki and i…” you swallow, keeping your eyes closed as so not to see the hopeful expressions of your friends. “katsuki and i, we had another fight.” 

“really? what’s with this guy?” kaminari chooses this exact moment to return from his escapade to the bathroom, huffing through his nose at annoyance while he immediately finds his seat next to his boyfriend. his amber gaze lights up at the sight of your food next to kirishima however, and he dives right in, much to your display. “ooh! is this that new basil shiz? heard it’s to freakin’ die for babe, you order for me?” the blonde, a shade or two darker than your lover, sounds giddier the more he talks about the food, making you relent to kirishima’s apologetic smile, offering the food to his lover.

but you know that he only looks so apologetic since you keep taking hits. first you lose bakugou and now you’re freaking over priced lunch.

“god, i hate men,” kaminari snides.

“what was it about?” ochako asks quickly as your face twists with a pang of hurt. sympathy lines her sweet voice.

“just about his work, he’s always working late—“ you conjure up the excuse for your boyfriend quickly, wanting to drop the subject before the pink princess beside you cuts in.

before speaking, she gives your hand a squeeze, but your grip still feels empty, like it’s missing something. “think he’s cheating on you?” 

“he wouldn’t,” you try to laugh it off, stop the emotional lump in your throat from growing and keep down the bile of word vomit from spewing across the table— there’s so many things falling apart, ruining what you share with their high school classmate. but these are bakugou’s people, the only ones he has left from those days or bothered to stick around long enough to stand his foul attitude and the weird way that he shows love. no matter how much your failing relationship may hurt you and cause fresh wounds, you couldn’t dare taint the view his friends have of katsuki. “‘m sure he’s on the verge of proposing… there was a small box in his sock draw…” 

this time, you finally look up and meet the stares of the people you love. mina looks like she needs another drink, ochako looks nervous, eijirou looks upset for you and kaminari? he’s only gone and scarfed down your comfort food, brow quirked as he wipes his mouth...next words giving you a reality check. “really yn?” he mumbles over a mouthful of pasta, earning an elbow to his ribs. “what? we were all thinking it!” 

“you don’t think i’m worthy of lord dynamight’s ring?” you try to joke, gulping down the rest of kirishima’s drink and sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to soothe the embarrassed heat forming there. 

ochako puts a calming hand on your shoulder, but it only adds to the lame resentment you feel towards her and her happy, bubbly relationship with izuku midoriya. “it’s not that...it’s just we just think bakugou isn’t worthy of you.” she says gently, rubbing your shoulder slightly. this was a conversation you’d all had before at many brunches. your friends, his friends had been trying to talk you out of leaving bakugou for months— they all knew it wasn’t working, that it was draining the life out of you to keep up a smile and the facade of a blooming, rose tinted romance. 

but you couldn’t leave bakugou, you couldn’t let your friends hate him the way you hated yourself for staying. you deserved better but bakugou deserved to have genuine love and support around him. you wouldn’t let that be taken away because the spark you had, began to fade. 

“he’s a good guy, you guys are meant to be his friends!” you whisper and pull away from ashido’s and uraraka’s respective grips, chewing nervously on the chapped skin of your lips. 

“but—” kirishima hums and looks you dead in the eye— he was probably the closest to your boyfriend out of everyone at the table yet the most adamant for your break up. you suppose he hated seeing two people he loved fall out of love. “but...is he good enough for you?” 

the conversation falls flat from there as you spot a waiter from behind kirishima’s mop of ruby red locks, your boyfriend unfortunately in tow. you couldn’t miss the familiar blonde tuft of hair peeking out from underneath his black snapback— ruby eyes burning into yours even though he wears a mask. your friends follow suit with the flatline of everyone’s words when katsuki takes a seat with you all, throwing down his belongings against the table and pressing a brash kiss to your cheek. 

you feel tension rise to the ceiling of the room, smiling only just. “what the fuck did i miss?” bakugou growls, yanking away mina’s food and causing a pout to pull at her lips for the nth time today. 

get it together, you think as talk flitters through the group once again. taking katsuki’s hand in yours, the emptiness in your hand dissipates with his calloused one in yours. it’s stupid how much excitement you get from being near the man that you love after so long, after the emotional tourment your relationship puts you through. 

but you love him, you always will. 

“nothing, we were just about to have dessert.”

— “BUT WHEN HE LOVES ME, I FEEL LIKE I’M FLOATING.” 

fights with katsuki bakugou are nothing but explosive.

how could they not be with a man built so high with pride and a quirk that could shake the heavens? they were always so big, brutal and brash— traits that if you squinted, you could find laid bare in the DNA of the man that you loved.

vulgar words and harsh insults you’d tell each other you didn’t mean the very next day, laid out bare for all to see. accidents, mistakes thrown in your face like dashes of piping hot water, leaving burning reminders against your skin. there’s shrapnel everywhere, piercing your flesh and adding littering scars to what’s left of you after you both fall apart every single time. 

this fight had been katsuki’s fault, or so you liked to think. 

you had a reason to be mad, livid even, especially with the careless way your boyfriend treated his life. between the early mornings where you woke up in a cold bed to the late nights where bakugou would limp through your front door with bleeders the size of your fist leaking through his hero costume, dislocated joints and tired, red eyes as dark as his blood— you couldn’t take it. not anymore. 

it was hard not to miss the nights where katsuki would come home with flowers of your favourite kind instead of blossoming bruises, wine instead of open wounds. you wanted him back, was that too much to ask for? to be able to look at your partner and see the warmth of love written in the tiny brown flecks of his eyes— the ones you could only see if you were really looking at him. to be able to hold him and not feel him flinch under your delicate touch from loose and poor stitches, to be able to hold his hand and not worry about the scars of split knuckles. 

“i just want you to be safe,” you tell him the night prior, patching up a slice to his side as he bled crimson roses into your porcelain bathtub. it wouldn’t stain, there was bleach in the cupboard under the sink for situations like this. your voice warbles, breath hitching with every grunt from bakugou as the needle and thread passes through honeyed skin. “you keep getting hurt like this and it scares me.” 

tears start to build up behind the waterline of your eyes and you turn away from katsuki to grab some more gauze from the cabinet. an excuse not to let him see you cry, for he’d throw it right back into your face like battery acid.  “don’t start this shit again, babe.” he says cooly, his own special way of taming the flames before they spread.

“it...it would be nice for you to come home with a box of chocolates and some take out instead of a knee deep wound every once in a while, don’t you think?” beginning to shake from hurt or fear, you can’t tell, you slam the box of gauze down against the sink. you manage to find katsuki’s gaze in the mirror, but he doesn’t look at you— nostrils flared with annoyance. “don’t i deserve that, katsuki? to have you safe?” 

he’d scoffed and you’d finally whirled around, both of your chests beginning to heave from the impending explosion. you both sit in the crowded and tiled room like a ticking time bomb. 

“s’my fuckin’ job to keep the people out there safe, yn. if y’weren’t quirkless, you’d do the same fuckin’ thing.” your boyfriend sneers, a smirk on his face since he knows that it’s hurt you. and there it was, the words that came swinging down on your heart like a jackhammer, stopping its beating in place. sadistic, cruel and calculated— bakugou jabs at you with coordinated attacks in ways that he knows will win him this fight.

you ignore the painful sting that comes along with the reminder that yourself and katsuki will never be equals, he a pro hero and you his quirkless girlfriend. he above and you below. laughing the feeling away, you throw your hands up in defeat— having half a mind to throw the box at bakugou just to make him feel what you do. “it always comes back down to that, doesn’t it?” you spit and bakugou shrugs his shoulders, checking over his own remaining wounds and pulling parts of shrapnel from them with nonchalance to what you say. “i’m always just your pathetic quirkless girlfriend whenever i ask you to look out for yourself, because i can’t stop you from working until you die every single night. i’m worthless and quirkless because i ask you to come home in one piece so i don’t have to keep fixing you—“ 

“i don’t need you to fuckin’ fix me. ‘m not broken so quit acting like i need your shitty help. i don’t fuckin’ need you.” 

bakugou is never rational when he’s like this, saying whatever he can to keep you teary eyed and upset so you’ll shut up. it’s times like this where you hate that you’re so in love with him, that you’ll wait for the fight to blow over just to hold him again, to press rewind and start the record from the beginning. 

“right, of course.” you say weakly, looking anywhere but him. 

the pair of you go to bed angry that night, no words exchanged and no lingering touches. katsuki still struggles to sleep as he always has— plagued by nightmares from his days on the field, some as far back as his time at  U.A. the sports festival, when he was kidnapped. the blonde shuffles amongst the shared sheets, clawing desperately at the small strings of good sleep that are slipping from between his scarred fingers.

usually you would comfort him, roll over from your side into his dip in the bed— wrap your arms around his firm torso and let your hands rest on his warm chest, feel the lively beat of his heart beneath marked flesh. let your own body relax at the comforting thought that your boy was alive and well and safe. that was the only time katsuki bakugou would let you hold the vulnerable sides of him and his guard would fall away. 

but tonight you lay mad beside your boyfriend, holding in your gentle cries as the argument replays in your head.

because no matter how much you loved him, you would always be katsuki bakugou’s quirkless girlfriend— it would never be enough for your late night hugs to keep him safe.

bakugou never likes to leave you after a fight. something about his overprotective nature of you and his lack of communication skills always led to this.

no matter how infuriated he is with you and vice versa, he never ever leaves your side. it could be anywhere between two days to a week, filled with awkward silences and hands that brush against each other when reaching for the coffee pot— quickly pulled away from one another followed by quiet grumbles of ‘good morning,’. into the silent  space of your apartment becomes mounted with an unbearable tension while bakugou broods and attempts to string his emotionally retentive words into a poor attempt at saying sorry. 

it usually stays this way until one of you apologises, katsuki through small actions— needy kisses and the sight of his muscled and shirtless back cooking a slightly less spicy version of your favourite food in your kitchen after work... and yourself through gripping his fingers and kissing a small ‘sorry’ into the corner of his mouth. 

and after all this, the shattered glass of your fragile and delicate relationship becomes glued together, sitting at a breaking point before your next fight.

but he sits next to you the day after your fight, an arms length away from you on the shitty couch your mother had gifted you as a housewarming present when you both first moved in with each other. it was old and from your childhood home, the missing spots of blue nylon material patched up with anything your mother could find. bakugou hated it, called it an eyesore in the middle of your apartment but he let you keep it because it made you smile, because it was soft against his back when he laid with you on movie nights. 

despite being only a breath’s width apart, you still miss the heat of katsuki’s body against your own— craving to curl up against him like you used to. even still, the blonde pro hero remains as intense as ever, staring blankly at the saturday morning news report flashing on TV, letting his presence flood your living room and burn every corner. 

neither of you say a word as the reporter recounts an incident downtown, an armed robbery with the assailants gunned down and around thirteen injured including some heroes. out of the corner of your eye, you see bakugou’s thigh twitch as if he’s desperate to get out onto the scene, despite the fact that today is his only day off for the next week. 

you rip your gaze from him and rest your head lazily on the palm of your hand, elbow on the arm of your couch. “that could have been you, y’know?” you tell him absentmindedly, anxiety settling in the column of your throat. it could, have been him— you’re not wrong. if your boyfriend had been on duty today— he could have gotten himself hurt way worse than you can handle, he could have even died, god forbid that even happened. but they were all possibilities you were forced to think about every time he stepped out of your creaky red painted door and left for work as a hero. 

everyday you’re forced to think about the infinite number of ways bakugou could die on the job and it’s been killing you slowly from the inside out for years. a black necrosis eating away at the tissues of your heart until it’s beating affection for pro hero dynamight starts to slow.

“i know.” bakugou tells you weakly, voice hoarse from sleep and not having spoken to you since last night. you don’t look, but you can feel the burning gaze of his on your left cheek for the first time in more than eight hours. his stare is hard and unmoving, but you don’t dare to budge on meeting it.

“you could have died,” you continue, picking at the sleeves of katsuki’s sweater that you wear. the news report continues; confirming izuku midoriya as one of the heroes injured on scene but thankfully stable, bullet just grazing his thigh. your body sags in relief at the fact that your friend is still alive. “you could die anywhere and i wouldn’t know, i wouldn’t see until it was written in big block letters for everyone else to see. but what about me, katsuki? what happens to me when you die? because i don’t have a quirk and you’re just—“ 

bakugou finally turns his body towards you, pulling your arm that rests on the couch cushion  until you’re collapsed in his arms and your noses are just barely brushing. “i know, baby...fuck,” he uses his freehand to brush through bed head blonde locks, letting it run over his face before using it to tilt your chin up towards him. “i know, ‘m sorry. you know that right? you know that i’m sorry…”

eyes closing, you nod and let him hold you— tuning out the noise from the report and listening for katsuki’s breathing, his heartbeat, the proof that he still lives. “i know…” 

“then you gotta know that, ‘m only ever fighting you like this, ‘cause ‘m tryna keep you safe,” you feel him nod with you, a sigh of relief passing from between his lips as he presses foreheads together. “fuck, baby i just want you safe. out there ‘m fighting the bigger guys to keep them out ‘n keep you away from harm.” 

you laugh breathlessly, wetly as katsuki finally holds you and gives you the soft affection that you’ve been craving. “you’re such an idiot, katsuki,” you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips and twitches at the corners of your mouth— especially when feeling your lover mirror the expression on his own. you let your sweater paw covered hands snake around the back of his neck, twisting in the baby blonde hairs at it’s nape before leaning up and finally, finally pressing a kiss against his lips. 

the hand that held up your chin slips to cup the back of your head— pulling you harder against him and letting his tongue trace the seams of your lips. he tells you he loves you without saying, you feel it spread throughout your body like a warm wave crashing on a white sandy beach, you feel it in your lungs and how they burn for oxygen despite how bakugou grips your waist to tug you onto his lap and kiss you harder than ever before. you feel it everywhere he touches, the skin where your sweater has ridden up, your bare thighs, your neck, your face. every inch of you. 

you love him, you love him and he loves you— more than anything and more than there are words. “fuckin’ love you,” he grunts between smooches to your raw lips, tugging them with his pearly whites, tongue sliding over yours.

you giggle. “i know,”

“say it back baby, wanna hear you say it.” he huffs, pinching your side.

“i love you back,” you manage, between even more fits of laughter— separating from bakugou to run a hand through his sun kissed locks. “i love you,” 

bakugou smiles, genuine and big with his eyes bright and teeth on display. 

“i know.” 

— “ WHEN HE CALLS ME PRETTY  I, FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY.” 

katsuki bakugou tastes like burnt oak and whisky. 

it wasn’t one of his favourites, the whisky... but he’d been stuck on it since the night he met your father and they stayed against your childhood swingset in your back garden talking about katsuki’s plans for you both. he’d gotten your father’s approval that night. and yet, there’s salt on his tongue from the margarita you drank back at the restaurant on date night— two completely different drinks swirling together in perfect harmony. 

just like yourself. just like him. 

the pair of you stumble right through the front door, toeing off smart pointed shoes and uncomfortable high heels required for the dress code at the upscale restaurant katsuki had booked with all that pro hero money. the dinner was nice, the tiny portions and rare ingredients had been a right treat but you’d been eyeing something different for dessert. 

katsuki seemed to share the same idea, heated red stare never leaving your own— his large and built body cornering you in the booth that he’d paid for. you know that he’d planned that, judging by the sheer amount of privacy you had in the dim lit restaurant. god, you looked so delectable, so pretty— you’d gone all out in a pretty dress, skirt short, colours of his hero’s costume, lips painted red—so it was only a matter of time before bakugou’s hand slipped up the material and grasped at your doughy thighs.

pulled them apart under the dinner table, pressed white hot fingers against your thin lace panties and rubbed smooth circles into your clit— while both of you sipped your respective drinks and asked the wait staff for another basket of breadsticks. 

so that’s how you end up here, pressed up against the entryway table in the entryway— your legs hooked around the slender waist of your boyfriend, gasping for air at the feel of his sharp canines stamping their desperate way up your throat and marking it as his own, making sure that you and everyone else to see you in the coming days knows exactly who you belong to. with every bite comes a vicious bark from bakugou, hooded eyes mapping out every unmarked area of your skin— painting it with bruises that form beneath the surface, soothing it with laps of his heavy, wet tongue over each inflamed area. 

squeezing his waist tighter, you use your legs to drag bakugou’s lean form closer to yours— relishing in the way his body hangs heavily over yours. the antics from back at the restaurant sparked a fire deep within your lower belly, started an itch in your cunt that only the great katsuki bakugou can scratch. just having him like this, wandering hands and pointed teeth all up against you made you so incredibly needy. all for him, only ever for him. 

“y’fuckin’ eager t’night, baby…” katsuki tells you, voice thick with a slur and eyes dark, teasing and honed in on you underneath him. the temperature surrounding your bodies rises, especially with how closely pressed you are to one another—perfectly slotted together like it was meant to be. “what’s got you s’worked up? surely you can’t be losin’ your mind over a couple fingers, hm?” 

an attempt to rub your plush thighs together while having them wrapped around katsuki only pulls a gluttonous grunt from the man— his eyes fluttering shut as you accidentally press against his clothed hard on—trapping him close to the heat of your core. “don’ need to tease katsuki, you did enough of that at the restaurant,” you sigh, losing all control of your body and pushing up against the man again. you can practically feel his cock twitch through the thin linen dress pants that he wears, black in colour that you want off but bakugou won’t go down without a fight, not before clamping down on your neck once more.

“wasn’t teasin’ princess, ’barely took a fuckin’ finger back there,” he easily finds more of the spots that make your back arch off of the entryway table and your pretty pussy clench around nothing but hot air, lapping and sucking at them until your eyes are crossing and you’re gagging on your metaphorical competitive words. with rising hands, you force your fingers into bakugou’s blonde roots in an attempt to bring him back to your lips— not having tasted them since you walked through that door. everything is too hot, which you can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol or because of katsuki’s quirk, your patience is wearing far too thin and you miss the taste of him on your tongue as if you hadn’t loved each other like this for months. 

which you hadn’t. 

you whine in defeat, still tugging at soft blonde hair and lifting your hips to meet the impressive girth of your lover— but it’s not enough, you need him to give you all that you’d been missing through the bitterness of the last few months. “whas the matter? what’s the matter baby?” bakugou coos, kissing where your jaw meets your neck, tongue lolling over your pulse point. 

“need a kiss katsuki,” you huff, body reacting to the tenderness in his voice despite the contrasting roughness to his scarred and explosive hands that push the straps off your pretty dress off of your shoulders and pinch and pull at your sides and your tits. “aren’t ya gonna kiss me?”

your hands still in bakugou’s hair, his head lifting from your neck to look over your darling face— smudged ruby painted lips and bright doe eyes. fuck. ‘course he was gonna kiss you. especially when you looked at him like that. 

“s’that all you want, sweet girl? for your suki to kiss you?” with every question, the mocking lilt to katsuki’s tone rises and rises, earning warm pools of slick through your panties and onto his precious dress pants as you grind and grab at him— all for a kiss, all for him to press up against you as you sit prettily on the entryway table. you nod your head way too eagerly, pulling a sleazy chuckle from your man as he watches you pout and squirm. he debates on torturing you for a moment more, before leaning down and pressing your foreheads together once more. “c’mere baby, c’mon gimme a kiss, give suki a kiss.” 

you jump up excitedly but the large and marred hand belonging to bakugou encases the swell of your thigh and pins you down to the cool wood surface. he pinches you there once and you know to stay still, letting him swoop down and press his chapped lips against yours in a chaste kiss. for a second your body tingles with release and a pleasurable heat flashes through you with the taste of the whisky in his mouth— but as soon as katsuki came, he’s gone again— leaning over your now sweat slicked body with a daring smirk. 

“no, no, no,” the unimpressed whimpers pour from between your smudged lips, barely distracting from your now teary eyes. “wanted a kiss suki, you promised…” 

bakugou hums, cocking his head down at you innocently. “what? you complaining’ baby? after the pretty night i gave you?” he continues teasing you, mocking you while you succumb to your needy stature— he knows that you like it when he manipulates you like this, takes advantage of your fuzzy baby brain just to get some dick in your leaky pussy. he’s always so good at taking care of you when you’re high off of lust and alcohol alone, you missed the way he took care of you and let yourself indulge in all of him tonight. “didn’t make any promises to kiss ya either, yer jus a dumb lil baby aren’cha? makin’ things up— maybe y’had a little too much t’drink…”

you try to shake your head, but katsuki’s already caught you by your chin— pads of his fingers beginning to sink into your chubby cheeks as he angles your head from side to side, as if he’s inspecting you for the supposed lie you’ve told. meanwhile his other hand slides up what he holds of your thigh, reaching for your lace panties beneath the material of your short skirt— but the material is so tight around your curves it restricts his movement. 

“‘m not drunk suki— not that drunk, just please gimme a proper kiss, please, please…” your tears fall unwillingly down the apples of your cheeks from the way katsuki holds you— he doesn’t look like he’s going to budge, so you open your mouth to speak, to beg again only for bakugou to delve deep into your awaiting mouth. his lips mouth with an air of roughness this time around, giving you want you really want and he matches the pace of his kisses with the movement of his hips— slotting his dick against your now puffy folds, more defined as a result of the way you drool into your undies. 

you're so desperate for a little more than just a little roughness to your kiss, nipping at bakugou’s lower lip enough to draw blood in an attempt to pry open his mouth and get that bitter taste of whiskey once again. you force your way into his mouth, tongue twisting with the pink of his own and uncovering the warm and bitter flavours of his whisky from earlier. this kiss is much dirtier than before, spit swapped as your hands roam the rest of bakugou’s body— pushing at his fancy shirt and tearing through the buttons that keep it anchored over his well sculpted chest. 

the grinding doesn’t stop either, even as bakugou cups your throat to keep you pinned against the wall behind you— head hitting the mirror with a light thud, glass vase with a fresh set of your favourite flowers falling from the entryway table and hitting the floor to your left. you both start to move with more vigour, the oxygen leaving your brain to make room for the overwhelming thoughts of your boyfriend who hangs above you. 

your lungs burn with brightly coloured lust, in shades of fiery orange and red— the walls around you, trapping in the heat of you pressed against katsuki. it’s not enough to have his mouth on yours and his hand with cool rings locked around your throat, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to move any faster— withholding kisses and debauched touches from your starved body. so you take matters into your own hands, literally, fingers scrambling for the belt that keeps you away from bakugou’s dick. 

“slow down baby, you’re gonna rip through my pants with how fuckin’ needy you are,” katsuki tries to tell you with taunting voice but he choked on the tail end of his words when you finally break through his belt and half heartedly shove down his pants— stained with the nectar that dribbles from your destitute pussy. you grasp at his firm cock from over flimsy boxers, mouth practically watering as you get closer and closer to your goal. 

the pair of you share a hungry moan when you set katsuki free, his heavy girth hard and slapping against his tummy— only visible between his open shirt. beads of clear precum ooze from his sore red tip and you lean forward to spit against it, rubbing your palm over bakugou’s cockhead and shaft to create a lubricating mix of the fluids. a whimper, although small, bubbles on the seams of katsuki’s lips as his tongue darts out to wet them— his large body shuddering wholly as you finally take the weight of his cock into your hand, feeling for the prominent vein on its underside and reaching further into down to grasp at his heavy balls. 

“baby—“ he warns you, tip leaking hotly against your soft hands as you explore him. 

you look up at bakugou with big, innocent eyes, breathing heatedly into his mouth when he begins to collapse against you with every stroke of his cock. “missed how you feel, just wanna touch you suki, can i? please?” you ask him, even though he’d already nodding his head yes and whispering the ghost of praises against your cupid’s bow— wet from the sloppy kisses he gave. 

“fuck yes you can sweet girl, gotta finish what we started don’t we? make a mess of this cock ‘n i’ll—fuck— fucking ruin, that precious pussy of yers, yeah?” you know that he’s mindlessly babbling, beginning to leisurely thrust into your sticky closed fist— acting as a flesh light for his pleasure. “you’ve been s’good for me tonight, lettin’ me play with ya pretty clit ‘n mark you up, now y’givin me a handjob? dunno what i did to deserve you baby,” 

your heart flutters against your rib cage at the small slur of praise from your boyfriend, clit throbbing and cunt twitching all for some nice words nice words uttered from cherry bitten lips. “mmh,” you mumble, high pitched and desperate, “s’all for you katsuki, just wanna make you feel good,” 

he howls from deep within his chest, volume just above the raunchy slapping, damp sounds of your hand jerking his dick— squeezing occasionally to pull surprised moans from katsuki as he shakes above you and fucks your closed fist like it was your tight, pulsating cunt wrapped around him. a colourful ray of curses fill the air and you watch the show unfold between your bodies, saliva pooling on your tongue at the sight of bakugou languidly thrusting into your hand— a reminder for what’s to come later on in the night. 

you don’t dare to let up the pace of your hand, speeding up with every pull of katsuki’s hips away from your fucking heavenly grip— fat droplets of his precum hitting the floor with crude slaps from just how much he’s leaking, allowing your palm to glide up and down his shaft in smooth motions, bringing him closer to cloud nine. bakugou’s mind turns fuzzy and hazy, it shows in his face and the bliss that lines vermillion orbs— they flutter shut with every fervorous pant he lets out— your breath mingling together. 

his cheeks flush a shade to rival is enchanting ruby red eyes, strings of salvia joining the roof of his mouth to his strawberry tongue as katsuki throws his head back to let out alluring moans, like music to your ear. his adams apple bobs, tiny mutters of ‘fuck,’ and ‘shit, right there’ follow, and god he looks so beautiful like this, his fat cock in your hand and a line of sweat dotting his hairline. you want to commit the image to memory and let it burn in the back of your brain. 

“you’re gonna make me cum,” despite the fact that the word’s on the tip of his tongue are seethed in your direction, bakugou doesn’t let up up on the jump of his hips to meet your hand— letting you tug at his cock and fondle his breeders balls to orgasm. “y’don’t get my cum till ‘m inside you baby, you don’t get my cum…oh fuck, oh fuck yeah…” he chants even though he doesn’t stop, eyes snapping open to lock on yours. “greedy girl, just gonna keep jerkin’ me off to get what you want? told you ‘m not cummin’ till i get inside that needy lil’ hole of—“ 

“uhuh, just gimme your cum suki,” you cut him off with cheeky swipe of your thumb over his tip, coaxing the pro hero towards his high— you repeat the action as he shudders above you, swiping up more of his arousal before releasing him and lifting your hand to your mouth. you suck your tainted thumb between your lips, moaning lowly at the salty taste of your boyfriend against it and keep your gaze locked on his. 

“fuckin hell baby,” bakugou says, following your movements as he lets you spit on his cock once again, the glob running down his painfully hard shaft before you squeeze your messy head around him once more and piston it at an unforgiving pace. “fuck—fuck, you better fuckin’ stop, you better fuckin’ stop— holy shit, don’t fuckin’ stop fuckin’ this cock—!” 

you don’t stop despite his contradicting words, guiding katsuki through the messy terrains of his high as white hot light flashes behind his hazy eyes and a colourful stream of cursed tumbles from between his lips. his head drops heavily to your shoulder, the pace of his hips stumbling as he releases ropes of thick cum stain your hand, adding to the sheen that glazes it. you grin pridefully at the washy, imperfect mewls that come from your boyfriend while his hips start to slow and he pushes more of his white cum onto the floor beneath you both. 

“you came so much, katsuki,” you observe sweetly, letting him go once more to lick the remains of his release from your hand. bakugou doesn’t say a word as he comes back down, breathing heavily into your neck— still shaking. so you don’t expect his hands to forcefully grab your wrists, nails digging into the skin there as he pushes them above your head with a strong grip, your hands cooling against the mirror behind you. “suki—“ 

“daddy oughtta punish ya fer the stunt you just pulled pretty girl,” bakugou tells you breathily, steeling his voice although his face remains soft and wanting for you. “makin’ me cum over ya like some desperate fuckin’ dog. was gonna make you pay baby…but i just wanna get a taste of that sweet fuckin’ pussy, ‘cause i know s’been leakin for daddy this whole fuckin’ time…” 

you’re too delirious to deny bakugou’s claim, most obviously because it’s true. you’re sure that if he looked now your panties would be so soaked through that he could see the puffiness of your pussy and the way your clit pulsates, hanging onto every dirty word that drips from katsuki’s lips like liquid gold. that very same pair of lips is on you quickly, capturing your mouth in slow, sinful and sloppy kisses— spit trailing down your chin as his hands move to the sweetheart neckline of your dress that lies under your cold breasts exposed to the air, lacking attention. 

you don’t complain though, not about the lack of stimulation to your rock hard nipples— no, but the way katsuki tears right through your dress to easily get rid of the tight material restricting access to the treasure between your thighs. “my dress!” you shriek, body fully exposed to the hungry blood diamond orbs. “i bought that for you, dummy!” you pout.

“who the fuck cares? i’ll getcha a new one,” katsuki mumbles, sinking to his knees in front of you and your seat on the entryway table. he mouths over your thighs, pressing wet kisses to the tops of them where they swell and covering them in a clear gloss of his saliva. “don’cha want my tongue in you baby? can’t do shit like that with stupid dresses in my fuckin’ way…” slowly but surely, katsuki spreads your legs— kissing a path  from the little bow on the waistband of your underwear, right down to wear your clit would be. he bumps his nose against the sensitive nub, staring up at you to watch you twitch and grouse avidly— your own legs spreading apart even more. your hands, that hadn’t moved from above your head almost slip from their place, but with a quick spank to your unused sex, they jolt right back up. “hands where i can fuckin’ see them, baby girl.” 

“yes daddy,” you sigh, your entire body trembling with unadulterated excitement. for the first time in a while, you’re about to have crazy, passionate sex with the man who’s touch you thought you’d lost, your juices practically flow at the thought. 

pressing his lips to your juicy cunt, bakugou’s nose inhaled the saccharine scent of your sex at the same time— making you spasm in place. “that’s daddy’s good girl,” he hums into you shortly before pressing is tongue flat against your ruined panties, using the tip to trace a path up the length of your lower lips— just to get a taste and to pull a reaction right out of you. instinctively, your hips jump up from the entryway table, nudging katsuki’s tongue right down to your awaiting hole. you’re so fucking needy for anything, going so long without being touched or groped since you got back from the restaurant— the way he’d flicked your clit earlier in the booth had left you on the edge the entire time.

“oh-ho-ho, y’fuckin’ liked that, didn’t ya?” bakugou slurs, using the tip of his tongue to trace your hole— pushing it in along with the fabric of your underwear before sucking on the wet patch you’ve created just by gushing out streams of arousal. he tastes you through the lace barrier, listening out for your small gripes as your scent replaces all oxygen in the air and you expel hormones from his quaint little action. 

you nod in agreement, down to katsuki, hips bucking up for a while before he clamps them down to the oak wood table beneath your ass. “please…” 

katsuki tuts, spitting onto your puffy pussy lips from over the material as he pulls the waistband back and snaps it against your clenching tummy. “whaddya need princess? my tongue?” he asks lazily, flicking the tip of his tongue against your bud. you nod again but dumbly, unable to form enough words to tell him what you want. bakugou wastes no time from there, the hands on your hips snaking around to your ass, tearing through your panties from behind and yanking you towards his unruly mouth. 

he latches onto the entirety of your soaked slit, pink muscle finally breaching your tight entrance— curling immediately inside of your velvet walls to map out their ridges like he’s done so many times before. it feels so good to finally be worshipped like this again, the rough patch yourself and katsuki had been going through meant nothing but quiet quickies between shifts or on nights where neither of you could sleep. you had no choice but to miss this, the moments where either of you were overpowered by a sheer burning desire to become one, to fuck until your neighbours had complaints or the whole street had woken up. whether it’s pure passion or alcohol, you don’t care, just having katsuki between your thighs, suckling and slurping on your sex like his life depended on it— it’s  enough to make you lose your mind.

for the pro hero, having you clamp down on his tongue like it was his cock on those nights where he’d have you take him over and over, makes his hard on twitch to life. being the reason for your euphoria and amorous cries, caused dopamine to crackle across his brain— caused him to get addicted to the way you sound when getting fucked by him. it was like a high for bakugou.

you gush and gush, waves of arousal staining katsuki’s rose tinted cheeks— he could spend all of eternity working on pleasing you from between doughy thighs, sending you into sensory overload from each swipe of his hot tongue against your overstimulated clit. it’s all so obscene and messy, you’re sure there’s a pool of your own nectar sitting underneath you, a mix of your own fluids and your boyfriend’s spit running down your slit and to your ass. 

“feels so fucking good baby,” you keen over the sounds of your creamy cunt and bakugou cleaning you up, groaning sharply at your sweet-like-honey taste. you feel you might short circuit from how good your hero boyfriend makes you feel— owning your pussy as he thrusts is tongue in and out of your abused hole, never slowing down and only ever speeding up until your eyes cross and you can count the number of stars floating across your vision. 

you trap the pink muscle inside of you, let it wriggle about in search for your g-spot until bakugou lets up on your hips, allowing you rug aggressively into his awaiting face and smear a glaze of arousal over his chin. he keeps you plugged full with his tongue, letting you ride it as if it were his fat dick, held in place for you to use as your heart desires. 

“oh fuck baby, you’re so pretty when yer ridin’ my fuckin’ tongue like that,” bakugou says, catching his breath only after he pulls away from the heat of your throbbing mound. there he goes again, filling you with adoring praise that makes you feel so loved and so turned on all at once two fingers replace the roll of his tongue, rubbing fast and calculated circles along your nub until your thighs start to quiver around his head. “god, this pussy’s so good, love it baby. can’t believe s’all fuckin’ mine.” 

your body remains unsteady and shaky with nothing to hold onto, you practically squeal at the knot forming in your lower belly— the pressure there indicating an impending orgasm. “wanna cum daddy, can i cum? lemme cum—please, lemme...lemme cum…” you start to chant, losing your mind when your lover uses both tongue and finger to get you to heaven’s gates. “holy shit—katsuki!” 

“go ahead, can feel y’ready creamin’ on my tongue pretty girl…” bakugou says into your clamping cunt, laughing heartily as the dam finally breaks and your release washes over you. you convulse in your place, eyes rolling far back into your head as your arousal hits the floor with crude slap— merging with what katsuki left. he fails to stop either, slipping a single finger inside your hole and hitting your g-spot until your vision goes black and you’re begging him to stop. you feel as if you’re floating, tripping into orgasm chanting his name like a mantra.

“mnno—baby please, daddy— can’t, can’t—“ you wriggle; losing consciousness as a second orgasm takes control and takes you to cloud nine once again— syrupy cunt pouring cum like a river, the very sight enchanting bakugou. 

by the time you come to, katsuki is already standing up and making even more space between your soaked thighs to slip is cock into your raw and abused pussy. “daddy’s gonna fuck you now, kay sweet girl?” bakugou asks you, voice rough but the hand on your face, the one he uses to make you look at him is soft, domineering and gentle.

“mmkay daddy, wan’ your cock please,” you say sleepily, happy to be handled however your boyfriend wants. he takes to using two of his digits to press his shaft against your slick folds, riddled with the remainders of your precious orgasms. he glides through your folds with ease, sticky sounds dancing between your sexes as it tells the song of your passionate night. your ass is sore from being seated on the entryway table for so long, but all feelings are replaced by the new euphoria katsuki’s shaft creates just by brushing up against your overstimulated clit.

he spanks your breasts, letting the mound bounce before sharp teeth latch onto the other— grazing against your nipples to give them the attention they’d missed out on during your earlier sex crazed frenzy. “how d’ya want me baby?” katsuki whispers against the soft flesh, painting it in bruising shades. “wanna make you feel s’fuckin’ good,”

he pushes his dick through your swollen pussy lips until his tip hits your tummy, smearing globs of precum against it. you both shudder, relishing in the slick feeling of you grinding against one another bare. “don’ care,” you manage to find it in you to reply, cheekily dropping a hand  into mussed blonde locks to pull him into a chaste kiss. your brain is completely foggy, moments away from breaking and all you can think about is the taste of whiskey and salt in your mouth and the way katsuki heats you up from the inside out.  “jus want you,” 

those words seem to be all the permission katsuki needs to finally fuck you after so long, he pushes you by the shoulder to lean back against the cool painted wall— adjusting the position of your legs around his body until they’re hiked up high over his broad shoulders, ankles locking behind his head. you’re folded in two by the time he’s finished positioning you, cock drawn back from your tummy so his bright red tip, leaking feverishly with precum once more can be tapped against your sticky pussy— ground into your clit and teased into your puckering entrance ever so slightly. 

“want you too baby, s’fuckin’ badly,” bakugou murmurs lovingly against your lips, eyes closed and forehead pressed tholeo yours as he finally eases his tip past your entrance— stretching open your unused  from his thickness. he pushes in easily, thanks to your previous releases, and you’re so fucking warm and tight he thinks it might kill him.  the way you accept every inch of bakugou’s cock reminds him of how perfectly made you are for him— how he’ll never get another pussy, another girl like you in this life or the next. 

you’ll always be his pretty girl, and he’ll always have an insatiable need for you— to love you and protect you, no matter how much of an ass he is. 

“do i not fuck you enough, how the fuck are you so fuckin’ tight? must all be for me,” your cunt accepts bakugou into its soaked canal, walls spasming around him rhythmically before he’s even start to thrust. you ooze thick, viscous nectar while your core blossoms for him like your favourite flower but he presses on, until bakugou’s reached the hilt, fully sheathed inside of you. 

lifting your hips to lock him into your heat, selfishly, you add. “my pussy belongs to daddy, can’t be fucked open by anyone else but you,” the pair of you stay like that, revelling in your connected bodies and pressing light kisses to one another’s faces to prepare for what’s next. the alcohol in your system is well flushed out by all kinds of hormones and pheromones by the time katsuki pulls back his hips and slowly draws his cock out of the comfort of your ribbed walls— the only thing keeping you drunk is the way he stretches you out around him, pussy changing to accommodate his size and the pure love you have for katsuki bakugou in this very moment. 

leaning his large body over you, the blonde’s hands wander across your own as if memorising  every perfect detail about you— the light scar on your inner thigh because you hit a table corner when you first moved in together, the stretch marks, the beauty spots on your tummy and shoulders. bakugou presses a kiss to your sternum before looking up at you with big, loving eyes— eventually practiced and capable hands end up settling on the curve of your peachy ass, gripping it and moulding it as katsuki slowly pulls you back onto his cock. 

“hold on t’me baby,” he tells you lowly, face shoved back into your neck as if he doesn’t trust himself to not blow a load if you look at him. breath fanning warmly against the junction between your neck and shoulders, he continues. “ready?”

“oh god...please, please…” you feel like you’re going to cry, he’s right there— he’s all over you and all you want is to feel him where you need him the most. to have him take you again until all there is, is his scent on your body to match the love bites he left.

katsuki wraps an arm around your shoulders, large palm gripping the back of your head as he finally thrusts into your awaiting, gummy walls and meets the hilt. he pulls back, barely leaving the warmth of your pussy as he sets a slow and deep tone to the movement of his hips. “shh sweet girl, i’ve gotcha, kay?” he coos to you, followed by a seraphic moan that sends your sex into a series of flutters around him. “daddy promised to—fuck, make y’feel good…”

the edge of the hero’s words have a slight tremble to them, from where lewd sticky sounds echo in the entryway of your apartment— katsuki’s hips slowly rocking into you while a sheen of sweat sweeps over your joined bodies. he slips in and out of you so easily, forcing your cunt to accommodate for the sheer size of him. no matter how many times katsuki had fucked you, no matter which way, you always lived for the burn his dick created as it pushed its way into your puckered hole— moulded you into the perfect fuckhole for him to use.

“ohmygod—fuckin’ shit,” bakugou whines salaciously, using his grip on your ass to move you back and forth on his cock— matching the pace of his hips jutting in and out of your pathetically creamy sex. with every pull of his shaft out of you, your hips chase him to swallow him back up, keep him locked in your cunt until his tip that spews and smears clear precum against every ridge of your insides. 

hearing the man you love break above you fills you with a brilliant, bright and hot essence of delirious devoir— as he pulls away from your neck, vermillion eyes screwed shut you can see that sweat drips from his brow, which is furrowed in concentration, focused on bringing you to euphoria. bakugou’s honey skin shines under the dim lighting, flushed with only a light pink from his exertion, chocolate abs contracting with every stroke of his cock and rut of his hips into you. hair matted to his forehead, his arms flex, dragging you to meet his hips, skin smacking and breath mingling with the sex lingering in the air. 

bakugou is so fucking beautiful, you might mistake him for a mirage. if you were a desert, his sun and his golden sand, then he was an oasis— a forbidden drink of cool water, a vision of divine light. 

and you’re so lucky you get to be the only one who sees him like this, watch him break as he pumps you so full of everything he has to give you— see the vulnerability in his eyes as he slowly opens them to watch you mirror his darling expression. “you—you’re so pretty when you f-fuck me suki,” you tell him through earnest and teary hiccups, punctuated by his fervid driving hips, prodding harshly at your pleasure spot. 

katsuki tilts his head and swoops down to assault your bruised lips, famishedly tugging them between his sharp canines and running his tongue over the site of attack. you can taste yourself spread across them, laced with the saliva in his mouth before he spews it into your own— almost choking you while the grip he has  on your shoulders lifts you to meet him halfway. “yeah baby?” your boyfriend whispers lecherously against your temperate and impassioned mouth, as if he’s telling you a dangerous secret. “well daddy thinks yer the pretty one here, split open on my fat cock. y’so fuckin’ gorgeous, when ‘m fuckin’ you, when ‘m holdin’ you— daddy loves you so, so much baby,”

bakugou reminds you of his title, but there’s not a hint of anger or disappointment written across his perfect, chiseled features. there’s no hesitation in his thrusts as he pounds into you, hitting your g-spot and causing constellations to dot your vision. he doesn’t stop loving you, making love to you even if you’ve slipped up just a little. and it feels like bakugou never left, as he takes you like this on the entryway table— rocking it with the sheer force of his barbarous bombardment on your raw and sluice sex. it feels like home with him inside you, his dick basking in your slippery warmth. it feels like love again. 

tears start to brew in your eyes once again, clumping in your eyelashes and gathering on the hot apples of your cheeks as you become overwhelmed with admiration and love— heart thumping against your rib cage. “love you daddy, s’much, please don’t ever stop,” you beg, not bothering the clarify the fact you’re asking katsuki bakugou to never stop loving you, to never leave you high and dry nor empty...physically and emotionally.

because then you don’t know what you’d do if bakugou stopped holding you like this, stopped slotting his body against yours and claiming every inch of it as his, with every swipe of his tongue, every plunge of his cock into plush walls, every kiss and bite and touch. you’re sure that you’d go insane without him. you don’t dare to think of anyone else making love to him the way you do, because you’ve given him the key to your heart and he’s tossed it away, some place dark of his to keep. 

you don’t want this to be the last time, you don’t want the night to end. all you need is this moment in time, the first moment in many months where you can feel the flame in your heart burning the same heat as bakugou’s when he takes you. your hand brushes through his hair lovingly, your eyes sparkle with fresh sets of tears while your boyfriend’s intensity waves over you in scorching waves, soothing scratches and scars your relationship has given you over the last few months. tonight gives you hope that what’s broken can be fixed, that you still hold his heart like he does yours. 

“you’re mine, katsuki,” you writhe underneath him, stomach twisted in delightful knots— the tip of his heavy shaft tournenting your poor g-spot and his heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass, arousal running between your cheeks. “you’re mine, mine ‘n i love you, want you like this forever…” choked and greedy, your words come out in high pitched sighs, earning a deep keening groan from the man who pistons in and out of you. 

“‘m yours, huh?” katsuki replies, capturing your raptured gaze— blood ruby eyes lined with sobriety that dances amongst their dark brown flecks. he couldn’t be drunk now, he wasn’t. high as a kite only on the taste of your skin and the way you looked so in love with him stuffed full of dick and messed up with different layers of sweat, his precum and your releases. “damn right i am, ain’t no one gonna claim this pussy like i do, ain’t no one gonna fuck you like i do...ain’t no one—fuck baby, don’t clamp down on me like that— ain’t no one gonna love you like i do…” he growls possessivly, adoringly, gripping you by the ass and hauling you up into to his arms. 

you collapse forward, arms wrapping around bakugou’s neck to steady yourself as he pierces you on his length making it hit the deepest parts of your insides, practically splitting you wide open. your cunt throbs and your throat contracts in unison, a silent scream tearing right from it. “ohmygod! katsuki—“ 

“hold on tight f’me sweet girl, trust me, kay?” the pro hero murmurs into your ear in a candied voice, shaky from the new position and the way he’s lined up inside you so deep. he now holds you over his shaft in his arms, they flex as he slowly begins to lift you up and down on him by pure strength. his knees bend in order for him to bottom out inside you and churn up your syrupy insides. “god, y’feel so fuckin’ good like this, could cum like this baby...d’ya want that?” 

tucking your face into his strong neck, you pacify your flowing tears by pressing light kisses to his honeyed skin— sucking on him for the caramel taste that lingers there. “yes please, want all of you...never haf’ta ask,” you sob erogenously, all of your emotions and searing hankering for katsuki overwhelming your tired and fucked out body. 

you feel weak in his arms, trying your best to roll your hips back down on bakugou’s as he thrusts upwards and directly into your gummy pleasure spot— dragging you by the ankle to your third high. “don’t cry for me baby, already told you ‘m yours. don’t gotta worry ‘bout me goin’ anywhere,” bakugou nips at your earlobe, tracing his tongue stickily along your jawline until it reaches your cheeks and swipes away the stinging tears from your flustered face. “you’re fuckin’ mine, i love you. don’t worry about anything except how good i make you feel. fuck you’re so pretty, wrapped around my cock, cryin’ like this. so pretty, always,” 

the both of you start to lose it together, katsuki’s thrusts becoming impatient and feverish, juices from your pussy flowing down two sets of legs like niagara falls. a thick strand swings between your bodies where his cock plugs your spasming hole, the warm and opaque string finding purchase against your shiny and slick inner thighs. no one could do that to you except for him, no one could ever make you this wet and you weren’t prepared to let that go. 

“daddy—katsuki...can’t...c-can’t, i can’t,” you whinge in full volume, the squelching of your sexes so loud it could wake the neighbours. head shaking, you clamp down against your boyfriend and circle your hips, no matter how hard you try to prolong the night, your body can’t stop chasing the burning high and the white light— you need him to cum, to paint you with all that is him, all of his essence. it hurts so good, you want it so bad. “‘m so close, so fuckin’ close… need you to cum with me, i can’t hold it any longer…” 

bakugou isn’t fairing too good either, his grip on your thighs to manhandle you in a pace to his liking is starting to stutter and become languid— but still, he manages to reach over the swell of your upper thigh and burn shapes into your puffy clit. “whaddya need baby—fuck, just tell me ‘n i’ll fuckin’ give you to world, just wanna cum with you,” he says beginning to write his name; casting his signature over the most intimate part of your body to confirm that his heart and his desire belong to you. “yer gettin’ so tight,” 

lifting your head, with watery eyes you grab his cheeks and smile lazily, alternating the squeezes your sex gives to his cock. “need you to say you love me, suki…”

katsuki smiles, lustful and yet genuine, leaning forward until he’s hunched over you, still in his grip while he fucks shaft, swollen and red and about to burst in and out of your slick hole— wet skin smacking hard and fast against yours at an insatiable speed. 

“i fucking love you, my sweet fucking girl,” 

that’s all it takes for the flood gates to open and for the damn to break— you cup his cheeks and kiss him, tongues slotting against one another perfectly, nostrils flaring with struggling attempts to intake air and bakugou’s hips fail to slow, dragging so fucking deliciously against your inner walls as his seed spills into you, flooding your womb to the brim with so much potent white that you can feel your tummy bulge and see most of it run down your slit and between your ass cheeks, landing on the floor in a puddle with the rest of your prior orgasms. 

bakugou becomes blinded by bright lights and the sight of your pretty cunt swallowing his cock despite how much cum you’ve taken, his entire shaft covered in a thick layer of milky white as he continues to shove it into you, “fuck me baby, fuck me..” he gripes, tone whiny and high pitched while you cum for him, spewing your release against his thighs and abdomen, ruining your own. you cum so hard you feel the blood rush in your ears and the world around you falls away. your nails dig crescent moons into your boyfriend’s shoulders, you absolutely fucking lose it and burst into pleasure filled tears.

“suki—katsuki, baby, ‘m cummin’, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, don’t you ever stop,“ you babble brainlessly, your mind breaking even as his thrusts slow and the treasure between your thighs is coated with cum. bakugou presses down on your g-spot one last time, catapulting you straight into another orgasm and causing your chest to heave. you squirt hard, clear liquid ejaculating from your sex and covering you both in another messy layer of release— the force is so hard that you manage to push bakugou’s dick out of your contracting hole, he can’t bare to stay away from you for long however, sliding it right between your abused and dilated pussy lips. 

“shit pretty girl, did so good for me, feel so good ‘n you’re still fuckin’ cumming,” katsuki bumps your clit from time to time, watching you jolt in his secure and safe arms while you both collapse to the floor in a mess of souse and tired limbs. the aftershocks of your orgasms pulse through your exhausted body and you curl into your boyfriend, still crying. “shhh, s’okay, daddy’s got you baby, pretty baby— ‘m so proud of you,” 

you sniffle, twitching in katsuki’s embrace. “love you suki, so much,” 

he presses kisses to your hairline, whispering praises with each one and brushes the tears away from your arms. “fuckin’ love you too gorgeous, now let’s getcha up. need you to pee so ya don’t get sick, kay?” 

you nod and bakugou doesn’t make you stand on your own, hauling you back up into his arms and leaving your messy pile of cum and clothes to deal with later. he’s so good to you, you’re so lucky— you can’t help but think when he bathes you and rubs balm into your bruises and sore areas. maybe this didn’t have to end, maybe you’d both be okay after this night and it could go back to the way things were. 

at least that’s what you hope. it feels right to think like that, especially when you curl into his chest and his arm swings lazily over your waist in bed that night and he whispers. “you’re mine forever too,” 

— “EVEN AS WE FADE, EVENTUALLY.” 

you wish you hadn’t gotten your hopes up. 

you wish that you weren’t so naive to think that a few good nights with bakugou could change what was months in the making. you wish that you weren’t so quick to fall for his charms and sweet gestures, the way his lips muttered i love yous and the way his hips would meet yours in the dead of the night, stardust and praise s scattered across your skin along with midnight blue bruises painted by him, along with various other shades.

you fucking wish that you weren’t so foolish to believe that cheap glue and false positives could hold together the broken relationship you tried so desperately to save. the pieces were too small, there was too much and crystal always shatters so beautifully anyways. your mother had taught you that.

you thought that you could last, you thought you had a chance but just like your friends had told you time and time again, you were too good a girl for a man like katsuki bakugou. you were too good to be stuck in an awful place like this. you deserved better and it was bitter to even think that you were the one to beg him to stay, to keep him tied down and in the end it was you to be the one that needed to cut yourself free.

you had the chance to escape. there were no such things as red strings of fate, so you knew realistically that you weren’t tied down. no matter how much you tried to believe bakugou was perfect for you, it was childish to even think so. besides, even if they were, yours was sure to have faded completely. you just couldn’t see yourself staying with him anymore.

it rains on the day you decide to finally do it. 

mina had helped you set up an apartment in her building on the other side of town, she had been so kind throughout the whole thing, held you while you cried and emptied her favourite bottle of pink gin until there were no tears left. the movers had been in and out of your shared place with bakugou all day, you hadn’t the time to buy boxes but kirishima and the guys he recommended had come with some. 

in that time you realised how much of the stuff in your home wasn’t yours— how you lived in a space belonging to someone you barely knew. it was all so surreal, you couldn’t bare yourself to move or to leave when the movers had packed up most of your things and were ready to go. you could leave— you had the time to before bakugou got back from whatever meeting he had, along with his post work run. you could have gone without a word.

but as much as you deserved better, deserved a new life, you knew that you deserved an explanation too.

the door handle wriggles and forceful steps sound from your entryway, but you can’t bring yourself to look up from the very thing that ended it all. that broke your rose tinted window and caused the glass to all come crashing down on top of you— reopening closed wounds. 

bakugou calls your name almost immediately, tearing your gaze from the colourful page. “what the hell is going on? why are there movers outside? where the fuck are they taking our shit?” the blonde bombards you with questions, anger frothing on his tongue as he rips out his head phones and unzips his grey hoodie— hot from rage. 

“her stuff,” kirishima answers for you when your tnroat goes dry and you can’t seem to think— because how the fuck do you talk to the man who broke your heart? your boyfriend notes the box his friend carries as he emerges from your bedroom, it’s probably the last one filled with your clothes, not a single article of his in sight. “i’ll be waiting for you outside,” the redhead adds with a nod in your direction, and you hum, weakly.

he leaves and then it’s just you and bakugou and everything you’ve been waiting to say.

“yn,” you grimace when he calls you by your first name, the gravity of the situation finally daunting on him. you don’t do things like this, in the spur of the moment. you’ve always been the planner of this relationship and the weight in the air tells him something is wrong. “what the fuck is going on? i come home ‘n there’s movers outside, our fuckin’ apartment is empty and fuckin’ kirishima is here?” 

you can’t stand the sound of his voice right now, you can’t believe it was something that once soothed you. that would calm you down within a second of whispering sweet nothings into your ear. so you say nothing, picking up the magazine that sits on your coffee table, freshly printed and brand new— you roll it up and almost gag at the scent of printer ink that brushes past your nostrils. one you’re done, you stand from your seat on your mother’s couch, you’d be taking it with you, and toss the magazine with all your might, hitting the blonde square in the chest.

“yn, why aren’t you fucking answering me? what is this shit?” his usually warm running blood turns freezing cold when he looks at you, reaching down with one hand to swipe up the magazine. he sees how lifeless you look, how dull and colourless your eyes are but he still avoids looking at the paper in his hands.

you swallow, looking away with a sniff and crossing your arms over your chest. the sweater you wear isn’t his, but one of kaminari’s instead. bakugou’s chest starts to hurt. “just read it, bakugou.” 

you don’t call him by a pet name, you don’t call him by his first name. you don’t even let your gaze trail back to the man you’ve loved for so many years. so anxiety sparks in his bloodstream and expels into the cool air of your emptier-than-usual apartment and katsuki bakugou finally looks at the damn magazine crumpling in his hands.

and sprawled across the front page in big angry red letters, an obvious picture to match is “PRO HERO: KATSUKI BAKUGOU— CHEATER?” along with a photo of him caught in a lip lock with your close friend ochako uraraka.

bakugou’s world stills. “where did you get this?” 

“so this picture is real? it’s not a PR stunt?” you answer katsuki’s question with a question, watching his red eyes dart across the page. you’re not a fool, you’d studied the picture for hours on end since the first time you saw it, you were with him long enough to know that the way he cupped ochako’s cheeks was the same way he held you before every kiss you’d ever shared for years. you can tell just from one look at the photo that there was love in his eyes when looked at her. 

and from the way his face falls, you can tell that your suspicions are far from wrong. 

you wish harder than ever, harder than the rainfall that you didn’t believe in soulmates. that you’d listened to your friends and to your mother. 

“baby, please—“ 

bakugou clams up, fear settling on his cursedly beautiful features. he takes two steps towards you, desperate to pull you into his arms and fill your head will more pretty lies just to keep you sedated and by his side— but you shake your head, throat hoarse from holding back tears. “no, no.” you tell yourself, more so than him, to stop yourself from forgiving him yet again. “i trusted you, i gave you so many chances to fix what we had and i trusted you to every single fucking time bakugou.” you take a deep breath to steady yourself, the world spinning as you start to grow queasy. “i loved you so much that i broke myself in two, i sat embarrassed by my friends because i was so in love with you, i believed you would change for me…” 

stupid heart, stupid love, stupid you. bakugou doesn’t say anything more, sits there and takes everything you throw at him because he knows what he did was wrong, beyond wrong. he knows that he fucked up. “‘m sorry, you know that i am, it didn’t mean anything,” he tries to defend himself, knowing his words will fall on death ears.

pausing your ramblings, you laugh shortly despite your watery red eyes and the knife of betrayal in your chest that stops you from breathing. you can’t think clearly, you can’t stand still and you know as you pace that bakugou is a smear in your mind where your heart has been ruined. “sorry isn’t going to fix it this time, you cheated on me bakugou, you cheated on me with someone we both called a friend—“ you throw your hands up, shaking your head in dismay, looking up at the ceiling to blink back your heavy tears and hide them from him. the last thing you need is finding the strength to break up with  katsuki bakugou only for him to see you as weak. “ochako…” you hum, through trembling lips. “her? really? how could you do that me, to deku? we’re two good people—“ 

“don’t you think i know that? fuck, i never meant to hurt you, i didn’t want to hurt you but holy shit i did and fuck—“ bakugou says, scrambling to find his words— running a hand through his damp locks with his chest pounding, realising the weight of his actions only now. he looks up at you, red eyes frenzied and panicked. “fuckfuckfuck, does deku know?” 

you sit down, just so tired. hearing that someone who meant the world to you, who was your everything and then some admit that he willing hurt you and broke you—puts a heavy weight on your shoulders. you don’t know where to go from here, what to do, just that he’s ruined you. “of course izuku knows, he’s the one who...who showed me the paper,” you whisper, biting your lip to gather yourself. you could leave now, knowing what did you did— but for some reason you wait to see if anything katsuki says could fix this. you wait for him like you always do. “ochako’s PR agent sent the magazine to their address, he opened it thinking it was their wedding magazine. their wedding magazine, bakugou. they were happy, we were happy—“ 

he shakes his head, slamming a fist down on the coffee table as he kneels opposite you. “we were lonely—“ bakugou shouts, pain filling the room easily just like his presence does. 

“you were lonely? i was the one who sat here waiting for you to come home every night, the one who patched you up, the one who loved you no matter what kind of shit you gave me or put me through, fuck you katsuki, honestly fuck you.” you start to shout through your sobs, hurting your vocal chords and you’re so loud you can see the movers flinch outside. “i loved you...doesn’t that mean anything to you?” 

he pinches the bridge of his nose and for the first time since you started dating, you see bakugou start to cry. “of course it did,” he hiccups lowly, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him like you did. “fuck, yn, i loved you so much but so did she,” katsuki doesn’t dare speak ochako’s name in fear of setting you off and making you leave without a chance to explain himself. “she understood me, what it was like to be a hero and have everyone rely on you for your quirk where you fuckin’ nagged me for it.” 

“it always comes back down to the fact that i’m quirkless, you can never get over that. you never could since you went pro,” you scoff, licking your top lip to get rid of salty tears. the pro hero whispers an apology but you ignore it. “you say she loved you...how long were you together?”

there’s a beat of silence before the blonde answers you. “months,” 

you cringe. “how many?” 

“yn—” 

“did you love her?” 

“yn don’t fuckin’ do this—“ 

“did you love her, bakugou? hell, did you sleep with her too?” 

he chokes back a sob, looking away from you and pressing his palms together. “yes i slept with ochako, and yes i loved her, fuck but i loved you more—“ 

“that’s selfish,” you tell him directly, breathing shakily and willing yourself not to cry more than you already have in front of him. kirishima was sure to get an earful of it later. you feel sick to the stomach knowing that while he used you, held you, fucked you— he was doing the same to someone else.  “you don’t love in the day and her at night. that’s so fucking selfish. i should have listened all those times when your friends told me to leave you, i should have listened, but i wanted you so bad, i wanted to marry you and when i saw that ring in your sock draw, i thought you wanted me too.” 

you share a look with him, hoping that his eyes will reveal the truth to you just as they always had because if you could see in that ruby abyss that he wanted to marry you— just maybe, maybe you could stay. but then katsuki’s eyes twitch and you uncover the betrayal and the lies woven in with the dark flecks of his eyes and your stomach drops, your heart stops beating and time stands still.

“that ring wasn’t for me, was it?” you ask.

you shrink back when bakugou makes a reach for you, his chest heaving and pain on his face that probably mirrors yours. you back up on the couch, breaking into millions of tiny crystalline pieces as if the pro hero had dropped a sledge hammer on top of you. katsuki bakugou was never going to marry you, he was going to marry her. ochako uraraka. you see it all, it seeps from his pores and fills the room, which is suddenly too hot, you scratch at your arms, scrambling to stand up and gather your phone with your coat. 

you need to get out.

“baby, baby please— please listen to me—“ katsuki starts to beg as you gather yourself together, speeding things up as your heart breaks in your chest and you burst into loud, noticeable tears. “baby don’t leave, please don’t go, just listen…” he babbles and reaches out to grab you, his world practically ends when you flinch back. “you weren’t supposed to find out like this, it wasn’t supposed to end this way...”

“don’t. dont touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t you ever come near me again, you…” you stumble over the words in your head but keep them steady as you speak, shrugging your coat and hood on, ripping your body away from bakugou’s. “you fucking prick.” 

so you leave it all behind, running out of the apartment into the rain as it washes off all the memories you hold of you and katsuki together. you dash down the street and wave to the movers truck, signalling that they can leave— bakugou hot on your trail. in three short strides you reach kirishima’s car, tears swimming with the rain that sticks to your clothes and jump into the passengers side. 

kirishima jumps, throwing his phone into the cubby and looks to you while you buckle yourself in. “woah—hey! slow down,” eijirou tells you, reaching over to fix your seatbelt while you fumble with it, delaying your breakdown even more. “what happened? are you okay?” 

“no, just—“ you shake your head, drowning out bakugou’s cries for you in the street, catching him standing soaked in the rare view mirror. “please just drive, eiji,”  you whisper brokenly to your red haired friend, who nods and sets the car into drive— setting route for his place with kaminari instead of your new home. the movers will know where to go, they have your address and keys too.

slumping in your seat, you check the mirror one last time to see katsuki on his knees, on the floor in the rain— his form growing smaller and smaller the further you get from him.

you sniff turning off your phone to avoid any texts from him. “he’ll catch a cold,” you say to no one in particular, even though eijirou looks to you worridley. “not that… i should care anymore.” 

and you shouldn’t, katsuki bakugou isn’t your responsibility anymore. 

he only was when he loved you, really.

#tteokdoroki #mha #bnha #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha angst #bnha fanfic #mha x reader #mha x you #mha imagines #mha angst #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagines #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou angst #bakugou fanfic #bakugou fic #bakugou headcanons #bakugou scenarios #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

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

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

#sam wilson #dark sam wilson #dark!sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #birch #series #sequel #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #looking for a place to happen #biker au #biker!au #au #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers #tfatws #falcon #biker boys of birch

[sunnyville36]

Put it on me

Requested from anon

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

Themes/warnings: idol!verse Felix, light angst/argument, make-up sex, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe out there folks!), slightly rough sex

Word count: 1.6k

As always, happy to hear your thoughts, and thank you for reading!

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

You’re staring at the half eaten meal on your plate when you hear the door open.

You and Felix have barely had 2 seconds to spend with each other the past few weeks with Stray Kids working on their upcoming comeback, so you thought you would surprise him by making your signature chicken carbonara that he’s been dying to try.  You had texted him earlier to tell him your plans and he had sounded super excited.  He mentioned dance practice might run long, but told you he would come straight over to your place when it ended to spend some time with you.  So you put his portion in the oven to keep it warm and waited for a text saying he was on his way, but it had been over 3 hours since their practice should have ended and you hadn’t heard anything from him.

Your boyfriend comes around the corner into the kitchen, and you can immediately tell he’s not in a good mood, but you hope some food might lift his spirits.

“Hey Lixie,” you say, standing up and crossing the short space to give him a quick hug.

He wraps his arms loosely around you, trying to keep his sweat-stained tank top from ruining your shirt.  “Hi Y/n.”

“How was practice?”

“Fucking exhausting,” he sighs, plopping down in a seat at the table and letting his head fall into his hands.

“I can only imagine,” you respond, making your way over to the oven.  “Maybe something to eat will make you feel better?���

“Oh, I-I’m not hungry, baby.”

You turn back to him, see his head is still in his hands.  He’s trying too hard not to interact with you, and you feel like something’s up.

“After that insanely long practice?  You must be.”

“I uh… I ate with the boys.”

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, but try not to jump to conclusions.  “Lix, dinner must have been hours ago by now; come on you should eat something, I kept your pasta in the oven - “

“I just came from eating,” he interrupts, looking anywhere but the spot where you’re standing with one hand on the oven door.

“You what?” you ask, voice quiet.

“After practice ended, we all went up the street to that 24-hour ramen place.”

His head is bowed, eyes looking at his lap, and you can tell he’s feeling guilty.  And you know it’s petty, and you should really just brush it off and move on, but you find yourself feeling more hurt than you thought you would.

“But I… we said we were going to spend some time together tonight, and I made this special just for you…” you trail off, trying hard to stem the tiny drops of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“I know but - look, the members were at each other’s throats all night and it was such a tough session and I didn’t wanna just bail on them when Chan suggested we all grab food to sort it out - “

“So you decided to bail on me instead?” you scoff, anger rising in your chest.

“No, it wasn’t like that, I’m still here aren’t I?”

“You could have at least texted me about the change of plans.  I’ve been waiting here for hours thinking you’d walk in the door any minute when you might not have even shown up at all!”

“Well I’m sorry my life doesn’t revolve around how you spend your time sitting around!” he snaps back, throwing up his hands in an annoyed shrug.

“Right.  Because all I do with my time is sit around pining after you.  You know, this was one of the only free times for me too, and now it’s wasted.”

The air is tense between the two of you.  You’re rapidly moving towards a full blown fight, and this is far from how you wanted your evening to go.

“So I’ll just go then, if your precious plans are ruined,” Felix mumbles, standing to grab his jacket from the hook by the door.

In all honesty, it’d be better if you let him leave, give the both of you time to cool down.  But you’re too upset to think rationally, and all you can see is him not even caring enough to stay despite your disagreement.

“So you’d rather walk away than talk about this?”

He turns back, fists balling at his sides.  “We’re not talking, you’re just yelling at me, and I didn’t even do anything!”

“It’s not what you do; it’s what you don’t do.  You never even want to spend time with me anymore!  I feel like you only want me around when it’s convenient for you!” you shout, voice wavering.

Something shifts in his eyes then, as he stares at you from across the room.  He looks hurt, offended almost, more angry about what you just said than at any previous point in your argument.

“That’s not true.”

“Really?” you press, enthralled by his aura, his usual lighthearted demeanor being replaced with one oozing with dominance.  With desire.

“Of course I want to be with you.  Always,” he says, voice low.  Assertive.  Sexy.

“Then prove it.”

He’s on you in a matter of seconds, hands grabbing your face and lips crashing against yours.  Your own hands find themselves on either side of his slim waist, still sticky from sweat and exertion.  He pushes you up against the counter, melding your bodies impossibly closer as his tongue slips into your mouth.  The kiss is messy, filthy, nothing like the two of you normally do during your lazy makeout sessions.  His leg is slotted between both of yours, and the tensing of his thigh against your core as he moves to lean over you makes you heady with want.

Suddenly, you’re turned around in his hold, your back flush to his front, hiding nothing from you as you feel the hardness in his pants growing against your ass.  He’s frenzied, his normally delicate touches replaced with rough grabs, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping below the hem of your skirt to run along the damp folds of your panties.  He brings his lips to your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want me to show you what I never get tired of tasting?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper, letting him half-drag, half-carry you over to the living room and ease you onto the couch, the first gentle touch from him since this whole thing began.  That turns out to be short lived, as the next thing you know he’s on his knees in front of you, flinging your legs apart and waiting for your almost imperceptible nod before moving your panties to the side and bringing his mouth to you.

He devours your pussy, licking up and down your center and sucking on your clit.  You moan his name, and you can feel him smile against you as he focuses his tongue on teasing your clit with little kitten licks while ramming two of his fingers inside you.  Normally it takes you begging to get him to be this rough with you, but something about your fight must have got him really riled up, and you weren’t about to complain.

After bringing you to the brink of your high a few times but never quite enough to send you over, he lifts his head from between your legs, mouth dripping with your essence, and moves behind you on the couch, gently positioning you on your hands and knees.  He leans his whole body over yours, again whispering his question in your ear.

“Can I fuck you like this?”

You rarely do it from behind, but every time you have you’ve loved it, so you nod your head eagerly, letting out a breathy “yes.”

He’s ready as soon as you say so, pushing into you with such force you jolt forward slightly, your laughter-tinged gasp giving him a sign of just how much you enjoy it.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, kitten?” he purrs, lifting you up off your arms so your torso rests on his chest.

“Yes… fuck... Felix, please more.”

He draws out then pushes back in, picking up the pace each time.  Soon he’s pounding into you, his left arm supporting your hip and his right arm wrapped loosely around your neck as you lean against him.  The way his cock is angled is causing him to hit you perfectly each time, and you’re moaning his name again as you feel his quick hot breaths next to your ear.

“You promise to never doubt how much I want you?” he growls out, voice strained from the effort not to release just yet.

“Yes, yes, Felix I promise, please let me cum, please.”

“Let go for me baby.”

You reach your peak at the same time, his groan in sync with your high pitched scream.

When you’re both aware enough to speak again, Felix pulls you down to sit between his legs, leaning you against his chest.

“You were right,” he starts, voice sincere, “about - about earlier.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was all that time and I’m sorry for leaving you alone when I promised we’d spend the evening together.”

You look up at him, wanting to apologize as well.  “I’m sorry about what I said.  I know you’re not intentionally neglecting me.  I’ve just been upset recently that we don’t have a lot of time together anymore.  But I should have told you that earlier; I shouldn’t have brought that up in an argument.”

“So we’re even then?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You give him a playful punch to the chest, smiling.  “Yeah, we’re even.”

“Then I think it’s time for round two.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz imagines #skz smut #lee felix #lee felix fanfic #lee felix fic #lee felix x reader #lee felix imagines #lee felix angst #lee felix smut #felix x reader

[utterlyinevitable]

Are you willing to write this? I want to read it, but I don't have the heart to write it. Ethan/MC are happily together (married or otherwise). MC wanted children, Ethan didn't, they agreed not to because she wasn't willing to give up Ethan/their love. She's accepted it, but still sad about it. They are happy when a woman from Ethan's past shows up with his child (any age, predates him knowing MC). What happens? Does he/they have a relationship w/ child? How is their relationship impacted?

For Better or Worse

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) & Bryce Lahela Rating: Teen+ Word Count: 951 Ethan Tropes: Mini Series; Angst; Break Up; Issues  Bryce Tropes: Mini Series; Friends with Benefits  Summary: Two lovers, both alike in dignity. Prestige and pride and piteous misadventures overshadowing what could have been. Pride can be a devious foe backed by continuous rage. When will these two learn to say what they mean?  

a/n: thank you for the request. i know it isn’t exactly what you were after, but i wrote this mini series over a year ago and it seems to fit the prompt 🤷‍♀️ it’s nothing much, but i hope you enjoy this heartache 😬

______________

Six days. That’s how long they have been apart. Just short enough to pack Keiki’s things, have an evening layover in Vegas, and head home. A small reprieve from guardianship plans - a fight Bryce’s parents won’t make an easy road; Unlimited money verses an over-worked, under-paid surgical resident. Two kids that have each other and want nothing to do with their felon parents. 

Becca steps off the elevator to see Ethan standing in the doorway of their apartment, a small smile he only reserves for her at home on his lips as his partner of two years saunters towards him, her suitcase clicking behind her. Her heavy lids and make up-less face brightens as soon as she lays eyes on him, her steps become a joyous skip down the hall. Her arms fling around his neck leaving her things to pile at their feet. The kiss they share in the doorway is light, tender, pure muscle memory. 

Becca can’t help but feel a pit forming in her stomach, something is far from alright she’s sure. 

“How was your trip?” Ethan asks, guiding her into the condo they have shared the last ten months. 

“Fine. Thanks.” Becca plops her bags down unceremoniously, happy to be rid of the weight. With a cheeky little smirk she asks, “Miss me much?” 

The look on his beautiful face has her insides stirring as he responds, “Always.” 

His tone is far from lighthearted. Becca can see the splinters of worry in his face. “What’s wrong?” 

“We need to talk.” 

Panic seeds itself in every fiber of her being. Thinks he already knows what she’s done. But how? Only three people know and she’s one of them. Keiki and Bryce would never - this sham was for them anyway. Just until Bryce gets custody of Keiki. 

If this is going to lead to a fight to the death she wants to savor these last few hours. 

Artfully deflecting, Becca begins to shed her travel soaked clothes. Her sweater glides to the floor and her fingers work the hooks of her bra. 

“Let me shower first?” 

Even through the weight of his feelings, she feels Ethan’s gaze stuck on her half naked form. He crosses the little distance between them to grab her hand and lets Becca tug him along with her. 

Clean, satisfied and clad in her favorite oversized shirt of his, Becca is perched on a stool at their island countertop freshly cooked sustenance made with love dangling from her fork. Ethan sits besides her in modest pajamas, pushing the pasta around the plate and glancing at her with a heavy gaze. 

“I’ve had lunch with Harper,” Ethan says, his fork stops moving as he begins to broach the subject of his current moral torment. “Something came up. I’ve been thinking... I want-” 

He’s not saying anything - not getting to the point quick enough - and Becca’s had a very long 36 hours. 

“Ethan, spit it out already,” she pushes, mouth full.  

His cheeks are turning pink, Adam’s apple bobbing, and eyes she loves so much batting away the clouds pooling in. For another second her stomach drops with the thought that he knows, that somehow Harper found out, though her partners in crime kept very tight lips. Becca swallows, rotates on the stool to give him her full attention. 

Ethan is nervous, that much is clear by the subtle cues she’s learned over the years. Yet he’s the picture of calm - straight back, impassively intent features, hands resting in his lap, voice soft as he speaks.  

“Harper wants to have a baby.” 

“Okay...” 

“She’d like me to... donate.” 

Nothing happens. He expects some sort of chide or loud dismissal, some sort of reaction to words that have been haunting him for days. Instead, Becca is looking at him with the blankest of stares, ever unmoving. So Ethan waits. And waits. And waits minutes more for her to collect all her thoughts. She’s never this quiet. 

“Rebecca,” he says, urging her back to the present.  

Color flushes over her face and for a brief moment Ethan is relieved. 

“I’m sorry, what!?” 

“She wants to use my sample.” 

“Yeah I got that,” she scoffs. “So... you’ll just have a kid with Harper?” Just like that! she wants to scream. One request from his ex and longest relationship he’s ever had and he’s considering it, but when Becca brings up the topic it’s a no-go... It’s a slew of ‘our lifestyle isn’t conducive to children’. It’s the shattering of hopes and dreams that she pushes aside because they’re in love. 

“Biologically, yes. I’d waive all paternal rights. It would be Harper and Sasha’s child.”

“That’s... I can’t believe this.” Her head falls into her hands with defeat, fingers tugging at the damp locks as she tries to rationalize what’s happening between them. She feels gaze prickling her skin and all it instills is guilt. Horrible, terrible guilt. 

They’re apart for six days and both have seemed to cause irreparable damage. Just because they don’t think - didn’t bother to check in before doing something so...  

“I...” she began. God, the words are getting caught in Becca’s throat. She hadn’t planned on telling him so soon - a few weeks or months, maybe, just enough time for them to figure things out. It’s no use. Ethan told her one sin, now it’s time for Becca to confess... 

“I married Bryce.” 

“You what!”  

Ethan’s sprung to his feet, every torrent emotion building like a deadly tsunami. And Becca follows suit. 

It’s a face-off now. Heads raised in the ring they’ve created out of their home. Words thrown like fists, bodies dodging and retaliating with their own strong jabs. A dance of ill-placed moral high-ground. 

_________________

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

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#open heart #choices open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #bryce lahela #let me love queue

[stayextrafrosty]

If you're still up for a fluffy Malex request, one where Alex tries to make Michael dinner but fails miserably (except dessert!).

Tbh I imagine both of them being able to cook pretty well but this was fun and might totally not be taken from personal experience... Please enjoy!

Fluffy fic requests open until 11/11/21 at 11:59pm Pacific Standard time

-

Alex cursed under his breath. This should have been easy. Pasta was the easiest thing in the world. But instead something wasn’t right with the filling. Of course he decided to do homemade ravioli as opposed to sticking with regular spaghetti. But here he was, messing up an old recipe Isobel had given him from her mom.

Supposedly it was a favorite of Michael’s. Which made all of this even worse.

The mushrooms and spinach and cheese smelled off. Had the cheese gone bad when he had just bought it yesterday? He couldn’t seem to get the amount of salt right either. He tried the mixture and realized that in his worry that it would taste bad, added too much.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After calming himself down, he moved the bowl to the fridge instead of flinging it across the kitchen like he wanted to.

Alex knew he didn’t need to impress Michael. But their one year anniversary was something of a big deal. Thirteen years of dancing around each other and he wanted to make this special. It needed to be special.

He pulled the pasta dough out of the fridge instead. It had been sitting for about half an hour which it what the recipe said. He unwrapped the ball only to find it much more firm than he thought it would be. He tried flattening the almost rock hard food for ten minutes before rereading the directions.

‘Let sit at room temperature for…’

“Damnit!” Alex yelled as he grabbed the ball and flung it at the wall. The flour that was spread over the counter puffed up and covered the wooden floor and now his clothing. He groaned and ran a white hand over his face before he thought about it.

He looked back over in the direction that he threw the dough, expecting some kind of mess. Instead it just hovered in the air a few inches from the wall. Alex spun to face the doorway and Michael leaned against the frame, eyebrow raised and fighting a smirk.

“Babe, I think we’re a bit old to be having food fights.” Alex’s shoulders sagged as he watched him pull his signature cowboy hat off his head. The ball of dough floated back to the counter and landed with a soft thud and another small puff of flour.

“How long have you been standing there?” Alex mumbled, looking away in embarrassment.

“Would it make you feel better if I said not long?” he joked, tucking a finger under Alex’s chin and turning his face back to him. Michael’s eyes sparkled with amusement and a deep fondness that still stole the breath from his lungs every time he saw it. “I’m sorry. You were just so focused and it’s hard not to watch you when you get like that. It’s cute and incredibly hot at the same time.”

Alex rolled his eyes but a small smile snuck onto his face anyway. He looked around the disaster zone that was once the kitchen. This would take forever to clean. And even longer to find something else to make for dinner.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I meant to have a real dinner ready for you but it just… went all kinds of wrong.” He heard him chuckle and before he knew it, Michael was holding his face and pressing his lips to Alex’s.

Instinctively, Alex held onto Michael’s arms and leaned into him. He forgot about the flour that covered him and when they pulled apart, most of Michael’s clothing had a dusting of white on it as well.

“I have an idea. How about we skip right to dessert? We can pick up something from the Crashdown later,” Michael mumbled as he traced his lips over Alex’s cheek and to his jaw. Alex turned his head slightly and let his eyes flutter closed.

“I did manage to make a chocolate cake,” Alex said as nonchalantly as possible. Michael’s distractions stopped almost immediately as he lifted his head to beam at him. He would never get tired of that childlike excitement that overtook his face whenever something sweet was mentioned.

“All this for an anniversary? Alex you know the only thing I need is you.”

“I love you, Michael. I just want to make sure I show it.” The fond look returned as he shook his head and pulled Alex into a hug.

“I love you, too. Why don’t I help you with the pasta making tomorrow? Show you all the tricks I’ve picked up over the years.” Alex smiled and wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist and snuggled his face into his neck. He inhaled deeply and the smell of rain washed over him.

They cleaned the kitchen together, completely pitching the filling Alex had made but Michael insisted the dough could still be used. Just needed time to thaw. By the time they had all the pans set out to dry and flour swept up, the sun was starting to set.

Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, kissing up his neck as his fingers slipped under his shirt.

“Why don’t we go for a ride? Watch the sun set from my truck bed?” Alex smiled and tugged his lip between hit teeth.

“Stargazing included?”

“Of course. But I hadn’t planned on taking my eyes off you.” The blush warmed his cheeks as he turned in his arms. Alex pressed his lips to Michael’s. Merging stars would be jealous of them.

#malex fanfiction #malex fic #requested #malex #michael guerin #alex manes

[seat-safety-switch]

Being a consulting mechanic is a lot like being a consulting detective. You get to wear a crazy hat, puff on a pipe, and solve mysteries. Sometimes, those mysteries are about murder, but this isn’t one of those. Who wants to read about that?

Once, I got hired by the Stereotypical Italian Restaurant (yes, that’s its actual name) to investigate the reason why their electric pasta maker was on the fritz. The lunch rush was coming, and without a quick fix, they were going to have to get the owner’s mom to hit a bunch of customers with a rolling pin again.

I squatted down and took a look at the machine. In case you’re unfamiliar, the basic concept of a pasta machine is that it crushes dough into noodles. It’s effectively a bunch of rollers with a crank on the end. The classic problem: worn gears and sloppy bearings caused the rollers to chatter, falling out of alignment and making what those in the industry refer to as “lumpy noods,” the fucking perverts.

Now, it would have been an easy task to just swap out the bearings for what I had in the trunk of my Plymouth. And yet, the Stereotypical Italians had foiled me during the construction of the machine, choosing a bearing diameter and race depth that I simply did not have on hand, nor could I get from the Unbearable Bearing Clearance Store down the street. With only about an hour left before Mama Restaurant would be forced into hospitalizing some patrons, I had to make it work with an unseemly rapidity. As they say in France, hoarding is the mother of cobbling together some bullshit. From the trunk of my car, I pulled a pair of old boat engines and got to work designing a whole new pasta machine.

The customers loved their soot-stained spaghetti, laden with nutritious flecks of crankcase oil from the bad rear main seal on the primary engine. In fact, there was such a demand for it that I was forced to build a few others, until one morning I realized that the twin screw rotors of a Roots-type supercharger would be the ideal pasta machine. That’s when I found out that there is in fact a lethal speed at which to fling dough, and also re-aligning the belt drive sucked every time it got a little blood on it.

[elenarodriiguez]

day eight: no anaesthesia | c.m. & s.r.

summary: nothing like coming back from overtime to find your boyfriend bleeding over your pristine white bath towels.

pairing: crockett marcel x sarah reese

cw: minor injury, at home surgery, blood, mature content (making out, implied sexual content), alcohol consumption

word count: 1364

read it on ao3

There were a great deal of things that Sarah had been planning on doing after pulling five hours overtime on top of a gruelling twelve hour shift. Sit down long enough for her feet to stop throbbing, splurge and order takeout rather than eating the pitiful looking pasta bake leftovers in the back of her fridge, maybe even watch one of the many TV shows she’s been recommended over the years.

All of that sounded like a lovely way to start the miraculous two consecutive days off she has to look forward to. What hadn’t been close to residing on that list however are the current events unfolding in her living room: her boyfriend, who had been out of town on a business trip, is bleeding all over her nice white bath towels. A rush of adrenaline courses through her exhausted body, and Sarah could cry from relief when she sees that his arm seems to be the source of the blood, rather than his chest or his abdomen.

Without any grace or sophistication, she flings herself onto the couch, screaming into a cushion while her boyfriend stares at her from his perch in the middle of the carpet. Once she’s gotten the screams out of her system, or at least the first screams of many, Sarah rolls over and turns to look at him for the first time in a week. He flashes her one of his award winning smiles that practically ooze southern charm, and he simply chuckles at the halfhearted dismissive wave of her hand.

“You’re buying me new towels Darioush, I hope you know that, those cost me like seventy bucks. I can barely afford my student loans, let alone buy nice soft towels.”

“I’ll get them for you as soon as you help me with my little problem and I’m not bleeding everywhere. And Sarah, you know I can help you with your debt, just say the word and it’s done.”

“Yeah, I love you for that but I can’t afford to get investigated by the IRS for fraud. Now, if you’d be so kind as to grab me the first aid kit, I’ll get the alcohol and take a look at your arm properly.”

Pushing herself off of the couch, already missing the comfy furniture before she’s fully off of it, she retightens her ponytail before shuffling into the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of vodka that tastes more like paint thinner than alcohol. She takes the tiniest sip of it to wake herself up, her body trying to repel the liquid before it has had the chance to burn her taste buds, and when she walks back into the living room, the first aid kit is sat on the coffee table, Crockett leaning his back against it.

Rolling her sleeves up to her elbows - she has to laugh at her boyfriend’s blatant ogling of her forearms, even when he’s injured he can’t help himself - she kneels down beside him, pushing his hair off of his forehead and pressing a single kiss to it. Grabbing the pair of fabric scissors, she cuts his jacket and shirt off of his arm, internally weeping at how much money’s worth of clothes she’s destroying.

“I missed you, it was lonely at night.” Sarah says as she examines the wound, thankfully just a large gash instead of an actual bullet extraction this time.

“I missed you too darling, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back here sooner.” He pauses, hissing as she accidentally turns his arm a fraction too quickly. “And that I couldn’t give you a nice relaxing evening, I’m sure this wasn’t what you planned on doing.”

“You can say that again.” She mutters snarkily, quickly holding a finger to his lips to stop him from repeating himself with a goofy proud smile adorning his face.

Donning a pair of latex gloves, she swipes an antiseptic wipe over the wound site to get rid of some of the blood and gunk, careful to not tug at the warm skin anymore than necessary. Throwing the wipe in the waste paper bin, poking Crockett in the cheek for his little commentary about her aim, Sarah undoes the bottle of vodka, holding it out of his reach as he tries to take a swig.

“How many times do I have to tell you that alcohol is a natural blood thinner?”

“At least one more.” He says, fluttering his eyelashes at her and smiling at the pout unconsciously moulding her face.

“It’s your own fault that you got shot at, it’s your own fault that you came here instead of going to a clinic with anaesthesia, so now you’re gonna have to suffer the consequences. I shouldn’t need to do more than ten stitches so just stay still and let me do this, okay?”

“Do I get a kiss first?”

“I think I can do that.”

She turns back to him, placing the bottle behind her before kissing him, her hands cradling the back of his head as he kisses back with fervour. But before it can devolve into a full blown make out session, or a reunion fuck, Sarah pulls away, fumbling for the bottle and pouring a liberal amount of the alcohol on the wound, her hand flying up to cover Crockett’s mouth when he starts cursing up a storm.

“Sorry baby, but trust me when I say an infection is much worse than this.”

Changing her gloves and laying the suture kit out properly, she checks in with him to see if he’s okay before starting her sutures. Crockett stares at her the whole time, watching his cheerful and bubbly girlfriend become focused and stern looking as she stitches him up. He’s lucky to have found someone like Sarah, none of his past love exploits have been nearly as successful as this, and it was refreshing to be dating someone who just saw him for him and didn’t care about his less than clean work life.

It’s focusing on this that keeps him still and nonreactive, the feeling of his wound getting closed up still a bizarre sensation despite being one he’d become accustomed to over the years. Sarah rocks back onto her heels once she’s done, grabbing some gauze and a bandage to protect the wound after she cleans it for a second time. Once she decides it’s on tight enough, she presses a kiss to his shoulder and starts to clean up her mess, throwing all of the bloodied waste into a separate bag for Crockett to dispose of for her, rolling the used needle into one of the bloodied towels.

He pushes himself off of the ground, and once Sarah’s done with her tidying up efforts, he settles against her back, looping his good arm around her waist and settling his head in the crook of her neck. She turns and smiles at him, grinning when he tasks himself with kissing down from her cheek to her collarbones.

“I’m sorry I upset you, my love. And don’t try and say I didn’t, you called me by my real name, you only save that for special occasions.”

“I was just cranky, not upset, I’d just pulled seventeen hours at the hospital and you bleeding on my good towels wasn’t what I’d planned to deal with tonight.”

“Even so, I want to apologise.”

“Well,” she says coyly, slipping out of his grip, “I suppose I can think of a few ways you could do that.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” His voice gets a gravely edge to it, eyeing his girlfriend up and down.

“I don’t know if I should tell you, you did ruin my towels after all.”

“Oh princess, I think I could convince you to tell me if you give me a chance.”

“Well if you’re so sure, give me five minutes and then come to bed, we’ll see who was right after all.”

Sauntering through their apartment, a noticeable sway in her hips, Crockett steadies himself for the longest five minutes of his life. Sarah definitely makes it worth his while though when he pounces on her not a second after the five minute time frame is over.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday8 #one chicago #chicago med #sockett #crockett marcel #sarah reese #chicago med imagine #chicago med oneshot #daisy writes