You Get Kirisaki Daichi-injured

you are the best writer for billy out there, i just love the way you write him. do you have any headcanons for him in love?

A/n: This is so... Sweet I could cry, really, it made me smile so big like 🥺 I'm worried sometimes about how I write him and think I should change parts of it but I do like writing him and how I do it so this means a lot me 💞

Billy in love HC's

Billy's never been in love, not really.

The most love Billy has known is from his mother, but even then, his mother left him with his abusive father so even that love was warped and skewed

But it's all he's known, so he's going to have trouble with loving and being loved.

When he does find someone he falls in love with its slow but fast at the same time; slow in that it takes him a while to realize what he is feeling is love, but fast in that the falling in love happens real quick.

It doesn't sit right with him; this feeling in him makes him feel weaker, and all soft inside. And when he's weak and soft he's exposed, he's right in front of the fire.

Keeping his emotions closed off most of the time is how he copes with his father and everything. One of the only emotion he feels deeply and can't control to his will (though arguably he can't control the others, he just forces them to morph into anger) has always been anger, and it is because his father only showed anger; nothing else was normalized.

Lust is familar; he's felt lust for people, wanted them. Had them. But this isn't lust. Or it isn't just lust.

Would separate himself from you at first most likely.

Like, if you're the cause of his rampant emotions that he's kind of worried about, it's easiest to just cut you off.

Acts weird as hell in general; weird as in he doesn't act as rude as usual with Max, doesn't argue as much with people, brushes Max off instead of starting shit with her. Actually sometimes sits quietly in class instead of fucking around.

Max is gonna talk to him. Like, hello? Are you sick or something, you're being really weird bro.

Will get angry or defensive about it like, mind your own fucking business kinda angry.

But maybe it slips, or Max is better at reading his emotions than he thinks- ("you may be a piece of shit but we're family-")

It's not that Max has to tell him what he feels is love of some sort of something, because sure, he has felt love for others. His mom. (Max too, but it's hard to explain.) etc. But not this kind of love.

It's more that Max points out "well maybe Billy, you just really really like this person, and you're acting like you're 13 over it."

When he does eventually accept that he is in love, and if he does eventually begin a relationship with that person (or, if he had been in a relationship and the feelings he had developed into love) then he is a bit different.

First of all, you're special, so you get special treatment. He's still an asshole a lot to people, its his default attitude, but he's softer with his words to you (unless you argue then both parties are just mean asf 💀)

Defensive. Very defensive over the person he loves- will fight people, argue with people, if they look at them wrong? He's already getting heated.

Assuming the person loves him back, this is very much about protecting someone who actually loves him and is giving him love he hasn't had.

Even if they don't love him back, it's still about protecting, but protecting someone he doesn't want ruined like how his father ruined his mother and him, and everything he has touched.

Piggybacking off of that, he would be actually scared that he's like his dad and he will ruin you/his lover

The toxic parts of him don't just disappear suddenly; it takes time and years to change them, and some of them may always be part of him, so when he gets that way it's like a slap in the face to himself: he thinks he's going to ruin this person he loves.

Loves physical touch, in public or not. In public it reassures him you're okay but also let's everyone know that you're his significant other.

Not a flowers type of guy for no reason. If he's gonna give flowers there HAS to be a reason, so if you want random acts of love in the forms of gifts it won't happen.

Let's you have one of his rings he keeps in his room to wear though, and if they don't fit, he gives you one of his earrings to wear if you've got pierced ears (I have a fic I'm writing about this is anyone is interested lmao)

Needy. But doesn't like to admit it or show it. It manifests as a petty argument sometimes cause he just wants something but doesn't wanna admit he wants to be little fucking spoon rn.

Basically, when he's in love, it's fast but slow. He's confused, and it can be chaotic- it scares him and sometimes he doesn't feel worthy. The person he loves can get away with more than others with him. He won't change in a day, or even in a few years. It's slow, but having someone he loves and loves him back helps and he can't imagine not having them in his life; attached, very much so.

Ripe

summary enjoying your favorite summertime snack around the wrong company can be a very dangerous thing to do.

warnings cursing, lots of heat, smut, slight food play, oral fixation-ish, praise, semi-public & risky 

word count 1,912

note i will say that inspiration strikes at the oddest of moments

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was a beautiful summer day as you walked through the gates of the Hawkins Pool. 

Tilting your sunglasses up you scanned the bustling scene for your boyfriend, your ears perking up as a shrill whistle entered the air followed by harsh barking words.

There he was. Berating a pair of twelve-year-old boys for dunking each other in the 5-foot end of the pool.

Pursing your lips around your fingers you mustered a sound capable of hailing a taxi cab. Smiling, you gave him a large wave as he snapped his head in your direction.

Coming over to Billy’s side of the pool you crossed your arms and waited for him to finish his lecture. 

“You wanna die today kid?” the one boy still ashamedly grasping his friend by the collar.

The boy shook his head furiously.

Looming over them menacingly Billy waved them apart, blowing his whistle sharply.

“Didn’t think so.” he scoffed turning to face you.

“Another life saved.” you mused sarcastically.

He smirked, eyes appraising the small sundress on your frame.

“You staying to swim today?” he asked curiously.

You had yet to come to the pool for a swim. Thus far only stopping by to share lunch breaks or say hi on your days off, and he was beginning to worry that you were ducking him.

Allaying his fears, you slyly pulled aside the strap of your dress revealing a thin red bikini strap.

A small groan escaped his lips. 

“Good.”

Pulling the beach bag from your opposite shoulder, you took Billy’s hand as he walked you to a small patch of shade in the grass.

Sitting together, you pulled out a couple brown paper lunch sacks and water bottles. 

Taking his, Billy pulled out a sandwich biting into it immediately.

You giggled, pulling a peach from your lunch bag.

“Wha?” he questioned, ripping off another large portion. 

The sandwich was nearly gone.

“Had I known they worked you this hard, I would have brought you two.” you said tenderly.

He chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, opening the small bag of chips with a pop.

“Would you like mine?” you offered.

He almost looked offended, waving his hands in refusal.

“Billy, if you’re still hungry have mine.” you pulled out your sandwich, putting it in his lap.

“It’s not the end of the world…” you smiled encouragingly.

He swallowed hard. Guilty, childlike eyes of appreciation looking back at you.

“Thanks.” he ripped the tinfoil off and tucked into it with vigor as you turned your attentions to your own lunch.

The peach was soft and ripe, giving way with an audible squelch as you bit into its smooth flesh.

It may have actually been a little overripe as juice flowed from the fruit down your chin. Dripping onto your chest and traveling to rest between your cleavage.

You pulled away with a messy mouthful, closing your lips with a loud slurp.

“This was messier then I thought it would be…” you commented innocently, taking another graphic bite.

Billy was slowly chewing, his ears burning with the first wet sounds falling from your lips.

He was watching you now with rapt attention.

Watching those delicate pink pillows wrap and press themselves against the skin of that sinfully moist food. 

Teeth and tongue scraping for the exquisitely sweet meat it had to offer you.

Your mouth pulling off in a lewd, wet burst. Lips shimmering.

You looked immensely content and it was driving him absolutely insane.

Taking care to suckle the last bits of goodness from the pit, you hummed happily.

“I’m a mess. Lemme go clean off… be back in a sec.” you insisted, sucking a bit of juice from your thumb.

Rising to your feet, you wandered towards the women’s locker rooms, tossing the pit in the trash.

Entering the locker rooms you headed off towards the sinks, when a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist and jerked you inside a nearby changing stall.

About to yell, your eyes widened when you realized who it was.

“Billy?!” you whispered harshly. “You can’t be in here!”

You gruffly pulled the privacy curtain over the entrance, encasing yourselves in the small space.

“Relax…” he murmured with a leer, “the supply closet connects the men’s.”

You weren’t relaxed.

“Why’re you in here?” you inquired, bashfully meeting his eyes.

The corner of his mouth pricked up in sick delight as his broad arms pinned you in on both sides.

Your toes curled in anticipation, resting a palm flat against his bare chest.

You knew that look anywhere. And he knew. 

He knew damn well that he didn’t even have to lay a finger on you, and you would fall right into whatever scheme he was concocting.

He rarely if ever had to ask.

“Here?” you breathed, slightly panicked as the voices of women chattering passed by the curtain and out the door.

He gave a stern nod, his hand lazily lifting one strap of your dress. Drawing it down your shoulder.

Heat was pooling between your legs, a familiar ache overwhelming your core as you chewed your lip. 

“Think you can handle a lil’ challenge princess?” his opposite hand dragging down your other strap, pulling the dress downward and exposing your bright crimson bikini top. 

You looked over at the drape, considering your last momentary thoughts of sanity before locking eyes with him.

Nodding nervously, your head fell back against the stall wall as he instantly attacked you.

Diving, he dipped his face between your breasts, his tongue seeking out the sticky sweet trail of fruit juice that had fallen among them.

A sharp gasp of surprise fell from your mouth, feeling him run his tongue in a thick, flat strip up the length of your sternum approaching your collar bone.

Momentarily pausing at your pulse point, he nipped your skin, testing you.

You bit your lip, holding in a small cry, rolling your hips against him in protest.

“Good girl” he muttered, moving his assault northward.

Craning your neck, pressing yourself flush against the cool metal wall, you attempted to ground yourself. 

His tongue creeping over your chin reaching its final destination.

Biting your lower lip, he pulled you into a hungry kiss. Laving his tongue against your plush lips. Demanding entry, which you willingly obliged.

Slipping your fingers beneath the elastic of his trunks, you ground yourself against him. A low rumble of approval emanating from his throat as his growing arousal pressed up against you.

Deepening the kiss, his hands traveled south roughly grasping your ass, his fingers digging harshly into the skin, making you whimper.

“Have you always owned this set?” he rasped, leaving open mouthed kisses along your jaw and tickling the shell of your ear.

“I bought it two days ago” you squeaked, as a hand cupped your sex.

A deep growl of satisfaction met your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Looks sexy” he commented, hooking a finger in the crotch of your high-leg bottoms and shifting them aside.

An intense thrum of pleasure rumbled in his chest as he lightly dusted his fingers across your folds.

“Ya just make this too easy princess…” dipping his digits lightly at your entrance he withdrew them, to show you. The clear viscous fluid dripping from his fingers.

You looked to the ceiling in silent prayer before returning your gaze to him.

“I can’t help it.” you simpered as he held out his fingers for you.

Taking them into your mouth, you wrapped your tongue around them longingly only to whine lightly as he pulled them from you, replacing his mouth on yours in a searing kiss.

A conceited huff passed his lips, fanning your face. Your hips stuttering as he slipped a single finger inside you.

Idly wagging it, pressing lightly against the spot that could make you scream.

“Ya seem plenty ready to me… What cha’ think princess?” he taunted.

Deep cerulean orbs boring into you for an answer.

Chuffing, a deep blush settled across your cheeks, you were wound tighter than a spring.

“Just… fuck me” you heaved, wrapping your hands around his neck.

A broad smirk broke across his lips as he grabbed your ass, hoisting you up his waist. Pressing you firmly between himself and the wall.

Freeing his erection from his trunks, he lined himself up against your entrance, sinking into your heat.

Your jaw clenched, biting your lip hard to quiet yourself as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Shit princess…” his head lolling at a full tilt, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

You whimpered softly, the light sting of the sudden intrusion making you clench reflexively.

“Always so fuckin’….” he drew back “tight…” thrusting deep.

You choked out an audible moan, your head hitting the wall.

“C’mon now princess… we’re just gettin’ started.” he tutted.

Picking up a steady pace, he claimed your lips. Swallowing down your pathetic whines and pleading cries.

Angling his hips, he drove deeper making your head swim.

“Billy…” you mewled softly, tucking your head against his neck to stifle yourself.

“Somethin’ ta say princess?” he growled with a harsh snap of his hips. The head of his cock hitting your cervix.

You always played this game. The longer it took for you to choke it out, the harder he was going to make it for you.

He rolled his hips, burying himself deep pressing against that nub in a way that could make you cry and wipe your mind blank.

“Speak up…” he taunted, nudging himself up against your sensitivity.

“Ngh...” looking at him through hooded eyes you tried to gain what control you had.

Another abrupt thrust.

Your eyes rolling, you managed what you could.

“Fuck me…” a sharp inhale, “so well…”

He was smiling like the cheshire cat. 

“That so princess?” his pace was gaining steam, your nails grappling against his back for better hold. 

A calloused thumb had found your clit, providing constant pressure in unrelenting circles.

Your back was arching, breath hitching, as your hips started to tremble.

“Billy…” you warned.

“Tell me… say it...” he ground out.

Your walls were beginning to flutter, your climax initiating.

Kissing the juncture of his jaw, your first contraction hit you with a low moan reaching his ear.

“No one… fucks my pussy like you.” and you tumbled into bliss. Resting your head on his shoulder, forgetting completely about the noises you needed to withhold. 

He gave in, pistoning his hips. Making you cry out. Locking you into a final kiss as he fell apart, fist slamming against the wall to steady himself as he filled you.

Still meeting you with lazy thrusts, he looked at you, resting your foreheads together.

You were breathless as he set you down gently, your legs still shaking.

Your eyes were wide and glazed like a doll’s. 

He adored you this way. Fucked speechless and twice as beautiful.

Tucking a hair away from your kiss-bitten lips, he nipped you sweetly.

“You better shower before going in princess.” he stated.

You looked at him confused.

“Pool rules….” he tapped his whistle smugly.

Giving you one last peck, he poked his head out the curtain before casually strolling off.

A half hour later, after you pulled yourself together and took an extremely cold shower…. you came back out to the pool.

In your new suit you self-consciously waded into the shallows, wondering where he was.

A shrill sound startling you. 

Whipping around you saw him smirking over you, before walking away.

feining for frat boy katsuki…

it was hot. loud. half the girls were already screaming over shirtless frat boys grinding against windshields. your friend dragged you out with a “come on, it’s for charity!” and now you’re standing in the corner with a lukewarm lemonade and zero expectations.

you didn’t even want to come to this stupid fraternity fundraiser.

your roommate dragged you out with the promise of half-naked frat boys, but all you’ve seen so far are drenched freshmen trying to flex their way into a hernia.

but then you see him.

he’s got his back turned at first—lean muscle, golden skin, red swim trunks slung way too low on his hips. sunlight catches the water dripping down his back like it’s staged. and when he turns around?

game over. he’s gorgeous.

sharp jaw, wild blonde hair flattened from water, a cocky little smirk on his face as he wrings a sponge out over his head, totally aware of the stares.

and he sees you. right away. ruby eyes locked with yours and gives the most arrogant little up-nod like, yeah. you’re next.

you try to act unaffected. fail immediately.

he saunters over, sudsy bucket in one hand, water dripping down his abs like it’s a fucking calvin klein ad. stops right in front of you, eyeing your car, then you, then your car again. “you the one drivin’ this piece of shit?”

you blink. “excuse me?!”

he shrugs but you can see a little grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, smug and unbothered. “relax. i’ll make it look brand new.”

he puts the bucket down, saunters over, and damn—he’s even hotter up close. tall. muscles for days. and that little scar on his cheek? unfair.

then, leaning closer, voice low: “the name's katsuki bakugo. what’s yours, sweet girl?”

you tell him. maybe a little breathless.

he repeats it once—slow, like he’s trying it out on his tongue. “hm. yeah. i like that.”

and then he goes to work. but not just on the car.

katsuki bakugo washes that car like he’s auditioning for the dirtiest boy band you’ve ever seen. dropping the sponge just to bend over in front of you, ass on full display. making eye contact when he slides his hand over the hood like he’s caressing it. watering himself down with a hose and shaking his hair out like he’s in a shampoo commercial from hell.

by the time he’s done, your car is sparkling. and so are you—flushed, flustered.

he tosses the sponge into the bucket, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks. “lemme know if you need a private wash sometime.”

and then he walks away, with you watching the water dripping down the curve of his spine, no better than a teenage boy ogling the back of a girl's bikini. you swear you black out for a second too.

it’s only a few hours after the car wash before he slides in your dms, smooth but dirty. you’re in your room, still reeling from whatever the hell that was, when your phone buzzes.

king.explosionmurder has sent you a message.

(yeah. that’s his actual handle. because of course it is.) then, you open it.

king.explosionmurder:

can't stop thinking about the girl with the shittiest car and the cutest fuckin’ face.

you stare. then another message pops up.

king.explosionmurder:

u free tonight?

or maybe you're too busy being adorable somewhere else?

your heart does a thing. you type out a reply—something just barely cocky enough to match him:

you:

depends

you always this forward?

king.explosionmurder:

only for girls with shitty taste in cars

so, only you

let me buy you a drink, sweet girl?

you:

fine

you can buy me a drink, frat boy

but for the record?

my taste in cars is not that shitty

king.explosionmurder:

whatever you say beautiful

8 pm, sunset bar down 5th ave

don't be late

katsuki shows up five minutes early, in a black tee that clings to his chest and jeans that should be illegal. hair still messy from his post-car-wash shower. when you walk in, his eyes track you like you’re the only person in the room.

“tch. thought you were gonna flake.”

you roll your eyes. “you’d cry if i did.”

his mouth twitches. “like a damn baby.”

then the date just... hits different. it wasn't what you expected. sure, it’s packed with college students and frat bros, but in the back corner booth? with him?

it’s quiet. comfortable. almost… intimate.

he’s not much of a talker, but with you? he tries. you ask about his major—he’s an aspiring pro-hero, of course—and he asks about yours, grumbling when you light up talking about it, because “fuck, that smile’s gonna kill me.”

and even though he’d die before saying it out loud, the minute you take a sip of your drink and laugh at something dumb he says? he’s gone. head over heels.

he walks you back to your dorm with his hand on the small of your back, even though it’s barely a ten-minute walk. says “text me when you’re in” even though he literally watched you unlock your door. stands there, gruff and gorgeous, waiting.

“gonna invite me?” he asks, tone teasing.

you shake your head, grinning. “not on the first date, i'm not.”

he groans dramatically. “damn. fuckin’ killin’ me here.”

you grin. “goodnight, frat boy.”

but he doesn’t move right away.

just stands there under the warm porch light, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work off the ache of not touching you again. his shirt clings to him in the summer heat, his jaw sharp in the glow, but it’s his eyes that freeze you in place.

not hard. not sharp. not the glare he usually levels at the world.

but soft. heavy. like you’ve stolen the breath from his lungs and he doesn’t even want it back.

he looks at you like you hung the damn moon.

he takes one small step closer, close enough that you can feel the heat coming off his chest, close enough that if either of you moved just an inch, you’d be kissing.

“goodnight, sweet girl,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel laced with honey.

it hits you somewhere deep. like he’s branding the words into you.

and then—he actually smiles. a real one. lopsided, shy, the kind of smile you’d never expect from someone who threatens to body slam people over couch cushions.

then he turns and walks away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head down, like if he looks back even once, he’ll do something stupid like run back and kiss you senseless.

you close the door behind you, heart thudding so hard you swear your roommate can hear it.

you’re screwed. so screwed.

because things after that? they move fast.

to everyone else, he was the guy who'd scream if you left dishes in the sink, throw a beer can at you if you sat on his side of the couch, and threaten to body slam you if you so much as breathe near him.

but the entire frat house knew that their loud, grumpy, terrifyingly efficient frat dad—had a soft spot the size of a planet. and that soft spot? was for you.

you’re the only person allowed in his room during his grumpy post-practice naps. the only one who can touch his hair without him flinching. he’d grumble when you flick his forehead when he was being dramatic but he'd let you.

he might curse under his breath, but when you’d slide onto his lap during movie night, he'd wrap an arm around you like it was instinct. like protecting you came as naturally as breathing.

he had snacks stocked in the mini fridge (not for him, you liked them). he hands you your favorite snack and grumbles, “was on sale. don’t get used to it,” even though it’s never on sale but he bought six of them anyway.

and when finals week hits? he’s a damn soldier for you.

caffeine runs. your favorite takeout. quiet growls at anyone who tries to talk to you in the library. he reads your flashcards like they’re enemy coordinates and quizzing you becomes his personal mission.

but the best part? the tiny, quiet moments in between.

like when he’s losing at mario kart and you’d sit in his lap while he played, steal his fries, kiss his cheek mid-rant just to shut him up.

or when you were too tired to walk back to your place, you just curl up in his bed. not only does he let you, he tucks the blanket around you and kisses your forehead so soft it makes your chest ache.

and somehow, all of that was like magic.

sure, he might’ve acted like the world’s most chaotic, aggressive frat president, but when it came to you? he was all bark, all bite… and all heart.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

One More Moment - B.H.

a/n: here's a little angst one shot for you guys as an apology for how slow I'm being rn with requests and a lil something while yall wait. I was super depressed and just couldn't help and couldn't write requests it I needed to do something so I wrote this instead. I hope y'all like it ilysm 💗

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Length: 1.3k

Warnings: Depression, grieving, death mention, Billy is dead in this, mention of suicide, suicidal thoughts lowkey.

The air is cold. It's the end of fall, and winter is rearing its head. Ready to take over and cover Hawkins in snow and ice.

Two things he hated.

He hated colder weather. He hated Hawkins.

Yet he's stuck here now, forever.

You blow some air onto your cold hands, stepping in front of the tombstone.

William Hargrove.

No one ever called him that. Not one person. Except maybe his dad sometimes. But even then, it was a word used to show hate.

To tie him down.

You always wondered why they wrote William, not Billy on his grave.

Maybe it was because it was his legal full name. Or maybe it was because his father never knew his son enough, loved his son enough, to write the name he always went by. Billy. A way to dehumanize him further than he had already done for eighteen years.

You didn't know. But anyone who knew him knew he never answered to William.

No one used to go to the cemetery. You used to never go to the cemetery. It's mostly older graves for older people. People who were at an age that they were ready to die. But more recently the cemetery started to fill with people who were too young to be here. People who still had lives to live, had people to love, had a chance to be happy. To change.

People like Heather Holloway, Barbara Holland...

Billy Hargrove.

Max had been there recently. You see the remnants of an empty cassette beside the stone. She had started bringing them.

No music on them. His cassettes were too precious now. Too raw to give up, even to his own grave. But music meant something. Those cassettes meant something.

It sort of felt like a connection between herself and the dead brother in the ground- one they didn't get to grow before he died.

Maybe one day Max can let his real cassettes go.

You hope so. It's what you're here to do.

To let go.

To try to let go.

You crouch in front of the stone on cold and dying grass. The fallen leafs from trees skitter around with the wind, performing a weird dance together. It breaks the silence in the graveyard.

"Hey Billy..."

Your voice is soft. So quiet, it's almost as if you didn't speak at all. His name sounds foreign on your lips, but all to familiar at the same time. His name is like a curse and a blessing. You could hardly stand to hear it, but the longer you didn't hear it, the more the boy behind the name really faded away.

He was fading.

And eventually, one day in the future, his grave would be another grave with a name no one recognized; one that no one visited.

You clear your throat, suddenly it's gone dry; it feels like you've been in the desert for months, no water in sight.

"How are you?"

He doesn't answer of course. He's not really there. Yes, the body six feet under is his but its not him. Him is somewhere far away. A place you can't reach.

But this is as close as it gets.

Be always hated small talk like this. But he doesn't have a choice but to listen in silence now.

"I'm..." you want to say you're good, but you're not. You aren't sure you'll ever be good again- it's why you need to to this, "okay."

Okay was safe. It was a non-answer. A lie but not a lie.

You dig your hand into your coats pocket, looking for the rectangular item in your pocket; when your fingers touch it, it burns- it hurts. But that's why you're here. To stop the hurt. To...

"I'm leaving," you say it like you're breaking the ice to your boyfriend.

In some way you are- he was your boyfriend. Is... Was. You can't date a dead man.

"I don't think... I can't stay in Hawkins anymore," you miserably offer to the grave in front of you. You're speaking to dead space- but you need to do it.

Leaving and not telling him feels like a betrayal. Even if it's a stone in the ground- it's... He's...

"I'm sorry," you pull your hand from your pocket, a cassette held tightly in your hands, fingers digging into it- you could break it if you're not careful, "I know Max leaves you empty tapes sometimes. But I thought you might like one with music for once."

It's a tape with a dozen songs. One that you had made with him long ago, in the beginning months of your relationship. Back when things were brighter, when the world around you was colourful and when life seemed to have some hope within it.

Back before Hawkins took everything you loved.

"I can't keep it anymore," the air leaves your lungs shakily- you can feel the emotions building up in your chest, begging to be let out. But if you did that now, you know you won't be able to do this.

And you need to do it.

At first you couldn't. Couldn't listen to it, couldn't look at it. It held all your favourite songs and his favourite songs which would subsequently also become your favourites. You couldn't even listen to music for a while after because it stung. It hit too deep, bled too much. It was something you enjoyed doing with him in his room, in his Camaro. Anywhere.

It didn't bring you happiness anymore; it only deepened the gaping wound that he had left when he died.

But over time you listened to it again. One song a day. Till you listened to it all. And then you listened again, and again, on repeat. In your car, in your room, anywhere.

The songs became an escape. One where when you closed your eyes and blocked everything else out, you could imagine in those minutes that he was right there. That he was laying with you. Or standing behind you and putting his hands in your jeans pockets pulling you close.

Sometimes you swore you could feel him. Feel his touch. Smell is cologne. Feel his love.

But then the songs would end. And your eyes would open and everything was grey again.

Everything hurt again.

Because he wasn't there. And he wouldn't ever be there again. You were only fooling yourself; using this tape as an escape from a reality you needed to face. You were fading away, just like he was, but you were still living in all ways that mattered medically.

Beating heart, pumping blood, functioning limbs, warm skin.

The other half of you was dead.

It would kill you.

He would kill you, even in death, Billy Hargrove was your greatest weakness. And he'd kill you if you didn't stop.

Maybe you should have let him. But he'd be angry. So, so angry. And Max too. Your family. Friends.

At what point did you stop your own hurt instead of stopping others hurt?

Closing your eyes as tight as you can, you place the tape onto the grave in front of you. It feels like a weight is lifted, but at the same time, like a new one has arisen.

It is pain. It is hurt. It is agony. It is a love that you can't ever express the way you want to because he's not there to recieve it. It is a darkness that threatens you and tells you this is the wrong choice.

But you need to. To let him go, to get away. Before Hawkins (and the ghost of a dead man) swallows you whole. Drowns you.

"Take care of it, please."

You know the weather will destroy the tape. Maybe it will find its way back to him wherever he is- wherever death takes you. You can't say where, you don't know where. Anything could be possibly considering all Hawkins had shown you.

When you stand and turn away, hand still burning metaphorically from where the tape had been, the wind blows a harsh gust. It goes through you like you're a rickety old house, holes and all, just a skeleton.

It's cold. But it feels like you're being wrapped up by the wind into a hug. For one moment, a single, fleeting moment, you aren't alone.

Then it's gone. Just like everything else. The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and its quiet again, the leaves settling. You're alone.

Hawkins couldn't have you. You wouldn't let it. No matter how much part of you wanted it to take you.

All you needed was one more moment with him. And that was it.

Hiiii :)) first, thank you for feeding us knb content like that, you can't imagine how much of a hoe I am for these basketball guys so you're really doing me good 🧎🏾‍♀️

Can I request prompt 15 with Kiyoshi? Lowkey got a praise kink so that would be fitting lmao + we, as a community, need more Kiyoshi content so I'd be very grateful 😩

Anyways, thank you in advance if your taking my request <333

ahhh I can't tell you how excited I am for this gentle giant of a man to be requested! I too believe that as a community we should rise up and erect statues In Teppei Kiyoshi's honour... I mean 🤤🤤

Minors DNI, 18+ Content

"Are you sure about this Y/N?" Teppei asked, his large hands engulfing your face as he kissed your cheeks and forehead.

No doubt trying to ease the nerves you felt as you straddled his lap. Your naked body pressed up against him.

"I trust you Teppei, I can't imagine doing these things with anyone else but you." You admitted, your nose rubbing against his neck as you nestled into him. Your own words causing your cheeks to burn hot. Even though you were both naked this very second, your juice from previous activities still on his chin.

You had been with Teppei for a few months, a few blissful months. Teppei Kiyoshi being ever the gentleman. Walking on the road side of the street, holding doors open, scaring off any unwanted attention with his height and stature. No one wanting to flirt with you as he came up behind you and wrapped you in a hug, claiming you as his.

In these few months you had given him head, the pure length and girth of him something you had only ever seen in porn but he helped you all the way. Never pushing you to do anything until you were ready. Always reassuring you and making sure you were comfortable, freaking out the first time you went too deep and gagged. Him pushing you off him in such a hurry you fell off the bed with a thud.

He had also taught you things about your own body. The places to touch and stroke, bringing yourself to orgasm in front of him while he watched, praising you the whole time. He had also found his favourite place to be, between your thighs, licking and sucking up everything you had to offer. Pleasuring you like a man starved.

"Thank you for trusting me baby, I will do my best to make you feel comfortable." He whispered, lifting you up slightly and laying you down in your back. His tongue licking from your hip to your neck, a moan leaving your lips.

"Just relax okay, I'm right here." He said, lining up with your entrance and slightly pushing inside you. The burn and stretch causing your eyes to shut and your arms to wrap around him.

"It's okay, almost there baby." He panted, one of his large hands holding your hip while he continued to thrust forward. Your mind going foggy with pain and pleasure. The sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced but something that you were glad to be sharing with Teppei.

"That's good baby, keep doing that." He chanted.

"Fuck, you were made for me baby, you feel amazing."

"You are so big Teppei, I feel you in my tummy." You moaned, hugging him closer, scratching down his back as he picked up his pace.

"Baby if you keep saying stuff like that and tightening around me I'm going to fill you with cum a lot sooner than I want."

You smiled at that, kissing your boyfriend passionately as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"We have all night Teppei, I want you to paint all of me with your cum."

The Chance To Change

Summary: When he coincidentally walks back into your life, he’s determine to change the way things are

Pairing: Aomine Daiki x black!fem!reader

Word Count: 24, 909 😐🧍🏽‍♀️

Warnings: professional basketball player!aomine, bookstore!au kinda, lots of angst, lots of fluff, reader is oblivious, reader has trust issues at the beginning, aomine not knowing how to deal with his feelings, reader’s on her period at one point, reader is scared of like horror rides (sorry if you aren’t), lots and lots of kissing and making out, lots of intimacy, misunderstandings, smut: unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, lots and lots of confessions of love, aomine is very whipped for you, reader’s best friend is an oc, and aomine’s teammates are oc’s, lots of going back and forth in time, all characters are 21+, if I missed anything please let me know, I know that there’s gonna be typos in this and when it isn’t 3 am, I’ll get around to fixing them lol

A/N: Now. I can’t even begin to explain how or why I was able to write all of this. I’ve been working on this fic for about a month, and I was finally able to finish it (thank God bc I have so much work to do lmao). I know some parts might seem kinda rushed, but I can’t really bring myself to care bc I spent so much time on this and I’m just happy that’s it’s finished. Reblogs are greatly appreciated even though I know it might break your phone if you try to LMFAO, but if you read all this, I seriously appreciate it. And I definitely projected in this fic. This is also for @sintiva’s #theclockisticking collab, and thank you so much for letting me join!

Running a bookstore is something you’ve always wanted to do. It seems silly to most people, but you’ve always found small, quaint bookstores to be really peaceful, and it was always somewhere you could go when the world was always too much. Whenever you stepped inside, it was like the outside disappeared, and you were only surrounded by paper bound together that told a million stories.

You actually read through the entire bookstore in your town, and you had become so close with the owner, that they gave it to you after you graduated college. You were surprised, to say the least, and a little worried, not knowing much about running anything, let alone a business, but the owner was more than helpful with getting you into the swing of things.

Now, it’s like everything is second nature for you. Opening up the store and smelling that certain smell that books have that you’ve always loved. The small coffee shop you have in the corner is always a popular spot because it has a giant window that allows you to view the whole town. You’ve found yourself sitting in one of the comfortable chairs that are over there multiple times, watching the sunrise and seeing the city start to wake up.

Your co-worker/co-owner/best friend Mia always comes in about an hour after you do, always making a comment about how she doesn’t understand how you manage to wake up so early. You always brush it off with a roll of your eyes as you hand her a cup of coffee that you know she’ll need.

During the week, the place is usually quiet, a person every now and then, most of them coming in all of the time, so you know them by their schedules. You’re sitting at the front desk, reading a book, one of your favorites, even though it’s a cliché exes-to-lovers plotline, you always find yourself re-reading it whenever you have time.

Keep reading

you lied

i redrew that old ghostbur piece out of spite lol

(old painting under ‘read more’)

-

(PLEASE DON’T COPY/EDIT/USE/REPOST, REBLOG INSTEAD)

Keep reading

Dark Horse - Billy Hargrove

Summary: Billy is friends with benefits with reader’s friend, but what he really wants is the reader. 

Word Count:  3.4k

Warnings: Manipulative Billy (x10), a lot of worries about being a bad friend, and teasing.

A/N: I’m sorry for the bit of a break I took, but I’m back and I’m ready to write about Billy (keep an eye out for ‘An Open Window, Part 3’ 👀)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Do you believe you’re a good or a bad person?

What makes you good? What makes you bad? Can they balance each other out? Should you just lie about it? Does it even matter?

What if the answer is yes to all of them?

Then the last question; Who are you lying to?

You could be lying to yourself. You could be great, you could be horrible, you could be neither, or you could be both. It’s hard to answer. It’s not clear cut if you’re asking yourself about yourself.

What’s unmistakable, though, was that you’re lying to your friend. To Cassandra. You’re telling her anything but the truth. You’re showcasing yourself as guiltless and as reliable. You’re acting as the friend you want to be and ought to be.

But does that make you good or bad?

That’s all premature. It was all before its time, but maybe not a good way off, though, considering the sound of Billy’s Camaro drawing near.

You didn’t have to turn your head to notice the increase of speed, you could hear and smell the way the rubber was burning against the tarmac.

You didn’t try to peddle faster, but you wanted to. You wanted to get away from him. You didn’t want to have to talk with him, to repeat yourself like he always made you do. It was almost like Billy wanted you to be a broken record. Likely because he wanted you broken and he wanted to be the one to do it.

If Billy didn’t start blowing his horn, you wouldn’t have swerved off into the gravel. You wouldn’t have gone over too many sharp rocks and the most whetted shard of glass. You wouldn’t have popped your tie.

But Billy did, and he didn’t stop until he saw the way your feet braced yourself on either side of your bike. By that time you had turned your head back to watch what he was up to. You expected him to come to a stop either behind or beside you, but you underestimated how fast he was really going. His car skidded to a halt a little under a half-mile ahead of you. You could hear him laughing from his open window as he reversed.

The moment he was in front of you, he grinned. It wasn’t a warm, inviting smile. It was a playing politics type smile. Always up to something, always two-edged.

“My, my, what a nice little surprise.” He said.

Keep reading

reminder to self: read this when you're done with watching spiderverse

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

~

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

~

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

~

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

~

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

~

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

~

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.