it honestly looks like you’re about to fuck with how intense the kiss gets. bakugou’s a second into flipping you under him to start grinding into you and from the angle all your friends are standing at, they can see your tongue entering his mouth. it looks like you’re about to eat each other.

“wow, that’s hot.”

“do they realise we can see them?”

“i don’t think they care.”

his hand is holding your head in place, the cameras are zooming in like they’re about to film a porno instead of evening reality tv. you’ve even locked a leg around his waist and both your arms at his neck.

if they put this clip in the edit, they’re going to need subtitles for the viewers because of how low you’re talking.

“i want you so bad,” it sounds like you’re about to cry.

he growls into your mouth, your lips brushing against his. “imagine my fingers inside of you, stretchin’ out your lil pussy for my cock.”

“oh my god,” you blurt, you can feel your heartbeat throughout your body as if you’re one sensitive nerve. of fucking course this man can dirty talk. you haven’t been on the edge like this in your life. “no, get off me. i need to go into the pool or something. a cold shower.”

one light press of your palm in the centre of his chest and he falls onto his back. he flings his forearm over his eyes and grunts, “fuck. sorry, i got carried away.”

“i started it,” you breathe, both of you laying beside each other with heaving chests.

“i continued it.”

“i said i wanted to fuck you—,”

Warnings: mild swearing, light angst, themes of anxiety

Word count: 2,050

Summary: While you secretly pack to transfer to San Jose State, your silence sends Will into a slow spiral. He turns to Macklin Celebrini and Tyler & Cat Toffoli for reassurance, only for you to show up at his apartment with the truth — and a future closer to him.

Notes: This is one of my first works ever so please bare with me. i 100% want constructive criticism so leave advise in the comments. I have my requests here so please request!!! and when you do be as detailed as you want! i just dont do smut. also heres my masterlist so check it out!!

_________________________________________________________

Day 1 — Boston

You don’t mean to disappear on him.

It starts with one email — Your transfer to San Jose State University has been approved — and suddenly your entire life becomes a countdown. A list of deadlines. A mountain of forms. A dorm room that looks like a tornado hit it.

Your academic advisor is talking a mile a minute on the phone, you’re scribbling notes, and your laptop is buried under a pile of transfer paperwork.

Your phone buzzes on the bed.

Will: hey babe, how was class?

You glance at it, heart squeezing, but your advisor is still talking, and you tell yourself you’ll answer in five minutes.

Five minutes becomes an hour.

Then it’s midnight, and you’re surrounded by half‑packed boxes, exhausted and overwhelmed. You fall asleep without texting him back.

Day 2 — Boston

You wake up to three messages.

Will: you okay? Will: long day? Will: call me when you can ❤️

Guilt hits you hard.

You type out a reply — Sorry, crazy day, I’ll call you later — but you don’t send it. You want to tell him in person. You want the surprise to be perfect.

You shove your phone in your pocket and keep packing.

By evening, you’re knee‑deep in bubble wrap and stress. You miss another call. Then another. You tell yourself you’ll call him after you finish packing your desk.

You don’t.

Day 3 — San Jose

Will notices.

He’s not dramatic at first. He just frowns at his phone between drills, checks it again in the locker room, then again in the car.

By the time he gets home, he’s pacing.

Macklin Celebrini watches him from the couch. “Dude. You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”

“She hasn’t answered in three days,” Will mutters. “Three.”

“Maybe she’s busy.”

“She’s always busy. She still texts.”

Mack pauses the movie. “Come here.”

Will reluctantly sits.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mack says. “You’re overthinking.”

Will stares at the floor. “Feels like I did.”

Mack bumps his shoulder. “You’re allowed to miss her. You’re not allowed to assume she hates you.”

Will huffs out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Will doesn’t sleep well that night.

Day 4 — San Jose

He tries to distract himself.

Practice. Video review. A workout. A nap that doesn’t happen.

By evening, he’s staring at his phone again.

Will: hey. just checking in. Will: i’m starting to worry. Will: please tell me you’re okay.

Nothing.

He caves.

He calls Tyler Toffoli.

Tyler answers immediately. “What’s up, kid?”

Will tries to sound casual. “Nothing. Just… wanted to ask something.”

Tyler snorts. “You sound like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

Will groans. “It’s not— okay, maybe it’s kind of like that.”

“Hang on,” Tyler says. “Cat’s better at this emotional stuff.”

There’s a shuffle, then Cat Toffoli’s warm voice comes through. “Hi sweetheart. What’s going on?”

Will exhales shakily. “She hasn’t answered me in four days.”

“Oh, Will.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Cat’s voice softens. “Long distance is brutal. Silence doesn’t always mean something’s wrong.”

“But what if it does?”

“If she was done with you,” Tyler calls from somewhere in the background, “she’d tell you. Trust me.”

Cat swats him (you can hear it). “Ignore him. Listen — you’re allowed to feel scared. But don’t jump to the worst conclusion.”

Will rubs his face. “I just… I miss her.”

“I know,” Cat says gently. “Give it a little more time.”

He hangs up feeling worse.

Day 5 — Morning — Boston → San Jose

You’re at the airport at 6 a.m., running on two hours of sleep and pure adrenaline.

Your phone buzzes again.

Will: i’m really worried now. please just tell me you’re okay.

You close your eyes, guilt twisting your stomach.

You’ll tell him soon. In person. It’ll be worth it.

You hope.

Day 5 — Afternoon — San Jose

Will is sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, phone in hand. He hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t moved. He hasn’t stopped checking his notifications.

Mack sits beside him. “You’re spiraling.”

“I know.”

“You need to breathe.”

“I can’t.”

Mack sighs. “She loves you. She’ll call.”

Will doesn’t answer.

He’s too busy imagining every worst-case scenario.

So when there’s a knock at the door, he barely reacts.

Mack gets up, opens it—

And freezes.

“Uh,” he says. “Will? You might want to get over here.”

Will looks up.

And his heart stops.

You’re standing in the doorway, suitcase behind you, backpack slung over your shoulder, eyes soft and nervous and hopeful.

“Hi,” you say.

Will is on his feet instantly.

“You’re— you’re here?” His voice cracks. “You’re actually—”

You nod, tears pricking your eyes. “Surprise.”

He crosses the room in three long strides and pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

You melt into him, burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, pulling back just enough to cup your face. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Did I—”

“No,” you say quickly. “No, you didn’t do anything. I’ve been packing. I transferred. I’m going to San Jose State.”

Will blinks. “You— what?”

“I wanted to tell you in person,” you say, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I wanted to be here. With you.”

For a moment, he can’t speak.

Then he kisses you — soft, slow, desperate — like he’s trying to make up for every day he didn’t get to.

Mack clears his throat loudly. “I’m still here.”

Will doesn’t look away from you. “Don’t care.”

Later — Couch

You’re curled up against him, his arm around you, your head on his chest.

“You really scared me,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought I messed up.”

“You didn’t. I was overwhelmed. And scared. And guilty. And… everything.”

He kisses your forehead. “Next time, just tell me. Even one text.”

You nod. “I promise.”

After a moment, you nudge him. “So… you called Tyler and Cat?”

He groans. “Don’t.”

“You were spiraling.”

“Stop.”

“You probably paced around the apartment like a sad golden retriever.”

“I hate you.”

You grin. “No, you don’t.”

He kisses you again, soft and warm. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I really don’t.”

You settle against him, fingers intertwined, his heartbeat steady under your ear.

Pairings: Jason Todd/Reader, Arkham Knight/Reader, Yandere Jason Todd/Reader Tags: Stalking, Yandere, Yandere Jason Todd, Obsessive Behavior, Surveillance, Threats of Physical Harm, Gender Neutral Rating: 14+, no NSFW in this part Words: ~ 1.2k Summary: A journalist gets too close to the Arkham Knight's plans during Gotham's lockdown. He's just trying to figure out what to do about them now.

Thank you so much!!! I traded my soul for some art skills, the deal gone well yay

Mm! Well that’s a really cute idea. Honestly with how comfortable they are with each other I can see it happening. So I couldn’t resist writing more :>

I’d personally say this is still SFW or the Pg-13 as most of my writing is. But always read the warnings

—

Word count: 1619

Status: Unfinished (I might do some polishing before I post it on Ao3)

¡¡¡Warnings!!! : PG-13, kisses, pillow talk, implied sex, mild swearing, suggestive, sickeningly in love, fluff, not explicit content, writing errors (wrote this at the beach)

—

It had been a long week, alright? A long strenuous week. Gaz was a fed up with how Soap managed to look so precious. Throughout all of it. How the man could make loading C4 ‘presents’ onto a building, unhinged and incredibly sexy. Gaz didn’t openly swoon. But there’s clearly something deeply wrong with him. If that instance formed, the knot of unadulterated desire currently churning in his guts.

But he couldn’t help it. Not fully. Not when his husband fell asleep on his shoulder in transport. Peacefully snoozing now that the team was safe. Snoring and drooling into Gaz’s collar shirt. Their hands almost touching.

Oh how Gaz wanted to pounce on that morsel of a man. The feeling was itching beneath his skin something terrible.

He didn’t, for Soap’s benefit. No he let the Scot shower in peace. Despite him ogling at the other’s bare back. Biting his lip as Soap gave him a sleepy nod trudging towards their shared room.

It was too precious. Stupidly tender. Gaz silently scolds himself. Wait till leave. Just three days then leave. He could hold his hunger at bay until then.

—

“Ky…” Soap nudges Gaz’s hand as they walk under the shadow of the buildings.

“Mm?” He tilts his head. Watching Soap interlink their pinkies. A subtle smile moving across his features.

“Hope ye ken ye look stunning in ma clothes. Modeling and showin off ma name on yer back”

Kyle’s eyes twitch. A soft warmth spreading through his cheeks. He tugs his hat downwards. Hiding his eyes from Soap. Oh John was making this stupid hard. He just had to wait till they got back to their apartment. He could wait a few minutes more.

They keep bantering for what feels like hours. Only making Kyle’s waining patience dribble away more and more. It was a miracle Kyle lasted so long to begin with. He felt starved. Ravenous even. Ready to rip something apart, or someone if he didn’t stop acting so bloody attractive.

The door creaked open. Semi clean apartment meeting them. A small mess of blankets on the couch. Kyle’s geology collection, mismatched framed photos on the wall. Everything felt like home, since they’ve married.

To Kyle’s credit, he let Soap put the keys up and their jackets up, before he pounced.

Yanking a flabbergasted Soap by his belt loop. John sputtering in surprise. Yes Gaz was bold but not usually so physically. Soap was usually the one who was overly pushy.

“Bed. now. I’m giving you a massage.” Is all the warning John gets. Only having a seconds as the door shuts. Gaz standing and tossing his shirt aside. Soap quietly pulls his shirt off. Shoulder popping loudly. Dog tags clinking. Sheepish as Kyle stares at him like that. Sure it’s not unusual sight for the other sergeant. But it felt more exposing with how dilated his Garrick’s eyes were. How twitchy Kyle seemed. Like he could’ve just wait to get his hands onto MacTavish skin.

He quietly folds his jacket and shirt. Swallowing as his lips press together. Watching Kyle collect the CeraVe tube from the ancient mini fridge. Kicking it shut.

“Tav” Kyle coos. Warm eyes flitting toward the bed before they bear into Soap’s shirtless body again. John swallows down his nerves. Kicking off his boots with zero pizzazz. Trudging over towards the bed. Plopping down onto his belly. Hiding his face into his arms. Hoping the flush on his skin wasn’t too noticeable.

“Mm…” Kyle hums. Kissing behind John’s ear. “Cat got your tongue?” The Brit teases. Rubbing some cold lotion into Soap’s back. A unbidden sigh leaves his nose. Humming as deft hands rub along his back.

“Hopefully tat cat will git more tan ma tongue in a few” Is the cheeky response Kyle gets back. Only adding gasoline to Kyle’s dwindling restraint. Which was hanging by a thread.

Air puffs from Gaz’s lips. nostrils flaring as Johnny laughs. “Eager aren’t you?” He mumbles. Pinching Soap’s ticklish side. Making the poor man gasp and sputter in lighthearted laughter.

“KY!!”

Kyle grins and tickles John some more. Laughter between them intermingling. Mixing into one loud but joyful noise.

A few minutes in and John pinned Kyle down. Gasping as he smirks. Moving to kiss at Kyle’s jawline. Massage forgotten as small pecks follow between them. Most of the times neither of them were this patient when it came the foreplay. But today was special. So they lounged in the comfort.

Kissing and both of them laughing in hushed tones at cheeky remarks.

Johnny’s curved nose trails along the mole laden column of Gaz’s throat. Tenderness following each movement.

Kyle hums loudly as John pauses. Leaving a little bite. Something easy to hide. While either of them would most definitely enjoy going to town on each other. They need to be somewhat presentable for the MacTavish family tomorrow.

“Mm ye smell so divine..”

Kyle snorts. Rubbing the back of Soap’s neck. Lithe fingers scratching at the base of his neck. Right where it always itched. John’s eyes close briefly. Blissful at the head scratches.

“Tav”

“Hrm?” Is the noise Kyle gets in response. Soap leaning closer for more scratches.

“You know the Moh’s hardness scale? For … well rocks”

Soap shrugs. Striated blues staring back. Listening, hands rubbing and casually massaging one of Gaz’s biceps.

“If I was a rock I’d score a-a 8.5 right now”

Johnny snorts. How could he not. Oh Kyle and his big geology brain. ‘S sexy. He needed to unravel him immediately. His grip on Kyle’s bicep slackens as he processes the information.

“Ah’s score a 10… as stiff as a diamond down there-“ Johnny smirks. He wanted to see how he could push his husband.

Kyle’s face contorts blushing dark as a breathy snicker leaves his chest. “Well there’s ways to even break a diamond…” he mutters back. Eyelids drooping languidly over his eyes.

Johnny’s eyebrows quirk up. News to him.

“A bit of directional kinetic force should fix you right up, luv” a hand rub’s along Johnny’s side. Kyle grinning deviously. Those stupid doe eyes hiding something solicitous.

“Thing is you just have to find the right grain-“ a hand trails down. Squeezing comfortably on Soap’s love handles. Soaking up John’s reactions.

“Target a diamond’s natural cleavage points… before you start to apply firm force” Johnny grunts as he stares in shock. Gaz squeezing his bum. Talking dirty with rock science speak. It shouldn’t be this hot. Steamin- He was so down bad. This is terrible.

Kyle’s tone becomes dangerously velvety. Leaning close. Lips brushing against John’s throat as he whispers, “or we can try the applying intense thermal shock… causes a diamond to form micro-fractures all over.” John’s shivers. He was definitely a weaker man in this moment. He couldn’t resist the absolute siren’s call of Kyle’s lowered sultry voice. Or that amber cologne. The soft squeezes on his muscles. Or the extensive mineral knowledge for someone who said it was ‘just a hobby’.

“Ah- … well, yer ta expert in diamon crackin, Bonnie” voice a bit strained and rough. “But, ‘m a… hands on leaner…. Mind teaching?”

“Gladly.”

—

Surprisingly, Johnny isn’t one for over the top bragging. But after the afternoon he had, he felt like singing it from the rooftops. He had to be the luckiest man in all of Scotland, the Reed brothers’ wives aside.

Oh he felt so loved. Heart flooded with warmth and care. Kyle loved him. Kyle loved him so much. He loved him,

helovedhimhelovedhimhelovedhim…helovedhimhelovedhimhelovedhim…

Kyle sighs. Shifting and jostling Soap a bit. He glances at his Kyle lying there. Couch creaking at each movement. Scrolling on the telly. Johnny draped over him as an impromptu weighted blanket. Oh he felt so blessed. His head drops onto Kyle’s shoulder. Close and comfortable. Snorting as a ‘Hrmmmfpp’ leaves Garricks mouth. Displeased with all the trash tv on.

“Ye sound like a sea lion. Sometimes, luv. A very silent one”

“Bloody- I do not knob head. You’re the one who looks like a bull terrier made real boy”

“Ah wot?” Soap says in complete shock. Brows knit together. Before he blows some air into Kyle’s ear.

“Nae a damn dug, I didnae like dogs”

Kyle groans and rubs his ear. He absolutely detested that feeling. “Bloody act like a bull terrier too…”

Johnny huffs and lays his head back down. “Cannae believe Ah married ma biggest hater”

“dogs can be cute, Tav”

“Daft rabid bastards… jost looking ta rip inta yer thighs”

“Sounds like someone I know. Had to get a rabies shot first time you bit me, don’t know what bloody diseases your carrying”

“OI! Ah gonna give ye more tan a bite ye fokn brat”

They wrestle fight on the couch for a bit. Before John returns to his weighted blanket duties. Kyle texting Ghost a photo of some stupid movie he found. Something called VelociPastor or some nonsense. Soap wasn’t paying attention too much.

—

The movie was an absolute terrible mess, 20/10 in the MacTavish Garrick household. Almost as good as when they watched Shaolin Soccer. Almost as good.

They now lie on the bed, having watched movies and gone for an evening jog. A successful start to their brief leave. Soap’s snoring, passed out sleeping on his stomach. Face buried into his pillows.

Gaz sets his phone down. Skin meeting skin as Gaz snuggles close. Arms snaked around Soap’s healthy middle. Cosplaying a barnacle while Soap dozes on. Coils meshing with the messier strands of Soaps mohawk.

Eyelids melting down as he breathes in slower. Feeling so at peace now that some rugged demolitions expert wasn’t making his heart explode in lust.