#Worst Fantasy Show of All Time? Compared to fucking What Exactly??!!

[greencheekconure27]

Rant ahead:

Made the mistake of checking whether there's some news on Willow season 2 on YouTube.(I know I know)

First two video's titled "Willow season two release date& what to expect":

"this horrible knockoff of Willow was terribly written, a failure of the enterprise, and cheaply made...."

"just might be the worst fantasy show of all time..."

Seriously,what happened there bros, do your balls hurt because there's no nudity and nobody got raped on screen? Or is it because it has lesbians and non-white people in it (that aren't playing savages in need of a*cough* *Khaleesi* cough* I mean white saviour).?Are you so hurt by it you had to make like 20 videos about it? For fuck's sake just go rewatch GoT or whatever you consider to be a good fantasy show🙄😒.

It's not criticism it's just being an arse for reasons we all can guess and that have very little to do with the show's quality.

Anyway I reported them all as "spam or misleading" because this is just clickbait, and Rude click bait at that.

[saijspellhart]

Tumblr keeps recommending me posts with some of the worst takes on Catra’s character. Always an//ti//Catradora posts. (Like, did we watch the same show? We couldn’t have possibly watched the same show. Why the fuck would anyone compare her trauma to Hordak? Because they are on two entirely different character journeys, at wildly different age ranges and maturity, and with wildly different amounts of time to grow and change. Never mind the constant outside negative authority influences on Catra all the fucking damn time, that Hordak never has to deal with until season 5. And fortunate for Hordak, Prime doesn’t allow him the free will to choose a path, so Hordak gets a free pass, his character growth and budding humanity remain intact.) Don’t get me started on this, I could write a whole critical analysis on why Catra is a wonderfully written complex character, and why comparing her to Hordak is fucking ludicrous. Honestly the lack of comprehension about writing, character, fantasy, narrative and trauma astounds me when I see some of these Catra hate posts pop up in my recommended feed.

Tumblr, hopefully your algorithm gets this, but I LOVE Catra. I love her. I love this tortured mess, I love the writing that went into her character, I love her waffling precarious hold on sanity and reason. I love how she struggles to cope with her trauma. I love the realism put into her character despite the fantasy setting. But I also love that they didn’t push the realism too far, because it is at the end of the day a fantasy story. I love the delicate balance they wove into her character. I love the complexity and thought put into her entire character arc through the whole series. (And before anyone comes to crucify me, I say I love Catra, as a person who suffered immense parental trauma and manipulation. As a victim of some of the worst of it. I shouldn’t even have to mention my own trauma to justify appreciating a FICTIONAL character. But here we are.)

Would I have loved one extra season to really explore her redemption more thoroughly? Yes of course. An extra season would have been delightful to explore a lot of the character relationships more thoroughly. But we didn’t get that, and what the show creators did give us was still wonderful and satisfying. (Even if I have some critiques on some things.) the writing of the show at the end of the day is still smart, and tight, and so so competent. (Looking at the myriad of other story driven cartoons and shows that fall apart in the later seasons or just have an overwhelming amount of inconsistencies and botched writing. **coughs** Voltron, Miraculous, YGO, Netflix Carmen Sandiego, Bleach, many animes in general, just to name a few. Not that I didn’t love and adore most of these shows too.) the fact that She-ra (2018) stayed consistently tight and snappy and smart with their writing, narrative, and characters from beginning to end is a treasure.

Anyway. Catra is great. I could write a character analysis going into why from a writing and storytelling standpoint. But honestly I don’t think anyone cares that deeply, and I don’t exactly have followers who are particularly interested in She-ra. Tumblr, you god forsaken windfall apple, please stop suggesting an//ti//Catra and an//ti//Catradora posts. I don’t want to see them. I support the canon relationships. And I support the non canon ships too. What I do not support is hating on shippers who like other ships. It breeds contempt in a fandom, and leads to a fandom canabalizing itself until there are no fans left. Also letting hate and disdain take up such a large amount of time and space in your brain, leads you down some dark paths mentally.

[j-a-nuary]

Carrier

Sonar

<< first | previous | masterlist | next >>

Stray Kids Urban fantasy AU (feat. Ateez from time to time) | A “carrier service” exists, seemingly only to get people (usually women) home safe after the trains stop running.

Heavy on bad boys with hearts of… some kind of shiny metal, probably.

Warnings: smutty stuff [fingering (f rec), the inherent eroticism of vampires], toxic masculinity but make it mystical.

=====

Hyunjin could not believe his luck. His day to day, or - more accurately - night to night, searches for a willing donor weren't exactly difficult. Even before his little accident, he hadn't had much trouble picking up. But afterwards? He could convince anyone of anything.

Not that he liked to. He was a monster, but he wasn't completely without morals. He avoided using his tricks unless it was absolutely necessary.

Sure, the standard he held himself to was low, but at least it existed.

Which made the current situation all the better.

He didn't know why the woman under his hands and against his body was so hot, or why she smelled so strongly of roses, but it just made him all the more hungry.

He groaned as her fingers slid into his hair, tugging slightly as the two of them moved approximately in time with the beat of the dance mix blaring through the club.

Hyunjin bent forward, pressing his lips against her neck. She rewarded him with a stuttered curse. Smiling into her skin, he let his hands slide down her sides, toying with the hem of her top.

"I just want to eat you up," he murmured.

He felt the vibration of her moan more than he heard it. It made him press himself more firmly against her. He slipped one hand under her top, splaying his fingers out to feel more of her just a little too hot skin. Carefully, he hooked his pinky into her waistband.

Maybe that's what made her start trembling. Or maybe it was his other hand, now cupping her chin, pressing just ever so lightly against her throat.

"Will you let me?" Hyunjin asked, nipping at the skin of her neck. He was drowning in her floral smell now, tasting roses and vanilla on her skin.

She nodded. More than that, she let one of her hands fall to his wrist, pushing his lower hand even further downwards.

Hyunjin groaned again, willingly allowing her to guide his hand.

"Right here sweetheart? You want me to take you in front of all these people?"

She was practically throwing herself at him, but he was begging for it anyway.

"Let's go somewhere a little more private," Hyunjin suggested.

It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of showing off. He just didn't want any interruptions or witnesses.

"Where?" She asked, sounding breathless.

"Follow me sweet thing."

=====

"Give me something Seungmin!"

Felix was scanning the crowd inside Sonar. He cursed his inability to hone in on scents like Jisung or Changbin.

His talents were a little more… ephemeral and vague. Given that Spring was only just starting, he was nowhere near the top of his game. Still, he could sense that something was off.

"Do you know how many fucking people are in that club right now? Give me a minute for christ's sake."

Seungmin was right. Felix knew he was right. He took a deep breath, trusting the nerd on the other end of the phone call to do his thing.

Still, he watched the crowd intently. Taking another deep breath, he shut his eyes and desperately tried to remember what she had been wearing.

He cursed his stunted senses. Compared to the others, he was the worst option to track someone down. He had just wanted to take a little bit of the heat off of Jisung, and no way in hell was he about to involve Changbin.

"Seungmin, I need something. I don't see her anywhere."

"I am trying, okay?"

Felix groaned. He didn't know why or how, but he was certain that he needed to get some sort of explanation to Little Turtle tonight. If not tonight, then certainly before she had to call for a carrier again.

"God damn it, I'm such a fucking idiot!"

"What's up?" Seungmin asked.

"Her phone number is literally in the system," something else occurred to Felix as he spoke, "and you have the ring map!"

"That only works if she's wearing it," Seungmin pointed out.

"Check it anyway. And send me her number."

Felix disconnected the call, and waited.

=====

Tempawan allowed herself to be led out of a side exit. Had she not been so focused on the man leading the way, she would have noticed the “authorized personnel only" sign.

But at the moment, she was shameless. In the purest form of the word: without shame. She knew that relief from her strange fever was only moments away.

She quickened her pace just a bit when he pushed the door open. Surging forward, she pressed her lips against his.

They stumbled out, into the back alleyway, lips and limbs intertwining further with each passing moment.

"I don't know how adventurous you usually are," Hyunjin mumbled against her lips, "but I am really tired of waiting, sweetheart."

"Then don't wait."

Hyunjin didn't typically like mixing food with pleasure. It wasn't really his style. It felt childish to him in some way.

But when the meal was so eager, who was he to deny that hedonistic streak?

"Then don't wait” the words echoed in his brain.

Hyunjin groaned, biting at her lip in another kiss before speaking up.

"Are you sure? I'll have you right here if you let me."

"Fuck," she panted, losing herself in the way his fingers were slowly sliding up her thigh, under her skirt, "please. Give me everything."

=====

“Pick up pick up pick… fuck!” Felix cursed at the pre-recorded voicemail greeting. It hadn’t even rang. Desperate for help, he decided to call in back-up.

At least this call rang. It was quickly answered as well.

“Hey,” Jisung sounded so casual it made Felix a little jealous, “how’d the talk go?”

“I can’t find her.”

There was a beat of silence while Jisung thought of something suitably vague to say.

“I mean it’s a big place…”

Felix huffed, shaking his head.

“It feels wrong. Do you think you could come and… you know,” he hated to lean on stereotypes, but here he was, “smell her?”

“How does it feel wrong? What’s going on?”

Felix felt like crying. Fighting down the frustrated tears that threatened to well up in his eyes, he cleared his throat.

“I don’t know! I just…" he took a breath, "it feels wrong. Something is wrong and I don’t know what it is. I don't know how to help.”

“Woah, hey,” Jisung tried his best to sound comforting, “don’t worry about it, okay? I’m on my way. Five minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

Felix didn’t waste any time making his third call.

“Please tell me you have literally anything for me, Seungmin.”

“Her phone is dead,” Seungmin responded, “last pinged location was inside Sonar. And it looks like she isn’t wearing the ring.”

“Fucking hell!”

Seungmin kept quiet. Felix was typically the calm one. The one who could get the others to relax. Seungmin had never seen, or rather, heard him like this before.

Felix took deep breaths, trying to recompose himself before speaking again.

“Listen, pretend I’m Chan for a second, okay?”

“Okaaayyy?”

“Fucking find her,” he spat out the words, “and get me that fucking ring.”

"How am I suppo-"

Felix hung up on Seungmin.

=====

"You're so wet for me sweetheart."

Hyunjin had Tempawan facing the wall, one hand braced against the bricks, the other two digits deep inside her.

"Please," she begged, trying to keep somewhat quiet, "please please please please…"

"Don't you worry sweetness," Hyunjin whispered into her ear, "I'll give you everything you need."

Her knees buckled. Despite her increased appetite as of late, this was different. This man somehow was making her a complete mess. The others were usually so busy chasing their own release that she often left feeling unsatisfied, even as her temperature evened out.

But this man…

"Fuck," she whimpered, "I'm… please…"

"You're okay sweet girl," his voice dripped directly into her ear, "just cum once before we really start."

It didn't take much longer for exactly that to happen. Hyunjin felt it all. The tightness around his fingers, the jerk of her body against his. He bit his lip, enjoying the sounds she made as she slammed her hands against the bricks in front of them.

"You did so well," he kissed her shoulder, letting her catch her breath, "so good for me sweetheart."

Tempawan lifted her head, tilting back to settle the back of her head into the crook of his neck. She heard him groan, pressing his lips against her own neck.

"Can you keep going, sweetness?"

"Yes," she was still breathing heavily, but she needed more to satisfy the icy feeling under her skin, "please…"

"Perfect," he withdrew his hand from under her skirt. Carefully, not wanting to leave any residue on the outside of her clothing, he lifted it to his lips.

Tempawan turned her head and watched, a little in awe of the way he was enjoying himself. The way he was enjoying her.

"Good god sweetheart," he whispered after sucking his fingers clean, "did you know you taste like vanilla ice cream?"

And roses, he thought to himself.

"Are you willing to let me have more of you, sweet girl?"

"Please," she was willing to beg for it if she had to, but she suspected that she didn't.

Hyunjin gripped her waist, turning her now to face him.

"What a goddess you are," Hyunjin whispered. "Do you mind just a bit more foreplay, sweetness? I'm a bit of a biter."

"It's fine," she breathed, tensely waiting to feel him. "Bite as hard as you like. I just need you t- fuck."

He didn't need to be told twice. Leaning forward, he entered her, in more ways than one. In the only way that truly matters to a vampire, he entered her. Feeling the shock run through her body, he groaned as he felt her tighten around him.

Dipping his fingers back under her skirt, he felt her twitch around his digits again. Clamping onto her shoulder, his fangs broke her skin easily. He didn't know which sensation was more responsible for how she jerked against him.

At first, it was perfect. Roses and vanilla beans, silk and nectar.

Then something hit Hyunjin’s throat. A grassy taste that he knew was not hers.

That’s fine, he thought, I’m not the arbiter of her relationships.

=====

Jisung pushed through the crowd, tracing the faint trail of familiar mangosteen and… something less familiar, like a minty, fruity cocktail.

Chan followed close behind.

Jisung had tried to create a good enough excuse to stop Chan from coming along, but given the choice between Chan and Changbin, this had seemed like the better option.

Felix brought up the rear, feeling knots in his stomach as they moved. Despite the crush of bodies, there was a distinct chill that Felix felt the further they walked.

Jisung paused, reorienting himself. He knew what it looked like, but he didn’t care. There was something about that minty scent that was familiar, and it made him nervous.

“What’s wrong?” Chan asked as Jisung swiveled his head, trying to catch the direction of the smell.

“There’s a lot going on just…” Jisung closed his eyes, concentrating. A second later, his eyes opened again, shining a brighter yellowish color, “that way.”

=====

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Hyunjin’s eyes opened, lifting to see Jisung staring at him and Tempawan. He couldn’t help but smile, teeth still buried into her neck.

Then he saw Chan and Felix.

Quickly, he released his jaw’s grip on her.

“It’s just a hickey,” he whispered into Tempawan’s ear as he maneuvered behind her to face the others. “So you’re the one she belongs to, huh?”

She giggled, then shook her head. Eyes landing on Jisung, she smiled slowly. She felt incredibly warm and… snuggly? God I’d love a nap.

“You’re a real… fuck…”

Her knees buckled.

“Felix!” Chan called.

“On it!”

Jisung could have reached her first, but he was busy being held back by Chan. Hyunjin watched the four of them. Felix, tending to Tempawan with the knowledge of a field medic and the bedside manner of a therapist. Chan, barely struggling to hold back an increasingly feral Jisung. Jisung, working himself up and ranting.

“That’s the motherfucker Chan! I should have killed him! Let me the fuck go!”

“Not happening.”

Hyunjin could have left, but the fact that Chan was there had piqued his interest enough to stick around. For now at least.

“If it makes you feel better,” Hyunjin offered, “I wasn’t planning on killing her.”

“You could have fooled me,” Felix muttered before turning towards Chan and Jisung, “we need to get her to Minho.”

“I will end you!” Jisung was tearing at Chan’s hand. Literally, he could feel it in his bones. The ache was starting. His jaw ached with the slow elongation, and his voice was getting hoarse and deeper. “Let me go!”

“No,” Chan said, paying no attention to the claws digging into his skin. Readjusting his grip on Jisung, he locked the slowly transforming man against himself with one arm. Chan dug his other hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out his cell phone.

"I think I'll just be going," Hyunjin nervously chuckled and started shuffling backwards.

Chan didn’t look up as he searched through his recent calls.

"Lix, can yo-" 

"Got it," the blonde responded. He slammed a hand against the ground and his eyes fluttered shut.

Call Hyunjin a cat, because he was certain that one day his curiosity would get him killed. He already knew what Jisung was, and he had an idea about Chan. But the soft looking blonde one? He had no clue.

He didn't even notice the tendrils of roots that were winding around his ankles. Not until they constricted, causing him to lose his balance.

"You need to get over here…" Chan spoke into his phone, "make an excuse… Jisung needs your pills…"

To his credit, Jisung was still giving his all to get out of Chan's grip. He was well into the non-verbal stage now. His hands were closer to paws, which actually made it easier for Chan to hold him.

"Sonar, back alley… oh, give yourself an extra dose on your way… LT is here."

He dropped the phone back into his pocket.

"Felix? Can you keep an eye on Jisung?"

=====

Changbin stood up, sighing dramatically. To all the world, he looked like a man who had been called in to do inventory. Internally, he was panicking.

"Seems like they need an extra hand," he made the excuse easily enough. Half-truths were simple like that.

Hongjoong, who would describe himself as currently being in his cups, let out an annoyed sound.

"Sure, just take all the eye-candy away. First that girl, then Felix, now Bin."

"Hyung…" Mingi groaned.

"Sorry man," Changbin chuckled, "sounds pretty serious though."

Yunho stood as well, much to Seonghwa's annoyance.

"You need an extra hand?"

Changbin shook his head, pulling his coat on.

"No, nothing like that," he pulled out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table, "we've got a system. Anyway, that should cover a few rounds. Might be back later."

Changbin forced himself to move casually as he left.

"Mingi," Seonghwa spoke softly, just loud enough to get the younger man's attention, "how do you feel about espionage?"

=====

Chan had let Hyunjin go. Or rather, Chan had made Felix let him go. Or rather, Felix had begrudgingly followed Chan’s order to let him go. Hyunjin nervously kept an eye on the wolf that was now tangled in city-toughened roots as Chan led him to the open end of the alley.

"It seems like you know one of my boys."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but Hyunjin knew when he was being interrogated.

"Know is a strong word," Hyunjin explained, "we run into each from time to time."

Chan tilted his head, looking as unbothered as anything. He reached into his jacket again, this time pulling out a simple black cigarette case.

Hyunjin noted the silver reinforcements on the corners of the case. Old, probably expensive when it was made, and even more so now.

Hyunjin glanced up and down the alley, wondering how far he would make it if he made a run for it.

"I wouldn't recommend it," Chan interrupted his thoughts.

Hyunjin didn't recall Chan lighting his cigarette, but there it was.

"Jisung doesn't willingly change very often."

"Honest to god," Hyunjin sighed, "I don't know what his problem is. He's got some kind of grudge."

Chan nodded. He believed what Hyunjin was saying. Or at least, he believed that Hyunjin believed what he was saying.

"I won't blame you if you don't want the job. Cohesion is the goal, but I'll settle for civility."

"Not to be an asshole," Hyunjin couldn’t help but huff, "but that's more on him than me. I barely know the guy. As far as I know, he just hates vampires."

=====

"Sorry man," Felix muttered towards Jisung.

Jisung growled in response. If not for the somewhat muddy tendrils wrapped around his snout, he would have snapped at him.

When Chan and Hyunjin had walked a bit further down the alley to talk, Felix was left to tend to Tempawan and keep an eye on Jisung.

Not that Felix had to do much. Tempawan was stable enough for the moment, and Jisung was immobilized.

"Do you know that guy?" Felix asked.

Jisung huffed, then whined. He wriggled in his earthy bindings, snuffling as he tried to get closer to Tempawan.

"She'll be 'right mate," Felix reassured him.

=====

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Jisung couldn't exactly laugh, but his tail twitched at the way Changbin unknowingly mimicked him upon his arrival.

"Changbin, relax…"

Chan held a hand against Changbin’s chest. Changbin was keeping a remarkable amount of calm, all things considered. He was barely trying to get around Chan.

"Re… relax? Do you know who this motherfucker is?"

"We've talked."

"Oh! Oh, you've talked!" Changbin balked, "I see, I mean as long as you've talked I guess that's fine."

Hyunjin kept silent, mentally cataloging people he had possibly wronged to be called a motherfucker twice in thirty minutes.

"Just go help Felix."

For the first time, Changbin actually took in the scene at the other end of the alleyway. The little remaining calm he had dissipated as soon as his mind processed what he saw.

He took a step towards the three figures on the ground, then turned to look at Hyunjin.

"What did you do?"

Hyunjin was mesmerized by the green that sprung up in one of Changbin’s irises. It was a shade he knew all too well.

"I… nothing…" Hyunjin wasn't used to feeling off-balance.

"She's fine," Chan answered the real question. "Go help Felix and Jisung."

"She better be more than fine," Changbin growled, casting Hyunjin a lingering and exceptionally dirty look, "or it won't matter how much you two have talked."

[starlightsearches]

I am That Somebody that asked for a part 2 to “Mail’s Here” and I am so (possibly futurely) excited you have no idea 😈

Special Delivery

READ PART ONE HERE

Hope you enjoy, bestie!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated 💖

Warnings: smut (18+), hand job, tummy riding, finger sucking, frottage (finding the actual term on google was a fucking nightmare), blasphemy and religious undertones, SUB! EDDIE, dom! reader, lots of "good boy"s, language, let me know if I missed anything 😙

"You have to tell me what you like, Eddie."

Not likely. He can barely remember his own name.

Your body dents the mattress beside him, resting on your side, naked except for your underwear slung low on your hips. He can still feel the brush of your t-shirt taking the place of your mouth as you split from those feverish kisses, baring your tits and the soft skin of your stomach to his hands. You let him touch you with his clumsy fingers, left him burning from the inside out.

And now those same fingers are wrapped up in white-knuckled fists, watching the turn of your wrist as you tug at his cock, bouncing your hand over him with slow, teasing strokes.

"Dunno," he manages through gritted teeth, cheeks hot with shame, "never- never done this before."

You laugh, but it's not a mean sound. "You watch porn."

You don't say it like a question. Eddie flushes, flooded with the strange sensation of knowing his worst fears and greatest fantasies are not only possible, but real, and happening—and that the walls of your apartment are thinner than he'd hoped.

He hums something that sounds like a yes, hips twitching a little when you reward him with a long, slow stroke all the way to the tip.

"So what do you like in the videos you watch?"

Girls that look like you. He's not going to say that, of course. You don't need to know how often his eyes had caught on your chest, wondering how close he'd gotten with the video he'd chosen the night before—if your tits would bounce the same way hers had, how the pitch of your moans would compare if you let him pet his fingers over your clit.

"I like it, um," —he flushes again; you've moved in closer, hovering just out of reach of his lips. Even when he cranes his neck he can't make them meet. Your hand stops, fist circled around the base of his cock, and he does buck his hips this time—hoping you might keep going if he shows you that he's desperate enough.

It doesn't work. You stay still, watching him, waiting for an answer from his wet pink mouth.

"I like it when the girls are mean," he blurts out.

You don't laugh like he thought you would. You raise a brow instead, leaning a little closer.

"Mean how?" you whisper.

Mean could suggest a lot of things. He thinks about taunting words and skin reddened by the palm of your hand, the sting of impact against his cheek. He thinks about you refusing to even touch him, watching the tears streak down his face, about denying him his release, about using him until you've had your fill and leaving him unsatisfied.

And maybe he would be interested in that, but not now.

"Just, I- I like it when they're, uh, in- in control."

The pace of your hand quickens, and it's almost too much, the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening in a desperate attempt to keep from bursting all over you. Eddie yelps at the feeling, and you quiet him, tongue pressed sensually past his teeth, petting at his own until you return to the teasing strokes from before.

"Like that?" you ask.

He nods, humming under his breath, trying to keep himself intact, trying not to think about the way his cock throbs against your skin.

"But I also like it when they're nice."

The words rush out, and he shuts his eyes tight. Your lips brush up against his cheek.

"You gotta be more specific, Eddie."

"I just,"—fuck, if he were on his own, he would have cum at least twice by now, shucking his cock in his fist despite the pain, but you seem to know exactly what it takes to keep him from his release—"I like it when they say nice things."

"Oh."

He can tell by the way you say it that you understand what he means. Can feel your comprehension in the brush of your body, the soft embrace of your thighs around his waist when you straddle him, and his cock flops against his stomach when you plant both hands against his chest. He makes a sound like he's dying when you lean in close. Maybe he is.

Eddie's cross-eyed trying to focus in on your features, even though it hurts when you're close like this.

"You want to be good for me?" you whisper.

God. You understand him. Just like he knew you would.

"Please."

Eddie feels the catch of the damp fabric between your thighs, hips rolling sinuously over the pudge he carries just above the line of his boxers. He can’t think. He’s got no words, tense from head to toe when you grind down against him, a sigh heavy on your lips.

“Are- are you . . . ?”

“If you want to be good for me, Eddie,” you say, overpowering any thought he might have had, “then you can’t cum until I do.”

Jesus Christ. He hadn’t been creative enough any of the thousand times he fantasized about you. Looking like a dream while you get yourself off—using him like a toy, like a cheap piece of plastic. Your own personal fleshlight.

God, his eyes roll back, vision blurry behind the steamy lenses of his glasses. His hands travel your body like he's got you memorized, following the rhythm of your body when he grips at your waist.

You brush his hands back down to the sheets. "Did I say you could touch?"

You circle your hips again, and Eddie whimpers. He tries not to think about the way your spend is painting the golden hairs just below his belly button, how your tight little hole must be fluttering underneath the cotton with the way he’s making you feel. Him.

“Wanna be inside you,” he mumbles, sitting up just enough to let his lips brush at your collarbone, "need it."

“Not yet, Eddie,” —hot breath feathering through his hair— “gotta make sure you can last, first.”

There's little chance of that. He's not even stroking himself and he still feels like he's going to spill everywhere just watching you ride him, his room filled with the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy. Your moans grow louder—almost pornographic, but he's certain that these are real.

Eddie watches you, with your eyes closed, lips parted, shining skin turned toward the light. You look like a saint, caught up in some holy ecstasy. This is what he had always wished he would feel when he prayed. Wanted. Chosen.

Your body shifts again and again—rocking the bed each time you move and Eddie whimpers when the swell of your ass brushes the dripping pearls of cum off the head of his dick.

"God, please!"

There are hot tears streaking down his face. He's not brave enough to grip your hips the way he wants, fucking force you onto his dick the way he needs. Begging is all he has.

When your body slows, Eddie is sure he's done something wrong—can't stop himself from thinking about all the groveling he'd have to do just to get you to stay in the same apartment as him so he can pilfer dirty underwear from your laundry bin.

But he feels the weight of your body on his cock instead, that singing, stinging feeling he's been so desperate for, hardly anything between your skin and his. And the drag is sublime—your warm, wet pussy lips gliding back and forth over his flushed and aching dick.

You fall on him with a messy and open-mouthed kiss, a deep humming moan, and he thinks that means you've cum with the way you're shaking. But he has to be sure.

"Can- can I?" Eddie asks. Some part of him must be superhuman that he can even manage to resist.

You nod, chest pounding. "Cum for me."

As if he could ever feel this way for anyone else.

Eddie's hot cum paints your skin and his, sticky like he's trying to glue the two of you together, lungs full of a sound high-pitched and raw. You quiet him with two fingers in his mouth, his teeth scraping against your knuckles. You use your other hand to brush the hair from his forehead.

"Good fucking boy."

And if you hadn't just drained him of every ounce of cum, he'd shoot off another load right then.

Eddie's whole body rocks when you fall onto the mattress beside him, body glistening like marble where his spend paints your skin. He's never even dreamed about getting this far. He's not sure where to go from here.

But you take care of that, too.

Fingers folded into his, you stroke your thumb over the juncture between his fingers.

"So… thai for dinner?"

[spectaclespencer]

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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[oftenderweapons]

Into you | Yoongi

This fic was posted for the June Writing game A Summer Night's Dream, hosted by Professor Dove through @bangtansorciere

AU Types/Tropes: Silvery & Hush Established Relationship AU

Themes: Pining

Kinks: Marking, Fingering, Handjob, Blowjob, Edging, Overstimulation, Sex Toy Usage, (Praise kink, if you squint).

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 6.3k

Genre: pwp (very little plot) smut, fluff, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: we've all been traumatised by SoWooJoo!Yoongi, but apparently Kitten has very fancy ways of reacting to trauma. Expect a very special, very fond ending.

Trigger warnings: first of all, this is basically unedited, I'm sorry. Now on to canonical warnings: swearing, domme!reader, sub!Yoongi; assplay, rimming, anal fingering (all male receiving); edging (male receiving), marking (male and female receiving); blindfold and handcuffs (male reeciving), spit play, blowjob (male giving and receiving. yeah, he's blowing the strap, it's a thing, believe me. a hot thing too), brief oral, (female receiving); grinding/humping, masturbation (female), cum play/eating, lots of lube ofc, strap on/pegging, lots of possessiveness, very mild degradation (very fond, he calls her bitch but very, very affectionately), overstimulation, cumshots (plural, very messy). Lowkey voyeurism (it's in the final extra). The sex described is overall as safe as sex can be, with the exception of all anything oral and all the cum eating. That is not safe, get tested before you do that with your partner. Sorry, the warnings are very detailed but this is sort of different from what I usually write, so i tried to be extra careful.

Thanking the wifey, @joheunsaram for being the eternal sweetheart 💜💜💜

Here is my masterlist and well, enjoy!

When Yoongi came through the door, he looked quite happy, though his expression was slightly tired.

“Kitten?” he called, looking for you in the living room, and kitchen. Were you still working? He hoped you weren’t. Maybe you were still with the girls. But after two hours?

And then you appeared. Naked, leaning against the bedroom door.

“Hi, kitty cat.”

He hummed and grinned as he stared at your silhouette. “Is that for me?”

You nodded and walked towards him, staring at the way he bit his lip as he observed your swaying hips, the curves of your breasts. You laughed. He knew so little, poor boy. “It sure is,” you purred before hugging him, acting as if you were just going in for some intimacy before you found your target, grabbing his left asscheek while your other hand slid from his spine to his side to his stomach, all the way down to belly, teasing his belt and heading further down, cupping his crotch.

His mouth opened as he exhaled, his hot breath fanning over your bare chest. “You know what you want, don’t you?”

“I’ve always known it,” you replied, stroking him through his jeans. “I don’t think I could want anything else after what you put me through tonight.”

“Did you and the girls enjoy the show?” he asked, mouthing at your neck, feeling the heavy thump of your vein underneath the sensitive tip of his tongue.

“I believe Candy fainted or climaxed a couple times,” you considered, feeling Yoongi chuckle beneath your jaw.

“The kid will be getting it good tonight.”

You smirked, starting to undo his belt. “He's not the only one,” you teased before your hand dove into his pants, feeling him up. “Now I want you to focus on me, though,” you said with a pout, tracing the shape of his lips with a finger. “I want to blow your mind.”

He was speechless as he nodded, his mouth gently agape as you gripped the neckline of his shirt and dragged him to the bedroom. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew what was going to happen, what he did know was that he liked it, and he hoped you would walk the talk till the very end. Somehow, tonight he needed you to.

“What are you thinking of?” you started, your hands undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He placed his hands on your waist, caressing up and down your sides. “How much I love you.”

You smiled and knelt in front of him, kissing his belly button before nibbling on the soft skin just below it. “You’re such a liar.”

“You would be too dangerous if you knew the truth,” he hinted vaguely, pushing your hair back as you kissed his happy trail, your hands slithering into the back of his trousers and slowly, painfully slowly, pulling them down. Unintentionally, his underwear slid down too, his erection springing free against your cheek, a tight hiss coming out of his gritted teeth at the impact.

“Come on, darling,” you cooed before licking up the shaft of his cock. “Won’t you tell me?”

He was tempted to let you continue, making you become dirtier and dirtier as you tried to get him to talk; however, he was too eager to play other games with you. “I’m hoping you’re going to dominate me.”

You looked up at him.

“I want you to fuck me.” He looked away, his cheeks hot as he murmured the two words. “Ruin me.”

You stood immediately, placing your hands on his cheeks, combing his blonde locks back. “What am I allowed to do?” you asked, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“You pick.”

You felt your soul leave your body. “Get on the bed. All fours.”

Yoongi bit his lip as he felt you switch, your demeanour getting assertive in a second. He loved when it happened. He loved feeling you so at ease with him to let yourself act upon your most animalistic instincts. He wasn’t sure of what it meant to him, but he loved being used by you. And he loved being part of your darkest, most unspeakable fantasies. He loved being kept in that sweet, dark place that was your libido, knowing he would always be the only one residing there, because he trusted you when you told him he was the only one you wanted.

And from the way you made love to him, night after night, he could feel it was true.

He heard a low buzz starting in the room, the sound almost disturbing compared to the quiet harmony of your breathing and his chasing each other.

He felt exposed on the large bed, lonely as you circled around it, around him.

The buzzing stopped.

“Love, would you like wearing a blindfold?” you asked, letting him choose on such an insubstantial matter. It wasn’t your main focus anyway.

Yoongi thought about it for a minute. Could he? Did he want to?

And then he remembered how he had trusted you that one time. “I want to.”

You grinned and held the silk piece between your hands, kneeling behind him on the bed and pressing your hips to his ass, beginning to work him up while you slipped the fabric over his eyes. “All fixed?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, the tone excessively teasing for that to be actual submission.

“Are you all cleaned up?”

He nodded while unconsciously pressing his ass to your hips. “All clean.”

You smiled. “Did you do this in the hope I would use you tonight?” you inquired, feeling him nod as his hair tickled your arms.

“A man can hope,” he replied mischievously.

“Do you need to be used, Yoongi?” The question rang in the room for three full seconds.

“I’m yours to use.”

“Good.” You rose from the bed, picking all your tools of choice. “Let’s get this started.”

Yoongi was in for a long night.

The first thing he felt was the squelching noise of your hands getting wet, next a vague pineapple smell drifting through the room. He could somehow imagine that the thump he heard next, with a click following, was you, putting down the bottle of lube and closing the cap.

“Does your shoulder hurt, love?” you asked, kissing his back. Though the surgery and the recovery was almost complete, you still treated it gently — mostly because you liked spoiling him and babying him.

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” he replied with certainty.

You hummed and tickled his nape. “Good boy,” you praised before bringing your hand around his waist, finding his cock and starting to tease him gently, with slow, light tugs that focused on finding the veins running along his shaft. They were rather delicate strokes aimed at your own pleasure rather than his. “I’ll check in on you later, okay love?”

His confirmation came through a hum that quickly turned into a moan as you reinforced your hold on him. “Yes, Kitten.” And that ‘yes’ felt more like a nod at the pleasure instead of an answer to your question. You grinned and let him live — you loved when he started growing so hazy he lost contact with reality.

While your hand kept going, you started approaching your actual target, your mouth leaving soft little nibbles on his ass, licking the skin you had just bit before moving to the next spot, making sure you left a bruise this time, Yoongi’s exhale turning into a whimper as you found the perfect spot with your thumb.

Now, the worst part of teasing Yoongi is that he loved having your mouth on him, but that automatically meant that you had to choose between his oral fixation and dirty talking, or just very mundane teasing.

“Do you like your pretty ass bit, my love?” The question was spoken softly, with your deepest voice, the one that always drove him insane. He called it your bedroom voice, velvety, low, sultry and so elegantly feminine. In his mind it looked like a black panther to him, hiding deep in the forest of his desire.

“I like anything you do to me,” he replied, trusting you blindly — quite literally — as you lead him exactly where you wanted him to be, in places he’d never had the courage to explore by himself.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you rewarded him, giving him that safety, that reassurance you knew he needed to take the next step.

“Love you,” he replied meekly, his breath laboured. And then he felt it, your mouth, lingering in between his asscheeks before you pushed them apart, dipping your tongue into the crevice and lashing it against the rim of muscles around his hole.

“Kitten,” he cried out, getting on his elbows, spreading his legs and arching his back to offer himself more fully.

You hummed, appreciating his new position. You wanted to answer him so much, but you kept going, rubbing the skin between his testicles and his anus with your thumb, covered in latex and lube. It was the easiest way — which you had learnt the hard way. Lubrication seemed to last longer on the gloves, and you were okay with sacrificing skin-to-skin contact when the glove allowed you an efficient job, and a quick clean hand when he needed aftercare.

As you let your spit dribble down his skin, meeting your finger, you rested for a second. “Do you still want my tongue or would you like my fingers, babe?”

He groaned and started moving to push his cock into your hand.

You loosened the grip, the touch too light to give him the friction and pressure he wanted. “I said, my tongue or my fingers, Yoongi.”

“Fingers, finger!” he replied quickly — anything to get your grip back on his cock. He needed it, he was desperate and foolish and he needed it so bad.

And then you pushed your middle finger inside, a gasp and a moan exiting his mouth as he crumbled forward a little, clawing at the sheet, the lack of vision unsettling him a little. “Oh god, Kitten! Just like that!”

You grinned and started moving your finger inside just barely, beginning to work at his inner walls little by little, stroking his cock every time he got too quiet.

“Do you know how many people wish they could do this to you?” you teased before bringing your finger out, stretching his entrance and pouring more lube onto the glove. “Do you know how many people want to be in my place, right now?”

He shook his head, too overwhelmed to think, to speak.

“Everyone wants to fuck you. Or be fucked by you,” you murmured, adding one more finger and catching him by surprise. “Everyone wants to suck your beautiful dick. My dick.”

He cried out your name as you found his prostate and started rubbing your fingers gently against it. “All yours,” he purred, swirling his hips against your hand, humming when you gave him the perfect angle. “Kitten, fuck.”

“Is it turning you on?” you asked, removing your fingers to make sure he didn't cum too soon.

“Yes. Now tell me, are you edging me?”

Though his tone was requesting and assertive, you let it slip. He would go back to whining like a good sub in seconds. You placed your lips at his ear, tracing the shell with your tongue and making him arch his back. “Maybe.” You kissed his temple and smiled at him as he purred at you, trying to find anything he could kiss. “Are you in the mood for that?”

He nodded and gasped as he felt your tongue caress his lips and your fingers linger at his entrance. He opened his mouth, ready to be doubly violated, imagining you kneeling at his side.

“Do you want me inside?” you teased, your hot breath fanning over the lower half of his face.

“Yes, please,” he replied, his voice so shy and open.

You held on, caressing his ass, back and forth, slowly, sensuously before you pinched him. “Lay on our back, kitty cat. I have plans for you.”

He snickered and obeyed, curiosity and arousal being the only things keeping him from taking over. “You’re really on your worst behaviour, uh?”

You hesitated, slightly confused at what he meant. Did he like that? Did he…

“Kitten,” he called, stretching his hand and finding your leg. “Love.”

You thought it ridiculous that with such a simple comment he had managed to make your commandeering mood wobble.

He lifted his blindfold at the lack of response. “Hey?”

“Do you really want it?” You looked away from him, feeling like you were maybe pushing him too far.

He sat up to grab your chin and make you look in his direction. “I want it, Kitten. Do you want to give it to me?” You nodded, earning a peck on your lips. “Then give it to me, love.” He laid back down, and put the blindfold back on. “There, you have me. I trust you. I know our safewords. Please, do whatever you fancy.”

You blinked and gave it a try. “I love you, Yoongi.”

“I love you too, ____. I adore you. This is a judgement-free zone, love. It’s always been. It’s the two of us. Nothing can be wrong as long as it’s me and you.” His hand abandoned your leg so he could grip the headboard. “Come on, do it. I know you want it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, already stretching to your drawer. “You want me to cuff you?”

He hummed and smiled brightly. “It was only a matter of time until you wanted the tables turned, Kitten. I accepted the idea of being cuffed the night you let me put them on you.”

You sighed and straddled his waist, stretching to the headboard to fix the prop on Yoongi, looping the links behind a bar and letting the other handcuff click close on his other wrist. “Too tight?” you checked on him, letting him tug at the restrain a little until he gave you his approval.

“It’s perfect. I’m doing perfect. Now could you please take care of my cock? It’s just a teensy tiny bit hard,” he hissed as he felt the mattress dip between his spread legs, your form crouched there right before you slipped your gloved hand under his balls, searching for the lube bottle and pouring some on your joined fingers before you dipped them in, making him groan in pleasure, your other hand running up and down his thighs as you playfully skimmed them with your nails.

“Kitten, I—” he stopped mid-sentence as he felt your lips around his soft, bulbous tip, his veins so thick you could feel them as you squished him with your cheeks, swallowing the first couple inches of the shaft and bobbing your head with the same rhythm of your fingers inside him. He exhaled, his breath coming out so hard that it resonated in small whimpers.

You let yourself continue for a while, waiting for his abdomen to start twitching right before you sucked him painfully hard, only to let him pop out of your mouth, his loud cries turning into a desperate little tumble of sobs as he felt stimulation stop entirely on all fronts.

“I only do this because it feels so good when you let me cum, but damn it feels so cruel when you edge me.” His words were raspy and vaguely ironic.

“Too cruel?” you asked, sitting up and stretching to his face.

“Perfectly cruel. I love it when you’re a bit of a bitch,” he replied with a semblance of a snicker. “You know, since I’m a bit of a saint. You balance me out.”

You grinned and pushed your naked fingers to his lips, letting him have a taste of his cum before he parted his lips wide, your face leaning over him as you made your lips touch his, your drool falling from the tip of your tongue right into his mouth.

Yoongi simply moaned at the gesture before chuckling. “That’s my lovely bitch.”

You nodded and hummed, kissing down his body, slowing down only to study the wet stain of saliva and precum pooling at his lower belly. Once at his stomach, you placed a heavy kiss there, deciding to mark your territory. You weren’t sure about what was making you feel so jealous of him all of a sudden — secretly your brain was still processing the mental image of him pole-dancing, after the guys had suggested it — nevertheless, you were a horny mess. Well, a hornier mess than usual.

Feeling your courage renewed, you stretched to his head, pulling up the blindfold. You needed him to look at you as you decided to remind him who he belonged to; however, you had to stop right on top of him as his beautiful eyes emerged, lashes fluttering softly as he stared at you, stretching to get your lips on his. As always, you gave him what he wanted, peppering a series of childish pecks over his reddened lips.

“Love you so mad,” he confessed as he watched you moving down his body, kissing the previous mark, already blooming in scarlet red and placing one right after, just one inch before his belly button. “You want me to watch you mark me up?” he questioned, his voice guttural and low pitched.

You nodded and pressed another kiss, even lower, feeling the salt of his sweat and precum sting your tongue as you sucked his skin in, feeling his taste settle in as you made sure the shape of your mouth transferred onto his flesh.

Lower some more, your index finger tracing his hard on, making him hiss.

Lower, to his pubic bone, where his shaved hair tickled you slightly.

And then up, one last hickey where the tip of his cock laid, taking note of the spot for later, when his sex would swell and twitch with a powerful orgasm, only to deflate and shorten a few minutes later, when he would grow sleepy and tender and his whole body would curl up with exhaustion. Then, you would look at the spot on his abdomen, stare at that burgundy sign and remind yourself that the tender kitty napping at your side is fucking hung — and knows exactly how to use every single inch of that beautiful dick.

And that every single one of those inches belongs to you.

With your eyes deep into his, you started sucking him some more, your fingers working in tandem as you started stretching his entrance, making sure he was absolutely ready for what would come next.

Again, his breathing started growing ragged, his wrists tugging at the cuffs as realised he was too aroused to let go of his high again. “Kitten, please…”

And that’s what broke the spell, his length sliding out of your mouth as you smirked and replied, “yes, my love?”

He threw his head back in frustration, pushing his hips up in a way that allowed him some friction against your mouth and chin before you moved away, recognising his intention. And just like that, sudden inspiration struck you, making you turn with your back to him, straddling his hips before you placed your sodden cunt over his erection, feeling the hard flesh glide easily with your drool covering it. It was almost too easy to sync that up with your fingers on your clit and the two digits still inside him. “Is this what you were begging for?”

He hummed, barely coherent as you started humping him, making him grunt and groan as he tried to get more stimulation, more sensations, something just remotely similar to your mouth sucking him off — obviously, to no avail.

You took only a few minutes to cum, deciding to do so with your hips over his face, too far for him to stretch out his tongue to taste you. And just to prove his patience further, you decided to press the softness of your boobs over his pelvis, one hand between your legs and the other one too busy to take care of him — which was actually a shame — still, you decided he was stretched and relaxed enough that you were probably ready for next step.

Plus, at this point, he was speechless, desperate and needy, begging you with a litany of ‘please’ and ‘Kitten’ and ‘let me’, all coherent thoughts out of the window as you finally came, gifting him with your open cunt right on top of his mouth as he pushed his tongue inside, humming and jerking his hips up when he finally felt your cum in his mouth, the salty, bitter tang of you so liquid and hot over his taste-buds that his eyes rolled shut and his nose sent a puff of fresh air tickling your overheated, drenched skin.

As you descended from your orgasm, slowly and carefully unstraddling Yoongi in the process, laying at his side and kissing his chest before you moved to reach his mouth, you realised he was the most incredible lover you could have ever wished for.

“Love you, baby,” you murmured at his side, watching him struggle slightly as his hands were still bound. He whined meekly as he found your lips once more, the kiss scorching hot as the two of you started moving in unison. “You still stretched?” you murmured, his confirmation coming with a brief delay as he tried to bring his brain to work.

“Do you wanna…?” Your question was vague, but Yoongi understood it nonetheless.

“Yes. I really wanna. I want it a lot,” he whispered, resting his face against the crook of your neck. You untucked him from there, drawing the shape of his lips with your finger before he swallowed one, tasting you.

You kissed the mole on his nose, on his cheek as he kept sucking, pushing your hand away as soon as you decided you needed to see him crumble. You removed the glove, reversing it inside out as you rolled it off. Next, you undid the handcuffs, making sure that Yoongi could be perfectly autonomous before you walked away from the bed to grab your required accessories from the drawer at the far corner of the room. Studying the straps and rings, you found out the correct holes for your legs to slide in, bending down to push the small harness up, getting a relatively small dildo in the ring fitting just on top of your mound, reminding yourself you should put a condom on it just to make the cleaning process easier.

Condom on, flared base holding the toy into the metal ring, you started doing the straps around your waist and ass, struggling to decide whether the harness was too loose around you.

“This is one of the sexiest things you’ve ever done,” Yoongi murmured gently from the bed, his eyes hungry and desperately in love with you. You gave a couple thrusts with your hips, feeling the addition at your pelvis and deciding that yes, it fit you perfectly.

Yoongi waited for you at the feet of the bed, kneeling, watching as you walked over to him and stood right before him.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, looking up at you, his eyes focusing on your blushing cheeks, on your turgid, red lips, at your swollen breasts and hardened nipples, following that line that lead from your sternum to your stomach to your belly, right to the toy at his eye level.

He licked his lips and kissed the tip, wishing with all of his heart that it could make you feel the same way as when he would press his barely agape lips to your clit. Grinning about your clean hand, you pushed it into his hair, combing it gently before he started taking an inch into his mouth, then another, then another, his eyes fixed on yours.

Even though you could feel nothing but the base of the dildo pressing into your skin, the sight was enough to give you a pleasure bigger than the physical one.

“You like it, my love?” you asked, watching him bob his head needily and gag before he backtracked, your thumb collecting the small tear that fell on his left cheek after his eyes watered. “You look beautiful, baby.”

He smiled and took the toy in once more, closing his eyes as he went further down on it, his hands placed on the back of your thighs as he pulled you closer, humming, sinking his pretty fingers into the flesh of your asscheeks.

“Wanna make you cum, Yoongi,” you murmured, using his hair to pull him off you.

He looked into your eyes, his lips messy with spit as he made his way to the middle of the bed, on all fours, trying to be as sexy as he could, but also feeling like he was miserably failing.

You smiled fondly at him, your reaction reassuring him as you climbed back on the bed. “How’s your shoulder, love?”

“Fine, but I prefer not staying on all fours,” he replied, getting on his knees and almost turning around before you stopped him with a hand around his waist. He knew his cock was leaking the very moment you put your hand on him, a white blob joining the ones caused by the feeling of your dildo inside his mouth and throat.

“Let’s do it like this,” you said, already pouring some lube onto the toy. “You love doing me like this,” you continued, getting both your hands around his waist and helping him scoot in between your parted thighs, the tip of the strap-on teasing the seam of his ass. “I want to feel the way you do.”

He nodded, fixing the tip to his entrance, pressing it and tipping his ass down, feeling the head fit into his hole. “Fuck,” he breathed out, abandoning himself so slowly onto the shaft, the object making his walls part until it reached his prostate, getting him to crumble entirely and sink down. “Fuck fuck fuck, thank you, Kitten, thank you so much, love,” he babbled, wiggling his hips as he found his favourite spot and started rubbing it against the dildo.

He was so grateful, so immensely thankful that you’d challenged yourself, that you’d explored so far so he could have this moment with you.

It wasn’t the first time you had tried pegging, but you hadn’t done it that much either. It was maybe your third or fourth time, but Yoongi couldn’t care any less.

The simple fact that you had agreed on trying was enough for him to be entirely smitten over you. Neither of you had even taken it into consideration when you first started dating, and now Yoongi loved how dominating and caring you became every time he felt like receiving assplay, or full-on anal sex; at the same time, you loved how vulnerable he became once you took control, and how easy it was for him to melt in your arms, or underneath you, once you started teasing his delicate hole.

As you moved into him, his back sweaty against your soft front, Yoongi threw his head back, resting it against your shoulder, mouth open, eyes closed, so heartbreakingly beautiful. You found his hand close to yours, lacing your fingers together while he found your other one, repeating the gesture right before you wrapped his arms and yours around his torso, holding him tight to you.

“I won’t let go, love,” you spoke in his ear, his whole body relaxing against you right before you gave a tentative thrust, making him whimper before he growled. “You’re safe here.”

He pouted, begging for a kiss, stretching as far as he could to get your lips against his. “Please. I love you. I want you so much. I’m so hard.” He almost sobbed when he felt you move inside again. “Please, let me cum,” he spoke, babbling slightly as you started pulling out, the dildo rubbing against his prostate. “It hurts, Kitten. Please. I wanna cum,” he sighed, gasping when you pushed back inside.

“Like this, my love?” you asked with a teasing grin, leaving a gentle peck on his delicate neck, drawing the profile of his adam’s apple with the tip of your tongue. “You’re so pretty when you beg, kitty cat.”

He moaned and shoved his hips down, gyrating them as the perfect friction hit his favourite spot. “Don’t play with me, Kitten. It’s been an hour, I’m begging you.”

“I know you can do way more than one hour, baby.” You started drawing circles on his tummy with one thumb, refusing to let go as you twisted your grip so your palm could rest on his abdomen, his own hand clinging to yours as you let your digits tiptoe further down, to the base of his cock, skimming the underside of the shaft in a way that had him setting a crushing grip on your hand.

“Kitten, I’m going mad, please. I love you. Please. Why are you so cruel to me?” he wailed, his body shaking against yours.

“Because you love it, Yoongi. Because you love me.” You chuckled as you felt his hand pressuring yours into jerking him off. “Because you let me ruin you so cutely. You’re such a pretty sight.” You decided to be merciful, starting to stroke in faster. “Because you want this, don’t you? Or you could use your safeword, my darling. I wouldn’t hold it against you, you know it.” You kissed his temple. “I’m yours, in any way you want me.”

Yoongi brought your joined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of yours. And then it hit you.

Everything was perfect. He was perfect. You felt perfect with him. And you knew he would take you, no matter how you came to him. He would take you and hold you — sad, happy, scared, excited, serene or troubled, powerful or powerless. He would wait for you and hold his arms open for you. He would kneel if you knelt, and he would rush to you if you crumbled and fell on your way to him. And he would have you, without condition.

Just like that, you went slower again, but deeper. Harder. Your hand, still teasing his cock, once more played an emotional tango as your pinkie lingered on his skin while you inverted your positions, your hand hugging his as you wrapped both your arms around his middle.

“Kitten,” he murmured, noticing that something was shifting between the two of you. “Like that, please, yes,” he said, letting the sound sibilate, giving you the answer you were searching for.

“Marry me, Yoongi.”

He opened his eyes, licking his lips as he stared at you with the widest, most incredulous eyes. “What?”

You rolled your hips good for him, making him purr and swear. “Marry me, Yoongi,” you repeated, kissing his brow. “Please, marry me.”

He twisted his head just enough to kiss the sweet spot under your ear. “Are you trying to fuck me insane so I’ll say yes?”

You chuckled. “Something like that.” You wanted to caress his hair, but holding his hands was more important — the most important thing in the world. “My heart is yours. I don’t want anyone else having it.”

Yoongi inhaled and made you tighten your grip around him. “Please,” he whined as you started going faster.

“Please what?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “Yes, yes, yes…” he said, starting to bounce on your lap, using you as he felt his cock swell, his eyelids quivering before they finally rolled shut, his release shooting out, against his chest, against your forearms and his abdomen. “Yes!” he finally growled, his expression becoming ecstatic as he rode you until not an ounce of pleasure could be drawn out anymore.

“It’s all mine,” you reminded him, his pleased smile getting even wider before he started nodding, only one of your hands leaving him as you wrapped it around his cock, even more cum coming out as you squeezed him, knowing he could be overstimulated, and that he would love it. “This cock is mine.”

He nodded, out of his mind, moaning as he reached the deepest pits of pleasure.

“And this sweet ass is, too, all mine.”

He nodded even harder, his lovely locks tickling your shoulder, his grin lopsided as he opened his eyes, brow furrowing as you smeared the cum on his chest with your fingers. “Your heart. Right here. All mine.”

“Yes, yours,” he confirmed, again getting worked up, all the edging and foreplay rewarding him with one more growing orgasm. He felt slightly sorry that you had cum only once through the night, but all his worries faded as your dirty fingers reached his lips. “These lips?”

“Yours,” he replied, automatically, opening them to suck at your digits.

“All your pleasure?” You went harder on him, ramming your hips up, feeling his muffled moans against your hand as you gritted out, “mine.”

He freed his mouth. “Yours,” he confirmed, fucking himself onto you as once more he shot another load onto his chest and abdomen, this time only barely less abundant than before. “It’s all yours. Everything. Everything,” he repeated, entirely spent as he tumbled forward, the dildo exiting him as he laid on the bed and rolled on his side, his entire body shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure as he still rolled his hips shyly, cum pooling at his slit and rolling down in heavy, white, blobs, all pressure gone after the insane amount of semen he’d shot all over himself and on the sheets.

You found a quick way to get rid of the strap on, laying behind him before he turned around, his body messy and tired. Still, you rubbed your hands all over his strained muscles, trying to ease out the sensory overload he’d just gone through.

“Yoongi,” you breathed out, before his eyes grew glittery. He smiled as the first tear rolled down.

“Did you really ask me to marry you while you were fucking my ass?” he joked, trying to hide just how emotional he felt.

“We can make up a more appropriate story to tell family and friends,” you joked back, your hands touching his face in a way that matched the feelings in his glance.

“We might have to, yes...” he conceded, finding the vaguely greenish mark between your breasts, kissing it before he renewed its bright red colour. Soon it would be purple again. “Do you really want me to be your husband?”

“I really do,” you replied without hesitation. “Do you really want to become my husband?”

“You will also become my wife in the process. Are you ready for that?” he teased, chuckling together with you.

“I’ve been told I’m a fast learner,” you cocked an eyebrow. “Great versatility,” you went on, giving him that cheeky smirk that made him know exactly what you were referring to. “I’ll learn on the go.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to agree to your proposal. You know… Taxes… Health benefits… Saving on all those boring law procedures…” he mused, his eyes telling you that it was for the most antithetical reasons that he was saying yes.

Love, faith, trust, devotion, commitment. True companionship.

“I could use a very expensive diamond ring to pay for a sugar baby once you’re old and boring.” The joke made him snicker before he placed a kiss on your lips.

“Already thinking of substituting me,” he mused, kissing you again. “I’ll buy you one of those fake stones.”

“Then I guess I’ll be stuck with you forever.” You replied, grinning. There was nothing better you could think of.

When Yoongi woke up, he felt slightly dizzy. He had slept all the way to mid morning, the aftercare so gentle and relaxing that after the bath he crashed on the fresh sheets, nuzzling his face into your chest before he fell asleep like a baby. And apparently his sleep was so heavy that he’d managed to sleep through you messing in the kitchen, baking a cake and icing it too. In your messy handwriting shining bright blue on top of the cake, the words read: ‘thank you for letting me peg you’, which genuinely stole a giggle from his throat.

What didn’t steal a giggle was a small piece of rolled up paper planted on the cake, almost resembling a small candle. He untucked it, rolling it open and reading it twice, feeling his heart swell with pride and love and gratefulness. ‘Thank you for agreeing to become my husband.’

Yoongi smiled at it, feeling his eyes growing wetter as he groaned an ‘aigoo’, standing up from the chair and finding his wallet inside his jacket. Opening it, he found the spot where he kept the cinema ticket from your first date, and the passcode to your apartment door, slipping in one more trinket of your story together.

Yoongi looked around as the other boys worked out. Maybe he shouldn’t… Maybe he should just… keep it on the down low.

And then Jeongguk, shrugged and removed his shirt, an avalanche of definitely-not-mosquito-bites covering his chest. Namjoon, spotting the maknae’s puffed out chest, pride prickling at his ego, also removed his tank top to expose the eight matching red lines down his back. He grinned even more as he turned around, small bite marks appearing at his collarbones and delicate crescent-shaped indentations on his pectorals.

Jimin blushed as he decided to pass. His marks were way too low to be shown publicly.

With a smug grin, Yoongi decided to keep his dongsaengs humble, removing his shirt only to expose a line of bruises starting at his stomach and disappearing at the waistband of his shorts.

Everyone hollered at him, Jimin chuckling before chanting, “Suga-hyung won!”

Tagging: @hesperantha

[piecksz]

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader 

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol 

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container. 

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen. 

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her. 

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.  

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.  

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.  

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.  

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.  

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process. 

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

Toki’s Psychological State Through the Seasons

Toki is by far for me personally the most interesting member of Dethklok; I know to some degree he’s deemed as a potentially over hyped character by fans and even the show itself, but there’s countless reasons why people cling onto that character, and they’re good reasons. Even if said reasons just come down to “I think he’s neat.” that’s valid.

For me I am so fascinated with his character development, personality, and the varied chunks of background information we get about him throughout the series. A big part of this character is that when you look at him in season one compared to season four he is very different or at least he appears to be much different. Season one does establish that Toki does have a childish personality, his bedroom looks more like a room for a kid than one for a guy in his 20s. Season one establishes those basic facts about him that do heavily carry out through the show, but also increase as the show goes on.

Toki goes from immature but not overly immature to....a complete fucking wreck by the finale of season four (before Doomstar) and the reason for it is simple; it’s trauma.

Toki starts to act differently in season one after the Dethfamily episode; he spends practically that entire episode in a catatonic state, his parents always looming nearby like figures of danger and doom. After this we do get to him being bitter about being seen as immature and seen as the kid of the band (despite the fact he was barely 16 when he joined Dethklok) and when a charity informs him that a dying girl wants to meet him he turns into a complete prick. He finally comes out of that when he sees a video the kid made of herself singing a song about death and hatred, with that scene we see a small flashback of Toki’s childhood; him about the little girl’s age standing out in the snow staring up at his parents looking confused and a moment later he’s being smacked across the face. 

We could already gather beforehand when we found out he came from a very devout religious sect outside of Lillehammer that his childhood was sketchy, plus how he locked up when around his parents, but seeing the flashback of him being hit as a little boy.....Answers the obvious question of “did they beat him?”

Season one is the least eventful of the seasons. Season two is when shit begins changing drastically.

Season two Toki receives a call to inform him that his father has cancer and is on his death bed, the family and the church wants him to return to Norway to see his father. He acts completely fine about this initially, the phone conversation and the way he announces his father’s terminal illness to the band is as if somebody just asked to borrow his car. When it gets close to time to actually go and when they are in Norway it’s different though; he becomes anxious and clearly uncomfortable, in Norway he stays in town mostly, stalling around places he went to as a kid and a teenager before he ran off to America. 

He does handle his father’s dying well once he finally convinces himself to go inside his house and see him then follow through with his father’s dying request to carry him up to his old childhood home (which goes wrong because his friend’s are dicks.) 

I am not going to go into personal detail at all and my situation was nothing like Toki’s (it’s incredibly rare to hear situations like that anymore), but Toki handling his father’s passing freakishly well kind of was a red flag for me, because I know from my own experiences that when you find out something complicated like a terminal illness or the death of your abusive parent theres’ a chance you may respond way too calmly to it, and then later down the line days or months or years later something will trigger a big reaction to it. Which is what happens.

After handling his dad’s death well we get the most iconic scene involving Toki at that point and honestly still the most iconic; he beats a man to death with his bare hands. The thing that triggers this is a hallucinated image of a rabbit, an animal he associates both with his father and his childhood, the image of it triggers him to fly into an insanely feral blind rage taking it out on a guy who had been annoying him all night. Toki has always throughout the entire series shown signs of being a tad violent, but never THAT bad. Sure he shot down a plane and had accidentally caused a death or twenty (the whole band is, it’s part of the sacrifices to the Gods deal) but we had never seen him before or after that moment beat somebody to death. That is new and it came from a place of pent up....shit. Shit he never worked through and even after that continued to not work through.

Because after this we lead into him worsening further; he begins drinking. A lot. The band consist of dudes with addiction issues, mainly alcohol, but Toki never seemed to drink quite as much as them until after he went feral on that straight edge guy. 

Toki deals with his childhood trauma in several ways:

He drinks. A lot.

He focuses on fantasy and daydreams to keep himself from focusing on his past.

He spends a lot of time with Dr. Rockso who takes advantage of his kindness often, he also spends gross amounts of money bailing his clown buddy out of jail. Constantly.

He occasionally gets violent, but never to the point of manslaughter.

Seasons three and four are when we get fully introduced to Toki acting like a kid more than a guy in his 20s and it makes sense. Toki didn’t have a childhood; we learn that his parents essentially made him into a slave at a young age having him do pointless “chores” like sweeping snow during a storm, carrying stacks of wood much too heavy for a small child, etc. and when he failed to work quickly enough or failed a task they punished him. They punished him by locking him in a shed, they punished him by chaining him up like an animal, they punished him by smacking him, by beating him with a bull whip, and worst of all (who knew it could get worse) they would force him to stay for long periods of times in a deep hole dug into the ground. A hole where he hid a clown doll made of twigs and straw, the only friend he had as a little kid.

From all that we can gather through the show he didn’t exactly have a social life of any kind until his teens, the older he became the braver I think he became, and that was responded to with worse violence from his parents. I think the statement in season one about a vision of father killing son wasn’t totally off, I think if Toki had never run away from Norway that his father would have murdered him. I think his parents knew somehow that he isn’t entirely human, they knew he was something else, and I do think his parents had plans to kill him before he could become “too powerful”. 

That aside though.....Once we the audience as well as his friends find out far more details about his horrifying childhood Toki changes. A lot. He’d already been immature and a tad bit off but he regresses further after that, more prone to depression and outbursts, clinginess, and a need to feel like he’s loved by pretty much anybody.

This is a dude who is about my age that came to the horrid realization that any person or animal he loves will die because that’s his “gift”, the gift of death. He works his ass off to repress and rationalize a brutally nightmarish childhood, and the guys he’s in a band with who he loves and sees as his family....are dicks. We know that when he joined Dethklok before they got famous that they were all close, but when they began becoming popular and became immensely wealthy the others became more focused on self indulgence and power, less focused on this still a child who desperately just wanted a family.

I think a key factor with Toki being the way he is comes down to the band’s “no caring” rule. A rule that only existed because of Magnus. Toki is the baby in a group of people who have known each other for a good while, people who came to an agreement to not give a shit about each other for a reason they never explained to him because it’s too painful for them to think about. I think he always tried to live by that rule of not caring, he tried to bury all the shit wrong with himself the best that he could but he was never good at it. It’s also clear they all care about each other and they definitely care about Toki; Nathan and Skwisgaar often being the most protective of him. 

In season four aka the season where the show becomes less of a comedy and more of a drama with stunning animation. Toki is immensely more immature and awkward, he’s clingy with the band especially where Skwisgaar is regarded. Near the end of season four he’s completely fucked up; he splits his time between Rockso (his comfort object) and Magnus (a father figure to replace Nathan) in the dinner episode which has so much going on in it. So much. Toki is at his lowest point in the series; he shows up late, drunk as fucking hell, shirtless, and covered in bruises and cuts. Rockso is with him and when Charles tries to tell him Rockso shouldn’t be there Toki goes into a full fucking anxiety attack until Charles tells him it’s fine to have the clown there. Toki’s heavily dependent on Rockso by that point; his found family is quickly falling to shit. God knows what kind of shit Magnus might have been feeding him about the band at that point. 

Toki’s entire thing from day one/the pilot of the series is that he just wants a family. When he feels like he doesn’t belong in the one that he found and was taken in by he searches for family in other places, when he can’t handle the memories of his childhood he spirals hard. I understand that the guys didn’t really know how to handle it after they heard about Toki’s childhood so I can’t fault them completely for just.....shoving him off onto Rockso after that, but I still think they should have tried to be there for him more so, more directly. I think an outlet that isn’t a drug addled clown might have helped him in some way, I think if when he’d been a teenager if one of them had found out about his upbringing and just pointed out “that isn’t okay, at all.” then things might have panned out differently. 

Mental regression isn’t uncommon when it comes down to victims of trauma caused by extreme abuse. Especially considering his trauma all occurred basically from the get go; he was a child slave, the closest I would guess he ever got to having a childhood when he was a kid was seeing other kids childhoods. Going into town and seeing kids playing, sneaking into birthday parties just to be around other kids his age, etc. and he definitely was childish as a teenager, but I think he tried to bury that side of himself when his bandmates started teasing him or pointing out how unmetal it all is.....But then a douche bag journalist brought his parents to America, a little girl died, his abusive father died horribly (as he should) in front of him, he beat a man to death (allegedly), etc. 

He spent a lot of years away from all the trauma and the death and the bull shit then suddenly it started piling on top of him again and his escapism was fantasy, clinging onto a junkie clown, partaking in childish hobbies.....because why not? 

Each member of the band suffered some messed up shit when they were kids and it shows in different ways, this is Toki’s way of dealing with it....or not. I’m not entirely sure what his psychological state would be post Doomstar; the way he bounces back from immense trauma makes me think that he would be okay given some time and that’s a safe assumption to make, especially now that his bandmates/family will be there for him the way he needs them to be.

I want to tag @theidiotwiththepaintedface who hopefully will enjoy this painfully long deep dive into a character’s psychology lol.

[sincerelybubbles]

she’s the one || katsuki bakugou

summary: the three times katsuki bakugou almost kissed you, and the one time he did 

warnings: pining, mutual pining, resolved pining, cursing, drinking 

2.1k words

a/n: happy sunday, i had to take the opportunity to be cliché as fuck, sorry but not really

--

Katsuki Bakugou was not the type to like puzzles – he had exactly no patience for that. Life has enough problems, why the fuck would you add more?

And yet, here he was, trying to work her out, turning her words and actions around in his head over and over like somehow the puzzle of her would click if he just thought hard enough. And, the worst part, he was doing it because he wanted to; he wanted to figure her out, why she made his heart beat so fast when she smiled why he hung onto every word that left her lips – why was he so damn fascinated by those lips? He found himself memorizing the way they looked pronouncing every syllable – especially his name.

His name, something he never really considered, unless Deku was calling him by that dumbass nickname, and yet, here he was craving to hear it rolling off of her tongue.

“Ka. . . Katsuki-kun.” Correction – craving to hear it come out of those perfect lips, sober.

She flopped down next to him, giggling as she wobbled and caught herself on his arm and jostling the beer in his hand.

“Yes?” Katsuki turned his head, not even bothering to make his tone sound annoyed like he normally would, she wouldn’t remember tonight anyway.

“You haven’t sung yet.” She was talking too slow and too loud at the same time.

Katsuki let his eyes drag around the Karaoke bar that his friends dragged him to, spotting Mina and Denki singing a duet on the stage. He winced at their clashing voices.

“Not really my thing.” Katsuki told her, looking down at where her hand was still clutching his arm, debating if he should cut off her drinks before it was too late, and she blacked out completely.

“Just one song?” She pouted and Katsuki found his eyes locked on her protruding lower lip, tempted to lean the small distance forward and capture it in his own. He wondered how she would react.

She would probably kiss him back – he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice her lingering glances and flirting comments. But then she’d hold Kirishima’s arm while walking and talk to him in whispered giggles, and Katsuki wasn’t so sure. Maybe he imagined her frequent smiles.

And, even if he was right, which he was about eight-four percent sure he was, he knew she deserved better. He had no idea how to spoil someone how she deserved to be spoiled. Hell, the only experience with girls he’d ever had were the few flings he had in college.

Even still, he found himself fighting the urge to close the distance, to take her still pouting lip in between his own, to kiss her until she was gasping and clutching at his shirt.

He refrained – she wouldn’t even remember tonight, and if she did, she’d count it as a drunken mistake.

“’Suki-chan?” She asked, and his heart pounded at the shortening of his name. It sounded to pure, innocent, casual rolling off her tongue.

“Fine, but you’re going up with me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

She squealed and jumped up, grabbing his hand, and attempting to pull him up.

“One song.” He reminded her, standing only when she was nodding enthusiastically.

“One song!” She promised, holding out her pinky to him. She giggled when he hesitantly looped his pinky through hers, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

He followed her, of course he did. And when she asked to sing another duet after their first? Of course, he complied, relishing in the feeling of her eyes on him, her giggles only heard by him.

--

How dare she wear that. How dare she show up to this dumb ass event wearing that.

The skirt to her dress was surely missing a few inches, and the shoulder she was showing had him transfixed for much longer then it should have.

It was a simple barbeque; how dare she dress so cute. How dare she make him consider something cute.

Katsuki would consider himself a simple man. He typically only really looked at girls as people – obstacles in his way to the top – maybe once or twice on a lonely night as someone to fill his bed. Never as someone cute. He never listened so intently when someone talked, never was so willing to make someone smile. He never considered someone before himself, and yet here he was filling her a drink before he’s even made his own because her favorite drink happened to be nearly gone.

“Here.” He knew he startled her slightly as she jumped before taking the cup from his hand with a smile. He found it wasn’t hard to return it, before he leaned on the table beside her, sipping his own drink. He made a face at the sickly-sweet taste enveloping his tongue.

“Not your favorite?” She asked, and Katsuki realized his error.

“Shit, this was supposed to be for you, that ones mine.” He pushed himself off from the table, prepared to walk across the yard and find her another cup when hands much smaller than his own gently pried the cup from his hands.

“I figured.” She was giggling beside him, offering the cup in her hand to him. He took it, watching the drink she stole from him in her hands. Tracking its path as it made its way to her lips, watched as she took a slow sip and smiled at the sweet taste he grimaced at only moments before. He watched as her tongue peeked from behind her lips to catch any leftover taste. “Thank you, Katsuki-kun.”

It was all he could do to nod, swallowing and taking a sip from his own drink, fighting another grimace as he found it too bitter now.

He wondered if he pressed his lips to hers, would he mind the sweetness?

He let himself imagine, only for a moment, pressing his lips to hers, catching her cheek in his hand, titling her back and deepening it. He could almost hear her gasp.

“Let’s go dance!” She exclaimed, jumping up and throwing back the rest of her drink. Realizing he wasn’t copying her, she jutted one hip out and held her opposite hand out for him. “C’mon Katsuki-kun.” She fluttered her lashes. “You wouldn’t leave a lady to dance alone, right?”

“Ah, right.” He found himself saying, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head reminding him he hated dancing.

Dancing with her was almost unfair, he was allowed to put his hand on her hip, to draw her close, to feel her chest brush against his for a second, but she always wound up twirling away from him.

“You’re an awful dancer.” He observed, catching her as she almost fell again.

“And you’re shockingly good at dancing.” She rolled her eyes before placing her hands on his shoulders, applying pressure. “Although, you’re much too stiff! Relax, Katsuki-kun, dancing is about having fun.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away with a scoff to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Yeah, okay.” Why couldn’t he think of something better to say? Now she was quiet, although still smiling. He found himself looking into her eyes. She licked her lips, and he found himself mimicking the action.

They slowly twirled for a few moments, captivated. Katsuki could barely focus on the music enough to ensure that he was swaying to the right beat.

“See? You’re much relaxed.” Her breath fanned across his face, and Katsuki scoffed gently.

“Yeah, okay.” He forced his tone to be annoyed but knew that she saw through it. She always saw right through him. He expected her to call him out on his bullshit, like she always did, but instead she only smiled and pulled herself closer to him – oh God was she trying to kill him?

She tilted her chin up, and he was bending his neck down. Shit, she wanted this as much as he did, right? Her eyes were closing, and so were his. Her bottom lip brushed his upper lip and he fought a shudder forcing its way up his chest.

“Hey- oh!” Fucking shitty hair, Katsuki could kill him right now.

Katsuki listened as they talked and laughed. He fought to keep himself breathing through the rage forcing its way through his veins. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

She had stepped away, although her hand was still pressing into his forearm, holding him in place much closer to him then they usually stood.

“We were just playing ping pong.” Katsuki found it in him to look up at Kirishima, to act as if he had been listening. To act like the best chance he had to fulfil his fantasies hadn’t just been ripped away. “Do you want to go play a round?” And shit, she was just going to leave, and he was going to have to just stand here –

“Maybe in a bit, Katsuki and I were about to go get some food.” Then she was smiling and tugging him along. The lights around him were blurring. No worries, they were dull compared to her.

She brought him to a secluded area before turning around suddenly. His breath was caught in his throat at the repressed frustration written clear as day across her face. He waned to reach forward and capture her cheek with his hand, to hug her and make the look go away.

He pressed the thought down, annoyed at his own thoughts. Who the fuck was he to have such sappy thoughts? Plus, she was obviously upset with him. Chasing this stupid dream wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he needed to stop.

“You always look at me like you want to kiss me, why don’t you ever just do it?” Katsuki hesitated for a moment, taken aback by her words. He shoved his fists into his pockets and shrugged.

It was no use denying the fact, he didn’t think he was able to lie to her after nearly kissing her moments before.

“I didn’t want to assume.” It was one of the most honest things he had ever said, and it was completely true.

“Assume away.” She whispered, taking a step closer to him. He felt his eyes widen and instinctually, he took a step back.

“What? The fuck are you talking about?” He asked, angry that he was probably taking this all the wrong away.

“’Suki-kun.” Her voice was soft as her eyes searched his. She took a step closer and placed her hand on his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “It’s just me, you don’t have to act that way.”

He watched her with wary eyes as she intertwined her arms around his neck slowly. He found his hands making their way to her hip, the small of her back. He really didn’t want her to move, but he really didn’t want to be wrong.

Fuck, he really really wanted to kiss the breath out of her. He wanted to claim her in every way possible. He had a list longer than his arm of things he wanted to take her to see.

But none of it was worth loosing her entirely over a stupid fucking crush. He had to be sure.

“Kiss me.” She said, clear as a bell. She was close enough that he felt the words before he heard them.

Before he could even think, he moved the hand from her hip to her cheek and pulled her closer, tipping her head back and crashing his lips against hers.

He always swore to himself that if he ever got the chance to kiss her, he would be gentle. He would take his time. But he didn’t have the restraint, and found himself growing into the kiss, kissing her with a bruising force.

He swallowed her moans as he moved his tongue against hers, feeling as though he would never tire of the taste of her. She pulled away all too soon and pressed her forehead against his, breathing heavily. A few short breaths later she leaned forward to press a series of short kisses onto his mouth.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

While he had thought it before, this was the moment for certain that Katsuki Bakugou knew that he was hers. He would take anything she would give and knew he would be content with that. Sharing the same breath with her in this moment confirmed that.

He always thought being in love would make him feel weak, but in this moment, with her mouth reaching toward his again, he felt stronger than ever.

[sanstropfremir]

I’d love your thoughts on BTS and their current image and music if you have them and aren’t afraid of the mindless internet hoards.

Personally, I liked a lot of their older stuff, but haven’t liked anything since I think the Fake Love promotions 3+ years ago. They’d started losing their personality and soul before that album cycle, but it feels like the sanitization of their image and artistry really kicked into hyperdrive after that. Now most of what they do seems like a sterile money grab driven by the Hybe hive mind which is a shame.

ok alrighty (cracks knuckles) let's get into it.

now that i've fully given myself a headache watching the majority of the bts videography, here are three points i'm going to cover:

performative character and the lack thereof

interesting aesthetics and the lack thereof, and

the inevitable cracking of perfection

ready, set, let's begin.

1.

idol music is very clearly definited by spectacle based aesthetics. and it's had that structure for its entire existence. so i gotta hand it to hybe for this one, because they managed to revolutionize being utterly fucking average. the triumph of bts is that they're just some guys and they look like just some guys. hybe found a niche in the system and then gamed that system to the tune of one of the largest musical acts in the world. they're not marketing bts as a romantic parasocial relationship, they're marketing them as your friends. and that is just as insidious to lonely kids as a run of the mill romantic fantasy. but that's not what i'm here to talk about today.

there's a pattern i find very interesting with bts mvs and that is that i don't remember anything about them. specifically, i don't remember the stuff that's happening IN the video; not the styling, not the setpieces, if i didn't know the members i doubt i would remember them either. what i DO remember, is how expensive the production is, and specific shots. i couldn't tell you what a single member was wearing, but i sure as hell remember that first upward angle shot of jungkook and the rusted park ride in spring day. or every single time they do that birdseye shot of jin in like every video. honestly as far as i'm aware jin has only ever worn a loose fitting beige longsleeve shirt.

it took bts a long time to establish any kind of consistent visual character. and the character they did establish.... i don't know if you can call a family-friendly-style clean aesthetic 'character'. they debuted as a hip hop group to little (comparative) success, and then made a switch to doing an early version of where they're currently at right now. if you've seen any of the mvs, you know that this is a pretty significant visual change. i don't think it is inherently a bad change, since the visual branding for hiphop based groups always tips over into iffy terrritory, but it is dramatic enough and early enough that it doesn't strike me as a natural evolution. concept switch ups are common, but they usually work because the members have established a bit of character for themselves, used their performance abilities and presence to fit into a niche in the group. the idol mould is perfect for showcasing the performers; that's its function. the groups that are the most fun to watch are the ones with stage presence, the ones who know how to perform, who can act all the parts they need to play. and bts? 4/7 actual performers on a good day. in my personal opinion it's 2/7.

i'm gonna expand on what i said about jimin here (this is technically the first part of this series), because it does apply to the rest of the group on the whole:

and i think here is where we see the main crux of the difference between taemin and jimin as performers: taemin has both an artistic and an idol persona. we know and understand him to do solo work that has a separate artistic meaning to just him being an idol. even though this performance was pre-move, i would still say this applies, because he's hot off press your number, where he's acting in a story based mv. jimin on the other hand just has his idol persona. he's not known for creating the same kind of storytelling that taemin is.

bts has been very insistent on the image of the group as a single unit. despite having the size of fanbase and the revenue that would make any official solo debut a massive success, none of them have done any substantial solo work. this isn't artistically a problem, and i think it's very admirable of them to be so dedicated to the image and the legacy of the group, when that can be an uncommon trait in the industry. i do however, think it starts to become an issue when we want to discuss what the artistic visions and images of groups are. shinee taemin and solo taemin have two distinct artistic representations, and taemin himself will attest to that. it's the same with all the shinee members that have solo careers, and the same with other groups. jackson, bambam, yugyeom, and jaebeom's solo work is all very different from got7. yixing's solo work is very different from exo's. even the subunits within exo all have their own character (cbx and sc). kpop groups all ostensibly are trained under the same system, so why the disparity with bts? mostly, it's their brand of "authenticity." it's impossible to perform authentically, by the nature of performance as a medium it is unnatural, and tragically, not everyone is naturally interesting, or suited to performing: that's why the performing arts even exist in the first place. it required painstaking training to be good at performing; it is a complex set of skills and those skills are not learnt by "being authentic." being an idol is not just the singing, dancing, rapping; that's only half the work. you need to be able to act to be a compelling performer. pulling your true self and emotions out on stage every night is a fast track to burnout and psychological issues, there's plenty of evidence. the only member of bts of whom i can say for some certainty has a persona and a stage presence is jhope/hoseok, a) because he's kept up a very specific brand in the solo work that he has done, and b) he has actual dance training, not just kpop dance training. the rest of them may have the kpop dance and the kpop vocal training, but what they do not have is the ability to market themselves as compelling performers on stage. taehyung is the only other member i would hesitantly give a semblance of persona and ability to, but i think he stumbled onto that mostly by accident. and if all the pieces don't each have a distinctive colour, how can the whole machine be visually interesting?

2.

bts may never have been able to establish an aesthetic brand, but what they did establish is an intellectual one. if you talk to a fan, the schtick they give is that "it's about the lyrics." as noble as having an intellectual or cerebral message is, what does that look like? how do you portray intellectual on stage, on film? what about intellectual is interesting to watch? cerebral, by it's literal nature as a descriptor, is very difficult to communicate in visual language because it is internal. to successfully communicate cerebrality and intellect in a short form medium like music videos requires a deft hand with metaphor that can elude even an experienced designer. and honestly? i don't know whether to applaud hybe's visual team for being the most successful subtle contemporary designers i've every seen, or to decry them as worst kpop designers i've ever seen. maybe both. regardless, i don't think they're able to cross the gap.

there are exactly four mvs where i actually remember the content of the mv and not the frame it sits in, and those are dna, idol, the singularity comeback trailer with taehyung, and war of hormone. and of an eight year career......that's not very many. these four mvs have at least an inkling of interesting spectacle and character, but even then, it's still a stretch. there is absolutely nothing to write home about in the styling for dna, other than it's well colour matched. I don't even know if I should include singularity because it involves none of the other members. idol is probably their most interesting mv because it actually has alternative styling and varies (at least a little bit) from the standard hybe boom crane shot-that-shows-off-how-we-can-afford-big-studio-spaces-and-locations. the company and the group would be loathe to admit it, but war of hormone is a well designed and interesting mv for the time it was made, with a well crafted gimmick and some actual showing of character from the members. it was the start of a potential that they squashed quite quickly because it wasn't picking up in the hiphop-group-saturated market of 2014. but the rest of their mvs? remarkably uninspired styling. like it's truly impressive how boring the styling is. and like i've said, that is the triumph in their aesthetics: they all look like normal dudes (if you had professional skin + makeup techs looking after them for the last 8 years).

all of this is a carefully crafted image that's tailored to hooking an audience, especially an international one. the mvs are boring in the relative scale of kpop, but they're just different enough from a western pop mv to catch attention. and once you do sink a hook, there's a direct clickfunnel of content that bills itself on these men being "authentic" and "self-producing," which is a huge draw to international fans, because people are racist and believe that the kpop industry is a factory that produces idols like clones, where none of them know how to do anything other than sing and dance and all the music is just handed to them by companies. and they have SO much content that there's no way a new fan can get to it all in a timely manner, so they'll never have to engage with any other kpop artists' work if they don't actively seek it out. but that's another essay for another time.

3.

that brings us to current day, in which at least the last five bts releases have been in the same aesthetic vein of positive, sanitized, and pristine. i said it in one of my txt responses and i will say it again here: money scrubs the humanity from the aesthetic of living. minimalism is for rich white people. hybe and bts may have pivoted their style and brand directly into the lane of mass appeal, but when you pair that with the amount of money funding them, there's a cognitive dissonance between the message and the aesthetics in which it's portrayed. some people do like the clean cut looks, and i won't say that they don't work, but as you've likely gleaned from this response, it isn't my style and if you've been around and reading my writing for longer you'll know that my tastes runs much closer to the messy and the weird, so very little about any of bts' visuals have appeal to me. i do find the contradiction of applying the appeal of radical relatability with the aesthetics of expansive (and expensive) minimalism interesting; it's an extremely fine line that hybe is walking and eventually they are going to tip over, the porcelain mask will not hold forever. maintaining the all ages aesthetic is going to be difficult now that all of them are grown ass men. with other groups of this member age and generation there's very obviously been a shift to a more adult tone, and not necessarily explicitly. got7, mx, nu'est, btob, shinee, 2pm, and groups that have older members like a.c.e and sf9 have all made slow shifts in tone that are undeniably aimed at a maturing audience: they know their core fanbases are aging with them and they (the fans) are not as interested in the 'boy' in boy group. and most of them have telltale visual styles, enough so that i can distinguish a specific group's mv. the last year and change of mx mvs have a very distinctive character; got7 too, since easily as far back as if you do. i can always tell an a.c.e mv by its impeccable fashion and formic styling, and although shinee has always had a more experimental aesthetic edge, their sound and voices are unmistakable.

honestly, i can't predict what bts is going to do in the future, but i personally don't believe they can keep up their clean aesthetic indefinitely without some fallout. part of the fun of following bands is watching them grow musically, and the last couple of years of bts haven't felt like growth. there are fans that have already started realizing it, and there's likely to be more soon.

---

the third part is here, which is a short followup about some of bts' industry influence.

[azozzoni]

VDS Week: Friends to Lovers Accompanies This gifset

-

Jens doesn’t know why Lucas has a Grindr. It’s not as if he ever goes out with any of the people who DM him, and Jens knows for sure because Lucas told him as much last time it came up. Still, Lucas still scrolls through the pictures of guys he’s never going to meet.

Lucas says it’s because the idea of hooking up with a stranger he meets on the internet is just too weird, too unsafe in this day and age, but Jens knows that’s not really the reason.

The real reason is Lucas’ unrequited crush on his best friend.

Not that Lucas has told Jens about this, even though they are friends as well, have been for almost two years. It didn’t take Jens long to figure it out after moving to Utrecht, the clear bond Lucas and Kes share, the way Lucas gazes at him sometimes when he thinks no one is watching.

If it was anyone else, Jens wouldn’t care. He doesn’t care that Jayden has a thing for Janna even though she doesn’t give him the time of day, or that Kes is still secretly pining after Isa. He doesn’t care about any of those relationship dramas. It’s Lucas’ desperation for Kes that gets on his nerves in a way he can’t brush away.

Kes, for his part, has no idea about Lucas’ feelings, even though Jens thinks it’s pretty fucking obvious.

Jens isn’t going to tell him, though. He just hopes Lucas might get over it some day, actually go on a date with a guy who’s not Kes, see that there are more fish in the sea.

Jens is not one of those fish, he thinks as he watches Lucas curled up on the arm chair with Ralph, scrolling through Grindr together. They’re at Jayden’s apartment, although Jens doesn’t know where Jayden disappeared to. He’d left once the phone came out, complaining that they never paid attention to him.

Curled up on the couch, Jens keeps his mouth shut as Ralph comments occasionally on the guys passing by on the screen and Lucas peers over his shoulder.

Jens has been in this exact situation before, with Lucas squished in next to him in his living room, showing Jens the guys on Grindr. It was fine at first, when Lucas had first learned that Jens was bi, had someone to share things with. It had been two friends commenting on the ridiculous photos, the bios that were clearly just bids for sex.

But lately, it’s gotten distracting, how Lucas curls up next to Jens, their shoulders pressed together, Lucas’ curls tickling his neck when he moves to look at the screen, the soft huffs of laughter at Jens’ comments. Jens barely remembers what he even says anymore, too focused on the weight of Lucas against him, his arm brushing against Jens’ when he reaches over to swipe through the profiles.

He’s kind of glad it’s not him today as Lucas leans in over Ralph’s shoulder to look at the phone.

“He’s cute, right?” Ralph asks, and Jens can’t see who they’re talking about, but he does see the way Lucas gestures, vaguely.

“If you’re into that.”

Looking away, Jens barely refrains from rolling his eyes. No one on that app is going to compare to Kes. No one is going to come close to whatever fantasy Lucas has concocted in his head about him and Kes. Maybe he thinks one day Kes will wake up and realize he’s not straight, that he’s into his best friend, and they’ll ride off into the sunset.

It annoys Jens, a prickle at the back of his neck as he slumps onto the couch. There’s crushes and then there’s whatever Lucas has with Kes.

Jens doesn’t totally blame Lucas—after all, he has eyes. He’s seen Kes, and who wouldn’t be attracted to his charming smile, his goofy nature? But is Kes really more special than anyone else? Jens doesn’t think so.

Ralph glances up from the phone, to Lucas. “Then what are you into?”

Lucas hesitates a second, looking surprised at the question as he laughs, slight.

“What? I don’t know,” he says, like it’s a weird question to ask. But it’s not, and Jens knows the exact answer.

It’s Lucas’ response, as though he doesn’t know exactly who he’s into, that makes Jens open his mouth and say what he does next.

“He’s into straight guys who don’t like him back.”

He feels both Lucas and Ralph’s gaze swivel to him as soon as he says it, can see the frown wrinkling Lucas’ forehead as Ralph glances between them.

“I’m gonna give you two a minute,” he says, as though the air in the room has not just gone from normal to awkward in the span of five seconds. He pushes himself out of the chair, handing Lucas back his phone, and Lucas watches him go for a second before glancing back at Jens.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks, and Jens wants to sigh, but fuck, he shouldn’t have said that.

“The truth,” he says instead, even if it makes Lucas’ frown deepen, as though he has no idea what Jens is talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Lucas asks, shaking his head, tucking his phone away, and Jens has to roll his eyes. Lucas isn’t that dense.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

Lucas just stares. “What is wrong with you? Why are you being such a dick?”

He is being a dick, Jens realizes as he sits on the couch, leaned forward on his knees. He’s annoyed because Lucas likes someone who doesn’t like him back—who even cares? Does it even matter? It does, his gut tells him with a jerk on his navel. It does matter because it’s not Jens that Lucas likes.

When Jens had moved to Utrecht two years ago, he’d been sure he would hate it. Everyone had a weird accent and there were no canals and all his friends were hours away. But he’d met Lucas halfway through his second day, and Lucas had invited him to lunch with his friends. And from there, things hadn’t been as terrible as he’d predicted.

There have been parties, trips to cabins by a lake, plenty of hours getting high with Lucas in his bedroom, laughing at stupid shit, making life bearable.

It’s Lucas that has made it all bearable, and Jens doesn’t know when it went from Lucas being a guy he hangs out with to a guy he wants to…

Shaking the thought from his head, he brings his gaze back to Lucas in the chair, waiting for an answer to his question.

Fuck.

“I have to get home,” he says finally, abrupt, standing from the couch and heading for the door before Lucas can even open his mouth.

“Jens, wait,” Lucas calls after him, scrambling after him to the door. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” He gets himself between Jens and the door, practically bumping into his chest.

Of course Lucas is concerned, Jens thinks as he gazes into his amazingly blue eyes, the confusion from before replaced with worry.

Jens can’t process this right now, this realization that he likes Lucas, his friend, one of his only friends here. And Lucas likes Kes. Oh, yeah.

“I’m fine,” he lies, the words sour in his mouth, wishing Lucas wasn’t blocking the doorknob so he could just escape into the dreary street and be alone with the million thoughts swirling in his brain. 

He’s so far from fine, he doesn’t even know what fine is. How did he not see it? The new uncomfortable feeling any time Lucas gets too close, the jealousy bubbling up inside him whenever he catches Lucas watching Kes.

“Jens,” Lucas says, reaching for Jens’ shoulder, but Jens ducks out of the way, getting his hand behind Lucas to pull the door open instead.

“I gotta go,” he says. He can’t have this conversation here, with Ralph in the next room, probably with his ear pressed up against the wall, with Jayden hovering around somewhere, ready to interrupt at the worst possible moment.

Darting around Lucas, he makes it into the hall, taking a breath as he hits the stairwell. He needs fresh air, clear air, somewhere he can process this and decide what he’s supposed to do now.

Jens has been in this situation before, with Jana, and it had ended terribly. Of course, they’d been a lot younger and made some stupid mistakes along the way, but he just remembers the bad parts.

Lucas is one of his few friends here, and he knows what happens when friends start dating.

Dating, he scoffs as he jogs down the stairs. He’s just realized he likes Lucas and he’s already thinking about all the ways they could fuck it up.

“Hey!” A voice on the stairs echoes down, and Jens turns at the clatter of footsteps behind him. “Stop.”

Cursing to himself, Jens wishes he didn’t have to, but he does stop on a landing as Lucas comes down, jumping the last few stairs.

“I really don’t want to talk right now, Luc,” he says, all but sighs as Lucas comes to a stop on the landing.

The truth of the matter is that even if he accepts that he likes Lucas, decides it’s not just his teenage hormones suddenly confused between affection of a friend and something more, there’s still the fact that Lucas has a huge, ridiculous crush on Kes that he won’t suddenly get over if Jens tells him about this new revelation.

“What did you mean that I only like straight guys who don’t like me back?” Lucas asks, and it’s not what Jens expects, and it’s not what he wants to talk about.

But Lucas isn’t going to let go of this, so he sighs, annoyed. “Kes,” he says, blunt. “That’s what I meant. Your stupid, obviously unrequited, feelings for Kes.”

For a second, Lucas just stares, as if he can’t even rebuke it. Jens knows he can’t. 

“How-how did you…” Lucas says, shaking his head as though he doesn’t understand. Jens would feel bad for him if he wasn’t busy trying not to be angry about something he shouldn’t care about.

“It’s obvious to anyone paying attention,” Jens snaps, losing the battle to be nice.

Lucas pauses, a hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing nervously, and it takes him a minute to raise his gaze to Jens.

“Does he know?”

It’s so pathetic that Jens sighs, some of the annoyance draining from him as they stand in the empty stairwell. “No, he doesn’t know.”

There’s still tension to Lucas’ shoulders as he takes a breath, chews on his bottom lip.

“Why are you so pissed at me?” he asks finally, and it catches Jens off-guard. “Is it about Kes?”

It is and it isn’t. It’s more that Jens has just realized he likes his friend and he doesn’t know what to do about that.

“I just think you could do better,” Jens hears himself say. “You know, maybe like a guy who’s actually into guys.”

Lucas frowns this time, a tiny scoff as he looks away. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how much easier it would be if I could find someone who was into me the same way?”

“You can,” Jens says, firmly. Because he is. Jens is into him apparently, has been for longer than he even knows at this point.

Lucas shakes his head. “All those guys on Grindr? I’m never gonna meet any of them. I don’t want to meet any of them. They’re all into hook-ups and shirtless selfies, and I’m just not that guy.”

“I know you’re not,” Jens says, feeling bad for snapping at Lucas earlier. It’s not Lucas’ fault that Jens can’t recognize his own feelings before they creep up on him.

For a second, they stand on the landing, and Jens wishes he knew what to say. As Lucas sighs, Jens bites down on his lip. Why has it taken him this long to realize? Why couldn’t he have figured it out two years ago? Before they’d become friends, spent late nights watching shitty porn, listening to Lucas talk about his mom, Lucas letting him complain about his sisters, his mom making them move over here.

That would make all of this so much easier. Because now, they’re friends, and Jens can’t just come out and say he’s changed his mind.

Lucas looks so defeated, though, tugging down the sleeves of his jacket and Jens doesn’t know what moves him to step forward and take Lucas’ face in his hands, pressing an unexpected kiss to his lips.

It lasts all of a second as Jens realizes what he’s doing, pulls back abruptly. He’d meant it to be a friendly thing, maybe, not an actual kiss that leaves his lips tingling, his heart racing as the weight of his action sinks in.

“What was that?” Lucas asks, and Jens shakes his head quickly.

“I don’t know—I—I’m sorry.”

That was stupid, he thinks. Possibly the stupidest thing he could have done right now.

He starts to turn, to head down the last set of stairs and escape outside where he can spend the whole walk home reprimanding himself for such a stupid action, but Lucas catches his arm.

Glancing back, Jens takes a breath as Lucas stares at him. If they could just pretend this never happened, that he never brought up Lucas’ thing with Kes or said anything about Lucas finding someone, that would be perfect.

But Lucas doesn’t suggest either of those things as he steps into Jens’ space, a question on his face that Jens doesn’t think he can answer, a nervous twitch to his fingers as he reaches for Jens’ cheek.

“What are you doing?” Jens asks when Lucas is too close and all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears as his heart pounds in his chest.

“I don’t know,” Lucas murmurs after a second, and then it’s too late to stop him.

Lucas’ lips are soft, warm, gentle as he leans into Jens. Jens can practically feel the nerves pouring off both of them, even as he tilts his head to the side, lets Lucas in, kisses him back. It’s nothing special as far as kisses go, but Jens’ heart feels like it’s about to explode anyway when Lucas pulls back, much slower than Jens did before.

Jens lets out a breath, shaky, and swallows down the lump in his throat as he and Lucas stand there. What do they do now?

“Now what?” Lucas asks, as if he can read Jens’ mind, and Jens laughs despite himself.

“I don’t know,” he admits, and Lucas nods.

“Me neither.”

Maybe he doesn't know what comes next, but they’ve made it this far. And sometimes it works, doesn’t it? Friends become more and it works out? Maybe that could be them.

Standing on the landing, Jens doesn’t say anything and neither does Lucas, but he does smile slightly when he catches Jens’ eyes, and maybe, maybe they’ll be okay.

[honestlyvan]

Tagged by @inktheblot​

Relationship status: oh ew no thanks

Favourite colour: Orange

Favourite food: That’s a tough one but fried noodles with shrimp.

Song stuck in your head: Revelation JP - NEO Mix

Last thing you googled: Zenobia Xenoblade

Time: 930am

Dream trip: Oh, definitely going back to Florence. I only saw like a quarter of the things I wanted to see.

Last book you read: I’m actually halfway through the first book of Heaven Official’s Blessing, so I’ve technically read Book 1 of the series (the first paperback collects parts 1 and 2) and I enjoyed it! It’s nice light reading.

Last book you enjoyed reading: Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao. I honestly raved about this book when it was coming out and I’m still simmering because man. I had a time with it, and I’m so mad it’s probably gonna be at least a few years before we get the sequel and the resolution for. Fucking. That. XJZ owes me reparations. I was not prepared.

Last book you hated reading: Harpist In the Wind by Patricia McKillip. I did eventually crawl my way through it but it was so dreary compared to the previous two books and I just couldn’t connect to it. The Riddle-Master saga is otherwise great, it’s definitely a very different feeling from all modern Tolkien-derived fantasy, I heartily recommend it.

Favourite thing to cook/bake: IDK what they’re called in English but I guess they’re like oatmeal cookies? I also like making brownies, anything that I can just slap together and throw in the oven is good. I love the satisfaction of Having Baked without having to really bake, lmao.

Favourite craft to do in your spare time: I draw -- I recently got a fountain pen from a friend (and then bought another one) and it’s been forcing me to flex my drawing abilities and actually, like... learn to draw lmao, I still need to draw some bunnies for the friend I got my Safari from.

Most niche dislike: ‘tis me, the meme disliker. I don’t find most things where the joke is “oh I recognise that” funny and I resent that I have to keep a catalogue of, like, a whole extra language in my head to sometimes be able to follow conversations.

Opinion on circus(es) now and in history: I don’t think Finnish circuses have ever had animals during my lifetime so I don’t object to them on ethical grounds, and I actually enjoy circus shows like juggling and acrobatics a lot. Circuses themselves are just too crowded and loud for me. I do not like outdoors activities where I need to wear earplugs to feel comfortable.

Do you have a sense of direction and if not what is the worst way you ever got lost: I don’t have a good sense of direction but I also tend to not get lost much because eventually I get sick of going the one direction I was going and will just make a sharp turn to head not-quite-back. I make big loops around places. I can’t remember exactly the worst way I’ve ever gotten lost, but I distinctly remember walking around the entire city center of Helsinki because I didn’t want to cross a specific tramline.

I’m very bad at tagging for these sort of things, but @sauntervaguelydown​ and @cannibalisticcutie​ ᕙ(ᐛ 」∠)_ fellas

[combat-wombatus]

Hot Cocoa

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

Warnings: brief cursing (mostly just bakugou being bakugou), some suggestive humor (m*neta is involved too)

Genre: fluff (a lil bit of crack bc why not)

WC: a bit over 8k? went slightly overboard with this idea and not entirely happy with the ending but i already rewrote it like 5 times so it is what it is-

(A/N): heya! so this is my first fic and i was kinda nervous about posting it...

it started out as an idea on @todorkihoe’s discord server but then it evolved into this monstrous nightmare so...it took me like a whole week to hash everything out and the logistics of the secret santa thing was an absolute nightmare. but it was worth it!!

It was the holiday season. Most people were taking time off of work to hang out with their friends and family. You had wanted nothing more than to relax in your hot tub with a glass of sparkling cranberry juice and scrumptious holiday cookies, but being a pro-hero meant sacrifices.

You were signed on as a sidekick in the UA Hero Agency’s Tokyo branch. The UA Hero Agency was exactly that: a hero agency formed by the most illustrious graduating class at UA. Not everyone from their class eventually went into the agency, but they were a large agency, with around 36 pro-heroes working full-time. This meant that they had several branches. You, a recent graduate from UA, knew these heroes who were a year above you at UA. They were special. When you started at UA, there were already whispers about “the Class of Legends”. Every single person who graduated the year after had been through enormous trauma during their years at UA. You thought that they were true heroes: strong, unbending even in the face of overwhelming adversity. They were only in their first year when they had been attacked by villains: twice. One of them had even been kidnapped. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how hard they must have worked to get to where they were today. They were resilient, and it showed. The UA Hero Agency is now one of the top Hero Agencies in not only Japan, but also the world. In fact, with their combined power, you wouldn’t be surprised if they happened to make an international branch. You knew that some of the heroes at your agency, Can’t Stop Sparkling and Pony, wanted to start something overseas but didn’t yet have the manpower to make it happen. You were sure that within a few years, their ranks bolstered by new graduates, they would take UA to the international stage.

So it was Christmas Eve. Even though you wanted the chance to chill out at home with some relaxing instrumental jazz and freshly baked sweets, you were out patrolling Tokyo’s vibrant shopping sector instead, on the lookout for villains who wished to ruin everyone else’s holiday fun. The mall was abuzz with shoppers, some hanging out in the verandas with cup of hot cocoa in their hands, others hurrying through, their arms loaded with shopping bags, searching for last-minute gifts they had previously forgotten to purchase. It was definitely not the worst patrol ever. The cozy atmosphere almost had you sighing in contentment, before you heard a voice shout, “thief!”

Of course a villain had to ruin the fun. They had a tendency to do that. You weren’t very comfortable using your quirk in such a loud, crowded area, but you bet that you could catch a small-time shoplifter without it anyways. You raced through the crowd, tracing the voice that had called out moments earlier. You saw a tuft of orange hair weaving unnaturally through the crowd of shoppers, and sprinted forwards, your eyes locked on the target. You followed the path they had created unknowingly for you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It would only slow you down and light a fire under the criminal, which was exactly what you didn’t need.

Within moments, you caught up to them. Sneaking up behind them, you snatched their wrist and smacked your quirk-suppressing cuffs on it.

“Fuck!” He swore. How did he get caught so quickly? He could have sworn that there was no one chasing him. Pesky heroes. Relying on the comparative lack of heroes patrolling during the holidays, as well as the customary holiday shopping rush, was a sound strategy. He had done the same in previous years without getting caught. If only that damned, nosy civilian hadn’t shouted…

“Please do not resist arrest. It will be easier for all parties involved. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. There are eyewitnesses to your crime. Please drop your bags and hold out your other wrist.” You said calmly. You had a beautiful voice. It was calming and had a lilt to it that was a byproduct of your quirk. The villain did as you said, knowing that there would be no escape.

You sighed. Pressing a button on the comms situated in your ear, you reported the situation back to your office. You then called the nearest detective station and waited until their patrol car got here so you could hand the man over. Glancing at your watch, you realized your patrol was almost over. You did one last sweep of the premises, then headed back to the agency.

Today, the agency was the emptiest you had ever seen it. It was a large building, with 20 above-ground floors. In fact, it was essentially a mini-city. There was a heated indoor pool, a sauna, an elite gym that would make fitness junkies drool, a massage and spa, three verandas, and a rooftop greenhouse. It had a café reminiscent of the UA cafeteria, and all types of cuisines were available. In fact, Lunch Rush’s niece was working in the café, and the food was always heavenly. Sometimes, heroes from other agencies would drop off at the UA Hero Agency just for a bite of food after a long patrol. It was the unofficial headquarters of all the hero agencies in Japan, and it certainly lived up to its reputation.

Thinking about the café, you were suddenly hungry for some pad thai. Arriving at the door, you dropped off your comms and cloak at the door to your office and headed down to the café for some food.

“(Y/N)!!! You’re back!” Your friend squealed.

“Yeah Mina, just got off of patrol. Arrested this shoplifter trying to take advantage of the holiday chaos.” Spying her coat in her hands, you realized she was on her way out.

“Cool! You’re always so efficient with your arrests. Anyhow, I’m going to head home. My parents and I are getting some dinner together. I’ll be back for the party, yeah? Don’t open any presents without me!” Mina waved, a grin on her face. You assured her that you would make sure everyone waited for her to celebrate. You wanted to see your parents too, but they were currently on an international tour. They were famous singers, pioneers of a new genre of music. It was a sort of lullaby, but it wasn’t meant to put people to sleep. It was more of an enchanting, calming kind of music present only in fantasy books before your mother brought it to life. She was wildly popular, and your father was only too happy to support her. Speaking of which, your phone rang in your pocket. You took it out and accepted the video call.

“(Y/N)! It’s so nice to see you baby! How’s it going? I know you had patrols today but I forgot about the time difference and your father had to stop me before I called you and distracted you during patrols! He’s always so paranoid you’ll hurt yourself, sweetie. Stay safe, okay?” Your mother was always cheerful.

“Yeah mom, I know. I’m doing pretty well, actually. I arrested a shoplifter today,” you replied, recounting the same story you just told Mina. “Everything’s pretty calm here. How’s your tour going? I missed you,” you asked her.

“That’s good to hear sweetie!” You mom smiled. “The tour is amazing. I’ve never had such an international turnout before! Maybe I need to start considering singing in other languages! Everyone’s always so supportive.” You smiled at her, happy that she was enjoying herself.

“You deserve it Mom. I’m glad that your music is appealing to an international audience. You always work so hard. It’s nice to see that people appreciate all that you’ve done.”

“Thanks sweetie. Here, I’ll let your dad talk to you for a bit.” There was a bit of shuffling on her end as she handed the phone over to your father.

“Hey sweetheart,” your father’s voice boomed through the phone. You held your phone away from your ear, wincing a bit. Quickly dialing the volume down, you responded.

“Hey Papa. Mom said the tour was going well.”

“Yeah, it is. How’s the holidays going for you?” You heard the slight sadness in his voice. You knew that he wanted Mom to take a break in the middle of the tour and spend Christmas with you, but Mom was adamant about it. It was a holiday tour, after all, and tickets had already been booked. Some people were going to see her concerts as a way of celebrating, and she wouldn’t let them down.

“I’m doing good. It’s pretty peaceful here. No big missions or anything,” you say, in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ok, that’s good to hear sweetheart. We miss you.”

“I miss you too, Papa. Don’t worry though, I’ll be here when you guys get back. Have fun in Paris!” You replied, suddenly feeling sad. “Bye Papa! Bye Mom! I’ll see you guys soon!” You blew a kiss to the camera and hung up. Sighing a little, you trotted towards Emiko, the revered chef.

“Can I have a pad thai please?” You asked, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“One pad thai, coming right up!” Emiko beamed. “So, I hear there’s a party tonight. Should I make anything special?”

You thought about it for a bit, then shook your head. “No, you don’t have to. It’s mostly just for the presents. We already have the booze covered. I think Momo is ordering some special hors d’œuvres already and Sato is taking care of the cookies. Are you coming?”

Emiko shook her head. “I’m spending the night with my family and my boyfriend. I think I might make you guys some tiramisu though. I have all the ingredients and I don’t want them to spoil since I’ll be gone for a few days. Desserts are my specialty anyways,” she added. Then, with a knowing smirk, she prodded your arm. “Do you have anyone on your mind? You know, Mina and Ochaco hung some mistletoe up before they left…”

You blushed. Of course they did. Your friends knew all about your one-sided crush. You also knew that he would still be working here. He was always working. You were pretty sure that he had the mind of a robot, focused only on his work and his legacy. With those hand motions he made, you weren’t surprised if he actually was one. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts. Emiko didn’t know. At least, you didn’t think she knew. You really regretted telling Mina about your little crush. With her tendency to run her mouth, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire agency knew already. With the exception of your actual crush, of course. He was simply too socially dense to see the signs and too uninterested to pry.

Taking your pad thai, you scurried away from a smug Emiko and plopped yourself down at a table. You dug into your noodles and sighed in contentment. Maybe working during the holidays wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like you had friends who weren’t as busy as you were anyways.

You finished the last of your noodles, then got up and took your tray to the recycling area. Heading up to your office, you paused by Ingenium’s office. His door was cracked open, and you peeked inside. You had to muffle your giggles at the sight.

He was wrapping presents with such a focused look on his face that you found absolutely adorable. His brows were furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He had a spool of ribbons laying on the floor next to him, as well as elegant white-and-gold wrapping paper and a roll of tape. What really amused you was the pile of paper, ribbons, and tape that was bunched together and tossed aside, obviously a result of trial and error. Iida looked frustrated. He had already put his presents in boxes so that they were almost uniform in size and easier to wrap, but he was clearly struggling. You estimated that he had forty boxes littering the floor, but he only had five wrapped. You watched as he ripped off the wrapping on the newest box he had started on, muttering about how hard it was to get straight edges with the wrapping paper. Knocking lightly on his door, you stuck your head around the doorway.

“Need some help?” You asked.

Iida looked up from unspooling more wrapping paper. His face brightened at your offer.

“Yes please, (Y/L/N)-san! I would greatly appreciate your aid. I seem to be having trouble folding the paper and trying to tape it together without it sliding from its position. If you could hold the paper in place while I tape, that would be wonderful!” He looked so excited, almost like a puppy.

You smiled at his eagerness. “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

You sat down across from him and held the wrapping paper in place while he tore off a piece of tape. The two of you worked in tandem for around an hour, until you finished wrapping all the presents. You sat back, face flushed, and surveyed your work. All forty presents, wrapped with elegant paper and tied up prettily with a gold organza ribbon, were laid out neatly on the floor. It was a satisfying sight. Rolling out your back and cracking your knuckles, you got up from the floor.

“Those were a lot of presents, Iida-san,” you yawned, stretching your arms back like a cat. “Do you want to go down and get some hot cocoa? Emiko already left, but I can make us some.”

Iida got up too. His glasses were slightly askew on his face, and he had a dazed look about him. “That would be greatly appreciated, (Y/L/N)-san. Thank you very much for helping me wrap my presents. It was irresponsible of me to leave them until the last minute.”

“Of course, Iida-san,” you replied. “We were all so busy before the holidays I’m surprised you wanted to wrap everything as fancy as you did. I know that I just stuck my presents in bags, covered them with tissue paper, and called it a day! You didn’t even buy those sticky bows, you tied them with real ribbons. That’s dedication!”

Iida blushed furiously at your compliments. It’s the perfect time to confess to her, he thought. We’re alone, and there’s no one here to see if she rejects me. He took in a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to say something to you, but before he could, you grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway for some much-desired peppermint hot cocoa.

Humming lightly to yourself as you lead Iida down the halls, you entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Releasing his hand, you clasped your hands behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they were shaking slightly. Wow, you thought. I really did that. I really just snatched his hand like that. Ugh, he probably hated it every second of the way, he’s just too polite to say anything. God, my palms are so sweaty. Why did I do this to myself?

Unbeknownst to you, Iida was having a mental freak-out of his own. Ahh! She grabbed my hand! And she didn’t seem to hate it! Does this mean she really doesn’t mind my company? Maybe I actually do have a chance with her! No, stop, he told himself. She was probably just tired of how I was staring at her and decided to do something about it. Ugh, I was staring at her, wasn’t I? God, I’m such a creep. Iida wiped his palms on his slacks, then reached up and adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the obvious blush on his face.

“Ding!”

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and the two of you stepped out into the lobby. The decorations had been up for two weeks already, but it still took your breath away every time you saw it. There were garlands of lights strung high all over the ceiling, and dainty little ornaments hung from the chandeliers. There was a huge Christmas tree next to the fireplace, the floor around it coated in snowy fuzz. You had to resist the temptation to jump in on multiple occasions. You couldn’t help yourself! It just looked so fuzzy and comfortable, like clouds of cotton candy…

The Christmas tree was decorated tastefully. There was a surprising lack of hero-themed ornaments, mostly due to Momo’s elegant decorating. You had all been in agreement when you refused to let Kaminari or Mineta even touch the tree.

Making your way to the kitchen, you relaxed a little when you breathed in the apple-scented candles. It was a surprising choice for a holiday scent. Usually, pine or cinnamon were much more popular scents. You had gotten the privilege to choose the candles though, and although you almost fainted sniffing at every single scent in the candle store, you decided on apple. It was nice and refreshing, with just a subtle touch towards the holiday season. You liked the change of pace from the usual holiday scents, and it seemed it was growing on everyone else too. You stopped at the cabinets that contained the hot cocoa bombs. Emiko had seen these as an online trend with the food community, and she had made dozens of them “as an experiment”. Everyone fell in love with them (because heroes are allowed to be childish!) and they stuck. Now, the agency had an entire cabinet in the kitchen dedicated to the delightful goodies.

“Oat or regular?” You asked Iida.

Iida had, unfortunately, spaced out again. He was thinking about how cute you looked, standing on your tiptoes to reach the cabinet.

“Hello? Earth to Iida-san,” you turned around and waved a hand in front of his face. “You okay there?”

Iida blinked and had to recompose himself again. He kept getting distracted. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Regular is fine,” he replied, his face flushing once again. He really needed to stop daydreaming.

You poured out some milk into a jug and heated it. Then, you placed a hot cocoa bomb in each mug, licking some sprinkles off your fingers as you did so. Once the milk was ready, you filled each mug to the brim, careful not to spill any. It smelled absolutely delectable. Taking a spoon from the cabinets, you stirred both cups slowly, letting the chocolate melt at an even pace.

Iida was watching all of this, and he was still having an internal debate over when to confess. Would it be better to wait until you both finished the hot cocoa? Should he even confess to you on Christmas? What if his confession ruined your holidays? He began to sweat a little, his anxiety rising with each thought. Before he could come up with an excuse to escape, you stuffed a mug into his large hands.

“All done!” You exclaimed, taking a sip of your own cocoa, careful not to burn yourself.

Iida was not so lucky. Distracted by his thoughts, he raised the mug to his lips and gulped.

“Shit!” Iida swore. You blinked at him, a little shocked since he never swore, then immediately put your mug down and raced to the refrigerator to collect some ice cubes. Iida promptly put his offensive mug of cocoa on the counter, glaring at it like it just murdered his dog. Dumping some ice cubes in a glass, you hurried back towards Iida and popped one in his mouth.

“You really should be more careful next time, Iida-san,” you chided. “I just made it! You shouldn’t take such large swigs of a piping hot drink!”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Iida replied absentmindedly.

“Distracted? By what?” Your curiosity was now piqued.

Iida’s face turned ever redder than before. He averted his eyes and mumbled out some quiet words that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what was that?” You gazed up at him. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

Iida’s hands were stuck to his thighs to prevent himself from freaking you out with aggressive hand gestures, and he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his entire life. He cleared his throat. “I said that I got distracted by you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Really?” Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. You weren’t sure if you heard that right, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid that he’d hear it.

Iida finally looked at you. “Really,” he confirmed.

You wrung your hands and stepped towards him. Raising your eyes to meet his, your voice a half-whisper, you gulped before your next words.

“I like you.”

Blinking twice, Iida unclasped his hands and pinched his forearm. He winced in pain, then blinked again. You laughed at his antics, then clapped a hand playfully on his bicep.

“I’m real, Iida-san. I’m right here!”

Slowly, a grin crept up Iida’s face. “Really?” He mumbled, obviously still not entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

You chuckled at how you had just asked the same thing moments earlier, but then you grabbed his large hand with your smaller one and squeezed.

“Really.” You smiled bashfully.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, then Iida spoke up.

“I like you too, (Y/L/N)-san.” Feeling bold now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he drew his other arm across your shoulders and drew you into a tight hug. You sighed, feeling comfortable and safe in his arms. A part of you wanted to stay like this forever and never wanted him to let go.

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Saturday afternoon at 3?” Iida’s voice rumbled in your ear.

You were bursting with excitement. A date! A real, formal, date! “I’d love to, but why so specific?” You giggled.

“Ahh, well, my patrol ends at 2:30, so I thought-”

Of course Iida volunteered for patrols the weekend after Christmas. Did this man ever take a break?

“No problem at all, Iida-san. That sounds lovely.”

Iida released you from the hug and rubbed lightly at the back of his neck. “You can… you can call me Tenya, if you’d like.”

You were smiling so big that you feared your face would split. “I’d love that, Tenya.” His eyes crinkled when you called him by his first name. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

Iida nodded his head. “(Y/N). I like that,” he said to himself. He muttered your name a few times, getting used to the way it rolled off his tongue. You blushed and hugged him again, pressing your nose into his chest. He was just too adorable.

You wanted to stay like that, but your phone dinging incessantly in your pocket made it uncomfortable.

Mina

(Y/N)!!! my parents ordered this WHOLE-ASS TURKEY for dinner with JUST THE 3 OF US!!! how we gon finish it all?!?

Mina

*burps* we did it. we finished all of it. the whole turkey. (Y/N). we. finished. a. whole. fucking. turkey. pls send help i can’t walk (Y/NNNNNNNN)!!!

(Y/N)

want me to call u an uber … mina mina MINA MINA DID U PASS OUT im calling an uber mina istg

Quickly sending an Uber to the restaurant Mina was at, you put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Tenya.

“Hey. Do you wanna get your presents and put them under the tree?” You asked.

Tenya quickly straightened up. “Thank you for reminding me, (Y/N). I had almost forgotten about them!”

“No problem!” You chirped. “Let’s go!” You took his hand in yours again and lead the way to the elevator. As the elevator chimed, the two of you waltzed in, hands still clasped together.

Humming a little tune to yourself, you stepped out of the elevator. You and Tenya entered his office, and each returned with an armful of presents, carefully stacked as to avoid damaging the delicate ribbons the two of you had spent so much time tying.

It was a tradition in the agency to get everyone something small. However, you participated in gift exchanges every year. This year, it was a Secret Santa-type exchange, but the UA Hero Agency did Secret Santa’s a bit differently. Instead of giving your partner the gift on Christmas Eve, the gifts were labeled with typed name tags in generic Times New Roman font. Then, there was the guessing portion. Everyone got 3 guesses at the party when they first open it, and after that, they get one guess per week. Whoever held out the longest (avoided being guessed) would win a batch of Sato’s homemade cookies, a week of free food from Emiko, and two patrol coupons (basically the adult version of homework passes). This year, you had drawn Bakugo as your partner. You’d decided to get him a ¥4,000 gift card to his favorite ramen restaurant, as well as a high-quality leather jacket. The gifts were pretty generic, and you thought that you had a chance at the prize. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered that last year, Momo had been so frustrated when she hadn’t figured out who had given her a pretty earring and necklace set after two months that she’d used Creation to make fingerprint dust and swiped it all over the box. It had turned out to be Todoroki. Needless to say, he’d won the prize that year.

The two of you made a few more trips, carrying gifts from his office to the tree. Checking the time, you saw that it had been an hour since Ochaco’s patrol ended. Right as you were about to call her, the front door to the lobby burst open.

“(Y/N)!!!” Your friend screeched, holding up a kitten with fur the color of cinnamon. “Look what I found on my patrol! I had to take her to the vet really quickly to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and she didn’t seem to have an owner. Just look at her!”

You beamed. The kitten was absolutely ADORABLE. And not only was Ochaco safe, she brought a kitten back with her!

“Can I hold her?” You asked.

“Duh!” Ochaco passed the kitten from her arms to yours. Behind her, you saw Bakugou walking sullenly, arms drawn tight across his chest. You stifled a giggle at the sight. He obviously wanted a turn with the kitten too, but his pride wouldn’t let him as for it.

“We were coming back from patrols and I saw this little one stuck in a tree! And when I floated up to take her down, she just looked so sad. There wasn’t a collar on her or anything, so we took her to the vet. It seems like she was abandoned,” Ochaco pouted. “And so we asked the vet to vaccinate her and everything, and we brought her back here! Can we keep her? Mr. Grumpy over there already said yes.”

Tenya looked like he was about to object, seeing as this building had a no-pets policy, but then he saw how your face lit up and the idea and changed his mind. Maybe having a pet on the premises wouldn’t be too bad, he conceded. It’s not like there were other people sharing the building with them anyways.

“Of course we can keep her!” You squealed. Bakugou huffed a sigh. He’d have to deal with all these idiots fawning over the kitten for weeks, and he wasn’t happy about that, but there was no denying that the thing was cute. He’d mellowed out since his high school days and seeing a therapist for anger management classes certainly helped.

The kitten felt warm and fuzzy in your arms, and when you stroked it down its back with the palm of your hand, it let out a satisfied purr.

“What should we name her?” Ochaco asked.

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, since you found her, and her fur is brownish, why not Coco?”

“Coco! I love it!” She beamed. Coco purred again. “It looks like she likes it too!”

You smiled and looked down on the kitty. “Coco,” You murmured. “Welcome to the family.”

Just then, Mina burst through the doors, brimming with energy and not looking at all as if she’d fainted from turkey overconsumption.

“Mina!” You ran towards her. “I thought you fainted or something!” You accused, poking her in the chest. “You didn’t even leave me on read!! You just LEFT!”

“Chill, chill, girly, I’m alive and kicking! Just had to take a quick nap because of my digestive woes,” She flashed you a big thumbs-up. “And what’s this I see? Do we have an agency pet now? Did Shinso sneak it in his pocket from the cat cafe?”

“Shinso what?”

“Cat cafe?”

“I KNEW there was something fishy about his jacket the other day!”

You, Tenya, and Ochaco said at the same time.

Mina stared at all of you, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Turning around, you looked at Ochaco. “I wanna hear about this later, you hear?”

“Alright, alright!” Mina shouted. “Change into your holiday gear! Let’s get this rolling!”

You had made a sweater especially for tonight. Knitting was a great way to relax, and huddling up in a cozy armchair with the soft yarn, some hot cocoa, and your favorite book, you had finished your holiday-themed sweater in two weeks. Now, you would finally get the chance to wear it. The sweater you made was white, a soft gold-and-silver threading woven through in the pattern of snowflakes. It was a basic winter pattern, but you were proud of your work.

Setting Coco down on the couch, you headed into the locker rooms to change into your sweater and some flannel pajama bottoms. Walking out, you noticed Tenya was still in his business attire, which looked pretty uncomfortable by your standards, although it did fit him nicely.

“Tenya,” you called out. “Are you wearing that to the party?”

He turned around at your voice, looking slightly taken aback. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why?”

“Nothing, just wondering,” you replied. Good thing that your present to him was a nice, cozy, hand-knit sweater. You may or may not have thought about making him a matching one, but then you’d decided that it was too forward.

“You look…” Tenya stared at you. “You look…cute,” he said, with a small blush on his face.

Blushing at his compliment, you smiled and ducked your head. “Thanks.”

“Your sweater…it looks nice,” he added.  

Playing with the hems of your sleeves, you smiled up at him bashfully. “Thanks. I made it myself. I really like knitting. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

“Oh, wow. You are truly very talented, (Y/N)!” Tenya praised.

“Thanks.” You rubbed the back of your neck. It seemed like you had lost the ability to say anything else. Why did you suck so much at making small talk?

Just then, Mina stepped out from the locker room and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Hey, has Yaomomo come down yet?” Mina asked.

“No, she hasn’t. Do you want me to go get her?” You answered.

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just text her real quick.” Mina pulled out her phone, fingers dancing rapidly across the screen, then put it back in her pocket. Minutes later, Momo stepped out of the elevator, already dressed in a red sweater and white jeans. She always looked so put-together. You were sure that she had a second quirk.

“Yaomomo!” Mina screeched, running up to her friend. “You’ll never guess what I ate for dinner!”

You groaned as Mina recounted her dining disaster. You loved Mina, but her tendency to tell her experiences to everyone multiple times could sometimes get a little annoying. Trying your best to tune her out, you tapped Tenya’s shoulder and moved to settle on the couch with Coco.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Mina shouted. “Come here!”

Begrudgingly, you stood up again, having just sat down moments earlier. “What is it, Mina?”

“We forgot to introduce Coco! Yaomomo hasn’t seen her yet!”

Oh right. You did forget. You lifted Coco with both hands, then scurried over to where Ochaco, Mina, and Momo huddled. Momo let out a quiet “aww” when she saw the kitty and lifted her manicured hands in a silent invitation to hold her.

You gently placed Coco in her outstretched arms and was about to turn and leave when Mina grabbed your elbow. “Not so fast, (Y/N),” she scolded you sternly. “Picture time!”

Mina took out her phone and swiped open the camera app. You girls all huddled together as she snapped a picture for the fans.

Settling back down with Coco on the couch, surrounded by your friends, you didn’t think that you had ever felt happier. One by one, more of your friends and coworkers began to trickle in, until finally, when a disgruntled Jirou arrived with a protesting Kaminari in tow, Mina stood up.

“Alright! Everyone’s here now, so let’s get this party rolling!”

She bounced off to the kitchen to grab plates for everyone. You could smell Sato’s freshly-baked cookies from here, and your stomach growled in response. Remembering the tiramisu that Emiko had made, you followed Mina into the kitchen.

Mina held a stack of plates that covered half her face. It was wobbling slightly, the entire thing almost toppling over multiple times. You had gotten out the fancier cake platter and was currently in hyper-focus mode, carefully moving the tiramisu from its cake mold onto the crystal platter. You breathed out a sigh of relief as the process was finally completed and the cake hadn’t been ruined.

Holding the crystal tray with both hands, you stepped out into the lobby, marched over to the coffee table in the center, and slowly set the tray down.

“Hey guys, Emiko made us some tiramisu,” You called out. “Come here if you want some.” You held a cake knife in your hand and began serving everyone.

Tenya watched all of this with barely-hidden admiration. You were just so competent. So hard-working, so kind, and so wonderfully skilled at everything you do. Even the things that you weren’t good at, you tried your hardest to learn and to improve. He was definitely in deep, and to be honest, he didn’t mind a single bit. You were worthy of being admired, and he vowed that he would let you know in all the ways he could.

As you served the last slice of tiramisu to Ojiro, you carried the cake platter back to the kitchen and sat down next to Shinsou, who was, not surprisingly, hogging all of Coco’s attention. Seeing you, Coco scrambled over Shinsou’s lap and faceplanted into yours. You laughed at her enthusiasm and snorted when you heard Shinsou mutter “traitor” underneath his breath.

“So Shinsou,” you started casually. “What’s this I hear about you stealing cats from the cat café?”

Shinsou’s face immediately turned a tomato red. He put his hands up defensively. “No, wait, you have it all wrong- I swear- who told you about it anyways? Never mind,” he stopped his waving motions. You snickered. You were definitely getting the full story out of him later. For now, you had things to do.

Strolling over casually to Tenya with Coco still in your arms, you very sneakily dropped her, front paws landing gracefully, onto Bakugou’s head.

“Hey! What’s this damn cat doing here!” Bakugou yelped. Coco also yelped, and it came to you that dropping her on Bakugou’s spikey hair was probably not the best idea ever. However, as Coco quickly scampered down and curled up on Bakugou’s shoulder, and Kirishima was sitting next to him to make sure he didn’t kill the cat, you felt a sense of triumph. Bakugo was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning maniacally as he beat someone up, but genuinely smiling. You gave yourself an internal high five as you moved onto your next goal.

You walked hesitantly towards Tenya, and when he turned his head towards you, about to ask what you were doing, you quickly linked your hand with his and started leading him towards the rest of the group.

“(Y-Y/N) ?” Tenya sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You replied cheekily. “I want to hold hands with you!”

“B-but, do they know?” Tenya gestured nervously with his free hand.

“Nope, but they’re about to,” you grimaced, thinking about all the teasing you’d have to endure from your friends later. Better to just get this over with during the party, when everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and any embarrassing moments would hopefully be forgotten moments later when more exciting things came along, such as Mineta’s annual lingerie gift. Whatever the powers that be were doing, they were definitely not doing the world any favors when they let Mineta draw a girl for the Secret Santa every single year. But, for all the bad things you could say about Mineta, he definitely consumes enough material to have at least semi-decent taste in lingerie. Surprising, and sometimes gross, but not entirely unwelcomed if you could manage to forget who gifted it. The most disturbing thing was he knew all the girls’ sizes. You tried your hardest to not think about that. It’s not like you could erase his memory anyways.

You settled down with Tenya on a vacant couch, inwardly counting the minutes until someone noticed your position. Tenya looked vaguely uncomfortable, his posture ramrod straight, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“No one’s going to judge or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you whispered into his ear. “And besides, at least half the girls already knew I had a crush on you, so this won’t entirely come as news to them.”

Tenya relaxed slightly at that, then stiffened again when he noticed a pair of eyes glancing his way.

Midoriya had been excited at seeing Ochaco for the first part of the evening, but then had wondered where his other friend had gone. He knew Tsu was in southern Japan, as she couldn’t stand the cold and was operating in the warm coastal areas instead, but Iida being absent was strange. He had searched around the lobby, and when his eyes descended upon you and Iida cuddling on the couch, he was intrigued, to say the least.

He stared at the two of you for a solid minute, not wanting to disturb your peace. Slowly, he turned back to Ochaco, thinking that it wasn’t his place to draw attention to the two of you.

Ochaco, however, had no such qualms. Noticing how Deku began to space out during their conversation, she followed his line of vision to the two of you, blinked twice to check if she was seeing it right, then immediately let out a squeal.

Heads turned at the sound, and in moments, everyone was staring at you and Tenya curiously. You hadn’t noticed the attention yet, but Tenya had, and he grew stiffer and stiffer until you finally looked up at his face with furrowed brows.

“Tenya, what’s wrong?” You whispered. “Do you not enjoy cuddling? I can stop if you’d like,” your lips were pressed together in concern.

“I-it’s not that,” Tenya whispered back. “Look.”

You finally raised your head from his chest and saw thirty pairs of eyes staring back. After a few moments of silence, the room erupted.

“Iida-kun! Why didn’t you tell us?” Midoriya was the first to raise a question.

“(Y/NNNNNN)!!!!!!!!!!!” Mina practically screamed as she ran towards you. She clasped her hands dramatically over her heart. “YOU DID IT YOU DID IT YOU DID IT OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE EEEEE!!!!!!”

Half the room winced at her loud tone, and you quickly moved Coco from your lap to save her from the incoming bear hug.

Mina launched herself in your arms, then stepped back and shook your shoulders until you felt your brain rattling around in your skull like soupy mush.

“(Y/N)! What did I say, huh? Bitch I TOLD you that he liked you too, and you wait three goddamn months to finally make a move!?! Honey-”

Your face flushed red. Gently, you pushed her away. “Mina, stop,” you whispered, horrified that she was making a scene. It was too late. Ochaco and Hagakure rushed towards you, Momo trailing more slowly behind them. The boys were stunned for a bit, since you had always seemed so quiet and shy, much less Iida’s feelings towards you. As their initial shock wore off, Midoriya trailed after Momo to approach Iida.

“Congratulations, Iida-kun!” He held up his arms in front of his chest. “You and (Y/N) are really cute together!”

“Yeah bro! That’s so manly that you finally confessed!” Kirishima added, with a quirk of his lips and a thumbs-up.

“Tch. Fucking coward. Took you idiots three fucking months to confess, huh.” Bakugou smirked, but you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. You actually somewhat got along with him, due to all the times Mina would drag you to hang out with her friends.

You struggled vainly against the arms of your friends encasing you. “Guys,” you pleaded. “Let me out, please.”

Reluctantly, the girls let go, and you immediately tried to redirect their attention. “Shouldn’t we start opening presents?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, you sneaky little thing,” Mina wagged her finger in your face. “Don’t think we’ll forget about this, (Y/N), but you’re right, we should start opening presents or we’ll be here all night.”

“We’ll be here all night anyways,” Todoroki pointed out.

“You knew what I meant,” Mina sighed.

Mina enlisted the help of Ojiro and Shoji to pass out the Secret Santa presents; you’d all open the rest of your personal presents later.

The best way to go about this, after years of trial and error, was for everyone to open their presents at the same time. It would simply take too long for everyone to open theirs one by one, and you’d all realized that the people who opened theirs first had a significant disadvantage when it came to guessing who their partner was, as the ones who opened theirs later had the benefit of some options already being eliminated. When you opened your present, you tried your hardest to hold back a squeal. It was a limited-edition album from your favorite artist! You hugged it close to your chest, and immediately knew who gave it to you. Jirou. Her parents were musicians too, and you had bonded over your love of this artist. It was a thoughtful gift, and you were glad that she had given it to you, even though it immediately gave her away.

The rest of your friends opened their presents. Poor Momo. No wonder Mineta had looked so gleeful earlier. He had been her Secret Santa and had gotten her a lacy black lingerie set. Her face was so red you were beginning to get scared that she would hyperventilate, but you had to admit that it was a pretty nice set. Mineta was basically drooling at this point, and Jirou was trying to comfort her while sending a death glare towards Mineta. Mineta, meanwhile, had received a new video game. Sero had received a large pack of farmer’s market coupons, as well as some homemade mochi from Ochaco, who had blushed and apologized profusely for not being able to afford something better for him. Sero just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, saying that it was completely okay and that he appreciated her effort into gift-giving. She had brightened up a bit at that.

Koda had received a new hamster wheel along with some toys for his various pets. Shoji had been gifted a comfortable-looking poncho, as well as three pairs of matching gloves. Ochaco had received a generous sum of money, Midoriya had gotten a new set of comic books, and Iida had received a beanie and a multiflavored pack of tea. Aoyama had received a makeup set, and had gifted a makeup set as well, evidenced by his inability to contain himself and pounced on Hagakure, asking if she liked it. Hagakure was ecstatic, babbling about how she could finally show her face and how she’d never really been able to afford a full set before and how Aoyama was so considerate.

Sato had received a new baking pan, as well as cute mittens and a trending recipe book. He had given Setsuna a batch of cookies, as well as a gallon of frozen cookie dough with instructions on how to make it. There wasn’t really a point in him trying to win the contest, since he would be one of the people providing the prize. Mina had gotten fuzzy socks and a blanket, Kirishima had received a new pair of tennis shoes, and Jirou had been gifted a new pair of headphones. Ojiro had received some sort of custom tail armor with spikes along with an Amazon gift card, and Todoroki had gotten a hand-made red-and-white sweater with a red reindeer nose smack in the middle, along with a gift card to a hair salon, tucked into a bouquet of red-and-white candy canes. The only person you could think of that would go so far into the color scheme was Hagakure, who seemed like just the type to make an ugly sweater for fun. Shinsou had received earmuffs, a silk eye mask with a note (“to help you sleep”), and some gourmet coffee beans (“in case you still can’t”). Mina had seen the little notes that came with his gifts and started teasing him relentlessly about how sweet his Secret Santa was and how it was so cute that he had a secret admirer. Shinsou looked very nonchalant about it all and grumbled about how he just wanted to pet Coco and then go to bed.

Finally, Kaminari received some Pokémon cards to add to his collection (yes, he collected Pokémon cards, what was wrong with that?) along with another Pikachu plush, as per usual. It was an unspoken tradition that whoever drew Kaminari for their Secret Santa would get him a Pikachu plush along with whatever else they decided to give him. He had about twenty, collected over various years from birthdays and holidays. If this kept up, he’d be able to fill an entire closet with them once he retired.

As the chatter slowly died down, you snuggled into Tenya again. At some point during the present exchange, Shinsou had stolen Coco from the couch you occupied. Stifling a yawn, you pulled out a bag and handed it to Tenya.

“What’s this?” He asked, a slight smile on his face.

“It’s your gift, silly,” you booped him on the nose with your index finger.

“Ah, I see,” he replied, still smiling. “Do you want me to open it?”

“Duh,” you giggled into his chest. “What else would you do with it?”

Chuckling lightly, Tenya removed the tissue paper from the top of the bag. He stuck his hand inside, then pulled out a sweater. The sweater that you’d knitted for him. It was navy, the color of the yarn matching his hair, with gold and white snowflake detailing. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that you had made this especially for him, with your own hands. Putting the sweater down beside him, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face to your hair.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I love it.”

You flushed, but you hugged him back. “You’d better,” you teased. “I spent two weeks on that.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” Tenya ruffled your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the pleasant atmosphere. Yawning, you stretched out your arms, careful not to hit Tenya in the face. You gently pushed his arm off of your torso and got up to go to the bathroom.

When you came back, Tenya was nowhere to be seen. You searched around the common area and stepped briefly into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, you grabbed your parka and padded outside.

“Tenya?” You called out as you stuck your head around the doorframe. He was with Kirishima and Todoroki, clearing the entryway of the building of snow. You leaned back along the handrails of the stairs and watched. Your friends were all just so nice. So caring, so wonderful, so kind. As Todoroki evaporated the last bit of snow, you stepped aside to let them all head back in. As Tenya reached you, he paused briefly, looking up.

“What?” You tilted your head up also, curious to see what he was staring at. Oh. So this was where Mina and Ochaco had decided to hang the mistletoe. If Tenya hadn’t looked up, you would’ve missed its existence entirely. You looked back down at Tenya to gauge his reaction.

He gulped, and softly taking your chin into his hand, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. You leaned up to meet him, rising slightly on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was long and sweet, and you were both a bit breathless when you let go.

You smiled sweetly up at him and took his strong hand in yours. Standing on your tiptoes again, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas.”

Masterlist

[the-angriestpineapple]

caught // bakugou x fem reader

18+, aged up, last semester at UA. A male reader here.

Your last semester at UA was really really difficult, if you were being honest. It made sense for it to be, UA was one of the most prestigious schools. All the hero course students were basically studying together as one big clusterfuck – there were specific tables at the library that had all but been roped off for your classes whenever you needed it. Hero students would show up, sit at the tables and study with whomever was there. Usually you got a good mix of 1-A and 1-B students. Iida, Kendou, and Yaoyorozu were there a lot trying to help in any way they could. Kaminari, Tetsutetsu, and Sero were usually there trying to understand multiple subjects. When you got there that afternoon on a Sunday though, the tables were empty. That wasn’t the worst thing, you mostly understood the subject you came to study. It was near silent for a good twenty minutes and you were so in the zone that a stack of books being dropped on the table next to you made you nearly fling yourself from your chair. You look up with irritation, ready to tear into whom you are assuming is one of your friends playing a prank, and are met with angry red eyes. Bakugou Katsuki.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The question is out of your mouth before you can really think about it, and he raises his eyebrow. Of all the people you thought you would see at the group study table, Bakugou was not one of them. He was so reclusive. “Promised Shitty Hair. Why, you got a problem with me or something, princess?” He drops down into the table next to you and stares at you with those intimidating red eyes. You try to bristle, to not look like his intense glare is shaking you to your core. “No, you just aren’t one to help people study. Or at all.” It’s a low jab, saying that to a future pro Hero – and a damn good one, you’ll admit – but you can’t help it. His eyes narrow. “I help people plenty,” he growls. You just turn to look back at your notes. Prickly, asshole attitude or not, you had the biggest crush on Bakugou Katsuki. He was so fucking beautiful to look at, even when scowling. His drive and ambition and domineering presence were all so attractive to you, and more than a few times you’d gotten off to fantasies of what he would be like in the bedroom. You’re not sure you’d exactly call yourself submissive, you certainly had a mouth and plenty of sass. However, the thought of Bakugou and his angry red eyes staring down at you as you take him into your mouth… But you can’t focus on that right now, you need to study. There’s a few moments of near silence, the only sound in the room being your pencil scratching at paper as you take notes, before you register Bakugou opening his book next to you. You wonder how long it’s gonna take Kirishima to get here. You aren’t super close with him, or any of 1-A really, but you know he’s really good at keeping Bakugou in check. And bantering with everyone around him. And being a distraction from the ridiculously chiseled body currently sprawled over the chair next to yours. You glance quickly at him out of the corner of your eye, focusing on his face. He’s staring down at his book, neutral faced while he reads. He’s even handsome when he has no expression, fuck. You don’t want to get caught looking at him so you look right back down at your notes. Yes, Calculus. That was definitely a thing you needed to know right now. You carefully write down the next problem without bothering to check the last one. “It’s wrong.” You pause, then turn to look to your left. Bakugou has one of his arms thrown over the back of his chair, legs spread, and he’s looking right at you. You are just staring at him, so he rolls his eyes and gestures to your notebook. “Your last problem. You did it wrong.” What? No you didn’t. You look down at the problem with a frown glancing over your work. “No, it’s right.” Bakugou gives another exasperated sigh and snatches your pencil from you. “Look, you idiot. It’d be right if you hadn’t copied the problem wrong in the first place.” He shoves his way into your spaces, your senses overcome by the subtle scent of caramel. He circles the figure you had incorrect, then jabs at it with your eraser in the book. “See? Maybe learn to fucking read.” He drops your pencil on your book. Your face flushes and you take the pencil back with slightly shaky hands. Fuck. It only takes a couple of seconds to know that you are going to need to excuse yourself. He was too close, too mean. You drop your pencil on the book again and abruptly rise, taking off for the bathrooms. You don’t see, but Bakugou frowns as he watches you go. Luckily the library is nearly empty so you don’t run into anyone on your way to the bathroom. You push into the women’s room and immediately beeline to the first stall, shoving your way into it and slamming the door behind you. Fuck. Him calling you an idiot and insulting your reading level shouldn’t be hot. That’s fucking ridiculous. But it didn’t change the fact that you were soaked. You waste no time, not even bothering to take off your panties as you perch on the edge of the toilet seat. You just push them to the side and start to circle your clit, whimpering at the contact. You were already so close, your whimpers getting a little higher as your hips start to rock… You gasp as your orgasm hits you, letting out a small moan that you’re hoping won’t attract any attention, unable to help his name falling from your lips. Katsuki. Always Katsuki, never Bakugou. You take in a big gulp of air as you come down from your high, not wanting to get back up and go out there. But you have to, all of your stuff is out there. And you do still need to study. You clean yourself up and rise to head out to the sink, making sure you wash your hands thoroughly. You’re in a little better mood now, calmer. Sure you can handle whatever it is Bakugou is going to throw at you when you come back. You open the door and step out directly into a solid chest. You squeak in surprise and take a step back. Your eyes widen in horror. Standing there, fists clenched, was the man whose name you just cried out. “Bakugou, I-” “Don’t.” Shit. You want to fall through the floor. If you thought the expression on his face was intense before, it’s nothing compared to the look he’s giving you now. He brings his hand up and you half expect him to punch you, and honestly you probably deserve it, but instead he’s pushing you into the bathroom. Ah, doesn’t want people to see him beating you up, you guess. He shoves you into a wall, slamming his hands on either side of your head. He crowds in close and caramel fills your senses again. “Were you just fucking yourself?” You swallow as you look up at him, unable to answer. It’s pretty obvious that you were. His eyes narrow at the blush that fills your cheeks. “You get off on being talked to like that? I thought you were in here crying, I came to fucking say sorry, and here you are with your fingers jammed up into your cunt and moaning my name like a goddamn slut.” He was coming to apologize? Kirishima must really be rubbing off on him. You still don’t know what to say to him though, and just drop your eyes. “Get on your knees.” You jerk your head back so fast you nearly slam it into the tile wall. “U-uh, excuse me?” you manage to stammer out. Did you hear him wrong? His scowl slowly turns into a smirk though, and your heart stops as he leans in. “I said… get on your knees.” You swallow hard before sinking down. The way he has you pushed up against the wall makes you have to spread your knees apart to make room for his legs. Your eyes flick to the door. This is a public restroom, there’s no way to lock it from the inside. “Don’t look at the fucking door. Look at me.” Your eyes are drawn back up to look at Bakugou, and they widen as he reaches for the buckle of his belt. “Such a dirty bitch. You even had the audacity to call me by my given name.” The tone he’s using is sending a chill down your spine, biting your lip as he unbuttons his pants and reveals a pair of tight black boxer briefs. His pants are usually pretty baggy, but you can’t help but think how miraculous it is that they were able to hide the solid length you’re faced with now. He chuckles and wraps his hand around his hard cock. “I bet this’ll feel so much better than your fingers.” Fuck. It will, you know it will. And you want it so badly.

“Open your mouth, princess.” You do, eagerly sticking out your tongue. You’re dying to know what he tastes like. He smirks at your enthusiasm and pulls at his boxer briefs until they are low enough to bare his cock to your face. It’s bigger than average, a fact that you just know Bakugou is proud of. He grabs his dick by the base and levels the head with your open mouth, rubbing it on your tongue. He tastes salty, only the tiniest hint of sweet, but that might be because his hands are so close to your face. “I’m assuming you want me to be rough with you,” he says lowly. You nod as best as you can with an open mouth and a cock on your tongue. He grunts, starting to rock his hips gently and letting the head of his dic drag along your tongue. “Good. We use a color system. Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop. If you can’t talk, pinch me twice. If you call red or pinch me, we stop. No questions asked. Got it?” You’re a little surprised, but you nod again. Bakugou drops his free hand to your head, and your eyes flutter closed as his calloused hand strokes through your hair. Fingers tangling into the strands. “Close your mouth.” You look up at him, finally getting your wish of seeing how his face darkens when you wrap your lips around his hard cock. Then his fist tightens in your hair and his hips jerk forward. He starts a hard pace, the plush head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. He grunts as he fucks into your mouth, head rolling back for a second. You’re pleased to know that he finds your mouth to be that good. When he rolls his head back forward to look at you his eyes are somehow even darker. “Yeah, fuck, you take that cock so well. Look at you. You’re so fucking turned on by this. I bet you’re dying to touch yourself again, to get off while you’re choking on my cock.” Your eyes flutter and you moan around his length, which only causes him to pick up the pace. After a few thrusts he pulls out of your mouth, your eyes shifting to look at his face in confusion. He leans forward and spits directly into your open mouth, then straightens and rams his cock back in. You moan at the treatment, willing your throat to relax so that his next thrust slips into it. He growls out, yanking harder onto your hair before pulling out again. He uses your hair as leverage to pull you to your feet, then yanks you by the arm over to the sink before bending you over the counter. One of his hands presses hard into the middle of your back to keep you bent over. The other rubs at your dripping folds. The sudden contact makes you let out a mewl and arch your back, desperate for more. “Needy slut,” he mutters, deft fingers moving your panties to the side and plunging two fingers deep into your core. You cry out and immediately push your hips back into his hand. He curses and starts to curl his fingers inside you, alternating between stroking your walls and scissoring you open. He’s doing this to prepare to take him, and you know it. It doesn’t matter that it feels amazing to you, he has a goal in mind. He works you open with a single minded ferocity, stretching your walls until he’s sure you can take him. From this vantage point if you look up, you can see the reflection of Bakugou biting his lip as he watches your pussy sucking in his fingers. Your already completely fucked-out face, and he hasn’t even  gotten to the main event yet. You whimper as he pulls his fingers from your aching sex, but your eyes widen when he lewdly licks your fluids off of them. “Goddamn delicious,” he rumbles, meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wraps his hand around his cock again, rubbing his tip against your entrance. You make a high pitched noise in your throat and try to push back, but his hand keeps you where you are. “Color, princess.” You look at him through the mirror, confused for a moment until you foggily recall his speech. “G-green,” you gasp out, speaking for the first time since you started. “Fuck, Katsuki, green, please, please just fuck me.” You cry out as a sharp slap blooms pain across your ass accompanied by the familiar crackle of Bakugou’s quirk. “I didn’t say you could call me that,” he snarls out. “I’m sorry Sir,” you say timidly. You don’t miss the way his pupils dilate. Perfect, exactly what you hoped would happen. He slams into you with one hard thrust, pushing your hips into the counter top edge. You cry out loudly, sure by this point that if anyone was anywhere near the bathrooms they would hear you. You weren’t being anywhere near quiet, and Bakugou’s delicious mix of growls, grunts, and moans were not entirely quiet either. His hands roughly grab your hips and he pulls you back into him. He thrusts his hips forward and pulls you back with each thrust, fucking into you as hard as you hoped he would. Bakugou Katsuki never did anything half-assed. “Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you, you’re a fuckin’ mess. You love this.” One of his hands releases your hip and he slaps it across your ass once more. This time no quirk, which was disappointing, but he was otherwise occupied. You moan at his words. Yes, you want to be good. You want him to want to do this again. The coil of heat is winding tighter in your belly with every thrust, and Bakugou can tell. He can feel your walls tightening around his length. He leans forward, as close as he can to your ear without losing his momentum. “That’s it princess, cum on my cock.” The words do you in and you cry out as the coil snaps, your walls clamping down on him. He slams into you one more time and releases as well, moaning as his head rolls back. He stays there for a few moments, pulsating as your walls flutter around him. “Fuck.” He sighs as he pulls out of you, leaving you bent over the counter. He shifts to the sink and cleans himself up quickly with some damp paper towels. You aren’t sure that you can move yet, your legs too shaky. He grabs more paper towels and dampening them, then walks back to you and starts to clean you up. “W-what-” “I’m not that big an asshole.” He sounds slightly annoyed, and your face flushes. Well how were you supposed to know that he’d be so tender after he just fucked the soul out of you? He shifts your panties back over to cover your sex, and flips your uniform skirt back down. “I’ll head back to the table first. You come after.” That made sense. You straighten up, still a little wobbly, and look at him. You nod your agreement. He stares at you for a few beats, then steps forward and gently takes your chin in his fingers. He brushes a soft kiss to your mouth, a surprised noise coming from your throat. He gives you a smug grin, then slips to the door. You lean against the counter, your fingertips brushing your lips. How… how had he just flipped your world upside down so easily? You take a few moments to compose yourself, straightening your uniform and fixing your hair, before you step back out in the library. “Hey, Y/N!” You blink at the sunshine smile of Kirishima Eijirou. “I thought these were your notes! You gonna study with us? Bakubro is great at Calculus!” Your eyes flick to the blonde, who is almost giving you a smile. “I’m great at a lot of things.” You have to say that you agree.

[sotorubio]

hi if it’s not too much trouble do you mind elaborating on the post about the cinematography being better in s7? bc i 100% agree and have been thinking the same but also haven’t really been able to articulate why? like if someone asked me this anon i wouldn’t be able to give them specifics but i KNOW it’s different. sorry 😅

it's definitely not too much trouble i already know this is gonna be long as shit bc i have so many Thoughts on the matter

it is indeed p hard to articulate so i'll give some examples & comparisons n share my thoughts based on that!

first i think it's important to recognize the context of a show like skam. it is made to represent every-day teenagers who might enjoy but not ever relate to characters & stories on some fantasy/murder mystery shows abt teenagers. the very core of skams is realism n accuracy to real life. we as the audience are not only supposed to be onlookers of the events we're meant to feel connected to the stories n relate to the main characters.

skamfr has some VERY beautiful shots if u look at them independently. if someone just showed me a screenshot of one of them i'd be like wow! that's stunning! but that's not what i'm supposed to feel when it comes to skams. if i go watch an artistic full length movie at the theaters i Do want to see beautiful shots that look like art n have a lot of symbolism behind them but when i watch skam i'm supposed to think "that could be me. that looks like my life" i'm not a lowly spectator who could never have such a beautiful life but instead the audience should see their lives directly put on screen.

skam france has been rly consistent w it tho! it's been their brand since like season 3.. but it did get worse in s5 & 6 i think bc they started to try too hard for original storylines. i think it's very intentional n if they were making another show i wouldn't say it's bad rly (altho sometimes it is that too bc they try too hard fmgjkd). out of context a lot of their cinematography works bc they usually tie it into the plot to represent the events but they just picked the wrong style for a web series. like babes u are not submitting this to the academy pls chill.

now let me introduce u to the most despicable shot in skam history (in my humble opinion)

HELLO??

now before anyone says. yes i know this sequence of shots has a purpose. this is exactly what i mean that if it was some other show w different goals it wouldn't be such an issue bc yeah this looks great right? it's a "sensory clip" we r supposed to "hear" what it's like to be deaf n specifically what it's like for arthur. but.

let's put this into skam context. we as the audience should see ourselves in arthur, not necessarily entirely but we should feel he's just like us, a teenager w his own unique struggles & life experiences. now tell me, when u feel depressed or sad or have had the worst week of ur life n u must drag urself to the shower... is this what it feels like? first of all do u take the shower in the fucking dark???? just for the aesthetic?? do u stand DIRECTLY in the middle letting the water hit u exactly on the top of ur head forming a symmetrical shade on u while u just... stand there. do u feel like ur ascending in the shower as u dramatically raise ur chin literally what the actual fuck is this. don't get me wrong sometimes u just actually do stand there doing nothing bc u just feel so horrible but that's not rly the feeling this clip awakens?

this leans a bit into the romanticization of arthur's season which wouldn't be as bad (still cringy but not as bad) if arthur had already accepted himself at this point but no he's basically suffering in the shower n we are looking at him like wow that's so pretty. let's imagine how we could make this clip feel more real n how we could actually see ourselves in him here:

stop making ur main characters of the season the main characters of the world. just bc arthur is feeling terrible doesn't mean the whole world imitates his feelings. in a symbolic movies masterpiece it would but not in a concept like skam. one of the worst things abt feeling terrible is seeing how the world just goes on around u. imagine how real it would feel like if he was in the shower w the generic yellowish light on that a lot of bathrooms have. we could see his silhouette slouching in the shower through a shower screen. or maybe a shot similar to the example pics but the ugly lights are on n the water is annoyingly dripping in his eyes & he doesn't look like they're trying to give him a halo n make him into a jesus archetype. the bathroom would look the same it looks on a rly happy day or a boring day bc this day only sucks for arthur n the universe isn't gonna come to his house to give him a cool background bc of it

same w this comparison

two underwater shots, both rly pretty & heavy on symbolism but the other one is literally waiting for those "this looks like a renaissance painting" comments n the other is rly pretty but still looks like real life humans who r not doing a photo shoot for vogue. which do u find more relatable? which situation makes u think Yeah that's real life?

like look at this camera position of "barely above water" this is like.. almost "ugly" but it's so fucking real n probably closest to the feeling of a first person point of view shot that u can get to

now the s7 camera decisions seem sooooo much better compared to all this. they have a lot of time to still make super dramatic shots that distance the viewer from the story line but so far so good. maybe they'll pick this up again to make the world revolve around tiff as she faces hardships but let's hope not 🙃

i genuinely love this shot like it's super down to earth & feels real but they have still easily kept in the symbolism. like tiff is literally putting walls between others n herself. jo feels like she's literally talking to a wall. tiff feels alone & secluded even tho someone is in the same room as her. yet they didn't have to make it look like smth out of an obscure indie film whose purpose is to have the audience in awe instead of representing them.

yeah the first person point of view of jo going in and out of frame while doing sit ups mightve been weird or cringy but 1. that's skam for y'all & 2. i'll choose that any day over arthur ascending like jesus in the shower.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy VII Review

 Year: 1997

Original Platform: PlayStation One

Also available on: PC, PlayStation Store

Version I Played: PlayStation One

Synopsis:

The Shinra Electric Power Company rules over the city of Midgar, and the eco-terrorists AVALANCHE stop at nothing to try and prevent the life essence of the planet from being used as energy. Barrett, leader of AVALANCHE, hires a mercenary named Cloud Strife for their bombing mission on a Shinra Mako Reactor. Cloud doesn’t care much for the greater cause and only wants his pay. But then, after a mission goes awry, he meets Aerith, a flower girl who is the descendant of the Ancients. He quickly finds himself wrapped up in the greater conflict against Shinra.

 Gameplay:

Final Fanatasy VII utilizes magic spells via Materia – little orbs that come in a variety of colors pertaining to the natural elements. You can mix and match them on your weapons and equipment, which gives you access to different spells and stats. All your equipment varies with the number of slots for how many Materia orbs you can put in. Leveling up not only upgrades the character but the equipped Materia as well.

 Final Fantasy VII also uses an ATB system but is known for introducing Limit Breaks – finishing moves that build up after the character gets hit over time. Final Fantasy VI had a prototype called Desperation Attack – but it was very rare as it only appeared when your character had 1/8 of their total HP, and there was a 1 in 6 chance of performing the Desperation Attack after selecting Attack. I actually had no idea that was a thing until long after I finished the game, and never experienced it when I played Final Fantasy VI.

Graphics:

Out of all the Final Fantasy games, I have to say that this one has not aged well. It has the worst graphics of the entire series. The battle and cinematic graphics are passable.

(Most of the graphics power seemed to be put in Tifa’s, uh, bosom.)

But the characters in towns, the overworld, and in-game cutscenes are incredibly blocky. PC versions are supposedly sharper, but the PlayStation One version makes it nigh impossible to see any facial expressions. 

The graphics are definitely a product of its time. I always say that the beginning of 3D gaming was essentially like puberty – awkward and full of zits. It wasn’t yet at that stage where it could be aesthetically pleasing. We marveled about it when it was first released, yes, but then we cringed in retrospect.

The environment backdrops however are probably the strongest points, where they capture the industrial nature of Midgar, the reactors and other such buildings.

Story:

Final Fantasy VII became legendary the minute Square released it. Every aspect was memorable. Part of it could be due to the fact that it was the first Final Fantasy game to enter the 3D realm. Another part was Tetsuya Nomura’s character designs, which hit the cool meter to the point of sub-zero.

 The cinematics blew our minds. The opening action scene with Cloud, Barrett, and the rest of AVALANCHE attacking Shinra’s mako reactor is the most memorable opening to a Final Fantasy game. Period. Final Fantasy games really do know how to start at the right spot, no matter how good or bad the overall game is. The opening is always the best part.

Then there was the motorcycle chase. Cid’s airship. The gun fights. Battles with Sephiroth. The extra stuff to find, like summons and extra bosses. So much was jam-packed into the game.

 But the story was the primary factor in making VII famous. It’s definitely one of the better ones. Man, the story became so famous that even gamers who haven’t touched a Final Fantasy game knew the major spoilers. It is the equivalent to knowing Darth Vader’s line, “I am your father” without having actually watched Star Wars.

Aerith (Aeris in the English releases) Gainsborough – the innocent flower girl who holds the secrets of the Ancients – develops a romance with Cloud and fucking dies at the end of Disc 1 by the main villain – Sephiroth. The scene shocked everyone and practically made headlines. Everybody has seen the horrible image in one way or another.

It seems to me that since Final Fantasy V, the stories have gotten more and more used to main character deaths, ultimately transforming into a heavy-hitting TV series rather than simply a video game series. In other words – it matured. Looking back, Final Fantasy IV appears to be child’s play and a prototype of later dramatic storylines with fully realized worlds.

 Final Fantasy VII was also the first Final Fantasy game to create a world much like ours – one with cars and trains and airplanes and machine guns and even cellphones. The main city of Midgar reflects industrialization at its worst, with miles of slums and claustrophobic cities. Shinra Electric Power Company is a reflection of capitalism at its worst - a single entity in charge of so much that it’s pretty much the government. For the first time in a Final Fantasy game, you play as characters who dance between the morally ambiguous line of terrorism and activism. Funny enough, the theme of neglecting the planet resonates with us now more than ever. This game ended up being rather prophetic about the uncontrollable growth of corporations.

While the story is memorable with many intriguing elements, the plot itself is a tangled web. In my opinion, they really hashed in so many things that it’s easy to forget crucial details. It’s not straightforward, but at the same time everything does connect by the end. While Shinra is the driving force as a whole as the villain, Sephiroth takes over, then you learn about his backstory and then with the evil scientist Hojo and the extra-terrestrial Jenova and then “Weapon” and then the planet’s history and this and that and the other thing.

If I were to put Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy VII together and contrast them, as many gamers do, I would find that Final Fantasy VII is the summer blockbuster and Final Fantasy VI is the Oscar winner. Final Fantasy VII started introducing the sappy romance subplot to the series. A love triangle forms among Aerith, Cloud, and Cloud’s childhood friend Tifa. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with having a love triangle, the writing is like watching middle schoolers trying to express their feelings. Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy IV treated any romance with dignity and realism.

But maybe I’m being a bit harsh. After all, Cloud Strife did go through some suffering as an adolescent. His backstory clearly drives his antisocial behavior, so that becomes a good arc. 

The goofiest but memorable part of the story deals with Don Corneo and Wall Market and running around store to store doing tasks in order to free Tifa from Don Corneo. It ends with Cloud needing to cross-dress as a woman to get inside Don’s mansion. Because, you know, it’s not like Cloud can just break in with his sword and Aerith’s magic or anything like that. But whatever. It’s anime.

The recent Final Fantasy VII Remake for the PS4 seems to streamline the story, and actually enhances the emotions they were trying to deliver in the original. I will be talking about the remake in a separate post altogether since I’m almost done with it at the time of this writing. But there’s a lot that I want to say about comparing and contrasting the remake and the original.

The latter half of the plot takes a couple weird turns. At one point, Cloud became catatonic and confined to a wheelchair.

That part of the game became the sluggish part for me. Sephiroth also tries to confuse Cloud, which confused me. Cloud apparently suffers from some alternate subconscious mumbo-jumbo and like. . .ungh. I get an aneurysm thinking about it sometimes.

Complicated plotlines like Final Fantasy VII start showing up from here on out in the Final Fantasy series. The trend of bishonen characters also begin here, bishonen being the Japanese term for “beautiful boy.” Cloud and Sephiroth have that look. The series starts hashing in sappier romances and much more of an anime feel.

Final Fantasy VII ultimately marked the start of a new era for the series – introducing both cool and overused tropes.

Music:

Hands down the best Final Fantasy soundtrack of all.

The entire soundtrack of this game is memorable. The opening tune, with its light twinkle when the stars show up, is enough to make any gamer know exactly what that’s from.

With a story set in a more modern world, we have music that is more modern. After Final Fantasy VI had a more serious and operatic score, Uematsu displayed his love of progressive rock here. The motorcycle chase incorporates a lot of synth, which was fitting for zipping through the streets of Midgar. However, Final Fantasy VII is the first Final Fantasy game without that familiar starting bassline for the battle them. The battle theme is instantly recognizable but also radically different from its predecessors. It’s dramatic and displays danger.

Meanwhile, the boss theme is one of the best boss themes in the series, or any video game really. It’s an electrifying progressive rock piece, and it’s my personal favorite boss theme.

 The more instrumental pieces are somber, given the dreary atmosphere of the planet. The world map music is very different from its predecessors. It’s romantic one moment, soaring the next, and then dips into foreboding terror. I guess that sums up the story of Final Fantasy VII.

And we cannot leave out One-Winged Angel, which I will talk about below.

Notable Theme:

Without a doubt, One-Winged Angel – played during the terrifying final battle against Sephiroth – is the most memorable piece of music in Final Fantasy VII.

It may very well be the most popular song of the entire series. Nobuo Uematsu was inspired by Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. It’s a whopping 30 something minute classical piece. If you look it up on YouTube and browse through it, you can definitely note the similarities. However, Uematsu didn’t want some boring classical introduction to the piece. He wanted to add the destructive impact of rock. The theme has a very distinct stamping-your-foot-down quality to it.

I had noticed a certain piece-by-piece feel of the song and that’s exactly how Uematsu composed it. This is the only song that Uematsu has composed where he created several tunes in his head and then rearranged them to make a single comprehensive song.

If you want to get technical, One-Winged Angel is the first Final Fantasy song with lyrics. The chorus sings in Latin about Sephiroth’s burning anger, with some lyrics actually taken from the medieval poem Carmina Burana. It sounds fantastic when fully orchestrated.

In Advent Children, the animated sequel to Final Fantasy VII, the music is accompanied by hardcore metal. This new rendition really illustrates the destructive power of Sephiroth. Uematsu changed the lyrics for Advent Children. They are more original now. I specifically noticed the lyrics “Veni, veni, mi fili”, which translates to “Come, come, my son.” Sephiroth is inviting you so he can kill you.

 Uematsu has stated that the original orchestration didn’t sit well with him. As I suspected, Advent Children’s hardcore metal version is the one he preferred, the one he would have composed had he the technology at the time of Final Fantasy VII.

Verdict:

Another must-play for any RPG fan, even if you think it’s overrated. It’s a must-play because of its popularity, in the same way that people are wide-eyed when you say you haven’t seen Star Wars or such-and-such other popular movie. It’s a whole lot of fun, especially in the scenes that involve other forms of gameplay, such as the motorcycle chase and even a battlefield strategy game in protecting Fort Condor. 

Direct Sequel?

Yes – first there was the CGI movie Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children.

I actually watched Advent Children before playing Final Fantasy VII. I had already known most of what happened in the game and Advent Children became a monumental craze when it first came out. Everybody was talking about it. Watching the sequel before playing the game skewers your interpretation of things. My first impression of Cloud was that he was always whiny and angsty, and meanwhile Tifa kept nagging him to move on. I felt really bad for Cloud losing Aerith.

Then when I actually played Final Fantasy VII, I saw that Cloud starts as this badass mercenary. Tifa is spunky and clearly is the better choice (IMO) but Cloud is enamored by Aerith after only meeting her briefly. WHAT? Cloud. Bro. Make a move on Tifa, you nitwit. Tifa is AMAZING.

 Square Enix then continued the story with Dirge of Cerberus – Final Fantasy VII. This video game sequel focuses on Vincent Valentine, a fan favorite of the original game.

Let me remind you about something – the original game revealed Shinra’s inner deep secret experiments, namely with Sephiroth and Jenova. Dirge of Cerberus introduces an even deeper research team within Shinra called Deepground. I don’t know about you, but it already sounds like the start of a terribly redundant string of sequels, like how the Jason Bourne movies keep revealing an even deeper level of conspiracy theories. Vincent’s mysterious background is now fully revealed. He is defined by – guess what? – another angsty lost lover story, this time with a woman named Lucrecia. Now, okay, look, maybe I’m just being a dick about these types of love stories. But when it keeps popping up within the same series in the same manner, I start asking if you have anything else to offer on your menu.

Lastly, there is the prequel for the PSP – Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. Of all the games in the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core has received the most positive reception. If anything, play that after playing Final Fantasy VII before bothering with anything else.

 Oh, and of course there is the Final Fantasy VII Remake, which we thought wasn’t going to happen for the longest time but they finally released it in April 2020. More on that later after I finish it, and after I post my entire series of Final Fantasy reviews!