#always have their hands on each other its so cute

[impval]

cinnamon in my teeth

CaitVi  x fem!reader warnings: reader had a bad day, self-doubt, hurt/comfort.

The heavy rain outside is all you can hear, drumming against the windows, and battering the roof - not to mention the thunder. It was terrible luck for you to be caught in the downpour on your way home from work.

Caitlyn’s hands flutter across your face, brushing a few damp strands of hair away. It’s a soft, almost subconscious gesture. Caitlyn has always liked your hair.

“You’re freezing.” her hands go to your clothing, removing your jacket.

Caitlyn doesn’t expect you to answer. She and Vi had quickly learned to discern the nuances of your moods. You were always so open, and so easy to read.

Today your mood was shitty and Caitlyn just knows it was your bastard of a boss.

She can practically hear your thoughts; the mental tirade of ‘that dick-wad can shove his files up his ass’. It almost makes her smile, but no - she has to remain concerned. You’d already been in a bad mood this morning, you didn’t need her getting amused - or god-forbid, laughing - this will ruin your mood even more.

She also knows that when you’re upset by something, you’re silent. You don’t yell or holler or curse like how Vi does. No, you become quiet.

You’re wet, and you’re cold, and you have the most miserable look on your face. One that is both cute and devastating, to Caitlyn. She wants to kiss the downturn of your lips. Which is an option. But you’re cold, and she can’t have you getting ill.

With all the care and tender affection, Caitlyn peels your clothes off. She lays them out, on the radiator. They’re practically sopping.

The bedroom is lit by a warm lantern that casts the room in a mellow, yellow haze. A mahogany bed rests against the right wall, its bed sheets a crisp and smooth white.

“You’re getting water on our new rug,” Caitlyn admonishes, though there’s no real heat in her tone.

Your face burns when your bra and panties fall to the ground - they’re both drenched, too.

Everything is so… new, to you.

Sleeping in the same bed with them—waking up and falling asleep next to them. Being naked in front of another person in general… it was definitely new. And Vi had to learn to knock when she needed to enter the bathroom

Sometimes all the vulnerability made you uneasy. Even knowing you were loved, you weren’t used to this kind of openness. You’d always been so private with yourself.

You’re exposed to Caitlyn’s eyes - every little scar, every stretch mark- you still weren’t used to feeling this… this naked.

But she looks at you with so much love; as if you’re the most beautiful thing in the world to her. It makes your throat tighten, heat rising to your cheeks.

Caitlyn’s lips brush against your forehead - so soft, so gentle.

You feel her fingers tracing along your bare collarbone, sweeping lightly over your skin.

“Come on, there's a bath waiting for you,” she whispers.

Vi’s already got the bathtub running by the time you and Caitlyn shuffle into the bathroom.

Steam billows up from the surface of the water, filling the room. Caitlyn’s lips twitch when she notices Vi pouring a lot of bubble bath into the tub—and the bubbles frothing up, practically overflowing the rim.

“Bath’s ready, sweetie. I already put in some of those stuff you really like.”

The bathroom is one of your favourite rooms in the whole house. It’s massive, with a clawfoot bathtub and a walk-in shower. The water was tinged with a glittery, iridescent hue.

“Damn, you look good.”

Vi was less subtle than Caitlyn when she saw you undressed, running her eyes over your body from head to toe. Just pure, affectionate love - the kind that made your skin tingle and your insides warm.

You are lucky. You're lucky they don't just love each other - but also you.

She helps you into bath, letting you get comfortable against the smooth, porcelain edge. Your toes dangle in the water, and the heat seeps into your cold flesh.

“There we go,” Caitlyn murmurs. “Better?”

A long breath escapes from you and you offer them a half-hearted, tired smile.

Vi grins back - she’s far too excited she gets to be useful, while Caitlyn smiles back in encouragement, like that alone would be enough to make everything peachy-keen again.

This is the best kind of treatment. They’re both so attentive.

Caitlyn gently begins to undo the damp, knotted strands of your hair while Vi kneels right up against the tub, keeping a firm grip on your ankle, thumb rubbing your skin in comfort.

It was strange, dating two people.

You felt, at times, like the odd-duck out. That they were just far more suited to each other, than they were with you. Like you weren’t tough enough, or badass enough to keep up with them.

One of the many benefits of dating both these women was that they were both so attentive, even when your needs conflicted with one another. There wasn’t a lot of room for jealousy, either. They were always so open to sharing you - and each other.

Maybe that’s the reason why you felt like such a constant burden in the relationship, regardless of how much they assured and doted on you.

Even as the three of you are in such a domestic, quiet moment, you’re still distinctly aware, that they were raised in a much, much harsher world than yours.

“Why don’t you tell us about this dickhead boss of yours, huh?” Vi says, and you look at her. “He really pissed you off or somethin’?”

You let out a frustrated huff, blowing bubbles out of the water as you pout.

“He’s so annoying,” You mutter. “I swear, he takes pleasure in giving me the most boring tasks. He knows I hate filing the documents for him.”

“Oh?” Caitlyn questions. Her voice is so soothing as she massages your shoulders. You can’t help but let out a soft moan, tension melting with every knead.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was on their minds as they exchange looks with one another - and you groan.

When you’d first started working in the office, Vi had threatened to shove your boss through the office copier.

Caitlyn had offered to hold a gun to his head.

“No, no.” You shake your head. “No, no, no. You two aren’t doing anything to him. You always jump to threats!"

”A good scare never hurt anybody.” Caitlyn whispers to herself.

You give your girlfriends reproachful looks, which makes them crack a smile - especially Vi, who is always raring to fight - figuratively and, well, literally.

“Please.” You huff, letting your eyes fall shut. “I’ve got this handled, you two.”

You were very well aware that you were the most vulnerable out of the three of you. And that’s why you didn’t want them to do anything to your boss. The least you could do is not make a fuss over a shitty job. You could handle your boss yourself.

They look unconvinced - as expected - but Vi is the first one to nod reluctantly, rolling her shoulders.

“Okay, okay. We’ll leave the jerk’s head alone - for now.”

Caitlyn is a little more dubious. But, after a moment, she shrugs her shoulders, leaning back.

“Fine, if you say so.” Maybe she should sic Jinx on this asshole… somehow.

The last thing you needed was your girlfriends going all overprotective over you. They’d always been like this. They just couldn’t handle it when you got hurt - mentally or physically.

You could practically see the cogs in Caitlyn’s mind turning, already planning something.

They were hopeless, really. You love them so much.

A warm bath was just what you needed and you can feel the day’s work slowly seeping out of you. The ache in your muscles start to ease, the tension in your jaw finally relaxing.

The sound of Vi and Caitlyn's voices are muffled, as if filtering through a layer of fog. You hear one of them say something, and then suddenly they're both bickering again - playfully, of course. This is how Caitlyn and Vi always are. Flirting - arguing - teasing.

“Did you seriously have to threaten your last target with a butter knife?”

"...such a perfectionist, cupcake."

"I'm not cute! And...."

You close your eyes, and let their conversation wash over you.

When you open your eyes again - head is dizzy and heavy, and your body feels relaxed and light, as if floating through the air, but you’re vaguely aware that you’re being held against a warm, solid chest.

A fresh change of clothes is set on the bed, and you recognize them as Vi’s. She’s always liked seeing you in her clothes. Always claimed that you looked better in her stuff than she did.

You’re a complete mess, and it makes Vi’s chest ache with affection. The way your eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, head lolling against her chest.

Being dressed for the night is a strangely intimate affair. It's such a soothing, simple thing - to feel their hands running over your body, as they slide your limbs into clothes.

Caitlyn is so gentle and deliberate with you, as she slips your arms through the sleeves. She always tends to move slower than Vi, who is just a little rougher with you - but never clumsy. There's a certain, soft, reverent sort of quality to the way they both treat you, like you're something delicate and small and precious.

Once you’re tucked in nicely, with Vi tucking the blankets over your body, she and Caitlyn slip in on either side of you.

Caitlyn curls around your back, slinging an arm over your waist, and resting her chin on top of your head. The tip of her nose brushes your hair, as you feel her breathe you in - as she always does.

They're both so close, their bodies pressed up against either side of you - it's hard to tell where they end and you begin.

One thing you always appreciated: there was a lot of space in this bed, but both Vi and Caitlyn still chose to squeeze themselves into the space next to you.

As you began to doze, you heard the faint sounds of Caitlyn and Vi mumbling something to each other, but your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t make out the exact words.

The last thing you felt before drifting off completely was one of their lips brush against your forehead, and a gentle hand running through your hair.

[reignpage]

ooouuuu if you dont mind me asking and it isnt too much of a spoiler, how do you think each modern au character would go about their relationship on social media?

do they keep it more private, like soft lauches or full hard launches…i was thinking about it and was like “would nanami’s reader go hard or soft” (pause), because of course she would want to show him off but like maybe cause its an actual relationship shes more vulnerable so she does rather soft launches?

ahh just a thought, but thank you!!

Gojo:

Hard launches Every day Every hour Until it's just a fanpage at this point He takes a lot of pictures, most of them are not flattering Like pics showing a double chin Or when she's just woken up Or right after a shower before she's put her goth face on Or pics when he's just jumpscared her She HATES IT but he likes them so....

Reader

Soft launches She likes her mysterious aesthetic It actually kinda comes off as stalkerish Cause it's just pics of him walking ahead like he doesn't know she's there Or pics of him waiting for her at a park bench, and again like he doesn't know someone's taking a pic of him But eventually, Gojo takes matters into his own hands and spam posts pics of himself from various angles

Geto

Soft launches Always Never really posts her face Likes to keep it all to himself And he knows what people on the internet are like But once in a while posts pics of her on his bike, short skirt lifting slightly from the wind Or her sat on his lap as he sketches

Reader

Soft launches too Just likes the aesthetic It's him sketching Him tattoing Him bent over his motorbike, about to get on Eventually, her aesthetic becomes more like his but just a touch more feminine

Choso

Hard launches It's not really intentional, it's more just If he takes a picture of you he really likes, he'll post it Never with any intention that it'll be a hard or soft launch Doesn't think about things like that But mostly posts pics of her working Or doing something fun and a little goofy Like using a broom as a microphone Or her converse hanging out the car window

Reader

Hard launches Pics of his face squished up in her hands Loves loves loves his cute face Especially when's got paint splatters Posts pics of his abs painted with her name on it And everyone knows exactly what they did after that

Toji

Hard launches It's always kinda pics of him manhandling her tbh Just mirror selfies but with her in a chokehold/headlock cause she didn't want to be in the picture Posts pretty sexy pics of her too Like her bent over to reach for something His reasoning is that he can fight

Reader

Soft launches But also sexy Doesn't intend to make it like that he's just naturally sexy So it's pics of his back as he's lifting weights Or him playing basketball in his shorts, thigh muscles going CRAZY She knows what the ladies want But she's always sure to never give too much away

Nanami

If he had it his way he wouldn't be posting at all Like at most he'd post pics of them on a coffee date, like hinting that there's a second person It's not enough to be soft launch, really So his reader pouts and takes matters into her own hand And again, spam posts a bunch of her own pics Most of them are fine, just very cutesy But there are some that are risqué, like her short skirt riding up as she hugs Nanami in front of a mirror Or of you two in bed, teasing her nakedness under the bed sheet whilst she rests her head on his also naked chest Nanami deletes those immediately

Reader

Hard launch She wants people to know the one and only Nanami Kento is TAKEN But eventually mostly posts tiny slivers of him She thought about it and realised There are hoes out there who would drool over pics of him She is the hoes in question Gatekeeps She watches him sleep sometime and goes, "I worked too damn hard to get you in my bed, Kenny. The other bitches have GAWT to earn it."

Sukuna

Does not post

Reader

Does not post

LOL

The most you'll see of them online is from other people's stories, when they're in the background or in a group pic At first, there are hard launch pics of reader and Sukuna but that's cause Gojo and Toji were up to trouble, competing to see who could take pics that gets the most likes But when reader brings it up to Sukuna, he goes ballistic realising the dumbassery his friends got into So he changes the password and the account goes quiet... UNTIL He posts a story, five seconds (if even that) It's just pitch black and you think it's just a mistake An accidental posting But right as it's about to end, YEP There's a moan OH The Prez and her VP be WILD

[pandapetals]

Always

You find a photo from your childhood that upsets you.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, angst, childhood trauma, comfort at the end

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Ororo had casually mentioned wanting to borrow a pair of boots you’d worn years ago, which led to you rummaging around in your closet for over an hour. You could picture them perfectly in your mind—brown leather, worn but stylish—and you vividly remembered boxing them up and stacking them neatly with your other shoes. Or, at least, you thought you did.

Frustration began to creep in as you pulled down box after box, each one revealing everything except the boots you were looking for. A pair of strappy heels you didn’t even remember owning. A dusty pair of sneakers that should’ve been thrown out years ago. Another box filled with scarves instead of shoes.

When you reached the last box, tucked away in the farthest corner, you huffed and pulled it closer. This one felt oddly light, and when you opened it, your hands stilled. Inside wasn’t the pair of boots you’d been searching for but something you hadn’t seen in years—a collection of forgotten belongings.

There were old photos, their edges frayed and curling, buried under an assortment of trinkets: a childhood bracelet you thought you’d lost, a small drawing you’d scribbled as a kid, and a fraying ticket stub from a county fair. At the very top of the pile was a photo of you as a child, standing between your parents. The three of you were smiling like the picture-perfect family. Your dad had his arm around your mom, and she was beaming as if she didn’t have a care in the world. But you knew better.

Before you could stop yourself, you picked up the photo, your fingers trembling as the memories came rushing back. The forced smiles. The nights spent hiding under your blanket, praying your dad’s temper wouldn’t boil over. The mornings after, when your mom would quietly clean up the aftermath as if nothing had happened.

Tears blurred your vision, spilling down your cheeks before you could wipe them away. You clutched the photo to your chest, your heart twisting in a storm of conflicting emotions—grief, anger, and a longing you didn’t quite know how to name.

That’s how Logan found you—kneeling in the dim closet, surrounded by scattered shoes and open boxes, your shoulders shaking as you sobbed silently into the picture. His chest tightened at the sight, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking you in, his usual gruffness replaced by a quiet tenderness.

“Sweetheart,” Logan murmured softly, stepping into the closet and kneeling beside you. His hand was warm and steady as it settled on your back, rubbing gentle circles. “What’s goin’ on?”

You couldn’t speak at first, the lump in your throat making it impossible. You just held up the photo for him to see, your fingers curling tightly around its edges.

Logan took it, his eyes flickering over the image before settling back on you. He didn’t press, didn’t demand answers. He just waited, his quiet presence like a steady anchor in the storm.

After a moment, you managed to whisper, “It’s been years… since he died. And I still don’t know how to feel.” Your voice cracked, the weight of the confession spilling out like a flood. “He was an abusive alcoholic, Logan. He hurt me. He hurt my mom. And yet… I still miss him. How messed up is that?”

Logan’s brows furrowed, his gaze softening. He placed the photo carefully on the ground and took your trembling hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “It ain’t messed up,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “He was your dad, sweetheart. No matter what he did, part of you wanted him to be better—for you, for your mom. That hope doesn’t just go away.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears falling harder now. “I wanted so badly to hate him. But after he died, I just couldn’t. I forgave him…and my mom…I keep wishing we could fix things, but every time I try, it just… it doesn’t work.”

Logan nodded, his expression unreadable but deeply attentive. “Your mom’s probably got her own guilt to carry,” he said after a pause. “And that’s a heavy thing to drag around. Maybe she doesn’t know how to meet you halfway. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong for wantin’ somethin’ better.”

His words, raw and simple, cut through the noise in your head, giving shape to feelings you’d struggled to name. “How do I even start?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to your hands in his. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “But you don’t have to figure it all out at once. Sometimes… you just gotta take it one day at a time. You can’t change what’s behind you, but you can decide what’s ahead.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for something—guidance, reassurance, anything. “What about your parents?” you asked hesitantly. “Do you… remember them? I know you don’t like talking about them.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your knuckles. “Bits and pieces,” he said finally. “My dad…the man I knew as my dad…I remember him being kind. He used to take care of me when…I was sick. And my mom… she tried, but…” He trailed off, his expression distant for a moment before he looked back at you. “I don’t remember much, but I know one thing for sure. You don’t get to pick where you come from, but you can pick where you’re goin’.”

His words settled deep in your chest, like a quiet flame sparking in the dark, warming places you hadn’t realized were still cold. Without hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles—the same hands that had once brought destruction but now protected and comforted with an unmatched tenderness. You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along his skin.

“You’re a good man, James,” you whispered, your voice steady but full of emotion.

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his hazel eyes softened, the weight of your words sinking into him in ways he rarely allowed. His gaze held yours, brimming with something raw and unguarded, the kind of emotion he kept locked away from the world. Slowly, he reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek with a careful thumb, his touch as gentle as his expression was conflicted. It was the touch of someone who knew pain intimately but was still learning what it meant to heal.

“James,” he murmured, the name sounding foreign as it rolled off his tongue. He said it like he was testing its weight, trying to remember the man who used to wear it. “Haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Sorry,” you said quickly, guilt creeping into your tone as you searched his face for a reaction. “I didn’t mean—”

Logan shook his head, cutting you off gently. “No,” he said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “It’s okay. Just… feels strange. Like I don’t deserve it. That name… it feels tied to someone better than me. Someone I haven’t been in a long time.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and your hand instinctively moved to cradle his, holding it between your smaller palms. “Logan,” you began softly, your voice trembling but steadying as you went on. “You are good. You’ve proven it time and time again. You’ve protected people, cared for them—even when you didn’t think you were capable of it.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to where your hands held his, as though he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “Doesn’t feel like enough sometimes,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “Every time I think I’m more than what I’ve done, more than what I’ve been… something pulls me back. Reminds me I’ve got blood on these hands.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening as your heart ached for him. “These hands—your hands—they’ve saved more lives than they’ve ever hurt. You’ve helped people find hope, find safety. You’ve helped me.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you blinked back the tears brimming in your eyes. “You’ve shown me what love can be, and I’ll remind you every day if I have to, that you’re more than enough.”

With a deep exhale, he met your gaze. “You’ve got a way of makin’ a man feel like he’s more than he is,” he murmured, a faint, almost self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. But the warmth in his gaze betrayed how much your words meant to him.

You smiled, leaning in closer, your fingers brushing over the rough, scarred surface of his knuckles, letting your touch linger. “Sometimes… I feel like I was made for this. To remind you of who you really are, even when you forget. You’re not the man you think you are. You’re so much more.”

Logan swallowed hard, his free hand lifting slowly to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin in a gesture so gentle it made your chest ache. “I think we were made for each other,” he said quietly, his voice a low, gravelly whisper like he was confessing a secret. “You’ve shown me I’m more than what I’ve done. More than what people see. And for that… I’m grateful, darlin’. More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

His words wrapped around you like a soft, warm blanket, their weight settling into your heart. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, but your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you leaned into his touch, feeling the calloused strength of his hand cradling you like something precious.

For a long moment, you sat together, the stillness of the room filled with unspoken understanding. Logan’s thumb traced tender circles along your cheekbone, his hazel eyes holding yours with a mixture of awe and gratitude.

Eventually, the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a soft, almost hesitant smile. “Why don’t you tell me something about your dad?” he murmured, his tone gentle, without expectation.

You sighed, your breath shaky as you rested your head against his shoulder. His familiar scent—woodsy and warm—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment. “Something good or bad?” you asked quietly.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice a soft rumble in your ear. “Doesn’t have to be good or bad. Just… tell me what comes to mind.”

You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your intertwined hands. His fingers dwarfed yours, but his grip was steady and reassuring as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Most people just want to hear the good stuff,” you said finally, your voice tinged with bitterness. “The kind of memories that paint him as something he wasn’t. They don’t want to know the truth… just the version of him that’s easier to love.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His voice was low, steady. “You don’t have to paint him in a good light for me,” he said. “I may not have known him, but I know you. Whatever you feel, whatever you remember—that’s what matters. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

His words unraveled something inside you, a knot you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding onto. You exhaled slowly, the tension in your chest easing as you let your head fall more fully against his shoulder.

“I remember the way he used to sing when he was drunk,” you said after a long pause. “He had this old, off-key voice that filled the whole house. It wasn’t… joyful or sweet, though. It was more like he was trying to drown something out. Maybe his regrets. I don’t know.”

Logan stayed silent, his hand resting against your back now, rubbing soothing circles as you spoke.

“And I remember how he’d come home after losing his temper somewhere else,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I’d hear the door slam, and I’d just… freeze. Waiting. Wondering if tonight was going to be a bad night or just a quiet one.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and though he said nothing, you could feel his silent rage at the man you were describing. But his grip on you stayed gentle, his touch never faltering.

“But,” you added, surprising yourself, “I also remember how he’d make breakfast when he wasn’t drinking. Omelettes from scratch. He’d put so much love and care into cooking. He had a real talent for it. I remember thinking those mornings were the closest we ever got to being… normal.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and Logan’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer against his chest. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair. “It’s okay to remember the good and the bad. They’re both part of it.”

“I hate that I miss him sometimes,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I hate that I can still find those little pieces of him that I loved, even after everything he did.”

Logan rested his chin on the top of your head, his warmth radiating through you. “Missing someone doesn’t mean you forgive everything, or that you forget the bad,” he said softly. “It just means you’re human. And that’s not a bad thing, sweetheart.”

You looked up at him then, your eyes glassy. “How are you so good at this?” you asked, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You act like you’re all gruff and growly, but here you are, saying stuff like that.”

Logan chuckled, his voice deep and soothing. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he said, tilting his head down to kiss your forehead softly. “But if I’ve got anything worth sayin’, it’s ‘cause of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your face up to meet his gaze, letting yourself get lost in the tenderness you found there. “Thank you,” you whispered, the weight of your gratitude pressing against your chest. “For listening. For being here.”

He smiled faintly, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “Always,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

[toomiieimagiines]

Umumum, did you see the kissing hcs you did for akito and tsukasa? I would like a rui one if that's okay :3

It feels weird to request something like this

𖦹 hii! don’t feel awkward about it, i’ve been waiting for something cute like this for a while! let’s stop torturing rui for a while, and let him kiss reader!! (o^^o) sorry for hiatus, i have a bunch going on rn but i have a ton of writing qued up now! i’m just using a short one first to tease u guys! lololllll! do u guys like the new bullet points btw? i just think they're the cutest thing! also, i was thinkin of opening up some sort of commission to help with my banners! i can write you a however long fic if you just give me some pointers… or make some for me… i can credit you under every time i use them as well! LOLOLZ

♪ no warnings! (see before one shot for those warnings tho! (＞人＜;))

Rui Kamishiro Kissing Hc’s + more!?

�� For starters, he was TOTALLY freaking out before your first kiss

☆ He just wants to impress you! Is that so wrong?

☆ DEFINITELY the kind of person who accidentally keeps his eyes open… Scary…

☆ He had never kissed anyone, or even dated! He didn’t want you to think he was weird if he messed up!

☆ Held your cheek so nicely too

☆ He’s always so gentle with you… :(

☆ Was a total wall for a while, he was always really tense…

☆ He did of course lighten up after a while, but not without a fight

☆ After he realized you weren’t out to get him, he turned into a FIEND

☆ “Sweetheart, I've been doing so good, y’know? I think I deserve something…”

☆ “I really missed you today…”

☆ Kisses with him always have a bit of reluctance to them, though

☆ His signature move is the tried-and-true shifty eyes, darting his gaze from yours, down to your lips, and back up again. He just wants to make sure you look into it!

☆ After that, it's brow-furrowing, the passion exploding

☆ Spontaneous kisses are VERY possible with him, throwing himself over to you when something particularly works in his favor

☆ He enjoys kisses that come from hugging the best. Feeling you close AND getting your lips on his? Sign him up!

☆ He’s also one to tease you when you kiss

☆ When you guys are comfortable, you really should watch out!

☆ He likes to pull you back when you least expect it, and WHAM!

☆ Doesn’t just love your lips either! He’s OBSESSED with kissing the top of your head!

☆ Again with the teasing, he likes to play Romeo and kiss your hands too

☆ He likes to be kissed on the cheek a lot, especially if you wear makeup and leave a kiss mark!

☆ Parades it around like a trophy

☆ The most offended you’d ever see him is if you wipe his kiss off. NEVER wipe his kiss off. He’d never kiss you again in fear he’s an awful kisser

☆ His kisses never really get spitty. If you want constant teeth clattering or biting, he’s not the one for you…

☆ Only time anything hasty happens is when he’s really upset

☆ He loves you - a ton - so please be nice with him too..

ayyyyy!! who’s proud of lil ol’ me?? here’s a mini mini oneshot! not long at all, but i thought the idea was cute! now that i think abt it, this was more just my musing… has a kissy kiss tho, so yay! it’s REALLY OOC sry… i’m rly not all that proud of this work, but it’s embarrassing how long it’s been since i’ve posted so i decided whatever take wut i give ya!!

TW: small issues with eating (rui has autism and trouble with textures (mild ARFID), you help him by trying to make nutritious food he won’t want to spew. . lmao… his problem has NOTHING to do with body image/weight, he’s just very particular..)

Rui wants to kiss you, you want to kiss Rui, and its causing you trouble.

It's been 4 years since you've been friends, 2 days since you've been dating, and you've been staring at each other for… how long are these stupid periods? Whatever, the short story is; the teacher made a million-dollar mistake (letting you two partner up for a group project), and everybody in your class is suffering because of it.

It's a classic story, you talk like everything’s normal, brush hands, look away, sputter something out, stare at each other, and freeze when you realize the other is staring right back. People - yourselves included - have seen you two be so natural together, so the simple fact of you two being so awkward is… unsettling. Little did they know, you both are going through some of the worst identity crises known to the angst-riddled teenage mind.

Rui is scared. To expand, Rui is scared of how much he wants to kiss you. To expand further, Rui is scared of how much he wants to kiss you, because you look so nervous around each other all the time since the thing, and he knows that asking you would be awkward enough to want to dig himself a grave out of embarrassment.

He wishes you would just wear the pants and ask, as horrible as that sounds. Why should he be the man and make the first move? He’s hardly manly, he wears striped sweaters…

He finds that way of thinking farcical, he knows it’s dumb to wait for you to ask, but he can’t help it. You asked him out (kinda, it was a genuinely… unique experience), and you should be the one to initiate a first kiss. Rui had never kissed anyone before! Can’t you take one for the team? He’s sure you’ve kissed people, how could you have not?

You were thinking the same thing, of course.

I mean, you already had to make him sit through your painfully long-winded and uncoordinated confession, the least he could do is this! He's definitely kissed someone, you decide, you haven't! It isn't fair to expect you to know what to do!

To everyone else, said simply, you both look schizophrenic.

The way you two decide how to split up the work, the way you two talk to each other as if you're perfect strangers, is confusing for both of you.

“O-Oh, uh- I can- y'know- I can do the writing, I don't mind-”

Your hands graze the others while reaching for the cheap school laptop.

“Sorry!-” You both squeak in unison, pulling away as if you had burned each other. Damnit! This is so annoying! You have to speak up.

“Rui we’re- c'mon, you're still my best friend, so why’re we acting like this?-” You try to laugh, covering your face in frustration. “Be normal, we do this all the time.”

Fortunately, he loves you more than his embarrassment, so your words quickly calm him down.

You both are just so dramatic!

Later, the lunch bell saves you from the hell-sent assignment, and you meet at your usual spot for lunch. You pull two lunch boxes out of your bag, and he grows anxious.

He squints at the sun, his hand cupping his face. “It’s been warm out, even for me. Do you think so?”

Really, Rui? You want to say, small talk? Is this to get out of the real food you want to feed him? Yeah, right.

“You’ll be pretty warm when I strangle you.” You remark, handing him his. “Heard you get sweaty when you fight for air, so you better not piss me off.” You point for emphasis, forcing down your smile. He has to keep from smiling too.

“Well, now i’m feeling nauseous,” he looks away, chuckling. “I think I’ll call someone..”

“Yeah, right. Like you’d find someone else to cut you cutely-shaped vegetables.” You nudge him with your shoulder, pointing again to his lunchbox as if to say eat. Eat now, or die later.

“Maybe a toddler's mom,” He pokes his veg to the side, “or a professional lunchbox maker. Something stupid like that.”

“I bought you soda candy if you’re a good boy and finish all your vegetables.”

“Aye aye, cap’n!” He fake saluts, looking at his lunch with a new-found determination.

“You're too easy, I should be a dog trainer.” You sit, watching him inspect the offending food. He knows you're watching him, and you know he knows you're watching him. You do it because it gives him a reason to actually try, letting him know that if he doesn't eat, you won't.

“You really went with a challenge today...” He squints.

“Why’d you think I bought soda candy?”

“Ah.”

A beat, you glare at him.

“Are you just going to look at it?” You prod, he ponders.

“What's my conversation rate?”

“Two bites to one candy.”

“That seems greedy.”

“Candy-flation. Its a real issue nowadays.”

Another beat, you have to pick up the silence again.

“So whats the plan?”

“You can eat, y'know. I'd rather you not starve to death.”

“Feelings mutual, Rui.”

“Touché.”

He picks one thing up, bringing it to his lips, and you do the same. You smile cockily, knowing he gave in.

“It's good, I promise. I only cooked ‘em for a little bit, so they shouldn't be too mushy.” You speak up, a piece of chicken in your cheek. “I even put meat in it, since you complained last time that it was too “vegetable-y”.”

He nods, chewing slowly with apprehension filling his body. As he continues to chew, however, his reluctance melts away slightly. He always doubts you for nothing! Why doesn’t he trust you? This isn’t bad at all.

“Good, huh? Proud of you,” you encourage. “Rui 2, broccoli 0. Hold out your hand.” You instruct, placing a candy on his palm. “Give me some feedback. Is the sauce a Rui yay or nay?”

“Makes broccoli better, so I like it.” He nods, confirming himself. You fist pump, thrilled he enjoyed it. He sighs at the taste of the sweet gummy, “I like this better though, if you could believe it.”

“Rui liking candy? I don't!” You feign surprise, holding a hand to your chest. He pushes you away playfully.

“Whatever,” he pauses, swallowing. “Do I uh- Do I have to finish?”

“If you wanna live, then yeah.” You joke, holding up an unconvincing first. He laughs.

You two forget about your shared desire, if only for a little bit.

It ends when he walks you home.

You guys were completely normal the whole school day! You both don't know where the sudden apprehension is even coming from, and it’s just…

awkward.

Rui clears his throat, pulling on his coat with an unneeded sense of urgency. You don't know why he felt the need to get your attention, you've been sneaking glances at him for the last 15 minutes.

“So, uh-” he starts, looking away. You know he's about to try for small talk, and it's welcome. “Tsukasa got sick, can you believe it?”

Ah, you were wondering why he didn't have anything to do today.

“I feel bad for his parents, I’d hate to have to nurse ‘kasa back to health,” you snicker, and he joins in reluctantly.

“Me too.”

Another round of silence overtakes the two of you, it’s suffocating.

“So I-“

“Would you-“

You both start, then stop just as quickly. The stifling atmosphere of your shared embarrassment leaves you both speechless.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You two don’t try to start again, not until you two reach your house.

“So…” you start. Everything feels so surreal. If you would've told yourself three days ago you'd be in a relationship with your best friend, you’d have never believed yourself.

“So.” He agrees, nodding. He's feeling as messed up as you are, he hopes you know that… “I can get started on that project tomorrow-”

“C'mon, Rui!-” you exclaim, grabbing his hands. You're sick of the tension - the apprehension - you just wanted to know where he was with it. Did he not want to be in a relationship with you? “I- Can you just tell me if you wanted to stay friends? This is so awkward!”

“It's not that, truly.” He defends, squeezing your hands. He can't believe you'd think that. Can you not see how endeared you are to him? A wave of relief washes over you, though. At least that suspicion wasn't confirmed. “I just- well…” He starts, getting flustered, “I get nervous…” His voice goes quieter, and he pulls you closer.

You swallow hard, your faces closer than before. The urge comes back- the feeling of desire to not only call him your boyfriend (something that already leaves a fuzzy feeling in your stomach), but to do romantic things with him. To touch him, hold him, breathe him in- even simply kiss him. Those things are why you decided to even tell him in the first place, why you were so discontent with your previous friendship.

Rui felt the same way too. He found his heart utterly devoted to the idea of you, and not much else. He saw in himself a restless animal, listening to every word you said like it was poetry.

All of this is to say that you two were at an impasse.

“Rui,” you beg, staring into his eyes, “let's be weird! I want to do things for the first time with you! I want to-”

A hand on your cheek breaks you from your monologue; your heart tightens.

Rui looks down at you, his expression something you can’t completely describe. He stares at you back, then he goes down to your lips, then back at you.

His voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence.

“Is this okay?”

You freeze. Is what okay? Why is he looking at you like that? Your knees turn into jelly as you realize.

Oh, he wants to kiss you.

You nod feverishly, leaning in.

Your collective thoughts quiet when your lips connect, and for once you’re not worried about trivial things like tension. It’s wonderful - still very reluctant, both being terrified of disappointing the other - but still heartskippingly amazing.

His eyebrows furrow as he deepens the kiss, moving off of pure instinct. He’s glad his first kiss is with you - he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s no teeth, no fire, just small bursts of heat. You two have never been the kind to be rough with each other, after all, and it’s shown in the way you take care of one another.

His knees lock at the feeling of total gentleness from you, basking in the way you feel. It’s a calm reminder to both of you that; yes, you love each other, and no, you’re not just friends anymore.

like all good things, though, it came to an end eventually, as you two unfortunately had to breathe. (That isn’t to mention the fact that the blistering heat - combined with the strenuous activity, and embarrassment of doing this while standing on your very seeable porch - was leading you both to an embarrassing amount of perspiration.)

He looks down at your connected hands then back up at you, his face giddy and lopsided. “I should go home before it gets too dark, huh?”

You laugh too, heart pounding at the feeling of puppy love. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

It’s not a question, it’s a promise. A promise that you WILL be at school and WILL speak to him like normal.

“‘Course,” he confirms.

He walks home just a little quicker that night, anxious to tell Nene all about it.

(the ironic thing, is that as soon as you closed your front door, you texted her too.)

[redgoldsparks]

November Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Elite Capture: How the Powerful Took Over Identity Politics by Olufemi O. Taiwo read by Jamie Lincoln Smith 

This is a short read (3 hours in audio) and surprised me with its easily understood analogies and approachable language. The beginning idea is that of "elite capture"- the problem, experienced in many countries which receive foreign aid, of money or other resources meant for the general public being siphoned off or outright stolen by the class of elite citizens who are tasked with managing and distributing that aid. Táíwò then explains how this problem is seen in other social and political areas, including identity politics, specifically in whose voices get heard (and whose voices even get into the room to be heard in the first place). Táíwò is Nigerian-American, and included many examples from outside of the US, as well as referencing Black feminist movements from within the US. I was glad I read this and will definitely be taking some of the ideas from it away with me when I think about other things. I will also be keeping an eye out for other works by this author.

The Cat from Our World and the Forgotten Witch vol 1 by Hiro Kashiwaba 

In this isekai manga, a cat from Earth is summoned into a fantasy world by an older witch with a tragic backstory. The witch is annoyed that the "guardian beast" she summoned seems very lazy and doesn't follow orders, while the cat is confused about its new surrounding and dislikes the food it's being offered. Through book one, pieces of their respective histories are revealed, and they begin to trust each other. The art is very cute and the story is very silly; I'm not sure how deep the cat and witch's relationship can really become if they are never able to verbally communicate. (Also, I found it a little unbelievable that the cat did not try to eat the witch since she is the size of a mouse in comparison, but I realize I need to suspend my disbelief). I will probably continue on with the series to see what happens next.

The Wind’s Twelve Quarters by Ursula K Le Guin 

I chipped away at this short story collection, slowly, over about 4 months. It definitely didn't grab me as strongly as the previous Le Guin story collection I read years ago (Five Ways to Forgiveness). But what I liked about this one is that each story contains a short preface by the author, and they are arranged in chronological publication order, and span about 10 years of Le Guin's writing career (from 1963-1972). So the volume serves somewhat as a retrospective. The stories that stood out to me here include "Semley's Necklace", "April in Paris", "Winter's King" (set in the same world as The Left Hand of Darkness), "Nine Lives", and "The Stars Below". I'm always interested in what shorter ideas novelists play around with, and I also plan to work my way through Le Guin's entire body of work eventually so I'm glad to have read this one.

Please Be My Star by Victoria Grace Elliot 

Erika has been called creepy in the past for her tendency of liking things Too Much, for getting crushes on people she doesn't even know, for building alters to her obsessions. She starts at a new high school for her senior year without much hope of making friends. Quickly, she falls for a tall, handsome boy, Christian, who is also in the drama club. In an attempt to get closer to him, Erika writes a whole one-act play with the hope he will star in it. What she didn't account for was how much time you end up spending with someone during rehearsals, and what it might be like to get to know your crush for real. I really enjoyed this pop culture-infused teen rom-com, the little kpop easter eggs, the clear aesthetic references of mid-90s and early-2000s manga. Silly and sweet and poignant! Can't wait to see what this author does next.

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley, read by Katie Leung and George Weightman 

In the near future, Britain appropriates a tool that allows them to create doors through time. For unclear reasons, they decide to bring multiple people forward from their historical eras to see if it is possible for them to live in and acclimate to a time outside of their own. The project chooses people very shortly before the time in which they would have met their deaths in their original timeline, in hopes that removing those due to die will not mess up the flow of history. The main character of this story is an unnamed ministry worker, a mixed-race linguist, promoted to the role of "bridge" for one of the historical expats; she moves into a small government-owned flat with Graham Gore, a man yanked from 1847 and an early grave as part of the doomed Terror expedition. Her job is to answer all of his questions, fill him on current attitudes and social norms, and to observe him very closely and report everything back to her handler. Gore is an intriguingly self-contained man with a dry sense of humor; after an initial period of extreme shock, he develops a keen sense of curiosity about the world in which he now has his second chance at life. Our main character develops, maybe inevitably, intense feelings for her object of study. I loved the writing style of this book; full of clever metaphors and delightful little turns of phrase ("he looked confused, as if handed and egg and told to hatch it"; "it was a dull toothache of a day"). The humor of the story really worked for me- there is something just inherently ridiculous in having to explain cell phones, modern dating, and germ theory to a man from the Victorian era. There is an undercurrent of danger, suspicion, and tragedy underpinning the slice-of-life bulk of the plot, which kept me hooked. Unfortunately, I did think the thriller/action sequence in the final quarter was the weakest section of the book, but I still really enjoyed it overall and I will definitely be keeping an eye out for what this author publishes next.

Artificial: A Love Story by Amy Kurzweil 

This long, thoughtful, meditative comic unfolds the story of a family driven by creativity and invention, traits which have both saved and consumed their lives. The author's grandfather, Fredic, was a Jewish musician and conductor living in Vienna before WWII; his talent provided the connection he needed to flee to the US on the eve of war. He married and had two children before dying young. His son, Ray, became an inventor whose early experiments in machine learning and machine generated art and music, as well as various robotics, proceeded much of the invention we see today. In middle-age, Ray became obsessed with the idea of typing up all of his father's letters and journals and turning them into an AI chat-bot which he and his daughter could communicate with. Whether you find this meaningful or monstrous will depend a lot on your own personal relationship with AI. Honestly, I struggled to understand why someone would feel they could know a deceased loved one better by chatting with them through an algorithm (owned by an outside tech company, mediated by human and machine decisions) than by simply... reading the journals and letters. Ray's desire to create a digital simulacrum of his father, dead for fifty years, felt motivated by unprocessed childhood grief and folly. My understanding is that the majority of this book was written before our current Chat-GTP dominated era, so there is no discussion of how the majority of AI programs available today are built on stolen creative work and are already straining our energy grids and water resources. (Google recently proposed building seven new nuclear reactors, simply to power its AI). Please know that the comic does delve into more than this one topic; there are thoughts on the meaning of life, of health, death, immortality (through art or AI); on inherited family neurosis and memory. I think many people will find much to enjoy in this book. I simply found myself in such strong philosophical disagreement with so many of the ideas expressed by Ray that it was hard for me to focus on some of the other threads of the narrative. I would still recommend checking out the book if the themes seem interesting to you!

Pleasure Activism by adrienne maree brown

I realized, about a third of the way into this book, that I picked it up wanting a book primarily about activism, and instead was reading a book primarily about pleasure. I think the book I wanted maybe was one that would have been titled "Sustainable Activism" or maybe "Joyful Activism". After I re-framed my expectations, there was a lot of value in this collection. I liked how it was composed of many different short sections by a very diverse array of authors. I liked how many of the authors seemed to know each other, to have worked at overlapping organizations, to be friends. It gave me the sense of a whole network of people working to make the world a more equitable and pleasurable place. I enjoyed the interview with the owner of a sex toy shop; with an indigenous activist and comedian who protested at Standing Rock, and with two sisters on the theme of burlesque as liberation. Many of the sections that focused on pussy power/sex acts spoke to me less; as an aromantic, asexual person, sex is just not one of the main avenues of pleasure in my life. My suggestion is to treat this book like a buffet, reading the chapters speak to you and skipping the ones that don't.

Love On The Other Side by Nagabe 

I picked this up after enjoying Nagabe's other short comic collection, The Wize Wize Beasts of the Wizarding Wizdoms. This one leans closer into horror themes, including several stories in which children are at risk of being dismembered and eaten by monstrous beings who control their physical space. The majority of the stories are of a relationship between a child and a nonhuman creature, whether that is a just a large animal (a lion, a massive crow), a half-human/half-animal, or a creature composed mostly of claws, teeth, and darkness. It's honestly too unsettling for my personal preference but the stories are striking.

Transgender History by Susan Stryker, read by Emily Cauldwell (2018 revised edition)

This book is accessible and fairly short, but provides a rich overview of the history of trans people in public in the United States from the 1850s until the first Trump administration. Stryker outlines the increasing awareness of trans people and trans issues; the rise and fall of many different organizations and publications over the past century; the building of and challenges to medical resources and healthcare access. Two overarching threads are the relationship of trans activists to the wider gay, bi, and lesbian liberation movements, and the views of trans people within feminist thought. There were many familiar people and places here (Marsha P Johnson, Silvia Rivera, Compton's Cafeteria, the GLBT Historical Center, Lou Sullivan, Brandon Teena) and also many who were new to me (Vanguard, Reed Erickson, Dr Harry Benjamin, the NTCU, Beth Elliot). Definitely recommend it as a great starting place on trans history- look for the revised 2018 edition, which also has a nice audiobook.

The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn’t A Guy At All vol 1 by Sumiko Arai translated by Ajani Oloye 

Aya is a pretty, popular high school girl whose only unusual trait is her taste in retro western rock and indie music. Her love of this music leads her into a CD shop where she develops a bit of crush on the cute dark haired boy who works behind the counter. Little does she know that this "boy" is one and the same as the girl she sits next too in school! Mitsuki has always marched to the beat of her own drum; she's loved rock, dressed mostly in all black boys clothes, and struggled to find anyone who shares her interests her whole life. I LOVED the art in this comic, and I'm already so hooked on the sweet, nuanced friendship (or more?) between these little alternative teens.

[rocknrollsalad]

Written for @steddimas week one (fireplace)

-

Rated: T Words: 2252 Tags: christmas related anxiety, dad!steve, handy man!eddie, no upside down au

December wasn’t a month that went smoothly. It was, however, a busy month. As the town handyman and general go-to guy to fix it (affordably) Eddie’s phone was never quiet. He wasn’t sure he found rest in those thirty one days. His bank account loved it, though, so you wouldn’t catch Eddie complaining. 

Nothing bumped projects up the list like family coming over. Judgy family who would notice the squeaky floor boards or not appreciate the extra steps in flushing the toilet. And who could blame them? No one had the cash lying around to buy a new washer and dryer. Save it until it’s an emergency and even then, call up Munson to fix it with duct tape, pennies, and chewing gum. A task Eddie was always willing to perform. 

He’d worked magic on many major repairs, made things breathe new life when they should have been buried in a ditch. Though where he excelled with husbands whose honey-do list was loaded with things they told their wife they could do but lied. Usually in a big way. Eddie would swoop in, fix things while the wife was at work or her sisters or shopping, and leave the husband to look like a hero. Those were the calls that paid the most. Something to do with pride and secret keeping. Not that Eddie cared why they were throwing extra bills at him. 

He thought this was another such housecall; some Harrington guy with fireplace problems. The guy never sounded secretive on the phone but it also seemed like a problem he could sort out himself so why call Eddie? Again, it didn’t matter the reason, their money all spent the same. 

The cute little house in suburbia with its adorable lawn and sensible car parked in front of the garage looked like so many of the others Eddie visited. Each more bland and boring than the last. Why anyone would choose to live like this was beyond Eddie, even parking here made his skin crawl. 

Carrying his tool belt since it was too cold to take his jacket off yet, Eddie went to the door. The type of guy he expected on the other side came from experience, these husbands were all the same. Carbon copies, each telling the same jokes and watching over his shoulder. 

Thankfully he didn’t place any bets on that because what he got was nothing short of mythical. Choirs of angels started singing as the light from the house blasted behind the Adonis of a man and out into the gray winter doom and gloom that Eddie stood in. He wasn’t worthy.

There’s no way Eddie didn’t say “holy shit” as the man ran a hand through his messy auburn hair. The thick framed glasses did things to Eddie he didn’t even know were there but it was the pajama pants and henley combo that fit perfectly and gave Eddie the slightest glimpse of midsection skin with the gesture that did him in. 

Somehow through the mess of thoughts Eddie prayed didn’t leave his brain he heard “You must be Eddie?” 

A question that made the guy who was definitely Eddie turn to Jell-o. First the glasses, then the slutty little out, and now his name from the lips of a god? Maybe this was like that movie and some angel was showing Eddie what the world would be like if he never existed. This is what he’d be missing out on. 

Barely managing to say “That must be me” without squeaking like he was fifteen years younger, Eddie tried to pull himself up and find an ounce of professionalism. Which would have been helpful if he’d had any of that to begin with. To further it, he held up the tool belt. 

“Thank god,” the guy sighed, the relief and near-joy at it being Eddie was unfair. 

“So, it was the fireplace?” Eddie asked, wiping his shoes aggressively on the doormat before entering the home that not but two minutes ago turned his stomach. Now he was wondering which room he could occupy for the rest of time. 

“Yeah, I keep trying to, like, move the flue,” he said, miming what he wanted it to do with his hands, “but it’s stuck on–” 

“I got her in!” a small voice came from the back of the house, preceding the appearance of a child who had to be about six. She was dressed as comfortably as the man though looked nothing like him. 

“The cat,” Harrington clarified for Eddie’s sake but quickly turned his attention to the kid. 

She was scooped up and put on the guy’s hip with such ease. Eddie had never once moved that gracefully. Never mind with someone else. This guy was probably so ripped, just totally jacked. Eddie tried (and failed) not to check out his arms. 

They jabbered on about wrangling the cat and honestly, Eddie wasn’t listening to a word. He spent the time rethinking his life choices and trying to figure out what he was supposed to do here. The kid reminded Eddie that this call was some wife-assigned task, not that he stood a chance with a guy like this, but he really, really didn’t stand a chance with THIS guy. 

“Okay, so the fireplace,” the guy said, bringing Eddie back to earth. “It’s not working and we need it too, ya know, for S-A-N-T-A.” 

Both the child and Eddie tilted their heads as they processed what that collection of letters spelled. The kid didn’t figure it out and Eddie didn’t have a lot of experience with kids so when he did he said “Oh, yeah! Santa!” 

It stopped Harrington dead in his tracks as he looked at Eddie, ready to murder him. Something that was also incredibly attractive but that wasn’t a shock to Eddie. 

The girl squirmed from her dad’s hold, distraught, and ran right to the fireplace. She stuck her head in and looked up, unable to see any light she called out. “He’s going to come and then he won’t be able to get in! We gotta get it open. Now. Now, we gotta open it.” 

Santa wasn’t coming tonight or even this week but the panic in her voice was a little too real, thanks to magic only kids believed in. Maybe that’s why he spelled the word. Eddie winced and tried to silently apologize. 

The success of putting the cat wherever she had was gone, smiles and brightness with it, now the kid was pure panic. Her mind racing with the idea of missed presents because her dad couldn’t pry the chimney open. Eddie wanted to ask why they were checking on that at all, her dad could have lied his way through the season, but he didn’t want to press his luck. It’d been mostly bad today. 

“I really thought we were going to get through all of this without her panicking,” the guy groaned. Raising his voice to speak to everyone, “That’s what Eddie’s here for, he’s going to fix it.” 

“Oh yeah, man. I’ll get this thing in tip top shape. Fat men will be sliding up and down it with ease,” Eddie said and with only a tinge of regret. 

“How do you come so recommended?” The guy said, not trying to hide his disgust. 

Together they finished walking the living room and rejoined the kid. Her wide eyes watched their every move, anxious to have this problem fixed. One she’d apparently forgotten about. Eddie messed that up but he knew he could fix this. Both the anxiety and the fireplace. 

It was usually raccoons, sometimes birds, but always something Eddie could manage. He’d squat down to the kid, she was his customer now. “So you and dad tried everything?” 

“I poked it and shoved stuff up there and dad tried to do this,” she moved her arm back and forth, wrenching an imaginary lever. 

“And that didn’t fix it, I’m so shocked,” Eddie said, looking up at the guy and pretending to ignore the way he rolled his eyes. “I’ve got some special North Pole brand tools in my van, I’m gonna run out and grab them and we’ll have everything working faster than you can say ‘milk and cookies’.” 

For the first time since he’d stressed her out, the kid breathed easy. She accepted the conditions and walked Eddie to the door. He didn’t actually have anything “North Pole branded” but he did have a red wrench so it’d have to do. 

He also took an extra moment to remind himself that this guy was married. It didn’t matter how annoyed he got or how cute he was with his kids or even how much Eddie wanted to know what he looked like without clothes on. He was a lot of things but homewrecker wasn’t one. Not again. 

Calm and collected (though never cool), Eddie headed back inside. He walked around like it was his home but the job called for comfort like that. Saving Christmas was a serious business, they didn’t have time for formalities. 

Immediately back inside he took his jacket off and set up a few things to keep the house from getting dirty. Once the work station was prepared, he handed the kid a flashlight. A job she handled with the seriousness of guarding nuclear codes. 

Eddie explained everything he was doing, some with embellishments to fit the season, but for the most part he talked to her like she was an apprentice. Every so often, he’d task her with a pointless bit of hammering and make a big deal out of it when she followed through. It made everything take twice as long but really, this was her project.

Dad watched over their shoulders (just like Eddie expected) but stayed quiet. Eddie didn’t want to jinx things here but he might have gotten back into the guy’s good graces. 

Hopefully more so when he cracked the damper open and turned this from a fire hazard to a functioning fireplace. It took a bit of WD-40 and showmanship but it wasn’t that hard. He almost felt bad for charging the guy. 

Instead, he blessed him with not making the easy joke about lube and poles. A tough gift to give but Eddie still felt bad and it was the season to be charitable.

Celebrations were had, Christmas was saved, and now the kid was off cleaning up before dinner like some kind of Brady Bunch episode. Eddie packed up, he had another job to get to before he too could “clean up” before “supper”. 

“Thanks man, she was freaking out and none of the usual ‘oh, he can use the door’ and stuff worked. Some kid at her school said Santa can’t open doors, he can only use the chimney and…here we are.” 

“What a little asshole.” 

The guy’s eyes darted down the hall and back to Eddie. Don’t say bad words. Makes sense. That lesson came too late but Eddie wasn’t used to such young clients, plus she was at the other end of the house by now. He was probably in the clear. Worst case scenario, she called the kid an asshole but that seemed like a victory in Eddie’s book. 

Harrington didn’t say anything else. It probably wasn’t a good look to call six year olds assholes and he was obviously the bigger man here. 

“What about apartments?” Eddie asked, not ready to leave and really hoping he could get that foot all the way in his mouth. “I’m not even sure my childhood home had a chimney.” 

“Or, ya know, Santa isn’t real so…” 

Eddie gasped, standing in shock and fighting his every urge to smile. He needed to hold on tight to some bubble being burst and hard truths ruining his night. 

The guy didn’t take the bait. 

With a quiet laugh, Eddie shook his head. The things he’d do to get a reaction out of this guy. Before he started doing anything close, Eddie decided to make his exit. “Look, I didn’t do anything here, man. Except fix a problem I made so, ya know, it’s on the house. This time. But, uh, if your wife needs an invoice or whatever, I can make one.” 

“Oh, I don’t have a wife,” the guy said way too quickly and with this honey-coated voice unlike anything Eddie had ever heard before. Fuck, maybe he did say some of those things out loud.

Again all his bones turned to Jell-o and his vision went white for a split second. Hope was a nasty thing but suddenly he was filled with it. Maybe it was saving Christmas. This was the Grinch’s heart growing three sizes or some bullshit…though Eddie was sure it was something else growing. 

This guy had been kind of stand offish and not at all into Eddie’s antics this entire time and suddenly he says something that could be taken as flirting? That didn’t happen to Eddie. It didn’t happen to “guys like Eddie” in the movies. The look on Harrington’s face said it might just be happening in real life. 

Eddie was already trying to leave but now he wanted to run for the door before he said anything that ruined this, like, truly wrecked his chances. With every ounce of cool he had in him, he reached into his pocket as he said “In that case, feel free to call me. Anytime. Y’know  if you’ve got any more pipes that need cleared or whatever.” 

[kenniko]

video was just them can't stop touching each other

THE HUG WAS SO WHOLESOME ☹️☹️

[ratatatastic]

not a single braincell to be found amongst them not a single damn one

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[floorpancakes]

im having thoughts about gay people again

[dirt-str1der]

I will always be vocal about how much dr stone sucks and how stupid it is but to be quite honest it consumes 80% of my waking thoughts and yes i also downloaded the chinese kemonomimi doujin so i could pretend to read it in my spare time

[nazuna-tunnel-vision]

tbh you can make some accurate guesses about the stories an enstarrie has read from what they call one of Knights.

Naru, Kasa - KnightsP who is fond of Izumi. Has read the whole ! Knights arc and will defend Kasa from his haters (why does he have haters)

Arashi - either an ArashiP who can draw her relationship chart outside of Knights from memory, or someone who hasn't read a single Knights story and is just fawning over her bc that's the enstarrie culture we got going on. or you usually call her Naru but you're code-switching for the non-KnightsP who wouldn't know who Naru is

Sena - IzuLeo is very important to you. You've reread Lionheart more than a couple of times

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, mıssionary, praise, brēeding, petnames, mdni.

nanami who always finds himself in your sheets and between your legs after a long day at work.

“think i want a baby, ‘ken.”

and he took those six simple words personally. nanami’s giving you slow, languid strokes, rolling his hips against yours. he groans at your nails clawing all down his back. as you briefly meet his gaze, you’re met with the most kindest, fawn eyes. all you saw in them were nothing but pools of love with a sprinkle of lust. “oh,” he huskily grunts, hearing the sloshing wet stretch deep into your cunt. he’s stunned for a bit before going deep into imagination. the thought of making your cute tummy all swollen and rounded, it makes him gnaw on his lip like candy.

“my love,” he swallows thickly, a familiar lump forming into the back of his throat. nanami leans into you, his rhythm growing more and more sloppy. you’re jerking back, an ankle of yours sliding down the red lines of his back and he grunts. “c- careful now, might give you more than just one.” and he could have came right then and there—all from relishing in your beauty. he’s never laid his eyes upon anything more pretty.

your knees then get righteously shoved up to your chest. soft, browned eyes flicker at the valley between your breasts before glancing back toward your shimmery spit-slicked lips. you moan, tossing your arms over his shoulders. “i missed my girls,” he groans, stuffing his face between your chest for a moment. your breath immensely hitches at the feeling up him licking a single stripe, still deeply plummeting such inches in and out of your weeping cunt. “they missed me too,” he purrs in a raspy coo, speaking to your tits, and that’s when he latches his plump lips against your perky nipple for a short second. “m-mh.”

the air felt hot — humid, feverish even with each breeze that passes. as warm, kinetic bodies clash against each other at individual hyper strokes, he pries himself off of you. nanami’s jaw tightens so much from your soddened grip that it almost aches. “sweetheart,” he hisses, peering his eyes down to see the milky white ring already coating around his base. it’s probably been hours, hours of you prettily sprawled out for him with your legs open. docile, tawny irises lovingly gaze into you as a thumb of yours strum down his neatly ruffled undercut. “f- fuck, i want you so bad. missed my girl. missed my pussy.”

“she’s missed you too ‘ken,” you pull him into a hot kiss, tasting the mint that lingers on his breath. and as his thrusts grew more sloppy, you whine, feeling his jutting cock kiss against your most sweetest spots. your heart flutters, slithering its way around his waist in a secure lock. “fuck me kento, d- don’t stop, pleaseee.”

“never gonna stop for you, my love,” he huffs, chest heaving in and out. the more he stares at you, the more he falls in love.

through glossed eyes that shimmer with such infatuation—he’s taking in your beauty, your fervor.

nanami loves more than anything to just gawk at you, watching as your eyes droop, your neck crane, and even the way your brows crease into a furrow due to such rapturing pleasure. only he could make you feel this way—you and him both knew that. nobody knew your body like the back of their hand except nanami. your body was his personal canvas, he’s always loved to decorate it and paint it with various, chaste kisses.

to him, you were art. he’s hitting you deep, blurbs and blurbs of whimpers dragging out of your throat until it sounds like inaudible meaningless babbles. so pretty,

repeatedly, the base of his cock perfectly hits against there, leaving you with your jaw hanging open and your entire body being stuck into a limited dimwitted state. he fucks you silly every time, you whimper as a lightening pulse from his cock twitches inside of you, plugging you full.

over and over and over,

nanami blows into your mouth, and you hear a throaty chuckle before he presses yet another wet kiss against your lips. “wanna see you nice ‘n plump s-so bad. gonna give you triplets, my sweet.” and you’re just stupefied, barely a single thought was stored up into your empty, vacant brain. nanami sucks against your bottom lip, still steadily rocking his way into your sloppy cunt. you feel the juncture of his hips mercilessly thrust its way into you raw and you gasp. “right . . here?”

pleasure overtakes you so good that you barely even noticed he was talking to you. you’re too busy moaning your head off and a soft smile pierces against both sides of his lips. a few faint dimples poke against his skin before he grabs your chin. “sweetheaaaart, ‘m talkin’ to you, hey,” and once your eyes meet his mid-thrust, his heart swarms up with love and desire. “there we go. atta girl, yeah. ‘s this spot? this feel good?”

“y- yes,” you whimper, nodding eagerly. he was so big and thick, the prolongated stretch had you drooling. nanami glances at your hand. gingerly bringing it toward his lips, he kisses it, giving it a tender mwah. “kento, ‘m gonna cum a-again.”

“i know, pretty,” he groans, grabbing onto your hand. giving it a firm squeeze. you do the same, interlocking a bundle of fingers with his. his grip was gentle and warm, frantic heartbeat haphazardly picking up speed the more you get a feel of his familiar touch once more. nanami’s always slow with you,

he doesn’t wanna rush this — he hadn’t dreamt of it. already feeling you tighten around him, he invades a strip of your sensitive neck with a plethora of passionate, amorous kisses. “you always taste the same,” and you moan, sobbing cunt gripping down on him so good that it whimpers out a pitchy squelch of its own. his lolled twitching tongue licks against the edge of your shoulder blade once more and your back arches in ecstasy.

he’s never been more in love, with your body arching up backwards at his sweet, sweet hits, you were so close to becoming undone. every pivot of nanami’s hips snap you back to reality before you whine out a needy mewl, tangled digits combing through his unkempt, blond strands. “kento, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“together, my l-love,” his voice falters, and his adam’s apple starts to bob. each delicious thrust of his collapses into your body in such mirroring sync. the rapid, frenzied movements were in complete harmony and beads of running sweat sticks against each skin. nanami gruffly groans, preparing to get milked again, you always did it so so well. squeezing his eyes shut, both broad hands cling onto your hips as he grinds against your core. “c’mon, make a mess on me. ‘m gonna clean you up, promise. give it to me, please.”

your moans were so harmonic, each sound that left your throat coming out to be more elongated. with his cock pounding in and out, he starts to slow his pace down — seeping his teeth into your tender collarbone softly. sharp tips of your fingernails continue to paw at the beefiness of his biceps before within seconds, it happens.

with your lips forming into a lewd circular shape, you’re creaming all down his thickset of a shaft. “kentoooo,” you whine out, feeling your soaked walls clench all around him. he holds you tight, allowing you to form into a puddled mess before he shortly follows. nanami groans, tossing his head forward before a translucent ring bubbles around his heavy base. it comes out in oozing spurts, hot cum pouring into your womb raw.

“ngh, always have me bein’ such a mess for you,” he grunts, pretty arched brows curling up together. nanami sucks at the air, witnessing as your legs grow numb, gluing against his skin. “ah, ‘s gonna be a lot. hold still ‘n take it. take it like a good girl,” and he leans into you, cupping the curvature of your face. “make me proud, baby. thaaaaat’s it. eyes on me, eyes on kento.”

nanami feels a wave of drowsiness dawn over him as he stills himself inside of you. he’s panting right with you, a thumb hooks a strand of hair back toward your face. a school of butterflies flutter inside of you as he’s still dumping a sticky load of velvety thin ropes into your greedy pussy. it’s deeply spewing down alongside of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. “i- i love you ‘ken.”

“i love you more,” he whispers, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face. he hums at the tiny pout that’s displayed on your lips. you’re underneath him, succumbing into such an orgasmic state that you could barely keep your lashes open. nanami’s not moving anymore but he’s still buried balls deep. a big clammy hand ghosts over your tummy before he nips at your chin. “you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy,” and with a final kiss, you feel him slowly lifting up your leg, tossing it over his shoulder.

and as you gasp, watching him switch positions— nanami then pulls out a wedding ring, sliding it over your bare finger. “but you’d be an even prettier wife.”

[sttoru]

plsplsplspl soft intimate sex with satoru:(

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. unprotected. praise kink. spooning position. crēampie. cōckwarming. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty, sweetheart, princess’

“it’s okay, baby, i know,” satoru whispers words of comfort in your ear from behind. one of his arms is wrapped around your waist to keep your body close, the other circles your thigh, holding up your leg so his cock could slide in and out smoothly.

you’ve both just woken up from an afternoon nap, needy for each other’s touch. your lover’s raspy voice paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination.

satoru wasted no time in pulling your shorts down and freeing his erection from its confines. he went from rolling his hips against the fat of your ass and fondling your tits under your shirt, to burying his fat dick all the way up your cunt.

he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your face to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms. “let it out, yeah—good girl. don’t be shy,” satoru chuckles softly as he grinds his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

your eyes are half-lidded and blurry. you’re feeling so good and loved, so pleased and happy to have a partner like him. “right there, ‘toru,” you whimper quietly once you feel the head of his dick rub back and forth on the deepest parts of your velvety insides. satoru happily obliges, hugging your body even tighter to his chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“here, baby?” the white-haired man asks, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it ghosts over your skin. he keeps his dick balls deep inside you and switches to slow and shallow strokes, “y’re so pretty. you always know jus’ how to take it. so, so, so good.”

your hands are scrambling to hold onto the white sheets. you can’t physically take the amount of pleasure you’re getting, that inevitable peak gets closer and closer. your hips involuntarily jolt back against satoru, reciprocating his gentle thrusts. a big hand reaches out to yours that’s tugging at the covers, slender fingers intertwining with your own.

“m’sgood,” you mumble incoherently through a soft whimper. your back is positioned in a nasty arch that makes satoru’s dick tingle. he sighs against your nape before allowing his tongue to wet the skin, sucking on the same spot soon after. he does the same to your sensitive ears and neck—covering you with his love while also filling your body with the same.

satoru holds your hand tightly, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. “i love you so much, y’know that, right?” he says in a gentle tone. he’s confessed his love to you so many times before, though he always makes it sound like it’s his first time doing so.

“i’m never letting you go, ever,” your partner promises before leaning over your shoulder to catch your lips in a kiss. satoru’s tongue sweeps over your bottom lip before rolling around in your warm mouth. his hips don’t stop, cock repeatedly appearing and disappearing inside of your pussy. the pace never escalates to make the moment last longer.

“mhmm— wanna b-be with you forever,” you mutter against his glossy lips, feeling safe and protected in satoru’s embrace like this. all you’re feeling, hearing and smelling is him. that’s what peace is for you. as long as you got him, you’re going to be just fine.

satoru smiles at your words. you feel so perfect around him, your cunt molded to fit his cock whenever he pleases, remembering its shape and allowing it to ruin your insides. “of course, sweets. i’ll treat you so well, ‘kay? you can count on me,” he comforts you with a forehead kiss.

“pretty girl. you’re perfect,” satoru continues to praise you like no other. his free hand runs over the small of your back and back to your thigh, keeping a gap between them so his cock can move a bit more freely. “let me hear your cute moans, c’mon. fuck, y’ turn me on so much,” he sighs, not knowing what he’d do without you.

satoru is obsessed with all of you. the combination of your personality and looks is heavenly. his lips never stop distracting you, his tender kisses covering your entire upper body. the lovey dovey atmosphere in the room never dulls even once.

“ah, ‘toruu, hnghh—can’t last f’ any longer,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back. your lover is all the evidence needed to let you know that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be good. he can make you cum for an infinite amount of times by simply grinding his hips against you—changing his techniques every now and then.

rolling his hips in small circles or simply pressing his cock all the way inside your cunt and then prodding at your sweet spots, is all what’s needed to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“aww, my poor baby. can’t hold it in f’me?” satoru pouts before kissing your temples lovingly. he caresses your hip, other hand still not letting go of your hand. there’s such a deep connection between you two—no one can ever sever it. that strong bond feels more intimate when you’re merged into one like this.

“nooo, can’t,” you shake your head and whine about how close you are. satoru nods at your needy words and dips a hand down to rub your clit. his middle and ring finger move around the small bundle of nerves in circles. “khehe, that’s okay. let’s cum together,” he whispers as kisses find their way down your jawline.

you hum in agreement, little moans filling satoru’s ears as you get closer to your climax. your body trembles and heats up, your tummy tingles and tenses up. satoru’s in the same situation as you, his low moans turning into hisses and even quiet whines against the skin of your shoulder.

he holds you close, preparing both of you to reach your long awaited releases. “sh—shit, ‘m g’nna pull out, baby—give me a second,” you hear him whimper under his breath as his hand tightens its grip around yours. he’s nearly crushing your bones.

you don’t give him time to even think of pulling his cock out. you want to relive the sensation of having his seed spread inside of your cunt, overflowing until it’s dirtying the sheets. “no- ‘toru. inside, please,” you beg quietly as your pussy locks around his cock. your walls cling onto his dick, yearning to milk his heavy balls dry of every drop.

satoru gasps and hisses, trying to speak up, but getting overpowered by his own noises of desperation. “fuck, all right, princess. as you wish,” his voice is husky and deep as he pushes his cock in to the base before dumping his load inside you.

ropes of hot cum come out quickly, one after the other, filling you with a hot creamy liquid. you can feel every drop being drained inside your spasming cunt. your own cum mixes with his, creating a lewd mess between your thighs.

“th-thank you,” you whisper tiredly. your body relaxes in satoru’s embrace. you’re trembling due to the intense aftershocks and your lover wastes no time into kissing it better. your forehead is peppered with small pecks, the rest of your face following.

satoru giggles at your fucked out state. he gives you a head pat and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. you can feel him grinning uncontrollably against your skin—the joy emitting from him is contagious.

“any time,” he sighs. you can feel his cock softening after that release, still nestled deep inside of you. he has no intention of pulling out, especially since it’s so comfortable. you let him cum inside you and thus he’ll do everything to keep that hot load buried deep inside your cunt.

you can nearly fall asleep like this with satoru. you have zero complains and simply need to relax after what just happened. perhaps take another nap or two.

the white-haired man kisses your shoulder and rubs your lower tummy, enjoying the softness, “i’m gonna prepare us a warm, relaxing bath in a second. let’s just cuddle some more, baby.”

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

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