#and now. i need more ^_^ to fuel my silly habits

[kissinglure]

ok this is the best picture I can get atm but here it is! my ib-a bag! ive been working on it for about a year now ^_^ and still looking!

[probablydinosaurs]

five joking about his life or throwing it in their faces makes the siblings uneasy. they cant FATHOM it and it hurts. tbh i feel once they aren't all in such danger and ignoring his warnings and ring leader like behavior , they would slowly start spoiling him a bit. he wouldn't notice at all at first but over time, he gets a deep sense that everyone pities him but he cant place it. he'd start denying any hand outs or good will bc he doesn't want to be seen as a headcase that needs coddling. and i think different siblings are in different camps if u put "baby" and "old man" on a sliding scale. none of these are like extreme stances, more just the vibes they feel from five.

Luther: old man 80% bc hes the only one that see's five's "older" self and can 100% say. same guy no changes. mentally unsound…. but like five stated in that whole fiasco, Luther has daddy issues and cant like. see that old man in such a young man. Luther has 1 half a brain cell. his need to nod and agree to every old man he listens to illnesses wont allow it. so he weirdly flip flops. he also develops the habit of trying to pick five up to calm him down, witch ends very poorly each time.

Diego: protective brother energy. cant fathom his brother got THAT much trauma in him. and is older then him. 13 years of being all the same age. 13 years of sharing the same birthday. and now well everyone ages up together, five is in his own corner being like 67 well the rest are like mm idk math 40 something. Diego just cant…think that far. denial. every time he thinks he's used to this old man or starts seeing him as the same age as everyone, five info dumps about the inner workings of a specific gun or the how good the wine in the celler will be 37 years exactly from now and to wait…Diego just mentally reboots.

Allison: baby camp. didn't take him very seriously back in the day either bc his ego is the size of a watermelon. and oh look the lil guy thinks bc he has more life behind him then us, he thinks he's the smartest one here. yeah right. she makes him his coffee when he wakes up or folds his Landry bc she needs to do hers and he forgot to take his out. five just thinks shes being passive aggressive but its more "if i don't then he might hurt himself or mumbling to himself about how forgetful he has become and i do NOT want to here that right how. il just do it. " tough love babying. five sometimes lets her brush his hair when he's in a bad state of mind.

klaus: depends on the day. he is the one who tease him about his height the most. i think Klaus tries to pinch his cheeks at least once a day and nearly got a blade through his hand at attempt # 23. but he also is second one that weirdly respects him the most. complementing how happy he looks DUE to his retirement and not just in general. likes buying him the stuffiest old man clothes ever from off the road and down an alley thrift shops, thinking everyone would find them silly but five like. genuinely adores them and borderlines on feeling the want to hug him but neh. too stubborn. almost though. witch is rare. five will never admit that he thinks Klaus has a good fashion sense.

ben: the brother that ruffles his hair the most. the two that severed the family. they have a unspoken energy about them. you don't mention my death, i wont bring up your past deal. Ben doesn't really care anyway. on the "i got my brother back, that's all that matters." camp with viktor. fuels five's need to bicker on topics. their hard ass but still playful energy balances each other out. is the one that tells klaus that the clothes he picks out for five is too much and he will hate them but gets surprised every time five likes them. riiight right. he wouldn't have the tastes as the 13 year old i remember him as. he downs scotch like a mad lad. gotta remember that.

viktor: leader of the "he could have come back to us as an acorn like dad warned and id still keep him in my pocket." camp. just happy to have his favorite sibling back. though they admit five also being the most open with him makes him uneasy. he wants to listen about the past 45 years but it can be very existential for viktor. five understands and lets him breath if its too much. (stealing this from this post) i feel like five owns and somehow still has on him a very worn and well loved copy of viktor's book. with notes and highlights scribbled in them. the cover fell off and five sewn it back on then poorly laminated it with the commission's laminating machine . viktor would cry if he saw it. full blown meltdown together.

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

wip wednesday... or whatever

hello my dear friends. i just wanted to give y'all some morsels that may or may not be helpful or fulfilling in anyway, but i have been kind of in an extended writing rut. i think (hope) that i am turning a corner, though! so i just wanted to provide some reassurance and/or (heh) some treats for any of my very, very patient readers out there. so, without further ado, here are some treats.

also, keep your eyes peeled for some little one-shots/drabbles coming to an ao3 feed near you over the next few days/weeks!

more under the cut!

from chapter 2 of Path of Totality:

“How are you feeling?” he asks her, tilting her chin up to look at her. His pupils are blown, his eyes dark and dulcet and lovely as he looks her over. “I feel weird.”

“Weird?” Jyn questions, a bit scared by that description because she feels fucking divine. The sea wind shivers like a silken robe over her shoulders.

“Weird, but good,” he’s quick to clarify, smiling.

“Weird but good,” she repeats with a silly grin, heartened. “Yeah… yeah, me too… a bit.”

Cassian’s entire demeanor seems to shift. His limbs loosen and his face brightens and he bends his head closer to her ear, whispers in a gentle warning: “this is just the beginning.”

His voice solidifies into a heated caress over her neck and she bites back a curse in the wake of it. His words sink slow but real into her fogged over brain. She already feels so strange… and they haven’t even peaked yet. She circles her palms over his biceps, tightens her grip. Cassian folds his own hands over her elbows. She feels anxious, nervous, but in a sweet, excited way. She had been staring down a dark and overgrown trail, obscured and dangerous, lain with traps and tripwires. Now, the path has been cleared and Cassian is there to walk beside her.

“‘M here,” he says into the cap of her shoulder, as if he’d been reading her thoughts and it’s a brand as much as it’s a promise.

(there is currently 10k+ words of voice kink and sexual tension and fEeLiNgS. just need to write the nasty and i can finally send it off!)

from chapter 2 of Aphelion:

Kassa… no, Cassian— picks up another fuel rod, dips it carefully into the simmering oil bath with thickly gloved hands.

Clem nods in approval, punches him lightly on the arm. “That’s good, son. Good money for good work.”

Cassian pinches his brows together, lifts the rod from the black, boiling depths. The oil falls away. The metal gleams. He sees the reflection of one, dark eye blink back at him. He thinks of the ship crumpled in the jungles of his home. He thinks of his sister.

He thinks of Clem, his new father. Of Maarva, his new mother who had saved him, he thinks. Who had taken him from everything he had ever known. His stomach twists.

”Why did Maarva take me?”

Clem shakes his head once, distracted with his tome of a ledger. ”She loves you.”

”She didn’t know me.” She still doesn’t._

Clem pauses in his scribbling, comes to stand next to him and kneels down, places a large, warm hand on his shoulder. ”You just know, sometimes.”

”Did you?” Cassian asks and he doesn’t like how childish he sounds. He is a child, he knows that, but he never much feels like one. “When you met Maarva?”

Clem frowns, nods affirmatively. “Aye, I guess I did.”

”On Kenari we called that de’shelay,”_ he says smartly, placing the now cleaned and dried fuel rod on the rack next to him._

“Ah… here we call that ‘soulmates’.”

”’Soulmates’,” Cassian repeats, rolling the word on his tongue. It has been difficult learning this strange new language, but he likes the sound of it. Likes the way it leaves his mouth. There’s a weight to it. It is big and abiding. “That sounds nice.”

”Aye, son,” Clem says, straightening to stand with a groan. “It is… but it is also a difficult thing.”

Cassian frowns. “Why?”

”It is a great responsibility,” Clem tells him gravely, “being entrusted with one’s soul.” He points at him, eyes sage and serious, the same way he was in the habit of doing when he wanted something to stick. “It is a great privilege. Remember that.”

Cassian blinks, letting this enormous thought sink in. “How do you know?” he asks, suddenly urgent. Maybe the pretty girl down the road— Bix— is his soulmate and he hadn’t been taking proper care this entire time. “How do you know when you meet your soulmate?”

“Oh, well that’s simple, son,” Clem tells him with a little chuckle that tells Cassian it was not simple. Not simple at all. “You just do.”

(this is the entire opening flashback scene. i wanted to pull from the other scene i have written, but i also don't want to spoil a cool surprise, so, here we are. i probably have another 5-7k words to write for this one)

from chapter 5 of 12 Days on Yavin, Wyoming:

Jyn is a live wire against him, trapped between his body and the door. Her hands blaze over his skin like coals as she tugs him ever closer. He swallows her moan as he presses his leg between her own, hitches her up on his bent knee with his hands braced on her hips. He delves his fingers under the hem of her shirt, groans at how soft and heated her skin is beneath his hands, how her muscles jump at his touch.

He has to tear himself away, has to catch his breath and gather what little of his wits are left— because Jyn has started, ever so slightly, to rut against his thigh and it’s driving him a bit wild.

And because he’s fairly certain he’s bleeding on her floor.

“Shit,” he mutters, stepping back from her.

“What?” Jyn snaps, perturbed, blinking as if being released from a spell. “Cassian?”

She’s seems a bit panicked, a bit worried, as if she is the cause of his distress. He shakes his head quickly, lifts his right hand, where his knuckles have opened up. He hisses in pain as he flexes his fingers and a warm stream of blood rolls over the top of his palm.

“Oh, no, Cassian,” Jyn murmurs in sympathy, even while she seems to sigh and sag in relief.

“I’m sorry,” he says, checking for stains on her shirt and on the rug beneath his feet. And, yeah, there’s a few spots of red against the green. “I can replace the rug.”

Jyn rolls her eyes, takes him by the arm to lead him toward the bedroom. “Don’t worry about it… let’s get you cleaned up.”

Cassian tries a little too hard to not fixate on the bed as Jyn drags him into the adjoining bathroom. She flips down the toilet seat and urges him to sit on top of it before rummaging in the medicine cabinet. First Aid kit retrieved, she sits down next to him on the edge of the bath tub.

“This’ll sting,” she warns before popping open a bottle of isopropyl and pouring a healthy amount over his hand. He hisses in pain and Jyn hands him a clean cloth. “Press,” she instructs and he does.

He watches as she unwinds a spool of gauze, cuts a strip of bandage with a pair of tiny, sharp scissors. “Well prepared,” he observes.

She gives him an inscrutable look. “I’ve had to learn to be prepared.”

The emotion stinging in his throat isn’t sympathy… but it’s not far from it. He knows what that feels like— to have to take care of yourself. How many times has she had to dress her own wounds?

His heart clenches hard under his ribs.

(this chapter haunts me. it's essentially done. but for some reason i hate it. i'm not sure why. there's a part of me that thinks it's because i've sat on it too long. i've poked at it too much. that whole 'if you stare at yourself in the mirror long enough you start looking like a monster' thing. but there's another part of me that's like 'lmao i have to rewrite this whole 12k+ chapter from jyn's pov and nothing else will fix it'. because i am INSANE.)

from chapter 2 of Sometimes the Wolf:

“Where’s the serum?” Cassian shouts in desperation once the truck evens out. “We need it. Jyn—“

“Here!” Cinta cries from the corner of the truck bed, braced against the jumps and jostles of the rutted track they’re following. She kicks a heavy tac box toward him. “Figured you might need it.”

Cassian almost feels like fainting in relief. He wraps his fingers around the tiny wrists of the strange little girl, pries her arms from around his neck and shifts her into his lap. “Hey, hey,” he shushes. She’s shaking like a leaf. The girl whimpers, looks at him through the whipping rain with a trembling lip. “I need to help Jyn. I need you to let go for a bit so I can do that.”

She nods, but does not move. “Brasso…” Cassian pleads. The big man nods, leans forward from his seat on wheel well and grabs up the girl. She shrieks in protest, but Cassian can’t spare another thought for her right now.

Jyn lays half upright against the opposite wheel well, still panting. Her own charge seems to have passed out on her chest— from sheer exhaustion or from shock he can’t say, but it doesn’t matter. He can work around her.

“Cass…” she hisses at him almost in warning as he drags himself toward her. He snaps open the thick plastic hatch of the tac box. “It’s too late—“

“Are you feeling feverish?” he asks, plucking the precious vial from the foam encasing it and shaking it.

“No, but… Cassian it could just be the rain… or shock. Too much time has passed—“

“The virus works different on everyone. Thirty minutes is just a rule of thumb—“

“Cassian, if you do this and I turn anyway, it will be a waste. Wasted when it could be used for someone else.” He pulls the cap off the syringe with his teeth. Pierces the vial and begins to draw. “Draven will flay you alive!” she continues, growing a bit desperate, perhaps.

He flicks air from the needle. “You think I give a shit about that?” He pulls up the sleeve of her jacket, smooths the rain and blood from the bite. It’s black and putrid and hot to the touch. He feels himself reel, but he takes a breath, looks up at her with the best grin he can muster. “Are we married or not?”

Cassian waits for a relatively smooth stretch of road as Jyn lets out a harsh breath of frustration. “I can’t fucking believe your making jokes right—“ Jyn halts in her griping with a hiss of pain as the needle goes in. She always did hate needles.

Cassian depresses the syringe, pulls the needle free, tosses it back into the box. He grips her face between his hands and brings their brows together. “You’re going to make it,” he swears to her. “You’re going to make it, or I’m going with you.”

(not much to say about this one. hoping to update it on the one year anniversary lmao.)

[automatonne]

I know he's already a big fella, but do you have any stuffing headcanons for TFP Bulkhead?

Sure! Big guys gotta eat! I was literally just wondering when my resident BH fan was gonna show up lmao

THE BIGGEST LUG STUFFING HCs

I totally see Wrec/ker eating contests being a thing? Jackie is one of his favorite opponents. The little guy can give him a run for his money, but he hasn’t been beaten once.

The prize? More fuel! Plus whatever the loser didn’t manage to drink! Don’t be silly! He’s tough!

He’s a massive guy, so he already has plenty of room for fuel. He’s a big ol’ truck, too, so it kinda demands that he have a bit reserve on hand. It’s understood on his team that he needs heavier rations than the others.

(Doesn’t mean their medic doesn’t bitch a little about it when he’s tempted to take a bit more than he should, though he’s pretty good about sticking to his fair share in times of crisis.)

Rude in habit but polite in manner. He drinks like he has a hole in his lip. The medic has had to snap at him to slow down, so they don’t lose more precious fuel as runoff. He just licks his lips and apologizes somewhat half-heartedly, albeit sheepishly.

Burping contests are totally a thing between him and Jackie, too. Another thing he’s never lost. One time he drank so much that he made their base rattle with the eructation, and their leader sternly (and disappointedly) suggested that they take it outside. (He and the doc are trying not to purge a little. They don’t understand how bots can just act like this.)

Now they go out to the canyons where the acoustics are better, anyway.

Bellyaches are a stranger to him. He doesn’t really get them. His tank is made of the sternest stuff.

When he’s nice and full, he loves to lounge around and rub his gut, not caring who sees or who admonishes him for being “lazy.” He just chuckles that he’s a big guy! He needs to let everything take its time to filter through!

[yumedoca]

Why ‘Last Date’ is the my favorite Ataru focused chapter - An Analysis 🧐 (Long Post)

Hai there, hope you’re having a great day! Today on ‘Yuca Analyzes Silly Things (For No Reason)’,  we’ll be talking about what I believe to be the best Ataru storyline written, which is ‘Chapter 247: Last Date’.

Note: All of the facts and evidence and such are taken from the manga because: a) it’s the canon source, b) the og anime changes a lot in relation to the story and character to the point it isn’t consistent and c) it hasn’t been adapted in the remake (yet…).

Also, We’re going to be analyzing this chapter according to the story progression, so we’re going page by page. I’ll skip the bits which don’t need analysis and focus on the ones that do.

With all of that aside, let’s begin!

The chapter starts of with Nozomi’s (The ghost girl) diary entry of the ‘wonderful gentleman’ she admires from her window…

To those who aren’t aware of how this chapter was pushed into existence, here’s a bit from an interview with Takahashi’s editor at the time, Tomofumi Arito:

First up, I like how Nozomi falls for Ataru. Because of Ataru’s flirtatious and womanizing habits, women can easily understand how he is from meeting him. But in Nozomi’s case, since she could’ve only seen Ataru from her window (and here we’re assuming he hasn’t flirted at all from where she can see), all she sees is a young man who’s very energetic and happy, in contrast to her who is sick and unwell. This small part of his personality (even if it is fueled by his lust to chase women, but she doesn’t know that…) has managed to capture her heart. It’s quite difficult to write an everyday woman to fall for someone like Ataru (Lum is not an everyday woman, is she?), so to make the woman who falls for him someone who couldn’t get close to him and only observe him from afar, and only a little bit because of personal restrictions is basically a small but genius writing move from Takahashi’- sensei’s part. Also, Fun fact: Nozomi’s name means ‘Hope’, which is pretty symbolic as well. Moving on…

Now we’ll skip to the part where Nozomi asks Ataru to wear the sweater she knit him (on a very hot day)…

This is one of those times where Ataru’s kinder side shows through, it’s a pretty obvious scenario to understand however it’s a bit deeper than just that… You see back in the three parter storyline ‘O, Rain! Rain and Rain More!’, Ataru had the choice to go on date a very beautiful girl to free her from a curse of a rain spirit. He accepted to do this very kind deed, but his intentions weren’t the purest…

Compare that with this chapter (which takes place around 150 chapters later), You can see that Ataru’s doing a kind deed again, but unlike last time, he has absolutely nothing to gain from it: He goes on a date with a cute ghost girl but he can’t enjoy it because it’s too hot and after the date is successful, she’ll end up resting in peace, so he can’t be lovers with her. Yet, he still goes on this date because he felt sorry for poor Nozomi and he didn’t want to disappoint her. Now that’s what I call ‘👏 Character Development!! 👏’

Now we take a small break from analyzing the Ataru stuff, because there’s something else I love in this chapter which I want to point out… and that is…

…Lum

Okay, so what I love about Lum in this chapter is how the usual jealous girl acts towards the whole situation. When she hears Sakura request Ataru to go on a date, she was pretty mad. But when she sees that he was supposed to go on a date with a ghost so she would rest in peace, she understood the gravity of the situation and that it was to help someone instead of being jealous like usual. She even tried persuading him to wear the sweater when he initially refused..

It really shows how much Lum has grown from her antagonist days (Oh, and if you were wondering she wasn’t jealous in the rain girl chapter as well, which just means character development struck her quite early). This is also one of those things which is only there in the manga, the original anime adaptation has extra scenes of her being jealous and being mad at Ataru for going on the date and making her seem unsympathetic (even though the persuading scene from above was still left intact? Like, what was even the point?) I’m sorry for rambling, this change just pisses me off so much, like even Sakura points out her behavior in the episode… …Now, back to Ataru!

The next thing we’ll talk about is the end of the date and when Nozomi finally rests in peace…

First, I find it so sweet how Ataru’s expression changes as Nozomi fades away, you can really see that she has made an impression on him, and of course the last three panels… Ataru stating that he’ll wear those a bit longer, despite how hot it must’ve been, because he didn’t have the heart to take it off is so damn sweet and cute… and from that we go into the final page of the chapter…

I Love This Page. No, seriously, if I could pick my favorite page from the manga, this is it.

I love how Ataru visits Nozomi’s grave later on, he didn’t have to, yet he still did it anyways. That was very thoughtful of him. Not everyone would go to the grave of someone who they have never seen before in their life till a single date.

I love how Lum calls him ‘kind’, Ataru rarely receives genuine compliments and he very well deserved this one.

I love how Ataru’s reaction to Lum’s words, he doesn’t usually get genuine compliments but he acts like it no big deal and that it’s something anyone will do (There are some people who wouldn’t), compared to his usually selfish demeanor.

I love the way Lum looks at Ataru, a gaze filled with love 💕.

I love how Lum wishes to be a ghost so she could be treated the same way Nozomi was, that just shows how much she wants Ataru to show his love.

I love how Ataru calls her stupid right after that because her being a ghost would mean that he would lose her and that’s the last thing he would want and finally…

I love the bittersweet feeling this page leaves me with. Usually every time a chapter ends with a sweet moment between Ataru and Lum, I feel soft and happy. This is one makes me feels kinda soft because of Ataru’s kindness, kinda sad because Lum wants Ataru to open up his feelings so much that she wished to be a ghost and kinda happy because Ataru calling her stupid reassures her that in the sense he does care for her. No other page really makes me feel like this. It gives me chills. Even Takahashi- Sensei has stated that this page ‘made a tingle run up her spine’ while drawing it, to quote from the continuation of the interview from above as stated by Arito- San:

In conclusion, ‘Last Date’ is my favorite Ataru focused chapter because of how Ataru’s portrayed in it, It’s a chapter, which shows how much he has grown from how he was before. It shows that Ataru can kind and caring to anyone. I also like how this chapter as a whole doesn’t focus on Ataru and Lum’s relationship but rather Ataru’s character instead. I wholeheartedly believe the reason Ataru has changed as a person was because of Lum’s love for him and his caring nature for her has expanded towards others as time went on. It’s exactly how you write a romantic relationship: their main character trait isn’t the other person, instead they both leave a positive impact on each other so the other grows, as in they are strong as individuals, but it’s only because of the other. They are written with that in mind and that’s why I love them 💕. Thanks for taking time to read this analysis and I hope I was able to show you why I love this chapter so much. I hope I managed to do this chapter justice because it’s amazing. Thanks to everyone who voted for the poll I held before, and those who voted for the other options, don’t worry I’ll eventually get to them as well. I also apologize if I’ve overlooked anything or made any mistakes. If you have any doubts or questions about this analysis feel free to send an ask and if you want me to do an analysis about other characters, feel free to send an ask for that as well. You can check out my other analysis on my analysis tag.  And finally, likes are appreciated and reblogs are even more appreciated (seriously, please reblog this so more people can see this post, since I spent a lot of time on this!!). Hope you have a great day ahead!! 💕

[aces-and-angels]

if you could please write prompt 14 for a female MC (can be rowan) and abel that'd be awesome! congrats on your milestone!!

tysm anon! congrats on being #1 of 3 of what i'm dubbing the impromptu shower series lol.

i wanted to explore a scenario where mc rejects abel at the carnival (dw, there's a happy ending). anyways, enjoy your extra large blurb🖤

14. Showering together; Abel x Rowan (F!MC)- 3.4k words

---

Abel was not a morning person. At least, not at first. Multiple alarms were needed in order for him to wake up in time for Mercedes' soccer practices. And Cesar's baseball games. Even Lola would occasionally need a ride whenever she had a Model UN meeting.

Years of early mornings led to him having quite the caffeine tolerance. One cup of coffee turned to two, and eventually, he would just drink it out of habit rather than to actually cure his drowsiness. However, a cold shower never failed to do the trick. He'd grit his teeth as freezing water pelted down on his bare skin, shocking him back to life.

Whatever works, right?

A cold shower to wake up- to bring him back to reality- to silence those cursed screams from the unknown, the ones that fueled his nightmares. More recently, they were needed to stop himself from thinking of her.

Rowan.

The way her lips were oh so perfectly shaped. How they would look saying his name. How soft they'd feel against his... Cold water could only do so much to keep his thoughts at bay.

~~~

"I-- I just, don't really see you like that."

His heart dropped. "Oh. Not even after... everything?" All those stolen glances. Their first kiss in his apartment. Dancing like idiots under the stars. Holding her close. Falling asleep in her arms.

"Abel..."

"No, it's okay. It's fine. I get it. No need to explain."

He can't look at her. Not now. Not when he feels like he's being ripped apart. His vision blurs with unshed tears. Not here. Not now. The joyful shrieks of children riding the merry-go-round behind them fade, giving way to the pounding in his ears.

Every breath hurts. But eventually, he musters enough strength to push that ache in his chest down. "Want to get a funnel cake?" He does his best to smile. She does the same.

"That sounds like a great idea." The walk to the food stall is quiet. He could get over her. He had to.

~~~

Things were always easier said than done.

It had been four months since everything ended. Without eminent danger occupying his time, teaching at Redwood provided a welcome distraction. Even if being the new hire meant taking all the 8AM lectures. There was enough material in the library to stay busy for hours. Enough to help him forget about her. It nearly worked, until...

"Hey," Rowan waved nervously, holding a duffel bag in her other hand. Abel blinked in shock, his mouth slightly agape.

"Ro? What are you... Why are you..." His thoughts scrambled around in his head. She's not supposed to be here. Is she? Did she come for me? No, that's silly, he reminded himself. Still, his heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Brown and cyan. The ones he could never forget no matter how hard he tried.

"Long story short- my car broke down. Then I remembered you got a job at Redwood. The mechanic said the campus wasn't too far from the shop, so I walked," she explained.

"Y-you could've called. You didn't need to walk all the way here."

"I would've, but my phone died and I stupidly forgot to pack my charger."

"The shop didn't have a phone?"

"No, they did. But I didn't exactly have your number memorized. Or any number, really," she chuckles sheepishly.

"Heh, right..." Abel bit the inside of his cheek, unsure what to do next. He watches her mouth move as she speaks, but none of the words are registering. Say something, you dork. She's staring at you! Dios, have I been staring? Am I being weird? When did my palms get so swea-

"Uh, Abel?" Rowan waved her hand over his face, breaking him out of his spiral.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked if there were any phone charging stations here," she restated. "I need to look up a place to stay for the night while my car gets fixed."

"You can stay with me." What am I doing?

Her eyes widen. "Really? I don't wanna trouble you."

"I-it's no trouble, I swear. The hotels around here aren't cheap. Besides, friends give each other emergency places for refuge," he reassures. Friends. The word still felt bitter on his tongue.

She searches for something in his face- any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she slumps her shoulders in relief. "Well, thank you. Really. I'll be out of your hair before you know it, promise."

"Right," he mumbles, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest. "Follow me. I've got one more lecture to give, but you can wait in my office. I'll come get you when I'm done."

"Actually... could I sit in on your class?"

"You want to sit in on a two hour lecture about the Sioux tribe?" He could barely hide the disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah, why not? I've never taken an archaeology course before... Plus, Jocelyn said you weren't too boring to listen to," she snorts. He can't help but laugh as well.

"What a stellar review," he smirks. His eyes glance down at his wrist watch. "C'mon, we're about to be late for class."

"Aye, aye professor."

The next two hours proved to be one of the toughest lectures Abel's ever had to present. He's spoken at several conferences with distinguished audience members without breaking a sweat. But here he was, stumbling over his words anytime he glanced at Rowan- and his eyes were hellbent on landing right where she was.

Back row, seven seats from the center. It was hard to look at her, yet it seemed impossible to look away. His nerves dried out his mouth despite the many sips of water he'd taken. The bottle he brought was empty before he made it through half his presentation.

"How about a quick break?" Excited murmurs fill the lecture hall at his suggestion. "I'll take that as a yes. We'll pick things back up in ten minutes." Some students left the room, while others chatted with their friends. With the attention off him, he could finally breathe easy.

Standing at the podium proved to be too much to handle. He made his way to his desk, prepared to finish the rest of his lecture from behind his computer monitor. A small shield for his wandering eyes.

"Here," Rowan places a new water bottle on his desk. Abel looks up. Any calmness he felt was gone, replaced with that incessant flutter of his stomach. So much for the shield.

"Oh, um, thank you," he bowed his head slightly, busying his hands by fiddling with the label. "How'd you-"

"You kept stopping yourself from reaching for your bottle during your spiel on the Standing Rock reservation," she answers.

A hint of a smile crept on his face. "You were paying attention?"

"Of course I was," Rowan scoffs, as if it was obvious. "This stuff is fascinating and you do brilliant work, professor."

Abel's cheeks warm, undoubtedly turning red. "You've only seen my work once."

"And it's brilliant. Take the compliment, Abel. False modesty never looked good on you."

"Hey, everything looks good on me," he jokes.

"There he is," she grins. A swarm of students re-enter the room all at once. "Guess that's my cue. Good luck with the rest of the lesson." His eyes linger on her frame as she climbs up the stairs back to her seat. A hush falls throughout his class, all heads now turned in his direction. From her spot, Rowan gives him a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, he stands and walks towards the podium.

"Now where were we?"

---

Back in his apartment, Abel reheats some leftovers on the stove while Rowan takes a shower upstairs.

This is fine. Totally fine. Just a friend helping out another friend. Nothing more.

Lost in thought, he doesn't notice the sound of the bathroom door opening nor Rowan's footsteps heading towards the kitchen. "Smells good," she comments.

Startled, Abel jumps, dropping the wooden spoon he was using to stir the food. A small, high-pitched shriek escapes his lips. "AH! When did you get there?!"

"Sorry- I forgot that you're easily frightened," she bites her lip, suppressing a smirk.

"I am not-" his protest dies as she gives a pointed look at him, then at the wooden spoon on the ground. "... I'm just not used to having another person here, that's all." He bends down to pick up the spoon and tosses it in the sink.

Still fighting the urge to smile, Rowan simply nods. Instead, she moves to stand next to him. "What'cha making?"

"I'm reheating some chicken stir fry. I made way too much, so I've been stuck eating this for the past few days," he answers, grabbing another spoon from the drawer. "Do you want anything else? I should have enough stuff in my fridge to make something new. Or I could order some takeout?"

"You don't have to do that."

"No, really, I-" his words fall short as he turns, realizing how close they are. Every tiny freckle on her face was crystal clear. The faint scent of her shampoo mixed wonderfully with the air, overwhelming his senses. A loose strand hung awkwardly at her brow and his hand itched to push it aside.

"Abel?" She called out softly, peering up at him.

"Yeah?"

"You okay? You look... spacey."

"Y-yeah," he reassures, snapping his head back towards the stove. "I'm fine. Long day, I guess." His voice lacks any sort of conviction.

Rowan's brows furrow ever so slightly, but she decides not to pry any further. "I hear ya. Teaching. Having your car break down. It all takes a lot out of you."

"It really does," he sighs, unsure if he feels relieved or disappointed. "Anyways, food's ready."

Her face brightens instantly. "One of my favorite set of words."

Her mood is infectious, clearing any lingering awkwardness left between them. "Sit. I'll grab the plates."

"How kind of you," she jests playfully, taking a seat at the dining table. Abel quickly sets the table and scoops a hefty portion onto her plate along with a side of rice. "I think I could cry right now."

He snorts. "Tears of joy, I hope."

"Joy. Merriment. Bliss. You name it. I'm feeling it." Rowan makes quick work of her food. Each bite is followed by a satisfied hum. A quarter of her plate is gone by the time Abel manages to sit down. The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. "Guess I did a good job."

"Fantastic," she corrects him, putting another forkful of rice in her mouth. Following her lead, Abel began eating as well. Somehow, the flavors he'd grown tired of tasting for the past week were now vibrant. As if something breathed new life into the dish. Across the table, Rowan dances happily in her seat.

---

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

"No."

"But Abel-"

"No, you are not sleeping on the couch! What kind of host would I be if I let you do that?"

"What kind of guest would I be if I kicked you out of your own room after coming here unannounced," Rowan counters, just as adamant.

Abel huffs, exasperated. "Well, I only have the one room."

"I'm aware," she drawls.

"And I'm not changing my mind."

"Me either."

He crosses his arms over his chest while she rests her hands on her hips. Both stare the other down, waiting for someone to break. The silence between them is palpable. He squints, his eyes already beginning to burn. Stupid contacts. A shit-eating grin spreads on Rowan's face. Unable to fight the urge any longer, he blinks with a frustrated groan. "Ugh, this is pointless!"

"You're just saying that cause you lost. Have fun in your room," she taunts.

"I will be having fun right here, thank you very much," he protests, taking a seat on the couch.

Rowan gapes at him. "Hey! You can't do that!"

"Yeah I can. This is my apartment."

"Exactly. Your apartment. Your room," she bickers, trying to pull him off the couch. He firmly plants his feet to the floor, not letting her move him an inch.

"You... are... so... stubborn..." she grunts as she futilely pushes against his shoulder with her back. Eventually, she lets out a tired sigh. "Fine. You win."

"Thank you. The blankets-"

"But so do I.''

"Huh?"

"I can't make you leave this couch just as much as you can't make me take your room. So I guess we're both taking the couch tonight," she states matter-of-factly.

"But- you- that's-"

"A great resolution. Thanks Ro. You're welcome, Abel," she finishes for him. "Now- do you wanna keep arguing or do you wanna tell me if you have any more pillows?"

"Side closet. Third shelf. The blankets should also be there," he answers, defeated. This is still fine. Totally fine.

"Great," she beams. It takes little time for them to transform the couch into a makeshift bed. Rowan spreads the sheets over the cushions as Abel folds down the back of the couch. For added legroom, he pushes the footrest to the edge. "See? This looks cozy!"

"You know what else is cozy?"

She smacks his arm. "Quit it. We already agreed on the couch situation."

"Fine. It was worth a shot," he grumbles. Satisfied, Rowan moves to her side, grabbing a knitted blanket from the stack on the floor. She settles into the cushions. Meanwhile, Abel stands, hesitant.

Rowan raises an eyebrow at him. "It's this or that cozy room of yours. C'mon, I don't bite." He gulps. His movements are stiff as he maneuvers his way onto the couch, being extra cautious not to accidentally touch her. He mentally cursed himself as he tried to make himself as small as possible. Why didn't I buy the bigger couch when I had the chance?

Side by side with only a few inches between them, Abel lays very still on his back. "So... did you hear anything back from the car shop?"

"A guy called and said they should be done with the repairs by noon. Thanks for letting me borrow your charger, by the way."

"No problem."

"And for letting me stay here."

He laughs breathlessly. "You don't have to keep thanking me for that."

"Well I'm probably gonna do it at least four more times, so get used to it," she chuckles alongside him. As their laughter dies down, another question pops into his head.

"Hey, Ro?"

She shifts to face him. He stays pointedly still. "Yeah?"

"I didn't ask before but... what are you doing here in California?"

There's a brief pause, as if she's contemplating how to answer. "You could say I was on a business trip."

"A business trip?"

"To Colorado. Ava's coven has a contact there. I drove to buy some stones from them," she elaborates.

"Stones?"

"Right. The stones they have are the ones we use to make charms to ward off corruption. It's the best material that absorbs the Power in its pure form."

"Ah. So you're still at it then? Hunting down horrors?"

She nods. "Some days are better than others. Right now, things have been quiet. But that only lasts for so long. There's always a part of me waiting for shit to go sideways. The only thing I can do is make sure I'm there to fix things."

"And does that make you... happy?"

"I have purpose," she says, resolute. "More than I did when I was hunting them blindly. That's something I can't let go of." She shifts again, causing the cushions to dip beneath him. "What about you? Are you happy here?"

"Course I am," he answers too quickly. "Redwood is amazing. The library is incredible. They have enough funding for any research I want to do. More opportunities, resources. Couldn't be more thrilled."

"Guess that's why it's been so hard to reach you," she mutters. He's surprised by the sadness in her tone.

"The job keeps me busy."

"So busy that you couldn't even say goodbye?" His head whips towards her. There are no tears. Just someone looking for answers. "Jocelyn was the one who told me, y'know. I didn't know you were gone for a whole week."

Guilt floods through him. "I- I just had to leave. I had to."

"Was not talking to me a must too?" Her question is only met with silence. "When I saw you on campus, I thought for sure you would run off in another direction. Instead, you offer up your apartment."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm confused! We're friends one day, you leave the next. We don't talk for months, and now I'm here. I thought you hated me," she blurts out.

"I don't hate you," he whispers.

"Then why?"

He averts his gaze, choosing to focus on the ceiling instead. "I don't hate you. But being around you- I couldn't handle it. I needed a fresh start. Somewhere to go so... so I could..."

"So you could what?" The air was thick with tension. Brown and cyan eyes met his, unwavering.

"So I could get over you."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Neither of them know what to say after that. This was a line he never thought he'd cross. Not again. "It didn't work," he laughs dryly, his voice hollow.

"Abel..."

"I tried. I really did. Buried myself in work. I even applied for a research grant. I was doing everything I've always wanted to do, but it still wasn't enough. Then you show up. And even though I've been a mess the whole day, this is the first time I've really felt happy since moving here." He gives her a sad smile. "I know you only-"

"I lied," she cuts him off suddenly.

"What?"

"I lied before. On campus. When I said I didn't call because I didn't remember your number. I knew it. 971-542-3378."

"Um... I forgive you?"

"No, listen to me. I've dialed and deleted that number more times than I can count. I didn't know why you left, but I knew it hurt when you did. I wanted so badly to hate you, but I just missed you instead."

He hung onto her every word. The hope he dared not to breathe life into now flickered inside him. "Just like I did?"

She nods. "Just like you did." The implication was clear.

"But- at the carnival, you said-"

"I didn't think I was ready. You deserve someone who is. I'm not saying it'll be easy. I still can't leave Westchester and I don't expect you to move back, but- mmph-" His lips crash into hers before she can finish.

Her surprise melts away and she leans into him. There's so much he wants to tell her and he does as he moves his mouth in time with hers. I never thought I'd get to do this again.

She gasps, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

I missed you too.

He tilts his head, deepening their kiss.

I love you.

He moves to cup her cheek, relishing the warmth beneath his fingertips.

I love you.

Their breath becomes one- bodies pressed close enough that she can feel just how fast his heart is racing.

I love you.

---

*one month later*

The morning light peeks through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the abandoned sheets on the bed. A pair of footsteps follow Abel towards the bathroom. He smiles as Rowan wraps her arms around his waist. Through the mirror, he notices her tired eyes, barely open. "You don't have to be up yet," he says softly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

She shakes her head with a yawn, hugging him tighter. "I wanted to see you before you left." He hums contently in response. Her feet drag along the tile as he walks over to the shower. Gently, he pries himself away from her just long enough to strip himself bare. He takes care of her next, adding her clothes to the pile. Together, they step through the shower curtain, returning to each others arms. He laughs as she forces him to bend down so she can lather more shampoo into his hair. It's a morning not unlike the others, only this time, the water runs warm.

---

[star-going-supernova]

Hi Star, I have a silly question,,,

I've been fixated on Vanessa A. for very long and have constructed this narrative where she's an Afton because she married Michael Afton in their twenties. After he dissapears, she gets a call from him telling her to stay away from Freddy's. She doesn't listen and searches for him anyway, discovering that he used fake names and lied about everything, fueling her obsession with finding him.

Then Glitchtrap finds her and uses her for his own purposes, due to his murder obsessed ego and petty grudge against Michael probably

Vanessa at one point writes a note "flowers for your grave" and orders chocolate despite not eating sweets. This would imply that she was visiting Michael's grave, which just breaks my heart into a million pieces and makes me want to scream into a pillow like a child

William is trying to brainwash her into thinking she's his daughter, which is just sick.

I think Vanessa is determined and broken and she blames herself for Mike's disappearance. She is absolutely my favourite character out of all of FNaF lore and I can say that it's because of my selfish and dillusional attatchment to her LMAO

I struggle to express her story correctly. Do you have any advice as an author?

(you dont need to answer this, i also just wanted to say that your fanfics bring me so much serotonin thank u *holds a thumbs up*)

Aww, thank you, friend! I’m glad you enjoy my stories! And what an interesting premise! I’d be happy to offer some words of wisdom. Keep in mind that everyone’s got different advice to offer and different views on writing, and this is merely mine!

Now, without knowing exactly what you’re struggling with, my advice to you is really allow yourself to explore Vanessa internally. This can really help show her inner struggles and determination and guilt. I sometimes see authors—not just of fics—who rarely go beyond the surface-level parts of a character (not that that's a bad thing!). Let’s quickly define external, surface-level, and internal characterizations: 

External: facial expressions, body language, actions, reactions, habits, etc. (these are details that can be observed)

Surface-Level: preferences, obvious thoughts/emotions, intentions, etc. (think of this one like what a standard movie can do: we see the character, maybe we get some flashbacks, and there might be voiceovers for internal thoughts. but everything we see inside the character is deliberately shown to us)

Internal: how their emotions feel rather than what they are (difference between saying “they were sad” and “their throat was tight, a sob getting stuck somewhere behind their sternum. they trembled and closed their stinging eyes. the gathered tears slipped free, tracing slowly down their cheeks, warm, but only for a moment.”), their bias/thoughts/reactions to what’s happening without it being so clear-cut, their unspoken wants/needs, their secrets and memories, etc. (the story is largely told by them, and a lot of the story is colored by the character’s perception/experiences/thoughts/etc.)

These are very closely tied to the point of view you choose, and obviously, if you’re not telling the story in Character A’s POV, you can’t dig into their internals. And not every story needs to be deeply connected to a character. I’m personally a believer in character-driven stories (did a paper on that once, actually, lol) and love love love really getting to flesh out my characters. When you use internal characterizations, you’re telling the story through someone. It’s an excellent way of giving the reader a chance to understand and connect with your character. 

Here’s an example of how the deeper into a character you go, the more you can show: 

He sharply raised his hand, and she flinched. Her eyes squeezed shut, but she didn’t move away.

There are only external things here, a reaction that a witness could see. We aren’t in her head at all. 

He sharply raised his hand. She flinched, already anticipating the sting of a slap. Stupid, she berated herself, shaking in place. Now you’ve really made him angry.

We’re in her head, but it’s all spelled out. Her thoughts are clearly marked rather than a part of the storytelling itself. We’re not truly seeing the world through her eyes. 

He sharply raised his hand. With a little stuttered gasp, she flinched. It took everything in her not to throw herself backward, but that would only make him angrier. She shouldn’t have done that; why had she done that? Her thoughts ran on loop, panic choking her. Tense, she waited, the sour taste of fear clawing up her throat. 

We are deeply inside this character. We aren’t seeing conscious thoughts; we’re experiencing this moment with her. The story is told through her reaction and reasoning and feelings. 

Like I said above, this style is really good for when the emphasis is on the character. Keep in mind, of course, that not everything in the story has to be super descriptive. Sometimes, characters just do stuff or go from point A to point B. Moderation makes it so the times you do highlight the character's inner workings are notable.

If you’re having trouble with something else, such as plot, then this might not be very helpful, whoops. That would be entirely different advice. Regardless, I hope this helps even just a little, friend! Thank you for asking, and I’d be more than willing to ramble about a different part of storytelling if that would help! ;) I did go to college for this, lol.

[emetheuhtitle]

I think I'll be posting more here, since I deleted my IG (reel brain rot + plus it fueled a pretty unhealthy habit of mine), I was always tempted to document my time on discord rp and about my ocs, beyond just my art accounts. Maybe this is the place for it.

So to start, the community I started with was Standoffs, to my knowledge the biggest jojo Rp server, long before it had 100 members let alone its current 1000. This was the weird pipeline r/fanstands -> discord Fan Stands -> Standoffs.

Standoffs was the weird brain child of Moose, a mod who in a wildly unhinged act faked his own kidnapping, made a halo faction irp and was pretty weird and Juniper Pengold, one of the current admins, she's great. A bunch of people that joined never really tried discord rp (myself included) we just had these high concept charachters we loved, and we just, made shit up and trew them at echader. There was a genuine 'Child playing with toys they don't know the lore to' energy.

I had a few fights, my stands at the time were I think Lonly is the Word, Sign of the southern cross, Sabbath bloody Sabbath and there was one stand named after a constolation. Than. I joined the 'clans rp' just a generic faction based role play. What I joined with, was Angry Again, a stand which made a target hear a spacific ticking noise from a choosen location with no way to avoid it. That's all. I'd write

*The ticking noise continues*

and leave it at that. Annoying. Funny. Neat. The user was this, wildy depressed homeless guy called Vain George, his whole thing was he tought of himself as annoying and useless and thus choose to reduce himself to nothing but a part of the background. He was f i n e. He became a part of a duo with a charachter by HeyZell, at the time Cookie, later Dice, her name had some growing pains.

We both joined kinda late and picked the clan with least members, to be honest we were the only active ones for the time. We tried to do some detective work, but honestly we knew way too little about the Rp to ask the right questions... So here's the world.

Modern Day New Orleans.

Crystal Vipers- Nicknamed Sitcom assasins, 'the good guys' they are your usual misfit found family criminals. They had Moses the profoundly gentle and wholesome individual. They had a guy with 2 completlely broken stands becuase these were the wild days with no real approval system ran by Thomas, he's... We're going to talk about him :). Icy and J were in it with pretty standard charachters, note those two they're consistently chill and cool with everyone no matter the time period. Jake was in it too! And it was ran by JRD. He's chill I think?

Weird Mafia... Thing? - What you need to know first is it was ran by Moose, the owner who faked his own kidnapping. And this clan was whole hardely stupid. They had just random over powered bullshit and they, and I'm not kidding avoided the events of the Rp by hiding in an elavator.

House of the rising Sun/Men without hats. These. These were the cool villians, they were silly and insane and there was so much to it. The main villian who was a priest who's village got hit by a meteor and felt spited by god spacificly and went on a crusade using a gambling house and a stupid over powered 3 act stand Bible Black -> Tear of a Godess -> Lateralus. Alot of them were genuinly cool. Except every Scrungo charachter. Scrungo we'll talk about extensively, soon, even.

Bizzare Agency. They were ran by Riux, he's chill, they just never had the members to pop off, until me and Hazel (HeyZell) popped in. It had, 3 time stoping vampires, a way to share stands and some other bullshit we didn't bother with. Also a way to auto upgrade stands I think? Honestly by the end which is the point where we joined everyone had some over powered bullshit as a way to upgrade everyone.

So alot was happening when we joined, alot of moving parts. Next blog I'll go into everything that was happening. It was, alot. I'll sleep now, re read the channel archive and tell you all the stories and legends of old.

[badassxbirdy]

She couldn’t help but laugh too, grinning at his reaction to the memory. Every genuine laugh she got out of him really did feel like it’s own little victory. “I still can’t believe they built that thing. How did nobody look at the design and be like ‘hmm, ya know what, maybe nightmare fuel isn’t the way to go?’”

“Oh my god, really? Are we talkin’ like, a 90’s style frosted tips situation, or just full on bleached all over? Please tell me there are photos.” The mental image was so hilariously distracting that she didn’t even notice his silence until he spoke again. “Yeah. Funny how things work out, huh?” Ty shrugged as if the subject were casual, but couldn’t help the little tinge of sadness that leaked into her tone. It was all just so unfair. The very thought of Lance going through the same sort of thing she had was upsetting, though it was a comfort to know that he at least had someone with experience to help him out a little. A minuscule silver lining, but it was better than nothing.

“It’s kind of a long story, but um, short version?” She couldn’t quite make eye contact, instead keeping her gaze firmly fixed on his hair. “I used to tell people that mama was just superstitious, but she was uh… well, she was a witch. Which sounds super dumb when I say it out loud, I know.” She snorted and shook her head. No matter how many times she said it out loud, the words just felt so silly. It shouldn’t given the… well, the everything about their lives. And yet.

“So I uh, I guess I always knew that paranormal stuff was real. You grow up with a witch, and it’s just… just a fact of life if that makes sense? It wasn’t weird to me back then. Anyway, one— one day a um, a demon showed up. A demon showed up at our house.” Even with her uncomfortable stammering over the words it was a ludicrously casual way of explaining what had happened. Like he’d just decided to drop by for a chat. “It wasn’t the one that made me ki— that did that. A different one. First one I ever met. Turned out mama had made a deal with it, and uh… yeah. I ran like hell. House burned down, got reported as a missing person, it was a total shitshow. Technically I’m still missing. But there isn’t anyone left from back then to look for me, so I’m a cold case. Plus I got the whole new name, new identity thing working for me.”

“Speakin’ of which, we still gotta get your fake ID’s printed.” The cambion mused, mostly to give herself a little break from the story. She felt as if she needed to catch her breath, as though talking about it all required physical exertion. It was hard, really fucking hard, but she’d done it. She’d said it out loud. A vague version of events, sure, but it was far more than most people got to hear.

His question caught her a little off guard. It wasn’t something she put much consideration into, and so it took her a while to answer, humming in thought before responding. “I guess it does sometimes.” Sometimes? Try all the time. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not. “There are still some habits from back then that I haven’t kicked, y’know? Mostly little safety things I catch myself doin’, like watchin’ out for security cameras when I don’t need to.”

“And um, sometimes I still think about what life would have been like for me if I’d got to be a normal adult, y’know? Even if it was just for a little while. If I’d gone to high school graduation, gone to college, got a job, all that shit. …But then I wouldn’t have the family I have now. Wouldn’t have my boyfriend. Wouldn’t have my friends.” She finally met his eyes again, giving him a little smile and nod that made it clear he was included in that.

He's laughing now, wholeheartedly, shifting forward not just from the sudden severity of his laughter, but also to keep the scissors away from his skin.

"I forgot all about that one" Lance said, still laughing at the mental image of that statue. Though it was a bittersweet memory, it was a funny one nevertheless. He looked back at her, smiling now, and for probably the first time ever, the thought of someone staying in his life did not make him feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually.

After losing so much. It was a nice thought. Having a constant in his life at least for a little while.

"You should've seen me in my teens. I was fucking blonde once. And not the cool kind." He thought it through for a bit, in silence. 18. Hadn't that been a fun age. Messing up so severely that year. And all that focus...focus...focus. On his career. Making it big. Film film film. And now this.

"Crazy to think that if it hadn't been for you being broke back then, we probably would've never met." The slashed tires. Her, helping him there. And everything that followed after. "Sucks that you were broke and on the run though. Know the feeling now." It was almost ironic, how their roles had been reversed. Because now he had almost nothing, no ID, no money, and he was the missing person on the run. Whereas she was on a good track now. Family, boyfriend and all.

He looked at her through the mirror, noticing the shift in tone. But it's not necessarily bad. He appreciated that she was talking about this. About herself. Anything other than him.

"You never told me, no. I mean you told me about the guy you were forced to kill, but not this. No." He kept looking at her for a while longer. Searching in a way.

"Does all of that still affect you now? Being on the run, no money, being scared of people and so forth?"

[muiiruii]

comfort in his little kisses

ryūguji ken x fem! reader

abstract ; soft angst ; comfort ;

ryūguji ken was definitely surprised when he saw you in front of his room, with the manager of the brothel he lives in chiding him for not taking care of you better.

there were many questions he wanted to ask you, but the way you silently held your head down was enough to at least know what you wanted from him—that much he knew from all the bad days he witnessed of you.

“did something happened?” his voice was soft and unnecessarily warm. the kind that made the walls around your heart crumbled with ease because you know he would listen; as if nothing mattered more than stringing those worries out of you.

with his large hand on your back, he pulled into his chest and made sure you get the hug you needed. because why else would you be standing in front of him unannounced?

warmth. the feeling of being in the comfort of his embrace made you realized how tensed and suffocated you felt in your own home. the very home you love and who loves you as well—that’s why it was all the more hurtful.

“i know my condition wasn’t great…and perhaps i was a little more sensitive than usual too,” you broke the silence after having calmed down from the weights of your thoughts that fueled this unexpected visit.

“but they didn’t have to say it like that, you know? i did tried my best. i just—i don’t want to assume and make a wrong decision—i never said i wouldn’t do it. they didn’t have to make it sound like i don’t want to.”

ken nodded along, his hand rubbing on your back as he felt your tears stain the corner of his shirt you were leaning against.

“and you know what’s worst? i can’t even say anything about my feelings because i know they wouldn’t understand. and i can’t even hate them for it.”

you were angry, for you hated more than anything else to be shamed as if you were guilty, yet you know all too well that it’s a habit that runs in your precious family.

he hummed in understanding, even if he doesn’t relate to the entirety of your situation, he knew you were always vulnerable to others emotions. it made it easy for others to hold it against you, as well as your own thoughts.

there were so much he wanted to say, but he knew no matter what words he used, it’ll never truly make you let go of this conflicted feeling that stemmed from years of ignorance in your childhood. and so he did what he knew best.

he would enveloped you in a tight hug for a few seconds before moving his hands to rubbed the remaining tears away from your eyes with his thumb. a smile would grace his lips when he peck the corner of your eyes, to your nose and cheeks, slowly but lovingly; pampering you with tiny kisses you used to always do to cheer him up when he was angry.

it didn’t take long for you to forget about the negative feelings you once held, and now all you could ever think about was the feeling of his tender lips on yours—which he was sure taking his own sweet time.

“someone’s impatient?” he mused at the look you gave him when he peck the corner of your lips, loving the way you glared at his teasing.

“i can’t believe you’re teasing me when i—” he didn’t want to hear the end of it, so he took the opportunity to silence you with what seemed to be the best remedy. “you happy now?” he chuckled, licking the bottom of his lips at your expression.

“no, so do it again,” you leaned closer to his face this time, a silly grin on your lips when he rolled his eyes. “again and again until i feel better.”

“if you can tease me back, you already are feeling better.” he chuckled, his hand messing up your hair a little before planting another sweet kiss to your lips.

“and if you haven’t notice, it’s almost four in the morning. let’s just sleep okay?”

you wanted to protest but what he said next truly took you by surprise. honestly, it made you tear up again, because he reminded you of the words you struggled to tell yourself every time you feel alone with your emotions.

“y/n, it’s okay to cry. you don’t have to always be the bigger person. i’m here, so you don’t need to hold it in all right?”

[444tsumu]

title Not His Type

rating ★ ★ ☆ nsfw content

word count 4,800+

warnings timeskip!mattsun, yes i’m writing that he still practices w the s4, anyways explicit content, matsukawa calls you a bitch, spitting, rough sex, spanking, mattsun fucks you in his car, oral sex (f!reader giving), don't be silly wrap your willy folks

author’s note thanks to @kansroji for forcing me encouraging me to write this self-indulgent mattsun fic, send her her flowers everyone bc this was just muah :*

summary Issei teaches you that the meaning behind the words ‘I hate you’ is a lot different from what you’re used to.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“How could someone be such a bitch?”

“I don’t know Mattsun, you tell me.”

There are two things necessary to keep the world spinning on its axis: inertia, and the insatiable hatred between you and Issei Matsukawa.

No one quite knows where it came from. Maybe it was your lack of regard for his permanently disinterested personality, or maybe it was the insufferable habit you had of making a comment every time Matsukawa did as much as make a noise— whatever it was, it was a never ending cycle of pure repugnance.

His tone was light, yet knowing Iwaizumi, you knew it was wavering on a more strict tone you really didn’t want to hear today.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

To you and Issei, the nature of your relationship was that there wasn’t one at all. There was nothing but an indescribable hatred that will never go away because you guys just physically can’t stand the other.

To everyone else though? In Hanamaki’s words, “you guys just needed to fuck and get it over with already.” Sexual tension couldn’t fill half of the void the storm you and Mattsun left after every exchanged word. It nearly swallowed the room, the only two not able to see it being yourself and the middle blocker.

With an inquisitive look on his face, Oikawa decided the only way to get rid of this long lasting rivalry being now or never. “My dear Y/L/N, bad news.”

The words brought you back down to Earth, making you bite down a glare at the bored man in front of you and turning towards the setter.

“As much as I’d love to be the one to take you home,” he winks at you, long arm reaching out to lightly press itself against your cheek and you already see where this is going, “I just can’t—”

“Tooru..” Your voice wavered the same way Iwaizumi infamously did.

“Seriously Y/N-Chan, I hate being the bearer of bad news..” The sparkle in his eyes made you clench your jaw to prevent the scream from slipping through your lips. “But I had almost promised Iwa-chan and Makki a ride today.”

You could hear the slick in his voice, and you absolutely hated it. You hated how you knew exactly what was being planned. You knew in Oikawa’s stupid little head, he was formulating a stupid little plan thinking things would work out in his own stupid little way.

“I’m not getting into that fucking asshole’s car—”

“Oikawa I will purposely crash if she as much as steps foot in my car—”

“Get your fucking feet off my dashboard.” You hear his voice growl, long fingers reaching in front of him to press the Start-Stop button on his car and get the engine running.

You didn’t mean to press a sock-covered foot onto it, it’s just that you needed to adjust the anklet resting against your skin. You hadn’t caught when his eyes glanced over at the diamonds either, remaining for a second too long to be appropriate and quickly force it’s way in front of him.

With a slightly exaggerated roll of your eyes, you threw your head against the headrest and stared through the window to your side. You were wishing there was an awkward silence to torture Matsukawa’s ears, but instead, his phone automatically connected to its Bluetooth and began to play a song you surprisingly recognized.

He drove faster than you were sure he was supposed to. As soon as you blinked, he had already backed out of Seijoh’s parking lot and sped through the secluded roads and towards the city you inhabited.

Unwillingly, of course, you managed to steal a few glances at the brown-haired man next to you. His face was (surprise) as uninterested as ever, eyebrows resting dully above his hooded lids and lips turned just slightly down enough to look like a frown. Every now and then, his lips would go along with the song and his tongue would swipe across his bottom lip and into the corner of his cheek.

Matsukawa wasn’t an ugly guy. There wasn’t enough hatred in your soul to even try to lie against the idea. He was extremely tall, extremely fit, had a nice smile, and his voice matched his looks. If he wasn’t such a stuck up, emotionless asshole, he’d probably be one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen. If and probably, of course.

“Gotta staring problem?” He muttered, head bobbing to the song in the background and that in itself just brought your cholesterol an unhealthy amount higher.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I see you have a lack of vocabulary too..” The banter between the two of you went back and forth, an awkward silence retching the car’s air after he sadly had the last word.

“I can’t believe there was a time you weren’t such a nuisance.” You nearly mouthed, words quiet enough to get lost within the lyrics of Kanye West, yet loud enough to get into Mattsun’s earshot and cause the car to abruptly park on the side of the nearly secluded road ahead of you.

“Hey, what the fu—”

“What’s your problem with me?” Matsukawa’s words haunted the air, and if you weren’t already awaiting his words, you might have actually been scared of the harshness in his tone.

“Me?” You questioned, using a hand to dramatically smack against your chest and glare at him in disbelief. “What’s your problem with me?”

He didn’t respond, only staring at you blankly and gripping on the steering wheel with enough aggression to taint the knuckles of his large hands white.

“Stop acting like a toddler,” the annoyance looked weird on him, and his usual nonchalant attitude disappeared with a mask of pure frustration that you’d be lying about if you said was ugly on him, “just tell me what the issue is so we can both stop whatever the fuck it is we have going on.”

“We,” you pointed between the two of you, “do not have anything going on, for your information.” You stubbornly crossed your arms across your chest, staring at him blankly and watching his large hand run across his face.

“You wouldn’t even be my type, you know damn well that isn’t what—”

Every word after the first half of the sentence drowned out as you continued to repeat it in your head. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type…

“Earth to Y/N.” Mattsun snapped, glaring over at you and leaning his body back lazily against his driver’s seat. It was slightly reclined back, the comfortability of his position insinuating he didn’t plan on leaving until this conversation got somewhere.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t be your type?”

The words came out faster than you could acknowledge them. You didn’t regret speaking them, but you knew that they only worsened your situation. He would use this as if it was fuel to his never-ending out of fire of an ego and you hated it. The cold air in the car suddenly became more noticeable, goosebumps raising onto your exposed skin and making you feel as if all your senses were being ambushed.

“Well, well, well…” He begins to tease as if he was never angry, his large arms resting behind his head and that stupid smirk back onto his pink lips, “you feel some type of way about what I said?” His voice echoed into your ears as you did nothing but watch him in disbelief.

“You never stood a chance with me anyways.” You bit back at him.

Something in the air changed, but neither of you decided to acknowledge it. It was dark, the light from the dashboard doing nothing but illuminating your features and making Issei smirk to himself in the lack of lighting.

“How so?” He was antagonizing you, itching for you to continue to play his little game back with him because he had a plan. You could see it from the way he lazily blinked over at you, smirk still against his glowing face with nothing but arrogance and faux oblivion.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me if you tried.”

Those words changed the aura within the car all in itself. You knew the double entendres of a statement could go any way with him. Deep down, you both knew exactly what you meant. Your words remained solid though, eyes staring at him like a fox refusing to glance away from his brown irises.

“Wanna try me?”

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew that. Something about you didn’t care though. There were many ways this conversation could’ve went, but you wouldn’t expect it to go in this direction.

The air in the room was thick, Issei’s brown irises watching you nothing short of predator like. No one spoke after those three words, and faintly, the change in mood also affected the change in genre of music as R&B began to slowly play through his speakers. You wanted to scoff.

His large ring covered hand suddenly inched towards your chin, gripping your jaw and forcing your eyesight on his own face. You weren’t one to blush, but the roughness to his calloused fingers brought a small tinge between your slightly exposed thighs.

“You gonna get in the back or I gotta force you back there?” His words commanded you, the strictness laced within the confines of his voice leaving you no option to do as he told.

Doing what Matsukawa said as if you were following his orders was something foreign to you. The temptation of doing as you pleased crossed the back of your mind, but the curiosity of seeing what he had in store filled you with much more satisfaction.

Without a word and instead settling for a simple eye roll, you kicked your shoes off and found your way between the two front seats and into the cold leather seats of the back of his car. It was cramped, surprisingly cleaner than you'd imagine, and smelt of nothing but Issei.

You would have enjoyed it if the circumstances were different.

Your body sat with your feet resting behind you, leaving a space open for him. The sound of his car door opening and shutting was the cause of the goosebumps rising against your skin.

Subconsciously, you knew were supposed to hate him. You were supposed to despise him for always being such an asshole to you, and you were never supposed to forgive him for anything he’s ever said to you out of his stupid smirking mouth.

You weren't supposed to be hopping into the backseat of his car after challenging him into sleeping with you. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying the feeling of his presence as it finally found its way next to you, the dark tints of his windows hiding his expression but not doing a good job at hiding the bulge hiding in the confinements of his sweatpants.

Your eyes glanced over his, quickly switching between the tent and his irises with an innocent smile on your face. “You gonna take those off or am I gonna have to force them off you?’

Mattsun had never laughed at anything you’d ever said. At least, never to your face. For the first time though, a soft chuckle left his lips as he hunched his body over and rolled his sweats down. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted to provoke that sound out of him again.

He wore Supreme black briefs, a smirk on his lips as he watched your eyes trail over to the excessively large print. His dick was long, curving deliciously to the left and making you fear for your own safety. The thought of that nearly made you drool.

Mattsun made a show of pulling his briefs down, his erection springing to life and showing you that he wasn't even fully hard yet. Maybe you would’ve felt some type of way about not arousing him as much as he was you, and you could thank the pool inside your panties for that, but something about it brought a glimmer to your eye Issei couldn’t ignore.

“Eager to suck my dick, huh?” His words ring against your ears, and you do nothing but give him a glare while getting on all fours across the backseat.

His long torso leaned against the car door, eyes boring onto your frame with a blank expression that drove you insane. You knew this was all an act, he had to have been pretending just to get a rise out of you. There was no way you could’ve missed the way his dick twitched when you got up to take your shorts off.

Your frame was left in a white t-shirt and a seamless green pair of panties known for their cheekster style. He would’ve told you that you looked absolutely delectable, but he'd never let you sit within that satisfaction.

You lowered yourself on all fours once again, holding your hair back with one hand and lowering yourself down between his long limbs. Your eyes just couldn't look away, the large veins running up and down his perfect looking length in a way that made you embarrassingly ready to shove it down your throat already.

And without another word, you opened your lips and allowed a trail of saliva to sliver down the underside of his dick. His thighs tensed up, but as you watched him through your lashes while lowering your lips onto his tip, his bored and expressionless face remained the same.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him, as much as he'd hate to admit it. Your ass was up in the air, back arched in a way that nearly made him release a groan as your pretty little mouth left sloppy kisses along his throbbing tip. You used a free hand to run down his cock slowly, hands landing underneath his thick balls and holding them alongside the bottom half of his dick.

He tried to hold the hiss you took out of him, but you used that as an excuse to make him suffer even more. Almost as if it were a competition, you sucked your cheeks in while taking the rest him that fit into your mouth agonizingly slow.

Matsukawa was too big, not that you were complaining. You didn’t have much of a gag reflex, but his size goes beyond that. So in order to accommodate to the situation at hand, you lolled your tongue out across your bottom lip and easily slipped a bit more than half of him down your throat until he felt his tip tickle the back of it.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out, words stopping as he bit his lip and tilted his head to get a better look at you.

Your eyes began to water, but you ignored the sensation to take a deep breath as you began to massage his balls and lower half with your saliva covered hands. You began to move your mouth in the opposite direction of your hands, touching just enough of his balls with your tongue to get him to grip a chunk of your hair from within your own hand.

“Fuck, just like that.” You never took your eyes off him, and Matsukawa found it even harder to control himself with the way you took so much of him with so much ease.

You hollowed your cheeks as you slipped his now fully-hard dick out your mouth. Trails of saliva followed, the explicit view of your teary eyes and sloppy lips making him groan within his throat.

“Fuck my throat.”

The words were harsh, your expression being just as blank as his once was, and Issei realized he wasn’t really the one in control here. Not if all it took was for you to tell him what to do and he was scrambling to do it like second nature.

His lips revealed that lazy smirk you wanted to fuck off his face, the large hand gripping your hair nearly shoving his dick back into your fresh, wet mouth. “Don’t mind if I do, princess.”

The nickname he called you didn't even have time to register in your mind, the sensation of Matsukawa forcing your head up and down his dick as much as he could being the only thing on your brain. You couldn't help the tears from slipping down your cheeks, eyes opening once again to hazily look over to the ones burning a hole into your face.

Matsukawa couldn’t find it in himself to look away from you. He wasn't sure if it was the tears, or the way you allowed him to fuck your throat so easily, or the drool leaking down into the balls you fondled at the same time, or even the way the hand once gripping your own hair found its way between your legs as he watched you play with yourself, but Issei decided this image was going to ruin everyone else for him.

He already decided he couldn't get enough of you. The sound of your gags filled with car in a nearly pornographic way, yet not once did you ask him to stop and he took note of that. 

“Fuck,” he broke out, eyes struggling to watch yours as his lips parted open, “you’re gonna make me cum,” his words were interrupted by a load groan. Your tongue found its way back onto his balls as his tip rammed into the back of your throat and Issei felt his toes curl. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..”

Right on time, you went against his strong grip and popped his dick out of your mouth with saliva drooling down in a way that looked so forbidden, Issei was sure he would’ve came at that sight alone.

“That was...”

“Not your type?” You bit at him, a mocking smile on your lips as you bit your lip and found your way onto the comfort of his lap.

It was weird, the way you felt like you fit perfectly within his frame as if it was a piece of a puzzle. Matsukawa would agree if he could, hands nearly instinctively finding its way onto the globed of your ass and pulling the fabric of your panties over and over again.

“Never in a million years.”

His smirk haunted you, lidded eyes staring at you once again and you realize Issei Matsukawa is a really hard guy to get a reaction out of. So taking the challenge yet again, you stared at him just as emotionless. Your fingers lifted the patch stuck to your folds, and the trail of wetness that dripped over onto both you and his own thighs was nearly sinful to the sore eyes.

It was hard to imagine taking a dick you were sure you could see in your stomach with such an expression, and you wouldn’t wish that suffering on your worst enemy. You couldn’t believe how much just half of him stretched your insides out, your walls sucking him in and barely being able to hold it in together.

“Don't worry, take your time.” Matsukawa’s tone was beyond condescending, the taunt behind his words bringing an anger within you enough to cloud your mind of all common sense. It was unexpected, the way your body just shoved the rest of him inside of your tight, pulsating hole and rested all your body weight on top of him.

“Fuck!” Both of you yelped out, your hands clawing at his chest while his gripped your ass cheeks apart in nothing but a burning sensation.

He filled you up to the brim, the sureness of him hitting your cervix causing your eyes to flutter at the feeling. You bit your lip, adjusting your body to where your feet were on either side of him on the backseat and your body was more able to move.

His eyes widened in surprise at your actions, the sound of both of your pants alongside the music that was long forgotten struggling to keep you attentive. Without warning, you lifted your body up and slammed back down onto him. The action brought a pretty little gasp out your lips, mouth parted and eyes clenched at just how fucking amazing the curve and thickness of his cock was.

“C’mon baby,” he whispered into your ears, hands reaching over to intertwine themselves with your own so you got better balance, “fuck me like you mean it.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You breathed out, beginning to bounce your body up and down his dick perfect enough to hear the squelching sounds of your wetness after every impact. Issei groaned, eyes glued to the sight of where your pussy swallowed him whole and spit him back out over and over again.

“Mm, what else baby?”

Issei’s bored resolve started to crack, groans slipping through his lips in a way that made you tighten up against him even more if it were possible. Your hands gripped his intertwined ones, bouncing up and down faster than you could probably handle. The sensation of his dick hitting your cervix over and over causing you to arch your back closer into his body as you bounced.

The sound of your body slamming into his began to quicken, the strength of your legs giving up as you realized his started to fuck you back from the bottom and drill his length into you.

“Fuck, Issei…” You moaned out embarrassingly loud, Mattsun’s eyes watching you with curiosity in his irises from the way he wanted to figure out how to get you to moan out like that again.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teased, the strain in his voice telling you that even if he was torturing you with the pounding of his dick, he was enjoying it just as much as you, “where’d all that mouth go, pretty?”

You felt yourself clench at the nickname, head leaning back and leaving your neck open for him to lick a trail over towards your jaw and softly bite the plush skin. The windows began to fog up, the sensation of your poor pussy taking him in and out and quick pace causing the car to jump up and down with each stroke.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered out, nearly crying out when his hands found it’s way towards under your ass to support you as he drilled all of this thickness into your throbbing pussy.

The familiar knot began to grow within your stomach, and your hand found it’s way between his messy locks only to grab it and tilt his head roughly back against the window. A surprised groan left his lips, eyes staring up at you widely with a smirk endured from straight pleasure shot up his lips.

“You gonna cum all on daddy’s dick?”

Usually the words would have made you cringe, and you wanted to bite a snarky remark at him for the name. Yet something in you grew feral at the sentence, beginning to rub your clit against him each time you harshly dropped down as you roughened your grip on his hair.

“Fuck yes, daddy, make me cum,” your words tickled his ears, the moans at the end of each word bringing Matsukawa into a state of euphoria. He could hear you say that to him for the rest of his life, if he could.

“Come on baby,” he groaned out harshly, smacking your ass enough to leave a sting that made you cry out into his neck, “give it to me!”

His words echoed in your ears, your loud cries like music to his ears as he watched you fuck him back just as rough as he was being with you. Your hand pulled his head back once again, his scalp hitting the window harshly but he didn’t care once your lips came crashing onto his.

It was nothing but teeth and tongue, sucking on each other’s muscles and making out as if nothing in this world could ever be right again without it. His hands gripped your ass once again, spreading them harshly apart and spanking them with as much toughness that went into spiking a volleyball.

You screamed into his mouth, words being unable to come out as he began to drill into you even rougher and faster than you knew was possible. Your legs had long given out at this point, simply being tossed up and down like a rag doll by Issei’s strong arms and cocky attitude. You were in heaven, even if you’d never admit it.

“I— I hate you,” you fought to yelp out, pussy beginning to squeeze at the feeling you knew all too well as you stared into his eyes and made him look at you as if he was seeing God, “but you fuck me— fuck, you fuck me so good..”

Your words became faint whispers, stars beginning to formulate instead of his once brown irises and bring you into a state of euphoria.

“Daddy I’m gonna—” The words were stolen from your lips as Matsukawa slammed your lips against his own and gripped your back close to his chest.

“Cum baby,” he groaned into your lips, your own sounds preventing you from being able to kiss him back as your covered tits bounced into the confinement of his chest, “cum on daddy’s big dick.”

The words brought a vibration within you, a mantra of the words daddy and please slipping as you felt the euphoria take over your body and leave you with nearly nothing inside you. Issei could practically feel you cum, his own resolve giving out as his shot his thick cum into your throbbing pussy and bringing another scream from between your swollen lips.

“Take it, good girl— fuck yes..” Words slipped from his mouth without his own permission, the sensation of your pussy holding him within you as if it never wanted to let him go and he really wouldn’t mind.

Nothing but your struggles to catch your own breath filled the car, his own haunting the ghost of your ear as you laid out across his chest with saliva threatening to slip from your lips and cum leaking down both of your thighs. It was absolutely disgusting if you really thought about it, but the idea of knowing you had just slutted each other out so sinfully brought your toes to curl one last time.

No one said a word, and as much as you wanted to comment on how he was still gripping your chest against his own, you decided to go against it and try to find reality from the solitude of his wide chest. You could hear Brent Faiyaz on the radio, the view of just how foggy the windows were making you giggle to yourself.

“What’s funny?” The rumble of the words against his chest caused your pussy to throb once again, and you had almost forgotten he was still lodged inside of you with a load of cum threatening to spill out.

“Nothing.” Your voice was gone, and as embarrassing as it was, Issei mentally found himself obsessing over how raspy it got.

The silence was calm, yet the awkward conversation of what next lingered within the air between the two of you. You knew it was going to come soon, and you weren’t really sure of what could possibly happen afterwards. There was no going back from this, Issei Matsukawa had fucked you so good, you never wanted to fuck anyone else again.

The first to break it was Mattsun, which took you by surprise. His large hands found their way towards you cheek, caressing your head as his pushed you back far enough to face him with fucked out eyes and swollen lips and Issei convinces himself you’re one of the seven wonders of the world.

“We should do that again sometime.” He suggests, bored eyes staring into yours as you noticed the small smile lifting amongst the corner of his lips. You wanted to smile back, but the idea of having some more fun with him seemed quite better.

“Eh,” you replied, lifting your weakened body back into his straddling state and biting your lips as you placed both hands across his broad chest. You notice the way his cock twitches hungrily within you, and you realize you were gonna enjoy this a bit too much.

He’s seeing stars, thinking the hottest thing he’s ever seen is a fucked out you staring at him this way and you realize you’ve finally won. You stare at him, bored eyes and a lazy smirk on your lips mimicking the face he spent all his life mastering.

“You’re not really my type.”

                             © 444TSUMU 2021

[wonderlandleighleigh]

I know it’s been a while, but if you’re still interested in it. Can you write a continuation of the one where Midge comes back from her very long tour, and Lenny is in charge of her zippers?

1

She pulls him into their bedroom and closes the door behind them before tugging him into a deep, thorough kiss that Lenny instantly gets lost in, a soft moan escaping his throat as his arms wrap around her possessively.

"God I missed you," she whispers, her eyes still closed.

"Can we put a moratorium on tours for a while?" he mutters, pressing soft kisses down her jaw to her neck.

"Good plan," Midge agrees as her fingers stroke through his hair. "I like this plan. Plan starts right now." She kisses him again, tugging at his tie a little.

Lenny chuckles softly, pulling away. "Your whole family is here."

Midge pouts. "I haven't seen you naked in so long."

"I promise you," he says softly. "That when everybody leaves, and the kids go to bed, I will lose all my clothing."

She laughs softly and kisses him again, tenderly, languidly. "I love you. How are things? How are you?"

"Better now that you're back," he tells her, his hands stroking her sides. "How was the tour?"

Midge pauses for a long moment. "Honestly? I got homesick four days in." She grins sheepishly. "I never thought of myself as a homebody, but I couldn't stop thinking about how Ethan is doing in school, and how Esther is doing with her violin lessons, and if I missed any Lily milestones, and if Kitty needs new shoes."

Lenny nods, drinking her in.

"And I missed you so much," she goes on. "I don't like sleeping without you. It's too hard to go to sleep without you wrapped around me like a kudzu."

"A kudzu, huh?" he chuckles softly.

"A very attractive, very funny, very sexy kudzu," she tells him, leaning in for another kiss before pulling away to get changed. "I missed our room and our apartment, and I missed our date nights, and our family nights, and just...us. I missed all of it."

Lenny watches her, leaning against the wall. "So did I. I just wondered..."

"What?" she asks as she changes out of the travel clothes into a nice dress for dinner.

"If maybe you enjoyed touring more than..."

Midge whirls around, facing him, looking concerned. "Lenny..."

"I bring a lot of stress to things with the arrests and the drug habit I try to make sure stays kicked. You got a break from all that."

"And four days in I was dreaming about waking up with you next to me, asking me if I wanted coffee," she tells him.

"Silly of fictitious me, you always want coffee," he half-jokes.

She wraps her arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. "And I always want you. And our life. It's why I married you. Because I love you, and I don't get sick of you."

Lenny gazes into her eyes and nods, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, too. You ready to go face the crowd?"

"No," she admits, smirking. "I would much rather strip you down and have my very naughty way with you right now."

"The night will go fast," he promises.

"And then your clothes will magically disappear."

"And I will do anything you want," he tells hers.

"Oh, choices," Midge smirks, kissing him one more time. "Okay. Let's go have some dinner. You're gonna need fuel."

Lenny laughs and follows her out.

[miraculouscontent]

I just want to state the fact that wey may be ignoring a crucial reason from the response of Ladybug on that interviene, and that is that she probably is answering so ambiguously for the sole reason of NOT give more material to the "shipping /Hero Lovers" than the media hace being coming for allá this time, she is probably only trying to don't fuel the shipping and reduce the rumores and her own stress...

That and trying to give credit to her useless si calles "partner", because lets be honest, he can be replaced whit ANYOTHER Hero, specially Purple Tigress (the hace basically the dame habilita, with Tigress being more centered, so...) My preference will allways be Viperion butr yeah, ANYOTHER Hero is better than Adrichat

And while we get pass through all the salt around this episode, here we are, waiting for your way better version of the episode like allways since You statted to give us the fix-it dices (keep spoiling us, we love you ❤️💙 )

Aww, thank you!

You make a good point. Ladybug could very well just be trying not to give anymore shipping fuel after "Glaciator 2." Adrien taking so much offense to a simple interview where they have to uphold a certain image is a little silly, especially because you'd think he'd have experience with that sort of thing due to being a sort of celebrity himself.

Chat already has a habit of picking and choosing he wants from Ladybug, so I guess that's what it is; he's already so convinced that she """won't need him anymore""" and now he's just deciding what her words mean.

[adapembroke]

The Best Self-Care Routine For Your Moon Sign

If you’ve ever read an article about self-care and felt like it was adventures in missing the point for you, you’re not alone. Just like one-size-fits-all clothes are a myth, one-size-fits-all self-care routines aren’t going to work for everyone.

In astrology, the moon describes the things you need to be happy. It is your personal recipe for comfort and well-being.

In this article, I talk about what a daily routine of self-care looks like for each of the astrological signs.

Moon in Aries

Aries is a stress magnet. With the moon in Aries, it’s essential for you to build activities into your routine that help burn off stress.

In the morning… Start your day with a quick yoga routine or an adaptogen-filled smoothie.

At work… It’s easy for you to fall into a bad posture or unconsciously clench your muscles when you’re stressed out at work. Make sure to take a few minutes throughout the day to stretch and move your body—especially if your job requires you to sit for long periods of time.

At lunch… Fuel up on food that will give you energy, and take a few minutes to do deep breathing exercises. If you have a hard time sitting still long enough to meditate, try taking a walk or doing a simple mindfulness practice.

After work… It’s important to communicate to your body when stress is over. If you find your work or your commute stressful, do something that marks the transition from work-time to home-time like changing your clothes or taking a shower.

On your days off… Look for adventures. You weren’t made to be bored, and there’s a big, wide world out there to explore.

Moon in Taurus

Earthy Taurus moons feel best when you are in your body, and it feels good. You weren’t born on this earth to be a stress-ball, and the more you lean into that, the happier you’ll be.

In the morning… Try to give yourself plenty of time to get through your morning routine. Taurus is a slow sign naturally, and you thrive on calm. Having a few minutes before you begin your day to drink your coffee before you have to start anything important will do a lot for your mood.

At work… Resist the temptation to give into productivity culture. You work best when you’re able to work at your own pace, even if that’s slow and steady. The time other people spend healing from burnout is time you can use to catch up.

At lunch… If there’s anything about your job that is physically uncomfortable, spend a few minutes getting away from that thing, if you can. Otherwise, eat something delicious and take a walk outside when the weather is nice.

After work… Take care of your body. Taurus is the most embodied sign in the zodiac, and it’s important for you to make time in your routine to feel good every day, even if it’s as simple as switching to the comfy shoes instead of the ones that pinch.

On your days off… Spend as much time as you can outside in nature. Taurus gets a lot from connecting with animals, so spend some time at the park watching people walk by with their dogs.

Moon in Gemini

Gemini is the sign of the conversationalist. Gemini moons are happiest when you feel like you are thinking quickly and on top of your game.

In the morning… Take a deep breath. You might be tempted to do All The things, but you don’t have to jump into everything right away. All you have to do right now is breathe.

At work… You might do your best work by going along with the task that is most immediate or urgent, but it’s important to remember that your priorities are important, too. Make a list of a few things you think are important to finish every day and do your best to make sure they don’t get lost.

At lunch… Talking with people is a very important emotional need for you. If you have a job that doesn’t allow you to talk to people while you’re working, reach out to a friend or grab a colleague for coffee.

After work… If you have a job that bores you, now is the time to stimulate your mind. Talk to people you find interesting or geek out about the thing you’re obsessed with at the moment.

On your days off… Socialize, socialize, socialize.

Moon in Cancer

Cancer is the sign of the nurturer, which means that it is extra important for you to take care of yourself. There’s a lot of pressure (especially on people of certain genders) to put everyone else’s priorities first, but you will do a better job taking care of others when you’re well taken care of first.

In the morning… Feed yourself. Literally. It sends a message to your body that you’re taking care of yourself.

At work… Honor your emotions, whatever they are. If it isn’t appropriate to express your feelings in front of your colleagues, there’s a reason the bathroom door has a lock on it.

At lunch… Find quiet if you can. If you can’t, a good pair of noise cancelling headphones works wonders.

After work… Reconnect with your feelings before you jump into anything. If your job is particularly stressful, be careful about making plans on work nights, or make sure you can back out of them. Sometimes self-care isn’t compatible with dinner parties.

On your days off… Schedule yourself some free-time alone. Ask yourself: If I was my best parent, what would I do with this time? Then do that thing.

Moon in Leo

Leo is the sign of the entertainer and the child. You have an emotional need to be seen, and you need to feel like you are making the people around you happy. When you are alone, creative self-expression feeds your soul.

In the morning… Put on something that feels like You. Other signs can get away with wearing the same gray dress slacks 6 days a week. (I’m looking at you, Capricorn.) You don’t have that luxury. A spontaneous smile when you look in the mirror is a must.

At work… You need to be in a job where your work is appreciated. If the people around you don’t get what you’re about, lunch breaks are for job hunting.

At lunch… Do something playful. Adult coloring books were made for Leo moons.

After work… If you’ve got social energy to burn, use it, baby!

On your days off… The best audience is a grateful audience. Take a few hours to volunteer for a cause you believe in.

Moon in Virgo

Virgo is famous for being a detail-oriented perfectionist. As a Virgo moon, you have an emotional need to feel like you have all your ducks in a row. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

In the morning… Get straight on your priorities. List making was made for Virgo moon mornings.

At work… Find yourself being especially critical of yourself (or someone else)? Make it a practice to notice three things you (or they) do right every day. You can do it. Honestly.

At lunch… Check in with yourself: How is that to-do list coming? If you’re feeling antsy because things aren’t getting done, reassess your plans and make peace with changes or set some boundaries on your afternoon.

After work… Make yourself a healthy dinner and get some exercise. …That isn’t the kind of indulgent self-care advice you usually get, but it will make you feel better.

On your days off… Connect with a craft. Anything that you really enjoy doing and can work on perfecting is good for the soul.

Moon in Libra

Libra is the sign of the scales, which means that feeling like you have balance and calm in your life is important for your emotional health.

In the morning… Get into your body and literally find your balance. Spending a minute in a one-legged yoga pose will tell your brain that it’s time to wake up and find your footing.

At work… People are going to look to you to be the peace maker. You can embrace this, or you can fight it, but your ability to see all sides of an issue is valuable. Allow yourself to shine.

At lunch… Look at your face in the mirror. If your best friend had that expression on their face, what advice would you give them? Go do that.

After work… Tend to your relationships. A healthy relationship is a happy Libra moon.

On your days off… Seek serenity, chase beauty, live poetically.

Moon in Scorpio

Scorpio is the sign of the psychologist and the sorcerer. No one feels their darkest emotions as strongly as a Scorpio moon. Tending to hard emotions is essential for your emotional health.

In the morning… Watch out for getting in the habit of waking up depressed, anxious, or angry. If you find that you’re in the same bad mood every morning, it doesn’t have to be that way. Change up your routine, and, if that doesn’t work, talk to your doctor.

At work… It can feel sometimes like you are a researcher behind a one-way mirror. You can see everyone else, but everyone else can’t see you. You can use this to your advantage. It can also make you invisible at times when people should be seeing the good work you’re doing. Make sure you’re using your super power intentionally.

At lunch… If your job denies you solitude, take it back during your breaks. Having times to sort through your feelings during the day is vital for Scorpio moons.

After work… Music is your best friend. If you have a commute, listening to music that resonates with your feelings (or, better, takes you to a better emotional place) will give you a much better evening.

On your days off… Connect with people who love your intensity. The cool kids are supposed to be easy-going, but there are people who value deep honesty. Treasure them when you find them.

Moon in Sagittarius

Sagittarius is the sign of the wanderer, the philosopher, and the student, and no sign understands that life is a journey better than Sagittarius moons. You have an emotional need to feel like life has meaning. Don’t let the cynical world out there put out your fire.

In the morning… If you don’t know the reason you got up this morning, figuring it out is the first thing on your to-do list.

At work… No matter what your job is, find some time to do something you’ve never done before, even if it’s finding out where they keep the big boxes of ketchup packets. Learning something new every day is key to your happiness.

At lunch… Do something that makes you happy. Taking a break to look at silly kitten pictures is a thing.

After work… Break up your routine and try something new. That new Ethiopian restaurant down the street really is calling your name.

On your days off… Explore, explore, explore.

Moon in Capricorn

Some of the other signs might not realize that you weren’t born wearing a business suit, but we know you have a big heart, Capricorn moon.

In the morning… The person who invented goal setting was probably a Capricorn moon. Feeling like you have a clear idea of the mountain you have to climb today is important to you.

At work… You don’t need advice. You’re a Capricorn.

At lunch… Be intentional about eating at your desk. Is it really helping, or does it just feel like it’s helping?

After work… Exists. If you let it.

On your days off… Take them.

Moon in Aquarius

Aquarius is the sign of the genius and the rebel. Aquarius moons have an emotional need to go against the crowd and do their own thing.

In the morning… If you can, try to wake up without an alarm. The feeling of starting the day on your terms will do a lot for your emotional state.

At work… Check your relationship with authority. If you are in a position where you need to take orders from someone you don’t respect, don’t underestimate the toll that will take on your emotional health, and account for that in your self-care practices.

At lunch… Think about the future. It’s something you probably enjoy doing anyway, and if you don’t like your current circumstances some healthy day-dreaming will help you make changes.

After work… Get back into your body. Aquarius’s favorite coping mechanism is dissociation, and it’s important to remember to stop when the need is gone.

On your days off… Do your own thing.

Moon in Pisces

Pisces is the sign of the mystic, the poet, and the open ocean. It is essential for Pisces moons to have free time to explore the mysteries of consciousness and Just Be.

In the morning… Start your day with meditation, even if it’s a few minutes staring out the window on the bus.

At work… Pisces has the ability to masquerade as other signs when necessary, but it’s important to remember who you are. When you’re starting to feel ungrounded lean into the place in your body that feels like the core of your being. Meditate on it for a minute. You’ll know what I’m talking about.

At lunch… Space out. If you don’t do it now, you’ll do it this afternoon. (You might do it this afternoon, anyway.)

After work… Have you meditated yet today?

On your days off… Sensory deprivation tanks were made for Pisces moons.

What about you? What’s your moon sign, and what are you doing to take care of yourself today?

If you’ve read this far, you’re pretty cool, I’d love for you to connect with me on Instagram and tell me about your plans.

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[bakatenshii]

Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo​, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing​ for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could. 

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it. 

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding. 

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted. 

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you. 

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun. 

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal. 

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy. 

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you. 

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour. 

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care. 

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time. 

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. 

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy. 

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart. 

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use. 

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time. 

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean. 

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart. 

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream. 

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction. 

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself. 

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted. 

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become. 

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.” 

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective. 

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up. 

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.  

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight. 

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close. 

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue. 

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.  

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it. 

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh. 

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint. 

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently. 

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go. 

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high. 

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em. 

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you. 

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.” 

“Want a taste?” 

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care. 

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air. 

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners. 

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more. 

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate. 

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him. 

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways. 

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole. 

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name. 

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God? 

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. 

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed. 

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed. 

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in. 

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?” 

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out— 

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection. 

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours. 

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together. 

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him. 

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose. 

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl. 

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies. 

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first? 

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red. 

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm. 

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char. 

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you. 

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there. 

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore,  can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it? 

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart. 

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth? 

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?” 

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really. 

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda. 

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best. 

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him. 

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy. 

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

[theclockworkmonk]

What Happens When You Assume

Written for @kataang-week

(I know, I know, it's late because my life kind of got consumed by the Olympics)

Day 6: "Tease"

Words: 1,081

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

Summary: Katara finds out about a piece of Aang's past that she doesn't care for at all.

********

Katara slammed the door shut and nearly collapsed from exhaustion, leaning against the door to catch her breath. It only took a few seconds for her to start to calm down. The frozen block of ice at the bottom of the world would always be her home, but this house in Ba Sing Se that she shared with her friends and boyfriend had still become a refuge for her.

As she felt more at peace, she smiled to herself as she thought that word. Boyfriend. It had been months since the end of the war, but she still had trouble believing that she had gotten such a happy ending.

"You okay?" she heard the boy in question ask, and she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her from the doorway to their living room, his face full of concern.

"Oh, nothing new," she waved him off, "just the usual reporters and scholars wanting to know everything. Even when I don't wear Water Tribe clothes, I'm probably the only girl in the city with this skin tone, so it's not hard to get recognized as the Avatar's girlfriend."

"Well, as much as I love the whole world knowing you're my girlfriend, I'm sorry that it gives you so much trouble," said Aang sadly.

"Don't start that, you're more than worth it," said Katara, giving him a kiss. "Make it up to me by brewing me some tea."

"Way ahead of you," he said proudly.

They went into the kitchen, where a pot of tea was already sitting on the table. The rest of the table was taken up by piles and piles of books and scrolls that Aang was studying: the entire history of the last one hundred years of the Earth kingdom. Aang was determined to stop being caught off-guard during negotiations by some deeply important piece of context that made his suggestions unacceptable.

"In case you've forgotten already, I fought against an evil empire with you," said Katara playfully, "So I think I can handle a few biographers wanting every detail of the Avatar's life."

Aang frowned as he started pouring them tea. "You know, I would hope that there's still important things about my life coming. Seems a bit early to start writing my biography."

"Well, a lot of these people aren't interested in anything important, silly," Katara laughed. "They're more after gossip fuel. Does the Avatar have any annoying habits? Is he tortured and broody from the war? What's his favorite food? How was his first kiss?"

"Well I'll show them broody, if they keep sticking their nose into stuff like that," Aang grumbled, pouring his own tea.

"Oh, rest assured, I'll tell anyone who asks that it was dazzling," said Katara lovingly.

Aang snorted as he went back to reading his scrolls. "Well, I wouldn't say that, there's no need to lie to them."

Katara huffed indignantly, "Oh, excuse me, Mister Avatar, were my kissing skills not 'dazzling' enough for you?"

"Oh no no," he said quickly, still not looking up at her, "Our first kiss was amazing, once I stopped comparing kissing you to dying. My first kiss ever was a lot more embarrassing."

Aang reached for his own cup of tea and took a sip. The loud slurping sound drew his attention to how oddly quiet the room had gotten. He looked up at his girlfriend and flinched backward when he saw the look on her face. Her mouth was gaping open and her eyes were flashing dangerously.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Are you kidding me!?" Katara shrieked. "You're not just messing with me? The cave really wasn't your first kiss?"

Aang just blinked at her for several moments, before he broke into a disbelieving grin. "I...never said that it was?" he chuckled.

"This isn't funny!" said Katara, jumping to her feet. "When exactly were you planning on telling me this!?"

"Well I'm telling you now, it's never come up before!" said Aang defensively, putting up his hands. "What did I do to imply you were my first kiss?"

"You didn't have to do anything!" said Katara, rolling her eyes. "That's the natural—"

She suddenly stopped herself and bit her lip. Aang's eyebrows shot up and he gave a smug smirk.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"No, no, go on, finish that sentence," Aang teased, crossing his arms and sitting back. "You assumed that you were my first kiss, because who would actually want to kiss me, if not to just escape a magical cave?"

"That's not what I—"

"And of course if the beautiful and popular Katara hadn't had her first kiss by then, then surely short and dorky Aang wouldn't have, since you're so out of my league."

"Shut up!"

"If only all those fans and biographers knew the truth," Aang lamented sadly. "People think that the Avatar is this spiritually pure being, but to my shame, I used my extensive romantic experience to take advantage of an innocent, naive Water Tribe girl—"

He was cut off by a jet of water hitting him in the face, soaking him and filling his open mouth.

He spat out Katara's bending water and raised his eyebrows at her, as she continued to glare at him with her arms crossed.

"Really?" he asked pointedly.

"Don't tease me," said Katara quietly, pouting her lip, but Aang could tell she was trying not to laugh.

He sighed, stood up, bent the water off of him, and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend's waist.

"Would it help to know that my first kiss was only because of a dare?" he asked. "She caught me after a game of airball, her group of friends giggling behind her, and she just grabbed me and pressed her face against mine in front of half the Southern Temple."

"Oh, poor you," said Katara, rolling her eyes.

"Let me finish," said Aang. "I was so shocked that I launched myself into the air, landing in the bisons' feeding trough, and knocking her back into a fountain. She ran off with her friends crying. Nobody would let me live that down for months."

Katara didn't meet his eye, but she snorted in laughter and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Okay, yeah, that does make it a bit better."

"So, tragically, you weren't the first girl I ever kissed," Aang sighed, "could you settle for being the last girl I ever kiss?"

"Hmm. Deal," Katara whispered, and got a head start on it.