#i have zero perspective rn it's midnight

[nothorses]

ngl I think that there are like... kinda two words here:

"transmisogyny" as an intersection of transphobia and misogyny- i.e., transphobia that is misogynistic or misogyny that is transphobic

and

"transmisogyny" as a kind of transphobia that is uniquely targeted at transfemininity.

and like, I think the idea that "transmisogyny" actually just refers to the first thing is kind of part of the problem we're having. because like, obviously other trans people experience misogyny; more importantly, transphobia itself intersects heavily with misogyny, because misogyny itself is very much shaped around policing gender roles. they share the exact same roots.

but if we accept that all trans people experience some intersection of misogyny, then we're basically saying that transmisogyny isn't special, right? it's just transphobia.

and that doesn't make any sense either; obviously transfemininity is targeted in unique ways! and we need to be able to talk about them!

a lot of the people who reach this conclusion then look at this second possible definition, the idea that "transmisogyny" is just referring to the way that transfemininity is uniquely targeted, and they feel uncomfortable with the implications of that. it leaves room for other trans people to be uniquely targeted, and to come up with other words to talk about it, and for whatever reason, they don't want that.

so now they argue that "transmisogyny" actually means that transfemmes are the MOST oppressed, and that's why nobody else can have a special word. or they argue that only trans WOMEN can exist at the intersection of transphobia and misogyny, and that's why no other trans person can claim they experience misogyny. or whatever.

idk. I'm rambling on your post, I'm sorry. my point is just that I think letting the word mean "transphobia directed at this specific way of being trans" does kind of serve our purposes.

it's silly that a word intended to describe the intersection of transphobia and misogyny has ever tried to exclude any kind of trans person, and it annoys me, too. but like, a word that broad also kind of describes transphobia in it's entirety. and we do need words to describe the specific kinds of transphobia that target specific ways of being trans. so. 🤷‍♂️

I think we can work with what we've got & what people are going to be able to understand most easily, and "transmisogyny" is widely recognized as basically describing this already. even if it might have ended up differently if it had been coined with more & more diverse trans experiences in mind.

I know @doberbutts has mentioned a few times how he was taught that "transmisogny" was a term to be applied to all trans people, & honestly I do enjoy using transmisogny to describe the mixture of transphobia & misogyny which connects trans* liberation with women's liberation. especially when we acknowledge that "transmisogny" doesn't just look one way, and interpret the treatment of trans men under misogyny.

I think there's also use in having transmisogny (as transphobia targeting transfems) and transandrophobia/transmisandry/anti-transmasculinity), but I think the above use of transmisogny is also a good way of like. Unifying trans* experiences across the spectrum & also making a connection to how the patriarchy functions in general (specifically thinking about how @nothorses has talked about misogyny being tied to so much gender discrimination outside of just (cis) women)

But also. it makes me laugh knowing that that definition would still piss off so many people. Especially applied to trans men. There is no winning lol

[selarina]

She’s giving me The Maybes

→ Suna Rintaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Suna isn't entirely sure why he’s driving at the peak of midnight to your place – a place that is almost half an hour away – to kill a fucking cockroach.

Content Warnings: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI), angst, realisation of feelings, suna’s perspective for the most part, cockroaches, unedited work

Word Count: 5.7k words

Author’s Notes: The final part. Beware of graphic description of a cockroach.

Not going to lie I lost motivation to finish this series up but I’m glad I did. This is part 4 of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

You

12:03 am: Suna

Oh? He peers down at his phone, his palm covering the entirety of his phone in an inconspicuous manner. His brows pinch to the middle, as his eyes zero in on his phone. His hand comes to soothe his forehead like it hurt for him to frown. You haven’t spoken to him in a month.

You

12:03 am: come online 12:03 am: emergency

He reaches for his jacket before bending to put his shoes on, the laces sit undone on the foyer as he types.

Rintaro

12:03 am: What happened? 12:03 am: Where are you? I can come rn

He hears a couple of pings as he grabs his car keys and walks into his car. He attaches the car belt from over his shoulder. Then, he checks his phone.

You

12:03 am: *1 Image*

Suna hits download on the image and it slowly loads, a consequence of not upgrading his WiFi plan.

12:03 am: cockroach in my bathroom 12:04 am: and I really need to take a shower

He blinks.

He turns his phone off and his hands come to rest on the steering wheel in front of him, and he blankly stares at nothing in particular.

A beat later — What a fucking idiot, he thinks.

He’s shaking his head and yet, he’s driving in your direction anyway. He’s not entirely sure why he’s driving at the peak of midnight to your place – a place that is almost half an hour away – to kill a fucking cockroach.

He's almost there, and he thinks about how much of a humbling experience it is to drive at night – he seems to always feel rather tiny and insignificant as he sweeps through the empty night streets. There is nothing but the trees and the moon, both of whom only seem to tower over him. But today, he can't bring himself to focus on the trees, the road, or even the gleaming full moon and it seems to be the last part that bothers him the most if he had to emphasize.

He knocks on your door when he gets there. Two quick knocks, and you’re opening the door wide open like you were waiting right behind the door. Like you were waiting for him.

“Hi,” you say with a flushed face. He can see a tinge of sweat over your neck. Your hair’s tied up rather sloppily, and you’re holding a mop. At this moment, he could swear he would give anything to witness what you may have attempted to do with that mop and the cockroach.

But, more worryingly — the persisting, secondary thought that he seems to be having is that if he's being truly honest — he thinks you look properly beautiful. He isn’t sure if it is because he hasn’t seen you in a while, but he finds it odd all the same.

"Hi," he says, and then rubs his neck when you don't say anything in return.

You're just staring at him, rather wide-eyed and he’s sure you're going to ask him if he came all the way here for a cockroach. To which he would most likely respond, "Of course I did." Instead, he decides to ask, "Where is it?"

“Bathroom,” you say, and throw the mop towards him.

He’s startled for a second but he catches it and stares back at you, eyes brows raised questioningly.

“Use that,” you say. “To protect yourself.”

You say that so seriously that it genuinely kills him not to make fun of you. But things have changed, and he realizes it. He also realizes that he can't pretend nothing has changed because he knows you'd probably go along with it, which would probably kill him even more.

“On it, ma’am.” He hands the mop back to you, “I’ll probably just use my hand though, thank you.”

Your face crunches in disgust, and his lips twitch into a small smile before he heads over to the bathroom.

And it’s quick and simple really. One minute, it’s sitting in the middle of your bathtub, and the next minute Suna’s holding it up over your toilet with its antenna.

He decides to amp up the dramatics before he flushes it down though, holding it up and swinging it just a bit, which results in you scolding him and landing soft pats on his shoulders. He eventually flushes it down the toilet because his heart wasn’t in for playing around tonight, not when you looked more annoyed than amused.

He’s been wanting to see you for weeks, but now that he’s here all he wants to do is leave.

He washes his hands with hand soap, twice because you insisted. His hands smell medicinal and woody. You've changed your handwash since he was here last, and he misses the pomegranate one you used. He grew rather fond of it, maybe he’ll look for it in the store.

You’re sitting on your couch, cleaning up a bunch of papers scattered around the table. He presumes it’s from work.

“I’ll get going then,” he says, which makes you stop and turn around.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” You ask, and you look hopeful too. It’s not something you tend to wear lightly on your face.

“Not today,” but he will soon he wants to say. He’ll figure this out but not today. “I have practice.”

“Of course,” he catches the tinge of bitterness to your words but he ignores it immediately because he needs to leave so he nods, and gives you a soft goodbye. He takes one look at your face and swallows any desire that tells him to stay.

As he walks out, the sky is as clear as it can be, and the moon is stunning, he thinks. He walks over to his car, thinking he might be in love with you.

—

You sit there across from him on his clothes-infused drab, olive couch. You haven’t bothered taking your clothes back, and now they take residence on his couch and in his closet. He’s sure the two of you have managed to almost equally exchange your clothes – after all, he does the same. It’s akin to leaving little trinkets in his head. And, he likes your clothes – they’re warm and soft on cold days and somehow also cold and comforting on a hot day.

He realizes he has been staring for a while now. He doesn’t shy away from it, he continues to stare.

You look up but not before closing the book you’re reading. He scarcely hears you mutter a page number to yourself – 140? Just 40? He can’t tell.

"Do you have anything to eat?" You ask him as you finally seem to pay full attention to him.

“Not much. I have to order some groceries soon,” he says since he has mostly been eating at your place, he has gotten into a habit of leaving any food he gets at your place. But lately, the two of you have been staying at his.

It started because you wanted to stay at his since it was closer to your conference, which seemed to be too early in the morning. But somehow, you’ve been here even though that was two weeks ago. He knows you’ll go back once the holidays are over, but he likes this for now.

He likes staying at your place more though if he had to have a preference.

“There’s some fruit,” he adds after quite a bit. You look up from your book again – he didn’t notice you opening your book again.

“Okay,” you say, as you beeline to the kitchen.

A moment later, you return with an apple and a knife. You sit back, wiggling until you’re sitting comfortably. You open your creased book and place it on your lap as you go back to reading.

It’s rare for the sun to show itself during this time of the year but a distant, tapering ray of sun hits your face, and he isn’t blind to it but you look beautiful like this. You cut right into the middle of the apple from one side but you don’t completely cut the apple in half, you stop right in the middle before you repeat the same only a few centimeters apart this time. You cut out an imperfect semi-circle of an apple piece, and then you plop it right into your mouth.

He walks over to you and plops himself right next to you. You barely acknowledge him, too immersed in the book you’re reading before he asks “Can I have some?”

You don’t respond, apart from a soft barely audible hum. You simply continue cutting into the apple again, before you finally look up at him.

He thinks he should hold his hand out so you can place the piece in his palm but he hates eating fruits for this very reason. He doesn’t like getting his hands sticky, it’s a sensory nightmare. He could wash it off, but that’s just an effort on his part, he could just not eat instead. But before he could hold out his hand, you say, “Open up.”

He does.

You lean forward, holding the piece of apple between your thumb and the knife before you put the small piece of apple into his mouth. Your finger brushes barely against the corner of his mouth, but somehow the sensation lingers as he hears the crunches as he chews. The apple tastes sweet, with almost a caramelized taste to it this time.

You feeding him felt like you were carving a mark in his space, but you’re here just reading your book like it’s just another Saturday.

It was supposed to be just another Saturday but it wasn’t — not to him. Maybe it was because he couldn’t remember someone who fed him since after he was 5 years old, or maybe it was because it was the day he started to fall in love with you.

—

Two fingers support the bottom of the kettle, as you tip the kettle over towards your empty cup. Nothing pours out, there is no more tea. You frown as you place it back on the table. Your hands come back up to lift your book, as your eyes flit across the page to find where you've left off, and then you start reading, he presumes because your eyes squint ever so slightly.

He falls back to sleep a few minutes later. The weather was too hospitable to not take a nap, he pulls his blanket closer as he woke. He's no longer surprised at this, you always throw a blanket over him when he falls asleep on the couch. Sometimes, it's too hot for a blanket, he would prefer not to sleep with one but he finds himself still wearing it despite feeling slightly uncomfortable because you took the time to put it on him. It's only slightly uncomfortable after all.

"Hey," your voice comes from behind him. He sits fully upright, as he tries to fix his sleep-doused hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Mm. Better," he responds. The nap did help, his head still throbs a bit but it seems manageable, and only slightly uncomfortable.

"Need some food? Tea?"

"Mm," he tries to make the choice. "I'll have tea. Chamomile. Don't want it too hot though. And, no food. I wouldn't want your burnt food to kill me," he snickers but he's only half-joking.

Given the choice, he would like to be the only one cooking. He likes it – the ritual of following a well-written recipe, but he likes it when you cook your comfort dishes since you're so familiar with them. He likes watching your hands move almost on their own like its muscle memory from a dance you've practiced for years. In a way, you have. And, he trusts that you will not burn the kitchen down while cooking those specific dishes.

"I could always poison your tea if it pleases your grace," you squint as you mockingly bow to him, before you come up to cross your arms to your chest, "Now – say 'please' and I'll consider bringing it to you."

He smiles. "Pretty please, make me some tea. I'll eat you out in return." He grins wider.

You squint, but a smile graces your face, ever so slightly, "Fine."

—

He’s resting against his arm that’s desperately holding onto the ceiling strap of the train. It’s not much of a rest if he’s getting bumped into by the same passenger who for some reason is refusing to hold onto anything. He contemplates pushing him off the next time he bumps into him, but he doesn’t want to start a fight. He wants to go home and sleep until tomorrow afternoon.

He feels a soft thump against his back and looks behind him to push him off but it’s you. He raises his eyebrows in questioning.

“Pregnant,” you mouth. Before he gets to nod in understanding, the same passenger that was bumping into him bumps into you, which leaves you squished against another passenger, whose elbow strikes you, and that leaves you hissing as your hand comes to rub the sore elbow.

“Okay. Okay, Sir.” He calls out to the passenger, who turns around with a shocked look and a sweaty face. “Here, take my place, and feel free to hold onto this completely free strap meant only for you.” The passenger switches with him, missing or ignoring his passive aggressiveness.

“Thank you,” he turns around, rolling his eyes. His eyes soften, “Are you okay?”

You nod. His hands rise to your waist as he feels the train sharply make its stop. A slew of people begin to disembark, and he realizes it's only a matter of time before the next swarm of people piles in.

Suna catches you by your arm, and says, “Come here.”

He maneuvers the two of you into a corner near the door, making it easy to make your exit. Your back is now against the glassy window. Suna places one hand on the door, and his other hand wraps around his strap in front of you to create a comfortable distance between you so you can finally breathe.

That doesn’t last long because as much as he wanted to give you enough space he was pushed closer and closer to you. You seem to notice because you move to him, showing him that you can lean against the soft pads against the windows, therefore creating more space for him to move closer.

“It’s hard to breathe in here but at least our stop’s next,” you say, and he feels every word of it against his neck. He agrees except he’s not sure if it’s because there are too many people inside the train. He takes a deep breath and looks up at you.

You're pretty, he silently admires. Even when you appear sweaty and flushed out from your intense walk to the station. And he hated to admit it but he remembers how terrible he was at taking his gaze off you when you dressed yourself up in your room this morning.

After you had sucked him dry, he was lounging in your bed as you got up to get ready first. His gaze remained fixed on you — the way you put on your bra, the way you adjusted the straps of your dress, the lipstick you meticulously applied — the ritual of it all. It was absorbing, but only because it was you.

He must admit he sees you differently from when you first met him in college. He has always seen that you were pretty because he has eyes, but the way he sees you now is different and it can't quite place it. His hands spontaneously rise to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

And you stare at him, clearly surprised. "Could have poked your eyes out," he says.

"OK," you say, your eyes squinting together, but that's all you say openly before reaching out to push back the poking hair on the other side of your face.

“That was fucking horrible. This is why I don’t go use the trains during the weekends,” you say as the two of you make your way out of the train station.

“I want ice cream,” he says all too suddenly. He didn’t even know he wanted it until he said it.

“We need to have some dinner first,” you say.

“I want ice cream,” he repeats as though he hadn’t heard you. You groan and softly chuckle. “Fine, you big baby. There’s ice cream at home.”

He opens his mouth, before you beat him to it, “Yes, there’s black currant.”

He smiles, as the two of you walk home.

His tongue darts out from between his sticky lips, dragging it against the spoon, before he licks his lips clean. “This is so good, you should get these more often.” He says.

You hum, your tongue dragging across your ice cream spoon. Suna always found chocolate ice cream to be far too rich in taste, to the point where it made him a bit sick every time he ate them.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” you motion to your dress adorned in minimal glitter in the light.

“You said the same thing in college, shush.” He chuckles.

You glare back at him, with your eyebrows furrowed and he senses that you genuinely feel bad, so he adds, “You just hate traveling back home, you should let me drive us back next time.”

“You don’t get to drink then,” you say.

He shrugs because he doesn’t drink much anyway. He’s a professional athlete, and given the choice, he would never drink, it lost its appeal since college, and now he mostly does it for formality.

“You don’t really mind because you get car sex out of it,” you say, grinning.

His mind didn’t necessarily go there but now that you mention it, every single time the two of you dress up and take his car, it ends with the two of you in the backseat. He grins back at you, with a shrug once again.

Suna returns his gaze to the ice cream, smacking his lips as he swallows the mouthful. And then he lifts his head to see you staring at him. You slowly reach out to take his ice cream tub in his hand and place it on the kitchen table before pulling him in for a kiss.

You pull back with eyes infused with sleep. “Let’s go back and sleep,” he says. “ ‘M tired,” he yawns.

You hum, leaving a soft peck on his lips again.

—

It's around 5 in the evening, and it's raining pellets, which is normal for this time of the year. He doesn't like it one bit, he thinks as he sits on the couch. His suit is infused with small water droplets from rushing in from his car.

He always hated this time of the year, but he remembers when his father would make them chicken soup whenever he would feel annoyed with the rain and would mess with the TV cable.

He remembers his mother sipping on hot tea, humming a soft tune as she walked into the kitchen placing a kiss on his father's cheek. Later, she would come with the chicken soup his father prepared and she would offer to feed him the soup but 11-year-old Suna would insist that he was old enough to eat by himself.

He would secretly hope that she would ask again — one last time because he knew he would have said "Yes" if she did, but she never did.

He's not sure if what he remembers is a specific day or a combination of all the days it rained and he ate chicken soup, but it was a memory or memories he cherished.

He thinks back to when you fed him, he goes back to that memory a lot, and it's not surprising to him anymore. The first few times, he stopped himself but now he lets it play out. Now, he even smiles to himself knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself if he tried.

He thinks back to when he told you about the story of how his mom left on a quiet afternoon. No notes this time, no explanation, only her absence. Just empty cupboards empty of her clothes, empty spaces empty of her soothing voice.

He remembers telling you about the blazing sun and its burden on his then throbbing head. You held onto his hand as it was hailing rhythmically outside. You told him she didn't deserve to come back into his life but if he wanted it, you would support him because of course you would.

He smiled then, knowing no one ever cared enough to get mad on his behalf of him, not even himself. But you did, and it made him happy for a second there.

And now, he's here, not having spoken to you in months, and he knows it's all his doing.

He also knows that this creeping feeling, this scared and humiliating feeling is love. It didn't occur to him through any whimsical epiphany, it simply occurred to him one evening after practice.

He went back to his apartment feeling rather empty, and null. He remembers pouring himself a drink, a scotch maybe? He's not sure, could've been a bourbon. He poured himself a drink but didn't take a single sip of it. He just realized he loved you, not in the way he had already confessed. He loved you in the way lovers did, with yearning hands and heavy eyes.

He gets up now, walking to his car keys, not bothering with an umbrella. He rushes into his car. He doesn't avoid much of the rain, it's raining more heavily than when he got into his house.

He starts the car, but it grrs a bit, and shuts down. He tries again, a couple of times more before he realizes it's a lost cause. Clearly, something's wrong with it but his mind's too occupied to think about it.

He gets out of his car and simply runs.

—

You rush out with an umbrella, your heels clicking against the pavement before they splish and splash against the wet mud.

"What the hell, Suna?" Your voice reaches him before you reach his side, holding the umbrella over his head.

He doesn't say anything, he's only staring at you with eyes a bit teary, but he knows you can't tell, it's raining and he's drenched. He hopes his eyes aren't red, he hopes you can't see the desperation in his eyes.

"Are you done with work?" He asks.

You squint your eyes, clearly agitated by his lack of response to your question. He feels the urge to smooth down your creased eyebrows, he feels the urge to yell out wax poetry of confessions. But he knows this isn't the place, it's your place of work. He already created enough of a scene by showing up this way.

You turn your face neutral, clearly making the best of the situation. "Yeah, I was packing up."

"Okay," he says. He gulps and purses his lips before he says, "Ca—” He wipes his face, the water dripping off his chin. “Can we have dinner?"

You say nothing for a bit, he expects it all — some yelling, some pushing, alternatively, you just turn away and walk away from him. That would hurt the most, he thinks but somehow, he knows it's not like you to do that, not with him. You could leave, you could always leave but he knows you would tell him first.

You sigh, "Okay, I'll see you in 10." You shrug yourself out of your coat. It takes him a bit to realize it's for him, he was thinking about how you agreed, he's not sure what comes next but you agreed.

He wants to refuse the coat, but he's cold so he takes it and lets you wrap it around him properly. You then pull his hand, placing the umbrella in his hand before you rush back into the office, avoiding the rain.

He should have walked you to the entrance but maybe it was good of him to not show up like a sad, drenched puppy for your coworkers to see.

After the longest minutes of his life, you walk out, a black bag in your hand and your phone clutched against your chest.

"Let's go," you say as you get under the umbrella. He holds it out and higher for you, he feels his shoulders get wet and heavy once again, but you're completely under the umbrella so it's fine.

"Where's your car?"

"I didn't get it," he says.

"How did you come here?" Your quirky brows up, a bit guarded with your expression, evidently upset with him.

"I walked," he answers.

You cinch your brows once again and look at him with apprehension.

"From?"

"Home."

Your brows cinch harder, and this time he doesn't think when he brings his fingers to smooth them out.

Your face softens. "You can't just do that," you tell him sternly. He sees the edge sleeve of his coat drip a drop of water on your office shirt. He immediately moves his hand away.

"Sorry," he says. He doesn't know what to say next, he knows he should be doing more.

"Where are we eating?" You ask, taking the lead.

He sighs and feels a sudden whiff of confidence. "It's just around the corner."

—

He sits across you, hands shaking partly from the cold, in a dingy restaurant that has its appeals when set against the pouring rain. You haven't said anything since the two of you arrived, and his eyes have been following you almost in a daze as you order soup for the two of you.

He focuses on the restaurant, hoping to zero in on details, hoping it will calm him –  the décor is almost rustic, and there are brick walls and wooden floors that give this place a shabby effect but it seems charming for the very same reason. To add to that, there is soft lighting everywhere, yellow hues from overhead lights that only mildly light the space, and the candles on the tables lighting up each individual table even more.

He looks up and sees that you are done.

“Care to say something?” You say, and your guards are up, he can tell. Rightfully so, he thinks, but this only makes it harder for him.

“I missed you,” he says, not knowing what else to say. I am in love with you is certainly not something he can start with.

“Suna, you can’t j—”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for treating you the way I have been for the past few days. I just— I've missed you so much.”

You don’t say anything for a bit, and it doesn’t scare him surprisingly. He could sit in this silence if he needed to — you have been for weeks after all.

“Me too,” you say defeatedly. “I don’t understand — I don’t understand.”

You’re lying, and he knows.

“I just want things to go back to the way it was, Suna.” You say that with a certain longing, a longing he had never seen on your face, a longing that made it seem like you may have missed him even more than he missed you.

"I don't. I—” But he does, he does want things to go back to the way it was, but he also does not. It's complicated really, but all he wants, he thinks, is to lie limp in your bed, your hair tickling his chest, your body warming him as the cold night air flits through, and he's talking — about you? About the future? He's not sure, but he's relieved knowing that you're listening and knowing that you'll say something after he's done. And then you'll fall asleep, and he'll draw out his consciousness — just to stare at your face before surrendering to the sleepy haze.

And he’s not sure if it’s the way you looked with the yellow hue of the candle flickering ever so slightly against your face, or if it's the soft muted jazz playing in the background, or if it’s even the old couple in the back who are kissing each other – but he tells you, not for the first time, “I love you.”

Your eyes widen, and then you smile — a warm smile and he knows. He knows.

—

You stumble into your apartment, immediately finding the couch to fall into, the exhaustion seeping into your calf muscles. Suna insisted on commemorating your first date as he called it with an ice cream trip. Sadly, the closest ice cream parlor was quite a bit away from the restaurant. Your hands reach down to languidly stroke them to ease the pain.

A few seconds pass before another body stumbles into your house. The sound of keys being hung, shoes being taken off, and the front door being locked before you see him walking towards you.

He shrugs most of his clothes off almost immediately, knowing about your distaste for wet clothing, but to be fair, his clothes seem to be almost dry so it seems rather unnecessary and rude of him to flaunt his beautiful abs.

He plops himself next to you. His hands reach to push the hair that curtains your face – a new ritual he seems to have started ever since you started sleeping together. He does this mostly after sex, in the gloomy haze of the night, in the heated haze of the afternoon but now, it feels different, it feels careful and methodical, and you can’t help but rewrite the past with your new lens.

"Tired?" He asks, it comes out as a mumble.

You nod, too tired to speak. His eyes flit down to your rubbing hands before your hands are replaced by his own, calloused ones. They press into your muscles, a lot harder than your exhausted hands did. You feel nice, and he can tell by the way you're slightly groaning.

"Let me take you to bed, hm?" He reaches for your hand. You take it, the purse on your lap abandoned on the living room couch.

You fall onto your bed, and he's on top of you, his forearms supporting him to be just inches away from your lips. His lips graze against your own, testily, before they press against yours, a bit gentler than usual.

He keeps kissing you as your hand finds purchase in his hair as you carelessly stroke him. His soft and citrus-scented hair. His hands come to lift your top as the chill air hits your skin. You feel the whoosh of the goosebumps erupting on your exposed thigh.

And just as quickly as you fell onto your bed, you're out of your clothes, sitting completely naked beside an equally naked Suna who's kissing up and down your neck. Littering soft, warm kisses, his hands run up and down your body. Pinching your nipple, squeezing your waist and thighs before he moves away from you to move you in front of him.

You sit a bit oddly with your back facing his front before he comes up to your neck again. He starts littering soft, warm kisses, as his hands come to part your legs. He doesn't do anything else but kiss your neck for a bit and it has you whining before he decides to indulge. His one hand rubbing just below your stomach but not quite, his other hand pulling your neck back onto his shoulder to kiss you.

His hand on your neck reaches further up to your mouth and you instinctively suck on his fingers. You can see him watching you from your peripheral vision, you turn a bit to catch his eyes, and then down to his lips — they're parted a bit with anticipation, or something else? You can't tell, but you let your eyes linger back to his eyes and they're intense and fixed and it sends a chill down your spine in anticipation.

You move your hand to his, finally bringing them down between your legs.

—

“Missed you,” Suna murmurs against your neck. You feel the wet sensation of his tongue sitting cold against your skin. “I hated—" He groans, "Don't ever not fuck me for a month."

“A-And whose fault is that?” You say, more or less rhetorically. You manage to wriggle yourself free from his grip, but his hands seem to trail behind you in tandem. His hands stay connected to the dip in your hip, lightly mapping out the curves, deliberating if he should do more, deliberating if he has convinced you enough to forgive him.

“I’m sorry,” he says as if it pains him, or maybe it’s just the effect of your teeth sinking into him.

You stop, your eyes flitting up to meet him. Your lips turn into a soft smile. "It's okay," you say.

"It's okay," you reassure him, as your fingers are coming to stroke the edges of his jaw.

His brows uncinch, his hands coming up to meet the hand that’s on his jaw. He moves it closer to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on it. Your smile widens, a lot more visible now, and at that, he smiles back at you.

The two of you smile at each other like idiots, and you feel a bit embarrassed. And you think, maybe he senses and feels it too, but he doesn't stop smiling back at you, so you don't either.

You understand now what people meant in all those poems about love and vulnerability because you can admit now that you're in love for the very first time — you feel a bit slit open. Like your guts are falling out of you; with only him to hold them, with only him to care for them.

His fingers come up to brush your cheek, barely touching you, but you feel it, and then he presses a chaste kiss against your lips. You don't rush anymore, because this is different from your heated kisses, this feels like it's something more. You want to tell him it's something more, you want to tell everyone it's something more but when he slows down to pull away, with lidded eyes and a goofy smile, you know he already knows.

[meitanteisachi]

My Kacchako reading list

My personal shortlist of the most unforgettable Kacchako fics I’ve read and currently reading, as well as planning to read! These are just those I can name at the top of my head so I probably might have missed some and will add later on once I remember. Most are rated M/E (because I am a sucker for Kacchako smut bahaAHHAA)

HAVE READ / ONESHOT / COMPLETE

A Little Bit Closer by mignonettes (a Ground Zero...dildo?!) A Softer World Prompt 46 by i-masshiro (kchk as exes. They never really got over each other) A Sweet Surprise by ohmytheon (Ochako bakes Bakugou a birthday cake) Again by corinnemaree (After Bakugo gives Ocha her first kiss, she just cant get enough) All Work and No Play by mignonettes (one of the hottest kchk smuts imo) Angel and Demon by EmeraldWaves (Ochako is a tease) Apricity by i-masshiro (Christmas kchk; honesty hour for our babies, very cute) As If to Say by calamansifresh (can’t get enough of a straightforward Bakugo. fluff!) As We Minimize the Space by calamansifresh (Ochako’s obsession: touching Bakugo. hot smut) Quiet by IchigoKacchan (twitter thread turned Ao3, HOT) Bakudonis by Ichigo_Kacchan (1-A drooling over shirtless Bakugo) Benign Masochism by windigop (Stripper Bkg. That’s it. I’m sold) Best Birthday Ever by crystymre (A twitter thread full of fluff and everything nice uwu) Biting the Bullet by MockingbirdSoul (one of the BEST kchk sexual tension fics EVAR) Conflict Resolution by Colorslander (Bakugo is bad at feelings, yes) Delivery Incoming by mignonettes (drunk Bakugo loves his girlfriend so much. VERY CUTE) Drinks series by BlueTee (ahh!! drunk kchk!! isso!! cute!!! AHH) Fight Night by ohmytheon (Ochako: *breaks Bakugo’s nose* Bakugo: im so turned on rn) First Date Etiquette by Methoxyethane (smut and humor are /chefs kiss/) Fleeting Emotions by EmeraldWaves (series of oneshots! includes tdmm and kmjr! fave is #4) Fragile by Virtually Forgotten (another series of oneshots! fluff/angst/smut i’m in love) Fuck or Die: Bakugo birthday edition by Italian_Lily (lust quirk and coming 7 times omg) Fuck or Die by mignonettes (twitter thread; ochako hit by a quirk that makes ya horny)  Gentle Hands by corinnemaree (it takes a while for Bakugo to process that Ocha kissed him) Girl of His Dreams by NamiSwaannn (Bakugo has very /vivid/ dreams abt Ochako) good together by tusslee (kchk sext this is so hot asjdkhaf) Hero Analysis and Application by SakuraDrops93 (slow-burn kchk wholesome content, except for chapter 28, ish) Hot Lavender Latte by calamansifresh (coffee shop AU! cute and wholesome and fluffy) How’s The Weather by crystymre (how the ending is written is the BEST) I Don’t Care by SakuraDrops93 (MY. MOST. FAVORITE. NON-SMUT kchk oneshot) I Don’t Compete by crystymre (kchk pro-hero AU. hot and sweet and cute) If Heartbreak by i-masshiro (if you don’t want to have your heart broken, DONT READ THIS. </3) Irresistible by ElanaDrex (lust quirk again, but dayum this hot) Kill, Fuck, Marry by stillfly94 (twitter thread; we love an angry dork Bakugo) Late Night Sweets by jarynw02 (so cute omg! Bakugo soft only for Chako) Misfit Love by Ichigo_Kacchan (Bakugo bought a new desk and Ochako didnt like it. yet) Morning Dew by calamansifresh (we need kchk morning sex in our lives) No One Else by thesweetestnerd (again, Ochako being a hot tease) Not Afraid by omytheon (Spin the bottle. Bakugo to kiss Ochako, then it gets complicated) once bitten by wonduhhwoman/still.fly (vampire ochako oneshot. help, this is too hot.) one juicy peach by still.fly (the first kcck i’ve read. it’s hot and beautiful ;_; sweet bakugo) Partition by Ichigo_Kacchan (based on Beyonce’s Partition, Kacchako multitasks in limo) [Prompt]Sweet Surprise Vday KCCK by italian_lily (Bakugo helps Ochako make cake) Protect and Kill by ohmytheon (AU, Ocha is FBI agent and Baku is assassin) quality time by still.fly (kcck as roommates. fluff!) Quarantine Thread by Megadoodle (soooo cute!!!) Quiet Time by ohmytheon (Deku overhears kcck on the top bunk doing...things) say it and i’m yours by yaomomochi (aquarium date!!!) Sparks by ohmytheon (secret relationship + blind date) Stress Relief by Italian_lily (exactly how I would picture a kchk sparring smut scene tbh) Suds ‘n’ Sweat by mignonettes (kcck in laundry and ya know what happens) Summer Hoodies by mythica magic (Ochako in Bakugo’s sweater hrrrmm) Take a Break by ohmytheon (pro-hero Kchk doing it in the workplace to relieve stress) The Dark Web by ohmytheon (another hot kchk sexual tension comin’ right up!!!) The feeling that isn’t entirely unpleasant by mysterious intentions (fluffy HS kchk!) The Final Countdown by ohmytheon (New Year’s countdown, first kiss, pure kchk fluff <3) The Five Times It’s Fake and the One Time It Isn’t by mignonettes (fake dating AU!) thought that i was dreaming by lianhuawu (kchk post AFO-fight. sweet huhu) Un Pour Tous by mignonettes (coffee shop AU, fluff!) VIP Pass by HikoCassidy (oooh a drummer Bakugo) warm light on a winter’s day by wonduhhwoman (soulmates kchk, stuck in cabin for winter) Worthy by Tharros (drunk Ochako again + sweet “friend” Bakugo) Yes or No is Not a Trick Question by silv3rbloodalch3mist (ANOTHER. FAVORITE. Honest Bakugo is hot) Yours, If You Wanted by calamansifresh (bakugo and his hidden crush mehehe)

CURRENTLY READING / ONGOING

Aquating Training Session by BeMore (happens before camping arc; w/ tdmm!) Boyfriend-Girlfriend Things by silv3rbloodalch3mist (ahh another one from a fave author!) Little Do You Know by fullondisclosure (soulmates with a twist!) Make it wit chu by Ichigo_Kacchan (a One night stand/FwB Kacchako) Mr. Brightside by SakuraDrops93 (MY. MOST. FAVORITE! RECENTLY UPDATED AHH) Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by Ms_Chunks (very long but very good asdhajf kchk quirk dynamic) floaty ‘splodey fic series by ishkabibble_bafflegab (every fic in this series is /hearteyes/) Hot Cocoa & Chill by FrenchK (uwu i’m soft) Seeing Double by knifekirby (Fantasy AU! I’m in love with this!) The Reaper by thevoidyouknow (kchk roommates, virgin ocha and horny bakugo) (Touch Me) Kill Each Other Slowly by corinnemaree (vampire!bkg) there is something wrong with uravity by onlyfm (again with the horny quirk. yes) We Can Never Be Friends by crystymre (reading this on twitter it’s so fun and hot omg) why don’t you say so by frazzledazzle (all dialogue; all interesting drabbles! love this!) You Lost by NanaHachikoSan (this is just hot dirty hahaha)

TO READ

A Different Perspective by house_of_pixels actuality by still.fly Among a Crowd of Faces by miraimisu Bakugou Katsuki is Going to Become A Friendly Guy Even if it Kills Him by pisces-royalty Blanket Pals by miraimisu Clocks and Blades by Pomoon Closer by Ichigo_Kacchan downplay it by seconddaysea Fall by crystymre Finding Our Normal by theGingerTrekie Floating Embers by megwritesfanfiction Grounded by ElenaDrex He Who Always Left First by miraimisu Hot-headed by MoofyKitten In Hindsight by infantblue  It’s Just Training by LaMuerta It’s Our Secret, Angel Face by thesweetestnerd Kacchako Week 2019 entries by BlueTee Lie for Me by lovecassia Limerence by KarmaHope Make Me Forget by Chio Saki Midnight Terrain by stillfly94 No One Knows by Ichigo_Kacchan Noblesse Oblige by EmeraldWaves & Superevey On the Rainbow Road by ohmytheon One Day at a Time by jarynw02 Out of the Town by jarynw02 Popcorn for Breakfast by Ichigo_Kacchan [Prompt]Glimpse into the Future by italian_lily Something New by megwritesfanfiction The Boys Start the War and the Girls Get Even by crystymre The Heist by katschako The Need Inside You by ohmytheon the shape of your words by nascence The Wonderful World of Jealousy by ohmytheon These Stones We Skip by miraimisu With the Touch of My Staff by miraimisu

If you can recommend me some (I’m pretty sure there are a lot of beautiful Kacchako fics out there I might’ve missed bc srsly this fandom has SO MANY talented writers), feel free to leave them in the comments and I’ll be more than happy to add them here

[gryewaren]

i was tagged in a couple of games this past week so i’m just gonna make one post answering them all because they’re fun and i have the time so here we go

rules: answer the questions and tag blogs you would like to get to know better tagging: (you can choose what game u wanna do or something lol or ignore if u want but i wanna know u all a bit better <3) @pcnsypcrknsn @polaroids @gansaey @twinminyards @henriettablues @adamparrishes @aridantes @ccress @dirkqently @mavenbarrow @donnattartt @perspective

tagged by: kahlia @monstrouss  ♥ 

nickname/s: kim

gender: female

star sign: cancer 

height:  5′2″ fuc

time: 1:37 pm, i don’t have classes rn which is a fucking miracle

birthday: july 21

favorite bands: mayday parade, pierce the veil, 5sos (yES), fall out boy

favorite solo artists: ed sheeran, sam smith, selena gomez, kaleo, niall horan, james arthur, lauv, lorde

song stuck in my head: laro by autotellic

last movie i watched: in the cinema? thor: ragnarok (11/10 recommend)

last show i watched: black butler, it’s an anime

when did i create my blog: created this one december last year

what do i post: lit, some films, and just anything i find pretty 

last thing i googled: "how to get rid of ‘index’ in photoshop”

do i have any other blogs: nah

do i get asks: what are thoooose

why i chose my url: bc i’m ronan’s bitch

following: 400-something

followers: 1,6k-something

average hours of sleep: 4??? 5???? most of the times i get around 3 hours of sleep bc the universe thinks i dont deserve rest

lucky number: seven

instruments: none

what am i wearing: a shirt and boxer shorts

dream job: a surgeon

dream trip: greece

favourite food: shanghai rolls???? hAHAHA

nationality: filipino

favorite song right now: midnight train by sam smith

tagged by: nicole @nhmesis  ♥ — Relationship Status: ???? — Favourite Colour: soft colors like rose gold, beige/nude, white — Lipstick or Chapstick: lipstick??? — Last Song I Listened To: queen by atronach’s aura — Last Movie I Watched: thor:ragnarok — Top 3 TV Shows: friends / big bang theory / yuri on ice (bc why not) — Top 3 Bands/Artists: mayday parade / ed sheeran / 5sos — Books I’m Currently Reading: the goldfinch

tagged by: shanaz @aphrocilles  ♥

name: karen nickname: kim height: 5′2 birthday: july 21 fave color: beige, white, rose gold 10 most played songs: wolves by selena gomez / the thrill of it all by sam smith / get you by daniel caesar / lie by NF / stranger things by kygo / nightmares by all time low / beside you by marianas trench / drunk by zayn malik / sleep tonight by december avenue / three cheers for five years by mayday parade 7 favorite movies: kill your darlings / the great gatsby / salt  / inception / call me by your name (even tho i still havent seen it) / the curious case of benjamin button / the hangover 1,2, and 3 6 favorites tv shows: im not a big fan of tv shows omg sorry 4 celebrity crushes: selena gomez / angelina jolie / tom cruise / timothee chalamet 1 thing that defines you: is it bad that i can’t think of anything

tagged by: ana @kerahs  ♥

nicknames: kim gender: female sign: cancer height: 5′2 time: 10:56 am birthday: july 21st favorite bands: mayday parade, ptv, fob, 5sos favorite solo artists: ed sheeran, niall horan, sam smith song stuck in my head: HIM by sam smith last movie i watched: thor:ragnarok last show i watched: black butler when did i create this blog: december 31 2016  what do i post: mostly the raven cycle, all for the game, and six of crows. some ya lit edits and the occasional aes posts what did i last google: latin translation (bc of that maggie reply on one on the posts of her tweet) other blogs: deleted them all lol but i used to own vxalentino and hemmosbitch do i get asks: i wish following: 380 followers: 1,669 babes  ♥ average hours of sleep: 3-4 hours??? on school nights lucky number: 7 instruments: zero what am i wearing: fuck im still in my pajamas favorite food: uhm???? last book i read: the goldfinch (but i havent finished it yet, that still counts right?) 3 favorite fandoms: trc, aftg, and yoi

tagged by: victoria @neiljostnss  ♥ 2ND RULE: bold the statements that are true

APPEARANCE: I am 5'7" or taller I wear glasses I have at least one tattoo I have at least one piercing I have blonde hair I have brown eyes I have short(ish) hair My abs are at least somewhat defined I have or have had braces PERSONALITY: I love meeting new people People tell me that I’m funny Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me I enjoy physical challenges I enjoy mental challenges I’m playfully rude with people I know well I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it   There is something much I would change about my personality ABILITY: I can sing well I can play an instrument I can do over 30 pushups without stopping I’m a fast runner I can draw well I have a good memory I’m good at doing math in my head I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch I know how to throw a proper punch HOBBIES: I enjoy playing sports (i used to, sigh) I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else I have learned a new song in the past week I work out at least once a week I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months I have drawn something in the past month I enjoy writing I do or have done martial arts EXPERIENCES: I have had my first kiss I have had alcohol I have scored the winning goal in a sports game I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting I have been at an overnight event I have been in a taxi I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year I have beaten a video game in one day I have visited another country I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts RELATIONSHIPS: I have a crush on a celebrity I have a crush on someone I know I have been in at least 3 relationships I have never been in a relationship I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them I get crushes easily I have had a crush on someone for over a year I have been in a relationship for at least a year I have had feelings for a friend MY LIFE: I have at least one person I consider a “best friend” I live close to my school My parents are still together I have at least one sibling I live in the United States There is snow right now where I live I have hung out with a friend in the past month I have a smartphone I have at least 15 CDs I share my room with someone RANDOM SHIT: I have breakdanced I know a person named Jamie I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce I have dyed my hair I’m listening to one song on repeat right now I have punched someone in the past week I know someone who has gone to jail I have broken a bone I have eaten a waffle today I know what I want to do with my life I speak at least 2 languages I have made a new friend in the past year