#if you see this post and you’re not feeling great:

[muniimyg]

BAD HABIT // JJK

00 | prologue // series m.list

the divinity

there are rules to the universe. constants, like the way the moon pulls the tide, or how the seasons fold into one another without fail.

and then there are soulmates.

for the divinity—the chosen ones, the ones born with a glow beneath their skin—soulmates are less of a possibility and more of a promise.

it’s not just love.

no, that would be too easy.

it’s balance, power, inevitability.

it’s their very being. if they're stars, this is the dust of their very exitance—the very essence of it. only those in the divinity can have soulmates. only the chosen ones can feel it, but the rest of the world can see it.

when soulmates meets, the universe reacts.

auras intertwine, colors bleeding into one another, something cosmic and unbreakable settling between them.

they glow.

when soulmates glow, the invisible string ties them together. being a part for an extensive amount of time leads to sickness. simple symptoms include nausea, headaches, chest pains, and general weakness—sometimes it means life or death.

you

you were always meant to return.

it’s all you ever dreamed of—the palace, the academy, the weight of your name finally meaning something again. you spent years in the outside world, away from the divinity, away from your glow, and now—finally—you’re home.

and you’re ready.

ready to learn, to grow, to embrace your power.

ready to meet the person the universe has chosen for you.

your soulmate.

what you don’t expect is him.

jungkook

jungkook has always known who he is.

he’s a prodigy, a leader, a force to be reckoned with. his aura—golden, commanding—demands attention, his power bending the world around him with effortless precision.

he is not used to things happening to him.

he is not used to surprises.

and yet—

there you are. standing in the great hall, your aura humming in time with his, bright and unshakable.

his soulmate.

his future.

jungkook stares at you, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

you glow.

context

words

divinity: the chosen ones with auras auras: power / their souls (depends on the context) invisible string: soulmate analogy glow: the glow only happens when soulmates initially meet and only happens when they're in pain or healing the outside: literally the rest of the world that isn't their palace. it's filled with regular people and these people depend on the divinity to keep the balance of the world going (good and bad, life and death, etc)

you

status; born into the 'royal' family that built the palace, that houses the academy. rumoured and referred to 'the long lost princess' as no one in the divinity has ever met you

aura; resistance and immune to everyone else’s powers. you're the one thing in this world that doesn’t bow to the divinity (to be dramatic, you are the divinity)

princessa; grew up outside the palace, living freely. this was because your parents wanted you to see life outside the palace and understand what you'll be responsible for

fate and responsibility; the upcoming leader of the divinity

jungkook

status; one of (if not) the highest of the divinity. he is the one in 7 generations to have this power. it makes him feared and at the same time; so precious

aura; mind control (speciality) but maniplates anything and anyone. from people's mind, feelings, and blood to elements of water, earth, fire, and air. he's basically avatar but emo because...

lifeline; jungkook's aura is rare and often short-lived. the more he uses his aura, his life line shortens. except, no one knows the length of his life line. it's a guessing game for everyone thus why everyone protects him

inspo

this fic has been in my drafts since paraluman and has been posted before (just the series m.list) after literal years of contemplating and multiple crying sessions over wicked (2024) ,, i have reconstructed this fic into something i'm so excited to share with you .

this fic is a mix of wicked vibes, (the anime) gukuen alice, and literally the basic concepts of soulmates (invisible string theory, symptoms when separated from soulmate, etc) and of course !!! mullet jungkook .

to be honest, i'm kinda nervy lol. this is my first time writing a fantasy au and hope to bring all i have planned for this fic into life through the best fitting words and imagery (as you can tell,, i am very nervy as i am yapping thru this) nevertheless, i'm excited to challenge my writing and to mold it into something 10x more dramatic and romantic . i hope i paint the picture just right cos bad habit jk has been living in my mind for wayyy too long . to me, he is the perfect mix of tsundere and gut wrenching simp lol ...

the series will begin feburary 14, 2025 .

all the love,

kimi ♡

[marksbear2]

Can i request Kraven x male reader headcanons? 🤭 also seen you were sick, hope you’re feeling better. 💗

Kraven the hunter x male reader

Dear anon you probably don’t even remember requesting this from how long it took for me to post this 💔💔. I hope you don’t mind and enjoy the fic.

1. Wilderness Dates – Instead of typical dates, Kraven takes you on hunting trips, teaching you how to track, set traps, and survive in the wild.

2. Protective Instincts – He’s fiercely protective of you, always keeping a watchful eye when you’re in dangerous areas, even if you insist you can handle yourself.

3. Animal Affection – Kraven’s pets, especially his lions and leopards, are unusually affectionate toward you. He says it’s because they recognize you as his mate.

4. Trophy Gifts – Instead of flowers or jewelry, he brings you trophies from his hunts—like a beautifully carved bone knife or a rare pelt he insists would make a good cloak for you.

5. His urge for dominance – He treats you like his equal but has a deeply ingrained need to prove himself as the strongest, often challenging you to arm wrestling matches or sparring sessions.

6. Soft for You – He may be a ruthless hunter, but when he’s alone with you, he becomes oddly tender, brushing his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses against your temple.

7. Cooking Experiments – He insists on cooking meat he hunted himself, sometimes with questionable seasoning choices. You once had to pretend to enjoy an overly spicy jungle stew.

8. Jealousy Issues – Kraven doesn’t handle jealousy well. If someone flirts with you, he looms behind them like a predator, silently daring them to back off.

9. Old-School Romance – He believes in grand, dramatic gestures, like carrying you bridal-style over a river or slaying a beast in your honor.

10. Hunting Together – If you show any interest in hunting, he takes great pride in teaching you, even letting you lead small hunts to boost your confidence.

11. Battle Couple Energy – If you’re a fighter, he adores the idea of battling side by side, reveling in the thrill of combat together.

12. Survival Training – He believes you should be able to survive in the wild without him, so he occasionally tests you by disappearing for a few hours and watching from afar to see how you handle yourself.

13. Affectionate Nicknames – He calls you things like "Little Wolf," "My Lion," or "Prey-Turned-Predator" depending on his mood.

14. Body Worship – Kraven is a man who appreciates strength, whether it’s his own or yours. If you work out, expect a lot of lingering hands and admiring glances.

15. Animal-Like Comfort – He’s not above curling around you like a big cat when you’re resting together, nuzzling into your neck as he dozes off.

16. Tattoos and Scars – If you have scars, he traces them with fascination, praising you for being strong enough to earn them. If you have tattoos, he asks about their meaning and if he can add one to your collection.

17. Loyal to the End – Once Kraven has claimed you as his, he is unshakably devoted. Betrayal is unthinkable, and he would cross the world to find you if you were taken from him.

18. Drunken Boasting – After a few drinks, he brags loudly about your strength, intelligence, or cunning to anyone who will listen, making sure the world knows you’re worthy of standing beside him.

19. Traditional Courting – He has an old-fashioned view of romance and might insist on proving himself to you through trials, like hunting a beast in your name or bringing home an impressive prize.

20. Predator and Prey Dynamic – Sometimes, just to mess with you, he’ll playfully “hunt” you in the jungle or around your home, only to catch you in his arms and whisper, “You are mine.”

THE END

[gublersquill]

Under the Stars - gublersquill

Spencer x BAU Reader

Spencer finally admits his feelings for reader under the stars 

AN: Hi loves! Thanks so much for all the support on my last post. It means so much that people like my work. If you guys have any fic suggestions leave them in my answer section <3 

TW: Fluff, fluff, fluff, a little kissing, Use of Y/N (sorry 🙁) 

WC: 0.9K

The gravel crunches under your boots, the soft sound harmonizing with the creaking of the trees in the wind. Soft, rustling leaves surround you, shifting your senses and drawing you deeper into the dark forest. A shiver runs down your spine as the breeze slips through the knit of your sweater, pin pricking your skin.

"Are you okay, Spencer?" you ask, glancing at the man behind you. At first, you were hesitant to enter the forest, knowing his fears of the dark. But the way his amber eyes crinkled with excitement about the surprise he had arranged—and the flip in your stomach that followed—convinced you to indulge in this twilight escapade.

He shuffles along, tightly gripping the strap of his bag. Suddenly, he stops, glancing up through the foliage above. “You know, the Greek goddess of stars—or, well, falling stars—is a Titaness,” he says with a shy grin. “Her name was Asteria, and she was also the goddess of nighttime divination.” He chuckles softly, quickening his pace to catch up with you. “I think she might make a great character for a children’s book.”

The path evens out, the gravel giving way to a carpet of delicate lichen covering the forest floor. Spencer reaches for your hand, guiding you over a fallen tree. His hand covers yours, warm and steady, despite his fears—a small assurance in his presence.

“Where are we going?” you whisper, not wanting to break the soft spell the forest seems to have cast. Carefully placing your feet along the forest floor you stare at the nature surrounding you letting out a featherlight breath.

Spencer glances around slowly before replying, “Just through to that clearing.” He grasps your hand again, gently leading you forward. As you step into the clearing, you look up at the sky. The halo of trees breaks apart, revealing a smattering of stars scattered across the dark expanse above.

He continues guiding you further into the clearing, where a woven rug interrupts the forest floor. A telescope sits on it, accompanied by a cooler bag and neatly folded blankets.

“Spencer, you actually did this?” you ask, stunned, as he lowers himself onto the rug and begins fiddling with the gears on the telescope in front of him.

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I remembered you saying how much you missed seeing the stars the way they looked in your hometown because of the light pollution. So, I thought we could watch them while we’re away from Virginia,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You sit next to him wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. He pauses before curling his arms around you enveloping you in his warmth. The smell of old books, coffee and something uniquely spencer surrounds you as you sigh into his hold. 

Pulling away feels like being yanked out of a comforting dream, one you can only barely remember. “Thank you,” you say earnestly. You raise your hand, tangling it reverently in his hair.

“Y/N,” Spencer sighs, his voice shaky as he tries to form the words he’s been practicing. His eyes flicker from your face to the hand on his cheek and the gentle movement of your fingers brushing through his curls.

“Are you okay?” you ask, moving your hand to his forehead. “You feel warm. Are you getting sick?” You take his face in your hands, trying to feel if he has a fever.

“I’m not sick,” he sighs, raising his hand to clasp one of yours. “The warmth of my skin is a physiological response to an emotional or environmental stimulus. It’s caused by the sympathetic nervous system widening the capillaries under my skin. It actually—”

“You’re blushing?” you ask, gently interrupting his spiraling thoughts.

“I am,” he sighs, looking back at you. “I need to tell you something.”

You look at him, only now noticing how close you are—curled into his shoulder, noses almost touching, his hand enveloping yours, resting against his face.

Falling.

You don’t know who moved forward first, and you don’t find many reasons to care as his lips press against yours. Eyes fluttering closed, you tangle your fingers in his hair as his lips brush yours.

He kisses you longingly, slowly memorizing the curve of your mouth, the warmth of your skin against his. He had wanted this for months—admiring the way you were so kind to the victims, how your face lit up when you talked about psychology, how your head tipped back slightly when you laughed, revealing the elegant column of your neck.

YYou pull back, both gasping for air.

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” you ask, grinning, your lips swollen as you place a delicate kiss on his cheek.

“Yes,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t get it out right. I wanted this to be perfect.” He curls a lock of your hair around his fingers.

“It was perfect,” you insist. “I like you. Like, a lot.”

Your eyes flicker up, drawn to the night sky, the stars flickering above you as if urging you on.

Spencer’s cheeks tingle again with a soft blush. “Let me show you something.”

He adjusts the dials on the telescope, positioning it just right before gesturing for you to look through it.

“Do you see that?” he asks. “That’s the Cassiopeia constellation, and just to the right is the Heart Nebula. It glows red from within—classifying it as an emission nebula—due to hydrogen ionized into plasma by nearby stars.”

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp, mesmerized by the red hue reflecting through the telescope’s lens.

He looks at you instead, tracing his gaze over your face—the tilt of your lips, the way your eyebrows scrunch in concentration.

“Yes, it is.”

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 9 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 7.4k (hoo boy. i did say i would end this with a bang. i wrote and edited this in two days.)

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of food, mentions of physical & mental health issues, explicit...themes. y'all see for yourselves what those are

a/n. and here we are. a little over two months since i posted the masterlist in the hopes that it would motivate me to see this series through, and i actually did it!!! i poured my heart and soul into this chapter, specifically, so i hope you enjoy it and find it a great way to wrap up the story. see the end for a message <3

links. masterlist, ao3

You shoot up at the sound of a honk—a blaring sound that you think can only be from one of those humongous passenger buses that circle the city.

Except they never really pass by your neighborhood—your apartment being located in the outer peripheries of Musutafu.

So why, all of a sudden, are you hearing these noises?

Wasn’t it just recently that you shot up awake like this?

Clenching your eyes back closed, you shake your head vigorously. The dull thumping that stretches from your parietal straight to your frontal lobe is unmistakable, such is the dryness of your throat. You look to your left, letting out a sigh of relief when you see a glass of water on the nightstand. You quickly grab it and take a sip, finally eyeing your surroundings as you do so.

The room is dim—the city lights emanating through the window the only source of illumination within the four walls, enough to cast a faint glow on what you’re now sure is Bakugou’s bedroom. You’ve only been here one night, but the plush mattress beneath you feels familiar, and you’re a hundred percent sure that’s your suitcase in the corner right next to his wardrobe. The wardrobe where he retrieved the futon…last night?

You shift to be on all fours, wincing to a halt when your back screams in protest at the motion. You try to rotate your neck next, grateful when all you feel is a slight strain and a sting—like you’ve got some bruising at the front. The rest of your body seems to be working alright—fatigued, yes, but not enough to cause you a new wave of pain with every maneuver.

And so with that thought, you slowly crawl toward the foot of the bed, right until you catch a glimpse of the said futon. It’s somewhat undone—arranged exactly how you think Bakugou left it the morning of the mission. Well, how you two left it. You remember accidentally stepping on it once or twice while trying not to invade Bakugou’s personal space as you simultaneously got ready, making a mental note to fix it before you left.

You guess you never got to. Apparently, neither did Bakugou.

Which only means one thing.

It’s still D-Day.

Only then do the events from earlier today come flooding at you, and you find yourself stumbling out the door, barefoot and maybe still a little too out of it to be rushing like this.

Regardless, you burst out of the room—fully expecting the twins to be there—although you’re not hit with a sobering visual confirmation, nor are you hit with a menacing glare followed by a ripping out of your tracker, which you note has already disappeared from its spot in the middle of your chest.

Instead, what hits you is the heady yet comforting smell of ramen broth.

You glance in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, Bakugou’s standing there—decked out in lounge clothes under an apron with a ladle in one hand—staring at you, surprised.

“Hey,” he finally gets out after a beat of immobility, before facing back toward the stove and turning down the heat. “You’re awake.”

You nod, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. You pad toward the kitchen as quietly as you can, stopping a few feet away from him where he looks so normal, like he didn’t just wrestle a murderer a couple of hours ago.

What the hell is going on?

Bakugou glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question—and it just dawns on you that you said that last bit out loud—before spinning to fully face you again.

“You had an anxiety attack,” he says as a matter of factly, and you feel yourself flame. “They told me to take you home after they did first aid on the both of us.”

So, he got hurt, too.

You tamp down the shame from your breakdown and note the bandage on his cheek, right where his scar is.

Still, it’s not exactly the two of you who you’re most concerned about right now…

You gulp, willing yourself to hold Bakugou’s gaze. “What about Masaki?” you ask. “D-did he—make it?”

At that, Bakugou sighs, and it’s enough for you to know the answer. Despite yourself, you feel a surge of guilt wash over your body.

“He was rushed to the hospital,” the pro-hero explains, solemn, “But he didn’t make it.”

And when you don’t say anything: “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t kill him,” he huffs, “I did.”

You shake your head decisively, before tossing him a stern look. “You did what you had to do.”

Bakugou stares at you for a second, an inexplicable expression on his face, although you don’t get to study it further because you look away first. “Did you know he was a consul?” you inquire, suddenly feeling the obligation to change the topic.

Bakugou turns, once again busying himself with the stove. “I heard.”

You pull a stool from underneath the kitchen island and hoist yourself up into it. “Explains why he was never around in the headquarters.”

“Explains why he was never home, either,” he piles on.

You feel your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, he just went through a divorce and lost custody of his daughters to his ex-wife, who that guy Hiroto described to have a pretty weak quirk. Said the man always had supremacist views, but changed for the worst when the woman filed a case against him.”

Huh.

“Speaking of quirks,” Bakugou continues, stirring the broth, “I’m sure you figured it out, but his was called retaliate. He could absorb attacks, especially explosions, and redirect them with—”

“Double the power, yeah,” you finish for him.

“Quadruple if he’s feeling confident—an ironic clause for a relatively meek guy like him,” Bakugou remarks. “Explains why he still took you with him despite suspecting we were doing something behind his back. He needed your luck and was planning to blackmail you into boosting him.”

That makes you frown. “But they didn’t figure out it was actually manipulation, did they? He mentioned luck to me, too. In the car, before we went into the building.”

“No, they didn’t,” comes Bakugou’s cool response. “Masaki and the rest still thought it was luck, just that you may have been using it beyond their instruction. Plus, at that point, they already had my bombs, so they could easily dispose of me and use my life as leverage to get you to do what they said.”

Bakugou reaches for one of the condiments in the rack, lightly shaking the contents out of the container and into the soup. “Explains why they told me last night to follow suit and get dressed in normal clothes. Didn’t matter that I’d be easily identified in them—I was never gonna get to the Prime Minister’s Office anyway.”

That fucking reminds you. “Where did that bastard even take you?”

At that, Bakugou stiffens. “An industrial-grade refrigerator,” he mutters.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he spews, perhaps a bit miffed. You can tell he’s not enjoying talking about this. “I was bolted in, and Kouki disappeared before I could wrangle him into letting me out.”

You can only gawk at him as he drawls on. “Took me a while to gather enough sweat for one massive blow to break the lock.”

“H-how?” you manage to croak out.

“Push-ups,” he answers curtly, still stirring. “I lost count at around 300.”

He takes your stupefied silence as a sign to continue.

“After that, I figured the old geezer couldn’t have gotten me too far—otherwise, he would’ve depleted his capacity to conduct mass teleportation if things went south for them. I boosted myself up to get an aerial view and find a landmark, and got going when I did.”

“Were you still wearing your tracker?” you can’t help but probe.

“I had to,” Bakugou responds, “If I wanted him to come to me. When he found out I was on the move, he teleported to where I was—probably to teleport me to my death, leverage be damned—but I was faster, and he couldn’t catch up.”

“I blasted him unconscious before he could retreat and bring everyone else with him,” Bakugou says as he takes what looks to be a lid and puts it over the pot, leaving a small gap for the steam to come out. “He’s in custody now. Shitty hair’s talking to him as we speak.”

At the mention of the redhead’s nickname, you straighten up. “How is he? And Sero?” you say so quickly you almost stumble over your words, “Are they okay?”

“Yeah,” comes his prompt retort, and you find your shoulders sagging in relief. “The twins put up a fight, but they eventually had them wrapped in Sero’s tape and chased you to the elevator. But then somebody pulled the fire alarm and they got stuck.”

“It was Masaki,” you swiftly supply. “He did it just as he hauled me out of the elevator.”

Again, you watch as Bakugou visibly tenses, but he doesn’t say anything. At least, for a moment, before he sighs.

“Yeah, well, they couldn’t get out for a while because the system needed manual operation to send the elevator back to ground floor, and nobody was around to do it. They couldn’t smash their way out of there, either. Could’ve caused the entire thing to crash down.”

“Wasn’t there any other hero besides them?”

“No,” Bakugou says almost regrettably as he takes the bowl of uncooked noodles into his hands. “They thought I’d be there just as planned, so they assigned the rest of the pro-heroes involved to the rest of the schools.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “I guess that explains why they went for the twins first instead of Masaki. Maybe they thought you’d be there to handle him?”

“No, they had eyes on you,” he corrects, just as he pours the noodles into the soup. “Shitty hair said they prioritized the two because they seemed stronger than Masaki. His packing that much fucking strength came as a shock to everyone.”

You chuckle dryly. “Even you, right?”

He grunts, unamused. “Even me.”

You let yourself sit in silence as Bakugou continues to tend to what he’s cooking. It goes on like this for a little while, before it hits you belatedly.

“Did anyone else get hurt?” you suddenly ask, “You know, aside from Masaki?”

“None, unless you count property damage,” he quips, and you let out a half-hearted laugh. You can hear him smirking when he adds: “Luckily, Kirishima and the others had enough foresight to evacuate the place entirely.”

“I’m guessing you know how they did it?”

At that, Bakugou nods. “…Although, I can’t say I agree with it.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“They used government surveillance information to send targeted texts to the potential victims—parents on behalf of the students, staff, employees,” he reveals, voice low. “Something about a suspension that they needed to be quiet about for their safety. Except the guards, who had to be there at the entrance.”

“But—”

“That would’ve meant Masaki and the twins would receive the message, too, I know,” he interjects. “Good thing I managed to put their names on that piece of paper. Otherwise, we would’ve been fucked.”

“No shit,” is the only thing you can mumble, head reeling from the revelation just now.

“…We barely made it, huh?” he rejoins, quiet.

“Yeah…” you reply.

A pause.

Then—

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out of the blue, startling Bakugou. You refuse to meet his gaze, though, even as you continue. “For losing it back there.”

At that, Bakugou whips to look at you, and you have no choice but to look up at him. “Hah?”

“I didn’t think I’d use everything up, and it’s been so long since I last depleted my quirk like that,” is the only thing you can get out.

You let your eyes fall to your enjoined hands in front of you. “I couldn’t control myself. I’m…sorry.”

Another pause.

“Tsk.”

Your eyes widen at the unexpected sound, and despite yourself, you find your line of vision going back to Bakugou, who’s now scowling at you.

“The only thing you should be sorry for is that unnecessary as shit apology,” he spits, before turning back to the stove. “Now, come on. Help me with the plates.”

You do just as Bakugou says and assist him.

You end up situating the placemats and cutlery just as he finished up the dish, serving it not even a few minutes later in a luxurious-looking, suspiciously Todoroki-esque bowl that you’re sure costs more than a well-functioning arm.

You try to ignore it as you navigate yourself in his kitchen, although it eventually becomes apparent that a peculiar kind of tension lingers in the air still, but you figure it’s not entirely unfathomable.

It’s only been a few hours, after all.

You repeat this like an incantation in your head—again and again until it somehow sticks—even as you quietly say your thanks and dig in. Not one word is uttered in between spoonfuls of food, the silence reminiscent of yesterday’s dinner—even though yesterday now feels like a whole month ago.

At least, that’s what you were thinking, until a booming voice erupts throughout the room, entirely juxtaposing the earlier stillness. You startle, then ease up when you realize it’s All Might’s, and that it’s merely a ringtone. Bakugou scrambles to fetch his phone from the island, although whatever urgency he had just now goes out the window when he sees the caller ID.

“It’s Asahi,” he grumbles.

You hurriedly swallow your noodles. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Bakugou glares at his phone for another second before shaking his head and turning it off, walking back toward you.

“Isn’t he gonna get mad?” you ask just as he reseats himself.

“We’ve been on duty for over two weeks,” Bakugou snarls, picking back up his chopsticks. “He can kindly go fuck himself.”

That makes you snort, which earns you a smirk, although his face falls almost immediately after.

You swallow the discomfort that shoots to your throat at the sight of it.

You try not to get caught, but you secretly sneak glances for the rest of the meal, and only by the end of it do you notice that his hair’s gone back to its normal, unruly state—probably due to a shower that he took after you got home.

That, and there’s definitely something weighing him down.

You just don’t know what.

You don’t attempt to comment on it as you help him clean up the plates, or even as you start drying the dishes after he washes them beside you. He doesn’t try to start a conversation, either, focus seemingly trained solely on the task in front of him, although you know better than to believe what your eyes are telling you.

It’s that thought that ultimately emboldens you to speak up a few minutes in.

You clear your throat, eyeing him as subtly as you can. “…Something on your mind?”

To your dismay, he doesn’t answer you, only passing a plate without sparing you a single glance.

Well, then.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself deflate at his snubbing.

You had your doubts about coming forward and asking him, although that’s when the memories of the things you had to go through together came in and you thought he’d trust you enough to share—but you guess you’re getting ahead of yourself, because there’s no way he’d—

“You used your quirk on me, didn’t you?

You freeze, all thoughts wiped out from your brain.

You feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare turn to look at him, nor do you open your mouth.

He turns away, nodding. “I knew it.”

Fuck this.

“People don’t normally notice—” you blurt, and he shifts to face you again, “—when I use it on them.”

You scratch at your cheek, feeling weirdly restless. “I think it’s only because you’re perceptive to begin with, and because you know about me and what I can do.”

“Why’d you do it?” is his immediate response, catching you off guard. You splutter, although—to your chagrin—he only raises an eyebrow at you, expression nothing less than expectant.

What the hell are you supposed to say other than the truth, then?

“Fine,” you hiss, pulling your lips into a thin line. “It was because I noticed you were getting frantic.”

At that, Bakugou’s eye twitches. “You calling me sloppy?”

“No!” you exclaim, then backtrack. “I was just—I just did what my instincts told me…”

And really, you did.

That’s all you could’ve done in that situation, for a person with your experience.

And you’re about to expound on that to a skeptical Bakugou when, to your surprise, he nods.

“Good call,” he mutters so silently, but you hear it anyway, and your eyes widen.

You must be gaping at him like he just said you are the greatest person to have ever graced the earth because he immediately looks away, embarrassed, a sudsy bowl still in hand.

“It’s stupid,” he continues, and you barely clock him having resorted to aggressively toeing his house slippers—the pair you bought for him. “I’ve never really lost my cool like that before.”

Now, that you’re not sure of.

Still, you force out a decent reaction.

“R-really?”

You’re instantly granted with a side-eye. “Don’t sound so fucking shocked.”

“It’s not that—” you choke, “It’s just that—”

“I have a short temper, I know. Sue me,” he spews, shutting you up.

“But I never let that get in the way of my work,” Bakugou pushes, suddenly serious. “Never.”

You frown, placing the plate you’ve been holding in the drying rack. “Well, they did fool us by separating us last minute,” you offer just as you look back at him, “I’d be pissed, too, getting betrayed like that.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything in reply, opting to stare at you—borderline scowling—for what feels like a minute. He eventually sighs, and you find yourself mentally sighing at the break in eye contact as he puts down the dish he was in the middle of washing.

But then he turns to you again, face blank, and says the strangest thing.

“Tell me. Are you playing with my emotions right now?”

“What?” you cry, “No! Why would you even—”

You’re cut off when—without warning—Bakugou coaxes the towel from your hand and takes a step close, invading your space.

“Good,” he rumbles, voice low and gruff as he leans even closer. “Just wanted to make sure.”

That’s all the warning he gives you before he grabs your neck and dives in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You instantly shut down at the contact, your body going rigid against his just like when he kissed you out of the blue this morning. But unlike earlier today, you don’t relax, and he must’ve sensed it, because he quickly pulls away, the hand that was just on your nape now resting on your shoulder.

“Shit,” Bakugou curses, a mortified look on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” you interject, “I mean, it’s okay. It’s just…”

“Just what?” he breathes out, releasing you from his hold, and you don’t know if you’ve finally gone crazy, but did he just sound…hopeful?

No, he didn’t.

Which is why you muster up the courage to say the next thing.

“You’re just confused,” you finally get out, looking him straight in the eye.

His reply is instant.

“Believe me, I’m fucking not.”

That makes you frown, because why is he giving you such a hard time? You’re giving him an out, for god’s sake. A wake-up call, if you will.

That none of these is real.

And that he’s confusing make-believe with reality.

These very thoughts must be evident on your face because he studies you closely for a bit, a similar frown etched on his features. He then shakes his head, the same way he does when he’s getting impatient.

“You don’t believe me?” he finally says, and you’re about to say no, you do not, when he suddenly takes a step closer, and you find yourself stumbling back.

“What if,” another step forward for him, another one backward for you, “I tell you that I’ve been wanting to kiss the crap out of you, even when no one’s watching?”

Yet another step, and he finally stops. “Especially when no one’s watching.”

You can’t help it—you sputter, and to that, Bakugou only flashes you a devilish smirk. “Nothing?” he taunts, “You’ve got nothing to say?”

“J-just kiss?”

The second you say it, you know you fucked up.

His crimson eyes widen in surprise. “I mean, I want to fuck you, too, but—”

“No!” you cry, and he shuts up, “I mean, not like that. What I meant was, is this thing you’re feeling purely physical? Not that I think I’m all that—” you quickly disclaim, “—but is there something else, or…?”

At that, the motherfucker chuckles, and you’ve got half a mind to bury yourself in the very ground you’re standing on. But then you remember you’re on the top floor of a high-rise building, so that would only mean—

“I want to date the crap out of you, too, dumbass.”

“…Oh.”

A raised eyebrow. “Just ‘oh’?”

You flush. That was too soon of a reference.

Still, you have to respond.

“Oh, as in, oh, great,” you croak, “Because, believe it or not, I feel the same way.”

You can only watch in delight as Bakugou releases a breath you think he didn’t know he was holding, utter relief written all over his body. There’s no controlling the smile that breaches your mouth at the sight of it, earlier’s dreadful anticipation now morphing into a hoard of rabid butterflies. Bakugou sees the change in your countenance and grins.

“Does this mean I get to kiss you now? And that you won’t just stand there like a fucking corpse?”

That earns him a punch to the arm, which he takes in stride, laughing. “Can’t you just do it without teasing me?” you grumble, “You’re such a dickhead.”

“Got it, princess,” is the last (pestering) thing he says before reaching for your neck again and pulling you toward him, wasting no time in bringing your lips to his.

It doesn’t elude you that you’re still somewhat tense, but you eventually manage to will yourself to ease up just as his other hand shoots up to hold your cheek, tilting it so he can deepen the kiss. You can’t help it—you groan when he does, and he takes that as an opportunity to slowly enter your mouth with his tongue, and you squeak at the intrusion. He only laughs at that, but he doesn’t let up, his tongue seemingly having a mind of its own as it swirls and explores without restraint.

You don’t know how long this goes on—your brain filled with nothing but the sensation of Bakugou’s soft lips against yours—but he eventually pulls away, and you have to stop yourself from ogling at how debauched he looks with just his flushed face and swollen lips. You guess you aren’t any different, because Bakugou’s eyes rove over your face—hungrily—almost as if he’s drinking you in.

“You’re a good kisser,” you offer lamely, desperate for anything to fill the tense air.

At that, he coughs, as if he didn’t expect you to say that of all things. “T-thanks. You, too.”

You flash him a grateful smile, although it’s quick to falter.

A beat.

“So…” you try again, “What now?”

Bakugou looks down at his feet, suddenly shy. “I—uh, meant it, you know.”

You gulp. “Meant what?”

“That I want to fuck you.”

Shit.

“But I understand if you don’t want to, or if that’s moving too fast. It’s only been two weeks and—”

“Correction,” you cut in, “It’s been over two weeks. You said so yourself.”

That makes Bakugou pause, who only looks at you in bewilderment. “What are you trying to—”

“I’m ready,” you declare, voice nothing short of sure. “I want this.”

That seems to set something off in the pro-hero, because his entire demeanor shifts. You don’t get to comment on it before he’s back on you in an instant, encasing your lips in a searing kiss. You stagger back from the sheer force alone, grabbing onto his shirt for purchase as you stumble across the living room, not parting ways for even a second, his mouth hot against yours. He seizes you by the waist just as you almost crash into the wall, expertly maneuvering you through the door and into his bedroom, lips still molded together.

He only pulls away when you reach the foot of his bed, letting go of his grip on you to lift you bridal-style, the brazen display of effortless strength sending a shot of arousal into your veins. You loop your arms around his neck as he climbs over the mattress, inching toward the headboard before gently placing you down into the pillows. You waste no time pulling him back closer to you, initiating the kiss this time, and you think he must like that, judging by the way he groans quietly.

“What,” you mumble against his lips, “You like it when I take charge?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles back, although he doesn’t break away, only biting your lower lip as if in punishment. You wince, but he’s quick to lave over it with his tongue. “Hurry up and—” a kiss, “—take off—” another kiss, “—mm—your clothes.”

That makes you laugh. Of course, he’d order you to strip after just cussing you out.

You don’t complain, though, lightly shoving him away so you can pull your shirt over your head. You glance at Bakugou when it’s off of you, and sure enough, he’s staring at your chest.

“Aren’t you gonna undress as well?” you ask pointedly, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing on your face.

“Shit, right,” he blubbers, and you find yourself smiling as he hurries to take off his shirt.

Only that smile doesn’t get to last for too long before it’s instantly replaced with an ‘o��� at the sight of his ridiculously defined abs.

You point to it, honestly perturbed. “How the fuck is that even possible?”

Now that makes him laugh, the motion causing his abdominal muscles to flex and you blanch. “What if I tell you I’ve had them since high school?”

“Liar.”

Bakugou grins. “Had you known, would you have forced me to listen to your confession?”

“That’s it,” you make a move to get out of the bed but he tugs you back, flashing you a boyish smile that you don’t want to admit makes you—kinda—all weak in the knees.

“That was the last one,” he promises, still grinning, “I swear.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re lying straight out of your ass.”

“Me?” he asks, feigning innocence as he crawls closer, towering over you again until you’re back to lying on the bed. “Never.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, looking anywhere but at him or his broad chest. Although, your efforts are all for naught because he lifts one hand and takes your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Can I take off your bra?” he inquires, the earnestness in his tone almost causing you to squirm.

You thankfully don’t—you’ve decided you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for today—and instead, nod. He doesn’t bother to say anything else as he reaches for your back, and you arch—slowly, Masaki did a number on you, after all—just in time so he can feel your clasp. It takes him a second to undo it, and a few more to lift it off of you, but when he does, the first thing he says is—

“Fuck.”

You snort. “I’m guessing that you like them.”

“Obviously, dumbass,” he spits, although it’s more playful than scathing. Then, he’s back to staring, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Wow.”

“What, is this the first time you’ve seen boobs?” you joke—because there’s no way a guy like him has never been with a girl—although the jesting lilt in your voice immediately dies out when his face falls and he looks away.

Shit.

There’s only one thing for you to do.

Reaching out for his nape, you tug him down until he’s only a few centimeters away, taking his lips into yours before he can protest. To your relief, he melts into your touch, back to eagerly returning the kiss in a matter of seconds. Wanting to make him feel good now more than ever, you let your other hand snake up to his hair, grabbing a fistful before pulling tentatively—as if to test the waters. You don’t end up disappointed—in fact, you’re far from it—when he groans against your mouth, louder than before. Emboldened by his generous reaction, you pull again—harder this time—and it’s your turn to be surprised when his hips buck involuntarily against your own, giving you the slightest bit of friction that’s nowhere near enough.

You rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache as discreetly as you can, although this motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who withdraws ever so slightly to study you.

“You okay?”

“Yes—it’s just,” you hesitate, before deciding you owe him the truth. “…I want you.”

Whatever Bakugou expected you to say, it sure wasn’t that—and so candidly, too—because he splutters, face evidently flushing despite the dim lights. “I-I want you, too,” he says honestly, “But I should warn you, I’ve never really done this before.”

“I thought you were gonna say you were massive,” you quip.

“Yeah,” he smirks without missing a beat, and you choke, “That, too.”

You slap his chest, which you instantly regret. “You’re the worst!”

He doesn’t say anything to that, only grinning as he leans in and—to your surprise—latches his lips onto your neck. You barely stop yourself from jolting in pleasure when he finds and nips at your pulse point—no doubt leaving a mark that you’re going to have to color correct tomorrow if you don’t want to get any funny looks. To your chagrin—or delight, you don’t fucking know at this point—Bakugou doesn’t stop his assault on your neck, instead bringing one hand up to graze the skin below your breast.

Suddenly tired of all the teasing, you grab his hand yourself and place it right on your boob, smiling when a curse is immediately muttered against your neck. You don’t let go of your hold, choosing to guide him on how to grope and fondle it instead. Bakugou catches on quickly, and before you know it, he’s already playing with your nipples, twisting and pulling them just the way you like.

“You can use your mouth, too, if you want,” you tell him a few moments later, stifling a moan when he sucks on a spot at the crook of your neck one more time, before nodding and easing down so he can be face to face with your chest.

He doesn’t let you get another word in before he takes a nipple into his mouth, and this time, you can’t stop yourself—you jerk against him—which only pushes it further. He takes the opening and starts sucking, and you’ve got half a mind to push him away. You don’t, though, and you doubt you could’ve anyway, his grip on your waist unrelenting as he switches between breasts, doing all sorts of things with his tongue that have your mind swimming.

“Still think I’m the worst?” he eventually looks up and asks roguishly, lips even more swollen and glistening with saliva.

“Jury’s still out—” you hiss when he pinches a nipple, and you swat him away. “Never mind, you are the worst.”

“Even when I do this?” he drawls, and you’re about to clarify with him what he’s going off about this time, when he unexpectedly slips a finger underneath your panties, and you barely, barely manage to bite back a moan.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “you’re so wet.”

You fight back a shudder even as he traces the outline of your sex, seemingly entranced. “Are you—are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“What, you saying I’m a liar?” is his snarky retort, although he thankfully doesn’t stop his ministrations. In fact, your question only seems to provoke him, causing him to apply more pressure.

“N-no, it’s just that, fuck—” you huff, “I-I wouldn’t be surprised if you went d-down on me and you’d be good at that, too.”

That makes Bakugou pause, and you almost whine at the loss.

But then he practically rips your underwear out of the way, and you somehow don’t find it in you to care at all. They were granny panties anyway, and you’re too engrossed in how the pro-hero urges you to open your thighs for him, and then prying them open himself when you take too long to do it.

Not to mention the look on his face when he finally sees you.

“Stop staring at me, Bakugou,” you can’t help but grumble.

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

He doesn’t shift to look at you, gaze still focused between your thighs. “Call me Katsuki.”

That’s all the foreboding he offers before he dives in and licks a long strip along your slit, and you almost scream, if not for the hand you slap over your mouth the second that he does. He’s relentless—even as you squirm and tremble underneath him—lapping on your wetness like a man who hasn’t had a drop of water for days. You jolt when he flicks his tongue right at your clit, hands instinctively shooting up to grab at his hair. But then he makes the mistake of pushing the wet muscle into your entrance, and you inadvertently pull—hard—hard enough that it causes him to groan against your core, sending a surge of vibrations straight into your pussy.

“Fuck,” you warble, looking down at Bakugou only to see him peering up at you with half-lidded eyes that’s got you almost moaning again. “Keep on doing that.”

Fortunately, Bakugou doesn’t tease you for sounding pathetic just now, only choosing to do as you say. He resumes, with renewed vigor, paying particular attention to your clit this time. He keeps on licking it, and then sucking, before licking it again, that you almost don’t notice when a finger presses against your hole. But then he’s inching it slowly and you’re suddenly all too aware of the intrusion.

The first thing that registers is that his fingers are definitely bigger than yours.

The second thing is that fuck—did he just insert a second one?

You look down to where he’s stuck to your body, but you can’t see anything beyond his head of ash blonde hair.

But then he does a scissoring motion inside you just as he suckles at your clit, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You can’t help it—you finally moan—and you barely miss him grinning against your pussy at the sound of it.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes out, lifting his head a bit so he can speak. “I thought you were never gonna moan for me again.”

“Again?” you barely manage to answer, already missing his mouth on you. You may be out of it, but you’re certain you haven’t cracked until just now.

“Already forgot?” he goads, pulling his fingers out of you. “Let me remind you then.”

Before you can get up and coerce him to just shut up and continue what he was doing, he’s back to towering over you, smashing his lips against yours.

And then he does it—the thing he did before. The first day in your shared bedroom. You still don’t know what it is, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t fucking know, but it’s coupled with his scalding hold on your body, and despite yourself, you moan.

He promptly pulls away, a proud smirk on his face.

“Now, don’t hold back,” he commands cooly as you gape at him in half offense, half shock. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He then makes quick work of taking off his boxers, and at this point, you can only stare at him as he eases it off.

He wasn’t kidding.

If he’s noticing you practically eye-fucking him, though, he doesn’t comment on it, although the faint tinge of scarlet on his cheeks is undeniable. Instead, he only crawls over you again, right until he’s hovering over your pelvis.

Wait.

“Bakugou—” you start.

“Katsuki,” he corrects petulantly.

“Katsuki,” you force yourself to say, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, “Let me make you feel good, too.”

“Next time,” he quickly responds, and you feel your heart lurch at the promise of a continuation. “I just need to be inside you, or I’m gonna fucking nut.”

You frown, although his honest admission sends an undeniable thrill down your spine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he seethes, “Now, come on.”

You don’t waste another second, opening up your legs just enough for Bakugou to position himself between them. He’s got an arm propped at the side of your head to support his weight, while the other reaches down to finally grab his cock. He instantly hisses at the contact, and you don’t have to look to know it’s his pre-cum that’s dribbling down your thighs.

He then mutters a curse to himself, but it’s not exactly laced with lust just as it has been the past how many minutes.

And that’s when it hits you.

The guy is nervous.

You reach up to touch his cheek, his eyes shooting up to meet yours when you do. You offer him a small smile, one that you hope says ‘I’m alright’ and that ‘I want this’. But then you remember this is Bakugou freaking Katsuki, and the last thing he needs is to be placated.

“Relax, Katsuki,” you coo, grinning when he shoots you a glare.

“And you’re gonna have to do that on your own,” you tease, “I’m all out for today.”

That lights a flame under his ass, because the glare just now morphs into a look of determination, and one glimpse of it is enough to tell you you’re fucked.

“Spread your fucking pussy,” he growls, and you immediately do as he says. He’s back to gripping his cock in an instant, giving himself a few pumps before he’s aligning it with your entrance.

And just like that, he pushes in.

You both groan when he does, his massive dick barely breaching your hole, and yet, it already feels like your nerves are on fire. You sneak a peek at the pro-hero, and you’re glad you do, because you’re met with the glorious sight of Bakugou with his eyes clenched close, lips bit in a fierce attempt to stay quiet.

“Tell me when to move,” he rasps out, refusing to open his eyes.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, bringing your arms up to wrap them around his torso. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” he seethes, just as you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Or else I’m gonna finish.”

Knowing better than to press him, you nod instead, before wiggling your hips slightly. That grants you a curse from him, but before he can cuss you out, you speak up.

“I think I’m ready. You can move no—” you hiss when he pushes without warning, and he freezes.

“Fuck, I’m sorr—”

“Just—slowly, Katsuki. Go on, move.”

He pushes again—slowly, this time—and you can only sit there and take it as he eases in, inch by inch—stopping sometimes when it gets a bit much for you—until he’s finally, fully sheathed in.

“Shit.”

“God.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Bakugou grits out, head nestled within the crook of your neck. He still refuses to look at you, but apparently, that doesn’t matter as long as you’re being praised, because his comment inadvertently causes you to clamp down on his cock, and his breath hitches.

“Jesus,” he drones, burying himself further into your neck. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

You don’t answer him, choosing to tentatively roll your hips against his instead. He moans in your ear, and this time, you can’t help but whimper.

“Move, Katsuki,” you plead, “I can’t wait anymore.”

That seems to sober him right up, because he grunts in acknowledgement, before slowly lifting himself with his arms. Only then does he opens his eyes, and it takes everything within him not to cum at the sight of you.

He knows better than to fucking give up, though—not when he’s come this far—so with renewed purpose, he starts with small, shallow thrusts that have you mewling at him and him grunting at you, until he gradually builds speed and he’s pulling almost all the way out only to slam back into you again.

He does this again and again—somehow deeper and deeper each time—all the while panting and moaning above you, until he prods at a particular spot that has you jerking violently against him, cursing. “Fuc—”

“Shit,” he freezes, “What—”

“No, no, no, no,” you cry out, clawing at his bare arms, “Don’t stop!”

At your request, Bakugou’s back to pounding into you in an instant, and you barely miss him looking at you with feral eyes before he hits the spot again, and you scream.

“Right—fuck—right there!”

At that, Bakugou rolls his hips once more and hits your G-spot squarely, and you moan.

“Right there?” he breathes out in question, chest puffing in pride as he watches you bob your head desperately, too blissed out to even care what you look like.

But then your walls are clamping down on him again, and Bakugou curses. “I’m not gonna l-last any l-longer,” he manages to get out, choosing to look at anywhere but your face.

“P-play—fuck,” you choke out, “—play with my c-clit.”

And when you don’t immediately feel his finger on your bud: “Hurry.”

That has Bakugou rushing to rub your clit, and you can only beg for more as the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you mixes with the euphoria brought by his fingers—until you feel the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm.

“K-Katsuki,” you shudder, “I’m gonna c-cum.”

“I’m g-gonna—” he grunts, eyes clenched closed, “—fuck—I’m gonna cum, t-too.”

“Katsuki,” you call again, and he turns his head to face your direction. “Look at me.”

And when he does—open his eyes—you roll your hips against his as best as you can, and you say it.

“Give it to me, hero.”

And just like that, he cums.

Hard.

And you cum right with him, digging your nails into his biceps as you moan, so loud you wish he’d kiss you to shut you up, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he moans with you—a strangled one that strangely sends a pang of longing straight to your chest, a longing that you can now finally admit is for the very person in your arms, who you so ardently wish would stay there, even if the mission is long over.

You don’t say any of this, though, even as he kisses your forehead before slowly pulling out, or even as he silently pads to the bathroom to get a towel so he can get you cleaned up. You thank him as he does, and watch him as he puts it away and hesitates for a moment—as if the manual he’s read about sex as a high schooler ends at physical aftercare and he’s run out of instructions.

It’s after a few more moments of awkward silence do you finally sit up and move, scooching over to make space beside you. Bakugou’s eyes trail your movement, widening when he realizes just what you’re doing. He’s stiff even as he crawls to the spot next to you, promptly taking the duvet cover that was tossed to the side in the middle of…everything, before laying it on top of your bodies.

“Thanks,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say.

“‘s nothing,” is his reply, voice equally quiet.

Neither of you says anything for a while, even as Bakugou gently tugs your head so you can rest it on his shoulder.

It’s you, though, who breaks the silence.

“You know, had I known things were gonna end this way, I would’ve just slept in the same bed as you.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

a/n. :') first off, i want to thank you, friend, for taking a chance on this series and reading it up 'til the end. this has been the biggest endeavor i've ventured into as a writer, and it still feels surreal to me that i'm writing this now as i am about to post the last chapter. that being said, the biggest thank you to everyone who's shown love to all out of luck, especially the ones who left even just a single-worded comment. with the series having reached its end, it would mean the world to me if you let me know what you think about it / how it was for you <3 thank you so so much!!!

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin @lotusstarr | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33 | @lovesabreeze @reblogwhoreowo

[katyawriteswhump]

love and other catastrophes at the omega cafe (1/8)

So I posted about this idea before here, (and was overwhelmed by the response—thank you!) but basically a cat café opened near me and inspired this:

Summary: Steve is a runaway Omega who gets a job at an Omega café, where he’s basically paid to curl up and purr in Alphas’ laps. It’s legal, and he earns a living, rents his own place. He’s getting along fine for a packless Omega. Then Alpha rockstar Eddie Munson turns up for an hour of ‘kitty’ petting, and shatters Steve’s fragile little world…

Rating: M (will be E); No major warnings; Tags: omega steve, alpha eddie, a/b/o dynamics, fluff and angst; (It won't get tooooo angsty, I promise, and I should probably write a shorter version, but this seemed to want to get bedded in for some plot, so...) read on A03 and thank you @lexirosewrites for being so patient with my weird belated questions about what do with my idea!

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

Chapter 1

Steve clocked in with Carol at the coffee counter and cosied up on a beanbag waiting for the first customer to arrive. He couldn’t stop yawning and struggled to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t usually work the Monday morning graveyard shift at ‘Kitties’—otherwise known as the Omega Café. Carol usually put him on the weekends, which were their busiest times. Plenty of Alphas—and sometimes Betas—were free then, to pass an hour with a cute Omega purring in their lap.

For a cost, naturally.

Steve, though, had called in sick yesterday and needed to make up his lost earnings. He’d been in heat. So, three days of cold sweats, congealed slick, and crippling cramps. At least the blockers he used for this job curbed his desperation to be fucked. All the same, a dull gnawing pain in his pelvis persisted, he’d barely slept and…

…Ugh, this beanbag was, if anything, too inviting and soft.

He’d gotten his most comfy, stretchy shorts on, his most butter-soft collar, and an only-slightly-cropped-at-the-midriff vest. His feet were bare, which was fortunate. Right now, only his icicle toes were keeping him awake. He was tempted to grab one of the many fluffy blankets scattered around the café, pull it up over him and snooze.

He was torn between asking Carol for a double espresso or napping—to be fair, it was unlikely anybody would join them till noon—when the bell on the door tinkled.

So much for a peaceful snooze.

Fortunately, rather than a hungover Alpha, Robin burst in. On spotting Steve, her shoulders sagged with obvious relief. She hurried up to the counter and presented Carol with her Apple-Pay. “Flat white with an extra shot, and an hour of kitty cuddles, please.”

“Sure.” The payment bleeped through, and Carol turned to grind the coffee beans. She never bothered with great customer service for Steve’s best friend. That said, customer service wasn’t Carol’s strength at the best of times. Steve liked that about her. For an Omega, she was a bitey feral, and she sure had their boss, Tommy, under her claw.

Robin sat down at a table, pulled a cushion onto her lap. Steve shuffled over on his knees and laid his head on the cushion:

“Jesus, Robin,” he whispered, as she started to pet his hair. It was usual practice for Omegas to wait till the customer spoke first, but this was, well, Robin. “You don’t have to pay to see me, you know that?”

“Apparently, I do, Dingus! I’ve been going out of my mind! Why didn’t you return my, like, billion texts?”

“Shit. Sorry.” Her fretful pettings only made him feel more guilty. “I’m out of data, and you know how shit Wi-Fi is in Sunshine Village. Plus, I had really bad cramps this month—I could barely crawl out of bed this morning.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. God, I’m sorry, too.” She slowed her strokes, as they both relaxed a little. “I worry about you all the time, living there. Working here. I wish I could take you home with me. Damn, I should rent somewhere you’re actually allowed to live.”

“No way. I’m fine, Robin. Seriously, I’ve landed on my feet. I like having my own little home. The heating is working in my block this week, and this is a pretty cushy gig.”

Steve didn’t even say that for the benefit of Carol, who’d just dumped Robin’s coffee on the table, slopping half of it into the saucer.

Steve had arrived in the city four months ago, down to his last few dollars. He’d soon realized that acceptable Omega jobs—teaching assistant, nanny, seamstress, junior positions in retail and catering—would all require handing over too much information about himself. He’d also swiftly discovered that Sunshine Village, the district he’d heard about where single Omegas could live unmolested, was little better than a slum.

He’d been caught between the terrifying choices of fleeing back home, starving, or sex work. Then he’d stumbled across this place.

If Tommy had checked the fake name Steve gave, he hadn’t cared. Steve got paid in cash after each shift and earned enough to rent a small place in the Village. Which, despite its shabbiness, turned out to be full of friendly, supportive Omegas.

It all meant he didn’t have to worry about Robin being evicted from her pleasant ‘beta’ neighbourhood for harbouring an unregistered Omega.

Robin chatted on, while sipping the remnants of her coffee and petting Steve idly. While she complained about how unfair the world was for Omegas—they’d met when Steve had turned up at an Omega soup-kitchen she volunteered at—her speech also underlined his point.

His life could be a shitload worse.

This morning, he was being paid for his best friend to give him much-needed bodily contact in a no-strings-attached fashion. While he didn’t have to force fake purrs for her, like he did for the majority of customers, soft sleepy purring happened anyhow.

After Robin left for work, the café was empty again. Carol made them both hot chocolate then turned her attention to doing her nails. Steve breakfasted on an out-of-date lemon muffin, which was still nice and gooey in the middle, then slipped out to the washroom for the second time since Robin left. He needed to re-check his hair.

He was reapplying his eyeliner, when he heard the bell tinkle again.

So much for the ‘graveyard’ shift. He pinched his pale cheeks, bracing himself to face whoever wanted to cuddle him next.

A high-pitched squeal from Carol pierced Steve’s hearing—one that was probably only audible to other Omegas.

And the scent snatched his breath.

The Omega café was flushed with scent-neutralising air fresheners, for obvious reasons. Whoever this Alpha was, his musk was potent enough to punch straight through. It nearly floored Steve with low notes of leather and woodsmoke, and high notes of… Christ, Steve didn’t know what that was.

Plums? Fine Californian wine?

It set his mouth watering, for all of a split second.

Carol! Was she okay?

He rushed from the washroom and peeped from behind a thick velour curtain.

Carol was fine. She was taking payment from an Alpha with long, slightly-frizzy retro hair, a jean jacket—who the fuck wore those?—and dark soulful eyes.

Steve’s heart rate spiked.

The Alpha was pretty damn good-looking, and young too, maybe only a year or so older than Steve.

He was also faintly familiar.

Did Steve know him from back home? Would he recognise Steve?

“So, how does this work?” asked the newcomer. His drawling accent sent a shiver down Steve’s spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him… and that definitely wasn’t a North County accent. Steve relaxed slightly, ogling the guy who was literally setting both his and Carol’s legs wobbling.

“You pay up front for an hour of kitty cuddles,” she said. “You have to order a minimum of one drink, and all new customers must read and sign our rules and disclaimers.”

“Ma’am, it’s Monday morning.” The Alpha sounded wearily amused, gesturing to the three-page fine-print document she shoved across the counter. “Do I really have to read all this?”

“How about I summarize for you.” Yup, Carol was being helpful and polite. Either someone kidnapped the real Carol, or this Alpha really was special. “You’re not about to go into rut, I take it? Because if you are, Sir, I’m really, really sorry—we can’t take that risk here, or we could get shut down.”

The Alpha shook his head. While Carol reeled off a few pertinent points—“no scenting, obviously. No kissing,”—his gaze snapped onto where Steve skulked, half-hidden behind the drapes.

Steve jumped back out of sight.

“Soooo,” said the Alpha, when Carol finally stopped talking. “To summarise—I can stroke the pussies, but I can’t stroke the pussies?”

Carol giggled. Though they’d all heard that joke, and every variation on it, at least a billion times.

“Pretty much,” she said. “We’re absolutely NOT a brothel. And don’t expect cat-ears and whiskers and all that jazz. Thursday is usually full-costume night, and… erm, right now, we only have one kitty, and he seems to have strayed. Boy kitty okay with you?”

“Yes, thank you, Ma’am,” said the Alpha.

“Cool. I’ll go coax him out with a saucer of milk or something.”

She found Steve backed up against the dingy back-corridor wall, knees basically jello. “Get out there! Christ, you do realize who that is?”

Steve shook his head, throat too tight to speak. He honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him. Alphas moseyed in and out of this place every day. He was usually able to keep himself together.

“It’s Eddie Munson! Lead singer of Corroded Coffin? Super-hot and super-famous bad-boy Alpha rockstar? Jeeees, you really did live in a box till you got here, didn’t you? Look, get out there—before I tell him boy kitty is off the menu, grab my skimpiest bikini, and burrow into that scorching lap myself.”

She nudged him through the curtain. Eddie Munson had already settled onto one of the cafe’s roomiest couches, arms splayed along the back.

Legs splayed too.

Eddie glanced up and those gorgeous eyes raked Steve, head-to-toe, stripping him so bare he might as well have forgotten his shorts. The Alpha’s grin spread slowly, revealing glinting incisors, and creasing up into the sexiest dimples Steve had ever seen.

Steve wasn’t sure how he made it across the room. Somehow, he did, shuffling the final few feet on his knees.

“Hello, Kitty,” said Eddie. Possibly taking pity, he closed his legs. He shoved his thighs forward so Steve could easily lay his head in them.

Steve did so, facing out across the café. His heart skittered like a little prey animal’s. It was only then that he realized Eddie hadn’t placed a cushion on his thighs. Well, if Carol hadn’t highlighted that part of the rules, Steve was hardly in a position to do it now.

Eddie didn’t mess around. Strong fingers plowed straight into the springy mass of Steve’s hair. “What’s your name, Honey?”

“Uh… St-steve?”

Who fucking stammers answering his own name?

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie.” He leaned a little closer, hot breath joining those strong fingers to send Steve even deeper into fluster. “How do you put up with the stink in here? I mean, I get it. All those Alpha-Omega scents battering each other would make this place a real fleshpot. Shame, though. I bet you smell real sweet. I mean, I think I get a whiff of you, even now.”

“You get used to it,” squeaked Steve, cutting that line of conversation off pronto.

“You get used to the diabolical plinky-plonky piano music too, Steve?”

“Honestly, I don’t even hear it anymore.”

To be fair, Steve didn’t hate the perpetual loop of movie theme-tune classics for exactly that reason. Even the smoochiest love songs—like the instrumental version of “Everything I do, I do it for you,” currently playing—didn’t mess with his emotions in the way music so often did.

Eddie snorted a dry chuckle, leaning back against the cushions again. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re right, Steve,” drawled Eddie, massaging deliciously into Steve’s scalp, “it’s pretty easy not to hear it. You have got the cutest purr.”

Steve’s eyes flew wide. He hadn’t even realized he was purring yet! Yeah, he could fake purr, but he’d been too befuddled to get to that. Now, he shook with loud rattling purrs that he could barely control.

Omegas purred when they were happy and relaxed, and also when distressed, to comfort themselves. He’d been reduced to that over the weekend. These purrs, though, grew couch-quakingly loud and felt different from anyway he’d purred before.

“You okay there, Honey?” Thank heavens Eddie was nice, though that made Steve’s weirdness all the more inexplicable. Eddie ran the back of coolish fingers down Steve’s burning cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Steve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His hormones must still be doing weird things after his chemically fucked-up heat.

He probably should’ve called in sick today too.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie said. “Look, it’s freakin’ Monday morning. I’m the weirdo Alpha checking this place out. You’re just doing your job, and you’re mighty fine at it, I’m sure.” The words washed through Steve, their brutal truth leaving an awkward residue. “Listen, I’m just gonna sip my coffee and chill. You reckon you can chill too, little kitty?”

“Yes, Alpha,” murmured Steve. The preening growl that jostled from Eddie was enough to make Steve desperate to obey.

He didn’t usually call anybody Alpha on the job. It wasn’t strictly against the rules, but unless a client demanded it—and only the real a-holes did—the kitties avoided it.

Eddie, though, had dragged it from Steve before he could think about it, much like those purrs.

And much like how, a minute or so of petting later, Steve found himself purring effortlessly, and totally relaxed. He wasn’t even stressed by the fact that his cheek rested dangerously close to Eddie’s Alpha dick. Which appeared to be ballooning slightly beneath his thick pair of sweatpants.

This was exactly why the cushions were compulsory. Though Steve barely had time to worry.

“Steve,” said Eddie, fingering around the edge of Steve’s collar in a fashion that literally made Steve’s eyes cross with yumminess. “Are there any rules against you getting in my lap for proper cuddles?”

“No. Absolutely not.” There really wasn’t, though of course, it only worked with the larger Alphas. There’d been no way Steve could’ve fitted into a Beta like Robin’s lap, for example, without some level of squishing. Eddie was, to be fair, not the largest Alpha around, but he was certainly large enough.

After some not-too-awkward manoeuvring—and guided by Eddie’s hand in the small of his back—Steve soon found himself sitting across Eddie’s lap. Eddie scooped him close, and his arms curled around Eddie’s neck.

He stared point-blank into the fathomless depths of Eddie’s dark eyes. Nope. Too much. He dipped his gaze, then squeaked. Now, he fixed on Eddie’s jawline and throat, dusted with scruff, and which drew him like, well, catnip.

Steve inhaled oaky-smoky plums and… Holy crap, what even was that? He was in serious danger of burying his face there and violating the no-scenting rule himself.

Once again, Eddie sensed his discomfort and guided Steve’s head down onto his shoulder, holding him there. “Hey, any chance of another coffee,” Eddie called to Carol. “Extra-large mocha with marshmallows, please, Ma’am? Think I might be settling here for a while.”

After that, Eddie appeared to go out of his way to make Steve even more comfortable. Perhaps noting Steve’s squirmings over getting too close to his scent gland, he slid a thin throw cushion beneath Steve’s cheek. He then settled them both back against the comfiest, most enveloping part of the sofa. He pulled one of those fluffy blankets up over them both. Soon, a floaty weariness, bone-deep but pleasant, overcame Steve.

Even his ovaries had stopped bugging him. God, this was nice. He really got paid for this? Damn, he’d fallen on his feet and Eddie smelled divine. He couldn’t help but daydream about that huge Alpha dick nestled stupid-close to his pussy, with only two layers of fabric between them. He was too sleepy to get too excited, tho’. He soon floated on the surface of a calm ocean, safe and serene…

When Steve began waking up, a honeyed glow saturated his head and heart and previously aching pelvis. He couldn’t remember his dreams, but they must’ve been good ones. He felt complete and happy and… he flicked his eyes open. Oh shit! The cafe buzzed with conversation. Several other kitties had come on shift and were snuggling with Alphas.

He’d fallen asleep on a customer’s lap.

Steve’s focus snapped onto the clock behind the counter, where Carol and her assistant, Chrissy, who also did kitty duties, were rushing around making lunches.

1.57 pm.

He’d been asleep on the job for nearly three hours.

Asleep in the lap of…

“Hey there,” drawled Eddie, “somebody’s a sleepy kitty.”

Steve daren’t look up. Was Eddie pissed? He didn’t sound it.

Steve opened his mouth. Shut it again, dabbing the corner. His head had slipped off the pillow and rested against Eddie’s chest. The Alpha’s booming heartbeat mingled with an amused chuckle.

Steve wasn’t laughing: “Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I drooled on your t-shirt!”

“I know.” Eddie’s low rumbling sigh was one of the most contented sounds Steve had ever heard. “You gonna charge extra for that, Honey?”

🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ I have got quite a bit of this fic drafted, so hopefully more soon. If you’re enjoying, please let me know, or like and reblog... it means a lot to know somebody would like to read more *purrs hopefully* and thank you soooo much for reading this far 💚

[bestanimal]

I can’t believe it. We’re finally here. Round 3 starts tomorrow (2/1), with our first poll dropping at 8 am EST.

Some notes:

Round 3 will be our biggest round yet, and I have 227 polls scheduled. That’s almost a year’s worth of polls. It should be obvious that not every Order is going to make it to Round 4. So you’re going to need to be more choosy this round. Be honest. Come here with a plan. Do a bit of research. Know your favs. This next round is covering Animal Orders. If your favorite animal is a Great White Shark you need to know that it’s a Lamniform. So you should make sure you’re only voting fav in the Lamniformes poll and not fav in the other shark polls. You can still vote love or like in those polls; that’s what those options are there for. But this round is going to require a bit more focus if we want a diverse roundup next year! If you’re someone who votes favorite in every poll, try to pick just one or two favorites from each class we’re covering. I would actually love if we could have at least one representative from each class moving forward. (That being said, don’t be afraid to reflect it in your vote if the descriptions and propaganda have you discovering new favorites! I’m kinda hoping for that here too!)

I can not state enough that this tournament relies on numbers. If you want your fav to move forward you have to make sure people see it. Reblog, post propaganda, etc. If you don’t have a large following, reblog the poll anyway, add some GOOD propaganda onto it, and then chances are I’ll reblog it which increases the chances of it getting seen again. Get your friends involved. If you know someone that only blogs about squids, tag them! This tournament is all about PASSION.

I had some complaints last round about missing some polls. These polls are all pre-scheduled. They post once a day, at 8am EST, and they’re open for 7 days. If you click on the tag #/Animal Polls while within my blog, you can see every poll in one place. I recommend doing that every so often so you don’t miss any of them! You can also turn on notifications or follow the blog via rss (but that also means your gonna be seeing asks, extra propaganda, and poll results as well.) On top of that, I will post a schedule of every single poll at the bottom of this post, under the read more. If there are polls you absolutely do not want to miss, put them in your calendar!

That being said, there is ONE BIG CHANGE this round. I am removing the hate option. I put the dislike and hate options there as a fun little mechanic to strategize and steal points from other people but uh… I’m ngl, it’s starting to Hurt My Feelings. Whoopsie. The dislike option will remain but I feel like hate is a bit too strong of an option to include. The fact that dislike, neutral, and simply not voting already detract points from the total seems like enough. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Still, as always, this is just a silly Tumblr tournament that doesn’t really matter in the long run. Nothing’s going to happen to the animals that make it to the next round and nothing’s going to happen to the animals that don’t, we’re just trying to figure out the most popular animal on Tumblr. If your favorite doesn’t make it, that’s okay! If anything, that just makes it, and you, all the more unique! And if it does? Welcome! You’ve found your people!

Poll Schedule under the read more

(Warning: It Big)

Polls will post once a day at 8am US EST.

Chondrichthyes:

Carcharhiniformes - Feb 1

Lamniformes - Feb 2

Orectolobiformes - Feb 3

Heterodontiformes - Feb 4

Squaliformes - Feb 5

Squatiniformes - Feb 6

Pristiophoriformes - Feb 7

Hexanchiformes - Feb 8

Myliobatiformes - Feb 9

Rajiformes - Feb 10

Rhinopristiformes - Feb 11

Torpediniformes - Feb 12

Chimaeriformes - Feb 13

Chondrichthyes Round-up and Mini Stat Post - Feb 20

Mammalia:

Monotremata - Feb 21

Didelphimorphia - Feb 22

Paucituberculata - Feb 23

Microbiotheria - Feb 24

Dasyuromorphia - Feb 25

Peramelemorphia - Feb 26

Notoryctemorphia - Feb 27

Diprotodontia - Feb 28

Macroscelidea - Mar 1

Afrosoricida - Mar 2

Tubulidentata - Mar 3

Proboscidea - Mar 4

Hyracoidea - Mar 5

Sirenia - Mar 6

Cingulata - Mar 7

Pilosa - Mar 8

Scandentia - Mar 9

Dermoptera - Mar 10

Primates - Mar 11

Lagomorpha - Mar 12

Rodentia - Mar 13

Eulipotyphla - Mar 14

Chiroptera - Mar 15

Pholidota - Mar 16

Carnivora - Mar 17

Perissodactyla - Mar 18

Artiodactyla - Mar 19

Mammalia Round-up and Mini Stat Post - Mar 26

Reptilia:

(I just want to give a heads up that there’s going to be an explosion of birds within the reptile polls and that’s not my fault; birds are just a lot more diverse than the other reptiles and you can blame how they’re classified)

Rhynchocephalia - Mar 27

Squamata - Mar 28

Testudines - Mar 29

Crocodylia - Mar 30

Struthioniformes - Mar 31

Tinamiformes - Apr 1

Rheiformes - Apr 2

Apterygiformes - Apr 3

Casuariiformes - Apr 4

Galliformes - Apr 5

Anseriformes - Apr 6

Phoenicopteriformes - Apr 7

Podicipediformes - Apr 8

Columbiformes - Apr 9

Mesitornithiformes - Apr 10

Pterocliformes - Apr 11

Cuculiformes - Apr 12

Otidiformes - Apr 13

Musophagiformes - Apr 14

Opisthocomiformes - Apr 15

Gruiformes - Apr 16

Charadriiformes - Apr 17

Caprimulgiformes - Apr 18

Nyctibiiformes - Apr 19

Steatornithiformes - Apr 20

Podargiformes - Apr 21

Aegotheliformes - Apr 22

Apodiformes - Apr 23

Phaethontiformes - Apr 24

Eurypygiformes - Apr 25

Gaviiformes - Apr 26

Procellariiformes - Apr 27

Sphenisciformes - Apr 28

Ciconiiformes - Apr 29

Suliformes - Apr 30

Pelecaniformes - May 1

Strigiformes - May 2

Accipitriformes - May 3

Coliiformes - May 4

Leptosomiformes - May 5

Trogoniformes - May 6

Bucerotiformes - May 7

Coraciiformes - May 8

Piciformes - May 9

Cariamiformes - May 10

Falconiformes - May 11

Psittaciformes - May 12

Passeriformes - May 13

Reptilia Round-up and Mini Stat Post - May 20

Cephalopoda:

Nautilida - May 21

Bathyteuthida - May 22

Idiosepida - May 23

Myopsida - May 24

Oegopsida - May 25

Sepiida - May 26

Spirulida - May 27

Vampyromorphida - May 28

Octopoda - May 29

Lissamphibia:

Anura - May 30

Urodela - May 31

Gymnophiona - Jun 1

Cephalopoda and Lissamphibia Round-up and Mini Stat Post - Jun 8

Actinopterygii:

Polypteriformes - Jun 9

Acipenseriformes - Jun 10

Amiiformes - Jun 11

Lepisosteiformes - Jun 12

Elopiformes - Jun 13

Albuliformes - Jun 14

Notacanthiformes - Jun 15

Anguilliformes - Jun 16

Hiodontiformes - Jun 17

Osteoglossiformes - Jun 18

Clupeiformes - Jun 19

Alepocephaliformes - Jun 20

Gonorynchiformes - Jun 21

Cypriniformes - Jun 22

Gymnotiformes - Jun 23

Siluriformes - Jun 24

Characiformes - Jun 25

Lepidogalaxiiformes - Jun 26

Argentiniformes - Jun 27

Esociformes - Jun 28

Salmoniformes - Jun 29

Osmeriformes - Jun 30

Stomiiformes - Jul 1

Galaxiiformes - Jul 2

Ateleopodiformes - Jul 3

Aulopiformes - Jul 4

Myctophiformes - Jul 5

Lampriformes - Jul 6

Percopsiformes - Jul 7

Polymixiiformes - Jul 8

Zeiformes - Jul 9

Gadiformes - Jul 10

Stylephoriformes - Jul 11

Trachichthyiformes - Jul 12

Stephanoberyciformes - Jul 13

Beryciformes - Jul 14

Cetomimiformes - Jul 15

Ophidiiformes - Jul 16

Batrachoidiformes - Jul 17

Gobiiformes - Jul 18

Kurtiformes - Jul 19

Scombriformes - Jul 20

Syngnathiformes - Jul 21

Ovalentaria (note: includes Cichliformes, Blenniiformes, Gobiesociformes, Cyprinodontiformes, and many others. If you don’t see your fav on the list it’s probably in this clade. I had to use Ovalentaria as it includes some families with uncertain order) - Jul 22

Anabantiformes - Jul 23

Carangiformes - Jul 24

Synbranchiformes - Jul 25

Scorpaeniformes - Jul 26

Perciformes - Jul 27

Priacanthiformes - Jul 28

Pleuronectiformes - Jul 29

Centrarchiformes - Jul 30

Labriformes - Jul 31

Acropomatiformes - Aug 1

Acanthuriformes - Aug 2

Lophiiformes - Aug 3

Tetraodontiformes - Aug 4

Actinopterygii Round-up and “Mini” Stat Post - Aug 11

Malacostraca:

Anaspidacea - Aug 12

Bathynellacea - Aug 13

Amphipoda - Aug 14

Mictacea - Aug 15

Cumacea - Aug 16

Isopoda - Aug 17

Lophogastrida - Aug 18

Mysida - Aug 19

Spelaeogriphacea - Aug 20

Stygiomysida - Aug 21

Tanaidacea - Aug 22

Thermosbaenacea - Aug 23

Decapoda - Aug 24

Euphausiacea - Aug 25

Stomatopoda - Aug 26

Leptostraca - Aug 27

Malacostraca Round-up and Mini Stat Post - Sep 3

Arachnida:

Ricinulei - Sep 4

Xiphosura - Sep 5

Opiliones - Sep 6

Solifugae - Sep 7

Sarcoptiformes - Sep 8

Oribatida - Sep 9

Trombidiformes - Sep 10

Eriophyoidea - Sep 11

Endeostigmata - Sep 12

Ixodida - Sep 13

Holothyrida - Sep 14

Opilioacarida - Sep 15

Mesostigmata - Sep 16

Palpigradi - Sep 17

Scorpiones - Sep 18

Pseudoscorpiones - Sep 19

Amblypygi - Sep 20

Schizomida - Sep 21

Uropygi - Sep 22

Araneae - Sep 23

Arachnida Round-up and Mini Stat Post - Sep 30

Insecta:

Archaeognatha - Oct 1

Zygentoma - Oct 2

Ephemeroptera - Oct 3

Odonata - Oct 4

Zoraptera - Oct 5

Dermaptera - Oct 6

Plecoptera - Oct 7

Orthoptera - Oct 8

Grylloblattodea - Oct 9

Mantophasmatodea - Oct 10

Phasmatodea - Oct 11

Embioptera - Oct 12

Mantodea - Oct 13

Blattodea - Oct 14

Psocodea - Oct 15

Hemiptera - Oct 16

Thysanoptera - Oct 17

Hymenoptera - Oct 18

Strepsiptera - Oct 19

Coleoptera - Oct 20

Raphidioptera - Oct 21

Neuroptera - Oct 22

Megaloptera - Oct 23

Lepidoptera - Oct 24

Trichoptera - Oct 25

Diptera - Oct 26

Mecoptera - Oct 27

Siphonaptera - Oct 28

Insecta Round-up and Mini Stat Post - Nov 4

Actinistia:

Coelacanthiformes - Nov 5

Scyphozoa:

Coronatae - Nov 6

Rhizostomeae - Nov 7

Semaeostomeae - Nov 8

Eutardigrada:

Apochela - Nov 9

Parachela - Nov 10

Final Stat Post - Nov 18(ish)

[some1s-sista]

Got her to school on time.

Put the garbage by the curb

Retreated back under that blanky (!)

Getting out now. Gonna go work out. For realz. I’m working up from walking to jogging - regardless of the asthma - so I can hit the streets when this warm up is here to stay!

@littlerunnergurl said once, when it came to starting running, something along the lines of starting where you can and working you’re way to running longer and longer. Even if you can only run the length of two houses. Do it and try for 3 next time (I’m not quoting - this was the gist of what I took) See, girl, I was listening! Anyhow, chemo messed with my lungs (which weren’t great to begin with) but 2 years post chemo and 18 months of walking further and further, I’m feeling strong enough to try!

[phacheltheprophetess]

Praises from your Angels!!!!

Piles 1-3 Respectfully

Pile One: The spirits around you want you to know they’re so proud of how you’re consistently been sitting in the frequency of love. They notice how generous you’ve been to the people around you and from a human perspective your actions seem illogical. Your angels want to remind you that they do not think in the alignment with humans. On a spiritual level you’ve been gaining honor in your actions within your relationships. The understanding and grace you extend to others is something deserving of praise. Thank you

Pile Two: Your angels want you to know that they see your the struggles you keep to yourself. They see that you have hidden pain and hurt that you don’t show outwardly and they want you to know they’re here for you. You have nothing to worry about with them you do not have to be strong or stable you can be honest. They see that you’ve been trying your best and they want you to be gentle with yourself. They have been sending you much love and care energetically and want you to be receptive enough to pick up on what they’re sending.

Pile Three: Your Angels love how you’ve been putting little thought into your actions and just been following your instincts and intuition. When you avoid overthinking this is how you show them you trust them and love them back. They’re praising you for you doing a great job at making them feel the most loved by you. Trusting yourself and having confidence and pride is a good thing for you right now and shows you’re truly in tune. You’re energy harvesting correctly with your self love and have been picking up what they’re putting down. Good for you.

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Collective general energy for this reading. Much like every other pick a pile it had no specific audience in mind. So if you felt drawn to this post it was simply meant for you to see 💕

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[seimei-chsq]

i regret to inform you all that i just did ~30 minutes of basic beginner yoga and it did, in fact, help shut up the hobgoblin that lurks in my brain.

[takemetodragonstone]

I think the worst thing about having very vague/spotty memories because I was so young when it happened is feeling like I can’t ever fully accept that it DID happen. I will always second guess myself—even though the evidence is always with me (the body keeps the score, as they say). I will probably never tell anyone who knows him about it because what if I’m wrong?? What if I’m making up these flashes of “memory”, and seeing “signs” in my present self where there are none just because I want an easy answer that would explain the way that I am???

It would be such a horrible thing to accuse someone of if it wasn’t true. Especially family. Even just thinking it feels cruel and unfair to him sometimes. And there’s no way for me to get the truth unless he were to confess it to me himself.

I fantasize about that sometimes—I like to picture him apologizing to me at some kind of reunion, scared out of his mind that I’ll tell someone about it and ruin his life. Or even unapologetic, making jokes about it. At least then I would have confirmation. At least then I would have validation for the last twenty years of my life.

Anyway if anyone else feels like this, you’re not alone.

[lesbiansanemi]

I’m so tired of ppl making art of trans characters and they literally just look 100% cis but with different genitals like how are we not grasping the problem here

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

I’ve been really happy with Zayn’s tour choices so far. The small setting is great for him to dip his feet back in, his band is awesome, he looks healthy and happy, and he’s even been honest about some strugggles - like singing Pillowtalk. I appreciate him not bringing back any 1D songs, as he’s been pretty clear they weren’t his style and I think that would have felt disingenuous. I hope this is a springboard to increased confidence and something larger that can attract more than just old school 1D fans, which still seem to be the overwhelming majority of attendees.

But what I am most impressed with is how he has handled Liam’s death and acknowledgement of it during his shows. There is immense pressure on him from the 1D fans, especially the Larry/Ziam crew, and I think he has threaded the needle really really well. The first shows just having the graphic at the end with Stardust playing, then a pretty simple heartfelt public acknowledgement in his hometown. He’s somehow managed to satisfy those who are desperate for Liam/1D mentions, while keeping the focus of his shows on his new music. I think he has made some good choices in that regard, and he was really in an impossible situation having his shows so close to all of this, but he’s handled it about as well as anyone could have hoped. Fingers crossed for more good things ahead for Zayn!

100% agree on this.

I think Zayn already expressed his heart with his Instagram post for Liam. Nothing more needs to be performed for fans. The fanbase as a whole lives on buzz and excitement, on action and reaction. It’s ready to demand and to condemn at every turn. The same judgmental fandom that pressured Liam in life now mourns his death and demands a public grieving. There’s no patience for reflection.

Even now, it’s really hard for me to come to grips with Liam’s death. It’s hard to imagine that he will never make another Snapchat, never write more music, never banter with Louis on Twitter again. It’s just very, very surreal.

In moments like the tribute to Liam at Zayn’s first concert, it hits me like a brick wall that Liam is truly gone. What must that feel like for his old friends and his family? He was in the prime of his life, so much yet to experience and live for.

A song like Stardust expresses so much maturity, love, acceptance, and friendship, that it says more for Zayn to dedicate it to Liam than any spoken words could.

I loved that the audience listened to last night’s It’s You in relative quiet. I loved Zayn’s words of love in Liam’s hometown— which Liam would probably have attended had he been alive.

I love that Zayn feels more comfortable and confident with every concert, the same way Louis started his concerts in 2022, in small venues and with a dedicated but mostly One Direction-centric fanbase.

I love that Zayn sticks to his own solo songs and isn’t afraid to perform songs demanding of vocal pyrotechnics. I love that Zayn continues to write these challenging, sometimes awkward, but heartfelt songs.

Zayn’s vocal technique is phenomenal and it just keeps getting better. I would like to hear him sing Blue and Sour Diesel someday, but that’s neither here nor there. Still Got Time is still one of my go-to window down driving songs. I’m giddy and proud of him. Hope to see him soon.

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

“Hancock is bad with kids” “Hancock is bad with Shaun” no, well, maybe, but where I was getting at was, the objectively funniest dynamic there that I can think of is that Hancock does, indeed, not know what to do around kids BUT Shaun is super curious because of that and will not leave him alone. Hancock will be looking at sole like “I can’t handle this, i don’t know what to do, get your kid” and Shaun is just like “why do you dress like that? Do you still get sunburnt? Do you like lazer rifles? I like lazer rifles.” Like a cat that sees the person ignoring them and goes up to them for attention. And the funniest response from sole is something like “the sunburn question is rude, Shaun” and then they continue doing whatever they were before saying that.

[floral-hex]

fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.

[lilnasxvevo]

“The Great Gatsby was so boring why did anyone even like it” THE PROSE!!!! YOU HAVE TO SAVOR IT FOR THE PROSE. IT’S THE PROSE

[dearest-meat-mutt]

“Why are you hiding your phone? You shouldn’t have any you’d want to hide on your ph-“ I get that but have you considered that I do not want to hear you ask about anything that I have on my screen? Like hi mom, oh this? This is a just fan-drawn image of Kim Kitsuragi from hit political, psychological, detective video game, Disco Elysium, on hit website Tumblr.com. No, I have not played the game before. No, I don’t think I will. No, I don’t think it has a lot to do with discos. No, I do not know what Elysium means. Yes, I actively sought out this image. Yes, I like this character. No, I didn’t draw it. Why did I look for images of this character? I just think he’s…neat, and I’m still trying to figure out if I wanna play this game. Yeah, I know to be careful on the internet. Yeah, ik most of your thoughts and opinions on politics and video games and art and Asian men. I do not particularly care. I am aight with politics. I do like video games. I like all art, yes, including anime and also before mentioned video games. I do like most men significantly and equally. I do know this is ironic given that I dress like a butch lesbian. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, though. Yes, it is regarded as a good game. No, I do not know if it’s a good game by your standards. I have Not played this game. Yeah, my battery is at 46% but I’ll charge it later. Yeah, the art style is “interesting”. No, the person who drew it is not my friend. Yeah, I like this artist. No, I don’t think I would recommend this fanartist’s work to you. Yeah, I like tumblr. No, I would NOT recommend getting a tumblr. For no reason in particular. Yeah, I can like and comment and reblog. Reblog means I showcase another person’s post on my own profile. It’s like Pinterest. I have lost over 15 years of my lifespan since we’ve started talking.