#just repress it make yourself smaller

[carnage-cathedral]

no amount of sleep is helping this headache

[zaczenemiji]

Hi! Just saw your request are open. I thought it would be a great to request a OS of Kenji Sato x Fem! Reader.

I got inspired by that song of "Too Sweet" from Hozier and I got the idea of how good is Reader with Emi, (since she knows he's Ultraman and also raises a baby Kaiju alone) such a Sunshine, even Emi sees her as a new maternal figure, he thinks she's too sweet, getting the idea of having kids with her but having the thought she deserves better.

But she thinks on the contrary, he's such a bad boy with a good heart. If you wanna add more things, it's up to you. I'll leave it to your imagination. Take your time and no need to rush. Take care.

Too Good, Too True

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,456

Genre/Warnings: Established Relationship, Found Family

Author’s Note: Particularly in love with this one, and Too Sweet plays rent-free in my head.

MASTERLIST

You know everything about Kenji: his past—the reason he’s distant from his dad, his secret—that he’s Ultraman, and his love child the 20-foot-tall kaiju baby in his basement.

You guys have been together for a long while now, even before everyone knew him as Ken Sato, the baseball star—the one whose name dominates the headlines.

With millions of adoring fans, you’re grateful you still have a place in his life. At first, there was a looming thought at the back of your head that tells you how easily replaceable you are.

No matter how you repress the thought, the fact remains that it is true. Who are you when compared to Kenji? You weren’t a model, an icon, a singer, or the daughter of a CEO—like all the other women waiting in line for him.

You were just… you. Simply (y/n) in her soft pastel and floral dresses. You don’t own a lot either, just a flower shop in LA. Your favorite hobby is tending to your garden where you grew the flowers that you sold.

All of your issues regarding this have long been resolved since Kenji has always been quick to reassure you of his love. That to him, everything and anyone else pails in comparison to you. He wishes you knew your impact on his life.

You have always been his breath of fresh air. It started at college during his baseball trainings, he’d wait for a certain girl to pass by. His eyes were always quick to find you among your group of friends.

On his games, you were his number one cheerleader. Your friends and his teammates were always so surprised to see the quiet dainty girl that you were yelling and cheering for his name.

Back when his mom was around, you got along with her so well. Kenji would find you and his mom in their kitchen baking cakes and making cute little pastries.

His mom loved having you around. You were always welcome at his house. When she found out that you were an international student who flew to LA alone and lived in a dorm, she almost wanted to adopt you.

But ain’t no way Kenji wanted to be just a brother in your life.

Many things have changed since then. In becoming a baseball star, half of his life was no longer private. In becoming Ultraman, his responsibilities were no longer limited to that of his career and personal life. And in becoming a daddy to a kaiju baby, he realized you deserve better.

You came over to his house every day to visit Emi. He admired your patience with her and how you were always a ray of sunshine to everyone, including a kaiju. And you’re not afraid of playing with her even if she could literally crush you out of nowhere.

You’d come over with fresh flowers picked from your parents’ garden. You’d make big flower crowns just for Emi and smaller ones for yourself and Mina.

Today was a particularly rough day as Kenji got home from a game. You wanted to accompany him today but he insisted for you to watch over Emi. He has been feeling like shit lately, not knowing what to do with Emi and his declining performance in his games.

Upon passing by the kitchen table, he sees a can of his favorite fizzy drink. Under it, a note. He lifted the can and read, “left this up here so mina won’t see (｡- .•)”

For the first time that day, he smiled. You’ve always told him how lucky you thought you were for being with someone as great as him. But the truth is, it’s the other way around.

In one go, he finished his drink so he could immediately head down to see you. You and Mina were too busy playing with Emi to notice him. He stayed at the lounge where he could see you from the other side of the glass.

There you were, beautiful, with flowers adorning your hair. You looked so pure and innocent. Your gentle demeanor had always put him at ease.

Your expressive eyes looked up at Emi in an attempt to communicate beyond words. Kenji loved your eyes. They were always filled with warmth and kindness but when you look at him, all he sees is love.

On the contrary, there’s him. He and his troubled past.

He is distant from his dad, wanting little to no connection with him. If it wasn’t for his mom, he wouldn’t have returned to Japan.

You weren’t like that. You had a good relationship with your parents. You deserve someone who could give you and your future children the same kind of environment you grew up in—peaceful and without the fear of the possibility that one day, your husband might not come home.

He worries he’d be like his dad, absent. He is Ultraman now. His duties would one day require him to be away, sometimes without notice and for extended periods. You deserve someone who can be there for you consistently.

He is constantly under the scrutiny of the public eye, both as Ultraman and the baseball star that he is. And the public is not often gentle. You deserve a private and peaceful life, away from the criticisms of society.

Kenji loves you dearly, he really does. But oftentimes, he thinks he’s not the best person for you. He thinks you deserve someone who can offer you a simpler and safer life.

Too deep in his thoughts, he failed to notice you enter the room. The kiss you gave on his cheek pulled him back to reality.

“Tough day?” You asked, sitting beside him on the couch.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But I’m okay now. You’re here now.” He turned to look at you, his rest.

“Would you like to talk about your day?” You asked, reaching out to brush strands of his hair away from his face.

He shook his head. “I’d like to hear about yours first.”

You smiled, excited to tell him what you planned on doing. Since he’s staying here in Japan for good, you thought you would too. The flower shop in LA would be left in a good friend’s care. And here, you thought of working as a kindergarten teacher. You had doubts before but after being able to take care of Emi and enjoying it, you were now sure that this is the kind of job for you.

Kenji’s expression shifted upon knowing this. A shadow of doubt crossed his face. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Do you not approve?”

“You deserve better,” he said, eyes falling downward before turning away to lean properly on the couch.

Confused, you leaned back as well. “Better job?” You asked. “Kenji, I think this is the bes—“

“Better than a guy who’s got a kaiju baby to take care of and a past, present, and future that’s complicated,” he continued his earlier statement, cutting you mid-sentence.

You were shocked. You never expected him to feel this way. You felt bad because for every time he assured you of his love, you failed to realize that he needed reassurance too.

“Oh no, Kenji,” you said. You turned his face to look at you, cupping it with both of your hands. “You’re a good man.”

“I’m worried, (y/n),” he said softly. “I worry that I can’t give you the life you deserve.“

He wants to marry you, he truly does. He dreamed of having children with you, teaching them, watching them grow. And when all is done, living the rest of his life with you.

When he passes by jewelry stores, he always thinks of you. He’d get in, and browse their selection of rings, but thinking of how you’re too sweet for him holds him back from buying.

"You're the best man for me, Kenji. Not despite your past and your duties, but because of them. They've shaped you into the person I love,” you told him.

“You're a wonderful father to Emi. And if you ever wanted more—if you ever wanted us to be more,” you leaned in to press your forehead on his. “I know you'll be an amazing father because of how you love me every day.”

Kenji closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, the tension slowly leaving his body. "You really believe that?"

"Every word," you said softly. "You are my home, Kenji. As long as we're together, I'm not afraid of anything."

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, (y/n),” he said. “I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you replied, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@flowerloves

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Mr. Hansen,” you eke out as you pad after Lloyd. 

“Did I tell you to speak?” He grumbles. 

You walk with an arm across your chest and your other hand hiding your vee, “no, but I forgot my phone in the car--” 

“You don’t need it,” he tosses over his shoulder as he leads you to the staircase, the steps wide and polished. 

“Hm, guess I wouldn’t have pockets for it anyhow,” you comment as you follow him up, uncertain what else to do. 

He growls and says nothing else. You see the tension in his shoulders and clutching in his hand, balling and unballing at his side. He tilts his head slightly as if talking to himself, gesturing slightly in his unspoken monologue. He seems stressed. You might be too if you had a hostage. Hostage may be a generous term; you’re not worth much of a bargain. 

He pushes through a door so hard it nearly thwacks the wall behind it, stopped only by the resistance of the hinges. You stop in the doorway as he crosses the spacious office and nears the sleek glass top desk. You take in the decor, all of it shiny and modern. He’s got a good eye. Or hired somebody with one. 

He sits in the white leather chair and puffs, his feet set wide as he scowls. His arms drape over your sides and he narrows his sights at you. You try to make yourself smaller as your nakedness sets you on fire. 

“What the hell are you waiting for?” He snarls. 

You smile sheepishly and step inside slowly, “er, I’m wondering that too--” 

“Get over here,” he points between his knees. 

“Oh, okay,” you giggle nervously and cross to the desk, coming around stand beside him. 

“What the hell are you doing? Get underneath,” he flicks your arm and you wince with a hiss. “Gotta train that mouth right so let’s get going.” 

You furrow your brow and the corners of your mouth tug down. He’s so gross. He lifts his chin and stares up at your defiantly. 

“Got something to say, cause what I want you to do with that mouth has nothing to do with chatting, sweet lips,” he reaches up and drags a finger across your lips and pokes between them.

You turn away, swatting him as you back up.

“Hey,” snaps and points in your face, “watch yourself. The hard my dick gets, the thinner my patience.” 

You curl your lip and repress a shudder. You can still taste him. Gross. He didn’t even let you wash your mouth out. 

You reluctantly back up and tread around the other side of the desk. He leans back and undoes his fly. You hold your breath as you try to repress every comment that flits across your mind. It will all be easier if you just be quiet. Just get it over with. And it wasn’t that bad, the end was just a bit icky. 

You close your eyes and lower yourself with a tortured strain in your cheek. Stop thinking about it. If you don’t think and just do, then it won’t be so weird. You open your eyes to dip under the desk and crawl beneath the glass. 

He pumps himself with his hand and you grimace. You get closer, staring down his... little monster. Little... you suppose it’s a good size. I mean, he could be in one of those videos you’ve seen on the internet. And yet, some of the men you’ve seen in those aren’t exactly hunks. 

You gulp and snort through your nose. Stop. It’s not funny. It’s just weirdly flesh and the veins that stick out are distracting.  

He brings his other hand down to grab your chin and forces you closer with a growl. You nearly smack your head off the edge of the desk’s frame. 

“Laugh one more time,” he warns. 

You seal your lips as he aims his tip at your mouth. You make yourself open up and stretch around him. The sensation of his smooth, slightly ridged skin presses to your tongue, and he pushes you deeper. He hits your reflex and you twitch, letting out a gag. He holds you there and you kick your feet, clawing at his pants. 

He lets you up and shoves you back down. He drags you along his length as slobber smears around your mouth and you puff through your nose. The motion makes you dizzy and your throat burns as he forces his way in. 

Your hand drifts further up beneath his shirt and you feel the hard muscle of his stomach. A fleeting thought flickers in your mind as you spread your fingers wide across his middle. You try to slow him down but he’s relentless. 

You swirl your tongue around his tip as he eases you back and he flinches, letting out a whine. You do it again. It must feel good as his grip loosens on you. You drag your hand down and graze along a wrinkle in the top of his slack pants. He groans. 

Slowly you feel him relaxing. That’s better. The pressure in your neck lessens and you flutter your fingers along his hand. He lets go of his base and you brush along his sack. He grunts again, clutching the arms of the chair. You tickle as he squirms and grip his tightly. You’ve seen lots of videos. 

You stroke him in time with your mouth. You feel his control dissolving as you take over. For once in your life, you feel powerful. It’s like a joystick and you can make him do whatever you want. 

“Toots, hold on,” he breathes, “you’re gonna--- not again--” 

You stop and pop your lips off him abruptly. You angle your head to look at him through the desk and see how his cheek ticks and he furrows his nose. He sucks in air and holds it in. He lets out a drone. 

“Shit, you almost—almost got me,” he utters, “you gotta slow your roll, cheeks.” 

You slant your mouth and arch your brows. Suck my dick. Don’t suck my dick. Just like one minute, he hates you and the next he’s snatching you up. He’s as whimsical as a rainstorm.  

“Don’t give me that look,” he sighs and sits back again, “just--” he shows a palm, “slow. I wanna savour it, sweet lips. You should too.” 

[wrenaspun]

Lamen body swap AU

Anon, I just want you to know that you’ve well and truly spooked a groupchat I’m in where we discussed bodyswap AUs and their potential / appeal at length quite recently, and everyone swears it wasn’t them who sent this ask. Be honest!!!! Did you hack us -

Damen was fuming when he came into Laurent’s chambers that night, obvious even when he was doing it in Laurent’s body. Something about the set to his mouth, the furrow between his eyebrows, the round-shouldered stomping way he walked in was entirely Damen, a far bigger presence to him than Laurent’s smaller body could quite accommodate. Laurent pursed his lips and shifted where he was sitting, rather more bulkily than he was used to, in front of his fireplace.

“Does the Veretian court always treat you like this?” Damen demanded, before he had even sat down. His arms — Laurent’s arms — were folded tightly across his chest, as though to hold in his fury. His expression was horribly transparent. It made Laurent twitch just to see it on his own face, the open anger, confusion, resentment.

“Like what?” asked Laurent. It was still strange to hear his voice come out sounding so deep.

“Like,” said Damen. Pressed his lips tightly together. And then, like the words were being dragged out of him: “Lacking. In the respect that is due to you.”

“What respect?” asked Laurent. “I’m the bookish second son, remember.”

“You are a member of the royal family!” Damen flared up. “It’s your work and co-ordination that gets half the laws passed in this court, and that’s without taking into account your work with the city council of Arles —”

Laurent’s hands — Damen’s hands — twitched once, violently, in his lap, before he repressed the movement. He hadn’t realised Damen knew about that.

“I think you’d better tell me what happened,” he said.

The flow of Damen’s words stopped. “I don’t,” he said. Stopped again. And then, bursting out of him: “Lord Vaucluse tried to touch you — your —”

“Ah,” said Laurent. They looked at each, gazes locked. “What did you do?”

Damen looked torn between righteous indignance and sheepishness. “I broke his wrist,” he said, landing on defiance. “He deserved it. I’m sorry if it ruined some — plan of yours. I was surprised.”

“You were surprised,” Laurent repeated. “Do you always break men’s wrists when you are surprised?”

“When it’s your body they’re touching, yes.” Damen was scowling. His tone was obstinate. Laurent ignored the long, slow, stupid somersault of his stomach.

“I think you mean, the body you are inhabiting,” he said.

Damen’s scowl deepened. “No,” he said. “I meant your body.”

Laurent pressed his legs together. Some things were the same in both bodies. He could feel himself warming and softening, like clay in the hands of a master. “I see,” he said.

Damen paced closer, eyes fixed on Laurent’s face. “You shouldn’t let them get away with it,” he said.

“It can be useful,” said Laurent. “To be underestimated.”

“There’s being underestimated, and there’s letting yourself be harassed —”

“I know,” said Laurent. “I know. I’ve no doubt he deserved it.” And he let himself say, “I wish I’d been there to see it. Did he howl?”

“He howled,” said Damen. Finally, satisfaction began to overtake the leashed anger in his expression. “He won’t come near you again.”

He was close enough now to reach out and touch, their eyes locked to each other. Damen was watching Laurent carefully.

“It’s all right?” he asked. “I didn’t spoil some long-running plan of yours?” Calmer now, he sat down, close enough that Laurent could feel the warmth of his body.

“Nothing that can’t be worked around,” said Laurent. Still looking at Damen: “You feel very strongly about this.” It was so clear in Damen’s expression, the open indignance in his face.

“Yes,” said Damen. “Nobody should make you uncomfortable. To lay hands on you —” He didn’t have the words for it, apparently.

Laurent felt almost drunk on the force of his presence. “What if I wanted it?”

Damen’s glare was fiery. Laurent’s whole body felt hot underneath it. “You did not,” he said, “want Lord Vaucluse.”

“No,” said Laurent. “I’m thinking of someone else now.”

[mmavverickk]

Pjo hadcanon, - demigods don't really suffer from PTSD, they can't suffer emotionally at all or are as blunted as possible.

They are disconnected from their feelings/emotions and cannot react to bad things Like ordinary people.

They are frighteningly indifferent to any pain, mental or physical - the pain from physical injuries or something emotional lingers for a maximum of a couple of weeks and then disappears into oblivion like a morning mist. grief passes easily and quickly, fear disappeared in a few minutes, the risk of pleasant waves of adrenaline warming the blood.

And they are prone to sadism and any enjoyment of any kind of violence.

It doesn't matter if it's over yourself, a monster, a mortal, or another demigod.

They are always happy to use weapons or hands/abilities.

These children learn to hold weapons, wear armor and be able to cause serious harm, as soon as they enter the camp, do not expect anything normal/correct or at least explicable from them.

They are not human, they - living weapons, expertly crafted from golden divine blood and mortal flesh.

They were born to fight and die in battle with a blissful smile on their lips.

They were born with broken souls and sick minds.

It's just that someone is bigger, someone is smaller.

this is a fun headcanon, but i want to put a bit of an angstier spin on it:

these children are human, but only partly. they can suffer PTSD. they know what's happened to them, what's been done to them, is wrong. they can suffer flashbacks and repressed memories and trouble sleeping and nightmares and intrusive thoughts and panic attacks and depression and apathy. they do suffer it. but they always get back up. there's surety in their recovery, and there's tragedy in it. they can't stop, can't falter, can't take time to process, can't slow down enough to work through their trauma before the next terrible thing happens.

these demigods are too inhuman to move at a normal pace. they have too much mythical strength in their bones and their blood to stop for any amount of time and heal. they throw themselves at each threat that comes their way like a battering ram with terrifying speed and strength and awareness. it just builds, and builds, and builds until they die or they break.

(sometimes, they think the ones who do die are the lucky ones.)

maybe it's the ever-growing trauma. maybe it's the divinity in their veins. maybe it's something entirely new, entirely too human to be godly, but too godly to be human. maybe they've just finally snapped.

some slowly feel their grasp on reality slipping. what time is it? did they sleep through a whole day again? when did they get to the lava wall? how did they reach the top, and is that a real burn on their hand? it doesn't hurt. is that a camper, or a monster? did the border fail? are those heavy footsteps outside the cabin real? are they really still alive, or is this their eternal punishment for failing succeeding?

some watch as their moral code slips through their fingers like sand. they'll fight as hard as they have to to save their siblings and their allies. they'll kill any monsters that come their way. maybe, they'll kill any demigods, too. maybe even humans. maybe they couldn't save someone, but the battle was still a victory. maybe that sacrifice was necessary to win. maybe sacrifices are okay, to minimize the damage. maybe damage is okay, so long as the enemy dies. maybe, just maybe, a pyrrhic victory is worth it, no matter who was lost, so long as they're still standing at the end of it all.

some stop feeling. it starts as depression. is winning wars worth it if they couldn't save everyone? their sibling died, their friends and lover died, and the world still turns on, cold and unfeeling. maybe cold and unfeeling is the way to go. maybe joy is unnecessary in the long run. maybe sadness is, too. maybe it will make things better. they pick themselves up, resume their routine. everything is normal. archery practice. lava wall. weapon smithing. capture the flag. everything is normal. everything is numb. why should the gods care when their children can't even manage it?

some turn violent. they grew up in war, training endlessly, fighting battle after battle, the only thing standing between the world and its doom. what is there to do now that the war is over, is won, than train more? practice weapons they've never tried, master moves they've never managed. kill in ways they've never thought of. they grew up in war. what good are they without it? what good is a weapon, just sitting around, gathering dust? maybe hurting people isn't right, but if it makes them feel something, isn't it worth it?

it's a cold world. it's not meant for children, human children. those children evolve to survive, and what they turn into barely resembles their mortal parentage. it's a dog eat dog world, survival of the fittest, and the unlucky ones? the ones that didn't die? the ones stuck in their trauma and PTSD and broken minds? they have to figure out how to live in it.

[robitherat]

Thinking about the fact that most of Tims character arch is based around him actually dealing with the things from his past

Like a major part of tims character is his denial of the things that happened to him-- his repression of memories, chalking things up to hallucinations, suffering in silence, brushing off any concern from those around him ("Tim what's that?" "Just some medicine I need to take" "Are you sick, do you need to go home?" "No I'm fine.") The fact that he never mentioned his medical history or his time at the hospital to Jay until he was basically forced to.

And what was it that finally made him tell Jay about the hospital? The operator directly attacking him and making him relive scenes from his past. It wasn't until he was forced to realize what was at stake, forced to essentially confront the danger he was in by bottling up his past, that he willingly (at least somewhat) shared that information with someone. I do like to think that maybe Tim opened up to Brian in college, but as far as cannon evidence, we only really see Tim willingly talking to Jay about it. Brian knew, sure, but it's just as easy to assume he found that after the fact-- that he caught Tim in the lie, rather than Tim telling him outright.

And Tim really isn't a great liar, either. Like I know we talk about Jay being a little bit of an idiot (rightfully so) but Tim's main course of lying is. The most obvious deflection in the world. When Jay mentions the tape in his house, Tim's response is to immediately deflect ("I'm a little more worried about my house right now.") which would be a smaller thing if Tim wasn't intimately aware of how important it was to find and watch any tapes they possibly could. Tim's only method to coping with things that happen to him and the people around him is through denial, even in times when it would be infinitely more beneficial to acknowledge the issue at hand.

What's even more interesting to me is that Tim is seemingly the only character that makes any genuine progress in fighting against the operator. But that comes with the caveat that Tim is only able to do so when he actually confronts the operator, and by association, the issues of his past.

The only way he and Jay are able to make amends and move on is by Tim telling Jay about the hospital, which was only spurred on by Tim being forced to relive his trauma. Right after Tim tells Jay to stay out his life, he (by force of tta) has a relapse and ends up paired with Jay anyways. The only way he's able to get Jay and himself away from Alex's house in one piece is by literally physically standing up to the operator. In the fight against Alex, the whole time he's being ported around, he is monologuing about his past-- he's finally acknowledging the things that happened to him, that they weren't his fault, that they affect other people, and that violence isn't the answer to dealing with them-- that isolating yourself and denying the truth of what's happening isn't the answer.

And of course this is all tied back to the metaphor of mental illness: the fact that you cannot deny the things that have happened to you if you have any hope of moving on from them. you can't lash out or harm others because of your trauma if you have any hope of moving past it. The reason Jay, Brian, and ultimately Alex all died is because they were incapable of facing their issues head on; they all turned to anger, isolation, violence, and otherwise feeding into what the operator wanted, or alternatively, feeding into the misery spiral of their mental illness, rather than finding healthy coping mechanisms to heal from and move on from it.

God I need to write a full analysis essay about him OKAY I'm ending it here these aren't all my thoughts this doesn't make sense but I'm ending it here thank you for watching goodbye

[gay-dorito-dust]

HEY HEY CAN I REQUEST INTIMACY PROMPT ONE WITH BILLY BATSON SJJSBDJS PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Intimacy prompt #1: hugging them from behind, laying their heads on the other shoulder.

It wasn’t hard to find Billy when he was cursing up a storm from his place in the living room alongside Eugene, who was blazing through the level without much hassle, where as Billy was struggling to get through his whilst trying to not get shot or blown up like his past two attempts.

However the game they were playing wasn’t known to be merciful for first time players as Billy’s character was subsequently killed as his side of the television became a shade of blood red as the bold lettering of ‘you died�� flashed on screen with the ‘restart level’ and ‘go back to main menu’ were sprawled beneath it in smaller, missable lettering. Billy sighed defeatedly as he put down the controller onto the coffee table, taking the headphone from his head before placing them next to the controller, as he hauled himself out of his armchair muttering about getting a drink from the fridge.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself Billy,’ you told him as you joined him in the kitchen, ignoring the fact that you heard him scoff, ‘you’ll get the hang of it in due time and soon you’ll be a pro like Eugene.’ You gestured back to the living room, where Eugene had already made it past the last level of the game, was now watching the final cinematic cutscene play out whilst nursing his cramped hands. ‘Don’t fake sympathy for me y/n, I know I’m shit and I doubt I’ll be able to get on Eugene’s level of expertise in gaming.’ Billy replied, taking a sip from his drink as his gaze was firmly lock on the window just over the kitchen sink, that looked out into back garden; Still a tad upset over his amateur loss.

You sighed, already having expected this typical response from him, and moved across the room to cage your arms over his chest, pausing briefly when his muscles stiffened be so your touch before relaxing again as you then tested your head comfortably on his shoulder, where you nuzzled his cheek. ‘What will make you feel better then hmm?’ You asked him softly, your thumbs subconsciously rubbing his sides in reassurance. Wanting nothing more then to provide him a safe place to open up and be comfortable in doing so.

Billy sighed, putting his bottle of fizzy drink down on the counter to put his hands over your own, rubbing the back of them out of habit. ‘I’d like it if you kept holding me like this a little while longer.’ He said, feeling a tad embarrassed of being so open about how he felt after repressing his emotions for so long, he was still a little rusty but with your help Billy had been able to become a lot more accepting of letting others lending him their aid, without feeling as though it was all just transactional. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to move to somewhere more comfortable?’ Billy’s hands tightening on yours when he felt them began to pull away, bringing them back to where they once were.

‘No, standing here with you is fine enough for me.’ He replied in a soft tone. A smile spread across your lips as you made yourself more comfortable by pressing yourself further into his back, arms holding onto him tight. ‘Okay, don’t blame me when your feet start to ache from standing here for too long, or when Freddy starts belting his rendition of ‘my heart will go on’ by Celine Dion.’ You warned Billy playfully as he could only chuckle, moving his head so he could press a kiss to your forehead, whispering against it, ‘I’ll take my chances.’

[drdemonprince]

This is a dumb question and I’m high so it might be incoherent - but would it be strange or a bad idea to join fetlife as someone who is pretty inexperienced, and completely so with kink? I’m a 25 yr old repressed dyke late bloomer and I’ve been trying lex because I appreciate the post format there where you can explain bluntly what you’re looking for, but I live in a smaller city and it’s tumbleweeds and crickets. What I appreciate from the discussions I’ve sought out from ppl in kink scenes is their comfort talking abt / negotiating sex earnestly and openly - I wanna get over my fear of gay dating too etc etc but I also just wanna fuck and the dating apps available to me (banned from tinder, tme so not gonna act like a chaser and use grinder dykishly) seem pretty inhospitable to profiles tailored towards hookups / fwb. And I am notttt smooth enough to cruise at bars to be frank and real 😩 any place on fetlife for a baby dyke service top looking for girls to show them the ropes?

First, let me just tell you that if you're horny and looking to fuck you should absolutely get on Grindr to chat with the dolls are you fucking kidding me!!! Grindr is now officially an "all genders" app, but it has always been utilized by trans women & trans men alike, and a 25-year-old dyke seeking hookups could do real fuckin numbers over there with the girlies. As long as you are okay with having to ignore a lot of messages from dudes and block people as needed, you should ABSOLUTELY get on the platform and message some hot trans women.

As for your main question: Fetlife is a great place to start looking for hookups, too. It's not as fast-paced as Grindr, say, but you should be able to find local groups and events through there, and perhaps see some local cuties on the dashboard that you can slide into the DM's of. The more complete your profile & active you are as a poster on there, the more eyeballs you will get in front of, but generally it's a far more self-directed app than most social media apps of today. That means you'll have to search the tags, events, groups, etc that interest you and put yourself out there.

I've had some amazing hookups and relationships off that app, attended some sex parties, and gotten more plugged into the existing kink scene, and you can too! Even friends of mine living in more remote areas like distant exurbs of Winnipeg and shit have been able to find dungeons, local hypnosis munches, play partners, and Dominants on there. Kinky people have a way of making shit happen! You might even be surprised how many spaces are quietly all around you right now.

You may even be able to use a local queer kinky personals type group to mention that you're an aspiring service top looking for some helpful bottoms. I think you'll have no problem finding some eager beavers on that front -- lots of wlw are looking for dykey top, and some of them are actually communicative, generous bottoms who will help show you the way and value your topping for the gift that it is. Again, be prepared to ignore messages from people who don't interest you or squick you out, and to block men/couples looking for a unicorn/anyone else who ignores your preferences on your profile and messagesyou, as that kind of thing will happen. But personally, I consider that a fair tax to have to pay for getting to use a free-flowing, openly sexual platform where hookups can be secured relatively quickly and you can post nudes.

[joocomics]

Hi pookie! Okay so we’re gonna get straight to it

JunHan, right? Lemme cook real quick.

Sex toys.

okay let’s get into it. I feel like he would just looooove to see you shaking in pleasure as he controls the vibrations of the little toy he brought earlier that day and decided to use. You’d be so fucked out and lost while his ring covered fingers are in your mouth so your quiet and good for him >< and then he’s about to cum all over himself just looking at you be in so much pleasure because of himmm

Lord I love Junhan so bad😭

when i tell you i gasped when i read this… i’ve been in a biiiig junhan mood for a while now and i appreciate every opportunity i get to talk about him especially his dom side 😌

junhan leans hard on the service top side - he loves seeing you melt from pleasure, and all because of him?

he’d like using those smaller toys, because they’re easy to travel with, but he’d also be a big fan of dildos that he’d often make you bounce on. the view of you swallowing the shape so tightly always excites him so much!

but let’s talk about vibrators now ~

you’d have so much fun cause sometimes he’d let you use one on him too, however, his favorite is when he’s the one controlling it, because you get to have the fun. he’s addicted to seeing just how much you wet yourself from the waves of pleasure that shoot through your body from the vibrations, so often he’d make you keep your panties on. he’d keep the toy on your sensitive clit and stare at the dark patch growing bigger; sticking to your folds more and more with each passing minute. he’d coo at you sweetly, and chuckle at the cute way your thighs shake and your tummy clenches as you whine from yet another orgasm. junhan finds it hard to stop himself once he grabs your toys, he always ends up overstimulating you till your pussy turns extra sensitive and swollen. he has to suppress your whimpers with his fingers, making you taste his rings, drool all over them like the total mess you become

the first time he cums in his pants solely just from watching you he’d be a bit embarrassed… but only the first time. after that, he wouldn’t try to repress his release at all. he’d enjoy the twitching in his boxers, maybe he’d even hump your thigh a little, and let it all out. he wouldn’t be ashamed of it anymore - it’s all because of how hot and good you are for him, there’s no reason to be

[sparingiscaring]

Continuing from my previous tags, a thing I've wondered about Light Fingers (at least since finishing it) is, why do we never actually experience one of the major horrors of the Ambition ourselves? Like, okay, Starved Men, we go there and have a bad time, Clara is having so much body horror, Hephaesta and the Zee, Edward is staking us, the Orphanage is... yeah, and A Bat Wants to Roofie The City, sure that's a Bad Time, but it feels like we missed out on Actually experiencing what is at the core of this story!!! OBSESSION.

I wish we had gotten Moon-Milked! I think we are the only ones in the story (Aside from Frank n Jasper) who don't experience it! Like, I'm sorry, you're telling me EVERYONE HERE either is or has gone through one of the most intense horror things ever, an obsessive love that is driving you almost to madness, and you DON'T GET TO?! Not even for a BIT?! It feels like it should be there! You should have had it happen!

It could be at Vaughan's Island. Think of it. THE BOTH OF YOU. THE SYMBOLISM. Obtaining Lethean Tea Leaves (It's Light Fingers, you could probably steal some with a high shadowy challenge, make it a Heist if ya want) is how you opt out! Opting out is your Current Route - you don't get the letters full text, you get to act horrified at Poor Edward's... yeah, unchanged. But if you don't, you have to read what he sends. You're compelled to. The game can tell you in Bold, after it happens. "Find a Remedy, or else your Obsession will Grow".

You have the option to burn the letters, but even when you click it, the narrative, the Obsession, makes you read them, makes you keep them, makes you keep the boxes and the letters and everything else he sends you. Just changing the framing, changing it so your every no is changed by the Moon-Milk into a yes, because you are NOT in control of your own Self, when it comes to this. Nothing else is changes - but when it comes to the Object of your Obsession, you just cannot be in complete control of yourself.

And if the first time control is taken is too much, you could just be reminded again. And that option to Undo This is there, you just have to opt out. You get the Biggest Part of the Horror tied even more to your character, and you as the player have to deal with the loss of control of your Self, of that certainty that your choice was your own, and the building unease that, in the following sections, you cannot even trust your own Player to obey you, when it comes to this ambition.

Or, piggybacking off of @thedeafprophet's 'PC Gets Kidnapped' idea, it could easily come into play there, in a much smaller role. You're subjected to it, then, if you don't hold out, and you see the world as your saviors (puts a blanket over Jasper and Frank's heads) did in Clara's case, and still do, in Hephaesta's. You get to experience the need and the pull and the obsession yourself! The parallels of how you freed Clara from her's, to her freeing you now! They physically get you out of there, and then Vaughan mentally gets you out of there, helping you cure/repress the after effects.

You never marry Poor Edward, he's whimpering pathetically in the Nightmare Orphanage, or Murderized in the Nightmare Orphanage, but you can chose between cure and repress. No Edward Card, sealing him away in that place, or leaving open a door in your subconscious, come the next Nightmare card.

I don't know how to end this. I just feel like we should have had the chance to subject ourselves to The Horror of this Ambition, because stopping this from happening to everyone is really the story of Light Fingers. It's one thing to see it in somebody else - I wish we could have seen it ourselves, and had the chance to see just how horrifying it really is.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Can we get some positivity/advice for systems struggling to rebuild after one of the main fronters/hosts went dormant? They were doing too much and got overloaded and now we're not sure how to share their job, or what to do with all the trauma and emotions they were repressing for the rest of us. We keep having situations come up and not knowing how to handle them and then realizing they would've known. We miss them so much, they've been around for over a decade and now they're just not, and we're grieving. They setup a lot of plans to keep us going before they left, but we're not sure how to follow through on any of them. We miss them so much

Hi! We’re so sorry to hear that your system is struggling to keep it together after losing this headmate to dormancy. The good news is, they likely won’t be gone forever! We do know that this fact doesn’t really change much about your system’s immediate needs, though. We’ve written a positivity post for y’all, and it’s queued up for tomorrow night at 8:00PM EST!

As far as advice, here are some things we can offer which may help:

1) Come together with your system to make a comprehensive list of everything this headmate took care of when they were active. Once you have a list, try working together to see which headmates may be able to handle which tasks, duties, and obligations. You can break up big tasks into multiple smaller tasks if that could make things easier!

2) If you have commitments or obligations coming up which no member of your system feels equipped to handle, or that you all collectively cannot deal with, maybe see if it is something you could cancel or postpone. It’s okay to have to back out of previous arrangements, cancel plans, or adjust them accordingly so that your schedule is achievable for your system! If you have to cancel plans with someone who is not aware of your plurality, you can simply say “something came up,” or “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed/burnt out at the moment and have to cancel.” Both of these things are okay to do - you all need to focus on surviving and finding stability first and foremost!

3) When it comes to processing trauma and heavy emotions, we seriously recommend therapy. A therapist could likely help your whole system adjust to the loss of this headmate in many ways! If you don’t have access to a good therapist, we don’t recommend trying to work through and process trauma on your own. This may be painful to come to terms with, but it may be better to try and metaphorically box up your trauma until you’ve reached a better time to focus on working through it than force your system to come to terms with everything too soon.

WRT the above point, in the meantime, you can focus on learning grounding techniques to help yourselves when you’re experiencing a flashback or painful memory in order to calm down and orient yourselves in the present. We do have a post with a few grounding techniques that have been useful for our own system, which we’ll link here!

4) We do have a post on coping with the temporary loss of a headmate which may have some more beneficial information and tips for y’all. Here it is:

This post ^ has some ideas on how headmates can properly grieve, mourn, and process the loss of a headmate to dormancy, so we really encourage y’all to take a look!

We hope something we’ve shared here can prove useful for you all. And again, look out for that positivity post tomorrow night! Our deepest condolences go out to you and your whole system during this difficult time. We’re wishing y’all the very best and hope that you’re all able to effectively adjust to life without your former host. Don’t hesitate to reach out if we could be of any further assistance!

[taeslovehandles]

THE UNSEELIE CURSE

Jimin was a half fae brought back to the land of the unseelie, tasked with nothing but one request from the king of the summer court. To shed his mortal skin ans become a full fledged member of the fae court. A fae no longer bound to the limitations of his mortal half. To gain power.

It sounded simple enough although Jimin had no clue how to 'shed his mortal skin'. All he was told was to mingle with the unseelie and try to become more like them. Get accustomed to their living.

He tried. He really did. But nothing that he tried seemed to work. Each week the king demanded his presence to dine and ask about his progress. Only to be disappointed that the half fae was still just that. Half mortal.

"Are you even trying at all?" The king asked with the low rumble of disapointment coating his words.

Jimin had noticed the king's brows furrowing deeper each time he was called with the same unchanged truth of his human side clinging to him.

"I am! It's just... I don't know what else to try..." He turner his gaze downward. His belly had grown admirably over the course of the weeks being kept in unseelie land. Unable to pass the forest because of his bound soul to the land of the unseelie by the king.

The food was...doing things to him. His body precisely.

"Lies! Don't lie to me, Jimin. I have ears and eyes everywhere in my court. Do you truly believe I do not know of your lack of trying by simply sitting at home in your cottage and tending to the lityle garden there? How you do nothing but make tea, eat our food and get drunk on our wine?" The king accused.

Jimin shrunk further into his seat. He wanted to hide away. "What am I supposed to do? I- I don't know how I can shed my mortal skin. No one gives me clear answers..."

"Silence!" The king roared and Jimin flinched at the aggravating stare he received for being truthful for once.

"You either shed your mortal skin or become trapped in it. Trust me you do not wish for the later to happen." The king let out an exhausted sigh and gestured toward his underlings to clear his empty plate.

"W-What happens to me if I can't shed my mortal skin- your highness?" Jimin filled his plate with a second serving of roasted meat and a side of sweet potato mash. Drowning it in a sea of thick and heavy sauce to dig into. The food here was otherworldly. Everything tasted like bliss and melted in Jimins mouth. He repressed a satisfied groan.

The king's eyes locked onto him and he leaned forward on the table to rest his head on his hands that were intertwined.

"Interesting. I did not take you for a fool."

Jimin looked up and swallowed. "A fool?"

"Yes. To ask the obvious. You can't tell me you haven't noticed the changes your body has been making ever since you got here. You are no fool, Jiminie. Are you?" The king sneered with a predatory grin on his face.

Jimin's cheeks turned a bright red and he felt the need to tug his stretched out shirt back down over his pregnant looking belly that was filled to the brim with food.

"I- I mean I just figured it was the fae food itself and me being half fae that bloated me a little."

"A little? Have you seen yourself recently, mortal?" The king leaned back in his golden seat expectantly and waited. Preyed.

"N-No? I mean, there are no mirrors anywhere. I mean my clothes got a bit smaller but it's fine." It was fine? Right? That was probably normal for humans eating fae food?

"It will not stop. Jimin. If you cannot shed your mortal skin you will be trapped in it. A human in unseelie lands will eventually get as big as a cow if tempted with fae food. Fae food is not made for humans if you noticed. What do you think happens to changelings when they cross over to our lands?" The king was now grinning at how ghostly pale Jimin had gotten.

"I have never seen changelings here." He answered, feeling dread crawl up his spine.

"Exactly." The king agreed.

"The moment they taste the food of our lands they are doomed. Without ever able to stop stuffing their mouth with it all of the changelings will eat and eat and eat until they are growing into sizes their own legs can't carry no more."

Jimin swallowed hard and put his fork down. Ge didn't want to know what happens after, but the king continued undisturbed.

"We collect them like cattle and bring them to specialzed farms to- mhmm how to put this, to unlock their true potential. Some grow to be the perfect breeders and carry young, others grow large breasts filled with delicate milk to nuture said young or for us to consume. While some act as the seedgiver. Breeding and keeping the farms running."

Jimin stared at the glas of milk and felt sick. "So you are saying that I will turn into one of them?"

"If you don't shed your skin, you will. Your body can't digest fae food properly and pile on the pounds. Of course I am no cruel man, I would not send you to the farms." The king made it sound as if getting fat wasn't such a big deal. But it fucking was!

"Where would I be?" Jimin asked uncertain. Despite having heard the gruesome reality of his situation his eyes kept trailing over towards the big pile of vanilla pudding coated in raspberry juice and sprinkles of nuts.

"With me of course. As my very big and constantly fattened pet."

Jimin swallowed. That sounded awful. The toothy grin he received in return did nothing to ease his mind.

"Do- do you even want me to be successful to shed my mortal skin? You highness?"

"But of course! You'd be the first to ever succeed. If I can gain the favours of the other courts by being the first to house a skin shedder my power will establish itself further."

The first? Jimin swallowed. "How many have tried to shed their mortal skin before me?"

"Oh, hundreds. It's truly a finicky task." The king waves it off as unimportant and took a sip of his fine wine.

"And...how- how many succeeded?" Jimin felt colder and colder the more he learned. He knew the answer before the king had even spoken.

"None."

None. Of course. So Jimins cards were already bad. He had no idea what to do to shed his mortal self, was already starting to have said mortal part of him cling to his bones in form of bulging and overfilling fat, making it harder to shed his skin in the first place and to that came the horror of his body craving the fae food so badly already that he was doing not much else but stuffing his face with it.

Great. That was just great.

For some reason Jimin's belly felt even heavier now. The epitome of his failure. The bigger he would get the harder he would drive home his new position as a fattened pet for the king.

"Please help me. I don't know how to shed my mortal skin." Jimin pleaded to the king. His belly rumbling to demand more food and be filled more.

"Oh you poor thing." Suddendly the king stood behind him. It happened so fast that Jimin barely blinked. He gasped and a hand was pushing a pastry between his lips.

"Of course I will help you. But first, let's finish our dinner. I would be very displeased to see my guest not tended to." The king's other hand began to grab Jimins soft and bloated belly. Kneading it, feeling it up and pulling it just to let it gently plunge back down to cause delicious ripples of fat.

Jimin chewed and moaned. The food too good to not indulge. "But you said that you wanted me to suceed for- for power?" It made no sense. If the king wanted Jimin to succeed why was he actively boycotting his own archievements?

"I know what I said." The king smiled and put another pastry to Jimins waiting mouth. Jiggling his belly once more.

"I still hope you can shed your mortal skin. However, I am not appeased to binding you to my personal chambers as a pet either. It's been so long." The king's eyes turned sultry.

"It is quite the forbidden pleasure to bed a mortal. But so, so sweet and tempting. Who knows. I either gain power or I will enjoy a new pet to play with. I can't quite decide what I want more."

The dark chuckle told Jimin everything he needed to know. He knew his answer. His belly grew outwards, filled out more with fat and growing larger. His shirt filling out with plumb moobs and his ass began to get stuck in the chair beneath.

The king did not want Jimin to succeed. He wanted a new pet.

And Jimin had run straight into the trap without thinking.

--------

I'm reading a dark mm romance book rn about fae and it inspired me to think kiny shit like what ifffffff they get fat. Ehehehehe. Imagibe x3 Hope u enjoyed!! Guess its a short or so. Idk. Should put it on my masterlist.

I did not write who the king is so u guys can pick any member u fancy x3 go wild!

[gaybananabread]

For #24 (pinned) could you write a fic where Katara sits on top of Aang and tickles him because he’s teasing her?

TickleTober Day 24 - Pinned

I'm sorry this was a day late, this week has been a lot for me. Still, I'm doing my best to get these out! It's been a hot minute since I've done anything for ATLA. Hopefully these goobers aren't too OOC! Again, sorry for the delay, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Aang

Ler: Katara

Summary: Aang is feeling extra cheeky and decides that teasing Katara is a good idea. Little does he know that she's got a few tickly tricks up her sleeve. 

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

The cool, restraining ice held Aang's arms above his head; he had gone a bit too far. "Better get ready, you little jerk." Oh boy… she sounded so fed up with him. 

What got him in this position, you might ask? It all started that morning…

-

Aang knew from the moment he woke up that he was in a bratty mood. He didn't exactly know why, but he felt an intense urge to annoy the hell out of his friends. One waterbender in particular seemed especially teasable… he couldn't resist. The mood needed to be satiated, and Katra was always fun to toy with.

"Heeeeey, beautiful. What'cha doing?" Katana whipped her head around, blushing slightly from the unexpected nickname. "Oh- Just, uhm, sorting out our maps. We've still got quite a while before we reach the next village."

He smirked, looking over the maps. They did have a few hours before Appa got them to the small village; it was a morale-based trip. Ever since taking down the Fire Nation's empire and restoring balance, more and more work needed to be done. Especially in the smaller villages that were ravaged during the battles.

Aang was far from done, though. Her blush was adorable, of course, but the single tease had done little to help his mood. Katara wouldn’t mind a few more, right? “Thanks, you’re the best! I don’t know what I’d do without you!” He slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling the girl in for a tight side-hug. 

What had gotten into him? Katara tried to laugh off her fluster, squirming out of the hug after a second. She didn’t mind his silliness, but that was a bit excessive and cheesy, even for him. “You doing okay, Aang? You’re…very touchy today.”

The sort-of-teen snickered, shrugging. “I dunno. Can’t I shower my partner in praise? I mean, you make it easy; you’re adorable.” He poked her side, knowing he was playing a dangerous game. Katara flinched away from the touch with a repressed giggle, wide-eyed. Adorable? He was asking for trouble…

“Aang, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but don’t. I can and will shove you out of this saddle.” That should have been his cue to stop and just enjoy the ride with her. Unfortunately for Katara, the Avatar wasn’t known for picking up on those, much less paying attention to them. Aang scooted closer to her, slowly sneaking his hand towards her ribs. He didn’t think it through before he did it.

He sneakily scribbled down her ribcage, not thinking of the repercussions. Katara squeaked, a giggle slipping out before she reacted. Water flew from her canteen, quickly snaking itself around Aang’s arms and pinning him to the floor of the saddle before freezing. Tugging at his icy binds, he realized he was stuck. Katara had full access to his spots, thanks to his loose traveling clothes, and he was too giddy to stop her.

Now that you’re all caught up, let’s get back to Katara’s revenge...

-

Katara flexed her fingers, slowly wiggling them over the boy’s belly. With him pinned like that, she had all the time in the world to tease him. “I’ll give you one chance to redeem yourself. Why are you being such a snot?” 

He giggled, squirming under her teasing nails. She knew exactly what she was doing; he couldn’t tell if he loved or hated it. “Uhum- I juhust wanted to shohohow you hohow awesome you ahahare?” Okay, that was kinda cute. Still, she couldn’t let his goofy teases go unpunished. 

“Hmm…not good enough.” Chuckling, Katara climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. In seconds, her nails were scribbling under his arms. His reaction was instant; loud laughter flew from his mouth as he tried to squirm. “GaaAAH! KAHATARAHAHA! NOHOT THEHERE!”

She snickered, drilling her fingers into his hollows. If there’s one thing she loved about Aang, it was his laugh. Usually he was so carefree, letting the sound flow freely, bringing life and joy to the air. The only difference then was that he was pinned under her, laughing uncontrollably. Still, breathtaking. 

“You should be bratty more often. Gives me plenty of chances to do this~” Her nails moved slowly across his exposed skin, taking full advantage of the robe’s slanted cut. “PLEHEHEASE! TH-THIHIS IHISN’T FAHAHAIR!” Aang was starting to regret teasing her. He couldn’t just sit and wait out the flying bison ride… well, at least it wasn't that terrible.

Katara scoffed, shaking her head at the boy. “Really? How is it not fair? You teased me first; I’m just returning the favor.” She leaned her head down, whispering in his ear. “Besides, we both know you don’t hate this~” The teen wouldn’t be that cruel, though. She moved her fingers down to his sides, taking the focus off his worst spot.

Uuuuugh, why did she have to know him so well? It was criminal how right she always was. “B-buhuhut I dihidn’t tihickle youhuhuhu!” Aang whined through his giggling, tugging at the icy restraints. They weren’t hurting him, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Appa’s flying was smooth, giving him zero opportunities to try and flip them.

“That’s true, yeah. But isn’t this so much more fun than me just annoying you back?” Just as she finished her tease, Appa grumbled, taking a quick descent. The pair yelped, Katara’s restraints quickly melting as she lost focus. Aang rocketed upright, zipping over to check on his flying bison. 

There was nothing wrong up front; the skies were clear, and the waters calm. Apparently Appa had just grown tired of their silliness. Aang rubbed his red cheeks, giggling off the rest of his giddiness. “Ahappa…did you gehet annoyed with uhus?” The bison grunted again, as if agreeing with the boy.

Katara snorted, shaking her head at the goofy interaction. That amusement faded to nerves, though, when she saw the look on Aang’s face. “You know Katara, you were right. We *do* have a decent way to go before we reach the village…” 

It wasn’t long before laughter filled the air once again, joy radiating from the saddle and smiles from both parties. Rides like those were the best, even if Appa had to put up with their shenanigans.

[animefreak2112]

Starfire - Chapter 4 (Bakugou x Reader x Deku)

A/N - AHH, here's where we ACTUALLY get somewhere. Comment if you enjoyed it! Also there are more chapters under my AO3, which has my same username if you're interested:) <3

“Fucking Deku tried to save me.”

You double back, eyes wider than saucers as Katsuki walks in front of you, “What?! Why didn’t you tell me before! Is he okay?” Katuki scowls at your reaction. 

“Tch. The nerd is fine. Already told him that I didn’t need his help — I don’t owe him anything.” Despite his attempt to reassure you, a heavy feeling sinks deep into your chest. Fingers tightening around the straps of your backpack, you purse your lips before addressing the angry blonde beside you, “Katsuki...why do you treat Izu the way you do?”

A sour taste fills his mouth when the endearment leaves your lips — Izu, he thinks  bitterly.

When Katsuki stays silent, you glance at him: hands in his pockets, a scowl on his face. “I wish...I wish you would…” A sigh leaves your mouth, “It really doesn’t matter what I wish Katsuki. You need to figure things out for yourself — not just because I want you to.” You can almost hear the ‘tch’ going through his stubborn mind. Then, you reach the corner of your street — turning left not right. 

“Hey idiot.” The tone in Katsukis’ voice isn’t biting, only tired and surprisingly calm, “Did you hit your head or somethin’? Your house is this way.” His hand jerks, pointing distinctly right. The gesture makes you smile. 

“So you do remember where my house is.” You don’t bother hiding the smug tone in your voice — you couldn’t help but tease him a little. 

“ “Course I fucking do, ya idiot,” Katsuki mutters. You’re about to tease him about his foul mouth when his hand reaches for you, pinky latching onto yours and tugging. “K-Katsuki, what are you doing?”

A wicked, feral grin adornes his face when your hand reaches up, aiming to cover your blushing cheeks. Instead, Katsuki catches your hand, lacing your fingers together with his, “Keeping my promise.”

***

With only a small ‘tch’ falling from his lips, he grabs your pinky with his, curling his finger around your smaller one and saying in a gruff voice, “Promise.”

The memory comes back to you in a vivid flash. Your interlocked pinkies, the blush on Katsukis’ face, the way you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. It was so long ago and yet he remembers. 

His hand feels different than it did back then. Bigger. Palms that used to be soft were now covered with calluses, made rough from endless hours of training  — you even had some of your own. You smooth your fingers mindlessly over the calluses on Katsukis’ hand, tracing patterns into his skin — unbeknownst to the blondes’ furiously beating heart. 

***

Why did your hands have to be so damn perfect? 

They weren’t that perfect, far from it actually. Katsuki could feel the flaws on your skin. There was one in particular that he recognized; a long scar on the palm of your hand. He remembers the day that you got it, and how you made him kiss it better afterwards — he’s trying not to think about your lips when he feels it. Almost jumping out of his skin when your fingers smooth over his calluses, he attempts to repress a shiver at your touch. 

Katsuki knew that he had rough hands — especially with his training. But, with his sweat glands being the heart of his quirk, his hands were hypersensitive to touch. And seeing as it was your touch wasn’t helping the situation. 

He lets out a satisfied huff when your house comes into view, hoping to escape from your stroking fingers that feel really fucking nice against his skin. But even when he tugs at your interlocked hands, you don't let go. In fact, you're dragging him past the gate and to your front porch, making him growl at you, "What the fuck Y/N — you know that the old hag will have my head if I'm not home soon." 

He hears you mumble something about his swearing problem before sassing right back at him, "I'm not letting you go home all beat up Katsuki. So just shut up and do what you're told. Give me your phone." 

"Fuck no." His voice comes out as a teasing growl, because he knows what's coming.

You rip your hands from his before slamming them on your hips, nose scrunching up just the way he likes it and Katsuki positively grins — until you start rummaging through his pockets.

"What the — get the hell off me woman!" God, he had forgotten how much of a sass you were. Before he can react, you quickly pull the cell phone from his front pocket, dialing his mother immediately. 

"KATSUKI! I just saw the news. Where the hell are you?!" Katsuki snorts at your calm expression, clearly unfazed by his mother's yelling. At this point, he was just glad that the old hag wasn't yelling at him.

"Mitsuki? This is Y/N L/N. You remember me right?" Katsuki growls when his mother responds in a delighted voice. Now she’s being nice? 

"Of course, I haven't seen you in years sweetheart. You need to come and visit me! D'you have any idea where my idiot son is?"

"You hag!" You dodge Katsuki as he grabs for the phone, skipping around the gate while he backs away with a huff. "Yep, Katsuki is with me. He's pretty beat up though. Would it be alright if I fixed him up and sent him home a little later?"

"I'm not a fucking kid for you to send home Y/N—" 

"Of course! Just don't let that demon give you too much trouble — you're far too sweet to take Katsukis' shit." You laugh at Mitsuki's bluntness, taking in Bakugou as he slips off his uniform jacket, "Will do Mitsuki, I’ll come visit soon.”

As soon as you hang up the phone, you glance back at Katsuki to see him rolling up the sleeves of his uniform, revealing the chorded muscles of his forearms. The sight makes you swallow hard. Since when did he have those?

Your eyes flit over his frame, scanning the strong line of his jaw, ghosting down his tall body — had he always been this tall? Even after your growth throughout middle school, the boy still had at least seven inches on you. 

His shoulders were broad now, and they looked even more so after his blazer was off. How had you not noticed them? Or the bulging muscles that now lined his biceps? He was sixteen — the same age as you, but you were damn sure that sixteen year olds weren’t supposed to look like this. Who gave him the right to be this attractive? 

Noticing your eyes on his arms, Katsuki steps forward with a glint in his red gaze, licking his lip with a feral grin, “Whatcha lookin’ at Y/N?” Your eyes snap to his and then down, following the flick of his wicked tongue.

You swallow again. Hard.

But then, you see the knowing smirk on his face. Puffing out your cheeks with stubborn intent, you grab his hand again, this time to drag him into the house.

“Shut it Katsuki."

His smirk only grows wider. 

***

By some miracle, you had managed to make the explosive blond settle into a chair that you had pulled in from the kitchen. You were wedged in between his legs, back facing the bathroom counter as you fussed over his injuries. You can feel his chest expand sharply against your stomach as you dab over a particularly deep cut, and it makes you whisper a quiet ‘sorry’ under your breath. 

Katsuki only grunts in acknowledgement before moving his hands, allowing them to grip the backs of your thighs — close. He’s really close. 

You have to force yourself to breathe because his fingers are smoldering against the bare skin of your thighs and his large body is consuming yours. Even sitting down, his presence is dominating. Powerful. 

Like a cat waiting to pounce. 

You’re cleaning a shallow cut near his cheekbone when you notice a scar. It’s short but thick, resting just above his eyebrow. Your thumb brushes over it subconsciously and your brows furrow — you don’t remember this one. 

“Where did you get this one ‘Suki?”

Katsuki feels your touch like a brand against his skin and he wishes you would stop. He wishes that you would stop touching him this way, that you would stop making him feel the weird something that appears in his gut when you’re around. 

But he can’t pull away. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Or when your curvy body is right up against him — between his legs. And when he hears you say his nickname, the words fall from his mouth without hesitation, “Couple of years ago,” his voice seems hoarse and rough, even to his own ears. “Rock Climbing.”

His heart begins to beat wildly against the walls of his ribcage when your body shifts between his legs — you were leaning down. Katsukis’ crimson eyes widen as your lips press against his brow, right over his scar.

It seemed silly really. His body was covered in fresh cuts and bruises, yet you chose to kiss him there — a wound that had happened years ago. But then, you start whispering against the skin of his brow, and it makes sense. 

“I wasn’t there to kiss it better — like you were for mine.”

He knows that you’re referring to the scar on your palm. The one that he had pressed his lips against to stop your tears — you’d been seven and a half back then. Katsuki snorts at the thought, slapping playfully at the side of your thigh, “At least I wasn’t a wuss like you. I didn’t even cry when I got this. Guess you’re just not top hero material like me.” 

You blush when his large hand slaps your thigh, “Oh shuddup. I was seven! You know that I could kick your ass now.” You weren’t sure if you could. Your quirk was definitely strong but Katsukis’ combat experience greatly outweighed yours and he knew it. 

Katsuki grins at your words, fingers tightening threateningly around your thighs when he rasps, “Anytime baby girl, I’ll fuckin’ wreck you.”

Oh my god. 

Almost immediately, your hands are covering your blushing face — did he mean to say it like that? You peek through your fingers, only to see him staring straight at you with a devilish smirk on his face. Of course he meant to say it that way. 

You slam your fingers shut, blocking your face from view while letting out an embarrassed groan against your hands. Katsuki only cackles evilly at your embarrassment and attempts to pry your fingers away from your eyes, “C’mon Y/N. Don’t make me do it.” 

Make him do what?

You realize just what he means when his fingers hover over your waist. Oh no. He remembers. Just then, Katsuki attacks your waist mercilessly with his fingers, causing you to grab at his hands, “Katsuki please no—” 

Katsuki only grins as you double over in painful laughter, almost enjoying your suffering. “You think I’d forget how damn ticklish you are? Not a fucking chance.” Tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes as you twist and turn away from him, but Katsuki has you locked tight. One of his muscled arms is wrapped tightly around your waist, while the other tickles you without mercy.

“Say I’m the best.” His grin is absolutely feral. Your stomach twists painfully at yet another bout of giggles and you can’t help but wheeze, “Yes, you’re the best Katsuki—”

His fingers continue, “And the strongest?”

“Oh my god Katsuki, yes you are the fucking strongest — please stop.” You collapse almost immediately against his large frame when the fingers stop, leaving a few stray giggles to escape from your heaving chest. When you look at Katsuki, your breath catches — because there’s no smirk there. Or even the feral, triumphant grin that he usually adorns after winning a challenge. 

On his face is a genuine smile and it takes the wisps of breath right from your chest. At this moment, you consider it a good thing that Bakuou Katsuki frowns all the time. Because even more irresistible than his panty-dropping smirk, was the smile he was giving you now. 

And even more so, because you realize that the smile is just for you. 

***

He hasn’t heard you laugh like that in a long time. 

His heart is beating out of his chest again. And he’s sure that he is going to die — because your laugh is the most beautiful sound that he’s ever heard. 

[0th3rw0rldl1n3ss]

Sometimes I feel like as a teen I went back and forth a lot between “liking basic stuff means you’re shallow and boring” and “liking obscure stuff makes you sound fake deep and pretentious” and eventually got to “it’s actually way more insufferable to be obsessed with not seeming shallow or pretentious to the point that it results in self repression and impacts what you allow yourself to enjoy” and every so often I have to remind myself of this.

So much “enjoyment” around me in my life has felt performative and inauthentic, of both the mundane and of the more niche- consumerist culture, especially pertaining to short lived trends, and societal expectations and values are some factors at play here (I could get into this more, but what I’m saying now is meant to be more about the effects of broader socialpolitical contexts on how people approach recreation, and how people are affected on an individual, or at least a smaller scale, rather than an analysis of the contexts themselves).

I think about trends that come in go within months, or even less, and how people will buy piles of cheaply made slop just to throw it all away a year later and make TikToks about their “cringe phase(s)”. I think about how making art and posting it for other people to see is referred to as “content creation” and artists of all sorts are expected to pump out work like machines, unless they want to be punished by algorithms, maybe even berated by their own fans. So many buzzwords with so little substance.

To me, all of this reeks of people starving of things that actually make them feel enjoyment in a way that feeds their soul and leaves them fulfilled and replenished. I don’t deny the possibility that this could be a projection of my own experiences, but to me, it looks like trying and failing to fill a void, at least in part.

I am trying to learn to enjoy things again with the wonder that I used to have as an autistic child- before school, before I started to become aware of the these contradictory, empty unsaid expectations around things- that in theory, should be about having fun. I’m trying to learn how to play again as an adult and what that means for me. Trying to learn to embrace my intuition instead of ignoring it (in general, but in this context, specifically in regards to what I do or don’t enjoy, how I enjoy it, etc). Play is important for development and emotional wellbeing in a child, but I think it’s very easy to underestimate how important is for adults, too.

I hope if there’s anything you take from this post, it’s some encouragement to find ways to play that feel natural and right for you. This may not work for everybody, but I’ve been trying to do things that I remember enjoying a lot as a kid. Getting back into Minecraft, playing it with low expectations and just screwing around, letting my imagination roam. Trying to approach making art and reading books like I’m playing instead of performing labor. Making concoctions out of things I find outside just because I can. Digging out my old toys from the basement, choosing some to bring out to add some whimsy to my bedroom. Trying to let myself stim more freely and unashamedly, at least when possible. When I can get past my anxiety enough to do so, getting dressed up and wearing things that I think are fun instead of wearing mundane things and trying to make myself less noticeable. This week I got on my childhood swing in the middle of the night. It’s been very difficult for me to get immersed, due to the weight of everything, but it’s been worth it to keep trying.

[taysdorothea13]

how does wren moving out play for the both of them/ travis/ betty

by the time wren moves out, betty’s already gone! but for taylor and travis… it’s honestly really weird and uncomfortable almost. it’s the first time through they’re entire relationship where they only have themselves to think about and account for. (i’m gonna answer canonically, rip betty). even when taylor didn’t have wren for a night, or she and travis did escape on a little vacation together, wren was still a kid. taylor was still calling every day, checking in with her parents or whatever friend had volunteered (and practically begged) to watch wren. she was stressing about missing something important, or not being their if catastrophe struck. and on the flip side, all she or travis wanted to talk about was her. not to say that wrens accomplishments get any smaller as she gets older, but there’s just so much excitement and passion that comes from talking about her when she’s still little, if you get what i’m saying, you’re the best. travis has only ever known taylor when her full and first priority was being an active and present mom. he gets to know just taylor now. wren moves out when she’s nineteen, definitely for some kind of high profile internship with a design company, so really this is the first time ever where taylor doesn’t have a kid to manage and act accordingly for. but also, taylor’s only ever known travis as a man that’s trying his damndest to fit the role of a father. so yeah! they get to learn each other all over again, but also, taylor cries on the first night alone, and she tries to call wren because travis takes her phone and just holds her. she can’t call wren, she can’t make it seem like wren choosing herself and her future is somehow negatively impacting taylor — that’s not what she means. that’s not even at all why she’d wanted to call wren, she just wanted to make sure her baby was okay out there all alone for the first time, but she and travis both know how wren is probably anxious out of her mind and the sound of taylor crying would only make it worse. taylor stayed up all night waiting to see if wren would call, and she did at 3 in the morning. taylor knows her kid, and she knows that even if wren was ready for this step, there’s still a lot to unpack and face when you first throw yourself to the sharks — but eventually things even out. wren adjusts to being by herself in a positive way (the first few weeks brought up so many repressed feelings of how it felt to live with timothy and adrianna. she hadn’t anticipated that trigger, but taylor did and she stuffed a bottle of her perfume in with bluey for wren to find when she was unpacking, and it worked and wren felt less isolated and anxious. i could cry omg i need to focus) and taylor and travis adjust to being by themselves and having only each other to focus on. but, wren definitely calls her mama over any minor inconvenience or event. if she doesn’t know what to wear, call mom. if she just made the best pancakes of her entire life, call mommy. if she really needs a hug but she knows she can’t come home right now, call mama. if she just wants to listen to taylor play music, call travis because mama’s gonna say she has all of her lyrics on her phone and can’t do both, so she should just call on travis’s phone anyways. but yeah! taylor never actually wants this day to come like ever so!