#just wish there was little more tall rep here honestly

[littlefallenrebel]

desperately need more tall reader content in cod fics... let me match my silly military men in height and be a menace 🥹

[skylermadness]

Something To Be Proud Of (Ragh Barkrock TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: May 4, 2022)

Original Description:

A work written in collaboration with two friends of mine. This TF also comes with a sequence drawn by ArticulatedArtisan. He also drew the art that is used as the picture in the cover. The sequence can be viewed here: DeviantArt / FurAffinity Another Dimension 20 TF, and one that has been a few months in the making. Ragh is a really great guy and honestly needed TF into him- so we're here to provide! Admittedly I dealt more with the drafting, so all of this is written by my friend as they handled editing. I've never really done a second-person POV TF before, but I feel like I could go all in and try writing one myself some day. It'll just take some work- I'm also really happy as to how Artisan's sequence came out. It is so good! Just about everything about it feels perfect. Overall, I'm glad that he was a part of this!

   You drew in a deep breath, steeling yourself, and pushed open the door.

   It didn’t stop the wave of high school sport odor from assaulting your nose with enough force to make the tacklers jealous, but you managed to keep from gagging. You really wished you were used to this already, being the team’s waterboy and all.

   Waterboy, Coach’s assistant, whatever- all it meant was that you had to suffer all the drawbacks, like staying after school for practice and having to deal with the gunk and smell of the football team locker room, and none of the benefits- such as, well, being on the team. The coach just put you to work, setting up the equipment for practice, getting fresh towels and water to be ready on hand, and just about anything else Coach or the players needed, but were apparently too wrapped up to handle themselves.

   To Coach’s credit, you didn’t think it was necessarily intentional on his part to put you through all this suffering with no perceived payoff. Back when you first approached him in his office near the beginning of the year, you had wanted to ask about joining the football team yourself. You’d long looked upon these cool, hot jocks around school, joking and jostling each other around, and wanted to play with them, or have an excuse to hang out with them at the very least- maybe you could even be one of the Boys someday, if you did. 

   But Coach had taken one look at you, with your scrawny, somewhat shorter than average form, and completely misinterpreted your approach as you volunteering for the assistant duties. And here you were now, having never moved from the position, because you never had the gut to correct him.

   It wasn’t great- but it could have been worse, surely. You probably wouldn’t have been actually good on the team, anyway.

   You did try your best to make the most of it, though. Being often in relatively close proximity with the jocks and players on the team, and using it as an excuse to talk to them or hang out, was sort of what you had been after the whole time- so you took the opportunities to say hi, and talk to them on occasion longer than a question or two relating to what mess you had to take care of next. Your assistant work more often than not actually cut you off from being able to stay talking for long and kept you busy, regrettably. Even when you did find the time to hang out for a little while, your heart sank, as the Boys were certainly friendly to you- but you never felt it reached the point where you felt you could call it you being friends.

   The raucous sounds of laughter and football practice and buddies and bros being bros in the distance cut quiet in an instant as the door leading back outside swung closed behind you, and you stepped further in.

   You were out on a mission, once again: one of the players, a tall, dark haired one that you wanted to talk with for longer, had forgotten his playing gloves somewhere, presumably left back in the locker room. Coach wouldn’t allow him to let up his reps to go grab them, so he needed to    ask you- and did sound apologetic, very clearly aware that it was something he could go do himself. It didn’t force down the light disappointment of being cut off from talking to and getting to know one of the Boys better for longer, but you did appreciate the sentiment.

   You made to breathe in and retched a little, very quickly wishing you had not let out that breath of fresh-ish outside air so carelessly. Sure, the Boys were generally nice to you and plenty of fun to hang around when you got the chance to, but you couldn’t say you were a fan of their… low-standard sanitary practices. Loose football gear left strewn about the room, over the benches and on the floor. Shoes and socks that anyone could recognize came from an extremely active high school athlete left out on the floor as well, their ripe odors wafting throughout the stale locker room air. Empty bottles of awful 3-in-1 shampoo littered around the showers, collecting near the shower drains, having long since been used or touched.

   Your stomach roiled again at the smell. At least you had somehow convinced them to put their dirty laundry away in the communal bin on their own.

   You hurried around the locker room, eager to find the gloves and escape back into fresh air as soon as you could. It was taking longer than you were hoping for, there was so much gear left sitting around to sift through- where were all the gloves? Half the players out there weren’t even in full gear, surely there’d be at least a few unused pairs that the Boy in need could at least borrow for the day…

   Frustration was beginning to set in. The smell was probably starting to get to you. You were considering calling it quits and apologizing to the Boy back outside for it, when you spotted them- a pair of gloves, haphazardly tossed onto the end of one of the benches. You hastily snatched them up and turned to hurry back out, having had enough of the locker room stink for now.

   Your eyes fell on your prize as you walked quickly, relief suddenly giving way to curiosity as you peered a little more closely at them. These gloves were a hardy brown, made of tough, thick cloth with the sleeves extending past where the wrists would usually end, instead running further up along the forearm than typically. The gloves were HUGE, too- you usually weren’t paying attention to the size of most players’ hands, but you could swear it felt like these gloves in particular could fit three of your own hands inside just one of them, and have space left over to spare. Over the palms and where the knuckleheads would be, were layers upon thick layers of wrappings- having likely once been white, but by now have long since faded and worn out to gray from frequent, rough use.

   Were these… really the gloves that player was talking about? You really couldn’t find any other gloves in the entire locker room, so they had to have been if the Boy was sure he left them in there. But then again- these didn’t look like football gloves in the slightest, and didn’t even have the team’s colors. They almost looked like they were instead gloves for shoving, pummeling, or crushing opponents in melee combat.

   Your vision swam as you blinked away from the sudden thought, feeling a bit dizzy. You were close to further questioning where the thought came from, before you toppled into something and tripped, landing embarrassingly splayed on the ground. Gathering yourself up and looking around to survey the damages, you groaned. Your worst fears had come back to haunt you- you had knocked into the community laundry bin hard enough to leave dirty, smelly athletic clothes strewn all over the floor in front of you. 

   And it was your job to pick it all up.

   You were reminded of the great pains you had taken to avoid having to handle the laundry by the intense, pungent odor wafting up from the scattered pile. You quickly swallowed the bile in your throat before it could rise any further, and grimaced.

   There was no way in hell you were touching any of it with your bare hands.

   Scooting backward, you clenched a hand and felt rough fabric brush against it. You almost ripped your hand away in the fear that you had already touched something from this awful mess, before you realized it was just the pair of huge gloves you had come in for.

   Glancing down at the gloves, an idea came to mind- one that you immediately felt guilty for thinking of. You could use the Boy’s gloves to pick up all the laundry, that was an option… but then again, you wouldn’t wish this smell on anyone- especially something the player would be wearing as soon as it was returned. The odor would be sure to linger on the gloves, and you weren’t keen on giving him a reason to dislike you.

   Although, since the smell came from the laundry bin, which in turn came from the players themselves, maybe they wouldn’t notice if you used these gloves for this, just for a little while…? Nodding slowly, having successfully convinced yourself, you stood up and reached for the gloves.

   This act of handling player gear wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary for you- but something about holding them with the intent to wear them had you shivering a little. Not to be weird about it- but just before you put them on, you felt a sudden sense of… proximity? Like wearing these gloves brought you and the football players closer together, somehow. 

   And in a sense, it was, you laughed to yourself as you slipped the gloves on. This really was the first and probably only chance you’d ever get of seeing what being a jock would feel like.

   You felt a bit silly for being surprised when the gloves didn’t fit, once you had them on. Your hands were pretty average in size, while the tough-fabric gloves were big enough to completely dwarf your hands when you wore them. Your fingers weren’t long enough for the tips to reach the end of the gloves, and the palms were too broad for your hands to really fit your fingers into each respective holes- you ended up constantly bunching up the palms of the gloves in your hands to really get a real grip in order to hold anything with them. 

You withheld a sigh. The huge gloves were a bit annoying and uncomfortable to use, but they’d get the job done.

   You crouched down to get to work picking up the dirty laundry- and were almost immediately assaulted by that disgusting odor again. Athlete sweat and untreated B.O. mixed together in one atrocious concoction of stench, having left to fester in the laundry bin all week. You swore under your breath at the unrelenting attacks on your nose- but you steeled your resolve, and proceeded with picking up the clothing and putting them back in the bin.

   As you’d anticipated, the gloves felt awkward and cumbersome, the most efficient method of picking up the laundry really just consisting of you smashing your gloved hands together around a clump of clothes like the world’s worst sandwich, and depositing it into the now upright bin. You found your frustration dissipating, however, after a moment or two of picking up the mess- the need to constantly hold onto the gloves felt less and less, and you found yourself letting go of the bunches you had been gripping and letting them hang on your hands loosely. It only clicked when you tried smashing another clump of clothes between two gloved closed fists, and paused for an embarrasing three seconds, dumbfounded by the sensation of the motion, and why exactly it felt weird. You had the hang of these gloves now. Your face heated up a little, feeling a bit silly that you’d been picking up the clothes so strangely when you could have just picked them up and grabbed them with your gloved hands normally. The gloves didn’t feel like masses of rough cloth covering your hands, they just felt like gloves- why had you been so weird about it?

   Despite the worn gloves starting to feel a bit tight on your hands, you shook yourself a little to focus and pick up the pace. Now that that weird mental block keeping you from acting normal had cleared, you started picking up larger piles of laundry to put away, some so big your arms burned and threatened to buckle under the weight. You really weren’t expecting a workout when you came in looking for the gloves, but damn if you weren’t getting one right then and there. 

   You made to reach for a jockstrap that you thought for a moment was too far away- your arms burned- and you picked it up, without any trouble. You dropped it on top of the newest colossal load you had gathered, carrying and depositing it all into the bin without any noticeable strain on your arms. You stretched your arms high above your head as a quick rest, finding the feeling of stretching your muscles particularly pleasurable in that moment for a reason you could not pin down, and took a sniff. It was getting easier to breathe, the smell feeling less noticeable than before.

   But it wasn’t gone, and it was still BAD- you could swear it was actually clouding your vision, what with the tint of green your skin had taken when you looked down at your arms. Yeugh, better get this over with quick.

   The short sleeves of your t-shirt were already feeling tight, but that sensation had spread to your neck- and, hell, now that you were thinking of it it was everywhere else, too. It was probably the fatigue setting in, but with every breath you drew in the shirt felt smaller, like you’d put on a size medium you thought you could fit it that day but after the barest physical strain showed exactly how constricting it actually was and how dumb you were for thinking it could fit you. 

   A surge of power erupted from your solid, heavy core and rushed up to your burgeoning pecs pressing so desperately against your shirt, and you fought the sudden urge to wrestle it off of your body. This was the players’ locker room, not yours, and you didn’t have an extra change of clothes here to fall back on if you tore this shirt. 

   Another embarrassing five seconds passed before you realized something was wrong with that thought. Since when had you ever been worried about tearing your shirt? You wiped your sweating forehead with a gloved hand, and the sense of rough fabric dragging along your skin gave you pause. You brought your hands to your face to look closely, and saw two gloves fitting perfectly, if a bit tightly, on two massive, powerful, meaty mitts in the shape of hands.

   It took you a moment to realize, but these were not the hands you had walked into this locker room with.

   You looked down at your body, your brain working overtime trying its best to grasp the situation. You felt around your neck with your huge hands, and felt a short, thick, solid trunk of muscle there, which matched your deeper sounding breathing, you realized. Your scrawny chest and torso were expanding as you watched, the pecs and musculature growing and filling out first, before fat filled in after, greatly softening your pecs and pushing your stomach out into a solid, firm gut. You gave it the smallest of pokes, just to tell if it was real, and your shirt jumped at the chance to survive a moment longer by riding it up, letting your gut touch the open air. The sensations were there, of course, it was there and real and huge- and the skin was the same green as your thick, powerful arms, and deepening in hue by the second. You almost fell over, when your new gut shifted your center of gravity, but you managed to catch yourself and widen your stance accordingly. The things that felt right for your new body felt… really different from what you were used to. But… it was still your body, right?

   You bent down over the remaining laundry, getting back to work- something that you didn’t have to think too hard about, and that was something you needed. Your poor brain felt sluggish, too tired to really understand the changes as they continued. You picked up more dirty clothes, now almost completely oblivious to the lingering smell that you vaguely remembered was still there. You distantly registered the sound of your shirt finally tearing from the strain, and the itch of chest hair pushing out in a smattering across your chest and down your gut. Just a few more rounds, you were sure you’d be finished… with the laundry. Finished with the laundry.

   The lump in your throat grew larger, and your ragged breaths sounded even deeper- even gutteral, a little. Something about your face was tingling, changing, as the changes rose even further up your body. Your head split into a headache from how fast you wanted it to go, you didn’t want to be left behind with everything happening so much. You realized all of a sudden that your face was wrong and out of place it was hurting your brain because of it- then your skull shifted, the bone thickening and squaring off into something tough and not really human, but your lower jaw pushed forward and locked into place and everything felt right again. It felt good, and it really felt good too when two of your lower teeth grew longer and sharper, into the proud tusks of a young adult half-orc poking out of your mouth. 

   The ground grew further away from you as your brain struggled to work things out. Some things were starting to make more sense, and some things were making less and less sense to you- so much so that it hurt to try to think of them now with everything else happening. Instead of trying to think about why it was all happening and why it was- or wasn’t- possible, you focused instead on your legs, as they were up next. They grew longer and thicker, powerful logs of mass you’d forged yourself from pouring countless hours on the Bloodrush field, to be able to carry the mountain of mass and meat you were wherever you needed to go. Even despite the splitting pain cracking your head, you couldn’t help the surge of pride or keep yourself from grinning like an idiot at the thought. 

   Your shorts were barely holding together, looking so small and much shorter on your legs than before, but why? Gears chugged along in your brain and it made the connection- right, your legs were growing, weren’t they? A bit dizzliy, your brain kept flip-flopping between watching the changes in excitement and accepting your new normal. You felt a thrill heave in your throat at feeling your now-tiny shorts ride up your legs and the seat of your pants filling out and pushing up against the shorts, like a bike tire you’d pumped too quickly and was about to pop. Everything was different, but you weren’t scared.

   Why would you be scared? These changes were amazing.

   Why would you be scared? This was just your body, nothing new- but still fuckin’ great.

   You heaved another mountain of dirty clothes into the bin, and clapped your huge gloved hands together once, eyeing the remaining stragglers. One more round.

   Each step you take feels like pounding, stomping on the floor without meaning to. Your footsteps sound heavy, and your feet feel way too tight to feel good. Like you put on the wrong size shoes, these ones way too small… which would be something your dumb fuckin’ ass would mix up, wouldn’t it? Putting on the wrong shoes and not realizing through the whole school day… your powerful lungs let out a gusty disappointed sigh. Typical.

   Your tiny, wrong shoes seemed to think so, too- and with a shrrrrp of cloth, your heavy green feet finally had space to breathe. You tried to kick as much of it off your feet as you can, and turn back to the laundry- y’know, channeling your shit into something productive instead of wasting time being fucking useless.

   Your stomach turned as you bent down to scoop the rest up. It’s… hard not to feel like that, like an idiot who could never get your act together. Struggling in school, making all these dumb decisions, always blowing your top and letting your rage get the better of you… it’s no wonder you could never make the… make the team…

   You stood back up, and the surge of something throughout your body followed by the loud SHRRRRPing of shirt and shorts got you out of your head. You tripped backwards into the line of lockers behind you in surprise, distantly feeling the dented metal under your arms. Your brain registered the tight pressure disappear and what was left of your clothes hanging off your powerful frame, and finally began to catch up with your body. 

   You started to realize and finally understand, just so much has changed about you- and while it’s hard to put them together, all the pieces were there.

   The reason you were wobbling and feeling so unsteady on your feet was because your center of gravity was different from what you were used to. The reason you dented the lockers this badly from punching and elbowing them when you tripped was because you didn’t know your own strength- literally. The reason why your clothes fucking hurt so much and were too fucking small wasn’t because you wore small clothes and put on tiny shoes this morning like a dumbass- because you’re not dumb, yeah you know you’re not smart like the wizards or artificers or whatever, but you’re not dumb- it’s because your body is different! You put on smaller clothes that morning because you were smaller!

   Your thick brow furrowed and your face scrunched up as you mulled it over, as you became more and more sure in yourself. You rubbed your chin with a gloved hand, feeling the coarse stubble smattered across your chin, while you were lost in thought- unflinching despite the rank odor clinging to the gloves after handling dirty sports laundry for like, gotta be more than ten rounds by now. Honestly, you were losing track.

   "Wait- shit, I need to get changed." You blurted out the thought as it bubbled up in your mind, without bothering to think about it first- like the gap between your thoughts and your tusked mouth was getting smaller.

   As soon as that clicked, you felt fabric rustling and moving as it stretched to wrap around your much larger body, covering everything up. The bulging and straining shorts grew down your legs and darkened to blue and hardened into weathered denim, not without its scuffs and tears but still a good, solid pair of jeans. Finally the right size and not feeling like your legs were being choked out, a belt slithered around your waist to complete the look. 

   Your socks and shoes repaired themselves too- the fabric of your socks worn and holey, standing no chance against your massive orc feet, and your shoes concealing the rest of it from view, cutting off the stench suddenly wafting up from them, too. 

   You involuntarily wrinkled your nose, but it honestly didn't smell that bad. Not really any of this did, anymore.

   Your shoes finished off with a splash of red that quickly weathered and darkened from wear- whatever Mending spell was fixing your clothes didn't seem to be able to fix that part of it, turned out. But you didn’t mind, you began to smirk a little as you waggled your now warm feet in a good 17 and a half size pair of sneakers. A perfect fit, for the pair of stompers you’re packin’.

   But the main event was just getting started- you rolled your broad shoulders and thick, muscled neck in anticipation. You could feel it, your brain following the patterns as it sensed the scraps that used to be your shirt shiftin' around, and making the connections. Your shirt was next.

   The cloth rushed around your body, turning stiff and thick as it repaired itself into a shirt sized much, much larger than the size medium tee you had on that morning. The sleeves stretched long and smoothed out into soft white that felt good on your bare arms underneath, topping off with striped cuffs hugging your wrists and sneaking inside the sleeves of your gloves. You couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction cross your face as you flexed, feeling even these large sleeves strain to contain the solid blocks of jockish muscle and mass your arms had pumped out.

   Your eyes followed the middle of your shirt split as buttons popped out into view, suddenly becoming the things holding your shirt together over your bulky chest and gut. The shirt neck pushed up further over your skin- well, more jacket neck than shirt, really. And that meant it made sense that the soft, striped thing around your neck was probably a collar, jackets had those.

   A rich red color washed over the rest of your jacket, over your torso, filling out between the white stripes on your wrists and collar. A bright red that your heart leapt in pride for, even though you didn't recognize it yet- or at least, your head didn't. Your body processing things and acting on them faster than your brain could was becoming a habit, at this point.

   But even at its snail's pace, it was still chugging along- and the pieces were coming together into something that had you excited. With a duly stretched out tank top appearing just underneath, you were wearing a letterman jacket- just like the kind the jocks wore. Laying a hand on your letterman and feeling the hard, solid mass bulging underneath, it wasn't hard to put two and two… er, maybe one and one together, and realize- you'd fit right in with the team, and maybe Coach would finally take you seriously about wanting to make the Bloodrush team. A brown letter "A" stitched itself onto your letterman's breast, like the jacket itself was in full support.

   You didn't think that the team you wanted to join started with an A- or your school, either- but you brain managed to squeeze out the name "Aguefort", and your body relaxed, as if that explained everything. Your chest swelled up again, almost overwhelmed with the pride and team spirit just thinking that name filled you with.

   You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Augh, gods, you really needed to let your brain catch up again. The idea that your tiny fit had just changed into something larger and tougher and more comfortable, was fucking with your mind. Like, you never had the smarts to really get into casting classes, but this wasn't even something you had thought someone could do with magic. Man, maybe you should try taking a spellcasting class or something, see if you could pick anything up before the school year ended- that is, if magic was… real… wait, that didn't sound right…

   You let out a deep, involuntary grunt as a headache pounded through your skull, just behind your eyes, and threatened to knock you off balance. You managed to steady yourself in time, quickly grabbing onto things for support, and your gaze fell onto your gloved hand.

   Once stable, you brought a massive mitt of a hand in front of your face. You snapped it shut into a huge, meaty fist, feeling the powerful grip in your long, thick fingers, and the tough material wrapped around it tight, and then relaxed your hand. The gloves fit perfectly. Everything fit perfectly.

   Everything fit perfectly on your body- holy shit, this was your body now, wasn't it? Your head jerked around, trying to get the best view of the huge orcish form you had found yourself in as you could. No way the Boys on the team wouldn't be jealous as FUCK of your sick gains. And damn, didn't you agree. There was this Pride pushing up in your chest, too- like you deserved a bod with this power and magnitude. Like after all the hard work you put into getting here, training and working out and putting on mass like crazy, there was no way you were going to get a body different from the one you wanted- this one.

   But even as proud of yourself you were, and how pumped and ready to RUMBLE you knew this body was, it…

   Your spirits fell. It still didn't feel like you were one of them. One of the Boys, the Jocks, even with your new varsity jacket, or your huge, jockish body. You weren't part of the team, you were just the… the, uh… well, you just worked there. Picking up nasty laundry. And there was a sinking feeling, that a part of you knew to be true, that told you that's the way it'd always be, wouldn't it.

   You looked over to the stuffed laundry bin, having finished picking everything up, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel happy about it. You sat down on the bench with a gusty sigh, and looked down at your open hands again, huge and strong enough to crush rocks. 

   All that potential, gone to waste from not being put to use on the team, just felt so crushing. 

   You'd be fuckin' great at it, too, you were sure.

   Your fists tighten, open palms snapped shut into that powerful grip. YEAH you'd be fuckin' great at it, you could probably take every game home by yourself if you had to, even without the rest of the team you'd be playing with backing you up! What was Coach thinking, not letting what had the potential be a star Bloodrush player onto the team? Was he out of his MIND?

   You were onto something, it hit you. You stood up from the bench, creaking in relief as your weight lifted off of it, and you began to pace back and forth to give your brain the time it needed to catch up, almost knocking over the laundry bin again. Why wouldn't Coach just let you join? Your face twisted as frustration and borderline rage bubbled up, trying to push past the ache in your head and think a complete sentence for once. Fuck, this train of thought hurt so much it was almost worse than biting glass on accident again.

   In an instant, your head snapped to attention and your eyes darted around the room, suddenly remembering the danger at hand. Glass could be anywhere, and you wouldn't even know if you were about to bite some- it was literally invisible! Your gloved mitt of a hand clapped over your mouth just to be safe, your orcish nose having almost fully tuned out the musky laundry smell the gloves still carried. 

   Your eyes landed on the locker room mirror. That had glass in it- at least, uh, you were pretty sure it did- but it was stuck to the wall, so it was probably fine. Mirror glass was probably different from regular glass, anyway, since it wasn't invisible. 

  You nodded to yourself, relaxing and feeling safer, when your eyes caught on your own reflection next.

   You slowly stepped over to the mirror, the tension of danger all but forgotten as you took in the half-orc standing there, facing you. Now that it was allowed to work on its own time, your brain was finally starting to catch up with your earlier thoughts- just in time for the final changes to make their way up your face.

   You wanted more than anything to join the team, and were probably one of the students at the Adventuring Academy most equipped to be really, REALLY good at it.

   You lowered your gloved hand away from your mouth to reveal it growing, bulking even further, squaring off into a strong, masculine jaw, skin as green as the field turf, with two thick, orcish tusks jutting up proudly from your lower jaw.

   Coach would be crazy to not let someone join the team if he thought they could help them win and play better, and Coach wasn't that crazy. Evil alignment didn't mean crazy, obviously.

   Your eyes clouded over and the colors went inverse as your vision adjusted to naturally see in darkness better, white piercing pupils in pits of black sclera. Your nose and ears grew in turn, ears a bit longer and tapering off into points, and nose wider to fit your orcish face better.

   But even though Coach was Evil- better than the last coach, anyway, Pit Fiend evil didn't turn your stomach as much as abusive homophobic evil did- he wouldn't force someone into playing for the team if they didn't want to. He was nice like that, you knew.

   And then your hair, from the roots up was darkening to a deep, dark green, so dark it was almost black. It swept back into a wilder, slightly unkempt hairstyle over thicker looking side fades, like you'd let it grow out a little after a while without a haircut.

   That meant Coach must not have known how much you wanted to play, even though it was obvious how good you'd be for the team. But why, then? How the hell could he not know? Something wasn't adding up, you realized.

   You took in the tough, proud face of the half orc reflecting back at you in the mirror. It was solid and imposing, but there was a softness to your expression, too- like it was getting more comfortable in wearing things that weren't a scowl or a snarl contorted in rage. The muscles and fat set in your massive jaw rolled at the even the smallest movement, and the whole jaw was sent shifting from the tiny clenches you made with your mouth as you thought. It was still hard to believe that this all only just happened, and you were so different a few rounds ago. The thought of a scrawnier human figure with a much thinner frame floated past behind your now dark orcish eyes, and all at once it hit you.

   Coach didn't know you wanted to play because you never told him you did!

   You clapped a gloved hand to your forehead in understanding as your brain finally made the connection. You remembered first visiting Coach back when you looked like a human, and you hadn't had the nuts to tell him you wanted to join the team- and THAT'S why you'd been stuck as the waterboy ever since!

   Sizing up the massive, half-orc jock reflecting back at you, already wearing the team's varsity jacket, you couldn't help your face splitting into a grinning smirk. That version of yourself felt so far away from you now, as the confidence of a half-orc AND a jock- who was not only centered and assured of who he was, but deeply and unwaveringly PROUD of who he was as a whole person- surged through you, your heart thrumming and shocking your back upright into better posture, only adding to your height even more. Looking how you did, with the huge new body and all, you wouldn't have trouble getting Coach to let you join the team now, that's for fuckin' sure. You even got a letterman of your own already, too! You turn around with your head craned to get a good look at the back of your letterman in the mirror. It'd be easier to just take it off and look at it there- but nah, no way you're taking this thing off anytime soon.

   Even with the added effort of having to read words backwards like that in the mirror, your heart leapt in pride and already knew what the big block letters spelled over the piercing gaze of a snarling owlbear.

   "BARKROCK."

   Your heart already knew, deep down, but now your brain clicked, too. That was- that was your last name. Your last name, Barkrock! Well- it wasn't before, but like- it felt good to hear it. And it definitely fit the kind of person you were now, and maybe it'd be good to sort of start over again with the Coach anyway, too? You weren't sure how you'd explain it all anyway, so just pretending you were a totally different person would be easier, even though you were still the same but you'd just changed a little. Well, a lot. 

   So yeah, you'll keep the name, no sweat. You could probably pass as a foreign exchange student, probably.

   You turned away from the reflection, and headed out the locker room door back outside to the field. You were PUMPED again and ready to go, feeling it in every part of your body- first steps into the new life laid out ahead of you.

   It was a beautiful, clear day with a few clouds about, and you almost didn't realize how different the field and bleachers looked from how they used to, with how familiar everything felt to you at the same time. It was a bit hard to remember what colors the uniforms of the teams on the field had been before, but the red and white they sported now- just like your letterman- felt right, y'know?

   You spotted the team on the field, and were about to call them over and ask them where Coach was- you had a lot to talk about- when one of them spotted you first and waved you over.

   "RAGH, my guy! Where you been, dude?"

   The gap between your thoughts and your mouth was too small to realize the jock had just called you by a name you were pretty sure wasn't yours before you were already hustling over, grinning like an idiot, huge tusks out and proud for all to see.

   "I'm comin', dude, I'm comin'!"

   And you hustled down the field to meet him and all the others, the fat and muscle of your beefy body bouncing up and down in a way that felt so real, so right, so familiar as muscle memory of your favorite sport seared its way into your body. You were a Bloodrush player, through and through- your heart knew that, your head knew that, and now your body knew that, too, which sealed the deal. 

   FUCK that felt good.

   The other players had headed to the benches, taking a quick water break before heading back out to practice. You saw the other players already had their waters and everything, and THAT got you grinning to yourself. You'd never be stuck as Coach's assistant again- at least, not in the way you used to. The faces of the other jocks lighting up when you arrived, and the growing familiarity you had with each of their faces and then names and then who they were and what they liked, told you that. 

   You were also pretty sure that some of the Boys here had changed too, like you did, with pointed ears or flaming hair or fuller beards where you didn't expect, but you didn't care about that, didn't you. This was the team you knew, and that was what mattered.

   The player who called you over clapped you on the back, getting your head in the game with a jump.

   "Jeez, Ragh, you took your time," he laughed, elbowing you in the ribs, sending something fluttering in your chest- something that you knew what it was but you decided you were fine with not following- for now, at least. You were at practice, not prom. "Your gloves that hard to find? Dude, we need you for practice!"

   You glanced down at your rough, worn gloves that’d been with you for ages. You could barely remember what that player who sent you in to grab them in the first place looked like, and looking around at your team and best friends at the Academy, you didn’t recognize anyone that might have used to be him among the humanoids there… almost like he was never there at all. Your head was starting to hurt again- feeling sluggish like it was running on empty when you tried to think about it further, and you made a decision. 

   You held the memory close for a moment, of that nameless player who gave you this chance thanks to his gloves- your gloves- thanked it, and then let it go. Your head felt clearer in an instant, and you shook away the headache, feeling yourself settle back into being comfortable with your friends.

   “Sorry dude, knocked over the laundry bin in there and had to clean up. And fuck, dude, I swear- it took me like, what, 15 rounds to pick it all up. There was so. much. shit in there.” 

   Everything fell into place so easily, the rhythm you had with your friends felt so natural, it really did feel like you’d known these guys and played on the same Bloodrush team for years at this point- which, as far as everyone else was aware, you had. And damn, when you weren’t thinking too hard about how different everything was, it just about had you convinced, too.

   “And honestly? Dude-dude-dude-dude, dudes, can I be real with you?” You directed it to the rest of the team, this time. “Y’all fuckin’ smell, dude.”

   A firbolg teammate in the back called out, “It’s just the musk, dude-”

   “Dude, no, I know the musk. I know the musk, dude, and that laundry bin was like- BAD, dude, even for me. Holy shit. Like, take a fuckin’ shower, guys!”

   Sitting back, laughing and joking with your team for the rest of the water break- you were one of the Boys, one of the jocks. 

   Just like you’d always wanted. 

   Just like you’d always been. 

   Your head wanted to pick one of those over the other to be right so bad, but your heart knew they were both true.

   You stood up, stretching. “Alright, back to practice. I got the scrimmage drills.”

   That confidence, that pride you exuded that kicked your teammates into gear stirred in you something fierce- and hot damn if you weren't fierce- but it also felt like the most natural thing in the world. That sort of authority came with you being the most senior member on the team- even though you weren't the team captain or QB, you knew all the drills, all the exercises, probably even better than Coach did, so you could pretty much run practice on your own when Coach Gorthalax got stuck in a ruby again or something. Getting held back a year or two was crushing back then, but did have its good side, you guessed. You were so familiar with the Bloodrush training stuff from playing year after year, you could probably become a Coach yourself eventually, if you didn't land a job as a star Bloodrush player or bodyguard or something.

   It took for when your teammates lined up for the scrimmage play for it to really hit you- you realized the future you had ahead of you. Before, you'd just been a scrawny human without real friends who could never speak your mind, and now you were a huge half-orc jock who had a team of friends and was proud of who you were. That went to the Aguefort Adventuring Academy, too- training teens and high schoolers in magical or fighting stuff to become adventurers and heroes, or at least learn whatever the fuck Principal Aguefort wanted them to take out of all this- a far cry from the boring ass school you used to go to. You had career options you'd never even heard of lined up ahead of you since you're close to graduating. 

   Fuck, you're close to graduating, too, huh… yeah, that was right, ever since that adventuring party of bad kids you became friends with invited you on a quest and finished it with them, you were on your way to graduation. Fuck, dude, that was something you hadn't though about for a long while, afraid you'd just get pulled back again. Getting through all your identity junk thanks to the school's guidance counselor Jawbone probably helped with that, too, being honest.

   More and more memories of being Ragh Barkrock, the half-orc jock who got your whole life turned around after getting your ass handed to you by the Bad Kids and then meeting with Jawbone to work your personal shit out kept filling your head in that moment- and honestly, you couldn't think of anything you wanted more in that moment. You felt solid, grounded. You knew for sure in your big, thumping, orc heart, of who you wanted to- no, who you were PROUD to be.

   The Bloodrush captain called the play, clear and sharp that cut through your mind like a greataxe through warm cheese, and your body instinctively sprang into action alongside your friends, your teammates. You grit your tusks and teeth, and called up that white hot feeling- in an instant your head, heart, and body finally all in sync. Not so much thinking of anything, or even really being able to think anything other than being laser focused on the play at hand that you knew by heart. 

   You thundered forward, letting loose a snarl and calling up that white-hot rage as you charged the poor humanoid player opposite to you, squeezing the last few thoughts through your head before going blank.

   Your name is Ragh Barkrock, and you're damn proud of that.

[andypantsx3]

defiant | bakugou/reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

status: complete

length: 4,485 words

summary: There are a lot of benefits to managing your pro hero boyfriend, but dealing with the PR nightmares he generates is not one of them. After Katsuki gets way too mouthy with a hapless reporter, you take it upon yourself to put him in his place.

Katsuki, however, has other ideas.

tags/warnings: smut, arguing, possessive sex, light bondage, aged up characters, reader attempts to dom bakugou (keyword: attempts)

notes: This is based several years after the events of my fic savvy though you do not need to have read it to enjoy this one!! This is also unedited because I am too lazy, my apologies for the various mistakes within. I will come back and fix them at some point. Dedicated to @bobawithpomegranate​ for reminding me I was supposed to be working on this.

It was a Friday afternoon at approximately three p.m. when Bakugou Katsuki lost his fucking mind.

You knew this information because you had been watching the press coverage of your boyfriend’s latest fight, an operation in which he and Kirishima Eijirou had paired up to defeat a villain with an earthquake quirk.

Katsuki and Kirishima had taken the man down in record time, mere minutes after the reporters showed up. You’d watched them pound the villain into the very street he’d ripped up in the first place, and now Kirishima was puttering around in the background of the news coverage, smiling as he chatted up civilians against the wreckage of the city street behind him. Which left Katsuki to saunter over to the gaggle of field reporters and give the customary interview.

His blonde hair was disheveled, and his mouth was quirked up into a sharp smile, the way it always was after he’d just come out of a good fight. But he looked otherwise unharmed, just as intense and savagely handsome as always. He even looked like he might be in a good mood, pleased with the results of his fight, and you thought he might actually keep the swearing to a minimum this time.

He ducked under the police tape, flaxen hair glinting gold under the afternoon sun, and stalked over to the nearest reporter, already opening his mouth to crow over his latest victory.

Which is when something off screen caught his attention.

There was a muffled question from one of the reporters--not from the network you were watching or the mic would have caught it--and Katsuki’s scarlet gaze cut to the side. You watched in horror as his expression slowly morphed into one of apoplectic rage.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Katsuki snarled, eyes narrowing, an explosion already crackling between his fingers.

The camera jerked to the side, catching the startled expression of another reporter. He looked vaguely familiar to you--tall, handsome in a bland kind of way, teeth bleached for his job as a television personality. You thought you might have met him briefly at the last Hero’s Gala, but you didn’t have time to linger on the memory--Katsuki was already on the move, fighting his way through the pack of reporters, looking ready to commit a murder.

“--think you can just fucking talk to me, asshole?” you heard him shout.

“What did he say?” a voice murmured off screen.

“--he just asked Dynamight how he feels about his success today,” another voice uttered, closer to the camera, sounding bewildered and more than a little alarmed.

“You’re gonna wish you had never fucking been born, asswipe!” Katsuki shouted over them.

He’d nearly reached the reporter when there was a blur of red and Kirishima was there, one bulky arm seizing Katsuki around the middle. He hauled Katsuki out of the sea of journalists, even as Katsuki struggled, spitting and snarling like a wet cat.

“You fucking try that shit again and I’ll fucking blow your teeth straight into your brain!” Katsuki hollered, drowning out whatever Kirishima was muttering to him.

Your phone screen lit up next to you, several notifications pinging simultaneously. You let out a gusty sigh, glancing down at the contact names. News outlets, looking to scoop their competitors by getting the first statement from the Dynamight Agency on Katsuki’s behavior.

You swiped over a screen and dialed the number for the PR department, watching Katsuki continue to rage on screen, struggling against Kirishima’s hold. The crags in Kirishima’s skin told you he was close to going Unbreakable, and the sight sent a hot bolt of irritation through you.

You had no idea what the hell Katsuki thought he was doing, launching himself at a reporter like that. A reporter who had apparently done nothing but ask him how he felt about the success of his fight, a question Katsuki--the smug fuck--typically reveled in answering.

It had been a long time since Katsuki’s last PR disaster (tackling pro hero Deku over the side of a buffet table after an innocuous comment at one of their first Hero’s Galas), and you’d gotten him to promise you to be more careful after that. You’d honestly thought he’d pretty much moved past that sort of thing now. He’d grown somewhat calmer with age--though not less foul mouthed--and as his girlfriend, you were able to exert some level of influence over his actions, as each year, your understanding of how to play him grew deeper and deeper.

So what the fuck he thought he was doing right now was absolutely beyond you. And also absolutely not appreciated, as you had much better things to be doing than cleaning up after him for a shit fit that he definitely could have controlled.

If there was something bothering him, you were going to make him tell you. And if he was up to his old tricks, maybe he needed a refresher on exactly why it was inappropriate to go off like a bomb at every little thing.

As Katsuki’s primary PR rep picked up on the other end of the line, already speaking to you in a brisk tone, you resolved yourself to the task. You were going to get to the bottom of whatever had sent Katsuki into a fit--and you were going to remind him how and why to behave himself.

Whether he wanted to or not.

The trickiest part of your plan was catching Katsuki off guard.

That kind of a feat was nearly impossible, as Katsuki had reflexes honed by years of experience, an alarmingly keen intellect, and a single-minded determination that was frankly terrifying to contemplate. It had been years since he’d been outmaneuvered by anyone in the field, and the odds were against anyone who thought they could get the jump on him.

Luckily for you, you knew that his single-mindedness was the one thing that could also be used against him.

You left the agency slightly earlier than normal, shooting off a message to Katsuki to let him know you’d meet him at home. And then you yanked open your proverbial bag of tricks.

You helped yourself to a long shower, lathering on some of Katsuki’s body wash instead of your own, a trick that--you’d learned after once running out of your own--sent him into something like a possessive frenzy, knowing you smelled like him, that anyone you encountered would know you’d helped yourself to a man’s personal effects and understand that you were already spoken for.

Then you rustled around in your drawers for a nicer pair of lingerie--not anything super fancy that would suggest you were up to anything special, but nice enough that Katsuki’s interest would be piqued.

And then you dug around in the closet for the most essential element of your plan--handcuffs. Your face warmed with the memory of the last time these had been used--a blur of rough palms and sharp teeth all over you, while you all but sobbed for more--but you frantically quashed the thought. Tonight, if all went according to plan, you wouldn’t be the one strapped helpless to the headboard.

You weren’t the one with a lesson to be learned, after all.

The scrape of keys in the door sent you dashing to hide the handcuffs underneath your pillow, and then the stomp of boots in the hall told you your boyfriend had made it inside. You hastily yanked a sweater and jeans over your lingerie, then went out to meet Katsuki in the kitchen.

He clearly hadn’t had time to change after his fight, still slightly disheveled, blonde hair mussed and scarlet eyes sharp as they narrowed in on you. His handsome features were twisted into a suspicious expression.

“The fuck’re you up to, ditching early? Thought I was gonna get fucking screamed at when I made it back to your office,” Katsuki growled, watching you intently as he stripped off his gloves and boots. They hit the ground with a dull thud.

Your heart shot into your throat, but you pasted on your best placid expression. “I ditched because I didn’t feel like dealing with every outlet in the entire country blowing up my office line. Thought I could get more done here where it’s quieter.”

You didn’t mention exactly what you planned to get done here, hoping Katsuki would assume it was all PR and damage control.

In a way, it was damage control. Just...not via traditional methods, exactly.

Katsuki’s eyes tracked you closely. He still looked skeptical. “You gonna let me have it then, princess?”

Oh you were gonna let him have it, alright. He just had no idea.

You watched him for a while, pretending to contemplate unloading on him the way you wanted to. “Just...not now. I’m too tired, I don’t even want to deal with it.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You live for giving me shit. Fucking out with it.”

You glared at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders. And if I was gonna say anything before I’m certainly not now. Now go clean yourself up. I have work to finish, thanks to someone.”

You retreated back into the bedroom, smothering a grin.

Nothing got Katsuki jumped up like defiance. Years into your relationship, he knew on some level that he wasn’t actually in charge of you, but he still got just as worked up when you got mouthy with him as he had on day one. It wouldn’t be long until he came back in, trying to pick the same fight, altogether too interested in the attitude you’d give back to him.

He was such a boy.

You lounged around on the bed, pulling out your work laptop and firing off a couple emails while you waited, just for something to do. Katsuki’s PR rep seemed to have things well in hand, but you helped where you could.

Soon enough, Katsuki was stalking back into your room, hair dark from a shower, looking like he hadn’t even bothered to dry off before stomping back in. He wore only a dark pair of sweatpants, the hard planes of his chest on full display--you suspected he’d foregone a shirt on purpose, knowing how the sight of him usually distracted you.

Which it still did, somewhat, but you were too heady with your own plan to truly be diverted.

You smothered a laugh at the way Katsuki’s eyes immediately honed in on the lace of your bra strap, strategically peeking out of your sweater as you had arranged it.

Two could play at that game.

“Think you’re real fucking smooth, don’t you, princess?” he demanded, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely threatening manner. You caught the clean scent of his body wash, just a hint of his syrupy sweet quirk under that.

Your thoughts fogged a little with his proximity so you pretended to ignore him, typing out some nonsense notes into your calendar for something to keep your attention off of him. The less you looked at him, the easier this would be. You were weak to his appearance, it was true, and nothing riled him up like not having your full attention.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said vaguely, doing your best to sound distracted.

A rough palm shoved your laptop closed. “Oh I think you fucking do, princess. Think you’re gonna get all dressed up for me and then ignore me?”

You looked up into his face, just as his arms came down around you to cage you against the mattress. A thick spike of arousal jolted through you, but you pushed it down. Much as you were into this, he was not going to be in charge for much longer.

“And if I did?” you asked, victory surging through your veins at the dark look that entered his eye.

He leaned down, putting his face near to yours. “Gonna be real hard to ignore me when I’m fucking you so hard you’ll feel me for weeks.”

“You’re awfully confident for someone on such thin ice,” you breathed. You didn’t even have to pretend at being affected by his choice of words, your stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Katsuki wasted no time covering your mouth with his. The weight of him pressed you back into the mattress, your laptop tumbling to the floor with a loud clatter. Rough hands trailed up your sides, gathering up the fabric of your sweater and pulling it over your head.

Carefully, you eased him over, kissing him as hard as you could, so that you were the one on top, your knees braced on either side of his slim hips.

Katsuki swore, pressing you down on him with a rough palm on your back, evidence of his interest hard between your thighs.

And that’s when you struck. Using his momentary distraction, you pulled the handcuffs from beneath your pillow, weaving them through the headboard. You grabbed his hands as firmly as you dared, pressing them up over his head.

Katsuki noticed what you were doing the second before the handcuffs snapped shut over his wrists.

“The fuck you think you’re doing, nerd?” he demanded, flexing against the tight hold. You watched with interest as his bicep pulled with the effort. “Unlock these or you’re in for it.”

You sat back on his hips, smirking down at him the way he usually did at you. Triumph swelled in your gut like a symphony.

“No, you’re in for it, Katsuki. What the absolute fuck did you think you were doing today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think I was just gonna let you get away with throwing a tantrum on national television for no discernable reason?”

“That’s none of your business,” he ground out. A bright spark lit up the skin of his palm, a sharp crackle slicing into the silence of your room. “Now unlock these while I’m still asking nicely.”

You trailed absent fingers down the warm skin of his abdomen, watching appreciatively as the muscle tightened under your touch. Katsuki hissed out a sharp breath.

He might be threatening, but he ran the risk of blowing off his own hands if he resorted to using his quirk right now. You didn’t think he’d chance his own skin just to get out of this situation.

“I’m your manager and your girlfriend--it’s one hundred percent my business. You’re not getting out of those until you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing,” you promised darkly. You let your nails scrape over the skin of his hip, just under the band of his sweatpants.

You felt his hips shift in interest.

“You’re really asking for it, huh, princess?” he said, his voice rough. “I’m not gonna be gentle with you when I get out of this.”

“Keep avoiding the question and you’ll never get out of this,” you said. You let yourself lean over him, reveling in his minute intake of breath as you pressed a kiss over his neck. “You want something, I’ll give it to you. But only if you tell me why you did it.”

“It’s between me and that fucking slimeball and that’s all you need to know,” Katsuki snarled.

You let your teeth scrape over his skin, the way he usually did with you. “Not good enough,” you said.

Katsuki’s hips shifted again as you pressed back harder onto him. You felt your own abdomen coil tight with hot excitement at the unconscious little circles he was making. But you couldn’t be distracted--you had a mission to accomplish.

“Mind your damn business you fucking nerd,” he growled, defiant to the last.

Well, you hadn’t thought this was going to be easy.

“You are my business,” you informed him tritely. “And if you ever want me to take care of your business again, you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

“Fuck,” he said instead. “You’re so hot when you get mouthy.”

“Not the answer I was looking for,” you told him. You shoved down the hot flush that tried to rise through you at his admission. Even years later, you were weak to his praise and he knew it.

He bucked a little under you, like he was unable to help himself. “Let me touch you, princess.”

“Still not an answer,” you intoned. You held very still, careful not to squirm like he was making you want to, even as his thrusts grew more deliberate.

If he would just hurry the fuck up and give you an answer, you both could be getting what you wanted. But everything had to be a production with him, as usual.

He was lucky he was so hot, and so charming on the rare occasion when he wanted to be, because he really was a piece of fucking work. You deserved some kind of sainthood for your service to him.

You slid forward on his chest a little when he gave a particularly strong thrust, bracing your hands over his sternum, and the abrupt show of strength had you clenching your thighs unthinkingly around him.

Katsuki’s mouth twisted in a savage grin, like he knew exactly how he was affecting you. “This is your last warning, princess. Let me out or you’re fucking in for it.”

You frantically schooled your features back into some form of haughty disregard, reaching down into your nightstand for the keys. You twirled them absently around your fingers.

“I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in,” you said firmly. “The only way you’re getting what you want is if you tell me what kind of stick that reporter stuck up your ass. Or maybe he didn’t, and you’re just being a fucking brat. Either way, you’re not in charge here--I am, and you are the one who’s in for it.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth, however, than the tang of hot metal met your nose. Katsuki’s savage smile was bordering on feral now. You looked up in alarm to see that above his head, he’d worked his palms over to press to each opposite wrist, but he wasn’t blowing through the cuffs like you’d known he couldn’t. Instead, he was melting them.

You swore, scrambling off of him. You threw yourself off the edge of the bed, racing for the door like the devil himself was behind you.

You weren’t fast enough.

The world upended, the white of your ceiling paint swirling up over your vision. The next thing you knew, you were thrown flat on your back in your bedding, bouncing a little from the impact against your mattress.

Katsuki braced himself over you, hands firm around your wrists, eyes alight with the challenge.

“You were saying, princess?” he asked smugly.

You wiggled underneath him, trying to work a leg underneath his hip to kick him off you the way you’d learned in self-defense. Katsuki just shifted into the cradle of your hips, huffing out a rough laugh.

“I fucking taught you that move, nerd. Think you’re gonna get me with it?”

His hips pressed forward, his body a hot line all along yours, and you suppressed a groan at the feel of him hard against your core.

“That’s right, princess,” Katsuki breathed, pressing his face into your shoulder to bite at your throat. “Now I’m going to remind you who’s in charge here, and you are going to be good for me and take every single thing that I give you.”

He gathered your wrists in one hand, reaching down with long fingers to work off your jeans.

You shivered in delight at the thought of his dark promises, but some other, more stubborn part of you resisted. You had a fucking job to do, and no way was he going to reroute you so he could get out of talking about things.

“You’re not giving me shit until you tell me exactly why you tried to blast some innocent reporter into the sun,” you said hotly.

Katsuki paid you no mind, too focused on pulling your jeans off over your ankle, so you leaned in and bit his shoulder.

“The fuck--?” he demanded, reeling back.

“I’m serious, Katsuki,” you said, irritation rising. “You tell me what is going on this second or it’s just you and your hand for the next month. I’m not fucking around.”

“He’s not some innocent reporter, he’s a piece of shit,” Katsuki said. His fingers worked at the clasp to your bra, like he thought that was enough of an answer.

“And you know this how?” you asked, trying to shift to crush his fingers underneath your shoulder.

He glared at you for a long moment, red eyes hot on your face, looking like he was strongly considering just abandoning the conversation altogether and stalking off to blow something up instead.

“I know,” he finally ground out, looking like every word cost him, “because I overheard him in the men’s room at the last Hero’s Gala.”

So you did know the reporter from the Hero’s Gala. A dim memory came to you of shaking his hand, leaning over to get Katsuki’s attention to get him an answer to some question he’d asked. You were fuzzy on the details, as you’d had other things to worry about that night--the Hero’s Gala had ended with Katsuki in some kind of mood with Kirishima, the arm of Kiri’s suit burnt off, and Katsuki had refused to say more on things. They’d patched things up almost immediately after so you hadn’t pried, but now you wondered if there wasn’t more to the story--more including this reporter.

“Overheard him what?” you asked.

Katsuki’s fingers resumed their questing, releasing the back of your bra with the ease of constant practice. You let him, considering he was still giving you answers.

“Overheard him fucking talking about you,” Katsuki growled, his fingers digging into your waist, his touch turning more possessive.

You froze. “What?”

“Saying the nastiest shit about how you looked in your dress, what he’d like to do with you if you didn’t already belong to me,” Katsuki said, sounding disgusted. “Wanted to incinerate him but fucking Kiri got in the way. Told me I’d lose my license if I attacked a civilian and he took me to court.”

“Which you would,” you pointed out, your tone going breathier than you wanted when Katsuki slid his fingers up to pluck at your nipple. “That--um--that was still the case today, too. What did you think you were doing?”

“Didn’t think,” he grunted, palming your breast. He didn’t look like he was thinking a lot now either, eyes turning on your chest with that single-minded focus he was famous for. “I just saw him and saw red.”

You were starting to see colors too--white, mainly, as Katsuki released your wrist to trail his other hand over your panties with obvious intention.

“Oh, um. Well I’m glad you didn’t kill him and have to lose your license,” you said, your breath hitching when Katsuki found his way into your underwear. “I’m gonna--have to--ah--thank Eijirou.”

“You belong to me,” Katsuki announced imperiously, leaning back in to bite at your throat again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed with him, now. Instead, his words relit some fuse within you, your arousal sparking back to life behind your navel.

Katsuki’s fingers curled within you and you couldn’t hold back a pleased little noise, shifting your hips to allow him better access.

That was all the affirmation he needed. In mere minutes, he was working you up to the edge of your pleasure, fingers hot and skilled and exactly right inside you. He trailed soft bites and hot kisses all over your neck and shoulders, looking supremely satisfied with himself every time you caught sight of his face. His thumb worked tiny, maddening circles over your clit, just like he knew drove you fucking insane, and he had you writhing and squirming underneath him embarrassingly fast.

Soon, he was hitching your leg over a broad shoulder, sinking into you right where you wanted him.

“That’s right, princess. You’re mine. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never forget it,” he promised, already working up to a brutal pace that left you short of breath.

Your vision swam as he ground into you. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his mouth, sucking softly, in sharp contrast to the wicked thrust of his hips.

“Look at you,” Katsuki said around your breast, scarlet gaze burning into yours. “Spread out and trembling. Look so fucking good for me, only for me.”

“Katsuki--ah!” you barely managed the syllables of his name.

“So fucking hot when you think you’re in control. So fucking mouthy--” his fingers brushed over your mouth “--I’m gonna fuck you so stupid you can’t even string together a sentence anymore.”

You rather thought he’d already achieved that, considering you could barely manage anything other than single syllable words now--nothing but there and more and please and oh!

Katsuki gave a particularly hard thrust, snarling your name--and your climax hit you like a truck.

You cried out, writhing, and his hands came up to hold you down against the mattress, still fucking into you hard like he meant to fuck the sense right out of you. He fucked you straight through your orgasm, and only when you were gasping from the aftershocks, shivering and near tears, did he follow you, flooding your insides with warm heat.

“That shut you right up, didn’t it, princess?” he said smugly as he rolled off of you, leaving another love bite over your shoulder on his way.

You groaned. It had been fucked up but kind of romantic that he’d attempted to murder a guy for you, but he was really killing the mood now.

“Is there anything that would shut you right up?” you replied, still catching your breath.

Unexpectedly, a smirk twisted your boyfriend’s mouth, and his hand trailed carefully down your thigh.

“There is, princess. Too bad it sounds like you can still string together a sentence,” he said, watching you intently.

You stared at him, wondering where he was going with this.

Until he moved, shifting backwards until his chin met your thigh, still watching you intently with those scarlet eyes.

“I can think of something that would fix both of those problems,” he said, his voice rough even as his hands came up to gently pry your thighs apart. “Now you have thirty seconds to call out of work tomorrow before I finish punishing you for that little show earlier.”

Your breath caught in your lungs again. You didn’t waste precious time defying him.

This time, you obeyed.

Deleted scene: What did Deku say to Bakugou that got him tackled over a buffet table at the Hero’s Gala?

[pandajaye]

Todoroki Family Ties (Part 8)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki, Preteen!Fuyumi, Child!Natsuo

Warnings: mention of abuse, sexual themes

After the short conversation over the phone, Enji came back inside and explained everything to Ivy after sending the boys to bed. “So, I’m taking Shoto and Touya with me to pick them up from their grandparents’ house. If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to stay here. I want Fuyumi and Natsuo to have a little more warm up time with their brothers before they meet you.” In three days, Enji’s other two children, his second and third born, were to be put back into Enji’s custody. He was filled with excitement and missed them so much but he kept his stoic expression while talking about it.

Two years ago, Enji’s ex-wife, and mother to his four children, Rei, was admitted to a mental hospital for assaulting Shoto. Of course this was kept under wraps from the press but those closest to the family knew what happened while the outside world assumed she was murdered. Ivy herself wasn’t made aware of the situation until recently either. It made the number two hero look bad and gave him a terrible rep. Everyone was scared to look his way and lots of people wanted him fired from the position of hero, but their simple opinions weren’t enough to budge the idea.

Rei’s parents were horrified by the real news and saw how people were reacting to the situation. It influenced them to ask Enji to give up custody to them for the time being until they saw Enji fit to be a father again. He loved them dearly and that’s why he didn’t fight on the decision. Touya and Shoto would need training for their abilities but Fuyumi and Natsuo would be better off with the ice side of the family. On the upside, the boys got to see them when they visited every other weekend.

Enji was allowed to see them too but in a more supervised visitation way before he had to leave. Every time he had to go, the little “Bye, dad.” from Fuyumi as she hugged him tight broke his heart. She’d often shed a few tears about it but Natsuo wasn’t as vocal about how he felt. He’d only give half hugs and keep his head down the whole time. But when that car turned and went in the opposite direction of the house, he never stopped watching it. Even after it was out of view. No matter what feelings he showed, on the inside, he wished he was in the car with him. It’s not that his grandparents were bad in any way, they were great! He just hated the way they talked about him behind his back. When they thought Natsuo wasn’t listening. But he always heard it. And it always made his mouth taste bitter and his head hurt. Sure his dad messed up, but he was still just that. His dad. Soon, lost time would be made up for, and he and Fuyumi were over the moon about it.

Three days passed by quicker than expected. Two more children would enter the four person household Ivy was used to and nervous was an understatement for how she was feeling. Enji had already left with Touya and Shoto and for the time being, Ivy was alone. She spent the entire morning preparing for Natsuo and Fuyumi’s arrival. There were treats set out in the living room and in their own rooms, generous gift baskets filled with more treats and some trinkets she hoped they would enjoy. Even a nicely decorated banner up that read ‘Welcome Home!!’ in big letters.

Now she just anxiously sat on the couch. Waiting. Imagining how they would react to this new woman in their lives. Wondering if they’d even like her. To be honest, if they wanted her to leave, she would. Their family already needed to heal, it’s not fair that this random person just showed up and joined in and they’ve never even met her before. What if they hated her? Oh god. She’d fall apart. “Fuck. Now I’m more anxious than I was at first.” Not that it was a spoken rule, but something about your new step kids seeing you having a panic attack for their first impression that didn’t seem right to Ivy. So a few deep breaths, and she was able to stop one before it started. Until the panic was revived when the door started to open. She scrambled to her feet and picked up a plate of snacks from the table. ‘Here we go.’

“Ivy, we’re home!” Enji opened the door and Shoto and Touya entered first. She wondered if the other kids came until she saw two more small beings behind Enji. First, a beautiful young girl with glasses. Hair white and eyes grey like Rei’s with small bits of red for decoration. She held on to Enji’s hand while he closed the door. Another kid appeared next to her. A boy. A bit taller than her. Though he was younger, he inherited Enji’s height genetics. For a ten year old, he was as big as Touya, maybe even an inch taller than his fifteen year old brother. Then again, apparently Touya took a while to have his growth spurt. The tall boy’s hair was white like Touya and his sister’s, three little stripes of red on each side just above his ears.

Ivy immediately wore a smile as warm as the sun. “Welcome home, guys! I’m Ivy, nice to meet you!” The two just looked at each other and then their dad, who nodded towards her. Their gaze went to her but they still didn’t respond. Ivy just stood there, frozen, too scared to move. Touya took the opportunity to take the cookies out of her hand and head to his room, Shoto gorged on all the other snacks and Enji reprimanded him to not spoil his dinner. “I-I’m sorry,” Ivy got down on her knees, “I guess I’m a little obnoxious. So much for a first impression, huh?” Her head rested in her hands. Maybe she could just turn invisible so they wouldn’t see her blazing embarrassment.

During her internal breakdown, a small hand rested on her shoulder. Ivy looked up, the 2nd oldest standing in front of her and giving her a small smile, her brother not far behind. “Hello. I’m Fuyumi. This is my brother, Natsuo. Or just Natsu for short. Nice to meet you.” After Fuyumi’s introduction, Natsuo stepped forward and smiled down at Ivy. “Hiya, stepmom!” He glanced and pointed at the table where his little brother was enjoying himself. “Is all this for us? For reals?” She nodded, a huge grin on her face. “Heck yeah, dude. I ain’t no evil stepmom. I’m fun and spoil my step-babies.” Shoto stuffed another treat into his face before giving a thumbs up. “It’s true! She’s really nice and sweet. You’re gonna love her. I know I do!” Natsuo took a second and hugged Ivy before running to join his baby brother.

Fuyumi stayed, kneeling in front of Ivy. “So.... you love our dad? Is he nice to you?” Obviously, Fuyumi was smart. There was no need to be dishonest. She knew how her father was, what he did, and know she was asking if he was the same as he used to be. “Well.... he’s had to work on his attitude and how he expresses himself. But he’s definitely gotten a lot better from when we were first together. He wants to be a better man for his family and atone for his actions. He’s really winning my forgiveness everyday.”

Ivy turned to look at Enji who had taken a seat on the couch and was watching the boys indulge. There was a content smile on his face. Seeing their happiness gave him some of his own. It was definitely a nice change from the dejected faces of the past. “Fuyumi,” Ivy continued. “You don’t have to forgive your father if you don’t want to. But if you ever find yourself wanting to, and you have questions, or really questions about anything ever, you can talk to me. I want to be here for you and your brothers as much as I can. I know what it’s like to have a conflicting childhood. I wasn’t surrounded by love like you have been, but that doesn’t lessen the significance of anything you guys have been through compared to my situation. I want us to be a family and I hope I can grow on you in good time.” Fuyumi hesitated before hugging her new stepmother. “I already know you will.” Ivy embraced the hug. The rush of oxytocin was so satisfying.

“Please excuse me.” Fuyumi rose and went to sit next to her father who grinned when she joined them. This was his second chance. He already missed a few years with her and Natsuo and he couldn’t bare to miss anymore. Enji honestly felt like he needed them probably as much as they felt like they needed him. The moment he found out he could get them back he had developed a certain glow. That was the look of a man who got his babies back, and eventually, they’d have to really sit down and talk about why they had to go in the first place. As for now, they just needed to enjoy each other’s company.

At dinner, Ivy got to learn even more about her new family members. Like how Fuyumi wants to be a culinary genius one day. And how one of Natsuo’s favorite moments was when a puppy approached him on the street when he was having a bad day and made him feel so much better. Ivy hung to every word they spoke, it was all just so interesting. It got to the point where every time Natsuo thought of something new to tell, he’d interrupt his sister which Enji had to try and prevent a couple times. Though he was excited that they were already intrigued by Ivy, there was still an order of manners that needed to be abided by.

Even at bedtime, they still had so much to say, but Ivy had to ask them to wait and tell her tomorrow. They groaned but listened to her and went to bed. “They are so amazing, Enji.” Ivy smiled up at the big guy next to her, a sparkle in her eyes. “They seem to really like you. I’m glad tonight was such a success.” He pulled her into his lap and kissed her. “I know. I’m so happy, too. They’re really great kids and I wanna be the best stepmama that I can be for them. So much has happened to those sweet babies and I wanna make sure they smile from now on.” While she was talking, Enji spread little kisses on her cheeks and neck.

Ivy was quietly enjoying it, falling into a trance, but shuffled when she felt his heavy paw dragging up her thigh. “Enji-” “You’re such a great stepmother, Ivy.” He whispered into her ear while nuzzling her neck, gently nipping at the skin. “Have you ever thought about becoming just a regular mother?” She could barely hear him over the blood that started to flow around ears from how hot she was getting. “Yes. Why? Are you offering to make me one?” They worked together to move her legs so that she was straddling his waist. “If you think you’re ready for it....” His hands breached the hem of the shorts she was sleeping in, there was an ease of access since she didn’t usually sleep in underwear. The feeling of his strong digits doing nothing other than simply working her most sensitive areas made her head fall back. “I would love.... to put a baby in you, honey.” In the midst of the sudden heat rising in the room, the sounds of sloppy kisses and horny giggles began to transpire.

“Oh, Enji!~”

[cherryblight]

Will have a reply or two coming out today! Until then here’s my thoughts on PROJECT: Varus, under the read more because I recognize people like the skin and I don’t wish to rain on anyone’s parade!

First of all, the splash.

I LOVE what’s going on here with the pose, the lighting, EVERYTHING. I’m not a big fan of how vibrant the scarf is nor it’s color; but it’s just a nitpick over everything else. it’s a very gorgeous splash and made me extremely hyped for the skin! His hair also looks great; I couldn’t tell that he had a middle part though and I feel kinda ripped off at that

The Icon

I like the concept for this icon; however I feel the top part of the visor is...too tall. shrink it down a little bit, and we’re good. But the middle part? Really feels ugly to me. I hate most characters with a middle part, it looks like he has a symmetry filter on and he most certainly doesn’t pull it off. Please riot, never give him a middle part again. I do like the color of the scarf here though, it doesn’t feel too dull nor too bright. I still don’t like that it’s cyan but it’s just a nitpick.

In Game

What. Am I looking at. No seriously, this just looks like a revamp of the blight crystal skin for me; mostly due to the bright orange/cyan coloring, the glowing orange up one of his arms, etc. And if you know me, you know I hate blight crystal with a passion. Orange or Cyan could be good colors on Varus, but not here. His hair out of a ponytail + this long looks very weird and unnatural on the model but I recognize that’s because his base model’s so outdated.

At first glance It’s a tolerable skin, it feels like the most mediocre epic Varus could have gotten; I honestly wish they hadn’t released this one and had given it to Kayn or waited to give Varus a new skin. He got one a few months ago and Cosmic was godly compared to this.

We still have no idea what his lore is when it comes to his skin, nor have we been able to see the animated trailer that is supposed to come with this skinline for this year. Which I’m hoping to god they give him lore outside ‘ooo hes multiple boys in one body’, AGAIN which is what it sounds like from Mordekaiser’s voicelines. 

At this point it really feels like riot’s just feeding Varus skins in an effort to get his fans and players to forget how much of an update he needs. And it’s frankily sad because he’s ‘uwu the only canon gay man representation we have uwu’ which isn’t even really canon either, Valmar and Kai are gay and in a relationship yes but Varus himself’s sexuality remains uncomfirmed by riot.

I could rant on and on but I’m just sick and tired of how riot treats it’s characters and lgbt rep especially, they preach inclusion, representation, and equality until it comes time to have us in the actual game and lore. But I’ll leave that for another day, I’m pissed just thinking about it.

[fuckedurbias]

two piece - johnny seo

genre: fluffy!!! v slight?? angst towards the end

requested? yes!

word count: 1.3k

warnings: apart from a lot of soft!johnny that could endanger ur heart,, nothing hehe

It was another long day, time was passing by so slow and all you could think about was how much you were dreading the long train ride and bus ride home. All you wanted to do was collapse onto your warm bed and sleep for 10 hours or even better, 4 months because that’s how long you had until the semester ended. You did love your course; studying and pursuing fashion was your life long dream, but days like this where it just dragged on for hours with no practical stuff and just all theory drained the life and passion out of you. This point in the semester was the worst, with exams coming up soon you didn’t get to do any of the fun stuff. Designing was fun but when you only got to draw it out and had to annotate it without actually making anything it really chipped away at your ambition and love for the art.

“Okay students, now that all the bases are covered I would like to introduce you to some very special people” Your professor announces, snapping you out of your daydream. Your brain starts racing, trying to think of who it could be. Why would he be bringing in ‘special’ people? What have you been doing in this class that would call for any models, brand reps, high end designers or anyone of that like, to leave their important positions for an hour to come visit some university students?

“Because we are on the topic of individual styles and dressing for different body types, these people are coming in to help us. You will each be assigned one of these people and have to dress them to flatter their body type, while still keeping their preferred fashion style” Your professor explains. Ah yes, that… Shows how much you’ve been paying attention. Once your professor is finished explaining the project, a line of people starts to walk in. Your eyes widen, realising who they are; well, you don’t know exactly who they are, but you can assume. They are beautiful, tall and well proportioned so who else could they be other than models. Real models. You’re already so intimidated and anxious. One in particular who your eyes immediately catch, he’s the tallest one out of the bunch and his brown hair neatly parted off his forehead. Your heart starts racing and you hope you’re assigned anyone but him because god your heart is already about to burst out of your chest you’d hate to think about what mess you’d become if you had to talk to him and touch him.

But alas, of course with your luck that is exactly what happens. As the teacher goes through the names of the students and the models that they will be assigned you feel the butterflies in your stomach intensify as the boy you didn’t want to be assigned wasn’t assigned to anyone else yet. When the teacher eventually gets to your name, you hold your breath as he says you will be paired with someone named “Johnny” and you look along the models and see the boy smile and wave at you. Oh fuck. You give a poor attempt at a smile and a wave back and then fall back in your seat and look down at your blank laptop screen, refusing to look at anything but that.

“Before we start, just want to clarify that these people aren’t professional models…yet. They are only trainees and their companies generously lent them to us for this project and to also help them get experience, as at the end of this project we will be holding a mini fashion show. It won’t be anything too extravagant so don’t stress too much” Your professor clarifies, but as if that’s going to calm you down in any way. You wish you could be stressing over the actual project but sadly the only thing you’re stressing over is the fact that you’re going to have to talk to and style the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen in your life, and now he’s walking over to you and you’re feeling nothing but dread for all the embarrassment you’re about to cause yourself.

“So, what kind of fashion style and trends do you like the most?” You ask nervously, unable to look up at him. This whole conversation has just been you glancing at his hands; which wasn’t really helping since they were just as pretty as his face, so big and the outlines of his veins protruding and visible. His fingers also so long and slender and the rings he was wearing made them appear even longer, as if that was even possible. You really needed to kick some sense into yourself right now, you couldn’t go the whole project not looking at him while you were talking to him. He probably thinks you’re weird and impolite, but you can’t just tell him you’re too scared to look at him because he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life… Could you?

“Hello?” Johnny waves his hand in front of your face and you nearly jump out of your skin and accidentally make eye contact with him for ½ a second. You feel your cheeks becoming hotter by the second as you quickly look back down at your notes you were writing down on your laptop. You quickly mutter a ‘sorry’ and start typing away hastily on your laptop.

“Did you even hear what I said?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Yes I-” you accidentally look at his eyes again and immediately feel defeated, “no… I didn’t”.  You looked down at your hands resting on some random keys, you don’t even know where you were going with this entire thing and you just felt so embarrassed, you couldn’t even look Johnny in the eyes for more than 2 seconds and even that was a stretch, how were you supposed to style an entire outfit for him? And have it look good? You can feel tears welling up in your eyes and you’re trying so hard to hold them back even though you know they’re visible. “Woah, are you okay?” Johnny asks softly, reaching over to close your laptop and put it aside. He leans in close trying to get you to look up at him, great now you’re really going to start crying. You look at him, feeling the the intense nerves in your stomach again but this time you continued to look at him. “I don’t know honestly, this whole project is already so overwhelming and I really have no idea what I’m doing. I’m already enough of a nervous, stressed out mess and add this to the mix and… I feel like I’m going to explode” You ramble on, body falling back in your chair as your gaze falls back down to your hands.

“What about it is stressing you out?” He questions. Every time he speaks you feel like you’re about to start melting, his voice is so smooth and low and especially when he’s talking to you so softly like this and trying to comfort you, god it’s driving you insane.

“Well…” You look up at him, trying to decide if you should lie or just tell him that it’s him, “I-it’s you”. Your mouth spoke before you could decide if you were going to say it or not.

“Me? Really?” He leans back a little, giving you a shy smile. “Yeah” You don’t realise how wide-eyed you’re looking at him right now, “just working with an actual model, well trainee, but to me it’s basically the same thing, you know? And having the responsibility of dressing you and having such a high possibility of messing it all up and humiliating not just myself, but you as well. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen so I don’t know how I’ll make you look bad but with my luck I’m sure I will somehow” You ramble once again, having no idea what you just said.

“Okay firstly, you won’t mess it up at all, I’ll help you if you’re unsure even though I already trust you since you’ve been asking me detailed questions, so I know you’re thorough and passionate about your work and ideas. Secondly, I’m the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, really?” He has a shit eating grin on his face and you feel your stomach sink. You’d bang your head against the table but you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough, all you can do now is at least pretend to be confident and own up to what you said, as if he’ll believe it at this point.

“Y-yeah you are, you’re a model so of course…. That’s the only reason why- Anyways!! Back to the questions!” You snap open your laptop and ask him the question again. At least you can make eye contact with him now without feeling like throwing up everywhere, for the most part. This project was already an emotional rollercoaster and you hadn’t even started yet.

It had been a week since the project started and much to your disbelief and low expectations, it was actually going quite well. Once you opened up to him, you found that he was a very down to earth guy, also surprisingly shy and very funny. He was very good at initiating conversation and keeping them going, so he kind of forced you to open up by making you talk with his never-ending conversation but you weren’t complaining at all. Especially at times like today, you two were at the shopping centre to look around and shop for clothes for the project. You were feeling so dead, since you were running on 3 hours of sleep and you woke up early to meet up with Johnny. He got mad at you for not taking care of yourself, even thought it wasn’t your fault and it was due to so many assessments being due at once. His conversation kept you awake though, (amongst a lot of coffee) even if it did irritate you at some points and you didn’t feel like talking, he still talked even if you didn’t answer. Purely because he knew he was helping you not fall asleep while you walked.

“Remind me why we’re here when we have work to do?” Johnny asks, looking at you confused as you stood in line for frozen yoghurt.

“Because there’s nothing more motivating and uplifting than your own personalised ice cream. Choosing my own flavour and filling it to the brim with candy and chocolate and jelly reminds me that the choices I make will make me happy and are good for me!” You glance at his face, “At least, for me, you know?”. He just lets out a huff of air as he smiles and looks away. “Sure, if it will cheer up and make you less tired. Maybe I’ll feel some sort of achievement as well!” Johnny smiles softly, squinting as he looks up at the menu. You chuckled softly to yourself as you smiled up at him, watching him look confusedly at the overwhelming amount of options. You felt a ride of that same nervousness in your stomach that you felt when you first saw him, you looked down at the floor quickly as your face fell. You suddenly felt very unworthy of being in presence, but at the same time it’s the only place you wanted to be.

Unfortunately, one thing you forgot with frozen yoghurt was that you could not go into any of the clothes shops until you had finished. So for 20 minutes you had just been sitting at a table that belonged to the dumpling place, and you were worried you’d get kicked out and told off for sitting there but Johnny insisted you wouldn’t. You rushed eating your froyo out of fear and finished within 5 minutes, but Mr. Seo over here took so long that you did end up getting kicked from the table.

“I told you! I fucking told you!” You yell, pretending to be angry. All Johnny could do was laugh in response, feeling butterflies rise in his stomach seeing how cute you looked with your face scrunched up in anger. He wanted so badly to kiss your pouty lips right then and there.  

You’d passed a lot of shops now; even went into a few that you thought had the vibe that you were looking for, but sadly none of them fit the vision of the outfit you had planned out in your head. Johnny was happily following you around like a big, loyal St. Bernard as you hastily rushed about, anxiety clearly building. You stopped by a virtual map, scrolling through the possible shops you could visit and feeling discouraged when you see majority of the possible options would most likely push you over budget, which was a very high budget that was hard to go over but if you bought all the items from a high end brand it would very easily cross over. You didn’t want to let yourself be visibly stressed out in front of Johnny but you weren’t exactly hiding it very well, he could very well tell that you were about to launch yourself from the barrier right next to you onto the floors of the shopping centre below. Instead of doing that however, you just banged your head very hard onto the screen of the map in front of you, arms falling limp beside your body as you sighed in frustration. Johnny bent down below you, looking up at your face.

“What’s got you stressed out? I mean, I know what the general issue is but what is the tiny little obstacle that you are struggling with right now?” He quietly asks. You huff again, lifting your head off the map and sitting on the bench next to it. Johnny quickly follows, barely having to get up to sit down next to you.

“I’m just completely lost, everything we’ve seen so far isn’t fitting the vision I have laid out in my head, not even close to the vibe. Am I just being too picky? I don’t know. I’m just that kind of person that if I can’t have or get exactly; or even close to what I’m thinking of in my head then it just sets me off and I feel like a complete failure” You vent, not even realising that you were rambling.

“No you’re not picky, it’s good that you can come up with an exact plan and vision to follow along with in your head, it’s not a bad thing. What is bad is feeling like a complete failure if you won’t be satisfied with any other possible outcome, that doesn’t make you a failure at all. You always have other options, even if they aren’t as good as the one you have planned out. There’s always other ways to get it as well, whether it be thrift shopping or just switching the colours or patterns around” Johnny puts his hand over yours, feeling his heart race suddenly spike, “I’m here to help in any way I can, if it’ll help you be less stressed”. You just stare back at him, head blank and wide eyed. Your head’s screaming at you to lean in closer; to touch him, to kiss him, but there’s absolutely no way in hell you’re doing that. Johnny; amidst his trance of staring into your soul, didn’t realise that his gaze had fallen to your lips, not realising that something was pulling him closer, inch by inch. Thankfully (to him), an idea suddenly popped into his head. He shook his head out of his trance and stood up quickly, reaching his hands out to yours.

“Get up, I have an idea” He says excitedly. You can practically see his imaginary St. Bernard tail wagging a mile a minute. You grab his hands and hesitantly lift yourself up as he pulls you, a wary look on your face. He starts walking whilst pulling you behind him, not letting go of your hand; in fact, he was holding it tighter than necessary.

“You’re not even gonna tell me what this idea of yours is?” You say, a little out of breath trying to keep up with this long strides.

“I want to be a little bit of a surprise, but let’s just say that it will be both a break and inspiration all at once” He giggles, not even slowing down to help you catch up.

“Johnny this is stupid! It’s unfair for you to be dressing me up when it should be me dressing you up! I can’t expect you to do this for me, it’s not your project” You yell at him from inside the dressing room as if he could even hear you, he’s probably running amuck on the other side of the store with the clothes racks.

“You’re not expecting anything, I’m offering honey” He surprisingly responds, throwing clothes over the door for you, “It’s to help ~inspire~ you”. You can hear his dumb smile in his tone. You just roll your eyes in response, not realising the barely visible smile creeping onto your face due to the fact he just called you ‘honey’ and the fact that he’s just so endearingly silly. You took the clothes from him and hung them up on the side of the cubicle. “Oh, I- Are you sure this will suit me?” You stutter, feeling a different kind of nervousness rise in your stomach. “Yes, trust me. I didn’t choose just any outfit” He soothes from the other side of the door. It was a very different feel and different look to your usual outfits, you dressed more smart casual most days. In jeans and crop tops or tucked in shirts or comfy breathable pants and cute comfy jumpers or hoodies and you religiously wore sneakers, whether they be chunky and fashionable or just comfy and cute. Sometimes you wore boots if you had somewhere to be just to jazz up the vibe a little. You always dressed well and fashionable, but it was always a comfier and casual kind unless it was an event or special occasion, then you jazzed it up of course but even then it was never this stand out. You hesitantly changed into the outfit, feeling a little unsure of how you would look. However, once you saw yourself in the completed look you felt a tiny bit better about it. It was flattering but you were just worried about what Johnny would think when he sees you in a not baggy, comfy for once. He’d never seen you with an outfit that actually looks like efforts been put into it than just quickly thrown on together in the morning. You were checking yourself out in the mirror, seeing how you looked from all angles and fixing your hair, seeing how you could wear it with this outfit. You really liked it honestly, you were already envisioning what jewellery you’d pair with it and what makeup look you’d do.

“Is it on?” Johnny asks from outside, he must’ve heard your heels moving around.

“Oh-yes… Did you want to see?” You quietly respond.

“Of course I do, silly”. You gulp nervously, suddenly feeling a little self conscious as you reluctantly walk to the door of the cubicle. You unlock it and open it slightly, sticking your head out first and feeling your heart jump seeing Johnny in front of you so suddenly.

“Just keep in mind that I’m not completely dolled up right now so it might look a bit odd” You warn, but he just rolls his eyes at you with a small smile. You slowly open the door wider and step out, walking out into the hallway along the change rooms and looking at yourself in the full length mirror at the end of it. The whole time, Johnny is just watching you with wide eyes, trying to stop his jaw from falling open.

“Wow… You look stu- I mean; you look… Cool?” Johnny cringes at himself as he tries to save himself but just makes it worse. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh at his embarrassment as he turns away with a face palm.

“Thanks?” You tease. He had chosen really well, seeing yourself from this distance made it look so much better. He had chosen a two piece with a subtle black and white tartan pattern sewed into it, the bottom half being high-waisted smart trousers that ended just under your ribs and flared out just a little around your ankles; the top half being a singlet cropped just above your ribs. He also chose some plain black, shiny stilettos to wear with it. Johnny came up behind you with a hand on your hip, startling you and quickly causing a blush to form on your cheeks at the feeling of his tall, broad body against yours. He slides a blazer over one of your arms, making you instinctively lift up your other one for him to slide the jacket on. Once it’s on you adjust it and pat it down, taking the view in; the view being Johnny looking at you in front of him in the mirror in awe and you screaming internally at him towering over you (and just at his general otherworldly beauty). He was rubbing your shoulders as he smiled proudly at you in the mirror, proud of his little creation.

“Wow…” He accidentally blurts out in a whisper. You try to hide the massive grin that forms on your face. You reach up and grab his hands that are on your shoulders and turn yourself around to face him.

“This has just made me sad, I love it so much but I can’t afford to buy it since I have to get your outfit” You pout, looking up at him.

“Well yeah, that’s why I’m buying it” Johnny cheekily grins.

“Uh, no you are not” You gasp.

“Uh, yes I am. Why else would I have even had you try it on?”

“To get ~inspired~ just like you said?”

“No- well yeah, but not just that! If I’m gonna look fine as hell at the showcase, so do you”

“Oh shush, you’re already ‘fine as hell’ as is. And again, it’s about you not me”

“Okay firstly, I know but so are you. I can’t be the only one flaunting my looks and showing everyone up, I need everyone to know the girl who made me look this good is also breathtaking herself” Johnny smirks. You blush, scrunching up your face in anger that you’re lost for words.

“Okay you win, but still I’d feel horrible if you just bought me a whole out-” Johnny cuts you off.

“Just be quiet and give the clothes to me” Johnny sighs, closing the cubicle door.

You tried to race Johnny to the register and pay for the outfit yourself but all he had to do was reach out his branchy arm to cut you off and give the cashier his credit card. You huff in frustration, feeling genuinely bad that Johnny did that for you; yes, it was out of his own choice and want but you still just feel bad when anyone spends money on you. You didn’t say another word as you walked out of the store.

“Don’t feel bad please, I promise you it’s fine I wanted to cheer you up and make you feel better. I also genuinely wanted you to have a nice outfit to wear, it hasn’t affected my bank account that badly I promise” Johnny pats your head.

“I know, but I just can’t help feeling it. Thank you though, I do appreciate the gesture and to be honest I didn’t really have any outfit to wear to the showcase, I didn’t even think that far for myself yet but yes, thank you, really” You grab his free hand and squeeze it. You feel a rush in your chest, why did you do that? You try to let go as a reflex but Johnny quickly tightens his grip. The rush fades to a feeling of content and you realise, you actually do feel more ~inspired~ and calmer now, a million ideas come rushing into your head at once.

“Let’s do this!” You cheer, raising your hand with Johnny’s and jumping in excitement. Johnny, even though he almost drops the bag from the sudden fright, looks at you with such endearment in his eyes.

The showcase was tomorrow night and you were facetiming Johnny, making him suffer with you in your stress breakdown and making him go through a checklist with you to make sure both of you had everything you needed. You were going to spend all of the morning getting ready and then photoshoots, videos, setup, interviews and practice runs all day before the actual event starts. It was going to be so stressful, not to mention you had to get up even earlier to get Johnny’s outfit back from the drycleaners. You should’ve been asleep right now but instead you were running rampant around your bedroom trying to get everything ready so you didn’t forget a single thing in the morning. Johnny wasn’t even saying anything, he was all rugged up in bed, almost falling asleep watching you.

“Are you sure you have absolutely everything ready for tomorrow?” You ask for the 6th time.

“Yes, I’m sure” Johnny mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open, “You should go to sleep, baby. I don’t want you to be sleep deprived tomorrow and even more stressed out”. He didn’t even realise that the word ‘baby’ slipped out of his mouth in his half asleep state. You couldn’t even process it properly or react due to the fact you were sorting out all the makeup you’ll need to bring tomorrow.

“I know, but if this day doesn’t go 100% perfect I’ll be so devastated” You sigh.

“Nothing’s ever going to go 100% perfect honey, and that’s okay because that’s life” Johnny slurs, eyes completely closed at this point. These nicknames were catching you off-guard and you just shoved to the back of your mind to think about when you actually try to sleep. You sigh, looking over at Johnny on your phone, he looked so cute and cosy; his cheek squished up against his pillow, causing his plush lips to be all squished up too. You felt your heart melting at the sight, maybe you should just relax a little and go to sleep. If you were sleep deprived it would just make the stress even worse, you would have time in the morning to double check everything and get any last minute things together. You needed to take care of yourself, for Johnny’s sake. You put the last of your makeup into the separate bag and cleaned it all off your bed and slid under the covers, turning the lamp off. You weren’t sure whether to hang up or not, so you didn’t. You set your alarm on your alarm clock so that you could stay on the phone with Johnny. You snuggled into your covers, smiling softly to yourself as you watched Johnny sleep, even now he’s still so beautiful. “Goodnight, see you tomorrow” You whisper as you close your eyes even though he can’t hear you, feeling a ton of emotions about the next day to come.

“Here you go” you pant as you carefully place Johnny’s Starbucks order on the counter in front of him, out of breath from rushing to the coffee shop and back. Johnny gives you a big smile as you sit back on the counter, watching the stylist touch up his hair, you had to admit you were kind of envious that she actually had an excuse to be able to touch Johnny for long periods of time. Especially when he looked so pretty; BB cream making his already soft skin look so plush and dewy, the lip tint making his already kissable & luscious lips look 100 times more so. The subtle eyeshadow on his eyes was really natural and not that noticeable but at the same time it brought his eyes out more.

“Thank you, now please relax. Everything’s going well, it’s okay” Johnny soothes, patting and rubbing your knee with his free hand as his other held his drink. He’s right, the morning had gone smoothly and his photoshoot/video was done and now he was preparing for the practice run and for the interviewers that were about to show up. Everyone at the university was using this event for their big assessments as well, the media students, the photography/ videography students, the beauty students, etc. it had actually become a pretty prestigious event over the years so a lot of people and media outlets actually showed up. You weren’t even ready yet yourself, still dressed in a hoodie and jeans for now and you probably wouldn’t get ready until you were left rushing at the last minute. The makeup artist started to touch up Johnny’s lip tint and you hate to admit that you actually felt a tiny pang of jealously fire up in you, Johnny must’ve noticed the way you were frowning while watching her do her job and he gave you a smile and wink once she’d finished.

“Don’t be stressed alright, your job is over for now. I hate seeing you so stressed out” Johnny says quietly, not wanting to disturb the stylists and other people in the room.

“I know, but I’m just nervous that something will screw up last minute or that people just won’t like the look I went with and then I’ll embarrass you as well by doing th-” You ramble on. Johnny cuts you off by quickly snatching your hand into his.

“Shh, it will be fine. Stop overthinking it, you’re great and you’ve done an amazing job” Johnny soothes again, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You sigh, realising that he is right, overthinking won’t do you any good and you just needed to remain calm and believe in yourself; and Johnny of course. You knew the outfit looked good, especially on Johnny, you had him try it on 5 different ways 10 different times before all this to reassure yourself it looked as good as it could.

“All models please make your way to the runway entrance and prepare yourselves for the practice run” The lady announces over the speaker suddenly, causing you both to nearly jump out of your skin.

“Okay, I’ll go and get myself dressed quickly and I’ll come and watch you” You rush as you both stand up, Johnny squeezing your hand tightly before reluctantly letting go, not letting you out of his gaze with a sweet smile as he walks backwards to the runway.

It was starting to get hectic as the show was only half an hour away now, people were running around everywhere in the dressing room and you hadn’t had a chance to see Johnny since he left for the practice run. You were all dolled up now, in the two piece and stilettos Johnny bought for you and your hair slicked back into a high pony. Your makeup was also more glamorous now along with the hoop earrings, lace choker and other more fancy-looking jewellery you had on. Your stomach turned with both intense excitement and nerves at the thought of seeing Johnny’s reaction to your new look. Thinking about Johnny, you really don’t understand how you were struggling to find him; better yet, how you lost him in the first place. He was literally the tallest person in the building. Looking at the time, you started to feel a little worried, half an hour to go and Johnny; the most prepared person, is nowhere to be found? You immediately pushed your way out of the dressing room and out into the venue. There was press and audience members everywhere and avoiding them and trying to push through them while looking for Johnny all at once was really overwhelming you. You were going to be so mad with Johnny when and if you find him. You made your way to the bar and café with no luck, you went outside to the front entrance and also outside to the creepy back area to find nothing in either of those places either. You were really starting to panic and be at a loss for where to look, you assume he was going to come back to where he was meant to be before the show actually starts, but you also didn’t want to risk it and needed to settle your nerves now. How could he do this to you when he knew how stressed you were about this? You were finally feeling calm and feeling good about how it was going to go and he does this, you’re really going to beat his ass when you see him. You go back inside and right when you enter you see the door to the staircase that takes you to the upstairs areas, would he really be hiding on a completely different floor? You would have no idea why but your gut was telling you that he was up there somewhere and you didn’t like that feeling. You felt nervous about what was about to happen even though you had no idea what it was.

You didn’t even bother checking every floor on your way up the stairs, you just went straight for the rooftop, it just made the most sense that if Johnny was anywhere up here, it’d be there; and if he wasn’t, then you’d give up. The other floors were completely empty and to be honest, quite creepy. Just not in use at all. You took off your stilettos to walk up the stairs because there was no way in hell you were going to walk up nearly 5 flights of stairs in heels, it was already hard enough with your very lacking lung capacity; you did not want to add broken ankles on top of that. When you finally reach the rooftop floor (after taking a little break to get some air back into your lungs), you open the door and walk out to the breeze instantly hitting your face. You look around to see Johnny standing near the edge, watching the view from behind the gate they had set up to stop any risk of anyone falling. As soon as your eyes find him you start angrily stomping towards him.

“Johnny Seo you’re a dead man”, he instantly turns around upon hearing your voice “how dare you just leave me stranded like that with 20 minutes now left before the show starts?!”. His jaw drops upon seeing you, eyes widening as he takes in your figure.

“Holy shit, I- you look fucking stunning” he gasps, forgetting any thoughts he had prior.

“Seriously Johnny, I’m really upset with you what the hell were you thinking? You know how much I was and am stressing over this whole thing and after calming me down and making me feel better about it you just walk off somewhere when you’re supposed to be ready? You’re really about to make not just you, but me look bad and unprofessional and jeopardise my entire course and career? I’m never forgiving you for this I’m-” You rant on, pushing Johnny’s comment and the butterflies rising in your stomach to the back of your mind.

“Shh, listen. I was going to come back if you didn’t come up here, obviously I wouldn’t just ditch the show and leave you there to clean up my mess. I knew you’d come up here to find me, it’s what I planned” Johnny reassures you, grabbing both your hands softly and rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. You didn’t stop him.

“I-… What? What do you mean?” You say, completely lost.

“I mean; I can’t hold it in anymore. I know it probably wasn’t the best idea to just ditch you without any word…and I’m sorry for that, but as I said; I knew you’d come and find me up here and I just needed to be alone with you for a few minutes so I can get all of this of my chest. And out of my head. And just… I don’t know- I’m nervous and my minds jumbled now that you’re actually up here with me I really thought you wouldn’t find me and my heart is going to explode!” Johnny rambles on, it felt weird seeing him like this. Usually it was you doing this. You were really lost for words, just staring up at him confused and waiting for him to say what he wanted to. Exactly what you thought he was going to say. You knew exactly that this is what was going to happen before you even walked up those stairs. Your heart was racing and you felt like you were going to pass out any second. This wave of different emotions all at once was way too overwhelming. Johnny sighs, intertwining your fingers together as he pulls you closer to him as his gaze falls to the floor.

“I… like you. A lot. I have really immense feelings for you. And I hate it. Not because of you! I just fell for you so fast and usually it takes a while for me to like someone, especially this much but… You. You’re just so amazing in every way and you inspire me and encourage me. You make me feel motivated. Not to mention how cute you are”, he finally makes eye contact with you to see you biting your lip in a shy smile “so fucking cute”.  He smirks as his gaze falls back down to the floor. You let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his shoulders and intertwine your own hands behind his neck, heels still hanging from your fingers. He sharply inhales as his heart rate increases greatly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tries to hide how flustered he was feeling by playing it cool.

“Continue” you bite your lip with a smirk, tilting your head as you make eye contact. You don’t know where this rise of confidence came from, but you like it.

“And seeing you like this, so beautiful and…sexy”, he whispers, clearing his throat “really makes my heart race and makes me feel so…. God I’m trying so hard to be cool right now but I am failing so bad”. You giggle as he sighs in embarrassment, this cute side to him that you’ve never seen before was really making your heart seize up.

“Anyways, just seeing you so stressed out this assignment was really making me so sad and knowing that I helped you feel better and calm you down made me feel so genuinely happy. Seeing you like that was really hurting me and I felt like I was just making it worse but seeing you calm down from me holding your hand, like that’s all it took, really sealed the deal for me… That I like you I mean. Especially last night when you fell asleep on Facetime with me, you really just didn’t want to hang up so badly that you got ready for bed and fell asleep on call with me? Even though I was already asleep? God, that really made my heart so tingly and warm”, Johnny smiles so big reminiscing on that moment and you blush, you don’t even really know why you did that “but yeah I. I really like you and something tells me you like me too but I don’t know… I don’t know. I hope you do like me”. His smile slowly fades; not to a frown, but a look that was waiting, no, hoping for an answer without asking a single word. You didn’t even have a chance to say your answer before your body answered for you, standing on your tiptoes and your chin lifting up to softly connect your lips with his. At first, it was just the one kiss. You pulling away quickly, afraid that you acted too quickly and scared him off, but your worries are just as quickly soothed when, after the initial shock wore off, he tightens his arms around your waist to pull you in closer as he leans down to kiss you again. Still soft but with a bit more need, leading you through the kiss as he moves his lips against yours. One of your hands unknowingly slides down to his chest, pulling him in closer by the collar of his trenchcoat. His lips were just as soft as they looked, even with a needy kiss like this they felt so soft and delicate and the feeling of them moving in sync against yours was making your head so foggy, like you were floating amongst the clouds. Johnny pulls away with a pant, having to stop himself before he gets too carried away. He rests his forehead against yours as he snakes his arms up yours, pulling your hands down and holding onto them tightly.

“I really want to continue but, there’s 10 minutes until the show starts and we’re already going to get our asses handed to us as is”, Johnny sighs, a cheeky smile forming on his face “I also don’t want to have to walk the runway with a boner”. You roll your eyes and smack his chest, threatening to throw your heels at him.

“You deserve it, this is all your fault after all, if you just waited until after the show to give me that horrible, messy confession of your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this position” You taunted.

“That’s completely fair” He nods in agreement. You put your heels back on as you grab his hand and start to walk back down the stairs.

“Just to be clear though, I would like to continue after the shows all wrapped up. Please” You stop, looking up at him halfway down the stairs. He rolls his eyes at you with a smirk.

“Of course”

[janiedean]

How do you feel about fic writers making ugly characters “less ugly”? (Like saying the unburnt side of sandor’s face is handsome to look upon or saying brienne is ‘plain’ or even that plain characters are beautiful etc)

I think I need to put two premises before I answer this, as in:

one: people can write what they want. if they want to do that, it’s their prerogative and I’m not gonna say they can’t regardless of how much I like it or not especially because I’m not paying for it and everyone can write what they like and if no one’s an ass about it that’s for the best, so even if I hated it I wouldn’t say people had to stop doing it for whichever reason also bc it’s not a thing you solve by censoring

two: we need to really make a point here that is that *beauty* is a subjective matter and the issue is how those characters are perceived at large, not by their partner/the person who is in love with them for a whole lot of reasons

example: if you asked me personally ‘if you could have a night out with one asoiaf character and have the longest one night stand of your life at the end of which both of you are too tired to walk who would you pick’, I’d straight-up tell you sandor without even thinking about it because he’s exactly my type entire package included, so if I, a person with that preference, writes sandor with anyone, his partner would most likely be into the whole package and would most likely find him hot regardless of everyone else, and maybe someone else who writes jb has a thing for tall women and whatever so to them describing brienne as plain ugly wouldn’t work etc, and it’s fanfic so I can’t exactly go ask people for philology. (or for one I know people who’d pass on jon and would go for sam without thinking instead etc.)

also, there’s another part where if you fall for someone for their personality first (regardless of the looks issue) when they’re conventionally not attractive either that won’t matter or you’ll probably start noticing things about them you actually do like (unless it’s like jb where you don’t realize what you’re into when you walk into it) and so on, which means that if a fic starts with A finding B not attractive but then they fall for each other and at the end they’re like B is actually hot then it wouldn’t really be a problem because like..... not everyone has the moment where you look at someone and go like OH YEAH THAT’S IT THAT’S THE PERSON, sometimes it grows on you

with that stated, my problem isn’t if the characters are described as ‘less ugly’ or not or if their partner doesn’t see them as such (ie I wouldn’t mind jaime going at brienne about how much he thinks her legs are hot as hell or her eyes or whatever because he would think that and he would find that hot regardless of everyone else) especially because again looks are subjective. I have a problem if their ugliness/perceived ugliness is a plot point and it’s ignored. I mean, I can’t feasibly buy a fic where sandor doesn’t have self-loathing issues over his looks or hasn’t had them at some point before the entire thing started because that’s like..... a fundamental part of his character and if I read fic I go for stuff that has the characters being recognizable, because I want to read about *those* characters. or idk if you have a fic where brienne is a professional model or smth like that I couldn’t buy if it doesn’t discuss in the premise how she’s a sensation for that or how she would have had to go over a ton of insecurities to even show up for an audition, because canon!brienne has interiorized to hell and back that she’s unattractive and no one would find her beautiful, so a version where that doesn’t happen either is well-explained or to me doesn’t work, because if you take that away - ie how society sees her as ugly/not desirable - you have taken away 50% of her issues but then it’s not brienne anymore at least for me, also because since I relate to her because of shared experience thanks to people who decided I wasn’t attractive enough for standards (and I can assure you I’m way more standard than brienne is) I’m really not interested in reading a take where that isn’t taken into consideration.

that stated: people use fanfic for wish-fulfillment all the time and for doing coping/catharsis all the time, so what do I know if someone who writes fic where brienne is either plain or who looks like gwen christie without the unflattering cut they gave her in the show and so on (so she’s hot and the text says it) doesn’t relate to brienne and doesn’t feel better by writing her like that? I mean, I personally don’t and it wouldn’t work for me also because imvho the discourse on aesthetics should move from ‘what’s beautiful or not according to standards that change every century’ to ‘everyone has different tastes so anyone will be hot to someone even if the majority might not agree so we should point out that looks matter relatively little and it’s your personality that does and someone out there will like you regardless of what everyone else thinks’ so I really don’t feel the whole ‘we need to say that everything is beautiful’ vibe and it doesn’t work for me. but if it works for other people I’m no one to tell them not to.

in conclusion: I personally read fanfic where the societal weight of someone’s looks is a plot point when for that character being Not Standard Attractive is a plot point because that’s what I like and I don’t care for handwaving it (actually for me it’s better if it’s not handwaved and the characters find happiness regardless of it) and I wouldn’t read fic where that’s handwaved because idc, but I have no beef with anyone who ignores that, I just won’t read it but they can do whatever they want. especially because again, fanfic is fanfic ie free stories where we all do wish-fulfillment to a degree and I don’t find going after fanfic worth my time when I can choose to not read it and when the problem is that so-called *ugly* people have very little space/rep that way (ie where they don’t turn magically beautiful/their looks don’t get magically better with a month of gym and a makeover rather than just have someone who likes them for who they are just like that) in mainstream media and that’s on content creators and societal standards, not on people who write stories for free in their free time. if instead we’re discussing their partner finding those characters beautiful to look at I have zero issues with it whatsoever because again that’s subjective and to say one, it’s obvious that j. is attracted to b. from the beginning (no straight guy thinks so much about a woman’s breasts if he doesn’t feel attracted to her) but doesn’t understand it bc he doesn’t process being attracted to people that aren’t c., which means that the moment he figures out if he goes to her and tells her that oh hey wait I think small breasts and large shoulders and long legs are hot as hell you want to see how much that would absolutely be IC. he doesn’t have (or anyone you partner brienne with) to be into her despite her looks, because again, tastes, subjective. and so on. so like, that problem is nonexisting. if there’s a problem is how everyone else sees those characters and how they’re written in retrospect but again I don’t go tell people how to write fanfic especially when I haven’t paid for it and I can just stop reading it if I don’t care.

my problem is people writing so-called **meta** undermining those things and behaving like being perceived as unattractive all your life doesn’t fuck with you and therefore undermining brienne and her issues or sandor and his issues or anyone and their issues and making it pass like peak text analysis and then calling anyone who relates to those characters worse things, not with people writing fanfic no one obliges me to read when I’m nowhere near interested in ruining someone else’s wish fulfillment or telling them I don’t like it. there’s fic I wouldn’t read bc it’s ooc but I wouldn’t go tell the author. honestly, I have a lot better to do with my life than having an issue with ppl writing fanfic when if I have to use my energies for that there’s the immortal mafia au discourse which is actually offensive stuff seen as romantic. xD

[flyingangelofblueislands]

Full Moon Secrets

KNK Youjin (Kim Youjin)

Reader X Bias 

Genre: 100% soft Fluff 

Synopsis: I don’t know what happens here either but enjoy the ride lol :D

You practically sprinted up the stairs of the train station and onto the sidewalk, head twisting in every direction looking for your friend. You were supposed to meet at 7:30 at the station downtown. You made plans to catch up, go eat and get some drinks. You moved about a bit aimlessly looking for her face. When finally you spotted her talking to a tall silhouette, very casually. You approached them happily, but cautiously because you were interrupting their conversation.  “Mimi!” You yelled perkily as you advanced on her. She peeked around the tall figure and smiled then pulled a playful annoyed face.  “You’re always late!” “I’m sorry! I got on on the wrong train and had to circle back down this way…” Your voice trailed off as you caught the eyes of your friend’s friend. “Hello..” “Hello.” He greeted you, returning your polite manner. His eyes flitted from your face to Mimi’s with a look you couldn’t recognize, since you didn’t know him, and Mimi suddenly shook her head as if she had just remembered something.  “Ah. Right. Y/N, this is Youjin. Youjin, Y/N.” “Nice to you meet you, Y/N.” Youjin finally smiled at you. It was a very small, gently smile. But friendly and made his face liven up. “Nice to meet you as well.” You answered back with a smile of your own. Mimi smiled and linked both of your arms by the elbow with hers as she stood in the middle.  “Should we go eat now? I’m starving! Oh. Y/N, you don’t mind if Youjin joins us right?” She asked you. You were a bit startled at being put on the spot. It wasn’t like you could say no, she was already dragging you both along.  “Of course not. The more the merrier.” “Are you sure?” Youjin peeked over Mimi’s head at you. His eyes steady. You held them for a bit before cutting your own straight ahead. His gaze was stronger than you realized and you found your own knees quickly feeling like jello pudding. You inhaled and put some extra strength in your legs as you all walked on. “Yeah.”  

You sat at the small round table sipping at a tall glass of beer that Mimi ordered for each of you as you waited for the meat to cook on the grill. Youjin volunteered to take charge and as he carefully tended to the beef grill and the pork grill side by side, he caught your eyes and softly asked you, “Do you like mushrooms?” You felt your heart skip again as he looked back down at the grill and you wished for his eyes to look back over at you. For some reason, to be embraced in his gaze felt like you were the only thing he could see. The only thing he wanted to see. Even if it had only been for .3 seconds at a time.  “Yes. I like them a lot.” You told him truthfully. Mimi smiled at sipped her own drink at your response. Youjin nodded and smiled as he added a few more mushrooms onto the grill. “Me too. Even as a kid I liked them.”  “I can’t stand them. You two have weird tastes.” Mimi playfully interjected to break the growing cloud of strangely placed feelings. You laughed and nudged your friend. “Or maybe you’re the weird one.” You jested. “Yeah!” Youjin joked, “You’re outnumbered on this one!” “Whatever!” Mimi stuck her tongue out at both of you, Youjin pretended to clamp her tongue with the meat tongs. Mimi yelped and swatted at him over the small table. You laughed at them both.  “You two act like real brother and sister.” You commented. Trying to figure out how you had never met him before, but they seemed so close. Youjin added some more onions on the grill and pulled his face into a thinking visage, briefly, before answering. “How long have you known each other?” “Probably just a year.” Youjin answered simply. “We met after I started my new position at my job.” Mimi clarified further. You nodded your head putting the pieces together. Almost three years prior, Mimi had passed to join YNB Entertainment company as a Public Relations and Artist Relations Rep.. Mimi went on to explain that while still an intern, she was liked in the company because she had great ideas in the way of working with press, fans, and the artists’ themselves and had a special knack for social media where she ruled supreme. Last year, she took over running/monitoring a few of the rookie groups’ official group accounts and fan cafes and that’s how she got close to Youjin. Youjin became talking animatedly at the memory, “I honestly thought she was like a drill sergeant. All she did was tell us to give her content to upload. And tell us to take care of our appearance before sending her pictures to upload. She would reject things I wanted to post saying it was low quality or I looked terrible–” You sipped a spoonful of soup as you listened to Mimi cut him off, “People need to see you at your best while they’re getting to know you!–”  “AND she would rush up to us after stages and make us take ‘cute’ photos! It was so annoying!” “You should be thanking me! Nobody would recognize your handsome face the way you took photos before–it was so bad, Y/N, honestly. He wouldn’t even comb his hair!” Your eyes ran over his well-groomed appearance as he snipped the meat into bite-sized pieces. “I find that hard to believe.” You responded. Youjin and you met eyes for a flash before you turned to face Mimi out of slight embarrassment, “But even if it was so…I think I’d like to see a natural look on a guy..” Youjin’s ears perked up and turned a bit red. He tried to hide a smile and took a sip of his drink before picking up the tongs again and placing some pork onto the side of the grill nearest to you. Mimi smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah but he was looking a bit too natural. If you know what I mean–one time–” “Ahh!” Youjin interjected with a loud noise to cut her off. “I don’t know what you’re going to say but don’t say it!” “Why not?” Mimi teased while plucking some meat for herself. “Because…” He pushed some mushrooms closer to your side of the grill and took a few pieces of pork and began to make a wrap. Mimi made a sound like she just got wind of something. “Ohh. I see…” Mimi looked over to you, something almost devilish in her eyes. “Y/N.” “Hm?” You moved to look at her again after putting a mushroom in your mouth, simultaneously, you were distracted as you caught the sight of Youjin’s chopsticks moving from the grill to your meatless dish. Just two meat pieces first, then two more pieces landed on your rice as you watched from the corner of your eye. Mimi kept talking, “Do you have a boyfriend yet?” You almost choked on your mushroom. Youjin lifted out of his chair in slight concern. He handed you a glass of water. You thanked him and took a drink. Mimi rubbed your back and amusedly asked if you were okay. You wanted to laugh because you suddenly felt like this was all a setup and you were the only one late on the uptake. You took a breath, placing the water back on the table. Mimi continued talking like she never asked the question in the first place.  “You know what you should try?” “What?” You responded. “One of Youjin’s wraps.” Youjin stiffened at being put on the spot. You felt awkward eating from his hands when you just met that night. “Oh I don’t know…” “They’re reaallly good.” Mimi stressed motioning towards Youjin. “Make one for her.” You motioned as well, in efforts to stop him. “You don’t have to really–” “Feed it to her!” Mimi blurted. Youjin smiled like he wanted to laugh and said, “I actually would like to make one for you. If you’ll accept it.” You felt blood flushing to your face for no real reason. “Okay.” You agreed. Youjin grabbed some lettuce, a perilla leaf, rice, two pieces of meat, then hovered over the garlic before shyly looking up at you. You smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He added that, too, and then a small piece of onion. He wrapped it delicately, like he was folding the world’s thinnest tissue paper and then, with one hand bracing the outstretched hand, he stood up and offered you the wrap. You lifted yourself out of your seat and put both your hands out to take the wrap simultaneously as he fed it to you. You took the first bite from his hand before pulling away with the wrap in your mouth half eaten. And you didn’t know if it was because he knew how much of each thing to put in to balance the flavours, of it was the addition of onion, or if it was well cooked meat, or if it was because it was him and he was cute and he was feeding you and you just met– But it was the best damn wrap you’d ever eaten. You nodded as you chewed up the rest and gave him a thumbs up with a full mouth. “It’s okay?” Youjin asked with a smile on his face as he cleared the grills for the upcoming new arrival of pork belly that Mimi had just yelled out for. “It’s delicious.” You struggled to say. Holding a hand over your mouth as you talked with your mouth full. You both laughed lightly and tried not to stare at each other doing so.  As the night flew by, the three of you found yourselves leaving the third spot of the night. It was a late night cereal bar. After stuffing yourselves with oreo’s cookies and cream cereal and gummi bears, Mimi convinced Youjin to take some aesthetically killer photos for the fan cafes and twitter. He fought her over it, but was eventually swayed by her logic. She took them on her phone and eventually was satisfied with the shots. “Okay. That should be enough. I’m exhausted anyway. I’m out kids. Youjin. Don’t stay out all night. Or I’ll call your manager and tell him what you’ve been eating.” “Ahh Sis! Why would you do that? You could get in trouble too, you know? You bought it for me!” Youjin playfully protested. “I did a lot of things for you tonight I could get in trouble for.” Mimi threw back coyly. They shared a laugh as you threw your gaze between the two of them. All night had been like this. Little sneak talks right over your head in front of your face. You knew, but didn’t know what exactly was going on. “Okay! What is going on?” They both looked at you amusement lingering, but confused at your outburst. You put your hands on your hips. “What do you mean?” Mimi asked you, feigning innocence. “You two. All night. Sharing secrets right over my head.” It might have been the drinks from the first two places finally kicking in. Or the bottle that Mimi snuck into the cereal bar, but you found yourself pulling a full cute pout, directly in front of Youjin. Mimi didn’t bat an eye to your expression, she had seen it before. But Youjin stopped in his tracks, surprised, and then began looking at you like he had seen something too adorable for words. “Tell me what’s going on, please?” You asked them both, after pulling your pout back in. Mimi looked over at Youjin briefly before speaking again, “Now would be a good time to ask her.” “Ask me what?” You asked, looking back and forth between them both. Mimi stepped back and off to the side a little bit as Youjin looked over at you from Mimi. He paused before finally asking you, “Can I count this as Day 1?”

************************************

Girl I don’t even know. lol  But I hope you liked it anyway?  I’ll write another one for Youjin another day. Something better??? I also want to write one for Inseong or Jihun. Maybe both lol Maybe all, shoot. Why not let Heejun and Seungjun join the fluff party huh?!? Anyway. related/unrelated note: I missed MusicBank tonight *cries* this is the third? week in a row I’ve missed it.  How ya’ll doing?? I hope it’s good. If it wasn’t so good, I hope this story made it better :)

Love, peace, and quick fluff reads!! ~admin Fluffintine

[mirrorreps]

Replica YSL Kate Handbag Review

Hello once again ladies! By now I shouldn’t even need to greet you as you know what you’re here for, and I know what you’re here for, and that’s another replica handbag review! Today we’re going to be taking a look at the replica YSL Kate!

The YSL Kate replica is one of Saint Laurent’s most recognizable handbags, given its chique look, chain strap and deceptively roomy interior, it’s a stylish bag that would make a great addition to any girl’s bag collection. In my opinion, this bag is perfect for evening use and with the chain removed, it makes for a VERY stylish clutch bag that would go very well with an evening dress.

The replica YSL Kate model comes in a variety of leathers, from smooth, to YSLs famous Grain de Poudre leather, and even crocodile leather if that’s your thing. So is the replica YSL Kate a good replica handbag? Is it 1:1 with the authentic? Keep reading to find out…

Model: Replica YSL Kate Handbag

Size:  9.4 x 5.7 x 2.1 inches

Price (Auth/Replica): $1990/$175

Replica YSL Kate Handbag Photos:

Replica YSL Kate Handbag Quality Analysis:

Having looked at the authentic model in a YSL boutique, this is my experience. The leather is spot on, the grain de poudre leather is not dissimilar to the caviar leather on replica Chanel Handbags, they’ve both been perfected. The perfect combination of butteriness and durability, with the fine grain feel of the authentic and don’t even get me started on the smell, I love the smell of leather, so don’t judge me for being picky about it!

The stitching on both the interior and exterior is very consistent, no loose stitches, skipped stitches or double stitches, and unlike the replica YSL Wallet on Chain, the Saint Laurent emblem has not tarnished even with some use. The placement of the logo is perfect too. After some research, I’ve heard one of the major tells of replica YSL handbags is the placement of the logo, which isn’t a problem when you’re buying superfake replica handbags.

The chain is weighty, and shiny just like the authentic and the links are the perfect size too, absolutely no complaints about the chain, the interior is fine too with the YSL stamp being in the correct location and straight.

The dimensions match up perfectly and the silhouette/shape of the bag is great. It honestly gave me feelings of déjà vu of feeling the authentic in the boutique, it never ceases to amaze me how close they can get to the real thing for a fraction of the full price. To think I could buy 11 superfake replica YSL Kate handbags for the price of one authentic is mind-boggling.

I had a great time with the seller, this seller was very experienced with YSL and even gave me a discount. I will definitely be buying from them again as they showed me pictures of all the leather types and sizes they had and gave me freedom to choose without pressuring me to buy anything. Naturally, I paid using western union, and it wasn’t long before my beautiful replica YSL Kate arrived on my doorstep. It always feels great getting a new replica handbag!

Advantages/Disadvantages:

Different Sizes

The replica YSL Kate comes in a variety of sizes to suit your needs. Some girls will want to purchase this purely to use as a going out bag, whereas others will want it as a daily wearer and then there’s those who want both. Well no need to worry as there’s a size to suit everyone!

Different Leathers

The YSL Kate replica is also available in a multitude of leathers, but my favourite is the grain de poudre leather. This is because I have the spatial awareness of a 10 year old and so I’m constantly bumping my replica handbags in to things, I’ve noticed that all of my softer, smoother leather bags(like lambskin, calfskin etc) eventually wind up getting scratched and damaged, which hurts me inside as I wish I wasn’t so clumsy, which leads me to my next point.

Durable

The leather on this is like a rock, I’m pretty sure I could drop this off a tall building and it would still retain its shape with little to no damage. I’m not crazy enough to test how scratch-resistant it truly is by running my sharp nails across it or anything but I can testify that this bag won’t get scratched through daily bumps and scrapes, if you’re clumsy like me harder leathers like this are the way forward!

Chain Strap

Not a personal favorite of mine as they irritate my skin, but some girls absolutely ADORE the chain strap and to be honest, I can see why. These chains are pure luxury, so glamorously shiny and weighty, the replica YSL Kate has managed to copy this so well that I think they probably get their chains from the same supplier.

Magnetic Flap Closure

Easy to get in to and secure, what more can a girl ask for? Instead of messing around with locks making things awkward all you have to do is pull the flap up. And it’s covered, so nobody is peering or reaching into your bag without your knowledge, always a plus in my eyes because I’m not paying attention at the best of times.

Minimalistic Design

I love the design for the YSL Kate replica, it’s so minimalistic, no fancy designs or embroidery, just pure quality and functionality. Minimalism is a style that will never die, so if you’re looking for a bag that will be wearable forever, then the replica YSL Kate is a good option.

Big Enough For Daily Use

Despite only having one large internal pocket(and a small once for cards/receipts etc), the bag fits quite a lot. I could use one of the larger models as a daily work bag if I didn’t have to carry a laptop around with me. If you get an internal organizer for the YSL Kate replica, I think it would make the perfect evening bag.

Is the Replica YSL Kate Handbag worth it?

The replica YSL Kate is basically a YSL Wallet on Chain but bigger, personally, I see no need to have them both (despite having replicas of both myself). Like most YSL bags, this is a very formal bag and I feel very overdressed if I wear it out casually, which is very rarely.

I prefer to wear it to formal events, which I wish I went to more of, it looks great worn over the shoulder with the chain on(because the chain is so weighty and shiny it looks great), or to carry it by hand as a clutch with the chain removed, this depends on your personal preference but it looks amazing either way. The superfake replica handbag factories have really done a great job here.

It’s very rare that I don’t recommend 100% purchasing a replica handbag, as a replica YSL Kate, this bag scores 100%, it is a true 1:1 replica of the authentic. However, in terms of utility and versatility, I just can’t recommend it as a handbag unless it’s exactly what you’re looking for. I love my replica YSL Kate, but she spends most of her life sat on the shelf instead of in my rotation like most of my other replica handbags.

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