#maybe there'll be more later

[dearingsattler]

tbh i think my biggest problem with ep5 is that it's too short. i get that they had a plot point they needed to get to/end the ep with but i feel like they could have done more with the lead up to that, used evanora more, delved more into agatha's past, talked about how her siphoning powers work more, like yeah the emotional punch was there but it could have been even deeper, you know?

[kimabutch]

There's a solid chance I won't be able to keep watching Never Stop Blowing Up because I'm tragically allergic to second-hand embarrassment, especially when people are trying to pretend they're something they're not :/ which is a damn shame cause it's funny as fuck so far

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Be My Favourite ep 9

This was another fantastic ep, and the only thing preventing me from saying it topped last week’s again is that there was NO MAX! 😮

BUT there was so much more character development.

First, Pearmai, because I wrote last week that I was curious about her backstory, especially her relationship with her mother. And we got to know this week already.

We got confirmation that Pear holds things in, hides them, and masks her true thoughts and feelings. She’s carried the hurt of her mother’s abandonment for so long, whilst her mother doesn’t see the harm she’s done and her father expects her to be ok with it all.

And now I understand why Pear desires marriage and a ‘future’ with someone so much – she wants to build the life for her own children that she never got herself. She wants to have the relationship her parents didn’t have, and wants to have the mother/daughter relationship she never got. (This is something I identify with so if the show doesn’t explicitly tell us this, I can’t help but to read it this way because it’s all too familiar for me).

I loved the way that her mother’s obliviousness to the way Pear feels is reflected in their clothes and art – with them both in black and white, opposites devoid of colour and life, whilst her artwork is FULL of colour, so much so that’s it’s pushing out from the canvas. It’s no surprise Pear feels the way she does in the face of her mother’s freedom and creativity and life – a life chosen at the expense of being a mother to her own daughter. Maybe Pear needs to either find reconciliation with her or to close the door to her in order to have happiness in the future?

I thought Pear’s reaction to Kawi, after learning from Not and then Pisaeng that he and Pisaeng were together, was a little disproportionate – she and Kawi weren’t dating, they were just friends. She may have been developing affection for him (or latching onto the next guy who showed her affection) and thought that he liked her and that they were on their way to dating, BUT they still weren’t together for this to be like Kawi went behind her back or cheated on her.

My interpretation is that this reaction could be a front to her real (maybe subconscious) feelings – disappointment that her future prospects at having the family she wants has disappeared again. I think that unless she can learn and grow from this and her relationship with her mother, she will just latch on to the next person who shows interest in her. I admit, I was afraid that she would do this with Not – we had seen in ep 7 that she eventually did do this in another timeline – but I’m so glad she walked away from him, deciding that if her future isn’t Pisaeng, or Kawi, it definitely wouldn’t be Not. Not in this timeline. And I think this does indicate that something has changed for Pear now. Maybe wanting to talk to Pisaeng about him and Kawi and therefore confiding in him about her mother as well has helped her shift her motivations behind her choices.

Some other smaller thoughts before I get onto Kawi:

At first, I was worried the show was transferring the drinking problem to Pisaeng…but I don’t think it is, because it seems that this occasion was him trying to protect Kawi. I don’t really like all this peer pressure to drink alcohol…but I’m also aware that it could be a cultural politeness thing, but it needs doing away with.

I ADORED the “Kawi, Kawi, Kawi” moment – has anyone gif'd the parallel to “Lao Wen, Lao Wen, Lao Wen” yet?! Paging @forcebook

Also, Pisaeng has a brown phone case?! Kawi’s colour! How have I not noticed this before?! @respectthepetty did you already know? If not, PSA: more colour-coded phone cases!

I’m not sure I like Kawi holding back or pushing Pisaeng’s affections away. He declared he liked Pisaeng and couldn’t bear to be wthout him but it feels like he’s not showing enough affection to reflect that. (It’s bordering on the blushing maiden trope which I detest). Maybe this is Krist’s own discomfort…? Or just that he’s been directed like that (because the directing so far has been brilliant), which is disappointing because I’d hoped the story wouldn’t do this to these characters. It’s good, at least, that Kawi tells us that he’s simping over Pisaeng and how attractive he is but I wish they would show us in Kawi’s body language and reactions to Pisaeng’s advances. Smh.

Right on to Kawi. And what a lot to unpack.

Speaking of the morning in bed scene and Kawi questioning if him and Pisaeng being together is “the right thing” – I’m glad it’s not about them being a gay couple (which the show emphasises a few times during the ep) but it’s not really any better that it’s in relation to theirs and everyone else’s future.

Kawi is still thinking about ‘fixing’ one moment in time, and for multiple people, rather than living in the moment and listening to his present desires (emphasis on both ‘his present desires’ and ‘his present desires’). At the end he worries about how many mistakes he will make in life (mistakes that affect others negatively) but he still needs to learn that he has no control over how other people are affected by his choices for himself. And that he can’t let that dictate the choices he does make, he has to let other people live their lives and he has to live his own. (@dimplesandfierceeyes wrote a great post related to this).

And as much as I’m shook about Kwan liking Not (as we all are), their situation perfectly highlights why Kawi needs to focus on himself and not others. Because as much as Kwan and Pearmai (and Not to some extent but we don’t care about him, right?) are hurting and unhappy now it’s SO GOOD that all of this has happened for these characters.

First we have Kwan. As much as this is hurting Kwan, she is being set free now instead of in 12 years' time. She is being saved from 12 years of hurt and pain and unrequited love. (Oh Kwan, beautiful Kwan. You’ll meet someone better. I PROMISE!) (Check out this fantastic reblog thread about Kwan by @lurkingshan, @jjsanguine and @twig-tea)

Then Pearmai. She’s hurting from her parents’ situation, and from the revelation about Kawi and Pisaeng, but she chooses to not just turn to Not. She turns him down and sets herself on a completely different path. She now has the time and opportunity to find love in another place (hopefully a happier one) and still get the family she wants.

(And Not, if I have to… This is good for Not too, because he gets to declare now [to himself as well as Kwan] that he likes Pearmai more than Kwan [and maybe other people he’s sleeping with], he’s being honest with himself and others [is that a bit of growth I see there? *she squints*]. And it’s fucking fantastic that Pearmai turns him down [not only because she deserves better] but because he can move on and maybe use this experience to change [the jury’s out on that for a while. As an aside, this ep made me retract slightly the thinking there might be a possibility that Not is also gay/bi and will also have his own realisation arc…but the show’s not over yet!]). Anyway, THIS IS GOOD. This is good for all of them.

Kawi thinks they’re all unhappy and it’s because of him, but he’s not able to see the full picture. There’s so much nuance in what they do want and what will make them happy that he can’t even begin to know or understand how his actions play a part in that. And the reality of it is, there are so many positives resulting from his actions as well. We already saw this in ep 8, where Max tells him he’s made a huge difference in his life. I love that Pisaeng gives Kawi hope and optimism for the future but I don’t think hope is enough, Kawi also needs to trust that the results of his actions are not always bad – it might take time but there are positives.

Last thing (because I know this is long!), I want to talk about this: “I will feel more comfortable if we are more equal”. I understand Kawi’s motivations here, he doesn’t want their relationship to be influenced too much by differences that could negatively affect them and their regard for each other – and financial disparity can be a sticking point for a lot of people - but accepting and leaning into the ways they aren’t equal is also healthy for a relationship. Each side can’t always bring the exact same things into a relationship. Balance can be found in other ways. I'm interested to know if this ‘theme’ comes back or gets built on in future eps.

And speaking of…it looks like next week’s will be fluffy and domestic where they settle into their couple dynamic. I can’t wait!

(also tagging @grapejuicegay @waitmyturtles @rocketturtle4 @ginnymoonbeam @chickenstrangers @wen-kexing-apologist @bengiyo @plantsarepeopletoo and @williamrikers in case you're interested! And sorry if I missed anyone.)

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[yume-fanfare]

*steps out of sudden death covered in blood* ive been fundamentally changed

[lilolilyrae]

x

[djsangos]

//i can't... do this... i'm clocking out...

[pipariperho]

Does anyone else have the fear that now that we have genderswapped love interest in Bridgerton, the powers that be are going to axe the show before we get to Francesca's season? Because it's Netflix, and this season didn't have as good quality as the previous ones. It is an expensive show to run.

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

part 2

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[el-principito]

Wanted to preorder phoenix plush and he got sold out woops

[skitzrep]

i should be doing homework right now but instead i'm thinking about dante

Here's an extension of half-angel x dante: enzo hires them for a job (warning: aura farming)

"So what's the job again?" you ask, glancing at the back of Dante's head. He always walked ahead on a job.

"Enzo said there's a demon here. A few lucky lives got away to spread the news." He didn't look back, sending alarms off in your head.

"Why are you acting weird? You've been quiet since we left the apartment." You step forward to match his step,

"I don't know what you mean." Dante smirks, nudging you off balance with his hip, causing you to stumble out of pace.

You scoff because of course he wouldn't admit he's worried again. It's your first job since he refused to let you join after the incident. He was ready to leave you behind again, but you were practically on his heels as he was leaving.

You unlatch the whip from your hip and lob it around Dante's waist, using your superhuman strength against his, to pull him to a stop.

"Oh~ Lovely," Dante murmurs smugly, allowing you to drag him closer before leaning down to give you a kiss. You welcome his lips and loving caresses before cutting it short. "What?" Dante groans, bending down for more.

"There'll be more later," you promise. So stop worrying. "We should split up to get this over with."

"Huh? Not one of your better ideas." Dante frowns. "It's safer if we stay together."

"We've split up before," you remind him, pushing against his chest. "Let's just get this over with so we can get home faster."

Dante's teeth gleam as his grin widens, pulling you against him again. "I like the sound of that-"

"Perfect," you say with a disarming smile, pinching his side to make him jump off of you. "I'll take the west side, you'll take the east. Give me the signal if you find it before me."

Dante watches you with a gloomy expression as you send him a wave before turning around the corner.

The west side of the building was quiet. Usually, you can feel a demon's sinister energy—a shiver running down the back of your neck—but so far, nothing.

And then—

It was behind you, peaking around the corner and looking at you. You stop walking and hone in on its location, sensing it's about to attack.

"Well, come on then," you call out, turning on your heel and cracking your whip. "I need you to send my man a signal."

A bird-like monster crept into view, screeching dreadfully and flexing it's claws and wings.

The demon roared at you as you flicked your whip, striking it in the face. As it was disoriented, you wrap the whip around the monster's leg.

Yanking on your leather, the demon flies foward, over your shoulder, and into the opposite wall of the hall. The building shivered from the commotion.

And there's the signal. As the demon picked itself up against the wall, you sent a barrage of strikes against its torso and limbs, keeping it discombobulated until Dante arrives.

The demon's wing folded in front of your attacks, shielding it's body. Gritting your teeth, you aim for it's open areas, but it advances with it's wing protecting it.

"Shit," you curse, leaping out of the way before it could barrel through you. Your ankle is suddenly grabbed and you're swinging in the opposite direction, bracing for the impact against the ground. You release a guttural laugh before the demon throws you up again.

Wrapping your whip around the demon's beak, you pull yourself in and land your foot into it's skull. Falling on it's shoulders, you move your weapon around it's neck and squeeze with one hand. Your other hand grabs the demon's face.

"Die, asshole!" Your hand on it's face glowed bright as the demon screamed under you. In the next second, it withered away to ash.

You were left kneeling in the ash pile, holding your side and catching your breath. Maybe Dante was right and you should have stayed together for the first job back. You were a little out of practice.

A disruptive crash rang out somewhere in the building, close to your location considering how violently the floor shook beneath her feet.

The wall down the corridor caved in, revealing Dante riding another demon through the construct.

"Hey sweetheart, look what I found on my way to you." His smile is wide until he recognizes the state you're in. "You doing alright?"

"I'm fine," you assure him, holding your hand up. "Waiting on you, slow-poke."

"I guess it's time to stop messing around," Dante tells the demon, drawing his broad sword. "My lady's waiting for me." It screams at him, but it's soon permanently silenced.

"You think there are more of them?" You ask, staggering to your feet as Dante paces over to you.

"Nah," Dante says aloof, scooping you into his arms before you could even stand straight. "They've been taken care of."

"When did you-"

"I know how to keep a fight tidy and quiet," he tells you, knocking his forehead against yours, giving you a cheeky wink. He kept you in his arms as he walked you both out of the building. "Wasn't expecting the patrol though. Your signal caught me off-guard."

With your arms wrapped around Dante's neck, you drop your head against his shoulder. "Yeah, maybe you were right."

"Me? About what?"

"We should've stayed together." You ignore how Dante tries to look down at you, but your head is too close to his neck. His hands tighten around you, pulling you closer to his body.

"We'll stick together on jobs from here on out, alright?" Dante says it with no room for discussion, not that you would argue against it. "It's a lot more fun when I can keep my eye on you anyways."

"I was going to say the same thing."

note: i have so much more tropes for this man but the half-angel sweetheart that indulges in Dante's wild/aura-farming side is so cute to me

[minus-plus-zer0]

Studying in Bakugou's Dorm Headcanons

So Bakugou's dorm has never been shown in the anime. Nobody knows what it looks like...

But YOU'VE seen it.

YOU'VE SEEN IT ALL.

Sometime after you two met, he invited you into his room.

He likely wanted to show off how smart he was in class by tutoring you privately.

But you're no fool! Although there are some subjects you struggle with, there are other subjects in which you can go toe-to-toe with the man in terms of smarts! This man isn't just taking care of you, you're taking care of each other.

But anyways, you're pretty shocked when you first step into his dorm.

For starters, it's very well organized and "smart".

It's a little modern, no bullshit strewn about, no cliche hidden naughty magazines (like Bakugou would ever care about that stuff), and maybe there's some All Might paraphernalia thrown around the place.

He's a little insulted that you're surprised by it being so organized. "You thought I'd be messy or something?"

"Yes."

The whole bedroom is very no-nonsense. You tease him for being a little sterile in his decorations, which irks him a lot considering he brought you here to impress you.

His room likely includes a lot of darker colors, maybe black and even red or orange. It probably has some nice darker brown hues for the wooden furniture as a fitting tertiary color. You tease him again for the room being a bit on the darker side in terms of colors (dark like his souuuul, you say) and again, he's mad. You also pay that no mind. You just say he's cute when he's pouty and move on.

You're both at his desk studying, him in his usual desk chair while you had to bring your much more cuter and comfier chair over from your room.

He admires your knowledge and work ethic but also envies you when you get something he doesn't immediately get. He's simultaneously trying to surpass you but also get closer to you. He's totally torn and it's definitely your fault.

Sometimes you give him advice on homework and purposefully lean in far too close to him and his notebook. You're secretly watching him get totally flustered by your presence but he'll still try to hide his embarrassment.

He'll bark at you that you're going to suffocate him by breathing all of HIS personal air space but he'll never push you away. If you back away he'll just lean back over to your side and he'll smirk, saying, "Now who's suffocating who, huh?"

You scoff and lightly push him away in retaliation for what he said and he pouts sadly. He says he didn't finish hearing your explanation on how to deal with his homework problem and that you can check his notebook IF YOU MUST.

You do help him out, but you don't lean back over again. Irritated, he sidles up to you instead. You pat him on the head to calm him down.

It's a miracle that you two get any work done. You spend the next couple of hours in his bedroom just teasing each other and hanging out. Although you like to banter and bicker a lot, you both are great at supporting one another too. He especially likes it when you praise his hard work.

You originally thought Bakugou would get mad at you for getting distracted, but you noticed that much of his homework was already finished before you even stepped into the room. He probably could've finished it on his own, but he'd rather have the company.

Luckily for him, you feel the same. Now if only you two would just tell each other how you feel...

There'll always be time for that on a later day. Because fortunately for you, he's inviting you back over this weekend! But this time, you'll be studying at his childhood home.

[prettylilyanime]

Blooming Hearts ♡ Chapter 06

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: Ochako we love you

˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

Tradition and the cultivation of exceptional talent are what keep U.A. alive.

Which is why, the moment you and your classmates return from your extended weekend break, you’re sent straight back to the dorms.

To pack.

Why? Because the annual Forest Training Camp trip has been sprung on you without warning!

Normally, you'd have at least a week's notice to prepare—time to plan outfits, sort through your skincare, and mentally brace yourself for the grueling training ahead. But this year? This is insane. You've been given one hour to pack before you’re expected to be on that bus, ready to go.

Which leads to your current predicament—fighting for your life in your very own closet.

"Curse these dorms and their shitty allowance of space!" you mutter, aggressively shoving hangers aside in search of anything remotely practical.

This is ludicrous! How are you supposed to fit five days' worth of outfits, makeup, hair tools, and your entire skincare routine into that flimsy, school-provided duffel bag?

It's simply not possible.

Well… maybe if you really tried, since most of your clothes aren't exactly bulky. Miniskirts and lacy tops are easy enough to fold down. But still!

You make an executive decision, tossing the school-issued duffel aside and swapping it out for your personal one—a soft baby pink travel bag with your initials delicately embroidered near the bottom. A cute, sparkly bow charm dangles from the strap, catching the light. Perfect.

This is your third and final training camp in that damn forest, and yet you still haven’t figured out a proper packing system.

You start with the essentials: hair tools, skincare, and makeup. That makes up the bulk of it, anyway.

Next, a pair of pretty designer flat sandals (because looking good in that hellscape is non-negotiable) and a comfortable pair of sneakers. Then, your activewear—cute, color-coordinated gym sets that scream Pilates Princess—followed by a few soft pajama sets.

On a whim, you toss in a swimsuit. You doubt there'll be time for swimming, but... who knows?

Finally, your usual outfits—little skirts, cute tops, the essentials—go in last. After a moment of struggling, you justmanage to zip up your duffel.

With that, you rush outside, praying you aren't the last one to board the bus.

And yet, to your utter mortification, you are.

Heat creeps up your neck as dozens of eyes land on you the moment you step onto the bus. You instinctively check the dainty watch on your wrist. Damn. You're still five minutes early—how is everyone else already here?!

Thankfully, after a brief glance, most of your classmates return to their conversations, their voices blending into a dull hum of excitement.

Except— "Overpacked this year too, didn’t you, Y/N?"

The familiar dry drawl pulls your attention to the front of the bus, where Aizawa sits, arms crossed, a single brow raised in silent amusement.

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the small, sheepish smile that tugs at your lips. "Sorry, Sensei."

He exhales through his nose—his version of a chuckle—and shakes his head.

The man has known you since childhood, and it shows in the subtle ways he goes easy on you. There’s a soft spot there, one that means you rarely get in trouble for the little things.

Like showing up last. Like swapping out the school’s standard-issue duffel for your own monogrammed one.

But Aizawa’s patience isn’t infinite, and before he can usher you along with one of his signature unimpressed stares, you force yourself to move.

Which brings you to the next big hurdle.

Where the hell are you going to sit?

Your palms begin to sweat as you hover near his seat, scanning the rows ahead.

You’d sit with him if you could—he’s been a family friend for years, and his presence is at least familiar—but it’s only a matter of time before Present Mic barrels onto the bus and claims that spot for himself.

Your usual refuge—the very back of the bus—is also out of the question.

The space is crammed, especially with the guys, who have somehow doubled in size over the summer. Normally, you’d have a quiet seat to yourself, maybe with Tokoyami or Todoroki nearby, but not this time.

You hesitate, fingers curling tighter around the strap of your duffel as your gaze drifts over your classmates. Sun-kissed faces, relaxed smiles, the easy cadence of laughter filling the space around you.

There’s an undeniable lightness in the air—stories exchanged, inside jokes tossed back and forth, remnants of shared vacations and group outings you weren’t a part of.

A familiar sinking feeling settles in your chest.

If it weren’t for your own shyness, your inability to reach out first, maybe you would’ve been invited. Maybe you’d have a story to tell, too.

Your eyes flicker toward the back of the bus, landing on a particular blonde.

Bakugou Katsuki sits a few rows back, next to Kirishima, his broad shoulders squared, arms crossed over his chest as he stares out the window, scowl firmly in place.

Even slouched, he commands attention—the sharp angles of his face, the tousled strands of light hair catching the sunlight, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Something about him—his presence, his quiet intensity—draws your gaze before you can stop yourself.

Your heart stutters.

The last few days don’t make you friends. Not even close.

But still…

When everyone else was gone, when the dorms were practically deserted, he was there. With you.

Well—with might be a stretch. But he hadn’t left.

And it’s a little pathetic, honestly, how your mind keeps clinging to those moments, replaying them like they were something out of a movie instead of just fragments of real life.

You still can’t believe it happened.

You. Of all people. Fell into his lap.

Not just that, but in your robe, of all things, and those stupid glasses. And instead of shoving you off or snapping at you like you expected, he helped. He hauled in every last one of your boxes—without being asked, without a single complaint—just brisk, efficient movements, like it was no big deal.

He, Bakugou Katsuki, taught you how to use the damn train!

And he didn’t just rattle off directions and leave you to figure it out—he took the time, went out of his way to make sure you understood, grumbling the entire time like you were the biggest inconvenience of his life.

And yet, the entire experience had been exhilarating for you.

Standing next to him on the train, surrounded by strangers, your designer clothes and stiletto boots wildly out of place, you almost felt… normal.

Maybe, to him, it was ridiculous—having to explain something so basic.

But to you? It was everything.

And realizing that—that you’ve spent the last three days replaying the scenario over and over in your head—is just fucking sad.

In less than a week, you’ve spoken to him more than you have to the rest of the class in the last three years.

Now, standing frozen in the aisle, you force yourself to look away before he catches you staring.

To him, last weekend was probably nothing. Just another day, another minor inconvenience, already forgotten.

But to you, it was monumental.

You remind yourself not to dwell on it. He was just being nice. You were just—quite frankly—helpless.

Forcing yourself to move, you scan the seats, hoping to find an open spot before you make things any more awkward for yourself. Your pulse climbs as your eyes dart between rows—until finally, you spot an empty seat next to Ochako.

She’s sweet. She wouldn’t say no, right?

And for once, luck is on your side.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ochako waves you over before you can even open your mouth, smiling warmly. “Do you wanna sit with me? The bus feels so much tinier this year.”

Relief swarms you, your shoulders dropping as you eagerly nod, trying not to look too grateful.

“Oh! Yes, that’d be great.”

With that, you slide into the seat, settling your duffel at your feet. A deep breath escapes your chest, your nerves finally loosening their grip.

“I love your duffel,” Ochako chirps. “It’s so cute!”

The sudden compliment catches you completely off guard. You jolt slightly in place, blinking at her in surprise.

“O-oh! Thanks! I travel with it all the time.”

You offer her a small smile, feeling warmth creep up your neck. Shit. Should you have told her where you got it? Should you have complimented something on her?

Your mind scrambles, juggling potential responses, overthinking every possible outcome—

But Ochako just gives you another sincere smile, then effortlessly falls back into conversation with Tsuyu and Mina, who are seated in front of you.

Another breath leaves you, longer this time. You cross your legs, pulling out your phone and earphones, deciding to drown out the chatter with one of your favorite shows—a baking competition.

As the drama of a woman’s collapsing cake unfolds on your screen, you settle in, letting yourself relax.

Well.

At least that didn’t go terribly.

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Once you step off the bus, you’re immediately swept into the middle of the group, caught in the current of excited voices and shuffling footsteps.

The crisp air outside is a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth of the bus, and for a moment, you inhale deeply, letting the fresh scent of pine and earth ground you.

You're wedged between several of the guys who apparently decided to hit some insane growth spurts over the summer. They loom around you like moving skyscrapers, broad shoulders and towering heights making you feel even smaller than usual.

And right in front of you—Kirishima.

Rather than getting a clear view of Aizawa, you’re met with an eyeful of Kirishima’s massive back. He’s built like a damn boulder, all muscle and impossible proportions, standing firm and unmoving like a human shield.

It’s honestly a little terrifying.

How the hell did he get so tall and muscular?!

Before you can dwell too much on it, a voice rumbles behind you, far too close.

“Sure you can see Aizawa from back here, Sad Eyes?”

You quickly turn around and you almost—almost—crash straight into Bakugou’s chest.

Your breath catches, your body stiffening as you realize just how close he is. The heat of him is immediate, radiating off him in waves, and the scent of his cologne—rich caramel laced with something fresher, sharper—fills your senses before you can even think to stop breathing it in.

And okay. Not that you would really mind...

But oh dear lord, ohhh dear lord, hold it together.

Why is he so close?!

And why does he smell so good?!

You blink rapidly, trying to process what just happened—what he even said to you.

“Sad Eyes?” You stare up at him, confused.

What happened to Princess?

It’s crazy how much you already miss him calling you that.

Bakugou smirks, eyes sharp with amusement as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “New name,” he grunts. “Considering the way you look at me every time we speak.”

Your jaw drops. Sad Eyes?!

Is he joking?!

Well. No, he isn’t.

The truth is, the more Bakugou’s gotten to know you—which, granted, isn’t a lot, but enough—the more he’s found himself stuck on your damn eyes.

Big, glossy, practically shimmering under your long lashes and whatever glittery eyeshadow you always seem to wear. And always looking up at him like he’s supposed to help you somehow.

That last bit might be all in his head, but he doesn't think too hard on it.

Point is, You have the saddest fucking eyes he’s ever seen.

Like some cartoon baby deer.

Maybe the right term is doe-eyed, but that’s way too cute, way too soft.

So Sad Eyes it is.

“I don’t know if I like that new name…” you mumble, your glossy lips naturally curving into a pout. Then, after a beat, you scowl. “Scratch that—I actually hate it.”

Bakugou snorts, arms still lazily stuffed in his pockets.

The unimpressed look on your face, the slight downturn of your lips, the way your eyes shimmer just a little too much for someone supposedly annoyed—yeah, you’re only proving his point.

“Ha? You’re telling me you like Princess better?”

Is he being sarcastic? Because quite frankly, you loved princess-

You bite your lip, debating if you should just admit it—if you should tell him outright that yes, you preferred it when he called you Princess, because at least that felt sort of… nice. And not like you were some pathetic little creature he’s found amusing enough to nickname.

But before you can gather the courage, before you can even respond,

“Ooh, what’s going on over here? I didn’t know you two were in cahoots.”

A new voice interrupts, effectively shattering the intense staring contest you and Bakugou had unknowingly fallen into.

Denki—noticeably taller this year, his blonde hair a little longer, framing his face in messy waves—sidles up next to Bakugou, bumping shoulders with him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You blink, caught off guard. “Cahoots?” you echo, tilting your head slightly, the word sounding almost foreign coming out of your mouth.

“We aren’t in anything, Dunce Face,” Bakugou deadpans, his voice flat, his signature scowl settling back into place. Whatever amusement had flickered in his expression moments ago is gone, replaced with sheer irritation.

Denki grins, entirely unbothered by the hostility, rocking on his heels as if Bakugou’s anger is nothing more than white noise.

Meanwhile, Bakugou’s ruby gaze shifts away from both of you, fixing straight ahead—staring over the crowd like he can see something neither of you can.

Damn.

He could probably see Aizawa from up there…

Before you can dwell on that thought, a whisper cuts through the hum of voices around you.

“Psst, Y/N!”

Between the slivers of space between bodies, you catch sight of Ochako waving you over, her eyes bright with warmth. Your brows raise slightly in surprise, a small flicker of something light and pleasant blooming in your chest. She’s calling you over?

Ochako is quickly becoming hero of the day in your books!

You hesitate for a split second, instinctively glancing back up at Bakugou. But he’s not even looking at you anymore, his sharp profile angled away, entirely uninterested. Denki, meanwhile, is too occupied pestering him to notice your fleeting look.

Deciding not to dwell on it, you gingerly push your way through the crowd, muttering apologies to some of the guys you have to brush past before finally reaching the brunette.

Oh wow.

There’s so much more breathing room out here!

Ochako grins as you settle beside her. “I saw you back there, and it looked suffocating,” she laughs lightly, tilting her head toward the crowd.

A breath of laughter escapes you, and heat rises to your cheeks as you nod. “It was pretty bad, I won’t lie.”

She giggles again, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background—the swarm of voices, the shifting bodies, even the lingering warmth where Bakugou’s presence had been just a moment ago.

But in the back of the group, Kaminari persists.

Because seriously. Bakugou talking to you? And at that proximity? Since when!?

Bakugou, meanwhile, keeps his eyes forward, his jaw tight, making it a point to seem unbothered by Kaminari’s relentless poking and prodding.

“Oh, don’t be like that, man,” Denki drawls, nudging him. “Why don’t you invite Y/N to the lake today? I didn’t even know you knew her like that.”

“I don’t.”

“Now that I think about it, you two were the only ones who didn’t come to the beach house with the rest of us.” Kaminari squints at him, curiosity brimming in his expression. “Have anything to say for yourself?”

“No.”

Denki clicks his tongue, undeterred. “Oh, come on, Bakugou. She’s one of the hottest girls in class and doesn’t even look at any of us! What do you two have going on?”

Bakugou doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t acknowledge the question beyond the slight twitch of his fingers in his pocket. Even if he did have an answer—which he doesn’t—he’d rather drop dead than entertain Denki’s idiotic curiosity.

“Nothing. Pay attention to Aizawa. This is why you’re always lost, dumbass.”

Denki groans dramatically but finally lets up, deflating in defeat.

For now.

But something he said lingers in Bakugou’s head, annoyingly persistent.

Inviting you to the lake.

Would you even go? Hell, do you even know how to swim?

You seem like the type who’d scream at the sight of a bug, let alone willingly step into lake water.

No, you strike him as the kind of person who only steps into crystalline water, the kind that shimmers under the sun, untouched and impossibly blue. Pristine hotel pools lined with marble, warm tropical beaches where the waves roll in soft and predictable.

And from what he’s gathered, you don’t seem to go out of your way to interact with the others. He can’t really picture you in that kind of setting…

And yet—

The thought won’t leave him alone.

Because for some godforsaken reason…

He kinda wants you there.

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Aizawa had been merciful today, keeping things simple with straightforward training—no surprise exercises, no unexpected curveballs. Just good old-fashioned endurance and technique work.

The others naturally paired off into their usual groups, sparring and strategizing together, while you, as always, remained on your own.

You had spent the afternoon seated on the forest floor, your fingers brushing over damp earth as you tested the limits of your quirk.

Delicate blossoms unfurled across tree trunks at your command, creeping like veins of color against the rough bark.

You had been experimenting with different types of pollen, watching how they interacted with the environment, but the solitude had begun to weigh on you in the back of your mind.

By the time training wrapped up, exhaustion settled into your limbs like a heavy cloak, and the entire class trudged back toward the inn.

The moment you stepped inside, Aizawa announced that room assignments had been made—completely randomized.

A relief. And also… kind of terrible.

On one hand, it spared you from the awkwardness of seeking out a roommate yourself, the silent dread of being the leftover option no one wanted.

On the other, the idea of sharing a space at all made your stomach twist. You could already imagine the other girls hoping to be paired together, the unspoken wish that they wouldn’t get stuck with you.

Bracing yourself, you pushed open the door to your assigned room—

And nearly exhaled in sheer relief.

“Y/N? No way! What are the odds?”

Ochako’s cheerful voice greeted you, her eyes sparkling as she sat up from her twin-sized bed. Her expression was warm, welcoming—genuine.

Your shoulders immediately eased.

You weren’t necessarily close, but after today’s unexpected interactions, she probably ranked the highest on your (admittedly non-existent) social list. And while she might not have been hoping to room with you, at least she didn’t seem disappointed.

Your gaze flickered over her outfit, catching on the pastel pink of her swimsuit, the way her little shorts covered the bottom half.

Noticing your stare, she perked up. “Oh! I just got ready a little early,” she explained, smoothing out her top. “Everyone’s going to the lake in a bit—just to hang out and relax. We’re doing a bonfire after.”

Whatever lingering comfort you felt immediately plummeted.

Another group outing.

You turn away, setting your duffel bag down on the neatly made bed. The weight of what she just said lingers between you, pressing against your ribs, winding itself into the knots of doubt tangled in your stomach. You scramble for a response that won’t make you sound completely pathetic. Because the truth is—that’s exactly how you feel.

Out of place.

Another night of lying in bed and watching some over-the-top baking competition it is…

“Why don’t you come with me?”

You freeze.

Your head snaps up, startled. Ochako is still smiling, her expression open and easy—like the idea of including you isn’t strange at all. Like it isn’t some grand act of charity or obligation, but something as natural as breathing.

You should say no. That’s what you always do. Politely decline, make up some excuse, retreat into the safety of your own company, where no one can reject you because you’ve already rejected yourself first.

You are your own self-sacrificial lamb. And you hate that about yourself.

But before you can even think, before your instinct to run away kicks in, the words tumble out.

“Can I?”

Ochako’s eyes widen in surprise—then brighten with excitement, her whole face lighting up like she just won the lottery. “What? Of course you can!” she beams. “You never come to these things! I think you’d have so much fun!”

Her enthusiasm chips away at your usual barriers, that high, impenetrable wall you’ve built brick by brick over the years. Maybe—just this once—you can ignore the nagging voice in your head telling you to back out.

A hesitant smile tugs at your lips. “Y-yeah. I’d like that.”

You glance down at your duffel, then back at her, shifting from foot to foot. She’s patient, waiting, completely unaware of the anxious thoughts spiraling in your head, screaming at you to get this interaction right.

“Um, I don’t know if I packed the right thing for this. Do you wanna see?” You hesitate as soon as the words leave your mouth. Is that… normal between friends? The immediate internal reminder that you two aren’t really friends comes unbidden, and your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag.

Ochako doesn’t seem to share your doubts.

If anything, her eyes sparkle with intrigue, and she bounces over to your bed with ease. “Of course! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Your heart pounds a little too fast as you unzip your duffel, rummaging through neatly folded clothes before finally pulling out the swimwear you’d packed.

Ochako lets out a gasp so dramatic that you physically flinch, wide-eyed at her reaction as she takes the pieces of fabric in your hand.

Her face is red—redder than any strawberry you’ve ever seen—as she holds up the bikini.

The one you barely thought twice about when you packed.

Of course, it’s designer—baby pink, delicate, with an even lighter monogram of the brand subtly woven into the luxurious fabric.

The kind of vintage luxury that isn’t just worn but collected, straight from a coveted '90s archive, impossible to find anywhere but the most exclusive resellers. It’s sweet, undeniably cute—Y2K perfection. Something that once graced the pages of glossy fashion magazines.

It’s also, well…

Tiny.

“Y/N!” Ochako practically shrieks, holding the stringy top between her fingers like it might disappear if she lets go. Her wide, warm hazel eyes flicker between you and the delicate scrap of fabric, her entire face turning a shade deeper.

Oh dear lord, is she even breathing properly?

“This—this is what you’re wearing to the lake?!”

Your neck heats at her reaction, embarrassment creeping in as you awkwardly scratch at the back of your head.

“Oh… is it not cute?” you ask, suddenly second-guessing yourself. “I was in such a rush, I just threw it in there.”

You dig back into your duffel, fingers brushing against smooth fabric before pulling out the matching baby pink skirt—a dainty little cover-up that, in hindsight, is your one saving grace.

“Oh, thank god I packed this. It totally completes the outfit,” you sigh in relief, smoothing out the material. “Oh, and I think I have some cute sunglasses to go with it too!”

Ochako gawks at the skirt before practically smacking a hand over her face, her other hand waving frantically in front of her cheeks as if trying to will the blush away.

“I haven’t even seen you in it yet, and I’m already blushing.”

You tilt your head, blinking in confusion, entirely too naïve to fully grasp her reaction.

“O-oh… that means it’s good, right?!”

Ochako lets out a breathy laugh, shaking her head fondly. “Good? Y/N, you always look good. This is gonna be incredible!”

She holds up the bikini again for emphasis, her eyes flicking over the delicate fabric before meeting yours with absolute certainty.

“Seriously, you could wear a paper bag and still somehow look put together.”

Your face warms at the unexpected compliment, and you duck your head slightly, smoothing a hand over your wrist as if to distract yourself.

You don’t really think about how you look—it’s not like you go out of your way to be noticed. You just wear what you like, and what you like happens to be straight off the runway, sparkly whenever possible, and always perfectly coordinated.

But… was that really how people saw you?

“I don’t know about that…” you murmur, glancing at the bikini in her hands.

“Well, I do.” Ochako grins, nudging your arm playfully. “You’re gonna turn heads in this, I promise.”

You blink at her, lips parting slightly. Turn heads?

You’re not sure how you feel about that. Your style has always been on the extravagant side—frilly dresses, designer miniskirts, monogrammed handbags—but it’s not like it’s ever made your classmates pay much attention to you.

You’ve always just… existed in your own little world, wearing what made you happy.

Why would this be any different?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of the cover-up skirt. “Okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “I’ll try it on.”

Ochako practically beams. “Yay! Oh my gosh, I’m so excited to see!” She waves her hands, backing up a little to give you space.

You gather your things and make your way to the bathroom, nerves piquing—not necessarily about the swimsuit itself, but about everyone else.

The entire class would be there, chatting, swimming, joking around. You’ve always been on the quieter side, more of an observer than an active participant.

Would Bakugou be there?

Would he talk to you at all? Probably not—he’d be with his friends...

You shake off the thought as you step into the bathroom, slipping into the bikini with practiced ease.

The silky material molds to your figure perfectly, the baby pink hue soft and delicate against your skin. The designer monogram catches the light as you adjust the straps, the matching skirt sitting just right on your hips, fluttering ever so slightly when you move.

You glance at yourself in the mirror. It’s cute—your usual style, really—so there’s nothing to feel nervous about. With that in mind, you step back into the room.

“I’m dressed,” you announce rather casually, brushing your hands down the sides of your skirt. But the moment you look at Ochako, you falter.

She’s frozen, jaw slack, eyes impossibly wide.

“…Um,” you start, confused by her reaction. “Does it look okay?”

“Y/N,” she mutters, taking two quick steps forward before placing her hands on your shoulders. The sudden contact makes your eyes widen in surprise.

“If you ever wanted to drop the whole hero dream,” she breathes, shaking her head in disbelief, “you would make an incredible model. Seriously. You look insane—in the best way.”

Your face instantly warms, heat creeping up to your ears. “Ochako…” you mumble, shifting your weight slightly, unsure of what to do with the praise. You weren’t expecting this kind of reaction.

She just beams at you, completely unbothered. “No, like, I actually feel honored to witness this. This is next-level, Y/N. You look like you belong in a magazine.”

You tug at the hem of your skirt, flustered. “thank you, you look great too” lame response really, but you're trying to match her energy!

As you fasten a delicate bracelet around your wrist, the lingering warmth of Ochako’s words settles over you like a cozy blanket. It’s… nice.

Not just the compliment—though that was sweet—but the way she talked to you. Like you were already friends. Like this was normal.

She hums happily beside you, typing away on her phone before tossing it onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. “Okay! The girls are gonna freak when they see you.”

You let out a small laugh, smoothing down your skirt. “I don’t know about that…”

“I do.” She grins, nudging you playfully before hopping to her feet. “Alright, you ready?”

You take a breath, then nod. “Yeah. Ready.”

And for the first time in a while, you really feel like you are.

As you follow Ochako out the door, the giddy warmth in your chest blooms even further. Maybe this is what it feels like to finally—finally—start making a friend.

[madlori]

Ok my fam, I think we all need a lil Come to Jesus moment. So let's talk about it.

"I'm disappointed Tommy wasn't in 8x02 and 8x03." That's ok! We'd all like to see him, and see our boys together. Going by precedent, we can probably expect to see him in 6-8 episodes this season (it could be more - Taylor had 13 episodes in season 5 - but we shouldn't count on it) and we've already burned one. I'd prefer not to have half of them during the opening disaster when SO MUCH ELSE is going on. I'd rather him appear in episodes when he's got a storyline with Buck, or even on his own, and especially at the midseason break or the end of the season when Relationship Events are more likely to happen.

"But the 217 engine!" I know. But as we sometimes like to say to other fans - we kind of baited ourselves with that. It was suggestive, sure. But the fact that production has MADE a 217 engine is also suggestive that we may see it again later, and they just put it in the hangar scene because they already had it and they had to fill up that hangar with as many vehicles as possible.

"An airplane disaster without using the pilot??" As others have pointed out, Tommy's not a jet pilot. And don't let anybody make you think you were nuts for thinking it was possible. It was definitely a reasonable theory, with supporting evidence, that he might be involved, but in the end, the big opening disaster is always going to be about our mains. As it should be. And honestly? It was great.

"But the whole point of bringing him back was to integrate him with the 118 more!" I'm sure that's still a goal they have, but it's probably easier said than done. Not just from a writing standpoint, but a contractual one, in that there's a limit to how often they can use him, so they have to pick and choose where.

"It's like they don't care about this relationship as much as we do." You're right. NOBODY will care about it as much as we do. They care about the main characters, about the show's actual premise (i.e. first responders encountering wild situations, secondarily the characters' personal lives). There is no universe in which ANY relationship in the show will be prioritized as much as we, the fandom, would like it to be. That's just life in the big city. But they do care, oh boy, they do. Enough to use BT scenes in off-season promo. Enough to write Tommy into a scene in the opening episode where, frankly, he didn't NEED to be. Also, consider this - to shoot that scene, Lou was probably on set a grand total of one day, MAYBE two. And they made sure to include him in the jokey "bee pickup lines" reel. You know what other relationship we haven't seen much? Buddie. They have not appeared together outside of work (and honestly, barely AT work either) except in the birthday party scene, and hey, did you notice that they do not interact at ALL in that scene? Buck spends that entire scene interacting only with Tommy. And that's a friendship featuring two mains that we know they value. That's not indicative of anything except the sheer scarcity of screentime.

"They should be promoting the queer relationship!" Should they? They've never really done that before, with the several pre-existing queer relationships. I have always sort of appreciated that they have not hung a neon sign on Buck and Tommy saying LOOK AT OUR NEW QUEER PAIRING. It's never gotten the Very Special Episode treatment - Buck never had gay panic, or much coming-out drama - and I like that. I like treating it no differently than other romantic pairings on the show. And they did actually promote it quite a bit when it happened. Now it would just feel kinda performative to me.

"Will he be in [whatever episode]?" Imma gently suggest we not do this every week. He'll be there or he won't. There'll be some we know he's in (I think 8x06 is a lock), some we won't know and will be pleasantly surprised, or unpleasantly surprised. I'd say odds for 8x04 are...20%, rising to at least 50% with 8x05 and 100% for 8x06.

And if you ever feel sad about it - go look at a still of Buck from any episode so far this season, and say to yourself, "This man is having heaps of amazing sex with his hot pilot boyfriend on the regular. Canonically."

I know a lot of us have encountered some pretty irritating gloating from people who hate this relationship (in a frankly weirdly obsessive way) about him being not there. Just remember - that's all they have to gloat about. The only "victory" they can claim is the absence of a character? Lame. And it's not even a victory, it's just the cost of doing business when your ship involves a recurring character. Sit back and enjoy your canon relationship between two men who've actually kissed on screen and ignore it. We can be generous about it.

So let's not talk ourselves off the deep end, shall we? I'd like to keep being a reasonable fandom.

[murdrdocs]

mega stockholm syndrome; dubcon; extremely implied/detailed coercion; reader is called “good girl” once w/ NEGAN SMITH

"come on, don't be shy. let me in there."

the tip of negan's cock nudges against your entrance, unable to slip in just yet due to the tension you're holding throughout your entire body. you could continue to put up a fight, close your legs and push him out of the way. you know he'll leave you alone, at least in this regard, but non compliance doesn't fly with negan. you've learned that it's better to get it over with and deal with the guilt and distaste in your mouth later.

except, you don't think there'll be any of that this time.

it's shameful for you to admit it, even to yourself, but you want this. for possibly the first time since being here, you want to feel negan glide his cock into you. you want to feel him through the thin barrier of a miraculously not expired condom. maybe you even want to feel him without the condom, something you've never thought you would ever want in a world like this.

with a forced exhale, you loosen your entire body and negan takes the chance he's given.

"there we go," he drags over every single syllable until he sounds like he's cooing. "there she is." he easily slides in, his eyes watching you take each agonizing inch of him.

you don't mean to let these sounds slip out of your mouth, you're just trying to breathe through it, but your breaths take on a pleasurable lilt, gentle whines and moans slipping out amongst the air.

negan grins, big and proud down at you, and you want to hate the look, the predator glint in his eyes, the cockiness shining off of his teeth. but something about it all makes pride bloom in your chest.

it only multiplies when he tells you, sincerely you think, "i'm proud of you, sweetheart. getting better and better everytime." because you know he's right.

you are getting better and better.

you're getting better at all of this. better at fitting him in, an action that was so foreign in the beginning that it felt like an intrusion. you know that it was, all of this was an intrusion, it should feel uncomfortable but day by day it becomes more and more secure. you're becoming better at being here with the saviors, more acquainted with violence and hostility that poured from every single pore of every single person in this place. you're becoming better at being his, better at being there for him. better at knowing what your job is.

and it's this. plain and simple. 

you remember hershel used to say everyone had their jobs. you remember maggie and beth using different iterations of the mantra to keep themselves going. you picked it up then, reminding yourself that everyone has their jobs while you were living in the quaint community you all had created, and lost, in the prison.

now, you use it to keep yourself afloat with the saviors. everyone has their jobs, yours just happens to be completely untraditional.

negan won't tell you that this is what he has you for. he likes to paint himself as morally superior in that way, acting as if you had a choice, acting as if you chose to be his little lapdog. he acts as if you do more than pleasure him when he pleases. according to his self-deluded words, you boosted morale—a reminder to everyone that life did have its pleasures, even in times like these. you think you're a reminder to the saviors that only negan could have his cake and eat it, too. and he eats it as much as he wants.

but you also know you're a warning to your group that no one is safe, and everything can be swept out from under them in a moments notice if they chose not to comply.

so compliance is what you have to do. it’s just coming to you naturally now, blending the line between compliance and sheer want. you don’t know what this is now.

when negan throws your legs over his shoulders and leans closer to you, you don't curl away from his body. when his free hand slinks up your stomach and rests over your tits, you don't feel uncomfortable. you feel the opposite when he sandwiches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, almost painfully tweaking the bud between his rough hands.

maybe this is some sick way for you to cope, or maybe you just genuinely want this. giving into your base bodily desires, arching your back and pushing your cunt further towards negan, trying to get him to give you more without having to ask for it, for verbally requesting him to use you would not only be too humiliating for you to come back from, but it would let negan know that you don't exactly hate him as much as you claim. or, at least, you don't hate all of him as much as you claim.

negan's lips part as if he's going to say something, but then he stops. you think he's going to make you tell him just how much you like this. you worry he's going to make you beg for an orgasm, and you'll either have to tuck your tail between your legs and leave here without getting off, or do as he says to get what you want. but he doesn't.

he nudges the tip of your nose with his, and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you and cross into territory that hasn't been explored yet. but he doesn't.

he may be intruding within you, but he doesn't go too far, and it's truly the bare minimum but it does something to you.

you move your leg from negan's shoulders and wrap it around his waist, making the choice to pull him closer to you.

the smile negan gives you is so big and full of so much pride that you can't help but feel a little bit of pride for yourself, too.

"oh?" he says, slowly letting his tongue glide over his bottom lip. he pulls back, taking your other leg and pulling it into the same position. he grips your hips and drives into you with long, deep strokes, praising you the entire time, calling you a good girl, telling you just how proud he is, telling you that he knew you would start to fit in here.

when he makes you come, it's to the sound of his cock slipping in and out of you and his voice—something that once evoked fear in you from the moment he had you on your knees in that introductory lineup that changed so much of your life, but now something that creates an inciting fear. a sort of fear that has you wanting to crawl back to him.

[bandgie]

On Your Knees Pt.2

ONE | TWO

synopsis: They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but this one seems eager for a treat.

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, incel!seungmin, pussy eating/fingering, PIV (raw), edging (m!), blue balls, multiple orgasms (f!), dom reader (kinda), banter, prolly more that I missed lol

3.1k words

Seungmin doesn't think there'll be any way for him to live how he has been. Even the friends he spends time with hardly compare to the time he spends on the bathroom floor eating you out. Embarrassingly enough, it's all he can think about. Even as the podcast he's watching blares through his headphones, he can barely make out what they're saying.

Something about how it's submissive for a man to eat pussy. How demeaning the act is for a man to do. Yet, Seungmin questions the validity of what these so-called 'alpha' men are saying. Is it truly so terrible to have the taste of a cunt on your lips? To suck and lick on such a delicious flower?

He shuts his computer off, ripping the headphones by the wire to hone in on his conclusions. 

Okay so maybe this is normal. Seungmin's a big boy; it makes sense that he would eat pussy sooner or later. And if he liked it, that's also fine. He's a man, after all, it makes more sense to like giving girls head than to hate it.

Just as long as he doesn't try to reach out to you. Now that would be submissive of him. And if there's anything Seungmin is dead set on, it's that he is not submissive. 

But days after not seeing you with Han, days of not getting a taste of the pussy that has him whipped has him doing things he's sworn not to do. He found your number, he texted you, and he's going over your house on your conditions.

He's so fucked. 

It's too late to turn back by the time he's at your front door. Seungmin only waits a few seconds before the door swings open. He's seen you about a dozen times, but it's the first time he's felt his heart swoop at the sight of you. He reasons it's just because you're in a t-shirt.

"Oh wow," you take a step back and look at him up and down, somewhat in disbelief. "I can't believe you actually came."

Seungmin can't find it in himself to believe he came here on his own violation either. "Whatever," he shivers from the cold, night air. "Are you gonna let me in or what?" 

You take a step aside to make room, "Since you asked so nicely."

Seungmin takes awkward steps into your apartment, noting the cozy setup and simple plants littered in your living space. His fingertips run on the soft material of the couch, pulling on the loose threads automatically.

You walk past him, taking a seat on your couch and reaching for the remote. "I was just about to put something on," you turn and look up at him. "Come on."

Tentatively, Seungmin walks around the sofa to you. Just before he takes his seat, you click your tongue. "Nope. On the floor." You point to the space between your legs. Seungmin hands close and open, unsure what to make of the situation. You sigh and loll your head to the side, looking at him unamused. "You gonna sit down or what?"

Seungmin glowers at you, "I am. You don't need to be such as ass about it." He grumbles a little more before bending down and crossing his legs to face the TV. "Nope, wrong way," you twirl your finger in a circular motion to indicate him to face you instead. 

He looks at you confused, "But you said we were gonna put something on." You shake your head at him, "No. I said I'm gonna put something on. I never said anything about you." A hint of red begins to show on Seungmin's face, but before he has the chance to most likely curse you, you spread your legs. 

You can practically see the words die in Seungmin's throat at the sight of your bare cunt. He acts before he can think, twisting his body fully and gripping the underside of your thighs to spread you further. It's better than he remembers.

"This is why you came, right?" You look down at him. "Missed the taste of this pussy?"

Seungmin licks his lips, nodding mindlessly. Something about taste and pussy, but he understood nonetheless. His tongue pokes out, but you grip his hair and yank him upwards. Seungmin whines, like an animal tore away from his meal, but you ignore it. "You're just here to make me feel good, got it? You don't get to cum, only I do. Do you understand?"

You have to shake his head to force an answer out of him. "Yes yes yes." He shifts anxiously in your hold. "Only you. I'll make you feel good."

Despite his desperation, you smile. "Good boy. Go ahead."

The moment your grip loosens, Seungmin latches onto your core. It's soft, it's warm, it's good. He moans into your cunt, inhaling through his nose and he dips his tongue between your folds. It's only been days since he's tasted you, but it feels far too long. How could he go a single minute without tasting you? Getting that sticky arousal on his lips so the taste could mingle in his mouth the entire day? Seungmin puckers his lips and kisses your cunt, a thank you for introducing him to a whole new world. 

Your fingers mindlessly click on the buttons of the remote as you try and find a show. You keep switching back and forth between options, clicking random buttons until you accidentally set the caption to a different language. One of your hands pet the top of Seungmin's head, pushing back his hair and twirling it in your fingers. 

His tongue slides down until it catches your entrance, barely prodding it until he slides it back up to your clit. He swirls your bud in his mouth, sucking and licking until your hips buck. "Shit," you breathe. "You really missed my pussy, huh?"

Seungmin opens his eyes to look up at you. He turns his head sideways to place your clit in his mouth, flicking your clit rapidly. That's as much of an answer as you're getting, but it does the job. He lifts his head back up and sucks harshly, pulling on your sensitive flesh before releasing it. You shiver and moan, feeling your arousal drip onto the couch that you'll make him clean up later. 

"Fuck yes," your grip tighten on his hair. "Finger me." Seungmin leans back and uses his hands to rub your pussy. His fingers rub and swirl around your core until they're drenched. He trails them down until they catch your entrance, pushing his middle and ring finger in. 

You throw the remote on the couch and grip the cushions. The stretch is slight, but his fingers are long. They reach much deeper than you could ever do yourself, and you let out a loud moan when they finally settle all the way inside. Seungmin pumps you slowly, getting used to how your walls pulse and clench around him. He watches as your cunt swallows his fingers. His cock throbs in his pants. 

"Shiiit," you throw your head back onto the headrest. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

That's all he's ever wanted. Seungmin places his mouth back onto your clit where his tongue flattens against your cunt. He moves his head up and down while thrusting his fingers in and out. Both of your hands are tugging on his hair, pulling and pushing him away. 

"Already?" He pulls away for a moment to speak. "Didn't think you'd be this easy, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised." A devilish smile appears on his lips as you lift your head to look at him. You wish you could come up with a snide remark, but your head starting to feel fuzzy and all you can focus on is how close you are. 

You push his head back to your pussy and wrap your legs around his body, locking him in. "I'll make you regret saying that."

Seungmin laughs into your cunt, happy that he succeeded in pissing you off. Now that he's pushed against you, it's a little difficult to finger you as rapidly, but you rather like the shallow thrusts. It gives you more to clench down on and ride while he licks your clit. You buck your hips and ride his face inelegantly. The first hints of your orgasm build in your stomach, making your body feel unbelievably warm as your hips stutter. 

"Fuck," you rasp. "Imma cum." You blink a few times and lazily smile at him, "Did you miss the taste of that too?"

As an answer, Seungmin buries himself so deep into you that his nose is pressed against your clit. The extra texture is enough to send you over the edge, creaming on his fingers and twitching in his mouth. He happily gulps down your arousal, slipping his fingers out to replace them with his tongue instead. 

You just taste so good. Seungmin is delightfully reminded of how it felt to swallow you for the first time, how the taste settled on his tastebuds. His tongue scoops out the white cream your pussy flooded out and spreads it on your clit before licking it back up again. 

He hums, shoving his cum-stained fingers when you finally release him from your hold. 

Seungmin wants it again. His hands splay over your thighs to spread them. After all, it's you who gets to cum. It's only fair he makes sure you can as much as possible. But before his tongue has the chance to find its rightful place in your pussy, you snap your legs shut.

He looks up at you like a wounded dog, "Hey! Open them back up!"

Seungmin isn't sure what he's expecting to see, but it definitely isn't how you look right now. Flushed with a heaving chest, eyes that are wide and full of arousal, and a cheeky smile on your bitten lips. He's reminded of how pretty you actually are. 

"Get up," you snap him out of his thoughts. "Take off your pants too."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Seungmin rises from his aching knees and fumbles with his belt. He unties it quickly before undoing the top of his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers. You gasp, eyes locking with his cock for the first time. 

"Holy shit," you slap a hand over your mouth. He's hard. His cock is red at the tip, leaking with so much precum you think he's had to stain his underwear. You can almost see it twitching from lack of attention, begging to be touched. 

Seungmin smiles, grabbing the base and squeezing it. "You like it, huh?" It's not easy to take your gaze off his length to look into his eyes instead. The sight of him has you aching to be filled. Your pussy clenches around nothing, but you keep your nose upturned, "It's alright."

He scoffs, but the smile never fades. You widen your legs and welcome him, watching as he gets into a half-squat position to angle his cock towards your entrance. Seungmin rubs his tip over your sensitive clit. When it catches your nub, you jolt. You wrap your legs around him and bring him closer. He does it again, this time pressing the head of his cock down to apply pressure. 

You reason he's doing this on purpose. Making your pussy squelch and your hips jolt to try and get him inside. As much as you hate to admit it, he's good with his dick. Teasing you by slowly dragging the fat of his head down your slit, slapping his tip and your wet cunt. You're annoyingly reminded of what he said days ago; 'I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to.'

The words echo in your mind and you scrunch your nose. "God, fuck! Stop pissing me off and put it in already."

For a moment, you think he's going to defy you. His tip trails lower and lower until it's against your entrance. Seungmin steadies his cock at the base and pushes forwards, barely spreading you open. "Didn't think I'd ever hear you begging for my cock," he smiles at you teasingly. "You were being such a feminist the other day. What happened?"

Not-so-nice words begin to form in your head and before you get the chance to spew them out, Seungmin pushes all the way in. His cock stretches you out more than you anticipated, and it's whines that leave your lips instead. He doesn't give you the chance to adjust as he pulls nearly all the way, save for his tip, before slamming back in. Your entire body jolts and you whimper again. 

Your pussy can't keep up with his pace, but you hardly mind the pain. It blurs into white pleasure that burns hot in your cunt. 

"You hear that?" Seungmin pants through his thrusts. "That's the sound of your pussy getting fucked by an...what was it again? An incel?" He laughs as your eyes darken with anger, seething with a type of emotion you're not too familiar with. 

You reach out the grip his wrist that's placed on the side of the couch, digging your nails into his flesh. Seungmin hardly notices the pain, his teeth shining in his shit-eating smile.

The words are stuck in your throat. You want no more than to tell Seungmin how much of an ass he is, that his cock is merely adequate, but you can't. Every drag of his length rubs against your walls deliciously. You can practically feel every vein on him as he fucks you raw. He makes your hot pussy even hotter and he, unfortunately for you, keeps dragging his cock against that sweet spot deep inside you.

"You," a breath from you, "are a dick."

Strangely enough, your words seem to spur him on more. He tears his hand from your iron grip to place them both under your hips. Seungmin angles your hips upwards and drives forward, shoving his cock unbelievably deeper. Your hands shoot up to your face, trying to block all sounds of pleasure, but Seungmin can hear them. He can hear the gasping behind your fingers, the high-pitched moans muffled in your hands. 

Seungmin laughs, but it sounds winded. "A dick huh? That's funny. You seem to like being fucked by one."

It occurs to you that you've been too lenient on him. Letting him eat the very same pussy he's thrusting into, letting him fuck you raw. His attitude needs some shaping.

You let him keep fucking you. You let his cock throb and twitch in your pussy. He's close, but he's doing good at holding back. Seungmin must be used to dumping his cum and leaving, but he seems to hold out just for you. It's cute, but your plan is better. 

Your head bounces with every thrust. Seungmin makes sure to keep his long fingers at your clit the entire time, switching between pinching and flicking against it. It helps to build your second orgasm. Your jaw falls open and your moans become more frequent.

"Shit," he breathes. "Pussy gripping me so tight. Is someone gonna cum again?"

Blinking up at him, you nod. Your hand grips your chest, squeezing your boobs underneath the material as you keep nodding. "Mhm. Keep fucking my pussy and I'll cream all over your cock." That does it for him. Seungmin has been holding back his orgasm so much that his ears feel like they might burst. 

With new vigor, he fucks into you harder, deeper. Seungmin doesn't try to hide the animalistic sounds he makes, groaning and moaning as your walls wrap around his cock. "You want my cum, huh? Acting all big and strong when it's you're begging for it. Say it. Tell me you want my cum."

You don't, not because you're prideful, but because you can't. He's thrusting into you so roughly that words seem to leave you. His hand pulls your clit roughly, and the harsh tug drives you over the edge. You squeeze your breasts so tightly to anchor yourself. You can feel how your pussy floods with your cum, leaving your legs trembling and shaking. 

Seungmin can feel it too. The pulsing, the wetness. It's enough to finally let him release. His balls tighten, his dick twitches, and he-

"Pull out."

Seungmin doesn't know why he listens. He was so close to his orgasm, he could still taste it on his tongue. But your demand outweighs his need to cum. With a wail, he pulls out. A small whimper makes its way past you as he finally slips out, cock shining in your cum. 

His cock is red, rubbed nearly raw from how good he was keeping himself at bay. You can see the head of his cock pulsing, worse than the first time you saw it. A wicked smile finds your lips. 

"Do you remember what I said earlier, Seungie?" You speak with artificial gentleness. Seungmin is too busy trying not to cum, squeezing the base of his cock almost painfully. You have to repeat your question before he finally looks up to you. "Huh? About what?"

"About who gets to cum," you remind him. "Who is it that gets to cum tonight?"

Seungmin thinks back about how you presented your cunt to him, bare and wet. He briefly recalls how you said something about being the only one to cum, but he was so entranced by your sweet pussy that he hardly cared.

He frowns, face flushed. "But that's not fair! I ate you out. You came on my tongue. You came on my dick. I'm so hard and-"

"And that doesn't matter," you interrupt him. "I never said you can cum. That's your fault for assuming you could." You have to bite back you smile at his pitiful reaction.

Even with his dejected look, you can't help but find it somewhat cute. You fake a pout and click your tongue, "Poor thing. Here, kisses will make you feel better."

Seungmin wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't you widening your legs and him falling to his knees. Yet, he does just that. You feel his warm, wet tongue on your throbbing clit. Sucking and licking eagerly like he forgot about the aching cock between his legs. 

You fondly brush the hair from his face as he eats you out for the second time tonight. His eyes look up to you with your clit in your mouth and you shiver. Seungmin will be a handful for sure, but you can't help but think you've found the perfect diamond in the rough.

a/n: omfg I actually had a whole different idea but I scraped it and did this instead :p. if you wanna ask for a third part, please don't, I have no more plot for this fic tags: @mynsung, @andassortedkpop, @jminnnnnnn, @geneziesm, @applekiwi3202, @i6gyuu, @lazycarolinamoment, @lewoh-ot8-wh0re, @ihave-atummyache, @seeeeking-skz, @loeyscock, @blankdyean, @dini-recs, @yzsqu, @desirehorizon-recsextra a/n: I need to start asking if people want tags rather than looking through my comments and see who was asking for a pt 2 :(