#never got an urge to smoke more just kinda had a ritual of smoking one on my lunchbreak

[robotblues]

sounds fake but i'm starting to think i'm immune to chemical addiction

[stalksbyakuyatogami]

Could I have the V3 boys reacting to their GN!S/O successfully summoning the ghost of their long dead, but benevolent, ancestor to help them out (whether it be in the killing game or with something mandane in a non-despair AU is up to you)? Like, their S/O is finished, for a few seconds nothing happens and they then hear someone yell "WHO SUMMONED ME!?!" followed by them turning around to see a medival looking ghost.

Summoning An Ancestor With V3 Boys!

Let's have it in a killing game because it's low-key fun

fair warning: this might be a long read

Shuichi Saihara

•He thought at first that this was a kinda bad idea, but a good one at the same time. He never agreed to help you, but he's there to join you at least.

•You both quickly turned around. It was both unnerving and exciting that you managed to summon your ancestor.

•You were amazed that finally, you get to have some guidance.

•Shuichi however, was still terrified and his insides were trembling. He thinks that it's best to not quiver in front of such a powerful spirit.

•Shuichi keeps quiet the whole time you asked for advice. And said thank you when you two were leaving and saying farewell to the spirit. His way of acknowledging the spirit because he didn't even interact with it.

Kaito Momota

•You told him that you needed him for something since he told you that he'll help you with anything.

•You knew your boyfriend could never deal with things like ghosts, curses, and such. That's why you told him to come without telling him your agenda.

•So you lead him into the empty rooms on the third floor. He was wondering why there were such strange items on the floor. And he just got more suspicious when you were using them. His heart was now beating rapidly now that he hears you chanting. He wanted to leave so bad, but he wanted to get your permission first, in case it disrupted your ritual.

•He regained his composure when you finished chanting and nothing came out. Thank goodness no one came out. But that relief instantly went away when a booming voice echoed throughout the room, and a transparent body made its way up the ground. He fucking lost it and fainted. Good thing you caught him though.

•You did the negotiation on your own. Your ancestor was intrigued by the limp boy on your hands, and you explained what happened. Ancestor said they won't let their grandchild marry a man like that lmaoooooo.

Kokichi Ouma

•Was totally up for it. You can see the sparkles in his eyes. He even drags you to where you would hold your ritual. He's more excited than you are. It's gonna be his first time performing something like this. And seeing a spirit? So cool!

•While you worked, he asks all kinds of stuff. How you do it, how to use the materials, did you bring him to sacrifice him, even as far as dissing your ancestor. You told him to save the dissing when they actually appear.

•When the spirit did appear, he took time to scan everything about it before deciding to point out its flaws. He was low-key trembling, to be honest. Now it kinda looked like he was just boasting to show that he wasn't afraid that the spirit might curse him.

•He just stood there listening to all your ramblings towards the spirit. He didn't utter a single word, nor did he move an inch. He just had his eye focused on the spirit, assuring that it doesn't do anything suspicious. Good thing he made it until the end.

•As soon as you were finished, he made sure the spirit was gone and rushed back to his room. His farewell might sound jolly, but he's just gonna bury himself in his blanket and have hours of overthinking. Poor Kokichi.

Ryoma Hoshi

•He was actually pretty chill when you told him what you plan to do. He was okay with it. But he didn't really enjoy things like that, so he said he'll pass. But because you begged him to be with you, it can't be helped.

•He just stood there smoking while you arranged and performed everything necessary. Ryoma was a bit weirded put when you started chanting. You could summon a demon with that, you know (which is more or less the goal here).

•His jaw and cigarette both fell as the spirit came looming over you two. He couldn't believe his eyes. He doesn't know whether he'd stay or run. But he froze in place, that's for sure.

•You were conversing with your ancestor about everything. Ryoma thinks it's a good thing that you get guidance from your ancestors, but creepy at the same time. While you were at it, he slowly backed up and you didn't notice him going out of the room.

•You finished your session and went out of the room. Ryoma was nowhere to be seen. He was in his room. He told you that you did well, but the next time you do it, he doubts that he'll ever join you again.

Korekiyo Shuinguuji

•He was actually very very excited when you told him that you were gonna perform some kind of summoning. It was different from a seance, but he was still willing to help you. He didn't say no, and he even asked when you're gonna do it. He couldn't contain his excitement and immediately asked you to lead him to where you'd perform it.

•He helps you in arranging things. He even suggests methods that would make the spirit stay a little longer and summon the correct spirit. There was no one more helpful than Kiyo is. He's an expert in this after all.

•The spirit emerged a bit early than expected. And Kiyo was definitely amazed. He was gazing up your ancestor, admiration glossing his eyes. He's fighting the urge to say his catchphrase, honestly. He has all the thoughts in his mind. •While you were conversing, it looked like he was just standing there, but in reality, he's taking note of everything going on. How the spirit speaks, its mannerisms, and intrusive thoughts like what would happen if he disturbed your ritual. Would the spirit curse you two or something?

•He was muttering to himself by the time you finished. You approached him to ask him what's wrong. He held you by the shoulders and looked straight into your eyes saying that you two should do it again. Hell, he would even help you summon two or more of the spirits. You, of course, were encouraged since you were seeing more of your ancestors.

Rantaro Amami

•He thought you were joking at first and just lightly laughed it off but he stopped doing so when he realized that you were serious. He agreed to your plan or ritual or whatever it is. He guaranteed that he won't be that much of a help, but he's gonna do whatever you ask him to.

•You instructed him to prepare other materials which were simple to prepare. You did the other side of the tasks. He was very careful of handling these things because he thinks he might mess your ritual up.

•The spirit has emerged. It awed Rantaro in every way. How you managed to summon it, who they were, and overall how it came from just chants. Your ancestor noticed him and assumed that he was your boyfriend. The spirit then thought what everyone first thought of Rantaro. He definitely looks like a playboy and they were in doubt. But you reassured them that it was just his looks and not his attitude. Weirdly enough, your ancestor believed you.

•You sought out guidance, just like what you needed to do. Rantaro was just there supporting you, and even guiding you to ask something important about the killing game. Istg he's the most chill guy around. It sure is creepy, but he's also curious.

•By the time you finished, he'd tell you that you did a good job of staying rational and calm the whole session. He'd definitely accompany you the next time you do this again. He isn't terrified? Poggers!

Gonta Gokuhara

•Gonta is very very confused about... pretty much everything. What's ritual? Summoning?! Isn't that a bad thing? What if you summon bad spirit? Would not that be bad? After all of this, you guarantee Gonta that everything is gonna be fine because you pretty much knew how to do it. Gonta trusts you with his whole heart.

•He saw all the tools you had laid out and he inspected every one of them. He made sure not to touch anything though. Istg, he's very very anxious about all these. He asks you how you use all of these. It was actually confusing for him, but he promised to do his best despite not knowing how to do this.

•When the spirit arrived, he was startled to see it that he instinctively grabbed something invisible and threatened to hit the phantom. The phantom was surprised in return. He eventually apologized for startling them.

•While you were talking, he was listening attentively. He'd do anything to stop this killing game after all. He would even casually butt in to ask his own questions. He tried to not ask too much, avoiding making the spirit angry.

•When you two were finished, he even told you that he'd gladly accompany you when you do this kind of thing again. He was fascinated by the fact that you successfully summoned an ancestor. His eyes sparkled tbh.

K1-b0

•Summoning?! Big no! Not because he was afraid of ghosts or something of the sort, he's afraid of the curse it will unleash. But you told him many times that you would know how to handle it. You "would" wasn't enough for him, so you rephrased it. This time with an overflowing amount of assurance. He eventually agreed.

•He is familiar with all the things that you had laid out. He asked you if he was the sacrifice, and if that was the case, he'd never forgive you. You told him that robots can't be sacrificed, so he didn't have to worry. "That's robophobic!". Then what are you supposed to—

•When your ancestor emerged he was a bit terrified. The presence was new to him, and also the form. So he partially hid behind your back, to show fear and respect. He is so going to record this whole thing. It might help any research on paranormal areas, you know.

•He stood there proudly without even budging an inch. It was either out of fear, anxiety, or just plain formality because he doesn't know how to act around these entities. It's his first time facing one, after all. He made sure that as soon as the spirit causes you harm, he'll be there to defend you. Which was sweet of him.

•When you ended, he told you about how mind-blowing and bizarre the experience was. You felt the same as him since it was your first time too. He is a bit weirded out, but he will definitely accompany you again next time.

Please this took so long and i went fucking overboard. Thank you for requesting, anon!

-Mod Toko

[eagehaunting]

Mystery March 2021 day 12: Friend

This is actually a sequel to the day 10 prompt! I hope you all enjoy!

A heavy beat from the drums of one of the bands made Lewis’s heart race. With each beat setting off a new wave of impulses and urges. Tapping his fingers against his tequila, Lewis wets his lips and tries to keep his attention solely on Arthur.

Arthur, who sips his Irish cream eagerly and softly pants. Considering that Arthur had been jumping around and dancing around him within a crowd, as musicians blare and sweat drenched people collide, it wasn’t a huge surprise. But Lewis almost wished he was in the crowd again, distracted by the loud noise, head too full of euphoria to pay attention to the pesky thoughts that kept poking at him.

Kiss him, just do it. Look at his face, look at his lips. Do it. Do it-

The tequila rushes down his throat roughly. Lewis resists the urge to cough against the acidic liquid. Thankful that it stopped his stream of thoughts and turning to god this is horrible.

Arthur casts him a glance, sipping his drink and letting it hit the table a bit harder than usual.

“You like it? Your drink, I mean?” He asks, staring at Lewis with wide eyes. So unlike him and yet so... nice. The wall between them felt lower, and if Lewis wanted to, he could step right over and grasp those flushed cheeks and got a taste of Irish cream-

Another sip. Clenching his eyes shut as the bitterness has him shivering. Finally Lewis nods and squishes his near empty cup, hardly realizing that it was close to empty. “I do actually. Thank you for buying me a few, it’s been nice.”

“Your f-face says otherwise.” Arthur murmurs, hardly lifting his mouth from his straw.

Lewis bobs his head in agreement, “I think I drank a bit too much. I’m actually getting a headache now.”

“Shit,” Arthur swallows thickly and his hand shoots out, grabbing Lewis’s hand- his drink, pulling his drink from Lewis’s clumsy fingers with more grace than he imagined from the drunk man. “We-well then maybe we should head out? I t-told Ya’ I wouldn’t keep you out here long.”

Before Lewis could object to his drink being stolen, Arthur’s hands stutter, and the glass tips over.

“Fuck!” They both say at the same time. Lewis snags a few napkins and frantically tries to wipe, Arthur scrambles to grab the glass, failing to avoid spilling the drink. “D-dammit, Lew, I’m sorry- shit. W-want me to buy a drink to go?” Arthur asks, voice high with worry. Lewis flickers up, frown falling with a sigh.

“It’s.. it’s fine. Really, don’t worry. Pl-plus, one of us should be a bit more sober when we go to get a cab out of here.”

Deflating, Arthur nods and miserably tries to suck down the rest of his. He downs a quarter of the glass easily before sputtering.

Look at him. We never see him like this. He’s so cute, so nice, why don’t we just say it-

Lewis’s eyebrows furrowing as he eyes the wet napkins holding his distraction.

Shit. He narrowly glances at the kernels of popcorn left in their mini bucket to his left, and the small bag of leftovers besides his feet.

Arthur’s lightly bouncing his toes. Eyes drifting over the crowd of people on the hill surrounding a stage, where a familiar band plays tunes Lewis could faintly recall singing along to on the way there-

Arthur gasps. Reacting to a new chord. He whips back to Lewis, bowing across the table and smacking his fingers against the grated table. “Lewis-! Ca-can we stay for just this song? I really like it and as soon as it’s over we can leave-“

Reaching over the table and lightly touching Arthur’s hand, Lewis waves off His rambling.

“Sounds perfect. I can order a cab now and clean up, and after this song we can leave.”

Arthur’s eyes light up, he nods eagerly. “N-need some help?”

“No, I got it. Just sit back and enjoy the song, okay?”

The song is bouncy, reminding Lewis of a tropical beach. Palm trees and sparkling lights that zip across the night sky. As well as the interior of a night club. He faintly pays attention to the song as he unzips his backpack and pulls out his and Arthur’s jackets, when the chorus catches attention.

I wanna ruin our friendship,

we should be lovers instead.

I don’t know how to say this, ‘cus you’re really my dearest friend.

Lewis’s heart stills. This has to be a joke. A cruel joke set up by the universe. A chill takes across his shoulders as the heartbeat like drums tap into his own, making his fingers twitch in time. Dropping the jacket onto Arthur’s lap, Lewis mumbles a command to put them on before gathering his trash and quickly escaping to throw them away.

See? Everything is telling you to go for it. He’ll accept, he has to, just listen!

His heart races, pounds. Every thought turned into a reflection of Arthur, his best friend, his.. crush. And all he wants to do is grab Arthur and pull him into a tight hug and hope that Arthur will understand what it means.

No. He cant. He can’t do that, what if it ruins everything? Arthur might hate him, might detest him, want nothing to do with him, leave him stranded.

But he might not.

Lewis’s heart stills, his skin prickling as a breeze presses against his front. Pushing him back to Arthur.

Turning around, Lewis catches Arthur’s eye. His new black hoodie makes his bright hair stand out, and highlights the warmth on his face. Amazing, his perfect, handsome best friend, waiting for him to come back so they can leave together.

I wanna ruin our friendship,

I don’t know how to say this,

’cus you’re really my dearest friend.

Lewis clears his throat as his feet move without warning. “H-hey, Arthur, can I tell you something?”

What was he even thinking to say? Hey Arthur, I love you in a romantic way. Arthur I want to be yours forever. I want to ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead-

Whatever sat on Lewis’s tongue vanished in an instant as he came within three feet of Arthur. His hands raised and grab at Arthur’s shoulders. Before Lewis realizes it, he’s leaning in.

Arthur’s eyes widen, Lewis’s eyebrows arch.

Their lips meet, and both of them freeze.

Lewis’s chest feels hollow as his heart fills it all with a racing beat, making his arms, legs, and stomach shaky as the moment replays again and again in his head. What may have been two seconds, felt like an hour before Lewis draws back. Panting, face and body tense, head throbbing with a new type of pain. His eyes searching desperately.

Arthur stares at Lewis blankly, mouth hanging open and eyes wide, face filled with shock or surprise or something that Lewis couldn’t really explain.

Arthur’s lip quirks up in what could have been a smile, but it’s apprehensive nature makes Lewis’s heart drop, “Wh-what was... Lewis? Why... what’s that about..?”

“I...” Lewis’s hands dangle there, lightly trembling. The song switches to something else with a roar from the crowd, becoming muffled as realization hits. “Arthur, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what I was doing.” Tell him, tell him, TELL HIM! “I-I really like you, Arthur.” Lewis’s entire body shudders, weakness taking hold of every muscle as he tries to avert his eyes, only to land on Arthur. “I always have, ever since we were kids. I wanted- the entire trip I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I wasn’t sure how- or if it was even okay! I wanted to just s-say it. I’ve been wanting to kiss you this whole night, but I didn’t mean to force you-“

He’s lightly hit in the center of the chest, before Arthur grabs his shoulders. Lewis’s body and heart stills.

“Wait- seriously? You too? I- I mean we can keep kissing too if you want! I-I know I was kinda shit a minute ago, but I was just surprised.”

Wait huh? Lewis blinks as Arthur tries to close the gap between them again, but he pulls back, holding Arthur steady by his shoulder.

The incessant thoughts that were plaguing Lewis that whole day vanished, leaving him with his rational and his logic and a heavy cloud of what just happened looming over him. A storm cloud twisting in his racing chest and reminding him every way that this wasn’t okay.

But the tequila clouds his thoughts. All rational hidden in the cloud of smoke.

“W-wait. Maybe we can ... let’s wait until tomorrow? We’re a bit drunk right now, and I think that maybe we should talk about this when we wake up.”

He can only imagine Arthur’s thoughts spiraling by the confusion in his face, but Lewis pats his shoulder to snap him out of it. “N-not that I don’t think we should stop kissing, but I didn’t want our f-first to be like that. Right?”

Really, Lewis didn’t want Arthur to wake up filled with regret tomorrow. A measly kiss could be written off, but making out entirely? No. Lewis wasn’t going to allow it to go that far. His body already forced them enough.

They can wait.

And in fact, they did.

It wasn’t long waiting for their driver, not was it long to sit in the cab. Lightly brushing their fingers against the others and avoiding directly looking at each other. When they got back into their hotel, Lewis had to coax Arthur into the night ritual of brushing their teeth and undressing, as well as drinking some water before they crawled into their one, shared bed.

Lewis wasn’t sure how he managed to fall asleep so quickly, with his racing thoughts all surrounding his best friend beside him.

When he woke up, it all hit him all at once. The kiss most prominently lingering in his mind.

Being on his stomach let Lewis feel the cold sheets beside him, and lewis cracks open his eye to confirm that Arthur wasn’t still sleeping. In fact, Lewis caught a glimpse of the pale man leaning against the counter, with the familiar drip-drip of their portable coffee maker. The sun shining against his skin, making Arthur glow radiantly.

He might hate you. A thought points out, and Lewis closes his eyes to try and will away the churn in his stomach. The fear, the terror, the guilt...

His best friend, may hate him entirely...

Then as he shifts in his seat, a throb prickles through his head and Lewis groans unintentionally as the hangover blooms. He won’t be able to fall asleep now... maybe he should get it over with and get up.

Whimpering, Lewis pushes himself up and rolls onto his back, rubbing his palm against his forehead.

“Good morning, Lewis pepper.” Arthur’s croaky voice says, calm and gentle, Lewis could hear the smile on his face before he even opened his eyes. “Sleep well?”

“Mm,” Lewis groans and finally looks over at him, “I have a headache.”

“Hang over?”

“Yeah.”

There’s footsteps coming at him before a clink. Lewis opens his eyes, and a glass of water and two capsules are pressed into his face. Lewis takes it gratefully and swallows it back. Pushing himself off the bed, Lewis stretches and breaths in deeply, taking in the aroma of coffee and sweat from last night.

Arthur clears his throat, suddenly right behind Lewis, and becomes startlingly apparent when Arthur taps his shoulder and Lewis whirls around.

“So,” Arthur’s mouth is twisted up in his typical Kingsmen grin, it makes Lewis’s chest warm, “now that we aren’t totally blasted, let’s chat?”

It takes Lewis a moment to get over the surprise and embarrassment lodged in his throat before he nods. “Sure. I know I didn’t explain myself to to the best of my abilities. Perhaps over some coffee?”

“Sounds good. I have some brewing already, and I got your thermos ready for you.” Arthur thumbs to the kitchen and behind guiding Lewis there.

“Oh, how sweet.”

“Well of course, I am the sweetest!” Arthur says with a lazy flourish. Grabbing the coffee pot, Arthur begins to pour and Lewis takes his seat. Arthur then splashes in a sugar packet, a splash of milk, and a second larger splash of cinnamon creamer. His favorite, Lewis couldn’t resist smiling as he takes a sip.

“Thank you, Artie. It tastes really nice.”

“It does? Need any more sugar?”

“Hm,” another sip, “one more packet.”

Arthur tosses one to Lewis and takes a seat, folding his arms.

“So, I feel like I should ask one thing of you, Lew Lew.”

Pausing, Lewis hides his blush behind his thermos. Arthur continues.

“Give me a warning next time you’re going to steal my breath away?”

Lewis sputters and coughs into his hand, looking away. “I-I told you, I didn’t know what came over me. I’m not going to do it again.”

“And I didn’t think it would have happened at all. But one moment I was drinking Irish cream, jamming out, and the next minute all I could taste was tequila!” Lewis rolls his eyes and drinks his coffee as a distraction, and Arthur breathed out with amusement. “Not that I wouldn’t mind it happening again.”

[normiewrites]

happy birthday katsuki! despite it being such a joyous occasion, i wrote something pretty down in the dumps. i dont wanna explain the plot and hope you all understand it, or not, doesnt matter as long as it made u feel something cause i felt nothing writing this. i tried making it more realistic than fiction and im pretty proud of it.

prompt was taken from @daily-prompts

thanks for beta reading @savnofilter @kingtamakimurder !

other tags: @mci-writing @lady-bakuhoe @mutantjournalist @assortedanime

warning(s): its kinda depressing, angst, smut, fwb, drugs (not too much)

‘when is it ok to steal something?’ - bakugo katsuki x (fem)reader

you didn’t know when you started noticing it all. but you did, whether you liked it or not. the way that the newspaper cut outs would hang lazily off his dull yellow walls, the gravity forcing them to bend over like worshipers. or the way that the green big grenades on his desk were more roughed up than you were with the drugs in your system. or the way that his left calloused hand was always so tightly held onto your waist, leaving bruises for the next day as memories, while his right robotic one barely ghosted your skin, as if he was trying not to accept the truth. 

but the biggest thing you noticed was how empty everything was inside of him. you believed that you didn’t have any choice but to notice these things, because you were constantly only being fucked doggy style, never to face him and only the blank sheets beneath you. or maybe because it was to distract you from the cold droplets of water that would rain onto your back in small amounts. he always cried and maybe that’s why he never wanted you to face him, to never see how his tears pulled out his broken soul for you to see.

it was always like this, and each time, you would never get closer. you’d meet him in the parking lot near your apartment. it was a big and lonely parking lot, the streetlamps barely working as they flicked on and off, like the universe was sending you a morse code. he would always be ten minutes late no matter what time you would reach. maybe it was because he wanted to guarantee your existence, to know that you’ll be there waiting for him, like he was scared that if he showed his eagerness, it would make you run away.

was he even eager to ever meet you? you wouldn’t really care, not because he was a good fuck and gave good prices for your drugs, but because you couldn’t. he was always a mirage, there for you to see but not touch and despite how hard he would rut his hips against your ass, he could never be close enough to capture.

there was never any time for ‘talking’. he always got straight to the point once he picked you up. smoking a few blunts in his living room before taking off both of your clothes and proceeding to his bedroom. neither of you would ever mutter a word yet you both knew what each other wanted. it was a ritual now. you always picked the easiest clothes to take off, not even bothering to wear a bra, and he liked it that way. most boys would, they’d find it hot and alluring, always aroused with how you planned to get down. but bakugo liked it because it meant he would spend less time close to you. it would mean he would have to use his prosthetic arm less.

you felt like you knew nothing about him. or maybe you knew too much to be true. the news paper cut outs would be all about the pro-heroes’ stories. deku, uravity, red riot, grand and many more. but most of them were about all-might. at first, you would’ve thought that he was just a fan boy and loved to keep track on the hero society. but the more times you came over and looked at them, the more you realised that they were pinned up so wrong. they were hung with sorrow and regret, pins in the wrong positions like he was playing darts while drunk. why did he do that? why did he pin them up with more pain than joy? was he actually drunk or was his past controlling his future?

it was amusing to you, the way he would make you feel so good and satisfied yet so lost and yearning. you weren’t even yearning something for yourself, rather for him. no matter how hard or how longed you yearned, you could never understand what it was for, and neither did he. of course, you never asked him about it, because the first few times you did, either you were told to leave or he would just straight up ignore you.

however, this night was different. you were going to hold your ground against him and find out the truth, because while it felt so good to be filled by his warm actions, it was all so empty and felt like there was no purpose as time went on. maybe this new found confidence was due to having the pro-hero deku walk by you on the street during patrol, or maybe because you wanted to desperately know what was on the photo frame that he always put down before giving into your urges.

“katsuki!” you moaned softly, moaning as he pressed a searing hot kiss against your neck, smoke gliding out of his mouth and tickling your chin as his hands massaged your ass.

you had gotten to the use of the cold metal of his prosthetic hand against your skin, in fact you found it slightly pleasing of the contrast in temperatures of both of his hands. maybe that’s why he kept you around; you were the only one who accepted him like that without questioning it. you couldn’t care to question it, you were a quirkless girl in a quirk filled world, nothing was shocking anymore. besides, you found it kind of cool. if only you knew how cursing it was.

the night was hot and urgent, the both of you were tearing each other’s clothes as you sat atop his lap on the sofa in the living room. the cheap material of the sofa dug into your knees as you grinded against his hard and restrained boner, moaning against his cheek, not caring for the sweat that accumulated on his forehead. you both had never kissed. it was one of the two rules that he had put from his side. no kissing, and no facing him. you had respected them as he respected yours, but the time you both spent together wanted you to be a rebel and break down those walls.

you giggled softly, the feeling of your high running through your body like silk on freshly shaven skin overriding your usual thoughts and stresses as you heard the familiar tear of your panties, a rough mark being left behind on your skin.

“you’re giving me the next 10 grams free, that was expensive, katsuki” you whispered, tugging on his hair as he growled softly at your name, leaving rough kisses against your collarbone and breasts.

katsuki liked having you around. you didn’t talk too much, didn’t question the mess of his room and silently adored his prosthetic arm, no matter how much he hated it. you were simple and not demanding yet you could pull out so many explicit moans from him. but the most important part is that you didn’t push about the tears that always seemed to find their way onto your bare back. you were comforting, almost too comforting that at times it alarmed the scared animal in his heart.

after sharing a few more rounds of blunts and hickeys, you felt the familiar nudge of his arms, his signal to tell you to go on all fours, never to face him for the rest of the night. but something inside of you stirred up, almost like you were being controlled from an outside force. you found your hands pinning his against the backrest of the sofa, a confused look shooting through his red eyes, his blonde eyebrows furrowing underneath his matching hair.

he moved to speak up but you cut him off, “please, just for tonight. i promise, i won’t judge, just please.”

you didn’t realise you were closing your eyes tight until you saw the sudden intrusion of red and blonde in your vision once his gruff answer snapped them open.

“why?”

least to say, bakugo was nervous. he had never felt this nervous since his surgery day. he couldn’t even believe you made him nervous, it was so stupid to him. his younger self wouldn’t be as nauseous as he is now, but then again, lots had changed and he wasn’t like him anymore.

“your face is just so pretty, i wonder how much prettier it gets with tears falling down” you muttered, holding his face in your palms as your thumbs brushed his cheekbones.

you were so close to him, much to close for his liking. well at first, it was too close, but he soon recognized the spike in his heart was the fact that he was exhilarated by your statement. he knew that you knew he cried, and he felt too ashamed to show you. but there was no hiding now, there was no point.

despite the soft blush that adorned his cheeks and the furrowing of his brows, he kept his face the same. it was like he had the inability to change his face, like he was wearing those clay face masks that would restrict movement. it was the expression of when you get laid-off from a job that you worked so hard for and was praised by your bosses for.

you nearly thought that you ruined the night as he backed his face out of your hands, his eyes looking elsewhere. now it was your turn to be nervous. the air was so still, unlike his red eyes as they tried to look for something to lock onto, to anchor him and help him make his decision.

“fine” was all you heard before you felt him lift you up slightly, aiding him and standing on your knees as he shifted his sweatpants and boxers down, his eyes still not on yours.

you couldn’t comprehend what happened, not only because of how surprising his reaction was, but because of how less time he gave you before slipping his cock into your wet hole. the action was so simple yet so satisfying, just like you.

“katsuki!” you moaned loudly, your fingers going over the small scars that littered around his undercut till they reached his blonde top, pulling on them.

it was hot and desperate, the way that he would quickly get to work on your nipples as he would thrust up into you and how you would roll against his hips, tugging on his hair and nipping on his ears. you fully understood how much you had been missing out on, how close it finally felt. the way that his arms would snake up against your back, pulling your chest closer to his face, even managing to angle his cock deeper. there was just one bridge left to cross and it was the man himself below you.

he was thankful for how loud your moans were to cover up his sniffles, and it was an odd feeling as his cold tears raced down your chest to your belly rather than on your back. and like before, you weren’t going to ignore this.

and like before, it didn’t feel like they were your actions as you had tugged his face up, connecting his lips to yours before he could say anything to stray you away. his lips were chapped and motionless against yours and you tasted the saltiness of his tears that had reached the cavern. it was so hot yet empty, just like him.

“what the fuck, y/n?” he asked, the nature of the words contrasting from how soft his voice was and how tired his eyes looked.

neither of you noticed how both of you stopped, the lust gone just like the rules that you had broken. if you could describe his face in terms of a colour, it would be grey. it was so sullen, tear marked and conflicting, just like thunderstorms.

“who are you, bakugo katsuki?” you asked, hands gracing his bare collarbones as you searched his face for answers. but it wasn’t like you were going to find any, because there weren’t any. hopefully one day though, you could make some for him, or at least he hoped that.

he completely ignored your question, sighing softly as he rested his forehead on your chest, not bothering to clear up his eyes.

“tell me, y/n, when is it okay to steal something?”

when was it okay to steal something? maybe it was okay when people got what they wanted through injustice manners. or maybe if it was something needed for an emergency, of course not that the cost of others. but then again what was stealing? poets would call it love, judges would call it a crime, thieves would call it a life.

you had so many answers that you didn’t want to say any, because what if the other was a better choice? so you stayed quiet, letting him fill the silence this time.

“tell me, y/n, when was it okay to steal my parents? when was it okay to steal my arm? when was it okay to steal my fucking life?”

the pain that rippled through your body was enough to ignore the snot and the buckets of tears that fell down your chest. in fact, it was too much, making your own eyes water, your hands instinctively rubbing his warm and firm back. who was he? the answer was too broad. too complicated. too scarring. it was all about him and nothing about him.

you didn’t mind the way that he gripped your arms, because the bruises would be nothing compared to what he went through. so, you pulled him close to you, letting him shake against you and cry against your neck.

bakugo didn’t know why he was opening up to someone like you. you both were just supposed to be fuck buddies, nothing else, and yet you had broken him down, and he fell voluntarily. maybe it was because of your quirklessness, or how observant and patient you were with him. but like many other unknown answers that night, it couldn’t matter to him, because you understood or at least wanted to. he needed you.

he needed a reason to live again.

[irisrecs]

buzzfeed unsolved fanfiction recommendations

This is all Ryan/Shane— so don’t like, don’t read.

PSA: I am not in any way stating that Ryan and Shane from Buzzfeed Unsolved and Watcher are together, or that I want them to be together; this is for entertainment use only. I urge you to not contact them or @ them on twitter or instagram making comments about their relationship, as they are humans just like the rest of us. Some things are none of our business!

This is a masterlist of my favourite fanfictions in this fandom! Thanks to @gigaledom for cheering me on. Never thought I was going to do more RPF, but here I am.

Under 10k

and i’m puffing my chest, getting red in the face by pissedofsandwich- 6k, Teen

Summary: "Zack's going to be there?" Shane asks, masking his... whatever it is he's feeling in his chest, with nonchalance.

Ryan blinks. "Yes?"

Well, never mind dancing with the fucking sun. He’s Icarus, wings melted and falling face-first into the asphalt.

Or: Shane is definitely not at all jealous of how close Zack and Ryan are getting during the making of Sports Conspiracies. Except that he is.

My notes: They’re both so jealous of each other and so bad at communication. Thank goodness they have their friends to help them out! Really funny and entertaining!

lay your demons at the door by abovetheruins— 7k, Teen and Up

Summary: Ryan had been so careful. For months he had learned to train his face into a semblance of normalcy every time a spirit got too close or he was overwhelmed with some indiscernible emotion on location. He had learned to channel his fear into something more manageable, something entertaining enough for the cameras but not so severe that anyone would be able to tell he wasn’t just jumping at shadows or groaning floorboards anymore.

Shane wasn’t supposed to find out. He wasn't supposed to know.

My Notes: The Seer!Ryan AU that I wasn’t expecting to like so much. A lot of pining and caring! Shane with a lovely ending!

First Impressions by luxbuhree— 9k, Mature

Summary: The chance to work with and sit next to THE Shane Madej was one of the things Ryan was looking forward to, now that he's starting his first day in BuzzFeed. But while he was expecting a charming and friendly guy, he was instead met with someone who couldn't care any less.

Will the case of why Shane hates Ryan remain unsolved?

My notes: In which Shane is really bad at feelings and Ryan has the hots for a certain person who pins him against walls. Awesome ending.

a short history of almost something by cooliohoolio— 6k, No Warnings

Summary: "I think I'll wait another year."

Shane's in love with Ryan, and will get around to telling him. One of these days.

My notes: A lovely short high school! AU with mutual pining. They’re best friends ahhh

only happy accidents by barnes— 8k, Explicit

Summary: In hindsight, Shane is too old to have thought that friends with benefits was something that the two of them would be able to pull off. He’s had friends with benefits before that worked beautifully, but they were not with people whose jobs were tied up in his own, whose friendships were as closely interwoven into Shane’s everyday life as Ryan’s is. He’d thought these were the very things that could keep it from getting weird, because they were such good buddies, Ryan would be solidly cemented as his pal that nothing could shift him.

This was a miscalculation, on Shane’s part.

My Notes: I’m not usually a fan of friends with benefits to lovers, but this had so much mutual pining and fluff that I enjoyed it so much! A must-read.

Gurl, Imma Marry You (ryan is a mess) by orphan_account— 2k, General Audiences

Summary: Ryan is perpetually doing dumb things. Starting a ghost show? Dumb. Going to demon houses? Dumb. Talking to ghosts? Dumb.

But those are all new dumb things. Ryan's known he wants to marry Shane forever. That is an incredibly old dumb thing.

My notes: Really cute and fluffy and I love it so much. It’s a kind of read-to-make-yourself-feel-better kind of fic!

Por Favor, Sweetheart by carrieonfighting— 8k, Teen and Up

Summary: Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late

Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

My notes: Normally not a raising-a-child-fic person, but holy smokes this was written so well and the fluff! the domesticity i-

Pushing All Your Buttons by beethechange— 9k, Explicit

Summary: Ryan and Shane get stuck in an elevator at Buzzfeed HQ. There is tension. They relieve the tension. That’s it, that’s the fic.

My notes: I was literally able to see the tension floating off my laptop in front of my face, it was so palpable.

Under 20k

like you want to be loved by poetdameron— 16k, Teen and Up

Summary: "Settle down with me", Shane says without thinking and as Ryan looks at him with wide open eyes, all he can think of it's how many of Ryan's secrets he knows, how Ryan likes his coffee, and the fact that he has loved him since the moment Ryan first looked up at him and smiled.

My notes: The PINING and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT and ANGST my god. Really well written and lovely happy ending.

ships that pass in the night by beethechange— 20k, Explicit

Summary: The more Ryan thinks about it, the more he thinks he just needs to return the favor, that’s all. And then it’ll be done, like it was meant to be done weeks ago, and they can both move on for real.

It’s not that he wants to. It’s that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it until he evens the score. He has to restore balance to the Force or order to the universe, or—or whatever. It’s a karma thing.

“I think you have to let me jerk you off,” Ryan tells Shane one night. They’re working late, alone in the Watcher office, one of many such late nights these days.

“Wh—here?” Shane asks. He looks around, baffled, like he’ll have been magically transported somewhere else. “Have to?” And then: “Let you?”

My notes: haha what if I dare you to jerk me off dude haha don’t be a chicken

Do you not know how love works? by leylines— 12k, No Rating

Summary: “Fuck you, man,” Ryan growled, rubbing his tailbone where he landed on when he fell down just moments ago.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Devon already thinks we’re doing,” Shane said cheerfully, not at all sounding bothered by the thought.

“Oh shut up, dude.”

My notes: One of my favourite things in this cold, dark universe is when two characters are dating but they don’t know it but everyone else does. This is so hilarious and warms my dead heart

Full-Court Press by beethechange— 12k, Explicit

Summary: To be clear, these are not tactics Ryan would recommend. Being an athleisure-obsessed pervert, and lying, and clothes-sabotage: these are not things he’s proud of.

But they have undeniably worked.

Shane’s standing next to him in the hotel lobby while Devon checks them all out of their rooms, and he's wearing a sleeveless purple Lakers jersey and the world’s softest, clingiest sweatpants. It’s so exactly as Ryan pictured it, so precisely in line with his fantasies, that he has to pinch himself.

My notes: Really hot and funny and p i n i n g

may your days be merry and bright by bodhirookes— 19k, General Audiences

Summary: “Your turn, Ry Ry.”

Ryan looks down to find only one piece of paper remaining. “Wow, so much selection to choose from.”

“No time for your negativity, Scrooge. Your Secret Santa deserves a better attitude.”

Ryan sticks his tongue out, but takes the slip of paper. He’s loudly yelling Give me Jen, please please please give me Jen as he unfolds it, but he’s too busy begging for her to be truly prepared for what he ends up getting:

A simple but damning SHANE in Andrew’s scribbly handwriting.

Or, Ryan gets Shane for Secret Santa and has a subsequent breakdown about what to get him

Notes: This is so sweet and cute and I would die for both of them. A lovely classic christmas fic!

want you in my room by beethechange— 13k, Explicit

Summary: As they watch, Tall Guy takes his beanie off, revealing a mess of thick, shiny brown hair. He runs his hand through it to shake out the hat hair and Ryan feels like he’s stuck in an Herbal Essences commercial, except he’s the one making inappropriate lustful noises.

Ryan adjusts his snapback, determined. He is, after all, wearing his very finest basketball shorts, without even a single hole at the hem, and the knowledge puts an extra spring in his step.

“I’m gonna climb that dude like a tree,” he tells Curly.

My notes: Just really dumb, cute pining in a wonderful frat boy/nerd college AU!

Long boys

Muscles Better and Nerves More by beethechange— 26k, Explicit

Summary: “I’m serious,” Ryan says. “Don’t go fucking up my body. I want that shit back in the same condition I left it.”

“The same condition—Ryan. I’m not spending hours in a gym every day so you don’t lose muscle mass.”

“I want you to treat my body with the respect you would a national park. Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories.”

***

A certain meddling Voodoo Queen of New Orleans thinks Ryan and Shane need some new perspective on life. After an inadvisable ritual deposits Ryan in Shane’s body, and Shane in Ryan’s, the ghoulboys pursue some soul-searching and self-discovery to put things right. Sometimes in a sexy way.

My notes: This is so sexy and in character! A freaky friday kinda scenario where they only switch back when they pull their figurative heads out of their asses. So wonderful.

Dreams to be daring for by allonsy_gabriel— 24k, General Audiences

Summary: On May 11, 2018, Eleanora Rose Austin was born in Chicago, Illinois.

On May 20, 2018, Shane Alexander Madej agreed to act as the godfather to his best friend from college's daughter.

On October 26, 2018, Olivia and Michael Austin were victims of a mugging gone sideways.

On October 29, 2018, Shane Madej found himself in the possession of one real, actual, human child.

My notes: Accidental Baby Acquisition is now my favourite trope because of this fic. The fact that they’re already acting like a couple with the baby before they actually become one is sooo beautiful,,, give it a read im begging you

Fifty Shades of Gold by beethechange— 21k, Explicit

Summary: Shane tires of doing the same bits over and over. He tires of telling the same stories until they all, him and Ryan and the fans, have every beat memorized. Whenever Ryan pulls out his Ricky Goldsworth impression, ah yes, that old chestnut, Shane plays along only begrudgingly. He’s bored.

That’s his official position: he’s over Ricky Goldsworth.

Shane’s unofficial position, regrettably, is that he’d rather be under Ricky Goldsworth.

My notes: Shane’s got the hots for Ricky Goldsworth and that’s the TEA. Lots of sexual tension and cute and unsure! Ryan!

Precious metals by StrikerEureka— 73k, Mature

Summary: Ryan and Shane have been moving around something that is coming to a head between them. After a car accident, on the way to an investigation, Ryan slowly starts to become suspicious that Shane might not be what he seems. He realizes, though, that he just might not care.

Shane sits forward suddenly. “Hey, pull over up here.”

Ryan follows the instruction without questioning it, which probably says something about either his willingness to listen to Shane or his sanity. Maybe both; they go hand in hand. He puts on his blinker, even though they haven’t seen another car in a couple of minutes, and pulls off onto the shoulder.

“Are you gonna puke or something?” he asks, putting the car into park, as Shane takes off his seatbelt with one hand and tugs off his Ray Bans with the other.

“You better hope not,” he murmurs as he leans over the center console and kisses Ryan solidly on the mouth.

My notes: My favourite Demon!Shane AU ever! Really sweet and loads of tension and pining... must-read.

darling it’s a faded notion by varnes— 28k, Explicit

Summary: The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall.

They were pushed.

OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can't be not-touching. It's ... not great.

My notes: They get cursed and have to be touching all the time!! and they’re pining so hard y’all like what more could one want

Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis by MiraclesofPaul— 21k, Teen and Up

Summary: They get used to sharing a bed while filming the show. Ryan's just trying not to let his feelings get in the way.

So Ryan tells himself he’s going to ride out whatever it is they’ve fallen into, but he’ll bow out gracefully when the time comes. He can just enjoy the now.

My notes: They share a bed!!! And their hearts!! so much lack of communication, it’s wonderful

Hope that someone will enjoy these fics that I did so very much! If you want more buzzfeed unsolved fics let me know because i’ve read sooo much fanfiction...

—Iris

[wienerbarnes]

High

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,374

Warnings: Cuteness, marijuana use

Trope: Accidental cuddling

A/N: i rewrote this oneshot like three times and they were all so drastically different but this is the one i liked the most! this is my submission for @jupiterbucky‘s 1k writing challenge! congrats clo ur one of my fav blogs on here and im so glad i could participate :) oneshot under the cut! enjoy! <3

It’s an art form. The way your delicate fingers move and bend, gentle but with purpose. Your eyes fixed on your goal and unmoving from your masterpiece. You move quick with your nimble fingers; almost there.

Five joints rolled tightly and spread neatly in a row.

Call it a post-mission ritual.

...

Outside in the hallway, Bucky is shuffling his way to the kitchen to make himself a warm glass of milk. Even after all the years he’s been alive nothing knocks him out better than a warm glass of milk. As he gets closer to the end of the hallway he notices a faint smell of... what?

His nose must be mistaking him. But when has his nose ever been wrong?

Golly, he hasn’t smelt the smell of a reefer since 1934.

But who would have marijuana in the building? On this floor? The only ones up here are you and Steve and Steve’s never gotten into any of that because of his asthma, even after he became super. Which means it’s you. You’re getting high off marijuana in your room in the middle of the night like a teenager. And suddenly Bucky finds it extremely hard to resist creeping up to your door...

You’re halfway through your second spliff when you hear a light knocking on your door. You quickly fan away smoke out the window, as if you’re back at home scared of your parents catching you, and make your way to the door.

Moving it open only a crack, you’re met with the bright, blue-gray eyes of Bucky Barnes. Intimidating guy, but a big ol’ teddy bear on the inside.

“What’s up, Buck?” You quietly inquire. You like Bucky and all, but you’d much rather get on with your... activity.

“Are you smoking marijuana cigarettes in there?” He accuses, getting straight to the point. You can spot his playful smirk from a mile away, though.

“Don’t know, you gonna tattle?” You tease back. It’s becoming harder and harder for your foggy brain to contain the giggles threatening to escape your lips.

“Depends on whether or not I’m invited, sugar.” He cheekily replies, obviously amused by your state.

“Of course! I’ve got plenty for the whole class.” The giggles escape and your smile is wide as you move aside and invite Bucky in.

Bucky watches you plop down on top of the desk next to an open grinder dirty with green dust, a lighter, and a pack of rolling papers. You’re eyes are tinged pink, you can’t hold in your giggles, and the room still stinks of skunk no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

And Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more adorable goofball.

His mind has switched from searching for a warm glass of milk, to craving the bitterness of pot like he’s sixteen again, to just kissing you silly.

He sits on the edge of the bed closest to you and watches as you relight the joint and inhale deeply. You do it once more before passing it to him in between your index and middle fingers.

He takes it from you and looks at it. He remembers all the times Steve would scold him for smoking, both marijuana and nicotine cigarettes. He thinks Steve was just jealous because he could never join him with his lung conditions.

“It won’t bite, you know.” You tease him.

Bucky glances at you and back at the joint before holding it to his lips and taking a deep inhale. The smoke enters his mouth and he feels warm. He lets the smoke seep into every corner of his mouth and throat before letting it escape through his nostrils. His eyes close in bliss because, wow, he did not remember this feeling so nice.

“Okay, Chong, no need to show off.” You pluck the joint from his fingertips, a wide grin spreading across your face.

“I don’t understand that reference.” Bucky’s smile creeps onto his face as he watches the smoke pour from your mouth.

Joint after joint is lit and burnt to the filter until there are none left. You and Bucky lay next to each other on your bed facing the ceiling and you both revel in your highs. Eyes tinted red, lazy smiles permanently etched on their faces, bodies unknowingly inching closer and closer together.

“So what was weed like back in your day?” You asked.

“Very taboo. And kinda hard to get. But I knew a coupla guys from my boxing gym that knew a guy who knew a guy. Never did it too often though, always had to be keepin’ an eye on my sisters and Steve.” Bucky responded, the tone in his voice laced with nostalgia.

“The first time I smoked it, I was fifteen,” You began after a moment of silence. “I smoked too much too quickly, threw up, and then fell asleep for a about eleven hours.”

Immediately, Bucky began cracking up, his boyish giggles growing louder and louder as you joined him.

As more stories, jokes, and laughs were shared, the high began wearing off and sleep slowly began to overtake both of your bodies. Eyes slowly closed as you both naturally scooted closer together above the comforter. This was probably the best Bucky’s ever slept.

...

Tony Stark strutted along the hallways of his compound waking up the members of his team one by one. Except Natasha. He’ll let her wake up on her own. He skips over Steve’s room, already knowing the man’s been awake since 6:00 A.M. He bears a glance at Bucky’s room, not really wanting to bother waking him up, but he does a double-take as he takes notice of Bucky’s bedroom door being ajar.

Now, why would one of the most paranoid people in the building just have his door slightly open while he’s in a vulnerable state of sleep? He wouldn’t. Tony may not care for Bucky much, for obvious reasons, but his curiosity has definitely been piqued.

Forget the briefing he had planned for this morning, where has the brooding Elsa gone?

He continues to the next door to recruit some help. He knocks on your door and waits approximately four seconds before opening the door and-

“Jesus, what are you guys, selling Pineapple Express out of this room?! It reeks in here!”

You and Bucky jolt awake and look to the source of noise. There stands Tony Stark staring down at you and Bucky Barnes intertwined like an Auntie Anne’s pretzel. His right arm is buried beneath your head and circled around your shoulders while his left is curled around your waist to bring your fronts closer together. Your hands remain tucked into his chest, the heat radiating off his body warming yours to the core. Your legs are twisted around and in between his, ankles hooked behind his calves as if your feet pulled him impossibly closer to you in your sleep. Neither of you move despite the interruption and Stark remains waiting for some sort of explanation.

“Well? You two potheads have anything to say for yourselves?” Stark awaits like a protective mother hen, thought the amusement is visible on his face.

“Want us to invite you next time?” You sarcastically reply. All you crave is to snuggle into Bucky as much as possible and fall back into a deep sleep with him.

Luckily, Tony seems to catch the hint and exits the room, not before a roll of his eyes and call out to FRIDAY to, “let him know the next time Cypress Hill decides to spend the night in his compound.”

You and Bucky remain unmoving from their position, both wondering what the other is thinking. Bucky breaks the silence.

“I don’t know about you, but, I’m mighty comfortable after what was probably the best sleep I’ve had in years, and I don’t really feel much like movin’.” He tucks you closer into him, urging you to rest your head in the crook of his neck so his head can rest on top of yours.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Snoop Dogg.” You groggily respond, wrapping your hands around Bucky’s torso to absorb as much of him as possible, eyes closing as you both drift off once again.

[katedrazapozabljanje-blog]

Some sort of fantasy with sexual connotations but larger-than-usual implications for ones state of mind.

I kinda have this sudden urge to take a vacation, close myself up in the apartment for a week and do nothing but blaze and fuck. Food? Delivered twice a day with minimal interaction. Other stuff? Just... pass. If it doesnt directly or very-close-to satisfy my primary needs and parts of more complex Maslov stuff that are entwined in that primary urges, I don’t want to hear it. Shut down all devices for communication and only leave emergency channels open. Then. Get hard. Get edged. Get tamed. Repeat the cycle throughout the day. Never cum. You need to preserve all you can, so you can give her a “good night” load, which will at that point be a sum of all false alarms that stressed your balls through the day. A fucking water reservoir - in front of which a dam broke down - ready to flood whole insides of your mouth. And then, make you guzzle it all and thank me. Fall asleep in that uncofortable head-on-shoulders, bodies forming a catheti of a right triangle, kind of way which only the first eruptions of passion can permit.

Wake up, drink coffee. But not too much. Just enough to get over that intial let down of standing up and denying your dick the blood it requires. To kickstart your it, so you can start smacking her ass with the bulge in your pants even before you've come back to residence, walking behind her in a near-spooning congruence. Watch her panties get wet as shit. Slowly remove them, but don’t tear. You will undo their placement a lot and before long she'd end up pantyless, which would be suboptimal for your aesthetic sensibilities. It is a known fact that slightly covered bodies - that hide just enough to make you wanna go to police school, do the drills, patrol the streets so you can eventually make a detective - are way hotter than totally naked ones. Maybe because those remind you of an already finished errand. Of a denied multiverse split that would occur upon yourself laying eyes on her body and determining just how much you wanna fuck that neatly stitched meat sack. And then, you'd make her roleplay as your little brother, because you know she'd be slightly uncomfortable because of it, since she's not attracted to him in any capacity whatsoever and would therefore probably slightly dislike playing him. We'd fight over who first punched who, whose fault it is that the dishes aren't clean today, who got better grades at which subjects and so on. Until I'd be overcome with anger and wolf down on her body. Froth on my lips, canine teeth having an extra spurt of growth, purely through sheer power of my will to incise her body, to really carve it with and after my own taste. And then, hold her like a little pup. Tell her that its going to be okay. Wait, I don't want this to be a brother fantasy, i'm digging the wolf daddy pup stuff too much. I wasn't too excited about it in the first place. Like, sister would probably work better, so you know, replace everywhere that needs replacing. 

And... As the big, caring wolf I could tell her, that I need to go hunt food, whenever I'd leave her alone for a few minutes while fetching the takeout. And she'd let out sad little muted howls, informing me at the same time of the fact that she knows this behaviour is not socially acceptable but at the same time revealing her unrelenting desire to be the only object of my attention. And then we’d venture into the kitchen. We’d laugh about being real fucking oddballs and make jokes at the expense of our previous mattress-related fails, while waiting for the tea-intended water to boil. We would never use the word “finally”, because we’d be stuck in series of present moments, so detached from past experiences and future wishes, that they couldn’t affect the sacred now. And then, I’d try some sense deprivation on you. I’d put the blindfold over your eyes, fill both ears with ear-plugs and erect another sound barrier with my noice-cancelling headphones, which would play some whitenoiseish sound to further block your attempts to unscrable the waves floating around you. I would also plug your nose. It may, at a glance, seem like an overkill, but I think it is absolutely essential to shut it down because people determine more from smell than our positive discrimination of other senses usually lets on. Fetch the flavourless candles and fire them up, let them slowly burn and produce melted wax. Let her just lie there, alone for 5 or 10 minutes. Make her question your commitement to fucking her again and all the time as you’ve promised. And then, out of nowhere, when she finally seems at peace, foregoing thoughts of her regular destructive loops, probably alreadyt thinking about what I will do to her, I do it to her. Just short little drops. Short, piercing pain waves of undiscernable origin. She might be guessing its just candle wax. But she also can’t ever know for sure. Fearing worse things. Her mind concocting wildest scenarious based on furiousness of her memory-driven imagination.

I wouldn't need to respond to every generic notification sound my cell produces. Craving that sweet e-thot attention. Because she'd already be there. That little untamed vixen in need of a good fur stroking, somebody to give her freedom structure within which it can be meaningfully expressed. Because limitless freedom is in itself brutishly oppresive. It is through opposition and current-freedom barrier-breaking that we are able to invent new ways of reasoning about the world, new ways in which we can be crazy. And not crazy in a two-bit lowbrow meaning of the word. What I had in mind is that crazy, that gets enacted within parameters of ones death drive. That crazy that engulfs people into a space separated from all everyday activity, that usually grinds down our already crumbling mind throughout the day. And with that crazy I could operate. Maybe, we could make it a ritual? Like two weekends a month? Just smoking insane amounts of weed and having your dick stabbed inside that pussy like the sword of King Arthur. Unseparable from the stone. Unable to part without instant feeling of deprival on both sides of the friction. Wait, in this metaphore, does she then leave for another man, since one day King Arthur comes around? Or is said person then somebody who tells me who to fuck for their pleasure? Unsure. People and swords might not have 1:1 feature parity.