#or focus on likes or comments so!! might start posting little drabbles more

[waterfallofspace]

Allergic To Concepts

Is anyone else still into the M/agnus Archives? Maybe, maybe not, but I have had this fic sitting in my google docs for months, and I just finally managed to get myself to finish up the last bit, so here is part one of a possible two part fic, if I can ever manage to get myself to write the next part!

So, if anyone wants, please enjoy a little Allergic to concepts Jon. aka, Jon is so allergic to dogs that just the idea of them gets him a bit worked up~

I'll never be over this podcast, and I might start sharing small (tiny) drabbles of these guys if anyone would be interested <3 or even just to start coaxing myself back into writing~

Characters: Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha Word Count: 2.7k

“-so to conclude, we absolutely, most certainly, cannot do that,” Martin finishes, hands woven into his hair. Seems to happen more often nowadays; getting a job you’re not exactly qualified for tends to bring on a touch of added stress. What brings even more stress, however, are the faces staring back at him, twin smiles painted across worryingly calm canvases. Seems once a poet, always a poet, even in your own thoughts. 

Tim chuckles, mischief running through his eyes. “How do you even know that? You been stalking our new boss?” 

“W-well no, it’s just that…” Martin starts, beginning to study the floor as his rambling starts to take over. “Well there may have been an… incident, of- of sorts, with a uh… well it was, I was trying to open this door, but see I was holding files, and there was this dog, and they kinda just- well I was trying to stop it but it got in and- so I went to Jon’s office and he was just kinda… and then I-” 

“So what?” Tim interrupts, mercifully saving Martin from his own tongue. “Why should his issues stop us from havin’ a good time?” With a snap of his fingers, Tim casts Sasha a devious wink. The colour seems to drain from Martin’s face as he holds up a shaking finger, aiming somewhere behind Tim’s shoulders. 

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Sasha mutters, her smile never wavering. 

Spinning on his heel, Tim turns to greet the newest arrival to the hallway. “Fancy seeing you here, boss! Burning the midday oil?” 

Jon pauses, papers nearly spilling from his crowded arms as he fumbles with some keys. “That’s not an expression. And what are you all doing cramped in the hall? Don’t any of you have work to do?” 

Martin nearly keels over as Jon’s glare settles against him, seemingly deeming him responsible for this lapse in progress. As if! In fact, he’d been the one begging them to get back to work. Honestly, Jon should appreciate the fact that he talked them out of-

“Actually, we’re thinking of heading off for the day,” Tim cuts in, leaving Martin’s mouth nearly hanging open. Had they not just gone over why this was a horrible idea? As if to answer his unspoken question, Sasha joins in with support for Tim’s cause. Martin’s pretty sure there’s actually a gap between his lips. 

Jon, having opened the office by this point, merely stops and stares. Seconds pass, though it feels more like minutes. There appears to be some sort of staring match between the three of them. 

Finally Jon breaks the silence with a short… well, it’s hard to call it a laugh, more like a huff. His posture tightens as he attempts to pull himself to his full height, casting Tim a wary glance. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Quite serious in fact! See, me and Sasha have been thinking,” Tim pauses, gesturing to the aforementioned with a sickly sweet smile. Merely performance charm, which given the eye-roll she shoots back, Sasha’s well aware of. “All of us here need a chance to bond.” 

“Bond, you say,” Jon’s monotone voice offers no insight to how he’s taking this suggestion. As Martin’s mouth begins to dry, his hands start working their way back into his hair. 

“Indeed!” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to Martin’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “We’ve all been stuck here together, figured we should become more of a team, you know? A team-building exercise you could call it. Something to get us more on the same page.” 

“And what is this ‘team-building exercise’ you have in mind?” 

Well, his heart may have been racing before, but it’s not anymore. In fact, he’s almost entirely convinced it’s just stopped completely. Jon’s eyes meet his own, and Martin drops his gaze fast enough to leave him dizzy. 

This time Sasha speaks up, her coy tone doing nothing to alleviate the heart attack symptoms Martin’s now convinced he’s feeling. “An animal rescue cafe. They rescue dogs and cats, the ones that need rehoming, and bring them there so you can get to know them before you adopt. One opened just down the street from here, and me and Tim have been looking into going. We figured, might as well drag you and Martin along with us.” 

Jon’s glare narrows further, a single hand coming up to rest between his eyes. The movement is completed by pushing up his glasses with a sigh. “And how exactly does drinking tea in a room full of animals qualify as team building?” 

“You can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat animals,” Tim offers. “Not to mention the fact that there’s a whole study about how psychopaths are more likely to hate cats, which is mostly due to the fact cats have willful behaviour.” 

Martin can almost taste his heartbeat at this point, a fact he’s finding quite alarming. Still rummaging through papers, Jon steps into his office. Much to Martin’s chagrin, they all seem to be following him. 

“Are you suggesting someone working in this office is a psychopath, Tim?” Jon continues, huffing out another sigh as he notices the entourage entering his office. Jon’s glare lands on Martin once more, something he’s almost gotten used to at this point. 

Laughter begins to flow from Tim, Sasha joining in with a mild chuckle. “Of course not, but hey, this job’s all about researching things that probably aren’t true. Better safe than sorry, right?” 

Seemingly the only one noticing Jon’s growing apprehension, or maybe just the only one that cares, Martin can’t peel his eyes off their boss. Unaware of the scrutiny, though perhaps expecting it nonetheless, Jon pushes up his glasses again. Martin doesn’t miss the way he lets a single finger brush against his nose during this action. Nor do his eyes skip over the light scrunch forming at the bridge of said nose. 

Oblivious as always, Tim’s still going on about the cafe. Something about which animals are available, what tea they serve, scones, and more useless information. Sasha’s typing something in her phone, apparently fact checking his current ramblings. Still, all of that fades into the background as Martin’s attention is drawn to Jon once more. 

At first, he can’t figure out why he’s watching. Jon didn’t speak, and from his posture he hasn’t made any significant gestures. There doesn’t seem to be anything specifically that should have caught his eye, and yet-  

And then it happens again. Jon’s brows tighten, his eyes begin to flutter shut, and his lips part just enough for his tongue to peek out between them. There’s a beat of silence, then a single breathy inhale, barely noticeable above Tim’s monologuing. 

“ihh-” 

Just as quickly as it began, Jon crushes it back once more, a hand roughing swiping against his nose. There’s a quiet feeling of– perverse excitement as Martin watches him. Why? No earthly idea. It’s not as if there’s anything specifically… exciting about the action. There’s no physical stimulation beginning, to phrase it politely. 

Still, there’s something… almost electrifying, about bearing witness to a moment so personal and private. As if the only person in the room is Jon, and he’s opened the door for Martin to join him in his world. Which, as you think about it, just becomes more and more– creepy as hell! Damn it! 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Martin manages to peel his gaze away from Jon. Zoning back into Tim’s rambling, he just barely catches the tail end of a rant about different toppings on cinnamon buns. His silence was entirely unnoticed. Understandably, given only Tim had said anything in minutes. 

“Personally, I’m a fan of the regular cream cheese icing,” Martin offers, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Tim as another soft sniffle sounds behind him. The others don’t notice it, Sasha rolling her eyes as a light begins to dawn in Tim’s. 

“Well, interesting you say that Martin, they actually have those at the cafe down the street! Isn’t that such a wonderful coincidence?” Tim swirls his body towards Martin, casting a playful glance back at Jon as he continues. “Wouldn’t you like to stop by and get yourself one of those delicious buns?” 

Martin feels his face begin to pale again, and barely manages a meek, “W-well… I don’t need to… get one right now… but if you want-” 

Thankfully he’s saved from himself as a gasp sounds out from the desk. Everyone in the room turns, Martin included, just in time to see Jon duck into his wrist with a tight, “ih’nGXt–uih!” 

“Bless you!” Sasha calls, Tim and Martin echoing the sentiment. A flush begins to spread over Jon’s cheeks, but it’s brushed off as he waves a hand, continuing to scribble on some papers. Casting a glance over to Tim, Martin sighs as the mischief floods the other man's face. He’s very clearly not letting this go. 

“Was that actually a sneeze?” Tim laughs, mimicking the sound as Sasha suppresses a giggle. 

Jon keeps his head down, pen still moving across the paper in disjointed movements. “It was in fact a sneeze, yes. Happens to everyone from time to time, no need to make a big deal out of it. Now, I believe you were going to a cat and do- hiHh! rescue cafe?” 

The hitch manages to escape from Jon’s tight grip, his posture shuddering slightly with the force of continuing the sentence. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Martin that just the word dog seems to leave him breathless. 

“A dog cafe, yeah! You’re coming too, right boss? Come see all the adorable little puppies?” Tim offers, gesturing towards the door. Apparently it didn’t go unnoticed by him either. 

An audible gasp sounds out, and all eyes turn back to the rapidly hitching boss. Jon manages to stifle the first one almost silently, only a rush of breath escaping at the end. 

“Bless you, boss.” 

Jon waves a hand, wiping away the water beginning to flood his eyes. “Was just sihh… sighing, Tim.” He finishes the statement with another stifle, this time his whole body jerks along with the rough exhale.  

“Really? Because that sounded like another sneeze,” Tim taunts, poking a finger towards Jon’s face. “And given the way your nose is twitching, you seem far from done.” 

Jon seems to consider debating, but another frantic hitch decides it for him. Giving up the ruse, he ducks into his shoulder with another, “eh’tNGxt–uh! ih’NTchhuh!”  

“Bless yo-” 

“eH’DGZSHhh –uu!”  The volume makes everyone jump, seeming to surprise even Jon. 

“Oh- mby apologies, I seeb to be… hiehh–” Jon trails off, one hand frantically searching for a tissue, nose visibly trembling behind the other. In a move of uncharacteristic pity, Tim pushes the box within reach. Jon mumbles out a thank you, before swinging his chair around for a touch of privacy. 

The silence is almost deafening, cut up only by the rustling of fabric as Jon attempts to subdue the onslaught. “eh’nGNt –oo!” And fails miserably. 

“Do- maybe do you want… well possibly we should, actually I think you might- I mean he might want–” Desperately trying to find a way to fill the space, Martin rambles on, gaze bouncing between all three of his coworkers.

“Martin,” Jon cuts him off, “just say it.” 

The annoyance Martin’s come to expect seems unaffected by the breathy quality of Jon’s words. Unless you notice the flushed nature of his ears, which… is kinda hard to miss when his nose is starting to match. 

“S-sorry! I just figured you may want a touch of uh… privacy..? You seem… itchy,” Martin offers, already beginning to back out of the room. 

Jon glares, lining up a retort before pausing as the first syllable comes out muffled with congestion. A sharp sniff and quick rub later, he continues in an easier tone. “I’m quite alright. No need for such concerns.” 

“I mean- If… if you’re sure…” 

Tim interrupts this time, draping an arm across Martin’s back. “You heard the boss, he’s fine. Now, onto that cafe?” 

Before Martin can get a word out, Jon stands from his chair, dropping the tissues in the wastebasket next to his desk. Sasha chuckles out her approval, sticking her phone into a pocket and beginning to exit the office. Tim follows suit, leaving Martin standing alone with Jon. 

There’s a beat of silence, Martin watching, horrified, as his body refuses to move an inch, silently waiting for Jon’s approval. 

“Well?” 

It’s not exactly an invitation, but it’s more than enough to send Martin scrambling for the door, muttering more sheepish apologies under his breath. If Jon heard them, he gave no indication, busy rustling through a desk drawer. A few more muffled stifles make their way through the noise, no indication given they were heard either. 

As Martin makes it into the hallway, he catches Tim waving from the door. He’s propping it open with one foot as Sasha waits outside, once again on her phone. Martin waves back his acknowledgement, before gesturing towards the kitchen. Tim simply shrugs, calling something about ‘not waiting around’, before joining Sasha in the crisp autumn air. 

Making his way back to the kitchen, Martin pauses at Jon’s door. He’s not eavesdropping, just… listening in, to see if Jon’s alright. It’s his boss after all, and he’s an assistant! He’s supposed to… assist! Perfectly natural thing to do, isn’t it? 

A harsh double pulls him from his spiralling, Jon’s voice coming through audibly in the groan that follows. Alright, enough listening in, this is starting to feel more creepy than curious. 

With what little confidence he can muster, Martin works his way through his plan. The mugs are where they always are, but the water in the kettle was a bit more cold than a proper cup of tea would allow. Flipping the switch, Martin began heating it, and hurried out of the kitchen to his desk. He picks out a fairly bland tea, Jon seems the bland type… right? 

Another few sneezes sound out from the boss’s office, and Martin almost starts to feel guilty for still being in the office. It’s obvious Jon assumes he’s alone, if not from the sneezes themselves, from the groans that come after them. Ever the stickler for a Professional Appearance, he’d never allow himself to be seen or heard in such a state willingly. 

The kettle sounding pulls Martin from his thoughts once more, and he pours the water over the tea bag. Moving carefully, as not to spill, he makes his way back to Jon’s office, knocking softly on the door. 

“Yes?” The reply is sharp, a frantic sounding shuffling occurring as Martin begins to slide open the door. 

“Hey, yeah sorry I just- you sounded like… I just thought that maybe you’d want… you might need some…” 

“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon sighs, giving his nose a subtle swipe. Unfortunately for him, this seems to have been the wrong choice. His nose twitches, eyes beginning to unfocus, and Martin finds himself pausing for the interruption. At least, until Jon gestures at him to continue. 

“Well, I just ma-” 

“ih’tNGT–uu!” 

“Bless you. I just made you some tea, it seemed you cou-” 

“hHUh’dNT–uh!” There’s a pause, Jon’s breath catching dramatically, before he swivels around in the chair and aims a harsh, “eH’dZSHH– eih’DSCHhhh–oo!” at the fistful of tissues he managed to grab. 

It wasn’t exactly quiet, and Martin finds himself flinching against the noise, but holds it together as he places the mug on Jon’s desk, hurrying through the rest of his sentence. 

“Seemed you could use some tea, bless you again by the way, anyways I’m gonna head off with Sasha and Tim, I’ll see you there I guess! Or, well- not just me, we’ll all see you there, as a group, if you choose to come that is! Which of course you don’t have to, though we’d lik-” 

“Martdin,” Jon, mercifully, cuts him off, congestion seeping through his words. With a deep sigh, he finishes his sentence. “Thagnk you. You mbay go ndow.” 

Taking the out, Martin gives one last nervous smile, sliding out into the hallway. Another desperate sneeze leaves him wincing, Jon’s vocal groan sounding out yet again. The poor guy sounds miserable, and Martin almost considers going back in and telling him not to come. If he’s this bad from just the thought… well… 

But he’s embarrassed himself enough for the day, and, albeit hesitantly, Martin heads off to meet Tim and Sasha at the cafe.

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

[awniie]

Your husband Namani ୨ৎ ⠂°⠄🕯

little piece about namani kento as your smitten hubby (was supposed to be drabble + headcannons but i got a lil carried away)

(i gave up after a while but i wanted to post something)

———

content: female!reader , light smut , p in v , housewife reader , lowercase + ass writing skills lmao , virgin!reader , not proof read , pathetic attempt at fluff

nanami kento who’d you married a couple months ago, and you couldn’t be happier with. He was your dream man, caring, loving thoughtful, and just perfect. The time you guys first interacted was something straight out of a christmas hallmark movie. You two met at a fancy restaurant that you worked at. He had been attending a business meeting that had been horribly dull until he laid his eyes on you. The way the work so dutifully for the large party, you seemed so outgoing and friendly. Never complaining nor making a single grimace. (because you knew they had money and you needed that extra tip ) Regardless, he had a respect for women who worked hard. Of course, the way your uniform skirt hugged at the swell of your thighs was attention-stealing enough. He’d had caught your eye as well. His honey-blonde hair, the size of his biceps, and his stoicism is what initially drew you in. “And what would you like to drink sir?” You asked him, voice sugared and smile perfected just for men like him. “W-water.” Kento stuttered, sharp eyes suddenly clouded, drifting over your smaller frame. He cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Water, please.” He reiterated himself with a monosyllabic tone. Yeah, he was the one.

nanami kento worked up the nerves to write his number below the check signature. He handed the tray back to you, and cleared his throat as you noticed his number along with “come with me to dinner?” written in a neat cursive. You gave him a coy smile and tucked the note into the thin pocket of your apron. “I’d love too.” You told him, waving goodbye to the table. The blond found himself staring after you, warm blush dusted across his pale cheeks. The rest was history as they might say. You guys dating for a couple years, getting to know each other, discovering new things together, and building the blueprint of your upcoming future.

nanami kento who after marrying you, started to care less and less about his job. It was the sole thing he lived for before, taking up his time, energy and thoughts . But now his focus was elsewhere. It was on a woman who he’d met at a restaurant, a woman with her own identity with uniqueness interests and a personality that belonged solely to her. A woman he somehow manage to catch. You were the woman he would treat as his most prized possession, keeping his loving hold steady over you for as long as he could.

nanami kento who before you, woke up at 5; got dressed by 6 and was at work by 7 had tweaked his morning schedule to fit his now married life. He’d set his phone alarm to go off at 6, but would you blame him? He’d need the extra time to rot the morning away with his new wife :( You’d be pressed against his back, arms enclosed around his chest with your sleepy head neatly tucked into the warmth of his neck. He didn’t mind you being the bigger spoon, it just made getting up in the mornings so, so much harder. As he reluctantly tried to pry himself from your relentless grip, nanamni could feel your long, soft lashes flutter against his neck. “Namani…t’s too earlyyy…” you’d drawl, jaw heavy and mouth dry from your sleep. He’d pull himself away even harder, but you were strong and kept his large body flush against your smaller one. “i have to go work today…” he’d whisper to you, which he knew you were aware of this, it was just the routine you’d guys go through every morning. You didn’t respond to his comment, hoping it would mean he’d stay longer. Namani smiled and let you snuggle against him more. He knew how you were though, you’d be greedy for maybe another 10 minutes more before you felt guilty and release your relentless grip on him. “Fine, jus’ go to work.” You’d mutter, sleepy face creased into a bothered expression. Nanami got up from the bed, but not before wrapping the blanket around you and giving your temple a kiss.

nanami kento who would deal with all your troubles and tribulations. Whenever you were on your period, he was like your knight in shining armor (or in a blue collar button-up) the entire week, he’d make your favorite meals when he arrived home by 3:30. Namani would wrap you in as many blankets as you wanted, picking you up and gently placing you on the couch. If you wanted him to stay, he’d stay right by your side, rubbing your back and peppering your face with kisses until you fell asleep. other times you wanted to be left alone and if you did, he would move to a separate room in the cozy house you guys shared, doing laundry, cleaning or whatever domestic chores that would fill your day. After about an hour, you’d always feel lonely and cried from him to come hold you, which he would come running quickly to your aid. (Also to avoid finishing washing the dishes)

nanami kento who made it his life goal to be able to please and provide for you his wife. He convinced you to quit your job. “I rather have you making dinner for just me then a bunch of wealthy assholes.” Kento would comment. You liked being his little housewife who didn’t have much to do. You were both relatively neat people, so they’re wasn’t much cleaning to do. Which you did love to do was cook. Experimenting with recipes you found on Pinterest and surprising your husband when he got home. “Look what i made for dinner, creamy garlic pasta! I found the recipe on Pinterest and it thought you’d like it” You took him by his large forearm and lead him to the kitchen where you had two plates full of the pasta as well as a lit candle and twin drinks. To you, this was just a cozy dinner. For him it was the best way to be welcomed home after a stressful day of work. The amount of thought and time put into the meal was overwhelming to him and he almost shed a tear. When he didn’t say anything, you frowned and thought he didn’t like it. “Ken, is something wrong?” Your voice was shaky and your eyes glassy. Nanami snapped out of his head and took you into an embrace. “No, no. Nothings wrong love, just a little emotional.” You laughed, thinking it was funny how he got emotional over food, but you found it cute. “Let’s eat then now, okay dear?” He’d suggest, blushing at your giggles while pulling out the chair for you to sit in. Of course, in return for any errands or houseworks, Nanami would reward you in anything else. It was only fair, he thought. New clothes? He’d take you to the expensive outlet malls he knew you loved. A new hobby that you wanted to start? He’d pay for anything you’d need plus support you through it (even if you gave up after a month) he’d never bring up your failed ventures either, knowing that it brought you joy in the few moments and he lived for that. Whenever the daily life bored you, Nanami would take you out an adventures. Sometimes it was something as simple as visiting the local farmers market. Others were first class trips around the world. (Malaysia being his personal favorite.) Sometimes, people would make comments on how “he’s spoiling you too much” or “she’ll get bored of you eventually and move to the richer guy,” but Nanami brushed those words carelessly. “I’m not spoiling her,” he’d reply coolly . “I’m reimbursing her for all the work and time she puts into me. My wife does nice things for me, and I do nice things for her.”

namani kento who could please his wife in other ways as well. If there was one thing namani did efficiently was fcking you. You’d both waited until marriage and boy, was it worth it. Namami had the gift of duality when it came to pleasing you. From his mouth, he murmured praises and loving words into your ears. From his body, unrelenting and hungry thrusts assaults on your virgin pussy. Both such drastic differences from his stoicism.“Doing so good for me love, taking me so well.” He’d compliment you causally, as if he wasn’t pumping 8 inches into you. “N-nanami, t’s too much, slow down p-please..” you’d beg, salty tears streaming down your face unto your neck, where’d he’d kiss them away. Namanin never knew how much prettier you could be, especially all sweaty and teary-eyed, but that’s just more of an excuse to do this more often. He caressed your cheek, smiling faintly at your fcked-out expression. You were doing so good for him, especially for your first time, you were just having a little hiccups. “You can take it, cmon just hold out a little longer for me, please? I promise you’ll feel so, so good.” And he kept his promise. Not long after you felt a string being cut in your stomach, causing your voice to go up in octaves and your eyes to screw themselves shut. Your pussy was glistening, covering in your juices and his as well. He didn’t pull out of you yet, and you didn’t want him too. You wanted to savor the feeling of being completely full, of being connected in the deepest way possible with your other half. After what seemed like hours of and bodies melding together. Namani wiped away a single remaining tear and kiss you on your flushed lips.“See, told you it’d be worth it, you did so well. I love you so much y/n.”

“I l-love you too kento.”

END

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks, sorta hawks centric, post war Drabble pt2 pt 1

Touya liked to think of himself as a man of his word, and this was no different.

But right now he kind of wished it was different, because he has severely underestimated how nervous he'd be on Keigo's behalf.

It didn't really matter anyways, because ever since Keigo kissed him that Thursday afternoon he asked him to come with him to meet the weird owl looking man that had apparently raised him at The Commission, Touya had been left defenseless around the hero.

How could one possibly say no to anything when it was asked by the most beautiful being on Earth, especially when that being for some reason looked at him like hun hung the sun and the moon in the sky himself?

No, Touya would have ended up right here one way or another, and really, he was grateful for the trust Keigo had in him to bring him with him to such a vulnerable position.

The week leading up to this meeting had been long and filled with nerves, but Touya had done his best to help Keigo trough it.

Mostly they had just stayed distracted, but as they were sitting here now, waiting for the owl guy, Mera, Touya reminds himself, his name is Mera, Touya starts thinking that might not have been the best idea to go about it.

Keigo's eyes are wide and large, his hair is messy from how much he's ran his hand trough it, his hands are slightly shaking, and all in all he looks so much like a lost baby bird Touya can hardly stand it.

Just as Touya reaches out to gently take Keigo's hand, the door opens and Keigo clothes Touya's hand with a vice grip.

Mera looked just like Touya remembered him, hair messy and feather-like not unlike Keigo's, dark circles still present, but he looked way less stressed than the last time they met.

At first they did the whole proper introduction thing, and Mera had enough mind not to comment on the fact that Keigo was couching Touya's hand still, but he did smile a little when he looked at them.

When they were done with the pleasantries quiet fell over them for a moment, before Keigo finally spoke up.

"Why..." he started, but his voice bristled and Touya gave his hand a gentle squeeze of support.

"Why did you ask to see me now?" Keigo finally asked, and Mera nodded slowly as he took in the question.

"That's a complicated question Chi-, erm, Keigo," Mera started.

Touya looked between then curiously at the name correction, and noticed a hint of a blush on Keigo's face.

"I'm sure you've worked out that I wasn't allowed any contact with you after your Hero Debut, which was horribly hard if I'm to be honest, and right after the Commission fell I figured you had more than enough other things to focus on," he finished, and Keigo nodded meekly.

Touya cleared his throat and two birdlike heads turned toward him in unison.

"Keigo's been working very hard, and he should be proud of how far he's come," Touya says without thinking, and Keigo turns bright pink.

Mera just smiles wistfully.

"I can see that, yes," he said warmly, and Touya could tell Keigo's posture got a little straighter at the praise.

Mera suddenly started to shuffle with his shoulder bag, and Touya and Keigo both perked up with curiosity.

"I wasn't allowed to of course," he started to explain as he pulled up a small stack of what looked like pictures from his bag.

"But I couldn't help myself when it came to pictures from your youngest days," Mera said with a small smile.

Keigo's eyes widened.

"You have... pictures?" he asked in a small voice, and Mera nodded.

"They would have had my head if they knew, but can you blame me?" he asked as he handed to two men the stack of pictures.

Touya had to properly work on himself not to make an embarrassing sound as he saw the first pictures because holy shit, that was the cutest thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

The first pictures seemed to be from right after Keigo arrived at The Commission, all his clothes too big, his body thin and weak, his eyes taking up most of his curious face.

After that it shifts to a slightly older Keigo, now in more fitted training clothes, hair growing long and messy, determined look on his little face.

The pictures grew more and more sparse as he grew, but there was pictures from every growth spurt, secretly snuck in birthday snacks, homemade party hats, the small collection of Endeavor merch slowly growing.

As Keigo grew older and shifted into a teen the pictures turned into embarrassed looks and eyerolls from the lanky teen who's wings were suddenly bigger than his body, and Touya felt a soft spot for the small glimpses of normality hidden between the cracks of such a rough adolescence.

After he's looked trough all the pictures once Keigo slowly starts going trough them again, but this time he looks up at Mera as he goes.

"When was this?" he asks carefully as he holds up the first picture, the one showing a way too tiny Keigo in a way too big t-shirt nervously clutching the very same Endeavor toy Touya knew he still had in his nightstand.

Mera hummed sadly.

"The first night you were with us," he explains as he reaches for the picture to look at it properly.

"You're in my shirt actually, The Commission didn't have anything that fit you yet. I was worried you wouldn't be ablate sleep in a new place with new people, but you slept for almost 12 hours that night."

Touya's heart breaks a little, but Keigo just smiles.

He shuffles trough some more pictures before he holds up the one where he's in a proper uniform for the first time.

It looks eerily like the old hero suit, or at least the shirt under the jacket.

"I remember this," Keigo said softly.

"Yeah?" Touya asks, and Keigo nods.

"I'd just turned seven, and the Commission made a whole bunch of those uniforms just for me, it made me feel so special."

Mera sighs softly.

"You were special Keigo, but not only for the reasons they saw," he says seriously, and Touya watches curiously.

Keigo tilts his head.

"How you mean?" he asks, suddenly sounding way younger than he normally does.

Mera smiles wistfully.

"You were smart, fast and perceptive, yes, but you were also just incredibly sweet," he explains, and Keigo looks away bashfully.

Touya squeezes his hand.

"You had every right to be weary and bitter, but since that first day you hopped around after me like a duckling, curiously pointing out things I'd never noticed, smiling at everyone you saw, and no matter how much sternness and harshness you were met with, those parts of you never went away."

Keigo just shrugs awkwardly, but Touya understands.

"I might not ever be one to sing heroes praises, and I definitely do not think you were only acting out of your heart before the war, but even I can recognize that there was always something different about you," Touya says in a quiet but clear voice.

Mera doesn't say or do anything, simply listening, and Touya turned towards him to explain.

"It might not seem like a compliment now, but there was a reason I sought him out back when I was... back before."

Keigo gently squeezed Touya's hand, and a soft smile sneaked it's way onto Touya's face as he finishes explaining.

"You never really lost that curiosity and hopefulness towards other people, and I didn't realize it then, but I really needed that."

Mera looks between the for a moment, before he smiles again.

"I think you should keep this one, Chirps," he says to Keigo with a wink, and Keigo squawks embarrassedly as Touya grins.

"Awwh, Chirps?" he asks as Keigo hides his face in his hands and Mera chuckles.

Touya grins to himself as he takes in the scene and realizes that maybe Keigo had more of a parent in Mera than he realized.

After all, nobody knows how to embarrass you in front of your relatively new boyfriend like a parent.

[thana-topsy]

My choice fell on Enthir/Gallus, number 4, because this ship deserves more than one angst drabble👍

Well, anon, thanks to that original Enthir/Gallus prompt, I've been so thoroughly infected with Enthir brainrot that I've started crafting an entire fic around him and his messy fucking life post-Gallus's death. Decided to take the opportunity to use this suggestion to flesh out their relationship a little bit more. I wouldn't say this follows the prompt exactly but it's close enough.

Note: gets a little raunchy near the end of this drabble. This scene will most likely make an appearance in the fic that's slowly being birthed.

--

Enthir had never known Gallus to be one who asked for help. He was a man with a plan, always. Every situation had a contingency, a fallback, a plan B. This being the case, when he turned up in the Frozen Hearth one evening, paler than a ghost and covered in a sheen of sweat, Enthir knew something had to be very wrong. 

“I believe I’ve found myself in a bit of a jam, my friend.”

Enthir only had to take one look at him to know that was the case. “The fuck did you manage to get into this time?”

Gallus flinched through his smile. He was hunched over in an odd position, his body (and whatever else he might be hiding) obscured by his thick woolen cloak. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I could take care of it on my own.” 

“Which means it’s bad.”

“One could say that, yes. I’ll just say, what I’m experiencing is rather unpleasant, and I could use, ah–” His eyes did a quick sweep around the room, his head remaining still, and Enthir took note of the sweat beading along his neck. “A discrete touch.” 

Enthir furrowed his brow. “Follow me.”

After making their way into the basement, in the privacy of Enthir’s office, Gallus removed his cloak, then pulled the glove from his left hand. 

Enthir hissed in empathy, his pulse spiking with panic. “Gallus, you idiot.”

The veins of his hands pulsed black, traveling up his arm to his elbow like trails of ink. On his middle finger was a ring adorned with the image of a skull, its eyes inlaid with sapphires. 

“I admit, I didn’t quite do my due diligence,” Gallus said with another wincing smile. 

“Sit,” Enthir barked, pointing at a chair. Then turned to one of his warded chests. “How long has it been on?” 

“Oh, a few days…”

“Be specific.”

“Since Fredas. Late evening.”

Enthir cursed under his breath, dismantling his wards and opening the chest. “One more day and that thing would have killed you. You understand that, right?”

“I do hate being chastised,” Gallus quipped, but his voice wavered. 

Enthir pulled a soul gem from the trunk, along with a ceramic plate inlaid with sigils. He returned to his desk and set the plate down in front of Gallus. “Hand in the center of the main circle,” he instructed, then sighed. “The most disappointing thing about this situation is that I don’t think I’ll be able to salvage the ring.”

“Please try,” Gallus urged.

“It’s either your arm or the ring, Gallus. And while I know it’s not your stroking arm, I think you’d probably miss it.” He sighed. “But I’ll try. Now hold still.”

It was a delicate process—untethering the ring’s curse from Gallus’s life force. Enthir had recognized it immediately: an artifact of the second era, worn by priests of the Worm Cult. Unless worn by the properly initiated, it would siphon the vitality from its wearer, storing it in the ring until a proper cultist required use of it. Worth at least ten thousand gold to the right buyer.

“You’ve always had a bad habit of sticking your fingers where they don’t belong,” Enthir quipped. Humor eased the panic, made it feel less dire. 

“I’ve never heard any complaints,” Gallus volleyed, as was expected. “Especially not from you.”

Enthir smiled at the comment but maintained his focus, a soul gem in one hand, spell in the other. His fingers twitched as he altered the form in his head, delicately untangling the invisible strings that spread like a fungus through Gallus’s arm, latching to his energy pools like leeches. Slowly, the blackness in his veins began to fade, shrinking back towards the ring. He heard Gallus exhale shakily. After several more tense minutes of silent concentration, Enthir saw the inlaid sapphires flash and he deftly yanked the ring from Gallus’s finger.

“Fucking hell,” Gallus exclaimed, drawing his hand back to rub at his finger. “I owe you my life.”

“Again,” Enthir reminded him. He rolled the ring across his palm, picking up the nearby magnifying glass for closer inspection, checking the inner band. The delicate sigils were still intact, glowing faintly. “Good news: it’s still functioning.”   

“Praise the shadows,” Gallus breathed in quiet prayer. 

“Yeah, that would have been one of your more costly fuck-ups.” He handed the ring over to his friend with mild dismay. It wasn’t every day something that lucrative passed through his hands. “I assume you’ll be compensating me accordingly?” 

“Coin, goods, or services?” Gallus shot back with a grin, the color returning to his cheeks.

“Coin,” Enthir clarified, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. “Once you sell it. If you manage to sell it, that is. Otherwise I’ll take whatever you think is fair.”

“Fair?” Gallus got to his feet and strolled around the desk, still rubbing his finger absently. “You place so much trust in me. It’s touching, really.”

“Hopefully not something you intend to put to the test,” Enthir said, his pulse quickening as Gallus dropped to his knees in front of him, hands sliding up Enthir’s thighs.

“I would never.” He laced his fingers at the small of Enthir’s back, arms resting along his legs as he gazed upwards with that boyish smile he so often used to get his way.

Enthir cocked his head to the side, reaching down to brush a thumb across Gallus’s lower lip, tracing his fingers along the line of his jaw. “I could accept… services. In the interim. Think of it as a downpayment.”

Gallus’s pupils had blown wide, the hazel green of his eyes reduced to a thin ring. He smiled, placing a small kiss against the pad of Enthir’s thumb. Then he began to unbuckle Enthir’s belt. 

It was a perfunctory blowjob—more business than anything else—but Enthir threaded his fingers through Gallus’s hair softly, indulgently, gripped the sides of his head as he bobbed on his cock. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and let his mouth soften, groaning into the silence of his office, the only other sounds the slick suction of Gallus’s mouth as he worked. Gallus always swallowed, which was commendable. Left little to clean up. Enthir slid his thumb past Gallus’s lips after he’d pulled off, just to feel the soft heat of his tongue one last time, before leaning forward and kissing him firmly, tasting his own seed in the process. 

“What did we learn?” he asked in a low growl.

“Hmm?” Gallus replied, eyes closed, a soft smile on his lips. “Sorry?”

“Cheeky fucking bastard,” Enthir laughed, gripping Gallus’s jaw tighter and pulling him up for another kiss.

[raccoonfallsharder]

Hi! I just read your new chapter for the Take What You Need fic with Rocket and first off– perfection. every. single. time. I'd also like to request self-care/life-task for a chapter: Rocket lovingly bullying you into washing your already-ginormous-and-still-growing pile of dirty clothes? It's something I keep doing and would love to see how you write Rocket responding to it.

thank you for your patience with me! i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out sooner. i hope it is everything you were hoping for and that it helps get your laundry done a lil sooner next time my little sunshine-daffodil. may all your laundry-days feel like a studio ghibli sequence with the minor addition of a foulmouthed space-raccoon. please know that i wrote each word with love ♡♡♡

✩࿐࿔ it's frickin laundry day. [new 1/14 for @moonchhu]

smut-free fluff | no use of y/n | gn reader | drabbles | word count: 1,923.

✩࿐࿔ take what you need.

࿔ eat somethin. at least grab a frickin’ snack. (wc: 576) ࿔ go to frickin bed already. (wc: 737) ࿔ get outta bed & get your shit done. & stop doomscrolling (wc: 925) ࿔ take a damn bath. (wc: 1,375) ࿔ leave your frickin skin alone. (wc: 1,579) ࿔ take a fuckin study break.(wc: 1,020) ࿔ drink some goddamn water. (wc: 1,209) ࿔ stop destroying your frickin clothes.(wc: 1,649) ࿔ just buy the damn thing already. (wc: 1,271) ࿔ it's frickin laundry day. (wc: 1,923) for moonchhu [NEW 1/14] ࿔ get some goddamn sunshine ࿔ did you take your meds today?

big tasks are overwhelming. it's okay to break them into smaller bits and just do one thing at a time - even one day at a time.

this is about as wholesome as it gets (for me) i think. can be read platonically or romantically. mcu-based, meant to take place post-volume 3, but headcanon however you want ♡

You stare at the enemy helplessly. It feels like it’s expanding right before your very eyes: bursting from its confinement, ready to crawl over every available surface. To the untrained eye, it might just look like a growing pile of laundry in the corner of your room — but for you, right now, it may as well be your nemesis. Sleeves and socks tumble over your overstuffed laundry hamper, and if you wait much longer, it’s going to start creeping over your floor. There’s the sharp rap of knuckles — low on your doorframe — and the sound of a boot against the door itself as Knowhere’s Captain kicks it open without waiting for a response. Perfect timing, you think drily, and you follow the thought with a yelp. “Hey! I could’ve been indecent!” Of course — of course — Rocket’s eyes go straight to your laundry pile. “The only thing indecent in here is that,” he snarks, jutting a clawed thumb at the hamper-bag. “What the hell?” Classic. “Did you want something?” you ask, annoyed. “I did,” he admits, “but now I’m frickin’ distracted. Do you even got any clean clothes left?” You betray yourself with a nervous glance down at the sweatpants you’re currently wearing. “What the hell, kid,” he repeats flatly, but it’s no longer a question.

read more on ao3 ✩࿐࿔

if you find any of these at all helpful, they're meant for you.

feel free to ✩ request reminders ✩ via reblogs, asks, and tumblr or ao3 comments if they would be helpful for you. it may take me a hot minute to get to them depending on life n stuff, but i will do my best. i'm slowing down a little on these reminder requests for a month or two while i focus on getting Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ done, but you can still feel free to send them!

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

@suicidalshitstick ✩ @glow-autumz ✩ @evolvingchaoswitch ✩ @wren-phoenix ✩ @pretty-chips

(total word count: 12,264)

[tired-biscuit]

rules/byf

minors do not interact!! - this is an 18+ blog that creates and interacts with nsfw and dark content. i will block you if you're under 18.

blank blogs - please have your age visible either somewhere in your bio or your pinned post, or you might just get blocked as well. i will probably ask for your age first if you choose to interact with me.

don’t feed my writing to AI!! - i’m serious.

fem!reader format - please don't ask for a male or gn reader. writing the reader as female is a writing style i'm used to and am most comfortable with, so i plan to keep on using it for a while.

requests - are currently closed, however my inbox is always open for thirsting that i sometimes turn into short drabbles if i'm feeling inspired by the prompt. don't be scared to send something in, as long as it isn't a request for a full-length fic and it doesn't clash with my don'ts.

↳ i am not obligated to reply to every ask, though. if i do not like/am not feeling inspired by a particular prompt, i will simply delete it!! however, i do sometimes just save an ask to write about it later, so that's why it takes a while longer for it to be posted.

do's - degradation/praise, bondage, teeth/oral fixations, daddy/mommy kink, age gaps, corruption, stepcest, sweat kink, virginity, monsterfucking, obsessive love, manipulation, intoxication, dubcon, noncon, rape play, cnc, dominance, pet play, dumbification, teacher/student relationships, breeding, pregnancy, omegaverse, anal, predator/prey kink, somno, hybrids, infidelity, size difference.

there's probably more, but just ask if you aren't sure.

don'ts - incest, characters being minors/underage (they're all aged up to 20+ if it's nsfw), scat, gore, bodily harm, heavy spit kink (just a little is fine.)

other info - this was started as, and remains to be, a kiba blog. i do write for other fandoms occasionally (bnha, hq, jjk, csm, jjba, etc.), however most of my focus is on naruto for now; specifically the himbo characters. please keep that in mind, because i will be posting a lot about kiba and naruto.

remember - be kind. i am a person behind the screen just like you are, and am not a writing machine. sometimes it takes me a while to respond because life just works in mysterious ways like that.

↳ reblogs on my fics are very, very, very encouraged, comments/nice messages are deeply appreciated!! please don't repost my works anywhere. thank you <3

you can find my masterlist here!!

[yesimwriting]

Hello, can I have Billy Loomis with a gn!s/o that deals with panic attacks?

A/n i promise i’m working on part 8 of final girl for anyone that’s waiting,, i just really love the series and tend to lose love for projects when i force it a little more and i really want to keep loving it so i’ve been trying to focus on smaller, less consuming fics while also balancing my attempt at writing a book! :) 

but part 8 is coming!! i promise 

anyways as far as this request goes, you’ve come to the right place bc i’ve relatively recently ended a period where my anxiety was super heightened and was having panic attacks over a lot,, so this one is for all my anxious icons 

also i wasn’t sure if you wanted headcanons or a fic,, so i’m doing both!! a few headcanons at the start and then at the end of this post there’ll be a little fic/drabble 

Billy Loomis with a s/o that deals with panic attacks headcanons: 

- He definitely gets better over time!! Like before you, he’s probably experienced bouts of anxiety (i definitely feel like he has abandonment issues and that his father makes him feel anxious) but would never think to refer to it that way or consider it that. 

- At first, he might be wary of the concept of panic attacks and might have even gone as far as to consider them some kind of ‘weakness’, but after getting closer to you, he becomes more aware of how hard it is to go through something like that. 

- He’ll make jokes about how tough you were,, and he does start to feel like it does show how strong you are, but he’ll always take it with a grain of salt. It’s not that he thinks you’re ‘weaker’ than others,, it’s just that he actually cares about you so he’s more protective.

-  In his mind, he might view you as a little ‘sensitive’, or at least more sensitive than him,, but his bar for sensitivity is extremely low. Like just knowing you’re not into murder would make you seem a little ‘sensitive’ bc of how he’s wired/his mindset. 

- This isn’t something he’s cruel about, just something he’s aware of and honestly just makes him more protective. Always being aware of where you are in social settings, not liking when you’re out alone, analyzing how people talk about/to keep them in check if you’re not the kind of person that instantly jumps to confrontation. 

- Billy isn’t always the best at expressing emotions through words, but when he cares, actually cares about someone, it’s easy to tell if you take a second to think about how he treats you because of how observant he is when someone actually matters. 

- He knows your triggers/can sense when a panic attack is about to happen better than you do. It’s a talent, the way he picks up on things and redirects in an attempt to either prevent or limit the extent of the panic attack.

- One time you had just started registering the beginning of that impending sense of doom in your stomach at a party and Billy was already guiding you out, firm yet limited contact in the form of his hand on your back. 

- Because of Billy’s family issues, he is the type to pull away from time to time for a few reasons that all connect back to him wanting to see how much you actually care about him. It’s rarely overly mean, it’s a little impulsive and subtle. Tiny comments, blowing you off from time to time if he felt like you seemed a little too close with someone else (even if it was just friendly--after all, he’s supposed to be your favorite person in all senses). But if this triggered your anxiety, he’d honestly feel guilt. 

- Okay, whether or not Billy’s capable of actual ‘guilt’ is something I go back and forth on, but with the very few people he actually cares about, especially you, he’s capable of feeling something close to ‘guilt’, only it’s a tiny bit warped in his favor. He feels bad about you going through that and feels like his actions causing it is unfortunate and he doesn’t want to hurt you, but there’s a separation between action and consequence that prevents him from feeling terribly responsible, especially if he comforts you during/after. 

- If you were to have a panic attack over him pulling away, it’d honestly feed his ego a little and calm him down. Like an ‘okay, you definitely actually care’ thing. 

- But don’t worry, Billy’s not intentionally causing panic attacks regularly! After he learns about your triggers, he teaches himself to keep his moodiness confined to them. Ideally, he’d never feel the need to pull away, but he is a serial killer with a sense of empathy that is both skewed and limited. You might be the exception to his general apathy towards most other people, but that doesn’t overcome everything. It’s not that he’s choosing to be moody and toxic from time to time, it’s instinctual. But at least he knows what the limits are and makes a conscious choice to not push past that in this case!

- Anyways,, during actual panic attacks, his ability to read your cues is extremely helpful. He can tell if you want space or some kind of reassurance before you ask, but he tries making a point of narrating what he’s doing. It’s so he doesn’t sneak up on you by accident (he’s gotten a little too good at moving in silence) and it’s an attempt to give you something else to focus on. 

- If you want reassurance, he’ll stay by your side as long as you want. Depending on the severity of the panic attack, he’ll stay even longer but never admit it’s to check in on you. 

- “I’m feeling a lot better now and I know it’s been awhile, so if you want to go to bed or something, that’s okay.” “I’m not still up for you, I wanted to watch this movie.” 

- If you want space, he’ll ‘give’ you space. Meaning that he’ll leave your side once you’re in some kind of safe space to get you a glass of water and/or meds if you need/take them. If you still want/need to be left completely alone for awhile he’ll stay outside the room you’re in, but just at the door to make sure you’re safe. 

- Honestly, he doesn’t love that arrangement. Waiting while you have a panic attack with a door between the two of you makes him feel a little uneasy (and at times a tad rejected, but he fights against that bc this is one in a few circumstances that he can at the very least rationally understand that it isn’t personal, but those intrusive thoughts don’t always listen). 

- He prefers when you let him stay around, even if you want no physical contact because just being in the same room feels like a high level of trust. 

- If you want/need physical contact, he’ll be on it in a second,, shedding any pretext of seeming clingy or his angsty persona to comfort you silently. He has a talent for knowing the right amount of contact too, knowing when you just need him to hold your hand or if you need to be pulled into a hug until you calm down. 

- Also, kind of random, but Billy for sure makes a point of noting who he believes is responsible for your panic attacks. Like if it’s over stress bc of a certain class, Billy will never forget the teacher. If it’s a result of going somewhere that a friend urged you to or someone’s mean to you, Billy will never forget them. 

- This doesn’t necessarily mean Ghostface starts calling them but he’ll find a way to ��get even” in one sense or another. Maybe he’s a little meaner to them for a few days or he’ll get Stu to target jokes at them for awhile. It might be petty or crueler than that, but there will be some form of “pay back”. It doesn’t matter how accidental or innocent or vaguely connected that person was, they’ll be targeted in some way or another. 

- Another kind of random headcanon in the same vein is that if anyone ever called you dramatic or implied that you were making it up for attention or tried to make you seem/feel crazy or broken, well,, they’d get way worse than temporary meanness. That’d likely be enough for their number to end up on Ghostface’s radar. It might take some time in order to make it less suspicious, but we all know Billy’s okay with the long game when it comes to revenge!!

Here’s a little blurb of reader having a panic attack (i keep the details of the panic attack vague to avoid triggering anyone and also bc bc panic attacks can present themselves in different ways)

-----

You’re pacing again, steps less rhythmic than before. You make it from one end of the bathroom to the other in a few long strides just to come back in short, uneven steps. It’s different than when Billy first got you away from the crowded noisiness of Stu’s party, when you just sat on the rim of the tub, practically frozen with a far off look in your eye. 

Billy isn’t sure if your ever shifting pacing is an improvement to the stillness, but he decides that it’s easier to be active when you’re moving. “Careful,” he mumbles, vaguely noting your reaction, “You’re one bad move away from slipping on the bathmat.” 

You frown, the expression a little too blunt for Billy to consider it natural. But if you’re together enough to try to humor him, that’s a good enough sign for now. “I’m not gonna--” Your breath hitches, getting in the way of your words. “Gonna slip.” 

Your voice is heavy and your eyes are glassy. “That bathmat’s taken out a lot of people. Last time Stu got drunk, he ran in here and almost hit his head against the sink.” 

At your shaky, scoffed laugh, Billy pushes himself away from the wall. He takes one step towards you, making sure that it’s audible. You’re staring at the ground, body tense and breaths uneven. He notes the tension in your knuckles as your hands become fists. There’s a chance that your nails are digging into the skin of your palm and Billy resists the urge to tell you to ease up before you hurt yourself.

He learned early on that asking you to do something isn’t the best way to get it to happen when you’re feeling like this, heart racing and breathing unstable. A softer approach with firmer guiding.

Billy takes another step forward, monitoring your expression. He extends his hands slowly, hovering them over yours. You nod, the motion rigid but all the approval he needs. He covers your fists with his hands, running his thumbs over both sets of knuckles. “Let me hold your hand?” 

An almost sniffle followed by the slow unclenching of your hands. Billy wastes no time in intertwining your fingers before you can seize up again. This close, the shift of warmth all that anxiety caused is even easier to see. Your undertones are off in a way that make you look like you should be tucked into bed and downing fluids to ward off a fever. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

The question surprises you. It takes you a second to answer. “Um-nothing--nothing.” Your eyes flit from the ground to your intertwined hands and then back to the ground. “Really--I just--” You sniffle, swallowing in an attempt to fight the lump in your throat. “I can’t think, I just--” 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, voice a little harder than he means it to be. If you think his approach is aggressive, you don’t show it. You just let your angle your chin downwards briefly in what’s meant to be a nod. “Are you feeling better?” 

It’s a bit of an obvious question. He doubts that the feelings have truly been able to diminish. You’re not in the ideal environment. Though the bathroom door dulls the loud party music, the sound is still pounding. The guest bath is also kind of small and the florescent lighting is harsh and blinding compared to the dimly lit atmosphere Billy had shuffled you out of. But you’re no longer far away, divided from him and taken to that place in your head that he can never follow you to. 

“A little,” your words are hushed, hollow. “It just--there’s this feeling in my chest and it--it won’t go away.” 

Billy squeezes your hands briefly, a small pulse of warmth in an attempt to anchor you. “I know.” Your eyes are tearing up again, watery and red rimmed. “We’ll go to your place. You’ll feel better when you’re home, okay?” When you say nothing, he continues, “I’ll tuck you in, we can watch a movie if you want.” You nod again, the motion uneasy. “Your pick.” 

Your eyes meet his at that. The thought fills you with more warmth than you thought possible. It doesn’t melt away that impending sense of doom and dread that’s burrowed itself deeply into your chest, but it gives you something to hold onto. A light at the end of frightening tunnel. 

And then, the guilt sinks in. You’re dragging him away from his best friend’s parties. Sure, Stu does this pretty regularly and more often than not Billy’s happy to turn away early, but you’re taking away his ability to choose. “You know-the--the water helped. If you wanna...” You don’t want him to stay, you don’t want him to leave your side. Not now. Maybe never again. “I know that this is Stu’s party, so...” 

“Stu doesn’t care,” the defense comes out quick, “And if he did, he wouldn’t notice because he’s completely out of it. You saw him.” You don’t ease, so Billy continues, “And if he did, it wouldn’t matter.” 

The words take their time sinking in. “I--” You can’t get the words out. It all feels so dumb now and that overwhelming feeling hasn’t dislodged itself from your chest and you can’t think straight. You’ve had this conversation before--you always feel a little bad when this happens at times like this and then that allows your thoughts to spiral. Thoughts on how much better off he’d be if you weren’t here. 

He lifts your left hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. “You know I--” Billy pauses, taking in the way your eyes widen. “You’re it for me.” The words are sandpaper, but the way you look at him makes it worth it. “And, you know not everything’s about you.” Your eyebrows pull together and Billy continues, “I want to go.” 

You nod, pulling one hand away to wipe the back of your palm across your face. “Okay.” You glance at your expression in the mirror and consider splashing some water on your face. It’d help how you look, but the party is so dimly lit and everyone’s caught up in their own world. “I’m ready.” 

Billy gently pulls on your hand, keeping you close as he unlocks the bathroom door. 

[storiesofsvu]

Hello dear :) I'd like to get into writing fiction again but it's been a long time and I don't know where to start. Do you have tips? Any for maybe starting to write for new fandoms/series/characters? Thank you.

ooo... i think it's a little different for everyone, but here's things i would do/do.

-spend some time reading, esp the fandoms that you want to write for and the tropes you like. read as much as you can to submerse yourself into that world

-same goes for watching said show/movie/whatever. i always like to throw on a few eps to catch the vibe and then maybe go for a character specific episode to get the feel of them back

-for new characters/shows i like to go through the SFW/NSFW alphabet headcanon things, or find other headcanon templates online and start with that, get a feel for the character/fandom, play around with things a little bit before delving into a full fic

-again with watching the show: i find that's the easiest way to come up with "fix it fics" or just ideas for stories in general. like, the stuff we don't see on screen that may or may not have happened, or should have happened. Like, character a comes home from a case/day at work that was a shitty shitty time, someone got hurt/etc, and they don't have a partner on the show to wind down with, so write those kinda things (ships or reader insert)

-find prompt lists! it can take a bit to have people sending stuff in but i found some, wrote down a bunch of ones that i really liked, and then went through that list and thought about which character they fit the best and did some little drabbles to start off with.

-as for getting engagement: post everything you write, if you think it's crap there's a chance it's not and you're just being hard on yourself! the more you post, the more you'll pop up in the tags and people will get to recognize you and interact more. also that being said, use the tags! but use them appropriately (ie; tag the fandom, the character you're writing for and what ship it is. you don't need to tag all the other characters in the fic, just the one/ship you focus on. personal pet peeve there lol.) follow people from the fandoms you want to write for, whether they be fandom blogs, writing blogs, gif making blogs, send req's into them, read/comment/reblog on their stuff, again, the more often they see your name, the more likely they are to check out your stuff. you can create a google doc to make a taglist, or you can make a general note all "tagged some people who i thought might be interested? lmk if you want me to take you off" and most of the time people seem to not care. it's easy to ignore a tag imo.

hope that helps!!

[detectiveichijouji]

[pinned] welcome~

OH HEY, ANOTHER BLOG TO BE DELUSIONAL ABOUT SOMETHING HUH... Okay so... This one is probably something i wanted to do a long time ago (to be more exact, since 2011) which evolved from “Ichijouji Ken investigating stuff at a young age” to “Ken and his friends start solving digi-cases around Tokyo, and have a rival phantom thief involved in their own adventures.. And a few suspects on who Arsenemon might be.”

Yeah, headcanons!! And uh, art and drabbles. Not sure if this blog will have a full story with a plot… Still thinking about it. But might say I’m totally in the mood to work on something like this ;v;

(the current stuff i’m running/writing are still in progress!! Just… taking a break from them for a while~ Also 02TB is boosting my mood for writing/doodling things with the 02 group more than before, lol)

This blog is canon compliant. This is not an AU thingy. Yes, the main ship here is Ken/Miyako so please don’t follow/reblog my stuff to spite on the ship or canon.

“Will you allow us to send asks?” Well maybe? For now I’ll just gather stuff for the blog. Asking stuff is available and the askbox is open! Read the read more in this post for guidelines ↓

💙💚❤️💛🧡🩷 Use the tags in this post to navigate!

[Rules for asking and Interacting with this blog below ↓]

→ NO BASHING/DUNKING ON ANY SERIES, OR CHARACTERS. Also I won't tolerate hateful comments.

→ NO SHIP WARS. Yes, this blog is canon compliant so please, avoid asking about non-canon or if possible asking shipping at all. (That said, Étoile is not-shippable with anyone.)

→ I don't ship human/digimon and I might block if you ship it.

→ Please don't send me requests to draw stuff. Some replies might have art! But if you just drop me something like "can you draw [insert here some prompt/idea]" i will immediately reply with my comm. price chart :) And no, I won't draw fetish art.

→ Unlike my other sideblogs, this one has an ongoing story. I don't expect peeps asking me about it, but I'd like to focus on it in the first place.

→ Ah, I have so little to zero knowledge of the American dub of any digi-series. I will only work with the Japanese version or Brazilian dub. No dub or OG version dunking is allowed in this space by the way.

→ I don't like passive-aggressiveness. If you have something to correct in my posts, please do it politely.

→ Usual common etiquette -- No hatred towards people's religions, sexual/romantic orientation, gender (or lack of), PoC, ethnicities, etc. I won't hesitate to block if needed.

→ Do not edit my art or repost it. If you wanna use it as an icon/sidebar, ask first. And no, you cannot use my art on A/I & N/F/T for ANYTHING. If you do that, I will block you immediately.

[k-evans-reads]

A Few Announcements

After much discussion and thought over the last week, we’ve come to a decision about the status of some of our stories.

As of right now, we feel as though we’ve told as much of Chris and Poppy’s story as we can. While it’s something we are sad to say, we have - as of right now - marked them as “Complete” on our masterlist. This means we are not intending to post more extensions for them. 

We will still answer asks and would love to talk about them, but we’ve gotten to a place where we feel maxed out with their lives. We’ve shared about their family, their growth, and their lives for nearly six months straight, and while we’ve had time to brainstorm, we’ve struggled to come up with much else besides our already posted extensions and would prefer to focus our energy on current projects!

We are also planning to slow down a bit on our Monday postings (i.e. Chrickie extensions). We will still update them on Mondays, just not every Monday. Next week we are planning to post a Chrickie extension, but after that, we might start posting more like every other week or every couple weeks. This is purely because we are going to be a little limited on time this summer and want to be able to dedicate time to current stories versus drabbles.

Finally, we are moving to post things at 3pm EST. This is a time we feel will work better with our schedules, as well as several time zones!

We are so incredibly thankful for you all and all your support. You seriously have no idea how much we squeal with happiness to each other over each and every ask and comment and love how much you all love these characters just like we do. Sam and Ellie’s stories will keep updating every week at this point and we are excited to get to focus more of our energy on them! 

Time zone converter 

-✨ and 🌯

[angelanimedesaray]

Breathe

AN:  I was contemplating on some future multi-chapter fic things and when I realized I couldn’t put this into any of them with my current plans, I ran over here to write this little drabble because I NEED TO WRITE IT!!!

Also, I know this was OH SO LONG AGO COMPARED TO OTHER THINGS, but I was thinking about it because I just watched my favorite reactor (A Goodwin TV) react to Midnight Sun and it’s on my mind, as well as the reason above. (Imma just name drop him real quick cause his AOT and ATLA reactions are GOLD)  Okay, name drop over, back to the drabble/One Shot

FINALLY:  If I’m being honest, I kinda imagine Vampire!Reader from Wings in the Dark doing this, but still, don’t take that as canon, cemented fact here, it’s just READER in this piece...but in my mind that’s kinda what I was thinking, heh

Characters:  Levi, Reader, Erwin (Post-Mortem, Mentioned)

Pairing:  Levi x Reader

Warnings:  ANGST, Post Canon-Character Death, Grief, Loss, Brief Non-descript Nudity, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count--Idk, I wrote this in Tumblr and was too lazy to check in google docs or something just take the drabble from my mind at 1:30 a.m.

*Reader’s POV*

Ever since Levi made the choice, there was a solid wall between the two of you, unseen to the human eye, but felt by both of you as it seemed to tower far beyond the abused walls of Wall Maria that you were surrounded by.  It wasn’t out of any animosity towards you--by now you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t angry at you or anything like that.  Far from it, actually.

But there were still things to do.  Injured to look after--what remained of the Scouts to be injured, anyway--and a sweep of the town to make sure there weren’t any more surprises lurking that might wipe out the very, very few who remained.  For a brief moment, you’d considered following him on that sweep of the area before deciding against it.  You weren’t out of the woods yet, there were still things to do, and you weren’t going to distract him.

Even when Levi and Hange went to put Erwin’s body to rest, you didn’t follow, both of them already making it clear that it wouldn’t be rushed out of respect, but it was not going to be a long affair, either.  The necessities, maybe a more personal touch here and there, and then back to work.

And he might want that time alone, as well.

When Levi came back, you got to your feet, expecting to pull him aside and at least talk to him, but he kept walking, stepping around you and heading straight for Armin and the others to have the much needed talk with them.

You silenced any kind of comment or concerned look that tried to rise to the surface at that.  And you held your tongue as the five of you walked through the broken streets of Shiganshina to finally see what this great sacrifice bought, or rather revealed.  The trip back was silent, everyone either busy with recoveries or with heads swimming with the reveal of humanity beyond the walls, bent on the destruction of everyone within the walls.  But even with thoughts as monuments as that, you were painfully aware that nothing had been said between Levi and yourself still, that Levi was quiet as ever--no, quieter--and that there was a sense of something brewing in the air around you.  You didn’t see any cracks in the façade, but when Wall Rose appeared, and the sea of smiling celebratory faces below, and then around, the blur of the world around you all as you were swept away in a sea of people who wanted to know what happened, what this meant, all these responsibilities suddenly falling on new people, reports needing to be made, debriefings, no rest for the wicked...

Even you couldn’t breathe with the sheer size of it all.  It was insurmountable, a weight that was pressing down with no escape, and that was just what you felt.  You didn’t have the weight that was on Levi’s shoulders, the knowledge and choices and responsibilities still oh so damn fresh with no time to process.  So much to process.  It still hadn’t quite clicked that the 10 people who came back to Wall Rose were the only ones who were going to be coming back.

Somehow, at some point, you and Levi found yourselves walking through familiar halls, past doors that suddenly found themselves without use, the halls empty of any activity or signs of life--at least the ones you were walking.  There was life, elsewhere, but not in this particular wing, not at the moment.  It was just you, Levi, and the bloody silence, the wall that Levi had shored up and somehow managed to keep up without any visible cracks.

Visible.

But that pressure in the air was mounting as he opened the door to your shared quarters, no creak on the door, just the softest whoosh of air as he stepped through, hands undoing the cloak from around his shoulders in the first two steps into the room, the gear being unlocked from the straps by the forth step you saw wobble--

The gear and cloak clattered onto the couch in a temporary position before Levi could finish taking off his gear, and you hardly had time to shut the door behind you before that wall shattered to dust without any warning, the moment it was just you and him and the silence with no chance of anyone disturbing you, as soon as you were hidden from the world.

It clicked, and it all came crashing down, all at once.

The distance evaporated the moment Levi’s knees hit the stone floor, a hitched breath cutting through the air as you hurried to his side, not even bothering to take off your own gear or cloak as all your focus centered on the stalwart man crumbling so visibly in front of you.

His hands were curled into fists against the cold floor, knuckles white and teeth grit as he tried in vain to hold the floodgates closed just a few moments longer, enough to at least get out of his gear and get it properly put away, for a more appropriate time and place than immediately on the floor of the office/sitting room portion of your modest shared quarters.  But all the emotion he’d been bottling and trying to subdue until a more appropriate time could not be held back any longer.  The moment the weight of it all hit him with nothing left to distract him was the moment he couldn’t hold it back any longer.  Silent tears were carving a path across a face that had only gotten a few splashes of water to clean up hours ago.  All the resistance and struggle he could still muster wasn’t enough to stop the sudden onslaught of damned up emotions hitting him at once.

As his shoulders shook and he started to turn his face away, still making an attempt to hold it back a bit longer, your arm slipped across his back, the other carefully touching his shoulder to turn him to face you.  He didn’t have it in him to resist, he was too busy trying to contain himself to divert any energy into resisting your quickly offered embrace even if he wanted to.  So, he turned into you, your hand coming up to gently thread through his hair and cradle his head into you as you maneuvered you both so you were facing one another.  Your other arm was moving gently along his back in soft rubs not necessarily to soothe so much as to help him relax enough to let it out in a way that didn’t seem so physically painful.  Right now the hitched breaths sounded sharp and sudden, the kind that made a persons chest physically ache, his muscles tensed so tightly you were worried bones would snap and sinew would tear.

You didn’t know what to say--what kind of words could possibly be of solace to him at a time like this, the weight of all that death and sacrifice and his monumental choice on the roofs of Shiganshina that had cost him someone more than a dear friend--cost him Erwin--causing him this physical pain.

One thing at a time.  He needed to let it out, not bottle it up.  He needed to release some of this grief, and he needed to not hurt himself even accidentally in the process.

“Just breathe, Levi...just try to breathe...” you murmured to him, trying to make your back rubs make a smooth, soothing pattern that mimicked a breath in and out to get him to slow down and breathe around the tears and the jagged breaths.

You continued your mantra of telling him to breathe as he struggled to follow your suggestion, breathing sporadic and tears dampening your uniform as you held him securely against you, fingers threading gently through hair that had turned greasy with the dirt and sweat.

He was going to want a bath right after this.  But first, he needed this emotional release.  That was the most important thing, even he seemed to realize that.

His fists raised from the cold floor to instead tighten into the fabric of your uniform, clinging to you in a death grip instead of digging into the palms of his hands.  He was still shaking, and his breathing still sounded painful at times, but it was slowing down as he tried to match his breaths to the pattern of your soothing back rubs, trying to slow it down and take deeper breaths.  You simply told him to breathe and rocked slightly in place, chin moving to rest against the top of his head.

You weren’t trying to make the pain go away--you knew you didn’t have that power.  But you were going to offer him what help and comfort you could.

As Levi’s breathing slowed down to something a bit more manageable, you pulled away just enough to look at his face, hands shifting from his back and hair to gently cusp the sides of his face in your hands, thumbs wiping at the tears that had stained his cheeks and your clothes.  He wasn’t looking you in the eyes, still, considering how rarely he let himself be this vulnerable, even around you.  But this was a special exception, an anomaly none of you could have predicted, and you were making more than just simple, small exceptions.

His eyes were bloodshot from the harsh crying, and he looked utterly exhausted, like if you told him to go to sleep right now he actually would, without issue, but definitely with nightmares.

You were both in for some harsh and brutal nightmares going forward.

But again, that was not your focus right now.

Your thumbs gently wiped at the tears that were now trying to hide in the already-made rivers on his face, your touch kind and tender, your eyes full of sorrow of your own--you’d known so many of those that had died, as well.  And you knew that Erwin had been special to Levi in a way you didn’t fully understand.  It wasn’t the same thing you and Levi had, but it was still deep and strong in its own way, and it had just been cut out of him the first time while he was helpless to do anything about it, and the second time with his reluctant consent.

It took a few moments, but he finally looked at you, briefly, which was all you needed--that quick dart of his eyes towards yours, and the fact your gaze was locked on his eyes was enough to trap his gaze to yours long enough to say what you needed to.

“He was ready to go, Levi.”

Almost imperceptibly, Levi’s eyes widened at the fact that was the first thing you were going to say to him, out of everything (besides the brief coaching to calm him down.  The first face to face, conversational thing, first real sentence).

You didn’t know what to say about the grief of so many people dead just so he could get one shot at the Beast Titan, which he then ultimately failed because of a split second of hesitation.  You didn’t know what to say about being the one to make the decision to make that suicide charge, sending all those people to their deaths willingly.  But there was one single thread you felt like you could actually say something about, something that might help ease his burden even the slightest bit.  The pain and loss would still be there, but his load would be just a bit lighter...hopefully.

One grief and--you hated to say it, but--failure, that burned to the forefront of your mind as the greatest personal pains he had to be feeling right now.

Erwin.

You would focus on that.  With Erwin, you had some kind of comfort to give, as strange as it may seem.  But Levi could not take the full brunt of Erwin’s death, not as harshly as he was.  Yes, he’d made the decision, both times, but again...

“He was ready to go,” you said in a carefully tender voice, your thumbs gently tracing along the smooth edges of his cheeks and cheekbones, holding Levi’s gaze and making sure your words were sinking in.  “We both saw it.  You know he was.  You gave him...arguably what he wanted the most.  He was ready to go.”

Levi seemed to remember to breathe again, leaning his head forward into your chest once more--voluntarily, this time--and simply seeking your quiet embrace.  You didn’t make any more comments, simply holding him on your gathered position on the floor, staring off at nothing in particular as you slowly rubbed his back, murmuring little reminders to breathe whenever his breath would start to hitch again.

When your legs started to ache from the kneeling position you’d taken to pull his collapsed form into your arms, Levi pulled away, not even pausing to wipe at any tears or say anything or even look at you.  He simply got to his feet and started undoing the straps that made up the full body harness of the ODM gear, adding them to the pile and starting to strip off his filthy uniform as well.  You clambered to your feet with a bit of effort, pain shooting up your legs and making you pause to wait out the pins and needles sensation burning through your legs from holding that position for so long.

“I’m going to clean up,” Levi said bluntly, his voice still gruff, gravely from the harsh cry he’d just had as he finished stripping of his dirty clothes and started to head for the bedroom door so he could reach the washroom.

“And then get some sleep?” you suggested, turning to face him with a worried look.  Levi simply grunted in response, hand on the bedroom doorframe as you threw out one last thing before the moment slipped away entirely.

“For what it’s worth...” you said quickly, slowing down for the important part.  “I agree with your decision.”

Levi paused, held his position, and then said in a soft voice, “You’d be the first.”

“That’s not true.  Mikasa and Eren--” you started to argue, but Levi simply turned and gave you a look that silenced your argument immediately.

They didn’t count.  They’d been guaranteed to want Armin over Erwin because of their personal ties.  Everyone else, however...you’d both heard it, even from Armin’s own lips in a way.  Everyone else thought it should have been Erwin.  Everyone.  They had expected it to be, as well.

You squared your shoulders slightly, stubbornly standing your ground on the matter.

“I stand by your decision, Levi.”

Levi studied you for a long moment, fingers that had tightened to a white knuckle grip on the wood relaxing again as he gave a slight nod.

“...so do I.”

You felt a bit of relief seep through you to hear him say that to you and mean it, nodding as you started to take off your uniform as well.  “I’ll be in there in a moment.

Levi hummed in acknowledgement and disappeared into the other room after that, leaving you to get undressed and tidy up the bear to be properly taken care of later when you were both in a better shape to do just that.  Tip-toeing into the washroom, you could see Levi had already washed up and was simply soaking for a few moments, eyes closed and head leaning back slightly, one of his legs bending so his knee peaked out of the water as you approached.

He cracked an eye open once you got fairly close, sitting up and adjusting in the water for you to slide inside and join him, wrapping his arms around you in a firm hug and gently nuzzling against your neck, giving your jaw a soft kiss before he started helping you clean up, his movements gentle and slow, usually followed by a chaste, thoughtful kiss against your skin as the two of you washed you of all the dust, dirt, grime, and blood from the devastating mission.  Once you were clean, you shifted in Levi’s embrace, curling into his chest as his arms linked around you again, holding you tightly to him and burying his face in your hair, breathing you in deeply and simply...holding you.  Just holding you in silence, both of your minds heavy with the weight of far too many things, but finding a moment of solace in the unspoken fact that by some miracle you’d both made it out alive and were here to comfort each other in the aftermath, to help each other slow down and simple...breathe again.  Even if it was just for a moment before the world continued forward in it’s harsh series of events.  Even if it was just to hold each other until the water got cold and you had to migrate to the bed for sleep that would undoubtedly include nightmares of the very thing you each needed comfort for.

It was still a much needed moment where you simply clung to one another as that reminder to take a moment to breathe again.

Everything Tags:  @antisteller

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea @hauntedhousecat @peaches-and-clouds @queenofcurse @wubbawubwub04 @lollobos @pasteldays @itsmeaudrieee @macaronnv @tokyo-banana @apuci-kis-szornye @morgana-olson​ @yellowminb​ @ashikothedog​ 

[herstarburststories]

Whiskey Titties

Day 16: Nipple Play

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean loves your boobs and whiskey.

A/N: Inspired by @deanmonandnegansbitch 's drabble, check it out! I know I'm late and sorry! Today's one will be posted too hopefully in the right time but no promises because I plan on going to my aunt's today. Also, have I mentioned how much I love that Dean's canonically passionate about women's boobs? No? Okay!

Ps: Certain names that will show up were also Yas' and a lovely anon idea! (no spoilers!)

Warnings: dirty talk, humping, nipple play

Dean Winchester was a boob man.

You knew that before he even touched you. The not subtle glances that he threw at your cleavage in that bar back then made you roll your eyes and Sam give him an empty stare. But Dean was cute, hot, and funny. You let that first impression slide by the end of his hunt, giving in to his dumbfounded charm. And man, he wouldn't stop watching your boobs pounding while he fucked you that night.

It hadn't stopped. Dean would groan and place his head on your breast when he was frustrated, lay on top of you and rest on your boobs after fucking, or even just smirk at himself watching you walk around in summer clothes.

Undoubtedly, that translated into sex. He had left your chest full of hickeys, kisses, and bites. Dean relished into sucking your nipple, cupping your breast, or just kneading them.

That man really loved women's boobs. Especially yours.

They were just too good. So pretty and perfectly fitting in his large hands — like they were made for Dean to take care of. It might not compare to eating pussy, but fuck he could adore more than one thing about his woman's body, thank you.

So, you couldn't blame him for being distracted by your tities again. Come on, you had mixed boobs and booze, his two favorite B's. What did you expect?

“Fuck.” You groaned, impatient with the drop of scotch that dropped on your cleavage accidentally. Grabbing a napkin, you tried to clean it up, knowing that was helpless. It was a good old drink, you would be smelling like alcohol for the rest of the night. You sighed, throwing the stained napkin on kitchen's counter, where you were sitting. Your eyes went to him, a single eyebrow arched when you noticed his obvious lack of attention. “Dean?”

All he could emit was a hum, “Mhm.” 

Tilting your head to the side, mouth contorted into with a wondering expression, you moved on the counter — which made your boobs shake a little. Dean licked his lips, watching as carefully as he'd watch one of his private movies.

You followed Dean's eyes only to find your own breast under his adoration glare. A huff came out of your lips as you slapped his arm, waking him up. “Hey!”

You held an indignant glance. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at your cleavage. Dean smirked, already a goner. How could a pair of titties look so good, all wrapped up with your red tank top like a christmas present? The fact that the tank was a bit too tight and squeezed them together, making them come out even more, was a big bonus.

“Can you stop looking at my boobs for two seconds?” She chortled in dismay, unable to discern whether he was  listening to you or not. Men and boobs. “Do you even remember what I was talking about?”

The male used all his inner strength to look up and focus on your words. Dean frowned, not even a slight glimpse of what you had been saying in his mind. Nonetheless, he attempted a shoot: “Something to do with Sam's date?”

You shook your head. “You are unbelievable.”

“It's not my fault my girlfriend's smoking hot.” He said, a devilish grin on his lips as Dean scooted closer to you, forgetting about the dishes he was cleaning. The hunter placed his hands on your lips as he got himself between your legs. “And got such nice boobs.”

“Dean…” It should come out a warning, it should come out as a refrain. You two were adults, Dean himself in his forties— you shouldn't just mess in the middle of the kitchen like two horny twenties. Yet, the crack in your voice made it sound vulnerable, like you were pleading for him.

You were.

Dean bent down, swiftly putting his face between your breasts. This was heaven. He couldn't help a moan, the sound slightly muffled by your boobs.

Your eyes shut instantly. The Winchester's tongue was already doing the dirty work, licking and caressing every bare spot the red fabric left for him to play with. He spotted a trace of whiskey mixed with your sweaty and apple soap.

He lifted his head, licking his lips as he glanced at you. If he looked down, he'd catch your boobs. If he looked at your face, he was seeing your features turned into an exciting expression; lips slightly open, eyes closed, and heavy breathing. All because of him. More than an ego boost, that made Dean feel proud of himself. To make you feel good was always his priority, as deeply as a religious obsession. “What if we add a little flavor here, sweetheart?”

“Like whipped cream?” You opened your eyes, frowning at the lack of friction.

Dean grabbed the half empty bottle that laid next to you, a malicious smile on his lips as he shook the bottle. “Like Whiskey.”

“You sure Sam isn't coming back tonight?” You bit your bottom lip, considering.

“He's busy with Eileen, training his sign language.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows, gaining a smack on his shoulder. “What? It's been awhile since he got some.”

You decided not to answer him, rather taking off your shirt and throwing it away. Astute hand grabbing the bottle from his hold and to open it, whiskey soon drizzling on your breasts.

A perverse grin appeared on your face. “Shut up and suck my boobs, Winchester.”

Dean might had been to heaven a couple times, but this was paradise. You, in the middle of the bunker's kitchen, legs spreading and whiskey titties.

“You know I love when you take control like that, honey.” He provoked before he burrowed his face between your boobs again.

All response you could give was a groan as Dean's skilled mouth started to work on you: he pecked the valley between your breasts, a gentle buss undercurve the right one — his personal favorite, the beloved righty. Your ass got the nicknames AC, the right one, and DC, the left one, so he didn't have the best naming for your boobs. — His lips went up, crashing against your chest as he gave it an open-mouthed kiss.

A shameful moan left your lips. Your head was falling back, legs wrapped around Dean's waist used to pull him closer. The green eyed man got your hint for more touching, licking around your areola (god, your skin felt even softer with alcohol), then swipping his tongue over your nipple until he made it as hard and got it between his teeth. Dean didn't bite it, only adding pressure to the arousal. Meanwhile, his other hand found its way to cup your bosom, kneading it with his fingers.

The hunter savored your breast a bit longer, caressing the left and finally sucking your nipple. This, this was everything he wanted to taste in his mouth besides your pussy. The strong taste of Whiskey, laced with your salty derm, while he also got his head between a pair of boobs.

His cock was already full awaken, protesting in his jeans. Yet, he didn't want to stop now. Dean simply slid his free hand in his pants, grabbing his cock.

You weren't that far either, the obvious slick between your legs reported your desire. You pushed yourself to the edge of the counter, and pulled Dean closer — such movement causing the clothed boner and your soaked panties to collide.

A howl left both lover's lips. Yours legs trying to bring Dean near — as if that was possible.

Your hand on his head, fingers between his fingers as you pressed him deeper into your breast. “Come on, Dean. Suck my boobs. Don't you love them, baby? Show me how much. Leave hickeys on them. Make me come just like this, and maybe I'll even let you fuck them later. Don't you want that?”

An animal noise echoed from the back of Dean's throat, the smell of whiskey invading his nostrils. He wrapped the most he could of your boob in his mouth, sucking it ferociously. His hand caressing, squeezing the other one. You moaned helplessly, moving your hips towards his while his mouth praised you.

You are trapped in pleasure. Dean was lost in wonderland. This was one hell of experience, he could spend all day just playing with your boobs, kissing them like he kissed your mouth, making you come like he was eating you out. All the things he could do to you just like this were going through his lustful mind.

It didn't take longer for him to hear the most beautiful music coming reverberating from your trembling body, announcing an orgasm. His cock was still hard, ruining his underwear with pre cum and hurting against his jeans. He wanted to fuck you right on the kitchen counter, make you a cooking mess more than you already was. But the picture of your pussy, all soaked by wetness and cum came to his mind.

He pulled away, licking his lips. Dean needed to eat you out. He had his drink, it was just natural that he went to the main meal; your cunt.

Next time, he was going to get his cock in the middle of your pretty boobs, and fuck them good. Right now, Dean had to use his mouth to make you come again and ultimately get his needy cock inside your tight walls.

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[bratkook]

queen of broken hearts. jjk (m) part two.

Block my posts and my stories, I’m sorry I can be annoying, I go ghost without warning.

part one. part three.

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: smut, heavy angst word count: 6k warnings: jungkook is still in lurv and oc is still a toxic bitch, mentions of infidelity, oral (m receiving), explicit photos being taken after said blowjob, jungkook cries a little but reverse uno cards oc ha author’s note: this was definitely not supposed to get a second part but for some reason i just couldn’t stop writing it so here it is. i might make a few more drabbles bc i like writing this toxic ass relationship but who knows lmk what u think byeeee

A frown is etched onto Jungkook’s face as he eyes his phone, his thumb constantly dragging the screen down until the loading circle appears and shows him the same screen thats been haunting him all day. 

No posts yet. 

That same line has him morbidly smiling to himself, how could you have no posts yet when he had just liked a selfie of your last night? 

Your profile picture in the top left corner mocks him, a mirror photo you took in a room he was all too familiar with. A room he hadn’t been inside of in over two weeks, which was a long time considering you usually called him over every other day. 

And now he was apparently blocked.

Jungkook racks his brain for anything he could’ve done, any words he might have let slip out in the throes of passion the last time he had seen you, but he comes up blank. He had done a good job so far keeping his emotions locked up and tucked away, never letting anything more slip out since he first met you years ago. 

Sure when he’s in the moment he absolutely wants to spill his heart out, serve it on a silver platter for you and hope its to your liking, but once the heat of it’s all gone and his mind settles he realizes that he missed his chance. His window of opportunity was long gone, the relationship you had now was too twisted, tangled up like roots of a tree that were running rampant, jutting up between the cracks of Jungkook’s sanity. 

Back when you first met, being the older sister of the boy he was tutoring, he had no idea that this was what would become of it. You took a liking to him instantly like a lioness latching onto her prey, something new and exciting for you to play with before you took a bite out of him. 

He was attractive that much was obvious, his hair was shorter then, giving him a slightly boyish charm that didn’t match his physique of broad shoulders and slim waist, his thick thighs stretching out his jeans in such a delicious way that made your mouth water. 

He noticed instantly when you’d linger around the kitchen while he was busy teaching your brother about the pythagorean theorem, mocking him in your low cut tops and tiny lounging shorts, offering him a popsicle as you suckled on one right in front of him. A giant flashing sign hanging over your head that showed him your intentions, showed him just what you were after when it came to him, and he walked right into it. 

Jungkook wasn’t inexperienced, having far too many notches on his bed post to explain why he was so god damn intimidated by you, so enamored by a girl who was clearly as cold as the ice pop you were making a show of sucking. 

You were filthy and shameless, turning the charm off the second your parents walked in or your brother turned around when he noticed Jungkook was distracted. The second anyone else became aware you’d tug your shirt up and your shorts down, giving your father a smile so sweet it would rot Jungkook’s teeth if he didn’t know the act behind it all. 

Jungkook still doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the chain of events that lead to you two sleeping together for the first time, he doesn’t know if he’d take it all back to save himself the torment his heart was currently going through. 

Would he have changed his course of action? Chosen to leave immediately after tutoring your brother instead of running up to the bathroom before leaving? 

You weren’t even on his mind then, you had been taunting him earlier but after fifteen minutes you retreated into your room, leaving him to focus entirely on being the tutor your parents were paying him good money to be. 

So when he pushes the bathroom door open and sees you standing absolutely naked with your wet hair dripping down your body and not an ounce of embarrassment written on your face, he doesn’t even realize he’s shut the door behind him until he hears the soft click of the lock. 

You had been loosely planning this all day,  hoping he’d end up in your room, but when you heard him trekking up the stairs and towards the bathroom you yanked off your towel and unlocked the door in record time, a tiny oops leaving your mouth when you see his wide eyes. 

Jungkook groans into his palms now as he recalls it, how he had taken you on top of your bathroom counter, knocking over the toothbrush holder and soap onto the floor in a loud clatter, the way you had refused to kiss him during it even then, choosing to suck hickeys onto his neck to muffle your cries of pleasure as he stretched you open. 

He still remembers the guilt he felt when he exited the bathroom and said goodbye to your brother as if he hadn’t just fucked you raw inside your bathroom when you two had barely spoken a word to each other. 

Jungkook should’ve spoken up then, right at the beginning of this all, but instead he let his dick control everything, allowing this to continue. 

You had no complaints, getting dicked down by a man as beautiful as Jungkook with no strings attached was god sent, choosing to keep him around even as he stopped tutoring your brother, even after you moved out of your parents’ house and into a place of your own. 

Jungkook felt the first spark of hope in his chest at you keeping him around, the possibility that maybe this was more than just sex, more than a quick fix. But then he started noticing the texts to your phone that you’d get while he was balls deep inside of you, different boys with different hearts lined up at the end of it. Thats when he began trying to convince himself that he was just confused about his feelings, that all of this was just lust. 

He was wrong. Obviously. 

If all he felt was lust he wouldn’t be so upset over being blocked from your instagram. It wasn’t even as if you two interacted on the app, never dming each other, you’d occasionally like the thirst trap gym photos he’d post just to get your attention whereas he’d like every single post of yours. 

His finger hovers over your contact name now, opening up your thread of messages and seeing the last one being from him two weeks ago. A simple “i’m outside” text after you had invited him over. 

His digits swirl on top of the screen, desperate to shoot you a text, wanting to come across as casual in asking why you blocked him but how could he ask that without exposing that he frequently checked your page.

“No.” He grumbles under his breath, carding his fingers through his long hair and choosing to text his friends instead. An invitation to meet at a diner near by for some greasy food and good conversation, something Jungkook desperately needed right now. 

Taehyung and Jimin don’t know about you, none of his friends do so when they push through the entrance of Mel’s and he spots the reason for his distraught emotions he can’t even explain to his friends why they need to sit at the furthest booth from you. 

You don’t spot him, you were too busy staring at the boy in front of you with heart eyes he wishes could be aimed at him. A straw is between your teeth as you slurp on your milkshake, covering your mouth to laugh loudly at something the purple haired boy said. 

It only irritates him further, his fingers gripping the edges of the menu so hard they pale in color. He knew this was the boy that had text you last time, the purple hearts matching the color of his hair perfectly. Was this why you had blocked him?

“You alright?” Taehyung speaks up, noticing the turmoil brewing on his friend’s face, the way his brows were pinched together, the indent on his forehead deepening every time your laugh filled the diner. 

“Yeah.” Jungkook breathes, hoping the simple lie sounds more believable out in the open than in his head.  He sets the menu down with care, trying to shake the feeling inside of him before it spread throughout him, morphing into something ugly and green. You didn’t owe him anything, he tells himself, you could do whatever you wanted. 

Jimin eyes him carefully, catches on to the way he continues to glance at the corner of the room every now and then. His curiosity gets the best of him so he turns to look over his shoulder and spots you, and you must sense the attention because your eyes move from the purple haired boy over to Jungkook’s booth. Jimin instantly turns around at being caught but its too late, he had been spotted and in turn so had Jungkook. 

You continue to slurp on your shake, allowing Namjoon to feed you some fries from his plate while you stare at Jungkook, calling him mentally and hoping he’d look over so you could give him a smile and wave as if you hadn’t ghosted him with no warning. 

He can feel your piercing gaze, how you refuse to look away until he stares back but he wont give you that, he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing the way his face crumbles at you being with another guy after throwing him to the curb. Instead he chooses to continue staring at his straw wrapper like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

His friends can sense his discomfort, not commenting on it and allowing him to guide the conversation until he’s relaxing in his booth, stuffing his face with food until the Jungkook they know reveals himself once more, all smiles and laughs instead of the moping version of himself he was earlier. 

That same Jungkook lingers for a while after leaving the diner, a new set of determination in his mind to move on. You had gone ahead and blocked him, did the first part for him and if that wasn’t a sign for him to pack up his feelings and take a hike then he doesn’t know what was. 

He finds himself glad he hadn’t asked you for coffee two weeks ago, his nerves getting the best of him being the saving grace for what would’ve been further embarrassment. If you had said yes out of pity only to block him before even going out he probably would’ve dug himself a grave and face planted right into it. 

For the first time in a very long time he finds himself not thinking of you, resuming his earlier activities of dating the girls who pursued him. He hadn’t realized how much of you consumed him until he was with someone else, kissing a girl who was kissing him because she wanted to, not because she was trying to muffle a confession she knew was coming. 

By the fourth week Jungkook is proud of himself, applauding his strength for not succumbing to you, caving and texting you for an explanation. He wasn’t weak. 

He wasn’t. 

Until his phone dings with a notification. 

His hand freezes on its way to his mouth, cheeto dust coating his finger from snacking while he binge watched random shows on Netflix. Jungkook doesn’t know whats waiting for him as he licks his fingers before grabbing his phone, the cheeto dust going down the wrong pipe as he saw your name flashing on his phone in the form of an instagram notification. 

He pounds on his chest with his fist, uncapping his water and gulping it down to get rid of the scratchy feeling now lingering in his throat. 

You had just followed him. 

You followed him again after blocking him weeks ago. 

Jungkook just stares at the screen until it fades to black, his own reflection looking back at him until he lights it up once more to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. His finger swipes the screen to unlock it, checking the notification and seeing that you had in fact unblocked him and refollowed him, your grid of photos filling up the screen in a way they weren’t before. 

He was at a loss of what to do, just staring at your profile, the blue follow button taunting him, begging to be pressed, pleading for him to once again get sucked under your spell. 

You must be watching your notifications, waiting to see any new activity on your page because the second Jungkook follows you back you’re shooting him a text faster than he can blink, not being able to take back what he did before his phone is buzzing with a message. 

Jungkook is faced with a realization at this, he was in fact very weak. 

His brain works on its own accord, opening up your thread of messages and seeing the new one sitting nice and pretty in the bottom left corner. 

y/n 10:48pm : hey kookie, you busy?

He eyes the message for a few minutes, not knowing what to respond with. Was he busy? Technically if you considered a netflix binge to be important. But that stupid voice in the back of his head, the one that sent him to your beck and call speaks up, loud and clear, yelling at him to text back and say he always had time for you. 

jungkook 10:53pm : oh hey, no whats up!

jungkook 10:53pm : *?

The three dots of you typing pop up instantly only giving him seconds to prepare before your message swoops in. 

y/n 10:53pm : wanna come over? i’ll make it worth your while

Suggestive emojis finish off the message and he wants to slap himself when his dick stirs to life at the thought of what you’d do to make it worth it after the hell you’ve put him through recently. 

It’s just lust. That’s all this is, thats the only reason he send you a text saying he was on his way so fast theres a typo in it, getting to your apartment faster than he ever has. 

When you swing the door open you shock him when you wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a kiss, its messy, mostly tongue and teeth as you tug at the hair along the nape of his neck in desperation. 

It takes Jungkook a minute to react to it, you were kissing him, something you’d never allowed him to do during sex. He wonders what this meant, a small bite to his lip being what snaps him out of it and forces him into action. 

His large hands wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him before he hauls you up, getting you to hook your legs on his hips as he blindly guides you towards your bedroom, a route he knows very well. 

“You got here fast.” You breathe out as you pull away, laughing when he chases after your lips, getting a taste of the way they feel during the heat of the moment he wanted more of it, wanted to swallow down your moans in ways he’s never been able to before. 

“You told me you’d make it worth my while.” He plays it off, latches his lips onto your neck as he throws your bedroom door open, walking the both of you towards your bed and letting you flop down onto it. 

“Did you miss me.” You tease, an evil glint in your eye as you kneel on the bed, your hands resting on his shoulders while you stare at him like the innocent angel you aren’t. 

“You blocked me.” He huffs, allowing you to slide his shirt off even though he was still upset about that, tossing it behind you without a care. You move onto your own shirt, an oversized grey shirt that belongs to Namjoon but you’d never tell Jungkook that, either way his attention lands on your exposed tits, the shirt and who it belongs to not even crossing his mind now that he had an eyeful of your pert chest. 

“No I didn’t.” You lie so effortlessly, having the motions down to a science. The tilt of your head, the squinting of your eyes that painted an image of you not knowing what he was talking about. The slight lift in your tone in what he mistakes as genuine confusion is what starts the swirls of doubt in his brain. You knew though, you knew very well that you had indeed blocked him. 

“Yeah you did.” He pushes, trying to lean in to kiss you again but you seemed to be over that, the initial neediness you felt leaving you and he feels the sting he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jungkook pushes it away and chooses to let his mouth kiss your jaw and begin sucking on your neck once more. 

“Hm, no I didn’t Kookie.” Your voice sounds so sure, so confident that it has him second guessing himself. Had you really blocked him or had he just gotten it mixed up? 

His lips pause on your skin from his inner debate and you know you need to move this along before he questions you further, pulls out a screenshot of him clearly being blocked with no chance of deniability. 

“Let me make this worth your while like I said, that sound good?” You ask, smiling when he nods against your skin, the topic of whether or not you blocked him leaving his mind, destined to come back again once he’s at home laying in bed and having a crisis. 

Jungkook’s mind short circuits when you reach for his pants, your hands palming the growing bulge contained in them, begging to be taken care of because it’s been so long. 

“Yeah, yeah okay.” He stutters out, letting himself get moved around until he was sat on the edge of your bed while you hopped off. Jungkook takes it upon himself to yank his jeans off, his hunger for you taking over, wanting to move this forward until you were sinking down on his cock, the pleasure clouding his common sense. He needed that because he was having an inner debate on if this was a good idea or not. 

You fall to your knees it front of him after shimmying out of your shorts, a surprising turn of events that he doesn’t see coming judging by the look on his face. That same teasing laugh is sent his way as you tug at his black briefs, his hips lifting off the bed to slip them off, his cock springing free and he sighs at no longer being confined. 

You lick your lips over as you stare at his cock, the thickness of it making your mouth water as you trace the pretty veins wrapped around it with your eyes, leading up to his red tip, leaking beads of precum. 

Jungkook groans when you wrap your hand around his length, the second you texted him he was half hard, aching and needy for release of any kind. He swears he could cum then and there when you noisily spit into your other palm, gliding it up his length to spread the wetness around and starting a slow rhythm. 

“Feel good?” You ask innocently, faux sweetness he knows far too well dripping from your tongue, thick like syrup and he finds himself wanting to lap it up. 

Jungkook knows you’re getting a kick out of it, watching the way you’re biting on your lip and smiling when his face screws up at being touched, the slow pumping of your hands only teasing him and pushing his head further under the stream of pleasure  

“Shit, yeah.” He mumbles out, his stomach hiccuping when you lean forward and let a glob of spit land on the head of his cock, the way it drips down his length and pools at your hands as you continue your motion only serves to send Jungkook deeper into a frenzy. 

It’s not until you finally take him into your mouth, slow and gentle as if you didn’t like to deep throat his cock until you’re choking, that Jungkook lets a moan finally slip through the gates of his teeth. It urges you on, the first rock being thrown at his glass exterior, a tiny sliver of a crack exposing itself and giving you a way in again. 

Jungkook forgets how to breathe for a minute, his mouth slack jawed as he watches in awe at the way you sink your mouth further onto his length. Your pretty lips pulled tightly around his girth, your cheeks hollowing up as you suck your way back up with a noisy slurp. 

“So good.” He groans out, his hand creeping its way around you until he had a fistful of your hair in his grip. Jungkook smiles now when you go lax in his hands, your mouth widening up when he starts to push your head down, his cock nudging along your throat and making you gag, muscles spasming around him but he doesn’t relent until your nose is nuzzled along the small patch of hair around the base of his cock. 

He sighs out, feeling as if the balance of everything had been restored now that you were kneeling pliant between his legs, mouth stuffed with cock, not being able to fuck with his mind with your sweet sounding lies and convincing eyes. 

When he finally pulls you off of him you gasp in a breath, wet and stuck to your throat, your eyes watering up from being choked but the arousal dripping down your thighs showed how much you loved it. Jungkook pouts at you, a clear sense of mockery in it and it makes you want to laugh at how the tables turned. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb smearing the drool around your mouth and making a bigger mess of it all. 

“What, thats it?” He taunts, his eyebrow raising up as you roll your lips together, “You choke on my dick and forget how to make this worth my while?”

His words make you squeeze your thighs together, seeking any sort of friction to ease the pressure building in your core. You loved when Jungkook got like this, flipped a switch in the middle of it and bossed you around, it was the main reason you enjoyed pushing his buttons, wanting to get him to the point where he’d do it back to you. 

“No.” You rasp out, your head lolling to the side as your tongue glides along your lips, visions of tied up cherry stems and sharp words trailing behind it. 

“Show me then.” He orders, thighs spreading further apart as his hand gestures for you to get to it, for you to show him exactly why you called him over. 

As you sink back onto his cock, he wonders if the reason you invited him today was because one of your boy toys had flaked on you, left you high and dry and you needed a fix like you always did. Another part of him wonders if you finally messaged him to keep him close, to not let him stray too far away from you, leave him open and available for you whenever you decided he was needed. 

Jungkook seemed to be getting the good end of this deal right now, whatever it may be so he rides it through, letting grunts of pleasure slip through the seam of his lips when you find the right pace. Your hands word in tandem with your mouth, twisting and pumping in unison. 

He begins rocking his hips up towards your face, a crooked smile on his face at the mess you’re making on his cock, he likes it too much. The wet thump of your fist pumping down, the way you slurp on his length like it was that damn popsicle you used to taunt him with. 

“So fucking dirty.” Jungkook’s voice is husky now, drawn out while he lets himself get lost in it all, heavy with the lust clouding his brain. His words just encourage you, working past the aching feeling in your jaw as you try your best, needing a distraction from the night you’ve had and thats what Jungkook was best for. 

The simmering warmth he feels growing in his gut starts to boil over when you grasp one of his balls, your fingers fondling them in a teasing motion before you switch off and latch your mouth around them instead. 

Jungkook can only curse under his breath, his fingers weaving through your hair once more and tugging at the strands, feeling you moan against his skin at the sting on pain at your scalp. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum–“ Jungkook warns, trying to pull you away from him but you stay put, your hands continuing the motions your mouth was no longer doing, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” He wonders, if he came now you’d have to wait a while before he was ready to go again and he knew you weren’t the most patient person. 

“No, wanna make you feel good.” Is all you mumble out before slipping his length back into your mouth. The warmth that envelops his cock has him groaning out once more, his mouth dropped open as his chest heaved at the oncoming orgasm.  

“Ah,” he whines when you sink all the way down until your nose nuzzles against his skin, “where do you want me to cum?”

It’s breathless and needy, making you pop off of him with a sultry smile, “My face.”

Jungkook nods, half delirious as he stands up on his weakening legs and fists his cock, the spit lathered on it helping him glide as fast as he needed to. The way you’re sat in front of him, your palms pressed to your thighs, mouth wide open with your tongue sticking out and your eyes locked onto him, sends his mind reeling. 

The angry tip of his cock peaks out with every pump of his fist, only needing a few more flicks of his wrist before his stomach was caving in and flexing as he came. 

Jungkook lets out strangled moan, thick ropes of cum streaming out and landing in globs on your face in short spurts. Your eyes fluttering shut when you feel it land on your cheek, your nose, and dripping down onto your awaiting tongue. 

He’s panting above you as he comes down, his hand raking through his own hair as he tries to calm his breathing down, the tingling feeling spread throughout his body dulling down. When your eyes blink up at him, he can just tell you’re up to something when you stick your tongue back in your mouth and swallow, an evil smirk spreading across your cum streaked face. 

“Here let me grab you a towel.” He starts to move towards your bathroom but your palm reaches out to grab his thigh, stopping him in his tracks. 

“No, do me a favor.” You ask him in that tone that made him shiver, your hand pointing at your desk, right at the white polaroid camera you had propped on top of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what you’re planning but he reaches for it anyways, handing you the device only to have you thrust it back in his hands. 

“Take a photo of me.” You say it so sweetly, like you’re asking him to take a photo of you smiling with flowers in your hair. 

Jungkook’s face twists up in confusion. You wanted a photo of yourself covered in his cum. You were definitely planning something and it was clear now that Jungkook was an accessory to all of this. 

Still he nods and points the camera down at you, begging his slowly softening dick to not spur back to life at the face you give him. Your hair’s messy from his hands yanking at it, your eyes wide and innocent as you scoop some of the cum off your cheek and pop it into your mouth for the photo. 

The flash goes off and you hum around your digit, slipping it out of your mouth as Jungkook grabs the exiting photo from the top of the camera. 

He sets it all down and is ready to go about the routine the way you always did but you stop him once more, “Wait, take another one.”

And like clockwork Jungkook obeys, the hex you had on him controlling his motions until he has the camera in his grasp a second time. He presses it against his eye and looks down at you, a strained gasp leaving him when you grab his sensitive cock and let the tip of it slip into your mouth. 

His fingers press on the shutter button immediately, capturing the moment on a little rectangle of film, the flash filling the room. When he goes to hand it to you all you do is shake your head and stand up on your sore legs. 

“Keep it.” You shrug, pulling your hair up into a pony tail and reaching for the other photo on your bed sheets. 

“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that.” It slips out without warning, an unknowing jab sent your way and Jungkook’s eyes widen at the words he just said as he steps into his jeans after slipping his underwear back on. 

You freeze as well, the grey shirt that belonged to the man he was talking about feeling heavy on your frame. “You mean Namjoon?” You question, not an ounce of shame in your words, knowing very well that Jungkook had spotted you out with him a few weeks ago. 

The name feels bitter on your tongue, trying your best not to let your distaste show on your face as you stare at him. Jungkook didn’t need to know that Namjoon had called it quits with you, the sneaking suspicion that you were messing around with someone else being too strong. It was the main reason you blocked Jungkook on instagram, he had become prime suspect number one thanks to the way he bombarded your photos. 

You needed to keep your distance from Jungkook in order to keep your relationship with Namjoon afloat, at least in the beginning, then you could go back to your routine. But Namjoon was too observant, and all it took was finding a pair of underwear that didn’t belong to him slipped under your bed for the mirage to come crumbling down around you. 

It angered you more because you had been careful, stopped sleeping around, but because Jungkook had left a pair of underwear weeks ago in his haste to leave it became a chain reaction the lead to Namjoon slamming the door behind him as he left your place a while before Jungkook stumbled his way through. 

That was too much information to tell Jungkook, you didn’t want to give him the impression that you searched for his comfort in the form of physical touch after your boyfriend left you. You didn’t need him to know that he was the only constant in your life, slot in between every failed relationship, maintaining his spot as the one you called to when you needed a distraction. 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow at the name, remembering the flashing ‘joonie’ on your phone screen. He only gives you a nod in response, his confusion deepening when you laugh. 

“He’s just a friend.” You lie through your teeth, setting the photo you knew you’d be sending him later onto your desk, grabbing a small towel you had and wiping your face clean with it. 

Jungkook doesn’t fully believe you but he doesn’t fight it, choosing to finish getting dressed in silence. If he was just a friend and was able to get you to go out on a date with him that what were Jungkook’s chances? What were the odds that his own name wasn’t some cute version of ‘kookie’ with an obscene amount of hearts at the end of it?

That was all wishful thinking though, he knew deep down that his name was just a plain and simple Jungkook, he knew the minute he’d ask you to go have lunch you’d ghost him like you did before. 

You watch him curiously as he puts his shoes on, seeing the way his mind was working on overdrive, overthinking everything and talking himself into circles. You needed him to stay close, to not let him get a taste of what life would be like without you so you approach him with that same saccharine smile. 

“Thanks Kookie.” You whisper out, cupping his cheek and leaning up on your toes to press a gentle kiss goodbye on his lips. He kisses back instantly, needing to feel more, wanting to wrap his arms around you like he did earlier but that was gone now and you were stepping back too quickly. 

A small yawn escapes your lips and he gets the hint, stuffing the dirty polaroid into his jean pocket and giving you a half smile, “Yeah of course, I’ll see you later Y/N.”

You flop onto your bed and wave at him as he exits your room but once the door shuts behind him you flip onto your stomach and groan loudly into your pillow, unaware that Jungkook could still hear you from his spot in the hallway. 

He decides not to open the door back up and check on you, making a swift exit and rushing to get into his car like he was running from something. And in a way he was.

Now that he’s confined inside his vehicle he slips the photo out of his pocket, turning the overhead lighting on to look at it properly now that it was developed. 

Your eyes were half lidded as you stared into the camera, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock while the tip of it prodded at your cheek, face covered in ribbons of his cum. It was the most explicit photo he’d ever had and he can’t even let himself get excited over it. Instead he opens up his center divider and stuffs the photo into there before slamming it shut. 

He pulls out of his parking spot and takes off back home, that hollow feeling in his chest returning when he remembers the words you told him today. He knows you were lying to him, Jungkook wasn’t stupid, but he just doesn’t understand what he did for you to constantly treat him this way. 

He feels the stinging at the back of his eyes, the streetlights becoming blurry at the edges as his vision got misty. An idea pops into his head so he pulls over onto a random corner, blinking away the tears before they could fall as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He knew what he had to do, for his own sanity.

You two weren’t right for each other, he was tired of being this puppet on strings for you to play with until you got bored and moved on to the next shiny new thing. Jungkook was sick of dreaming about taking you out, sick of wondering what lies you’d tell him next because you knew he was wrapped so tightly around your finger that he could never fight you on it. 

So he opens up instagram and goes to your page instantly, not letting himself think twice before he’s clicking on the block button, locking his phone and throwing it on the passenger seat before resuming his drive home, begging himself not to succumb to you once again.

And as you sit on your bed at home, scrolling through instagram and taking a peek at his page, knowing he usually posted an instagram story of whatever song he was listening to after leaving your apartment, you’re shocked to see the same words that haunted Jungkook for weeks. 

No posts yet. 

He had blocked you. For the first time in the years you’ve been fooling around you finally get a taste of the way you’ve been treating him. And as you sit in bed having the same dilemma he had before, wondering what you did or said, debating sending him a text, you feel the first twist in your heart that Jungkook had grown accustomed to and you don’t like it.

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Broken

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!reader

Summary: When Rossi makes a comment which upsets the Y/N, Spencer is there to reassure her

Warning: Mentions of rape and murder. Talk about the medical condition Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome. Sadness. Fluff at the end

Words: 1,824

A/N: As someone who has this condition, this a drabble I have always wanted to read. 

Master List HERE!

This last case had been particularly hard for you. You’d gotten your diagnosis three days before you left for California on a case involving an unsub forcing women into pregnancy, only to kill the mother and sell the child. The latest victim to have been found, Amelia Bragg, had been found on in a ditch. She had been raped, repeatedly, but she had not given birth and wasn’t pregnant. However, the signature of the female gender symbol carved onto her hip post-mortem indicated it was the killer you were after.

“Why didn’t she have a child like the others?” JJ asked, looking from the screen where Amelia’s picture was shown to the files in her hands.

“She had a condition which made it difficult to have children… she was ‘broken’” Rossi had replied, glancing at Amelia’s medical records. “PCOS and endometriosis.”

“PCOS? What’s that?” Derek asked, looking towards Reid for an answer.

You jumped in first, not even looking up from the file in front of you, “Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome. Follicles surround the eggs, making ovulation difficult. As such, their periods are irregular, and they struggle with fertility. Women often experience head hair loss, while gaining excess hair in other places, such as their face, due to increased androgen. Also, they can experience increased pain anytime through their menstrual cycle, on their period or not. People with PCOS tend to struggle with their weight, due to the hormones. Also, they’re more than likely to suffer with mental illnesses such as depression or anxiety due to the imbalance of hormones. Endometriosis is where tissue similar to the lining of the room grows in other places, like the ovaries or fallopian tubes. Endometriosis causes a lot of the same problems as PCOS, but it is known to be much more painful.”

 The room is quiet for a moment as the team takes in your words. You don’t look up, you can’t look up. Rossi’s words had hurt you and you couldn’t help but answer before Reid. It was a subject you had knowledge in, you had done for a while. You best friend, Jamie, had endometriosis and you had done your research after her diagnosis in an effort to support her.

 “How do you know that, Y/N?” Derek questioned, his voice gentle as he realised you might have experience with the conditions.

You shrugged ad remained silent for a moment. You didn’t really want to tell them all. Sure, they’re your friends, family even, but did you want all of them knowing this? Finally, you settled on a half-truth, “I know people with the condition, so I learned about it.”

 You’d caught the unsub in the end, but not before another girl had been kidnapped. Thankfully, the team had gotten to the house, and then into the underground ‘lair’ before she was raped. It was horrific done there. It was dark and with the mass of six women, all in various stages of pregnancy, crammed into the small space, it was dirty and humid.

 The women had been sent to the hospital for a check-up and the unsub taken to the police station to be processed. With the case complete, Hotch decided to postpone the flight home until the morning, saying everyone deserved a night of rest.

 And that was how you found yourself sitting on your motel bed, arm around your knees, as you cried.

 You’d been having troubles for a while now. Your periods were irregular, only having one every few months, and yet you often walked around with pain low in your belly and back. You often had to wax your upper lip, while you often lost long strands of your hair. Your moods swung, and your weight was a like a seesaw.

 You’d went through this for more than a year before you went to the doctors. They’d listen to your symptoms before ordering a thorough blood test which came back with results saying you had excess hormones. This wasn’t enough for a diagnosis, and your doctor had sent you for an ultrasound.

 And there they were. Little follicles surrounding your ovaries. There was your answer, you had PCOS. You’d been fine with the diagnosis. You had friends with the same condition, and you knew the ins-and-outs of it. However, what Rossi had said really got to you. In that one instance, your entire mental approach changed and your mind told you that your body was broken. That you were broken.

 And that hurt.

 PCOS was currently incurable. Medication could be taken to help the symptoms, but there was nothing to stop them. When you wanted a child, you could take medication which may help to be able to conceive but there was no guarantee that you would become pregnant. You were broken. The one thing you were designed for, as a woman, was something you couldn’t do. You were a woman, you were meant to bare children. Yes, you’d never through about having children before but now the choice had been taken from you.

 There was a knock at the door. You held your breath, keeping the sobs back. There was another knock. A moment passed before the knock sounded again.

 “Y/N, open up… please, I know you’re in there” Spencer begged, knocking on the door again. “Please, just let me in.”

 Out of everyone on the team, Spencer was who you were closest to. When you had first joined the BAU, he had helped you with your paperwork. He knew you weren’t a huge fan of clubbing, so while the rest of the team went for drinks, he invited you to go with him to his favourite café. You’d get together every week to watch the newest episode of Doctor Who and when the season ended, you would just watch reruns. Spencer was the one you had warmed up to first, and he was still the person you’d consider as your closest friend.

 Knowing that Spencer wouldn’t go away, you pushed yourself to your feet. You opened the door enough for him to squeeze through and quickly closed it behind him. Spencer entered the little room, moving to drop the armful of snacks on the bed before turning around to you.

 He didn’t speak, just opened his arm. A fresh wave of tears burst forth and you rushed into his arm, burying your face in his chest and letting the tears fall. His arms wrapped around you securely, holding you to his chest tightly. His chin rested on your head as he held you to him, his thumb rubbing over the top of your arm where his arms wrapped around you.

 After a few minutes, you calmed down, your snobs turning to quiet sniffles. He gently released you but took your hand, leading you over to the bed. You climbed on, grabbing a packet of gummy bears before you curled in his side.

 “So,” he started. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

You wiped your hand under your eyes, getting rid of another tear. “You remember that I told you I hadn’t been feeling to great and that I had that appointment at the hospital for some tests? Well, I got the results.”

“I know. PCOS” your head turned so quickly that it took your eyes a moment to catch up and focus on your face. “I know the symptoms of it Y/N, and… I had suspicions. Your knowledge of it confirmed those suspicions. You have much more than just a ‘friend offering support’ knowledge.”

“What Rossi said…” your lips rolled between your teeth and you shook your head, looking away from Spencer. “I wasn’t really bothered at first by the diagnosis but when Rossi said that Amelia was ‘broken’… that hurt. Is that how people see me, how I am, broken?”

“Of course, you’re not broken” Spencer reassured you, pulling you tightly into his side. “Rossi didn’t mean it like that. He meant it as broken for the unsub, in the unsubs mind.”

“I know how he meant it” you assured him. “Its just… I can’t help but feel like people will think I’m broken. And who would want a broken girlfriend, or wife? I’ll have these mood changes, weight problem, hair troubles for the rest of my life. And I’ll struggle to have a child too… Who would want someone like me?”

 A firm hand grasped your chin and turned your face. Spencer looked at you, his face more serious than you had ever seen it. His jaw was set and his eyes held such an intensity, that you struggled to make eye contact.

 “Who wouldn’t want someone like you? You’re amazing” he reassured you, his voice firm and full of sincerity. “You’re kind, funny, smart, a little too sassy at time, generous and…and gorgeous. You’re amazing. You helped me find a place for my mom, you bring me my favourite coffee and a doughnut every time I’m sad. You drive me to and from work because you know I hate to drive. You are amazing. Your mood changes? Everyone’s moods fluctuate, yours maybe a bit more than others, but that doesn’t matter. Your weight? Y/N, you’re perfect. And your hair? That shouldn’t matter to anyone because its not about what you look like, its about who you are. There is nothing saying you won’t be able to get pregnant. Yes, it’ll take longer and you made need help but still, it can happen. And if it doesn’t, there are other options. Like surrogacy or adoptions. And that’s even if you want kinds. You don’t have to have them. And the man you’re with should accept all of these things because they are what make you you. And you are amazing, you’re perfect. If they can’t accept you as you are, this perfect person, then they don’t deserve someone as amazingly brilliant as you.”

 Your heartbeat wildly in your chest as you stared at Spencer. Your eyes prickled with tears again, but this time, they were in awe of the beautiful things he’d said about you. The way he spoke about you… you felt warm inside, you felt appreciated, cared for… you felt loved.

 Your hand lifted to cup his face and your thumb traced his cheekbone. His eyes were soft as they met yours, the light brown orbs full of warmth. Your eyes trailed to his films, his prefect lips, and slowly, you leaned in. He met you halfway, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss.

 The kiss was soft and gentle. His hand trailed from your chin to the back of your neck, tilting your head to allow him better access to your mouth. You sighed into the kiss, the warmth in your heart all consuming.

 Slowly, he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes meeting yours again. “Y/N, you’re prefect and… I…I love you.”

You smiled at him. “I love you too.”

You pulled him towards you to kiss him again.

[wonhaebunny]

small(ish) bkg-centric drabble vaguely inspired by sif’s fic and featuring one of my discarded ocs from blackugou!! open below to keep reading some bamf bkg!

before i get started on the drabble let met give y’all some context about the oc, as his quirk plays a pretty important role in the drabble!! his name is hioki, and he’s in class 1-b. his quirk allows him to project the memories of a person he’s touching into the mind of another person he’s touching. so if he’s holding two people’s hands, he can project memories of the first person into the second person’s head. the sharing of memories involves of not only visuals, but also what the person was feeling at the time; touch, noise, smell, emotions. they project the memory as if the viewer is experiencing it themselves.

hioki does not have to view the memories he’s projecting to other people. he can view them too if he wants, but he can also just project them from one person’s mind into the other’s without having to experience any of it himself.

okay so that’s my oc, let’s get into it!! 

tws for vomit, and what could (??) be construed as a panic attack? i’ll tag it just in case. this revolves around kamino, but there’s not too much detail about it. this drabble is… kind of not monoma friendly. people had some pretty strong emotions about it in the server. but he’s not a completely shitty person, and i personally did not write him to be a terrible character; he’s just annoying :’) katsuki is pretty ooc here too, but it’s based off another hc i have (that i’ll be posting sometime soon hsfsdf)

-

it’s lunchtime, and all the students are piled into the cafeteria. once again, there’s a small crowd forming in the center of the big hall, where monoma has once again decided to start taunting 1-a, mainly bakugou. the onlookers are a mix between annoyed at the disturbance and vaguely amused by monoma’s shenanigans. hioki stands at the side, watching with vague irritation. this is somewhat of a daily occurrence, though, so he doesn’t bother interfering. after all, if there’s one thing bakugou is known to hate, it’s people trying to help him. 

it takes all of five minutes before monoma makes his first obligatory kamino comment. katsuki stiffens, the way he always does, but to his credit does nothing more than glare at his katsudon venomously. they all wait for monoma to finish, but the guy is laying it on thick today. normally it’s just one or two jabs about bakugou’s being pathetic, or weak, or the cause of all might’s end. whatever, there’s always something. but today he’s brutal, getting personal and downright cruel with his comments. he seems to focus in on the topic of kamino today, seeming to sense bakugou’s bad mood and increasingly furious eyes. 

as it goes on, bakugou grows tenser, eyes darkening with something a little unfamiliar that sets the surrounding students on edge. kirishima and the others are already trying to shove monoma away, some of them patting at bakugou’s shoulders in useless attempts to soothe him. bakugou is too busy staring monoma down to even bat their hands away, which speaks volumes of his anger.

he stares for a long time, watches as monoma rambles on carelessly. it’s a little unnerving, because by now he’d be yelling. fuck, if it was anyone else, they’d probably be crying by now with how mean monoma is being. but bakugou, uncharacteristically, just stares.

then, so smoothly most of the surrounding students miss it, katsuki’s gaze snaps to hioki’s. said student flinches back at the intensity of the stare, and bakugou just looks at him like he’s dissecting him mentally.  then, he opens his mouth. “hioki, right?” he says, words quiet but still managing to cut through monoma’s impassioned rantings like a hot knife through butter. 

monoma falters. 

katsuki’s lips slowly, ever so subtly, twist up into a predatory smirk that has hioki recoiling instantly. 

“u-um.” hioki says. 

 katsuki sits up in his seat slightly, abandoning the food he’d been prodding at. 

“you’ve got an interesting quirk… hioki-kun." 

hioki swallows. 

monoma, who stands forgotten at the side, looks baffled and somewhat disconcerted at the smile that’s slowly stretching across katsuki’s face. the entire cafeteria has hushed down by now at this new development. 

normally, monoma’s interactions with bakugou are easy. annoying at worst, entertaining at best. typically a mixture of the two. monoma pokes, bakugou snarls, the cycle keeps going. 

this, however. 

this is new.

"say, hioki-kun. would you lend us your quirk for a moment?” bakugou asks. his voice is quiet, musing, and absolutely terrifying in its gentleness. hioki opens his mouth, before closing it again. 

bakugou katsuki knows his name, and his quirk, too? they’ve never talked a day in their lives. as far as hioki’s concerned, bakugou’s never even looked in his direction. the guy can’t even remember his own friends’ names on a good day. and yet here he is, looking at hioki with a placid smile, asking for his quirk.

“i-um. what?” hioki says. his voice cracks rather embarrassingly. no one laughs. (they don’t blame him for his fear.)

even bakugou’s own friends have backed off at this point, watching the trio in muted apprehension. the blonde just chuckles softly. 

“no, it’s just. monoma seemed so very adamant that he could fare better than me in the real world.” he stresses the word out with an exaggerated pout, turning sharp eyes to monoma, who shrinks back slightly. “and hioki-kun’s quirk seems… very convenient. that is, if you’re willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

monoma seems to consider this for a moment, looking completely out of his depths in this new situation. he knows how to deal with an irritable bakugou, a grumpy one, a furious one. but a calm one? he’s lost. 

nonetheless, the clear challenge in bakugou’s tone has him puffing his chest out in indignance. “what, like it’d be hard?” he jeers, stepping forward. “come on, hioki, let’s get this over with!" 

he holds his hand out roughly in the other’s direction, narrowed eyes glued to katsuki’s serenely twinkling ones. 

"i-i really don’t think-” hioki stutters, looking between the two of them desperately as if waiting for one of them to announce that this is all a big joke. 

neither of them do.

“would you, hioki-kun?” bakugou asks kindly, extending a hand to the other, palm upturned in waiting. “you don’t have to, of course. but it would be… ah. entertaining, for lack of a better word.”

monoma seems to grow even more irate at the indirect jab. hioki helplessly steps up to place each of his hands in one of the others’ waiting ones.

“monoma.” bakugou says, eyes going cold and smile fading slightly. “i’m giving you a last chance to back out. don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have.” his words are serious this time, devoid of any of the light humour that had been lacing them the previous few minutes.

monoma, ever the stubborn mule, just scoffs. "calm down, you delinquent. acting so superior, as if we haven’t faced hardships like you.“ 

bakugou tilts his head slightly, examining the other. 

then, he shrugs. 

"okay. hioki-kun, if you would?”

hioki nods hastily, hands already sweating in their grasps. the entire cafeteria watches, rapt, as his eyes close and his hands start to glow a faint, silvery blue. 

“oh, and hioki-kun? i think it’d be best if you didn’t witness these ones.” bakugou murmurs, eyes already slipping shut. hioki, palms already clammy and trembling slightly, doesn’t question how the blonde seems to know his quirk in such explicit detail. instead, he just nods again. 

“okay.” he whispers. the blue turns stronger, until their connected hands glow a bright white, veins visible behind illuminated skin. the room goes pin-drop silent. they watch as bakugou sits, eyes shut and expression serene. monoma is frowning, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a petulant scowl.

they watch as the white grows brighter, and brighter still.

they watch as monoma’s scowl drops, free hand clenching against his side.

as his expression flickers, twisting into something unreadable and ugly.

then, unmistakably, his breath hitches. 

his mouth opens slightly, sucking in a ragged, shallow breath. poor hioki’s hand is turning red under his quickly tightening grip as monoma’s entire body seems to curl forward slightly. 

the entire time, bakugou sits. expression unchanging, small, bitter smile still lingering on his face.

monoma’s breathing picks up further, closed eyes scrunching and expression twisting further into sheer terror. his free hand is clenched so tightly in his pant leg that his fingers are turning white.

bakugou’s eyes slip open finally. he watches monoma’s trembling form with detached coolness, eyes gleaming with a silvery sheen that signals the workings of hioki’s quirk. “i think that’s enough, hioki-kun.” he says finally, voice impossibly soft. “thank you.”

the glow of their hands fades away, but monoma doesn’t stop trembling. his breaths are coming in reedy gasps at this point, lips curled back to bare his teeth in a picture of sheer terror as he curls into himself.

bakugou just watches, eyes still glinting with slowly-fading flecks of white. slowly, he lifts his hand from hioki’s and picks up the milk carton at his table. he sips from it idly, leaning back to watch monoma’s still-heaving form with an unreadable expression.

it seems that lunch rush had at some point and reported the disturbance to the teachers, because it’s at this point that a teacher finally storms in. 

vlad king pushes to the center of the throng. "what is going on here?“ he demands, before his eyes fall on monoma’s shaking figure. 

"what happened to him?" 

he turns around, scanning the crowd before his eyes land on katsuki, who’s still watching monoma boredly as he sips at his milk. 

"what happened?” he demands again. “someone answer me. monoma, what’s wrong?” he turns to his student, whose rasping breaths are growing louder progressively, and touches his shoulder. at the contact, monoma’s entire body jolts away, eyes finally snapping open with wild panic. 

then, the entire student body and vlad king watch with bated breath as monoma jerks away, turns around, and throws up over his own shoes. 

vlad king curses loudly, turning back to katsuki. the blonde just blinks at him placidly, and the teacher growls, before his eyes fall on a wide-eyed hioki who still stands in the centre of the circle. “hioki. explain.” he says sharply. hioki sucks in a fearful breath. 

“um. monoma was. he was teasing bakugou-kun. and then bakugou-kun asked me to, uh. use my quirk. on the two of them. i don’t know what exactly he showed monoma, though.”

he wrings his fingers anxiously, as they turn their attention back to a retching monoma. vlad king turns to stare at bakugou sharply. 

“you.” he says furiously. “principal’s office. now. i hope your little game was worth it.”

the blonde seems wholly unbothered.

“it very much was, thank you sensei.” he responds, smiling cheerfully as he pushes from his seat and brushes past vlad king out the cafeteria, still holding his milk carton.