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strawberry-nugget · 3 years

Text

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #bnha #kirishima x y/n #bakugou x reader #Kirishima #mha fanfiction #mha #bnha fanfiction #kirishima fanfic #tw: cheating #kirishima smut #bnha smut #mha smut

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silver-weasel · 3 years

Text

Lonely Together (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing : Bakugou x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut, introvert!reader, p*rn with a bit of plot, p*rn with feelings (ig?), both Baku and reader being bratty little fucks, him talking like a sailor because it’s OOC if he’s not

Word count : 7734 [AO3]

Summary : Mina is having a birthday party tonight. You're a bit reluctant but you're going anyway, you promised after all. You do have one good reason to be there though. Maybe even more than you think.

A/N : Thank you again @hoe-doroki for beta reading <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY

“So, you’re all still coming tonight, right?” Mina asked.

Your mind went blank when you saw everyone nodding, and you only gave big round eyes and an ‘o’-shaped mouth as an unspoken answer to Mina's question. Then, she addressed you directly:

“You didn’t forget, did you?” Mina’s eyebrows raised up to her hairline, though the look in her eyes told you she expected this. Well, she should by now.

“I actually never heard about this,” you retorted with a deadpan look.

“You said you were coming yesterday!” Her irritated voice hit a few notes higher like it always does when she’s upset.

“Did I? Huh…” You silently cursed your auto-pilot mode (the one that activates as soon as your mind drifts away from the crowd), so sharp it even answers the questions you’re asked without your say-so now. “I’ll be there, Mina, don’t worry,” you added with a smile you hope looks reassuring enough.

“You better! At least, he’ll be there.”

“There you go again,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

“Took me forever to get him to say yes,” she continued, shamelessly ignoring your consternation. “That guy’s such a pain in the ass.”

You’ve been sitting there on the edge of your bed for a while now, still wrapped in a fluffy towel with your hair dripping on your bare shoulders. The image of your overflowing dresser starts to blur, your vision handing the reins to your anxious mind.

What the fuck am I gonna wear? I didn’t even get my bare minimum of three days of mental preparation for this.

Ever since your UA years, Mina always tried so hard to make sure you and Bakugou, Class A’s official certified introverts, got your asses dragged into every stupid party the class was throwing. She never managed to do anything about the both of you always being the first two to leave, though.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen Bakugou, or any other boy from the class for that matter. Being dispatched to a lot of different agencies, and having impossible schedules, you all get very few occasions to meet outside of work. Tonight, Mina’s birthday, is one of these occasions.

You find yourself impatient to see him. Sure, your interactions have always remained basic: a quick glance exchanged while crossing paths in the hallways of UA, or the usual polite greetings (from your part at least, more of a short grunt from his) the few times you’ve seen him at work. But every single one of these interactions left a significant mark on you.

After a while of staring into space, cursing every single piece of clothing you own, you finally settle for a simple black dress with thin straps that hugs your body just right and falls right above your ankles. It’s comfortable, flattering enough and doesn’t require a bra underneath. It’ll have to do for tonight. You also grab some of your favorite panties: some classic shaped, cotton, white and soft blue striped ones with a little blue bow. Nothing fancy, but very cute, and oh well, fuck—sexy. You’re sick of spending these parties walking funny because you’ve got a stupid piece of lace rubbing on places it shouldn’t be rubbing.

You text Momo when you’re finally ready. She and Kyouka come to pick you up in front of your house fifteen minutes later. It’s about a thirty minute drive, and everyone’s already there when you arrive. The entirety of class A is here—that’s rare—along with a few other people from UA.

Mina rented a beach house for her birthday because she’s that extra. A good part of her salary went to this and now she can’t eat anything but ramen for the next two months. You should know because you’re the one person she rants on and on about it to.

The sun’s only beginning to set and you take a second to take the view in. Almost everyone is outside on the patio, either sitting at a table or leaning against the railing. In front of the house there isn’t any path, any trees—nothing but sand and blue water as far as the eye can see, shining under the last rays of sunlight.

Soon enough, Momo and Jirou peel away from you and you’re standing alone, quite awkwardly, in the middle of the patio. You spot Ochako waving to you as if throwing you a lifeline—it sure feels like it. She’s sitting at a table outside with Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki. You greet everyone and sit next to the latter, trying to catch up with the conversation. Ochako is relating her patrol adventures from today, a story you already heard back at training. Everyone is listening with attention, especially Midoriya, his bright eyes widening in fascination. He’s being his usual straight-up fanboy, looking at her like she’s found the cure to cancer. From here, it’s hard to believe he’s the only hero from your generation to have already reached the top 10.

Well, one of the only two. It was only a matter of time until you found yourself looking for the other. You don’t search for long; you soon find him perched on the patio railing, about as focused on the conversation around him as you are. Conversation isn’t exactly the right word for what’s going on, though—namely Kaminari, already half-wasted, flaunting his shenanigans in front of equally drunk Kirishima and Sero laughing ear-splittingly. Bakugou is looking at the sea, his beer from before still in his hand since he barely drank half of it.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a black button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up his forearms, and his hair its usual explosive mess. The half-drunk beer in his hand seems to have been there for a while now. Just as handsome as ever—even more, actually. His features are relaxed, his gaze deeply focused, half on the sun setting on the sea before him, half on whatever is going on through his mind. He looks so calm, far from the Tasmanian devil you used to know back at UA. Well, he still has his feral moments, but he’s grown a lot. The sad thing is, you’re not sure the others have been as observant as you are.

It’s been a while since you last saw him. Seeing his face, more than anyone here, causes a lot of things to surge back from the depths of your memories: the peculiar color of the leaves on this one tree just outside your classroom, that you were stubbornly fixated on in order not to stare at him in the middle of class and get Aizawa to make some embarrassing remark about it. The consistent hubbub in the cafeteria hiding your flustered attempts at bringing an end to Mina’s teasing giggles and wiggling eyebrows. The smell of sweat in the hallway of UA’s gym after training, watching him enter the boys locker rooms, not even waiting to be fully inside to take his shirt off.

It’s only when he turns his gaze towards you that you realize you were very much staring at him in a very creepy way. His crimson eyes lock with yours for only a paralyzing second before you break the contact, feeling like you could die from just the heat creeping up your cheeks and your entire face.

God...what am I, fifteen again?

You’re saved by the bell in the form of Mina proudly (and quite vociferously) declaring her legendary cocktail ready for consumption.

It’s not far from 2AM when your social abilities reach their limit. Everyone relocated in the living-room at some point. You’re having fun, the music’s nice, your friends are—well, true to themselves: Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero and Tooru are dancing their lives out in the middle of the spacious living room. Kyouka, Momo, Iida and Todoroki are chatting at a table while Ochako is using her quirk on Midoriya so she can drag him on the dancefloor, despite his polite protestations and his face reaching a disturbing shade of red.

But you find yourself craving quiet, some precious calm and peace, and your legs head outside with a mind of their own. The air is cool, feels relieving against your skin, still hot from the oppressive atmosphere inside. You wander around the now completely empty patio. The thumps of your shoes against the hardwood floor can be heard over the distant hubbub inside, the strong beat of music and your friends’ drunken laughter. You reach the creaking stairs leading down to the beach and you just stand there for a moment, alone with this gigantic drink Ochako forced into your hands ten minutes ago, that you still haven’t dared to taste.

Your eyes take a few seconds adjusting to the obscurity of the beach, contrasting with the bright lights on the patio behind you. You can barely hear the comforting white noise of waves over the music, but you can still appreciate the dark, beautiful view of the moonlight reflecting on the sea. Taking a deep breath, your gaze drifts on the vast expanse of the beach and soon spots a figure sitting in the sand on the right. You don’t even need to see his face; you know he got tired of the party long before you did.

You take off your shoes and pad down the stairs. The sand is cool now, far from the scorching heat of the day, and you enjoy the feel of your toes sinking into its chilly embrace. When you reach him, he hasn’t noticed your presence yet. You just stand there for a second, unsure of what exactly you intended when you walked down those stairs and directly towards him. Maybe he wants to be alone. Maybe there’s a reason why he’s sitting there all by himself, away from the crowd. But your inhibitions don’t get the chance to stop you before you speak:

“Enjoying some fresh air?”

Maybe it’s just about escaping from the heat inside. Maybe it’s about escaping more than that. You’re not even sure yourself, but you trust him to understand anyway. He turns around and looks up at you, his piercing eyes unusually round: you can tell he’s surprised to see you, specifically. He was probably expecting pretty much anyone else to come bother him: Kirishima, Mina, Kaminari, even Midoriya. He’s still looking up at you but doesn’t say anything, so you ask with a bit of hesitancy in your tone:

“Can I join?”

“Sure. Whatever,” he says in his usual flat tone before turning back around.

You crouch and sit cross-legged next to him, setting your shoes down next to you. Neither of you talk for a while. The party sounds distant behind you now, only a slight disruption in the silence and over the soothing sound of the light waves eating up the sand. You’re sipping your cocktail mindlessly, basking in the dark expanse of the sea, calm and unmoving. You’re a bit startled when, unexpectedly, he breaks the silence first:

“How’s the cocktail?”

“Tastes like shit,” you answer with a quiet laugh. He gives out a low chuckle before taking a sip of his beer.

“Raccoon Eyes has very few talents and mixology is not one of them.”

“I don’t even know if we can call it that. She just grabbed the first few things she could lay her hand on, mixed it, drowned it all in alcohol and called it a cocktail.”

He chuckles again, and there’s another silence. You add as an afterthought:

“Our ungrateful asses are still lucky there’s someone like her to keep the class together despite our adult lives, so we don’t lose—” you make a random gesture behind you, pointing at the loud mass that is your group of friends, “—this.”

“This is some fucking noisy mess, though.”

You grin, looking down at your toes wiggling and burying into the sand. “Hm. Knew you’d say something like that.”

“So you’re saying I’m predictable?” He’s looking at you for the first time since he spoke first, his right eyebrow raised up in challenge.

“I don’t know. A little bit?” You’re feeling reckless and prepare to get your head blown off. But he’s not so predictable, this time, because he just lets out a brief snicker and turns his eyes back to the sea.

“Tch. Little shit.”

Another silence.

“I really love them. But sometimes, I really enjoy the calm too.” You shoot a glance at the others through the open doors and catch Momo talking with Todoroki. “Momo seems to be having fun, I don’t want to bother her.”

“What, you came with Ponytail?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna be a pain,” you say, resigned. “I can wait a few hours.”

“Oh, so you little weakling can’t walk home by yourself?” he scoffs.

“12 miles. That’s a pretty long walk,” you answer in a flat tone.

“Are you a hero or not?”

“What does that have to do with anythi—”

“Jesus, if it’s a ride home you want, all your dumb ass has to do is ask,” he says, rising up and rubbing the sand off his pants. You’re still seated, looking up at him dumbstruck.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

”What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“A huge one?” you answer fearlessly while rising. You’re now standing, but he’s still towering over you, shooting you a chilling look. You catch a sparkle of bright red when the patio lights hit the side of his eye.

“Careful, sweetheart, I can still let you walk home by yourself.” His deep voice echoes through your entire being and you feel heat coat your cheeks at the unusual nickname. You glance over at the house with a quiet gulp.

“You think we can sneak out of this before they see us?”

“It’s doable. We can go through these bushes over there,” he points at a brambly path skirting the house, “and set our drinks on the patio on the way so Raccoon Eyes doesn’t give us shit about it later.”

“But I’m gonna ruin my dress!” you whine.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises a scornful eyebrow, then turns around with his hands in his pockets and strides towards the bushes. You scramble behind him, only now noticing the heat has yet to leave your cheeks, and probably won’t any time soon.

You both stay silent for the entire ride. He doesn’t put any music on, and you don’t mind; you’re almost grateful for it. It doesn’t feel awkward—it’s quite the opposite. You appreciate being able to enjoy the calm of the night, the purring of the engine and the night breeze on the skin of your forearm resting on the window.

Everything feels in place. You enjoy the comforting quiet of him, and you suppose he enjoys yours. You turn your head slightly so you can take a little look at him without being too obvious. You feel privileged to catch a glimpse of what he’s like when he’s alone: silent, his features relaxed, neutral. It’s a bit strange to witness but still feels very much like him. You know this is just a part of him he usually tries to conceal.

His eyes are on the road, but he seems to be somewhere else. You wonder what he’s thinking. You’re not discreet enough; he must have felt your eyes on him so he turns to look at you for a brief moment, though keeping his focus on the road. You feel your face heat up in shame and only hope he doesn’t think you’re some kind of creep. There you are, acting all flustered at a boy looking at you like some fourteen year old with a crush.

Half of this is true, though; you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you’ve known him. But damn. In the dark of the night, with the wind ruffling his hair, he looks surreal. His profile is a whole piece of art. He doesn't face you but his eyes...he looks focused. On everything really, not just driving. Focused on life, always thinking, never taking a minute to rest. His nose has this cute curve you want to nip at so bad. His mouth looks so kissable when it’s not twisted in some kind of tantrum he feels like throwing. You turn your eyes to the night sky before he catches you staring again. It’s magnificent—the moon shines bright along with so many stars above the passing trees and still you don’t feel like looking at the stars right now.

You’re gently pulled back to reality when you leave the countryside road and enter the residential area you live in, just outside the city. More and more street lamps line up the road down the hill. You go through the last few blocks before your street and you have to guide him since he’s never come to your place.

He finally parks in front of your little house. Your street is barely lit, the dense trees filtering most of the city lights. When he turns down the engine, you shift to look at him. He’s looking back at you, half-turned to face you.

You should thank him and get out of his car, go home, lock the door behind you and go to sleep. Alone. So you don’t really grasp why you don’t do that—the idea just feels wrong.

You stay still in your seat, trying to think of something to say but nothing comes. He doesn’t say anything either, just looks back at you. He’s so unreadable, but for a second, just a second, you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You want to believe it’s desire, but you’re not quite sure. You’re not sure of what’s going on in his mind.

However, you are sure of a few other things: you’re sure you’ve been pining for him for almost a decade now. You’re sure he’s not gonna be a huge dick if he ends up rejecting you. You’re sure he looks absolutely breathtaking here, in the dark of the night with a thin ray of light backlighting his beautiful features. And you’re definitely, desperately sure you want to kiss him right now.

So you do. Without thinking, you lean towards him and take his lips in yours.

Although you made the first move, it instantly feels like he’s the one kissing you, and you’re greedily taking all he has to offer. The kiss is slow, but passionate nonetheless: he dominates you immediately without even trying. He tastes a bit like beer, but mostly like those hot, sweet pastries you wait all year round to eat at Christmas, coated with cinnamon and with a meltingly soft caramel core. Maybe it’s his quirk, maybe it’s because you always imagined—always wanted him to taste like this. Nothing could have prepared you for the real deal though.

He sucks at your lower lip like it’s candy, giving it a soft lick and you open your mouth for him to take over. His tongue brushes yours gently at first, then more boldly. Before you know it, your mouth is all claimed territory, all his to do whatever he pleases with. You try to keep up, nipping a bit at his lip, and when he groans low in your mouth, that’s when you realise your hands moved with a mind of their own: one to grip his shirt tight, the other to grab the hair at his nape. Your nails scratch a bit there, and a high-pitched whimper escapes you when he reaches up to do the same.

The position is quite awkward since you’re leaning above the gearshift, but you can only think about the heat that overwhelms you: the heat of the summer air around you. The heat of his lips, of his breath crushing against yours. The heat seizing your cheeks all the way to your ears because, although you’ve saved so many people and fought so many villains, you’ve never been this brave in your entire life. The heat creeping in the most intimate depths of your body at the feel of his tongue taking over your entire being. And fuck, do you want him to take everything of and about you; you’re willing to give it all to him.

You only notice your world felt so full when it feels empty again as he parts from you. He backs away slowly, not all of a sudden, taking the time to take you in, to light some embers and throw them on your soul without any mercy.

Wow, you’ve never felt that empty of intelligence, he really kissed you dumb. Apparently you can only act on instinct instead of reason tonight, so you don’t take a second to think before asking:

“You wanna come inside?”

There’s a silence. A long silence. The longest of your entire life, probably. He just looks at you, doesn’t say a word, and you want a hole to appear and swallow you. Clearly there’s something in his eyes, and maybe you could grasp it if you really looked. But you don’t want to, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for tonight. So you just babble:

“Hum, please forget I asked. Thanks for the ride. See ya!”

You scramble out of the car and slam the door, your eyes furiously fixed on the ground. It’s a second slam of a door that makes you look up. He’s out and rounds the car with his hands in his pockets, only to stop next to you without leaving your gaze.

“Lead the way,” he says with a slight nod towards your front door.

You do as you’re told, and he’s towering right behind you when you reach the door to your house. You can feel his body heat ghost over your back, overwhelming as you fumble with your keys for a second. You finally open, enter first and hold the door for him, his sweet smell a whiplash effect on your face when he brushes your shoulder on his way in. You close the door, drop your bag there on the floor and you both take a few seconds to take your shoes off. When you turn around, he’s facing you, his hands stuffed back in his pockets and his intimidating gaze fixed on you.

“So, do you…want a drink or something?” you stutter with a weak smile.

You only get a sly smirk for an answer, and he edges towards you until your back hits the door. He’s never been that close to you. You’re not even sure anyone has ever been that close to you. You feel deliciously trapped, gently cornered against your door. It sucks the oxygen right out of your lungs, the way he’s crowding your space like his own.

He finally digs one hand out of his pocket and his fingers reach up to graze your cheek, your jaw, then lock around your chin. A soft but firm hold on what’s left of your inhibitions. You would look him in the eyes if you weren’t so obsessed with his lips and the way they slightly part while he’s watching you fall apart for him.

He’s the one joining your mouths this time. He must feel your heart beating against his lips at this point, because you sure can feel it try to escape your chest through your throat.

He’s a bit rougher now; still slow, but pushes and pulls against and off your lips in a series of glorious little noises. You can taste a bit of beer in his mouth, but it’s his exquisite scent that’s engulfing your entire world right now; it’s all over you, it makes you feel his. It’s not so much his cologne but the way his skin seizes it to create something new, something sweet. It makes your head spin in all the best ways.

You’re beginning to understand why he’s been keeping his hands in his pockets obstinately. Now they’re everywhere, running all over you with a sense of urgency, like he’s been keeping himself from doing this for way too long. One grabs the back of your neck, thumbing at the skin right under your ear, moves down your shoulder, your arm, and back up again. He rests the other at your hip, heads lower then; exploring your thigh, clenching tight around the fabric of your dress, holding it up above your knee. A shiver races up your spine when the skin of his hand finally meets that of your thigh. Eventually remembering that you also have hands, and that it’s about time you start using them, you hold onto his shoulders, clutching and creasing the dark fabric of his shirt in your fingers.

You can feel his strength caging you whole, pushing you harder against the door. You can’t escape, as if you would ever want to. It sends a flash of electricity down between your legs and pulls a pleased moan out of you. You can feel him smirk against your mouth. He breaks the kiss, only to whisper low against your lips:

“Eager, are we, sweetness?”

You mostly feel embarrassed, but God do you love it when he talks to you like this—it makes you feel weak, makes you want to get down on your knees for him. He doesn’t need to know that though.

“Shut up,” you just retort with a grin, before grabbing him by the hair and pulling him down to crash against your lips again. You don’t really know who devours the other, but his tongue caressing the roof of your mouth is driving you crazy. He breaks the kiss again and has you whining in impatience, but he’s not going far, just looks you in the eyes while your foreheads join and your noses brush, your panting breaths crashing against each other’s mouth.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

You barely get the time to nod in the general direction of your room before he lifts you up on his shoulder like you weigh nothing, without the slightest bit of gentleness. You let out a squeal of surprise, soon followed by a laugh, your head hanging by the small of his back. You can at least enjoy the nice round view of his ass in his perfectly fitting jeans, it’s a win-win.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, you know.”

“Shut up, I’m a fucking gentleman,” he snarls.

Reaching the footboard of your bed, he throws you on it with just as much elegance. You bounce on the mattress with a giggle, which doesn’t last when he crawls over you like a starving feline.

He takes over your lips again, dominating you with so much ease you’re starting to wonder if he wasn’t born to be on top of you, breaking you apart. He lets his lips drag over to your jaw, your neck, a gentle smooth over your sensitive skin. He bites and licks and sucks like a starved man, and you can’t help but moan under his sweet ministrations. He’s nipping at your ear, groaning directly into it when you finally put your hands at use.

You start with the first button of his shirt but take your time all the way down. You revel in this incredible feeling of undressing Bakugou Katsuki, pro-hero Dynamight, like you would unwrap a stunning Christmas gift. You indulge yourself with the teasing brush of your knuckles and fingertips against his scorching hot skin. You feel the muscles clench there, and he blesses you with a little noise in your ear, somewhere between a groan and a moan. You don’t know what that is, but fuck do you want to hear it again.

His skin is now free and all yours to run your hands flat on, over his abs and all the way up to his chest. You can feel his impressive strength resonate against the delicate skin of your hands—it’s mesmerizing. He swifts away from you and gets up on his knees to whip off his shirt and throw it in some corner of your room. Soon he’s back on you and delves straight into your neck, pushes a thin strap of your dress down your shoulder and grazes his lips over your collarbone.

His hand strokes the length of your leg and gently rides your dress higher and higher up your thigh. A little detail pops at the back of your mind like a fierce whiplash and you flinch a bit under him, which makes him freeze right away.

“What is it?” He sounds unsure now, has this look in his eyes like a kid who’s broken something fragile. “You know I can stop if you’re not comfortable with this,” he says with a frown, carefully backing up and away from you.

“No, it’s not that—I really want this!” you reassure him—the last thing you want is to stop this. “I just didn’t think we were gonna…you know—”

“We were gonna what?” he teases with a crooked smirk, amused by your embarrassment. You choose to ignore both his question and the heat pooling deep in your belly at his puckish voice.

“Hum. You know…My underwear is not exactly what you would expect.”

The look on his face shifts utterly. His red, hypnotizing eyes go round and his lips part a bit in what seems to be confusion. It’s strange to see his angular features curve in such a childish expression.

“The fuck? That’s what this is about?” He’s dumbfounded, his voice reaching a bit higher than usual. Now you’re not even sure why you were anxious in the first place. “I don’t give a flying shit about your underwear. Don’t give me this self-conscious bullshit, I’m not having any of that. Now if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it.” You don’t even think before you answer, you don’t have to.

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good.”

He dives down on you to kiss you again so you can focus on his lips when his hand pulls your dress all the way up your waist. The fabric dragging against your skin leaves shivers in its wake. He parts away to take a look at you, and stays up on his knees in silence, fixing your waist and your underwear for a solid ten seconds. You inhale quietly, you want to say something, but he cuts you right off:

“No, shut up. You’re hot as fuck. And this?” He hooks a finger in the elastic of your underwear, “this is so fucking cute.”

His fingertips trail over the cotton fabric of your panties right below your clit and he might as well have set you on fire. The air is fresh at night and still you feel like you’re floating near the sun right now. His hand brushes up your waist as he leans down and kisses your stomach, your dress riding up with his every action.

The hem slides up past the bound of your breasts, and he doesn’t seem surprised to note you weren’t wearing any bra. Maybe he noticed earlier in the night, maybe he’s attentive to this kind of detail. The idea of him imagining what you’re wearing—or not wearing—underneath your dress makes you feel giddy; you only want to answer all the questions he might have been asking himself, to show him everything he’s willing to know about you.

He takes one of your breasts in his huge hand and drags his soft lips back up to kiss your neck, not even bothering to take your dress fully off. You moan quietly, feeling him kissing all his way back down to your underwear. Soon enough, there isn’t a single part of your torso, from your neck to the hem of your panties, that he hasn’t touched with his lips. He’s gotta taste everything, every bit of you, like he’s in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

When he reaches your panties again, he shoots you a challenging look, an unspoken ‘don’t you dare get embarrassed’. He spreads your thighs wider and delves face first between your legs. You can’t repress the breathy gasp that escapes you when you feel his teeth close around the drenched fabric—his nose hitting your clit while at it—and pull your panties down your thighs by the mouth, until the angle of your spread legs prevents him from going further. He finishes off with his actual hands and you can’t help but burst out laughing at his—peculiar—way of undressing you.

“Oh my God,“ you try to speak clearly but you’re laughing a bit too hard to articulate properly. “Who does that?”

“Fuck you. That’s how much I love your panties,” and his actions say the exact opposite as he throws the miserable piece of cotton to some corner of your room without giving it a second look.

“You’re an animal,” you giggle, trying hard to catch your breath.

He doesn’t laugh with you, of course he doesn’t, but the little amused grin it still elicits from him warms your body in all sorts of places. It makes you want to nip at this little grin so bad. You sit up and you’re now facing him, the both of you standing on your knees.

You make a show of shedding your dress over your head and let it slip down your arm to crash on the floor. You’re fully nude in front of him, only covered by the warm, tender embrace of his gaze wandering all over you. He stays quiet while he devours you just with his eyes. You get a bit closer to him, until your noses brush and your foreheads join, never breaking eye contact. His body heat is back all over you, devastating, all-consuming.

He hisses a bit, his gorgeous face tensing in a light frown as you drag your hands down the gorgeous valleys of his abs, scratching your nails a bit there. You trail down to his belt, unbuckling it easily, and zip his fly down. He lets go of you for a second so he can get rid of his pants and boxers in one go. You don’t get the chance to see much before he’s right back against you; his hands circle the small of your back in a swift move and he pulls you urgently against his chest.

It’s almost violent the way your bodies collide, like two waves crashing against each other. Once again, his hands are all over you. Yours return the favor all too gladly. The way he touches you makes you think he regrets having only two hands. They graze over your stomach, a featherlight touch at first. Slide up your sides and back down, then up again. On your breasts, squeezing there. Circling your back, grabbing your nape, a little too firmly, but he doesn’t seem to even notice. He’s way too caught up in the feel of you. And you’re way too caught up in the feel of him, crowding your entire universe like there’s nothing on this dumb planet that matters aside from his hands on you, his mouth on yours, and his cock trapped between you two.

And God, his cock—you can feel it, hot and swelled and impressive, starting to rut against you because he needs you that bad. You moan at the feeling, grabbing his hair and pulling a bit, but still pushing him harder against your needy, growing whiny mouth. You manage to slip a hand between you two and you don’t even recognize yourself when you grab his cock without any hesitation. Your hand slides down easily as you start to stroke up and down cause he’s drooling pre-cum abundantly by now.

“Ngh, fuck—” He groans like a predator, like he’s not the one with his dignity wrapped up in your pretty little hand.

You move slowly, making the most of it while you can play with him a bit, while he lets you. But Katsuki is not one to let anyone have the upper hand. You know it, he knows it, and you both know it was only a matter of seconds before he would claim his due.

His hand crawls down your core and a single finger parts your dripping folds. He’s nipping at your ear, panting in it as he teases your clit, drawing a loud moan out of you. He’s painfully slow, dragging his tongue on the shell of your ear as he enters you with one finger. It makes your hand still on his cock, and as soon as you become aware of that, you stroke him faster.

Now it’s not a stupid competition, you can assure it’s not. But it damn well looks like one. His finger works wonders in you and is soon joined by another. His thumb is merciless on your clit, he’s got you dripping all over his wrist, curling his two fingers inside like he just knows it’ll drive you insane. And it does. You even feel the bastard smirk against your jaw when you let a long, loud moan of his name escape your swollen lips.

You grab his jaw with your free hand and crush your lips on his, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth and pulling. Looking straight into his eyes as you do, watching his precious guard crumble down when you slide your thumb on his tip repeatedly, and he lets out a drawn-out groan before grabbing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You can’t suppress this teasing grin that stretches your face at that.

“Too much for you already, big boy?”

A second later you don’t grin anymore. You feel small. You’ve never felt so small in your life actually. Something just shifted in his eyes, they’re now piercing right through your soul. You catch a spark of playfulness in them, though, like a tiger playing with a ball of yarn with paws big enough to rip your entire face off. His voice is a low groan, a vertiginous hole you tumble into as he retorts:

“Oh, so now Miss ‘Don’t look at my panties’ is feeling cocky all of a sudden?”

You don’t get a second to take his words in. Two strong hands grab the back of your knees, lift you and drop you on your back with a roughness you’re not sure you find more arousing or more scary. You gasp a squeal of surprise, bouncing on the mattress, before he’s caging you again. His gaze on you is murderous, his smile predatory as he towers you and suddenly he looks—feels—bigger. In less than a second, he’s got an iron hold on both of your hands above your head, and even though you try, there’s no escaping it.

“Thought I told you to be careful, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to piss me off, would you?”

It’s not his fingers that press on your dripping cunt this time. His tip coats in your juices, sliding up to rub against your clit, pulsing at the sweet but rough contact. You whine loudly, your head dropping back on the pillow behind you.

“How about you put that bratty little mouth to good use and tell me where you keep your condoms?” He lowers down on you, traps you a bit more with every inch closer to your naked chest, arched like it’s craving contact, begging him to crush you with his weight. “Unless you want me to fuck you raw and destroy that pretty pussy of yours?”

You feel paralyzed, drowning in desire, and manage to gather your thoughts just to simply answer : “Second drawer of the nightstand.”

He rummages in the drawer and digs out your box of condoms. He lets go of your wrists to open a condom and slip it down his intimidating length. You don’t move your hands while his are busy, though—you know better than that. When he’s ready, he leans down on you and enters you without any more warning, stretching your hole like it has never been stretched.

You can’t see his face as he sinks in, he buries it deep into your neck: nuzzling the sensitive skin there, his messy hair and hypnotizing scent invading your space, his weight deliciously oppressive on your whole body. You hold onto him like your life depends on it, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist, your hands finally moving to roam up his back and into his hair, although he hasn’t even moved yet. You turn your head to him, to take in his scent, burying your nose in his hair and inhaling deeply. You still can’t see his face though, and you’re starting to wonder if there’s something wrong.

“Katsuki?”

Like you turned some switch on, he starts moving, tantalizingly slow. Dragging all his length out of you, and you can feel every inch of it rubbing against your walls. But you still can’t see his face, you can only rely on the sweet breaths that crash against your neck. His hand comes up to bury in your hair, as if to keep you there, keep you from leaving. Soon enough, he quickens the pace and has you a moaning mess pressed against the mattress. You’re now clawing at his back like a cat in heat; you just can’t stop your hands from moving: his neck, his shoulder blades, his waist, even his ass for a moment.

He’s panting in your ear, grabbing everything he can as well: his hand in your hair keeps your head turned so that he has full access to your neck, nipping at the skin and he lets out a groan there. You squeeze everything that gets in your hand, pulling a bit at his hair when he bites a little too hard. His other hand grabs onto the fat of your ass, right beneath your hip, tight enough to leave bruises for the next four days. He hits deeper and deeper inside of you, gets this sweet angle that makes you see stars. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies, you’re glued to each other without even enough space for him to thrust properly. You both don’t really care though, you want him as close as it’s physically possible.

“Katsuki…look at me, please—”

He leaves your neck for the first time since he’s entered you and leans down to kiss you, wet and messy. You kiss him back with every force you have left, out of sync because of the powerful thrusts sinking you repeatedly into the mattress. Your nails dig deeper and deeper in the soft skin of his shoulders and your whole body quakes with pleasure, every single one of your muscles going more taut with every slam of his hips against yours.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here, fuck—”

If you were ever restraining from vocalizing your pleasure, it’s out of the question now. The sounds you make, you can’t suppress them, you can only mewl in his ear—a series of little desperate noises, and you can’t really register when they grew into moans of his name.

“Oh God, Katsuki…Katsuki!”

“That’s it, princess.” A lick at your jaw. “Tell me who fucks you this good.” A kiss at your neck. “Tell everyone in this fucking neighborhood.” A nip at your ear, a bit harder.

He’s pounding savagely into you at this point, and as your palms run flat on his shoulders, you can feel the clawing marks you just left there. That feeling gives you the final push towards your climax. You squeeze around him with a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, swallowing like he can taste your orgasm on the tip of his tongue. He soon dives over the edge right behind you with a tremendous thrust. His hips roll still, riding his high with less and less intent, and more and more abandon.

You still haven’t let go of him yet, still clinging to him like a flustered koala as you both catch your breaths. He crashed on you face first between your breasts, and you only notice after a few seconds. You stay there for a minute, both your panting the only sound filling the room, so you’re a bit startled when he pulls out and he rolls over to the side so he can get rid of the condom.

There’s a bit of a ‘now what’ moment. You’re not sure what he wants to do but again, you’re sure of what you want. You want him to stay.

“I don’t know what you’re…I mean, you...You can spend the night here,” you stutter a bit, not so sure of yourself now. “If you want, I mean. If not, it’s totally fine, I guess—”

“Shut up,” he just says, wrapping an arm around you to press you against his chest, and you happily oblige. Everything feels right, in a way. It feels easy. The silence is comfortable. His chest is comfortable to lay your head on, grazing your fingertips over his stomach absentmindedly. The future is comfortable, seems to be, at least. There’s no uncertainty, everything is crystal clear. It’s safe. It’s him, after all. You feel like you already know about the memories you haven’t shared with him yet. This sweet idea lulls you to sleep. But another one pulls you right back awake all of a sudden.

“Oh God, I should text Momo that I’m home! She must be worried!” He groans at your words, clearly unhappy to have this subject brought up right now.

“You think that bunch of losers even noticed we left?” And his eyes roll up right before he even finishes his sentence, because you’re scrambling out of the bed and to your living-room, right where you left your purse and your phone in it. The screen has you frowning a bit as your eyes struggle to adapt to the sudden light.

16 missed calls. 37 text messages. The last one being a series of eggplant emojis from Kaminari.

You put your phone right back in your purse. You’re craving for quiet still, and there is peace awaiting in the next room. The most wonderful kind of peace, at that. The noisy world can always wait.

#bnha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fic #bnha fanfic #weasel writes

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flying-elliska · 3 years

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thank you @sinterblackwell for tagging me in this bookish ask game! these questions were really interesting !

how many books are too many books in a series ? i'm honestly pretty tolerant for long book series, i love seeing a world develop over lots of books - started the bone season series recently which has 4 books so far and is slated to have seven, it's going to be a bitch waiting but at the same time there is something so thrilling about having this sort of returning event year after year (i grew up with the HP books so that really marked me i guess). that said i think that only really works when the authors have solid plans because when an author gets stuck and you have to wait ten years for the next one that really sucks (lol GoT). and i think beyond 7-8 it's definitely getting excessive.

how do you feel about cliffhangers ? hmmm...depends if they're well done or if they feel like shock value. i think every book needs to feel like a cohesive unit and some cliffhangers happen too soon, without enough resolution - that said, i love it when books open up a new (but related) mystery in the last few lines

hardback or paperback ? i used to buy paperbacks only but over time those really get damaged super easily (i've moved a lot) and it feels like a waste of space and paper. so now i'm doing this thing where i mostly buy ebooks and whenever i really like a book and want it in my permanent library - or when a new book is coming out that i know i am going to love - i buy hardbacks ; at least when the covers are aesthetically satisfying. i just really love the idea of starting to build my 'forever library'

least favorite book ? it's tied between Manon Lescaut, which i was forced to read in high school and is the most irritating story ever about an old timey dude falling in 'love' with a prostitute and blaming her for it and everything else that goes wrong in his life until she dies and he can 'be free' ; and The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi which made me so uncomfortable i had to stop like one third of the way in and is a torture p*rn, fetishistic, racist mess about a Japanese cyborg girl who gets exploited and abused by everyone she meets. It's possible that these two books were trying to make a point about how the things they're depicting were bad, but there is a level of misogyny and violence that feels too illustrative, exploitative and graphic to ever serve that purpose properly in my mind.

love triangles, yes or no ? i'm not against a love triangle when it's well done, i.e it has a real impact on the plot and is tied into the themes of the story. For example, I think the triangle in the Hunger Games is a good one, because Peeta represents (to simplify it massively) peace whereas Gale represents violence, the escalation of war and never ending conflict, so Katniss choosing between them is not just about moody teenager feelings. That said, the trope has definitely been overused in YA ; I really hate love triangles when it's just an excuse to stall the plot and throw in artificial delays because the characters are being wishy-washy and indecisive and non-communicative assholes. also i wish more of them got solved by polyamory or something.

the most recent book you just couldn't finish ? last year, If I loved you less by Tamsen Parker, a modern wlw retelling of Emma which I expected to love but the overly casual-quirky writing and the excessively immature MC just irritated the hell out of me

a book you're currently reading ? rereading The Raven Cycle right now, I'm on the Raven King and I'll reread Call Down the Hawk after, I want to get to Mister Impossible

last book you recommended to someone ? Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed

oldest book you've read ? hmmmmmm not sure but the thing that comes to mind rn is the Tao Te Ching by Laozi, 6th century BC

newest book you've read ? ehhh probably Any Way the Wind Blows by Rainbow Rowell

favorite author ? lol i absolutely cannot answer that question no matter what i say it feels like a betrayal

buying books or borrowing books ? buying, i'm a shitty borrower tbh because i like having books sit in my TBR pile and just randomly decide to read them out of the blue

a book you dislike that everyone else seems to love ? the night circus by erin morgenstern - it's so popular everywhere and I wasn't even able to finish it ; it's the epitome of style over substance for me ; sure the descriptions are beautiful but they feel so empty and void of any meaning or character development ; it drags for chapters and chapters and then boom ! instalove, which is when i dropped it because that's one of the things i hate the most. i checked the rest of the plot on wikipedia to be sure and yeah it annoyed me too so.

bookmarks or dog ears ? bookmarks. i only ever dog ear my study books

a book you can always reread ? letters to a young poet by rainer maria rilke

can you read while listening to music ? nooo it's way too much input when i get into a book it's Intense i can't deal with anything else

one pov or multiple povs ? i absolutely love a well done multiple POVs when the switching allows you to compare the perspective of different characters and how it shapes the narrative and how they think of each other and how it slowly all merges together ! Especially when it's dumbasses in love pining over each other !!! chef's kiss !!!

do you read a book in one sitting or over multiple days ? depends, i binge when i have the time and it's gripping but not always and that's fine

who do you tag ? @beeexx @all-the-wr0ng-places @smblmn @peoniesandsmiles @bremmommye @dorkdumplings @petitspaceling @hellswolfie @iamshannonmcfarland if you want to no pressure !!!

#ask games #honestly i dont know a lot of book ppl around here so tell me if you want to be tagged in this sort of thing

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xlady-saya · 5 years

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 2]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

Andrew is a planner.

This is one thing he's not afraid to admit about himself; most events in his life have been unplanned, disastrous things which he can only try to wrangle in the moment they make themselves known. However, if he has the time and foresight, he's much more inclined to plot out every move, making sure there are no slip-ups. Minimal error.

Thinking about and minimizing the damage to himself is new, since beforehand he wouldn't bother to care. In this case, his own reactions are things he'll have to deal with in the moment, since his limit here is unknown. He's never done this with anyone.

For now, his sole focus becomes Neil.

Of course, he knows with something like this it's impossible to get it perfect. He's more experienced than Neil, despite the fact he's never been intimate with someone on his own terms; he knows how it works, knows what to expect and all the ways it can go wrong.

He knows it most likely will be uncomfortable the first time, but can he make the good outweigh that?

At the thought, Andrew grumbles to himself, shaking his head over his cup of coffee. It's been a few weeks since that initial conversation, and his head has been a balancing act of sexual tension and precaution. He's planning as if he's made up his mind, though it's the farthest thing from the truth.

But, necessary. He needs to treat this like it's real, or it'll never sink in.

And well, the sexual part of it feels very real. His overactive mind has made sure to spin the fantasy at him almost daily, and he's been powerless against it. The thought of Neil splayed out in front of him is not something he'll ever be adverse to. Lately, Andrew's libido has spiked, doubling from what is normal. If Neil knows the reason, he hasn't chosen to comment on it, and just seems happy to satisfy Andrew in whatever way he can.

A curl of warmth unfurls in his chest, and he slides his gaze over to where Neil sits on the floor, legs kicked up as he runs through his calculus homework. The gym shorts he has on slip a little, revealing odd patterns of discoloration. Andrew can only assume they're burns.

He's real, so painfully real Andrew feels the need to shield him from a threat that's not even there. Neil isn't scared of him, Andrew isn't scared of Neil. For all their hostility, they fit.

They prepare for the worst, gentleness often escapes them, and they've never minded each other's harshness.

Even still...

Silently, he pours Neil a cup of coffee into the god awful fox mug Nicky made him at Color Me Mine, the eyes sagging and crossed, and sets it beside him on the floor.

Neil’s head tilts up just enough to smile sleepily at him, and Andrew's insides twist painfully. Harshly, he pushes Neil's head down, back to his homework, and tries not to let the soft laugh cloud his thoughts anymore.

For all his severity, none of which Andrew is ashamed of, he finds himself itching to give Neil the opposite. And he does, when he thinks about it. Andrew tries his best not to roll his eyes; Neil ends up being right at the most annoying times.

Andrew wouldn't mean to hurt him, it's true. Andrew would never willingly hurt Neil these days, he simply doesn't have the capability. But intention is seldom enough for him. He'll do this right; it's the reason he's set up a plan in the first place.

Yet, plans are hard to keep together. Steps should be easy to follow, checked off.

1. Talk to Bee

2. Talk to Roland

3. Do his own research

Simple, direct; that's what Andrew thought when he put the plan into action. Bee would be able to reveal the things Andrew could not yet see, pick his brain until the maze had a map. Roland would have experience with this, he'd be able to tell Andrew what it's like when it's consensual, the do's and don'ts. From then on, Andrew should've been able to piece the puzzle together and fill in the gaps with cold, hard information. There's only so much he can do to prepare, but he'll cover all his bases.

The plan was supposed to do all that, but hiccups forever plagued Andrew's life. Bee's words were weights, necessary, still sitting with him even now. And Roland, well, that had almost gone well.

At the memory, Andrew glares. The night before, he'd gone to talk with Roland alone, no stress or obligation to keep an eye on his family while he tried to sort this out. He told Neil, wrapped around him in bed, because it's not something he felt ashamed sharing. The reasoning was another story.

And Neil, stupid, understanding Neil, hadn't even questioned it, blindly trusting Andrew to tell him later. It would be agonizing, but Andrew would do it.

Keeping things from Neil nowadays is almost like an allergy, irritating.

It should've been uneventful. At most, he expected Roland to be obnoxious about it, which he was...

"Ohoho, it's about time indeed," the bartender crowed above the loud music of the club, spilled alcohol sticking to Andrew's boot soles. He grit his teeth. Andrew tried his best not to give too much away when he asked Roland to follow him to the backrooms, but Roland's shocked face when he brought it up forced Andrew’s hand.

It wasn't like that, it wouldn't ever be like that again and Roland knew it, was probably worried something had happened with Neil to make Andrew seek out something physical.

So naturally, Andrew told him the gist of his situation, his intentions to go all the way with Neil, and Roland had run away with it in triumph. The bartender's smirk made Andrew want to turn around and walk right out of there immediately. As if sensing Andrew's need to retreat, Roland leaned closer into his personal space, never a fast learner.

Andrew doesn't know what he ever saw in him.

"Shut up and let's go," Andrew growled in the small space between them, and Roland laughed at his expense without care. Andrew had to remind himself Roland was his only direct resource, unless he wanted to ask Nicky, which he would never do.

Whatever, Andrew would not have this conversation in public.

"Alright, alright lover boy," Roland sighed, raising his hands with a wink. Andrew employed Neil's tactic for a moment, counting to ten in German. "I'm just happy for you. C'mon."

Andrew didn't bother to respond to that.

The relief that took root in Andrew's chest was short lived, so short lived he didn't even have to shove it down himself. He pushed off the counter to follow Roland through the throngs of drunk college students, the itch in his head gearing towards the information he was about to be given, when he saw her.

The one and only, Ms. I doodle my last name as Minyard in my notebooks--Katelyn.

Andrew froze; and saw the exact moment she knew she'd been caught. She was midstep, legs locked in an awkward position, but she didn't seem to be aware. It would've been satisfying, seeing Aaron's cheerleader so thrown off if it weren't for the look on her face. Andrew could see the assumptions swimming there before the idiot was probably even aware of them, her eyes, so close in color to Neil's but not the same at all, glancing between him and Roland.

For a brief moment, cruelty sparked in Andrew's veins at being read in such a way; it was foreign, this particular anger. He never cared before what people thought of him, least of all Aaron's perfect girlfriend. Andrew knew people thought he was a monster, it never mattered, because Neil didn't.

Yet, the whole reason he was there at all was to avoid hurting Neil as much as possible, so the suspicion on Katelyn's face made him want to commit murder. He might've, but then the idiot rolled her ankle, preserving the progress he'd made with Aaron over the past year and a half.

He couldn't kill her, he couldn't leave her there either.

Aaron's words echoed in his skull; 'Our feelings are the same.'

So inconvenient, so annoying, but so impossible to avoid.

Andrew remembers glancing back at Roland, knowing they wouldn't be having that talk after all, not right then. He remembers his skin crawling as he hauled Katelyn into his car, her words setting him on edge but reminding him that some people still had the capacity to surprise him.

The word 'love' tossed into the mix of mayhem.

Katelyn had put a lot of unnecessary thoughts in his head, but Andrew came back from that night clear headed, not necessarily about the sex situation, but about how he had been handling it.

Guess she isn't totally useless.

Speaking of...

"Good morning!" Katelyn sing-songs into the living area, and Neil flinches from the abruptness. The old instinct to run is hard to bury, and Andrew watches reality settle in as his muscles go slack again. Andrew misses the peace already, but he's the one who left the door open for Aaron in the first place.

Katelyn waves at Neil sheepishly for having spooked him, hopping along on her better ankle to lean against the small counter. Andrew rolls his eyes internally from how Aaron hovers, always there in case Katelyn decides to do another swan dive to the floor.

There's a pause then, one which isn't usually there. Katelyn's eyes land on Andrew and stay there, which in itself is odd. Up until this point, their understanding has been clear. Normally, Katelyn would ignore him, keep her distance. She still does, staying out of his immediate bubble. Yet, this time she offers him a genuine smile, and Andrew hopes last night hasn't given her any ideas about how things are going to be from now on. "Hi Andrew."

Ah, but looks like it has. Great.

Despite the twitch this realization causes, Andrew only hesitates momentarily before he offers her a nod, and ignores the way his brother blanches. Katelyn, thankfully, doesn't treat it as more than what it is, and carries on with whatever breakfast concoction she has in mind. A cook, she is not, and Andrew has no intention of eating it.

He feels Neil's smug smile in the corner of his eye, and dutifully ignores it in favor of watching his brother move seamlessly around his girlfriend. They touch purposefully, and often, like a dance with added steps just for the sake of staying close.

Aaron's arm slides against Katelyn's lower back, and she bites her lip, a blush rising to the tops of her ears. It's not subtle, but it's also not something anyone would bat an eye at.

Why Andrew can see the difference, he isn't sure, but it's there. There's a clinginess between them, more than usual, a product of Aaron's protectiveness and something else.

Looks like after Matt and Dan had fallen asleep, someone else in that dorm had decided to get handsy.

Andrew stuffs down his disgust at the thought; he seldom agrees with Nicky, but thinking of Aaron having any kind of sex is abhorrent, worse when it's straight.

His brother makes it seem so simple though, doesn't he?

He and his twin spent so many years being on the opposite ends of everything that their recent developments make Andrew even more painfully aware of how they're different. They're learning to share things in common without so much teeth pulling, but Andrew knows this is one area Aaron could not understand.

Andrew isn't jealous or resentful, he's just not like Aaron in that way. He's sure his brother and Katelyn had sex soon after meeting, long before it turned into something he'd risk Andrew's wrath over. He's also sure it's not something that keeps Aaron up at night, or wracks him with guilt afterwards. Watching them interact now, post intimacy, makes that clear enough. Aaron wants her and he's happy to want her, there's nothing else to it. Aaron's own insecurities are a monster, that much he knows, but they're not always in line with Andrew's.

Aaron is not afraid to want, and he trusts himself not to hurt.

This observation, coupled with his conversation with Katelyn, leaves Andrew with little room to avoid the real reason for his plan.

Realistically, Andrew knows he's been setting up roadblocks intentionally. Talk to Bee, setback, another setback, step two, back to step one, and so forth. With this process, there's essentially no way for this to not be dragged out to hell and back.

Annoyingly, he hears Renee's voice in his head, "be patient with yourself," but that's not it at all. The steps are more than just precautionary measures or even speedbumps. No, he can't try to convince himself that he put them there to pace himself, to make sure it's what he really wants.

To want, to want, to want.

That's the thing. He knows what he wants, but part of him thought that with enough time, enough pause, he wouldn't anymore. Then, he could fall back on an old habit, push it away and pretend he doesn't care about the fallout.

He'd been giving his brain ample time to ruin this for him too. To remember that wanting is dangerous, disappointing, not worth the consideration or effort. That maybe, impossibly, if he gave himself room to fortify a new wall, he'd no longer crave Neil's everything. Then, hurting him wouldn't have to be a worry at all, because he simply wouldn't care.

But alas, he's caught himself at the end of his rope, and he should know better. He's known better since Baltimore. Because even now, his head buzzing with conflict, one fact stands out as sturdy as before.

He wants Neil. In every way, every part, all the ugly, spiked edges and harsh temper. Nothing has ever sounded better and he hates it. He hates to feel like this, but he won't try to stop.

Why?

"Andrew, what you feel is normal," Bee's saccharine voice trickles through his head, words from the last two sessions when she helped him piece through all this. Or, maybe he should say she gave him the reins. Bee knows him by now, knows Andrew prefers to do most of the work once pointed in the right direction, even if it's something he hates to admit.

What I feel is normal? Yes, yes, I know Bee.

Pleasure, joy, contentment. The lack of exposure to them all for so long means he doesn't know how to process them, according to Bee. In fact, the feelings become almost intolerable.

"As such, your instinct is to lash out at or banish these feelings. They're uncomfortable, maybe even upsetting for you."

He thinks of so many repeats of 'I hate you' and 'this is nothing.' Thing is, those weren't lies. He needed Neil to be nothing, even when he knew it was impossible. He'd crossed the line into dangerous territory again, and Neil had happily jogged over next to him.

Neil's the only one who's ever followed without question.

He means it though; he hates to want. He wonders if it's because it all feels too good to be true, that if he doesn't tell himself he hates it, he'll have to finally acknowledge how good it feels.

How Neil makes him feel.

He can't accept that, not yet. But he will take a different step forward.

Katelyn prattles on about her schedule for the week, and Andrew can't hold her ramblings against her in this case. Labs and practice will keep her and Aaron apart for most of the week; Andrew used to crave the alone time, now...

With the sounds of pots and pans joining the chorus of Katelyn's chatter, Andrew walks over to Neil with intent clear. Funny, how he expected this revelation to be a lot less anticlimactic. But here they are, on a Sunday morning, the smell of burnt toast wafting through the air.

Neil looks up when Andrew sits beside him, catching whatever must be on Andrew's face and tilting his head. He's not sure how Neil does it, doesn't think to ask. Neil won't stop anyways if Andrew tells him too.

Because...

"What you value is understanding."

Yes, this is something Andrew will not be rid of anytime soon, Neil Josten will not go away. The little thrill which runs through him at the thought is not something he'd ever think he'd feel this much again. It intensifies as the days go, and everyday he loses more of the energy to stop it.

He can feel Bee smiling that damn smile, all the way from here.

Andrew digs his thumb into Neil's already open palm, waiting for his sleepy grin, and gets rid of all the roadblocks.

I want this, he repeats, and holds Neil's gaze. I want you.

He fights back the automatic recoil, and notes how it's gotten easier to do so, to overshadow his need to pull away with his need to pull closer.

"Yes," he says, and for a moment Neil is so still Andrew wonders if Katelyn's laughter ate up the small word. From how Neil's eyes soften a second later, he knows they weren't. "I don't know when, but it's a yes."

Because they've always gotten through things in the past, together.

Neil's breath hitches, and his hand curls tight around Andrew's, the touch conveying more than words can. The world is still such a dark, unforgiving place, but on this Sunday morning their dorm room has a brightness to it. Andrew shrinks away from it, but is powerless to avoid it.

Andrew thinks it might solely come from Neil, but he's wrong.

"Breakfast," Aaron calls to the room with a sigh, all too carefree and happy with Katelyn next to him. Andrew briefly wonders if Aaron ever thought he'd get to that point, and it's something they share. Disbelief.

"Okay," Neil calls back, and it has a dreamy quality to it Andrew wants so badly to stamp out like a cigarette. He doesn't though, he can't. The word carries the smile on the striker's lips, and Neil buries his face in Andrew's sleeve, content to let their food get a little cold.

Without Andrew noticing, his fingers curl just as tight around Neil's too.

One thing Andrew cannot fathom about Neil sometimes is that there's no sense of pressure.

Andrew made up his mind about going all the way that very morning, over a week ago with Neil resting his head in his lap and eventually wriggling a little too purposefully to be cute anymore. Andrew nearly snapped at Aaron and Katelyn to get lost, but then Neil would've won.

Considering how cheeky Neil looked later on, Andrew's cock in his mouth, maybe he did.

And in the afterglow, there had been...peace.

Andrew's not sure what he expected; maybe Neil's impatience, a new layer of tension in their kisses, their touches, something saying go, go, go. The rush to dive in and get things over with before the thoughts tore him in two.

But there's not. There's nothing like that; no urgency in his head or a ticking clock telling him they need to do it before it's too late. Of course, he still thinks about it constantly, how could he not? He's only a man with an (admittedly) hot...boyfriend. A Neil. A very energetic and smart-mouthed Neil.

Closing his eyes, he can picture it, his memory a blessing for once with something from just the other day.

Andrew lets his hands follow the curve of Neil's ass, feeling the smooth skin, patches of it rough from road burn and other scarring. He digs his fingers into the one spot of Neil's lower back, swallowing Neil's gasp. Like a press of a button, Neil's back bends for him.

They're only making out, just kissing, and he's like this. Andrew is okay with just keeping things like this, it feels right.

"Andrew..." Neil moans, featherlight, so unlike his usual brashness. It makes Andrew's pulse spike, and he kisses back greedily, mind swimming. Neil wants him, he makes Neil feel good...

Neil makes him feel good.

"Quiet," Andrew scolds, muffled by the urgent press of Neil's lips. It's begrudgingly amusing, how stupid Neil is. He keeps going back in for another peck, one right after the other, provoking Andrew to just pin him and push his tongue into his mouth.

"Mm," Neil hums teasingly, and Andrew feels the glide of his fingernail along the column of his neck. Andrew can't help it, he gives Neil a grunt for that, the sensitivity overwhelming.

And Neil, so infuriating, smirks.

"You first," his junkie bites back, so predictable. He punctuates the taunt with a nip to Andrew's earlobe. Then it's cloudy, no, hazy, a dream.

Except Neil has proven time and time again he's the furthest thing from a dream; so real, so warm and solid. Andrew lets himself sink into the pleasure, and in these moments he doesn't realize he's falling, that he doesn't mind it.

"Andrew..."

Neil's voice is a fog Andrew has a hard time finding his way out of sometimes, and he leans his head back on the wall by his bed while the heat pools in his gut.

Oh yes, he thinks about this a lot, and he's too fixated on the feelings to put up a fight.

But it's not even just in these moments that he wants Neil, what once was so troubling is now simply reality...

He thinks of the redhead's sleep deprived yawns, long and drawn out enough to show the slope of his jaw. Anxious nibbling on the end of a pencil when he's focused on some stupid equation. Careful hands, patching up Andrew's bloody knuckles after sparring sessions. And not so careful hands, punching the first reporter to say something even remotely negative about Andrew outside the stadium.

Neil is so dangerous, in that Andrew wants all of him.

Yet, there's never an imperativeness to have all of him, to just lock them away for the weekend and see what all the fuss is about. No, he can savor different parts of Neil in innocent ways: the concerned touches, considerate glances, and wide grins...

And in filthy ways.

The slow stretch of his spine when he's doing warm ups, those yoga pants he wears on purpose around campus, the flick of a tongue against Andrew's biceps.

And still, neither of them feel the need to cross the line into new territory yet, not for lack of want, but for lack of good timing.

Point is, since the decision, he and Neil have done plenty of other things without the underlying question of taking it all the way. It leaves Andrew's stomach buzzing for different, non-anxious reasons. The absence of pressure, of force. It's as if now that everything is out in the open, Neil's presence is both a relaxant and a stimulant, and nothing they do together is bogged down by anything other than chasing the pleasure it brings them.

Even with Roland, when they were ready to experiment further, there was no point in waiting. No pacing. Andrew was typically ready to get it out of his system for the sake of his libido, never pushing himself too far but also not patient with himself either. He'd propose the next thing he wanted to try, made sure Roland's hands were out of the way, and acted accordingly. Quickly. Andrew did not savor.

Andrew would take what he needed from the sensations and that was that; his knees on the floor of Eden's, a heavy weight on his tongue. Roland was enthusiastic, reacting well to Andrew's touches as he got more experienced with time.

As for Andrew...

Sometimes he'd like it, sometimes not, and in those cases he'd put a stop to it and he and Roland would revert to whatever was quickest to get off. Efficient, enough for Andrew to feel the spike of control, to bring another man pleasure without putting himself at risk. Exerting power over someone, and having them like it.

It had all been controlled, because Andrew needed it to be. Many of those nights blur together now; he can remember them all, he does, but pulling those times to the forefront of his mind is not something he ever chose to do. It simply didn't affect him in that way, because Roland never got below Andrew's skin.

With Neil however…

Andrew can't help but imprint every gasp and arch into his brain to never be forgotten, to be spun into daydreams so vivid it's hard to keep still. In the mornings the thoughts drip into the front of his mind, Neil pressed close to him. Then when he's watching Neil run in the gym with strong legs, and it's like he feels Neil's legs tightening around him. When he's bored in class, the sounds of Neil's moans drown out the professor as the fantasies in Andrew's head take over.

With Neil it is pure, blinding pleasure. He savors more than he thinks he should, like there's a limited supply and he's going through an army's worth everyday.

Andrew prolongs sex with Neil as much as he can. He's never allowed himself to feel this with anyone. He couldn't. For once it's not just about gaining experience or getting off, it's all that with Neil and exploring all the ways to make him fall apart.

So, Andrew still blows him in the showers after practice and ruts against him in the backseat of the Maserati. And through it all, Neil doesn't wait or expect Andrew to bring up going all the way.

He just enjoys it, enjoys being with Andrew.

"I'm still convinced I dreamed you," he spits out later that night when they're making out on the floor. Making out is putting it innocently, since it's quickly progressing into Andrew grinding his hips into Neil's.

They haven't exactly had enough alone time for this, not for a few weeks, but Andrew tames his desperation for it as best he can. He can't be that vulnerable, and yet his hips are moving on their own accord.

With Kevin visiting Wymack and Nicky off studying, they're alone. They can take their time, and they don't hesitate to take advantage.

Andrew can no longer contain the caged animal.

Neil pauses briefly to look up at Andrew, sliding one of Andrew's hands under his shirt to touch him more. Andrew shivers at the silent request, thumbing at one his nipples while Neil tries to make words.

"D--Do you want me to be a hallucination?" Neil teases, and leans up to bite Andrew's bottom lip. Andrew pinches Neil's chest beneath his fingertips, logging away the breathy moan to recall later.

"No," Andrew snaps quickly, almost against his will, and Neil's grin is so annoyingly brilliant.

They both already knew the answer. He's not sure he could handle that at this point. Neil disappearing, like a ghost with only a compliment as a goodbye.

Not again.

As if to cement this fact, Andrew bucks forward, the friction dizzying. Again, it's been a little too long, and Andrew's movements betray it.

"Fuck Andrew," Neil says, reaching for Andrew's fly. It's already undone, his belt somewhere halfway across the room due to Neil's eager hands. Andrew had told him yes, and yet Neil's hand hovers just over Andrew's groin in a silent question. Andrew growls, leading Neil's hand under the waistband until it brushes the wet head of his cock, and they moan in sync this time.

"Andrew I want...fuck," Neil throws his head back, the frustration clear. Andrew can't help but feel the same; if he could make Neil fall apart in every way he would, but for now his body craves the friction, the desperation of his movements.

This is how he wants to get off, humping Neil into the floor.

"Use your words," Andrew breathes, swiping his thumb over Neil's lips. Neil's pink tongue flicks out, coaxing Andrew's fingers into his mouth and sucking.

Neil's eyes are so full of mischief, his response clear: sure about that?

Andrew gives a slow roll of his hips as Neil pumps him slow, pulling away when he senses Andrew's patience running thin. The striker's legs spread farther apart for him, letting Andrew slot them perfectly together. Neil wants it like this too, he realizes.

A shudder runs through him, overwhelming and definitely something he'd normally lash out against. But this feels too good in the moment to resist, his clothed cock sliding perfectly against Neil's, and the thought comes barreling through as the heat coils tighter and tighter.

It's just like the last time they did this. Andrew starts thrusting faster, the phantom of the real thing while Neil's back slides against the floor. Except this time...

This time what?

He watches Neil meet each thrust just as desperately, a few whimpers escaping and mixing with the few Andrew can't help but let loose. He looks absolutely debauched, with his shorts hanging off one leg and his underwear damp. Andrew takes a snapshot, sealing this Neil away in his head forever. Hungry, insatiable, junkie.

What if this was the real thing? Would Neil arch and writhe even more? Neil always feels too good to be true, even now. He'd be warm, Andrew knows it, his ass hugging Andrew's cock, so bent on making Andrew feel good. He'd probably be more reactive too, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. The fantasy floods in, and Andrew feels his heart rate pick up as his hips buck faster, the pace erratic and wild.

And that's the difference, isn't it? This time, Andrew doesn't feel strange to think about it, to imagine it. He's free to indulge, but should he, does he want to?

His cock twitches, and that's answer enough. The small ounce of hesitation is something Neil catches, because he throws Andrew a shaky smile as a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

"You can think about it," Neil chokes out, voice raw and oh, it's doing a lot of things to Andrew which shouldn't be allowed. "I am too. Fuck, I want you to fuck me Andrew, so bad..."

Andrew surges forward, slotting their lips together. It's hardly a kiss, his tongue pinning Neil's down in a promise he can't say.

Me too, I want all of you.

The thought is so shocking, it doesn't make him recoil instantly. Something in him bends, snaps in two, and the only pause he gives is one used to manhandle Neil. He pulls him forward, so Neil is curled up at the perfect angle. Andrew does sometimes appreciate all the cheerleading stretches Neil borrows from Katelyn, he's so much more flexible now.

"Neil," Andrew breathes when he pulls back from Neil's lips, just his name. Neil's eyes widen, and Andrew wonders what kind of look he's wearing again. Can Neil see it all, how much Andrew really wants to rail Neil into the nearest surface?

It doesn't matter, his next movements make it obvious.

Andrew's hips piston forward until Neil is shaking apart, his orgasm pulling out a whine Andrew knows the neighbors can hear. He can't be bothered with it now, the unusual greediness he feels when it comes to Neil is second to his own rising pleasure. So close, so close--

Neil reaches up, boneless, and hums almost deliriously. Fixated, Andrew's eyes never leave the ring of blue in his eyes. Neil's fingers tap on Andrew's neck, right at the pulse. "C'mon, come for me."

Andrew does, it's obscene how fast he does. The words aren't even all the way out of Neil's mouth and Andrew doesn't have time to be upset with his orgasm coursing through him. His eyes close on their own accord, the feeling wiping out his sight for a few blissful seconds as he trembles. He's vaguely aware of Neil's hands on his muscles, feeling them clench with the aftershocks.

Andrew's stomach bottoms out, and he feels the rush all the way down his legs.

Never before, never this intense. Not with anyone but Neil.

He slumps forward, his body about as relaxed as it can be in Neil's arms. The urge to run after these moments isn't really there anymore, the need for separation either delayed or gone completely. It's the result of doing this...many times, and Neil's arms still rest loosely around Andrew, ready to let go the moment he needs it.

They lay like that for a few seconds, their pants echoing in the small space and Andrew licks the salt from Neil's neck. The striker has the nerve to give Andrew more space, welcoming all the marks. He doesn't even realize he'll be wearing sweaters for a few days in the blistering heat, if only to avoid Kevin's wrath.

Andrew pops off, satisfied with the fresh bruise, and savors the low whine he gets for it.

Eventually, he has to move, but less for the need to get cleaned up and more due to an odd feeling tugging at his abdomen. Neil's noises...they're troublesome for Andrew's self-control, and Andrew is sure Neil knows it.

The mess in Andrew's boxers is...a lot, and he grimaces as he shifts a little. He doesn't pull away completely, just to let Neil know he's alright, but he looks down at the striker with something swimming in his chest.

Neil's breathing is ragged, chest still heaving, and Andrew's eyes follow the trail of hickies he left on Neil's collarbone. The odd feeling hits him again, a simmering heat.

Unfinished.

Ah, so that's it. He gets it.

Andrew's eyes darken and he hears the moment Neil figures it out too. The redhead's throat clears, mixed with a moan as he sits up with Andrew. His eyes are still wide, pupils blown and covering icy blue in darkness. They're expectant, excited.

So, so much energy.

Andrew knows his smirk doesn't show on his actual face, but he has to fight real hard against it as he stands up. Neil licks his lips, tracking the movement as Andrew pulls the waistband of his boxers forward. He's a mess; his cock is slick with his own cum, globs of it sticking to the fabric. Without betraying his own emotions, he pulls himself out for Neil to see the state of him. In Andrew's head, the mantra repeats: you do this to me, you make me feel this way.

Neil's eyes get that hazy quality to them, the intense focus usually applied to games, and Andrew quirks a brow. Neil's glances keep flitting between Andrew's face and his dripping cock, not sure where to look, but eager nonetheless. His mouth is already open, ready. The fire in Andrew's gut is no longer simmering, it's back in full force. Not yet satisfied, not done.

His cum is about to start dripping on the floor when he finally takes pity on them both.

"Hey," he says, almost innocently, and Neil freezes. "Clean up your mess."

And oh, Neil certainly does.

Appropriately, Andrew is peckish after this, and Kevin had once again gone through the trouble of throwing away all his candy.

Honestly, Andrew could kill him at this point. Their deal is over, but then he'd have no reason to drag Neil out after 10 p.m. to try desserts Andrew knows he'll hate. His reactions make Andrew's chest feel fuzzy, and as uncomfortable as it is, he knows it's not a bad feeling or a particularly overwhelming one. Therefore, it's best to use for exposure therapy.

He's making Neil taste baklava at some 24-hour dessert bar when he says the words, unprompted and lazy, but it doesn't feel less right. For whatever reason, their moments of mundanity seem to coax the most monumental things out of Andrew, probably because they're the most grounded he ever feels.

Neil's hair is still a mess from their activities, that coupled with his scrunched up nose at the sweetness of the pastry is so routine, so familiar, it softens Andrew's edges. Andrew's fingertips are sticky from the syrup, but there's nothing filthy about watching Neil's lips wrap around them when Andrew feeds him the bite. It's so oddly cliche and cheesy, Andrew can't believe he did it without realizing.

Neil sticks out his tongue in disgust as he chews, pushing the rest of the pastry at Andrew in favor of his boring gummy bears (Andrew made him get something), when Andrew tilts his head to look at him. Really look.

He doesn't know what he's searching for, and he doesn't find it. It's a relief; Neil is the same, and it's such a comfort Andrew has to force it down.

His brain, always the betrayer, whispers: This is it.

It's not said in a romantic, or even joyful way. It's simply stating a fact; he won't have this again, and won't pursue it.

Neil's eyes soften when he catches Andrew staring, but doesn't call it out like he normally would. The striker rests his head on his arm, blue eyes shining under the shitty diner lights. They're back to normal, all ice, all color. His hand slides across the tabletop to brush Andrew's, not quite linking, but a constant. An 'I'm here' just because he feels like it.

The ease in Neil's eyes, brought on by all their exertion and from Andrew's presence, is so unlike the desire from earlier. It's apparent, but not jarring. This side of Neil is still one he knows, one he's come to expect without meaning to. There's something so innocent about it, so genuine, the words overflow.

"Neil," he says, even though he already has Neil's undivided attention. He wonders what kind of face he's making to get that kind of reaction, but then assures himself he doesn't want to know. He can't handle that yet. He clears away the tightness in his throat as best he can without acknowledging that it's there, and lets the realization wash over him. "Next time we're alone."

He's ready to try if Neil is. He knows Neil will understand what he's referring to. It's both a proposition and a promise, and Neil reads it easily.

He blinks, sitting up in that way which reminds Andrew of an actual fox. If Neil had the ears they would perk up, alert. His fingers inch forward, between the spaces Andrew has left for him already.

"You're ready?" Neil asks, voice quiet but resounding in the deserted shop. Andrew shivers, but knows the answer. He's known for a few days, but only now does he feel up to admitting it.

"Yes."

There's not much more he needs--or wants--to say. This is his decision; the mess in his mind is still there. The image of hurting Neil, or old memories surging forward in the heat of the moment. The shock of being so connected to someone, so vulnerable. It's all still there, making his skin crawl.

But then Neil looks at him like this, a mix of lust and some other emotion he won't name (won't assign Katelyn's stupid definition to) and it becomes a factor. Despite all the mess, Neil is someone he can trust and someone who trusts Andrew.

They want this, that's enough.

"Neil," he says when Neil has been quiet too long, that stupid look on his face, and watches him blush a brilliant shade of red.

"I--yes, yes of course I--" Neil stammers, and it's instinct for him to ground himself with Andrew's touch. His hand grips Andrew's tight, as if Andrew needs more convincing when Neil's tone is so excited. The striker's gaze turns firm, determined, and heat simmers in Andrew's chest once more. "I want that..."

No kidding.

"Stop being an idiot," Andrew snaps, but he tightens his hold on Neil's hand anyways. He's not sure who he's talking to.

Judging by the smile Neil is trying to force down, he knows it too.

"You have a thing for idiots," he whispers with a smirk, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, and oh yes, Andrew always knew this man was far too dangerous to keep around.

Too late now.

"Apparently," he sighs, feigning resignation. He leans against the back of the booth, and it's mostly so he can see all of Neil clearly. The disheveled clothes, the unruly hair, the sharpness. In reality, he's far from cursing his future in that moment. He's not sure if he can label the static in his abdomen and his head as excitement, but he has a feeling it's exactly that.

Troublesome, and much too powerful to try and push away.

Satisfied, Neil smiles and leans back too. They don't stay separate for long; as soon as Neil's hand is off his, Andrew feels a strong leg press into his calf. He doesn't even flinch these days.

Neil poises to throw a gummy bear, and Andrew opens his mouth willingly to catch it, falling back into their easy routine of wasting time together. Long drives, stupid questions and stupider answers.

Andrew misses three out of the ten gummy bears, not really trying. It makes Neil laugh harder when he misses.

On the fifteenth throw, realization crosses over Neil's face, and he pauses. The smirk turns deadly, razor sharp. Andrew has never seen Neil so vengeful, and the excitement only grows when Neil speaks. "You know what this means?"

Andrew raises a brow, and Neil inhales, giddy with his own spite. "We can finally kick Kevin out."

And he automatically knows what Neil means. He recalls hours spent holed up in the stadium, making out with Neil and wishing they were cocooned in bed while Kevin sexiled them for time with Thea.

The word leaves Andrew's mouth, as deadly as Neil's expression. "Payback."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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svbcritic · 5 years

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ok wow don’t mind this being late of an intro bc i was out w my friend and have poor time management skills jdfks . i’m stuck at work rn so hopefully this intro has smth of substance in it for my boy hobgoblin boy charlie .. but yes !! hello all i’m cherrie and under the read more will be some info on my boy so sorry in advance if there’s any ramblings .. i just have a tendency to never shut up dsjfnk . but feel free 2 tap the lil heart if u wanna plot and i’ll pop over into ur im’s !!

brindle bay welcomes charles “charlie” kim the twenty-one year old podcaster. i kind of think he looks a lot like wong yukhei. they have been living in east bay suburbs for 5 years and i heard they are known to be amiable but also impetuous. when i think of them i think of unapologetic laughter, headphones hung around the neck, and a collection of pastel denim jackets.

STATS

full chinese name: jin ximen / americanized name: charles kim / nicknames: charlie / ethnicity: chinese & thai / sexuality: bisexual / occupation: true crime podcaster / spoken languages: mandarin, thai, english, korean & spanish / hogwarts house: slytherin

BIOGRAPHY

okie dokie so charlie ( born ximen ) is the youngest of the four kids between his parents born and riased in shanghai and their wedding was some big event bc both families were heavily affluent and prominent in their home countries

charlie’s dad hailed from shanghai, china where his family had a long lineage of old money and a 5 star international hotel chain that’s comparable to the four seasons .. meanwhile charlie’s mom is from thailand where her family has ties to the oil industry which is how they built their wealth .. their marriage was more political than anything and wanting to combine their wealth in industries the other was lacking in

as the youngest kid and the only boy with three older sisters, charlie never lacked a caregiver bc he was an adorable little boy who charmed whoever he met and though he was a little shit, his sisters loved him and helped raise him alongside a clan of nannies that his parents hired when they were busy off on different continents running their respective businesses

charlie definitely was more of a mommy’s boy in the sense that his mom made more of an effort to spend time with him bc as her only son, she held him on a pedestal and since she was a well known fashion designer, she often brought charlie to her studio and let him run wild in some of the garments and clothing that was in storage and whatnot

from this charlie had a lil mini modeling career ( lmao not really ) where he would do mock photoshoots with some of the models in his mom’s bridal collections and eventually bc he was adorable and everyone loved him, they dressed him in some mini tuxes and he appeared in some campaigns for his mom’s bridal collection

generally though charlie was an exuberant kid who often had more energy than he knew what to do with and that often had him getting in trouble at the expensive prep school his parents had him enrolled in . which he frequently was scolded by his dad for his hellion behavior jdsklafjd

so it was a constant push and pull between charlie and his dad in trying to calm down his son .. which wyd he;s just a happy go lucky boy hsalkjf but anyway charlie was eventually enrolled in a soccer club so he could wear himself out by running all the time and tbh it kinda worked .. but also charlie actually enjoyed soccer so it worked out

his dad really thought he did something by keeping his teenage son out of trouble and letting him build teamwork skills ig ... mainly bc he wanted his only son to take over the jin empire of their hotel chain even though charlie was like :/ .. and his mom was a bit :/ bc she knew charlie wasn’t the type who would want the weight of this empire on his shoulders even though his oldest sister was more experienced

but fun times for dad bc lit it’s w his soccer friends that charlie realizes that whatever heterosexuality is .. that ain’t him sdjldkjs but yeah he finds out that he’s into guys just as much as he’s into girls and he has a crush on one of his best friends on the soccer team w him

charlie was able to disguise his crush as a solid bro friendship around his dad meanwhile him and his friend were leaning on the scale of more than friends and 10/10 were making out whenever they were alone so yeah ... things were swaggy for the first three months until charlie’s dad came home early from his trip from new york and walked into charlie’s room to see him fooling around with his friend

so yeah ... things didn’t go great after that and the jin household was so painfully tense where his dad refused to go on any international trips and kept a strong grip on charlie and pulled him out of his school’s soccer team .. it was a tough time and definitely miserable for charlie despite his mom’s best efforts to help soothe him

nearly a month following The Incident ( as he dad refers to it as ) he announced that 16 year old charlie was going to live with his aunt over in america and it was an absolute shit show at the house when his dad broke the news but the next day charlie found himself on a direct flight from shanghai to brindle bay where his aunt lives with her american husband and son

the move was a big adjustment for charlie and it was here that he started going by charlie bc the kids at his new school couldn’t pronounce ximen . originally he was a bit standoffish and reclusive bc his english was still shaky and he had an accent so this combination of things made him a target of some shitty xenophobic bullies and it put him down for a bit

it was a dark period that charlie doesn’t like to think back on and relied on the friendship he established with his cousin and it was through him that charlie began to blossom in brindle bay and make his own connections and realized that his dad is a dumbass bc he essentially sent him away for being into men but lmao !! sike dad !! bc now he gets to kiss boys if he wants without the rope around his neck from his dad

it’s been five years since charlie has been shipped to brindle bay and he keeps in contact with his sisters and mother and has visited shanghai a few times for some holidays and lets his dad think him being in america has helped him become more sensible and learn responsibility

when he graduated high school his mom offered to have him come home but charlie decided he wanted to stay more away from his dad for the time beginning and enrolled in college and got his degree in communication studies

it’s when he’s in school that he starts up his own podcast where he just discusses true crime and paranormal stories and such just bc it’s always been an interest of his .. he started it with his close friend that was his first Official friend in brindle bay and they’re two years into and it’s growing a strong listening base on spotify and apple music .. for comparison sake it’s a mix of buzzfeed unsolved and my favorite murder

but yeah overall charlie is an easy going guy who is usually seen with a smile on his face and just v fun loving , charismatic and loves talking to ppl ?? comes off v flirty but that’s just who he is bc he has that kinda vibe .. sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s flirting bc it comes like breathing . he means well and is a soft boy who misses his family but is scared to go back home to china officially

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone who helped show charlie around when he first came to brindle bay and maybe they built a friendship from it

someone who maybe helped him improve on his english when he first came to town and charlie is forever grateful to them and feels indebted to them for being there for him when he was self conscious and needed help

his first relationship .. p self explanatory but charlie and your muse dated for a bit and it was nice and sweet but things ended amicably between the two and they still remain friends

maybe one or two fwb’s that charlie respects their friendship and somehow their arrangement happened and things are going good and having someone on call when he’s feeling needy is a+ .. whether or not smth angsty can stem from this can be debated

his first friend that he made when coming to town and charlie’s podcast buddy !!

maybe someone who has a crush on charlie but he’s stupid and oblivious and his flirting that comes as easy as breathing doesn’t help the situation

a good influence

a bad influence who is helping charlie embrace more of his hellion ways hfskd

or even someone who knows of his family’s wealth back in china and is trying to finagle their way into charlie’s good graces and hopefully try to get a cut of it

#bb;intro #this is just me rambling off so uHH sorry for that #if u read all this i luv u

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laufire · 5 years

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t100 6x07

(yeah, I gave in lol. it sounded fun and I didn’t want to risk getting spoiled. crossposted in dreamwidth, livejournal, and pillowfort)

I love Josephine LMAO. Can she stay forever?? She’s just hilarious lol. Like when she complained about how the people her mind merged with were “so average” xDD. AND SHE’S A SUCH A NEAT CONTROL FREAK. IDK why but that always results in instant adoration for me lol. Her attitude with projection!Maya, her mention of spidey-senses, “EMP. Cool”, the self-portraits, the child abuse mention, the way she presented Bellamy accepting the deal... I just love her. My favourite part was when she triggered the collar Clarke put on her on purpose, like. Damn.

I liked the call-backs to previous seasons. Seeing A.L.I.E. is always gr10, ofc. And I love that everything hinged on Raven’s idea to fry her out of herself in s3, aka one of my fave plots in this show evah :DD. The scene with Blodreina, with that call-back to the s4 final eps, was one of my favourites.

The “you forgot Bellamy and Raven” line is so good on a meta level lmao. YES, PEOPLE. YOU CAN’T FORGET BELLAMY AND RAVEN. NOR BELLAMYANDRAVEN *coughs*.

The whole body-snatch situation is pushing all my dopplegangers/selfcest buttons and I kind of ship Clarke and Josephine a little. Match made in hell xD. I’d know how to write BadWrongTerrible Fic about them lol. I won’t, because like, #priorities, but still :P

Everything always comes back to The Vampire Diaries LMAO. The “I’ll find a way to survive, I always do.” line IMMEDIATELY took me back to Elena’s “I’ll survive. Somehow I always do.” (though hey, Clarke here is more honest lmao. I can’t tell you how much I resented that “somehow” back then. Bitch, you knew how! xDD. But it makes sense because early-seasons Elena’s position in the narrative was miles ahead from Clarke’s rn, so the narrative ~romanticized her more lol).

This episode will go down in history as the one that made me feel anywhere near close to positive towards Clarke, AND YET (the previous times I came closest was in those small instants where she’s shown to be surprised and delighted when she tries new food, because characters enjoying lavishing things = My Jam lol). I guess I just like seeing characters fighting for their lives in a fuck-everything-else way, even when I don’t like those characters lol. Ofc, Clarke couldn’t just say “I WANT TO LIVE, THIS IS MY FUCKING BODY AND YOU CAN’T HAVE IT, BITCH”, so we needed to see that Josie is awful! A baby-killer! Eugenicist!! she has to be stopped!!, we can’t start believing her motivation is solely selfish xDD. And the “I had to [leave Bellamy to die]!” when she got defensive was SO HER RME. I guess we know how much she means those apologies :P BTW, I had not missed the way Taylor acts Clarke vs Josephine. The weird earnestness annoys me :/

I kind of liked the parallels with Raven’s s4 storyline, with Becca/Josephine (with the main difference there that in Raven’s case, it all came from her), Sinclair/Monty etc. (tho obviously, Raven/Sinclair >>>>> Clarke/Monty :P). I kind of want to make a gifset about it, but how can I make it WITHOUT having to grumble every time it got tagged as shippy?? Maybe I’ll wait for the rest of the season, see how it all goes and if I can do something with it.

Do I spy a good ol’ enemies/immortal exes ship between Gabriel and Josephine? 👀👀👀 Here for it.

Loved the Diyoza and Becca covers. Though I gotta say, I was LMAO at the fact that Diyoza’s makeup/getup looked a lot more put together when she was in a prison suit xDD

The show nailed incel mentality, I gotta say. Like, perfectly. Nothing could have made me buy the fact that they were in somewhat-recent times more than that shitty dude.

#the 100 #josephine lightbourne #raven reyes #braven #clarke x josephine #gabriel x josephine #lol clarke #my thoughts #t100 spoilers #t100 s6 #the 100 6x07 #t100 thoughts #talking to the void #josielarke

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gaylortruther · 5 years

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(many) tag games

saw someone else do this so i figured i’d go through all my tag games in one looong post instead of spamming you all with a bunch of separate posts!

i’m gonna tag everyone now and yall can choose which tag games you want to do or whether you want to do them all (or whether you want to do any)!!

thanks to everyone who tagged me in all of these! i LOVE being tagged in tag games and i am always up for more! <3

tagging THE SANCTION (including ppl that i haven’t gotten up on the page yet im sorry abfjffsdhsjbjsdf it will happen SOON): @newdivinities @wolvesofarcadia @maskedlady @victoiirres @sancta-silje @bumblebeesonpaper @wasting-ink-not-youth @horrorspell @ya-lady-tauriel @awritinglen @purpleshadows1989 @ivonoris @theforgottencoolkid @the-ichor-of-ruination @grotesqu-e @lucacangettathisass @tea-ndi @hazeywrites @lunar895 @thewordsinthesky-andstars

[LAST LINE TAG]

TAGGED BY @melwrotethat AND @hazeywrites

thank you both for the tags! these are the last few lines of the prologue-excerpt-thing i wrote for the page i’m working on for WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY

Somehow, Collin hears them. Silently, she rolls up her sleeve, and Rowan feels the Collin Sutherland they knew is somewhere far, far away. The tattoos are black, geometric in design, two on each arm, and eerily similar to the ones Rowan has just discovered on their own left arm. They're sure if they were to roll up their right sleeve, they would find more.

"I should have told you a long time ago," Collin whispers. "I didn't know you were a part of it, but I should have guessed. I didn't want to put you in danger."

"I'm not- I don't- in danger of what?"

The waves crash onto the shore, and in the distance, a seagull cries, sending Collin into action. She grabs Rowan's hand and starts pulling, dragging them back behind the house.

"Come on. We don't have a lot of time, we have to get going. I can tell you everything on the way. I don't know why he brought me here instead of straight to the veil, damn it-,"

"Wait!," they say, wrenching their hand out of her grasp. "Just- stop! Where are we going?!"

Collin's eyes flash bright, despite the lack of sunlight. "Home."

yeah, a bit long, a bit unedited, but *shrugs*

[SPELL OUT UR URL USING SONG TITLES]

TAGGED BY @tea-ndi

thank you sage!!! <3

hard feelings/loveless | lorde

another one of those days | cavetown

let’s fall in love for the night | FINNEAS

ocean eyes | billie eilish

honey and milk | flower face

i know | king princess ft fiona apple

dreamz | sara king

iloveyou | BETWEEN FRIENDS

nobody’s home | gnash

greek god | conan gray

sycamore girl | rex orange county

and there you have a small sample of my music taste! add in literally every taylor swift song (dont judge me), some lo-fi tunes without ANY words whatsoever, and the occasional fall out boy or panic at the disco goddamn absolute banger, and you have my XANDERS JAMS playlist on spotify. ENJOY

[11/11/11 TAG]

TAGGED BY @awritinglen <333333333333333333333333

thank you for tagging me len!!! your questions were so fun!! i’m doing this for WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY

Name all OCs in your WIP

OMFG okay,,, wait do you mean full names?? POV characters as of rn are Collin Aisling Sutherland, Rowan Tilley (doesn’t have a middle name) and Avery Bristol Charter. then the next most important one is Isaac Michael Rosewell, even though he’s the antagonist. then the side characters that are still very featured are Noah Rosalyn Pratten, Reese Iseul Radley, and Sage Emarosa Delgado. THEN we get into the very very side characters, Willa Robinson and her son August Robinson. then we have Avery’s parents, Alaric and the late Octavia Charter. and thennnnn we have Beldane Moreno, Avery’s uncle and Collin’s grandfather (undecided abt that last name but going w it for now). i promise it all makes sense. i promise anfnfsjnfdjsfd

Name at least one hobby your Main character love

i’ll give this one to Collin, she is a musician! Avery’s mother always taught her music before The Accident (dun dun dunnn) and after Collin was abandoned in the Nigh she threw herself into music. she plays guitar mostly, but she secretly loves piano the best out of every instrument she knows

3 sentences about your current WIP

OOF. im so bad at summaries why would you do this to meee abfhshjbsbshfjsbf. “A determined believer wants to return to a home that never wanted her. Almost 4000 miles away, an incisive, intellectual outcast of a dreamer muses over getting out of their hometown. And infinities away from them both, a teenage revolutionary disappears into thin air, on his way to bring back his past and fix his (and everyone’s) future.”

Is there a romance in your WIP and did you plan it from the beginning?

yes! there are three! they are definitely a main focus of the plot, but not THE main focus. Reese and Rowan were definitely planned from the beginning. Collin and Noah were, too, but they weren’t originally enemies to lovers, and they are now (hehehehehe). and Isaac and Avery were DEFINITELY not planned from the beginning. in fact, Avery was originally paired up with Sage, but it’s literally so much better this way and i’m so glad it’s been changed. Isaac and Avery has been planned since about when Isaac’s character was thought up, one year into planning WTCMTS.

What genre(s) is it?

a mix of dystopia and urban fantasy. and it’s YA, borderline NA because some of the characters are 19-20, but i still think YA is appropriate because of the style of writing.

What’s the aesthetic of two of your characters?

fun question! Collin’s aesthetic is very emo-punk, with a splash of yellow towards the end of the series. piercings, blue hair, rips on clothing, dirty converse, smudged eyeliner, safety pins. the yellow comes in as part of her character arc, as she learns to accept that her childhood memories are tainted and not actually perfect utopia. Rowan is way more minimalist (sometimes). they’re into the bookstagram type aesthetic, and mom jeans with sneakers, jean jackets, plants against a white wall, colorblocked windbreakers, rain against a car window.

When did you start your current WIP?

WTCMTS was started in august of 2017

How far along are you in the process (i.e 1st/2nd/3rd draft, worldbuilding)

still worldbuilding, unfortunately, for personal reasons

Who’s the hardest character for you to write?

OOOOOOF. sage or rowan?

What music genre best decribes your main character(s) and whats their favorite?

Collin - alternative (favorite band would be like twenty one pilots, p!atd)

Rowan - ichillwave (clario, rex orange county)

Avery - emo (fall out boy, all time low)

Isaac - indie alternative OR instrumental lofi (jaymes young, birdy)

Noah - electropop (lorde, halsey, charlie xcx)

Reese - folk rock (the head and the heart, of monsters and men)

Sage - indie pop (lana del ray, florence + the machine)

Are you working on more than one WIP?

yes! i have four currently but only two are important lol, ILLUNIUS and WHERE THE CELLAR MEETS THE SKY (this one). WIP PAGE

MY QUESTIONS

how did you come up with the title for your WIP?

is there anything you want to change about your WIP but you are hesitating on?

do you have a favorite character? a character that is your baby?

write a tinder bio for one of your characters.

how do you feel about epilogues? does your wip include an epilogue?

what changes does your MC go through over the course of the story?

what is the most significant insignificant thing that happens in your story? don’t explain why it is significant if it spoils things ;)

do you know what will happen after the ending of your wip, or would you rather not picture it?

how long does your wip span? is it a novel? a series? does it have prequels or spin-off wips?

what is a major internal conflict for your MC?

do you include flashbacks in your wip? do you like writing flashbacks?

[HOW TO KNOW YOU’RE IN A ______ NOVEL TAG]

TAGGED BY @writevevo AND @wolvesofarcadia

thank you both for this tag! it’s so much fun and both of your novels sound like novels that would be very interesting to be stuck in :D

inspired by this post

HOW TO KNOW YOU’RE IN A HALOHIDINGS NOVEL

you’re an older sibling and you have a younger sibling. you’re extremely bitter towards your younger sibling for stealing opportunities from you, damning you to a life you never truly wanted. your younger sibling adores you and just wants to please you. they never meant to do it.

you’re stuck in constant, wistful wanderlust, never feeling like you truly belong, never fitting in anywhere, not with friends, not with family, and when you finally find the place you’ve been looking for, you realize it’s nothing like you dreamed or remembered.

you’re not heterosexual. no one around you is. no one is cisgender either. where are they? no one knows.

you have a peculiar capability dancing under your skin. it trickles from your pores and muddles with your mind. maybe you asked for it, maybe it was predestined, maybe you never wanted anything to do with it. whatever the reason, it’s there, and you don’t know what’s you and what’s it. maybe you’re not meant to ask. maybe you’re meant to succumb.

your memories are as fickle as the rain, coming and going and breaking through the clouds, shattering the fog and disappearing with the sun. you can’t recall what you’re doing here, or where you’re meant to be instead. what’s your name?, they ask. you don’t know.

there are two worlds. one world is blissfully unaware of this, or at least, as unaware as any world of millions and millions of people can be. no secret can be kept forever, they tell you. you are desperately trying to keep the secret.

the one closest to you, despite your abhorrent denial of this fact, the one you would trust with your life, will betray you. because of their decision, their selfishness, you will either lose them, or lose yourself.

THOSE WERE SO FUN OMG. they all mostly apply to both of my major wips, which is probably bad. oh well LMAO

SORRY THAT WAS SOOOOOOOO LONG hope at least someone does one of these tag games lol <3

xander out

#taggedin

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0tul1ss · 6 years

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Rules: answer the prompt and tag 20 (or as many people as you feel like) blogs you would like to know better!!

Tagged by: @laboradorescence (ty!)

im not tagging anyone tho bc i am Tired and in the middle of finals and choosing people to tag just sounds like more brainpower than im capable of being willing to do rn but literally if you follow me or we’re mutuals or w/e then don’t hesitate to do this as if i tagged you if you want!

Nickname(s): Cam would be the closest thing i can think of atm (my irl name is cameron)

Star sign: Leo

Height: 5′7″

Time: 7:37pm

Birthday: August 11 (only four days off from @laboradorescence, nice)

Favorite bands/artists: my fave is EDEN for sure (used to go by The Eden Project, as always i recommend anything by him from his EPs or his debut album “vertigo”), my second fave is greyson chance (he’s grown up and still putting out music and it’s really really good, also he’s openly gay which is Cool for my lil gay heart), and rn i’ve also been listening to jeremy zucker, florence + the machine, ATO, and troye sivan to name a few artists

Song(s) stuck in my head: i keep a youtube playlist up to date with all the songs im listening to atm so hmu if you want the link to that, but the songs from that that are most stuck in my head are “Strawberries and Cigarettes” (troye sivan), “Untitled (For Now)” (oliver daldry), and “Lighthouses” (fabian mazur and greyson chance)

Last movie I watched: tbh im not sure, i think it mightve been black panther a lil while back

Last TV show I watched: scandal! the last season just got put on netflix so im watching that

What I post: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ “humor” (if you can call it that anymore) posts, cool poetry from people on here, cool photography / cool art from people on here, pride-related things, idk man. Things

Do I get asks: like in general? not super often if that’s what this is asking but i like getting them every once in a while

URL meaning: my old url has its own post i made about it i believe, but my current one is based off my fave character from the Guardians of Ga’Hoole series, otulissa, bc that series has always been super near and dear to my heart since i was growing up (and i will forever be bitter at how horribly the first three books were made into a movie with a p much completely different plot with different characters and different themes and without a super key plot twist but it’s fine i’m fine we’re all fine!). anyway otulissa is a bit of a know-it-all but also is still kind and hardworking and stubborn and all sorts of other things. but yea at one point i decided it’d be neat to have an online moniker that was short and unique to me but didn’t allude to my actual name at all and this is what happened

Average hours of sleep: every night is an outlier at this point, idek. mayyybe recently 7 hours but instead of being consistently at night i keep almost being nocturnal which is a problem since classes and Happening Things are during the day

Nationality: American

#about me #studying for finals? idk her #cameron speaks

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rebclheartsarchive · 7 years

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god my ass is so pumped for modern au event, y’all have nO IDEA. this is gonna be so exciting agshdhkgakjfdshjaf. anyway, here’s a quick rundown of all my babies in the au world. also a psa that i’m gonna keep mica while the event is on and then once it’s done he’s getting officially retired.

cordelia

so my girl had a shitty upbringing. she grew up with an abusive father and her mama died when she was young after giving birth to her youngest sister. she got her justice tho bc she fuckin deserves it and got him thrown in jail for his abuse. after that her little sisters and her went to live with her aunt and she’d just turned eighteen and it was kinda the first time she didn’t really have the responsibility of taking care of her sisters? she could start focusing on herself and she started going to therapy, started actually healing. delia also got really interested in law and ended up being accepted into oxford. her twenties was basically spent studying and being vocal in class and spending her nights in clubs and waking up with Regrets. was hired by a hot shot law firm straight out of oxford and she honestly became such a fucking asset to them. delia was made to argue with old white men in court and fight for justice. mainly takes on cases defending victims of sexual assault and domestic abuse, but tbh she’ll take on any case as long as she believes her client to be innocent. she doesn’t do guilty. she’s actually won most of her cases and is arguably the best lawyer at her firm. lowkey imagine that she makes a shit ton from her cases but she isn’t really materialistic?? mainly buys nice clothes to wear to court and work, but otherwise she saves her money.

delia’s aesthetic is definitely tight pencil skirts, blouses and high heel. also rarely seen without red lipstick. which is a funny contrast bc her at home is casual af with a messy bun. this bitch honestly lives on coffee and whiskey, loves visiting her favourite pub with her best friend. personality wise, she’s a bit more open than she is normally? like she doesn’t care if people know she’s having a shitty day and she opens up to the people she cares about with more ease. she went through a shit ton of therapy and still goes to sessions every now and then tbh to keep herself moving forward. she is defs more stubborn tho, also more sarcastic and takes zero shit. will 10/10 call you out on your bs. she also recently married her best friend’s cousin and she’s happier than she’s ever been. is in a v happy newlywed bubble rn and she’s kinda juggling the idea of starting to have kids. she so wants to be a mom, but she also doesn’t want to give up her career to do it and she wants to enjoy being married first.

lukas

my boy lukas had a pretty happy childhood? his parents were always lovely and got along with almost all his siblings really well, so his childhood was p simple. he was one of those jocks in high school that was really popular but also really nice. also such a nerd for science. such an english and history nerd honestly my god. spent so much of his time writing stories and reading poetry, was such a nerd. was also kinda a fuckboi tbh. he slept around a lot and went to a lot of parties, wasn’t really thinking a whole lot about anything after high school at that point. he went to uni to become an english teacher after high school and then boom, simple life came to an end when his dad got shot dead. the loss really devastated him and it kinda changed his perspective on his life. he wanted to do something more meaningful than that, so he actually dropped out of uni to join the police force, mainly bc his dad’s killer never got caught. kinda started as a vengeance thing mixed with wanting to protect people. rose in the ranks over the years to chief superintendent and he’s hoping to end up as commissioner one day. he’s also a little bit shady?? kinda uses his position in the force to keep his father’s case open and keeps looking into it, he just can’t let it go.

when he’s not in uniform, his style kinda is just whether his clothes are clean or not. wears a lot of jeans and shirts and converse. he’s a pretty chill dude most of the time, fairly patient kinda dude but once you get on his nerves you’re kinda there forever. can definitely hold a grudge, tho he avoids conflict like it’s the damn plague. is kinda a single dad atm, is separated from his wife and only really sees her when he’s picking up his son. . is currently having a mid life crisis because of all the shit going on with sabinah, definitely has started listening to more bruce springstein than normal. can also be found sitting in parks writing poetry when he has spare time bc he is such a Nerd .

violeta

y’all know that violeta couldn’t be anything but a stone cold bitch even in au. she’s a fucking trust fund baby tbh, her parents own a multi-million dollar oil company that originated in spain. she lived there for most of her life before papa and mama delgado moved the family to london to broaden business opportunities. violeta was highkey Bitter about the move bc she loved spain and didn’t really want to restart her life. honestly toughened her up a bit tho and she was pretty popular at school? lowkey became a bitchy queen bee, won prom queen, was on a million committees bc she loves bossing people around. her parents put a lot of pressure on her to be perfect, hence her being a major over achiever. this also played into when she got a little older and went into the family business. her parents always wanted one of the kids to take over for them and considering vi always idolized her dad, she wanted to be the first choice. she got a business degree and aced all her classes while she made her way up in the company, eventually ending up second in command. papa delgado basically started grooming her to take over and then when he got sick, he promoted her to ceo, bitch.

in modern au she’s less on the cold side, and more on the bitchy side. she has a high opinion of herself and her worth, honestly that line from that ariana grande song “but something just keeps telling me i’m better than the rest”. also major fallon carrington vibes. highkey wears power suits and dresses and heels, probs always wears sunglasses so people don’t see her rolling her eyes every five seconds. hates most people unless she considers them intelligent. also has no issue with the fact that she’s. basically. poisoning the environmwnt bc she cares more about money asdfghj. which is funny that she ended up married to a guy who loves the environment and nature and they now have a newborn daughter.

michel

used to be such a sunshine child. he was always really quiet as a kid and often either had his nose in a book or was doing craft by himself. was always such a loner nerd, probs got teased a lot in school for it. also has always been pretty reactive, so once someone pissed him off you can bet that he started swinging. he always kinda just kept to himself and cruised his way through school, graduated and didn’t really know what to do with his life from there. he did know though that he wanted to join the army. he looked up to his brother a lot and thought dedicated some of his life to helping others was a good idea, so he spent two years in afghanistan. he came home by choice after realizing that war was not at all what he thought it would be. he had some major ptsd after some of the shit he saw and did and had a really hard time assimilating back into everyday life. goes to tomas’ meetings and that’s how they met. also goes to therapy and actually talks about his shit? probs took him like two years to actually open up about anything, but anyway. also enrolled in art school bc he wants to be a painter, works a shitty job to pay the rent on the apartment he and anton live in.

his aesthetic is literally just black jeans, white t-shirt, leather jacket and boots on repeat, i swear this boy owns nothing else and is so fucking minimalist. he’s forever got paint stains on various parts of his body bc he’s always painting. he’s a p quiet guy, doesn’t really talk a lot, kinda hates most people aside from his boyfriend and his family. he lives on black coffee, smokes way too much and rides a motorbike bc he is a thrill seeker okay. also red wine is his Religion, but he drinks vodka when he’s out. he lives on ramen noodles bc he can only really cook like, two meals, it’s obvs that anton does most of the cooking in their house. is also the dad of a black cat named yoda bc you can’t be a gay art hoe without a cat. he and anton have been together for like, 4/5 years now? both of them are broke ass bitches bc they just had to be artistic. also mica has been keeping a wedding ring in the back of his sock drawer for like a month now and is trying to find the right time to propose.

and yah, those are my kids! this got really long and rambly, i’m so sorry and if you read this i love you. also feel free to like this and i’ll slide into your ims for some plotting!

#me: okay short blurbs #me: *writes more than a short blurb*#crowns.auweek #abuse tw #ptsd tw #murder tw

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galimatios · 7 years

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fear thy fortune chatlog notes

thinking abt the underdeveloped au i have in that weird off color fantasy universe that i realized is probably similar in ways to bloodborne even before i knew abt bloodbornes plot but this is nice bc i can solidify parts of it and i can probably also combine it with the knights au i have

OK I FORGOT TO PUT A CW HERE BUT CW FOR ABUSE MENT AND GORE MENT

somewhere located in present day west asia slash east europe theres a country divided into numerous states in which princes and princesses (princex (poc)/princen/etc for gender neutral options) are perpetually in contest with eachother for the right to be the divine ruler of the country

monarchy is not guided by blood, rather the church is responsible for finding the chosen candidates via prophecy, fururesight, dream interpretation, etc, and these kids are taken from their homes and reared as royalty the nature of this country is ... severe. pain is a gift, proof that one is alive. much ceremony is based in sacrifice, bloodspill, bloodsports, and pain endurance. magic as practiced by the church is extremely powerful in terms of healing so almost all wounds can be healed provided the heart still beats its essentially one big huge freakish cult of a country that has customs that seem barbaric to outsiders

the divine ruler of each state is the princens, though more often than not their councils do most of the governing with the princen merely being a puppet figurehead. they go through rigorous training to sharpen their minds and endurance against all types of pain, so training includes physical, mental, emotional trials in which the princen is supposed to keep a clear mind, concentrate on mediation or some mantra, bearing whatever is thrown at them. additionally they receive the best training in both combat and politics as well as magic. not all princen can withstand the requirements ofc so they.. vary quite a bit in terms of stability/constitution. its a p sick system even without the knights added in bc thats super messed up

the knights essentially belong to their princens in heart body mind and soul, and each princen receives exactly one knight soulbound to them. they also undergo the same scouting process once the princen is identified, and they undergo similar training except theyre also essentially brainwashed into believing their entire purpose in life is to serve and protect their princen no matter what. obviously this aint healthy! knights delude themselves into it so hard theyll fight for the system that literally abuses them! but thats how cults work

that being said knights are extremely powerful. they act as the sole bodyguard of their princen and believe me you dont want to get inbetween a knight and their prince. they are known especially for their brutality when their lords are threatened. it is extremely common for limbs to be lost in skirmishes btwn assailants and a knight

this takes us to the games! which are essentially gladiator coliseum type bloodsport contests between knights of different princens. its a pretty big affair like how the Olympics are for us so the fanfare the cheering the everything is all there i prob dont need to describe it in detail but its very violent. its considered practice for the knights before the true battle-royale type event thats even BIGGER bc it determines who becomes god-king of the country. this time the princen join their knights in the battlefield and basically whoever is left standing is the new king

is it worth it? probably not bc i think being king actually means being killed to be sent up to the heavens bc god kings dont need bodies any longer in truth the entire debacle is a distraction set up by the church to keep the country under its own control. its super corrupt. the council behind every princen is actually made up of high ranking church members that convene regularly to manipulate the politics of the region

but thats mostly the governing sphere of this world. the commonfolk are removed from most of this violence aside from the indoctrination by the church and the messed up religion they practice. a lot of the belief system here relies on this concept of karma and fate over free will. fate is oppressive, cannot be changed, but god do they try that belief ties into how princen and knights are fated to be pairs, how princen are fated to either ascend to godhood or die trying

but there is one way to manipulate fates in this world there exists in independent of the church a monastery that practices the art of transferring karma. think of karma as a type of currency that can be spent, saved, used, etc. lots of good karma may be distributed amongst loved ones via a ritual headed by a monk, or bad karma can be "paid off" essentially. the amount of good/bad karma a person has directly affects their fortune and luck. this practice is more or less outlawed by the church but the monastery is slowly gaining power over the commonfolk and the church mostly leaves the poor folk to rot anyway- their agenda mostly concerns the monarchy

altho i can definitely see tensions rising with the witch hunting as influenced by the church. particularly nefarious visions may result in blame being thrown around and commoners getting killed for crimes they have yet to commit and thats thanks to the teachings of the church

anyway as of rn though the monastery is still pretty small but it is an old, ancient organization with magic that runs far deeper than the magic of the church. it is a much more subtle magic- monks practice little offensive magic (they are a nonviolent sort anyway) but the ability to exchange karma is rare and has far more reaching impact in the long run i imagine they have strongholds further to the east but anyway theres one trump card the monastic order has

a subsection of the order is dedicated to the keeping of miracles. and miracles are... monsters! they are semi-physical manifestations of literal suffering and the sheer emotional energy provided by them is enough to give miracles the power to.. well. perform miracles.

when a person dies in anguish, there is a chance that their bodies will not decompose the way they are meant to. instead they slowly dissipate, bodies turning coal black and ashen to the touch. these cannot be disposed of the normal way (curses, contamination, all kinds of horrible things happen) so instead these corpses get locked up inside brick cells within the monastery

once, one of these was opened only to reveal that the bodies were gone- only a humming, massive shadow that seemed to move as if made of flies or soot combined. and it spoke, too. this was the first miracle created it was discovered then that these creatures had immense power but could not leave the rooms they were imprisoned in, touch sunlight, and similarly they could not die

imagine like the witchs nightmares in pmmm and you get what its like to be a soul trapped in a miracle. u get to relive ur worst fears and regrets forever. it suck miracles also cannot direct their powers towards their own will, only the will of others. ofc they are still monsters and exact a price for their services, whatever it may be.

a meeting with a miracle does not come cheap or without consequence, bc although miracles can be performed, karma always rebalances itself in the end. monks tasked with guarding and curating the miracles are called gatekeepers and are often someone close to one of the souls trapped in the vortex anyway i think thats the basics of everything in there... i got an au w cyrus as a prince and alex as his knight and instead of sticking around for their inevitable deaths the pair run off into the countryside far far away

actually i think something went wrong in the ceremony. cyrus and alex win godkingship of then... something goes wrong. probably the whole die-to-ascend thing is a secret kept from the princen and the public and. alex does a thing a knight should not do a refuses to let the ceremony continue. and im p sure as soon as cyrus learns of the truth hes like haha well fuck that

then they spend the rest of their days actually experiencing what life is like outside of a freakish cult and my fucking feels

i think.. meanwhile the monastic order grows in influence and power making them the enemy of the church... and jonah (yonah in this au) sacrifices himself to the miracle containing his brother in order to give the miracle a corporal form. which means august and company now have a physical conduit for all that power they had.

bad news for the church! bc august was unrightfully killed bc of a prophecy saying that hed become a huge threat and a killer

funny how prophecies work!

so now hes out for blood and he probably uses his own charisma and power to stage a coup against the church and basically the country goes to hell and i think at this point cyrus thinks. i got out of there alive. i need to do something about this. so he and alex probably join in and become arbiters of the game esp since cyrus and alex were probably the best synced, most skilled prince/knight duo the church had seen up to that date so theyre very powerful. ofc theyre still only two people so i really wonder how theyll step in btwn these two opposing parties

augusts side isnt good either bc august... is only out for revenge and self interest. he has no interest in fixing the country or helping anyone in fact once august is firmly seated on the throne of power he probably declares himself god-king anyway the end game probably looks like augusts body (which is jonahs body) being destroyed and the miracle contained in it finally put to rest jonahs soul must have something to do with the exorcism process- theyve tried to exorcise miracles before and only ended up upsetting it into violent outbursts anyway thats enough rambling from me time to paste this all into a blog post

god what if august picked keith to be his knight. thats messed up. keiths so easy to manipulate and hed be such a wildcard of a knight. he has more magic potential than alex and hes faster on his feet. im imagining bloodlust frenzy almost hyena-like behavior. also i mostly just want to see keith being violent and evil and i have an outfit in mind that would look great with a little splash of red

think like minimalistic ouji but like all black and keith with knives and serving a clearly twisted (even more than usual bc of the miracle’s influence) august

god even better the aftermath of augusts death TIME FOR THE FUCKING FEELS TO KICK IN BC now Keith has no purpose/he FAILED to protect his king WHICH WAS HIS ONLY PURPOSE IN LIFE then alex coming in with cy and just no, you have inherent worth. what happened wasn't right im upset this is how alex and keith become family in this au

miracles i think in this case are definitely more of a means to an end i think narratively ie jonahs brother being killed and augusts soul being trapped within it- tho i think its a good tie-in into how the severe paranoid cultish way the society works ends up producing a lot of People Dying In Extreme Anguish

almost a buildup of sickness so to say.. a plague of the soul that's a cool avenue to go down tbh the idea that miracles are more like viruses spreading misfortune in the long run for some quick gain in this life but bc karma always collects her debts if i throw in some nice reincarnation that would effectively damn someone in their next life... that implies that this story may need to expand across different generations

mechanics being so much bullshit has happened in this country it houses multiple miracles whereas elsewhere its like one, or none, very few in their histories except possibly during wartime and famine

since magic is Exists in this it makes sense that the emotional energy combined w ambient energy would manifest in some kind of grotesque Being

oh no thats maybe why the church is manipulating things by purposely generating that emotional trauma in its society its producing unprecedented amounts of energy they can utilize as magic power oh no thats super bad august would definitely take advantage of that bc hed definitely figure the truth out once hes back to being alive

im upset bc i think they use princens and knights to specifically create emotional energy

energy released upon death which typically happens after a knight/prince duo has been chosen... then the resulting STRONG ass char plague on their bodies are collected to make artifacts? yes

gems created from the ashen plague are embedded into a huge mandala that actually ... is the god-king itself

#notes #worlds #fear thy fortune #abuse ment #gore ment #// this is pasted from a chatlog lmao

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