#so yeah he’s so nice and I really really really like him. But like every other of the few times I’ve been romantically attracted to someone

[quarterlifekitty]

Just some more thoughts on König with a clingy girl.

He’s not used to physical intimacy by any means. He’s paid for girls plenty of times, have a few flings during different leaves, but never anything sweet. Never a girlfriend.

Before you even get together, you’re clingy. You like hugs. You like leaning on him when you’re sat next to each other, falling asleep on him. Which makes him fall in love so quickly, by the way. He’s addicted to feeling you warm on his skin.

And when he does manage to sweet talk his way into the boyfriend position? He melts under every crumb of affection. Every kiss to the cheek, every nuzzle, every time you park yourself in his lap.

Man is a death grip hand-holder. His height makes him hard to lose in crowds, but he still doesn’t want to be separated. Letting go of your hand is literally like his last resort.

And let it be said. This man wants to fuck you with as much skin to skin contact as possible. Sure, he’ll never say no to a quickie, but his favorite type of sex is when you’re both completely bare and have space to get in every position imaginable. He likes you pressed completely against him— chest to chest if possible, maybe back to chest (especially if a full length mirror is involved).

And then there’s the emotional clinging. He’s very insecure about the idea of wanting you more than you want him, so it always makes him so happy when you’re the one texting, calling, or just coming into the same room as him to hang out. He loves when you contact him for no reason at all— just to check on him. One time when he asked why you called, you said “I just wanted to hear your voice,” and he almost fainted from how giddy it made him. And he doesn’t have so much going on besides work, so he really doesn’t mind if you’re the type to want to spend every hour of every day with him.

The hardest fucking you ever got from König was a few weeks after you first moved in together. He had to be on base for the day, and you had a day off. You meet him at the door— you headed there as soon as you heard the car— and wrap him up in an embrace that he gladly returns.

“So, leibling, what did you do all day today?”

“I waited for you to come home,” you say absentmindedly, just rubbing his back and pressing your cheek to his chest. You don’t notice how he almost starts trembling from your words, his heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

He needs to be inside you— can barely hold it together enough to carry you to bed like a fucking caveman. Starts thinking you need something else to cling to when he’s away… something that can cling to him when he comes home. A baby would suit you both very nicely, yeah?

[haveihitanerve]

"Hey uh, old man?" Jason called, frowning as he entered the Batcave.

"Yeah bud?" Bruce asked, coming down the stairs after him, tapping absentmindedly at his phone. Their peace was tentative, but built enough that Bruce felt comfortable not focusing every single cell on not annoying Jason.

"Uh, what's the thing on my bike?" Jason asked, moving towards said vehicle. Bruce looked up, setting his phone down as he began getting dressed for patrol.

"Oh," He laughed awkwardly, looking down at his hands instead of at Jason. "I uh, made you a new suit. Well, Alfred did." His cheeks flushed pink, and he fiddled with his gloves a little.

"Just... I don't mean to imply anything-" He added hastily. "Just.. your jacket seems a little... worn. Its okay if you like it like that I just thought-" He was rambling and so he stopped, running a frazzled hand through his hair. "I just thought it'd be nice." He finished lamely.

Jason grinned at him, slipping his own jacket off his shoulders. "Its great B. Really. Thanks." Bruce brightened at that, cheeks still flushed red, and nodded back, smiling lightly.

"Ok then." Jason made sure to smile back before he focused on the jacket again. His breath stalled as he felt the pockets. The pockets... there were... so many. And not only that...

Jason almost laughed as he pulled out around a dozen of his old favorite granola bars.

"Jason?" Bruce called, turning towards him. He froze when he spotted the food clutched in Jason's fist. Wordlessly, Jason stuffed them back into his pockets.

"You ready to head on patrol old man? These criminals won't stop themselves." If his voice was a little shaky, no it wasn't. Bruce swallowed, but nodded, and if his eyes were a little misty, Jason didn't comment.

I like to think that Jason always has food on him, especially as a kid.

I imagine him walking around the manor with his pockets bulging.

“What do you got in your pockets, Jay?” Bruce asks the first time he sees this, out of pure curiosity.

“None of your business.” Jason snaps. “Why? Think I got jewelry or something?”

“No, not at all.” Bruce hurries to correct. If Jason were stealing from him, he’d be more worried about the implication that he was planning to run away. “Just curious.”

Jason huffs, and leaves.

It doesn’t take long for Bruce to realize that Jason is stuffing his pockets with food. And not stuff like candy or cookies like Dick used to do on patrols, but more hardy foods like granola bars.

So he starts telling Alfred to get more packaged non perishables. A variety of granola bars, cheese and crackers, even juice boxes. And he never tells Jason about this, but the food goes missing all the same.

Bruce even puts pockets in Robin’s costume, just to make sure he feels comfortable.

Jason really appreciates it, but they never talk about it.

[suguann]

✎. you aren’t happy about your roommate’s party until you meet the attractive guy down the hall.

tags. fem!reader, future installments will contain smut, age difference, original characters, college student reader, one-night stands, angst, dirty talk, hurt/comfort, size kink, unplanned pregnancy

featuring. simon

It’s your first semester living off-campus, and Finn is boundlessly enthusiastic about all things that involve cheap liquor and crowded spaces, even more so now that she roped you into being her roommate after promising to split the cost of furnishing an apartment that’s probably too expensive for two undergrads working part-time, low-pay jobs.

You don’t like parties, really. 

Movies and the social connotations surrounding parties have always made them seem like some monumental proverbial chip in your college experience; the real thing, once the bright-eyed shine of trying something new wears off, is more or less a bunch of random people packed into a room like sardines who abate their social awkwardness with alcohol and loud music.

So, no, you can’t exactly say that you enjoy the thought of Finn’s friends (and everyone she hardly smiles at) cramping up your already tiny apartment—especially when one of them is Miller from one of your business classes, who gives you the creeps. 

And leave it to Finn to invite him, anyway.

"Now he knows where I live," you grumble into your bowl of cereal—something probably too sweet and (definitely) full of sugar for breakfast.

Finn shrugs, not at all worried for you, as she pours more sticky orange batter into the hot pan on the stove. "The guy has a crush on you. I think it's cute. And he seems harmless."

“Harmless until I end up in a ditch somewhere.”

You don’t have to see her face to know she’s doing that thing with her mouth whenever you say something she thinks is ridiculous. “If you’d agree to split the Netflix bill, you wouldn’t be stuck watching horror movies. Why do you only own horror movies, again?”

"That's easy for you to say.” You roll your eyes, ignoring her question. “You don’t have to sit by him every week.”

(As if that would ever convince her to change her mind.)

"Ow! Shit!"

You look up right before Finn drops a steaming pancake onto her hand and rushes to the sink to run it under cold water. The mutilated pancake lay forgotten with the others that didn't survive her last several attempts.

"Finn, I think this is unnecessary," you tell her after swallowing a mouthful of cereal. "Can't you do something more practical? Like sticking a note to their door?"

Finn looks up from the sink, her wild, red curls bouncing from the movement. "Oh, come on! Don't chicken out now. I've already made fifteen of these things." She points her pink spatula at the tower of not-quite pumpkin-shaped pancakes on the counter. "Plus, who's going to turn down free food? Now, go put on your costume and hand these out."

You shovel another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, scowling. "I'm not wearing the costume you picked out. It's so...inappropriate."

You’re pretty sure Finn picked out your costume from the dicey sex shop down the street rather than an actual Halloween store—the amount of mesh compared to solid fabric only solidifies the theory.

Finn finally turns the water off and gives you a stern look, amused eyes set under a furrowed brow. "I can find the one you own in the children's section at Costco."

You roll your eyes. "I really don’t feel like flashing my tits to the neighbors while offering them breakfast.”

She grins, wide and teasing. "You have nice tits, though.”

"Yeah, I'm sure the old woman down the hall would love to see her neighbor in the equivalent of a thong and nipple coverings at the start of her day." You don’t think you’d ever be able to look her in the eye again.

"Miss Yado is cool,” Finn says, returning to the stove to continue cooking. “She'll probably just tell you to wear a jacket or something."

You pick up your empty bowl and lean over the counter to put it in the sink. "I didn't know you talked to our neighbors."

Finn shrugs, flipping the pancake in the skillet. "She normally walks her dog while I'm heading to class. I stop to talk to her sometimes when I'm not running late." 

“Oh?”

She shoots you a wry grin over her shoulder. "You'd know the neighbors too if you didn't scowl all the time."

In response, the corners of your mouth tip down. "I don’t scowl."

"Now, would you go change? These are getting cold." 

Several minutes later, you come out of your room wearing the same costume you'd worn the past two years. Finn pouts when she sees you forwent the one she had picked out. However, she doesn’t do more than shake her head and shove a handful of food containers full of pancakes into your hands.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to smile,” she tells you before the front door closes behind you.

You start on your end of the hall, going door to door and handing out the small containers. The whole time, you’re wondering why Finn couldn’t do this herself, considering you’re hardly a people person as is. Thankfully, nobody seemed too annoyed about being bothered on a Saturday morning—only one neighbor shut the door in your face before you could say anything.

But it’s fine. You’re not going to let it ruin your day. Plus, you only have one person left.

There’s a small pit of nerves in your stomach when you knock this time—half expecting another door to the face. What you don’t expect, however, is the tall and imposing guy who answers.

Who also doesn’t appear to be any less annoyed.

Your mouth opens and closes helplessly, all words stuck to the back of your tongue, watching as stray water droplets drip down from his wet hair and travel down the side of his face before dispersing into the dark stubble lining his jaw.

You stare. And stare. Eyes, most likely, bugging unattractively out of your head.

How did Finn never mention the super hot neighbor who lived six doors down the hall?

He gives you a once-over, and part of you suddenly wishes you’d gone with Finn's costume instead. Only because here, at that moment, you’re willing to admit that maybe the one you have on looks like a six-year-old picked it out—especially when this guy, who is way out of your league, scrutinizes it for a second longer, mostly your frilly crew socks. 

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice low as if he hasn’t been awake for long.

You blink, mild embarrassment rushing through you from the sudden realization that you’ve been standing there and saying absolutely nothing.

"Hi, um, I'm your neighbor from down the hall. My roommate and I are throwing a Halloween party, and we're inviting people in the building." Annoyance slowly melts off his face.

"Thank you,” heavily tattooed arms cross over his broad chest, and he leans against the door frame (and you definitely don’t stare at how his biceps seem to strain against his black t-shirt). “But I think I'm getting a little old for parties."

The corners of your mouth tip up in what’s the beginning of a smile.

"Okay, sure. You're, what, twenty-five?"

It’s a stupid joke, and for a moment, you panic, afraid he’d been unimpressed, but then his lips quirked slightly. "Not quite. Nice costume. Let me guess, fairy?"

"Witch, actually. I’ve always gone with something more original," you babble and bite your lip before you can say something else.

"It’s cute." 

Cute?

You’re unsure if you should feel elated that he thinks so or self-conscious—that he might be making fun of you—so you settle with a mumbled “thanks.”

"So, what's with the container?" he asks, nodding toward your hands.

"Oh, um, my roommate thought she could bribe people with food to come to the party." Truthfully, it’s to prevent potential complaints from the neighbors, but you decide not to mention that part, although you think he knows by the way the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

You give him the plastic container and watch as he stares into it with a furrowed brow. "It's a... pancake?"

"Er, yeah. My roommate likes to go above and beyond for everything."

"What's it supposed to be?" he asks, glancing up at you.

"Um, a pumpkin..."

You look between him and the container and find Finn had accidentally mixed up her presentable pancakes with the throwaways. And the pumpkin shape is...well, it isn't.

"Ah, I see," he nods, his slowly drying hair falling onto his forehead. "That makes more sense."

You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles to the surface. "You think you can do better?"

"Yes, actually," he grins back, all cocksure, with a flash of white teeth. "Maybe I’ll bring some over some time."

"I won't tell her you said that." However, you can't wait to rib Finn later.

"Right, it probably wouldn't make a very good first impression." Then he sticks out his free hand, "Simon."

You shyly shake it—ignoring the little skip in your chest at how big his hand is compared to yours—and tell him your name, too.

His eyes flicker down to his watch, and he curses under his breath. "Well, it was nice meeting you. But I have to finish getting ready for work."

Only then do you take note of the tactical pants and heavy boots he’s wearing.

When you meet his gaze again, you find amusement there, and you consider, with a new rush of mortification, that it probably seemed like you’d been openly eyeing his crotch. 

You clear your throat, the back of your neck feeling hot, and you pointedly pretend your voice doesn’t hitch when you breathe a soft, tremulous, "Okay, sure.”

"Tell your roommate I said thanks for breakfast."

"Yeah, I'll tell her. Um, I guess I'll see you around." No longer able to make eye contact with him, you turn away and begin walking (though it’s probably closer to running) toward your door.

And you definitely don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s still standing there.

You spend most of the party hanging out near the front door, quietly hoping Simon might show up—even though it seems unlikely. After all, he did mention that he’s too old for parties, and a small, insecure part of you wonders if it was his polite way of turning you down.

"The guy was running late,” Finn had tried to reassure you. “I'm sure he was thinking about how to beat expressway traffic before the lunch hour rush hit. Not about the crazy lady in a witch costume running away from his door."

That was the initial deciding factor between your witch costume and the one Finn’s been trying to force you into—only so you don’t have to hear another person call you cute just to seem nice.

And leave it to Finn to jump at the opportunity to help you get ready, though she nearly freaked out when you popped into your joint bathroom with an old tube of mascara that you rummaged out of your nightstand.

"Do you know how many germs are probably on that thing?" Finn’s nose scrunched up as she threw it away in the waste bin near the toilet. "Please tell me you haven't used it since you bought it?"

You had rolled your eyes. "Probably not."

Finn sighed, then smiled. "Luckily for you, I own more than a crusty mascara tube." 

You were about to argue, but when Finn told you to sit on the toilet lid with a dangerously sharp liner pen, you’d clenched your jaw instead, unsure what you were more scared of when Finn brought the pen close to your face: that your friend might potentially stab you in the eye or that you’d come out of the bathroom with raccoon eyes.

Thankfully, when Finn finally finished, neither was the case, except the number of looks you’ve been receiving anytime someone stops in the kitchen to get more drinks is something you hadn’t anticipated—especially when one of them happens to be Miller.

You’ve been avoiding him and his overly bare chest from the moment he walked through your front door. It grew more challenging after Finn left your side (the traitor) to talk to a guy you’ve seen her hanging around with on campus a few times. 

And with the apartment feeling smaller than it already is, you’re only option is to blend in with the group hanging around your kitchen island.

You’ll be fine, Finn said.

Right, you think as you adjust the scanty tube top under your mesh shirt, trying to cover more of yourself with what little fabric you have at your disposal, and you wonder if it’s too late to change—

A knock at the door makes you perk up, regardless of how noisy the room is, with eardrum-shattering music and loud college students. You pull it open, expecting to see Simon on the other side, only to be disappointed when it’s one of Finn’s friends and her girlfriend instead.

"Hey, Roma." You realize you probably sound rude and attempt to give them your best smile—which is more or less a grimace.

Roma smooths out her extremely short referee-style dress. "Sorry, we're late! I couldn't remember where you lived. There are way too many blue apartment buildings around here..."

Everything she’s saying goes in one ear and out the other when you spot Simon stepping out of the door to the stairway across the hall. You hold your breath, waiting for him to look up from his phone.

But he keeps walking.

"Uh, yeah," you say distractedly before speeding up the conversation. "Hey, Finn is in the living room, but I'll see you guys inside, okay? I need to do something."

You step around them to catch up to Simon, which you learn isn’t easy in heels. So you call his name, hoping he hears you and smiling when he turns toward you. And you don’t miss how his gaze trails down your body slowly.

It makes something inside you quiver as you nervously play with the short hem of your skirt.

“Hey,” he says, sounding every bit as tired as he looks—his shirt from that morning now wrinkled with bluish hollows under his eyes—though he tries to hide it with what you think is an attempt at a smile.

And your cheeks burn because you feel guilty. 

"Hey," you repeat dumbly. 

Your eyes lower as his smile melts into one of faint amusement at your lack of tact. You fidget, shifting from one foot to the other. Maybe, you think, you should have let him walk into his apartment before you could embarrass yourself further today.  

After a moment, you meet his gaze again. 

"Uh, I just wanted to see if you still wanted to come over…But I imagine you're probably not up for it, so I’ll leave—"

Simon surprises you when he shrugs his shoulders and says, "Sure."

Your mouth gapes, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Wh-what?"

"I just need to shower and change, and then I'll be over. Okay?"

"I... yeah, okay," your nod is shy, trying not to betray eagerness.

A lazy grin stretches across his mouth. "Nice costume, by the way," he disappears into his apartment before he can witness how his words make you flush.

And you walk back to your apartment feeling a little more floaty than when you left.

masterlist

[swappermanent]

Gym Crush (Part 2)

Read Part 1 by @exploratorytfs.

It’s been a year and a half since the swap, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about how crazy it all was. You might be wondering—why would I trade the life I had? I mean, I had it pretty damn good.

Before all this, I was hot. Not just passable, but the kind of hot that turned heads. I had worked my ass off to look the way I did—hours at the gym, eating clean, all of it. And then there was Edgar. God, Edgar. This dude was a walking Greek statue: broad shoulders, a thick chest, veins for days. I mean, it wasn’t just the muscles; it was the way he carried himself. Confidence, swagger, like he knew he could get whatever he wanted. And yeah, I guess at the time, he was my boyfriend.

But even with all of that—being hot, dating a hunk like Edgar—I just couldn’t do it anymore.

You’re probably thinking I’m nuts. I mean, guys like Edgar don’t come around often, especially not for guys like me. Let’s be real, most dudes who look like him wouldn’t even give a trans guy like me the time of day. So, yeah, I was lucky. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I should’ve been happy, but the truth is... I wasn’t.

Why? Well, Edgar. He wanted me to be this perfect, submissive, fem bottom. And look, I’ve got nothing against that. There are guys out there who rock that vibe, who own it, and good for them. That’s just not who I am.

I know, I know—saying this out loud would probably get me canceled in half the gay bars across the country. But I really am masc for masc. Always have been. I’m not saying it to be some sort of gatekeeper or anything; it’s just... that’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.

And it’s not just about who I’m attracted to—it’s about me, too. My whole life, I’ve been trying to prove I’m man enough. To the world. To other guys. Hell, even to myself.

Transitioning was the first step, obviously. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to look the part, you know? That’s why I inked myself up. And the gym was my second home, but even after countless hours of sweat and dedication, I could never quite bulk up. No matter how much protein I shoved down or how hard I lifted, my frame stayed twinky.

Don’t get me wrong—there were plenty of guys who loved me for it. I mean, twinks are kind of a whole thing, right? A lot of guys would’ve killed to look like I did, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t feel like me. I didn’t just want to be a guy; I wanted to be a man. The kind of man Edgar was.

And Edgar... he didn’t see me that way. Sure, he’d call me hot, touch me like he couldn’t get enough, but then he’d taunt me. He’d weaponize my body. Every time he called me “pussy boy” or made some comment about how he was more of a man than I was, it chipped away at me. He might’ve thought it was playful, but to me it was cruel. And I couldn’t take it anymore.

Initially, I thought if I just stuck it out, maybe things would change. Maybe he’d see me differently, respect me more. He didn’t. My self-esteem tanked. I started dreading the time we spent together, and eventually, I just... stopped putting out.

And of course, that’s when things really fell apart. Edgar doesn’t do well with rejection—big shocker, right? So yeah, I wasn’t exactly surprised when Edgar came sliding back into my DMs after. But honestly, I wasn’t planning on responding. I’d already been down that road, and I’d told myself after the last time—no more.

Still, when I saw what he was pitching, I couldn’t help but be curious. Swapping bodies with a cis guy? At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, thats even possible. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I got.

The guy Edgar had in mind? Not exactly a stunner. When Edgar sent me his photo, I remember staring at it for way longer than I should’ve, trying to pick out anything redeeming. The dude was... average. A little too soft in the face, a little too plain. But, to be fair, there was some potential there. Barely.

His eyes were nice, though—kind of soulful, in a way that made you think he might be a good guy deep down. And the kicker? He was taller than me by a good 6  inches. That alone had my interest. But let’s not kid ourselves; the real selling point was the fact that he had a cock.

That was the dream, wasn’t it? My own cock. I’d spent years dealing with the disappointment of not being able to fully live out the life I wanted. Transitioning had given me so much, but this? This was the missing piece. In this kid’s body, I could finally live out the fantasy that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years.

I could be the top I’d always wanted to be. I could take guys home, pin them down, and breed them with my own cock and fill them with my own cum. No more strap-ons, no more awkward positioning—just me, fully in charge, giving them EVERY. SINGLE. INCH.

Maybe with a little muscle here, a little polish there, I could make it something great.

So I said yes.

I’m not gonna lie—the first year in this body wasn’t easy. Adjusting to a new frame, new habits, new... everything? Yeah, it was a grind. But if there’s one thing I’ve always had, it’s work ethic. Between that and this body’s naturally high testosterone—and okay, yeah, I might’ve dipped into some steroids here and there—I’d say I built myself up pretty damn good.

Look at me now. I run my own training service. I mean, it’s not like I’m the most skilled coach out there or anything. But honestly? That doesn’t seem to matter much. Guys line up for my programs, and we all know why. They don’t just want my advice—they want to look like me. I’m walking inspiration. Living proof that the dream is achievable, or at least that’s how they see it.

And man, the way people treat me now? Everyone’s calling me “bro” or “dude” every other sentence. Not that they didn’t before—I’ve always leaned into that vibe—but there’s something about hearing it now that hits different. Maybe it’s the weight of my cock swinging in my shorts as they say it. It’s like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Everything just feels... right.

And the best part? This manhood of mine? Oh, it’s gotten around.

I mean, come on. Looking like this, how could it not? Guys want me. They crave me. They crave my fleshy, thick, no kidding, natural, beer can of a cock throbbing inside of them.They’ll do whatever it takes to get a night with me, and honestly, who could blame them?

[bbkoolkatz]

hi lovey! Back here with the Kats request sighhhh… (I’m not really that guilty 🫣) I have so many tests this whole week, won’t have much time to do anything at all Ughughughugh sooooo Kats forcing you to study even if you don’t want to 😞 or smth abt studying (not about taking a break tho 🫠🫠) taken too many of those I need to be disciplined to actually study and maybe a reward or punishment just for some extra motivation 🤭🤭

-💫

sorry I took so long bby 💫 lemme know if ya like. n good luck with ur tests ( ͡°³ ͡°)

"sit." katsuki ordered, pointing to the cushion he placed on the floor next to the coffee table.

"but i don't wanna!" you whined, flopping onto the couch dramatically, tossing your books onto the floor as if the table wasn't right there.

"boohoo." he mocked, picking you up from the comfort of the sofa to plop you down by the table. "y'got exams, 'n i'll be damned if I let ya fail 'cause y'wanna act like a goddamn brat."

"ugh, you're so mean," you grumbled, with all the enthusiasm of a child being sent to time-out.

"yeah? keep it up, 'n i'll show ya what mean really is," he sassed, throwing your notes down in front of you.

you silently mocked him, but he just stared at you, as he arched a brow, unimpressed. "y' think 'm jokin'?"

"mmm, I'm gonna say, yeah," you teased, shrugging your shoulders, nodding as you leaned back with a smug grin.

"okay." he leaned over the table, caging you in with his hands on either side of you, his face mere inches from yours. "here's how 's gonna work," he growled, "study like i tell ya to, or yer not gonna like what comes next. ya feel me?"

your cheeks flushed, but you refused to back down. "what makes you think i won't?"

" 'cause it's not a reward..." he folded his arms over his chest.

"a reward?" you blinked as your interest piqued. was that all you heard?... definitely.

"yep," he said, standing up straight, arms still crossed. "y' do what i say, and maybe, i'll give ya somethin' nice. keep bein' a pain in my ass-"

"what kind of reward?" you interrupted, squinting at him as you looked him up and down, suspicious.

"yer gonna have to behave 'n find out," he said with a shrug, smirk widening across his face.

your curiosity got the better of you, and with a dramatic sigh, you sat up straight and grabbed your notes. "fine," you grumbled, "better be worth it..." and mumbled.

"mhmm," he hummed, walking to sit across from you. "now, start with this." he pointed to the section of your notes you'd been avoiding.

you pouted but obeyed regardless, mumbling the words under your breath as you worked through the material. every time your focus drifted elsewhere, katsuki snapped his fingers or tapped the table, to get your attention back.

after what felt like an eternity, you finally finished the first section and you looked up at him, eyes big and hopeful. "do I get my reward now?"

he snorted. "y' finished one part. keep goin', 'n i'll think about it."

"you're evil," you whined, but you turned back to your notes, determined to earn whatever 'reward' he had for you.

by the time you'd finished another section, your head was spinning, and your patience was wearing thin. "can i have my reward now?" you asked, edgey and maybe a little desperate.

katsuki leaned back in the couch, red eyes flickering from your eyes to your pouty lips. "think y' earned it?"

you nodded, your entire face lighting up. he leaned forward, grabbing your chin and tilted your face up to meet his. he pressed a soft, slow kiss to your lips. "there ya' go." he rasped, face still barely a centimeter away from yours.

your heart raced at the action, and your cheeks grew hot. but before you could respond, he pulled back. "now get back to work."

"that's it?!" you complained, cheeks red with embarrassment. "i thought there'd be more..."

"keep workin'," he said, ignoring your outburst. "maybe y'll get 'more' if ya finish it all."

mlist!

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Twenty

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Twenty: Investigative Transfer

Summary: Akechi begins to investigate Saiki's "psychic-ness."

            “You’re (Y/N) (L/N), right?” said Akechi, appearing behind (Y/N) in the hall. It was between classes, and (Y/N) jumped. Akechi didn’t give (Y/N) a chance to respond and barreled right into his next question. “You’re in my class. You sat with me at lunch. I just wanted to make sure you knew who I was. I noticed you and Kusuo seemed to be close.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and they opened their mouth to speak, but Akechi continued.

            “I have a few questions about Kusuo. What is he like? Has anything strange ever happened around you while he’s there?” said Akechi.

            “Not really,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “Everything is fine with him. Sometimes we’re around weird, but fun, people, so there’s that, but Kusuo doesn’t do anything weird.”

            They don’t think of my abilities as weird. From the floor above where he was listening to the conversation, Saiki smiled slightly.

            “Anything unexplained? Sudden things appearing or disappearing? Things moving how they shouldn’t?” Akechi leaned in. “You’re obviously the closest to him. Are you just friends? Or are you dating?”

            (Y/N)’s face turned completely red. “I—”

            “Judging by your reaction, you’re either dating or at least have a crush on him,” said Akechi. “Do you have a crush on him because he’s a psychic? Is he impressive? Do you have proof of his powers?”

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “I like Kusuo—” I love Kusuo “—because he’s a good guy. He’s nice and helpful. Anything else doesn’t matter. Who cares about stuff like psychic powers?”

            Oh, wow. I love (Y/N). Those words sent him head-over-heels for them again.

            “So you don’t see him doing anything weird?” said Akechi.

            “Nope. Everything he does is just Kusuo,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Akechi deflated slightly. “Thank you for your time.”

            Saiki breathed a sigh of relief. He could really rely on (Y/N).

l

            “Line up!” said Matsusaki, the sun beating down on the class. They stood in gardens, reading for their jobs. “We’re digging up potatoes, today.”

            Our school does this every October, thought Saiki. Yare yare. We’re not little kids. Nobody gets excited—

            “Let’s dig up potatoes!” said Hairo.

            “Yeah!” cheered the other students.

            I’m proved wrong.

            “We’re fart after eating sweet potatoes,” laughed Nendou.

            An idiot.

            “You can’t hide from me,” declared Kaidou dramatically. “You can’t escape my Sweet Potato Radar.”

            What a useless radar.

            “A golden treasure lies in wait!” said Mera.

            She’s insatiable.

            “If I can get a few potatoes, I can make potato-based bread,” said (Y/N) thoughtfully. “That’s very good.”

            “Let’s get to work, then,” said Saiki. A good pastry from (Y/N) was all the incentive he needed. He grimaced as soon as he stepped into the fields with (Y/N). His one weakness would be present, unfortunately. “Bugs…”

            “What was that, Kusuo?” said (Y/N).

            “Nothing,” said Saiki, pulling on his gloves. At least he was working with (Y/N). I’ll just pretend to dig.

            “Hi, there, Kusuo, (L/N),” said Akechi, appearing beside them. “Can I join you? We harvested potatoes once. It was October third in second grade when I was on the bus with you and peed my pants. I caused so much trouble then.” He crouched beside (Y/N) and Saiki. “Potato harvesting is fun, isn’t it? It makes me smile.”

            “I hope it doesn’t make you pee.”

            (Y/N) nudged Saiki in the side for that comment.

            “Kusuo, watch your feet,” said Akechi. “You might step on a worm.”

            Sure enough, Saiki looked down and saw a bug. He jerked back immediately. “Crap!”

            “Are you okay?” said Akechi.

            Saiki swallowed. I held it in. That was close. He had almost exploded all the potatoes up from the ground. If I did that in front of this guy, it’s all over.

            “You don’t look well,” said Akechi.

            “Don’t worry, Kusuo,” said (Y/N). They picked up the caterpillar and set it on a bush farther away so it could eat and grow. They smiled back at Saiki. “I’ll protect you from the bugs.”

            “Are you an angel?” blurted out Saiki, and (Y/N) laughed.

            “Hey, pal, pinky, look what I harvested!” called Nendou, holding up a dozen giant potatoes.

            “Great job, Nendou,” said (Y/N).

            “Those are impressive potatoes,” said Akechi, thankfully distracted.

            “Right? His are even better, though,” said Nendou, gesturing to Kaidou. “Show them.”

            “Shut up,” huffed Kaidou. “Here.” He held up a few shriveled potatoes.

            “So tiny.”

            “Impressive, little guy!” laughed Nendou. “The skinniest potatoes!”

            “Shut up! It’s about how they taste! Not how they look,” said Kaidou defensively.

            “Those will definitely taste bad,” said Saiki.

            “Yeah,” agreed (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Did you know that the purple color of these potatoes is due to a pigment called anthocyanin?” said Akechi.

            “What’s that all about?” said Nendou.

            “My character talks a lot, so I need to talk now or you’ll forget,” said Akechi.

            “I don’t think we can forget you,” chirped (Y/N). “You leave an impression.”

            “That’s not a good thing.” I should leave while Akechi is busy. He took (Y/N)’s hand and pulled them away with him a few steps.

            They paused as they looked at Mera, who stared up at them tiredly. She had been harvesting so quickly she was already tiring. Saiki blinked. (Y/N) blinked. Mera blinked. Saiki patted her on the shoulder, and a light burst for a moment. An energized Mera jumped up and walked off for more potatoes, leaving a few for Saiki to pick up without having to face any bugs.

            “Go and prosper,” said Saiki as Mera happily went searching for more food.

            “Bye, Mera!” said (Y/N), waving.

            “Did you already finish, Kusuo? When?” said Akechi, appearing behind them.

            “When you were rambling about potato taste and color,” said Saiki.

            “But your gloves are still clean,” observed Akechi. “Did someone help you? You can’t have someone else do it.”

            “Kusuo and I were working together. He spotted the best plants, and I pulled them up,” said (Y/N), smiling and holding up their own dirty gloves.

            “The whole point of this exercise is to serve the community, so he should pull at least one for it to be fair. Come on, Kusuo, let’s do this,” said Akechi. “Help me clear away these vines.” He tossed a vine to Saiki.

            Instantly, Saiki’s eyes narrowed in on the worm about to crawl onto his hand. He sucked in a breath.

            “Look at this one, it looks like a turd!” said Nendou, showing a strange potato to Kaidou.

            Bam! It exploded.

            “It blew up!” cried Kaidou.

            “Oh, something happened,” said Akechi, looking back. He looked at Saiki with an evil look on his face. “Let’s continue.”

            He figured out I hate bugs…

            He knows Kusuo’s weakness.

            Kusuo hates bugs! though Akechi. Enough to unconsciously use his psychic powers. I’ll find some more.

            Saiki shivered and braced himself as best he could as Akechi approached. “Here, Kusuo,” said Akechi.

            “Oh, Akechi, watch out,” said (Y/N), interceding with a smile. “There are still some bugs on the vine.” They took the bugs in their gloves and deposited them back on the ground. “You don’t want to disturb them from their habitat.”

            “Oh. Right. They are good pollinators,” said Akechi, his plan interrupted once again by (Y/N).

            Saiki stared at (Y/N) like they were a real angel in the flesh. Not only had them somehow been nice to the gross bugs, but they had saved him from Akechi.

            “It’s no problem, just be careful. Leave them on the ground,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Kusuo, will you help me pull on these?”

            Saiki nodded and knelt to help them. He knew no bugs were around if (Y/N) was asking him. So, he pulled out a potato, and (Y/N) grinned.

            “There, Akechi. Now Kusuo has helped on both sides of our team-up,” said (Y/N). They gestured to their basket. “We have to head out, now. Bye.”

            Akechi watched them go. They are definitely dating. But are they covering for Kusuo because of that or do they truly not know about his powers?

            You will never find out, thought Saiki. It was bad enough that Akechi was figuring out they were dating and could blab to everyone, but he did not intend for Akechi to learn that his abilities were real.

l

            “Thank you for dealing with the bugs.” Saiki shivered as he remembered them.

            “It’s no problem,” said (Y/N), smiling and putting down a freshly baked loaf of potato bread. It had taken until the weekend to finish it up, but they had the loaf now. “Everyone has their fears.”

            “You don’t,” remarked Saiki. They faced everything easily.

            “I get scared of haunted houses and ghosts,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s only because Toritsuka is a creep and makes everything creepier,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) laughed. “Fair enough. But I am scared of things.”

            “I don’t believe that.” (Y/N) was one of the strongest and bravest people he knew—maybe the strongest and bravest.

            “I’m scared of losing you,” teased (Y/N).

            The sudden flirting made Saiki’s cheeks warm, and (Y/N) laughed. “I bring a lot of trouble. Your life would be calmer without me.”

            “My life would be boring without you,” corrected (Y/N). “And I like my life with you in it.”

            “Even when you have to deal with people like Akechi or Teruhashi or Kusuke?” said Saiki incredulously.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), shrugging as if it was obvious. “Kokomi is my friend, and she is growing, maturing. She is so used to her identity being her looks that she’s still figuring out who she is beyond that. I think she’s going to find who she is and be happier for it. So she’s no bother.

            “Kusuke is…eccentric, but I know you and I can handle his ridiculous games.” They laughed.

��           “And as for Akechi…I think he’s just looking for answers. Whatever happened between you two, he’s clearly been left with questions, and I can’t blame him for wanting to understand,” said (Y/N). “If you had just teleported away when I found you teleporting the hotel, I would be confused and try to get answers.” They shrugged. “So I don’t care about all that. I like having you in my life, Kusuo. You’re my boyfriend now, and you were my friend before. Nothing changes that I care about you.”

            “You’re too nice.”

            “And you’re too pessimistic, so we balance each other out,” laughed (Y/N).

            “…Should I tell Akechi?” said Saiki. “Would that get him to leave us alone?”

            (Y/N) looked at him. “Do you want my honest answer?” Saiki nodded. “Probably not. I think he wants to be your friend like you were in elementary school. And he seems like the type that becomes part of our friend group.” They laughed.

            “I don’t know if he wants to be my friend about elementary school,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

            “I…did something I shouldn’t have,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) sat down across from Saiki and held out their hand. Saiki took their offer and held their hand. “You can tell me if you want.”

            “I healed him after he was bullied. He was nice to me, and I wanted to help. I thought he was unconscious, but he had seen everything. He started calling me a psychic, a healer, the next few days, and the bullies started demanding I prove it.” Saiki paused. “I didn’t. I acted clueless. I thought that would stop everything, but—”

            (Y/N) squeezed his hand encouragingly, gazing at him.

            “I found Akechi beaten up again. I saw them standing over him, and I just snapped.” Saiki swallowed. “I destroyed the entire classroom and barely managed to wipe the memories of the bullies of what I’d done. But Akechi saw. And I had to leave schools. All because I lost control and hurt people.” He looked at (Y/N). “That’s why Akechi can’t find out it was real. Because I was a danger. He’ll tell everyone that I’m a danger. And I didn’t mean to—”

            “Of course you didn’t,” said (Y/N), squeezing his hand. “You were six years old, Kusuo. What six-year-old can control their emotions, let alone psychic powers? It was an accident, and it happened because you wanted to protect your friend. No one can fault you for that.” They smiled. “And you don’t know that Akechi thinks you’re a danger. Maybe he just wants to know if you really did help him. You two were friends. Maybe that’s what he wants back. His friend.”

            “Maybe. I don’t know.”

            “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” said (Y/N). “But if you decide to do anything or just want to talk, I’m here, alright? I’m always here.”

            “Even knowing I’m capable of harm?” said Saiki quickly.

            “Everyone is capable of harm. Everyone is capable of good,” said (Y/N). “What’s important is that you choose to do good.” They smiled, lifted his hand, and kissed the back. “That’s why I like you so much.”

            Saiki smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

            “I just say what I think,” said (Y/N).

            “I know.” And it meant the world to Saiki.

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[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 3

<---- Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ---->

[Ao3]

So sorry for the wait! My ribs are really tender right now so I took an extra day to avoid moving my arms as much.

This is mostly a lot of introspective word-vomit (and adorable Mr. Crawling!) Have fun and enjoy!

When you woke up the next morning, bleary-eyed and limbs heavy, you didn’t quite register the weight on your stomach until it moved, long strands of hair falling directly onto your face and into your mouth.

“Pff–” You spit out, eyes blinking open to see your brand new companion looking delightful and far too energetic for whatever time in the morning it is. 

“Hello!” He greeted happily. “You ∎∎∎!” 

“Good morning…” You manage to groan out, gently pushing the brunt of his weight off your chest and watching as he rolls to your side.

You sigh, taking a few spare moments to fully wake up before hauling yourself up, carefully unwinding the gray arms wrapped around your body. Your morning routine was quick, methodical, and you hardly realized when you finished draping your futon on the balcony to air out until you approached your now-empty tatami mats and only saw Mr. Crawling sitting down patiently. 

You… weren’t quite sure what to do now. Breakfast, maybe? Do ghosts need breakfast? You don’t recall ever seeing Mr. Crawling eat anything at all during your short amount of time together, but maybe that was because his world was a barren wasteland. You certainly saw other evidence of human-eating ghosts in his world. 

Would his behaviors be similar to all those myths and legends– or at least to his fellow ghosts? Getting… human flesh to feed him wouldn’t be easy, if he liked it at all. But, you’d much rather him feast on someone else rather than on your own flesh if your hunch was right. You doubt he’d do much else than nibble at an unimportant limb, but you also never experienced a grumpy Mr. Crawling– or any version of him that wasn’t incessantly pleasant and sweet. He could go crazy, and you, the idiot who housed him and let him cuddle up against your vital organs, would be first in line to his stomach. 

That won’t do. You made it out of a near death-match once already. You’re keeping yourself and your lovely prize of a companion safe and happy. Even if it means having to go elbow deep in blood. While somewhat chilling, the thought bringing up those unfortunate memories, you find it easier to think about knowing that the blood would be from someone you don’t even know. 

An unimportant stranger. A stupid stranger.

Well, finding a person would still take some time. A part of your mind wanders back to the mountains where numerous people are said to have gone missing throughout the year– something to do with another ghost wearing a raincoat and umbrella. An urban legend, but one that’s pretty widely believed in these parts of the city. You don’t find it to be true– after all, you’ve been stuck there before and came out perfectly fine each and every time, so it must be other peoples’ lack of survival skills that killed them out there.

Which was great, honestly. You’d be able to chalk everything up to a nonexistent being. People wouldn’t bat an eye at a nice, young, and good-looking person such as you wandering around in cute looking clothes and ‘empty’ hands. Harmless. A naive adult who was curious and ‘stuck close to the trails.’ You could do that. Besides, it would only be for a few hours every… few weeks, maybe? You imagine harvesting human flesh to be something like cattle– one body would last a very long amount of time in the deep freezer.

Yeah. That would also fit into your schedule, so it all works out. The tedious part would be just finding a loner you could convince to take a run through the mountains to prove their bravery or some random trait like that.

Well, that part can always come later. For now, it was time to settle your needs.

You were hungry, and so you went off to your kitchen after giving Mr. Crawling a brief pat on the head, digging through your fridge for anything you could make.

Your fridge was still full of fresh foods from a grocery trip taken before your whole descent into that world that shall-not-be-named, and it was almost offensive at how nothing really seemed to care about your disappearance, but you could take it out on the food once it gets on a plate. 

You fished out some eggs, rice, and random toppings, combining it into one mixed up bowl and placing it on your floor table as you turned on the television.

A quick offer of a mouthful of your food to Mr. Crawling resulted in his curious face sniffing and staring closely at it before taking the bite– and swallowing it after a few swishes in his mouth. No chewing.

Huh. So, he liked raw eggs? 

You got up to grab two more, swiftly taking your seat on the floor cushion and holding one up in front of his face.

He smiled, inspecting it somewhat. “Object eat?” He asks, poking delicately at it.

You nodded. “You want?” You asked, making a move to show him how the egg was part of the stuff he had eaten.

When he nods, you crack the egg against the counter, holding it above his mouth, ready to break it open. He was briefly– and rather adorably– confused at the action, but opened his jaws wide, showcasing rows of razor sharp teeth.

You didn’t need to pass biology class to know that they indicated a very carnivorous diet. 

You cracked open the egg, letting it drop into his mouth and watching, with mild repulsion, as he swallowed it whole, looking happy and satisfied as he licked his lips.

Well then– raw eggs would tide him over until an actual meal (if he even needs one). Good to know. 

His mouth opened wide once again as you discarded the shell and cracked the second one open, letting it plop into his mouth and go down the hatch.

That was actually kind of fun. A few years ago, you briefly considered getting chickens of your own until you realized just how many eggs a small flock of 3 could produce in a week. Mr. Crawling seems to be an excellent excuse to get some– not after moving out, of course. Well, you doubt anyone here would care if they spot some fluffed up feathers every now and then.

After that brief breakfast, you steeled yourself to continue your normal everyday activities– as if nothing happened.

And you also needed to make an elaborate lie about where you were the past day. You had no doubts that, if you told the truth, you would  be shipped off to an institution and have your companion exorcized within the next 24 hours.

___________________________

Your friends, very concerned, simply would not stop asking you questions and berating your decision to split off from the main group– as if they hadn’t dragged you to the bravery challenge against your complaints.

There were 5 people you needed to comfort. And, there will be about 15 people you’ll need to apologize to for your inability to work– paired with the cordial, expensive gifts and handwritten letter to your boss begging not to be fired. 

Annoying, annoying, annoying.

You patted Mr. Crawling’s head as you searched up the nearest sales. 

At least he was cute. Like a little, loyal puppy. He was so low maintenance outside of his potential human-flesh needs and his desire for attention– which you could most definitely work with. It was nice and relaxing being with him, not having to worry about all the tiny societal rules you had to follow with everyone else. And, now that you were back in your own world, it felt refreshingly nice having someone depend on you instead of it being the other way around. 

You had power here. And it was nice.

“You mad?” Mr. Crawling ask, cheek pressed up against your neck as he looked over your shoulder at your laptop screen, fingers flicking through ads and discount codes with sharp tap tap tap’s that indicated your irritated mood.

“Me not mad you,” You mumbled, hand reaching up to play with his hair. It was nice and soft now, your conditioner having worked its magic. 

“Humans.” You muttered, not particularly in the mood to elaborate.

“Humans?”

“Mhm,” You hum, gently rubbing soothing circles into his scalp and watching, satisfied, as he leaned more of his weight against you.

So, so cute. You couldn’t get enough of him.

<---- Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ---->

[Ao3]

[xxcallmemaryxx]

I’d love a sweet II X reader of him playing with readers hair if you don’t mind :)

He’s sweet and horny. I can’t control him it’s just how he is.

II x GN reader.

Under the cut~ <3 <3

“You have five minutes.”

You almost jump out of your skin from where you lounge on the couch. Your head snaps over to ii, already watching you. Had you not just been daydreaming about him, you might have been able to process this better, but it’s slightly alarming when he looks at you like he already knows exactly what you were thinking about.

“Huh?”

Is all you manage to get out. Your brain not able to catch up quick enough.

“You. You have five minutes.”

He repeats. He sticks his hand out and shows you five fingers, for extra effect. Then he juts his thumb out behind him, pointing down the hall.

“Get what you need and then get your ass in that bed.”

Your eyes follow where he’s pointing, your bedroom obviously being at the end of it. You pin him with a distant look, trying to piece together what the hell has gotten into him. But clearly your lack of action isn’t good enough for him.

“ii, what the fuck are you-“

“Five.”

He’s staring right through you. It’s like he can see and feel every single thought you have about him.

“Yeah I got it. Five minutes-“

“Four.”

He cuts you off again. Unmoving from where he stands.

“What are you-“

“Three.”

Oh yeah. Okay. That kicks your ass into gear. You’re up from where you were laying and you’re moving across the room before he can get the next number out. He watches you move. His lips quirked up just enough to give away his amusement. You pass by him as you move to the kitchen, even after all this time there’s still a little part of you that gets nervous around him.

He knows it. He likes it.

He lands a soft smack to your ass as you pass him. Never would he ever pass up the chance to get his hands on you whenever he can. Really, at this point, you’d be quite shocked if he didn’t.

You don’t even know what you’re preparing for. You assume he’s got something planned, and if history has taught you anything, you know a bottle of water and something easy to eat are musts when it comes to being in bed with ii. You grab what you can, getting some things for him too. You fill up your big water bottle, throw some ice cubes in it and make sure the lid is on tight. You scoop it up and walk towards your bedroom, ii having already made his way there. You walk in on him stripping his shirt off and leaving himself in boxers. The bedsheets already pulled back a little bit. The sound of you depositing the things you grabbed on your bedside table catches his attention. He eyes the things you got and a little laugh leaves him at your selection. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small smile.

“Relax. You won’t even need those.”

He says to you softly, coming around to where you stand and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“But I thought we were…”

You trail off, gesturing to the bed in an attempt to awkwardly tell him you assumed you were about to get your life ruined. His lips quirk again, this time a bit closer to a smile.

“Not quite. Maybe tonight.”

He says as he pulls away from you, choosing to stay cryptic. He leaves you standing there, less nervous than when you walked in but still extremely unsure about what the hell he wants right now. You try not to let his implication for his later plans get to you, but he reads you like a book.

“Stop it. Don’t think about that right now. Get undressed and get into bed. Don’t make me count you down again.”

His soft smile is like a drug, you want more of it every time you get it. You strip down to your underwear, matching ii, and you both get into bed together. The sheets are clean. He’s just got done remaking the bed, you can’t help the happy groan that slips from you when you realise. You sink further under the blankets and breathe them in. The sigh of pure comfort tells ii everything he needs to know.

“It’s nice, huh?”

He asks you, his voice so soft as he watches you with his own happy smile.

“So nice… I love clean sheets…”

This pulls a little laugh from him. He lets you enjoy the feeling for a few moments longer while he shuffles around to get himself comfortable.

“Alright. It’s my turn now.”

He mumbles to you, opening his arms for you to slot yourself into. His body is warm, his skin soft. He smells like him. It’s perfect. You take no shame in breathing him in. Pressing your nose into his neck and audibly enjoying every part of him.

His arms wrap around you, but instead of holding you like he normally does, this time they end up in your hair. His thick fingers digging into your scalp and dragging through the strands of hair he can get his fingers through. ii has strong fingers, after drumming for so long sometimes he forgets his own strength, but this is perfect.

So much so that it pulls a slightly surprised sound from you.

“This alright? Been thinking about doing this all day.”

He admits quietly, his hands still buried deep in your hair.

“Fuck, ii…”

Is the only response he gets. A delighted groan.

“Hmmm, I’ll take that as a yes…”

I murmurs into your hairline, leaving a soft kiss there.

“You were thinking about this? My hair?”

You ask him as best you can without slurring your words to an embarrassing level.

“Mhm, it looks so soft today. Smells different too. You use something new?”

He asks you, his nose still buried in your hairline, taking a good whiff of you just as you did to him.

“It’s your stuff… I ran out…”

You admit to him with a little smile pressed into his chest. You didn’t think he’d notice so fast. Figured you’d be able to get away with a wash or two with his shampoo and conditioner before getting new bottles of your own. Apparently you were absolutely stupid for assuming that.

“Fuck that’s what it is… you smell like me. I couldn’t figure it out.”

This time he takes a much deeper whiff of your hair, humming to himself, pleased with this revelation.

His fingers are still playing with your hair. Tangling them up in the strands and then digging his fingertips into your scalp just enough to turn your brain to mush every time he does it.

“Hope you don’t mind… didn’t think you’d clock it so soon.”

“Love, I notice the second you do something different. I noticed it the moment you stepped out of the shower this morning. You can’t hide anything from me.”

You can hear the smile in his voice again, either proud of himself for knowing you so well he’s able to pick up on the smallest of differences. Or, just amused that you thought you could hide anything from him at all. No matter the size.

“If you weren’t actively massaging my brain I might’ve been slightly terrified… or turned on… not sure yet…”

He huffs a soft laugh into your hairline, pleased that you’re enjoying this moment with him. He watches the way his hands card through your hair, loving the way it looks all wrapped up around his fingers.

“I can make you both at the same time, you know this.”

He says things like this so nonchalantly, it drives you nuts.

“You need to be neutered.”

You mumble into his chest, silently glad he’s unable to see the way your face undoubtedly turns red.

“No… I just need my love.”

He mumbles sappily, leaving little kisses along your hairline again. It sounds innocent enough but you know that not so deep down he’s having incredibly impure thoughts.

“Focus on the task at hand, hotshot.”

He smiles into your forehead. Tugging just slightly harder on a handful of hair than he has been. A warning.

He keeps a mental note to remind you to stop buying shampoo and conditioner. His one suits you much better. It suits him too. You smell like him. He’s beyond fucking delighted. This scratches an itch so deep in his brain. He can’t even try to explain just how much he loves it. Maybe just about as much as you love clean bedsheets.

.

.

.

Love you guys thank you for reading.

[bathic]

⌜KHJ/FR/JWY⌟

It wasn’t like McDonald’s wasn’t hiring, or the grocery store down the block didn’t blast on every job-finding website about how they were in desperate need of young, fresh, youth with little to no experience to bag customers purchases. And while you and your two housemates wouldn’t knock it for the ones pursuing those opportunities; that line of pay was just not enough to make it work. And sex sells so much better than burgers. ↳ Warnings: Camera sex, Frottage, mentions of threesome, filming sexual acts, hand-jobs, two dicks in one hand (lmao), some cum.

“Could you just… yeah… a little to the— no, too far. Okay, keep going… stop!” You switched your sight on the viewfinder, fingers adjusting the focus and leveling the brightness out.

“I get we are amateurs, but shouldn’t you have had the camera at least set-up and ready before we got our cocks out?”

“I just bought this thing yesterday, cut me some slack, Joong.”

[Camera zooms in; focus blurs]

“Dammit—“

“Should have spent the rest of the afternoon yesterday figuring out how to work that thing instead of running off to hook-up with San at that stupid frat party.” Hongjoong looked at you with a very mild expression of exasperation. Propped back on his elbows with the bottom of his long-sleeved shirt shoved above his pecs to display his entire abdomen in all its fleshy glory— from dusky nipples to the barely visible happy trail that paved a nice little path to his flaccid cock.

“He’s got you there.”

You fixed Wooyoung with a half-hearted glare, “I wasn’t ‘running off to hook up’ with San… okay, I was— at first. But when I got to his fraternity house, the poor guy was in total freak-out mode.”

[Camera focuses]

“Shit, I think I got it—“

“Finally!”

“Why was he freaking out?”

When you look back up, Wooyoung is mirroring Hongjoong’s pose; laid back on elbows, legs bent at the knees up and spread to give a hood eyeful of his thick tanned thighs, soft cock and the dark bush at the base of his shaft. He chose to not roll his black t-shirt up but plucked the bottom of it up and mouth so that every bit of skin below his belly button was visible.

“Apparently,” You shift to position your hand comfortably into the holding strap, finger perched at the ready against the recording button. “Jongho and his roommate had decided to use his room for some fun and got caught using one of his stuffed animals as a knee cushion.”

Wooyoung seemed to know exactly what you were talking about despite having asked the inquiry to San’s emotional state, snapping his fingers with widened eyes. “The blowjob video! Remember,” He faces Hongjoong with his lips pursed outward, eyebrows raised excitedly. “I mentioned that Jongho and his roomie had sent a recording of her sucking him off to rile me up. That was that!”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze back to you.

“Are you ready? The draft in here is making my foreskin cold.” He grimaced at the chill causing his skin to pebble up on his exposed stomach.

“Ready when you both are.”

Wooyoung grumbled under his breath, pouting slightly at having the conversation completely stunted before it even got good. Leave it to Hongjoong to be a buzzkill.

“Wooyoung, the lube.”

The younger of the two men reached an arm back blindly to grab at the abandoned bottle of non-scented lubrication, popping the cap with his thumb and squeezing a copious amount of clear goop onto his palm. You swooped in to collect the bottle and tossed it out of frame. Wooyoung looked over at Hongjoong to see him eyeing the slight bubbled blob with a curled lip.

“What?”

“You’re jerking us off not sticking your fist up my ass. Was that much really necessary?”

Wooyoung groans, head flopping back dramatically. “Do you have to complain about every little thing someone does?”

Before Hongjoong could settle into ‘not everyone, just you’ speech, you interrupted with a shove to both of their knees. “Save it till after we’ve filmed this, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Wooyoung without further comment, scooted closer to Hongjoong until the back of their bare thighs touched and balls lightly pressed together. His hand curled around his own soft cock first, giving it a couple tugs before moving to curl his long fingers around Hongjoong’s. All three of you watched the tricky finessing, the lube making it harder to really wrangle both cocks into Wooyoung’s fist.

“Joongie, move a bit closer. Can’t grab your cock—“

Hongjoong huffed, ignoring the heat burning at his ears and neck as he inched closer. The feeling of his skin shifting and pressing tight against Wooyoung’s made his cock twitch, something he chose to ignore in favor of adjusting himself back onto his elbows and letting his legs widen for the camera in your hand. You gave him a thumbs up, peeking from over the viewfinder.

“Lookin’ good.”

Wooyoung, with his lubed hand now properly wrapped around both of their cocks, gave the signal for you to press the record button.

[Red light blinks on; timestamp appears onto screen of viewfinder; camera recording]

Hongjoong looks at the camera, at that red indicator for a good long second before shifting his gaze down at his lubed cock, held firm in Wooyoung’s fist. Seeing the slightly flushed head disappear then reappear alongside his roommate's bulbous tip, wrinkled skin tugging back like the wrapper on a push-pop, made every grievance he had for this ludicrous idea burn up into thin speckling’s of ash. The sight was undeniably hot, to you, to him, to Wooyoung who had let pretty little whines fall past his self-bitten lips without a single care.

“Fuck—“ Wooyoung flexed his fingers a bit, adjusting some to bend closer to his inner hand so that the blunt ends of his nails lightly scratched against Hongjoong’s shaft.

You watched them through the viewfinder with rapt attention, sucking your bottom lip between teeth. It doesn’t take a scientist to admit how downright good-looking your housemates are, both tanned, nicely built without the overdone bulging muscles of some steroidal chemical, pretty thick lips and shapely noses. You remembered briefly after a long night bar hopping with a couple of your girlfriends— one slurring over her words as you stumbled to maintain not only her deadweight but your own decline in equilibrium, that she thought you were not only the luckiest person to be alive and the most stupid… to also be alive.

At that point, you had been housemates for about two years with Hongjoong and Wooyoung. And only that.

To her— that made you the biggest idiot on campus. Living with two of the finest men and yet all you ever did with them was watch reruns of SNL and play ‘who can chug the most seltzer water within thirty seconds without throwing up’— Hongjoong holds that title quite proudly, even if he ended up vomiting just a moment after you did. Wooyoung didn’t even last the first three gulps before blowing the drink out of his nose and subsequently choking on the remainder that escaped down the wrong pipe.

No, you didn’t sleep with them… at first.

But now all three of you had just passed the mark of four and a half years of living together and somewhere down the hazy path did you end up with Wooyoung’s cock far down your throat while taking up one of the few stalls with a working toilet in some grimy underground club, knees bruised with small squares of toilet paper you thought would help cushion them imbedded into your skin. Hongjoong, an idea that wasn’t so grand, ate your pussy out on the couch after eating extra spicy jjajangmyeon (curtesy of you and your need to bet on everything) which caused an unfavorable burn to light up between your legs. And while both instances weren’t exactly ideal, they did open the doors into something physical between the three of you.

Something that came with a whole inner circle of friends and a long conversation of not-so exclusive exclusivity.

You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted whenever you wanted— as long as it was only with those in that inner circle. Which meant the mutual friends that bridged between Hongjoong and Wooyoung were fair game, something they themselves agreed on, except for Jongho whom preferred to keep his ‘benefits’ with his own roommate. You had no objections so long as they also kept to the inner circle and even encouraged them to try things with a few of your own friend's (Wooyoung to dabble with Jongho and his roomie for example).

Hongjoong parted his fingers down the center, using the triangular space to slot the base of his cock into, a huffy moan rattling up from his throat. He squeezed— once, twice, three times with every downward drag of Wooyoung’s hand, his nails igniting a tingling path in their wake.

“I can feel your balls twitching against mine.”

You would have laughed if not for the heavily erotic situation. Wooyoung fisting their combined cocks while panting roughly, eyes lidded and focused solely on Hongjoong across from him.

Hongjoong fared no better. His skin flushed from his cheeks down to his neck and along his exposed abdomen, nipples hard where they catch against the crumpled fabric of his shirt lying sloppy against his upper chest. He watched the camera, giving the lens sultry looks and unabashed moans. It made you feel like he was looking at you through the camera.

“Yeah? Feels good… shit, your hand feels good on my cock.”

Wooyoung rolled his head back with a perfect view of every knob along the column of his throat, a gravelly groan shifting his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t— Don’t say things like that, might blow my load early. Wanna… fuck… wanna come together.”

You figured that Wooyoung was playing it up a bit but taking a real good look at his raised brows and parted lips, the sweat on his upper lip and forehead telling enough of how much he was truly into this. Mutually jacking off his roommate and himself struck a profound nerve somewhere within him— it almost made you just a tad bit envious.

Hongjoong’s toes curled, the dribble of precum he could feel at his tip caught on the camera. If you tried hard enough, you could practically imagine the taste of it on your tongue. That thought alone was enough to make your shift a bit, careful not to shake the camera out of focus.

“‘M getting close, Youngie. Go faster.”

Wooyoung’s slicked up hand moved quicker along their cocks, tightly squeezing both shafts and jerking from the base to the tips in one long drag. The rubbing, the moaning, the heat and the skin contact from one underside to the next was enough to throttle Hongjoong over the edge, his cum bubbling up in short spurts that coated his roommates hurried fist. Wooyoung befell to his own orgasm, shuddering enough that his leg accidentally kicked out and shook you from your kneeled position. His cum shot up like a milky geyser, splattering over his shirt and both of their lower extremities.

You gaped at the amount before clicking the stop button and moving the camera from away from your face.

“Dude… I think we might have just made something that’ll pay next month's rent in full.”

Hongjoong huffs, head lolling to the side to lay on his shoulder. “You think?”

Wooyoung plops back, his chest heaving and soiled hand rubbing mindlessly across a clean patch of his shirt.

“I can’t feel my legs— or my arm.”

You scooch closer to them, knees knocking into the sides of their lower legs. “I don’t think— I know. Definitely one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen before. To be honest, I’m a bit jealous.”

Hongjoong reaches a handout to gather some of his and Wooyoung’s cum from his inner thigh, presenting his evenly coated fingers to you with a sly curl to his lips.

“Can’t forget to pay the camerawoman.”

And you wouldn’t dare dream of rejecting such a lovey offer.

[bumblesimagines]

i'm going to scream.

did you two have a nice chat?

are we really doing this now?

Kiara Carrera

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: None!

Tell a friend to tell a friend... I'm backkkkkk

"I'm going to scream."

Sarah huffed out a chuckle, brown eyes peeking over the magazine in hand to eye her friend as Kiara made her way over to the counter. The scowl on her face spoke volumes and Sarah only had to peer at the dock to locate the source of Kiara's irritation. There, standing on the dock by one of the boats, stood (Y/N) and a vaguely familiar girl. Everything about the girl's body language screamed flirtatious but (Y/N) either remained oblivious or ignored it in favor of continuing the conversation. 

"You know her?" Sarah asked, leaning back in her chair and resting the magazine on her chest to focus her full attention on Kiara as the brunette aggressively tidied up the area around their register. Kiara gave a hearty scoff, her eyes rolling so hard Sarah wondered if it hurt before she rounded the counter to stand beside her. 

"Of course, I do." Kiara groaned. "Back when (Y/N) and I still worked together, she'd come in almost every day just to talk to him. Mom thought it was so cute and romantic but it was just a pain in the ass! And now she's popping over here too? She doesn't even fish! Nobody in her family fishes! Her dad owns a convenience store!" 

Sarah snorted and quickly clamped her teeth into her lip to avoid the snickers from flowing out. Kiara shook her head, her brows tightly knitted and her lips pulled taut into a frown. It'd been amusing for the pogues (borderline became entertainment at one point) to watch the fierce rivalry between Kiara and (Y/N) take an abrupt turn into obvious feelings. Sarah lost count of the number of times she teased Kiara over it, cooing in her ear until Kiara swatted at her with burning cheeks while JJ and John B egged (Y/N) on. It'd only taken a devious plan from Cleo to finally push Kiara into confessing. 

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath new weight, drawing their attention onto (Y/N) as he stepped into their little shop, his smile immediately greeting them only to falter when he took in his girlfriend's expression. Sarah rose from her chair, carefully and slowly closing the magazine as Kiara folded her arms over her chest and arched a challenging brow.

"Did you two have a nice chat?" Straight to the point with a sharp tone, typical Kie. Kiara had never been one to sugarcoat things, much less beat around the bush when something bothered her. It'd been one of the many traits they all loved about her. "It's crazy how she came in here asking about so much and then left with- how much exactly, Sarah?" 

"Uh," Sarah cleared her throat and lifted her chin. "Nothing."

"Yeah, nothing."

(Y/N) stared at them, the confusion on his face melting away into a bemused quirk of his lips. "Are we really doing this now? Like, right now, in front of Sarah and whoever else stops by?" His brows lifted, only offering a soft scoff when Kiara jutted her hip out and placed her hand over it. "You're unbelievable, Kiara. Don't you ever get tired of being annoying?"

"Don't you ever get tired of pissing me off?"

"It's part of my charm, babe. It's why you love me." 

In an instant, all the fiery emotions that accumulated vanished, leaving behind a flustered smile and a half-hearted eye-roll. "Yeah, well," She cleared her throat. "You can use that charm and help me tend to the register where I can keep an eye on you."

Quirking a brow, Sarah glanced between the two of them. "You guys have a weird way of flirting."

[ask2ps]

2p Italy and 1p England would be besties. I can see they shit talking people and being a general menace/chaotic evil together. You can see it as ship if you want to, but I like to see it as platonic/found family. Two chaotic evil creatures bonding over the fact that they’re both menaces to society.

/lh /nay

You know, since 2P!Italy goes into the 1P world first, he and 1P!England actually have a LOT of time to interact!

As my mind turns, I consider the following:

Arthur is definitely amused at first by "Feliciano" suddenly acting kind of different. They've never been particularly close, because Feliciano's... (gestures) er, joviality doesn't really settle well with Arthur. He'd appreciate the change of pace with 2P!Italy. Misery loves company, and 2P!Italy is nothing if not miserable.

Of course, it couldn't be too obvious: a fun part of the 2P!Takeover to me is that (with some poor actor exceptions hem hem PRUSSIA hem hem) it's hard to tell who has been taken over and who hasn't. Really fuels into the paranoia later.

In the beginning, I could see them being pals for sure. But I also consider both of them too closed-off and distrusting to really get close to one another. For the following reasons:

2P!England is sure to let each and every nation know that the 1Ps are, like, totally evil** and whatnot. So 2P!Italy isn't interested in getting too attached to "England's Evil Twin." (you see, of course, the joke is that, actually, Oliver is evil or something?) 2P!Italy regards everything that the 1P's do with quiet scrutiny... (except for 1P!Romano, of course, but that's for later.)

2P!Italy also isn't really excited on getting attached to someone who is going to cease to exist soon, overwritten by his ACTUAL Good Friend England. (Yeah, I imagine 2P!Italy and 2P!England are friends. And as we've seen, 2P!England is kind of jealous of his counterpart, and 2P!Italy knows not to get too close for that reason.)

On the other hand, while England initially takes "Feliciano's" changes in stride, that's only because he's the first. When it happens again, and again, and again-- and it finally occurs to the 1Ps that hey maybe something weird is happening? -- it quits being endearing and starts being frightening. So. Friendship over. Not that it ever truly began. For reasons not even related to the 2P!Takeover, he's just a grumpy old man with trust issues and a lot of self loathing. He didn't trust "Feliciano" when he was too nice, why would he trust him when he's getting a sudden mean streak?

TLDR: They could definitely be chaotic friends. In another universe, that friendship might even have some truth to it. But with the circumstances being what they are (2P!Italy is possessing Feliciano's body to help with a plan that will result in Arthur's eventual "death," and on some level Arthur is aware that something is wrong with "Feliciano,") the fun doesn't last long. A very interesting thought nonetheless, and a little bittersweet. Thank you Anon!

[edledamianfan]

Ride homes late at night sure is a feeling, especially on a high way going at a fast speed on the way home. Looking at the window and u see the whole city below you. The lights and everything, it's just a feeling, fleeting moment that last with u for a lifetime.

I wonder that's what dick felt when he was Robin on the Batmobile. Every single night on the same roads, highways, going out, going back back after fighting crimes.

But there is something missing here.

Having music playing would've been nicer.

It would distract him from his thoughts.

Bats doesn't really do music ... but it doesn't hurt to ask. Well he did say no at first but after dick mentioning his thoughts about his parents and stuff. He reconsidered and ends up approving it.

Spooky decides picks the music until he realised he know nothing about today's music. So it look him a while until he found a playlist he seemed to find nice.

So the next time they're in the Batmobile, when the coast is clear and the night is saved and all they gotta do now is head home. Bats plugs in the USB for the songs and plays them.

Dick knows some of these songs. It's pretty popular in his time and there are some songs that he's not familiar with. But it gets him away from his thoughts so it's somewhat worked. He'll have to listen to it as this now their daily playlist.

The USB then stays there for a while even when dick is no longer here with Bruce, out doing his own thing. He didn't want to remove it.

And then a new Robin comes along. Jason asking what is that USB and Bats offers him if he wants to hear the playlist. He said yeah ofc.

1 min in he's thought to himself that Bats listens to popular songs, although these are kind of old. I guess he's somewhat the same like everyone.

And then Jason died.

USB was not touched again for a while until tim came along. Batman was pretty much on edge during this time, although curious about the USB Tim decides not to pry on it - directly to the man. Instead he sneak in back to the Batmobile during bed time just to see what's the USB is about. And then caught by Bruce himself.

Well he was mad at first but after realizing he was just curious what is in the plugged USB. Bruce decides to just show it for himself what it is about. Tim was definitely not expecting it to be a playlist. Bruce then asks if he wants to play this playlist. Tim just rolls with it.

Then Stephanie came along. She was pretty much straightforward asking what was in the USB. But Bruce was real defensive about it for some reason so Stephanie just shrinked back. He then realized his mistake and offers if she wants to hear the playlist. She happily accepts.

This time Bruce died.

Dick is now stuck with a kid he is not sure on how to handle. Stuck back in Gotham. Stuck in the costume he was trying to get away from.

He wasn't sure on how to do anything but he needs to do so anyways because he's the only one who can do it. This that happens and so the new dynamic duo was formed.

They then got in the Batmobile. And there Grayson is greeted again by that familiar USB. He thought he forgot, Bruce had changed Batmobiles a couple of time and with all that is happening he didn't think that he would remember to bring the inessential USB playlist into the new ride everytime.

He felt his warm all the same again.

Maybe a bit emotional.

But it maybe the inessential USB playlist gave him all the motivation and courage he needed at that moment.

He then stepped on the gas, drive out of the cave.

Into the night.

End note:

This was my playlist I was thinking about. U can check it out if u want! These are most of the songs I remembered that used to be on the car USB. Uhhh this ended up being longer than I thought I was gonna do like a short silly idea but hi if u reached the end 😅

[karmaholik]

“Why are you mad?” Suguru sighs in exasperation. Satoru shoots him an irritated look over his shoulder as he briskly walks away. Suguru jogs to keep, sighing again. This time making a show of it. If Satoru could be dramatic, so could he. Satoru stops and swiftly turns around, vexation etched onto his face. Suguru thinks he looks like an angry kitten. He bites back a laugh at how cute the other boy looks.

“You bit me.” The younger boy blinks, not understanding what Satoru is trying to get through to him. While they were making out, Suguru got a little adventurous. He gave him, uh… What was that word again? Suguru thinks for a minute, mouth twisting in thought. He had read it on some site… Oh! Love-bite. Stupid name, but it severed a purpose.

“Yeah, I know. It was supposed to feel good.” Suguru says with a shrug. Satoru’s eyebrows knit down and he glares. Suguru stops himself from pulling out his phone and taking a picture. It was just too cute. Instead he tries to look as nonchalant as possible.

“It did not /feel/ good, pleasant, nice or any other stupid synonym for that word! It hurt!” Suguru isn’t sure if Satoru is being sensitive, he isn’t really good with pain. Infinity and all. Some people have a pain kink but this was supposed to be more of a nibble of shorts. Maybe he bit down too hard? Or… Wait, maybe be wasn’t supposed to bite at all?

He and Satoru hadn’t done much besides making out and some mindless rutting with their clothes on. Suguru tries to take them to the next and they didn’t even need to have full on sex yet. Suguru is sure he probably isn’t even ready for that himself but if he so much as thinks about sticking his hand down Satoru’s pants the other boy turns bright red and refuses to look at him for the rest of the day.

Suguru gets by with dreams of eating him out and his own hand on his dick. It’s fine, Suguru could wait until Satoru was ready. It doesn’t make it easy though.

Satoru huffs, crossing his arms and turning his glare to the floor. It was supposed to feel good? What the hell was that aimed to mean? He palms the bite on his neck and shivers. It hurt when Suguru’s teeth pierced his skin but… For some reason Satoru wants him to do it again. He would never admit it out loud, it was too embarrassing.

That was kind of problem though. All of this intimate shit embarrassed him. He wanted to go further with Suguru. He’s had SO many dreams about it and he’s sure the real thing would be even better. Making out with Suguru felt amazing. But Suguru tries to go further and every time he freezes up.

Suguru’s arms wrap around Satoru’s waist, pressing up against his back. He kisses the white-haired boy’s ear before resting his chin on Satoru’s shoulder.

Satoru leans against the toned torso behind him, placing his hands on top of Suguru’s. Instantly relaxing into the other boy’s hold. Suguru is always has so much patience with him.

“Well…” He says to get the black-haired boy’s attention. Suguru hums softly next to his ear, not moving from his spot resting on Satoru’s shoulder.

“We could try again?” He mumbles it, face heating up into a bright blush. Suguru hears it loud and clear. He places a loving kiss on Satoru kissing Satoru’s shoulder moving up to place another on the junction between Satoru’s neck and jaw.

He trails kisses to the line of the other boy’s neck until he gets to the sensitive flesh still adorned with his teeth marks. He presses an apology kiss to it before lapping at the broken skin. Satoru squirms but doesn’t try to break out of his hold, small little gasps escape his lips.

It urges Suguru on, latching onto the mark with his mouth and sucks a bruise into Satoru’s pale skin. Satoru can only whine in response.

Suguru forces down a smirk. Screw the biting. If Satoru was going to react like this? Suguru would suck a bruise onto every inch of skin Satoru wants him to.

After Satoru’s newfound love for hickies (also called love bites, Suguru sheepishly admitted he did it wrong the first time), he developed a habit of jumping Suguru at any giving point and demanding one. Suguru is happy to oblige.

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

Bedtime snacks!

Okay… I had some time and Amanda seemed upset when I did my homework before watching the next tape but… wow. That… that was hard. I don’t remember Riley saying the puzzles were this hard. Okay… maybe I felt they were exaggerating because I know they hate puzzles… but I love puzzles! So like… it shouldn’t be this hard right? Sophie thinks. But now she finally has it. The next tape, titled Bedtime Snacks! 

I’m going to need a bedtime snack after this… Sophie thinks to herself. Looking at the time. She puts the next tape into the VCR and it starts to play. The tape begins with Wooly laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He eventually notices Sophie. 

“Oh, hi there friend! Are there ever times where you feel like you just can’t sleep?” he asks. Sophie types in yes. “Yeah… heh heh… it happens all the time. It’s like your thoughts are just whirling around in your head and they just won’t stop! Well… sometimes it’s not even that. Sometimes I just… wait and wait and wait… and I just don’t fall asleep. It’s kind of annoying honestly.” 

Honestly I just stay up really late on my phone or doing assignments and suddenly it’s morning. We’re not the same. Sophie thinks. 

“What do you do when you can’t sleep?” he asks, but no text box appears so Sophie stays quiet. Wooly stands there awkwardly. “Um… good for you? I think? Um anyway, I think a nice bedtime snack can sometimes be good. Like some milk and cookies! But don’t tell Amanda okay? If she finds out we had cookies without her she’ll be really upset.” 

“Maybe you could invite her?” Sophie suggests. Wait, I'm not supposed to talk!

“Well she’s sleeping, and I think she’d be more upset if I woke her up so… hmm… let’s just keep this between us okay?” Sophie types in yes. Wooly smiles. “Don’t go telling Amanda behind my back, okay?” Okay Sophie types. “Ooookay then. Let’s go to the kitchen!” the tape glitches to the kitchen. Wooly is quiet for a bit, as if contemplating something. 

“Milk is so much better at night when it’s warm…” he whispers. “But we don’t have a microwave… so I guess it’ll have to be cold.” Wooly pouts. Sophie clicks on the stove. “I… I’m confused, what do you want me to do?” she clicks it again. “You can talk, you know, I won’t get mad.” 

“You can heat up the milk in a saucepan on the stovetop.” she explains. Wooly’s eyes light up with excitement. Then he stops. 

“But… we really shouldn’t be using the stove without an adult…” he mumbles. His face contorts a bit in frustration, “but it’s been forever since I’ve gotten to make myself a warm cup of milk…” 

He sounds like he’s arguing with himself Sophie thinks. 

“Mmm… weeeeelll. You’re an adult right? So it should be fine! Just… don’t tell Amanda okay?” 

This really isn’t going to help Amanda trust me… but okay… Sophie thinks. “Do you need any help?” 

“Yeah… maybe… I’ve only ever done this in a microwave…” Wooly answers. 

“You’ve done this before?” 

“Yeah I used to have warm milk with my little sister every night… then I’d read her a story… We had this whole routine. She couldn’t fall asleep without it… honestly neither could I… mmmm….” he pauses, “being able to remember her again after so long is weird… but I think I’m starting to see why Amanda wanted to remember her dad and Kate so much…” he stays quiet for a moment, as if reminiscing. Sophie gives him a moment. “So… what do we do?” he asks. 

“Well, like I said, you heat up the milk in a saucepan over the stovetop on low heat…” 

“Great! Can you help me find the saucepan? Is it under the sink, in the fridge, or in the stove?” Sophie clicks under the sink. “That’s… right.” Wooly says, a little surprised by this. He goes under the sink and gets the saucepan. “Now… Could you tell me where the milk is?” Sophie clicks on the fridge. Wooly smiles. “Hehe, great job. Now could you tell me where the measuring cup is?” Sophie clicks on the cupboard. “Wow, right again! You’re a master at this!” 

Honestly I have no idea where any of your stuff is. I'm just picking what I think is the most logical answer. Sophie thinks to herself. 

“Can I tell you a secret? Honestly climbing and grabbing stuff from high places always makes me super nervous… could you grab it for me?” he asks. Sophie clicks and drags the measuring cup down onto the counter. “Awww thanks! You’re so nice! Alright. We need one cup of milk. Can you help me pour it?” Wooly starts pouring the milk in and Sophie clicks on it once it reaches one cup. “Perfect!” Then Wooly pours the milk into the saucepan. “You know what? I like you way better than Riley. Usually Riley always teases us and keeps picking the wrong answers on purpose! But you’re actually helpful!” 

Riley… Sophie thinks to herself. “Yeah Riley tends to tease people they care about. It’s kind of their way of showing love.” Sophie laughs. 

“Well I find it really annoying!” Wooly pouts, “Ah! But don’t tell them that, okay? Um… what do I do next?” 

“You have to simmer it on low heat until it reaches the desired temperature.” Sophie answers. Wooly pauses for a moment, as if considering something. 

“Hey, why don’t you make some warm milk with me?” he suggests. Sophie looks confused. “Turn around,” he whispers. She turns around and realizes there’s a toy mini stove and plastic saucepan behind her. Toys from when she was growing up. 

That’s right… After mom died, dad started using the shelter like it was an attic or something… next to it is a plastic saucepan. She puts the mini-stove dial on low heat and puts the saucepan on it. “Should I… get some milk?” 

“NO! Heh heh… just make believe, okay? Trust me…” Wooly whispers nervously. Sophie comes back to the tv and sits down. “While I watch the milk, can you get the cookies from the cupboard for me?” Sophie clicks and drags the cookies down on the counter. Wooly glances over his shoulder and sees them. “Ah! The milk is done! Which color cup should I use?” Sophie picks blue. “Ah… blue is…” the tape glitches, “nice…” 

Did I make a mistake? Sophie wonders. Wooly pours the milk into the blue cup. He dips the cookie into the milk and takes a bite. Then he takes a big sip of milk. 

“Aaaaaaaaah… this is the LIFE! Honestly… sometimes I can’t get why Amanda wants to leave SO badly! Just give me warm milk and some bubble baths and I might never want to leave.” he sighs. 

“Well you can get plenty of those in the real world too.” Sophie laughs. 

“That’s true… hmm…” Wooly says thoughtfully, as if daydreaming about all the other things he could do, “Thanks for spending time with me Sophie… I don’t like being alone at night.” 

“No problem Wooly.” she replies. 

“Really? It’s not a burden?”

“Not at all.” she smiles. He seems really happy to hear this. 

“This is nice. I haven’t gotten to do this since… well… since before my sister… well… Riley probably already told you…” 

“Yeah…” 

“I know this is going to sound really weird… but it feels nice to have someone to talk to. I mean there’s Amanda… but up until recently we weren’t even friends anymore… and even now it still feels… awkward. And Riley… eeeeeeeeh… I don’t hate them but… I don’t know… you’re different. I feel comfortable around you… you feel safe…” 

“Aww Wooly I’m flattered.” “Hey um… Sophie… Can I talk to you about something? Can I… vent a bit?”

“Sure Wooly.” Oh?

“This is going to sound awful but… this place… was the first place I ever felt safe.” Wooly confesses. “I mean, it was because I didn’t have my memories but still… It was a safe place. And Amanda… was the first person I ever felt like I could lean on. She was safe too. I mean… before that all I had was my little sister and… she needed me to be strong so…I was always either taking care of someone else or on my own. And for once… I felt like I had a friend. Someone I could lean on… even just a little…” 

“I see…” Sophie responds. 

“And then… she ruined it… they all ruined it. Making us remember that this world wasn’t real and we were. And sometimes… I really hate them for it. They were trying to do what was best for us but… they didn’t think any of it through… why screw everything up if you can’t fix it?” Wooly grumbles, then he stops, “Oh, I’m sorry. I know they were just trying to help… and I know you mom died trying to help us… wow that was really horrible of me right? You must hate me now.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Sophie says, “To tell you the truth I… also resent my mom a bit.” 

“Huh?” 

“She was willing to do anything to save you guys… even if it killed her… she didn’t mind dying for this but… what the people she left behind. Her family. Me. Honestly I resented Hameln and… you guys too a little for the longest time. Why do some random kids in a TV show matter more?” 

“I get it… I am mad at my mom too… I mean…  she abandoned us… she was never there… she always just left when things hurt too much… but we needed her… if she had only just been around… maybe she wouldn’t have kil-… maybe things would be different.” Wooly sighs. “Sophie?” 

“Yes?” 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Go ahead.” 

“What do you do when you feel… too many feelings? Too strongly? All at once?” Wooly asks. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean… I feel happy. Amanda and I are friends again. We might actually be able to escape… things might get better but… I also feel… sad… about my memories… and betrayed by what Amanda and Riley did… and… and…” Wooly stops, “Ever since I started really getting my memories back… I don’t know what it is… but sometimes- all the time? I just feel this… something bubbling up inside…  like… I don’t want to blame anybody but…” Wooly glares at his cup of milk. “Then there’s Hameln… and all the things they did and Am-” he stops, the look on his face suggests that he felt like he was just about to say something horrible. “Amanda.” he says it very slowly and carefully, like it’s some cursed word that should never ever be spoken. “I can’t believe I put those two in the same sentence…” he mutters. Wooly grips his cup tightly, watching little ripples form in the milk. “I thought once I made amends with her… my safe space would come back but… after all the things she did… it’s like… I can’t trust her anymore. I don’t want to be mad at my best friend… but… UGH! I hate it! I hate it so much! I shouldn’t be thinking like this!” 

“It’s totally normal to be upset when someone does something bad to you… sometimes it takes time to forgive them… and that’s okay…”

“But… being angry about it won’t fix anything.”

“It’s still okay to be mad…  I mean… it’s not healthy to hold onto that anger-”

“I’m trying to let it go… really…” 

“But it’s not healthy to hold it all in.” Sophie says, Wooly looks conflicted. “Hey… you okay?” 

“Honestly? Honestly? No.” Wooly chuckles sadly, burying his face into his hands, his voice cracking a bit. “I hate this… I hate it here… I hate everything. I’m scared to leave and yet… I don’t want to stay…”

“That is… complicated.” These kids need a therapist… Sophie thinks. 

“I… feel like she brings out the worst in me… like I want to just explode… and she makes me wanna do it. Even if just for a minute… to just scream at the world till my lungs burst… She asks me if I’m mad… I am mad… I’m mad at… everything. At Amanda, at Hameln, at my parents, at all the stupid adults who never listened and never cared, at all the adults who said they were going to help but only made things worse, at Riley, at… at… but I can’t… I can’t do it… I just can’t live like that…” Wooly stops, “I’m jealous… Amanda can just let it all out… I don’t know how she does that… She’s just as trapped as me… and yet she always seems so free…” 

“Maybe you should talk to her about this?” Sophie suggests. 

“No, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just needed to vent a bit. That’s it. That’s all, really.” 

“Are you sure?” Sophie asks, Wooly pauses. 

“Sophie? Do you really think we can get out of here?”

“Um…” 

“Sometimes I don’t even know if I want to… I just… hate uncertainty so much.” 

“Me too…” 

“Sometimes… I wish… that when Amanda killed me… I had just stayed gone…” Wooly mumbles, “At least that way… I wouldn’t have to feel anything again. That way I wouldn’t have to remember… all of this… why did she make me remember? Why did I have to? I just… I…”

“Wooly…” “I’m sorry. That got really dark, huh? Guess I’m no good at this kids show stuff after all… heh heh… but um… thanks for listening, really. It means a lot.” Wooly smiles, “I think… I can… yawn go to… sleep now… could you… tuck me in?” 

“Sure.” Sophie says softly. They glitch to Wooly’s room and she clicks on the blankets. Wooly lets out one last big yawn and says… “Goodnight.” Sophie expects the tape to end but the tape glitches to Amanda in the kitchen. 

“You had milk and cookies without me?” Amanda mumbles, sounding hurt. 

“I’m sorry, it was Wooly’s idea.” 

“I know…” 

“Oh.” 

“I knew it… he is mad…” Amanda sighs. 

“I…” 

“He doesn’t talk to me about anything anymore…” Amanda cries. 

“I’m sorry…?” Sophie wasn’t sure what to say. 

“No… thanks for listening to him… I guess you aren’t so bad…” Amanda says. “I just… I…” 

“You should talk. Both of you…” 

“Mmm…” Amanda looks away. 

“I mean it.” 

“I’ve tried but…” 

“Try again. Keep trying. Don’t give up.” Sophie says encouragingly. Amanda smiles. 

“Thanks Sophie.” the tape ends and falls out of the VCR. She looks behind her at the toy mini-stove, now in the saucepan is a new tape titled: Lunchtime. 

Ah… so that’s why he said no milk. 

Author's note: Alright. That's the last fic for a while. Hope you enjoyed a little fluff there. As I wrote this fic, I found myself slowly creating this interesting dynamic. Amanda really only fully trusts Riley, and Wooly only fully trusts Sophie. Maybe they can use that to their advantage? But wow... Wooly's feeling... A LOT lately... 

Also, trying out some new formatting with the thoughts. Do you like it or should I go back to the old method?

Also... yeah I deleted this post and rewrote the Wooly vents scene. Heh heh...

[legendary-69420]

Billionaire on the Track MOMENTS-3 (Extras ✨)

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME ?) MASTERLIST : RACING HEARTS

The interview was going well—smooth, lighthearted, and full of the usual banter that came with Formula 1 media rounds. Charles leaned back in his seat, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as the reporter posed the next question.

"Charles, being a Ferrari driver comes with some perks, no? Tell us, if you could have any car in the world, what would it be?"

Charles tilted his head, considering the question, then chuckled. "Well, I’m pretty sure that if I ask, ‘I would like to drive this car,’ then Ferrari will make it happen. So yeah, this is obviously very, very special. Whatever car, whichever year, Ferrari can make it happen."

The room erupted in polite laughter, the ease in Charles’ tone and his casual confidence earning a few nods of agreement from the audience.

But then came Mark’s turn.

Sitting beside Charles, Mark Spencer adjusted his watch—a luxury piece that subtly caught the light—and answered with a nonchalant shrug. "Well, I’m pretty sure I’d already own the car I want in my collection."

The room fell silent for a moment, the blunt honesty of Mark’s words catching everyone off guard. Then, scattered laughter and murmurs filled the space.

Charles shot Mark a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised, as if to say, Really? But Mark, as usual, seemed utterly unbothered, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile.

Later, the internet buzzed with reactions to the interview.

"Charles is so spoiled by Ferrari, but Mark is such a spoiled brat…who does he think he is?"

"Wait, how rich is this guy to own every car he wants?"

"I like how he’s crazy rich but never actually mentions it."

"Mark really said 'Oh, I probably already own it' like it's nothing 😭🔥. Must be NICE to be that rich 💸."

"Charles is spoiled by Ferrari, but Mark is on ANOTHER level 😳. Imagine owning every car you dream of 🚗✨. Unreal."

"The AUDACITY of him to say that so casually 😭. I both hate him and want to be him 🥲💀."

"Charles: 'Ferrari will get me anything.' Mark: 'I already have it.' THESE TWO ARE ON COMPLETELY DIFFERENT LEVELS OF SPOILED 😭🔥."

"I swear this man lives in a different dimension 😂. Billionaire + F1 driver + insanely hot?? UNFAIR 💔🔥."

"Mark is out here reminding us all that we’re broke in the most elegant way possible 💀💸😭."

"So Mark’s basically been rich, famous, talented, and handsome his entire life? COOL COOL, I’M FINE, DEFINITELY NOT JEALOUS 🥲🔥."

"He’s so rich, yet so CHILL about it 🤷‍♂️😎. That’s the kind of rich we all aspire to be 💰✨."

Mark’s fans were quick to defend him, though, pointing out that his wealth had little to do with his skills on the track. Still, the intrigue around Mark’s family grew.

At home in Monaco, Charles sat on his couch, scrolling through Twitter on his phone. Every other tweet seemed to mention Mark’s comment or speculate about his background. His curiosity got the better of him.

Arthur, Charles’ younger brother, wandered into the living room, munching on an apple.

"Arthur," Charles said, not looking up from his phone, "do me a favor. Look up Mark Spencer’s family. I want to know who they are."

Arthur gave him a skeptical look. "Why? Feeling nosy ?"

"Just do it," Charles said, exasperated. "He said something in the interview today, and now the whole internet is losing its mind."

Arthur sighed, but he grabbed his laptop and started typing. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. A few minutes later, his eyes widened as he read through the search results.

"Okay," Arthur said, glancing at Charles. "This guy is… loaded. Like, top three billionaires in Italy loaded."

Charles’ eyebrows shot up. "Top three? You’re joking."

"I’m not," Arthur said, spinning the laptop around to show Charles the screen. "The Spencers are involved in everything—Coca-Cola, luxury brands like Louis Vuitton and Gucci, you name it. And apparently, they’ve been doing business with Ferrari for, like, 25 years. It’s practically in their blood."

Charles leaned forward, skimming through the details on the screen. The Spencer name carried weight, not just in Italy but globally. Alessandro Spencer, Mark’s father, was listed as one of the most influential businessmen in the world.

"So, he’s not just some rich guy," Charles muttered. "He’s that rich."

Arthur smirked. "Yup. Makes sense why he chose Ferrari, though, doesn’t it? Family history and all that."

Charles frowned. "Do people think that’s why he’s here? Because of his family?"

Arthur shrugged. "Some might. But listen to this—when Alessandro Spencer was asked about it, he said, ‘My son’s professional life is not affected by his family.’ So, basically, Mark got into F1 because of talent, not connections."

Charles leaned back in his seat, processing the information. Mark was an enigma. On one hand, he was the poster child for wealth and privilege, casually mentioning his car collection like it was nothing. On the other hand, he’d worked his way into Formula 1 on merit alone, proving that he wasn’t just coasting on his family name.

"Interesting," Charles murmured, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He was beginning to understand why Mark carried himself the way he did. There was more to the man than met the eye, and Charles couldn’t help but feel a little more intrigued.

---

The next time Charles saw Mark, it was at the track. Mark was leaning against a wall, chatting casually with a few engineers.

"Hey, Spencer," Charles called out, walking over.

Mark turned, his signature smirk already in place. "LecLec. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Charles crossed his arms. "So, how big is this car collection of yours?"

Mark laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Not Big enough," he said cryptically.

Charles shook his head, a grin breaking through despite himself. "You’re unbelievable."

"I try," Mark said with a wink. Then, as if sensing that Charles had been digging into his background, he added, "You know, you can just ask me next time, instead of sending your little brother on a fact-finding mission."

Charles froze. "How did you—"

Mark simply tapped the side of his head. "I have my ways."

As Mark walked away, Charles couldn’t help but laugh. The guy was impossible to figure out, but one thing was certain—Mark Spencer was full of surprises. (In reality Arthur just mentioned about it when him and Mark were simply texting about casual stuff)

[epickiya722]

Thank you Kiya for being The Number 1 Defender of Izuku and Yuuji...😆😁😄🎖

Every time I read your posts about them, I'm so happy and proudly reblog and even show your metas to anyone who like to badmouth Izuku and Yuuji.

What I love about your metas about them are they're all based on canon. Yes, you also loce made headcanons about your favorite characters but when you defend them against those haters, all your analysis are based on canon material that most people don't really paid attention, too...🥇🏅💐

From that anon before, yes, I've read them in twitter, and got so mad, like why you have to hate Izuku and Katsuki that much?! Thanks for your posts, Kiya...💐🌻

Anon, I am sending so many hugs to you right now! You're too sweet! 😭💜

Yuji and Izuku are my boys, my faves, I just adore them, you know?

This past year or so, I just find myself wanting to ramble whether it do be meta posts or fun little headcanons and I'm glad to see you enjoy them!

Honestly, while sometimes I feel like I maybe reading a little much into the mangas (or anything), I like going back and taking in each detail bit by bit. From what I have seen, sometimes those little details do matter.

(Right now, I have two posts about the last volume covers for JJK and MHA because I have thoughts and I feel like I must say these things before they stay in my head rotating over and over.)

It's really just I have my favorite characters and I hate it when I see people hate on them for reasons that don't really make sense at all!

Like, hate them if you want, alright. Not everyone will like that character. I have characters I don't feel a lot of hype for.

However, when I see people hate on Izuku and Yuji, it's like they post anything just to be "right" about their hatred. Like "I hate this character and I'm right because of this reason." You don't hate to be right about how you feel. Your opinion of a character isn't a fact! It's based on feelings!

You don't have to throw anything to be like "my opinion is a fact".

No, your opinion is BASED on a fact.

When I have my meta rambles, they're my opinions, they're my theories. But I don't just have them and think I'm right. I have them because of what I interpret from canon and then the gears in my head get to turning.

I honestly feel like it's just the "Let's hate on New Gen MCs" trend. Which is weird to me because these some of these new MCs are no different and just as great as their predecessors.

Maybe it's just me, I don't know, but when people say they hate Izuku or Yuji I'm just like "huh".

I'm still trying to process how anybody can find Yuji or Izuku "boring" or "have no development". HUH?! I don't know if they just see that sunshine personality and they're stuck on that "nice characters are boring" mentality. Maybe it's that.

Like, they're both nice and compassionate, but they can also have their moments when they're not. Neither of them is as "pure, naive and innocent" as some people try to portray them as and when people do that, sometimes it is to say "see they're not that badass, not like my GOAT who would body their enemies".

Watching the Izuku vs Muscular fight, I thought Izuku killed that man. Yuji literally has put fear into the curse that embodies the fear of humans... HOW DO YOU MAKE FEAR FEAR YOU?!

Really, it's gotten to the point that even characters that aren't my favorites (or my number one faves) will get hate and that hate make no sense that it makes me go "am... am I reading a different manga?" Yeah, Katsuki is definitely an example. Like, I get it and as I said, hate him if you want. Not everyone will like him.

But if you actually read the manga and watched the anime from start to finish and say "Katsuki doesn't have development", I don't trust you. Yeah, he's an ass and all that but even he is aware. I have seen people defend WORSE characters and hate him..

Could be just me, but I don't know what's fun about being a hater. And I mean, someone is constantly hates and hates and post about it endlessly.

I have things I hate, too and yeah, I will express it. But to do it every single second that you're known to be a hater is wild. And then calling it being "critical"? No, criticism can be helpful. You're not helpful if you just say you hate this thing and then make up something.

That's enough rambling! 😆

Again, Anon, thank you so much!! And I hope you have a lovely day! 💜