#still feel like im missing something though

[bkgexe]

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

[h4venpha]

⸺ midnight serenity

✦ sylus x reader contents: fluff, sylus being playfully mean wc: 979 notes: i said i wasnt gonna write bcs im on vacation, but i was having Sylus Thoughts while at the pool today. maybe trying something new w my writing format..? enjoy anyway! i love soft, playful sylus!!!

the bustling of the city is quiet at one of the many penthouses owned by sylus scattered throughout the n109. being the peak of one of the higher buildings, there’s nothing to focus on but the dark, night sky above, the quiet sounds of rippling of water around you, and the warm, bare chest pressing against your back.

“you’re the one who wanted to swim.” sylus remarks slyly, smirking as he tugs you through the water, wading away from the stairs. much like his other penthouses, this one too has a private pool. long and rectangular with stairs leading down one end. before the stairs is a large canopy with lounge chairs inside, a pair of towels set aside for them afterwards.

“i do, just on the shallow side!” you protest, laughing and splashing up water as you try to squirm out of the hold of his muscular arms around your bare waist. sylus slowly walks you both over to the deeper side of the pool, the far end going as deep as six feet.

“oh miss hunter, you can’t swim? you’d think linkon city’s finest hunters would have basic survival skills.” sylus says, smirking when your kicking and thrashing quickly turns into your hands desperately grabbing onto his shoulders as your feet lift off the bottom of the pool.

“sy!” you squeal, practically crawling up onto his bare frame. your legs wrap high around his torso as you pull yourself up to his broad shoulders, half your body out of the water. you can barely feel it when the cool night air hits your wet, dripping skin.

“do you have no trust in me?” sylus asks, feigning offense as he readjusts to carry you in one arm, holding you to his bare chest to calm your squirming, still wading deeper in.

“you know that’s not what i…” you frown down at him knowing he adores teasing you over the smallest things.

“don’t like the water? you’re just like a kitten, kitten.” sylus snorts at his own words, finding it even more amusing when you smack his shoulder.

“i just…like to feel the bottom of the pool when i swim, okay?”

“you wound me, sweetie.” sulus looks up, a fake pout plastered over his smug face. “do you really think i’ll drop you?”

before you could speak, sylus suddenly jerks his arm down. you squeal, arms frantically wrapping tightly around his strong neck as he pretends to drop you. he knew he was being a little mean, but he couldn’t help the way he loved seeing you seek him for comfort and aid. he knew you weren’t helpless, of course, just… too adorable for him to resist.

“sylus!” your cute squeal and laughter fills his chest with warmth.

“alright, alright, such a fussy little thing.” sylus chuckles deeply, imagining you hissing at him like a kitty. anymore teasing and you’d be getting out of the pool in record rime. with two firm hands, he guides you down, letting you rest your thighs around his hips as he holds you securely to him. “there, how’s this?”

“you’re mean.” you grumble at him, winding down as you drape your arms over his shoulders.

“just testing those hunter reflexes… though it seems clinging to me like a scared kitten doesn’t exactly fit into the neither the flight or fight category.” sylus hums, as if truly pondering the nature of her actions. either way, he wasn’t complaining at all, the feeling your warm, wet skin on his and the way you clung onto him had his blood rushing hot in his body.

you roll your eyes, ignoring the obvious warmth rising to your face, “do you want me to drown?”

“you’re fine, sweetie.” sylus snorted, knowing you were somewhat still grumpy at him for messing around. “i’ve got you, don’t i?” sylus quirks an eyebrow at you, his hands squeezing your hips beneath the water to emphasize his point.

and it did. the thick trunk of his body firmly nestled in between your legs while he easily held you steady against him. you have always been safe and you knew that one way or another. there’s nowhere you were safer than in his arms, because no matter how he teased you, he would always be looking out for you.

“…you do.” you admit quietly.

“still mad at me?” sylus pulls his hand up to gently brush away the small droplets of water on your cheek with his thumb. a few strands of his damp, silver hair fall over his forehead, the rest pushed back over the crown of his head. his low, ruby eyes soak you in, from the sheen of your wet skin to the twinkle of water droplets on your eyelashes. the water ripples quietly around your bodies.

when you silently shake your head after a moment of shyness, sylus grins smugly and slides his wet fingers in to cradle your jaw before bringing you close. he slot his lips against yours slowly, languidly slipping and pressing. your hands feel up, threading back his wet hair before sliding down the back of his head and his nape, to rest against his warm, firm chest. your touch had his heart thumping against his ribcage, full of warmth and tenderness for you.

“i’ll make you make up for being mean to me later.” you mumble a little breathlessly as you pull back, feigning nonchalance as your eyes sparkle up at him, lips tingling from the kiss.

“mm, just as soon as you can feel the bottom of the pool, yes?” sylus snorts, before quickly being met with a swift splash of water to the face. when his fingers glide over your sensitive sides, tickling you, the shine in your eyes and the warmth of your laugher makes him forget about every star in the sky above and the chill of the night breeze.

[revelboo]

Im laughing so much rn. Somehow the starscram blokee came in first when it shipped way after megatron and shockwave. Did this boy really speedrun the mail system? 😭

Can't wait to put him together (on my tree)

Nice! I think TC and Skywarp are supposed to arrive today while I’m at work. I almost regret telling y’all about the figures, cause the price for singles on EBay went from about $13 each to $24 or more now. 🥲 JK- buy the Blokees so they release more characters

Even If It Kills Me Pt 9

Armada Starscream x Reader

• Servos cupping over you as kick out a leg, twisting in his grip to make Runway lift his head with a tired warble. How many times does this make this week alone? When you’ve struggled, fighting against a dream. Or a nightmare and he has no idea how to fix it. How to help, but those small sounds of pain go straight to his spark, make him remember his own tormentor. Because that must be what’s haunting you. Even if it’s over and you’re safe now, the fear is still there, probably always will be. Venting tiredly, he strokes a servo against your spine. Aware of his mini-cons all watching now, upset that you’re upset. And optics shuttering, he begins murmuring at you. Singing in his gruff voice an old Seeker lullaby about bright, endless skies.

• Curling into yourself as you startle awake, you’re aware of a low humming, of guttural, strange sounds and intonations. He’s singing. Afraid to move in case he stops, you relax and listen to him, hearing an aching longing there even though you can’t understand the words. That ache calls to you and you remember the way he’d looked at you when he’d sat on the floor with you and the mini-cons. Like he’d wanted something. Wondering now if he’d wanted you to join him. Sit with him and share a meal. Realizing, you want that even if you know better. Know that hoping for a place to belong can only hurt you.

• Singing faltering when you shift on top of him and he allows you to sit up, he looks down at you. “Please,” you say, those haunted eyes making his spark ache unexpectedly. “Please, don’t stop.” Watching you reach up and scrub at your eyes, he presses the tips of his servos against your spine, feeling the beat of your heart. And even though he knows his voice isn’t meant for this, isn’t soft and soothing, he sings for you and feels you twist slightly to curl yourself against his palm. So softly, he nearly misses it, you hum along to a song you can’t understand, your little voice lifting and becoming haunting. The song becoming about loss and hope, your voices twining together.

• When the song fades, he reaches up to touch your cheek, those big hands so gentle. “You should rest. I have you,” he says, tone gentle despite how gruff his voice is. And you want to believe him. Want to hope this can last, that you’re safe. That you won’t somehow ruin this, even if you don’t deserve to have this. Standing and slowly picking your way over his chassis, aware of his servos hovering to catch you if you stumble, he frowns at you. Laying a palm on his chin, you lean against his face to press a kiss against his cheek. See his optics widen slightly as though shocked that you’d done that.

• “You’re a sweetheart,” you say, smiling at him even though your expression is still so sad. Spark warming, he watches you make your way back to his chassis and lay down again. Draping his servos over you, he lays there listening until your breathing evens out before reaching up to touch his face where your soft mouth had brushed against him. Venting softly, he stares at the ceiling and thinks about broken things. If they can ever really be fixed or if those broken edges will always remain. If you’re both too broken to even begin trying to fix each other.

Previous

But I’m too tired to go to sleep tonight

And I’m too weak to follow dreams tonight

For the first time in a long time I can say

That I want to try to get better and

Overcome each moment

In my own way

I’m not saying that I’m giving up

I’m just trying not to think as much as I used to

Cause "never" is a lonely little messed up word

Maybe I’ll get it right some day

For the first time in a long time I can say

That I want to try

I feel helpless for the most part

But I’m learning to open my eyes

And the sad truth of the matter is

I’ll never get over it

But I’m gonna try

To get better and overcome each moment

In my own way

[ultimateplaylistmaker]

Rate all the popular dangitronpa ships out of 10

Komahina; really fun but also kinda overshadows other fun ships, along with the issue of characterization being a bit flanderized, but very fun in basically all forms 8/10

Oumasai; interesting fact the reason i call it oumasai instead of saiouma is because 1. Kokichi tops and I refuse to budge on this. and 2. to help keep it out of the much more popular tag when I'm complaining. Anyways 90% of it's terrible but that 10% can be pretty damn good though, please become less popular, constant bad characterization 3/10

Ishimondo; classic, maybe too much of a classic, way too hard to find other ships with these two, however ishimaru did in fact get mondo on his knees in that sauna so i can't exactly say they are wrong, alas i got into danganronpa at like 13-14 and i was too young to really appreciate this ship and has kinda made it not something i ever really reach for 7/10

Naegiri; also a classic, I love them, they are so cute, they love each other so much and the memes are great, genuinely amazing, plenty of room for fluff angst and crack. Adorable but also not something I tend to overly reach for over other ships however am more likely to casually see it and go "HELL YEAH" and read a 40k fic, 8/10

Kaimaki; long time fans know I am not the biggest Maki fan, she's grown on me over the year, but the more canon a ship gets the harder it is for it to keep my interest without some other detail, and Kaimaki, does not have that other detail, I don't mind reading it if it catches my fancy, though I think I prefer it unrequited on Kaito's end, is 'aight 6/10

Saimatsu; similar problem as kaimaki of thhe more canon the ship the harder to keep my attention HOWEVER saimatsu is also a fucking comedy because they both kinda bring out the unhinged in the other and also the angst does make me really sad, so its good even if its not what im reaching for. 8/10

Naegami; 14 year old me was fucking obsessed with this ship, I have since calmed down. Thank god. Honestly overexposure made it a bit stale to me I think, like it's FUN don't get me wrong, I love Togami being a fucking freak about this little peasant little guy, but it's a bit generic "soft with mean" shipping I feel, very much "baby's first rivalry ship" for me 6/10

Oumota; oh that's the good shit, that's the good shit, the angst, the drama, the competitiveness, the assisted suicide, the secrets taken to the grave, the totally for real kiss in the hangar, the, pun intended, amalgamation of them in the final trial. The fact their love hotels line up, the fact they balance each other out. The hilarity of Maki and Shuichi's faces if they found out these two are dating, Ohhh my god, ooooh my god 10/10

Fuyupeko; another classic that falls under "the more canon it is, the harder it is for me to get into it" also Peko just...isn't super interesting to me, like don't get me wrong she's still great, but she's definitely a character I don't think of as often. I love the art for it though, fanartist go HARD and i love it, it's just overall missing that friction or interesting twist I want with my ships, tends to lean too domestic. 6/10

Kamukoma; pretty fun! I kinda grew a bit out of this one as well but sometimes you want komaeda being the absolute fucking dramatic worst with his cringe loser emotionless emo boyfriend, and that's a lot of fun. Good for angst, especially more cracky angst at times. Very funny when Hajime after the fact is like "HEY W HAT" 7/10

[sleep-token-confessions]

This might be a hot take, and i dont want to cause any fighting im just giving my personal perspective and hoping i can get some perspective from people who think differently. But i really dont get why people are so convinced knowing their identities will ruin sleep token for fans. Its one thing avoiding their identities because you believe its morally wrong to investigate, thats understandable (though i will say, its concerning seeing people panic from accidentally finding out as if it makes them a bad person. Also dont send death threats or say other horrible things to people who do know). But the idea that knowing theyre just some normal people will ruin the art confuses me. Maybe its just because sleep token isnt my first masked band, but i dont love the band any less just because i know their identities. I still interpret the music however i want, i still enjoy the theatrics, and from what i know as of now about the boys theyre just even more endearing than people think. Even if vessel explained in depth what the music means to him personally, id still interpret it however i want anyways. I cant see how the art would be ruined unless people found out theyre horrible people, in which case wouldnt it be good to know that so you could stop supporting them? Its just weird to me seeing people accidentally find stuff about their real identities and desperately try to trick their brain into forgetting out of fear they wont like sleep token anymore, and id be lying if i said it didnt seem unhealthy imo. I kinda feel like im missing something because i genuinely just do not get it, it feels like saying knowing what an actor looks like off camera ruins the movie. Maybe my brain just works differently or something, genuinely what am i not getting? I understand the moral concerns (to an extent at least, but right now i wont get into all my takes about what is or isnt moral), but i do not understand at all the artistic concerns

.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Honestly at this point starting to feel I've managed to miss Jason's characterization while he was alive because he really really does not and has never seemed especially angry to me, but the comics are trying to hammer it in so much, it's like all they mention is his anger and impulsiveness and his death but like??

I can never remember jaybin (<-is that what we call jason robin for short?) being like that, certainly not to the extent they're always saying, to me his anger wasn't that much, and it pretty much matched with batman's, it wasn't greater than anyone else's, and it just felt like general new hero anger, I cannot stress enough just how off all these flashbacks and talking about him feel wrong to me

[ganondoodle]

so, after not having access to my PC or time to draw for several days i had a cool idea i wanted to try but of course it didnt work out

so im posting the one screenshot i made and how far i got (its not very far and i got desperate at the end just spinnign around the colors in hopes it would solve whatever issue is blocking me from drawing properly..)

idea was to show just how scary it would be to encounter demise randomly in the land, hes really big in my story and its rarely clear bc in what i have drawn so far hes mostly only next to hylia and with her being taller than him they look rather reasonably sized

anyway, heres the unfinished thing

[thesupernaturalhouse]

Vaggie: Alastor can you watch the eggs their being....eggs and I have to- just take them off my hands

Alastor: ooo i certainly will....

Vaggie:.....in a peaceful manner. Alastor.

Alastor: mmm well that's less fun, also why should I watch them?

Vaggie: well you're going to some meeting and I have to help charlie-

Alastor: didn't she excuse you from your duties for today?

Vaggie:...why would she- why would I ask for that??

Alastor: why, you have to come to this meeting to my dear!

Vaggie: no I dont?? It's an overlord meeting I'm not an overlord-

Alastor: but you are!

Vaggie: if anything charlie should probably be going with you rather then me- what what??

Alastor: I'll explain on the way! *just fucking leaves*

Vaggie: wha- alastor! Alastor I swear to the lord you better explain!

Alastor: hmmm, well you're an overlord my dear I don't think there's anything else TO explain

Vaggie: right...but I'm NOT an overlord??

Alastor: I beg to differ, I knew there was something off about you but couldn't place it until Charlie said something

Vaggie: Charlie- what does- okay you know what? You're insane. I'm going to go talk to Charlie myself!

Alastor grabs her shirt collar like a kitten: ah-ah-ah you have a meeting to attend my dear! It's be bad manners if you skipped it, whoch I suppose you've been skipping them for the past 5 or so years?

Vaggie: No, I haven't! and let go of my you asshole!

Alastor: hmmm no I don't think I will~ come on now! We're already half way there!

Vaggie: ugh, at least tell me how you and xharlie think I'm an overlord- which I'm NOT by the way!

Alastor: well...do you remember that sinner you saved? The one you had a slat with and ended uo teaching self defense?

Vaggie: how do you-....ah, charlie- what does that have to do with anything??

Alastor radio noise of displeasure: well, APPARENTLY they told more demons, you DO remember the large influx of demons who came to you right?

Vaggie: I.....I um....yeah....

Alastor: well they said they owed you 'favors' correct?

Vaggie:....fuck.

Alastor: they gave you their souls until said favor is called upon! You not using it has apparently given you the reputation of a very lenient overlord, a defensive and protective one at that! So more people cane to you, you trianed them in defense and most gave you their souls so you could call upon them for a favor at a time of your choosing!

Vaggie: going through the 5 stages of grief trying to process it all

Alastor: On top of that, the other overlords seem to be threatened by the fact you have so many souls and demons going to you WILLINGLY, you not showing up to meetings and beong little morningstars girlfriend doesnt help that either!So this will be a fun first meeting~

Vaggie: no no no no no nope! Alastor, you let me go right this second! I am not- no! Alastor! Alastor!!!

Zestial: Alastor and...oh the defensive Overlord nice to meet you again nd to finally meet you

Vaggie: ¿¡Quién diablos es esta araña joder!? (Who the hell is this spider fuck!?)

Part 1 | Part 2(here!!) | Part 3

[biblically-accurate-dca]

@vanweek2024 day 7 - sunrise

tomorrow is another day

[allie-the-ally]

[ID: A digital illustration of Jinx from Arcane, but she has central heterochromia, multiple ear piercings, as well as an eyebrow, septum and a lower lip piercing. Her hair is dark blue and the ornaments are silver. She appears to be in motion, recoiling from something with a surprised and shocked expression, one hand slightly raised. The background is a black-teal-pink gradient with visible brush strokes. There is a pink rim light coming from the right, with stark shadows on the left. The artist's signature "allie-the-ally" and a small rose are drawn above one of her braids. End ID]

in honour of arcane S2 coming out, heres a VERY self-indulgent jinx, that i got stuck on the background on and then didnt touch it for several years.... yayyy hurting and ouching about it

[autisticlee]

sometimes people who struggle like to make jokes or find positives about their condition that causes them to struggle so they can escape the constant negative and struggle. sometimes autistic people will say things like "the 'tism" or use the "autism creature" or say their autism helped them have a *positive trait* to feel better about their struggles. because living your life only focusing on the struggles and negatives is depressing and makes it hard to want to live, even if those struggle take up 100% of your life and you can't actually escape them. sometimes any little seemingly positive thing can help a lot.

but there's so many other autistic people that hate when we do that and call it "reducing autism to a cute trendy thing" and say it takes away from *their* struggles and is bad and shouldn't be used. maybe *you* want to only focus on your struggles, but some people can't live in constant negative and need some positive or to find ways to make their condition more positive so they can feel better about living with their struggles. life is hard. I take anything I can get.

I cant get jobs. I can't make and keep friends. I can't get help and support for doing "normal" things so sometimes I go weeks without being able to shower and without eating more than a bowl of cereal a day. most times can't even do things I like. struggle to communicate. have meltdowns. i'll never be able to live independently. I struggle a lot. but instead of sitting here always depressed and having no motivation to live, i'd rather try to joke about "my 'tism is acting up again" when i'm struggling (just an example. don't think I ever actually used the 'tism thing but i saw others use it) or say "i'm just being a creature" when I need to stay in my dark room because everything is too much and I personally find it cute to be a little creature meant in a positive way. i'm not actually downplaying mine or anyone else's struggles. I still acknowledge them and that silly jokes dont make them go away. i'm not trying to be trendy. i'm not doing any of the things people say we do by making silly little jokes. i'm using the silly little jokes to convince myself life can be a little more than pointless, painful garbage all the time.

(continue in tags)

[aria0fgold]

FINALLY DONE WITH THE ISAT OC! SOLEIL!!!

The creature... So first things first is some info about them pre- disappearance of The Country. They're a loyal follower and avid worshipper of The Country. They love the Universe sooo much that they made a wish to be able to read the stars, and the Universe answered. I like to think that the stars are talkative, some can predict what will happen in the near future, some are just "chatting" to each other about the stuff happening in the world they overlook. It's a somewhat useful ability that Soleil used to use to be able to either predict someone's future (rarely though, the stars hold many different futures and it's hard to figure out which is whose) or use it during funeral rites to have a more reassuring experience to the ones mourning that their loved one arrived safely among the stars.

And then they found out about The Cursing of Chateau Castle-- they kiiiinda got Really obsessed with the book series that they wanted to know more about it but there wasn't any more copies of it in the Country's language so what better way to deal with that but teaching itself how to understand the Vaugardian language, and by doing that they got to learn more about the Vaugardian culture and was really amazed by it (considering that they spent most of their life with the Country's culture instead, learning about a different culture is a great feeling). One thing led to the other and it also led Soleil to travelling to Vaugarde (something that their family wasn't all that happy with but they stay silly).

And so we're back at the present time! Now to talk about some details on its appearance.

Its Craft type is Scissors! The eye on the center of its chest and the eye by its nape are in fact EYES and not just accessories (although they did try to make the eye on its chest appear to be like a mix between a star shape and the Change Symbol).

After spending some time in Vaugarde, they learned about Body Craft in which case they decided to experiment with it in regards to its eyes.

Since being in Vaugarde, there wasn't much use to its star sight and there also isn't a way to "turn it off." So instead, they decided to separate its Normal sight from the Star sight by adding another pair of eyes on its body.

The eyes on its face are blind. They can't see through it anymore but they Can still see the stars (they can't read it anymore however cuz of the Country's disappearance).

If they focus on the stars using those eyes, they'd get a REALLY bad headache and a star sign appears on its eyes. Nothing to be afraid of probably, its head just Really hurts.

The glass covering the eye on its nape is a one way mirror. You won't be able to see the eye but the eye can still see you.

With its vision split, it actually took them awhile to get used to that. It takes a lot of concentration and focus to see both from behind and from the front. When Soleil gets tired from doing that, they either close the eye on its nape (if the place is safe enough) or unfocus it enough to the point that most of its vision becomes blurry with only being able to see blobs of shapes and shadows which helps them be alert enough in case something comes running at them from behind.

All the round objects you see on its body are Bombs. They found out about Bomb Craft in Jouvente and was so fascinated by it that their inventor brain (inventing, crafting, and repairing stuff is a special interest of theirs). They now like making bombs and inventing new ones (only they have the recipe of those).

The bombs they invented only detonates via a Craft spell, it's basically as safe as an ordinary ball to handle unless detonated. Also the scissors at the top of their head has a cover on its tip. It's Very Sharp. They mainly use that (either the tip or the scissor blades itself) to cut the bombs dangling on its body.

Despite the multitude of bombs they carry, they aren't actually much of a fighter (they just like bombs). Most of its Craft spells are basic/beginner level. The one and only Powerful Craft spell they have is a shield/defense spell that they practiced several times. It's capable of negating all damage for 2 turns with a 5 turn cooldown, they wanted to master that spell to make it so that bombs won't hurt them no matter the close proximity.

Its hand signs are "broken." They used to mimic the hand signs that the Universe (I'm mainly referring to my design of the Universe) makes. But after forgetting about everything in regards to it, they can't remember what hand signs they used to make but the familiar feeling was still there.

A huge fan of The Cursing of Chateau Castle, to the point of practically making it part of its identity now that a HUGE chunk of its memory is missing. Its outfit is a modified version of what they think Lady Irene-Janine-Karine wears.

Its personality is a mixture of Lord Josephandre, Pierre-Jacques-Erneste, and Lady Irene-Janine-Karine (aka the Chateau Trio!!! Love those three...).

Its name, "Soleil" is just something they found in a book and decided to use for itself. They don't remember its name anymore.

[tokiwarcube]

i am normal about Fucking That Middle Aged Man

[shittywriterbrain]

no. polyamory would've solved a subplot of s3 and the entire main crime plot of s4. this is the truth

[technicolorxsn]

love how there are pretentious video essays that just repeat the book and meander and ramble about house of leaves. it's what zampanó would have wanted. it is not, however, what I want

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it