#this looks weird but i’m experimenting with stuff so that’s why probably

[dailykeiji]

today’s keiji is: doodles of keiji with random features i think he’d look cute with

[suguru-getos]

Yeah my boyfriend’s pretty cool, but he’s not as cool as me — K. Bakugou x f!Reader

Summary: You, a top model meet pro hero Dynamight on your Victoria's Secret fashion show. You didn't know how easily you both could cling like magnets. Maybe you found your soulmate, why else does it seem so easy? So loving? So ethereal? A/N: I missed writing my Jerk (Bakugou) so here I go. The character is giving off Y/N from Wattpad almost (KEKEKEK) :3 What! Sue me! Also brb gonna take a bath in holy water after this. Not beta'd take the typos like a pro ;) also this is probably my longest fic IN A WHILE and that's saying something!!! Warnings: N!pple play, F!ingering, S3x(P in V), missionary, doggy-style, squ!rting, breed!ng, dirty talk, spank!ngs. Let me know if I missed anything. :3 Oh and TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

You sucked in a breath when you heard the announcements go off, the announcer urging the models to get done with their hair & makeup fast. It wasn’t like any other show, honestly. It was the Victoria’s Secret show. The internet alone can swamp any and every other news when this ‘phenomenon’ occurs. You have been on a strict diet of salads, high pilates & cardio, and for the past two days — dehydration to show your abs more. Being a successful model is all about making it look effortless even if it’s all graft, tenacity & utterless devotion. No career is easy at the end of the day after all.

“Y/n, are you okay? The show is about to start.” Your manager, also the manager of this event comes up to you, long, poised strides in her red bottom pencil heels. She’s wearing a satin, well-tailored coat and a skirt. “Can’t wait to munch on a fucking burger and drink a gallon of cold soda.” You smirk, your eye makeup was completed, the final touches of the makeup setting spray was splayed on by the makeup artist tending to you.

“You look gorgeous, Y/n.” He commented, voice feminine & fashion sense incredible. He was gay, and one of your best friends in the industry. “Man, so many people would be here in the show.” You snorted, “who’s coming to sing?” Your curiosity is piqued. There is always a star who comes in and makes sure the runway ends up a much better experience.

“It’s Jungkook.” Your manager responds curtly.

“Fuckin’ hell they literally bagged Jungkook?” You scoffed almost, ah— shit. Jungkook has a massive following, of course they would. Even if he’s your ex boyfriend. Of course they fucking would. You pursed your lips, your relationship with him was entirely kept a secret. He’s an idol, worshipped infact— and that ended up for the best when you parted ways. The NDA was perfect. Though you often wondered if the glamour you chose for yourself would ever allow you a fair chance at getting the right partner.

“Eh, Jungkook’s not my type.” Your bestie, the makeup artist Samuel hums, his shoulders shrugging up. “I got my eyes on the heroes.” He winks, adjusting the last finished strands of your hair. The heroes…

“I don’t understand why the heroes are invited to stuff like these.” You roll your eyes. It is weird to think about. He chuffs, “oh come on— they’re just as big of celebrities & events like these are all about glamour and showing off.” He snorts, “Dynamight’s coming, Star and Stripes is coming, a lot of the heroes who are under the top three would be here. Gahh I wonder how Dynamight looks in a suit… dude’s fucking jacked. I’m drooling just thinking about it.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Okay okay, drooling dog. Leave me alone and let me calm my tits before the walk begins.”

Dynamight huh, Katsuki Bakugou. The number one hero of Japan. He is popular enough, you have seen him bag the Calvin Klein’s Times Square ad. Your fingers itched towards your phone, searching up Dynamight on Instagram. There were two accounts. One of them was the official hero account, named Dynamight. The other was— seemingly his personal account, it was named BakugouKatsuki. Both of them were public though. Ah, you will stalk him later. Now isn’t the best time.

You get up, itching in your feet into the pencil heels and stretching your body. Amidst the ruckus, you were given your Victoria’s Secret wings, and your lingerie set. It was beautiful, you’d give them that. They do end up spending and extravagant amount of money for this after all. “Phew, I’m ready.”

There were other models lined up before you, you had been the show-stopper. It’s flamingly obvious not to think much about yourself, but you’d give yourself credit for being one of the top models in the entire industry. You also have a whooping Instagram following, and your socials are always stacked with brand deals. Jungkook was singing Seven, a safe version. You don't want to be delusional and think he chose that song because he wrote it for you, nah, you and him are over for good. Besides, he was in a parasocial relationship with his fans. That's just not your vibe.

You exhaled, engaging your core and coming out finally. It was your turn to go in and leave the crowd in absolute awe. Your time to shine! Yeah, your time to shine. No matter how many shows you have participated in, the feeling before the runway is second to none. You stepped out, peppering flying kisses to the crowd as you passed by Jungkook, catwalking.

You didn't think the first person your eyes would meet would be Bakugou himself, it was eye contact that lasted a few seconds, as you turned around and walked back inside, coming out with the fashion designer and clapping.

"What was that Bakubro?" Red Riot was sitting beside his high school best friend, smirking when he noticed Katsuki caught red-handed. "Didn't you say you have no interest in watching models and this was a waste of time?" He snickers, pulling Katsuki's leg.

Katsuki.... on the other hand, was mesmerized. He had never seen someone so beautiful. Honestly, he wasn't one to keep up with the models and the glamour the industry had to offer. He had a simple routine, focus on training, go patrolling, partake in brand deals, and sleep by 9 pm. This seemed different, especially when the eye contact you both had was so magnetic. What the fuck was happening to him he wondered... why was he behaving like a high school student all over again. Dynamight was in his late twenties now. It's not to say that he hasn't dated people at all, he has, in fact, he has a fair share of girlfriends too. He just wasn't expecting you to latch onto his heart & rip it out of his chest (respectfully).

Maybe he dan divert his mind until after the show. The Victoria's Secret brand had dealings with the Bulgari Hotel in Milan. (Where the show was held), of course, your and Katsuki's suites would be on the same floor. The show was a huge success, you knew it the moment you walked back inside and got jump-hugged by the entire team. They loved your walk, and it made you grin like an appreciated child.

"Finally I can binge." You snickered, getting out after thirty minutes or so from the show. In your head, the eye-contact with the ruby-eyed man was nothing much, merely a coincidence perhaps. You don't know much about Bakugou Katsuki anyway. You do tell your gay best friend about it though, chuckling & giggling at how he loses his mind over it. "I think Dynamight will stay in the same hotel as mine, but before leaving, I can secure an autograph for you if you'd like."

"YOU'D DO THAT?" Samuel is on top of the world when he hears your offer. How nice and kind of you. "I could do that of course!" You smile, he has been great and helpful in calming your nerves before your show. You can do that for him without thinking twice. "Great, thank you so much Y/N! You are a literal gem." He whines, kicking feet in excitement. "Dynamight's known for being intimidating and a no-bullshit guy, so just be...careful." He smiled. You raised a brow at the description, chuckling. Whatever, it's just an autograph. You were sure Samuel was just fangirling.

You walked towards Bakugou and his friend Red Riot, wearing a plain white tee shirt and some shorts. A Prada handbag over your shoulder, Cartier bracelet set on your left arm, and some boots just so you look fine in case you get accidentally papped. "Uh oh, Hottie alert, Hottie alert. She's coming this way Bakugou." Kirishima warns, while Katsuki doesn't turn, smirking. "Maybe she's into you just as much huh?" "Shut up, Kiri. I'm not even into her." What a lie, what a damned lie, because when you tap his shoulder, his entire body shudders.

"Hey- Dynamight, hi!" You smile, watching him turn to face you. Geez, he's tall and big, the blonde doesn't make him look any less intimidating. He has a scar on his eye but it only accentuates his gruff and masculine look. You swallow, "Hey there." Katsuki raises a brow, smirking at you. "Y/N right? The fabulous show stopper." He praises, and you can't help but blush a little.

"Hehe, yeah, thank you so much." You gently tussle through your bag, taking out a notepad. "Can I please get an autograph?" You smile, you wouldn't be one of those cunts who would outrightly say that it's not for you. Why do you need to specify explicitly anyway? "Aww, she's a fan?" Katsuki grins, taking the notepad from you. "Haha!" You don't respond. You don't want to ruin the vibe of the interaction. Unlucky for you, Bakugou is a pest. "So should I write Y/N, or ShowStopper Y/N?" He smirked, uh oh... "You can make two?" You raised a brow, smiling softly. "One for me and one for Samuel, my makeup artist." You smile. "Sure can." He writes the autograph, smirking, "You didn't want an autograph did ya?" Ouch, how did he catch you red-handed so easily? "Hm? Why do you feel so?" You raise a brow, taking the notepad from him. "I'm the number one hero of Japan, Sweetheart. I got my own tricks up my sleeve." He smirked, oh what a charming guy. You wonder why is he infamous for being intimidating then... maybe just his personality and his looks. "I don't mind getting one, honestly, who knows I might become a fan in the future." You smiled back. "Oh yeah? That's gonna make me real fuckin' proud of yer taste, Sweetheart." He grins, and Kirishima has long excused Bakugou and you to chitchat alone.

You chuckled, oh my, he was cocky and yet charming enough to pull it off. Meanwhile, all Bakugou thought was how your eyes are so pretty, and you smile so easily it should be illegal. Your smile makes even the crankiest of people smile. Him included.

"Whatcha doin' after this?" He asks you, raising a brow. Please be free, please be free. "Ah- it's just, my own ritual of unwinding after fashion shows to go and binge on junk food. I am going to this amazing pizza place." You smile, and Bakugou notices your body, you are stunning, but it's clear you need to maintain unrealistic standards for this. "Mind if I join?" He confidently asks, Bakugou Katsuki's confidence ever since he was a child was sky high. He doesn't mind chasing what he wants, he doesn't mind latching on to what he wants. He doesn't mind putting in the work for what he wants. Whether it's the number one hero ranking, or his new ambition - You.

"You can." You perk up, of course, you don't mind that. You wonder if he's asking you on a date or just hanging out with you. "Alright then, let's go?" You ask him again, truth be told you were starving. You need a lot of water down your stomach and also, food. "Lead the way Kitten."

You blink at the nickname, Kitten? "Kitten?" You snorted, why? "Yeah, cus you walk the show like a little lion cub," he smirked, quite assertive behind his reasoning. It makes your heart flutter. "I, see... interesting. Is it something you do? Give people you like, nicknames?" "Yeah, it's a me thing," Katsuki smirked, he loved how you sneakily asked him whether he likes you or not. "I do that to people I hate too though." He teased, biting his lip and smirking at the confused pout. "Not you though, I like ya." He admits upfront. Katsuki doesn't want to play games. It's either he doesn't give a shit, or he's into it dedicatedly.

You gnaw at your lip, walking ahead of him, thank god your back is turned towards him. Else you'd be embarrassed of just how easily he can sway you off your feet. You and him get into the car after, driving to the nearest pizza place. Your knees touch during the car ride, fuck why are you thinking about the slightest of touches Jesus! Neither of you avoid the touch though. "So I'm guessing the pre-walk schedule is pretty ass, huh?" You like that he wants to know about you in a 'I want to get to know you better' sense and not in a 'I want to hook up and leave you after' sense. "Yeah, the last four days I have been dehydrated. I can enjoy in peace now though, before the next show." You nod, looking at him in the eyes, evaluating his expressions. Bakugou looks, conflicted. On one hand, he admires this, on the other hand, he's pissed that this is what gets imposed. He clicks his tongue, "If I were to organize a damn show I'd make sure none of the dehydration shit happens, tch." You chuckle at how intensely he feels about it. It makes you feel validated, makes you feel seen and heard. "Yeah? Maybe you can organize one for your merch." You winked.

"Fuckin' Brilliant aren'tcha?" Katsuki exclaims, grinning wide. He would, and you'd be the show stopper, and it would be a statement towards normalizing human bodies. It sounds so perfect in his head, he would definitely bother his Assistant about this later.

When you both reached the Pizza place, Bakugou gets your door, smirking when you are almost shocked by it. "What? The least ya can do is expect a Hero to be chivalrous, ye?" You giggle, holding his hand, noticing the sheer difference in your hands versus his. Your hands are soft, meek, delicate, having their own hand care routine. His hands are smooth, a little moist due to sweat which you think doesn't bother him. It doesn't bother you either honestly. Plus, he smells amazing... almost in a way that could make you dizzy from it all.

"Um, what should I call you? Dynamight? Bakugou? Katsuki? Japanese people prefer to be called by their last name until they explicitly give permission, no?" You have done a few shows in Japan and know a thing or two about their culture. Bakugou only smirks harder, holding your hand & caressing it with the pad of his thumb, he leans it up to show you. "If I'm holdin' yer hand, I'd prefer to be called Katsuki, Sweetheart." "Y-Yeah, right." You are flustered. The way he looks at you is so intense and yet calming. This man is almost paradoxical.

You both get inside, taking one of the cozy booths of the restaurant. The vibe of the place is luxurious, Grenadil, African Blackwood, lamps which are delicately hand-carved. The place speaks Old-Money.

Bakugou takes a seat next to you, handing you the laminated menu with exquisite handwritten Calligraphy, "There ya go." He smirks. You notice the menu he has given you has no prices on the dishes. He has his own menu. "Uh, they have no money imprinted, are you sure this menu is okay?" This is your first time seeing this. "Yeah, s' okay. S' cus y'er not supposed to be worrying about the price of the dishes." He says it rather assertively. "The man should." He shows his menu. Oh- Of course, for a place this extra, they would have some new ritual like this for all the trophy-wives. "Katsuki- no- I'd feel guilty." You pouted. "Yeah? Yer gonna feel guilty for it bein' my job to spoil ya? On a date? Our first date?" All of a sudden, every doubt in your mind is faded. Things were escalating so quickly yet, you feel like you know this man for years, how bizarre, how comforting, how amazing! The way your heart breaks into little palpitations of excitement is second to none.

You looked down, a hue of red creeping into your cheeks. ''Gah would ya look at that!" Bakugou points at your flustered expression instantly. "She's the prettiest baddest Queen in this world, and I got her feelin' cutesy and feminine, ye?" Yes, yes it has... it's always the little things after all. You chuckle, looking up at him, extending your hand over the table so he could hold it. "You smell amazing, Katsuki." You compliment him too.

Honestly, you have never felt someone smelling this amazing as Bakugou. "Yeah? Part of my charm." He croons in his gravelly voice, the tip of his tongue brushing his upper teeth in a mischievous grin. "S' a part of my quirk." He admits, leaning back and manspreading a little. Your heart feels like it would jump out of your chest at that, you swallow the thick lump of saliva. "Yeah?" "Yeah, that's right Sweetheart." Bakugou hums again, kissing your knuckle. "What about you, have any quirks?" "Unfortunately, nope." You chuckle, a little embarrassed. You know if this man is the number one hero of Japan, he must have a formidable quirk after all. "Aw, she's my little quirkless rarity gem ain't she?" "Yeah."

Katsuki's words were healing something within you that you didn't know was broken. You were feeling all sorts of things, slightly aghast at how easily your senses feel dizzy around the true embodiment of masculinity. A little merry on how you don't have to think about anything and let him take care of you. You needed this after the tough show you've had. You ordered a pizza, and some drinks with it. "So, what next?" You don't want to get too ahead of yourself either. Maybe all this could fade the moment you both sleep together.

"Next, we go on another date, then another, then another. In between those dates, I'll steal a kiss or two." He grins. Making you chuckle, how old school... "That's all you will steal?" You ask him, quite upfront on your own this time. "Mm~ I can't be too greedy or I might make a certain Kitten uncomfortable." He winks.

"Would I make a certain hero uncomfortable if I stole more than a kiss?" You smirk, watching Bakugou grin in surprise. "Nah, the hero wants what his Princess wants." He admits shamelessly.

The dinner goes by in a haze, Bakugou asks you about your family, how many people are there in your nuclear family, you ask him, a little bit of what and hows about starting a career. You get to know he's a Taurus, and his MBTI Type is ENTJ, his Enneagram is 8w7. No wonder he is so steadfast and determined. The dinner ended with you two getting back to go to the same hotel, walking and chit-chatting through your lives, how a daily routine in your lives looks like, favourite coffee order, favourite animals, favourite bands, favourite brands, favourite foods.... until Bakugou was in front of your suite.

"Uhm, goodnight Katsuki." You smile, getting on your tippy toes and kissing his lips softly. A burning sensation ripples through your nerves instantly. Oh no- now you can't stop. Now he can't stop. There is an unsaid desperation in the way you & him deepen the kiss, a relief washing over you as the suite's door gets unlocked with a beeping sound of your card against the sensor.

You jump on him immediately, cupping his face, scratching his undercut, rabid pants echoing through the room as you lean back to catch a breath. "Wildin' aren't we?" Bakugou smirked, leaning you against the wall with his hand supporting the back of your head as he kissed you more, fuck you have awakened something carnal within him. "Yeah- yeah-" You manage to choke on your breaths as he dives against your neck, nibbling at the supple skin, licking the tender ache. "Katsuki- please-" You want more. Especially now when you can feel his semi nudged against your heat. You want it so bad, you didn't even know him a few hours ago... and now here you were.

"Yeah? Are ya sure?" He asks, seriously. He doesn't need this to be hurried. "Yeah, I'm sure."

And that was all Bakugou needed, his lips smashing against you once more, tongue exploring your mouth, colliding against yours, his mouth wrapping around your tongue and suckling nastily. Katsuki leans back, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his. He supports you by your booty, hands kneading the area on your clothed shorts as he manspreads on the couch, watching how you straddle him. You take off your shirt on your own, and unhook your tee shirt bra next. Before you can switch to your shorts, Katsuki removes his own shirt. Oh my god-

He is jacked, and there are battle scars all over his body. Your hand leans in, absentmindedly tracing one of them. You could only imagine how dangerous it must be, how dangerous his line of work is. Everyday he keeps his life on the line to protect people like you - to protect those who can't fend for themselves. Your eyes softened, and Bakugou notices you lean into the duvet of your thoughts. "Hey, they're from years ago." He smirked, kissing your cheek. "Literal years, when I was Baby Dynamight." He chuckled, lightening up your mood instantly. He leans in, hands kneading and groping at your now perky breasts and tits. "She's fuckin' stunning god damn." He cusses under his breath, eagerly wrapping his tongue around one of the nipples, while his fingers pinched and played around with the other. The sensation sends waves of pleasure down your core, it aches so deliciously good. You lean your head back, gasping out at the welcomed assault on your body. This was beyond perfect. "Katsuki-" You mumbled, just chanting his name as he switches to the other nipple, his hand caressing your sides, knuckles caressing the temples of your cheek. "Mhm~ so perfect, Princess."

Every action only makes you dive deeper into a space you've never dived on before. His fingers skilfully unbutton your shorts next, peeling off your panties. "Let's check what's the situation." He smirks, though his ruby eyes are steeled on your face. Massive hands cupping your bare pussy, you can feel your essence coat his palm, but you're not shy anymore. You want him to know he does this to you. You want him to be aware of the effect he has on you. "Fuckin' soaking." He smirked, middle finger and ring finger parting your entrance while his middle finger nudged against your tight hole. The tip pierces inside your pussy almost instantly. "Oh perfect little thing." He snickers, curling it just the right way to make your eyes roll back. "Yeah baby, keep makin' that pretty face f'me." He groans, leaning in and latching onto your sensitive tits again. "Not sorry bout it in the least, need to mark ya." He groans, suckling against your skin, marking your breasts in hickeys while he drills his finger inside your cunt. The pleasure has you reeling soon, eyes rolling back. "Katsuki- please-" you buck your hips against him helplessly, pussy twitching and fluttering shamelessly. "Yeah baby? Gonna cum?" He croons, smirking at the way your body gets littered in goosebumps. "Mhm~ Yeah." You nodded like a bobble head, the pleasure reaching new heights. "Gonna make a mess on Daddy's fingers?" he asks again, almost edging you. The new nickname has you clamping tightly as a reaction, Bakugou chuckles. "Then cum."

Your entire body shivers at the assault, his thumb finding it's way to your clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles around the bundle of nerves, watching you tweak and tremble. "Atta girl! Good job little one." He smirked, quickly changing your position to laying on the couch with him hovering over you. His hand never leaves your clit, pulling out a long and tiring orgasm as his massive cock greets you. Before you could say anything before you could protest in whines that his massive, veiny cock could never fit inside you. It could break you- his cock fills you up instantly.

You see white, your senses are torn apart. The pain surges through your body like venom, filled with excruciating amounts of pleasure. You scream out, cunt almost ripped open despite being so wet and so lubed. "Kah- AH- t'suki-" You are broken, this is exactly how you expected it to feel like. Still, you want him to move, you want him to make you feel better. You want him to show you how it feels when he's pistoning this inside and out, when he's ruining your insides his shape.

Bakugou leans in, caressing your face and peppering it with soft kisses. "Yeah Princess, you did it." He praises, and you couldn't help but rut your hips against him at the praise. You need him. "Uh huh? Wan' Daddy to take care of you?" He smirked at that, relishing your shameless movements, his cock jams against your pussy, fervour akin to an animal in a rut. You feel so good he can't help but want more either, thrusts powerful enough to cause your breasts to jiggle from the impact. "Atta girl, look at you, taking me like yer made for me." he groans, watching your fucked out expressions, listening to your melodious cries that only make him push you further. "Kah- Mm!"

His hand caresses your clit, pinching at the sensitive bundle of nerves, tap-slapping it, caressing it, playing with it. Every movement sends you reeling towards the peak of pleasure. It's not too long before you feel like cumming again, a familiar knot building in your pelvis, eager to snap. "Gonna fill ya up, yeah? Need your insides to know who knocked em up' need yer pussy to know who fucked her up, who stretched her up, who ripped her up to his shape-" The way he speaks is making you spiral, your mouth falls agape as another orgasm tears through you. Helplessly wailing and letting your pussy flutter around his muscular and veiny cock. His own release comes with it, hot and thick seed painting your insides his.

You're panting like you've just run a marathon, Bakugou's sweat only making your senses hazy with its sweet, caramel scent.

"Got one more in ya?" Bakugou asks with a smirk, watching your eyes widen. You are thinking, you are contemplating. "N-never did it before." You answered honestly. "Good, then it's my princess' first time." He smirked, manhandling you to bend over the couch's arm rest, letting your legs nudge together. "Get on yer tippy toes Kitten." he kneads at your ass, spanking it once just to test the waters.

The whore-ish moan that comes out of your mouth at that only makes him more amazed. "She likes spankings huh?" He smirks, slapping on the other side and watching his hand print cover almost your whole ass cheek. "Fuck-" He hissed at the sight, watching you get on your tippy toes as he pierces your cum-dripping pussy once again. Your stomach is already pressed by the arm-rest. The position is enough to make you see stars, you can't form words. Just mewling and moaning with mouth open. His thrusts are a lot precise, a lot sharper, a lot more calculated and a lot more rough.

The force of his pelvis colliding against your ass feels like spankings in itself, your womb is crying at the feeling, your cunt squelching and making lewd noises that echo like music to his ears, just perfectly entwined with your loud moans. "Fuck- you are bloody gonna have me addicted to this shit." He groans, sounds of pap- pap- paps filling the room.

You feel weird, you feel like you could pee from the pressure alone. "Katsuki- feel like gonna squirt." You whine, embarrassed. "Aw, it's okay, do it." He hums, hand wrapping around your hair and tilting your head back for a passionate kiss.

And so you let go, you don't have any choice anyway with his thrusts ripping your pussy. "Fuck- fuck-" and so you end up squirting, the liquid dripping down your thighs as you cum your brains out. Katsuki tips off the edge at the sight too, oh what a lovely mess indeed. "Oh that's fuckin' incredible" He chuckles, slowing his thrusts to a stop.

You are floating in subspace already. You can't believe the hero you were going to stalk on Instagram has your insides bred, twice. Katsuki carries you princess-way and takes you to the bedroom, "gonna get ya some water, you were so amazin' holy shit Princess." he chuckles, peppering your face with soft, feather-like kisses. You only hum and groan in response, he literally fucked your brain into mush.

He returned with some water and added electrolytes that he found in the fridge to ensure better hydration. "Come on, champ, c'mere." He cradles you on his lap like a baby - his baby to be precise. He held the glass for you, letting you drink from the straw while his other hand is busy petting your body soothingly, your arms, your hair, your back.

"Do you want to sign an NDA? If we're gonna be a thing?" You asked him, genuinely curious, but it upsets him that this is the first thing that you say. This industry really is disgusting. "Nah, I'd like you to sign an NBA."

You raised a brow, what does that mean? "Mm?"

"Non-Breakup Agreement" He chuckled, watching you giggle too as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

[no1deepspacehater]

⸻⋅☾SYLUS - NSFW ABC's☽⋅⸻

TW: Spoilers, General TW (It's Sylus, c'mon now) and mentions of CNC (he doesn't like it, it's just mentioned)

AN: Since he's come out i've been spending so much time exploring his character and unlocking his myths!! This man has me in a chokehold. I'm so sorry Xavier.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s gonna have you in his hold for a bit, he’s not a big cuddler, but he wants you to come down nicely. So it’s a bit of him watching you relax and whipering how good you were etc for a bit.

Then, mostly for him, he’s gonna have a bit of wine (he’s such an alcoholic).

He’ll offer you a bath and shower, which he does take even if you don’t want to (remember, aftercare goes both ways, this is his way to relax.)

But don’t worry, if you want some cuddles he’s willingly, after much teasing of how much of a needy kitten you are.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything is his favourite part.

But if he has to choose, his arms and hands.

He’s put a lot of hours into training, without his evol he can still strangle the light from someone’s life on his own and punch the daylight out of them too.

For you, he is an ass and tits man. Why does he have to choose? He can and will have both.

Loves to see a curvy dress on you that shows off your physique. His hand is so quick to slide around your waist, proud to have a good looking person like you by his side to show off.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Thick, clear ropes of the stuff. He almost gets annoyed with how messy it can be.

Not that he’s opposed to covering you with the stuff, no he just prefers to fill you with it.

Loves tasting you, and having you coat his entire hand with your essence.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

During his surveillance of you (stalking), has watched you bathed and shower at least once or twice.

Didn’t make it a habit, even he has lines, but he’s found himself enraptured with just watching you do these simple things.

It weird because he doesn’t watch you masturbate, nor masturbate himself really during the times he watched you shower.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Knows about sex. Fucks.

He’s experienced, you can’t tell me otherwise. He’s had a few workers here and there.

He also knows that just because he has experience with other women, doesn’t mean he knows all about your likings.

But trust, he’ll spend all night learning you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Reverse and regular cowgirl, surprisingly.

Bet let’s dissect, even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s of course in control.

He has no trouble holding you down on top of him, or moving you up and down on him.

And of course, the sight is beautiful to him, he’s in close reach of everything, and of course, most of the time you have no other option to be face to face with him.

Where he can really see wha’t going on in your mind.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t say he’s overly serious, but if you call his constant teasing humorous then he’s fucking hilarious.

But yes, he’s more focused on whispering the most outright naaesstttiest filth close into your ear while you come undone before him.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Shaved down to a minimum and neat. He has his own (very high quality) clippers for down there. Takes pride in his look.

Wouldn’t mind if you like to keep things natural, but does like to have things low for you as well.

Hell, he’ll go crazy if you have some type of design on it!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s more of a dirty romantic.

But he can be sweet, in his own way.

Telling you how much he adores you, your sounds, your body.

Soft touches, handling you delicately at times.

And he keeps you pretty close during the act, lots of skin to skin touching.

His kisses range from feather light to deep kisses, and leaving marks is definitely one of his acts of affection.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

This might be crazy, but hear me out.

I do not see this man masturbating often.

Maybe like ONCE in a literal blue moon, like if he’s deadly bored. (And let’s face it, he’s too much of a busy man to be bored.)

Also, he’s the most powerful man in the N109 zone, and basically has most of Linkon in his hands, I’m sure he will find someone (You) that will satisfy his needs.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Need I say, BLOOD KINK!?!

Yeah, he get’s down like that, and I will die on this hill.

He’d love to see your pathetic attempts at trying to make him flinch as you draw a blade against his skin, it winds him up.

Won’t go too crazy on you, but let’s just say you’re going to need a bandage for that bike mark.

Ropes, whips, cuffs, he’s into that entire scene, anything to make you submit to him.

Vibrators are common place, one of his favourite things to do is to watch you fall apart without even laying a finger on you.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

One of his many secluded castles or cabins. He can get you as loud as he wants there.

Not that he really cares if anyone hears the both of you.

Prefers to be in a comfortable place really, but doesn’t mind if you want to get dirty in a semi-public place (Like a private room, clubs, office).

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you stand your ground.

Once, you pistol whipped a high ranking gangster during an undercover mission, after he ‘joked’ about a female being in a room. Then you proceeded to berate him and his whole crew coldly and put him in his place.

He was rock hard after that. Wanted to take you then and there.

Also has a thing for you being bratty, replying smartly to his teasing. Makes him want to fuck it out of you.

Seeing you dressed up. He knows you’re not materialistic, and neither is he, but seeing you in a fitting outfit that you bought with his card (that probably cost thousands), drives him crazy.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Consensual-non-consensual, or noncon stuff. Yes, he likes when you’re bratty and put up a fight a little, but not in that way. (He sees the effect of trafficking in the N109 zone, and doesn’t feel comfortable seeing anyone portray that.)

Anything that involves other types of bodily fluids, yes, that type of stuff. He finds it weird.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

LOVES a blowjob with all his cold heart. Would never say no. He can be kind of a head pusher, because he knows it ticks you off, but if you’re not comfortable he can resists, he just likes to hear you choking on him.

Does also like to eat you out, only if you’re cool with him doing it to the point of much overstimulation (he’s going to do that anyway).

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely prefers Slow, sensual, but DEEP!!

You swear, you don’t know how he does it, but he’s gotten to places you can’t even reach with a dildo.

He’ll go wild sometimes and fuck you with sharp, sudden movements, because he’s close but he wants you to come before him (But he won’t tell you that).

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Prefers to have his way with you.

He can get busy at times, so he’s not always available for that. He tends to disappear randomly in the night and show up randomly.

If you beg him enough, rile him up enough secretly, he will not hesitate to push you up against a wall in an alleyway and give you what you’re asking for, just know that he always ties up loose ends, and we will be continuing later.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s very open, apart from the hard no’s.

Likes the heart pounding excitement from taking new, kind of dangerous risks.

Won’t do anything that will put you in serious danger or grievous harms way.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

If it’s night, he’s going to town.

But that’s mostly because he’s taking his time with you.

Short refractory period after the first 2-3 times, then after the 5th time he’s just focused on making you cum.

If it’s the day, let’s say about 2, maybe three rounds max. He’s definitely less energized because he’s normally asleep.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not really toys, since the handcuffs, muzzles and whips have actually been used for other affairs... But they’re multipurpose, anyway, or so he says.

Does invest in vibrators and the like when he sees how much he can do to you with them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Do you really have to ask this, for SYLUS?

The man was practically born to tease. You think it’s his new way of trying to kill you, or drive you insane, at least.

If he’s really feeling like a prick, he’s denying your orgasm a couple times, and punishing you hard if you do, by overstimulating you until you’re shaking.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not a moaner, honestly, if he wasn’t talking you through it most of the time it’d be deadly quiet.

He’ll let out a grunt here and there, a breathy sigh that still gets you weak occasionally.

But of course, he’s talking you through it, and his vocabulary is quite expressive.

With his baritone voice, he could be talking about pineapples and it’d still get you going.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He knows the twins have been trying to eavesdrop sometimes.

Once, you asked if they could watch, and he allowed it.

He can always tell when they're there, and tells you that you spoil them too much.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Big, I don’t care, argue with the wall.

Okay okay, more length than girth if we’re being real, but he’s not skinny either.

At least 9 inches. He’s GIGANTIC, look at him! Def a shower.

VEINY!! Decorated from tip to balls.

His entire shaft turns red from stimulation, the tip being the brightest. It rivals his eyes.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Surprisingly not that high, honestly.

Sure, he likes to tease and rile you up, but it’s not like he’s expecting or wanting sex just because.

Can go pretty long without it honestly, there are other ways of having his fun with you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless it’s in the morning/day, he’s staying awake.

Sex is one of the few energy-inducing activities for him that will keep him awake for hours.

Will probably play with your hair, or just lay by you for a while until taking a short nap himself, maybe sipping a few wines to relax him.

[dearsnow]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- phoenix and her girlfriend set you up with a wso they insist will be right up your alley. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is meant to be similar to bob, ie quiet, sweet, and nerdy, mentions of being drunk/having sex but nothing explicit)

word count: 2,003

a/n - this fic is parallel HEAVY, so don’t be surprised if you see the same phrase passed around. it’s truly a mindlink esque situation lol. and it’s 100% self-indulgent because the reader’s personality is so similar to mine (i am nothing if not a self caterer)

“Nat, I’m really not sure.” Bob tries to protest. “You know I’m no good with dating and stuff. Who’s to say she’ll even like me?” Natasha pats him on the back, firmly enough for him to know she means it.

“You guys are birds of a feather. Trust me, she’ll like you.”

“Jamie, I just don’t know.” You frown. She’s trying to set you up with her girlfriend’s friend, claiming that you’d be the perfect match, but you know you’re not the most amazing when it comes to meeting new people. You’re slightly awkward at best, socially anxious at worst. “He probably won’t like me. And if we’re really so similar, don’t you think it’ll be stiff and weird because neither of us can say the right, flirty thing?”

“You don’t need to be ‘flirty’ to have a good connection. Not every relationship is going to be like Natasha and I, all fire and flame. Sometimes it’s slow, and slow is good. It’s exactly what you need.” Jamie chides, putting a soothing arm around your shoulder. “Trust me. Birds of a feather, right?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth you’re sitting in, Jamie’s hand rubbing the side of your arm comfortingly. It’s ten minutes before your supposed double date, and Natasha affirms that it’s about five minutes before he shows up. “Bob’s always early,” she stated, “so we can be even earlier to give you some prep time.”

You’re quiet. Shy, even, and you don’t have the best track record with social events. You’ve never really had a date that understood why you don’t want to get roaringly drunk and have sex in a bathroom and whatnot. The two girls, one in front of you and one by your side, have assured you that Bob will be different. He’s quiet too, but he stands up for himself. He’s strong and capable, with a humble attitude and the slight southern charm that you can bring home to your parents. If he’s really so great, though, what the hell is he doing going out with you?

Bob can see your booth through the door of the diner, and he steels his nerves quietly. He’s got this. He’ll make it a nice dinner, a nice experience, and he will not, under any circumstances, fuck it up. He owes you that much. He knows he’s probably not what you want in a guy. Natasha described you as hardworking, kind, and a good listener. He can’t help but think that you deserve much better than him.

He takes a breath and pushes open the door, the flowers in his other hand a little damp from his sweaty palms.

When he finally rounds the server stand, he can see you. And you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of setting sights on.

He’s royally fucked, he thinks.

Oh my god, he’s so hot. You smile at him and curse a bit under your breath, careful to not let anyone hear. He’s everything you imagined and more, with sandy colored hair, bright blue eyes, and glasses that look like they’re just a little crooked. If you were bold, you’d reach across the table and fix them as he sat down. You’re not, though, so you just fidget with your hands under the hard wood.

He clears his throat and hands you a small bouquet of daises, sliding into the spot across from you. Nat gives a little self-satisfied smile from next to him. “Hi. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay. I’m- I’m Robert by the way, or Bob, whatever you prefer.”

You think your cheeks will split open from how hard you’re smiling. It’s such a small gesture, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that it’s earnest. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Bob.” You introduce yourself with the next breath, and he shakes your hand like it’s a business meeting. His palms are warm and just a little bit damp, but when his fingers curl around your own like they were meant to fit together, you couldn’t care less. “So,” you begin, somewhat shyly, “you’re Natasha’s WSO?”

When Bob hears your quiet voice, he knows he’s in deep. “Yeah. She’s a great pilot.” His praise earns him an elbow from Natasha, a silent ‘talk about yourself, dipshit’ evident in the action. He smiles nervously. “We do a lot of the weapons bits so the pilots can fly safely. How about you, what do you do?”

“It’s not as important and exciting as your job, that’s for sure.” You laugh before explaining exactly what you do.

“Honestly, that is important and exciting. I’m sure you excel at it, too,” Bob offers, somewhat bashfully. What makes your head spin is that he seems like he means it. He’s sincere, wonderfully so.

As that statement quirks the corners of your mouth up, Bob’s heart explodes. You’re charming and beautifully sweet, with a pretty smile and dashing eyes to boot.

Jamie enters your conversation carefully, like she wants to help but isn’t forcing anything. Natasha pipes in a few times, but overwhelmingly, it’s you and Bob. Neither of you have ever spoken so much in this type of setting before, and it’s great. You bounce ideas and jokes and quips off of each other like you were meant to. You feel like you were meant to, because everything just comes so easily with Robert Floyd. You’re finally talking to someone who understands every bit of you, polishing the hidden parts of yourself until they shine. You never thought you could feel this way with another person.

“Wait, have you read this book called For One More Day?” You ask, finding every opportunity to drag out a subject you enjoy so deeply. “It’s really sad, like a fictional memoir, but I think you’d enjoy it. The whole story is basically an ode to loving your parents while they’re still around.”

“I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check it out the next time I go go the library.” Bob says, giving a slightly lopsided grin that makes your heart scream. “It seems right up my alley though. I like non fiction books, mostly, but I could go for a change every once and a while.”

Your food is almost forgotten in the midst of the conversation, and his is too. “When you do read fiction, what genres do you go for? I have a million recommendations, so help me narrow them down a bit.”

Bob will never admit this to his friends, but he’s an avid reader. He’s a sucker for a true story or anything about dogs, however, he’d read anything you could ever think to tell him about. He has already made a mental note to check out For One More Day and is currently making more notes as you list off more dog-central books. You, as you’ve told him, go for more of the fancy prose-d, heavy drama-d, and emotion-filled stories. It’s nice to see you like this, talking about something you’re honestly passionate about. The light in your eyes makes you look like a ray of sunshine.

Jamie grins at Natasha from across the table, utterly and unashamedly content that her plot has worked. Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, you two,” Nat says, “can we move on to something more exciting? Like planning a second date, maybe. One where Jamie and I can be happy at home while you two nerd out.”

Bob’s face reddens and you give a small, sheepish smile. “I’d like that.” You say.

“Me too.” Bob adds. Natasha can firmly say that she’s never seen him so happy, not even after a successful flight. It’s like he’s finally found the thing that made him tick, like you reached into his chest and wound up the gear box in his heart. “I’m free this Friday, if you’re up for it.”

You tap your fingers on the tabletop, thinking. “This Friday… this Friday is when I’m doing a book reading for the kids at our local library at lunchtime. We could have dinner after that, though.” You want to spend the entire day with him, but if a few hours is all you’re given, you’ll take it. You’d take anything.

Bob’s hands move to touch yours, just barely. His warmth radiates out, perfectly soothing your nerves. “If you want, I can make lunch and help you out at the book reading. I like those kinds of things, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You absolutely should.” You breathe. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. In fact, I think the kids would really like it if Mr. Naval Aviator read a few books to them. You’d be like a superhero in their eyes.”

You’re a bit astounded by how much Bob’s face flushes. If you thought he was a bit pink before, he’s got a drunk man’s glow now. And you were being completely, one hundred percent honest when you said that the kids would like him. They’d love him. Micah’s father was in the Navy when he was younger, so there’s one connection, and April loves airplanes with a passion. It would be amazing.

“Then I’ll be there. Here’s my number, so you can text me when and where.” Bob slides a little piece of paper over to you, one that he must have written a bit ago, because his pen is securely clipped to his pocket. He likes you so much he wrote down his number while you were (probably) explaining your love for reading, or crafts, or small animals? You’re going to swoon if he keeps this up.

Natasha eyes where your hand is touching Bob’s. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Now eat your food.” She gestures to your half-touched plates. You and Bob both stutter a little, completely having forgotten what you’re going to have to pay for.

The rest of the evening goes amazingly. You talk about so many subjects that by the end of the day, when the sun is slipping below the horizon, you feel like you’re floating on air— light and unburdened by the way you’ve been able to express yourself. Bob insisted on paying for your meal, and though you protested, a little part of you feels giddy that you’re worth spending money on. Bob walks you to your car, tucking your flowers into the cup holder between your seat and the passenger side.

“I really enjoyed that.” He muses. “I really enjoyed you. I thought Nat and Jamie were kinda full of it when they told me about this whole double date, but I’m glad they weren’t.”

“Me too, oh my gosh. I was totally expecting some stuck-up Navy nerd, but I’m glad it was you. I enjoy you too, Bob, probably way too much.” You’re standing by your door, but you feel like you can’t leave just yet.

He looks at you with something you hope to think is affection in his eyes before glancing down towards your lips. “I’ll let you get going. Text me anytime.”

You hesitate, staring up into his ocean blue eyes. Before you can stop yourself or tell yourself it’s a bad idea, you take the collar of his shirt in your hand and kiss him.

It feels right. His hand coming up to rest on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he stabilizes himself on your car, it’s everything you’ve always dreamed of. His lips work in tandem with your own, like they’re collaborating on some sort of secret mission, and he kisses you like he loves you.

His pupils are blown up and he’s panting just slightly when you pull away. He misses the feeling of your lips on his as soon as it ends, the tingling sensation working its way down his face. “T-Thank you…?” He whispers. You laugh, the sound music to his ears. He can hardly believe that that just happened.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely.“

You give him a small peck on the cheek and step into your car, so happy you think you could explode. As you pull out, and as he waves at you from the parking lot, you make an effort to remember to thank Jamie and Natasha.

Who would’ve thought that you really would be birds of a feather?

Taglist: @seitmai

[peterman-spideyparker]

Just a Trim (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Author’s Note: I have been INSPIRED by Charlies D23 Expo look and thinking about it A LOT. This is just a cute, fluffy little blurb that I hope you enjoy!

Summary: When a haircut goes wrong and Matt needs to be in court in the afternoon, Karen calls in a favor. You come and save the day.

Warnings: Fluff, bad haircut, flirty Matt, some swears. Initially written in mind as fem!Reader, but I think it works as gender neutral, too!

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 2,015

Matt loves Foggy so much. They’ve shared so many successes, losses, laughs, and straight up weird experiences. Through thick and thin, they make stuff work, even if not right away. He truly is the brother he never had. 

So it’s only fitting that Matt wants to punch Foggy flat out. 

In a loving, brotherly way, of course. 

“What the hell, Fog?” Matt calls as he folds up his cane and strides through the main reception area of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. 

“Uh, buddy?” he hears Foggy say, getting up from his desk chair and walking out of his office. “I don’t—oh, shit.”

“Yeah!” he huffs. “I thought you said he was a good barber!”

“He is!”

“Then why is my hair like this?”

“He . . . Must have been having an off day?”

“Foggy, I have to go to be in court this afternoon! I’m blind and even I know this doesn’t look good! I can’t go in to court looking like this!” Even before he was blinded, Matt was never one to be hung up on appearances. However, he knows that the rest of the world doesn’t share his viewpoints, and when it comes to being an attorney—especially an attorney in New York City—looks are everything.

“Matt, just takes a deep breath. We can figure something out.”

“Like what? I can’t fix this, I don’t think you can fix this—.”

“Hey, guys!” Karen says as the door swings open. “I just spoke with some of the other residents for the tenement case and—oh, shit.”

Matt lets out a groan of frustration as he rolls his head back in distress. “What am I gonna do, guys?”

“I . . . I’m gonna call in a favor,” Karen says, moving toward the reception area to put down purse and tote bag. She whips out her phone, tapping and scrolling until she finds the number she’s looking for. 

“(Y/N), hey!” she starts. “How are you? I’m good, but I have a bit of a favor to ask. One of my partners at our firm, he got a bad haircut, and he needs to be in court this afternoon for a tenement case. Do you have any—? Oh! Oh, um . . .” Matt can feel how Karen looks over toward him, as if she’s examining his hair for some kind of barber post-mortem. “Yeah, probably.” She sighs in relief. “You rock. We’ll see you soon. Thank you so much, (Y/N).”

Matt and Foggy wait in anticipation as Karen puts down her phone; clearly it’s good news, but they need the details. “They’ll be here in ten.”

“You have a hairdresser that makes house calls?” Foggy asks, a little confused. 

“(Y/N)'s been my friend since before I moved to the city and taking care of my hair since I came here. They're an amazing stylist. If anyone can fix this, it’s them.”

Matt nods in acceptance before moving to his office, trying to focus on some of his work to take his mind off the hair on his head. The short wait is agonizing, but his ears perk up when he hears someone approach the firm. 

“Hey,” you say as Karen opens the door for you. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Thank you so much,” she says with a big hug. “You are a lifesaver.”

He listens to the pair of you make your way over to his office. He knows you’re going to be fixing his hair, but even still, he feels embarrassed to have you see him like this. 

“Hey, Matt, this is (Y/N),” Karen introduces.

“Hi,” you say kindly. “Sorry we’re meeting like this, but, I can make it better. Would you want me to set up in here, or is there a different spot?”

“Here’s fine,” he says with a small smile. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this. I just feel bad—I could’ve come to you. Doesn’t sound like you were too far.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t too far away. Karen said you needed to be in court this afternoon. All of your things are here; you can work and prep while I fix.”

Matt’s smile grows from something small to something big, and he can hear how your heartbeat increases. He listens as you unload your things, spreading out on a small side table as you get everything ready. 

“Do you want me to stay in this chair or sit on a different one?” he asks.

“If you cold roll over, that’d be great,” you say as you switch out one of the heads on the electric razor. He does as you ask before you turn your attention to him. “Alright,” you whisper to yourself. “Let me see what we have here.”

You gracefully run your fingers through his hair, undoing the styling that was done not even an hour ago to get a better assessment of the state of things. “It feels like they might have used a hair clay . . . Do you know what they might have put in?”

“No, I’m sorry. But hair clay sounds right.”

“Okay.” You walk wound him, analyzing his hair as your fingers card through it. “It doesn’t feel like a lot, so I’ll brush it out and we’ll go from there. For something like this, I’d ideally like to work with no product in your hair, but I’m not bending you over in the little kitchenette sink and using hand soap on you. That’d be cruel, and your hair has been through enough today.”

Matt smiles to himself as he listens to you move back to your bag and grab a different brush. He loves how focused you are. He closes his eyes as you run the brush through his hair over and over, the bristles scratching comfortably against his scalp. He’s sad when it’s over, but enjoys how your fingers card through his locks to reassess the hair. 

“It’s gonna have to be on the shorter side,” you breathe, gently tilting his head to the side with your fingers to get a view from all angles, your fingertips honing in on the sides of his head. “But I promise I’ll make it look good.”

“I trust you,” he hums as you drape an apron around is neck.

You get to work, buzzing, trimming, and combing through his hair, laser focused on the task at hand. With the way your hands handle him, he feels as if he could fall asleep in the chair. He gets so relaxed, he almost doesn’t realize that you’re finishing up your work until you speak to him. 

“How does that feel?” you ask as you put your scissors down on the table. Matt runs his hands through his hair to give it a feel. You were right, it is on the shorter side, but it’s even all around and it feels good—light, neat, and even.

“It feels good,” he says with a smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” you hum, taking a few steps back toward him, running your fingers through his hair again and styling it a little. “And you have a bit of a beard going, so it balances your face well. Very handsome.” Matt can hear you smile. “There.” The smile stays on your face as you gently brush cut hair off his neck before you undo the apron around him and start to fold it. “Also, I promise I’m not anti-social. I usually talk when I cut hair, but, this was a special exception. My clients usually don’t get a cut and then go up against bad guy prosecution teams in tenement cases. That kind of pressure requires laser focus.”

Matt chuckles softly as he stands, moving his chair back to his desk. “It was fun to listen to how focused you were. It’s definitely appreciated.”

“I had to make you look good for court, now, didn’t I?” you chuckle. He listens to you pull out a hand-held vacuum and clean up the hair on the floor. 

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to leave hair on the floor,” you say as if it’s simple, obvious fact.

“You’ve already done enough for me.”

“Then this is the cherry on top,” you say, starting the little machine up. “I’m nothing if not prepared and thorough.”

Matt laughs as you quickly clean up and pack. He puts his hands into his pockets, sliding out his wallet and opening the fold. 

“Oh, no, you don’t need to,” you say, putting your hand on Matt’s to prevent him from pulling out the cash.

“You took time out of your day and your schedule to fix my hair. You came here to do it. You did your job. You just vacuumed my office. You’re going to get paid,” he kindly insists. 

“I know what kind of work you guys do here. You help so many people. You have good hearts. This is on the house.” You give his hand a little squeeze as slowly start to move from his office. “Good luck in court today. You’re gonna do great.”

He lifts his hand in a small wave and listens as you say goodbye to Foggy and Karen. When the door closes, the two of them eagerly shuffle into his office and look at his hair.

“Wow,” Foggy says. “You look like an attorney.”

“Told you (Y/N) was good,” Karen chuckles. “How does it feel, Matt?”

“Well, it feels shorter than I’d normally go, but they told me that before they started, and I said I was okay with it. It feels good, and it definitely sounds like it looks good.”

“You look like a rich guy,” Foggy chuckles. “A hot, rich guy. You’re gonna kill it in court this afternoon.”

Matt just smiles to himself, his confidence boosted, ego repaired, and his mind replaying how nice it felt when your fingers ran through his hair.

“Just a minute,” you call from a side closet when the bell on the door chimes. He listens you hop off a stool of some sort before coming out. “Hi, Claire, I—Matt,” you say surprised, but a smile growing on your face nonetheless. “H-How’d court go?”

“Good,” he says with a smile. “All thanks to your skills.”

“Oh.” He can sense how your cheeks flush. “You’re giving me far too much credit. I just gave you a haircut. You’re the one with the law degree.”

“You boosted my confidence. That’s a hell of a lot of work. Thank you for that.”

“Any time.”

He takes a couple steps forward, extending the bouquet in his hand toward you. “For you.”

“These are lovely,” you smile, taking it from his hands, sticking your nose in the fragrant flowers. “I love tulips.”

“Karen helped me with that one,” he admits. “Leaving it a just a thank you didn’t feel like enough after all that you did. I still would’ve wished you would have let me pay you, though.”

“Wasn’t gonna happen. You might be a good lawyer, but I can be stubborn. I hope the flowers weren’t your way to try and butter me up to accept payment or something.”

He laughs. “No. I figured it wouldn’t work. It’s just another way for me to say thank you.”

You take a half step forward. “And?”

Now, it’s his turn to blush. “And . . . maybe to continue that thank you over dinner tonight?”

“Oh.” He senses how your heart skips a beat and more heat rises to your cheeks.

“Only if you want to,” he tacks on. “I didn’t mean to—.”

“Oh, no, trust me, I’d love to go out with you, I—.” You stop and cringe at your eagerness, trying to pivot. “Tonight is my late night. I don’t get off until eight.”

“That’s okay. Does tomorrow work better for you?”

“That’d be great. I’ll be finished up here by six. Does that sound okay?”

Matching smiles pull at your lips. “I’ll swing by here to pick you up.”

Matt takes a half step forward, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Have a nice night, (Y/N).”

“You too, Matt.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione @catnip987​ @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters  @loves0phelia

[dira333]

Lovesick Fools - Barou Shoei x Reader

another (very late) contribution to @tetzoro 's Summer Olympics Collab!

Barou Shoei has two different sides to him.

There’s the King of Soccer, the one who dominates the field, who needs to do things on his own, even if it means becoming the villain of the story.

And there’s the Shoei you’ve gotten to know in all the moments he isn’t playing. A perfectionist. A heart with so many walls up, Fort Knox would be proud. A boy who didn’t believe love could be for him until it fell into his lap.

-

“We can’t tell anyone that we’re dating,” he announces one Friday afternoon after practice, his hair down for once.

“Okay?” You had expected him to come over, had cleaned the kitchen and prepped the snacks, your favorite cozy blanket already out for a snuggle season.

“I got the spot. For the Olympic team.”

“That’s wonderf-”

“If they know we’re dating they’re not going to ask you to come along.”

You blink. “Why not? It’s not like we can’t work together.”

“I asked if they knew which Manager would be asked to come and Isagi told me that Reia is out because she’s dating one of the players.”

You sigh. “They’re probably not going to ask me anyway. The team has some major games planned and even without you here they will need me.”

“Still,” he pulls you in, an earnest look on his face. “We cannot tell anyone, okay?”

“Fine,” you agree, slinging your arms around him. 

-

The letter arrives on Monday, an unassuming white envelope containing the information you’d silently dreaded.

You’re one of the Manager’s called in. You’re going to be flying to Paris with Shoei. Oh, to experience one of the most romantic cities on earth with your partner without letting anyone know that you are, in fact, dating.

At this point, you’d have taken the L of staying back home if it had meant being able to hug him goodbye openly.

-

“What are we going to do about the others?” You ask, phone pressed against your ear as you’re packing your bags. “Half of the team knows we’re dating.”

“I told them to keep it to themselves,” Shoei grunts. “Is my Pajama at your place?”

“Uh, yes, should I pack it for you?”

“I’m coming to fetch it. I’m not sure we’re going to have a chance to switch it.”

You sigh. “I really wish we didn’t have to do that. It feels so dishonest.”

“We can pretend we’re falling in love in Paris.”

“Mhm, because you’re going to be so charming, sweaty, and stressed after practice.”

“You did fall for me like that the first time, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

“Meanie,” you stick your tongue out at him even though he can’t see it. He sighs. 

For a moment he’s silent too, before he grumbles.

“I’m bringing my stuff. I’m sleeping over tonight.”

-

Somehow you make it through the first day without a slip-up. 

Even though Bachira calls you “Missus Barou” - he apologizes immediately for the friendly teasing and you thank the heavens that no one important overheard - and Rin sends you weird looks when you make it a point not to sit next to Shoei during dinner.

But then you’re in your room with the other managers, unable to fall asleep without your goodnight kiss, the cardboard bed not helping the slightest.

“I just… uh… need to pee one last time,” you excuse yourself, wandering out into the dark hallway only to run into Shoei, hair down, scowl on his face.

“Can’t sleep without you,” he mutters and you’re thankful for the darkness allowing you to curl into his embrace.

“This will have to do,” you mutter, kissing him the way you would at home.

-

Practice starts early, despite the jetlag. 

At least the breakfast is good - you take one chocolate muffin with you for later, unable to withstand the temptation of baked goods for long - and you’re promised to have the evenings to yourself to sightsee.

Paris is filled with tourist attractions. It wouldn’t be that much of a coincidence to run into Shoei if you’re both out to sightsee, right?

It’s only when he grabs your hand and you flinch away, scared that someone in the crowd could see, you realize just how stressed this situation is making you.

“Hey,” he grabs your hand again. “Please. I need this.”

“I know, I know.” You take a deep breath, try to calm yourself. “I’m just freaking out. What if anyone finds out?”

“You’re here now. They can’t fire you, right?”

You huff. “They might. I’m just a manager.”

“If they fire you, I’ll leave with you,” Barou promises.

Still. You keep PDA to a minimum until you’ve picked a spot for dinner, a table at the back of a cozy little restaurant, your faces hidden from sight.

-

And you might have made it out unscathed, with Shoei’s perfectionism and your anxiety working as a team, if not for your daily goodnight kiss.

The other managers are convinced you’ve got a nervous bladder with how you’re darting out of the room as soon as the lights are out, claiming you need to pee just one last time.

You don’t know what the boys are thinking, what Shoei tells them when he leaves to find you.

All you know is that it feels good to sink into his arms, to kiss him in the darkness where no one can see-

until someone turns on the lights.

You blink against the brightness, still very much clinging to Shoei.

Ego stares back at you, his features unamused as he walks past you toward the men’s bathrooms.

“Use protection,” he drawls out before closing the door behind him.

“Do you think we’re getting fired?” You ask, breathless with fear.

“No,” Shoei grumbles, pulling you closer. “I don’t think he cares.”

-

You don’t sleep much that night, which isn’t ideal because your first match is the very next day.

Not even the chocolate muffin tastes as good as it’s supposed to, anxiety weighing you down.

Shoei takes one look at the shadows under your eyes and marches up to Ego right before training.

“Can we talk for a moment, Coach?”

“No,” Ego drawls lazily. “You need to get ready.”

“About what you saw last night…” You wring your hands, too aware of all the other players listening in.

“Listen,” Ego turns toward the team, addressing all of them at once. “My Diamonds… I don’t care what you do after dark. But if you don’t show up at your best on this field, you’ll be cut from the roster. I don’t have time for lovesick fools.”

A few of them whistle through their teeth, realizing what this must be about.

Shoei glares at them until they stop before marching over until he’s by your side.

“Hear that?” He asks, barely able to contain the satisfied smirk. “You’re safe. I always play at my best.”

“Shut up,” you tell him, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. “You’ll just trip over your own Ego.”

“Never,” he promises, before kissing you, the whistling and whooping players around him be damned.

[sovereignjojoz]

how they carry you/you them (ultimate edition)

Pairings: Jonathan x reader, dio…x reader?Joseph x reader, Ceaser x reader, jotaro x reader, polenarff x reader, Avdol x reader, josuke x reader, Rohan x reader.

Warnings: weird, partial fluff, partial crack, idk, dio?, tired at Rohan’s.

Notes - for all the love on the Bucci gang edition!<3

Jonathan Joestar

Gotta be Bridal style

The og gentleman

Very traditional

He just loves to carry you he would carry you always if he could.

He’ll probably spin you around too, he’s just so sweet!

Carrying him

I mean if you insist!

It’s quite unusual in Victorian society so he’s a bit befuddled.

But if it pleases you then go ahead!

Dio Brando…

He’s just gonna be a manhandler.

He’s not sweet or nice, none of that lovey dovey stuff he’s gonna do what he wants.

He’ll carry you, drag you, whatever, he fr doesn’t care.

Not very romantic.

Carries you however he wants even if it’s never been heard of.

Kinda possessive, he might squeeze you tight if others look at you.

Touchy.

Honestly bad overall, but you dio simps probably don’t care, that’s why you like him after all! (Affectionate)🥰

Carrying him

He expects this, don’t be daft.

And he’s not gonna make it easy.

He might even make u carry him on a throne, after all he’s dio and it’s what he deserves.🤷🏽‍♀️

Joseph Joestar

To put it simply, he’s a troll.

Every time he carries you, he’ll pick you up bridal style and secure you in his arms, and only once you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck or have gotten comfortable he’ll either a) pretend to drop you (if he’s feeling kinder) or b) actually drop you.

Then he’ll laugh rambunctiously.

“C’mon babe, ya fall for it every time and it gets funnier every t-“

“Jojo!”

“ ouch my ear! ‘m sorry!”

Seems like the kinda guy who likes to carry you whilst doing squats or other gym activities just to show off his strength, he especially loves it if it gets a ride out of you.

Overall annoying

Will not put you down.

Likes to make you squirm by carrying you with one arm and touching/tickling your feet like the weirdo he is.

Kinda touchy.

So so annoying.

Will definitely show off in front of Caeser

Carrying him

Never offer

He gets even more annoying.

As soon as you've picked him up, he'll make himself as heavy as he can and literally drop all his weight on you just so you struggle.

And he's so audacious and sassy.

He'll taunt you with comments like, "oh, is that struggling I see, huh? You insisted on carrying me so chop chop."

He even snaps his fingers at you.

Just drop him.

Caeser Zeppelli

Hm, ever the charmer isn’t he?

You just know he absolutely loves carrying his s/o.

It’s obvious knowledge that he has a notorious history of being a playboy, and because of his experience with women, he knows what women like, what little gestures make them blush, how they prefer to be held etc.

So he’s going to put the knowledge he’s accumulated on you, he wants to make you swoon.

He somehow manages to always gets the timing right too, he will literally sweep you off your feet like Prince Charming.

He’ll probably want to kiss you too and like pull you really close to his chest.

He definitely wants a s/o who gets easily flustered when he carries them! No matter if you cover your face, blush, squirm he doesn’t care, he wants that reaction!

“Caeser put me down!” You whisper-shouted, trying and failing to push him away, you were literally in front of Lisa Lisa!

He kissed your neck chastely, “why Cara? I quite like you in my arms.”

“Mpmph!”

Likes to show off in front of Joseph.

Carrying him

He’ll blush out of surprise.

It’s feels so foreign to him, he’s not quite sure if he likes it!

He’ll definitely be more vulnerable to getting flustered!

Overall, he prefers to do the flustering and carrying.

Kujo Jotaro

Listen, I’m not even going to lie, you’re probably going to have to jump/floor him to get him to carry you…

Or you’re going to have to annoy him 24/7 so he considers it, just so he can get you to finally shut up.

“Jojo, Jojo, Jojo, please! I really really love you jojo! And you would do the same if you love meee-!”

Literally knocks you off of your feet.

Might just leave you on the floor.

Or he’ll hold you for one second, the drop you (heart eyes).

Jump on his back and you’ll get a piggy back for like 5 seconds or something before he pushes you off.

Small bonus! Part 4 jotaro! (+ jolyne)

Becomes more open to carrying you.

Still would rather not but if you insist fine.

He’ll brashly pick you up, stand still and hold you bridal style.

Baby Jolyne will make grabby hands and he’ll pick her up with one hand and carry you and her both.

Carries both you and baby Jolyne like sacs of potatoes.

Will put baby Jolyne on his shoulders.

Carrying him

Don’t try it, he’s got good reflexes, you might get knocked out.

He’ll probably wobble around because he doesn’t get carried.

Hates it.

Jean-Pierre Polnareff

My babygirl.

He’s such a romantic.

He just wants to pamper you and spoil you by making you not have to do anything ever, including walking!

“Ma Cherie! Please, don’t dirty your beautiful shoes in that puddle, allow me.”

Loves the feel of you close to him.

Wants you to jump on him, in his arms, any place any time.

Lil bit touchy.

He’ll speak to you in French too even if you can’t understand it (especially if you can’t) just to make you swoon more.

Sometimes he’ll carry you and dance just because.

Just lifts you when he’s extremely happy.

Give him affection!

Carrying him

If you love it he loves it.

He doesn’t care he just wants you to be happy.

Surprised at your strength though!

And he becomes very blushy too.

Avdol

You gotta be practical with him.

He won’t refuse but he certainly won’t endorse it unless you both have privacy, he’s not a fan of pda unlike others on here (cough Caeser, Joseph and Polenarff).

He’ll carry you if you’re injured though, and he’ll be so tender, making sure not to hurt you.

In terms of carrying you, he prefers the more romantic side of things such as carrying you to bed.

Although if you want to be silly and like do challenges he may indulge you once or twice even though he may not be so fond of such things.

One thing is though you absolutely cannot get caught by Joseph! He wouldn’t be able to handle the teasing!

Carrying him

The first time you attempt it, he’ll definitely grip you tightly out of surprise.

“Oh my!”

The look of pure shock on his face is so cute.

He might ask you to put him down after a while though.

He may let you carry him once or twice more.

The best Jojo Higashkiata Josuke

Similar to Mista, he LOVES to carry you in any way he can.

Like he’ll tackle you in order to carry you, in fact a lot of the time him carrying you stems from you and him play fighting.

His favourite way to carry you is putting you on his shoulder and doing whatever he wants, like he might even put you on his shoulder then go about having a normal conversation with okuyasu???

I can’t get this out of my head but I envision running at you at max speed and just picking you up, putting you on his shoulder and continuing running.

And the reason varies like sometimes it’s valid like kira will be in the vicinity and other times it’s so random.

“Oh shi- [name]! We have to go we’re gonna be late to meet my mom at the dentists.”

Carrying him

Again you’ll probably struggle.

And he’ll laugh at you and tease you.

Maybe even take a picture.

This is the time for him to relax, y’know?

He’s shameless too, like he’ll call okuyasu whilst you struggle and be like “you got this babe, anyway…”

If Rohan ever sees this is just another reason on the list of why he doesn’t like Josuke.

Kishibe Rohan

No.

He doesn’t have time for such trivial things, he’s got to work on things such as his manga.

This is something that idiot Josuke would do, not him.

But then he remembers that you’re his s/o and this will make you really happy, so he sighs and closes his sketchbook and indulges you.

Keeps it short and sweet.

When he puts you down they’ll be a couple of lingering touches.

Throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him, and tell him how much you love him then he’ll indulge you more.

Carrying him

Absolutely not, will jump out of your hold immediately and scowl.

[seeingivy]

you belong with me

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama

an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS

--

You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater. 

What do you hate today? Being class president. 

You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back. 

“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.” 

“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.” 

“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.” 

“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”

“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.” 

“Toji, I’m not even mad about-” 

You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.

You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it. 

“Come in, bunny.” 

“Loud and clear, Toru.” 

He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.” 

“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.” 

You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin. 

“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.” 

“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?” 

“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.” 

He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating. 

Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all). 

He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses. 

But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by. 

No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window. 

To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you. 

And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention. 

I love you.

--

Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started. 

Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place. 

“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?” 

“We’re not best friends.” 

“Sure we are!” 

You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you. 

“Are you still fighting with that dog?” 

“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.” 

“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?” 

“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.” 

Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months. 

“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.” 

“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me, Kento?” 

“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.” 

You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.

“As if.”

Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him. 

“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds. 

Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.  

“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.

“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you. 

Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh. 

You get it. He doesn’t want you there.

“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.

“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters, 

“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you. 

“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?” 

“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks. 

“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?” 

You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life. 

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head. 

“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head. 

“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab. 

“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.” 

And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more. 

“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.” 

--

Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more. 

He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-

“Need a ride?” 

You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you. 

“Thanks.” 

He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot. 

“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair. 

You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession. 

“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?” 

He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.

“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.” 

“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass. 

“But why?” 

And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all. 

“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?” 

“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.” 

“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.” 

“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.” 

“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.” 

You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose. 

He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter. 

You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over. 

“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin. 

You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop. 

Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope. 

On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things. 

Jamoca and Satoru. 

When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place. 

Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking. 

“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?” 

“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.” 

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?” 

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.” 

You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees. 

“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.” 

Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him. 

He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead. 

“Ouch, asshole.” 

“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.” 

And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go. 

He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways. 

--

After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab. 

And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently. 

You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates. 

“You’re Haibara, right?” 

“You know who I am?” 

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.” 

“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you. 

“Are too.” 

You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh. 

“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.” 

You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why. 

Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden. 

Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue. 

“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.” 

“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.” 

“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.” 

You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.” 

“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.” 

“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.” 

“Prove it.” 

You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen. 

And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh. 

And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points. 

“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.” 

“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.” 

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?” 

“Every night, sweetheart.” 

You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle. 

After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking. 

“You okay?” 

“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.” 

“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-” 

He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace. 

And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders. 

Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes. 

Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.” 

You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field. 

“Take you home?” 

“Thanks, Toru.” 

“You want Jamoca?” 

“Not today.” 

He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates. 

At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” 

“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-” 

“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.” 

Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him. 

“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.” 

“I know. That’s true.” 

“But?” 

“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.” 

Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish. 

He can’t be selfish with you. 

“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just do it.” 

“Okay.” 

He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.

“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.” 

“What are you going on ab-” 

“Just do it.” 

You sigh, before thinking hard about his question. 

“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.” 

After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face. 

“Bunny?” 

“Toru?” 

“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?” 

You slump back into your chair, sinking down. 

“No.” you murmur. 

“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-” 

“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.” 

“Get out of the car.” 

You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store. 

--

You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his. 

“Hi bunny. You look nice.” 

“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?” 

To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you. 

“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.” 

“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.” 

“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.” 

You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you. 

When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind. 

The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say. 

I love you.

And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance. 

--

Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes. 

Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. 

Be fucking selfish. 

Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time. 

He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion. 

“Nanami.” 

“Please, for the love of god, not tod-” 

“Go hand this to Y/N.” 

Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time. 

Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko. 

“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”

“You would be shocked, Y/N.” 

“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.

She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over. 

“Did you break into my house, Shoko?” 

“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.” 

They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.

And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming. 

Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first. 

“Can we talk, Y/N?” 

"No."

You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt. 

He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first. 

“Come in, bunny?” 

“Loud and clear, Toru.” 

“I love you.” 

You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand. 

“I love you.” 

“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”

You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips. 

“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.” 

He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom  @k0z3me  @kayleegomez  @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome  @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters  @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

[catboybiologist]

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

[chongoblog]

Weird question, I know, but do you have any recommendations for getting into roguelikes? Or at least roguelites?

Great question! As far as the genre of roguelike/lite goes, there’s a pretty wide berth. I think it depends on what kind of experience you’re looking for.

I was gonna give a breakdown of lite vs like, but honestly I’m just gonna go down the list

Hades/Hades 2: Very good if you want to experience a story, tight gameplay, and be pretty sure that you’ll make your way to the end eventually without ragequitting. A lot of its charm comes in it being easier and focusing more on progressing story than Just Being A Wall like some of the other games on this list. Probably the best entry point to roguelikes in this whole list.

Spelunky/Spelunky 2: Remember when I mentioned a wall to throw yourself at? I haven’t played nearly as much Spelunky 2, but I can tell you that I have SOOOOO much time in the first Spelunky (hell I had a lot of time in it back when it was freeware. Now THAT was an exciting time). It’s very very difficult and unforgiving. But it’s a blast once you figure out the tricks.

Slay the Spire: THE deckbuilder roguelike. A ton of roguelikes nowadays have deckbuilder elements and I feel like a lot of it comes from this game. Can’t recommend it enough. If you’re looking for other deckbuilder roguelikes, you can try Monster Train or Balatro (warning this one is crack if you like Number Go Up)

FTL Faster Than Light: You know Star Trek? Imagine if you were a ship captain and you were in control of all the ship functions and crew members. And also everything wanted you dead. And uh oh half your crew is dead. Oh god the O2 chamber is on fire. Another one of those “Throw Yourself At A Wall” type games. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever completed a run myself, but it’s a wonderful experience every time I pick it up

Skul: Definitely one of my favorites in recent memory. A fun action platformer where you get to be a lil skeleton dude, what more could you ask for? Very similar to Dead Cells, which I’ve also played, but I think I like Skul a good bit better (DC is very good though!!!)

Dicey Dungeons: Made by the same guy who did VVVVVV, Dicey Dungeons is a very fun take on the genre, basing it around dice, and allowing for a lot of creative playstyles around the mechanic.

Binding of Isaac: I feel like this one needs no introduction, but in case it does, BoI takes most of its inspiration from the original Legend of Zelda. I have a few issues with it myself which is why I don’t play it nearly as much as I used to (mostly due to it having soooooooo much stuff that trying to remember everything is a hassle, kinda like my issue with TF2 unfortunately) but it’s beloved for a reason so it might just end up being up your alley

Other games I know about but haven’t played much of, so I can’t say much are Streets of Rogue, Risk of Rain 2, Rogue Legacy (I did play a lot back in the day but never got far), Noita, Into the Breach, Darkest Dungeon, and Crypt of the Necrodancer

If anyone else has any recommendations or if you second any of these recs, feel free to put em in the replies

[hannahssimblr]

It’s just us and the man picking up rubbish here, on the grass by the small stage where I met Weed Alison. I don’t tell Evie I’ve been here before, because telling her the story requires so much explanation, and will lead me back down a winding path that ends with me bickering with Jen before the Foo Fighters gig. I wish I could erase almost every moment between the last time I sat here and this one. It’s been a day and a half fraught with poor decisions and even worse behaviour. 

I still hear the rave tent thudding, but it is so distant now, mostly replaced by the wind shaking the leaves above us. 

“I like it when it’s quiet like this,” Evie whispers. “I feel like I’ve forgotten what quiet is.”

“Right. It can be hard going, a festival. It takes a lot out of you. I hope that you’re having a good time, like, I hope it isn’t overwhelming, despite that… thing at the rave.”

“I’m having a good time,” she says, adding hastily, “today was honestly a little weird, but the festival has had its moments.”

“Yeah, today was a bit weird for me too,” I hesitate, as my excuses catch in my throat. “I’ve… had a lot on my mind, I think.”

“Do you get like that a lot?”

I huff out a laugh. “What? Like, have stuff on my mind? Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then same.”

Her eyes do a quick tour of me. “Jen said you’re a scorpio, and that’s why you’re moody.”

“Oh yeah? What else does she say whenever you two are apparently gossiping about me?”

“Rich of you to assume we talk about you at all.”

“Do you?” 

She shifts self-consciously, but her eyes remain playful. “Well, do you talk to her about me?”

“Yes.” Obviously. 

“Oh. What do you talk about?”

I smirk. “None of your business.”

“Well then,” she says, “I’m not telling you either.”

“Bet I already know.”

“You think?”

“I bet she tells you I’m secretly a boring, moody dickhead under all the facade or something, doesn’t she?”

“She didn’t say ‘boring’. You’re not boring.”

“But she did say ‘moody’.”

“‘Sour’, I think, is the word she used. Which, like, I never thought of you like that. You always seem happy to me. Well, mostly.”

“Maybe because when I’m having a particularly sour day, I just stay in my room.”

“Hm. And you couldn’t stay in your room today.”

My stomach sinks. “No. I couldn’t. Sorry, I didn’t think it was, like… that obvious.”

“I thought it was.”

Again, the words I want to say seem to get trapped. Why is so hard to express myself? Why is it I have such limited understanding of my own feelings? I want to express regret, to tell her I’m sorry if I hurt her by avoiding her, but I feel like I keep opening my mouth and uttering nothing.

“Sometimes thing pile up,” I manage. “I overthink. And… and maybe I’ve been overthinking too much this summer.”

Oh, great, yeah. Good job. That’s perfect.

“Are you overthinking what happened last night?”

“Yeah, maybe.” There I go again, picking at the grass. The bits that I pull from the soil are so dry that they’re like straw, and I take my time examining them while Evie sits and waits for me to say something with any kind of substance at all. She probably wants to hear all about how I don’t regret kissing her, and if I had any sense, I would say just that, but I can’t lie to her face. It’s not who I am, so I just pick at the ground. 

“Hey,” she says. “I know I’m a bit younger than you, and I’m sorry if that freaks you out, but we’re really not that different when you think about it. Like, yeah, for sure, I have a good bit less experience than you, but-”

“It’s not that,” I say. “That’s not what I’m overthinking about. It isn’t you, or your age, or your experience.”

“What is it then?”

Christ, what is wrong with me? I can’t even look at her. With the shrug of one shoulder, I say, “I don’t think it’s a good thing for you to like me like that. I don’t really want you to.”

“It’s hard not to,” she says.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“How could I not, Jude? It’s you.”

I frown. “Mm.”

“Can you just look at me for a second?”

So I do, and her face is determined, her eyes steady, before they drop to my cheeks, my nose, my mouth where they linger. 

Oh, she’s going to kiss me.

I know it seconds before she plucks up the courage, which gives me ample time to stop it, but I don’t. I don't want to. She leans in, and I let her.

She goes in carefully, with her hand on my neck, and her head tilts to the side before she dots one little kiss on my lips. Two. As though experimenting, she turns the other way, three, four… 

I slide my hands around her waist and kiss her back.

Other kisses don’t make me feel the way I felt last night, as though she’s thrown a match on me and set my body alight, so I can justify doing it again by deciding I am too weak to resist it, that they day is long and that I deserve to surrender to something good.

Moving my hands to cradle her head, I glide my tongue along her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to me, soft and hot and slow, as my thumbs stroke her cheeks. I bite her bottom lip, and her top, as into my mouth, she moans against my gentle onslaught. The moment she makes that sound, I’m gone. 

I kiss her cheeks, then her nose, and angle her head so that I can kiss her neck, where she smells like sweet perfume, and against her skin I whisper, “fucking hell, Evie.”

Her voice vibrates under my lips as I trail hot, hungry kisses along her throat. “If you want to go back to my tent, we can.”

Yes, I think. The tent. It would make sense to be in there. She lifts my face to hers.

“I can get Claire to sleep in with Shane. We can have it to ourselves.”

I fall back to my body the second we mesh gazes, crashing down, along with the common sense, the guilt and the shame I shed as I kissed her. In a second I have released her and carved distance between us again. “Evie, no,” I say firmly. Tomorrow, I will be impressed by my self-restraint under challenging circumstances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s okay, I want to.” She has so little conviction that I can’t help but laugh. She screws up her face. “What’s funny?”

“Evie, it doesn’t really matter if you want to. I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to… do it. With me?”

“No. Is that okay?”

She blinks, eyes a bit wild, and I swear I can pinpoint the moment when her brain jumps to her conclusion. “Is there something wrong with me?” It’s barely a question. Somewhere between that and a statement of the obvious, a confirmation of something she already believes. 

“No. Of course there isn’t. I’ve just been thinking about it, and I don’t think it’s the right thing to do. Look, I got carried away last night, and I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I was… a bit drunk, to be honest.”

“You’re not going to break me,” she persists, “if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t mind. I have to do it eventually, and I’d rather if it was with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Not really.”

“I would.”

“It would make things complicated.”

“Jude, I know you don’t want me to like you, but I already do. Honestly, I’ve never really felt this way about anybody else. It’s different with you. I don’t care about any other boys, this is why I couldn’t be with Liam-”

“God, Evie, please.” I put my head in my hands. What she does she want from me? What does she expect? She knows as much as I do that there’s no chance for something to work between us, not when I’m going away in two weeks. Can’t we just have left it all unsaid? “Please don’t make this harder on me.”

And to my utter horror, my face heats, and my eyes prickle with tears. I am about to cry. In front of Evie Kilbride. I think I’d rather be dead than do this, but here I am, with nowhere to hide. 

She rests her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just that… like, um, I heard you were thinking of staying in Ireland, and that when you get your college offers next week, you might decide to do a course in Dublin, and I just thought-”

What? My head snaps up. “Evie, what are you talking about?” 

“Jen said-”

“I told you I was leaving. As soon as I met you, I told you I was leaving.”

“But Jen-”

“What about Jen?”

Evie shrinks away. “She said that you might stay. That she thought you might decide not to go to Berlin, because you didn’t seem that excited about it.”

The blood roils. “I don’t know why the fuck she would have said that to you.”

“You not staying?”

“No!”

“But…” her mouth opens, then shuts again. The air thickens between us. “But Jen told me.” She insists, one more time, like it's true as long as she continues to say it. 

“Whatever she said to you is a lie, Evie. I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have told you anything about me. I know it’s unfair…”

“But maybe if things… If I… maybe you’ll still decide to stay.”

I swear I can see that last glimmer of hope in her eyes, and it kills me to squash it, but it’s honest, and it’s right. “I won’t.” I make sure she is looking right into my eyes as I say it. “I am moving to Berlin in two weeks. It’s done. It’s happening. I don’t know why she- I can’t believe that’s what she said. That’s insane.”

“You’re really going? It’s confirmed?” As her voice cracks and she fills up with tears. I have a moment where I wish I was blind, just so that I wouldn’t have to watch her cry. 

“Yes, I’m really going. I was always going to go.” I pull her to my chest, and there, in the circle of my arms, she breaks into shoulder-shaking sobs, while all I can think to do is smooth my hand over her back and press my cheek against her hair. Her hands fist in my t-shirt, face boiling. “Oh, come on Evie, please don’t cry. I’m sorry that you ever thought otherwise. I tried to make it as clear as I could. I didn’t think that Jen was telling you that stuff.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, I know.” I wrestle back my surging emotion with a hard swallow. “Well, maybe it won’t work out, hm? And I’ll come back after a while.”

For some reason, this makes her cry harder. 

“Shh, shh, come on.” I whisper. She turns her head and leaves a stamp of black makeup on the cotton of my t-shirt. “God, sorry,” she blubs, mopping at it ineffectually. “I’m a mess.”

“I don’t care about the t-shirt. It’s fine, it’s just a bit of makeup.” I hook the strand of hair stuck to her cheek behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a good enough job of staying neutral, keeping my distance. I really never meant for you to have feelings for me.”

“Of course I do,” she sniffles. “You’re the best person in the world. You couldn’t have stopped me from liking you.”

“I probably shouldn’t have kissed you yesterday, should I? It didn’t help.”

And she sits up out of my arms and wipes the grey streaks of wet makeup. “Do you wish you didn’t?”

“It was really selfish. I was only thinking about how badly I wanted to, the way you looked under those lights. You’re so pretty when you’re smiling. I wasn’t thinking about whether it was fair to you to do it.”

Her laugh is watery. “You think I’m pretty?”

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[skyward-floored]

Swapped

Part one of the Incredibles au power swap fic lets gooooo

I don’t know how many parts this is going to be total, maybe four..? I tried to keep it short, but that... didn’t work, heh. This is set after movie stuff at some point, don’t know exactly when, not too long... but supers are legal at least.

But anyway, enjoy part one!

Part two

————————————————————

Wind woke up slowly, his ears ringing in his skull.

A dull pulse of pain rippled through his middle, and he winced, putting a hand on his chest and rubbing it as he tried to think through what had happened. He remembered a voice talking, and something about intruders being free test subjects...

Oh. Right.

And a big explosion that had sent them all flying.

Ow...

Wind rubbed his eyes, wincing. He supposed a weird explosion shouldn’t be that surprising, since they were trying to break into a crazy-secure science lab. They’d gotten some information on all sorts of illegal experiments going on here, with supers allegedly involved, and they’d all suited up and stormed the place.

Nobody had realized they were expected.

Wind sighed, and sat up with another wince, grateful his supersuit was so sturdy. If he’d been in his civilian clothes, he’d probably be a smear on the wall right now. Or at least dealing with some broken ribs instead of just the weird soreness he had.

He shook his head, trying to disperse the ringing in his ears, and looked around, wondering why it was so quiet. Something about the air seemed weird, like something was missing from it.

A frown settled on Wind’s face and he reached for some wind, trying to listen and see if there was anything moving nearby. Then he froze.

He couldn’t do it.

Wind thrust his hand out, twirling it in the motion he always used when he directed the winds, but nothing happened, no matter how he moved his hands, no matter how hard he tried.

Something was wrong with his powers.

Wind breathed in shakily, and looked down at his hands, trying not to get swamped with panic. He was fine, he was fine except for the aches and lack of powers, he was fine. He probably just... needed to recover a little more from being unconscious. Yeah.

That had to be it.

Wind swallowed and looked around, suddenly zeroing in on Legend lying nearby. He wasn’t moving, and Wind shakily got to his feet, stumbling over and crouching at his side.

“Legend?” Wind asked, and gave his brother a light shake.

Legend didn’t move, not one inch, and the sight of his brother so still made something lurch in Wind’s stomach.

He paused in trying to wake him, and turned his attention to the rest of the room. He’d been separated from the others in the explosion, and the only other person besides Legend and himself in the hallway was Warriors. And Warriors looked like he was beginning to stir, a groan coming from his direction.

Wind stood up again, the absence of his wind all the more noticeable when he tried to draw on it for assistance. He swallowed and kept going, and knelt by Warriors’ side as his eyes flickered open.

“Warriors?” he asked in a shaky voice, and his uncle groaned, pressing his hands to his ears.

“Not so loud...” he bit out in a whisper, face screwed up in a wince. “...why is it so loud?”

“...I’m the only one making any noise,” Wind said in confusion, and when Warriors winced, he switched to a whisper as well. “...Sorry. It’s not loud at all Warriors, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t... know?” Warriors bit out, trying to sit up. “Ugh... I feel like I got hit by a truck...”

“Did you hit your head?” Wind asked anxiously, and Warriors slowly shook it, still wincing.

“No... everything is just... loud.”

Wind waited a moment for him to wake up a little more, and Warriors breathed out, slowly sitting up. Pain still showed in the way his face was creased though, and Wind felt the bubble of anxiety in his chest get a little bigger.

“That was a weird thing they hit us with... are you sure you’re okay?” Wind said as he helped Warriors sit up, glancing worriedly at the rubble separating them from the others.

“Yeah...” Warriors mumbled. “You okay, Wind?”

Wind swallowed.

“I... I don’t know,” he said honestly, wishing his voice wouldn’t shake. “I only woke up a bit ago. I found Legend too, he’s still unconscious, but Wars there’s— there’s something wrong with my powers.”

“What?”

Wind bit his lip. “I can’t get them to work. Ever since I woke up I haven’t been able to feel any wind or anything, there’s something wrong.”

Warriors’ face creased in concern, but then he paused, and held out his hand with his palm outstretched.

Nothing.

He tried again, a little more frantically, but still nothing happened, and he exhaled, looking down at his hands.

“Looks like mine are on the fritz too,” he said worriedly, then gave Wind’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll... we’ll figure this out. There’s probably something blocking them, I’ve seen this before. We just need to find the device.”

“You’re sure?” Wind said shakily, and Warriors nodded, giving his hair a quick ruffle.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine, kiddo.”

Wind gave him a small smile, then decided to check on Legend again since he still hadn’t moved. His brother’s face was still pale and blank, and while he didn’t look injured, Wind knew stuff could be hurt on the inside where they couldn’t see it.

Warriors joined him a few moments later, still wincing, and got to a knee beside Legend. He began looking him over, brushing dusty bangs from his face, and Wind watched in silence from beside him.

“Warriors, what do we do now?” Wind asked quietly, and his uncle hesitated, flinching when a sound rang out in the distance.

“I... don’t know just yet. Let’s recuperate for a bit, see if we can wake Legend up. Maybe try and contact the others. Then... I guess keep going. Somebody has to stop this scientist guy.

“And that somebody is us.”

“Right-o,” Warriors smiled. Then he stiffened, ears pricking as he looked down the hallway. “Someone’s coming.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Wind said in confusion, and Warriors shook his head, gathering Legend up into his arms.

“I can, there’s someone coming, trust me. We need to—”

Footsteps clattered towards them, and Warriors flinched, quickly tugging Wind and Legend behind a piece of rubble. A handful of guards came around the corner, and Wind crouched down further, watching them nervously.

Normally four guards would be nothing, but without powers and Warriors in a questionable state... Wind wasn’t sure they could handle them.

“Wars?” he whispered, and Warriors put a finger to his lips.

The guards drew nearer, spreading out and looking around the rubble. One came closer and closer to where Warriors and Wind were, and suddenly looked behind the rubble, spotting them.

“Hey!”

He grabbed for his gun, and Warriors shoved Wind behind him, launching himself at the guard with a snarl. The man shouted as he fell backwards, and despite the pain on Warriors’ face, he managed to wrestle the gun away from him.

The other guards heard him though, and Wind’s stomach lurched as they surrounded Warriors, unsure if he should go help or stay where he was and defend Legend. Warriors was hurting, but Legend wasn’t even awake, what was he supposed to do?

Two guards split off and went for Wind, and he yelped in panic, backing up so he could better protect Legend. The guards both reached in the nook Wind and Legend were tucked in, trying to grab them, but Wind avoided their hands and kicked at their arms.

Warriors was still struggling with the other two guards, but when he heard Wind’s yelp, his head shot up, eyes going wide when he saw one of them pull out a gun.

“Get away from them!” he shouted, eyes glowing, and was suddenly doused in shadows.

A familiar noise hummed through the air, and Wind and the guards stared in shock as the shadows dispersed, leaving a grayish-blue and white wolf on the ground where Warriors had been.

The wolf looked utterly shellshocked, and Wind felt much the same as he stared at it.

What.

Wind suddenly realized the guards were all distracted by the abrupt appearance of a wolf, and he shoved his shock to the back of his mind. He pushed the two that were trying to grab him, knocking them both over, then darted out and grabbed a piece of metal that had fallen on the ground.

He slammed it into one of the guard’s heads, sending him to the floor, but by then the others had snapped out of their daze.

But Warriors had too, and it didn’t take long for him and Wind to take out the other three guards. All four lay unconscious in short order, and Wind panted heavily as he wiped his face.

Then he stared back at the wolf, who was staring at his paws with his ears back.

“Um... what?” Wind spluttered, disbelief coming back. “Warriors that— how?”

The Warriors-wolf whined, his eyes wide, and he paced around in an anxious circle, nose twitching and ears flicking.

“How did you do that?!” Wind repeated, and Warriors flinched at his raised voice, ears folding back again. “...sorry. But why do you have Twilight’s powers?!”

Warriors repeated his whine, tail between his legs, and suddenly the shadows whirled around him again, blocking him from view. When they dispersed, Warriors was back to normal, sitting on the ground and looking somewhat nauseous.

“...Warriors?” Wind asked, and Warriors slowly sank down and laid on his back, then put a hand over his eyes.

“Gimme a sec,” he croaked.

Wind went quiet, and for a minute the only sound in the room was Warriors’ somewhat-shaky breathing.

While his uncle got a hold of himself, Wind gently tugged Legend out from the hiding spot, setting his head in his lap as he sat down. He ran a hand over Legend’s hair while he watched Warriors, and finally his uncle exhaled, and took the hand off his eyes.

“I think I know what the problem with our powers is,” he murmured. “Somehow... they switched.”

“But how?” Wind said as he stared at his uncle, and Warriors sighed, slowly sitting up and setting his hands over his ears again.

“I don’t know. But... I think it has to do with that weird energy pulse. I’d guess somehow it switched our powers.”

Wind stared at him in shock, and Warriors grimaced as something made a sound in the distance.

“How... is that even possible?”

“I have no earthly clue.”

Wind petted Legend on the head again, trying to wrap his brain around the idea of powers somehow swapping. Their powers were a literal part of them, how could anything switch them around?

“So... so you somehow have Twilight’s powers,” Wind said, and Warriors nodded. “Does that mean Twilight has yours?”

“I don’t know. But based on the whole wolf thing and the fact that I can hear so much as a pin drop, I definitely switched with Twilight,” Warriors said, then winced again. “Eugh. How does he deal with being able to smell everything? Or hear people breathing?”

Wind shrugged. “So... what was it like being a wolf?” he asked curiously.

“...Weird. We should get moving before the guards wake up,” Warriors said, dodging the question, and Wind sighed and nodded. Obviously Warriors didn’t want to talk about it.

...he’d get it out of him eventually though.

Wind looked down at his hands as Warriors moved to pick up Legend, flexing his fingers, and wondered suddenly if the same thing had happened to him.

Had he just gotten his powers blocked, or had he switched with somebody too? Was that why he couldn’t feel his winds?

Wind focused on himself for a second, trying to remember back to when he was smaller, and accessing his powers was more difficult. Normally there was a sense of the winds around him that he drew on, a thrum in his heart that moved in time with them, and he could usually draw on it with little to no effort.

That feeling wasn’t there anymore, but as Wind focused, he realized there was a different thrum inside of him now, one that felt blindingly strong.

Wind cautiously drew on it, but it was like turning on a firehose, and a flood of whatever power he had now came rushing at him, startling a yelp from his throat.

Warriors called his name, but Wind barely heard him, focused on the power rushing through his middle, spreading to his limbs and stretching out along his face. It was nearly overwhelming, but Wind held on against it, gritting his teeth as power buzzed all over throughout his skin.

The rush ebbed finally, enough that Wind could open his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was that the floor seemed a lot further away then it had before.

Also Warriors staring at him in shock.

“What?” Wind asked, then startled at the way his voice echoed.

“You... you also swapped,” Warriors said in a somewhat strangled voice.

Wind blinked, then looked at his hands, feeling the current of power run through him, feeling so powerful that he could probably punch his way through the walls if he had to.

Which meant...

“I got Dad’s, didn’t I?” Wind said.

Warriors sat back down.

“...Yep.”

[stevelieber]

Thoughts on giving critiques to comics artists.

Seeing lots of discussion from students about sour experiences with an unhelpful art teacher, so here's a long, long post about giving critiques.

NB: I have no formal training as a teacher, but I was a student, and I've spent decades giving artists feedback on their work.

When someone brings me a portfolio, I like to establish my limitations & clarify my perspective. My work is firmly rooted in traditional US comics storytelling (i.e., not manga or art-comics.) I can give feedback on other approaches but they should know where I’m coming from.

“We've only got a little time for this, so I'm going to spend that time focusing on things to correct. That doesn't mean you're doing everything wrong, or that there’s nothing good here, but it’ll be more helpful if I identify some problems and show you how to fix them.”

Why? Because for many young artists their entire sense of self worth is wrapped up in being good at what they do. (It was for me!) In school they were probably the best artist in their peer group. But now if they're hoping to turn pro, they’re at the bottom.

Sometimes you know what’s up when you see page 1, but try to keep an open mind. Some build their portfolios by sticking new pages at the back & don’t weed out the old stuff up front, so the work gets better as you go. When it’s like that I ask: “Show me your best 8 pages.”

I ask questions: "What's the goal? Do you want to be hired to work on someone else's project, or to get the story you're showing me here published?"

If 1, I steer towards a portfolio that'll showcase hirable skills. If 2, I look for what tweaks will make that particular story more effective.

"Do you have teachers giving you regular feedback? What are they telling you?" Sometimes a student is getting bad advice. In cases like that, I'll do my best to be extra clear WHY I'm giving them advice that's 180 degrees from what they've been hearing.

“What artists are you looking at? Is there someone you admire or try to emulate?” This often helps me understand choices they're making, and I can sometimes incorporate things those artists do into my suggestions.

I ask myself questions about what I’m seeing. First: Is there a narrative? If not, I make it 100% clear I'm not speaking as any sort of expert. I'm good at critiquing storytelling, but don't have anywhere near as much to offer illustrators or designers.

Can I follow the story? Or am I confused about what's going on? Are the characters and settings drawn consistently? If not, is the artist at least making use of tags (distinctive clothing, hair etc.) to keep the characters recognizable?

Does the artist demonstrate a good command of basic academic drawing? If not, Do I think they need it? Do I focus on "how to draw" or on "what to do when you can't draw?" Is the artist putting the viewer’s eye where it needs to be to tell the story effectively?

(At this point I’m usually doing little doodles to go with my instructions. I scribble out ugly little 5 second diagrams that I hope will clarify what I’m talking about. Or they might make me seem demented. Hard to say!)

Is the artist making choices that are creating more work than necessary? Is there a particular weakness? I once spoke to an artist with a portfolio full of great work when he was drawing animals and monsters, but his humans were amateurish in comparison. I spent that critique talking about drawing people.

A crit can be a grab bag. In addition to big-picture advice, I'll point out tangencies, violations of the 180-degree rule, wonky anatomy, weird perspective, places where the artist neglected to do important research, odd choices in how they spotted black, whatever catches my eye.

I also try to make a point of defining the terms, so that jargon like “tangency,” “180-degree rule,” and “spotting black” don't go over their heads. Find simple, concrete ways to talk about these things, & clarify why it's a problem when they aren't done correctly. Draw diagrams!

Recognize that even a perfectly phrased explanation might not sink in. Some lessons can only be learned when a student is ready, and it might take a year or two of work before they can understand what you were saying. It's good to plant seeds.

Are there other artists who are particularly good at solving the problems the student is trying to solve? I steer them towards that artist's work. And I always recommend life drawing & the use of reference to give work specificity, variety, and authority.

Despite what I said earlier about focusing on what's wrong, I try at the end to find something encouraging to say. And if I’ve really piled on the criticism, I emphasize that I only spent the time and energy to do so because I take their efforts seriously.

If I've done my job right, they'll leave my table with tools to make their work better. And maybe in a few years they'll be looking at some younger artist's work, surprised to discover just how much you can learn when you're asked to teach.

[sociopathicartist]

Heya! I was wondering if u could do a headcanon of how Sans would act to being at disneyland with his S/O for the first time??

hey! thank you for requesting these, this was light-hearted and fun:) i’ve never been to disneyland before so forgive me if some of my stuff wasn’t correct, i’m going off of what i see online.

UT Sans Disneyland headcanons.

Being at Disneyland didn’t appeal much to Sans at first. Why? Standing in 2-hour lines for a ride and seeing characters from movies he didn’t get to watch growing up just wasn’t a very appealing idea to him, at the least, he could only see himself going if Papyrus wanted him to.

So when you suggested the idea on a random whim one night in bed, it took a bit of convincing to get him to go with you. It was a good portion of money that the both of you’d be spending, and he just wasn’t sure if the price would be worth it for the experience.

But eventually, your pleas got to him, and he finally gave in.

➭ road trip

Sans surprisingly did enjoy the drive down to disneyland.

He drove the whole way there for you. Since you took care of him in many other aspects of your domestic life, so when it came to things like cooking or driving, he always jumped the gun and made sure it wasn’t a task of yours.

He kept playing eye-spy the entire way down with you, stopping at the gas station for snacks (a lot more often than he should have), and jamming out to some tunes with you on the radio. He didn’t want you to be bored on the drive there, and his hand somehow kept sneaking its way over to your thigh and mindlessly rubbing up and down without any further motives while you two talked.

➭ hanging out at the hotel

You didn’t ask him, but you were pretty sure that Sans’ favorite part of the whole trip was getting to stay in one of the resort hotels. He always loved staying in the hotels when you went anywhere, which evened out since you also loved doing the same with him, but he was enthralled with the rooms. Why was there disneyland on the headboard of the bed? Why was the carpet fireworks? Why was this bed so damn comfortable? He probably could have sunk into the mattress and stayed there the whole time if you hadn’t pried him away from his all-famous napping sessions.

He also really liked just collapsing on the bed after being outside all day, and if you got within an arm-length radius of him you’d be pulled down onto the bed, trapped with him, and most likely not to be seen again until morning.

‘uh-oh, seems you’re stuck here with me now.’

‘Sansss, don’t do this again, I have to get showered off and changed.’

‘tough, my bones are locking up around you, can’t let you go, babe.’

➭ going around the park

Surprisingly despite his doubts, Sans actually had a lot of fun on the disney rides. He obviously wasn’t a big fan of the lines you both had to wait in and despite the looks you got from other people around you, he kept clinging to you like velcro the entire wait while you both talked to pass the time. You couldn’t blame him, even though he didn’t have skin and the heat didn’t really bother him, he didn’t like standing still for so long without doing anything.

He wasn’t too big of a fan of getting photos with some of the characters, (you could have sworn that he was a bit shy about it), but he did put on some silly mickey mouse ears and snag some fun pictures with you for whatever princesses or mascots you wanted to see. It was just a little bit harder for him to relate to wanting to see the characters that much since he didn’t watch these movies growing up in the underground, but he did love seeing you happy about it.

➭ snacks and food

This may be a huuuge shock, but Sans really liked the snacks and meals. Despite his ick for the expensive price tags, he was almost always dragging you to get snacks with him every time he saw something he could eat. These snacks were just so weird and a bit cool to him, food wasn't mickey mouse shaped or disney movie themed back at home.

‘baby, babe, try this.’

‘Sans, isn’t that your fourth one? Do you want to go get something else to munch on instead?’

‘ehehe, i know something else i’d like to munch on.’

He also really liked the themed dinners, it was pretty cool being able to see characters come out and walk around the tables while you both ate. Needless to say, this man was pretty satisfied with your meal options during your trip.

➭ souvenirs

Sans did find quite a few things he wanted to bring back for Papyrus and your other friends, mostly just cute little trinkets or figures. He did take fondly to some of the more sci-fi stuff they had there, and he couldn’t help but grab some stuff he liked that he swore he’d be able to find a place for back at home in your shared bedroom.

He wasn’t a big fan of the themed shirts, but with some convincing, you both got a matching pyjama set that you said you’d make him wear with you since he held up a doll of stitch and said that it looked identical to you.

‘babe, you can’t deny that the resemblance is uncanny.’

‘Sans, I love you, but it’s time to put the stitch doll down.’

‘i guess you’re right, humans aren’t blue anyway.’

[quiet-admirer]

Devotion

As promised, here is a little excerpt from Chapter 3 of my current work-in-progress, an enemies-to-lovers M/M queer weight gain kink and feedist story, Devotion, about 2 hardcore punks in 1979 :) Enjoy!

The walk home from the 7-Eleven was tantalizingly, excruciatingly long at first, but once Ira threw out a “How d’you think that bassist tonight got tone like that?” they got to talking shop, and it was like Diego blinked and they were at his apartment door.

Diego flopped onto the futon with the box of SusyQs on his lap and unwrapped his third of the night while Ira unlaced his boots across the room.

“Want a drink? There’s beer in the fridge.”

Ira slid off one boot then the other and stood them neatly by the door. “I don’t drink. Or smoke,” he said with unrestrained disdain. “I don’t do anything. I’m not going to waste time and money poisoning my body and my mind. I want to actually experience my life.”

God, Ira being not only totally straight but also a self-righteous snob about it made so much sense that Diego didn’t know why he’d even thought to offer him a beer in the first place.

“I don’t. Grab me some mind poison, will ya?” Truthfully, he was more in the mood for a Dr. Pepper, but giving Ira a hard time was more satisfying.

Ira pulled a face. “Get it yourself.” He sunk into the couch next to Diego and nudged the box of snack cakes with his foot. “Keep eating, SuzyQ. When you get through this box I’ll order the pizza.”

Diego had never before met anyone who gave him a truly carnal desire to throttle them and yet at the same time kiss them to within an inch of their life. It was as if this one shorter-than-average man single-handedly generated so much irritation that it flooded Diego’s brain and had nowhere to go but to overflow directly to his dick. And somehow he’d also enjoyed every minute he’d spent with Ira in the days since they’d made up. Only Meena could’ve made Diego smile more than he had in the past few hours.

With so many opposing emotions flooding his veins, all Diego could manage was to stuff the cake into his mouth pointedly before retrieving both a beer and a Dr. Pepper for himself, and knocked into Ira maybe a little more than was necessary when he returned to the futon. It took him two more SuzyQs to feel levelheaded enough to resume his questioning.

“So, how does this eating part usually work? Do you handcuff me to the chair and make me eat? Blindfold me? Spoon-feed me like a baby? Am I supposed to act like I don’t like it – is making someone eat how you discipline them – or are you more of a praise guy? Or do you just jerk off while you watch?”

“Hm, well… Any of those, I guess. There isn’t one way to do it, everyone’s different. Just depends on what gets ya hard – and gets you eating, you know?” He looked at Diego thoughtfully. “You’re kind of creative, when it comes to weird sex stuff.”

“Thanks for specifying that the creativity is for weird sex stuff in case I got confused and thought you meant I was a creative person generally, or as, say, a musician.”

“You’re welcome,” Ira said with a nasty sarcastic smile. “With the guys I’ve been with, a couple of them did want me to tie them up and act like I’m forcing them to eat. That’s fine, I don’t mind that. My favorite is probably just feeding someone, though. So, basically I keep giving them food until they physically can’t eat anymore.”

“Huh, okay.” Diego was no stranger to that feeling, and it sure wasn’t a bad one by any means. He mulled the logistics over in his head. “Let’s try that. So, you’ll just keep handing me slices of pizza until I tap out?”

“Yep. And if you’re too full to keep feeding them to yourself but you want to keep eating, I’ll feed them to you,” Ira explained.

“Too full to keep feeding myself but want to keep eating…” Oof. Okay, this was sounding more and more like Diego’s kind of sex. “You know, I can really put it away under the right conditions, but… you’ve been with some serious eaters, huh?”

Ira laughed. “You could definitely say that.”

“And is there any roleplay or anything? Are there certain things you want me to say or things you want to say?”

He shook his head. “No roleplay the first time. Especially since you’re new to all this. I want you to get a feel for what it’s like eating that much. It can be a lot for some people.” Ira reached over Diego’s lap and retrieved the Dr. Pepper, and Diego let him even though it had definitely been for himself. Ira cracked open the can with a hiss and took a long gulp. “And you don’t just want to eat: you want to put your 30 pounds back on. But the thing about gaining a lot of weight is that it’s not like other pervert stuff where you can just put on a costume when you’re feeling horny; it’s not something you do here and there. You have to eat more on a regular basis.” Ira stood and paced halfway across the room before turning back again.

“Not everyone likes doing it this way – the eating a lot at once way. Some people prefer eating a little more at meals and snacking throughout the day,” he gestured in the air with his can of Dr. Pepper like he was a professor giving a lecture. “So, tonight we’re just seeing if you’re into this kind of eating. I’m going to be responsible for your weight gain, and– well, you already know putting weight on and keeping it on isn’t as easy as it looks, so I like to play to a guy’s strengths to get that to happen. That’s why I want to see what your real reactions are when we start out. We can add the fun stuff as we go.”

It sounded surprisingly sweet when Ira talked about it in a practical way and not just in a heat-of-the-moment ‘I’m going to be the one to put all this weight on you,’ cue evil laugh, kind of way. He was dominant in the sense that he was looking out for Diego; taking care of him. Not just fattening him up, but helping him gain weight. A dictator maybe, but a benevolent one, which on Ira was ridiculously endearing.

“I think I get it,” Diego smiled. “‘With great power comes great responsibility.’”

Ira looked at him with distaste. “Is that from the bible or something?”

Diego snorted. He grabbed the phone off the upturned milk crate beside the futon and shoved it into Ira’s chest. “Just order the damn pizza.”

Diego finished the first box of SuzyQs and they’d moved to necking on the couch by the time two large pizzas arrived.

Ira opened the first box but paused halfway through reaching for the first slice.

“Oh, you said you were into leather, right? Do you have gear, or– anything you wanna wear while we do this?”

“Oh. No,” Diego scrunched his nose. “It’s all too big for me right now.”

“That sucks,” Ira said, with actual sympathy. He picked up the first slice of pizza, pepperoni, and offered it to Diego. “Maybe I can help you out with that.”

Diego took as big of a bite of pizza as he could fit in his mouth before taking the slice from Ira. “Please do,” Diego said through a full mouth.

“You should try them on for me so I can see what we’re starting with.”

“Sure.” He crammed in the rest of the slice and stood, kicking a box out from under the futon. Still chewing, he dug in the back of the closet for his jacket and pants.

They weren’t anything fancy, no bells or whistles, just a pair of black leather pants and a simple leather jacket; vintage, but he took a sense of pride in them all the same.

Diego stripped, then pulled on the pants without bothering to unbutton them. Kneeling, he removed the lid from the box.

“Boots. Harness,” he pointed. He slipped the harness on, then the jacket, and stood again. He had to widen his stance a little to keep the pants from sliding down.

Ira had another slice of pizza in hand as he joined Diego in the center of the room. Same as the first slice, Diego took a bite as Ira held it up for him before taking it for himself.

Ira circled Diego like he was inspecting him, appraising him. It sent a little thrill through Diego’s stomach knowing that as fat as he already was, it was clear from some of the things Ira had been saying that he still thought of Diego as pretty small.

Good. Diego never wanted to be this size again. Ira had better get a good look now.

After a final turn, Ira hooked a finger in Diego’s waistband and tugged a little, exposing about an inch gap between the leather and Diego’s skin. He did the same with the harness: a hand-me-down from a guy who probably had about a hundred pounds on Diego, so Diego had already been on the smallest holes of the buckled straps before he lost the weight. It would be easy to have a bootblack add in another set of holes, but that thought always made this size seem long-term, permanent.

So here he was: harness hanging limp off his chest, leather pants loose through the thighs, shoulders and biceps not quite filling out his jacket. But he couldn’t bring himself to be self-conscious. Ira’s hungry gaze roaming over him, and the quickly vanishing second slice of pizza infused the buzz of potential into the air. The space between himself and his leather wasn’t feeling quite so large tonight.

Ira was smiling as Diego finished slice number two. “You look hot. I’ve never really been that much of a leather guy, but… you might’ve sold me.”

“You should see me when they actually fit.” He brought his hands to his hips and gave Ira a cocky smile. “My ass looks really great in leather.”

“Already does.” Ira stepped in. His hands slipped past Diego’s jacket, fingers ghosting along Diego’s sides. “I can’t wait to get you filling these out again. C’mere.” He dropped back down next to the pizza box and beckoned.

Diego shed his gear. He didn’t bother with a shirt but pulled on a pair of well-worn, comfy sweats – a larger pair; tonight was calling for eating pants.

He settled on the couch next to Ira, making himself comfortable.

“I see somebody knows what he’s doing,” Ira poked at Diego’s elastic waistband.

With a smile, Diego reached for the next slice.

[the-kingshound]

Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!