#which is weird because i don't like to actually be touched i just like daydreaming about it

[watercolor-hearts]

I'm going on a holiday with my best friend soon and I've been thinking about “accidentally” packing my stethoscope, too, and hoping she'd bring it up somehow and I could say, “well, it's here, if you want to try it”.

But... It feels so... I don't know. She was the first one I told that I'm into hearts and she's totally okay with it, we role played a lot, but she's... Not the type to bring it up by herself, usually. She's not interested in hearts in a way I am, which is totally okay.

So it feels really weird to pack it and hope it'd be brought up by her. Because I for sure wouldn't bring it up because I wouldn't want to make her uncomfortable.

But...

Ah, it's so difficult guys.

[willowser]

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds. 

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating. 

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is. 

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

[jennifer-jeong]

Reader plays LDS game and little does she know that the boys can feel her emotions whenever she plays it or whenever she gets the card or memories of her fav boy for example-Zayne and the other two gets jealous idk and how they wish to be real and be with her.......

HELLO I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME A HOT SECOND I was stressing and thinking about how to approach this but I think I got it now >:) (also school and life is kicking my ass but we don't talk about that)

Fluff | LADS x GN!Reader "Virtual" Boyfriend

Rafayel sneak peak LMAOOO^

CONTENT Fluff, slight angst, gender neutral reader, Rafayel crack, mentions of the boys trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

What I’m thinking is that the boys are conscious within the world of your phone. They can feel you and hear you but they can’t quite see you. You’re almost invisible in a way but they can feel your energy when you’re present. They feel it when you poke them in destiny cafe or touch them in the kindled memories. They hear your voice when you speak in game. They’ve lived the lives outlined for them in their lore and you’re who they’ve been searching for. They’re restricted in what they can say to you when you interact, it's some weird force they don’t understand. They know when you’re online but the same weird force prevents them from finding you, you have to go to them. (Zayne lives both lives of doctor and dawnbreaker, which he is happy about. He would’ve passed away if he had to be the one of two Zaynes to be dawnbreaker)

XAVIER hates that whoever made this world made him suffer for like a century only to have him find you and you aren’t even actually there. But he still loves feeling you there everyday, even if he's not the one that got chosen to sit in destiny cafe. Whenever you listen to his audios or interact with him through cards, destiny cafe, or playtime, his hands are shaky. It’s the only thing that he actually gets to express to you of his own free will. They shake because he’s so nervous but excited to finally be with you. He’s a patient man, he’s willing to wait for you everyday, he just wishes he could be where you actually are ): . He’s a smart man with an excess of free time, he’ll figure out how to get to you, someday.

ZAYNE has spent his whole life in this world in love with you. But now that he’s got you, and he can’t even see you, he’s started to accept that you’re just always going to be out of his reach. He loves when you do visit though, it makes him feel so warm. When you interact with him, he wants so badly to just be able to freely speak to you and tell you how much he loves you. His character is pretty cold because that is his personality, but when he sees you, he desperately wants to stop being distant with you, he wants to tell you all the soft and warm things he has to say. He wants to be where you actually are, he’s sick of basically just being Dawnbreaker Zayne where he just dreams of you and never gets to see you. He’s solved so many mysteries in the medical and wanderer hunting world though, he’s probably genius enough to figure this one out too.

RAFAYEL has been looking for you this whole time and is so frustrated that he found you and can’t even freely speak to you. Rafayel often ends up in glitches in the game because he desperately wants to break out of his confines and just talk to you. Every time you interact, he’s trying to find some way to tell you he loves you and that he’ll always be here no matter what. He gets pretty jealous when he doesn’t get to sit in destiny cafe with you, he doesn’t know who exactly sits in his place but he wants to be the only one you have eyes for, the only one that you touch, even if it’s not quite “touching.” He’s already lost everything he has except for you. He’s willing to do anything to get to you, he just hasn’t figured out how to do it, yet.

Rafayel glitch collection:

+ THIS video LMAOO

Personal follow up hc that they can interact with you when you daydream of them!!! It’s the only way they can reach you and feel you properly. Pretend they eventually figure this out and you live happily ever after !!! (cope)

Photo credits from twitter! https://x.com/nonbiriotome/status/1754530273033683337?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g https://x.com/miyabi_lad/status/1754318127339639244?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g https://x.com/zaynerei/status/1760258500746445149?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g https://x.com/xaviersdaily/status/1759516449758908615?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g https://x.com/yubeljin/status/1752770210124210303?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g https://x.com/nonbiriotome/status/1759228703186227235?s=46&t=Y5PdanktIFDztaAr8_sv4g

|| MASTERLIST <3 || Thank you for the ask and for reading! ||

[thought--bubble]

Subtraction

Michael Gavey X (Preacher's Daughter Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,886

Banners by @arcielee

Michael Gavey Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Warnings:: Corruption Kink, Oral sex (M receiving), Fingering, dubcon, coercion, religious guilt

A/N: This was really fun to write because I'm a math gal myself 🤣

Based on THIS request.

Michael is walking on clouds today. As far as he is concerned, today is a great fucking day.

He has been working as a tutor all semester trying to plump up his resume so he can go for that TA position he knows is going to open up next autumn.

Thus far, every student he has worked with is an airhead. The worst was Farleigh, who didn't actually want to learn anything and would just wait until Michael spoon fed him the answers and take off as soon as the assignment was finished.

But today, today Michael was told he was going to tutor you. The cutest little thing he has ever laid eyes on. With your mid-thigh length plaid skirts, high socks, and little cardigans, it was like you walked out straight out of his dreams and into Oxford.

You were a pastors daughter. Prim and proper, always walking around with that little silver cross hanging from your neck. Michael had spotted you as soon as school had started, and it only took about a month before the dreaded Felix Catton had set his sights on you. As if it wasn't bad enough that Michael's only friend Oliver had already been wrapped up in Felix's little web now, Michael had to watch that web get spun around you.

Which is why it came as such a big surprise when you turned him down. Felix had been trying for weeks to hook up with you. Following you around like a puppy, it made Michael sick. Couldn't Felix see how special you are? How could he treat you as just another name in his little black book?

Michael's vindication came in the form of a very public rejection where you called out Felix for "only wanting one thing" in the courtyard for multiple students and staff to see.

The public embarrassment this afforded Felix only made Michael more enamored with you. He found himself constantly daydreaming of you. He imagined you sitting on his lap as he kissed you. Your pure innocent lips on his never having been soiled by another man's touch. He imagines pushing up that little plaid skirt and sinking his fingers deep into that cunt, sweet. Innocent, and just for him.

Michael was feeling a bit nervous as he sat and waited for you in the library. He knew his personality left a lot to be desired. If there was anyone in this wretched place, he didn't want to scare off with his brashness it was you.

"Just be normal. Just be normal, " he whispers to himself as he continues to wait, fingers tapping on the thick wooden table.

"She was supposed to be here by now," he wonders aloud. She didn't show up because it's me probably. She's heard all the horror stories of me being annoying or weird. I've already ruined it before I had a chance to meet her. Well, if she's going to be like that, then I wouldn't want her anyway. She's just like all these other posh Neanderthals. Judging someone before they've even properly gotten to know them.

Michael's brain continues to rattle off thought after thought bouncing between sadness, rejection, and anger, as he glares toward the entry to the library picking at the table with his fingernail.

Then you walk in, books clung tightly to your chest, a pink and gray pleated skirt, white knee high socks and those cute black shoes with the straps, a pink cardigan and shining in the light the dainty silver cross you're never seen without.

He sits up straighter, clearing his throat, as he subtly shifts his books, notebooks, and pens on the table.

"Michael?" Your voice sounds so sweet to Michael that he has to force himself not to salivate.

"Yes. That's me, I take it you're my new pupil?" Keep calm, Gavey. Don't act like a creep. He repeats these two rules to himself while sporting a look of indifference on his face.

You reach your hand out to him and tell him your name. He takes your hand and shakes it. So small, soft, and delicate. Perfect hands. Just the right size to be engulfed by Michael's rather sizable hands, he thinks to himself.

"Hello?" You look at him questioningly as he stares at you while absent-mindedly continuing to shake your hand for far longer than was necessary.

What you didn't know was in Michael's head he was all over you, he had you bent over this wooden table, skirt pushed up to reveal your rounded bum, him sliding himself in and out of your body while you begged him for more.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, and his cheeks burn crimson when he realizes he is still shaking your hand. "Right.. umm" he shifts uncomfortably in his seat and pulls on the collar of his shirt. The heat on his face has traveled to his chest.

As you sit, he can't help but watch you. You're so gentle from the way you sit to the way you place your books on the table.

"So what specifically are you struggling with?" He already knows she is failing the class in its entirety, but he can't seem to find another way to initiate conversation.

You whimper, and Michael just about dies

"Everything. Every single thing." You put your hands over your face clearly stressed.

"Oh. Well, we will start from the beginning then." Michael starts with what he thinks will be the easiest, basic statistics.

Even with this, you struggle greatly, the hours spent in the library do prove beneficial but only slightly and the novelty of being with you has started to wear off for Michael due to the sheer shock of how bad you are at this.

Michael rubs his temples, his head just barely hovering over the wood of the library table. "Did they not touch on any of this in secondary school?"

"They did, I wasn't any good there either, but I was able to make it up in other ways"

Michael lifts his head and looks at you quizzically. "Other ways?"

"Extra credit, community service, church duty." You explained this as if it was perfectly normal to pass maths because you picked up an extra shift helping at the church.

Michael blinks as he blankly stares back at you. "Right.......of course...... obviously......"

He looks around the library and sees it's mostly cleared out. "Well they'll be kicking us out of here any minute now" He sighs as he closes the books on the table packing up to leave, relieved that this elongated torture session has come to a close.

You stand up nervously. "No!" You didn't mean to shriek, but you did, voice reverberating around the nearly empty library.

"The quiz is in two days! I..... I can't fail! My father! He will....... oh no, please! Keep going. I'll do anything!"

Michael immediately stops moving and fights the small smirk, clawing its way across his features. Anything. I'll do anything. The words float through his mind like a beautiful song he has been waiting to hear.

Anything.

"Well, you could come back to my dorm, and we could continue......." He starts as he looks around sheepishly.

"Yes! Oh my goodness, yes! Thank you, Michael!" You excitedly collect the rest of your things from the table.

"But," Michael interjects. "We will have to....... make the process more interesting because i was nearly falling asleep a moment ago"

"Sure! whatever you suggest." You beam a smile at him, and he smirks. Oh, he has a suggestion that will keep both of them awake.

Michael opens the door to his dorm, holding his arm out and gesturing for you to go first.

You enter the room and look around. It's extremely neat. No personal effects save for a photo of Michael and his parents.

Michael walks in behind you, closing the door and setting his books down on the small table in the corner.

"Sit." He motions toward the chair across from him.

You place your books down on the table and slowly lower yourself into the chair.

" So I have an idea...... that might give you the proper.... motivation" his eyes travel up and down your form, and he slightly bites on his bottom lip before he continues. "I'm going to show you an example problem. Then I'm going to give you the same type of problem to solve. If you get it right, i remove an article of clothing. If you get it wrong, you do"

"Oh! umm Michael.... I'm not sure. " You nervously wring your hands in your lap. You are terrible at maths you would surely end up naked in no time.

"You said anything, and this will keep me awake. We could always just call it for the night......" He trails off looking to the side.

"Wait! no! ok"

Michael smirks. "Ok, then let's get started.

As expected, you get most answers wrong first, taking off your shoes, socks, and earrings. When you finally get one right, Michael chuckles and takes off his belt.

"Good, good. See? What did I tell you? proper motivation." He scoots his chair forward, a bit closing the space between you.

A few more problems later you are sitting there in nothing but a bra and panties Michael in his shirt and boxers.

As you try to focus on the current problem, you can't help but be distracted by the rather sizable bulge in his boxers.

"T-there," your voice faulters as you slide the paper back towards Michael for his review. He looks it over quickly.

"Sorry darling, that's not quite it." He leans forward, explaining where you went wrong with the formula.

"Oh." You feel the heat pool in your cheeks as you unlatch your bra. Trying to cover your breasts as you remove it.

Michael's eyes light up as he takes in your almost nude form. The bulge in his boxers becomes even more apparent as he races to write you up a new problem.

"What happens when I run out of clothes?" You know, at this point, it is an inevitability that you will end up completely nude, but you are learning and starting to get problems correct. If you can learn just enough to pass the quiz, you could possibly save your grade in this class.

"We will figure something out between the two of us, I'm sure." He brings his hand down to your knee, gently rubbing circles there with his thumb.

You focus completely on the next math problem, trying desperately to hold off the inevitable removal of your panties.

"Bravo!" Michael cheers as you slide a math problem done correctly over to him. "Guess you survive this round" He stands up from the chair and pulls his boxers off, exposing his fully erect cock.

You mean to look away. You should look away, right? That would be the polite thing to do but you can't. He is long and girthy and painfully hard.

He gently rubs at himself, watching you watch him. "Hmmm, next problem," he slides the paper over to you.

"Right, of course." You take the paper and try to focus on the problem as your eyes consistently slide back towards him as he strokes himself slowly.

"I don't mind if you look" He rubs his thumb over the slit and the tip of his cock spreading the precum around the head.

Your entire face flushes with heat. "I wasn't, ummm." You look back at the problem trying to work it out. You feel like you are writing hieroglyphics, as if you have never seen these symbols before.

"Well, that's incorrect, sorry." Michael grins happily as he waits for you to remove your final article of clothing.

"I can't. I can't expose that. " You nervously rub your palms against your thighs.

"How about we just do this?" Michael leans forward and slides your panties to the side.

Your eyes go wide, and you make a loud gulping sound.

"That's not so bad, is it?" Michael runs a finger up your slit feeling the obvious wetness there. "From what I gather, you seem to be enjoying this"

He collects some of your slick and brings it up to your pearl, drawing slow circles around the nerve.

"Oh!" You instantly close your eyes. You have touched yourself before. Something you would always pray for forgiveness for right after, but this felt different. Micheal's large finger and course fingertip make the sensation more intense, and your body instantly reacts, wanting more.

"Ahh." You breathe out as Michael applies more pressure to your bud, increasing the speed at which he applies that pressure.

Michael leans forward, completely kissing up the side of your neck. "It's ok. I won't tell anyone."

"I .... I have to remain chaste. " You moan as he slides a finger into you while holding the pressure down on your bud.

"There are things we can do without....... breaking the seal..... just relax, " He whispers into your ear as he continues sliding his finger against your walls.

You feel the pleasure building up in your lower stomach and instinctually spread your legs wider.

"That's it, good girl, I'm going to make you feel really good, ok?"

Your head rolls back as the pressure continues to build, the guilt in your mind losing to the pleasure coursing through your nerves.

Micheal moves his thumb quickly against your clit and pushes against the spongey spot inside your walls and sends you into a tailspin.

"Oh, Michael! Michael!" You gasp as the pressure in your stomach pulls taught, threatening to snap at any moment.

"I got you, let go for me, beautiful." As he whispers these words into your ear, the band snaps.

"Ahhhh, Mich-" You can't get the words out as your jaw goes slack and your entire body vibrates.

Michael continues his movements while you ride out your high, only pulling his hand away once you whimper at the overstimulation.

Michael takes your juices and rubs them on his cock as he slowly strokes himself. "That was glorious, you look so pretty when you cum"

You watch him touch himself with curiosity. "I can teach you more than maths." he says suddenly as he increases the pace of his movements.

"Come here." He motions you toward him, and like a puppet on a string, you go to him. You have already gone this far. What is stopping you now?

"Get on your knees." You quickly comply, dropping to your knees before him.

"Good, think you are going to learn this much quicker" He brings the weeping head of his cock to your lips.

You flick your tongue out and lick the tip you had heard of oral sex before. Kind of had a decent idea of what it entailed.

Michael groans. "Open up and flip your lips over your teeth."

You follow his instructions and he slides his cock into your mouth pushing past your lips. "Good, good, breath through your nose."

He grips the hair at the top of your head slowly dragging you forward pushing more of his cock into your mouth.

"Use your tongue beautiful" He sighs with pleasure as you slide your tongue along the underside of his cock.

"So fucking good." The grip on your hair tightens as he pushes further hitting the back of your throat, earning him a gag.

"What a pretty sound," He coos as he starts to move his hips while holding your head in place.

"Just like that." His breathing gets heavier as his speed increases. "Fuck, yes. Look at me" He grunts as he starts to batter the back of your throat with his cockhead.

You look up at him with tears streaking down your face and drool slipping from your chin.

"Almost there." He wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "So pretty when you cry"

Michael grips your hair tight, pushing himself fast and hard into your throat.

"You're gonna swallow what I give you" You do your best to attempt to nod while he fucks your face, pushing himself as far as he will go, the hairs at his base coming in contact with your nose and chin.

"That's it right there...... FUCK!" Michael spurts directly into your throat. You hardly have to swallow at all.

He pulls himself out of your mouth and smiles down at you, wiping the drool off of your chin.

"Think we can call it a night, yeah?" He pulls his boxers up and collapses back in the chair a look of lazy satisfaction on his face.

"Yeah, that might be best." You wipe the tears from your face and gather your clothes.

"There are still two more days before the quiz. Come back tomorrow, and we can continue." Michael gets out of the chair and wraps his arms around you from behind, gently kissing your neck.

"I love teaching you. Tell me you'll come back tomorrow."

You blush at his words, "Yes, I'll be back tomorrow"

Micheal sees you out and watches as you walk down the hallway and disappear out of sight before going back into his room and flopping onto his bed with a contented sigh before he chuckles to himself.

"I got what Felix couldn't"

To be added to a tag list click here

[iwhyzumiihajimee]

pairing: miya atsumu x fem.reader

content: recovering from a break up, your friendship with Atsumu has gotten closer in the past year. there are some moments you two get little too intimately close, but it was completely ignored because you two are just "friends.”

genre: high school au, friends to lovers

warnings !! 18+ // explicit smut, making out, licking, grinding, non-protected sex

word count: 1.5k

credit towards original artist (manga panel below)

We really do seem... A little too close than friends...

Well, we're best friends, as we agreed, and I still consider you one, but... Why do I see you as more than just a friend?

Atsumu stares and recalls some moments with you.

You then notice him daydream and he seemed to blush and hid his face away.

"Heey! What's on your mind?" You toss the ball to him, helping him get back to his weekend practice.

"Oh... You caught me there..." He responds shyly scratching the back of his head. "Hmm... Nothing really. Just got caught up in... My… Thoughts!" He says biting the insides of his cheek.

"And what are these thoughts?~ You've been acting weird lately" You face him with your hands on your hips.

He looks at you suddenly and gets startled again.

"U-Uh, it's really nothing to worry about. I wasn't thinking about something important…" He defends and start to mess with his hair again.

His face turns bright red again, really trying to hide his blush

"N-No, actually..." He pauses, "It's nothing important. Don't worry about that, alright?" He smiles at you.

"If you constantly think about it. It must be important. Spill". You sigh and walked closer to him.

Atsumu heart beats fast as you got closer and looked into his eyes. "I... I was... I was thinking about you." He pauses trying to calm his racing heart.

"That thing on my mind is you... I have feelings... for you." He confesses.

Your hands drop from your hips, as your face remains expressionless, however you heart skipped a beat knowing his feelings for a while. You've been also holding back your own, and just right now at this moment you're bound to give in.

"I like you... I-I really do... In a romantic way." He continues. "That's what I've been thinking about during these last few months."

Your eyes softened and you smiled, "Tsumu... Soo~ with your confession just now... what are you gonna do about it?" You come closer reaching your arms out to him, wrapping around his torso, and pulling him closer.

His breath hitches and his heart wanting to burst from the unexpected embrace.

"I-I don't really know..." He glances your eyes then down to your lips and thinks again.

"Well... There's just one thing I think I wanna do right now..." His ears start to burn red as he leans towards your face as his body is touching yours.

"And... that is~" You start to lean in as well getting the idea he's going for.

His eyes only focuses on your lips. "I wanna kiss you~" He whispers hovering over.

"Then do it~" You whisper back.

Atsumu closes his eyes slowly going in for the kiss, heart beating so fast. This is all he's ever wanted, was to kiss you.

You melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around him which automatically made him deepen the kiss. Both of you felt a tingling sensation all over your bodies and all you can hear was your own heartbeat in your ears.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away for some air.

"H-Wow, we... we really..." He stutters and you hum in content, smiling. "T-That was... u-uhm... c-crazy... A-Alright... I think we might've taken things too far..."

"How so? Isn't it obvious I like you too?" You say softly, tilting your head ever so slightly to the side.

His face drops and immediately looks at you, "Really..? Do you... Do you like me in... The same way, I... I like you?

Pulling him closer, "I like you a lot Miya Atsumu. More than a friend..." You smile and kiss his lips again. "Soo be mine?"

explicit smut below

Atsumu can't hold it a few seconds more. His eyes looks away and thinks to himself why do I get so nervous around her? And you notice this.

"Are you nervous around me? Whatever happened to this smooth talker guy i know? Your such a natural flirt... Please don't be nervous."

Atsumu chuckles and shakes his head.

"Y-You're right... I don't know how to be... Casual around you sometimes... Like I do with everyone else.

You look softly into his eyes, "I'm flattered by your genuineness, but please treat me normally... Promise no more being nervous or stuttering?"

He looks at you and nods.

"Y-You can kiss me now..." He tries to play it off cool, but his voice is still shaking, and face is completely in red.

You chuckle, and lean in kisses him slowly, deeply, then slipping a tongue.

Atsumu face gets brighter, feeling your lips on his, and his heart beats rapidly, that he can hear them pound loudly in his ears.

"I'm... I'm gonna get so addicted to this..." He mumbles between your lips, also slipping in his tongue and caresses your cheek.

Both of you continue to make out, heartedly, until you broke off to catch a breath.

"Atsumu we can't do this here..."

His eyes start to roam around to find a secluded area, which he then hurriedly pulled you over into the changing rooms. As you both entered the room, Atsumu locks the door and pushes you against the wall gently and continues to sloppily kiss you from your plump lips, down to your neck, and then make his way to nibble your ear.

Your body shivers from his affectionate kisses which made you let out a moan.

He continues to entertain you by nibbling your skin as he slides his hands down your thighs to bring them up to his waist, wrapping them around which made you both fluster and hot.

Wrapping your arms around him as he held you up, he then starts grinding against you which slightly turned you on, feeling his erection forming.

"Tsumu... I... I need you... now~" You begged as your try to savor the feeling of him continuously grinding against your lower region.

He then puts you down, lowering his shorts down as you do the same. Both being impatient, he then rubs his nub at your entrance, feeling your wetness.

"How's this? Are you okay to go on further?" He asks.

You nod, and breathed out, "Yeah~"

Atsumu then enters feeling your tight walls hug him before he moves.

You breath in trying to get use to the feeling of him inside you. "Okay~ You can move." You signal him.

He then moves in and out slowly feeling every sensation. Continuing the movements he gets faster and faster as you can hear his breath get heavy.

"Feels good, right?" You ask.

"Y-Yes..." He says in a whisper, moaning louder against your neck.

All that was in Atsumu's mind was how everything was moving in slow motion, his breath gets harder to control, his body shivers, and he blushes even more as you nibble his neck. He moans louder and moves to kiss your ever so addicting lips.

"Yes, that's it~" You acknowledge him.

"Y-You're... You're making me feel crazy..." He whispers.

Continuing to pleasure each other, he prompts your left leg up to get a better angle which hit your spot just right.

You moan and drop you head to his shoulder.

"God~ right there~ Please... Please don't stop..." You moan feeling yourself come closer.

you continue to rub his sides as he holds you close, breathing against each other, and reaching each others climax.

"Ahhh~ keep going~" You whisper, catching your breath.

Atsumu starts to feel dizzy, because he can't catch his breath.

"Please not yet... Almost there~" You try to edge yourself by tightening your walls which made atsumu moan out in pleasure.

"Ahhh mhm~" He whines and lets out a moan

You figured from his whine, he's just on edge as you are or even more.

Continues a little more faster, moving his body closer to yours, panting quickens and he closes his distance from you with his tongue coming in between your lips.

"Hummph" You moan in the kiss and pull away to control your breathing.

"Fuck~ I'm coming! I'm coming!~" You moaned

"Ahhh~" You finally squeezed and released.

Atsumu holds on to your shaking body as you came.

He eyes your reactions and watches his continuous movements as he thrusts, getting himself to come sooner. He moves faster and faster, now closing his eyes feeling the amazing sensation on his dick rubbing in you and you the sounds of your pants.

Finally Atsumu comes, letting out a huff, moaning against your ear as he last second pulls out making sure not to come in you.

"God~ that was good..." He says in between his breaths as he has both arms on each side of your head, leaning against the wall.

"Your good at this~" You praise him and chuckle.

Still in the moment, he looks into your eyes with lust hesitating to lean into for another kiss, which he did.

"Atsumu~ seriously... We should head out..." You release from the kiss.

He then steps back, but ends up tripping over his own feet leaning forward against you once again, never missing to rub your sides tenderly.

You melt into his touch as you caught him. "Fine~ quickly..."

He stays on top of you nodding, leaning in to kiss you passionately, and moaned between kisses as another session starts.

[facioleeknow]

Frat boy 2 • Choi Seungcheol

WC: 868. Genre: Frat boy au

TW: bisexual Vernon and Reader, suggestive thoughts, sassy writing, maths

He fell first and hard. She thinks he hates her but he's actually emotionally constipated.

Mathematics sucks. Most people can agreed on that, approximately 90% percent of the world's population. The bad news is that those 10% appeared to have been on the board at your colleges but that same wretched subject was a MANDATORY subject. 

So here you were sat first row because of your very poor eyesight instead of the back where you could sleep trying to make sense of Mathematics I. Your head started pounding as soon as you got into the class, the air in the room was enough to make you feel like you wanted to claw your eyes out. The scribbles on the blackboard made absolutely no sense. You looked around, everyone was nodding and happily writing along the professor. This had to be a nightmare, the ones where nothing makes sense and people glare at you like you're the weird one.

Unfortunately for you this was reality. Hard, cold and ruthless reality. You let your head hit the desk with a rather loud thud, you didn't care anymore nor did the professor in your defense. Daydreaming was the only thing that could save you from a full blown migraine, which you clearly didn't want. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply and tried to escape into your Dreamland where you didn't have to take a stupid maths class like this was some ordinary highschool or something. 

Your thoughts flew right to that scary but beefy blond dude you saw at SVT frat. He was clearly well built and you were sure that if the situation was different you would've drooled on him and maybe even asked him to touch his muscles. His hair also looked really soft and framed his face so perfectly, you were sure he was drowning in pussy. Ugh, that was so unfair. Why weren't you drowning in pussy? 

Your train of thoughts was rudely interrupted by the bell and then by Vernon who shook your shoulder so hard that you bumped your head against the desk again. At this rate you were going to get a concussion.

“Why aren't you taking notes?” he asked with that displeased look of his.

“Why are you all in my business Vernon?” you huffed, quickly shoving your things in your bag.

“I'm your friend, I don't want you to fail.” You pursed your lips at his words. He was just trying to be nice and you were sassy without a reason.

“Notes or not, I still don't get it, my brain is not wired like that.”

“I can ask Seungcheol to tutor you,” he exclaimed with a weirdly chirp smile on his face.

“Who?”

“Seungcheol, the head of my frat and the professor's TA. Choi Seungcheol.”

“Is that supposed to tell me something?”

“Did you ever pay attention?”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The question was entirely too stupid and the answer was entirely too obvious for him. Vernon huffed.

“Don't worry about it I'll handle it. I have to go now, we got a new pledge yesterday,” he waved already half out the door.

“You're fourteen now? That house is a fucking nightmare.”

The same day you received a text from Vernon saying that it was all set and to meet him at his cursed frat house. You rolled around in bed debating whether to go or not, it would've messed with your napping schedule but maybe sacrificing a nap to pass a class wasn't the end of the world. Getting up took all of your strength and getting dressed took even more, by the time you were halfway to the house you were cranky, tired and sluggish.

Seungcheol had never been more awake on the other end. Tutoring? You? He could never pull that off. He’d had his eyes on you since the first day you stepped into the class, you were clearly not paying attention so he doubted you noticed him. Mathematics I, which was dreadful for him because he hated teaching, it required too much patience, started to become the happiest part of his week. He looked forward to see you daydream, the way you twirled your hair in your hand and rested your cheek on your hand was enticing and hypnotizing.

As Cheol saw you walk towards him, looking clearly tired and pouty, he heard angels sing, church bells ring and birds tweet. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and watch you sleep on his chest, he also wanted to bury his head between your thighs until he couldn't breathe anymore but that was a thought for another time.

“Good luck Coups,” smirked Vernon. He knew. He did it on purpose.

As your eyes laid on Seungcheol your steps faltered. Wasn't he the guy that was looking at you like he wanted you to combust? What was he doing here? Why did he look like he was waiting for you?

“Hi, I'm Seungcheol, you can call me Coups. I'm your tutor,” he kindly extended your hand to you. His grip was gentle and his hand was warm and steady.

“I'm Y/N, thank you for agreeing to tutor me.” 

Oh my god her hand is so soft, thought Cheol, he was sweating bricks.

“Shall we go in?”

[sevensoulmates]

Hi there 👋 may I have your opinion on this? Because I feel like it's the general consensus that Eddie may not be all that unaware of the way his feelings towards Buck runs deeper than friendship right? he has been stocking his feelings away in this little glass box he is so careful holding close to his heart, and he doesn't really have to examine those feelings because he firmly believes Buck is straight right? and then Buck's new revelation will be crashing down on him like:

while Eddie is running away from queerness.

And I absolutely can't wait to see Eddie overanalyzing every past and future interaction with Buck under this new light and be like:

I'm so ready for this development 🍿🍿🍿 and I've always wondered if the reason it feels like Eddie was always making heart eyes at Buck was a Ryan thing, like he was playing the character the way he wants or it's him being directed to do that acting choices. Hopefully we will now soon.

Finally, do you think they will be addressing the couch theory again, at some point or will they brush it off?

I've been reading your last meta again and again (and I will do it again) still daydreaming about 7x04, still on cloud nine, total bliss 🤗

Sorry for the delayed response. Had a busy work day today. You've actually touched on one of those things that I go back and forth on a lot when it comes to Eddie and that is the idea of whether or not he is aware (on some level) of his sexuality and/or feelings for Buck.

I've seen some great arguments that he is aware but not able to COMPREHEND his feelings, and simply packed them away. And I've also seen some great arguments on Eddie not being aware at all and having just repressed it all so deeply that even though he feels his feelings, he's never allowed himself to think about what they actually mean. There's a lot of overlap in the two arguments and I think there's some truth to both.

A good friend of mine Zee @tawaifeddiediaz presented me with an interesting thinking point which is the possibility that Eddie may have realized his feelings for Buck on some level at the time of the shooting in the season 4 finale but due to the traumatic nature of the event, repressed them alongside his other feelings regarding that event, which I am inclined to agree with.

Personally, I hesitate to say that Eddie is consciously aware of his feelings/sexuality at the current point in time because then it makes me feel weird regarding his actions with dating Marisol. That's a large reason why I'm pretty certain Eddie isn't aware, or at least fights back against his feelings so hard that he's unknowingly overcorrecting by dating women.

Because if there's one thing about Eddie it's that he is almost always existing in a state of denial in one way or another. Denial about the reality of what his relationship with his parents was like, denial about how unhappy his relationship with Shannon was, denial about the fact that Christopher does not NEED a mother to live a good life, denial that he deserves happiness, denial about how deeply the war affected him, denial about how he feels regarding being with women. It's just denial, denial, denial with him. So I guess on some level in order to exist in that perpetual state of denial, one has to at least be aware on SOME level that there IS something to be in denial about, right?

I'm open to whatever the writers have in mind up their sleeve for Eddie. Now that they have the freedom to go down this route if they want, I trust they'll do it well.

As for the couch theory, I think people need to stop thinking about it as something that was introduced in season 6 and needed to be conclusively wrapped in season 6. I think it was more so meant to be a series-long metaphor for "once Buck finds his home, he'll have found where he needs to be". And that's really what the couch metaphor means to me. So, no, I don't really think the show needs to have Buck be like "hey, Eddie, want to go pick out a couch with me?" Instead, I think they can just have Buck, Eddie and Christopher sit on the couch in Eddie's home altogether once Buddie is canon and that would be more than for me to feel like the "couch theory" was satisfied.

[thegreatyin]

15,22,32,36 for the scoundrel and the scientist plus one I'd like to ask. Do they have a friend group outside of each other.

Does the Scientist hang out with other people in the University and the like, does the Scoundrel still have cards with Fiacre, the Manager, like, do they have people to hang out in general and who?

ooo! a "weird victorian freaks" collection!! my favorite

15 - How big or small is their family? Who did they live with growing up? Do they live with anyone now?

The Scoundrel probably has a decently large family, given their background*. Large enough to be overlooked and overshadowed for most of their life, but small enough to be noticed and recognized by everyone in the area. They likely stayed under their parent's wings for most of their upbringing, though they did run away the first chance they got. Currently, they exclusively live with The Scientist, and bringing up their family is only going to end with you getting chased by a very angry bat-to-be.

The Scientist on the other hand actually has family in the Neath! Well. Sort of. He's the youngest of two older brothers, one of which is still on the surface and the other of which followed him neathwards a few months after he first arrived in London. They have a slightly estranged relationship, but they're still in touch and they still get along pretty well. This enigmatic neath-bound sibling will actually be the subject of my Light Fingers playthrough when I finally get around to it

Similar to the Scoundrel, he lived with his family for most of his upbringing, though he probably moved out and had a normal adult life before The Whole Nemesis Thing Happened. His only roommate at the moment is The Scoundrel. He hates them. He can't stand them. He'd kill anyone who tried to actually seriously kill them. Their relationship is complicated.

*yes, im aware i've never explained or elaborated on this background. we stay silly around here.

-

22 - Do they sleep well at night?

The Scoundrel sleeps just swell, thank you very much. They don't have nightmares. They don't have troubles. They don't lay awake at night staring at a fig for hours. They have no idea what you're talking about. They sleep like a baby. Obviously. Blatantly. There's no other argument to be made or had. Why are you asking. Stop asking. Stop it. Pay no attention to the bat behind the curtain.

In all seriousness, they sleep surprisingly well, all things considered. It's probably mostly because they're an accomplished silverer that guards their dreams with a vengeance. God help you if you head to Parabola and decide to give them night terrors. You'll be dealing with your own for weeks if they're feeling merciful.

As for the Scientist...

Ha. Lol. Lmao even.

No. He's likely a chronic insomniac. He's the type of guy who closes his eyes and even his daydreams are the universe's most horrific god-awful nightmares. That's just the sort of world he lives in.

(The Scoundrel offers him help sometimes. He doesn't always take them up on it. But the few times he's had good dreams? It's always been due to them. Take this as you may.)

-

32 - Do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

The Scoundrel picks at their bandages when they feel nervous. Not enough to take any of them off, just enough to nick some of the gauze with their claws. They can also make like a dozen different high-pitched squeaks depending on the situation, which isn't nearly as noticable to the average Londoner, but it is cute and goofy when it happens.

The Scientist bites at his scarf. A lot. He hides his mouth behind it most of the time, but the fabric is very much worn down and he's very much kind of self-conscious about it. He doesn't even usually realize it's something he's doing, it's just... y'know. An instinct. As one has.

-

35 - Do they ever return home?

Since 36 isn't a question on the prompt list, I'll assume you mean 35. Consider it a freebie.

The Scoundrel is home. They, with full sincerity, consider the Neath to be a better and more comfortable home than they ever used to have on the surface. They wouldn't give up London for the world.

The Scientist...

Well. He doesn't really think of himself as having a home anymore. His home died when his lover did. The Neath is merely a place he happens to reside in, and he doesn't conceptualize it as anything more than that. Maybe, with enough time, he'll find a new home. For now though? He's just cynical and tired and is well-aware he's never going to get that sense of sanctuary back.

-

Bonus question - Do they socialize with literally anyone besides each other?

The Scoundrel has lots of friends! They're buddies with a good chunk of high-society, they're the darling of bohemians everywhere, they're a frequent attendee at the Dilmun Club, they like to say they're friends with their coworkers, they've got a complicated relationship with the Silverer that's been made especially awkward by their recent acquisition of an Irem destiny-

They hang out with tons of people on a daily basis. They're never truly alone. Or so they tell themself, at least. They tend to most frequently socialize with poets and socialites, though they've definitely attracted more than a few devils. I don't have any specific NPC compatriots in mind for them, but there's definitely more than a few they get along amicably with. If it's a pro-establishment person with relatively high importance in society, they're probably at minimum friendly acquaintances.

The Scientist is, unfortunately, quite the opposite. He's not a social person. Like, at all. Ever. Not even remotely. His friend group is pretty much just solely the Scoundrel, the Silverer, and his aforementioned brother currently living in the Neath. And of the three, he's really only actually friends with the Silverer. He's not exactly welcomed with open arms at the University and he's nowhere near well-connected enough to be hanging out with any other factions on more than a case-by-case basis.

Maybe in the future he'll be able to have people he can rely on that aren't "insufferable bat he's literally living with" and "mentor that randomly kidnaps him to hunt crocodiles and go dancing, not always in that order". Maybe. Hopefully. It'd do him a lot of good.

[nostalgia-tblr]

started another fic D: didn't mean to, but i went to bed and then had to get up and write 1000 words (!!) of a sylki alternate s2 fic. i shall put the plot/idea below to ENTICE and so I don't forget it myself.

it's not a fix-it as such i just kept the S2 look and locations and characters (OB!!!) and there is a different stupid scifi thing that needs fixed (and also no sad ending because fuck that).

instead of time-slipping loki was sent back the TVA at the right time and he's trying to fit in there and thinks sylvie will be mad at him and besides how would he even find her in such a huge expanding multiverse? oh no! he daydreams a lot and has some odd moments like forgetting how he takes his coffee, and seems to in some be mentally connected to sylvie in a weird scifi way.

obviously he doesn't do anything sensible like tell mobius, so he sneaks off to ask OB who knows all about Variant Entanglement, which is like quantum entanglement but with less science and more selfcest. OB explains that ALAS loki and sylvie are currently entangled variants, which is rare and OB is very excited to get to see it happen but also he's annoyed that apparently nobody told loki not to touch himself if he met himself. (...not in a euphemistic way, this time, just you shouldn't touch your own variants or this might happen.)

it's gone a bit comedy which i think would be a nice change from writing ANGST all the time (and i need to switch modes for the Con Artists AU anyway), though there is a bit of angst (Sylvie does not like the TVA, of course, and some kind of shipping angst will happen as well) and i think i will add some weird pornographic shared sex dream thing just for the hell of it. not sure how that will work, probably involves what i like to refer to as "a confusion of pronouns."

i think OB fancies Casey in this, so there's a 'subplot' for you i suppose. i don't know how long this fic would be but the roughly 1200 words i somehow have so far (this includes some dialogues that need to be not just dialogue though) have not yet got to the point of sylvie showing up aside from in the opening scene which is a flash-forward because... eh, it is just is. but it won't be that long, surely? (this is what i said about the 8800 word sifki fic too.)

ANYWAY LOOK, here is a snippet for some idea of the general tone, in which Loki meets OB but in a different way from in S2 (ooh!):

“Ouroboros.” The man on the other side of the desk looks up from his work. “Oh hey, a visitor!” “I’m told you’re the man to see if I have a technical problem,” says Loki. “Who told you that?” “Casey.” Ouroboros looks pleased. “Casey remembers me?”  “Apparently so.” Loki drops the document he brought with him onto the desk. “You wrote ‘Towards a New Theory of Variant Entanglement’, considered by many to be the seminal work on the phenomenon.” When Ouroboros opens his mouth to ask the obvious question, Loki cuts him off by answering; “According to Casey.” “Wow, he really does remember me!“ “Why wouldn’t he?” asks Loki.  “That’s what I always ask myself!” Determined not to be put off by the oddness of his potential saviour, Loki tries to push the conversation in his desired direction. “I need to ask you some questions about this paper,” he says. “Sure! Ask away!” After an awkward pause, Loki admits, “I didn’t understand a word of it.” Ouroboros’s excitement deflates a little. “Oh.”  “But Casey - yes, he does remember you, I think he might be a bit of a fan, actually -” “Oh, wow! That’s -” “- says that the answer I need is in here.” Loki taps his fingers on the work in question. “So I was hoping you could translate this for an interested but woefully underqualified layman. Please.”

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 27: I. Pink Toes by Childish Gambino featuring Jhene Aiko

Who doesn't love Dong Lover, honestly.

I think Childish Gambino does a really good job of doing the whole "I came from money but I am part of the culture" bit more than a certain other guy who's on the tip of everyone's tongue right now, tbh.

I think what I like the most about Childish is that, unfortunately, he does activate my nerd rapper neurons (The same ones that go gaga for shit like Hamilton and Watsky and stuff. Sorry Mom, sorry God. It's good though I like it.). But he also is saying something real, and something genuine. There's the acknowledgement and awkwardness present in his stuff. Because The Internet, for instance. Features some of those anxieties around fitting in, and some nerd ass jokes complete with the lampshade of no one getting it. There's something real there, about the black experience. Especially the not black enough experience.

I don't really feel strongly connected with my black heritage, actually. I don't feel really strongly connected to any of my heritage really. There's so many people that I'm standing on top of, being propped up and taken care of by. And I am so far removed from all of them. I don't have any close family anymore, all of my grandparents are passed. I know something about my heritage but it's hard to find a place to begin, where to start. And honestly. It feels like I'm faking right? There's a lot of me that is culturally white. So the anxiety of being the other but not THE OTHER is actually pretty strong. I feel like I can identify more with Gay than with Black, honestly, due to a bunch of things- being forced to confront gay much more often, understanding the rules of the identity, being around other gay people more often.

And of course, the one no one wants to talk about- it's easier. Which sounds so fucking cursed to say but the world is set up that way right? That's part of the whole systemic aspect. And sometimes I do get the racism without any of the cultural solidarity to fall back on. Weird.

I like Pink Toes because I like Sensitive Boy music like Frank Ocean and yes, also Childish Gambino. This song always reminds me of one friend of mine, who also is very black, but plays hockey. He loves this song specifically for Jhene Aiko's part on it. Pink Toes always makes me think of him-I think he's in Minnesota or Wisconsin or something. Coaching hockey. I hope he's happy there.

This song is dreamy. The soundscape has something going to it that makes me think of laying in a field, watching clouds go by. The birds are a nice touch of sound engineering, and you can hear the cop cars at the end but I can see myself in a city park hearing these exact noises.

The drums like... limp along? I don't know how to explain it. The drum noises seem. like. almost behind, playing catchup. The song not hurried though. Like they're just languidly playing. I know it's not out of time or anything. It just gives a good impression of not quite being there but not caring either.

The synth work is fine I think. There's some weird modulation in the Rainbows and Sunshine part that gives almost an unsettled feeling. I do get the feeling that I'm laying in a park just. not doing anything and drifting. But it also kind of gives me the impression that I should. Be concerned? Be worried. But instead I'm ignoring it and laying in a field daydreaming.

It ending on "I'm out of time" right before sirens pop in gives more of that impression to me.

Anyways, Don Glover has this way of like. Making an extremely personal feeling song that somehow is also broadly resonant. those two things are probably very closely related honestly. But I love it. And hey! You could be dead right now. Go listen to something you love.

[thebreakfastgenie]

Gee Sarah how come your mom let you have TWO Hawkeye dying fics

(Seriously I am looking what is the other one 👀👀👀👀)

The other one is pretty different. Ghost AU is a WIP with a detailed outline; this one is at this stage still mostly a vaguely-defined daydream. Also, Hawkeye won't die until the end. I think it needs to end with him dying but I can't envision that until I cleanse the finale of Showtime's The Big C from my brain (I do recommend one episode of that show because there is a recurring joke about Alan Alda's character being great at oral sex for no reason).

In this one, Hawkeye has some kind of terminal illness. I haven't decided what it is, because I have to research what would give me a narratively workable life expectancy and set of symptoms. It's set a few years after the end of the show; I'm not sure how many exactly but probably between 5 and 15. The status quo is that everyone is still friends and still in touch, but they're all busy with their lives, so just not hearing from somebody for a couple of months is not in and of itself a cause for alarm. Daniel Pierce is gone. I'm not sure about Potter, that really depends on how long it's been (they're around the same age).

So Hawkeye gets diagnosed with whatever. He sells the house in Crabapple Cove. He doesn't tell anyone there why, but they just assume it's because it reminds me of his dad. A local buys it. Then he goes to Europe. He never went after the war, so he decides to go now. And he buys a one-way ticket, on a ship.

He's not planning on coming back from Europe, because he's planning on checking out before his disease catches up to him. He even starts making stupid, overly-romantic plans. He kicks around Europe for a while sightseeing.

And then he changes his mind.

He buys a ticket back (and if it's the mid-60s by now he could fly back, but I haven't decided yet if he flies or takes a ship) and he turns up at Margaret's door. He has his charts and all his test results; he had those in Europe with him too because he's weird. He tells Margaret everything and shows her the charts so she can't argue with him. He says he doesn't want anyone else to know and explains the only reason he's telling her now is because, having made the decision to stick it out until his natural end, he's going to need someone to take care of him once it gets bad, and he asks her to do it.

She says yes, of course, and he tries to leave, like great, see ya when I'm on death's door, and she's like hold on. Do you even have a place to live? And moves him into her guest room.

Lots of Hawkeye Margaret friendship at this point but also the main conflict which is that he is still refusing to tell anyone else. She wants him to tell everyone, but she especially wants him to tell BJ, and they fight about it. Eventually she convinces him to go to California and the express purpose of this visit is for Hawkeye to tell him. They have a great time and at the end Hawkeye is planning to tell him, but then BJ says something like "This was so great, we should do this more often!" And Hawkeye's just like "yep :)" and goes home without saying anything.

When Margaret finds out she's livid and he's like I just couldn't bear to break his heart and Margaret's like "you're going to break his heart either way, you're just putting it off so you won't have to see it. If you don't tell him, I'm going to have to do it after you're gone" and Hawkeye's like. Oh. So then he invites BJ to come visit and BJ's like "wow okay I didn't exactly mean right away, but sure!" and he assumes he's going to Maine and Hawkeye's like no actually I'm at Margaret's but he doesn't tell him he's living there, he kind of just implies he's visiting her and turning this into a group hang and BJ's like weird but okay. And then he gets there and Hawkeye tells him the truth and there's a lot of ugly crying.

He definitely tells at least some of the others too but I don't have them all worked out in detail yet. With Trapper, they just sort of hang out occasionally (I may have Margaret living in New England to facilitate this) and at one point they're having a drink and Hawkeye is really going to town on the booze and Trapper--who's mellowed and slowed down a bit since coming home--comments on it (gently and non-judgmentally) and Hawkeye's just casually like "don't worry, my other organs are going to give up on me before my liver gets a chance" and Trapper's like What. So he explains and Trapper takes it pretty well, he's teary and stuff but he keeps it together.

Charles finds out because Hawkeye went to a specialist in Boston when he got diagnosed who has a big mouth and Charles yells at this doctor for talking about patients (I think this was actually allowed but I like giving "takes patient privacy extra seriously" to Charles as a character beat) but then he figures out where Hawkeye is and shows up at Margaret's house like what the hell man.

And then I think it's just a rotating cast of everybody spending time with Hawkeye as he starts getting sicker. I may try to stretch the timespan by saying he got diagnosed early because he noticed an early sign, being a doctor. I think it has to end with him dying but I don't know what that looks like yet.

[love-toxin]

BEING OBSESSED WITH EDDIE MUNSON?? so real. i would beg for him to take me apart any day of the week. he could do it so easily too. one look and a few well timed words and i’d be kneeling on the damn ground. i need him to put those ring-covered fingers to good use. in my mouth? ass? pussy? anywhere, everyone, please

EHEH....i went on a bit of a ramble w this 👉👈

ok but my favourite part of this is that eddie would be totally blown away by your "puppy love" as some would call it. he likes to feign confidence at times when he has none and thus overcompensates for it when he needs it the most, but he honest to god is just speechless that an angel like you is infatuated with a guy like him. regardless if you really are angelic or not, if you insist you aren't he insists you are--that's just the way he sees you, and no matter what you do, if you're hanging around him you're gonna be dubbed 'angelface' or just 'angel' for short.

plus, he feels even more like a devil when such a lovely angel decides they want to grovel at his feet--it's really just you getting on your knees, but he likes the theatrics--and even more so when you nuzzle into his touch and let yourself be guided by his hand underneath your chin, his rings rubbing against the tender skin as he makes you look up at him and asks you to smile, just for him. he would probably stop there, because that's all he's going to get and he's sure you'll stumble upon the self-worth you dropped in order to plead for his attention like this, but he has no idea that you're planning to jump his bones and will do so at the earliest opportunity. he'll take it, of course he'll take it, and he'll thoroughly enjoy watching your angel face twist up in pleasure and your eyes roll back when you let him take you for a ride, but the gradual increase of time you spend with him after the fact will just end up becoming the norm. one day he'll wake up with you sleeping peacefully next to him, and wonder how he got here and how in the jesus h christ he got so lucky--and he has no answer, just that you gave the weird guy a chance and now you'll never, ever, ever get rid of him.

besides, giving him an inch like that and expecting him not to get attached is just impossible. seeing you naked is enough, hell, seeing you in a wet t-shirt is enough for him to daydream about for weeks--if you actually go all the way he literally won't be able to get it off his mind. anytime he sees you in clothes or in public after that, like in class or otherwise at school, anybody with eyes can see how intensely he stares at you and the way he taps his foot or drums his fingers on the table. he gets sweaty, the images of you on top of him and beneath him and the lust in your eyes when you tell him how good he fucks you overwhelm him, and then he's dashing off to the bathroom and returning after a very long few minutes. and if you dare to do something like wink at him, or make some kind of lewd gesture, or god forbid wear one of his t-shirts or your hellfire club shirt, eddie is just a mess for the rest of the day. you'll have to dodge him until classes are over if you don't want him to pull you away to go make out in his car (which you probably do, but you really can't skip class) but when it comes time to drive you home you're gonna get your shit rocked. and he'll develop a terrible, terrible habit of doing the same thing right before group events like your dnd sessions, just so you'll have to scramble to readjust your clothes, fix your hair, and hide the marks that eddie's left on your neck--plus, you'll have to try and sit as normally as you can so nobody suspects anything, even during those times that you don't have a chance to really clean up and you've got eddie's cum soaking your thighs and pooling in your underwear. but even if it's a little uncomfortable in that sense, the adoration in eddie's eyes when he looks over at you from behind his DM screen or sweetly murmurs a "what's your move, angelface?" makes it so worth it, and he doesn't even know how much. he might never realize just how deeply you love him, but he is sure of one thing.

he's so lucky to have you, and he's really lucky when you don't get mad at him for being a little hellion like that. with you, he doesn't have to be a freak, an idiot, a devil-worshipper, or a bad influence. he can just be eddie. and he really, really digs that, angelface.

[xokiddo]

Can I request ''should we sleep in the same bed?'' ''as long as you don't touch me.'' and or ''WHY DON'T YOU LOCK THE BATHROOM DOOR'' ''I'M NOT USED TO SOMEONE LIVING WITH ME?'' [because i accidentally walked in on you showering] with Porco please 🥰 I love the way you write Porco.

Doing the second prompt because OF COURSE

(I did fill the first prompt here by the way)

Content warning: minors dni / afab!reader, accidental voyeurism?, touching + grinding

—

Pretending to be engaged to Porco Galliard comes with two conditions: you’re exclusive to one another, and you move in.

You didn’t mind initially, considering you’ll save a fortune on rent, and his apartment is actually closer to your job. For him, the perception that he’s settling down and becoming a family man looks good to his supervisors, so he’s more likely to get the promotion he’s eyeing. You pointed out the ridiculous traditionalist values at play there, but you know that Porco disagrees with it as much as you do. Your fake engagement gives you the same advantage in your company, as much as you regret to admit, so you both simply play along.

You share a bed, because if you’re living in the guest room and someone comes over it just looks weird, which means you share the bathroom.

Your nose is in your phone as you’re typing away a response to an e-mail from a client who has zero personal boundaries about work-life balance (seriously, who e-mails at 6:52am anyway?) and you head into the bathroom, intending to put on makeup as you get ready for the day.

Somehow, you completely missed the sound of the shower running, because you open the door and you’re met with the steam from the shower, and through the glass door to the standing shower you’re met with Porco.

Naked, his back to you.

His head turns sharply, eyes wide and face instantly turning red as he barks out a “Hey!”

You turn around, door half-shut behind you. “Why don’t you lock the bathroom door?!” You shout over your shoulder at him, your voice echoing off the tile.

“I’m not used to someone living with me!” He hollers back.

You slam the door shut, but your face is aflame as you keep seeing Porco in the shower. His sculpted musculature, his broad shoulders, his ass.

To your shock, you think about going back in and asking to join him.

You don’t.

—

Roughly two weeks later, you can’t take it anymore; you take a chance and leave the door unlocked while you shower.

Rubbing soap over your body, you try to focus on cleaning yourself, washing up as normal. Your hands linger in your erogenous areas, and before you realize it, you’re fondling your breasts, or your fingers slip between your legs. You clench your jaw to keep from making any noise, in case Porco overhears through the door.

But then again—would he care if he heard?

You let out a breathy moan as you slide two fingers inside of yourself, trying to imagine Porco from that day, in the shower. You say his name quietly when you think about how you wished he turned around a little further so you could see his cock. The way you daydream about him inviting you into the shower with him.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

You withdraw your hand instantly, looking over your shoulder to see Porco in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe.

“Porco, I—“

“Don’t stop.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize he heard.

He takes a step forward, pulling his shirt off over his head. His pants and underwear follow suit in one motion, and you’re graced with the sight of him bare. His cock’s already half-hard when he opens the door, joining you under the stream of water. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his molten gaze.

“I said, don’t stop.”

Unable to deny him, you obey, bringing your hand back to yourself.

He places his hands on your hips, slowly turning you until your back is facing him. You can faintly feel his hardening cock touch your ass as he steps closer to you, sliding a hand toward your front. He splays a hand just under your breasts, and his thumb brushes the underside of one, sending a shiver through you.

“Had a feeling you’d want this,” he mutters, lips tickling the shell of your ear. With his hand on your sternum, he can feel the quickened beat of your heart and shallow breaths you’re taking. His other hand inches lower, sliding over your abdomen, your mound, and his palm covers your cunt. His fingers press to your folds, already slick from arousal. “So wet,” he says appreciatively, sliding his fingers along your slit.

You swallow thickly, moving your hips back and forth—desperate to feel him touch you, but you can feel his stiff cock press against your ass.

“How long you been touching yourself to me?” Porco asks, teasing you with a single digit circling your clit.

“S-Since I walked in on you,” you stammer, shutting your eyes as you try to keep your composure.

He chuckles, and you feel the vibrations of his laughter at your back. “You have any idea how many times I left the door unlocked so you could walk in?”

Your head swims at the confession, and your knees buckle when he slips his finger inside of you without warning. Your jaw falls slack, and he holds you steady with his other hand.

“Oh, babe, you’re so worked up already. All from me touching this pretty pussy of yours?”

You nod eagerly, muttering a simple yes.

Another sound of approval leaves him, and he slips a finger inside of you. You gasp, pushing back against him, earning a groan as his cock slides against your skin, wet from the shower. He moves his hips back, letting his dick lower, and he adjusts so he’s pushing in between your thighs—rubbing right up against your cunt. You whimper, feeling the thickness of his cock as he slides between your thighs, and you press your legs closer together, as if it would encourage him to actually fuck you.

Porco seems content with the friction as is, feeling the hot water run over your bodies, shallowly moving his hips as his cock rubs along your soaked cunt.

“Mm—Porco, please—“

All he does is grunt, stilling, the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, throbbing and aching with want. You try to wiggle, but he digs his fingers into your hips, speaking into your ear with a guttural voice.

“Get out, and lay down on the bed. I’m not through with you yet.”

[ihatebnha]

I love the concept of thinking of dabi as... ex-villain who retired, got married and now has kids. but the only thing that "breaks" that image is my inability to think about what his job would be. I just can't imagine him working in an office, maybe a local grocery store as a cashier, but it's still just so... Weird? And I'm talking about the Cannon Heroes universe, don't let me even start thinking about a modern au. Dabi is like one of those guys that I just can't see in a mundane job.

When I write about Dadbi, I usually just imagine that Endeavor is funding his role as a husband, mostly because it makes sense both in a canon!AU and out of one (like, retired villain in touch with his family, or his family has given him a redemption arc + etc.)

But if we're getting down to the nitty gritty of things, I struggle a lot with this, too💀 Dabi really just has an air to him that's like... lazy couch potato of a man who never does anything he's not forced to, which is great for a house husband!AU and not really one... where he's actually a provider.

But... to actually unpack this with you... I'm not sure.

On the one hand, because he was in connection with Giran before joining the League, I can see him going back to that field of work, maybe being a courier or a messenger of sorts, or even some kind of arms dealers who distributes illegal weaponry or something?

But on the other, if you're into it, I also think there's potential for Dabi as a bartender or secretary. In a more, non-hero!AU... I think it's kinda cute to think about him working late hours at a club, or even managing deals, pushing paperwork and helping to unload trucks for some company (in a manly type of way ofc, LOL).

I'm not sure, though!!! Villainy aside, working doesn't seem to suit him all that much, and if we consider the fact that his initial job choice was being a hero (🥺)... I'm not sure what to think. Definitely depends on the daydream, at least!!!

Hope you don't mind I added this all on <333

[worstloki]

new Loki/The Tesseract shipper here! so i’ve got a question, how exactly would you write Loki/Tesseract? I know many people portray Tess in a human form but like, if you were writing romance between Loki x The actual cube, how would that go down exactly? (Also I’m the same person who sent the tesseroki message yesterday about how weird it is and I love it!!)

there are loads of ways to do so, you're not really limited here ! Personally I like any of these:

- Tess can project out of the cube. Can't touch much stuff and floats around as a cloud a lot. Can be given a humanoid shape but that's not necessary - I'd do it if it was cute though, like if the light turned into Loki and was non-corporeally copying what he was doing

- Tess communicates through emotions, mostly. It's basically just radiating thoughts/emotions. The possibility of Loki being able to sense this/decipher it can be due to magic or something else.

- Telepathy. That's always fun. Mind to mind communication. The Tesseract likes to talk to him, apparently.

- being emotionally attached doesn't need to be @ a body but throwing attraction into it makes it very neat too !! Like ok the cube's energy fluctuates when Loki's in the room. Loki's trying to ignore it but keeps glancing it's way. Loki's daydreaming about a sentient rock and the infinity stone is blushing over some organic being. Their families are going to be so disappointed.

- The Tesseract can teleport around but otherwise Loki carrying it around everywhere. Keeping it in a pocket. Storing it at the surface of his pocket dimension. Tess can always teleport him to them if they want too.

- I also like to mess around with all the infinity stones being part of 1 conscious being - which means that if it's only Tess that's fond of Loki that whatever ethereal or eldritch form the combined infinity stones take there's 1/6th of it that is going <3 at him every time Space takes the wheel

- Loki's magic and the Tesseract's magic solely getting attached to each other, constantly wanting to cling, which of course drags Loki along. "No, I don't need the Tesseract to--put it back. Why isn't it working. Gah! Fine!! I'll use it!"

- Loki and dark!Tess but it's Loki getting addicted to the power high the Tesseract gives. It is an infinity stone, after all. Bonus points for radiation poisoning and withdrawal symptoms >:]

- I'm also partial to the Tesseract taking forms but it never being it's "own" !! This can include possessing other beings - can be Loki or someone around him, which essentially makes Tess the soul of the Tesseract.

- Similar to the one above this can also mean mimicking others so it can make it's own body, but it takes the forms of people it's seen. This means you can have 2 Loki's around, one with probably-blue eyes and magic tbh.

- the Tesseract leeching into Loki;s mind and/or stealing his magic to keep them together? also good. Tess is merely a cube haha just a fun lil funky lil shape hehe . not a threat haha. now use it since you're running low on seidr Loki <3

- the Tesseract's neutral state sounding like it's singing. When Loki was stuck with Thanos he used to look forward to spying on SHIELD because he fell in love with that. His sanity is on a thin thin thread. He's still in love with it when he's gotten away from Sanctuary. Whoops.

and so on !

[systematic-advice]

I'm not a system, but I'm not sure how else to explain this weird experience from my childhood. I'm not asking for a diagnosis, but I would greatly appreciate it if you pointed me in the right direction so I could do my own research.

Back when I was 10-12ish I had this other voice in my head with a personality completely different from my own. He commented on things I was doing throughout the day and we had frequent back and forth conversation. It didn't feel like I was talking to myself, it felt like talking to someone else with a mind of their own. (He was kinda rude to me, honestly...)

Based on my research, this sounds A LOT like an alter. But I don't have alters anymore. One possible explanation is that I managed to reach final fusion before ever learning what OSDD-1/DID were, but that wouldn't explain why my memory still feels like it was put through a paper shredder, and then a bunch of tiny, very vivid 1-second clips (of the weirdest, most random moments) were picked out of the shavings. The rest is a black void. If I'd reached final fusion, I probably wouldn't still have that amnesia.

I know I'm not a system for a variety of reasons. Despite not remembering my childhood, there's nothing that could have logically happened in it that would have been traumatic enough to cause DID/OSDD-1. I don't have PTSD symptoms that I've noticed and I've never had a flashback. Even though I find myself talking to reoccurring characters in my head sometimes, it doesn't feel "real" like it did when I was 10-12ish; they're just daydreams, they respond to fake scenarios I make up instead of my real life. Now that I know what DID/OSDD-1 are, if I tried to make contact with a supposed "alter" I'd just make up a fully-developed character in a split second because I'm so good at creating characters/character dialogue after years of writing. I zone out a lot, but that's just ADHD. I never find evidence that I've actually DONE something during the time I was zoned out. And finally, it makes absolutely no sense that I'd somehow lose contact with my alters and inner world when I had such good communication with them before.

So, it's pretty clear-cut; I don't have OSDD-1 or DID, and I'm not a system.

But still... I'm not sure what else this voice could have been. Are there disorders similar to OSDD-1/DID which could explain what this was? It wasn't an auditory hallucination; I didn't hear it out loud, just in my head. My doctor thinks I might have BPD, but I looked up the symptoms and they didn't fit, so I've already ruled that out. Another therapist thought I had bipolar, but that didn't fit either (She also thought I might have psychosis but I haven't researched that yet)

Maybe I just had an overactive imagination, and all of my current symptoms are caused by a mix of ADHD and generalized anxiety disorder?

Hi there Anon! There's a lot to unpack here.

First let me say that going through this sort of questioning is very normal when you're learning about yourself. I'm glad you're taking the steps to learn about yourself. That said though, I do feel like you have a bit of bad information, so let me see if I can clear some things up. The first thing I'd like to touch on is the reasons you've given for knowing that you're not a System. While I'm not here to tell you that you are, I do need to point out a few things about those reasons.

If you don't remember your childhood, there is nothing to say that you don't have trauma. 'Bad enough' is completely relative to the person experiencing the trauma, so it doesn't have to be something people often describe as 'Big T' trauma. It's also not something you can rule out though. For instance, we didn't know where our System came from until about five years ago. We were just aware that it was here and that we must have experienced some bad things beyond what we remembered. We thought of our family as being a safe space for years before we remembered. I'm not saying for certain that you have a System or very bad trauma, I'm just saying that's a possibility.

We have said many times before that teenagers seem to experience Systemhood and Maladaptive Daydreaming (MADD) much more intensely that adults. This is based off of our own experiences as well as the experiences of our S/O who is also a System. There is also emerging research that suggests a strong tie between these two conditions, so that's something to keep in mind. I certainly think some of the things you're describing could be MADD.

And finally concerning your reasons, it does actually make sense to lose contact with your System. As I have come to understand it, being frontstuck to the point of limited communication can go on for a number of years. I'm given to understand this comes as a result of intense stress, but there can be other reasons. (Followers, I'd love corrections if I have bad information here!)

Now with that out of the way, there are a number of disorders that can cause things like Alters to form and if this singular voice is the only experience you've had with a fully formed Alter there is every possibility that what you were experiencing was some kind of delusion. People on the schizophrenia-spectrum can often experience intense hallucinations or delusions of voices or people around them. We were first diagnosed with Schizo-effective, which we now understand to be comorbid with our System. What I'm saying is they are often mistaken for each other, so it is absolutely a possibility that you're experiencing something else. If you truly believe you're not a System then it's worth noting that disorders on the schizophrenia-spectrum do not HAVE to come from trauma. Researchers are still learning what factors go into this sort of thing.

It's also possible that a lot of the zoning out you're dealing with comes from the ADHD, that's true. Anxiety can also shut people down, but these things are usually tracible. I'd suggest starting a journal both for your daily mood and your daily thoughts. This can help a LOT in figuring out of the zoning out relates to specific moods to tone changes, or if it's happening all the time. It will also help you better understand how you were feeling around those episodes. If it is the ADHD, speaking to a professional and trying ADHD Coping mechanisms is a good place to start.

It sounds like you have done a lot of soul searching on this one, but I do think it would be worth you diving a little farther into some DID literature as well as information on schizophrenia-spectrum disorders. Psychosis is typically described as a symptom, not a diagnosis. So I would look into that with that fact in mind.

I wish you all the best in trying to learn about yourself and what's going on Anon. I hope this is helpful to you and your journey. Thanks for dropping in.

[ID: A banner depicting the Greek letter psi, the symbol commonly associated with therapists, crossed out with a large red circle. The text reads “The Auncles are NOT Psychologists/ Psychiatrists/ Medical Professionals. Our posts are not diagnostic or medical advice!”]