#this is so incredibly dumb and self indulgent but

[kami-kun1003]

?? take this i guess

please read the tags </3

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[jazzyoranges]

Tara Carpenter nsfw headcanons

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

incredibly cuddly. like… baby koala cuddly

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

her favorite body part on you is your tummy or arms. Tara likes to hold on to anything she can while cumming, and your arms always seem to be accessible. Tara’s favorite part of her body are probably her thighs. she thinks it’s cute you’re so enamored with them

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

g!p or not, Tara wants you to cum on her face. you once asked her what the obsession was and she responded with “Baby Tate says nut keeps that skin clean” with a shrug, and you’re left a little dumbfounded afterwards

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

before you got together and were just friends, you let Tara borrow a hoodie. she’s masturbated in that hoodie far more times than she’s liked to admit. after time it looses its smell of you, but you’re already together so she can now have the real thing anytime she wants

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

she’s had a few hookups here and there. Tara knows what she’s doing, but she’s always figuring out ways to make you cum :)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Tara likes positions where she can see your face. something about how intimate it is watching your dumb little smile while Tara’s furiously bouncing on your fingers like she’s in heat

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

kind of in between, slightly (very slightly) leaning towards sillier. both of you kinda just go with the flow and it works out

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

Tara shaves once in a while. countless times you’ve said you don’t care, so she mainly does it for herself

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

such a fucking romantic. this girl can be so corny sometimes it’s not funny. she’s just in a constant state of :3 all the time

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before your relationship, Tara simply masturbated at pictures and scenarios she’d make up in her head. Now, Tara purposefully masturbates to tease you. Pictures and videos of her moaning your name or you’d come home to a needy Tara knuckle-deep in her pussy

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

…humiliation. she’s your whore, and your whore only :) g!p or strap-on, she likes it when your cock slaps against her face.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

definitely your apartment. sam was so close to finding out once. despite how her orgasm felt so much better afterwards, the heart attack wasn’t worth it

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

you hate it, but Tara likes when you get jealous. she doesn’t make you jealous on purpose cause she knows it’s one of your insecurities but when you do… she likes how your eyes darken. her usually happy and upbeat partner staring down someone? hot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

knives are completely out of the question for obvious reasons. also, cuckholding. as much as she’s yours, you’re also hers and Tara doesn’t like to share

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

definitely giving. hearing you moan is music to her ears

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Tara definitely likes going slow, but only because she loves to edge you. sometimes you get impatient and start to take control and Tara lives for it

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves quickies. this woman can’t get her paws off your body for one second. you’re happy to indulge in your girlfriend so it’s okay

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

definitely likes to experiment! butt plugs, mirrors, cameras, she likes experimenting

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i’d say Tara can go for 3, maybe 4 before she’s completely drained of energy

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

g!p or not, Tara loves her trusty strap. it’s about average in length, but god is it thick

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tara teases you within reason. nothing too mean, but just enough she knows she’s not going to be able to walk tomorrow. so like… lots of nudes

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

you’ve gotten multiple noise complaints. it was not fun when an older lady confronted you about your… lovemaking with Tara

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

one time she accidentally called you mommy… let’s just say you happily fed into her kink

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Tara has noticeable bruises on her lower hips due to you gripping on her love handles like your life depended on it

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

borderline high. Tara won’t do anything you don’t want to do, even if she really wants to. worst comes to worst, you edge her until there’s tears in her eyes if she was being a brat

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

if she’s overstimulated or done most of the moving, the woman is out like a fucking light. Tara can still function after having sex, but she does prefer a nap or going to bed after

[sweetened-condensed-dreams]

this is incredibly self indulgent but thinking about how al haitham’s favorite activity is burying his tongue into pussy and making himself pussy drunk. For as smart as he is, I think he’d love to shut his brain off once in a while and what better way to do that than burying his tongue into your wet pussy and fill his mouth with your delicious cum <3

it prbably isnt obvious at first that he’s gone stupid just from going down on you but it’s more noticeable when you see how dazed his green eyes are, focused on nothing but your pussy as he sucks fervently on your clit. his mouth that’s usually spitting out smart ass remarks or knowledge that he’s learned is now too busy drinking up your cum.

Edit: Adding onto this, he probably tried to deny the fact that he gets so dumb and absent minded just from tasting your pussy at first, saying that he does it solely for your pleasure and not his.

You decide to experiment a little bit, testing if he truly meant his words by denying him the pleasure of letting his tongue lap at your pussy, meanly telling him with a smile that you weren’t in the mood to be eaten out, surely he wouldn’t protest if this was simply for your pleasure right?

You hold back the smug grin that threatens to appear on your face when you notice the subtle twitch on the corners of his lips, threatening to turn into a frown, his eyes narrowing in slight distate yet he maintained his composure as he replied with a quiet “fine” and resorted to fingering you instead but you can see the way he licks his lips as he stared at the messy slick on his fingers and the way his tongue all but devours the nectar left on his fingers, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each swallow of cum.

You decide to keep it up for a few days, noticing the sourness of his attitude growing with each passing day that you denied him of the taste of your pussy, his headaches becoming more frequent as he buried his nose in books when it should’ve been buried between your legs. You take pity on him (and all the people who had been on the receiving side of his foul attitude) and finally give him what he’s been craving so desperately for the past few days.

You swear that you’ve never seen him so eager before, shown in the way he rips of your panties and unintentionally letting out a wanton moan when his mouth was finally where it belonged.

[froggibus]

The Death of Peace of Mind - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader (reader uses female/she/her pronouns + has a pussy), Billy Loomis! Ghostface x f! reader (at the end), Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: after finding out your boyfriend is the masked killer who’s been plaguing Woodsboro, you only have one request—you want him to take out his darkest urges on you

CW: Dark content ahead!!! dubcon, knife play, blood play, bondage (use of handcuffs and blindfolds), Stu cuts reader, bloodloss, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex (yk what im gonna say), creampie, Stu chases you with a knife, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mentions of a threesome, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

incredibly self indulgent fic of my favorite Ghostface & the idea of being railed by him <3 this is a bit darker than what I normally write lol, also very tempted to write about getting railed by both Billy & Stu now

update ish? self indulgent part 2 w both Stu and Billy here

————

The minute the phone rings, the blood rushes to your ears. The entire town of Woodsboro had been warned against answering calls from unknown numbers after what happened to Casey and Steve. You weren’t worried, though. 

Why fear the boogeyman when the boogeyman is the only person who makes you feel safe?

Stu always insisted on never letting you see the darker parts of him, on never sharing the weirder things he was interested in. He wanted to protect you from himself and the fucked up things he wanted to do to you. That all changed this morning when you stopped by his house to make sure he was awake in time for school, and saw the Ghostface mask in his closet. 

You had grabbed it and tossed it at him, forcing him to explain himself. 

The boy had stuttered over his words before he finally confessed: he was the one who had been killing people all around Woodsboro. Even more surprising than that was that he had a partner. Everyone, even the police, had only suspected one person was doing it. 

He mumbled countless apologies, begging you not to leave him and begging you not to tell anybody or else ‘he’ would be mad. In all of his grovelling, though, he never mentioned who his partner was. 

You cut him off. “Is this the dark stuff you didn’t want me to know about?”

He nodded slowly, tips of his ears burning red. 

“Stu, I’m not going to tell anyone,” his head snaps up at your words, eyes lighting up. “But I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip. “I want you to lose control. Do whatever you want to me, just let go. Don’t worry about whether I like it or not…just, show me those parts of you.”

“Y/n…”

“I mean it, Stu. Please?”

He’s reluctant to give in. He knows he would never hurt you, at least not severely, but the thought of showing you who he really is and what he wants to do makes him shiver. He doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like you do now. 

Still, he gives in. He tells you to go home and relax, and maybe stock up on first aid supplies.

The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills you with excitement. 

And now you’re sitting next to the ringing phone, knowing when you answer it that things will never be the same. 

You press the phone to the side of your face, the cold buttons raising goosebumps on your skin. “Hello?”

“Hello, y/n.” The voice on the other end is deep and raspy, so masculine it has you clenching your thighs together. 

“Who is this?”

Stu can’t help but smirk on the other end of the line. You’re playing the part of the innocent, dumb victim perfectly, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. God, the things he wants to do to you. 

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” he responds. 

“I don’t think so.”

You lay down on your back on the couch, playing with your hair, with the collar of your shirt, anything to keep you focused on the man talking in your ear. 

“Come on,” he almost growls, “why don’t you tell me your name?”

You can’t help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You suck in a breath. Smooth, you think. If you were anyone else, if you actually thought there was a chance he would kill you, his words would make you freeze. But tonight, all they did was make you shiver in anticipation. 

You can feel your underwear soaking through with your arousal, your whole body warming. “L-looking at?”

Stu almost laughs at the way you nervously stutter. You sound so cute, so innocent…he really can’t wait to ruin you. He stifles his laughter from inside the closet. 

“You heard me,” he says. “Don’t you want to know where I’m hiding?”

“You’re…you’re inside?” 

A wave of fear washes over you. How had he gotten inside without you noticing? Is this how he had gotten to Casey, too? You hate how much it turns you on to think that he’s been here the whole time. 

“Take a guess, come find me.”

Stu watches through the crack in the door as you stand from the couch with that puzzled look on your face. You spin around, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

“What happens if I find you?”

Stu stays silent for a minute, watching you look around the living room to find him. Just as you get to the closet, your palm resting on the handle, he responds. 

“I get to see what your insides look like.”

He pushes the closet door open and shoves you against the wall. You squeak, letting the phone clatter to the ground. Stu grabs your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head. 

His other hand reaches for the knife in his waistband, holding up at eye level so you can see it. Your heart speeds up, your arms shake, your knees threaten to buckle. 

He presses the knife at the centre of your collarbone, just above where your t-shirt begins. You can feel the sharp tip press into your skin, just enough to cause a bead of blood to roll down your chest. 

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he breathes. 

You almost call his name, but you know he’s not your boyfriend right now. You know he needs to let go, and part of that is to let go of himself, too. 

He drags the knife down, cutting into the fabric of your t-shirt. He applies just enough pressure to easily slide the fabric, but not enough to actually hurt you. Still, you can feel the cool metal on your bare skin and it causes you to whimper. 

Stu groans. You’re being so good for him, standing so still and just letting him do what he needs to do. He digs the knife into the soft fabric of your shorts, taking his time in slicing them down the middle. 

Both pieces of fabric fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear in front of him. “I-I—” you’re not sure what you’re trying to say, but the words won’t come out regardless. 

“I-I-I,” he mocks, holding the blade against your throat. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

You whimper and kick against him, your knee grinding against the bulge in his robe. He drags the knife just above your collarbone. He presses in hard, hard enough to draw blood. 

The warm blood leaks down your chest, dripping down your stomach and your underwear. The slight sting makes you whine even more and rub your thighs together. 

He releases your hands. “Run,” he whispers. 

You don’t waste a second in obeying him. As soon as your feet are on the ground, you’re tearing away from him. You can hear him walking at a leisurely pace behind you, laughing mockingly. Something about him chasing you, cutting you…it’s overwhelming, it makes your head fuzzy with pleasure. 

You run up the stairs, turning away as soon as your feet meet the plush carpet of the landing. You turn around, only to see that he’s gone. You suck in a breath. Where could he have gone?

Arms wrap around your waist, a knife pressed into your side. “Got you.”

You squeal, kicking against him. He’s much stronger than you, though. He pushes you against the wall, using it as leverage to lift you up. 

You wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed, slamming the door behind him. You squirm, your sheets staining with the blood that dripped down your body while you ran. 

You look up at him with those damned eyes, blinking slowly. His robe is stained with your blood, the knife in his hand slick with the red. 

He crawls on top of you, yanking your underwear off and tossing them into the corner of the room. Your pussy is soaked as it is, but your blood has started to run into the juices, and the smell is fucking intoxicating. 

He moves his face between your legs, the white mask looking up at you. You whimper and roll your hips against his face, staining the white with your red. 

He tears off a strip of fabric from his robe and ties it around your eyes. “No looking,” he orders. 

He tilts the mask up just enough so that his mouth and nose are out before licking up the blood from your thighs. You taste just as good as you smell, and it only makes him want more. He flicks his tongue across your opening and you whine, bucking your hips against his face. 

He goes to work licking and sucking at your clit. He’s drunk from the taste of you, and all he wants is more. He presses the knife against your thigh, digging it in hard enough to draw blood. The pain in your thigh mixed with the pleasure in your core has you crying out, forcing you over the edge. 

You finish hard, your slick coating his mouth and nose. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps eating you out like you’re his last meal. 

“P-please,” you whine. 

“Please what?”

“Stretch me out, ruin me, just…please?”

Your breathless begging is so fucking cute that he can’t hold back anymore. He pulls the mask over his face again, laying on top of you. He pulls out a pair of plain metal handcuffs, and gets to work securing them around your wrists. He does it tightly enough that it digs into the skin and makes it impossible to escape, but not tight enough to be painful. 

You struggle against the restraints, unable to see or feel him now. He shuffles against you awkwardly, pulling his cock out of his pants. He’s already rock hard, the tip coated in precum. 

He lines up the head at your entrance and shoves his way inside. He’s so perfectly sized, always stretching you out perfectly. You whine, instinctively going to reach out for him before remembering the restraints on your wrists. 

His thrusts are desperate and needy. All he wants, all he needs, is to bury himself inside of you. To fuck you like he needs to and absolutely ruin you. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter out, forcing your hips against his to meet his thrusts. 

His hands grip your waist tightly, his mouth hovering over your pulse point. He licks up the remaining blood from the cut on your collarbone, and the copper taste on his tongue only drives him to fuck you harder. 

The way you're so wet for him, just from him cutting and fucking you. Hovering above you, fucking you like it's the last time, he's never felt more content. It's like the darkest parts in you pacify the darkest parts in him, and that's all he's ever needed.

You can feel yourself getting close, your muscles contracting with every deep thrust. You feel slightly lightheaded, but you’re not sure if it’s from your last orgasm or the blood loss. 

Stu holds you closer, his body collapsing onto yours as his thrusts get sloppier. You know he won’t last much longer, either. 

You squirm, bucking your hips to try and get him as deep as possible. He hits that sweet spot one more time and you come undone, your muscles spasming around him. Your pussy clenches around his cock and that’s all he needs to spill hot cum deep inside of you. 

Your head rolls back, your body going limp. Stu pulls out, kneeling on top of you. “Think you can go another round?”

“C-can you?” You breathe heavily. 

He reaches his hands around the back of your head to remove the blindfold. It takes a minute for your eyes to focus, fixating on the masked man above you. 

“Not me,” he grabs your jaw in his hand and turns your head to the corner, where a man in an identical costume stands. “Him.”

“Him?”

The masked man steps forwards, slowly pulling the mask from his face. Billy Loomis is smiling at you like the devil, “hello, y/n.”

He pulls the mask back on, coming to rest on the bed next to Stu. Both of the Ghostface killers have their eyes fixated on your bound, writhing form on the bed. 

“I think she can do one more,” Stu says. 

“I think so too. I think she could take both of us.”

“B-both of you?” 

Neither boy acknowledges you, too busy talking as if you’re not laying right in front of them. God, they’re going to be the death of you. 

[gyllenhaalstories]

ELWOOD DALTON x PLUS SIZE!READER HEADCANONS

summary: if he can push and pull a big obnoxious yellow lamborghini, imagine what he can do!!! well, you don't need to imagine. i did it for you. but still!!!

warnings: bunch of cute things & various smut elements. chances are i'll steal some of these in my fics later on bc i love repeating myself but i felt inspired to gather the random thoughts in one place. 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2100

photo credit: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: even if all my fics are written with a fat reader in mind, it just feels so good to put the emphasis on it! this is so incredibly self-indulgent and i am not sorry about it. 🥰 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

FLUFF

Dalton wears very form fitting clothes, like his vast collection of the tightest shorts imaginable that he's worn on the octagon. But you will notice a gradual shift in his clothing preferences. The more he hangs out with you, the looser his clothes will get. Especially his hoodies and his patterned shirts. You will also notice how he accidentally leaves pieces of clothing at your place when he visits. He just likes to drop hints that he wants you to wear his clothes because he wants you to wear his clothes.

The first time he catches you putting on his hoodie if you're feeling a bit chilly or wearing his flowery shirt on a hot day? He's losing it. He'll have a dumb smile on his face all day because this is a big victory just like winning a fight. Maybe even more so when you start sharing clothes casually.

Also he's large. He just is. He takes space both literally and metaphorically. He makes you feel small in the best way. He opens jars for you in a twist of his wrist, he carries all the bags in one trip after grocery shopping, he shoves the laundry basket full of heavy wet clothes on his hip and holds you close with his free arm so you can hang clothes to dry outside. When Dalton locks eyes with you, he just has a way of making you feel so much smaller than him. This size difference, whether it be literal or not, feels good. It feels right. He will never shut up about it, if you ever tell him that you like the size difference. He might love it as much as you.

One of his love languages is you tending to his injuries and wounds. The lovely sound of your voice as you reprimand him and tell him he's too old to break into fights at any minor inconveniences. The gentle touch of your hands when you're cleaning him up with a washcloth and wincing at how much it must hurt... Except it barely hurts anymore he's just so used to it, although he might say it does so you baby him a little more. The adorable band-aids you put on him that he wears like a badge of honour. Eventually, you learn to carry a first-aid kit with you as often as you can. Just in case.

Beach dates. Did I say beach dates? Beach dates. He loves them. Dalton loves to hang out by the ocean and watch the sun rise and set. He loves it even more when you're with him. Holding hands or with his arms wrapped around you, he loves to share this moment with you. It feels so intimate. You can see him in his most peaceful and relaxed head space where the chaos of the Road House doesn't seem to affect him. He could stay there with you forever, with your feet in the water and the ocean breeze tickling your face.

He'd love to invite you to hang out at the Road House during his shifts, but he rarely lets you visit him at work. He's scared you will get injured or hurt by one of the drunk idiots or worse. He prefers to know you are safe and sound, far away from all the danger.

Dalton still tries to spend a lot of time with you. He likes it when you drive his car around and he can just be the passenger princess and enjoy the view, which means you. He likes it when you cook meals and desserts he hasn't had in forever due to years of intense training and strict diets. He'll always be around you to taste the food or steal a bite of a burning hot cookie that is fresh out the oven. The small things are very important for him.

Small things like slapping your butt when he walks behind you, and you doing the same when the roles are reversed. Small things like going shopping for the most obnoxious shirts that scream elderly dad on vacation vibes. Small things like dropping him off and picking him up when he works at the Road House. Small things like bringing you with him when he trains so that you can just exist in his presence, within a safe distance, and so that you can look at him when he gets all hot and sweaty. Small things like you laughing at his jokes about how everyone seems a little aggressive when he casually beats people up for a living. Small things like telling you that you smell so good and getting new perfumes so when he wears his clothes and you were his, he gets to carry your smell all day long. Small things like looking at you with big doe eyes and a dumb little grin on his face because he likes you so much. He likes the little things, because so often in his life he was living on the edge and he was depraved of those calm, harmless, insignificant little droplets of happiness.

What is the most important thing for him? Protecting you. He is so protective of you. Dalton wants to make sure you are safe and that you aren't involved in any shenanigans he gets himself into. He wants to make sure that nobody and nothing can hurt you. He's quick to remind anyone who crosses your way that they should be minding their own business. It may cause some issues between you, you have to remind him that you are a grown adult and that you can take care of yourself. He believes you, he knows you're strong and capable of anything you want to achieve, but he can't fight his protective instincts. He takes your security and your well-being very seriously. He wants you to know that he cherishes you, that he loves you and that he cares for you.

SMUT

Dalton is a big fan of proving you wrong, but with gentle persuasion. When the two of you start hooking up and dating, he will not put on too big of a show because he's scared to hurt you. He'll start slow, let things escalate at their own pace. He'll pull you closer by the hand for a kiss, surprising you by how he does that so effortlessly. He'll bring your body closer and wrap his arm around you to keep you pressed against him while you cuddle. He'll pull on your ankles to get you closer to the edge of the bed. He'll flip you over on the bed after a little warning that barely gives you enough time to register what he did. He'll hook his arms under your thighs to stop you from squirming away after he makes you cum and he doesn't want to stop just yet.

As much as he wants to chase the high, to show you just how much he can do and how far he can take you, he does it all gradually. He checks in often, maybe too many times at first. Tons of "are you alright? you good, you wanna continue? did it hurt, are you okay?" will be spoken to make sure he doesn't hurt you accidentally. He'll be careful not to hurt you, unless you ask him to.

He's flexible and he will adjust to your body. He'll make it work. You don't have to worry about it. If he can hold his opponent down like a pretzel until they tap out, he certainly can do the same to you. He'll push on your thighs to hold your legs down. He'll spread your pussy open and grunt at how you react when his nose bumps against your clit or when you whimper while he licks your puffy pussy lips. He'll pull on the skin of your cheeks to keep your ass open so he can access what he craves. He'll praise you when you help him, making it easier for him to fuck you good like you deserve.

On the topic of flexibility, he'd love to help you out with yours if you want to. He'll teach you exercises and show you how to relax your body. He'll also respect your limitations. You won't catch him be mad when you say your stomach is in the way or that you struggle to ride him so he has to use you as a fleshlight while you're on top. However, you will catch him rolling his eyes if you say you can't open your legs wider while he knows full well that you do when he's fucking you.

He loves when you sit on his face, no matter how many times he must remind you that he can take it, that you won't hurt him, that he can hold his breath long enough until you coat his tongue with your wetness. He enjoys every second of it.

He's loud. Dalton is a grunter. He grunts when he's fucking you deep with slow but rough thrusts. He grunts when he pulls out so he doesn't cum too fast at the heavenly feeling of your pussy on his hard cock. He grunts when he feels you gag around his cock. He grunts when he tastes your pussy on his tongue and feel your clit pulsate while he sucks on it. He's so fucking loud and he will do whatever he can to make you as loud as him. He wants you to get lost in the moment and forget about your fears and insecurities. He wants you to ride the waves of your orgasms with him until both of you forget how to speak and you can't take it anymore.

The things he must have seen and touched during his career in the UFC make it so that he's unbothered by extra skin to move around, or pretty much anything of the sort. He'll find a way to always make it work and he won't complain. In fact, he loves it. He loves feeling your body on him. He loves the skin-to-skin contact, the closeness. The sweat, the friction, the more he gets the more he wants.

He swells with pride and happiness when he sees you trying to process of the aftermath. Out of breath, flustered, shocked, stuck somewhere between needing three business days to recover and wanting to do it all over again right away. He loves seeing you fucked out of your mind, blissful and satisfied. Dalton loves knowing that he's the one helping you get there, helping you feel so good.

And he knows you love admiring him just as much. The feeling of worship is very much so mutual. He adores the marks, pearls of sweat and trails of euphoric tears he leaves on you. And you adore to watch his muscles and veins bulge after he's had his way with you.

Unlike his trainings of his fights, he doesn't end up in a human sized bucket of ice, but he loves the ritual of cleaning up in the shower or taking a bath with you. He loves to gently touch your body, paying close attention to where his hands might have left bruises earlier. He loves to show you his love with his touch rather than with his caring words or worried questions. It makes Dalton's heart flutter when you do the same, when you soap up his toned body and you wash away the mess of sweat and cum you made together. It often ends up with the two of you going at it again, or simply just jerking each other off with no intention to cum but rather to just feel closer and relax while the hot water heals your bodies.

To put it briefly, Dalton is built for the plus size girlies. He's got the strength, he's got the stamina. He's got it all to make you feel good, to make you feel like you're the hottest person alive because, to him, you very much so are. He cares for you and wants to make you feel comfortable. The more he explores your body and the more he discovers what you love and how to make you moan louder and cum harder, the freakier he will become. Dalton likes it hot and dirty, but he also loves it deep and passionate. He's gonna adapt to what you like and what you can physically do. He's gonna put in the work. He's gonna do what it takes to make you cum so hard you feel like he knocked you out in the best way possible.

[treysimp]

I don't know how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch? (Explicit Remix)

BOTH AFAB! and AMAB!Reader/Rook Hunt

First section has no pronouns or body description for reader, second sections still have no pronouns but do describe readers secondary sexual characteristics (breasts of unspecified size and a vagina for AFAB, and pecs and a penis for AMAB).

Trying a different format! We are doing a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure style fic with a smutty GN!Reader beginning that splits into AFAB and AMAB paths after the first section.

Let me know if you like this or the fully different pieces better!

The beginning of the fic is included immediately below if you want to read the whole thing, or skip to the second picture of (Groovy!) Rook to jump right to the steam. Tags: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (giving and receiving), slight snowballing, enthusiastic consent, praise-kink adjacent descriptions, incredibly bad French, porn with feelings, self-indulgent thirst from yours truly, ask to tag for more.

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

Thank you lovely readers, enjoy!

“Oh? Mon trésor, do repeat that request?” 

You suddenly realized that you shouldn’t have turned your back to Rook when you felt one hand snake across your waist and the other brush behind your arm to grasp your chin. Startled but also more than a little excited at the close contact, you very much could hear each beat of your heart in your eardrums.

Hot breath fanned over your ear as you felt the skim of perfect teeth against your sensitive skin. Shivering excitedly, you stood perfectly still. Feeling as if you moved even slightly, took the smallest breath, or uttered the shortest syllable, the spell would be broken and he would disappear just as fast as he came into your life.

“You know, if you wanted to be caught by me, all you had to do was ask,” he murmured, each word tickling the baby hairs behind your ear.

The heat that crept up your neck was made of more than just embarrassment as you suddenly wondered if you did fall into a trap by asking this beautiful man inside of your house. The hand on your chin slowly turned your head to the side, and your eyes met with a sparkling crescent emerald green.

Feeling very much like every breath he took against your skin took away yours in turn, you closed your eyes for a moment. Feeling the thrill of him being so close and success being so close you could almost taste it. Building up your courage, you square your shoulders as you try to speak again.

“Is that a yes, Rook?” You ask. Your voice shook slightly more than you would have liked, but it certainly wasn’t from fear. 

“Ah, ma belle amie, I think you already know the answer.” He said, a soft kiss descending to the cheek you had tilted nearest to him.

The beats of your heart go into overdrive at the simple and relatively innocent act of affection, and this forceful kickstart to your brain finally enticed you to turn your head to him. 

Your eyes meet with one of the smuggest expressions you have ever seen in your life. You wanted to wipe it off of him.

“I suppose you’re right.” You say, taking the opportunity to surprise him for once by planting a passionate kiss onto the lips of the stupid, dumb, frustrating, incredibly hot, hunter.

With a soft hum, he reciprocates your kiss. A single strand falls loose from his ponytail and brushes past your cheek in a ticklish wave. The kisses are slow, soft, and so very tender. The romance that everyone wishes for when they dream of kissing the object of their affection for the first time.

Separating with a sigh, Rook’s cheeks are alight with a scarlet splash. “Oh! Mon amour! You do truly know how to stir the fondest fantasies of my heart.” He said, squeezing you ever closer. The embrace made you wonder if mice were this happy with the cheese they found before the trap clapped shut.

“… Rook.”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Can we go inside?”

Without a hint of embarrassment at being asked to let go, Rook loosens his arms to allow you to open the door you had been holding onto for the past couple of minutes. 

Without skipping a beat, Rook places his hand at the small of your waist and ushers you inside, closing the door softly behind you both. You are escorted forward through the living room until you sit on the couch. However, rather than sit beside you, Rook kneels on the ground.

“Ma lune, mes étoiles-!” He begins, holding your hands in between one of his, the other elegantly removing his baseball cap with a flourish and holding it to his chest. 

“Do you dare grant my fondest wish?”

You breathed in deeply, preparing yourself for what he may have cooked up in his french-speaking, romance-novel-infested brain.

“And what would that be, Rook?”

“For me to make a mess of you, my dear.”

You inhaled sharply, looking for any hint of a lie or facade in his glimmering emerald eyes. 

Maybe you were just naive, but no matter how hard you searched each curve of his elegant face, you could never find anything that ever so much as hinted at deceit. 

Well, you were down too bad to stop at this point anyway.

“I’m not convinced you’ve ever made a mess in your life, Rook.”

“Ohoho, well then ma cherie! Allow me the pleasure of surprising you.” throwing his hat into the air with an unnecessarily complex hand motion, Rook rises from his knees and uses his arms to box you in. 

As he descends onto you with the promise of more, you can’t feel even a trace of regret at letting this hunter into your den. For better, or for worse.  

Looking up at Rook from inside his embrace felt like a dream come true. His smile was infectious, bright eyes searing a hole into your mind with their intensity. His kisses were fleeting, always forcing you to follow him as he pulled away over and over, like a fleeting memory you couldn’t quite catch. 

Each peck was punctuated with a soft chuckle, a compliment, a hair grab here, a caress across your shoulders there, he knew exactly how to leave you wanting more without ever making it seem like he wasn’t giving you enough in turn.

Your clothes left your body slowly and meticulously, it felt almost like he timed each button coming undone to certain breaths, each inch of skin exposed to the cold air being freed by the careful ritual of his perfected touches and pulls. You realized once all of your garments had made a perfect pile on the floor that the only thing that had been done to ruffle Rook’s perfect appearance was that the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. That wouldn’t do.

“Rook,” You admonished, holding him back from another flurry of kisses by the shoulders. “I expect you to start taking your clothes off too, you know.” 

Rook swallowed audibly and for the first time in a while, he looked pleasantly surprised. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he nodded, getting to work on unbuttoning, unzipping, and rolling fabric off of his body.

And… Oh damn. He was way more built than you expected.

You could have guessed as much from the prominent veins on his forearms that you could sneak a peek at when he rolled up his sleeves during gym, but this was on a whole other level. Slim yet sleek muscles with every dip and curve defined, you thought of the professional runners of your world. Rook hid his form very well under all of his layers, but seeing the rippling definition that went from the top of his shoulders to his back, and oh my God, is that a v-line? Do people even have those in real life? 

Your mouth was dry. Clearly beauty for Pomefiore was more than just the soft boyish beauties that defined most of the dorm populace. 

Rook’s eyebrow rose as he watched the way that you hungrily examined his body. The power of his smile could light a whole city, you thought. 

“Tu as perdu ta langue, mon couer?” He asked playfully, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs to give you a single tantalizing inch more of his form. Oh my god, please, please take those off. 

You wished you had elected to take more French classes when you had the chance. Something about a tongue? Well, you could work with that, you guessed.

Tracing your fingers from his waist to meet where his fingers had been pulling at the soft fabric of his final piece of clothing, you held his hands in yours as you eased down the garment to finally get an entire look at him. 

Apparently, that thin underwear had been stronger than it looked. He sprung to attention right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t hold back your quiet squeak of surprise. 

Okay, you understood where his weird amount of confidence came from. 

He was big. The veins on his cock were pronounced, making you again think of how gorgeous those forearms were going to look strained and clenching with pleasure once you were finally able to have your way with him. His tip was a beautiful rose flush, the same color that his kiss-enflamed lips were. Said lips were being bitten rather harshly at this moment, the soft blush enveloping Rook’s face only serving to make his eyes look all the greener and emphasize just how poreless and smooth his skin was from head to toe. 

More of his hair had fallen sloppily out of his ponytail, some strands lightly curling in a way that made you wonder if his hair was naturally that straight. You were incredibly jealous of how thick his it was and his lovely honey-blonde color, that was for sure. Seeing that the windows matched the drapes in his case, soft curls of flax surrounding the base of his generous cock, you were pretty confident that he didn’t dye it.

While examining the beauty of his body, you were stricken by how much genuine emotion Rook had on his face at this moment. You were so used to his perfectly calculated smile, that you were unsure how many other expressions he had. 

Chest heaving ever so slightly, nails digging into his palms as he carefully watched every slight movement of your eyes scanning his body, you felt like his moment had turned him on far more than any previous. 

Getting back to the fact that the one word you understood in his gratuitous French speech was ‘mouth’, you decided it was time to get to work. 

Gently covering his velvet skin with your slightly chilly hands, Rook lightly hissed an inhale as he screwed his eyes shut from your first hesitant touches.

“Is this okay?” You asked, worried that said sound was from pain. 

“Yes… yes, please keep going.” He murmured, breath labored as you slowly increased the strength of your grip and the speed of your pumps. 

Swallowing audibly, you slowly leaned closer to him, gently rubbing his length against your cheek, nuzzling him softly as you began giving him fleeing kisses from base to tip. 

He was all out groaning at this point, even though you hadn’t felt like you had done much. You moved your palm to the head of his cock and began grasping his head in swirling circles while your mouth moved up and down to softly drag your tongue against his sides. 

Rook’s palm was slapped over his gaping mouth, spilling out a garble of compliments, your name, and French that you did not understand one bit. At some point, you thought you heard ‘mon chou’, which you vaguely remembered as translating to ‘my cabbage’? Filing that thought away for later, maybe it was context-dependent.  

Rook had slowly begun bucking his hips into your grasp, which you took as your cue to intensify your motions. You moved your hand to the base of his cock, trailing your tongue from the underside of his twitching balls to envelop his head in your mouth. You began moving your head to a slow bobbing rhythm, pulling your mouth off with a pop every so often like you were enjoying a particularly good sucker. The wet noises of your movement would have been embarrassing if Rook hadn’t moved his hand to the back of your head to gently pull at your scalp at that very moment. Fuck.

You tried different paces, strokes, bobbing without disconnecting from him, mouthing at him from the sides, below, it seemed to be working as his breath was becoming more labored, his eyes screwed shut and he couldn’t even will himself to speak any longer. 

It looked like he was close, and as much as you were enjoying this, your neck and your hands had begun cramping just a little (not to mention the guaranteed bruising on your knees from kneeling on your crappy hardwood floor). 

You sped up and intensified everything you had been doing, gripping harder with your hands, sucking more aggressively with your mouth, moving faster to a sloppy arhythmic beat. You were both shaking, and Rook began desperately pushing himself into your face in earnest, face screwed up in unabashed pleasure. 

Quickly separating himself from you at the last possible second, you felt a warm splatter on your face as you opened your eyes to see the end of Rook’s impressive climax. Wrinkling your nose slightly, you wished that he had asked before electing to cum on your face, but you really couldn’t deny how fucking hot that all was. 

Gasping, shaking, Rook holds his slowly drooping cock in hand, gaze fixated on the strands of his release on your face. 

Slowly kneeling to your level, Rook places a hand to cup your cheek as the other rubs a single drop of his cum off of your skin with a swipe of his thumb. He carefully laved the digit with his tongue, licking it clean while his eyes smoldered at yours. 

Rook drags his tongue down the trails that moisten your face, cleaning every bit of himself off of you. Once he has finished this painstaking process of clearing your face of him, he gives you a passionate open-mouthed kiss, gifting you the taste of him that you had missed from his choice of release. Musky, but surprisingly palatable, you wondered just what in the world he ate to keep his taste so light and unassuming.

Separating from your kiss at a deliberately slow pace, Rook’s eyes bore into you yet again. You feel even more naked than you already were.

“Mon trésor… please allow me to return the favor.”

(END OF Gender Neutral Section): 

For AFAB!Reader, go to the second banner, for AMAB!Reader, continue reading below. 

(AMAB!Reader, start!)

Your gaze followed Rook’s as he unabashedly stared at your hard cock straining against your boxers, a wet patch of pre-cum creating a small splotch that indicated your overwhelming arousal.

“Please.” You asked, cheeks burning, chest heaving. 

After Rook made quite the show of cleaning you up after his climax you weren’t sure how long you were going to last, but you also might pass out from blood loss if you didn’t have his beautiful man touching you as soon as possible.

Rook reaches towards your waist and eases your underwear down, smile slightly intensifying as you lift your hips to allow him to take them off, legs slightly shaking from kneeling so long while you serviced him. Your erection jumped up from its cloth prison much like Rook’s did at the start of this encounter. You felt like you were getting impossibly even harder due to the way his gaze looked upon you so hungrily.  

Rook did not take the time to tease that you did, immediately gripping you firmly in his hand and beginning even strokes in earnest, eyes twinkling at the way you crinkled your nose in a combination of surprise and arousal from the sudden action. 

“I simply must see what your lovely face looks like when you cum, my dear.” Rook said with a dreamy sigh, “Will you grant me that foolish wish of mine?”

You nod dumbly, entranced with the ways the muscles of his arms flex while he pumps your length. It was impossible to tell just exactly what it was, but you could tell that every time you got yourself off from here on out was going to pale in comparison. You very much didn’t want to blow your load immediately, but Rook was making it difficult. 

Taking your length at the base, Rook started dragging his tongue up and around your balls in earnest, softly pumping with his hand as his mouth made effort to explore every visible inch of you. 

Your cock was visibly twitching, your legs spasming at each tiny variation of touch that he was giving you. How unfair was this? You felt like he was unraveling you thread by thread, knotting and unknotting the pressure just below your belly.  

“R-Rook…” You gasped. God, you wanted to last longer but…

Rook’s smile stretched wide as he took that moment to pull all of you in his mouth, bobbing his head, soft hair bouncing up and down like an angel’s halo. 

All of your restraint snapping in one instant, you grabbed Rook by the base of his perfect ponytail and began face-fucking him in earnest, nails digging into his scalp, unabashed moans spilling from your lips. 

Rook’s gaze met yours, strained breaths coming from his nose. He looked perfect like this, mouth around you, hair a mess, you wished you could take a picture to keep forever, but this memory would have to do.

With a final strangled moan, you came into his mouth. A hurried and sputtering release coated the inside of his mouth. 

Gasping, groaning, you bit your lip as you saw Rook swallow thickly, taking all of your finish with it. 

You briefly considered if it was worth trying to get hard again, but the ache in your balls said no dice. 

Rook slowly stood to full height, eyes beaming and a smile splitting his face in twain. 

“Give me just a moment, mon coeur.” He whispered, stealing his way down the hall and towards your room, returning momentarily with two pairs of your sleepwear, one for you and one for him.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled the shirt over your head and coaxed you into your sweats before putting on his garments with a flourish. 

Kissing you on the forehead as you stifled a yawn, Rook braced his arm behind the crook of your knees, pulling you into a bridal carry as you grabbed his neck in surprise. 

Taking you to your bedroom, Rook took his time to lay you down, oh so carefully on your well-worn mattress. He smoothed the sweaty hair from your forehead, beaming all the while. Seemingly satisfied with your comfort, Rook climbed in beside you, pulling your head to the crook of his neck as you heard his breathing slow. 

“...Hey, Rook?” you mumbled sleepily, pushing your head even further against his skin to smell the sweet fragrance of his cologne.   

“Yes, my dear?”

“Why did you call me a cabbage earlier?”

(AFAB!Reader, start!)

You come to the sudden realization of just how sticky and constricting your panties were on your frame as Rook idly traces his finger down the hem that sits on the crook of where your hips and legs meet.

“I… would love that.” You reply shakily, eyes glued to the way Rook’s fingers teased along the sensitive skin that was just millimeters from where you wanted him most. 

Rook’s smile grew impossibly wider as he moved his hand to hook the edges of your bottoms and slide them off of your hips, slyly tucking them in his back pocket while you were distracted by the way his eyes examined every pore of your now visible skin. 

It was embarrassing, of course, being bare to him as he looked at you so intensely. You idly thought of how perfect and blemishless his complexion was and how very much not perfect your skin was in comparison. 

Rook didn’t seem to have those same thoughts though, as he was fluttering his touch around the edges of your labia, relishing in the different textures of your body. 

“...Tu es superbe… quelle belle femme.” He mumbles, which in this single case you can context clue your way to the fact it was a compliment due to how breathlessly Rook said the phrase. 

Rook moved closer to your core with a deep inhale, lashes fluttering and warm breath causing you to lightly writhe at the stimulation. 

“Please touch me, Rook.” You shamelessly beg, eyes slightly teary at the intensity you feel from even the barest of touches. 

Snapping his eyes to yours, you feel like if his eyes could suddenly turn ablaze they would. 

Rook dives into you with fervor, teeth nibbling at your soft lower lips and fingers lightly tracing your hereto-ignored hole. The sensation is overwhelming, so warm, so wet, his tongue expertly seeking out every erogenous zone that it could find. 

You had to restrain the instinct to buck your hips into his face, not wanting to lose contact with his body for even the barest second it would take you to twitch under his touch. 

The finger that had been tracing your entrance slowly started pushing inside you, and you had to bite your lip to silence the embarrassing moan that threatened to spill out of you. Rook removed his face from you and tutted, shaking his head back and forth vigorously. 

“That will not do, ma belle!” he admonishes, “If you do not wish for me to stop you must not temper your voice! Let me hear you!”

Nodding dizzily from the sudden revoking of his sensations, you agreed. Satisfied with your response, Rook returns to his salacious movements with even more fervor, clearly intending to undo you at the soonest opportunity.

“Oh… Rook…” You gasped. 

How in the world was he so good at this? To your knowledge, there wasn’t a ‘Pussy 101’ class at Night Raven (though on second thought, maybe there should be).

Rook was desperately pumping you with his fingers, he had added a second digit to stretch you, and shortly after, a third. His eyes were glued to your face, committing every blink and moan to memory. He was going to make you cum if it killed him, a gentleman would do no less. 

Desperately massaging your clit, Rook timed his thrusts with captivating twirls of his tongue. 

You felt so hot, so overwhelmingly hot, your legs were clenching, your fists balled up on the couch as they scrambled for purchase and found none. You saw sparks begin to pop up behind your closed eyelids and you knew it was only a matter of time. 

“Rook… Rook, please!” You almost screamed. 

Rook increased in intensity, pumping you faster, sucking harder, his again half-hard dick grinding uselessly into the leg of the couch. 

Gasping, shaking, a desperate clench and then the deepest relaxation you had ever felt washed over you. 

Still panting, you slowly lowered your legs from the vice-grip that they had subjected Rook’s head to. 

Rook himself was beaming, carelessly wiping the taste of you onto his arm before taking a moment to suck the essence off of the fingers that he had buried in you just seconds prior. 

“Oh, my love, we simply must make a habit of this.” Rook declared, eyes again sparkling dangerously from between your legs, “but for now, let me clean you up, dearest.” 

Heaving your naked form over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, Rook carried you to the bathroom, wiping you clean with a wet washcloth.

He spent his time looking intensely at every drop of water as it caressed itself down your body, tracing his eyes to mentally make a map of where he still had yet to touch himself. 

“…Rook?” You whispered, enchanted by the way he gently cleaned your body before gracefully swiping the same cloth over his own. 

“Yes?” He replied, face again alight as the sound of your voice. 

“Why did you call me a cabbage earlier?”

-----

And here is the conclusion for the most frequently requested character, Rook! Y'all surprised me with your thirst for this one, but I 100% agree with you that this man is a whole-ass meal.

Let me know what you thought, send me prompts, or tell me who I (we) should do next.

(Should I do a poll? Do people even like polls?)

Love you, reader!

Requested Tags: @readinganas, @yandere-kou, @daeda21, @buckketboy, @stygianoir, @kxhyuns, @aikochan4859, @naniky, @kashasenpai, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars @destinationdesignation, @ninjas-are-the-shit, @prince-zukohere,

[vampwritesstuff]

Tricky Feelings

I’ve been on a Leo kick lately, so have a fun lil self indulgent oneshot I made for him lol. If y’all end up liking this, then check out my multi-fandom masterlist which is pinned on my blog! Also- I totally didn’t hide a song reference in here at some point 😅 giving y’all a mini challenge to find it lmao

Type: Oneshot

Pairing: Leonardo x Reader

TMNT Version: 2012, because it’s lowkey my fav version lol

Requested?: Not a request

CW: angst to fluff, comfort, mentions of body shaming (body type is unspecified), AFAB reader, brief mention of blood and being cut by a Shuriken on the cheek, playful teasing from Raph, Mikey and Donnie.

Word Count: 2.4k

You were sitting in the lair, curled up into yourself as Master Splinter comforted you. “I’m so stupid, Master Splinter.. why did I even think that he would actually like me?” You sobbed into the shoulder of the only father figure you’ve ever had. “Y/n, boys are.. dumb. That boy couldn’t see how amazing you are, and therefore, has missed out on such an incredible girl.” Splinter told you, patting your shoulder.

You and April had known the turtles and their master for months. Both you and April were training to be kunoichi under Splinter’s guidance, but you seemed to be more in tune with it than your best friend was.

Originally, you had come down here to take out some frustration by sparring with Raphael, however, he and the other boys were out on a mission when you arrived. So you settled for a therapy session with Splinter, to make up for it. You sniffed and wiped away the tears from your eyes, “Thanks, Master Splinter, I really needed that.” He gave a nod, “If you’d like, we can train to take your mind off of it.” He suggested, and you snorted but gave a nod, you could use the distraction from your emotions. Of course, Splinter wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to train you.

When the four turtles returned, they found you and Splinter in the dojo, training. They watched with impressed expressions as you focused on dodging the Shuriken that Splinter was aiming at you, per your request that he train you on evading and expecting attacks. He had a feeling that it had to do with what had happened prior to you visiting the lair, but you hadn’t told him what exactly had happened.

Once Splinter had run out of Shuriken to throw, he ended the session, also having noticed his sons’ return home. You nodded and both bowed to each other. “Dude! That was awesome!” Mikey shouted finally as he bounded over to you, making movements and sounds that mimicked what you had been doing. “Oh! Dude, Y/n, your cheek is bleeding.” He said casually, and everyone turned their heads to you, even Splinter was surprised to see that Mikey was right. “Oh, guess I didn’t notice..” you hummed, wiping away the blood but your cheek continued to bleed.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I did not realize that I actually hurt you.” Splinter spoke as he walked to you with Raph, Leo and Donnie following behind him. They must’ve been telling him how the mission went. “It’s okay, Master Splinter, it happens. Besides, I hardly feel it.” You hummed, but Donnie was already leading you off to his lab so he could patch up your cheek. Once you were out of sight, Leo turned to his dad.

“So what was Y/n doing here, anyways?” The leader in blue asked, Splinter shrugged, “That is not for me to tell, my son.” And with that, Splinter disappeared into his room. Leo gave an exasperated sigh but decided to check on you and Donnie.

However, he stopped when he saw that Raph and Mikey were standing outside the door, seemingly listening in on the conversation going on. Before he could ask, Raph turned and shushed Leo, grabbing him and telling him to just listen.

“That guy doesn’t deserve your time of day, Y/n, you shouldn’t worry about him.” Came Donnie’s voice, “But, I liked him Donnie, and I really thought he liked me back.” Your response was muffled, almost as if you had your face buried in your hands, trying to keep the tears from flowing again, Leo felt his heart drop at the mention of a guy. “So you’re gonna let one bad date with a guy affect your view on dating?” Donnie’s voice questioned again.

Inside the lab, you were sat on the table as Donnie disinfected the cut. “No, well.. maybe, I dunno.” You sighed, “Donnie, you weren’t there… he made fun of my body, said extremely mean things and even threw his drink on me.. how do I not let that affect me?” You questioned, only looking up to see a stunned Donnie and three other very angry looking turtle brothers, even Mikey looked pissed. “Uh, how much did you three hear of that?” You asked, nervously clearing your throat.

“Enough.” Raph said as he stomped up to you, you shrunk back as you thought he was gonna blow up on you. Instead though, you felt him pull you into a tight hug, and eventually three other pairs of arms joined his. “Y/n. You’re worth so much more than that guy can see.” Came Leo’s voice, you teared up again. “I swear, when I find that guy I’m gonna shove my foot so far up his-“ you smacked Raph on the head, “No you will not. But, you guys are right, I’ve got all I need right here.”

Eventually you all separated from the hug and had found yourselves watching Space Heroes in the living area of the lair, you were sat next to Leo.

If Leo was being truthful, his heart was pounding at the feeling of you being so close, his heart had squeezed painfully when he’d heard you had gone on a date with another human guy. In all honesty, Leo had a huge crush on you, and his brothers knew it. Raph looked behind him at the two of you and gave his brother a ‘Get em, tiger’ kind of wink, but Leo just shook his head at Raphael. Of all his brothers, Raph was the one who gave Leo the most shit about trying to use Karai as a distraction from his feelings for you. Leo felt bad for being kind of relieved that your date didn’t go well, of course he was angry that you were told those things by that guy, but maybe it was a chance he could use to prove that he was a good choice for you.

Leo heard you yawn next to him, and without thinking he pulled you against him and laid your head on his shoulder. He felt you stiffen for a split second before you relaxed into him and began to fall asleep. Leo looked down at you and his gaze softened at the sight of you with your eyes closed and your head laying on him, your arms wrapped around him in a hug. He was distracted though by the sounds of Raph and Mikey giggling.

He looked at his two brothers and was horrified to see that they were mocking him and you, Raph pretending to be you while Mikey acted as Leo. Then they started making kissy noises, and that’s when Donnie lost it and began to laugh loudly. Rolling his eyes, Leo stood with you in his arms, carefully to not wake you up, however you were already awake and had witnessed his brother’s teasing. In the heat of the moment, you turned Leo’s face to look at you and gave him a quick peck to the lips, laughing at his expression when you pulled away.

You laughed even harder, however, at the reaction of his brothers, they were gagging and freaking out. “OH MY GOD, LEO’S GOT COOTIES!!” Was all you heard from Mikey as Leo took you back to his room, now he definitely needed to know how you truly felt about him.

You let out a small ‘oof’ as Leonardo unceremoniously dropped you onto his mattress, “Hey, what was that for?” You asked sitting up, only to see a flustered and fidgety Leo. This was not something you saw often and you really only remembered him acting this way with Karai when she first came around. “Leo?” You asked cautiously, as if you were attempting to get a stray to eat from your hand.

“Please tell me you meant that.” Was all he said, confusing you. “Meant what, Leo?” You questioned, and you could see him visibly upset. “That kiss. Please.. just tell me that meant something to you, like it did to me.” Leo’s gaze was pointed at the ground, he didn’t want to look up at you and see the pity in your eyes as you rejected him. Your eyes widened.

Truth be told, you had the biggest crush on Leo, like almost as big as Donnie’s crush on April. But when Leo had began to have his little, very obvious, boy crush on Karai you started pushing those feelings way down because you knew you would never be as cool as her. Trying to ignore the squeeze in your chest each time you heard Leo talk about her didn’t help, so you actively began seeking out an old crush from school in the hopes that you could move on and look where that landed you. Then you found out that Karai was his sister, and that changed everything, but things didn’t go back to how they were. You knew that there would be no way that Leo liked you, you were just some random human girl that was saved by them.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard a choked back sob come from the terrapin in front of you. “L- Leo… I,” he stopped you before you could continue. “No, I get it, you were just teasing my brothers…” He mumbled, wiping his tears and attempting to appear unbothered. “That’s not it all, Leonardo!” You snapped, quickly covering your mouth as you and Leo both looked at each other in shock. You hadn’t used his full name since you guys had first met. “What?” Was all he said.

“I didn’t just do that to tease your brothers, or you.” You could feel the word vomit coming up your throat, but you were powerless to stop it and in the moment, you needed to get all of it off your chest. “I like you! I have for over two months now, and I didn’t think you would ever like me back so I started ignoring it and pushing it away, thinking that if I didn’t acknowledge my feelings then they would go away. But then Karai showed up, and all you could do was talk about her and how cool she is and I realized that there was no way you’d ever like me because I could never be like her and-“ Leo cut you off by grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours, staring you in the eyes.

You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you never could. “I like you too, a lot, and when I heard you had gone on that date, I thought I had lost my chance. But, I’m taking it now because I know that you feel the same way.” He had said something else but it fell on deaf ears as you were now hyper-focused on how close he was to you, there were just inches between you both.

Leo felt a shiver run down his body as you whispered his name and moved closer, both of your minds were clouded. Leo couldn’t describe what it felt like when he finally closed the distance and kissed you. He swore that it was probably the most amazing feeling in the world, it was nothing like he had imagined before. His hands rested on either side of you, one of his knees propped against the bed while his other foot was planted on the floor, giving him stability. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands.

You were in a similar situation, eventually your hands had found their way around his neck and were twirling the tails of his blue bandanna around them. You had expected his lips to be rough in texture, and while they kind of were, they weren’t nearly as scale like as you anticipated.

The kiss was hesitant, neither of you fully committing until either of you fully relaxed into the kiss. But once you both had relaxed, your movements became more fluid and Leo moved his hands to your hips. The kiss only lasted for a few moments, but to the both of you it felt like minutes as you pulled away to take deep breaths of air.

Neither of you returned for a second kiss, but instead you kept your foreheads together. Leo found comfort in listening to the soft inhales you took to catch your breath. There was so much Leo wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words to express how he felt.

“Thank you.” He blurted without thinking, what an odd thing to say after your first kiss with a girl, and Leo was mentally cursing himself for that. “For what?” You asked with a chuckle that made Leo blush, “Well, uh for everything? For not pushing us away, for keeping our secret, and just.. everything thing you’ve done for me and my family. It means so much, especially to me.” You felt your heart swell with happiness, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“You guys saved my life, it’s the least I could do.” You told him with a soft voice. Leo moved to sit beside you, and this time he was the one who laid his head on your shoulder. “Will you be my girlfriend?” Leo asked, he was still nervous to ask despite knowing that you would most likely say yes. “Of course, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” Was your answer, and it made Leo’s heart soar with happiness.

He snaked his arms around your waist and easily pulled you into a laying position. You definitely were not used to Leo being this touchy or clingy, however, it was definitely nice to be cuddled up and held close to him. Leo supposed this was what it meant to be touch starved, because oh boy was he now addicted to the fluttery feeling in his stomach that he got each time you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

You lightly traced the scutes of his shell while your head was resting against his plastron. The feeling made Leo’s eyes droop and he began to fall asleep. Thankfully, it was a weekend and you wouldn’t have school in the morning, which meant spending the night at the lair would be okay.

Oh boy, Leo is going to kill his brothers when he finds out that they got hundreds of photos of the both of you sleeping together, cuddled up.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

this will be incredibly dumb and self-indulgent but I'm under obligation to ask how the m6 would react to me the mc making a giant brownie in a casserole dish that turned out to take about 2 hours to bake, and watching them sit by the oven and testing it every 20 minutes, only to hear a frustrated groan everytime the tester comes out too wet

and if you'd like, how long it took for them to finish the damn thing. Because it's been nearly a week since I baked it and there's still like a good amount sitting in the fridge...

The Arcana Mini-HCs: When MC bakes a behemoth brownie

Julian: has no idea what's going on and refuses to get involved for your sake because at this point he's convinced the oven will blow up if he looks at it for too long. smooches you when tests fail

Asra: fully invested for the absurdity factor alone. they have practically built a nest in front of the oven to cuddle with you while you wait for it to finish and made up a fictional backstory for it

Nadia: at first thought it was just an ambitious culinary endeavor. then started noticing how unusually long it was taking. eventually suggests you let the bakers take over and feed it to the staff

Muriel: not at all used to seeing food made in such large quantities, but okay. have fun. ... is it usually supposed to take this long? no? it's okay, he'll sit with you until you find out whether it's failed or not

Portia: oh NOW YOU'RE TALKING!! a giant brownie sounds like the coolest idea ever!! she's checking it religiously with you and pulling out every baking trick in the book so she can throw a party with it

Lucio: ... you mean, that's not how brownies are supposed to be made? keeps wanting to pull it out early because it smells so nice, easily devours most of it within a week as a large part of his meals

[beesspacedotorg]

bee…… do u have any thoughts about fem prof lino??? pretty dr. lee 🩷🩷🩷

DO I HAVE THOUGHTS??? Oh boy yes I do. For full transparency, I'm planning on writing a longer version of fem prof lino so this ask isn't going to be very long.

also, I usually write for gender neutral reader, but this is incredibly self indulgent so reader is afab and uses feminine terms. that doesn't really mean that their gender is girl, but I felt it was important to note.

normal pourn warnings for pourn. also. pussy slapping. sorry. no I'm not. mommy kink. as per usual from tumblr user beesspacedotorg. once again, this is so self indulgent. this is so self indulgent it's not even funny. if you think anything here is weird mind your own business.

Anyways. Pretty Dr. Lee who always dresses so nicely. To be fair, she could show up in a potato sack and you would still have the hots for her, but that's besides the point

Pretty Dr. Lee who gives you permission to call her by her first name in private after you spend the whole semester quietly helping her during her office hours

Pretty Dr. Lee who takes a personal interest in your progression through college and offers to write you letters of recommendation for grad school.

Pretty Dr. Lee who had intended to wait until you graduated to make moves on you, but you're just so cute and so earnest that she couldn't help herself and kissed you silly against the door of her office.

Pretty Dr. Lee who lets you suck on her huge tits whenever you want, who fucks you absolutely dumb on her strap, asking you simple questions and laughing meanly when you can't answer.

Pretty Dr. Lee who grinds your cunts together so hard you're pretty sure you bruised your pelvic bone, but you don't care that much because you came so hard you think you blacked out.

Pretty Dr. Lee who comforts you when you don't do as well on an exam as you expected. And after you feel less sad, spanks your pussy red while you apologize for wasting all her effort on you. (she doesn't mean it. but it's so fucking hot you wouldn't mind that much if she did.)

Pretty Dr. Lee who introduces you to all her equally hot doctor friends and maybe shares you with them a time or two.

Pretty Dr. Lee who only raises a perfect eyebrow after you call her mommy.

Pretty Dr. Lee who whispers things into your ears that make it hard for you to walk in a straight line.

"Sweet thing, do that again and mommy will have you over her knee"

"Pretty, you're doing so well, hmm? So good for your mommy."

"There you go little cat, just like that, making Changbinnie feel so good. Just like mommy taught you."

[yandere-fics]

♡ Sophie Finds You After You Ran Away ♡

(Sorry for the self indulgent fic when there's a lot more I should be working on.)

It was scary to be so in love with Sophie and be so reliant on her, she was going to leave at some point and if she kept doing all this stuff for you it would only hurt more when it happened so you had to leave her before she could leave you. She knew something had been wrong before she left for work, she could feel her dolly was going to need extra loving as soon as she returned to assure you of your place in her life, she just didn't expect to get a tell from Ellie that her cameras had spotted you walking all over town when Sophie had never allowed you to go out without one of her sisters at your side. Sure this work was important but making sure her dolly wasn't roaming the streets all cold and sad mattered more. You'd be sad without her, why couldn't you see that. Well she did always know what you needed better than you did so it made sense her dumb dolly wandered off without her constant love and assurance, even if it was a bit annoying that you did it.

It was so cold outside her apartment, she insisted on keeping the heat up when she was gone, she always said there'd be no one to ensure you don't kick your blanket off in the middle of the night so the heat was up to make sure even without the blanket you'd be okay. You could text her to turn it down during the day if it really did get too hot but she always had it at the right temperature to begin with so you never did. You didn't have the key though and you'd locked the door behind you so she wouldn't get robbed so it wasn't like you could just forget this whole thing and just go home though. You had to live with this incredibly crappy decision and once she found out she probably wouldn't let you back inside anyways, all because you let your fear of abandonment get the best of you.

"Aww is my poor dolly cold?" Sophie came up behind you as you walked and wrapped her jacket over your shoulder making you stop in your tracks. "If you'd just stayed in place you wouldn't be so cold right now."

"I'm not going back." You turned around and Sophie was smoking, blowing the smoke off to the side. She scoffed in response tilting your chin up to get a clear look at your neck. "Put that out it smells or leave me alone."

"Here's what's gonna happen, you come back to our safe apartment or I put this out on your throat right now and give you a reason to cry." She threatened you with the cigarette before she saw how sad you looked and sighed, stomping it on the ground and pulling you in close for a hug. "I don't know what my dolly is doing out in the cold when our apartment is so nice and safe, I'll increase the locks to help with your pesky desire to wander."

You could only allow yourself to be dragged back, you supposed she wouldn't abandon you yet, perhaps she would in the future but for now you could feel comfortable knowing she'd come for you even if you left her first.

[goorehound]

I’m not even going to pretend this isn’t entirely self-indulgent. I should be answering my requests, and probably posting Mary Goore since that was the point of my account.

but dear followers, let me introduce you to König. Austrian, 6’10”, canonically severely socially anxious. your honour, I want him carnally.

sfw

Random König headcanons

ADHD. As fuck. He got turned down as a sniper because he kept moving around?? ADHD. Not the brand that makes him talk a lot constantly (although he absolutely can talk himself hoarse in the very rare chance he gets very comfortable somewhere) but the quiet type. Where he’s always doing something with his hands. His brain is always following ten different trains of thoughts. He’s restless.

On the fidgeting note, if he’s got a lot of thoughts going on then he will fidget very slowly. Rolling a pen or smth between his fingers, tracing the hems of his clothes with his fingers, tapping them slowly to some imaginary beat. But if his brain is quiet then he’s fidgeting fast. Repeatedly clicking a pen, tossing something back and forth, bouncing his leg at the speed of light. He’s gotta make up that lack of mental stimulation with some physical stimulation.

When he’s alone he mumbles to himself. Replaying past conversations so he could mumble out the answers he wished he’d given, or constructing what he’d like to say in future situations. Basically mumble mumble mumble. Mans does have things to say, you know. He just prefers to do it where nobody else can hear it.

He has almost mastered the art of making sure people are laughing with him and not at him. If someone makes a joke about him, he’ll try and come back with something self deprecating enough that it’s not too awkward - but hopefully enough that it doesn’t make him seem like an easy target. If he fails at getting people to laugh with him his brain does a windows shut down. Luckily he’s quiet enough that people don’t normally notice when he shuts down. He always makes sure to wait long enough to excuse himself that nobody will tie his disappearing act to something someone said.

He picks up popcorn with his tongue. He always gets his own bowl, because he hates the specific type of grease that comes with buttered popcorn. Man will hold that bowl up to his face at eat it like a lizard. No, he does not eat popcorn in front of other people.

Oh my god is it ever easy to fluster this man. Something as simple as talking about something he’s interested in will have him melting. Compliments are worse. He’s no blushing virgin, granted he’s not incredibly experienced either, but complimenting anything about him will have his face a concerning amount of red in an even more concerning amount of time.

Pen/pencil chewer for sure. All about that fidgeting.

He is terrified of kids. Only because he has no idea how to interact with them, he finds it more of a minefield than talking to adults. But he’s fucking great with them, and 9/10 times kids adore him - which makes him so very happy.

He hates when people touch his things. Like despises it. Probably because growing up people thought it was funny to take his shit and break it, and that definitely left some wariness when it came to people touching his things.

He’s talkative in combat because of pure adrenaline, and that’s probably when his confidence is at his peak. No time to be anxious about people making fun of him or thinking he’s an idiot when his life is on the line. And besides, if someone overhears him saying something dumb he can just shoot them. Problem solved. (Given they aren’t an ally, that is.)

If anyone wants anything König related, wether it be headcanons or some short writing piece please drop me an ask. Or a message. Anything. I have some serious brain rot going on.

[fatuismooches]

I bring to thee more of my brainrot....

GRAAAAAHHHHH AKADEMIYA DOTTORE AWOOOOOOOOOAWOOOOOOOO BARKBARKBARK

I wish i could transport myself to genshin so i can be with him at the akademiya...

totally self indulgent but... some random student just flirting with a confused reader and dottore looking at them from afar like an angry kitten about to pounce on some poor prey because HOW DARE THEY.... Reader is clearly leagues above them. Reader is HIS assistant, they have no need for such trivial things. Eventually he gets so mad he just storms up and pulls reader away, reader is so confused and keeps asking him whats wrong, once they notice his (obvious) jealousy they smirle and tease him about it (he is not pleased and starts putting readers books on higher surfaces cuz he's a lil shit)

IDK IM SO UNWELL... I really like jealous dottore... he is so down bad... - 🐓

One thing about Akademiya Dottore is that he won't admit a lot of his emotions. Yes, he'll admit how annoyed and irritated and pissed off he is. But he won't admit it when he's happy, when he's excited, when he's in love... when he's jealous.

Zandik has felt jealous before, such as annoyed that others are accepted but not him. But never jealous in this context. Which is why the feeling that gnaws at him when he sees another student so close to you is completely infuriating, annoying, bothersome, you get the point. He hates it. He hates feeling this way... it's utterly unbecoming of a scholar such as himself. And he also hates you for making him feel this way. Why have you done this to him? Why have you affected him so much, messing with his mind and body like this? He's supposed to be focusing on his research, but all he can do is keep sneaking glasses at you and the student. He gives in when he sees their arm sneak up to rest on your shoulder. Talking is one thing, but touching what's his? Oh no, the Akademiya's Outcast is standing behind you in a matter of seconds which obviously gives the poor student a heart attack.

Oh you tease Zandik so much for being jealous, it's honestly incredibly amusing,, you know he always gave the eye to anyone who dared to look at you for too long but jealous? This is completely new,, you didn't even know he had it in him. In a way it's rather enamoring... because he finally loves you enough to feel jealous over you. Before he couldn't care less about you,, so real cute stuff! (He makes you get on the ladder to get all the high-up books in the House of Daena as punishment </3 and flat-out ignores you if you keep teasing him,, he's not entertaining ANYTHING. He just tells you not to do it again.)

(It's just another thing he finds very tiring, is how smart you are yet how dumb you can be. Can you really not see how this buffoon is trying to flirt with you? It's exasperating really, to have to save you from these idiots. You should be grateful he's here to save you from such fools. This is his excuse whenever you try to make fun of him. As if you didn't save him from getting beat on multiple occasions...)

[thrashkink-coven]

Lucifer has been such an incredible presence in my life when it comes to addiction.

I am disabled and suffer from chronic nerve pain and debilitating migraines that cause paralysis and other not so fun things. Most days weed is the only thing that can bring me relief. The painkilling drugs have helped a bit, but weed is the only substance I’ve found that can actually ease the pain almost instantly. Because of that I have become heavily addicted to weed. There’s really no way for me to function without it. Or maybe there is, I wouldn’t know because I have an active addition. I don’t want to stop smoking weed, and unless it’s posing an immediate threat to my health, I probably never will.

I can be completely aware of how heavily I rely on my addiction whilst still being addicted. Weed is medicine for me, but I also know that sometimes I smoke just because, not because I’m in pain or anything, but because I’m just bored. I know that I don’t need to constantly be using weed as medicine to be allowed to just enjoy it, and others in my same situation may not consider it an addiction, but I do and I’m at peace with that. I can confidently say I am addicted to weed.

Lucifer helped me come to terms with the reality of my situation. Everyone is addicted to something, using some kind of substance or drug to cope with this sick fuck of a world we live in. Being addicted is not a moral dilemma, it doesn’t make you a bad person, and being sober doesn’t make you a good person. The problem is not with the reality of needing something, the problem is with letting that indulgence get to the point of causing me real harm.

There have been times when I’ve been being so hard on myself, actively trying to cut back or quit, putting myself through unnecessary nerve pain, and migraines because I feel “bad” about giving into that urge. It makes me feel weak, like I’m not in control of myself, and Lucifer has come to me and been like

“Bro… lmao you’re fine. Smoke a joint and chill out, you deserve it today. This isn’t causing you harm right now, it’s okay. You’re not doing anything bad. Im here to tell you that this is okay.”

And, at the very same time, there have been days when I’ve smoked 5 or 7 a day, scraping the last scraps of weed together to smoke a pathetic bowl from a dirty ass pipe, and Lucifer has come to me and been like

“Bro, it’s time to take a break. Your tongue is caked white from the constant cotton mouth. Your throat is sore and inflamed. You’re dizzy, your eyes are glazed over. You feel dumb. You can’t think. Your smoking is actively giving you an even worse headache. You’re not even getting high any more. It’s time to stop.”

and … I’m so fucking grateful for that. There’s a very human tendency to either be super strict with myself to the point of borderline self harm or not give a fuck and let myself indulge to the point of hurting myself. Lucifer has always been the one to keep me in line respectfully, to say “you can do this thing if it makes you feel good, but I will not let you do it to the point of making you feel bad.”

I love how understanding he is of the human condition. He doesn’t pressure me to be perfect or scold me when I’m doing bad. He just presents the facts the way it is, without judgement or disappointment. Hey, you’re slipping, we need to get it back together. Hey, you’re doing fine, allow yourself to relax for a bit. Life is a balancing act. If we keep in check with ourselves and we’ll be just fine.

Thank you infinitely, Lucifer. I know Im in good hands when Im with you.

[crosshairscrustysock]

Let’s get some fun recommendations goin around here! What’s a piece of clone content (art, fic, etc) that has stuck with you as being notably excellent? Tag it in your answer so we can all find some new fun to read! If you want, of course; feel free to ignore! 💕

I would love to introduce to you these excellent fics

[im very happy to spread some fun recommendations]

So for a short smutty read :

For a short fluff read :

As for longer reads:

- I am currently  reading these amazing fics <3

And soon to start this one :

And thanks for coming to my Ted talk, folks ,that's all tumblr seems to allow me to put :))

Lol I hope this list is what you were hoping for lol  :) I'm always happy to recommend fics <33333

(you should definitely check out these author's master lists of works- they're quite incredible )

[msmcnevertweet]

Into the Blind, and Wot I Like about Space Stuff

I've been working on this for a while in between breaks updating As the Sun Forever Sets. Why is my idea of a break from writing games just writing a different game? I have dumb bitch disease. I wanted to talk about some of the inspirations for it.

Welcome to The Rim

Into the Blind is a sci fi game about a group of gig economy workers living contract to contract on the roiling, wild edge of space. It's about CRT screens, mechanical keyboards, junction boxes, pipes and wires. It's about the unknown, the stresses of capital, and horror - visceral and ephemeral. It's about working hard jobs in dangerous conditions for little pay, and the chance of a better life. 

You are a Freelancer - Salvager, Shipbreaker, Courier, Bodyguard, Assassin, First Responder, Negotiator, Investigator, Debt Collector. A Freelancer is any and all of these, depending on the contract. You'll take whatever you can get to make ends meet. 

Every job you do balances your need to pay the rent on your ship against your desire to remain alive. Grab what you can, get paid, and stay alive.

If this sounds cool to you, you can grab a free preview (with the old name) below.

Let me show you my favourite space things

Ok, time for the self indulgent ramblings.

(Potential) Spoilers for: Gravity, Interstellar, Contact, Arrival, The Expanse, the Alien series, the Thing, Annihilation, Homeworld: Cataclysm and Magnetic Rose.

Physics and Feelings at 10km/s

There are a lot of sci-fi horror TTRPGS out there. Like a lot a lot. Mothership, Death in Space, the Alien RPG, You're in Space and Everything's Fucked, the list goes on and on. Not that that matters - people should make the games they wanna make and I wanted to make a scary sci-fi game with spaceships, so eh fuck it.

Something I realised while writing stuff for Into the Blind and working on the system is that the themes and feeling of a lot of the sci-fi stuff I'm into didn't revolve around a towering monster skulking around dark spaceship. Like, sure, Into the Blind will have a nasty alien somewhere, I don't need to say that I like Alien or talk about why it's good (I do, it is, and I'm going to), but there's more to write about than monsters. Space is already intrinsically stressful and horrifying:

Neil Degrasse Tyson and Chris Hadfield can shut the fuck up, Gravity has some of the scariest, tensest scenes in a movie I've ever seen in my fucking life. After watching this you could never pay me enough to go to space. The only enemy here is inertia, the only monster are the principles of physics that cause a cloud of debris to whip through orbit at 22,000 miles an hour.

Aside from the spectacle, Gravity is a film about finding the will to go on when you have nothing to live for and everything's against you. It's heavily implied that Dr Stone went to space because she's tired of existing on earth (or at least that's my read). She wants mercy and relief from the pain of her life, and watching it you want to gift it to her so badly, but the debris field crashes into her life over and over. It's a relentless, uncaring solar tide that returns like clockwork when to fuck her up any time she gets a break.

These extreme forces also generate incredible tragedy and loss. Interstellar is kind of a dumb movie but despite the memes about this scene it always gets me. You don't know what you have until it's gone, and sometimes the distance between you knowing you've lost something and it becoming lost can (thanks to black holes and weird gravity stuff) slip by you in an age that feels like an instant.

Both Gravity and Interstellar have soft, beating hearts encased behind the layers of radiation shielding, technobabble and worn metal, and when the colossal forces that make the universe turn rip it open, they're laid bare.

That's a fucking cool thing to make a game about!

Indistinguishable from Magic

I'm not a big brain science person, when it comes to wormholes, relativity, folding space time and all that, I don't really get it. I just know that it's cool as hell and opens the door to powerful character stories about finding meaning and confronting your feelings at the edge of our understanding of reality.

Contact and Arrival are two sides of the same movie to me. Both are heavily grounded in big Theory and big Science Words, both are about powerful sciencey girlbosses who've lost something dear to them (one in the future, one in the past.) Contact leans more towards the hard science approach, but both are at their best when they're balanced on the edge of the plausible and the implausible. They're both about the incredible, incomprehensible nature of the universe. They're both about people who change the world, in ways both vast impercievable to everyone else.

They're both stories of hope and benevolence, but Contact frames this through 90's optimism and the power of nations working together towards a common goal (it's so optimistic, even the villain-coded megacorporation decides to help out, which uhhhh), Arrival frames these themes through personal tragedy - Dr Banks pays a high price to save humanity from itself.

Behind the calculations and clipboards and theories, these are stories about personal discovery, love and heartache.

These are also fucking cool things to make games about!

Magnetic Rose is probably the single biggest influence on Into the Blind - there's a full adventure heavily inspired by it in the preview. It's just so good. The visual design and animation are simultaneously grounded and real yet brilliantly beautiful and surreal. It's tragic gothic horror at the dark, gritty edge of space, and it's so good at being sad. The penultimate scenes in heart of the tomb-like space station, surrounded by rank brown water and decaying metal are heartwrenching. Heintz is tormented by visions of his past and you feel it so hard. The film doesn't care to tell you how this is all happening - are his memories ghosts? holograms? hallucinations? It only cares about the why, and it's incredible.

Breathable Air Prepayment Meters

It's been ages since I watched The Expanse, so I'm not gonna dwell on it too much, but what I remember focused heavily on how capital and government care little about those they govern and sell to.

The level that our existence is monetised and used as a cudgel against us currently can surely only expand along with our expansion into the stars. You can go there right now if you have enough money to do so, and when life beyond earth becomes feasible, the companies that financed it will need someone to clean the ducts and polish the solar arrays. The amount of things that can be sold to you can only increase out in space. You think rents are high now? Wait till you see the price of a 1 bedroom apartment in orbit around Mars. Add nice breathable mix of nitrogen and oxygen to your list of monthly outgoings. You think you'll be able to repair your C02 scrubbers without voiding the warranty? Fuck no.

The Alien movies are obviously (despite what some grognards on twitter dot com will tell you) deeply about extreme capitalism. The galaxy is ruled by companies that could not care less about you, and the bottom line is all that matters. This kinda matters less and less as the films wear on, but the first 3 are all about working class people sacrificed on the altar of the interstellar dollar.

Alien 3 in particular has a lot of problems, but the edgy teen in me is still really fond of this scene. It's doing a Big Foreshadow (Do you get it? The alien is like.. the flower he's talking about right? But the flower is bad?) But it feels like an appropriate lament for prisoners on the ass end of space. Despite what the company wants you to believe, the inmates of Fury 161 don't deserve to die, aren't expendable.

We all have flowers within us waiting to grow, out from the shadow of capital.

You might've noticed mentions of a nasty guy in those last clips.

Ok fine, also Monsters

We all love a little nasty guy, I cannot resist the pull of the weird monster that does Big Themes. Like I said, there's so much TTRPG stuff focused on them for good reason And space is ripe for the nastiest of guys.

There's really nothing more to be said about The Thing, it just fucking rules. It's a movie that cares as much about what a monster can do to peoples bodies as what it can do to their minds and relationships.

What a horrible fate for Sheppard. The idea of Annihilations mutant bear is just so sinister it makes my gut drop whenever I re-watch it. Again, not much else to be said about this movie. It rips.

Homeworld: Cataclysm is a weird game. It's a survival horror.. strategy game? Set in space? Where you never see a single person?? And somehow it's voice acting and plot is incredible???

The Beast is the nickname for the microorganism that emerges from the millenia old wreckage the mining vessel Kuun-Lan happens upon whilst scouring deep space for valuable minerals. The threat it presents is so real and visceral, it's one of those "if this hits our planet, it's so over" monsters, and it's obscenely scary and gruesome. Even the Bentusi, a race of nigh-on ageless benevolent machine beings are absolutely terrified, and try to abandon the galaxy in the face of it (they fear their biological minds will be trapped in their machine bodies if they're taken over by The Beast, locked in and forced to watch what it does to the galaxy. Damn.)

The scene where you and your fleet fight the Bentusi as they try to evacuate known space to force them to help you is intense and incredible. You're fighting gods, and all you can do is crash against their incredible technology again and again like a stiff breeze, pleading for help and humanity. You shame them into taking responsibility for helping the mortals in the galaxy against this ancient threat. That's the fear inspired by The Beast.

Thank you for coming to my Space Ted Talk

I told you it was self indulgent huh. Hopefully this goes some way to explaining what I'm going for with this game. Not only monsters, but the experiences of people trapped by incredible forces of nature, corporations and circumstance. Not only horror, but exploitation, sadness, love, longing and loss. Thanks for reading.

Again, if you want to check out Into the Blind, you can get the free preview below, and follow me on Itch to get notified for when game releases (soon? idk)