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Im a sucker for angsty fwb Bakugo and messy feelings.
!! Major spoilers for the manga btw !!
The two of you almost never meet like that. It’s almost pushing it to ten times a year in a never ending circle of non commitment and broken promises, words that are only exchanged during intimacy that none of you can’t help but utter and trutfully tonight shouldn’t have been different.
But he agreed to let you stay at his place for the night—you think it’s because he doesn’t want to drive you home and you settle on the couch, in a corner, not even wanting to wrap yourself up in a blanket. He takes none of it, preaching about how he’s not going to let you crash on the couch, that you can sleep with him in his bed.
As you’re given a change of clothes to sleep in and a toothbrush, you avoid looking right into his face.
You know better than anyone why he doesn’t want to commit to you, he doesn’t want you to really see him, he’d rather shut himself away from you. You’re not someone he considers an equal, you’ll never even be close to leveling up with him. You know he hates that about you. That you’re weak. That you gave up on being a hero after the war because of everything that happened.
“Bathe and we can sleep” he says and he gives you a towel and a pair of his boxers.
He already had his shower, he already smells like that orange blossom shower gel and bitter almond shampoo that he has, he already smells like clean laundry and you reek of sinful non committal, casual sex.
You enter the shower and the water running is so hot that it could scorch your skin. You like it that way, feeling the water pierce like fire needles through your skin, stripping away everything in its collision with flesh.
You try not to burst into tears— he’d think it’s bad manners, lecture you for it and you’re not in the mood for any of it. It’s overwhelming and self distracting to think of him that way— your therapist says that you should make an effort to understand him and you really do, you do understand why he acts like he does but it doesn’t leave you with anything to do about it.
You just want to go home, in your clothes, in your bed. The feeling in your heart is unbearable.
But your therapist has repeatedly told you not to sweep the problem under the rug; just talk to him. Don’t just sit in the comfort of the scent of his shower gel and his clothes. Confront him. Tell him you love him and that you’ll stick by his side no matter what.
And it all sounds perfect in theory. Really, it does. Except for the part where you can’t even look at him.
When you look at him, even almost ten years later all you can see is his lifeless fucking body laying under Best Jeanists hands.
So Katsuki knows better than anyone why you can’t accept him, why you can’t commit to him and it drives him absolutely insane.
He is always clothed around you, during sex, during coffee dates to catch up; he puts in the most exquisite effort to avoid showing you his scars.
And when he can’t just hide the one on his face, you respond by not even looking him in the eye. That, as a fact, pains him more than anything.
Frankly, he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to bear it.
But tonight— tonight he’s gonna do it — he’s gonna tell you that he loves you. And then his own feelings will be your problem.
When he hears the shower stop running, he sits on the edge of his bed, one leg bouncing in anticipation; is tonight the right time? Should he do it? And if not now then when? Can he really just let you slip away, or will his confession make you force yourself to be with someone you can’t even look at.
Why are the two of you even involved at all if you think he is so repulsive?
The bedroom door creaks open before he has time to actually process a sequence of words to tell you— and you step out, your hair damp, clinging to your neck in heavy strands. His shirt swallows you whole, draping over your frame, and his boxers sit awkwardly on your hips, a poor attempt at comfort that neither of you will acknowledge. You still don’t look at him.
Of course, you fucking don’t.
Katsuki clenches his jaw. His leg keeps bouncing—until he forces it still, pressing his palm hard against his knee. He’s getting sick of this. Sick of watching you shrink into yourself, sick of the way you refuse to meet his gaze, sick of the ghosts that sit between you, molding the shape of your relationship into something that barely resembles one.
You tug at the seams of his T-shirt to hide the scars on your neck and the ones on your stomach and torso sit hidden, snuggly, underneath the cloth of it.
He knows what you’re doing because unlike you, he is looking at you.
“…Come here,” he mutters, voice gruff, barely above a whisper.
You hesitate. You fucking hesitate. But he wants to kiss you. He wants to sit you on his lap and kiss your lips, your neck, your chest. He wants to kiss your scars, no matter the fact that they’re spread all over your body.
This is the first and most major difference between the two of you and that’s what pisses him off the most. He accepts parts of you you don’t accept about yourself or him.
But eventually, you move, each step slow, reluctant, as if walking toward him is some great act of suffering. You sit on the bed—on the very edge of it, like you’re prepared to run, not on his lap like he wants.
You play out of the premeditated scenario he’s crafted in his head for this moment.
Katsuki feels something inside him snap.
His fingers twitch, nails digging into his palm, the words crawling up his throat like acid, burning to be let out.
You won’t even look at him.
And yet—you still come back to him, time and time again, you come back.
“Sit on my lap” he says, patting on his thighs with one hand, coaxing yours with his other. “Want you close so we can talk”
You don’t answer. You can’t answer, just follow his lead and hover your legs over his, as you crawl your way onto his lap.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he asks, his voice quiet, sharp and cutting through the thick silence between you.
“M not doing anything” you mutter in response.
“That’s the problem”
Yet, he cradles you, the problem, into his arms, big, strong biceps pressing you close to him, holding your head right into his chest.
His heartbeat is loud— too loud for someone who once died, too real. Technically there’s nothing you should be scared of, he’s here with you, holding you and all you want to do is run away. Something inside you screams at you to run home, that this isn’t real. That he died and wasn’t saved, that you’re imagining all this.
But right underneath his shirt is his scar. And the ones on his forearm are visible now that he’s wearing a T-shirt.
“Should I go ahead and laser remove the scars?” Katsuki asks while the two of snuggle against each other.
“Huh? Why?”
“Cause ya don’t like looking at em, I’ve noticed. So would you look at me then?!”
Your stomach twists at the mention of the words, even if they’re so soft spoken and without thinking, your eyes dart down—just for a second—before flicking away again. Just the thought of it, the way the skin is raised and uneven, makes your throat tighten.
You swallow hard, fingers gripping the edge of his shirt. His fingers trace circles on the skin over the band of your -his- boxers.
“That’s not—” You take a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. “I just…”
“You just think im ugly and you’d rather leave, that’s what you want to say isn’t it?”
“I don’t handle… that kind of stuff well.” You don’t say the word. You don’t want to. Just thinking about it makes your skin crawl. “It makes me feel sick to my stomach. And thinking about how you got them—” Your voice catches, and you look down again “It’s too much.”
Silence.
Then, Katsuki scoffs, but it’s weak. “Figures.”
Your head snaps up. “What?”
“Real fuckin’ great, huh?” He curses “I wanna tell you that I fucking love you and you’re here telling me I make you sick— what the fuck is wrong with me?”
You break free from his bear-like hug, only to stare at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering. You hate seeing him like this—hunched slightly, fists clenched, looking at his reflection in your eyes like it’s something disgusting. Like he’s something disgusting.
He isn’t though, he’s strong, he’s beautiful, he’s anything and everything you can’t lose. Nobody ever tells him, you don’t either, you just act like he’s made of glass and then leave as if he can’t or won’t shutter.
He just told you he loves you.
You love him too. You’re in love with him.
Does he even want to hear it after the shit you just spurt at him?
You grab at his face like it's instinct and press your nose to his, locking your eyes into his, breath hitched in the back of your throat. You avoid making any noise, scared that you’re going to ruin this by just existing.
If it’s been so many years and he’s still alive, you shouldn’t patronise his feelings because of your own trauma.
He’s here. He’s alive and he loves you and the pad of your thumb brushes over the scar on his cheek.
Your stomach still churns at the thought of his injury, but you force yourself to step forward, reaching out carefully. “Katsuki.”
Silence.
It’s just like he wanted. His love for you is your own problem now. He can only beat and scar himself further over the fact that he said ‘I love you’ like a curse.
Your stomach twists for a completely different reason now. “Katsuki, I love you too.”
Your lips brush against his, softly. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even stop you.
He wants to kiss you. Lips, skin, soul. Everything that is yours he wants to put his lips on.
And he does.
His mind goes blank the moment your lips touch his. It’s like a surge of electricity floods his body, short-circuiting everything logical, everything that was screaming at him to hold back, to keep his mouth shut, to not want this more than he already does.
But he does want this. He always has.
Your lips move against his—hesitant at first, unsure, like you’re still trying to convince yourself this is okay. That he’s okay. And that hesitation guts him. It rips through his chest in ways that no explosion ever could, because it reminds him of the truth:
You love him.
You’re not afraid to keep your eyes open and he isn’t afraid to keep his eyes open too.
The two of you probably look like lunatics, kissing with your eyes open, but it’s only because you can’t get enough, it’s never enough, even when you kiss just to have sex it’s not enough.
Katsuki wants to melt into you, he wants to disintegrate into one person with you. He feels like his heart will combust— no, he fears that his heart will combust and he’ll leave you scarred forever.
But he’s done that once already.
His fingers tighten their grip on your waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. You’re warm. Real. Sitting right here, on his lap, wrapped up in his clothes, wrapped up in him. It’s a fucking miracle.
He kisses you deeper, almost desperately, parting his lips to taste more, feel more, take more. Your hands are still on his face, trembling slightly, but you don’t pull away. Not yet. And he clings to that like a dying man, pouring everything he can’t say into the way he mouths at you, the way his tongue flicks against yours, the way he tilts his head just right to fit against you perfectly.
His heart is pounding—too fast, too loud. He wonders if you can feel it, if you notice just how much he’s shaking. Because Katsuki does not tremble. Never. He does not doubt himself. He does not need.
Except with you.
With you, he’s terrified.
He’s scared you’ll push him away after this, that you’ll realize just how broken he really is, that loving him is more trouble than it’s worth. He’s scared you’ll come to your senses and run.
Because deep inside he’s convinced himself you’ve been keeping your distance because you think he’s ugly. Disgusting. A byproduct of a rotten hero society.
So he kisses you like he can keep you here. Right in his arms. Like he can erase all your doubts, all your hesitations, all your pain. He kisses you like an apology, a plea, a confession—because maybe it is all of those things.
Maybe it’s all of these things.
And when you don’t stop him,when your hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer, keeping him right here in your arms, he swears he could cry like a newborn.
“I know it’s stupid,” you say, breaking the kiss, only for him to whine against your lips, “but I can’t stop feeling like if I look too long, if I think too hard about it, it’ll happen again. I— I get panic attacks for hours when I remember the way you laid there, lifeless. Katsuki I don’t ever want to see that again. Im scared.”
You don’t have to pull away to continue, you need him as much as he needs you. And so you speak against his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I hate you. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at you. I'm scared that if I look at you for too long you’ll stop being real. I wanna be with you always, I want you to be here so bad. All the time.”
Katsuki is silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know what to say. His fingers twitch again before he finally, finally moves, cupping the back of your neck and tugging you against him, sealing your lips in another kiss.
You let out a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you press your face into him.
His grip is tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from his lap. “I’m here,” he mutters into you, voice soft. You’re not to be fooled with that patchy ass voice he pulls for everyone else “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“But I still hate this scar,” he continues, whispering “Hate what it reminds me of. But if it means I get to stand here with you, get to hold you” He swallows thickly. “Then I’ll keep it.”
Your heart lurches.
A shaky breath leaves your lips, and without thinking, you reach up, gripping his face between your hands again. His skin is warm, slightly rough, chapped by the sudden change of weather, but real.
You don’t look at the scar this time. You don’t have to. Instead, you look at him as a whole; his furrowed brows, his slightly downturned lips, his tired, burning eyes, his blond lashes that you used to make fun of in high school.
It all makes sense now.
His breath stutters. His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly, and before you can say anything else, he crashes his lips onto yours again.
It’s desperate. A little too messy. Like he’s trying to pour every ounce of regret and relief and love into it all at once. You gasp softly against his mouth, your hands tightening around him, and he groans low in his throat, pulling you impossibly closer.
He kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. And you kiss him back just as fiercely, because you need to remind yourself that he is real. He’s not going anywhere but here.
Katsuki’s breath is heavy against your skin, his forehead still pressed to yours, his fingers still gripping you tight. But something shifts. It’s something sharp, electric, crackling in the space between you.
He’s teetering on the edge of restraint.
Your own breath shudders as he exhales, hot and uneven. You’re still pressed against his chest, against the scar that used to make your stomach twist, but right now, all you can feel is him.
And then, he moves.
In a blur of motion, Katsuki grabs your thighs and yanks you, throwing you and himself into the bed before you can even process it. You gasp, hands flying up to steady yourself against his shoulders, but he doesn’t give you a second to think.
His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, nothing like before. The trembling kisses from earlier can’t even compare to this one. This one is feral.
Like he’s been waiting for this moment to break and go berserk.
A muffled sound escapes you as his hands roam, gripping, squeezing, pulling you closer like there’s still too much distance between you. His fingers dig into your thighs, sliding up under your shirt, palms rough and searing against your skin.
You barely have time to process before he’s tilting his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping against yours in a way that makes your stomach twist and turn.
He groans, low and hungry, and the sound sends a sharp, molten heat straight through you. Katsuki has always been intense, but this—this is something else.
This is unrestrained.
This is him. Losing control. And you’re the cause.
His hands move again, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward, fingers brushing over your ribs. His lips break from yours just long enough to drag hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone—teeth scraping, tongue soothing, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, breathless, gasping, barely able to keep up with the way he’s touching you like a starved man.
He doesn’t just kiss you any more. He’s devouring you whole.
His breathing is ragged, his pupils blown wide, his lips red and swollen. His hands are still on you, still gripping you tight, but he doesn’t move or push any further. He just looks at you, like he could burn you, melt you into goo with his gaze.
And then he pleads, “Say it again?”
Tell me you want me. Tell me you love me and it’ll all stop being an amalgamation of emotions.
The unspoken words hang between you and all you can do is lay there, on your side, and watch him watch you like you’re a rough diamond in the making.
You don’t deny him of anything. You speak the words as if your life depends on them.
“I'm in love with you”
He tightens his arms around you, pressing you so close that it’s almost suffocating but he can’t help it. He needs you like this, needs to feel the warmth of your body, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the proof that you’re being for real as it’s written on your palpitating heart. That this isn’t some cruel dream that’ll slip between his fingers the second he wakes up.
His lips ghost over yours again, desperate, frantic. His breath is ragged, shaky, and his hands roam—your back, your sides, the dip of your waist—like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, burn the shape of you into his palms.
“Say it again,” he hears himself crack as he speaks, and he hates how wrecked his voice sounds, how utterly pathetic he must seem right now. But he doesn’t care. He needs to hear it.
You hesitate, and that hesitation guts him. But then your fingers tighten in his hair, your lips brush against his cheek, over the scar he thought you couldn’t bear to look at.
You do something he never, not in a million years, could even allow himself to imagine. You kiss his scar.
And right now he doesn’t even think he can see anymore.
“I love you.”
He lets out a shaky breath, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His heart is a fucking mess, erratic, wild. His grip on you tightens, like if he just holds on hard enough, he can keep you here forever.
Katsuki has never begged for anything in his life, but if you tried to leave now, he thinks he would. He knows he would. On his knees, sprawled all over the floor if he had to.
“Again” he exhales, sharply through his nose “I swear,” he breathes, voice rough and full of desperation “I’ll die if you don’t”
Your breath catches, and he feels it, the way you go still in his arms.
“Don’t say that,” you whisper, voice barely audible.
He presses his lips to your temple, your cheek, your jaw. It’s feverish, aching, his heart is going to give up, caught between his greediness and insecurity. “I don’t wanna live in a world where you don’t love me back, so just say it”
It’s pathetic. Weak. Not the kind of thing he would ever say out loud.
“I love you I love you I love you”
The moment the words leave your lips, the second you tell him you love him again, something in him absolutely breaks. He grabs your face with both hands, fingers digging into your cheeks, thumbs tracing over the curves of your jaw like he’s holding something fragile. Something irreplaceable.
Then he ruins you.
His lips crash into yours again, rough, needy, swallowing every breath, every little sound you make. But it isn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough.
He kisses your lips, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your jaw. He presses frantic, open-mouthed kisses down your face like he’s starving—like he’s been denied of you for too long and now he’ll die if he doesn’t get to taste all of you.
“Love you,” he mutters between kisses, like the words are spilling out of him against his will. His lips drag over your nose, down your chin, along the curve of your cheekbone. “Love you, fuck—love you so much—”
He’s shaking. He can feel it in his hands, in the way his breath stutters against your skin. His lips find your temple, pressing there like a prayer, like if he kisses hard enough, you’ll understand—really understand—just how much he needs you.
He can’t stop.
He kisses the embers of the scar on your neck, then your forehead, then both of your eyelids like he’s blessing you. Then again, your cheekbones, your jaw, the corner of your mouth again—over and over, like he’s worshiping every single inch of you.
His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, holding you onto him for dear life.
When he pulls back, his pupils are blown wide, his breath ragged. “Tell me you’re mine,” he rasps, voice thick with something desperate, something wrecked. “We’re together after this, right? No more fucking sex on the low and then I don’t get to see you for god knows how long”
"Say you're stayin’," he mutters, voice raw. His fingers slip under the hem of his own shirt you’re wearing, pressing against your bare waist. His lips move to your ear, voice nothing more than a plea. "Tell me you’re not leavin’ me, baby."
Your heart clenches at the way his voice wavers, the way he sounds like he's afraid—like the very idea of you leaving is enough to unravel him completely.
“I’m staying,” you breathe, and before you can even finish saying it, his lips crash into yours again, cutting off whatever air was left in your lungs.
His eyes rake over you, wild and dark and fiery red and shaky, lips swollen and shiny from kissing you too hard. His hands are shaking as they run down your sides, like he’s never touched you before.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as if he’s finally letting himself believe it. His hands slide under your shirt, palms pressing flat against your stomach, up your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts. He swallows hard. “Mine.”
His kiss is messy, desperate, like he’s trying to fuse himself to you. Like he wants to crawl inside your skin and live there. And maybe he does. Maybe that’s the only way he’ll ever feel close enough to you.
“Katsuki” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet.
“Fuck,” he rasps against your skin, voice wrecked, breath hot. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”
Your head is spinning, body burning beneath his touch, every nerve alight. “Then take it,” you whisper, nails digging into his shoulders.
His breath stutters and he hisses.
A growl rumbles in his chest as he flips you, pressing you into the mattress before climbing over you, caging you in with his body. His hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, sliding up your waist, pinning you in place like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
He dips down, biting at your collarbone, at the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, dragging his teeth over your pulse before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. A reminder. A claim. One he wasn’t allowed to make until seconds earlier.
You’re his to have.
You gasp, arching into him, and he groans at the way you react, at the way you’re coming undone beneath him.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters against your skin, lips trailing lower. “All mine.”
His words send a sharp, electric jolt through you, heat pooling low in your stomach.
Your hands roam his body in return, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling the way he shudders beneath your touch. When your fingers ghost over the scar on his chest, he stiffens for just a moment—then exhales shakily, like he’s letting you in.
He wants you to touch it. To feel that he’s here. That he’s alive. This is a reminder too.
You press your palm flat against it, right over his heart, and his breath shudders. His gaze snaps up to yours, pupils blown, expression dark and desperate.
Katsuki is fire—hot and consuming, searing through every inch of you, making it impossible to think of anything but him. And he’s explosion too, nuclear and annihilating, swiping away every ember of fear you could feel at this moment.
And right now, you’re ready to burn and get blown into teeny tiny pieces.
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.
Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally
H-Haru?
Yeah.
Haru...?
Yeah.
I'm... home
Welcome home.
I gotta do a public speaking in class for 15% of my grade. The topic was my role model. I picked was obviously Louis 🤧 So we're supposed talk about their successes and why he's my role model. My problems are:
~He has his many awards, ltwt, fitfwt, afhf, charities, music in general, but I only have 5 minutes to talk
~I can yap about him all day
~I ONLY HAVE 5 MINUTES
~I want to write about his 🎂🍑 but it's not school appropriate
~THIS IS FUCKING GRADED
Part 5!
Well. It's been exactly one year since I started this comic. Which is pretty impressive for my tiny attention span. This is the biggest of my stories and I'm so damn proud (and surprised) that I was able to finish it haha
Quick q&a because I know a lot of you would ask something like this:
Why didn't I add "x" to the comic? - Because I didn't want to.
Why did I add "x" to the comic? - Because I wanted to.
This story was improv from start to finish and that means I added and took away many things. I don't regret any of them haha
Thank you all for being with me. This fandom is wonderful and I'm happy to be a part of it :)
When is this happening? ‘,:l
Part 1 Masterpost
@somerandomdudelmao updated and i had to get this out
ill make it better later considering i ran to my tablet to make this !!
I just think they're neat
Been obsessed with this au lately, couldn't get it out of my head until I made this
Reaaaaaally love the design on this one @somerandomdudelmao and I'd like to think that the 'hair' is actually the ripped piece of metal from the back of the head just shoved forward
🧡 robohobos
I CANNOT WATCH. I PHYSICALLY CAN’T. I AM WORKING. I CANNOT CRY RIGHT NOW.
(said as i pause the video and return to work with tears beginning to form)
(skhfklsahdkhskahkjfhjsl MEI 🥹 SHIJIMA 😭)
they did this scene so beautifully omg i was gonna start sobbing
Rant about Indian liquorice because I love poison.
Indian liquorice is also known as Abrus precatorius and is a plant from the Fabaceae family, making it's most famous relative beeeaaannnzzz. It used to only exist in India but every tropical country has loads of this shit now.
The seeds, roots, bark and leaves contain a very Funny Substance™ that's one of the strongest poisons in the world.
Now let's say that hypothetically this liquorice got into the food of a person you coincidentally don't like. If the seeds are whole, nothing will happen, so you need to cut them up WHO SAID THAT. They also lose their toxic traits when you cook them, just like my ex.
After a few hours/up to two days your friend will get severe gastroenteritis, you know, vomiting, diarrhea, period cramps. Side effects often include a series of severe symptoms that transform the eyes into a shadow of their old selves. Oh and hair loss. I mean men are balding at 26 nowadays so it's not like people are gonna notice.
The most important aspect of the Funny Substance™ is the fact that it makes blood clot, and we all know what that does.
Two whole seeds are enough to cause severe poisoning in American adults.
While these little guys only grow in tropical regions, they're sometimes made into necklaces and sold, or placed in rosaries and dry arrangements.
Just saying.
nothing fills my heart with more violence than the sight of a naked wrapping paper roll
this is how Cain killed Abel
[01:36 AM] 임창균
You laid next to him on his bed when he gently slipped an arm around your waist. With the other hand, he was zapping through the sea of movies on the TV screen in front of you. Occasionally looking down at you, lying next to him resting your temple on his shoulder and one leg draped over his lap, as to ask if the movie is fine for you. Somehow it took quite long to find a movie you both agreed to and half an hour in neither of you was paying much attention to it anymore. Lost in conversation, he turned his head from the screen to your face and gave you a shy smile. You were explaining something along the lines of "this movie is so predictable, watch the car explode now" accompanied by a soft shaking of your head. And as if you had called it, the car did explode and the sound of the burst echoed through the speakers underneath the TV. You giggled, and he couldn't help but break into laughter with you.
»This movie is kinda boring, not gonna lie«, Changkyun sighed and straightened his back, leaning against the headboard of his bed and pulled you up with him. You nodded in agreement and nestled your face into the crook of his neck. His hand was still resting on your hip as he drew little circles with his thumb.
»Let's do something else instead«, he suggested, which made you look up and face him with your head slightly tilted to one side.
»Like what?«
»Wanna make out?«
The out-of-the-blue question caught you off-guard, making the simple reply get stuck in your throat as your eyes widened in surprise. The faint moonlight glistened in Changkyun's eyes when you looked at each other in a silence, that was not necessarily uncomfortable but carried a little too much sexual tension. He bit his lower lip, unable to tell what you were thinking, and rolled his head back with a semi-exasperated sigh.
»Sorry, that was weird ... Let's just say I was joking and think of something else we could— «
»No no, it's okay Kyun, let's do it.«
He popped his head back forward and stared into your eyes to find any signs of joking; not being used to this kind of reaction to how dry he tended to ask such questions.
Using the leg that wasn't on his lap, you pushed yourself up and slid onto his lap, hands intertwining behind his neck.
His plush lips were moist with saliva as a smile curled up on them in response to your quick action. Hands on your hips, he slowly leaned in, only stopping less than an inch away from your lips and making you feel his hot breath on your skin. You closed your eyes and in the next second you felt his lips on yours in a gentle kiss, just like he always did when he left in the morning and came home late at night.
It only lasted a couple of seconds before he pulled away from you again, his eyes still closed and his chest panting heavily. You were far from being done though, tangling your fingers in his black hair and using your hand on the back of his head to bring him back in for another kiss.
Changkyun slipped his tongue over your bottom lip, demanding entrance, which you gladly granted him. Intoxicated by his taste, you moaned into his lips, gently tugging at strands of his hair.
He recently let it grow out and kept it dyed dark, and you would be lying if you said you weren't head over heels for the way the strands at the front framed his face and made him look so effortlessly stunning. Besides, the hair on the back of his head had the perfect length for you to rake your fingers through and lightly pull at, earning a silent groan from him.
His tongue played with yours, seemed to fight for dominance as his hands roamed up the sides of your body and one of them came to a stop on your throat. He didn't apply any pressure whatsoever, his fingers just rested right where your carotid arteries were, and he made a big effort not to touch any spot that could cause serious harm to you.
His other hand had found its place on the band of your sweatpants, gently tugging at the string to open the bow and slipping underneath the thick fabric.
Stroking your folds through your underwear, Changkyun grinned into your lips as your arousal seeped through the material of your panties.
When he parted himself from your lips once more, he dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking on the taut-drawn skin on your collar bones.
You felt the heat rush to your cheeks, when two of his fingers slid between your folds and rested on your soaking pussy for a few seconds.
»So wet, and I barely even touched you yet«, he cooed against the skin of your neck. His voice was low and hazy, almost dripping with hunger for your love.
You moaned his name, when he inserted both fingers into your core and let you sit on the digits while his other hand stroked a strand of hair out of your face.
You tried to catch your breath, the teasing on your sensitive spot already too much to handle while his lips planted love bites in a line along the side of your neck, going from right below your ear lobe all the way down to where your collar bone was peeking out.
»Stop teasing«, was the only thing you could sigh through clenched teeth as his fingers picked up speed, and he shamelessly continued licking and kissing your neck while the lewd sounds of your cunt filled the room.
He curled his fingers inside you, looking for that sweet spot that made you see stars, and when he noticed your body jerking against his, he was pretty sure you were damn close to the edge.
»Are you cumming for me already, baby?«
His voice was solely a whisper, meant to be heard only by you, but he muffled your reply to the rhetorical question with yet another kiss. Of course, you were close, you had almost been seeing white the moment he put his hand on your throat. That very hand had found its place on your jaw by now, keeping it in place, so he could lock his eyes with yours, making sure to see each and every one of your reactions to the things he did to your aching cunt.
Drawing circles on your almost numb clit with his thumb, he forced high moans of his name out of your mouth while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.
»Ch-Changkyun, keep going ...«
As you had begged him, he continued his ministrations, still keeping the same pace he had set earlier to push you over the edge. You could feel your heart beat in your throat when the fire in your stomach blazed up, and you dissolved into pleasure, your juices dripping onto his hand.
Heavily panting, you rested your forehead against his shoulder and tried to calm down your breathing, eyes closed and hearing Changkyun's voice silently humming praises while he pulled out of you and licked his fingers clean.
»You did so well, babe«, he purred, placing a final kiss on the top of your head.
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taglist:
@ahgasearmyfan
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full masterlist
## monsta x masterlist
S — smut F — fluff A — angst C — crack
nothing to see here … yet
OS
› nectar kinktober '21 day 2 [S]
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TIMESTAMPS
› [01:36 AM] [S]
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full masterlist
things would have been different if william had been a better father
3 assignments due tomorrow! i just started! month long project due next week and im barely done! and im also sick!
I’ve been wanting to draw something based of these photo’s by @drearyymoth for a good while now.
Hi! I know that this is super random but I just wanted to say that you did a really great job on these feud descriptions. I see a lot of theories and opinions about storylines on tumblr and your work is really the best. It is really cool to read these and I think you have a great attention to detail and make things easy to understand. Because sometimes when people see the storylines on tv it can be hard to understand and easy for people to lose the true meaning behind why the superstars are fighting. I love everything about this especially the gifs and subtitles which add such a cool look and feel. Keep up the great work! 👍🏻❤️Okay I’m done now and thanks for listening to my ted talk. 😂🤗
The Boss vs The Man: A Battle For Greatness
The Boss and The Man are very different characters. However their goals and ambitions have always been the same - to be at the top.
“Pissed Off For Greatness”
When Sasha became The Boss in NXT, it’s because she wanted centre of attention, to have the spotlight and to be the champion. She was angry that she had been being overlooked and underestimated for so long. She decided that the only way to achieve her dreams was to be ruthless and take down anyone that stood in her way and it worked for her.
Now Becky also had similar frustrations. Her career wasn’t really going anywhere in NXT. She eventually crossed paths with the Boss who gave her an idea: what do you need to do to make it to the top? Becky took that advice an aligned herself with Sasha. Together, they could work together to take out their competition. But there was underlying tension between them.
This alliance would eventually dissolve when they both got a shot at the NXT Women’s Title. Sasha won the championship match, and now she was at the top. And where did that leave Becky? With nothing. They would eventually clash for the title. Sasha didn’t see Becky as her equal. She believed she made Becky. Becky lost the match but that would be her breakout moment. That set the stage for everything that’s happening now.
“Greatness doesn’t need to be goaded into being great.”
Charlotte, Sasha and Becky got called up to the main roster at the same time. And whilst Charlotte and Sasha had already made names for themselves, Becky struggled to find her place in the division. Opportunities would come and go and Becky would make the best of them, but the spotlight was on Sasha and Charlotte. Becky was always overlooked. An afterthought. She was even told she was the least relevant in the women’s evolution. Sasha and Becky both got the opportunity to face Charlotte for the women’s championship but Becky was the third wheel in that match. Once again an afterthought.
Eventually Becky would get separated from the two women she’s been tied to for the majority of her career. She then became the inaugural Smackdown women’s champion. Finally at the top of her own division, but there was something missing.
She realised what it was when she once again got pushed to the side for Charlotte Flair. “To be the best you have to beat the best”. Becky’s frustrations turn her against her former friend and the fans. However, she came to realise that the WWE Universe was on her side. They had been paying attention to her journey. They wanted her at the top. Becky had been holding back because she didn’t want step on any toes. But enough was enough. In NXT, she said she had come into this company to takeover and that’s what she decided to do. This system that had been against her from the beginning. The corporate heads never had faith in her but the fans did. She knew what she deserved. She’d fought hard to be where she was unlike the Charlottes and Rondas of this world.
With the support of the WWE Universe, Becky is able to take what she’s owed. She’s grabbed the brass ring and finally at the top of the mountain.
“The Greatest Woman To Never Be Great”
Sasha Banks’ journey has not been as easy as it looks. Coming to the main roster, Sasha not only craved attention but she wanted the respect of the WWE Universe. And that would be the beginning of a long arduous road for The Boss. Changing her attitude would lead to a series of embarrassing title reigns and wasted opportunities. She’s in the spotlight and gets to be in all these first-evers but always comes up short. Doing things the right way has not worked out for her.
She also realises that the system has never really been in her favour. Whenever she gets something, it gets taken away because she’s being the good guy. She has been of the backbone division yet been served on the chopping block to women she feels are lesser than her. She is the standard. She is the talk of the division yet no one respects her. No one believes in her and that has messed with her confidence. The tag titles present an opportunity to finally have gold but Sasha knows that just moves her farther away from her goal of being at the top. Being a mid-carder? That’s beneath her. And when she and Bayley lose the titles at Wrestlemania, that’s the last straw. She decides to take off and let the division fend for itself.
A Worthy Adversary
Now Becky is at the top. On the cover of posters and magazines, she’s the face of the company. But once again something is missing. She’s beaten Charlotte more times than she can count, she’s taken out Ronda and at this point Lacey Evans is her personal punching bag. Becky has done everything she needs to do. But she’s…bored? There’s this nagging feeling that there’s something that she hasn’t done yet. What is it? Defeat Sasha Banks.
Sasha Banks has been gone for months but somehow she’s still the centre of attention. The week of Wrestlemania when Becky makes history, all everyone is talking about is Sasha Banks: Where is she? Are the rumours true? When is she coming back? Becky is at the top of now but somehow Sasha is still in her spotlight. Becky needs Sasha to come back. She needs to defeat the woman who always doubted her and never saw her as a worthy adversary. So she goads Sasha, taunts and mocks her for being a sore loser whenever she gets the opportunity. But Sasha never responds.
Now Sasha has been watching Becky. As Sasha’s career has been going down a road leading nowhere and Becky has been making her way to the top. Sasha was relegated to a pointless tag team match while Becky got to achieve Sasha’s dream of main-eventing Wrestlemania. Sasha made Becky, yet Becky is living The Boss’s dreams. Becky is getting everything Sasha ever wanted. Becky has the support of the fans. And Sasha is envious. She’s played nice for too long. Becky isn’t even on her level but has the audacity to mock her. She needs to come back and take what’s hers.
The Boss vs The Man
These two women have always had to fight for what they wanted. Becky has got to the top because she worked for it and had the fans on her side. And while Sasha initially had more opportunities, she’s lost momentum because she tried to be a people-pleaser. She wanted to be the hero but people saw right through it, that’s why it didn’t work. Becky and Sasha have never been the chosen ones. They’ve always had to take what they wanted. And now Becky has what Sasha wants. She wants The championship and Becky’s spot. As for Becky, she needs to tick off last thing on her list - Defeating Sasha Banks. The woman who always doubted her and never saw her as an equal.
While Sasha might have made Becky in NXT, Becky became The Man on her own. Sasha hasn’t been The Boss since NXT and now she’s back with a vengeance. That rage that fuelled her in NXT is back. She’s hungrier and more desperate than ever. Sasha is back for the fame, the money and the glory. Becky is at the top of her list because she has what Sasha needs. She still doesn’t think Becky is her equal. But Sasha has been paying attention. To be the man you need to beat The Man. They have a lot of history together and They may think they know each other but they’ve both changed. Becky is more confident now and Sasha is back in her element.
The Battle For Greatness
Becky has been playing a cat and mouse game with everyone who ever did her wrong. Telling them “get me before I get you.” That message was for Sasha.
And what does Sasha do on her return? Go after Natalya. She isn’t about to play The Man’s games. She has her own plan. She’s been ignoring Becky for months and she knows it’s gotten to her. She knows she’s in Becky’s head. That’s how she lured Becky out the night of her return. Sasha is still treating Becky like she isn’t worth her time.
The tables have turned. Now Becky believes that she’s made Sasha the top dog. She thinks that Sasha has done nothing of consequence since she’s been gone while she’s been making headlines. Now because of Becky, Sasha is the talk of the town.
Becky’s game worked. She’s been trying to get Sasha back and The Boss finally took the bait. But Sasha is playing a different game. Something more sinister that she hasn’t revealed yet. There’s a lot at stake for them and not just the title. Their reputations and their positions. This is a battle for greatness. This is a blood feud and Clash of Champions is only the beginning.
The ultimate lifeform
Bonus edited version and the screenshot it was based off:
Funky concept - your height reversed is how tall you’d be as a cryptid/fantasy creature ✌️
Short little thing of when Malleus first met Silver
when you ignore them. p.2
♯— you ignore the housewardens. | p.1 | sequel p.1
cw: mild language, sfw, a little bit of hurt/comfort, crack & fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader
notes: diasomnia be like ‘u mess with one of us, u mess with ALL of us. #squadgoals’ LOL likes and reblogs are appreciated! ♡
azul ashengrotto:
malleus draconia: (you’re now a wanted criminal)
riddle rosehearts:
masterlist
THERE’S TEARS IN MY SEBPAINTER EYES
"Sebastian didn’t say anything, but before long he was softly humming along to the tune of a song p.AI.nter didn’t recognize. Both looked down at his nails as they were all carefully covered in a thin coat of black paint.
They stayed like that for a long while, even after p.AI.nter was done with the nails. The paint needed to dry, after all."
~~~
Fanart for this lovely fic my good friend Barry ( @autocat5876 ) wrote :) it really is such an amazing read i highly recommend
Just sent the lyrics of Renai Circulation to my crush omg help me help me, this is why I don’t do crushes, I don’t do relationships, I don’t do love im so fucking cringy and weird please send help Im going to start crying
I think Gerard is a peper
Another Dream
*Carmine and her team are no longer available for asks ??? is now available for asks!
Gotham TikTok
AKA "Danny moves to Gotham and records TikToks with absolutely deranged captions. He films Get Ready with Me in Gotham videos, fit checks, and even A Day in the Life of a Ghost in Gotham! Except everybody is freaking the fuck out in the comments" prompt idea!
No, you don't understand, I'm obsessed. Like, what if Danny's idea of "safe" is just... anything that doesn't actively try to kill him? So Metropolitians, Star City, and Central City citizens are literally biting their nails and sweating bullets every time he posts, because what if he gets merc'd by the "Eight Heads in a Duffel Bag" Red Hood?? And that's one of the nicer villains in Gotham. And Danny's just like wow, this place is niiiiiice, I haven't even been murdered yet!
Maybe Jazz took a 12-year-old Danny to Gotham to escape their parents. Gotham's cheap, dirty, and doesn't ask questions: it's the best place to go to disappear because damn near half the city's population are either super villains, hostages, dead, or vigilantes. She gets a job at an understaffed hospital as a clinical psych intern. She enrolls Danny for online schooling because she's scared a public high school would be too easy for their parents to track.
Which leaves Danny alone for hours. He makes a TikTok account called "Danny Phantom" because, c'mon, he's a kid. And, like most kids, he doesn't really comprehend the idea of a digital footprint or that his account is public, accessible by literally anybody.
He's also a little shit. So, the first TikTok he uploads is of a man getting carjacked, but the caption reads: love to see people helping each other. remember it's always okay to ask for help! it's okay, I don't know how to parallel park, either :)
And you just see this guy in a mask shove a businessman away from his car, gesturing with his gun, before getting into the driver's seat. Except the car is parallel parked so the carjacker just slowly inches back and forth between a Prius and a Honda until he can wedge himself out of the parking space. And then gets stuck in stand-still traffic. The TikTok goes viral. It's talked about on the Gotham news and Gothamites are losing their shit, pointing out the exact moment you can see the carjacker start to soundlessly cuss through the car's windshield or the way the businessman is just... standing on the side of the road, watching with a deadpan look.
Danny doesn't know about it being on the news, but he sees all the comments, likes, reposts, and feels something. He wonders if this is what Ember feels every time people listened to her music. So, he keeps posting. Usually, it's short three-second videos of a hilariously unexpected situation with an even more deranged caption. But then he's accidentally caught in the reflection of a store front while recording and doesn't know, posts it like he always does; only for this TikTok to go viral, too. Because "Danny Phantom" is a child??
He doesn't notice the shift in his comments, but the public opinion quickly changes from wow, Gothamites are just like that huh lol to what the FUCK, kid, get inside!!! anytime he posts.
Except Danny never gets hurt. Even in the most dangerous situations, when you'd think this kid is a goner for sure, he's just happily yapping in the background. He's so different from Gothamites because he lacks that dead-eyed, despair-inducing aura of someone who's lived in a hellmouth their whole lives. (A couple people post that Danny kind of reminds them of Golden Boy Brucie Wayne, all air-headed and unrealistically optimistic, and suddenly there's memes of "what happens when you've never gotten shot in Gotham" or "how i act when Commish Gordie accuses me of shoplifting again" with them side-by-side.)
And then Danny's posts go viral again and again. Danny doing a fit check with a blond-haired woman with a checkered outfit, she ruffles his hair and kisses him on the cheek. A picture of him wearing an old jean jacket with a bright red lipstick smear on his cheek is trending for weeks. Spoiler, fully suited up in an all-purple vigilante attire, and him shoving gas station hotdogs in their mouths. He even has videos of him clearly in Killer Croc's lair, with comments of are you in the sewers??? DANNY??? and he responds, no, i'm in mom & dad's basement :) (Waylon Jones is actually sitting behind him in one of the videos, intently watching a TV show on an iPad.)
Everybody adores Danny - Rogues, Gothamites, even the Bats. (There's at least six videos of Nightwing teaching Danny how to do backflips, handstands, and other acrobatic moves. Even the youngest Robin has been caught on camera quietly talking with Danny, a shocking lack of violence that left half the city's population suffering from cuteness aggression for the kids.)
So, yeah, Danny belongs to Gotham.
But the internet is widely accessible and Danny made it so, so easy to find him. Jazz obviously didn't know he was posting videos of himself publicly; she was too tired after back-to-back 12 hour shifts at the hospital that she hadn't even checked social media in months. Otherwise, she would've told him to be careful, to never show his face or post his real name on the internet. Then again, Jazz would never have expected all of Gotham (and Superman himself, totally endeared by the kid after Kon and Jon showed him a couple TikToks) would beat the absolute shit out of anybody going after Danny.
Imagine GIW's surprise when they track down Amity's former residential Ghost only to find an entire city frothing at the mouth to protect their Phantom.
Jonah calling the upcoming album "LP1" has me feeling some kind of way
unraveled gays reblog with your favorite moment from the perfect pokerap. im curious
I'm contributing to society..
I drew our boy Present Mic in this dumb meme that is kinda trending I guess?? Idk, I just couldn't resist- enjoy?
( Shirtless ver. )
