#i didn't feel so self conscious because i DONT shower every day or even every other day like i dont like when my hair goes limp either! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ebonybow · 6 months

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oh so we can choose which blog to reply to posts from now but im still sending asks from my stupid dead blog. anyway sex pollen scargrian 👀👀👀👀👀👀 if u dont mind

Augh I KNOW pls Tumblr, catch up!!!

I have a whole bunch of this sex pollen written but it's mostly from the start of this year, and it needs some major rewriting because I feel like I didn't have a proper grasp on their voices yet. Premise: Grian falls into a weird spore blossom cave and comes home feeling unwell, and Scar checks in on him a few times, clueless as the sex pollen fever progresses.

Sex Pollen:

Grian’s various pieces of armor are scattered in the hall outside the bathroom, as though he’d flung himself into the shower or bath the moment that Scar had left the night before, though his elytra are neatly hung in their usual spot near the door.

And then, he finds Grian in bed in his room, tucked into the back of the base, bare shoulders peaking out from beneath his bedsheets. The air is stuffy back there, almost muggy with the windows closed, and Grian is asleep face-first in his pillow.

So Scar does the most sensible thing and checks if he’s still breathing, leaning in close.

“Scar,” Grian startles awake and Scar lets out a hoot of surprise, stumbling backward to avoid being headbutted. “Why? What are you doing here? Why?”

Grian's voice is rough with sleep and confusion as he clears his throat, blearily pushing himself into a more upright position in his bed.

“Checking you’re alive,” Scar intones, as cooly and matter of factly as he can. He’s definitely not distracted by just how shirtless Grian is, as he – seemingly self-conscious – gathers his sheets and pulls them close around his torso.

Grian is– small is the wrong word, despite the height difference. Grian is strong. You don’t haul blocks around for hours on end every day without building some muscle.

“It’s morning?”

“It’s morning. Your bedhead is adorable.” That’s a normal Scar Thing to say, right? “Anyway, you’re breathing, so. My job here is done.”

Grian's gaze visibly softens again at Scar's flustering, and he slouches back a little bit in the bed.

"No, sorry. Sorry. I'm glad you're here," he says, and it sounds like an admission. He's still so very pink-cheeked, a reflection of the night before, but now Scar can see that it goes all the way down his chest between his pecs. He looks warm. Hot. "I'm glad you checked in on me."

It's like watching glass fog over, the way Grian's eyes cloud, suddenly hazy. He licks his lips.

"You got any water on you?"

"Well sure," Scar says, slipping his pack off his shoulder to rummage through. "Have you eaten? I have, ooh, I brought an apple."

"You brought snacks?" Grian asks, sounding somehow weaker this time, eyes wide and glossy as he looks up at Scar, accepting a bottle of water from him.

"Of course," Scar smiles, and sets an apple down on Grian's nightstand, and a small tub with some watermelon. "Who else is gonna take care of you?"

Grian suddenly makes a strange and very un-Grian noise, like a choked-off whimper, lips parting on an inhale before he bites down on his lip. Of course Scar is staring at his mouth now. Of course he is.

"Uh huh," Grian says, suddenly intent. "Scar, I need you to fuck me."

Had Scar been looking anywhere but Grian's mouth, he may have thought he misheard. Except, he literally sees the words come out of Grian's mouth.

"You- huh. You want me to check that fever?" He says, moving to get up off the bed as Grian's hand shoots out to stop him. "I might have a thermometer back at my place."

"No, Scar, listen."

"You are clearly delirious."

"I'm not. I mean I am, probably, but listen."

It's not hard to break free from Grian's grasp, and Scar takes a step back to catch his breath. The room is stiflingly warm, even more apparent now than before.

"You- you want to take care of me right?" Grian rises to his knees just to get closer to Scar again, clutching his bedsheets close over his lap to at least preserve some dignity, Scar assumes.

"Of course," Scar says, but it comes out weaker than he'd appreciate. The words have an entirely new meaning now but his answer is still the same.

#fic meme

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shoyoist · 2 years

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kakucho with a tattoo of your name on his left pec I’m wheezing I actually need an inhaler oh my god

content: gn!reader. tattoos and piercings + as usual for my writing with kakucho, it's super soft bec he deserves no less ♡♡ p.s. we pretend his bonten tat isn't in almost the same place. thanks.

— ‶｡ଘ.*+ it seems kakucho is really good at hiding surprises.

"what's wrong?" kakucho asks, unable to ignore any longer how you've been staring intently at him for hours on end, since the very moment he had walked into the house, tired out after a long day of various work events he had to power through the entire day.

you didn't stray from your position on the couch, supposedly bingeing your favourite shows, but every time he'd crossed the living room, he'd noticed that your eyes were not on the TV but on him, following his movements without a single miss.

when he'd gotten out of the shower and headed into the kitchen because he needed some water. when he'd come back to retrieve his socks and throw them into the wash, since he'd taken them off and left them thrown across the doorway. when he circled around the couch to grab an apple off the bowl sitting on the coffee table.

then, he'd stepped back and awkwardly stood there for a few minutes, watching the way you examined his body, tilting your head and pursing up your lips in concentration. "is there something wrong, love?"

"nothing." you speak slowly, your gaze still latched onto his body. he feels self conscious, and peers down at himself, scanning his tshirt and pants for any stains or tears or anything that might have caught your attention.

"nothing," you repeat. "except . . . why are you wearing a shirt?"

kakucho blinks, trying to feign innocence. he thinks about what's hiding underneath the fabric stretching across his muscled chest, and shifts one more step back. "am i . . . not supposed to wear a shirt?"

"you never wear one," you accuse, pointing a finger at him. "not even when you're out at work. you stay bare chested, all the time. what gives?"

"uh," he racks his brain for a suitable, logical answer to give you. it wasn't winter, and it wasn't a rainy day, so he couldnt blame it on the cold. if he told you not to mind it, you would instantly worry and make him take the shirt off so you could see if he was okay underneath. "i just felt like having one on today."

your eyebrow twitches, and he winces inwardly. obviously, you wouldn't fucking buy that. "really. i just wanted to wear one."

"and you wore it right after your shower. without even properly drying yourself off?" you extend the question, and he almost freezes in place because fuck, he wasn't expecting you to point that out.

he shrugs his shoulders, as nonchalant as he can bring himself to be. "it's nothing, i promise."

"take it off, then." you lean your chin on your fist, and bat your eyelashes at him prettily, and he blushes despite himself — because you dont know what he's trying to hide. you can't know. but you will. he already knows he's lost this battle. "c'mon, kaku, you look so good with just an unzipped hoodie on. love it when you have your body on full display, baby. i tell you that every day."

"dont i look fine with a tshirt on, though?" he circles past all the praise you're showering him with, and instead offers you a smile, polishing the apple across his pants before bringing it to his mouth for a bite. "muscular men in tight tees. so hot, right?"

you roll your eyes, and he has to laugh at himself — but as he takes a bite out of the apple and starts chewing on it, standing next to the TV that you're paying absolutely zero attention to, you suddenly lean off the couch and peer at his chest, squinting your eyes for a closer look. "wait."

at that, kakucho's entire body heats up immediately, and he desperately fights the urge to turn around and run — fuck, if he had just ignored you and not asked you anything at all, maybe you wouldn't have become this curious. but now, now he was going to get found out. shit.

you hop off the couch and saunter over to him, steps steady and languid, a teasing smirk already in place across your pretty face, and kakucho has no choice but to continue playing innocent — hopefully, hopefully, you were just messing with him, pretending you figured it out so he would break and reveal to you what he was hiding.

if he kept trying, maybe you'd believe him. "baby, what is it? i really have no idea why you're so pressed about this."

"shut up, kaku." you narrow your eyes at him, stopping with only a few inches of distance between your bodies, lifting your hand up and pressing a pointed index finger to his chest. "this is what your crazy gang buddies are dragging you into, huh?"

and despite the situation he's currently being cornered into, he has to appreciate how lightly you talk about bonten.

you're careful about the whole ordeal, but you aren't afraid. the fact that he's involved with such a dangerous, brutal criminal organization doesn't stop you from loving him whole. from waiting for him to come back from work every day. from being patient, from staying calm and taking care of him on the days he returns injured.

it doesn't make you hesitate to move in with him. doesn't hinder you from immediately accepting the ring that he'd put on your finger only weeks ago. you love him, and he's so, so grateful to have you with him at all.

which is why he'd done what he did — but he's not ready to show it to you yet, which feels stupid because he only did all this for you, to show it to you and make you happy, to display to you just how much you meant to him.

but he's fucking shy.

"the one with the bubblegum hair." you choose sanzu to blame, for what you've discovered. "did he rope you into this?"

"no." he says, and you give him a long, scrunitizing look, eyes so gorgeously lit up as you try to glean from him what his reasons are. then, you take one step back, and lower your hands to the hem of his shirt. "take it off, baby, why would you hide this from me? i want to see."

you eye his chest, the thin material of his shirt strained by his pectorals. or rather, you eye the perfectly outlined studs sitting at his nipples.

"you really got your nipples pierced, and then wore such a tight fitting thing to try and hide it?" you chide, smiling wider as you lift the shirt off him. "if you'd just zipped up a hoodie, i would be less likely to notice, and less suspicious, too. you're so dumb sometimes, kaku."

his face burns, but that's not all that's hiding under the tshirt, so he keeps his mouth shut and waits for you to see it for yourself.

"you wanted to look hot for me, did you? wanted to look just a little slutty for me, please me more than you already do?" you taunt, as you raise his shirt up till you're resting the heels of your palms against his collarbones, shirt bunched up between your fingers — he holds his tongue though, because he wants you to see it.

you trace you gaze up his torso, from the beautiful carved abdominal muscles and the lines that follow from his lower back, up to his pectorals, and—

and all at once, your eyes fall onto the swirl of ink that's carved right over his heart, and your tongue stills. your thumb comes down to press gently at one of the studs, but your stare is now locked onto the black calligraphy that sits and waits for you, atop tender, blushed skin.

it's his turn to smirk now, to tease you, to ask you where all your catty remarks went.

but he can't, because you stare at the tattoo on his chest, and when your eyes stumble over to find his, you look stunned — when you look up at him, your lashes flutter, your gaze softens and swells with something so soft and full of love, and your lips part, but nothing comes out for a few moments, and suddenly, he's rendered speechless, too.

"k-kaku." you stutter, fingers leaving the piercing to go and gently trace over the tattoo. it's your name, and you spell it out with your fingers, carefully running your finger over each letter, so gentle, like he could break. "you got a tattoo. of my name."

"over my heart." he tells you, and you swallow thickly. "over my heart, because you own it, my love."

the ring on your finger flashes in the light of the TV, when you rest it against his chest. "h-have i told you, kakucho? that i love you?" your voice comes out in a murmur.

"you have." he says, and when he brings his hand up to cup your cheek in his palm, you feel the cold metal of the matching ring that's on his finger, too. "and i want you to know that i love you too. just as much. maybe more."

"i love you more, baby." you say, as he expects, and he lets out a soft, short laugh before he leans in and closes the distance between your lips.

it's when he kisses you, and kisses you again, before moving back a little for a breath of air, that your hand suddenly slides back to his nipple and curls its fingers around the stud, and yanks.

"hah, what the fuck—" you stop him from breaking the kiss by bringing your other hand up to his nape, pulling him back in so his hot, heavy groan falls into your mouth, and you eat it up, smiling against his lips as you yank again.

his cock twitches under the sweats he's got on, and you giggle, making him feel all the more fucking embarrassed. "this is why you got them, right?" you coo, bringing him close for another kiss. "so i can tug on your tits while i sit on your cock."

"fuck," he hisses, and his tongue slides into your open mouth at the same time that he grabs your ass and pulls your hips against his, grinding his hardening cock against you. "wanna see something else i got for you, then?"

"what?" you gasp at the friction he allows you, and when he pushes you back a little, you're indignant at first, but then — then he grabs the waistband of his sweats and pulls it down, all of a sudden so bold and confident, and you see the stud sitting so gorgeously under the flushed head of his cock, glittering pale silver, matching the ones fixed to his nipples.

you stare, enamoured, but before you can even take the sight in properly, he reaches over and grabs your jaw between two fingers, turning your face back up, pulling your gaze back up to meet his own.

"so, my love." he says, and you shiver at how deep his tone is. "do you like it?"

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deleteddewewted · 3 years

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Incel!Shinsou Oneshot: "Why are you acting like that?”

To keep busy I just thought that a oneshot of Shinsou getting self conscious/needy would be cute since we already have his redemption arc rolling in. The next part of the Incel!Shinsou series (Part 3) will have him proving his worth at the Sports Festival. So in thinking of how he will prove himself to you I thought of how will all of those people affect him, especially you. ( This oneshot takes place pre changes, so Shinsou is still his disgusting self but he's figuring out how to woo a woman, especially of your caliber.)

Incel!Shinsou Series:

Part 1: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Part 2: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Incel!Shinsou Headcanons

"I know what you're doin' here. Made your intentions clear. Oh you, you terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Beautiful thing"

TW: Strong Language, Mild Sexism

People were never an obstacle when it came to the things Shinsou wanted. He’s aware that others would do anything for him if he played his cards right. The right words with the right question did wonders for him. So why the fuck couldn’t he have what he wanted when it came to you? You drove him up the wall with the kindness you showed him. He didn’t deserve it and you’re existence almost felt like a punishment from whatever deity that existed out there to make him suffer. You guys were suppose to be studying for your upcoming project that required a poster, a slide show, and one influential person that would help prove your projects point. You left him running circles within his own mind as to how you were so willing to challenge him. He wanted you to obey him not see through his bullshit. It wasn’t like you didn’t listen to him vent, or didn't give him attention, but he wanted to hold you under his control. To be the person you listened to.

In class you where both seated on the extreme ends of the room on opposite sides. You never realized this (you do), but his head would periodically turn towards your direction to look at you, to figure you out (liar). This time, you managed to catch him do it.

“What are you doing?” You asked plainly. You honestly didn’t care that he was staring, everyone does when you dress like you're attending an MCR concert in the middle of autumn.

“You look different....today.”

“Nice.” It was difficult to care. Shinsou was just some guy in your class that you had to deal with. Nothing special really....ok, maybe it wasn’t fully true. You didn’t really know him all that well or anything (Unless it was mocking and belittling everything you did, that was normal behavior for him so it wasn’t surprising to find out he was like that outside of campus.) but he wasn’t all that bad? If he cared for himself a bit more, hygiene wise he would be considered handsome or at least a competent human being (you weren't going to call him a man, men don't act this childish. At least the ones you knew.) Maybe then you would take his opinion seriously, but for now you’ll ignore his...interesting comments he's been throwing towards you today.

“It’s rude to ignore someone when their talking to you, you know?” The neutral face he had now possessed a frown and a furrow to his brows. You still couldn’t process how he took the time to make sure his hair stayed purple but didn’t care for his body odor. (This man dyes his hair purple yet cant bother to shower or use deodorant for once in his life.)

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not interested in anything you have to say.” With that you get up and take your things and leave. There was no point in wasting time on someone who couldn’t even look at you directly and had to also sneak glances at you. "Do I really look that unbearable?" you thought to yourself. In the end you didn’t care anymore, everyone was entitled to an opinion and the last thing you need is feeling self conscious because of your out of place classmate.

Shinsou was fuming. How the fuck did you just get up and leave his ass while he was trying to complement you. You should have been more appreciative that he was giving you his attention for once. A bitch like you wasn't even worth it so he doesn't understand why he even tried with you.

He never goes directly home after school but instead to the local theater. It was one of the few places where he could be around others and could genuinely be himself. It was weird, he didn't feel like himself when he was speaking with his "friends", friends that he's never spoken to verbally, never seen, and never would meet. He knew that he didn't deserve this, to have a safe haven when he acts like an ass, yet here he was.

"Good morning Shinsou! How are you? Are you ready for rehearsals? You did remember to read your lines, right?" Shinsou rolls his eyes at his theater mates antics. Monoma never seems to stop but he does know when to tone it down and when it comes to Shinsou he tones it down a bit. (Because Monoma is canonically considerate of others, look back the Sports Festival and the Joint Training Arc.)

"Im good man, yes i did read and memorized the script, dont worry about it." What an odd friendship, the most chaotic gentleman like man out the bunch with the quietist incel in the group. Shinsou should have seen it coming when he was adopted by Monoma but he's running on 2 to 4 hours of sleep so he doesn't really care.

Believe it or not Shinsou does take showers (only for theater) but very quickly and with no care (no shampoo or soap, fucking why man.) Theater means more to him and so making his character look the best they possible can was his first and foremost priority. He puts on his costume, gets to makeup (the minimum, because it's "gay" for him to wear makeup and since the world is unfair and cruel he has perfect skin for a greasy headed asshole.)

"Everyone get a move on! Kodai, Tsuburaba, and Awase! Go to stage left! Light techs, how's it up there?" One of the tech heads shouted out. Shinsou and Monoma got to their positions on the stage and the rehearsals began.

Love, the play was about love. Love that wasn't rejected but also not accepted. He didn't understand the concept fully. Was it romantic? Platonic? Familiar? Admiration? He loved his dad, but he mostly admired him. He worked long hours and middle resents him for not being there for him, yet he realizes that his dad works to give him the world, a home with all the things he wanted. He never had a mother so he never had parental or familiar, again his dad was there but he wanted a parent that would hold him when he came back from school everyday. He didn't have a girlfriend, so he doesn't know romantic. So far all of his characters where villains, or evil in some way. He was starting to get sick of them. Shinsou wanted something more, wanted to play a character that wasn't how everyone saw him as on his day to day life. He wanted a challenge, he wanted....affection. Just to show it. He wanted attraction. Just to abuse it. He wanted...love. To just...maybe...feel...enjoy...understand it.

"You terrible thing you. My love, you're so cold. You've left me hanging on every one of your words. You've made me loose my self, lose my self-control because of you!" He pours everything into his performance, his loneliness, his regrets, his experience. He's been told by his co-performers and directors that he has a great future in the arts, in theater. If he just took care of himself more he would be an amazing actor, not only incredibly talented but also attractive. He would have the world kneeling, bowing to him just from his words alone. He could have anything he wanted just because of his existence.

" You've made me do things i don't want to do...for you." Kodai stands there looking horrified. He's covered in blood, the blood of her lover, the one she left him for.

"No, i-i didn't-"

"YOU MADE ME-MADE DO THIS FOR YOU! You terrible, terrible, terrible thing! You beautiful thing, I've done this for you!...and you still cant and won't love me." He doesn't see Kodai anymore. It's not her face he sees, nor her voice that he hears.

Its you...its your voice. You. You looking back at him while he slowly lowered himself to kneel and crawl towards you. It's you who backs away from him as he starts to cry and hiccup.

"You wreck me, you made me. You leave me in your wake, please let me go!" He sees you and feels you grabbing his wrists back, pushing him into himself.

"Don't you ever let me go...."

You terrible beautiful thing, you.

And here we are again. This was a lot fun to write since it feels more concrete when it comes towards his personality and his full thought process. In many cases people like Shinsou just want attention or some sense of validation, which there is nothing wrong with wanting those things but it's more about the manner you go about it. You shouldn't pressure or force others to spend time with you, but there is always someone out there that will like to give you those things.

Tag list: @blossominglark

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