#matcha writes

[matcha-fawn]

[princematcha]

not edited, mdni, almost nsfw, the word cock || 515 words

bakugou glances up from his book when you roll slowly onto your back, stretching in the sun like a cat. the duvet under you shifts and moves with you, he brings his foot closer to himself so you have more room. your eyes squeezed shut, hands tightly wound in fists, toes curling in your socks. he adjusts his boxers when you let a little squeak out at the peak of your stretch, eyes back on the pages. pushing his glasses up, he flicks to the next page.

not a minute later he feels your hand on his calf, tracing the muscle through his sweatpants. bakugou clears his throat, your figure mostly covered by his book except for your arm thrown over your head and your feet dangling off of the bed.

he stares at the word at the top of the page when your touch creeps up to his knee. the warmth of your hand feels so much hotter than the sun glaring at him through the window. the page becomes blurry when he focuses on the small circles you’re leaving on his leg, bakugou blinks the sentences back into existence. he can only see one word.

need

need

need

ne-

“baby,” you breathe, deft fingers creeping over the top of his book. you only bring it down enough for your gazes to meet. he stares at the sun swirling around your eyes, the slow growing of your pupils as you stare at him. bakugou feels warmth swirl up his spine, and he knows he’s been caught in your gaze. you haven’t even said anything yet and he’s trapped, mind marooned in the honey sea of you.

his fingers grip tighter around the book when the corners of your eyes crinkle, knowing exactly which smile you’re wearing right now.

your hand trails over to his, rubbing his fingers idly and keeping eye contact with him, “do you wanna?” you say when running your knuckles against his.

a hum crawls through the caverns in his chest, echoing through his head, feeling far away and close. “hmm?”

you laugh and put your middle finger in the groove of his book, gradually closing it, bakugou closing it with you. you glance at the book before you put it down next to him. “268.” you whisper and tap the side of his nose as you move closer to him, “remember that.”

“what?” he mutters back, staring into your eyes when your noses are touching. hands starting at your shoulders and massaging their way down to your hips, pulling you closer.

bakugou watches you bite your lip to not laugh, a glance towards his book is the only answer. he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about when you lightly pinch the side of his neck.

“m fuckin’ horny katsuki.”

your hands resting on his collarbones, he stares at you for a moment before flaring his nostrils, it’s his turn to laugh. a chuckle rumbles his chest, vibrating against your elbows.

“good,” his hands reach down to your ass, squeezing and bringing you right above his hardening cock, grinning when you laugh, “-me, too.”

[captakashi]

the shallura!touch-starved au no one asked for

Shiro always giving hugs and shoulder pats to the team because his time as a galra gladiator messed him real bad. He needed to know that it’s okay to touch people without hurting them.

The team wholeheartedly joined in even Coran didn’t mind. People were leaning into other, not minding the change. All in all, it brought everyone closer together. 

Except for Allura since she was raised as a princess/diplomat and any touch is a no-no. The only people who ever hug/touch/pat her were her parents and Coran. 

At first, she resisted. She was a princess and this was a zone she was not familiar with. But the team was relentless. 

Hunk would begin to side-hug her whenever she pass by. Lance just starts attacking her with hugs until Allura shoves him off. Keith patting her on the shoulder because guys, she’s still the princess show some class . Pidge nudging her with her shoulder anytime they plot something brilliant (i will fight anyone with this) 

Slowly but surely, she didn’t mind the touches. Daresay, she would return the greeting with her own. 

Then, there was Shiro. His touches were brief, almost non-existent. A brush of his hand against hers. A gentle hand on her back to guide her. THE HAND TOUCHES.

In the beginning, he never hug her in any way or form. Not that Allura minded but it grated her that tried to keep this professional distance. 

So she would fight back that with leaning onto him when they stood beside each other. Careful fingers combing through his hair whenever he’s worried/stress/anxious. Warm, enveloping hugs every time, he had a nightmare and no one was still awake except for them.

Then, Shiro was gone during s2 finale and Allura never felt the loss more acutely. She didn’t think it could hurt worse but it did. He came back but he was changed.

He didn’t touch anyone anymore other than Keith even then it was brief. He was closed off. Only doing what was necessary to help with the fight agaisnt Galra. Allura wanted to reach out to him but how could she when he didn’t want anyone’s touch on him?

Allura ache in a way that she didn’t know was possible. She kept holding her breath every single time he talked to her, hoping that it was the time they would continue right where they left. but every single time, he left with no hugs/touches that it left her empty

When the ‘real shiro’ came back, Allura thought enough was enough. She didn’t hold back on her hugs or touches on that matter. She didn’t care that she took him by surprise if she hug him in greeting. Placed her hand on his cheek if he started to doubt his place in the team. Her worries about his reactions weighed far less compared to a future that he wasn’t there to return her gestures

Shiro would slowly warm up but wouldn’t object to Allura’s affection. He would count it off as wanting some companionship, letting this cycle of close intimacy go on until the team had enough of them running around each other and push the two into a closet so that they can ‘sort out their feelings’. 

[matchaball]

Djwifi/spies au :DD

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Alya teases, pinning the intruder into a little nook as they both wait out the change of security guarding the mayor’s office.

“Oh?” Nino murmurs, his lips moving against the soft skin of her ear, his hand trailing down the curve of her waist, her hip, only to be stopped by an iron grip as he reaches the loaded holster on her thigh bared by the high slit of her dress, “And how should we be meeting, Rena Rouge?”

Her code name falling from her rival’s lips incites a shiver of excitement at the threat and the promise; she places a kiss at his throat, feeling his pulse pick up and his breath hitch as she purrs, “Pick your poison Carapace: my place, or yours.”

send me a prompt! 

[matcha-fawn]

[matcha-fawn]

[matcha-fawn]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

^^ jon-centric character study about hunger, fear, and generally having a Bad Time :)

if i fail my upcoming exams please blame this man TuT

anywaayyys new fandom new fic and a drawing to go along with it!! i learned HANDS for this everybody...

[matcha-fawn]

febuwhump day 24: forced to beg body horror

"Jon…" Drawn innocently down the skin, tracing the tendons and carving through the pale remnant of a burn, is a narrow line of raised scar tissue. Jon has many scars, practically a map to injury and healing, but this isn't one of his. This shouldn't be there. "Jon, what is that?"

read on ao3! always bite the hand that loves me