#That I'm gonna explode and die and kill

[morsobaby]

I get the feeling like this makes me really wrong and bad and inherently disgusting and is a sign of something bad but I still want it and yearn for it so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so fucking bad

[keeps-ache]

teacher, teacher

[mmortis]

lord make me hold back the urge to genshin theme I would die

[slimyenemy]

it's kinda like i don't know anyone evil af can go and make whatever out of you if you just miss them hard enough and then you'll get defensive about it to the point of just straight up killing someone and then get stuck in some infinite cycle of enabling and validating yourself off some other enablers and memefying and like genuinely romanticizing the hell out of it it's such a weird thing to deal with -_-

[cheeses-degree]

STARTED SENDING IN COLLEGE APPLICATIONS + APPLIED FOR QUESTBRIDGE!!!!! Now if only I could actually work on my EE so I can turn it in on time.

[moe-broey]

I HATE VYVANSE

[dior-luxury]

If you dont mind, i will love to request for the first year students (minus Ortho cuz he is the baby™ and we respect that) with a s/o that tells them that they love them out of nowhere and at random times

Like, both can be just hanging out or even studying together and s/o suddently just look at them with a cute smile and tells them that they love them

Please :3

S/O Tells Them They Love Them Out Of Nowhere

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/slight comedy - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] first years

- [𝐩:𝐬] Romantic Confessions . Mild Language . Blushing/Flustered Characters . Soft Moments/Slice of Life . Unprompted “I love you” Confessions . Emotional Vulnerability . Minor PDA (Kisses on cheek/forehead/lips mentioned) . Heartwarming Overload/Tooth-Rotting Fluff . Sebek Volume Warning (Sebek yells. A lot.)

Note: This request is so cute!! Thank you so much for requesting this anon—now I'm in love with this prompt 😭Honestly, I loved how this turned out (Sebek made me laugh, Lol), and I 100% am going to be making more parts for this!

Ace Trappola

It had started off as an ordinary afternoon—one of those chill days where the sun peeked lazily through the windows of the Heartslabyul common room, casting a warm glow over the floor. Ace was sprawled out across your bed with his arms tucked behind his head, flipping through a deck of cards he had pulled out for fun, while you sat beside him with a book open on your lap, though your attention had been drifting away from the words for a while now.

He was talking about something silly—probably poking fun at Cater’s latest selfie spree or mocking Riddle’s latest “unbirthday party” decorations. His voice had that playful, teasing lilt that always made your lips curl into a smile. You glanced over at him, watching the way his brows danced with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching as if even he couldn’t fully contain his own jokes.

And it just hit you. Like a wave of warmth crashing into your chest.

“I love you,” you said softly, your voice barely above the gentle rustling of the pages in your lap.

Ace blinked. The cards slipped from his fingers and scattered across the blanket, forgotten. “Huh?” he sat up halfway, caught between surprise and disbelief, eyes narrowing playfully. “Where’d that come from?”

You just smiled, shrugging a little. “I don’t know. I just looked at you and... I felt like saying it.”

His mouth opened, like he wanted to throw out a sarcastic reply, something teasing and cool—but it didn’t come. Instead, he looked at you for a second longer, and his usual smirk melted into something softer, something real. His ears turned the faintest shade of red, and he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes like a shy high schooler in a romcom.

“Tch… you can’t just say that outta nowhere, you dork,” he muttered, though there was no bite to his words. “You’re gonna make my heart explode or something.”

You leaned in closer with a grin, resting your head on his shoulder. “Good. Then I’ll say it again. I love you.”

“Ughh, you’re trying to kill me, I swear.” But despite the groan, he slung an arm around you, pulling you in with an exaggerated sigh. “Guess I’ll die happy, though. I love you too, alright? So stop being all cute or I’ll have to kiss you till you forget how to talk.”

And he did, actually—smack dab on your cheek, nose, forehead, lips—everywhere until you were laughing, half-flustered, half-giddy. That night, Ace couldn’t stop randomly blurting out “I love you more” every time you smiled at him, just to fluster you in return.

Deuce Spade

Deuce was always a little tense when he studied—he took his grades seriously, especially after his “delinquent past” days. So when the two of you sat in the library, books and notebooks spread out around you, he was hunched over his notes with his brows scrunched in concentration, muttering formulas under his breath like sacred chants.

You watched him in quiet admiration. The way his lashes lowered as he focused, how his hand moved quickly across the page, how his tongue poked out just a little when he was really trying to work through a problem—it was adorable. You couldn’t help it.

“I love you.”

The words left your lips soft and natural, like a leaf floating on the surface of a still pond.

Deuce blinked once. Then twice.

He slowly looked up from his notebook, pen frozen mid-stroke. “H-Huh? W-What did you say?”

You giggled, resting your chin in your palm as you looked at him with those warm, unfiltered eyes. “I said I love you. Just felt like reminding you.”

His entire face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. A deep crimson blush climbed from his neck to his ears, and he nearly dropped his pen. “W-Wha—you can’t just… drop that on me while I’m doing algebra!”

You laughed again, reaching out to poke his cheek gently. “But your reaction is so cute.”

Deuce groaned into his hands, completely flustered. “Y-You’re really unfair sometimes...”

But he peeked through his fingers at you, and the softest, sweetest smile curved his lips. “I love you too. A lot. I—I mean, like… it just makes me really happy to hear that, even if I get all weird and… yeah.” He was rambling now, but you could feel the sincerity in every word.

A few moments passed. Then, very shyly, he leaned over the table and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll study twice as hard now. I wanna be someone worthy of those words.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat right then.

From that moment on, every time you said “I love you” randomly—during walks, between classes, even when you were both brushing your teeth—Deuce’s whole face would always light up like a firework. And no matter what, no matter how surprised he looked, he always said it back, even if his voice cracked a little from being caught off guard.

Because deep down, it meant the world to him that you loved him, just the way he was.

Jack Howl

It was a quiet afternoon in the Savanaclaw lounge, sunlight streaming in through the windows and casting golden patches across the floor. Jack sat beside you on one of the larger couches, a textbook propped open in his lap while he scribbled notes with furrowed brows. He was always so focused when he studied — sharp eyes scanning the page, tail occasionally twitching in concentration. You’d been flipping through your own notes, not really absorbing the words, more focused on the soft, peaceful aura around him.

You looked up from your notebook and rested your chin on your hand, just watching him. His ears flicked slightly, clearly noticing your gaze, but he didn’t look up right away. He was too used to your presence — comfortable, secure.

You smiled softly, the kind of smile that came from a full heart.

“I love you, Jack,” you said, your voice quiet but warm, like a summer breeze.

His pen stopped mid-word. Slowly, his head turned to look at you, those pale green eyes widening just slightly. “Huh?” he asked, blinking like you’d snapped him out of a trance.

“I said I love you,” you repeated, still smiling. “Just felt like telling you.”

Jack’s ears turned a little pink at the tips, and a faint flush spread across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and looked away for a second, trying to hide the tail wag he couldn’t quite stop. “You can’t just say that out of nowhere like that…” he muttered, ears twitching. “You’ll catch me off guard.”

“But I like saying it when you least expect it,” you said, leaning a little closer to bump your shoulder against his.

He glanced at you again, the corner of his mouth quirking up despite his efforts to stay composed. “Yeah, well… I like hearing it. Even if it throws me off.”

You grinned and leaned your head on his shoulder, and he adjusted his posture so you could rest there more comfortably. After a long pause, you heard him mumble — so quiet it could’ve been mistaken for a breath — “I love you too.”

And even though he returned to his textbook soon after, the way his tail curled around your ankle said it all.

Epel Felmier

The two of you were sitting under a big apple tree just outside the school gates. Epel had insisted you come with him to his favorite quiet spot — away from the noise of the dorms, where the air smelled fresh and the breeze danced through the leaves like a soft melody. He had a knife in hand, carefully peeling one of the apples he’d picked just for you, brows furrowed in concentration.

You watched him, utterly charmed by how focused he looked, how gentle his hands were despite the sharp blade. You reached out and touched his knee lightly to get his attention.

He blinked and looked up. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You shook your head, smiling up at him with that bright, sincere expression he could never quite prepare himself for. “I love you, Epel.”

He nearly dropped the apple.

His eyes went wide and a sharp flush bloomed across his cheeks and ears. “Wha—?! W-Where’d that come from?!”

You just shrugged, grinning. “I wanted to say it. I love you.”

Epel opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words fast enough. He stared at you like you’d knocked the wind out of him — as if those simple words meant more than a thousand grand gestures. He turned his head quickly, ears burning. “You can’t just go around sayin’ stuff like that outta nowhere! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!”

“But it’s true,” you said, giggling as you leaned into his side. “I love you. Even when you’re blushing like a tomato.”

“I ain’t blushin’!” he huffed, but his hand twitched before he awkwardly reached over and grabbed yours. His fingers were a little shaky, but he held on tight.

“…I love you too,” he mumbled, voice low and soft, like it was meant only for you. “Even if you say it when I least expect it… I ain’t ever gonna get tired of hearin’ it.”

He finished peeling the apple and offered it to you, trying to act cool despite his still-burning ears. You took it happily, giving him a kiss on the cheek that made his blush flare right back up again.

And he knew in that moment — with the apple trees swaying and your laughter beside him — that he’d never want anything else but this.

Sebek Zigvolt

The library was unusually quiet that day — well, even more so than usual. You and Sebek were tucked away in one of the far corners of the library, seated at a heavy wooden table stacked with textbooks, scrolls, and your combined notes from Professor Trein’s most recent lecture. Sebek sat rigidly across from you, pen moving with exact precision as he muttered formulas under his breath, brows furrowed in focus.

“It is vital that I maintain my grades for the sake of Lord Malleus’ honor!” he’d proclaimed earlier, thumping his chest with such intensity that half the dorm had turned to look. You were just happy to study with him — even if his dedication bordered on theatrical.

You were supposed to be reviewing your charms notes, but instead… you found yourself watching him. His hair glinted under the soft lantern light, and his eyes, fierce and serious, flickered across the page like a soldier reading a battlefield map. He looked so intense, so Sebek — and for a moment, your heart swelled so full of affection, it felt like it might burst.

So you leaned your elbow on the table, tilted your head slightly, and let the softest smile curve your lips.

“I love you, Sebek.”

His pen snapped in half.

He jolted back in his chair with such dramatic force that the back legs almost lifted off the ground, green eyes wide as dinner plates. “WH-WHAT?! You—YOU—!!” he sputtered, one hand clapped over his chest like he’d just taken a blow to the heart.

You blinked innocently. “I said I love you.”

“OUT OF NOWHERE?!” he barked, flushing so deeply that the tips of his ears glowed red. “I—W-WHAT COULD POSSIBLY COMPEL YOU TO UTTER SUCH WORDS WHEN WE’RE IN THE MIDST OF STUDYING?!”

You just giggled, leaning forward. “Because I was looking at you… and I realized I really love you. So I said it. That’s all.”

Sebek’s jaw worked for a moment, like his mind was trying to buffer. He looked down at the ruined remains of his pen and then back at you, flustered beyond belief. “Y-You cannot… you mustn’t say such things so suddenly! I-I am a knight! A guardian of the great Lord Malleus! I must remain vigilant, composed, and… and—!!”

His voice softened at the end, the panic in his expression melting into something far more tender. He looked away, shoulders stiff but trembling slightly as he gripped the edge of the table.

“…But…” he muttered, voice almost too low to hear, “…I suppose… there is no harm… in expressing your affections. Especially when they are… directed at me…”

You smiled again, resting your chin in your hand as you watched him squirm.

“Say it again,” he blurted suddenly, eyes still averted.

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I said…!” His voice cracked slightly. “…Say it again. Just one more time.”

You leaned closer, soft and slow like a breeze brushing through the trees. “I love you, Sebek.”

This time, he didn’t shout. He didn’t flail. He simply stared at the table, his face glowing red as he gripped the edge like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. And then, after a few seconds, he nodded—almost imperceptibly—but with the seriousness of a knight taking a vow.

“I… I love you as well,” he said, firm and proud. “More than any mere declaration can express.”

You could tell it took everything in him to say that aloud, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart melt.

Later that day, as you were leaving the library together, he awkwardly offered his hand to you — and though he tried to act composed, his fingers trembled ever so slightly when yours slipped into his. He didn’t say another word about your random confession… but he walked beside you all the way back to Ramshackle in complete silence, lips pressed into the smallest, most bashful smile you’d ever seen.

[wispitty]

(short reacts) | "you confess when you're totally shitfaced drunk" + one piece men

summary: you had WAY past your drinking limit and now you're just exploding with LOVE for him.

characters: crocodile, mihawk, marco, ace, shanks, law, corazon

CROCODILE

You’re swaying in his arms, eyes glossy, cheek pressed against his chest.

“Croco-babyyy…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I LOVE you.”

He goes rigid.

You grab the front of his shirt.

“Like SOOO much. Like, if someone tried to stab you, I'd bite them. Right on the ankle.”

You squint.

“Your scary lil hook hand is soooo cool, I love it. You're my favorite angry man.”

He malfunctions. Literally just stares at you like you're an alien who dropped from heaven.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm in loveeeeeeee!”

You pass out mid-hug.

He just stands there. Frozen.

Mutters:

“...What the hell am I supposed to do with that.”

(Spoiler: He tucks you in and sits there watching you sleep like a guard dog with heartburn.)

MIHAWK

You cling to his arm like a koala. You’re warm and soft and talking a mile a minute.

“You’re sooo handsome. Like, it’s RUDE actually. I have to look away sometimes cause you’re too hot and I feel like I’m gonna die.”

He blinks.

“You’re intoxicated.”

“I’m INTO YOU.”

He blinks again.

You poke his chest with a pout.

“Do you know how annoying it is to like someone who looks like a vampire prince and has very judgmental eyebrows?”

He raises one.

“THAT.”

Then you melt into his coat and sigh.

“I love you sooooooo much… If you asked me to run away and start a farm I’d do it. For you. I'd plant cucumbers.”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

MARCO

You climb into his lap like a sleepy kitten.

“Marrrrrrcooooo…”

“Yeah, baby?”

You press your forehead to his.

“I love you SO much it’s dumb. Like, I wanna kiss your face and also cry and also buy you matching socks.”

He laughs softly.

“That’s a lotta feelings, huh?”

“It’s not my fault your smile makes me feel like life is worth living.”

He actually covers his face because holy shit that one got to him.

“I’m gonna fucking die, yoi.”

“Noooo you’re not, I love you too much. I won’t let you die. I’ll protect you with SOCKS.”

You fall asleep on him mid-rant.

He kisses your hair and whispers:

“You’re killin’ me, songbird.”

ACE

You run up to him and tackle-hug him.

“ACE I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY!!”

“Wha—?!! Are you okay?!”

“I’m in love with you.”

“YOU’RE WHAT?!”

“Like a lot. Like, if you turned into a plant I’d water you.”

He’s already spiraling. Red. Stammering. Sweating.

“I—uh—what?! When?! Why?!!”

“Cause you’re cute and warm and you make my tummy do loop-de-loops.”

“SO DO YOU!!! WAIT—NO—WHAT AM I SAYING?!”

“Okay, wait, but would you love me if I was a worm?”

You both pass out cuddling under a table with Ace going into specific details about he'd take care of you if you were a worm and how you'd take care of him if he was a plant.

Sabo finds you both crying and whispers:

“Idiots. They deserve each other.”

SHANKS

You stumble in. Red-faced. Teary-eyed. Drunk on rum and love.

“Shanks…”

“Here we go…”

You grab his coat.

“I’m gonna say something crazy.”

“Hit me.”

“I’m in love with you. Like, I’d kill a seagull for you.”

“...That’s a weird standard but I’ll take it.”

“And I think your laugh is sexy. And your scars are cool. And your nose is NICE. And I’d marry you. Right now.”

He pauses.

Smiles.

“Say it again tomorrow when you’re sober, sweetheart.”

“Okay. But you’re mine now.”

“Deal. By the way, what’s your ring size?”

LAW

You shuffle in with a flushed face and a stuffed penguin.

“Trafalgaaaar…”

“Don’t slur my name.”

“I love you.”

He looks up from his book like you just summoned an ancient evil.

“Excuse me?”

“So much. You’re smart. And hot. And I like your hands. And your voice. And if you died I’d start a cult.”

“...A what.”

“A cult. With matching outfits. And hats.”

“You’re fevered.”

“I’m in love.”

You lean on his shoulder and then pass out on his lap.

He doesn’t move for two hours.

CORAZON

You run into him mid-giggle.

“ROSINANTEEEE!!”

He flails.

You grab his face and kiss his cheek.

“You are the love of my LIFE. Your laugh is cute. Your coat is STUPID but I LOVE IT. I love YOU.”

He goes full tomato. Tears are already streaming down his face.

You write “I’D DIE FOR YOU” on a sticky note and slap it to his chest.

Then immediately fall asleep in his arms.

He’s crying and hugging you and writing down “I LOVE YOU TOO” over and over and over.

He genuinely just loves you so much.

[yandere-wishes]

｡ ₊°༺ Pink Pony Club ༻°₊ ｡

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Yandere! Dr Phosphorus x Reader ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

⋆.𝄞𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓟𝓸𝓷𝔂 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫 𝓑𝔂 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓡𝓸𝓪𝓷𝄞˚.⋆

✮★✮ Oh Mama, I'm just having fun, on the stage in my heels it's where I belong, down at the Pink Pony Club, I'm gonna keep on dancing at the Pink Pony Club. ✮★✮

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He lets the music roll over him, allowing the drums to melt over his flames and bleed into the marrow of his black bones. When you dance, you have to focus on the turn out of each step, on the wave of your arms, when to stiffen when to loosen. It makes it all so easy to forget the pain of being constantly on fire. To forget the melancholy that festers inside you. When the adrenaline is this high, you can only make out the strobing neon lights and the dazed amusement of the crowd.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ It's hard to hate the music and the lights, to shy away from a crowd so easily fascinated by the gleeful macabre. It's really the most sanity-inducing thing you can cling to when your body has turned into the thing you once loved. When you've become your research after watching your old self die in a furnace at the hands of those who once wielded all the power in the world. Funny how we make our own monsters, funny how the thing that kills us, is nothing more than the very man we once tried to kill, now engulfed by his own invention. Phosphorus spins, left leg, right leg, jump, and twirl.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The dancing, the music, the clapping, the lights, it's all so perfect for melting away the terrible things that slither inside him, to burn away all those good memories until the kill and the luxury are all the remains. It's getting just too easy to forget his son's face, to forget the smile his wife gave him on their wedding day.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's a moment between moments when the world seems to stop. It's only then that he notices you, or rather notices what you're wearing. It's the dress he thinks, pink like the mushroom clouds he'd once adored, like the sunset framing devastation. Or maybe it's the way you have your hair so cruelly tied. Tight circle above your head like an atom waiting to explode. In a flash it's over, someone is handing him a drink. Another sitting on his lap. And he's thrust harshly back into reality, back to a world of trying to forget.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus is and always will be a man of logic. A man of science. He lets his fingers glide over the stack of pristine hundred-dollar bills. To think he'd spent his whole life begging for a quarter of all of this. Begging for scraps of funding to save the lives of thousands. It had all been so important once. Still, he can't help but let his mind wonder, what could he build with all of this? What could he solve, discover, create? He tells his men to lock it up in the safe, he's not ready to go back to all of that just yet.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The next time Phosphorus sees you, he's half sunken into the plush couch of the VIP lounge. It's been a long day, a long tough day. Everything had gone wrong and all so right in the same breath. This time your dress is the shade of clouds marred by the blood of a dying sun. He should know this shade from the history books he'd used to read, the shade of skylines behind ancient temples. Back then he'd been trying to understand. Understand what he's not quite sure, he'd been so desperate to pry every little answer from the world. To chew their solutions, breaking them with his teeth and spitting out his own variation, his own thesis. He'd been so utterly convinced of his own intellect, convinced that reading Saadi at the same time as the latest research paper on Nuclear decay meant understanding the world.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He watched with staunch fascination as you tried to dance. Following your friend's steps, heels stepping awkwardly completely out of tune. You bend your knees, sinking to the floor. And Phosphorus can't think of any excuses for why his cheeks feel hotter than usual. Why his eyes are permanently affixed to the sway of your arms.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He thinks you look just like nuclear fission dancing in the limelight with your friends. Like you've split your own body to create them. Little atomic nucleus dancing under his microscope. You look perfect, your toned legs amplified by the radioactive pink of your heels. Long neck he'd love to kiss decorated with a thin string of gold. You don't look a thing like the other girls at the lounge, you look like an experiment beckoning him, seducing him into cutting you open, and observing how you explode.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's been following you keenly, trying to see what happens next. It's the fourth week in a row that he's forgotten about dancing for the crowd, about the girls who used to hang off his arms. He's too devoted to this experiment. "Nuclear scientist finds atomic bomb inside ancient temple from the bronze age". Phosphorus examines the sway of your hips, the bob of your head, and the crude kicks of your legs. There's something wrong with those heels, they're too thin, too high, inviting everyone to stare at you. But he's quick to shove them away, circling you from afar. He can't let anyone tamper with his experimentation. Certain matter performs differently when it knows it's being observed. So he allows the notion of invisibility, making you feel unobserved, safe in your own ignorance.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He hasn't felt this alive in years. This ecstasy tastes utterly sweet, pure saccharine. It's the same thrill as watching your particles stabilize after days of trying to find the right frequency. Watching them organize into the right motion. And isn't that what you are? An ionized atom. After all, what is dancing if not ionization, if not trying to lose a part of yourself you can no longer bear?

⋆☠︎︎⋆ He's late tonight, rivals had somehow bled in and were after the safe from Phosphorus' newest heist. He'd burned them to a crisp and danced on their ashes until they flew away. But that doesn't change the fact that he's late, too late in fact. When he rushes through the door, men nervously run behind him. His eyeless sockets fall upon an uttermost dreary sight...

⋆☠︎︎⋆ The problem with people is that they never truly appreciate beauty. They treat it as if it's something to conquer something to tame. They never bother to understand it, to study it from afar whispering prayers of gratitude for bearing witness to this new discipline. The man's body is too close to yours, head following your lips, as you awkwardly try to sidestep. The moment you try to flee he grabs your wrist. You scream, no one ever hears screaming through the bass and the rhythm.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ There's smoke in your eyes, sickly-sweet honey in the back of your throat. It's all too acrid but at least the hand assaulting your wrist subsides. The thing in front of you glows green, an acidic neon green that feels too familiar in shade. You watch as the skeleton seizes your shoulders, such a warm touch hearthlike in every way. He pulls you closer till all you can smell is null and all you can feel is smothering warmth.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never quite quiver under his touch, never fully shy away when he cups your jaw and tilts your head. It's like you want the radiation, want to feel his nuclear essence bleeding into you. Maybe then you'll be whole. Maybe then neither of you will need the music, and the lights, and the crowd to feel whole.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ You never belonged in the clubs, it was painfully obvious you could never mold to their dances, their music. Your heels never fit right. Phosphorous knows he's been trying to do the very same for all so long. Neither of you needed to kill off your electrons, to throw them away to ignorant nobodies who would sooner hurt you for their own voracious motivations. "Give me your electrons and I'll give you mine." Phosphorus tucks your head into the crux of his shoulder, "I'll fuse with you so you'll never need anyone else."

⋆☠︎︎⋆ Phosphorus' hands mirror yours, swaying overhead before falling lower like the cascade of a wave. Side step, side step, stop, and bend. He thinks this is better than any club, any choreography he could do by himself. He feels so whole dancing only for your eyes. He feels so happy having you dance only for his eyes. Your palms touch as you circle slowly. Dancing like the airy rotation of electrons. There's no more dancing at the Pink Pony Club.

⋆☠︎︎⋆ What do you call a dance that feels like merging two atoms? What do you call it when your heart feels like the denotation of a bomb? He presses his lips to yours slowly, feeling the nuclei crash, a nuclear reaction, his tongue hum between your teeth endeavoring to melt away your fear. His fingers, dance across your hips heating up, leaving burning hearts and hand prints, claiming you as his, making you death just like him.

Lost the request for this but thank you so so much to the sender!! 💞💋💞💋

[simmplerussiangirl]

The Fugitive

Ambessa Medarda x The Reader

Synopsis: It's very simple. You're Ambressa's wife and you were afraid you could kill her with your magic. So you ran away from the capital. It's about what happened after that

Word count: 1.2k

Author: Sorry, I'm really crazy about magic and Ambessa.

Three weeks ago during your training with Ambressa, you couldn't do anything. Your magic, your legs, your arms weren't working, it was like someone had replaced you. And so when you were once again working with a new spell, you couldn't hold the magic in your hands, and a large ball of pure energy exploded in your hands. It didn't hurt you, because your magic is an extension of you and it can't hurt you.

 But Ambresse... The woman managed to cover herself with her shield and didn't get badly wounded. But the magic hit her arm. You instantly ran over to her as you recovered from the shock. Her left arm was bleeding, and the cuts were in the shape of the runes you'd drawn so diligently in the air a couple minutes before.

« It's okay, Witchy « the girl wheezed and leaned on her other arm to stand up, drops of blood falling from her hand to the floor. « It's okay, I'm not going to die from these scratches. Don't worry, you didn't hurt me badly and the runes didn't go deep under my skin. You just cut my skin. Don't worry.»

 But I just watched in silence, unable to say anything. The thought flashed through your mind of what would have happened if Ambressa had been standing there without her shield as usual. Would you have killed her? Most likely.

 That night you fled the capital, hoping to shield your beloved wife from yourself and your magic. But, of course, you were found and brought back.

Now you enter Ambressa's office, where she has been negotiating with her people about the war. Your heart sinks as she throws the warriors out of the room she was talking to in a cold and menacing voice. As the men left the room not forgetting to bow to you and Ambessa, the woman stood up from the table and walked around it. Leaning her hips against it in front of you, she folded her arms across her chest. You could feel waves of displeasure from the girl, and she didn't even try to hide it. For a while, you were both silent. You because you were insanely ashamed of what you had done. She because she was waiting for your excuses.

 You looked at the hand you'd wounded and saw the scattering of rune scars and breathed heavily, raising your gaze to her eyes.

« I was scared» you swallowed and hugged yourself to your shoulders, trying to pull yourself together «scared that I might accidentally kill you with my magic. You're very lucky you had your shield on that day. If you hadn't, it probably would have ended very badly.»

 I lowered my eyes to the floor, unable to find the strength to look into her eyes, where you could see the depths of worry and boundless love.

« Villains can't have family and happiness. I knew that, but I hoped it wouldn't affect us, but it did.»

«You're not a villain» Ambressa said in a steady voice, not trying to comfort, but rather stating it as a fact.

« I almost killed you!»

«But you didn't.»

«But I could» I cringed even more at the thought of it «that's why I left, because I don't want to. I can't live with the idea that I've done you irreparable harm. Now you've led with your hand, but what if.... If next time it doesn't work out.»

 Ambressa was silent and only watched you standing by the door like a little battered kitten who doesn't know what to do.

«You can run around as long as you like. But I'm gonna find you wherever you are. I'll find you and I'll bring you back home to me. You're my wife, my responsibility and I won't let you think you're evil. Even if you destroy the entire Earth, I'll find a million excuses for you and make everyone believe it. Let alone the fact that you hurt me a little while you were practicing. It's just a scratch and you couldn't have hurt me worse.”

 Ambressa moved around the room like a predator. Her steps were slow and measured. Her arms were folded across her chest as she sat down on the couch near the fireplace. The fire danced across her face, making her features look more and more menacing. The girl didn't look at me, which made my heart whimper.

 She certainly was not angry now. She was never angry with you. Was displeased or pissed off, but not angry. At the moment her heart was gripped by anxiety. A vice gripping her heart at even the phantom possibility of losing you. She was terrified that one morning she would wake up and realize you were gone again. The thought alone made her clench her eyes, trying to push such a thing away from her.

«But...»

« No buts.»  Ambressa said it in a tone after which there could be no arguments. She cut off any doubts, causing a flame of hope and boundless love to erupt inside you. Seeing you slump your tense shoulders, the girl smiled and spread her arms, inviting you into her strong, warm embrace. «Come to me, my Witch.»

 And you came. Of course you did. Almost running, you threw yourself into her arms, wrapping both arms around her waist and hiding from the world in her neck. You greedily inhaled the pleasant scent of the girl's perfume mixing with her natural odor. It was such a familiar scent that you had missed so much in a couple of weeks that it seemed that if you hadn't heard it for a couple more days, you would have gone crazy.

 Ambressa's hand stroked your back in a soothing gesture. She kissed the top of your head a couple times and turned back to the fire, glad to have you around again. The demons inside her calmed down, no longer lashing out, wanting to kill anyone who looked at her the wrong way. The creatures quieted, and Ambressa sank into the long-awaited calm, clutching you to her.

 You, in turn, clutched her clothes in your hands, afraid to open your eyes and not see your beloved. At such an action on your part, Ambressa laughed a little, admiring your childish behavior.

«Have you had enough of running?» she whispered into the top of your head between kisses.

 You didn't say a word, but nodded affirmatively, drew your legs closer, and turned to the fire.

«You won't run away again?»  Ambressa's hand gently tousled your disheveled hair.

«Never again in your life.» You whispered, and rested your head on her shoulder, moving it slightly, like a cat wanting to be petted. « I thought I was going to die without you... I missed you so much. Waking up every day and not seeing you, not hearing your voice, not feeling your touch - it's my hell...»

« I love you.» You continued after a little silence. «More than anyone else in this world.»

 The clan head moved her hand to your shoulder and pressed you against her. Her heart ached pleasantly at your warm words, she literally melted when you told her how you felt.

«Me too, Witchy, me too.»

Thanks for reading. If there are any comments I accept criticism in a mild form. Don't break my heart :)

[mizuribbons]

WEEEHHHHH love rui being a gayass boyfail

LOOK AT HIM!!! /vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvVVVVVVpos

happy pocky day

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter twelve

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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Sticky and wet. Your pants are sticky and wet. 

Pulling your panties up while still damp was a big mistake, you think as you walk back through the restaurant. The water you spilled in the restroom is all down your ass and is quickly cooling to an uncomfortable temperature, not to mention the absolute mess of cum and spit that's currently in the gusset of your panties-

And yet none of it manages to ruin your mood. 

Really, you should feel bad. Guilty, at the very least. You should be feeling bad about doing this to Touya, doing this in a public fucking space--

But, you don’t. Not in the slightest. No, you feel good. Better than you have in a very long time. There’s a levity in your step that you don't think you've ever had. It takes effort to tamp down your smile as you slide back into the table, adjusting your hair just in case. Your whole body is buzzing with post orgasm bliss, but you can't let Hizashi know that. 

“Oh my god, there you are!”  Hizashi slams his hands down and groans. “I thought you got lost!”

You never even got to pee. That’s a bit of a bummer, but you think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Fuck, you’ll never pee again if that's the alternative.

“There was a line,” you dismiss. God, you need to cum more often. This is great. Maybe you can masturbate tonight when you get back to the hotel room-

A tingle thrills up your spine as you remember the fact that you won't be alone tonight. No, Aizawa is coming back with you, putting that talented fucking mouth of his to good use. You should have tried this years ago; it certainly would have made work more tolerable. It would have made Aizawa more tolerable too.

 Fuck, you wish you could tell Hizashi that he was right; having fun is great. You had almost forgotten that being in love could be fun. 

Not that you're in love. That would be criminally insane. You're just high off of post orgasmic bliss. 

“Where did Aizawa go?” you ask, casually. Hizashi quirks a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Taking a call. Manufacturing had an issue, apparently.” 

“Again?” 

Manufacturing is always having an issue; it comes with the territory for biomedical companies. Production of the products is actually outsourced, including the computer chips needed for the bed. Most of the time, issues can be dealt with internally, but there are also times that it has to be elevated all the way to engineering. It’s a good lie, in theory, but Aizawa is going to have to explain why they are contacting a lead engineer and not someone lower on the food chain.

“Um,” you shift in your seat. The excitement inside you needs to come out or else you might explode.  “I got a text from the guy from last night.” 

“Shut up-- that’s why you were gone so long, huh? Sexting in the bathroom?”

Oh, he’d die if he knew the truth. Absolutely die.

“We weren’t sexting.” Not a lie! “But, I think I'm going to invite him over to my room tonight.”

Hizashi tilts his head down so he can look at you from over his glasses. It's a very Nemuri move, complete with her little smirk. 

“Are you gonna just make out again, or…?”

You tap your heels against the floor.

“No,” you hum, as innocently as possible. 

“No?”

“No, I--” Oh, you have to literally bite your tongue to kill your smile. It's like being sixteen again, giddy and giggly over nothing-  “I think I wanna do more.”

With a mouth like that, you might just let Aizawa do whatever he wants. Hell, you had asked to go slow, but now that you've had a taste, you don't know if you can keep the brakes on. You had forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, to be craved, to be touched… and Shouta seems determined to give you everything you need. 

 Hizashi physically reacts by grabbing the table and shaking it with a slack jawed amazement.

“Yes! Yes!” You have to grab your drink and Aizawa to stop them from spilling, but you're laughing all the while. “Good for you!”

“Hizashi, the waters!”

“Who is this guy?” Hizashi asks. “Is he cute? Is he nice?”

Is Aizawa cute? Not really. He's more… handsome than cute. Hardened, but soft. And he's certainly not nice. In fact, you’d label him as very not nice. Mean, even. Though, he did get you that sandwich this morning, which was really sweet. And he has those cats, which makes him a little softer than you first imagined-

“He's okay, I guess,” you settle on. 

Hizashi nods, a bit too solemn. It sets you on edge, the way he clams up as he watches you, eyeing up and down over and over. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he thinks.

“Shut up.”  He leans in on his elbows, sternly.  “It's Shouta, isn't it?”

Don't panic. You're pinned down, like a bug under glass, but you can't panic. Luckily, your brain is still stupidly swimming, so you're able to fight your institution and just stare back at him with what you hope is a bewildered glare.

“What.”

The man leans back and scoffs, then scoffs again, louder. His hand lies over his heart as if you've slapped him, indignant. The restaurant suddenly isn’t loud enough; you need the music to be turned up or for the crowd to get thicker to hide what’s about to come out of this man’s mouth.

“Oh my god, it's totally him! You’re totally boning!” 

Fuck. Double fuck. 

“I mean, you both just disappeared at the same time-”  Hizashi jolts up mid sentence. “Did you guys just fuck in the bathroom?! Oh my god, good for you! Is he good? He’s gotta be good-”

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. The room might be closing in on you actually. It's time to do what you do worst: lie. You push away from the table with a snort, lip curled up the way Aizawa's does.

“That's disgusting , Hizashi.” Oh, there’a vitriol in that. You almost smile out of pride, but you keep your cool. You have to-- you can't ruin this thing between you before it's even really started. “In a bathroom? With him? I'd rather die.” 

Your charade doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Oh, come on-” he laughs. “You're telling me you two don't have something going on? You both just magically found other people last night?”

“I wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth,” you insist.  “Aizawa is awful! Awful! Why would I ever-?”

A figure looms over you. “What did I walk into?”

Triple fuck. From someone who stomps most of the time, Aizawa certainly has a quiet step today. You swivel around, trying to flash a panicked look. Somehow, Aizawa seems to understand. His brow flickers up for a brief second, then returns to the usual unimpressed spot. Should you be worried that the two of you have figured out lying this easily? Usually, Touya just lies to you, not with you.

“Hizashi thinks we're sleeping together.” You wave a hand dismissively. You hope that no one else notices that Aizawa’s face is noticeably damp-- freshly washed.

“Ugh.” He rolls his head back as if he’s been slapped, sliding into the seat beside Hizashi. His foot bumps against you and you question if it’s on purpose. Is.. was that his good leg? Or the bad one? Maybe he’s kicking you accidentally.  “Her? What's wrong with you?”

Oh, ouch. That. Huh.

Logically, you know it’s just part of the lie you’ve started, but it still somehow stings. Rejection, even fake rejection, makes you ache. It falls too close to home, too close to Touya. (Not that you’re thinking about Touya tonight. No-- you’re allowing yourself to have fun. You’re forgetting him the same way he’s probably forgotten about you--)

 Swallowing down your pride, you adjust yourself in your seat, pulling on your still soaked pants-

“You aren't a prize either.” Again, your own bite surprises you. “I've been dealing with your shitty attitude for years and-”

“My shitty attitude? You're the one who stomps around when your boyfriend gets fired.”

Your jaw falls slack. Okay, you should be offended, but… there’s an edge of something attractive in the way his dark eyes narrow. The grit to his voice reminds you of moments ago, how he talks to you when you’re alone-

“That’s rich.” You’re watching his face. Oh, that sting? It’s changed. Now, there’s a simmering want inside you, begging to be fed. You need him mad, need him angry, need him riled up- “Where’s your girlfriend?”

There’s a freeze. Both men have mirrored expressions of surprise. Aizawa blinks, then tightens his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You lift your glass and pretend to inspect the liquid inside.  “You’ve been single since I’ve met you.”

Stunned, Hizashi opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. He bends over the table with a glowering expression, those dark eyes boring into you. It reminds you of the fights you two had in office, but now that expression thrills you instead of terrifies.

“Oh, fuck you,” he seethes. “Sorry that I’m not whoring myself over the office with the interns.”

Oh, you kind of want to suck his cock right now. Obviously, you’ve always had a thing for red flags, but this is kind of ridiculous. He must have done something fucking magical or satanic to you pussy to make you act like this. Are you acting insane? You might be acting insane.

“Excuse me?” you ask through your teeth.

Oh, he’s riled up now, his eyes narrowed into slits. “ I saw those bruises you sucked into Kaminari.”

That steals a genuine laugh from you. Is that a genuine concern for him? You certainly hope not; Denki is… well, he’s Denki. He’s a sweet guy in his own regard, but you wouldn’t touch him with  a ten foot pole. He’s young and, clearly, you prefer older guys.

(Huh. That’s a new revelation for you. Touya is your age, but… There’s something unbelievably sexy about the grey at Aizawa’s temple, the wrinkles next to his eyes-)

“You think I’m fucking that kid? Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, you hope he does. You hope he absolutely ruins you. 

“Fuck-”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi interrupts you, arms spread as if keeping you both from leaping over the table. “You people! What happened to the truce?”

“You happened!” 

Somehow the rest of dinner goes well. Hizashi makes sure the conversation steers towards work and his plans for the night. You do have to give the wait staff an extra big tip-- Hizashi may have said ‘butt plug’ a bit too loudly for the poor guy’s comfort.  

Occasionally, Shouta looks your way. He ponders a bit too long on your features, has a bit too much of a smile on his face. His leg bumps against your again, a silent reminder that he’s there. Honestly, thank god that Hizashi was convinced by your lies, because this man is being obvious.

And frankly, you’re living for it. 

You’re still vibrating with excitement by the time you all leave together. He’s coming back to your room tonight, coming back for more. You might be getting addicted to this feeling, addicted to being wanted, to cumming on someone’s tongue-

Maybe you should throw caution to the wind and fuck him.

Oh, that thought sends a chill up your spine. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled. Sex always came with anxiety before, but now, you might be excited. Especially when Aizawa’s cock seems so fucking thick-

“You all ready for tomorrow?” Hizashi’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. God, you’re worse than him! One orgasm and you’ve devolved into a needy pervert. 

Aizawa groans, pressing his thumbs into his temples. The hotel lobby buzzes with life as you all enter. The tiles seems to get more dazzling at night, blue illuminated by the dangling chandeliers and air of excitement. 

 “No. It’s going to be a long night.”

Hizashi elbows his friend’s side. “No mysterious girl for you tonight, huh? Too busy studying?”

Aizawa is starkly quiet for a long moment, mouth screwed tight as if the question upset him. You almost worry that he’s considering it-- that he’s going to go back to his room  without you, and dread sets into your bones. The need has already built back up inside you, anticipation tingling all the way to your fingers. It’s a little alarming, how quickly you’ve gotten addicted to the idea of fucking him, to cumming with him-

Aizawa shrugs away your worries. “I’ll find time.”

Internally, you cheer.

“Aw, you dog. Now- Do I need to supervise you two?” Hizashi teases as he turns on his heel, walking backwards into the hall.  “Escort you to your rooms so you don’t murder each other in the elevator?”

“I think we’ll manage,” you say as you press the button. Hizashi leaves and the two of you are left in silence.

The elevator door rumbles closed behind you two after you both set in. Aizawa shifts back against the wall with a sigh, barely audible over the gentle muzak. He looks tired, but in a different way than usual: a gentle, content exhaustion, one that wears well on his features, but doesn’t deepen the creases on his brow. It suits him much more than the usual, miserable look he has. 

“I should stop by my room before-” Aizawa starts.

You press off of the wall and close the distance between you. It doesn't matter what he was going to say, because you weren't going to listen anyway. Instead, you press yourself up on to your toes and catch his lips mid sentence, moving fast and sure enough that you catch him completely off guard. You can feel his surprise in his inward gasp as you force him back against the cold steel wall. There's a moment of hesitation -shock, you realize gleefully- before he caves into you, hands on your waist dragging you in until your hips press against his. 

The quiet gives you space to enjoy the tiny moments he gives you: the hitch in his breath when you hold him tighter, the rumble in his chest when your teeth close around his lower lip, the sound of fabric against fabric as his hands drift lower and his hands grip your ass- 

“You really piss me off,” he mumbles into you. “You get off on lying, don’t you?”

Only with him, you think. Only with you. The door dings open and you loosen your grip, but Aizawa holds firm, holds tight. 

“Aizawa,” you mumble into his lips, but he just keeps going. “Ai-”

Another peck shuts you up for a moment. 

“Shouta!”

Finally, he reacts and lets you go, his touch trailing on you for just a moment longer. You have to jut out an arm to stop the door from closing again.

“Listen-”  he exhales. “I am going to my room. I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, then come to you. Okay?”

More than okay. Perfect. Excellent. Ideal. 

“Okay.” You try to play it cool, but his nose wrinkles in delight at the tremble in your voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

 Stepping out of the elevator, you glance behind one last time. It feels like you should say something, give him a goodbye, but instead you just watch the doors close in silence. His eyes never leave you, staring with a silent, hungering desire.

You might have to fuck him. 

Back in your room, you do the same as him. You brush your teeth, rinse the day off of your body, and contemplate yourself in the fogged reflection of the mirror. The buzzing in your skin is either anxiety or excitement, maybe a bit of both, but you can’t stop riding the high that comes with them. Being wanted feels good, too good, impossibly good- so good that you’re afraid it’s about to be taken away.

Logically, it will be. This… thing must have a terminating point somewhere. There’s no possible way that the two of you continue this into the workplace, is there? Everything ends at some point, everyone leaves eventually-

No. Focus. Have fun. Focus on having fun.

You didn’t pack any perfume, so you hope the hotel body wash smells alluring enough. Your hair still looks okay enough that you don’t need to bother styling it- but you still try to, just a bit. It’s normal to want to look nice, to smell soft, to be soft, but there’s also an embarrassment to wanting to be pretty. You hadn’t felt it before, but now, you’re suddenly concerned about the curves of your body and how it sits differently than you want. He’s seen most of you before, and yet you’re now caught up in the imperfections. Which underwear did you pack again? Nothing sexy, that’s for sure. Only skin tone bras too. Fuck-- you don’t actually know if you own anything enticing. 

Do you even own anything sexy?

What clothes should you even wear for him anyway? I’d be strange to put your clothes back on, right? What about pajamas? What will he be wearing? Hopefully not that fucking yellow sweatshirt he works in. You find yourself pacing around the room in only your towel, tidying up and trying to decide what the best option is. Maybe just a shirt? Like Winnie the Pooh?

No, that’s stupid. Ugh, you wish you were someone like Nemuri, someone bold and sexy and confident--

What would Nemuri do?

The dreaded knock at the door stocks you from your worry. You make a quick decision; turning out all of the lights, you tiptoe to the front door and peer out the peephole. Yes, it’s him, dressed in a simple white shirt, dark hair freshly washed. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but perhaps on the brink of anxious. 

Why would he be nervous? The thought makes you giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as jittery as you are over this-

But you doubt it.

Before you lose your nerve, you open the door, still in your towel. Aizawa’s eyes widen just a bit, then narrow with a keen excitement.

“Am I too early?” he teases.

“No,” you reply, “Just in time.”

And you let your towel drop.

A beat passes before he reacts. Aizawa’s jaw literally drops. Before you can revel in the satisfaction, he’s crowding you again, hands ghosting over your body as if he can’t decide where to touch first. His shirt is rough against your bare skin and you’re suddenly very aware of how your nipples have pearled up. The hotel’s air conditioning is rolling, much colder than you’d ever make your home, and your skin is goosepimpling under it, but you’re still so hot, so warm-

“Oh god,” he whispers, breathy, barely sane. “Look at you.”

The first kiss is wild, breath stealing, rough- it forces you back a step, just far enough that the door slams closed and leaves you in the dark. His touch has settled on your chest, cupping your tits up between his fingers in a boyish way, one that's so much less precise than his usual way of loving you. 

“God-” he says again. “God-”

Suddenly, his lips are gone and you can feel him hunched over you, breath hot against your tits. The gentle tug of teeth scares a gasp out of you, then floods your body with heat.

“I want to see you,” Aizawa's mouth closes around your nipple for a second, his spit cooling almost instantly. ”I want to touch you-” 

His hand wraps around your thigh and squeezes. Your body burns hot, your core tight, cunt wet- Hotel darkness, with the curtains drawn, feels deeper than home. Only the red numbers of the clock illuminate the nightstand. You can't see how he moves, how he looks, but you can feel it--

And you want to feel more, more, more, as much as he'll give you.

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.’

He drops to his knees with a quick, labored exhale. Fuck- his leg. He’s already kissing the lower round of your stomach, trailing down to the curve of your mons, taking his sweet, sweet time. 

“Aizawa-” Your hands run through his hair and gently urge him back, but he just presses on, pulling your knee over his shoulder- “Your leg-”

He's not listening. He's too busy nudging your legs apart, bumping his shoulder into your knee until it gives to him. For the second time that night, Aizawa puts his mouth on you. This time, he inhales, embarrassingly deep. 

“Ah-” the sound escapes you involuntarily. “Don't-- don't smell me.” 

The hot press of tongue ignites something inside you, something innate. Your hips buck on their own, the ridge of his nose bumping against your still swollen clit. After earlier, your pussy is still puffy and well loved, and the pressure sends your spine straight. 

“I should have shaved-” you babble. His arm has looped around your supporting leg.  “I'm sorry, I should have-”

In the dark, every touch feels more. More powerful, more potent, more smoldering: his hand is drifting up, under your ass and in, in, in-

When his fingers join his tongue, spreading your cunt open wider from behind.

“God-” Your brain is soup, stewing in its own electric pleasure. You can feel the chill of his inhales again and it's all you can do to whine, to push away his forehead- “God, don't smell me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”  He rips his mouth away from you and you can feel his eyes staring up in the dark. “Just-- shut up and take it.”

Your jaw clamps shut. Aizawa’s back on you, huffing and sucking greedily. Every muscle in your body is perking and clenching, your knee wobbling. His hand digs into your ass, dragging you so firmly against him that his nose bridge digs into your skin. The way he kisses at you is overwhelming; it feels like he’s pulling pleasure out of you, dragging it out hand over hand like it's attached to a string-

You want to cry or plead or curse or something. but Aizawa’s stolen your words from you, so all you can do is silently whine. 

It's too much, it's not enough, it's-

His free hand is suddenly on your cunt, a finger pressing up and into you. The sensation shocks a gasp out of you. It's not a lot, but it's been so long since anything been inside you; the sensation only worsens your needs, tightens the want-

A second finger slides in. There's a stretch and you suddenly feel drunk, like the room has tilted on its axis. 

You're going to fuck this man. You have to fuck this man. You might go insane if you don't get that cock inside you.

When you cum, it flushes every inch of your skin with a lumbering heat, like he's raking you over coals. It's ugly and brutal, it almost brings you to your knees, but Shouta holds you steady. He doesn't miss a beat, still lapping at your folds like he needs you to live.  

It's horrendous. It's torturous. The air punches out of your body as he strokes your already overworked clit. Tension bunches in every muscle, pulling you over him, hunched and panting. Your fingers claw at his scalp, tug his hair, but Shouta doesn't stop.

“I came-” you protest, voice climbing higher than ever. “I came, I came-- aa--”

He pulls away to speak.

“I know.” His fingers curl and press into you again, right against a deep spot. “Do it again.”

And he's on you again.This time, he’s more forward, aggressive with how he licks and suckles. It's no longer hungry-- it's mean. It doesn't coax pleasure from you, it forces.  

“I can't,” you whine. Every flick of tongue shocks more pleasure from you, burning through your cunt deep into your gut. You're boneless, you're stiff, you're wobbling-

 “I can't, I can't-”

Aizawa rests his cheek against your thigh, his fingers working harder and harder. It’s much more intense in the dark, where the only thing you can focus on is the feeling and the sound of his fingers squelching into you.

“You can-” He insists into your skin. He kisses the crease of your leg.  “Let go.”

“I can't-”

Oh, a pressure is building inside you, one that's rolling and rabid. You think you might literally be drooling, but you can't tell anymore; all you can think about is his fingers drilling into your pussy, urging faster-

“I can't.” 

He's not telling you to shut up anymore. He just says, firmly: “You can.”

And you do. 

It's a lift, that moment where gravity forgets you when the roller coaster crests the hill. There's nothing, blissful nothing, a weightless second where you can finally pull in a full breath. Maybe this is it, maybe you’ll never fall-

Then, it crashes. 

You think you might have gone blind for a moment. Stars flicker over your vision and your brain just can't keep up. Earlier, he compared it to a computer resetting and you suddenly understand exactly what he meant like that: your body slumps over as if he's pulled your batteries out. Aizawa has to pull his hands from you and brace to stop the both of you from tumbling over. 

“Hey now,” he grunts. “Do not fall.”

“Shut--shut up,” you manage to say, still all twitches and kicks. There’s… you’re.. There’s a lot going on right now and you can’t pull your brain together enough to process any of it. For a blissfully long time, you just are: no thoughts, no doubts, no worries. 

When you finally catch yourself, Aizawa’s still down on his knees, patting your flank in silent support.

“Are you alright?” His cheeks are dreadfully wet with you, caught in his stubble 

“No,” you whine. “I think I died.”

He pats the side of your thigh again. “You're fine. Help me up.”

Oh, shit. His leg. You pull yourself together enough to stand on your own. Your thighs rub together with their own wet and you’re horrified at the amount of it all. It’s down to your fucking knees. God, you didn’t even think you could do that. Blindly, you reach into the dark and take Aizawa’s hand, hoisting him off of the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Peachy. I’m just old.” He pulls on your hand and brings you closer. When his lips find yours, your own taste shocks a gasp out of you. His face is as wet as your legs, stubble gritting against your chin. It’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate, as if he didn’t just change your fucking life with his tongue.

“I should get you a towel or something,” you say as you pull away.

Aizawa snorts, his grip on you only tightening. You try to imagine the look on his face. Maybe he’s licking the ridge of his teeth, maybe he’s glowering. Maybe he’s smiling, looking down at you with that almost loving affection.  “You don’t think we’re done, do you?” 

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

In the dark, he pushes you backward, both of you blindly bumping into walls and the edge of the tv stand.  Each bump and bruise steal a giggle out of you and him, but the laughter does nothing to diffuse the want you feel emanating from his touch. Eventually, the back of your legs hits the soft down of the bed and you pause, trying to hold him a bit farther away and failing. You had forgotten that he’s still fully dressed; his belt buckle is frigid against your skin.

“Shouta, my legs are shaking.” Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, fumbling with the edge. Maybe you can distract him, give yourself time to recover. “I can’t take anymore.”

Shouta is mirroring your motions, running his fingers across the soft of your stomach. The touch makes you feel shy and you wiggle away from the touch. Technically, he’s seen you completely naked, but touching feels like a deeper sense of knowledge, especially in the dark. 

“Two orgasms?” He squeezes your side again. “That’s really all it takes?” 

“Three…” you remind.

“Two.” He’s firm. “The second one doesn’t count.”

The air conditioning rushes back on and you nearly shiver. The heat of your orgasm still warms your cheeks, but you’re still naked, still exposed. “Why not?”

“Wasn’t big enough.”

“Felt big.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth.  “You poor, neglected thing.” 

Hands find your shoulders and push, knocking you back on to the mattress with an ‘oof’. The bed shifts under his weight and you can feel him there, hovering over you in the dark, just a breath away. All you can do is lay there and try to make out the shapes of him. The red glow of the alarm clock catches his eye and you suddenly know he’s watching you, probably searching for your way in the same way.

“What-?”  you breathe. “What are you gonna do with me?”

You don’t know what you want the answer to be, but you aren’t expecting a chuckle. 

“I’m going to do-”  Shouta breathes, deep and dark and hungry, closer to a growl than a whisper. “Whatever I want.”

[moominmanoneandonly]

Transformers relationships dynamics

StarFire

Skyfire: My Darling?! They could never do such a terrible thing. You must be mistaken

Starscream: *evil laughter in the background*

KOBD ( version)

Breakdown: I'm not good at a lot of things. You could do better with someone who actually matches your speed. I know not many bots consider me attractive. (My brothers told me)

Knockout: More for me!!! Also your buffing skills are like one good thing about this place, you ain't getting away from me big boy~

BulkJack

Wheeljack: Sooo I might or might not exploded Ratchet lab..

Bulkhead: Jaackie..

Wheeljack: It's becouse he called you an idiot

Bulkhead: Oo thank you.. you still shouldn't do that

Wheeljack: I also got you a gift! Would love to see you wreck something with it~

Cliffjumper/Arcee/Mirage

Cliffjumper: Hey guys!! Look at this. *the most stupid and risky stuff ever*

Arcee & Mirage: Damn, that's attractive.

(+Noah)

Mirage: GUYS, GUESS WHAT I GOT!

Cliffjumper & Arcee: Please not again.. They die out so fast

Blitzbee

Blitzwing: *trying to live his life, control cuteness agression*

Bee: *ready to drop the most Gen Alpha out of pocket pick up line ever heard*

MegOp

Megatron: You are not the bot i feel in love with..

Optimus: I ASURE you, I AM!

Megop Tfa (becouse it's a whole diffrent ship)

Megatron: You imprese me little autobot, you the best opponent i ever had. Strong enought to be my partner.

Optimus: I survived 50 years sharing a dorm with Sentinel, your threats ain't scrap

*also that one add about Milfs in your area*

MegaPax (AU)

Megatronus: Damn, I think i just took a wrong client last night. Tarn is gonna kill me for this.. At least he was pretty intresting to talk to.

Orion:I.just.meet.my.favorite.author.and.we.spend.a.whole.night.talking.together... oooh. RATCHET I MIGHT MESSED UP!

MegaRod

*the entire script of Scott Piligram vs the world movie*

MegaSound (au version)

Megatron: "I might like Soundwave, but he is in a bad situation right now and was objectified his entire life. I can't put him under such pressure" The match today was great.

Soundwave: "LET ME HAVE YOUR GODDAMN SPARKLINGS, I WAS LITERALLY PROGRAMED FOR THAT!" afirmative

[eff-plays]

Ok fine you guys twisted my arm (I say to a completely empty room) here's why I think Mass Effect 2 worked and Veilguard tried to copy it and failed.

First up is the complexity of the goal/plot. In ME2, the end goal was simple: Stop the Collectors from harvesting humans. Blast off through the Omega 4 Relay and probably die. Take down as many Collectors as possible before you die. Basically, shoot stuff until it explodes. It made sense that half of the squadmates were just "legendary badass", "legendary badass (green skin version)" and "legendary badass (huge tits version)." You need to kill dudes, so you pick people who are good at killing. There are a few who are better at tech or science, but they use tech and science to, you guessed it, kill dudes. Then you have a few who join due to aligning goals (Legion) or loyalty to Shepard (Tali, Garrus) or humanity/Cerberus (Jacob, Miranda), or they're literally getting paid to be there (Kasumi and Zaeed). But all of them have reasons to stick around, of various importance.

The specificity of the main plot is also relevant here, because everybody in the galaxy is like "oh humans are getting kidnapped? sucks to suck dude rip in piss ://" so it makes sense to recruit whoever you can get. You need help for an issue that (according to everyone who would otherwise help) only concerns you. So you're like "hey are you good at killing? and do you mind dying?" and most of those freaks go "yeah lmao whatever." They're self-selecting, because the cause is so specific and explicitly suicidal.

The suicidal thing also helps explain the loyalty missions, btw. They're not presented as "hey can you umm help? or I'm gonna be distwacted 👉👈" but as "hey man, these people are willing to die on your command, you should probably help them with their unfinished business at the very least." And yeah, the mechanic of "if you don't help they'll fucking perish" remains the same, but the framing is different. In ME2, you're basically helping a bunch of professionals to do this final thing before they die for your cause. It's both a sign of respect and of consideration for them as people, and strengthens your bond with them and their loyalty to you. The way it's framed means that you don't have to do this in order for them to do their job, but doing it helps strengthen their belief in you.

And because the stakes are relatively low (as far as everyone knows), of course the squadmates will respect and appreciate a Shepard who takes care of them more. Of course it builds loyalty. This person isn't just using you as a meat shield for their pet crusade, they're genuinely trying to do what's right and don't want you to die for nothing.

In Veilguard, you're literally told multiple times that you have to do their dumbfuck busywork or else they're gonna throw in the towel. Hey man can you do this thing? Or else I'm not saving the world :3c The stakes being SO HIGH while their issues are SO NOTHING makes most of them look really immature and incompetent, which clashes against the whole "gang of experts" thing. You're telling me this couldn't wait? I have to go into Lucanis' mind and figure out his traumas or else he won't ... hold a knife good? And that will doom the world because he's the only guy who can hold a knife? Okay???

ME2 presents everybody as professionals and experts in their field, but at the end of the day, they're just there to kill stuff. Remove one, and another will be found. The mission is (as far as everyone in power knows) not galaxy-threatening yet, so finding new guys to help would be easy. That's why Shep taking the time to solve their final issues means something and why it earns their loyalty. It shows that Shep cares about them as people.

Veilguard presents these people as experts in their fields, too. They're considered irreplacable in this conflict. And the conflict is saving the whole entire fucking world. And YET, that has to take a backseat to them figuring out what happened to a work colleague or Lucanis' grandma, because none of these experts can take a fucking chill pill to SAVE THE WORLD.

ME2 offers "low" stakes for the conflict and high stakes for the characters, so when it focuses on the characters' stories, it makes sense. You get the impression that it's character drama with a common goal that brings them all together. Veilguard offers high stakes for the plot and low stakes for the characters, but still focuses on the characters, so you get the sense that we're fucking around playing therapist while the world is on fire in the background, and it's presented as totally logical, because these guys can't save the world without a clear mind!! Despite being ... experts in their fields.

That's why, to me, Rook feels like a therapist while Shep feels like a leader.

Anyway, this is the formal end of the post but I wrote more on the specific character motivations of the Veilguard and why they don't work/feel trite to me and how that adds to Rook feeling like they're a therapist but it didn't fit with the rest of the post so under cut.

Another thing is that, while sometimes the problems of the Veilguard are technically higher stakes than the problems of the ME2 squad, there is a sense of "Hey do you actually need me for this?" And that I think is in part to the lacking motivations of the Veilguard. It's so unclear why some of them stick around that it becomes difficult to justify why they wouldn't just leave to fix their own issues.

(For example, Garrus asks us to help kill a guy. The guy isn't dangerous, he's not out there killing people or in possession of a superweapon ready to destroy a city. He's just an asshole and Garrus wants revenge. He could, technically, leave and just kill the guy himself. He knows where the guy is, so what's holding him back? Well, the job is. And Shepard is. Garrus wants Shep's help, because he doesn't trust himself to finish it on his own. He needs somebody to rely on, but he also knows that he can't just leave without Shep's permission, and that Shep needs him, too. Everything is on Shep's schedule, and there's no real time limit. His revenge can wait until Shep is ready to offer their help.

Neve is hunting an old rival who is a blood mage threatening to enslave her favorite city in all da world. It's pretty damn high stakes. But in my playthrough, Neve wasn't counting on Rook's help at all. In fact, she explicitly mentioned several times that she didn't. Yet, she still sat around and waited for their help. She didn't leave to deal with this on her own, didn't even consider it. But why not? What about Rook or this cause is keeping her there, especially since there's canonically time before the next big move and the issue is so high-stakes and pressing? People will die if she doesn't do something, yet she's sitting on her ass waiting for Rook, whose help she isn't counting on, to step up? What???)

Neve is introduced as being hired by Varric to find Solas, which she does. In the tutorial mission. She sticks around after Varric dies because ... she's in too deep now, I guess. She has to help save the world, you see. Even though all she wants is to go back to Minrathous and protect the people there. She wants your help to. Figure out some stuff. The famous big city detective needs the help of a person who's introduced as somebody who "thinks in straight lines" and whose nickname is probably a play on "rookie." She is not getting paid for this. She's doing this out of the kindness of her heart, even though most of her time on screen is spent dreaming of her favorite city in da world. She's not an expert in anything that has to do with the current plot, so she's in-fiction not really vital to keep around. Her role as a mage is made entirely pointless by the existence of Bellara and Emmrich. Supposedly her area of expertise is in blood magic ... despite hating it and not actually practicing it, on account of it being bad and evil. So she's an expert in killing blood mages, then?

Well, no. That's Lucanis. He's the resident mage killer ... who we find in an underwater prison, guarded by blood mages. I get there is a reason for why he was defeated, but the optics aren't great, ya know? We don't really free him as much as we lightly distract his guards, so he can bust out of the prison fully clothed and armored. He's suuper eager for revenge, but he's also been forcefully possessed. But that's okay, because we need his expertise for um. Killing mages. Which is what the Evanuris are. So this random possessed human guy will know better than anybody else how to kill the Evanuris. Sure. He decides to stick around on account of ... the Crows always finishing a contract. Who is paying him? Who is paying the Crows? His gam-gam ordered him to stay, she's basically offering us his services for freeing him. Guy is an indentured servant but acts like it's his choice, like it's an honor thing and not his grandma putting him in the toilet. And when it's time for him to show/offer his expertise in the field, he says "How am I supposed to fight a cloud?" which is fair enough, sure. But have you not fought mages before? Do you not have any reference for them doing weird shit at all? Do you not know how to disrupt rituals, break barriers? In the end, all he can practically do is hold the special knife and attempt to stick the pointy end into his target. Which my rogue Rook or Davrin or Taash chould've done. But gam-gam says to sit so he sits! It's not a very compelling motivation for this epic expert mage killer to just kinda. Stick around out of obligation. It could've been interesting, if he chafed against it or had to be won over, but he's just fine with it. It's treated as natural that this dude, who isn't even slightly an actual expert and is just a glorified knife holder and who isn't practically useful in any sense of the word, is still in the group. It's treated as natural that Rook has to go out of their way to help him clear his mind so he can hold the knife better next time, instead of just finding another guy to hold the knife. Maybe the spirit in him makes him stronger and more capable of fighting mages? No, the spirit is what made him miss in the first place, actually! So you have to help him figure it out or he'll miss again. DON'T ask somebody else to hold the knife though. It HAS TO BE Lucanis. Because he's the mage killer expert. Who missed. And can't handle mages.

Then we have Taash, who we need to kill the blighted dragons. They're the only dragon hunter around and have an encyclopedic knowledge of said dragons. Unfortunately the blighted state of the dragons that are actually necessary to kill are behaving in unexpected and different ways from normal dragons. They're literally manipulated by the Evanuris to be harder to kill. Making Taash's expertise moot. I didn't even have them in my party when I took on two dragons at once, and in fact the only dragons that Taash is presented as capable of killing are ones that they want us to kill. So this expert we recruit mostly introduces more dragons for us to kill that aren't actually threatening us in any way. The main time Taash has to show off their knowledge is when we use the dragon trap ... which was fashioned by Wardens. Who are all trained specifically to fight Archdemons. Who are dragons. That are blighted. Do you uh. Do you see my problem here. Taash also sticks around the Veilguard for inexplicable reasons. Mostly it seems they don't want to go home to their mother, which is fine, but this is a whole-ass adult, supposedly. They could go back to hunting dragons for the Lords, because they're written as too self-absorbed to really care about stepping up to the fight just for the sake of it. So despite them not really being useful in any way to the overall plot, we still have to help them figure out their gender identity, or else they won't be able to ... fight the blighted dragons. Which they couldn't fight. On account of the blight. Cool cool cool.

Then we have Emmrich, who is a professor and has shit to do. He is also presented as a Fade expert, while Bellara is somehow not, despite doing most of the Fade-related and artifact-related magic on-screen. Emmrich joins the Veilguard on account of um. Well we asked nicely, and he's a good guy, so he has to help save the world. Despite the fact that he's terrified of dying. Which he's far more likely to do after leaving his job. And the thing is, yeah, "the world might end so we need to stop that!" is a valid motivation, but if we accept it as the motivation of a central character whose plot we must find compelling, then why is it that it's only a few guys trying to save the world? This conflict is prestented as bigger than all the previous games combined, bigger than (the) Inquisition, which had literally entire armies and different branches and infrastructure for it's "smaller" conflict, and people were still volunteering and joining in droves, but here we're 8 guys? Are we meant to believe Emmrich's willingness to join the Veilguard is somehow unique to him, and that nobody else in the world would volunteer to join? When Harding exists, on the same team?

Speaking of, Harding is a character who can really get away with "I wanna save the world", because her joining the Inquisition is literally how she got into the plot in the first place. She's a joiner. She joins heroic causes. So her having this sort of bare-bones but noble motivation works. Same with Davrin. Bellara seems to join out of both curiosity and guilt, which are interesting enough reasons and come through visibly in her subplot and characterization, but more importantly, she doesn't have anything holding her back that might take priority until she finds out her brother is alive. Her sticking around also makes some sense because she's ya know. An elf mage Fade expert. Or sorry an elf artifacts expert.

I'm not saying "somebody's gotta do it!" or "it's the right thing to do!" aren't valid motivations, they clearly are, but there's gotta be more to it, especially when it comes to characters who have something to lose like Emmrich. My guy is terrified of death but he's such a good dude that he jumps into this life-threatening conflict without a second thought? But then gets so "distracted" by his wacky scientist former colleague that he needs our help figuring it out? Huh???

Um. I didn't have a conclussy for this part of the post so. bye

[colorlessjay]

Did Dean put in their wedding vows that Cas has to promise to die after him? Like Dean is 100% DONE with watching Cas die, Cas either lives a bit longer as a widower or they go at the same time no ifs ands or buts.

Yes Dean knows that’s like an impossible promise to definitely keep but he threatened to call off the whole wedding after HE was the one that insisted on inviting everyone unless Cas let Dean put that promise in their vows

Y/N?

Ngl I imagine he does this on the spot so Cas can't talk him out of it

Like it already took him at least 15 proposals before Cas actually said yes, Dean's not about to get this shot down

So just imagine

at their wedding, it's small and casual. Friends and family together in their backyard, Dean managed to talk Cas into wearing cowboy hats. Cas managed to talk Dean into wearing a suit

And just as Cas finishes his heartwarming, tear-jerking, love-in-his-eyes vows that leave everyone's hearts exploding

Dean kisses Cas' hands, smiles, and says "I vow to kill myself immediately if you die before I do"

Dead silence

Cas stares at Dean wide-eyed "... Dean"

"I'm serious. I've watched you die too many friggin times. Each one hurting worse than the last"

"Dean" Cas getting more concerned

"Burning your body felt worse than being in hell"

"Dean..."

"And when the.. the empty took you I just-" Dean lets out a humorless laugh "Fuck, Cas, I asked myself what the point even was any more"

"Oh Dean..."

"And if I have to watch you die again, after everything we've been through, after everything I've put you through? It's gonna destroy me"

Cas grips his hands tightly, his eyes glassy with more tears as the frustration he felt earlier melts

"So" Dean takes a breath, staring down at their joint hands as he speaks from the heart "While we're alive, while we're married and together, while I still have you down here slumming it with us mud monkeys, I'm gonna vow to make sure you never have any doubts. I'm gonna spend every waking moment making your life here so good, you'd wanna live forever with me"

Castiel breaths in shakily, stopping himself from telling Dean that was already the plan

"I can't promise it's gonna be easy. I've never been easy to be with" Dean winks making Cas chuckle "But this is it for me. You're it for me. Hell, heaven, purgatory, the Empty. Wherever you go, I'll be right there with you"

Castiel sniffles, refusing to turn away

"Till death do us part my ASS. We ain't parting for shit"

"I love you"

The kiss comes a little earlier than expected, but it's not like they care. Not like this was ever a traditional wedding (They have pie instead of cake, and God himself is officiating the wedding)

They're happy

Cas is gonna have to talk to Dean about the potential suicide though

---------

anyways, ba-dum-tsk

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

🚨 This isn’t in Gaza but in Qalandua camp - North of Jerusalem.⁣

⁣The Israeli police put a BOMB on Mohammed’s front door. He went to open and it exploded and killed him, blowing his body to bits in front of his family. ⁣

It also injured his mother and others.⁣

Israeli ⁣Police then stepped over Mohammed’s body parts, left him to die, and arrested his brother.

This is beyond anything I could ever comprehend. This is in JERUSALEM!! Don't you dare say that mohammed or his family deserved this. Let history mark this, let the world see what happens when you allow violence to continue, it becomes unhinged. Israel is getting creative in how to kill and terrorize Palestinians in all of Palestine. This was never about hamas, Israel thrives on this. I'm gonna be sick.

Video under the cut, trigger warning, blood.