#and a specific post i saw a few days ago

[trage-deigh]

When will people realize that if you're going to complain about a political message being botched in your media, and then shit on anyone who still enjoys it in the same breath, no one is going to care about what you have say about the message.

All they're going to see is you being an asshole.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent life photos

[jackabbot]

Wip Wednesday 🎄

I shared a small tidbit from this yesterday, but here's a little longer one this time 💕

Eddie was holding a bag of M&Ms in one hand while twisting garlands around the railings by the stairs with the other. They were putting up the Christmas decorations around the station during a lull and while Eddie was all for the Christmas spirit, the garlands didn't seem too keen on cooperating.

“Pass me one?” Buck walked up to him, both his arms tangled up in a big knot of Christmas lights and on the top of his head, pushing into his perfectly coiffed hair sat a frankly ridiculous hairband with a set of floppy white ears, decorated by big black blotches to resemble a dalmatian.

“What are you wearing?” Eddie frowned at the dog ear hanging down just beside his birthmark.

Buck looked up like he could see the top of his own head if he just tried hard enough. “Must’ve been left here from Halloween. Cute, right?”

"Sure."

Well, it was cute.

That still didn't explain why he felt the need to put it on, but Eddie had more important things to worry about, namely the damned garland that kept on slipping off of the railing and bunching up on the bottom.

“So, are you gonna give me one?” Buck tried again, eyeing the small bag of candy in Eddie’s hand.

“Ask nicely.” Eddie quipped, mainly just to be a little shit but as always, Buck was game.

He ducked his chin, jostling the dog ears on the top of his head and batted his eyelashes a little cartoonishly, then after an elongated whine of pretty please, he stuck his tongue out expectantly.

Eddie rolled his eyes and plopped a big green one onto Buck’s tongue. “Here.”

tags under the cut 💛

I was tagged by the lovely @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 and @malewifediaz mwuah mwuah 💛

✨and totally no pressure tagging: @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @disasterbuckdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998

[exopelagic]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME BURROWS END WASNT FREE

[e8luhs]

maybe im just personally insane or this is a weird complaint or something but i feel like i keep running into this problem where people on both sides are very afraid of "traumadumping" and its making it to where people are like both unwilling to unironically share anything painful with others so that they can receive support and also unwilling to actually meaningfully reciprocate whenever i talk about like. difficult and traumatic things ive been through. which is making me feel a little chronically misunderstood because im not sitting here looking for pity or attention or something and trust me i have been Traumadumped at and treated like peoples therapists from a stupid young age. but truly i just want to be able to objectively talk about what i have gone through in my life and how it still affects me with the people i care about. like im just trying to talk to you and be seen by youuuuuuuu. i dont know.

[diah-the-demon]

honestly i cant wait until my star wars helmets and lightsabers arrive, its gonna be so fucking cool

[sheeposting]

I always see posts that are like "LIKES ARE WORTHLESS REBLOG ONLY" and I completely sympathize with where people are coming from, but that's not really true.

Reblogs will always grant more exposure than likes so I agree that reblogs are more valuable than likes, but... idk man, bare minimum likes are validating. People might be more selective about what they reblog, but I will like things both willy and nilly because I like to tell someone "hey I liked this thing you did" and I love when others do the same for me.

But likes also aren't nothing. Yes tumblr doesn't have an algorithm like certain other big social media sites (and we are all better for that) but if you don't TURN OFF the "liked by" feature that is on by default in tumblr, you will see things that folks you follow have liked. Tumblr is still one of the only soc sites that you curate by following who you want to see stuff from, so idk, I guess I trust that most off the folks I follow will like things that I will also like? Maybe they didnt reblog it, but that like was still worth exposure, and maybe I or one of their other followers will reblog it too.

I know there are a lot of ragged features tumblr has introduced over the years, but by leaving that feature on I get glimpses into other folks feeds all the time and often find new people to follow!

But also likes do still count as notes, and the more notes a post has, the more popular it gets and that does still seem to increase the likelihood it'll be seen by more people (this is cyclical though because reblogs will still increase exposure, which will increase notes, etc...).

As a fellow starving artist, yeah, I get it, reblogs will increase the exposure of your art. It's always better for you when someone reblogs you. But if likes are worthless to you, I mean like, tag your posts "no likes" or something I won't like them if you don't want.

I always appreciate reblogs, but I do not feel owed them. Thank you for everyone who does, but if you only like stuff? That's fine with me too! That's never worthless to me.

[orphicsun]

hey! i just saw ur post from 7hrs ago. Can u please please do reader cockwarming sevika?

sevika + fem!reader. warnings: cockwarming, strap on sex (r! receiving), nipple piercings on sevika, degrading names (whore).

"Alright, stop movin'." Her voice is gruff, her breath hot against your ear, and you can't help but instinctively clench around the jet black invasion below. Sevika picked that one from Zaun's adult shop specifically because, as she so bluntly put it, "black contrasts nicely with the white."

She wasn't wrong; every time she pulls out of you, all you can see is your milky-white cum splotched in random spots of the dildo. You're glad she can't feel silicone, that it's not a body part of hers, because you would never hear the end of it if she knew how much the walls of your pussy tighten around her favorite cock while you pretend it doesn't affect you as much as it does.

Sevika already teases you enough for how often you clamp down on her meaty fingers, so you have a small, discreet section in your heart that is extremely grateful that is all she can feel.

But right now, you don't even get to feel her grab your hips and fuck deep into you until your cervix is sore for days after, until she tries to slip into the shower with you for a quickie the next morning and you pry her off of you gently because she got too rough with you and you need time to recover.

You're sitting on her lap with your back pressed against her chest. Your shirt is still on your body, the only article of clothing left on you, but Sevika is completely bare. You can feel the steel of her nipple piercings press into your shoulder blades, and you initially shivered at the feeling. It drives you crazy.

It'd be easier to handle the teasing if she let you bounce on her cock like you'd die without it, but instead, she prohibits you from getting off. You can't move a muscle save for the ones deep inside your pussy, but she can't be mad at that. That is uncontrollable.

And it would be much easier to deal with the way the head of the particular jet-black cock nudges at your cervix so it fills you completely, the prominent veins pressing against your sweet spot, if you could at least look at her. But you're sitting on her lap, and she would grab your face and turn it right back around if you tried to turn your head for a glance at hers.

"Please, 'Vika. I need it. I need more." It's embarrassing how your cunt is already filled to the brim, stretched so tightly it aches even with enough lube, and you're still begging for more and continuously dripping all over her thighs.

What is even worse? You feel a few hairs from her bush against your ass, reminding you of what is underneath the harness. You'd rather be on your knees with your tongue in her pussy than this torture.

"I feel how wet you are. Just say the magic words, honey. I'll fuck this pussy 'till it's all sore and you're whining about it." Sevika promises, and you know she means it.

But saying what she wants to hear is worse. It's worse than torture of being impaled on Sevika and unable to fuck yourself on her cock.

Still, losing your dignity doesn't seem that bad compared to the thought of sitting here all night and knowing that Sevika won't hesitate to pull you off of her in the morning when she has to run Silco's errands. You don't have all night to stall.

"O-Okay, fine." You mumble, cheeks burning with shame; your hole leaks with excitement you keep hidden, however. "I'm a whore for you, Sevika. All I want is to be fucked by you. I.." You stammer, growing more embarrassed.

"C'mon, baby." Her hands find your hips and she gives you a single deep thrust, forcing a loud moan from your lips. She is giving you a taste of what you crave, what you need. "You can say it for me. I know you can."

"I want my pussy stuffed with only you." You say it quickly and quietly, but it's enough.

Sevika's grip on your love handles tightens, and she begins to fuck you rough and deep, the sound of her hips meeting your ass filling up the bedroom.

"Fuck! Sevika, oh my god—" you gasp out, struggling to find something to grasp onto to brace yourself. You can't stop yourself from melting against her like a popsicle on the sidewalk. She gives you what you need.

"That's it. You wanted this pussy stuffed, that is what you said, baby. I'm doing it for you," she huffs out. "Gonna stuff this sweet pussy all night long."

You're in another level of torture and a new category of bliss. You're insatiable—you crave more and more until your heart can't take the rapid thumping against your rib cage because you just need it that rough. You want it until the sun rises and you're exhausted, but you drag yourself to work and pass out on Sevika's mattress as soon as your shift at the bar is through.

But you're too caught up in your head to realize that Sevika is flipping you over, and you're now bent over the bed, Sevika towering over your body from behind.

The new angle along with one harsh thrust makes you realize that you're going to be calling in 'sick' the next morning.

taglist: @mytaping, @pryncess123, @saturnhas82moons, @eradicatedbythenightmare, @vixxxen, @prettyinpink69, @aceywaycy, @hellokittyfeenie, @starberr1, @ruelezz, @abbysbutch, @ladybugb0ng, @deluxism, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @lonelysapphic, @fruitit00tie, @x0x0xkimara, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @starryeyedlovergirll, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @waitaminuteashh, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs want to be tagged? click here

[thesingingrevolution]

https://x.com/h1ghrsoul/status/1701673261539680508?s=46&t=W4nNyTLykYriVLX4hKftNA

because winwin and jisung lowkey look alike too

[dollyforever]

my void success story!!

I'm feeling inspired and I just had a yummy lunch with my brother and the sun is shining so let me tell you about my manifestations and my void state journey from 5 days ago.

so, I made a post about a ritual I made to let go of your old reality, and allow endless manifestations to flow into your life effortlessly. I decided to wait some days to try it myself, because I wanted to feel very sure of my decision. As I said, this ritual is for real. Once you decide you are stepping into a different, new life and version of yourself, life won't be the same as before. Anyway, 5 days later (i miscalculated before sorry) I said, okay, let's do this. and so I did. As I was falling asleep, I meditated, and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. It was like... I don't know. something shifted inside and outside of me. For a split second, I entered the void and I forgot to manifest anything specific, so I just wished for a lucky life. when I was done, and as I fell asleep, I noticed how a massive weight had been released from my body. Like, any possible issues and worries I had before, were gone.

the next morning I woke up and I made coffee and the birds were chirping louder than usual and the house was quieter than usual. no parents screaming, no brother being annoying. and I felt so light, and so peaceful and so immensely happy. It's a feeling I can't put into words. and so, I posted on Tumblr, because I was excited about my new life.

That same day, just one hour later after that post, I found my dream apartment in my dream city where I'll go to study next year. I saw it just 4 minutes after the sweet woman renting it posted it on the apartment app thing. I texted her, and talked to my mom, and to my satisfaction, my parents instantly agreed, since the price was absolutely perfect. the apartment is sooo dreamy and big and it's in such a safe area, and ALL of the things in my manifestation list (I had made a list months before to manifest this apartment) were crossed.

ok, so I was absolutely ECSTATIC because finally, I had found my dream apartment and I said, alright, now let's search for my dream vintage clothes for uni next year. Let me tell you. I found the CUTEST rarest Abercrombie and Hollister pieces for SO CHEAP!!!! And I bought them obviously. and I sold so many clothes I didn't want anymore. I also found my dream discontinued perfume getting sold for a fraction of the original price.

Anyway, since the day was going so well, I decided to call two friends who I'm not super close with to ask them to hang out, and so we did that same afternoon. I don't want to go into detail, but basically I came out of that hang out feeling so incredibly happy and grateful for my new close friends.

Then, I got a message from a boy I met a year ago in the summer saying he was coming to my city in a few days and that we should hang out. And we did!!! It was so nice, we went to different museums and talked about art and literature and painted with watercolors in the old part of the city.

And now, around bit less than a week after this whole thing, my parents surprised me with a MacBook Air (I'm typing from it right now!!!!) my old computer was sooo laggy and horrible, and I was really hoping for a new one, specifically from apple. And they gave them free AirPods for buying it, which my brother kept :).

okay. I seriously did not make this post to brag or anything at all in that matter. I want to tell you that before this, I had been feeling super stuck and unmotivated in my journey. I feel unstoppable now. and I am so excited to manifest even more things and enter the void again. I'm still super interested in shifting (obvi) but life has felt so beautiful, I don't even wish to leave. Though I am excited to enter new realities, of course. That's a story for another day.

love, doll

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 1

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.3k

cw: ANGST, depressed reader, allusions to self harm, reader is not MC, reader has a defined personality, I fear you can tell she's a self-insert, eventual contact with all love interests, no guaranteed happy ending

Synopsis: You hadn't been okay mentally. When going to meet your friend for lunch, you suddenly find yourself plunged into the world of Love and Deepspace as a close friend to the main character. Would you be able to find your place in this world not made for you?

author's note: So this is technically based on @ixloom819 ‘s post on affinity levels with an Isekai!Reader, but I made it very angsty and didn’t actually address the affinity levels in this part (we’ll get to it eventually, I swear. Probably in the next part, actually.) Reader has a lot of oddly specific personality bits here and there that are very much just me so uhhh sorry <3 also the song that is consistently referenced is Vienna by Billy Joel (it’s my favorite <3) Also MC is named Em because I saw another creator call her Em Cee so I decided to use that to instead of searching for a new one to use!

Series Masterlist

You rose with a jolt.

You had plans today.

You rolled over, checking the time.

11:30.

Weren’t you supposed to meet at 12:00?

You jumped out of bed, running straight to the bathroom. You would have to forego much of your “get ready” routine if you wanted to be on time. Quickly brushing your teeth, arranging your hair in a way that didn’t look like you just rolled out of bed, throwing on some jeans and a cute top conveniently sitting at the top of your drawer, and you were pretty much ready to go.

You grabbed your tote bag, tossing in your laptop, a journal, your pencil case, an old, heavily annotated copy of Frankenstein you were currently rereading (and trying to ignore your past, somewhat cringy annotations), and a small bag of snacks.

You checked the time again.

11:48.

Not too shabby.

Although getting ready was an easy, albeit rushed task, getting to the cafe you were meeting at on time was an entirely different and much harder issue. Through some stroke of luck, you’d manage to get to the bus station just in time for it to leave. And you found a seat!

Maybe today was going to be a good day. You were certainly due for one, you thought.

You knew why your friend had asked you to meet up, of course. You put your earbuds in, cueing your favorite song.

Slow down, you crazy child. You’re so ambitious for a juvenile. But then, if you’re so smart, then tell me, why are you still so afraid? You let the music wash over you, the soft piano soothing your nerves as you relaxed your shoulders.

She was worried. You didn’t blame her. You hadn’t exactly been the pinnacle of happiness these past few months. Your recent self-imposed isolation probably hadn’t helped with that.

Your hands, resting on your thighs, flexed restlessly. You could almost feel the outline of every single cut you’d made.

No matter what you’d say, no matter how many I’m fine’s you’d muttered, you knew.

That was not what a healthy person did.

You thought of a journal entry you’d written, what seemed so long ago now.

‘I think it is the true human experience to want more than you have. But I don’t think this emptiness is innate in the human experience. The feeling never leaves me, it’s encapsulating. I feel absolutely nothing so completely. I cannot bring myself to care about my passions, my friends, my self.

I don’t think I can handle anything more than the burden that is my existence. My days are filled with distractions and entertainment, and my night are spent mourning lost time. I desperately want something worthwhile, something meaningful. I desperately want an adventure, with romance and risks. How am I supposed to find that in this world?’

It was an entry you’d thought about a lot. A bit melodramatic, sure. You’d probably been reading Sylvia Plath or something before writing it. But there was still truth to it. You told yourself you’d be fine, you’d get better. And the glimmer of hope at the very end of the entry served as a testament to you that it could get better:

‘But then, I guess those distractions were meaningful if they brought me happiness, however temporary. All emotions are temporary, so this should also be. This feeling will leave. And maybe I can have the adventure I dream of, maybe that is the dream of all creatives. Why else would these feelings and this imagination be given to humanity?’

You still didn’t know where these words had come from. It was a blur of existential crises and anxiety attacks and nights spent sobbing. You could understand the logic behind the words, and they’d helped you before. Briefly. But emotion does not bow to logic, and you soon found yourself drowning again.

Slow down, you’re doing fine. You can’t be everything you want to be before your time.

You really couldn’t blame your friend for worrying, you thought as you stepped off the bus. Even though there were glimmers of hope in your otherwise bleak mindset, you knew you needed help on some level. Maybe she could help, maybe she would realize what you were trying to say as the words died in your throat. Maybe she could recognize the storm brewing inside you.

Maybe, for one time in your life, you could feel truly seen.

Now, for the first time since you received that text inviting you out, you were actually looking forward to seeing your friend. What was once dread for an intervention where you’d be forced to dodge your feelings and hide them so as not to be a burden, became excitement as you realized how dearly you had missed your friend.

Isolation was nice for a time, yes. It allowed you to gather your thoughts. But then the thoughts came too fast and too much. Maybe a break from the overwhelming thinking would be nice. Maybe you’d laugh again.

You peeked through the windows of the cafe, and, not spotting your friend, decided to wait outside under the sign.

You sighed, a bit regretful that it’d taken you this long to feel not completely shattered again. You’d lost a lot of time mourning the future you couldn’t have and the past you couldn’t erase, neglecting the present all the while.

Well, it’s time to live in the present, you thought as you shut your eyes, enjoying the cool breeze on your face. It’s time to recognize the beauty of life for what it is.

Maybe happiness wouldn’t be that hard to achieve.

The breeze grew colder, and you let out an involuntary shudder. It was so warm today, you knew the weather was supposed to stay warm, so why was the temperature suddenly dropping?

Your headphones let out a harsh crackle before the sound fizzled out completely. You could still hear the ghost of the lyrics if you listened hard enough.

You’ve got your passion, you’ve got your pride. But don’t you know that only fools are satisfi—

“There you are!” You cracked an eye open. The voice wasn’t familiar, but not unknown either. The girl in front of you smiled bright. “I thought you’d be late. Again.” There was an obvious teasing each to her voice, as if you knew each other.

You didn’t, right?

You looked around at the street around you, startled to realize that it had completely changed. The bus station was gone, the sushi shop across the street replaced with an arcade. The city you were now in was nice. Sleek. The kind of stuff they show in Sci-Fi movies. Oddly familiar, too. You looked up above you, trying to catch a glimpse of the sign hanging above your head.

Destiny Cafe.

Wait.

Destiny Cafe?

You felt your throat tighten. You looked around, more attentive this time, searching for any sign that you were right and this wasn’t just a coincidence. When you caught sight of an Otto-Bot, you knew.

You were in that game. That stupid game you’d downloaded a few months ago out of curiosity. The game you’d spent too many hours in, finding comfort in the words of men who did not exist.

If you really were in Love and Deepspace, would that make you the main character? That’s usually what happens in those Isekai stories, right? Your thoughts whirled before you were brought back by the expectant stare of the girl in front of you. She doesn’t look like Tara or any of MC’s friends, you thought, so who could she be?

You examined her closely. She was almost like you. As if her appearance were a distant echo of your own. But upon closer inspection, you could see: where your eyes had many flecks of colors, hers had only the one. Where your skin had a blemish here and there, a slight change of hue, hers remained consistent. She was too clean, as if there were no substance at all. And that wasn’t even considering her perfect pale skin, or long, sleek black hair. That was when you realized, and a wave of disappointment flowed through you. This was her.

Everything about her seemed so two-dimensional, a constant reminder that this was not a version of you or even an independent person, but the Main Character of an otome game.

This was the figure in all the promotional art.

This was the main character of Love and Deepspace.

Not you.

Her.

After all, why would it be you, when she was standing right next to you?

“Hello? You’re staring off into space. Are you okay?” She waved her hand in front of your eyes. Your gaze snapped to hers. Though her brows were drawn in concern, you weren’t sure you could name a single emotion behind her eyes. “If you’re not feeling well, we can always go home… We don’t have to go out today if you don’t want to. Don’t feel bad for saying you don’t want to just because it’s my first day back here in a few weeks.”

You looked at her, your confusion only growing. How can you figure out what the hell is going on without seeming absolutely insane? “…Sorry, I hit my head really bad earlier this morning, and I’m having trouble remembering things. Could you just give me a quick sum-up of what’s been happening?” It wasn’t perfect, but maybe you could get some answers.

The furrow in her brow deepened. “You… don’t remember?” She suddenly grabbed your arm. “Do you remember my name is Em?!”

So that was her name. “Of course I do!” you chuckled. “Just give me a run-down of the past few months, maybe it will jog my memory.” You smiled, hopefully convincingly.

It seemed to do the trick, because she smiled back before diving into what seemed to be her life story with great enthusiasm. “Well a few months ago, I went to the N109 Zone for that one secret mission, do you remember that? Well anyway I was gone for a few weeks, I spent a lot of time with my friend Skye. I’m pretty sure you meant him, we saw him at that work karaoke party?”

Skye in the N109 Zone. You realized with a start: I’ve met Sylus! At a work party? Surely you’re not a hunter. You realized Em was waiting for your yes or no before continuing, so you gave her a slight nod to go on.

“Right, so, after that I took a few missions with Xavier, helped out Rafayel with bodyguard duties or whatever, and had to go see Zayne for a ton of things because apparently my heart was beating arrhythmically. Turns out I’m fine, just a lot of excitement happened, you know? Anyways, after that I took leave for a few weeks to go to Skyhaven. You remember that, right? I remember I told you a lot cause you were using your access for research to help me out.”

Access for research? What kind of purpose did you serve in this plot line?

“I got in a bit of trouble with the Farspace Fleet, but everything’s fine so don’t worry! And now I’m here to meet up with you ‘cause I missed my roomie!” She gave you a tight hug.

She certainly had a lot of energy, you noted.

So from what you gathered: You were roommates with Em and you both worked at the Hunter’s Association. It seems she’s pretty up-to-date as far as the main plot line goes. That, unfortunately, means you’ll be left in the dark for a lot of future events. You’ll have to go off of only the secrets you know from the game.

You mentally thanked yourself for not neglecting any of the Love Interests. You knew they were all extremely important in the world, and, despite having a favorite, you participated in events and games with all of them. All of their affinities were relatively high, meaning you knew a lot of lore.

That could come in handy.

You were still struggling to realize your importance in this world, though. Surely, if you were this close to the Main Character, you contributed something, right?

Would you be able to find a happy ending in this game?

Em continued jabbering on, mentioning little memories and conversations you two had shared.

You stared at her blankly, unsure of what she was talking about. It certainly sounded like something you would say, or something you would do, but you had no recollection of any of it.

Then, it came to you.

Fragments, at first. Memories of a life that wasn’t quite yours. One somewhat empty. One that seemed hastily added in at the last second. One that didn’t hold importance in a world as vast as this.

An afterthought.

You decided to eat lunch with Em. ‘You’ had apparently promised her a lunch date, after all. You didn’t go into Destiny Cafe, and you weren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. It almost felt like breaking the fourth wall to go inside, and you were afraid of what you would find when you entered.

Would it feel as empty as Em’s eyes?

You ended up finding a quiet sandwich shop. It was cute, homey, and you could feel yourself settling into a rhythm with Em. While you ate and chatted, attempting to seem casual and familiar in this setting, you watched her closely.

She was almost like an extension of yourself. You could see your own influence, seeping in from your various choices in the game, no matter how small. But she was still her own person.

You would never be her, you realized with a pang in your chest.

Never carry that importance.

So what was left for you?

A secondary character meant to fade into the background.

What fate awaited you?

Had anyone even bothered to weave the strings in the fabric that is your destiny?

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[totallynotsam]

yknow this was originally going to be a long eury defending post since i saw some eury hate a few days ago but it was far too long and i yapped too much </3

but i drew this to go along with it and i already have too much dead art in my drafts so its being posted anyway B) we all know he actually ate the wind bag not open it cmon guys 🥱 (/J) nah but like I was going to defend him opening the bag and other stuff which is why I drew this specifically it’s kinda silly out of context lmao

[disaster-writer]

Obsessed

Pairing: Pro-hero!Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary: Bakugo is obsessed with your ex and it’s driving you up a wall (Inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song Obsessed)

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

A/N: a few weeks ago I saw a post that was about this same concept, and I couldn’t find it to link it here unfortunately. I just thought it fit so well with him that I wanted to write my own take on it. Also this is just comedy, obviously his behavior in this would be problematic in real life so I’m definitely not condoning his obsession.

Minors DNI

Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes danced from cover to cover of every one of the magazines stocked in the stand at the convenience store he regularly stopped at after work. Each one baring a hero with advertisements of their interview inside. He noticed that some of his friends had even made the cover, notably Shitty Hair’s and Racoon Eye’s engagement announcement and a magazine that Dunce Face had recently modeled for.

But there was one specific cover he was glaring at.

His hands crackled.

Fuck it.

He hadn’t hesitated any longer before grabbing the magazine and staring at it with scrutinizing eyes.

Fucking Hawks

That fucking asshole was on the cover of another magazine— as if the other million with him on it wasn’t good enough.

He rifled through the pages, landing on the one that the cover said his interview would be on. It wasn’t one, or two, but four fucking pages long.

He read it furiously, eyes bouncing from each and every word.

‘What would you say is the most rewarding part of your hero work?’

Who gives a crap.

‘How have you learned to balance fame with being a hero?’

Absolute shit question.

‘Everyone knows you have a large female fanbase, so we’re all curious to know why you think that is?’

Because they’re all fucking idiots with shit taste, that’s why.

‘About two years ago you were part of a pretty big scandal when you were seen leaving your agency hand in hand with a hooded woman. Now that some time has passed are you willing to admit that she’s your girlfriend?’

No she was his fucking girlfriend, not that fucking asshole pretty boys—

The magazine blew up in his hands.

”Hey!” The store clerk yelled at the hero, “I don’t care if you’re a hero, you have to pay for that! What kind of business do you think I’m running!?”

“HAH!?” Bakugo puffed up his chest with a sneer as he stormed up to the counter, “MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T KEEP SHIT MAGAZINES HERE IF YOU DON’T WANT THEM BLOWN UP! GET SOME BETTER SHIT! I’M OUTTA HERE!” He yelled furiously at the man before storming out of the store and slamming the door shut, shattering its glass.

The clerk ran up to the door in a rage, screaming something or other at the hero as he stormed down the sidewalk angrily.

He’d probably need to find a new convenience store.

Bakugo continued to stomp his way down the sidewalk as he walked to your apartment. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out, pulling up google.

He found his fingers quickly tapping away at the screen.

Hawks

Picture after picture of that stupid hero came up and his finger swiped through each one as he sneered at his stupid face that even Bakugo couldn’t deny was objectively attractive— not to mention he had this air of coolness around him, making every single goddamned thing he did seem effortless.

Bakugo was seething, passerby’s staring at him in fear as they watched him silently rage on such a beautiful, clear day.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of your door, shoving the spare key under the mat into the lock.

”Hey, Kat!” You chirped, looking over at him from the kitchen, “How was work?”

“Fine,” he grumbled, walking over to you and taking a peak at the dinner you were cooking. Looked like chicken soup but knowing you and your cooking skills it was probably some amalgamation of whatever was in your fridge. “Couldn’t fuckin wait an hour?”he grumbled— he would’ve cooked for you if you weren’t so damn impatient.

”You were taking too long,” you whined, throwing some celery into the pot. “I got hungry.”

He grunted, reaching for your hips and turning you into him, slamming his lips into yours.

Hawks probably used to kiss you more gently— he could just picture him seducing you into kissing him, making you chase for it. 

Not Bakugo. No, if he wanted to kiss you then he was going to fucking kiss you.

You pulled away breathlessly, a hairs breadth away from him, “Whoa— what was that for?”

He stared down at you with hooded eyes.

He was better than Hawks.

He could even prove it.

He turned the stove off and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

”Hey— what are you doing!” You yelped, kicking your legs. 

“Bedroom,” he grunted.

”But what about dinner?” 

“I’ll fix whatever mess you started in there later. I’m making sure you work up a real appetite.”

* * * *

Bakugo’s hips smacked against your ass sharply, balls hitting your clit with every thrust, each slap louder than your muffled moans in the pillow you clung to for dear life.

One hand gripped the headboard as his other gripped your hip in a bruising hold. He stared at you, hunched over your trembling body as tears clung to your lashes.

Hawks couldn’t fuck you like this— no damn way. 

But what if he could— he technically was the number two hero, while Bakugo was still stuck at number 15.

What if he fucked you better?

The thought had Bakugo fisting your hair and pulling you up, freeing your pleasured moans and cries.

”K-Kat— ah, fuck—“

Did you even mean to say his name? What if you really meant to say Hawks’— what if you meant Hawks every single time you ever said his name?

”Tell me you’re mine,” he grunted.

”’M yours— all yours Kat— only yours,” you babbled uselessly. He’d be lying if it wasn’t one of his favorite things about you in bed, given any sort of prompt and you just ran with it. 

“Who fucks you this good?”

”Y-you! You do!— You fuck me so good Kat—ah- best cock I’ve ever had—“

He growled, wrapping his arms around you and hoisting you up, now fucking up into you as he held you against him, head lolling on his shoulder.

He bit down on your neck hard, making you cry out as he started sucking on it, sure to leave a nasty hickey behind.

Maybe Hawks would see. He knew neither of you even talked anymore but what if he’s just on patrol, sees you, decides to say hi, and finds that dark bruise right on your neck, sucked raw.

The thought had him bouncing you faster against him, his muffled groans into your neck sounding with your high pitched cries of his name.

He wound his hand down to your clit and rubbed back and forth furiously.

”Oh fuck—“ you sobbed, body arching and trying to get away, but he tightened his arm around you and held you in place.

”Cum pretty girl, cum around the best fucking cock you’ve ever taken.”

You came with a shrill cry, grasping for any part of him you could hold onto.

He came soon after, inside. 

He knew he shouldn’t but something about cumming in you sated whatever beast was inside him.

You whined as you slumped into his arms, weak and shaky.

”You promised Kat.”

”Couldn’t help it.”

”Then you’re wearing condoms again.” You huffed as he lowered you down on your side of the bed.

He tsked, “Go on birth control.”

”I’m not fucking with my hormones.”

”Damn woman,” he growled, laying beside you, “I’ll get you a plan B, just quit your whining.”

”You’re wearing a condom next time.”

”Yeah yeah, fine.”

”And go make dinner.”

He pulled you against him, your body curling against him with your head on his chest. “In a second. Lemme catch my breath and help clean you up first.”

You huffed but nuzzled against him. 

He liked having you curled up against him but he couldn’t deny there was an ulterior motive to him ‘catching his breath’.

He just really loved the fact that you were laying with his cum dripping out of you right now.

Not Hawks’s cum— Katsuki’s

The rest of the night went as it routinely did for the most part. He fixed the mess of the soup you were working on before eating you out and making you cum three times then fucking you for a second time… then a third time.

And when you thought he was finally done, you went to shower and get on with your shower routine only for him to walk in half way through your shower with his dick hard again.

He fucked you for a fourth time.

All with a condom.

”Seven times,”  you breathed as your head hit the pillow. “You made me cum seven times tonight.”

Your limbs were sore, Bakugo had to carry you to bed. Your legs were basically useless now. 

“What’s gotten into you tonight— it’s only a Tuesday.”

Marathon’s like these weren’t exactly out of the norm, but tonight felt so unprompted. 

He grunted, turning on his side and pulling you against his chest, clinging to you like a Koala.

”I’m not allowed to want to fuck my girlfriend?” He murmured into your hair.

”No… just felt out of no where that’s all.”

”What? You didn’t like it?” He growled defensively.

You rolled your eyes, slotting your legs with his. Everything was always so dramatic with him, “No I liked it. Best cock I’ve ever had, remember?” You snickered.

His arms tightened around you… now he was thinking of the other cock you’ve taken.

”Better than the birds?”

“Oh my god,” you hissed, annoyance dripping from every word, “Really Katsuki? This again?”

”What? It’s a simple fucking question.”

”Yes. Your cocks better than Keigo’s. Happy now?”

Silence filled the room. You thought maybe he dropped it and you closed your eyes.

”Are you just saying that to shut me up?”

”Kat,” you snapped, eyes opening again. “Drop it. I’ve already told you everything about that relationship. Just move the fuck on— I already have.”

He was silent once again.

”Do you still have his number in your phone?”

You cursed to yourself… this was going to be a longer night than you thought.

* * * *

Bakugo stared out the window as you snored lightly in your sleep, burying his nose in your freshly washed hair.

He couldn’t sleep knowing he was laying in the same spot Hawks once had.

Did he used to hold you just like this too?

When you mentioned your ex in past conversations he had thought nothing of it. You were a civilian, your life was normal, he always figured this ex you mentioned was some boring ass nine to five guy that put the most generic shit in a dating profile like ‘Favorite Hobby: Traveling’.

Of course Bakugo would be better than that guy.

Come to find out you were in a long term relationship with the number fucking two hero.

What the fuck was it about you that attracted high ranking heroes of all people. 

Like yeah you were cool and fun and magnetic and didn’t take shit from anyone— you were even able to go head to head with him in a screaming match which shouldn’t have been as attractive as he found it. Not to mention how fucking hot you were…

Okay fine, Bakugo thought you were goddamned perfect any man would be a fucking idiot if they didn’t find you any less than perfect like he did.

But still.

Number fucking two.

Hawks had always been cool and collected, saving people every day without lifting a finger. He dominated the skies and had a trail of girls drooling after him. The media loved him— everyone loved him.

Bakugo on the other hand… not so much. How could you go from someone like Hawks to Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

From number two to number 15.

One day he would become number one but he still wasn’t quite there yet.

Ever since he found out he had found himself thinking of the hero more than he ever had before. Hawks dominated every second of his life.

Is he still friends with your friends? Is he good in bed? Do you ever think about him? Is he easy-going? Not controlling like Bakugo sometimes could be?

Oh god.

He had issues.

* * * * 

“Y’know they were in love,” Bakugo practically gagged.

Kirishima side eyed his friend.

He was seriously over talking about Hawks every single time he patrolled with Bakugo.

”Isn’t she in love with you now?”

”That’s what she says,” he grumbled.

”You don’t believe her?”

”No, I believe her. I just think she’s confused.”

He was really starting to lose it, huh?

”Don’t you think,” Kirishima started, choosing his next words carefully as he waved at a little kid they walked by, elbowing Bakugo to do the same. “It’s unhealthy to think about your girlfriend’s ex this much? It’s been like two years since they broke up hasn’t it?”

”19 months and three days.”

Oh boy.

”Okay… have you tried talking to her about your obsession—“

”IT’S NOT A FUCKING OBSESSION!” He suddenly exploded, hands crackling. “WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT!”

Kirishima didn’t even flinch as he screamed, instead offering an apologetic smile to the civilians on the sidewalk. “Maybe because you started asking how he is in bed after you two had sex?”

”SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR, NO ONE ASKED YOU!”

“So you haven’t talked to her then?”

Bakugo growled in response.

”Maybe talk to him?”

Bakugo looked over at his friend, eyes wide as he watched Kirishima walk beside him with his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky. “Talk to Hawks?”

The idea had never struck him before.

”Yeah. Maybe you just need to meet him. You’ve probably just built up this grand image of him that the media keeps perpetuating— he might not be as perfect as you think, they always did say never to meet your heroes.”

Meet Hawks.

Meet Hawks.

Yeah— he could do that.

Bakugo was suddenly blasting away from his friend.

”Hey! We’re still doing a job you know!?” 

“I’m working by myself today!” He called out behind him.

Bakugo was on a mission.

He was going to meet Hawks and give him a piece of his mind.

The hero was often spotted perching on rooftops, miles away from his agency as any villain with a brain would know better than to commit a crime right by a hero agency— Hawks’s agency especially.

So Bakugo found himself bounding from rooftop to rooftop, searching the skies for that damn bird— he was also keeping an eye on the city, he was still a hero with a job after all.

But as the sun started to set, Bakugo grew restless, finally deciding to take a break and lay on one of the many rooftops he landed on.

No damn sign of him.

Of course he’d be hard to catch, his whole schtick was being fast.

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed at a cloud that reminded him of bird wings. He wondered if you two ever got up to weird sexual shit with those stupid wings.

His chest felt so damn tight every time he thought of him, like he could explode at any second.

He knew so much useless crap about him now that he read and watched practically every single interview of his.

He was a Capricorn.

His blood type was B.

He was 5’7” and 3/4.

His favorite food was chicken— goddamn cannibal.

He wondered if that was why you were in the habit of cooking chicken for dinner most nights.

You were together for two and a half years, that was a long time to spend with someone. What mannerisms have you picked up from him that he always believed were yours?

He pulled out his phone and pulled up Hawks’s instagram, scrolling through perfect photo after perfect photo of him and reading his replies to fan comments.

Damn bird probably didn’t even run his own account.

He tapped on his tags, scrolling down to one of the many photos that haunted him.

He remembered the news at the time, headlines reading ‘Pro-Hero Hawks Has A Girlfriend’ and ‘Sorry Ladies, This Hero is Taken’.

At the time he couldn’t give less of a shit, but now.

It was all he could fucking think about.

He stared at the photo of Hawks dragging a hooded woman by the hand out of his agency. He scrolled and stared at the second photo of him grinning down at the woman.

It was you all right.

There weren’t any other pictures of the two of you out in public and it irked him. It was like an itch that couldn’t be scratched as he wondered just how the two of you looked together in your relationship.

Did you have any pictures of the two of you in your phone?

That was when the sunlight was completely blocked, blanketing him in shadow.

He lowered his phone and his quirk nearly blew up the device.

Fucking Hawks.

His eyes followed the bird as he perched on a telephone pole near the rooftop.

”There a reason you’re lounging on a roof, hero?” Hawks asked with an amused smirk.

Bakugo only stared— was this real or had he actually lost his mind now?

He raised a brow at his silence, tilting his head, reminding Bakugo of an owl. “You didn’t get hit by a quirk or something did you?”

He suddenly had no idea what to say— he hadn’t actually planned anything out to begin with. He figured his mouth would take over like usual and he’d go from there.

”Wait, I know you,” he suddenly snapped his fingers, “You’re that hero Dynamight.”

”THAT’S GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT TO YOU.”

Hawks blinked at the outburst before he barked out a laugh.

”WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT BIRD BRAIN!?” He shouted, stomping his way over to the edge of the roof.

”Nothing, nothing,” he laughed, waving his hand, “That’s a great name.”

”ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME!” He screamed again, throwing his hand up and blasting off an explosion straight at Hawks.

Hawks’s eyes widened as he quickly darted upwards, missing the attack. “Y’know I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be on the same side,” he called out, watching Bakugo as he seethed.

”Same side my ass,” he growled under his breath, “Is my girlfriend’s number still in your phone!?”

”Your girlfriend?” Hawks scoffed, “I don’t know who’s been lying to you but I can promise I don’t have your girlfriend’s number—“

”(Y/N) (L/N)!”

Hawks’s face fell, “You’re dating (Y/N)?”

”YES I AM, YOU STUPID BIRD.”

”Alright fine,” he shrugged, “I guess I do have your girlfriend’s number.”

Bakugo screamed as he hurled blast after blast at Hawks, to which he swiftly dodged each and every one.

He stopped, panting as he searched the sky for him as the smoke cleared, only to find the man standing in front of him.

”Is there a reason you’re trying to kill me? (N/N) moan my name while you two fucked or something?”

A fierce rage boiled in him at the nickname, “DON’T CALL HER THAT!” 

He began shooting more and more explosions at him.

Hawks tsked.

What a bother— were you really dating this guy?

He sent his feathers straight at Bakugo, each one catching onto any piece of fabric it could without slicing him and another set of feathers sliding off his gauntlets.

He had Bakugo pinned against the rooftop, palms against the concrete.

Hawks walked through the smoke, staring down at the struggling, screaming man with an unamused expression.

He kneeled down. “You’re aware we broke up like two years ago.” He said flatly, this was so ridiculous, he could barely remember what happened the last time he talked to you.

”19 months and three days,” he spat.

“Whoa,” his eyes widened before a grin tugged on his lips, “You have issues huh?” He only laughed as Bakugo continued to scream at him. “You also know she’s the one that broke up with me, right?”

”Of course she did! Because you’re a fucking dumbass who can’t fuck!”

“Can’t fuck? She tell you that? Because I remember her telling me something very different.”

Bakugo saw red, now thinking about you moaning about Hawks’s dick the same way you moaned about his.

He sighed, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. “Y’know… it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen her. And I suppose I should cut your rampage short. Let’s go on a little trip.”

* * * *

You hummed, dancing around your kitchen while you cooked. Bakugo was late, but that was fine, he probably got held up with hero work.

You knew he’d probably yell at you for cooking dinner without him again but you were sticking to a chicken dish that you had perfected so he could complain all he wanted while eating his deliciously seasoned chicken.

There was a knock at your door.

”One second!” You called out, quickly washing your hands. It was probably the landlord again.

You turned your music off, humming as you skipped over to the door and opened it.

Your smile immediately fell.

Keigo fucking Takami leaned against the wall across your door with your boyfriend, who was currently wrapped up in a bandage capture weapon from his ankles to his mouth, being floated by Keigo’s feathers.

”It’s come to my attention that you’ve lost something,” He coolly stated with one of those grins you used to see on almost a daily basis.

Bakugo was screaming into the bandage around his mouth, not a single word coming out coherently.

Your head fell as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “For the love of God please tell me I’m being pranked.” You groaned.

”Not today sweetheart.”

More screaming ensued. “Alright,” you huffed, “Come in I guess.” You moved to the side, Bakugo being floated into the room first with Hawks following behind, and his two gauntlets floating in afterwards.

Hawks looked around the familiar space, “You redecorated,” he stated calmly, before noticing your neck, “And that looks painful,” he pointed to the ridiculous hickey your boyfriend left on you the night before. He went over to the couch and placed Bakugo down, his feathers finally rejoining his wings.

He immediately rolled off, hitting the ground with a thud as he struggled.

Hawks quirked an eyebrow at him before looking back to you, “Dynamight huh? Little hero magnet aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, “Seems so— this one keeps my hands a bit more full though.”

”Just wait till he finds out about the other hero you dated.”

Bakugo struggled more, smacking his head against the coffee table.

”He’s fucking with you Kat!” You called out, walking over to him, now standing above your restrained boyfriend, “There was no other hero— do you have to rile him up even more?” You snapped at Keigo.

He only shrugged, “He tried killing me so I think that’s fair.”

You groaned, “I’m really sorry about that. I’m gonna talk to him tonight.”

He hummed, “Nothing I couldn’t handle. You look good by the way, it’s nice seeing you doing well after all this time.”

”Yeah, you too,” you grinned, “Hero work going well? I see you on the news almost every day.”

”Better than ever.” He smiled, “I’ll let you attend to him though, I think he needs the attention.”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks.” You said leading him to the door, “And thank you for bringing him here, I’m sorry again for any trouble he caused.”

”S’alright,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I do have one question though,” he turned, facing you in the doorway, “Did you really tell him I can’t fuck—?”

“Good night Keigo,” you slammed the door in his face.

You walked back over to your boyfriend, watching him roll back and forth between the couch and coffee table as he struggled with the capture weapon.

”Oh Kat,” you sighed, “What am I gonna do with you?”

You sat on the couch, leaning down and yanking the bandage from his mouth.

He said nothing.

You raised a brow, “Really? You had a fuck ton to say when he was here,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You were flirting,” he grumbled.

”You tried to kill him? Really? You don’t realize how fucking psychotic that is?”

“… He called you sweetheart.”

”Okay,” you snapped, “This has got to stop Kat. Honestly it seems like you’re more into Keigo than me.”

”That’s absolute fucking bullshit, and you know it. I’m only obsessed with him because of you.”

”So you admit you’re obsessed?”

”What!? No!—I— shut up you fucking idiot!” He screamed, rolling on the floor again to try and break free.

”Okay, how are we gonna remedy this? What can I do to help you get over this? Therapy?”

He stopped, staring at the ceiling, ”… Lemme send him a picture of my dick in your pussy.”

”Absolutely out of the question.” You stated, utterly unamused.

”Sucking me off?”

“Nope.”

”Eating you out?”

”Try again.”

“Mirror pic of us in doggy?”

”Kat—… actually I can deal with that— but only if you agree to talk to a therapist. I love you Kat so I’m really gonna need you to drop this obsession with my ex or I’m gonna have a new one.”

”Fine!” He barked. “Doggy and a therapist.”

You nodded, “Doggy and a therapist— and did you pick up that plan B like you said you would?”

“…damn it.”

* * * * 

[New Message… Unknown number]

[1 Attachment]

Keigo Takami: ‘Thanks. I almost forgot what she looked like in that position’

[New Message… (Y/N)]

(Y/N): Idk what you said but I’m begging you to stop riling him up. There’s only so much screaming I can take in one night 

Keigo Takami: Good luck sweetheart, I’m sure you’re doing a lot more screaming than he is anyway ;)

(Y/N): Bastard

[starset21]

Plot Twist |IH6|

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x reader

Summery: You’ve been dating Isack for well over a year, and he knows you write fanfiction. What he doesn’t know is that you write fanfiction about him. Using his real name. And one night he finds out.

Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.

A/N: I've seen a few others do this and thought maybe I'd jump on the train here's my first Isack fic <3

You’d always told yourself it wasn’t really lying.

Yes, you were dating Isack Hadjar. And yes, you wrote fanfiction. But it wasn’t like you lied to him about it. You just... never exactly told him what — or who — you were writing about.

It started innocently, before you ever even met. Just a silly crush on a talented, scrappy young driver with a sharp tongue and kind eyes. You wrote a few soft imagines on Tumblr under a fake name, and somehow, it took off.

Then, against all odds, you met. You hit it off. You started dating.

And the fanfic?

Well… it never stopped.

Even after things got serious. Even after you moved in. Even after you started borrowing his hoodies and waking up in his hotel beds, you still wrote your silly little stories about Isack Hadjar and the girl he’d do anything for.

You just didn’t think he’d ever read them.

It happened one quiet Tuesday night. You were back in France between races, curled up on the couch in one of Isack’s oversized Red Bull hoodies, eating cereal straight from the box while he sat beside you, scrolling through his phone. He was quiet — half-watching something on TV, half-dozing off — when a low sound escaped him.

“…Huh.”

You glanced over. “What?”

He tilted his phone toward you, brow raised.

“I just saw a tweet about fanfiction. Someone tagged me in it. Thought it was another thirst edit or something, but…”

Your blood turned to ice.

He tapped the link.

No. No. NO.

There it was. The blog post. Your blog post. A fic you’d published just days earlier — one that had already gained hundreds of reblogs — with the title:

“Stay the Night (Again)” — Isack Hadjar x Reader

He stared at it. Then at you.

You tried to play dumb.

“Huh. People write a lot of fanfiction, right?”

But it was too late.

He opened it. He scrolled.

And when he hit the line where you (well, technically, “reader”) whispered “You’re the only place I feel safe,” in his arms on a Monaco hotel balcony — which you had actually said, in real life, six months ago — he paused.

“Okay,” Isack said slowly. “So this is… incredibly specific.”

You stared ahead, wide-eyed, silently begging for the earth to open up and swallow you.

He turned to face you fully, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Chérie,” he said, voice calm but clearly amused, “you use my real name?”

Your voice came out a full octave higher. “...Define ‘real.’”

“Not like… ‘Zack.’ Or ‘an F2 driver who’s definitely not me.’ You wrote ‘Isack Hadjar,’ full name, and then described my hotel room layout and the exact way I kiss you when I’m tired.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands.

“Are you mad?”

He blinked. “I’m… not sure yet.”

“Okay. Valid.”

He kept reading. “Did you write this one before or after we went to Monaco for our anniversary?”

“…After.”

He put the phone down and gave you the flattest look you’d ever seen.

You cringed. “In my defense, it got over 20,000 notes.”

He just stared.

“I said in my defense!”

“You wrote a scene where I give you a back massage after Quali and then say ‘I could win or crash out and you’d still be my favorite feeling in the world.’ I don’t even talk like that.”

“You said something close once!”

He looked absolutely betrayed. “I was half-asleep!”

You groaned again and sank deeper into the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into the throw pillow. “It started before we got together, and I didn’t want to stop. People liked it. It felt like mine. No one knew it was me — or you — not really.”

Isack watched you, expression softening. A beat passed.

“Wait,” he said slowly, voice full of dawning realization. “That NSFW Alphabet one… was that—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

His mouth curled into the most devilish grin you’d ever seen.

“Oh, you wrote that.”

“I hate this timeline,” you muttered, dragging the pillow over your face.

He was already pulling the blog back up.

“‘K is for Kitchen: where he makes you beg quietly because the wall’s too thin.’ That’s literally my apartment!”

You flailed an arm out and smacked his leg. “Stop reading it out loud!”

Isack cackled, holding the phone just out of reach.

“You’re unbelievable,” you groaned.

“I’m flattered, actually,” he said, nudging your knee. “I mean, who needs PR when I’ve got my girlfriend anonymously publishing erotica about me on the internet?”

You peeked out from under the pillow. “So… you’re really not mad?”

He smiled, a little softer this time.

“No. Not mad.”

You bit your lip. “Embarrassed?”

He grinned. “No”

You tilted your head. “Then what?”

“I’m a little… intrigued.”

You blinked. “Intrigued?”

He leaned in. “So let me get this straight: while I’m out here giving interviews and prepping for quali, you’re writing little scenarios about me — using my real name — where I kiss you like we’re in a movie and whisper things in French?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes?”

He smirked. “And these have, what, thousands of readers?”

“...Tens of thousands,” you admitted.

He whistled. “So I’m basically F1’s main character.”

“In the fic world? Kind of, yeah.”

He hummed. “It’s weird. But mostly just because I had no idea. You’re so quiet about it in real life. Meanwhile, online you’ve got me reciting French poetry in the rain and undoing bra straps like I’ve got a degree in it.”

You laughed, cheeks flushed.

“I take creative liberties.”

“You give me main character energy, chérie.”

He paused. Then, eyes twinkling:

“…Can I request a fic where I win in Monaco and we make out behind the podium?”

You gaped at him.

“Are you seriously making fic requests right now?”

He leaned over, resting his forehead against yours.

“Seriously. I want bonus points if I say something emotionally repressed and French.”

You smiled, your heart still pounding.

“Okay. But only if you stop reading the NSFW Alphabet out loud.”

“No promises.”

Later that night, as you curled up in bed together, he scrolled through more of your blog while you tried — and failed — to take his phone away.

“I knew I recognized this dialogue,” he said smugly, showing you a screenshot. “This is word-for-word what I said when I kissed you after that sprint race in Spa.”

“God, you remembered?”

“Of course I did. I just didn’t think you were going to immortalize it on Tumblr.com.”

You buried your face in his chest and groaned.

“You’re never letting this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He kissed the top of your head, laughing softly.

“I guess this makes me your muse now.”

You sighed dramatically.

“You always were.”

Isack looked down at you, one brow raised.

"Say that again," he murmured.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Say what?”

He leaned in, voice lower now. “That I’m your muse.”

You swallowed. “...You’re my muse.”

He smirked. “And all those scenes — the ones where I can’t keep my hands off you, where I make you forget your own name — those were based on real stuff too, yeah?”

You hesitated. “Some were... inspired.”

You felt his fingers trail along your waist, under the hoodie. Your hoodie. His hoodie.

He dipped his head, brushing a kiss against your collarbone.

“Then let’s make sure your next fic is even more accurate.”

Your heart practically stopped.

“Isack—”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Think you can remember the details, chérie?”

You swallowed, heat pooling under your skin. “Vividly.”

He smiled against your jawline, then lifted you effortlessly into his lap, his hands splayed across your thighs like he already knew the next scene.

And you thought to yourself:

Well. There’s your next chapter.

[tiki-was-here]

The Deep x Marine Biologist Reader P1

Word Count: 1.1k

This takes place post gill breakdown . Basically hes so desperate for any sort of positive attention hed probably suck ur toes if you asked nicely. Also there’s like zero gifs of the deep cmon guys do better.

Also also CW for the deep being a teeny bit sexist at the start

The Deep sat hunched over on a plush armchair in his shitty apartment, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He was supposed to be on standby for a mission involving some flooding in a coastal city, but as usual, the others had it covered–despite the fact that he told Ashley that all water related missions were supposed to be his only. He sighed, tapping through social media, pausing his doom scrolling to occasionally say some not so PG words under the posts of a poor family taking a beach day out. If she wanted to post her ugly ass kids then she could have at least shaved before she went out.Then, a notification caught his eye.

Specifically a DM. He didn't get much of those in general but after the situation with Starlight died had died down his number of daily messages got cut down to almost nothing.

He squinted at the username “marinebio_enthusiast”. He was ignore it when he noticed something unusual—it wasn’t hate mail. Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the message.

“Hi! My name is [Y/N], and I’m a marine biology student at Sandalwood University. I’ve been really passionate about ocean conservation lately, and I thought it would be amazing to get your perspective on a few issues. Also, I know this might sound a little weird, but I’m a big fan of yours! I think it’s great that you care so much about the ocean and its wildlife. If you’re interested, I’d love to buy you a coffee and chat about it! I also sent an email just in case this doesn’t reach you. I really appreciate your time! :)”

The Deep reread the message twice, his eyebrows lifting. A fan? Someone who actually wanted to talk to him?(bros too lonely to care about stranger danger)

A warmth spread through his chest. It wasn’t just the praise that made him feel good—it was the way you’d worded it, like he was someone important. Like his opinion mattered. He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him it was a joke.

He typed back before he could second-guess himself.

“Hey [Y/N], thanks for reaching out!!!!! I’d love to help out and chat about marine life🪼🐠🦈. Coffee sounds great 👍👍👍. How about tomorrow at noon?”

He hesitated, then hit send. Instantly, his phone buzzed with your response.

“Wow i really didn't expect a response so soon. Thank you soooo much for this opportunity!

Noon is good for me i’ll meet you at [insert some random coffee shop name idgaf]. I'll see you then!”

The Deep couldn’t help but grin, the night spent planning possible outfits and stalking your profile.

The Deep watched the door intently, his foot tapping nervously. He would never admit it, but he’d actually gotten there twenty minutes early. He’d opted for something casual—jeans, a button-up, and a beanie to hide his identity a bit. When you finally walked in, he couldn’t help but straighten up, almost knocking his coffee off the table in the process.

He raised a hand, and when your eyes met his, you smiled so brightly he felt a bit self-conscious. You made your way over, and he stood up, almost tripping over his own feet to shake your hand.

“Wow, it’s really you,” you breathed out, eyes wide. “Thanks for meeting me!”

He cleared his throat, trying to sound confident. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I’m always happy to, uh, help with marine stuff. You know, it’s kind of my thing.”

You giggled, and his chest puffed up a little. “Yeah, I figured. I saw your speech on marine preservation from a few years ago. It’s what got me into marine biology in the first place.”

The two of you sat down, and you immediately started talking about the project you were working on—something about coral bleaching and how to promote rehabilitation efforts. The conversation flowed easily —mostly you talking about your project while he nodded along, occasionally throwing in random facts he’d Googled last night. He even made a joke about dolphins being the “mean girls” of the sea, and when you actually laughed, he felt like he’d just won the lottery.

“You know,” you said after a while, stirring your latte, “it’s really admirable how much you care about marine life. I think people forget that sometimes.”

He blinked, surprised. “Yeah, they do,” he admitted, a little softer than intended. “Most people just see me as… the fish guy.”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, I think it’s great. And I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well… it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

You nodded, eyes softening. “People can be pretty harsh. But you’re doing your best. That’s what counts.”

The Deep wasn’t used to this—being treated like a person.

You glanced at your phone,checking the time. “Hey, would you mind coming with me to check out a spot? I’d love to show you what I’m talking about.”

He blinked, surprised. “Uh, sure! Yeah, let’s do it.”

He followed you out to the parking lot, still a little confused. You opened your car door and gestured for him to hop in.

“I promise it’s not far,” you said. “It’ll make way more sense if you see it in person.”

He hesitated, trying to rationalize the situation. You seemed nice enough. Plus, you’d picked a spot by the ocean, so if this turned out to be some trick, he’d have the advantage. With a shrug, he got into your car.

The drive wasn’t long, and when you pulled up, he realized you’d taken him to a little cliffside overlooking the ocean.

“Wow,” he murmured, stepping out. The ocean stretched out below, waves crashing against the rocks. He couldn’t help but feel calmer just being near the water.

“Cool, right?” you asked, leaning against the car. “This is where I do most of my research. I thought it’d be the perfect place to explain my idea.”

He glanced back at you, surprised to find you tugging your shirt over your head. His brain stalled, and he nearly choked on his own breath.

“W-what are you doing?” he stammered, eyes widening.

You shot him a playful grin,stripping the rest of your clothes so you were now just in your boxers. “I’m going in. You’re welcome to join me.”

Before he could process it, you ran to the edge of the cliff and dove gracefully into the water below. His heart leapt into his throat.

“Oh, shit—” He bolted to the edge, peering over. You’d vanished beneath the waves. Panic set in, and he didn’t think, he just dove in after you.

The water rushed around him, cool and familiar, but when he surfaced, you were nowhere to be seen. His heart pounded.

“Hey!” he called, splashing around. “Where’d you go?”

His mind raced, imagining the headlines. He couldn’t handle another scandal. But before he could dive down again, something grabbed his leg.

[kazefiend]

Tags: NSFW 18+, p in v, post op trans man, fucked up dynamics, murder, blood, death, spoilers for Ronin's killer chat route, pov, second person, be nice to me I haven't written in this perspective before, female reader, afab anatomy on reader.

Synopsis: After he returns from his murder his favourite thing to do is you

Word Count: 1731

He told you not to wait up for him, but you did - because what type of girlfriend wouldn't, right?

You'd written a few thousand words today, cleaned the apartment, made dinner, and fixed him a plate that now waited in the fridge for when he got home. Now you lay in bed, watching true crime YouTube videos about your boyfriend and your other friends from the server.

A blonde woman with a cat on her lap spoke about The Butcher like she had it all figured out. Her details were wrong, of course. She guessed he was in his forties and "got no bitches." You couldn't help but laugh - he was much younger and absolutely did get bitches. You being the bitches... the bitch? Whatever. You squinted in thought, wondering how Ronin had never left any DNA behind. Maybe you'd ask about his process to put in your next book.

You yawned as the hours rolled by without texts or calls. You reassured yourself that it hadn't been long enough to feel anxious yet. He was fine, just busy. The various 'what ifs' started to play in your head like a river of woe threatening to drown you. Your logical brain kicked in to stop you from having a heart attack. He'd probably told you not to wait up because he planned to be very late. Everything was going according to plan.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly exhaled, grounding yourself. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off, feeling peace and safety in the bed of a man who tried his best to embody the Antichrist. You'd packed all your belongings up a few months ago, and he had absorbed you into his space. You were obsessed with this man, ever since he'd fucked your brains out in Purgatory.

No, that was a lie - it was months before that.

You dreamed of when you first saw his Cheshire grin on your computer screen. You found yourself struck by how gorgeous he was, laughed at how funny he was, and became enamoured with his hidden depths. Cupid had loosed an arrow into your chest, the bleeding wound being filled by Ronin's prying fingers. He wished to remake you in his corrupt image. That's what was best for you. He knew best.

The door slamming shut startled you awake. His shadow approaching from the hallway put you at ease. Through the darkness, you called out, "Baby!"

You couldn't see his face, but you knew there was a smile on it. "Did a pretty little thing wait up for me?" You heard him take off his backpack, dropping it with a heavy thud - his crowbar adding the extra weight.  The weight of his crowbar-laden backpack held secrets better left in shadow. But you'd drink in every detail, store them away to feed your own growing appetite for chaos. You were no longer just witness to his madness - you were its willing apprentice.

"How was work?" you asked, having not seen him all day.

"Which work, darlin'? Be specific for me." Oh, he was in a mood. You knew what he wanted you to ask.

"Breaking people," you responded. "Fixing cars was probably less interesting."

The duality of Ronin: breaking people and fixing cars.

He tossed his clothes in a pile, save for his shirt and boxers. "I got a few people to open up to me today, really got inside their heads. You know me, baby - I'm a people person."

You giggled and snorted at the stupid puns. "The devil has jokes."

"Life's a joke, sweetheart. Ya just gotta be the one laughing." He was at your side of the bed now, his imposing height would be intimidating if you weren't used to his scary bullshit by now.

Crawling onto the bed, he loomed over you, hands planted on either side of your head. Finally, you got a good look at him in the darkness. Blood splattered across his face, dry and cracking in spots, sticking bits of his hair together. His eyes looked wild, adrenaline still beating hot through his veins. The absolute thrill of murder firing through his synapses. He was crazy, he was beautiful, he was yours.

He was heroin, alcohol, everything bad for you that you couldn't live without. You didn't plan to live without him - your life had been nothing until he drew you in. Empty. Devoid of kin. Without a home.

You'd found your missing piece in a man who collected souls like others collected coins. His corruption completed you, his chaos called you home.

You were hopelessly in love, and he loved you too. You could tell by the way his dark eyes lingered on your body in his moment of need. The magnetic pull between you transcended physical attraction. It was a recognition of kindred broken pieces, jagged edges that fit together in a mosaic of beautiful destruction. His violence called to something primal in you, while your devotion fed his need to possess, to corrupt, to transform. 

He needed you like he needed air right now.

You reached out, locking your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you to kiss his lips. You tasted iron initially, but it faded as you swallowed the blood you licked off his skin. He shuddered at the action, biting down on your bottom lip and tugging. He was all teeth, biting and nipping at your lips. You moaned against his smile, and he caught your tongue first with his teeth before letting go. You felt his tongue in your mouth, metal piercing dragging across your tongue, sometimes hitting your teeth with a clack. He was going to break your fucking teeth one day.

Your hands threaded through his bloody hair, grabbing a handful and pulling. He groaned so lovely into your mouth. You wished you could suck the air from his lungs to sustain yourself forever. He responded by grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing hard.

Ronin sat up, eyes half-lidded, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath. "Legs up, darlin'," his voice low and dark as he commanded, and you obliged. Your legs now up on his shoulders, he bit your calf before pulling your underwear off your body and tossing them into the dark void of the bedroom floor.

His fingers glided through your soaked folds, catching your clit between two fingers, rolling it back and forth. "You're fuckin' drenched, babe," a vulgar observation but a true one. "All ready for the butcher to fuck you."

"All for youuu~" you cooed, being enticingly adorable with your legs in the air. He laughed darkly in response.

"Gimme a minute to get all ready for ya." He prepared himself as fast as he could manage, pulling down his boxers to free his now hard cock.

"Is that for me?" you echoed his earlier comment with your own. You tried to mimic his cadence but couldn't talk that deep.

He didn't answer, just grinned back at you. Leaning down, basically folding you in half - there was no goddamn way you could keep your legs on his shoulders comfortably. You lowered them to rest at his hips instead.

He teased you, nibbling at your neck and sucking deep bruises into your skin. Purple and red flowers bloomed beneath his lips. A garden of his affection. Every bite mark was a promise, every scar a love letter. You wore his brand of ownership like crown jewels, proud to be the monster's chosen consort. There would be no fairytale ending, no redemption arc, no return to the light. You'd rather reign beside him in hell than serve alone in heaven.

He lines the tip up with your sodden entrance, pushing forward only for it to slip and drag on your clit once more.  He tries again using his hand to guide him and you feel him sink into you.  It feels incredible, he slowly hilts and you take a satisfied breath.

He starts to pound you with hard deep thrusts.  The kind that jostles your body each time his hips slap against your ass.  The softer parts of you jiggle from the impact.  One hand holds a handful of hair and the other bunches the fabric of his shirt in a fist.

He breathes hard against your neck, “s’ hot an’ tight fuck babe” he whines as he rolls his hips.  You can't help but squeeze him to coax out more delicious sounds “pussy’s gonna kill me darlin’” he chokes out.

You moan his name like a prayer, each time his hips connect you lose yourself.  He's pulling a fistful of your hair and biting your throat, feeling your heartbeat hammer through your arteries.  You beg for him to crush you in his jaws, tear out your throat and fuck you until you bleed out.  The pace is knocking the air from your lungs, cock carving his way through your guts.  It would be beautiful romance if he fucked you to death, tore through your body and ate your heart.  

You pull his head off your neck and kiss his lips as you experience your little death.  Ronin swallows your moans and keeps you grounded on earth as you shake and squeeze around him.  You're never going to see the light of heaven and you're fine with that.

The blood of his victims mix with his sweat and drip onto you, you're a gore stained mess; rotted and beautiful just as he made you.

His thrusts become sloppy, uncoordinated and animalistic.  He dies for you, his beautiful rot goddess.  Spilling his decay within you. 

He hungrily caught his breath, head buried in the junction of your neck and shoulder. His grin returned and his grip on your hair loosened into a gentle caress. His weight on top of you felt comfortable; you never wanted him to leave you, and if you had any say in it, he wouldn't.

Your love was a murder ballad written in bruises and blood, a symphony of savagery and sweetness

There was no escaping this gravity well of mutual destruction. You'd tied your fates together with crimson ribbons, knowing the path led straight to hell. But heaven was never your destination anyway. This was your choice - to love the devil, to become his equal in darkness, to find salvation in damnation.

Till death do you part.