#also making a little plea about the game in the tags

[dilfsfordinner]

summary- toji fails to prevent a completely preventable messy incident from occurring, involving his son

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

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“You wanna do it?” Toji grinned, eyebrows raised as he watched little Megumi tug the ratchet from his grasp, waddling towards the raised car, brave enough to face the thing he’d thought a transformer just months prior.

Your car was in dire need of an oil change and being the caring husband that he was, Toji took up his place as mechanic for the day, his worry about typical shop workers taking advantage of women evident in his pleas for you to just stay home and let him do it.

Megumi also took up his place as the incredibly curious and stubborn one year old, his job apparently to make Toji’s work as hard as humanly possible, every babble or questionable crash tearing Toji’s attention away from the task at hand, which is why he stopped trying, and just let his son indulge in his childlike curiosity.

Of course, you would lose your mind if you knew that your baby was around such a large machine, but Toji knew himself and his capabilities, his reflexes practically inhuman, so he didn’t really mind a little thing running around his feet, as long as he kept an eye out.

“Alright, Megs, give it back,” Toji said gently, hand curling open to reveal a waiting palm, Toji realizing that the young boy did not intend to help him underneath the car. Rather, he’d started a game of tag, little feet scurrying to the other side of the garage, awaiting his father’s move.

Refusing to let a one year old bruise his competitive spirit, Toji used his skills to be across the room in a split second, large hands grabbing Megumi before he could run away, a loud slew of giggles leaving the young boy’s lips, Toji smiling as he held him up with only two hands, walking towards the car like he was holding a feral cat.

Setting the babbling child down, Toji got down on his level, kneeling to tell Megumi to stay back and watch for a second. Pulling himself under the car, Toji then began to use Megumi like a little assistant, asking for tools as needed. “Wrench please” and similar phrases continued for a while before Toji was ready to actually do the task at hand.

Humming in approval at his handiwork, Toji made one final request to the boy sitting beside his feet. “Can you get the jug of oil for me, please?” he asked gently, hands busy holding the port above him closed, his ears catching an excited “yes” and the patter of running feet retreating farther into the garage.

Too preoccupied to notice the unusual length of time it was taking for his son to grab the requested bottle, Toji continued his tinkering before an odd smack sounded, glugging sounds following soon after.

Pausing his movements, Toji craned his neck to try and see his son but before he could even question what had happened, a familiar sniffle sounded at his feet, loud cries flowing from his baby’s mouth.

Sighing, Toji quickly screwed the oil duct tight, and pulled himself from under the car. The sight he emerged to was certainly a surprising one. There, right next to all of his discarded tools, was an oil-covered Megumi, his whole body completely drenched with the thick, black substance.

Letting out a sympathetic laugh and sweet “It’s okay”s, Toji scooped up his crying child, tutting as the dripping kid hid his face in his dad’s chest, trying to hide or remove the liquid, Toji couldn’t tell.

Completely clueless to the situation outside, you were busy in the kitchen, making a snack for your husband as a thank you. For the first time in an hour, familiar footsteps sounded behind you as you chopped up some vegetables, smiling to yourself as you expected two arms to come wrap around you. What you didn’t expect was to hear the wails of your baby boy, and you especially couldn’t have prepared yourself to see him in the flesh.

“What happened,” you gasped as Toji held the young boy to his chest, a black trail of droplets gathering around his feet as you rushed up to the two of them. Cradling little Megumi’s face, oil coated your hands, anger bubbling inside of you, the only funnel being a slap to your husband’s shoulder, narrowed eyes turning up to meet his own.

“I told you to leave him in here,” you huffed, your angry tone fizzling into sympathetic coos as your attention turned back to your son. “It was an accident,” Toji’s voice had that humorous lilt to it, one that was really good at making your very motherly nature less worrisome. “It happens to workers all the time, he’ll be okay.”

And he was right, because after what seemed to be hours of scrubbing and a whole bottle of dawn dish soap later, the previously oily Megumi was squeaky clean, and incredibly happy as he munched away on his dinner. Toji couldn’t help but retell the story a million times, ignoring your reprimanding words as he fell into a fit of laughter, which eventually had your lips starting to pull into a smile, Megumi none the wiser, his memory about the incident already wiped away.

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[mono-dot-jpeg]

borrowing - stellaron hunters crew

summary; an eye for an eye, a contract for a power.

genre/extra tags; headcanons/bullet fic, fluff?? idk, can be read platonic, no relationships established, they're all co workers but they can be friends with reader ig, reader got azul's powers pretty much but not really but also yes

[gender neutral! reader]

a/n; im.. yep. i got this. thank you for your request, hope you enjoy!

let's just leave the backstory of how you got here out of the way.

as in, im not gonna talk about it.

anyways

imagine code name: ursala bc you didn't like talking about your real identity

if you're gonna make contracts with people for their powers, they dont need to know who you were. it would just make you more of a target. and it would make you known to authority figures and you didn't need that on your hands

you sort of pose as a business person, often making contracts with those who need them or,, if they had no choice but to accept your help.

you also have definitely tried to convince the others to sign your contracts

they all said no

blade is kind of impressed with how many people you've convinced on a daily basis to sign your contracts

kafka was almost tempted to sign one just because she was curious

silver wolf calls it using cheats

"they just have a really good gaming chair"

you really prey on those who have a path of different varieties

you got a little bit of variety you know?

you're really helpful in battle because of it

if they need healing, boom, you got the path of abundance

if they need shields, boom, you got path of preservation

you just fill up the team just right

blade spars with you once in a while because-

"you cant rely on your contracts forever"

which is true.

you are very protective of them, rightfully so since they're powerful but they're not invincible

you usually ask kafka or blade to keep them safe because they're never gonna fold under any of your pleas if you want to see them

but you keep your most important contracts to yourself

i can't really think of many like,,, scenarios really and it might be because i dont know how to write for blade and silver wolf quite yet

but i guess the trio appreciates you and your power

you're an important part of the team after all

[charlottecutepie]

Now that you’ve watched Animal room, maybe a Doug x Reader? maybe public sex or creampie ?

⋆౨ৎ˚ A real animal (Doug Van Housen x fem!reader)

author notes: hey love! so here it is, thank you for the request, it was interesting to write about this character :) although I dont really know how well it turned out, i still doubt it tbh, im so sorry if it sucks, tho i tried harddd….in any case, ill be glad to receive new requests for this character

tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, thigh fucking, rough sex, possessiveness, fingers sucking, spanking, hair pulling, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon, a little praise, degrading, mean!Doug

Doug kisses you like it's the end of the fucking world. He's groaning into your mouth, and his huge hands aren't hugging you at all, no, they're squeezing you as if he intentionally wants to break your bones. To break you not only as a person, but also as a body. Your bones, your skin, every hair on your body, every cell in you should belong to him. Doug Van Housen hates and loves you, and his every action is imbued with this poisonous and caustic mixture of madness. You seem to like that you are tightly pressed between a cold wall and his hot body, but at the same time you're afraid of what comes out of his mouth, you knew that he was far from a sweet and gentle person, you knew what you were going for, according to Doug himself.

“My fucking slut,” he growls into your neck and makes forward movements, rubbing against you. There's a lump in your throat and blood froze in your veins, you didn't expect that you'd be fucked right in this corridor, right fucking now. You wanted to invite him to your place, well . . . to watch a movie first, and then lie down and cuddle. But don't you know Doug? It's just not about him. If you dream of such an affair, then why are you dating someone as him? Doug's madly amused by you. Are you really that silly? “I'm gonna ruin you.”

“Just wait—” you can't stay still, putting your dignity at such risk, damn it. You cling to his shoulders and look into his eyes, trying to find at least some echoes of common sense. However does it make sense to look for it in a man like Doug? “Fuck, Doug, enough!”

Looking at your desperate plea, amusement flickers across his eyes. The hallway filled with the echo of your words as he pulls away slightly, raising his eyebrows. He laughs. “Someone is too cocky. Don't worry, I'll fuck this arrogance out of you. Or what? You don't like me anymore?” Doug grasps you by your hips tightly, slowly grinding into you as he nips softly at your neck. “You must have a fucking adrenaline rush, baby. I don't think you'll be as brave in a few minutes.”

“Uggh—” you groan almost in pain as he bites on your skin. “Can we at least do this at home?” you try to keep your voice quite, but Doug doesn't give a fuck so he makes a damn loud moan when you pull his black hair. You definitely don't expect this so you quickly let him go and glance at his face for signs of pain. There is silence for a second. Doug looks at you with his mouth open and breathes heavily, and then bursts into laughter.

“Was that supposed to stop me?” you stare at him wide-eyed as his laughter reverberates around. “Look, sweetie, I won’t care if we fuck in a pool of acid. The only thing I care about is claiming what’s mine. . . You're going to take me any way possible until there's not a drop of your fucking arrogance left inside you.” his lips descend upon yours fiercely; they consume your mouth entirely while he tangles one hand in your hair and grasps your hip harder. It all feels so animalistic, so brutal that it scares and excites you at once — two emotions mixing into an insatiable hunger for more from this twisted game between you two.

You're barely recovering from his rough kiss, your lips are flushed, as are your cheeks. “Doug. . .” you don't really know what you're saying, you just want to repeat his name over and over like a damn prayer. “Doug, Doug, Doug—” you whisper as he can't get enough of your neck, kissing every inch, although it's more like he's devouring you like an animal. His hands find your ass and squeeze it roughly through your clothes, which responds with a reddening of the skin and your sharp sigh.

“Oww, what a pathetic sight,” he taunts you when his fingers finally get under your clothes, pulling them down to your knees with impatient jerks, leaving you in only your panties. Before you can say anything, his finger makes its way to the sweetest spot between your legs. Doug rubs your pussy through your underwear and, feeling how wet you are, sighs contentedly and smiles, baring his teeth. “So fucking wet, look what I've done to you.” he pulls your soaked panties to the side and slips one finger inside you. So fucking slow and gentle, all the time staring into your eyes, just to tease and mock you. It's just one finger, but you can already feel your knees getting weak. “Don't faint, pretty, stay with me, yeah?” Doug hums in approval as your pussy clenches around his finger — a clear signal that his girl is desperate for more.

“Please. . .” you feel so weak to him.

He watches your pleading expression and raises an eyebrow. “More?” he asks, smirking as his second finger joins the first inside you. He starts pumping slowly while rubbing your clit in rapid circles with his thumb. Your hips jerk forward desperately and your lips part in deep sighs. Seeing you begging him like a desperate little slut makes him proud. “Pathetic, ain't you?” when you just get used to his two fingers, he abruptly plunges them even deeper into you. You gasp loudly, clinging on Doug for support as you nearly fall.

“Ohh—! No, fuck, that's—”

“Too much?”

“Yes, t—too rough, wait!” his smile broadens at that. And. . . Then he pulls back suddenly, leaving you panting heavily, your legs trembling.

“You taste heavenly,” he slides his wet fingers into his mouth as he savors your taste, watching your embarrassed face. “take off my fucking belt, baby,” he tells you before pushing two of them against your entrance once more, this time fingerfucking you faster. You don't know what to do, your body doesn't obey, while Doug roughly fingers you, tearing incoherent moans out of you. You try to grab his belt, but his fingers are moving inside you so fast that your hands are shaking. “i said take off my fucking belt.”

He knows you're about to cum as your pussy clenching around his fingers, but he doesn't let you, instead he slows down so you can finally take off his belt. You sigh and Doug takes his fingers out of you, which makes you look at him in shock, brows raised and eyes wide.

“Bu—!” he pulls your panties down and slips his painfully hard cock between your thighs, your soft skin making him groan loudly.

“Mhhm— You feel so fuckin' good, doll,” Doug thrusts forward, rubbing his dick between your damp folds. His length sweetly slides against your slit, every inch of it coated with your wetness. “my good fucking girl.” he wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you closer, not letting you fall.

His hips rock against you in a fast, sinful motion, teasing your cunt with the tip of his cock. He lets out a low groan, his shaft sliding across your folds and over your clit. “Ahhnn— ohh, im close!” you can’t help but whimper softly, you cling to him, fingers curling into fists at his shoulder, hips rolling instinctively with each slide of his dick through your wet folds.

“Cum for me.” Doug fucks your thighs faster, hitting your sensitive nub repeatedly. His breathing deepens as he thrusts harder between your thighs, spreading your wetness around his cock. “My little slut. . .” he hides his face in your hair. “cum for me.” he demands, you feel the delicious tension building in your belly, spreading through your core until it becomes all-consuming. Your whimper as you grind against him helplessly, your hole clenching around nothing.

When his tip slides over your little aching clit, that makes you shudder, a loud moan escaping your lips as you finish. You nearly scream, but your sounds muffled by Doug's chest.

“Good girl.” he praises you. “now I'm going to fuck your brains out and claim this little pussy.” Doug doesn't waste any time to prove his promises. With a ruthless determination, he flips you around, your face against wall. You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening as his dick presses urgently against your entrance. “Thaat's it, you stupid little girl.”

Doug slips inside you, bending his knees to be on a level with your ear and breathing loudly into it, mumbling what a tight cunt you have. You don't want to admit it, but his cock feels perfect. And although his sharp and rough thrusts hurt you, because he immediately began to push into your warmth, you find yourself enjoying this. You're still sensitive after orgasm, but it's only to his advantage as he moves his hips, driving his cock deeper.

”Fuck—fuck! Slow down, ohh” you yelp as he rails your pussy, he doesn't give a fuck that it does hurt you, just like he doesn't give a fuck if anyone sees you. The sounds of skin slapping wildly arouse you, as well as the fact that he's manhandling you and uses you the way he wants makes your legs buckle. “Hahhh, Doug!”

“I won't, you feel too good.” he groans, fucking you harder. “Ughh, you know you want this, your cunt ruined and filled with my cum, yeah?” he growls, feeling your walls tightly squeeze his cock. “Yeah?” he repeats in his mocking manner.

You don't answer his question, so his hand lays down on your ass, and a loud smack echoes down the hallway. “Y—yes! Yes, please, Doug!” you cry out.

Doug grabs a handful of your hair, yanking your head back so your eyes meet his. “Stupid brainless doll made just for my cock.” his heart beat like crazy, feeling your tight and wet pussy wrapping around his shaft as you take him. He pumps deeper into you with every thrust and reaches forward, he slams one hand against the wall beside your head. “You're mine, all mine.” he murmurs, looking down where your ass meets his hips, smile faded from his face. Your whines and moans sounds way too pretty and broken, your eyes burst with tears.

“Hnnhg. . . Slow down!” you tell him like he cares, like he's going to stop. “Doougg”

Your head fuzzy as you feel his cock reaching way really too deep, where you almost feel him in your guts. Doug ignores your words and pleas, knocking the air out of your lungs with his rough pace. He feels you on a completely different level, not only because he's balls deep inside you, he feels the madness that covers his eyes like a veil. Hatred, anger and arousal merged together.  And your “ohhh god, Dougg!” which slips from your lips only inflames him even more.

“My pretty slut, my little girl, mine, fuuuck, just like that,” Doug's lost just like you, fucking you like an animal, a crazy one. “Thank me, thank me for fucking you.” after these words, he puts his long fingers in your mouth, as if trying to pull out your tongue. They penetrate so deeply that you feel sick. He runs his fingers over your mouth, wetting  them in your saliva. You're almost suffocating.

“Thh. . . Nkkk—” that fucking bastard, you know why he's doing this. He wants you to realize what a helpless, pathetic, but wonderful little ragdoll you are. If his dick wasn't pounding your dripping pussy right now, you'd definitely slap him in the face for it. “Aankkk yo— Ahh! Ouhh”

He chuckles, literally fucking your mouth with his fingers as he hears your babbling. “What was that? Didn't hear you.” you want to cry hysterically, want to bite off his fucking fingers. But his voice is so hot, so damn beautiful. Even though he tries to sound normal, you still catch these little groans and breaths, his voice shaking. And it only makes you wetter. “Hard to talk with your mouth full, baby?”

He takes his fingers out of your mouth, all in your drool, and you almost calm down, but then you arch your back and yelp when you feel them touching your little clit. He rubs your bundle in tight circles, what makes your cunt throb around him. “Fuck, thank— Thank you! Thank you, Doug—” you're moaning so loudly that your throat is already dry.

“Mhmm, such a good girl, that's it,” he cooes, grunting. “so fucking good for me. A slut who needs nothing but my cock.” your chest rises and falls from increased breaths, blood running hot, a mess he loves to see.

He lost his sanity a long time ago and therefore does the same thing to you, making your brains melt as if under the scorching sun. You don't feel yourself, you only feel Doug, everywhere, in your pussy and in your subconscious, your brain and your heart. You even forgot that you're in this fucking hallway.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my cock, pretty.” he leans closer to you, his fingers never stopping rubbing your clit. He brushes his lips against your neck, sliding his tongue on your fresh hickeys and bite marks.

“I'm gonna c—cum, ohh,” before you know what's going on, your body shaking and you feel like you're already falling. Although this would have happened if Doug's hands hadn't been holding you all this time. You cum hard and he follows, burying himself even deeper inside of you as he grits his teeth and groans, his seed spills inside you in thick ropes as your pussy greedily milks him dry. He breathes heavily and moves his hips, fucking you much more slowly to make sure that every drop of him fills you, you moan as you feel his cock twitching inside you.

Doug doesn't take his hands off you, holding you possessively still. But he notices that you're trembling, and his grip soon loosens as he puts his hands on your waist. He kisses your neck, whispering something.

A pair of eyes looked at you two from the darkness of the corridor, and their owner took a deep breath.

[holygrailimagines]

please, you are one of the few people who writes about footballers and I need one where leonel messi dedicates his penalty against netherlands to his wife, after having won they are in changing rooms and she congratulates him and thanks him for that dedication. thank you!

For you

Summary: Messi dedicates his penalty kick to his wife

Author's note: I changed the PK events to better fit the story. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

Being Lionel Messi’s wife is such a surreal part of your life, not just because he’s a famous football player, but because you have loved him since forever. You’ve known him since you were just children, running around and playing with one another. Even if you didn’t really like playing football, you would always tag along just to be with Messi. Even if you were really bad, you would always be Messi’s first pick when he was team captain. It took you two a really long time to finally admit how crazy you were for each other and since then, you guys have been happily together. 

The game was intense, you were literally at the edge of your seat. Your only source of comfort was nipping at your nails and fidgeting with the diamond ring around your finger. The World Cup was always an intense affair, Messi wanted nothing more than to bring Argentina a win. However, the Netherlands were playing just as passionately and intensely as them. Even with extra time, it seemed like neither team was advancing in their tied score, 2-2. Watching your husband work his ass off made you pray even harder for his success. You knew how badly he wanted this, to win and make everyone proud. He had so much pressure and you feared how he would react if his potential was shattered. Your prayer for one final goal was unanswered as the referee blew his whistle. You buried your face into your hands, legs shaking. Penalty kicks. 

The PK final score was starting to clear up. If Argentina made this kick in, Argentina advances. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched your husband walk towards the ball, perfectly placed in front of the goal. He picked the ball up, gave it a little flip, and set it back down. He then looked up at the stands, immediately finding you in the crowd. He blew you a kiss and mouthed: this is for you. You smiled widely but got nervous again as you watched him take a few steps back. It's starting, no going back. Your hand was placed over your mouth, muttering out a string of pleas. You watched as your husband ran up, swung his leg back and made it in! You jumped up from your seat, celebrating with him and your family. He ran around the field, blowing kisses to the crowd as his teammates chased him around for a tackle. You didn’t even realize the tears running down your face. 

You were eagerly waiting for Lionel in the tunnel, you just couldn’t wait to shower him with kisses and hugs. When he spotted you, his face notably lit up as he ran into you. He wrapped his strong arms around you and picked you up, twirling you. 

“Congratulations! I’m so proud of you baby,” you say, looking down at him and pecking him on the lips. He felt himself fall in love with you all over again. Your beautiful and humble face, decorated with his flag’s colors on both your cheeks. 

“Thank you, I did it for you, mi amor.” He said, looking up at you with gleaming eyes. Even if he was all sweaty, you quickly connected your lips to any part of his face that was available. He chuckled and set you down, holding your hand as you two walked further into the tunnel. Cameras and reporters were so glad to have captured this moment.

Guys I am literally so sorry for lacking lately, college finals had me stressed! Also, Christmas shopping was a pain in my ass! But anyway, I finally have more time to write more stories. Hope you enjoyed!

[evanesdust]

i'll be your fantasy

written for @sterekfests week three prompt: staycation, @sterekweekly word prompt: midnight, and @sterekbingo square: biting

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: POV Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Established Relationship, Summer Vacation, Alpha Derek Hale, Making Out, Frottage Summary:

…the one where they make out (and more) in Derek’s childhood bedroom.

"Told you they'd love you," Derek said, coming up behind him.

The bedroom door closed with a soft snick, and Stiles exhaled slowly. It was more of a shaky breath to release the nerves that had made their presence known the moment Stiles got to Derek's childhood home. But that was hours ago, and Derek was right. Dinner had gone well. In fact, the whole night had, considering they spent the rest of the evening playing board games while talking, and Derek's family all seemed as if they liked him.

Now it was midnight. Far too late to go home, according to literally everyone, especially Derek.

Stiles leaned back against Derek, head lolling to the side when Derek started nosing up the side of his neck. "Your mom is nice. And your sisters are hilarious. I think Laura's my new best friend."

"You know, I should be worried about that, but I kind of love it." Derek inhaled, then let out a low growl. "You're starting to smell like me. Like mine."

It wasn't exactly a surprise with all the time they'd spent together, and a shiver of want raced down Stiles's spine at Derek's words. God, he wanted that so badly. Wanted to be Derek's with damn near every fiber of his being. So much so that although they hadn't been dating long—only three weeks—Stiles blurted, "We can do that."

He wanted to take it back almost immediately because it was too soon. Right?

No one in their right mind would talk about being claimed after not even a month of dating. Derek probably thought Stiles was crazy now. Except Derek let out another low growl, his fingers digging into Stiles's sides.

"You want that? Really?" His words were slurred as if he were speaking around his fangs.

That was so hot.

When Stiles turned his head, glancing over his shoulder to meet Derek's gaze. His eyes were crimson, pupils blown so wide that there was barely a hint of red left.

"I do," Stiles whispered, his heart beating frantically in his chest. It probably shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but he liked—no, loved—that Derek was so affected by him. "I don't know if I've made it clear, but I'm kinda crazy about you."

Derek already knew about Stiles's crush in high school. Stiles had been nervous when he told Derek, but Derek thought it was cute. He also seemed a little sad that he hadn't noticed Stiles during that time.

'We could have been together sooner,' he'd said, a somewhat sad smile on his face.

Stiles had tried to assure him that it was probably for the best because they would have been miserable for the two years after Derek graduated. Derek had made an adorably pouty face as if he didn't like that answer and then told Stiles that if they had been together, he would have come home more often.

Derek had appeared genuinely upset, and Stiles probably shouldn't have swooned, but he did.

"I know," Derek whispered. His breath was warm against the shell of Stiles's ear, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I'm crazy about you, too."

And apparently horny, if Stiles wasn't mistaken by the way Derek mouthed down his neck and across his shoulder. By the way he snuck a hand under Stiles's shirt, tweaking his nipples. By the way Derek pressed against him, a noticeable bulge in his pants.

A very big bulge that Stiles couldn't help but rub against, moaning unabashedly—unrecognizable sounds coming out of his mouth. No one could or would fault him for it, though. Not with the way Derek made his whole body come alive.

"Derek," Stiles breathed, Derek's name a plea for more.

And Derek must have understood because he turned Stiles in his arms, capturing his lips in a kiss so heated that his toes curled. The moment Derek's tongue swept into his mouth, Stiles gasped, knees going weak while his dick tried to break free from the confines of his jeans.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

God, Derek knew how to kiss, all commanding and demanding. Fierce and claiming. All consuming, as if he were starving for it. And maybe he was because Derek cupped the back of Stiles's head, deepening it.

It lasted seconds. Minutes. Hours. Stiles had no idea because what was time again? Nothing else mattered while Derek all but devoured him.

Stiles whined when Derek pulled away, but then Derek started laying teasing nips and bites along his neck and shoulder as he walked them backward, and it might not have been kissing, but it was just as good. As long as Derek's lips were on him, Stiles was happy. And when the back of Stiles's knees hit the bed, Stiles let himself fall.

Derek fell with him, one arm around Stiles's back to haul him further up the bed as he kept licking, sucking, biting marks onto Stiles. His neck, his shoulder, his chest as he rucked Stiles's shirt up.

"Mine," he said, coming up for air.

It only lasted a second before he shoved his face back into the crook of Stiles's neck, arms tight around him as they rocked together.

Stiles could feel the wild thumpthumpthump of Derek's heart beating in tandem against his own.

"Oh God," he groaned, holding onto Derek just as tightly, rolling his hips to meet every one of Derek's thrusts. He was going to come in his pants like a horny teenager, which he supposed he was, but still. It shouldn't be as hot as it was.

In fact, Stiles didn't think they should be doing any of this with Derek's family home, but there was no way he had the capacity to stop right now. Not when it felt so good.

Stiles threw his head back, releasing Derek to fist the sheets. "Oh fuck."

"Want you." Derek slid a hand down Stiles's side, gripping his thigh and encouraging Stiles to hook it around his waist.

Stiles did, whimpering as Derek moved above him. He moaned and whined, not caring if anyone heard him. Everything was so intense, his body a taut string just waiting to be plucked.

If this was so good already, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like when they had sex. To feel Derek's naked body slide against his own. Derek's fingers in his ass.

His cock.

That thought alone had Stiles begging, "Please," needing release. He was so close that it wouldn't take much longer. Not at all.

Faster. More.

His words were gritted out through clenched teeth. They were begged between loud, harsh breaths and the squeak of the mattress under them.

Stiles was burning alive, writhing beneath a scorching hot body of muscle, and all at once, he let go, his body tightening and giving in at the same time. His back arched high off the mattress as he came—hard.

"Derek!" he cried out. It was a strangled noise as he twitched in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Derek fisted a hand in Stiles's hair, tugging his head back. Considering their frenzied state, it was much gentler than Stiles would have thought possible. Then again, Derek was always so careful with him no matter what.

Not a moment later, Derek let out a loud, guttural noise; it was the most incredible sound that Stiles had ever had the pleasure of hearing. His breath came in short gasps as he all but collapsed on Stiles, sweaty and sated.

Stiles sank into the bed, his heart pounding and his mind buzzing.

God, Derek made him feel alive in ways he hadn't known he needed in his life, and Stiles knew at this moment that he would do anything for Derek. Anything.

He'd already given him his heart even if he hadn't said the words yet.

I love you.

It was too soon for that. Right? Just over three weeks now, but God, he wanted to. They were on the tip of his tongue, though. Especially when Derek lifted his head, smiling. His lips were spit-slick and red.

Derek brushed his thumb across Stiles's bottom lip, and Stiles hummed, pressing a kiss on the pad of it.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," Derek said in a low, husky voice.

Stiles nodded, raking his fingers through Derek's hair as he pulled him down for a soft kiss. "Me neither."

And Stiles meant it. Even if he'd never been in a relationship before, never thought twice about anyone other than Derek, he knew they had something special. Something that would last.

"I think it's something that was meant to be," Stiles said, eyes wide in surprise because he hadn't really meant to say that.

But Derek smiled. It seemed genuine and happy with the way his eyes crinkled in the corners. "You mean that?"

"I do."

Derek's face lit up at those two words, and he leaned down, pressing another kiss to Stiles's lips. "Good because me, too."

He feathered more kisses across Stiles's jaw before nestling in his neck, and Stiles knew without a doubt that he wanted these moments with Derek every day. He wanted the intimacy and the connection. Everything Derek had to offer.

Stiles wanted to spend his life with Derek. To love him forever.

Derek raised his head and looked into Stiles's eyes. The same emotions were written on his face, and Stiles knew that Derek felt the same way.

It all felt so right, and Stiles couldn't imagine anything better than this moment.

[darydark]

I got possessed by spirit of drawing and did more of my RGG x TES crossover. I should make a tag for it. Again, some lore under the cut, now about Majima (Goro), Taiga and Makoto

This one is more lore heavy than the Kazuma and his siblings. I'm afraid all of this would seem like the actual RGG characters' backstories but with TES skin on it, but hey, I like their actual story and yeah maybe I lack originality so what, it's my crossover, I can keep any part of RGG cannon I want. Also I'm keeping the Taiga stuff more vague as I'm still playing Y4, where Taiga makes his first appearance and I'm not on his part of game yet, so I can still change stuff

Goro is an Ashlander from a small tribe that was wiped out by mainland dunmer. He was spared because the killers wanted to take him as a slave (Goro was a child when that happened). But then he was rescued (accidentally) by a strong and powerful orc. Goro wanted to follow that orc, but the orc just shoo'd him away, for now. Then Goro met Khajiit siblings, Taiga and Yasuko (who themselves were escaping being trafficked), and ever since travelled with them.

The boys were offering themselves as mercenaries in their teen years and did a lot of dirty jobs, until they met that same orc, who then accepted the boys into his outlaw group called The Dogs of Shimano. The orc is Shimano himself, of course.

While things were going alright for three of them, the boys wanted more and did stuff behind Shimano's back for additional cash. They had a plan to have enough money to live a normal life without crime. But, when they were ordered to do a hit on a group of people, it turned out it was a wrong move to make. Both of them were punished, Goro had his eye gouged out but Taiga was sent to Deadlands. The mage that sent him away mocked that only he knew where Taiga is at all time

Goro made a plea and was spared but basically became a slave to one of Shimano's friends (yes, Sagawa). If he ever wanted to save Taiga, unfortunately he had to endure everything and ask nicely later. So, Goro's master turned out to be a vampire. Goro had to put on a show, entertain other vampires and sometimes be fed on by his master. One day he was given a mission...

Makoto is half bosmer half dunmer (her mother is bosmer). Her parents were vampires and after having two children, the mother wanted to cure the whole family and live a normal life. The father disagreed. Anyway, the mother took the kids with her. Eventually she managed to cure herself and Makoto but the eldest child ran away, still a vampire. Even though Makoto is mortal, her blood is still powerful and would be beneficial for any vampire to drink. Makoto moved to Morrowind when she grew up. One day she was kidnapped. He took her to place with other people, where all of them were going to be sold. She was forced to drink something and then, after all the stress and the poison, she became blind.

She was rescued and lived relatively normally, until suddenly she became a target for vampires.

Goro was tasked to bring her to his master, so he would feast on her blood, but Goro just couldn't do it. They ran away with a whole big story to tell in which both Goro and Makoto ended up relatively fine. Goro was no longer a slave but returned working for Shimano (also Shimano confirmed that Taiga is still alive somewhere in Deadlands). Makoto was no longer chased by horde of vampires and regained her sight back, also got in touch with her brother again. Unfortunately, Goro and Makoto had to be apart and never meet each other (it relates to the plot I have in mind, which deviates a little bit from canon reason why these two can't see each other)

[hebuiltfive]

The Alaskan Train Crash: International Rescue, We Have A Situation.

Six months after the return of Jeff Tracy and International Rescue has finally come back off their hiatus. One of their first missions with their dad back at the helm? A mysterious train wreck in remote Alaska.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst

Series: Part 1 of The Long Game

NOTES: This has been MONTHS in the making and, I won't lie, I'm a little nervous about finally putting this out in the world. This is only the first chapter of the first part of (what I'm now thinking will be) quite a large story. Disclaimers to say that I obviously do not own any of the characters in this story. They were created by the wonderful Gerry and Sylvia Anderson. The only things I do own are the ideas and situations they end up in. Trust me, they'll end up in some sticky situations in the near future!

Read it below or on AO3 here.

The Hood’s haphazard approach to his criminal scheming, coupled with a blatant disregard for any life that wasn’t his own, only ever led to one outcome — disaster.

The unfortunate beneficiaries of today’s outcome were currently trapped under the wreckage of the buckled front carriage of a derailed freight train. The scene was horrific to look at, even with all of Scott’s years of experience and training that came with being in the rescue business. The whole of the train looked as though it had been flung from the tracks, and had flipped onto its side, except for the back carriage, which had somehow managed to stay the right way up, and the front carriage, which had been capsized completely. In stark contrast to the crisp white snow underneath the wreck, there was a dark patch of leaking oil developing. As Scott hovered in the air over the derailed train, guiding his jet pack over the wreckage to get a sense of the scope, he knew he had to work fast.

There had been three workers on board. Whilst two of the three had seemingly been rendered unconscious by the incident, one was still very much awake and aware of her current predicament. She had made sure that the receiver of her distress call also knew this. John had forewarned his older brother of the severity of this woman’s pleas for assistance whilst Scott had flown Thunderbird One to the danger zone at top speed; the way the woman had begged Thunderbird Five for help had sent shivers down (a normally stoic) John’s spine. Still, despite the advanced warning, nothing could have quite prepared Scott for the look of pure terror on that woman’s face as he landed himself beside the wreck and jogged over to that capsized front carriage.

Two Hours Earlier.

Virgil had just wanted the lounge to himself so he could finally finish his oil painting in relative peace. It had already taken him far longer than he’d expected to get the painting complete. Usually that was due to rescue missions interrupting him and not his two younger brothers, as was the case today. Gordon and Alan had come bounding into the lounge, as loud and as energetic as always, and then began to play the loudest alien-killing game they could have possibly found. Virgil knew that his easel and pallet in front of him had not gone unnoticed by the Terrible Two, but the boys didn’t seem to care. Or, rather, they didn’t seem to realise the disturbance they’d caused. That was normally the case, anyway.

Virgil should have known that asking for any semblance of peace in the Tracy household was very rarely answered. The villa was always a hive of chaotic activity, even when those rescue missions called half of the family away. As Virgil was usually on call in those situations, he rarely managed to find a moment’s grace unless he was up into the late hours of the day. As it was, the sun had already begun to set over Tracy Island and sleep would soon be beckoning to all of them. He only had a few hours left to get some painting done before Scott had another reason to berate him for staying up late again. Thankfully, Tracy Island was large enough to not only house International Rescue’s operations, but also cater enough room for everyone who lived there.

He had not long retreated from the lounge, away from Alan and Gordon’s loud but seemingly futile efforts to defeat an invading alien race, to finish up his work in his art studio.  He should have just stayed there this morning and not gone down to the lounge, but when that room was not occupied by bored, young adolescents, the lounge was just as serene as the quiet his studio offered. The views out onto the expanse of the Pacific inspired Virgil’s creative muse, and the colours seemed to flow so much better on his canvas when the warm, tropical breeze blew up through the open veranda. That being said, the picturesque scenery that now filled his peripheral was just as humbling.

His canvas, he’d carefully carried down from the lounge, had been placed on a new easel that stood in front of a large window. In the near distance Mateo stood, the rocks on the island glinting in the last rays of sun. Far more quieter than the disruption his brothers were currently causing upstairs. Content once more, Virgil started to mix the paints he needed on a new pallet.

He got all of two swipes of raw sienna onto the canvas when there was a gentle knock of knuckles against the wood of the art studio door.

“Virgil?” It was a voice that Virgil had thought he’d never hear again, up until a few months the back, that is. A voice that he was still trying to get used to hearing again after living so long without it.

Jeff Tracy had opened the door and was standing under the frame, his hands sitting idly in the pockets of his jeans. He looked over the artwork his second eldest was working on. To a stranger, or casual observer, they might have been deceived by the seemingly dark piece. With the shades Virgil had decided to use so far, that would have been an understandable mistake. But Jeff knew his sons, even after eight years of being separated from them, and he could see the hope that radiated through the painting. In the background, still only an outline and yet unfinished, he could make out the shape that he guessed would become Thunderbird Two. Jeff could see Virgil’s behemoth of a ship was to rise in the distance, to assist in the abstract disaster that was happening in the foreground. The smile that lit up his worn face gave Virgil a warm glow inside. “Looking good, son.”

In those first few weeks of Jeff Tracy’s return to earth after spending almost a decade lost in the outer reaches of the solar system, International Rescue had gone on an understandable hiatus. The Global Defence Force had offered to pick up the rescue work whilst the family became reacquainted and new routines were established. After all, just having their father sitting with them at their breakfast table in the morning again gave the boys enough of a shock. Despite the stresses and occasional disagreements that naturally came with the reshuffling and reorganising of the organisation, having their dad back was one of the greatest miracles to happen to the Tracy brothers, and they all thanked their lucky stars every day for having him home again.

“Do you have a moment?” Jeff asked, gesturing forward as a way of asking whether Virgil was okay with him stepping into his space.

By the look on his dad’s face, Virgil knew that ‘a moment’ was more than likely going to last longer than Jeff had suggested in his wording, but Virgil nodded all the same. As Jeff stepped inside and closed the door behind him, Virgil placed his pallet and paint brush on the side table beside his easel. He rubbed his paint splattered fingers on his equally paint splattered apron.

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

Virgil was used to being the one everyone came to for advice and assistance in the family. Along with Grandma Tracy, he was the soundboard that his brothers, and Kayo and Brains, relied on when they needed a solid voice of reason. Virgil never minded. He never saw any of them as a burden or a bother. Whenever they needed to seek comfort in Virgil’s warmth and way with words, Virgil was there for them.

“I wanted to just let you know that Grandma will be taking me to the mainland tomorrow.”

Virgil’s heart sank a little at Jeff’s words. He knew what his father’s words were code for, knew exactly where Grandma Tracy was taking him: the hospital. Jeff’s health had been fragile upon his return to Earth. Having had to survive eight years on a rock in the Oort Cloud, it came as no surprise to any of them. They were all wise to the fact that the situation would have been a detriment to anyone’s health, and they all were sure that, had Jeff been anyone else, he wouldn’t have lived through the ordeal for nearly as long as he miraculously had. Jeff’s health had been a major talking point in the reorganisation of International Rescue. The main question was whether he was fit enough to take back the mantel of Commander In Chief, or whether it was better for him to take a backseat and oversee operations from the sidelines instead. Both Grandma and Scott had been firm advocates in Jeff taking the back seat, but Jeff Tracy was Jeff Tracy and he wasn’t the kind of man who was content with being sidelined. In the end, they had all agreed on him sharing the job with his eldest son, at least until he was in a better condition.

Hence the hospital visits. Scans, blood work, physiotherapy, drugs and tests were part of their new normal, and they’d been advised that this new normal was going to stay in place for the foreseeable future. Jeff didn’t mind, so long as it meant he was still able to be of assistance, but the constant hospital trips had the boys naturally worrying.

“If dad is so unwell that he needs to be constantly visiting Doctor Mayhew every month, he shouldn’t be placed in a position that could cause him stress!” Scott had exclaimed on more than one occasion. Jeff never listened to him, always claimed that he was fine which only led to heated debates between the two. Usually it was Grandma who managed to calm them both down, but once or twice, the unfortunate role of mediator had landed on Virgil’s lap. Whilst he still didn’t see it as a burden, it was the only time he minded. It was the one time he didn’t like being a soundboard to his family.

“How long this time?” He asked his father, arms folding across his chest.

“A week. Maybe two. They want to check my legs, I think. It’s going to require a few tests back to back and they say that it’s easier if I just stay there whilst they get the results.”

Virgil nodded. It made sense for him to remain in one place. His next question was one he didn’t want the answer to. “Does Scott know?”

Jeff held silence for a moment or two, and Virgil knew the answer instantaneously. “No. He doesn’t. Not yet.”

Virgil pursed his lips, nodded once… twice, and then began to undo his paint apron. So much for a relaxing evening with his canvas. “He needs to know, dad.”

“He overthinks everything—”

“That’s Scott for you—”

“— and I don’t like how stressed out he gets. I don’t want to add to it, or be the cause of more stress.”

Welcome to the club, Virgil thought, but sighed as he threw the apron aside. Scott never knew how to take things easy. He was a classic overreacher, constantly trying to do more than his best. That perfectionism had only got worse in the months following their father’s disappearance, but that was a fact Jeff had still not been informed about. Their father had developed a legacy in people’s minds, one that only grew in his supposed death, and Scott felt compelled to continue that legacy. He had always looked up to Jeff, but this constant need to try and make their father proud, even in death, sometimes meant Scott took unnecessarily hazardous risks, and it had nearly landed him on death’s doorstep on more than one occasion. Virgil and the others had often tried to slow him down and make him see reason, but their talks rarely seemed to have a lasting impact. Come the next day, Scott would be back to his normal, overreaching self.

“Scott’s capable of handling a lot more than you think, dad.”

Jeff breathed out a long sigh. “I don’t want him to handle so much. He should share the burdens.”

“Good luck getting him to do that. We’ve been trying for years, but Scott is way too protective. It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t want you being so involved in the rescues right now, what with your… health.”

“I know he’s looking out for me,” Jeff began, his eyes averting Virgil’s own gaze as he took in the view of Mateo from the window. “I just wish he wouldn’t try so damned hard all the time.”

Virgil let out a deep chuckle. “You and me both, dad.” Then, he began to make for the door. “But he needs to know all the same. If you want, I can be your bodyguard.” He joked. In honesty, the thought of having to referee another match between his dad and Scott worried him, but he’d do it if it meant avoiding a bigger conflict in the future.

Jeff’s lips quirked into a smile at Virgil’s humour, but as he opened his mouth to speak, a hologram of John appeared from the holo-disc on the side table beside the easel. “Guys, we have a situation.”

Exchanging worried glances with his father, Virgil dove out of the door of his studio and made his way up to the lounge as fast as possible, Jeff following quickly behind him.

[layzeal]

i think your plea to keep 'shit' out of the main tag is worthwhile, but i don't think most people will understand what it means. to each person, the unacceptable looks slightly different. something that you consider to be drama-causing and shit-stirring to another person, esp a younger person, it isn't, or might even be the opposite. esp when it comes to generational and interpretation differences in language and perceived tone. then it's a big game of 'but what'd i do? i didn't mean it' because people really do stir shit about the most banal things, how could the poster have known they would meet the Number One Discourse Creator on their simple non-confrontational post? or it could be a different game of 'so what, there's no rules against starting a controversial conversation' and they're also right. we can't honestly dictate who does what in the main tag - so long as it's on topic, who actually has the authority to decide what's 'shit' and what's worthy of being seen? you don't have to respond to this btw, i just felt hopelessness at your post. if only!

you know, you're right!! i agree with you! i've just now realized my post would likely make people with like, anxiety disorders or ocd very hesitant to post in the main tag. my intention isn't at all to police what should or shouldn't go there, but for people to think twice before posting something like "ugh x character/ship is so bad and annoying 🙄 here's my bad faith interpretation of why anyone would ever like them and if you do you're ugly and stupid" or "x character/ship is actually the only good thing in this and anyone with anyone bad to say about them is an idiot who never learned how to read" which is a very specific type of discourse bait that, while perfectly fine to post in their own blog, putting it in the main tag for everyone to see? it'll just drive people away from it

but ofc not every post that feels uncharitable or too charitable for a character/pairing is going to be discourse bait, this is fandom and everyone should share their opinion, and posting in the main tag means finding more people that you can talk to about that! it's nuanced and ofc what i consider discourse bait isn't going to be the same another person does, and it's just something we'll have to learn to live with

but that's just all i'm asking for. a little bit more care and consideration, not even for my sake (i don't check the tag that much anyway and cab just block people), but for the sake of the new people arriving who will struggle to get notes on their art and writing if interested parties will have to scroll through rage-baiting hot takes every 5 posts you know?

[littleragondin]

TAG GAME: EIGHT SHOWS TO GET TO KNOW ME

I have been tagged by @scienceoftheidiot thank you so much! I watch a frankly unreasonable amount of shows so it was a little bit of a struggle lol. Also, we do share a show too!

- Criminald Minds. I know, I know, copaganda at its finest, but I have always been a sucker for cop shows - I can't resist a good team and a good mystery. It's also the shown I have followed for the longest time (I fell into it somewhere during season 4 and it's been with me since). I could spend an equal amount of time talking about everything wrong with this series and everything I absolutely adore about it, and even now nearly 15 years later, I still put it on in the background when I want something familiar to watch.

- The Nanny. This one is from when I was a kid, and I still love it dearly. I think it still holds pretty strong today, it's fun, sweet, earnest in a way that always make me smile, and the fashion is, of course, incredible. It shaped a lot of what my sense of humour is today ngl, and coupled to the heavy nostalgia of it all (I can put any episode on and I'm back being 7, having dinner with my family in front of the TV) it stays the ultimate comfort show for me.

- Doctor Who - with a soft spot for the RTD area. So I actually came to DW through Torchwood (figures), but I'm still picking the Doctor because of the whole universe. I love science fiction, generally speaking, and this one despite some rocky years is still a strong favorite (also, Nine forever).

- Sense8. When I saw season 1, I was blown away. The concept, the realisation, but also... the incredible diversity and representation, I had never seen anything like this before. There is something so hopeful and uplifting in the idea of sensates, of connection across the world, of beings never being truly alone, of so much love.

- Steven Universe + Steven Universe Future. I love animation, despite not watching as much of it as I could, and this is easily one of my favorite. It's beautiful, both in form and substance. I love the visuals, I love the music, I love the story it tells and the unending hope it carries.

- Until we meet again. I am, at heart, a hopeless romantic, and I am so easily taken by a good soulmates story. This one gives me both the heart achingly tragic and the happy wound soothing versions rolled up in one. It also merges it into a story about family, grief, and  . It's full of love, and hope for the future. It's also carried by an extremely strong cast, and while I know not everyone agrees with me on that point, I find the slow pacing especially fitting for that specific story.

- Le Visiteur du Futur. I got into webseries with my younger brother when I was in my 20s (VdF, la Flander's Company, a little later La Théorie des Balls and follow up), but of them all, I'd pick this one. It starts small and light, then builds upon itself in a way I really enjoy. This one, too, despite some cynicism and sometimes bleak approach of things, can feel really earnest. It also has Henry Castafolte, which should be enough on its own lol

- To sir, with love. Okay this is the most 'recent' of the bunch and you could argue it's the fresh brain rot BUT. Truth be told, it's so many things I absolutely a d o r e in a show: it's incredibly dramatic, it's a little ridiculous (glitter fights anyone??), colorful, fun, it has completely over the top villains (Madam Chan's face at absolutely any given second is a delight), and yet it's sweet and has a wonderful romance and my ultimate weakness: awesome siblings.

I'll tag @sauvechouris, @benkaaoi, @heretherebedork, @machikeita, and @fandomfairyuniverse as well as @petrichoraline if you'd like and haven't done it yet. And if you see it and want to, pleas tag me I love reading those <3

[nexuschampion]

There was a lot about his life that had changed for good and bad. But by far his absolute favorite part about it all was being able to put his time instead of his money at his chosen charities for kids.

Since things had somewhat settled into a new way of life, he made sure to spend at least a few hours a week, sometimes every day, just hanging out with the children who were stuck in the system, waiting for a home or resigned to never getting one, in and out of different families lives, just trying to live as normal a life as possible.

He related. He loved their energy. Their brutal honesty. Their openness, and especially their vulnerability.

He had no purpose in visiting them other than to do exactly whatever it was the kids wanted. Sometimes it was a specific game like hide and seek. Sometimes a Smash Brother's tournament. They might want to hear him tell stories or read a book. Once they even begged him to show them how to bake cookies. He always obliged them and no one tried to interfere as long as he kept it tame.

Today this particular group, a younger set, wanted to play. Ride the turtle was a favorite, as was tag. Currently they were on a break and he was sitting against the modest little swingset, a couple of kids sitting by (or on) him.

"How does it feel, with like, your skin?"

"A lot like your I imagine. What's yours feel like to you?"

"Smooth. I need lotion sometimes though."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll try that. You know, my skin is pretty rough." He held out his hand for the kid to feel, who grabbed it immediately.

"Whoa! Does it bother you? It bothers me when my skin is dry. It itches."

"Na, not really. Kinda a reptile thing. It's more like scales, you know?"

"I have some lotion by my bed, if you want to try some."

Mikey smiled at the girl. "That's so nice of you Abbey. I'm good though. And if you need some just let me know because I have found some of the nicest smelling lotion but I don't really use it, so you can have it if you want."

The girl brightened. Another kid curled up in his lap.

"You're comfy."

"So I've been told. Tired?"

"Yeah."

"Not sleeping great?"

"No."

"I've been there. You know if you try to think about something you really, really like when you're going to sleep it makes it a bit easier sometimes."

"I usually think about school. Or having to move somewhere. Sometimes I just think about food."

He chuckled. "I used to do that too. When I was your age a lot of the time I didn't even know when I'd get another meal. You know you're good here though, right? If you ever feel like you need something you can tell me."

The boy shook his head. "They are nice here and they told me some relatives are coming this weekend."

"I better make sure you have my phone number so you can call then. I want to hear all about them."

Mikey surveyed all the kids on the playground. So many came and went so quickly he barely got a chance to know them. Many cycled in and out as they got moved from home to home so much that he coudn't keep track.

He loved it, but it also stung knowing just how many there were. So many that were entirely alone, so many that had families too bad for them to stay with. Before he'd been able to fight for them from the shadows, but now he had to play by the rules. People knew him, what he was capable of, and that he had no sympathy for any abusers unfortunate enough to stumble into his path.

He sighed just as a boy with wild bright red hair ran up to him and begged them to continue the games.

The boy in his lap jumped right up, leaving Mikey to watch them all with a slight smile until he could no longer ignore their pleas.

@accioturtur

[freshgraduate]

A Blog For Me

I'm starting this blog because I'm honestly not doing entirely well. About three months ago, I graduated with Honours after four years at Drama school. It was, frankly, a harrowing and chaotic time, but there was always something to do: scenes to be rehearsed, self tapes to film, movies to review. Even when I didn't want to be doing half the stuff I had to get done in order to pass, I knew deep down that being told what to do was good. It was a 9-5, Monday- Friday, full commitment type of thing. No time for a job. No time for non-actor friends. Four years of all-out hustle. And then it sort of just ended. I'm yet to pick up that little paper that says I've done it (graduation ceremony is next month), but for all intents and purposes, it is done. By the end of the whole thing, I was just fed up. I wanted to be done with uni and be getting on with my life, figuring out who I am and who I was away from homework and constant assignments.

Turns out, I am very unfunctional. I am no longer forced to be somewhere every day, and so I stay in bed. I have no real work experience, so I fear the real world. Anyone who isn't forced to see me every day anymore chooses not to. I am chronically friendless. Oh, and I graduated AGENTLESS!! It's a classic actor's story- study all through drama school, and leave with nothing to show for it. Deadbeat, some would say. So why blog? Well, for one (if it isn't clear enough), I am lonely and I figure typing into the void at the hopes of someone hearing me out might be a tad therapeutic. Also, I used to love this whole tumblr thing when I was 15 and now that I'm 21, I figure there was probably something in that. Finally, I'm kind of praying that there's someone else out there like me- lonely and quite afraid- who can maybe hold my hand and possibly even advise me through this whole thing.

A fair warning: this blog won't be pleasant. It's sort of a final plea. I am a very depressed and negative person these days, which I'm desperate to change. It might get dark here and there. Not to worry! I will tag appropriately!

But, you know, I've done a lot of googling: 'How do I love my life?', 'What is my purpose? (quiz)', 'Should I just pack everything and go?' That kind of stuff. And google doesn't really know either. So. Blog. I'm trying a blog.

Currently my days consist of a good 2 hours trying to figure out how I'm going to get out of bed, doing a 20- 40 minute yoga session after breakfast, showering, and gaming until the day is over. I live with my parents, but it's clear that if I don't get my shit together, they might start thinking about kicking me out. I want to get a job, but every time I think about writing a resume I get scared and chicken out. I'm an actor and a writer, but I'm terrified of putting myself out there because I don't think I'm good enough. All my fellow graduates are 'doing the thing'. Have agents, making films, etc. Successful. I am the failure of the year. I'm considering giving up. Even though I haven't even really tried yet. Pathetic, I know.

Tonight the dream is to get a job, save my money, and volunteer on a farm in Italy early next year. Travel alone. Idk. If I don't feel like I have anything going for me, then there's no harm in running off for a little while. Tomorrow, I will think about the dreaded resume and never end up writing it. This is the pattern of my life.

Expect an update in a few days, or maybe a week, when something or nothing changes. I turn 22 next week.

TLDR: I am a depressed post-grad with nothing going for me. I'm trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. I want to be happy. This blog will document my journey.

[radiotorn]

hey bestie this is definitely not tori please do the tf2 ask meme odds if you are okay with that pleas thx ^_^ *frolicks away*

ANSWERING THIS SOOOO LATE but i want it OUUTT!! so here we GO

1- Who are your favorite tf2 content creators? hmhmhmmmmm….in terms of entertainment videos im sorta looking for someone but i like Kostamoinen, Winglet, STBlackST, CrazyScoutFIN, ShorK, Jesse Baumgartner & plus ive heard good things about Hoovy Tube but donnt know yet…..in terms of art…well…check my fav tag 😏 and also all my buddies and pals they're correct and right whenever they say things about thhe video game

3- Who is your favorite side character? I think Miss Pauling isn't a side character soo….i really like Heavy's family they r very awesome mode….i also have a soft spot for Olivia Mann i think too much about her and then i cry (yes…u can ask if u would like to…giggle) or MAGGIE GASP…i love mags....im going to give her the world and then more

5- Who are your LEAST favorite characters? hmmmmmm….ik ive said it before but i guess cheavy huh. OR classic soldier and scout i do not like them (the classic ones that come with cheavy ofc)

7- How did you find out about tf2? answered in the last ask for these, but from a ytp audio used in a flipnote if u rlly want it lmk

9- How long have you been in the fandom? funny enough i have the exact date bc i keep a journal. May 2nd 2021 is when i played the game for the first time so it started then

11- Favorite voice line? a LOT of them are engies lines again bc. well. like "Start prayin', boy!", "im wolverine-mean, you son of a bitch", and "you look a mite tongue-tied, son" they. he. im ok. im ok. im alright

13- What’s your favorite thing about the fandom? i stay within my small bubble most of the time, but i do technically have fandom to thank for introducing me to some really awesome people and mutuals :] so that i suppose! also the savetf2 tag is really really awesome

15- Do you have a NOTP? if so then what? scoutpauling and spyscout, to the max. one is incxst and the other is just. not right lol both are nem jó for me. the majority of them are either nice or just not my cup of tea

17- An unpopular opinion you have? hmm….yes! not in the terms of ppl not agreeing but just bc it hasnt been talked about but Maggie is Hungarian! she is to me and thats it ok. like theres more backing it up but its burried under a personal hc that is intertwined with an oc so.shrugs. shes hungarian to me even outside of self indulgence

19- RED or BLU? red :] i like the look of red bases more than the blu ones

21- What is your favorite piece from the tf2 OST? ROBOTS ROBOTS TO THE.MAX I LOVE. THIS SONG SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!! I LOVE THAT!!! I OLOVE IT!!! it makes me feel so awesome

23- Who do you main? i kinda find myself maining someone different every once in awhile, but i'm mostly a demo or scout main! i try to at least know how to play every class a little (except spy. not yet i'm not ready)

25- What is your favorite ‘Meet the…’ video? meet the pyro i love that one…my favey….revolutionary for the time….

27- Which character would you get along the best with? OH HELL uhh hm hmmm hurm looks inside myself…realistically? probably scout or engie…but why must i choose…when we could all be friends….i have ten hands

29- Is there a character you loved at first but now you hate? nope! my love has only grown since i got into this game i find something to love in all the characters and those who i didnt like i still dont fuck with

31- Which character is overrated? i mean, i feel like scout obvs is but i also really like scout but ppl dont get him. they dont get it right u gotta get him right. i feel like that can be the case with a lot of overrated chars......spice it up with the portrayals and then it wont taste so bad even if theyre still overrated

33- Which character do you relate to most? (or as the cool kids say, “kin”) yknwo im not just saying this but i think a good blend of engie and sniper (moreso engie maybe) with like. seasoned with some pyro . like its the nonchalance with boiling autism rage and also. sparkle on. does that make sense

35- Best character design? FUUUCCKKKK U CANT ASK THATTTTT!!!….thats something i think that like. did something to me. like. getting into tf2 shaped my entire taste and outlook in a way. like. older ppl. older ppl swag is what i learned and all of them r so distinct and have their own silhouettes and outfits and AHGHGHHH its literally art to me….but ig if i HAD to choose its a tie btween heavy and demo

37- What is your favorite update? ok i have to make it clear i wasnt into the game for the time of the major updates but i think the very start of scream fortress..or ig the haunted hallowe'en special…is my favorite because i LOOVEEE scream fortress i love the halloween maps i love the season!!! I LOVE HELLTOWER MY DEAREST!!!!! I LOVE THE HALLOWEEN SEASON!!!!!! AND AUTUMN!!! …but other than that i think love and war is another aswesome one

[namis-daydream]

Normally for interrogations like this Koutaro wouldn’t have as many people in the room, but for safety’s sake he does.

He doesn’t know what she’s got up her sleeve. He doesn’t know if she has reinforcements. He needs to be prepared for anything. Especially considering he decided to nab her out of the blue. She could have already alerted the others somehow, whoever the “others” in her organization were.

When you had as much power as he did, you were bound to have people who wanted to topple you. He would take no chances.

Normally he is much more careful about these things, he would have lots of info on the people he takes in, having his people get everything they possibly could on whoever’s life story to make plans before they execute anything. But something about the woman he knew was following him just itched him the wrong way; frustrated him.

He had a lot going on currently, and wanted this dealt with as soon as possible.

The light swinging above you is not only a headache because of how bright it is in this void of a space, but also because of the eerie buzz it emits to illuminate what little of the space you can see as it swings back and forth.

Kou watches the way yours eyes dart around almost manically before focusing on him. He feels a different sort of power once he finally has your attention, your doe eyes wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

You must have really thought he wouldn’t catch you. It was almost laughable.

“A-Aren’t you, B-Bokuto? The volleyball player?”

He heard the way your tone rose and twisted in confusion, but dismissed it as a ploy of course. You knew who he was — who he really was— and he knew it. He waited in silence for your admission to guilt, but only got more blubbering and pleas.

“Let me go.”

The way your body shudders with a sob, tears rolling down your cheeks doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest bit.

After moving closer, a part of him revels in the way your body freezes it’s wriggling as he puts a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

His words are slow so you have time to process them, voice still as deep and cold as before.

“Not until you tell me what your plans are. Who sent you?”

“I- don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

I bite my lip as it wobbles, a fresh set of tears threatening to spill as my eyes meet his when he forces me to face him, bokuto’s eyes almost glow in delight at my state, and i bite hard enough to taste blood to not give him more satisfaction.

I shouldn’t have agreed to tagging along to the stupid match, knew i should’ve sat this one out. Should’ve listened to my horoscope reading when it clearly said my luck is at its worst. I just— to be fair I figured it wouldn’t get me captured and tied to a chair.

It takes a lot out of me to not cry out again, ropes feel tighter around my limbs all of a sudden, i can feel it slowly dig deeper into my wrists, whimpering at the sting it leaves every time i move around.

“Listen,” i muster up enough courage just to drag my eyes up to meet his once more, yet quickly drop them down in fear when he narrows them down at me. “I— this is my first time coming to a game, m-my friend runs this f-fan blog, i guess that’s what it is, on your team— a-and she asked me to join her, because, well, sh-she needed the company to gush over volleyball players, I guess, i don’t know—“

Someone talks, somewhere to my left, something about lying, about getting on with it and saying who i work for. I can’t see him— too scared to turn my head, especially with Bokuto’s grip on my chin only growing tighter, swallowing back a wince in pain.

“N-no one sent me— anywhere! Alright? I just, I came to see the game, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking abou—“

And there it was, a deafening click of what I can only assume as the safety of the gun travels across the room. My entire body stills in absolute horror, knees knocking against each other when i slump against the chair defeatedly.

Oh my god, I’m going to die…

The cool metal presses against my temple, sending shivers down the curve of my spine as the man holding it stands in my peripheral vision. At this point my mind draws a blank, eyes hazy as they drop to my lap and I just watch the tears drip and splatter on my thigh every time I blink the blurriness from my sight.

[captainsolocide]

being a fan of unpopular media sucks cause when you go into the tag it's just *your post* *post unrelated to the fandom* *your post* *your one mutual who is also a fan of this media* *unrelated post* *porn bot* *your mutual* *your mutual* *your post*

[strawberry-nugget]

𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘 | E.Kirishima x Reader

Pairing: Kirishima/ reader, Bakugo/ reader (mentioned)

Summary: You shouldn't want him and he shouldn't want you, it's sinful and forbidden. But he can't help coming back to you, and you can't do anything but take him in every single time. Until today that is.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Aged up characters (twenties), NSFW 18+, plot with some p//rn but it's not very detailed, unprotected sex (please use condoms everyone), cheating, casual penetrative sex, jealousy, the seggz is pretty vanilla though

↪A/N: tennis player Kirishima, tennis player Kirishima, idk how I came up with it but I can't get it out of my head, written for @doinmybesthere 's 3k event collab and based on The Hills by the Weeknd, don't be shy to tell me if you liked it, I almost wrote 4k in a day which is unusual for me

5.30pm [Missed Call: Red]

5.31pm [Missed Calls(2): Red]

The bubbling notifications are spamming your phone, each call, succeeding the other in persistence and length, making your phone crawl onto your coffee table in restless buzzing. To your salvation the device is on silent; you're just unable to bear the overwhelming sound of your ringtone echo through the empty walls of your apartment, to let it bounce between concrete like a slimy ball, only for it to hit you on the face with tremendous force.

It's one of those days that you can't answer Kirishima. Too perplexed in the wields of your mind, blaming yourself for this horrendous situation, delivering raw swears at him for simply existing.

You don't know how it came to this nor when was the exact moment things switched. Was it at the party that you met him? Or the thousandth time you took him in and let him ruin relationship after relationship. Either way it was horrible for not only you, but also him, and all the people that have been caught up in the sidelines of this rotten affair.

You shouldn't want this anymore and truly, you don't. You're tired of being the second choice, of hiding behind your little finger, crying yourself to sleep at night, only to put on a sultry face for every time he comes. Once, twice a month.

[New Messages: Red]

Babe, you there?

Read 5.38pm

[New Messages: Red]

Babe I got practice at 8.

I know you're reading those.

Read 5.39pm

[Red is typing…]

[New Messages: Red]

I'm outside btw

A fresh, tremendously sharp wave of anxiety rushes through you at the little notification -it can't be like this again, not today. The thudder in your chest is unbearable, heart too weak to stomach the weight of your decision, fingers too reluctant to type out your response.

He's probably smirking while staring at his phone, not a single care in his head. It's loathing to your mind as you confirm your speculation, shooting a glance out of your window, landing your eyes on his car.

He shouldn't be here.

His thousands dollar car doesn't belong in your urban street, not in your side of the town. And it's so dangerous that he's doing this to see you. You've played the worst scenarios in your head a thousand times, millions of headlines on sites and the news about this; Eijirou Kirishima, on his way to claiming a fifth Grand Slam, caught in affair with university student.

Atrocious, degrading, exposing. A hit to his career that would bother the media for a couple of weeks and paint your name in mud along the way.

Why can't he just be content with the model that he's with? You're nothing like her, not as pretty and you don't have her body, you don't have her face, but he still says he finds you better, says he knows you better, but he just can't be with you.

[You]

Can't do it today

Sorry

You're good to yourself, only when you deny him and only when you feel the satisfaction of being the one to do so. It's pointless to sulk over saying no. He can go fuck other girls, play with their hearts and leave you to your otherwise peaceful life. Even if it is just for today.

You don't have the chance to let a smile creep to your face when your doorbell rings. The jiggling sound bursts into your eardrums once and twice, three dreaded times and they're enough to make your stomach churn, your neck tight and your skin ache.

You contemplate on opening the door for him, subconsciously letting yourself feel like a vulnerable prey, who, after running away to save yourself, is choosing to walk into the wolf's den, so willingly that you can feel yourself drifting away with each step you're taking towards the door.

"Babe,"

The swing of your door handle, the crack of your wrist, the creaking of your door as it opens to reveal him; they're all embarrassing. You can't tell if they fall short on his ears, too caught up in the way he looks -all swollen muscles and tall legs. You're running out of courage to say no and he knows this.

He's not as innocent as this cheeky smile frames him out to be, he's not the sweetheart everyone wants him to be either.

He's Eijirou, who's selfishly standing on your door, who's barging his way in your apartment, who's grabbing your cheeks and slamming your face in his, biting your lips until he draws blood, just to punish you for standing up against him.

Your door is slammed behind him, one bend of his knee and it's falling into its rightful place. To shield the sins of your affair, to bring you comfort and privacy as he attacks parts of your neck, your chest. Places that only squeeze perfectly under his touch.

"Babe," He calls again, in between soft kisses. "What's gotten into you?"

You frown and try to look away, past his cocoa colored orbs, past the swelling that's taking over his lips -and yours- with a numbing, tingling sensation.

"Eijirou—"

"I don't have much time in between training, I got a game the day after tomorrow."

It's always like this, you know. He doesn't have to tell you twice or try to excuse his own self for what he does or how he acts. You're pushed between schedules, or slammed into his timetable like a truck when he feels like indulging with you again, hidden between the lines of his free time.

You're sure at this point that it's the thrill he's after. The sinful taste of your lips on his, how he feels in control while chasing after you, when you can't keep up with him.

His lips don't taste like sour cherry anymore, but you let them wiggle against yours with triumph, you let him want to catch his breath as he pulls back and you put the minimum effort in returning the passion you receive.

You pull back, ignoring the words he's whispering against your face, only to take in his features once again.

Soft black hair pulled into a low ponytail, spiky bangs that fly all over his face and his tips drowned in a fiery, foxy red. The only reminder for who he was before his tennis career blew up. For who he was before he turned into this cocky womanizer whom you're desperately after with a longing heart.

"I'm just not in the mood today."

"Well let's get you in the mood then huh?"

He smiles, nose scrunching and chapped lips hiding behind his gums as his hand moves to your thigh, tagging your shorts with furry. As if he's desperate to have you, right here and now. As if bending you over the couch will help put out a fire in him. That's how he always convinces you to keep this going.

He's making you feel like not having you this way is insufferable.

You're buried in the crook of his neck while being pushed onto the couch, nibbling a soft spot that you've found, rubbing his skin on the top of your tongue. You know how to do this without leaving a mark, you can hold back from wanting to take all you can get from him.

But today it's different. It's going to be the last time.

It's not like any other time you've told yourself that you are going to end this. Today you're going to leave a mark, you're going to bite your way into his skin and drink from his poison -the intimate attention he's only ever willing to give- and you'll get drunk in it.

"Fuck," He grunts against your lips. "Fuck, don't stop that feels good."

You don't stop, eager to listen to him, to breathe into his neck before you wrap your lips a little lower and closer to his collarbone. You should be asking if this will cause him problems, but gone is the guilt that veils your coinsense otherwise. You suckle on a spot and then another, stealing his groaning moans one by one as they fall from his lips, plushing them softly in a spongy part of your brain, where they can rest forever, until you've forgotten them.

"Get your shirt off Eijirou," You plea, ogling eyes watering from the pressure that's applied in the apex of your thighs and he's quick to follow your command, lips curling upwards in a sweetheart smirk.

You're going to miss the way the apples of his cheeks cover his eyes when he smiles like this. But there's no going back for you and him.

With legs that feel like burning rubber you hug around his horse, watching the way his muscles flex and fold with his snappy movements. His shirt, tousled and wrinkly, tossed in an unknown corner of your living room, only for him to guess where it is after he's gotten his fix of you.

Thick fingers probe at your sides, pulling your shirt downwards in a silent plea, take off your shirt, give him the satisfaction that he wants, indulge into this as much as he wants you to.

But today, you're not in the mood for this. So instead of pulling your shirt off, you unbuckle your pants, pulling them down at the most dreadful speed, making him bite his lip impatiently.

You won't miss this, the way he's expecting so many things of you.

And if he notices something's wrong, he doesn't say a word, presumably content with getting what he wants; the rear view of the gap between your legs, where he can bury himself and get lost for the next thirty minutes.

"Fuck baby," he moans. "Why do you smell so good?"

You grunt, averting your gaze from his as he pushes your bangs away from your face with the back of his hand. You want to miss his puppy eyes. Ghosting him won't be easier for you if you don't.

But damn if he couldn't read you this well, things would be easier.

"Not in the mood to talk?" You look even further away to avoid the question, "babe, you can tell me if you're not well, you'll feel better if you let it out"

You don't need someone to tell you how to feel. You've decided when the two of you are going to be through. It's set and done, even if he feels at the top of the world right now, you won't inflate his ego anymore.

"M fine Eijirou, put it in," You bite his lip, putting huge effort in making him forget about what he thinks it's bothering you. "Want you to put it in m'kay?"

Sultry, fake voice, he's heard it all before and he doesn't have the right to call you out for it. Whatever he does next, you're his for the moment and for the last time.

Repeating is your rightful way of convincing yourself of not giving up on your decision. If only he could have broken up before deciding to wet himself in you, if only you hadn't taken him so eagerly, if only you hadn't become just like him. Welcoming him despite availability status, afraid to lose him, saying that a little sex wouldn't hurt. If you could do this on repeat, then you could get rid of him quite as easily.

You're not better than him and he's taken your vulnerability to him for granted. He's loved the attention you've paid him from time to time, whenever he's given you so much as a mere call.

You should pretend to moan, to hurt his ego, but as he's delving into you, slowly, mellowy, his kisses feel like burning sunshine, August breeze against your skin, kissing your shoulders lightly. It hurts that this salvation is coming from his mouth, as it moves rhythmically against every inch of you.

"Fuck, fuck, ah, you feel so good, you know that?"

You don't answer, nor do you wrap your lips around him. You don't move them against his when he goes to kiss you, but you coo into his warm embrace once his hands come to cradle you in a tight embrace.

"I love you," He slips up and you contemplate on whether you have to start hating him from this very moment. "I just wanna be with you, I—" He grunts. “—this is why you don't believe him, but nonetheless you hold a moan in as well. "Fuck, I'll break up just for you.”

Now that's a new one. A new addition to the long list of red flags you have with his name on top. You can't fall for it. You absolutely can't. If you do, he'll treat you just like this, he'll fuck behind your back and kiss you goodnight before going off to sleep with someone else. Like he's slept with you, once, twice, thrice.

And you're going to hate being the one who's fooled, despite deserving it more than anyone else. And another girl, or guy, is going to be his subject of desire.

You shouldn't want him to be yours, but you're lewding your 'I love yous' out of your mouth like they're nothing, poisoning your heart until there's nothing left but dust and sucked up blood, all devoured by the greed he's made you feel.

"You love me too?"

"I do," You cry, rocked between him and the couch, neck hurting by the way he's digging his teeth in yours.

"I'll fucking leave everything for you babe,"

He shouldn't. He won't. You tell yourself he's only saying this because he wants to come, to make you feel dirty with his actions and fish out words that make him ecstatic or send him over the edge from your mouth.

Rhythms are peaking, his hips burning from his movements, foreheads are dripping in sweat, lips taste salty against each other. The perfect picture, the most tingling sensation, and you're too fucked to go back, or keep yourself content with him. It feels the same as the last time, a numbing knot in your stomach, commanding you to rip your heart out and throw it away, spooning mewls out of your mouth.

If you could, you'd mute him, not wanting to listen to how beautiful he sounds as he's coming down from his high. If you could, you'd look away, and wouldn't try to burn the image of his body as he's falling apart in your mind.

"That was—" The sigh that leaves his chest through his mouth is liberating, you can tell—"amazing. I still love you, so much babe."

His hand soothing the pain of his thrusts, does nothing to make you feel better. You want to shove it away, but you don't, unhappy with the way you're turning out to be.

"It's time for you to go, Eijirou, isn't it?" You remind him. A hand pushing him off of you and quickly smoothing your T-shirt over your legs to deprive him of the view that'd make him wear a smug of triumph.

"So quick to get me to go. Did you find someone else again sweetheart?"

You don't reply as you're putting on your underwear and pants, shoving his shirt into him with a heavy hand.

"You did, didn't you?"

"None of your business, go off to your practice, your girl, don't patronize me anymore."

He gruffs, beautiful features scowling in that stormy gaze that reeks of his authority, "Here I am pouring my heart on you and you found someone else"

"Eijirou, it's seven thirty, if I were you, I wouldn't be late for practice. You got a game the day after tomorrow."

No more dealing with his pouting, you're going to bawl your eyes out if you have to do it. The sooner he's out of your house, the sooner you'll get this over with; the tight lamp in your throat, the image of him smiling at you like this, him admitting feelings that he shouldn't have.

Hurting him isn't the role that suits you. Because you can't do it. You can't hurt that warm sunshine he has on his face. He has to be the one to hurt you like he's been the one to drive you away. It's too late for him to change or reverse your roles.

You don't want to fight and he knows it.

He knows you, so well, well enough to use you as he wishes to, letting you believe you're using him too. You're going to make him watch you slip away, and he won't do anything about this.

So he's eager to leave as you're pushing him out of the door, he doesn't cup your cheek with his hand, and doesn't kiss your forehead tenderly like he always does.

"You should come to this party Mina is throwing, let me meet your new guy."

Like hell you'd ever do this, he knows, but teasing won't hurt a bit. Eijirou can deal with you dating other men, he's claimed you well before, he'll do it again if he has to, especially now that he's decided to have you.

"Yeah yeah, and if I do, don't ever call me again, 'kay?"

You're too good to not do as he says, or not to fall back to him, and he's too good to not come back to you. To him, you're a match made in heaven, to you, you're a lost cause, burning in the fiery pits of hell as atonement for your sins.

He doesn't know that you'll fall apart before dressing up, how you'll tell yourself you're not doing this for him, but as a statement against him.

You're no better than him, in fact, you're worse.

…

The only problem is, that when Eijirou pulls up at Mina's party after practice, you're already there. Drink in your hand, flared jeans hugging your legs, layered tank tops that cover the bruising truth of this evening, laughing at whatever your friends are saying.

When he puts out his phone, calloused fingers furiously typing a text addressed to you, you're too far gone into another glass, dancing a little dance before grabbing everyone's cups to go for a refill, greeting them in that silent way of yours, drunken smile.

And then you'll pass him by and blink at him, you'll mutter a small greeting and he'll grab you by the hand and whisper in your ear just how hard he'll take you driving the night. You'll swoon, moan, forget about the drinks and follow him anywhere he leads you.

That's how everybody knows about the two of you.

This time, though, you don't cast a single eye on him. In fact, you're tainting him, walking past him while ignoring him, leaving him awestruck and hurt, like his confessions earlier in the day meant nothing to you.

It's a hit to his heart, how your jaw drops as you bump into Bakugo over the kitchen counter, eyes too wide at the sight of him. How your finger dances playfully on his chest and as you smile at him when he whispers something in your ear.

It's infuriating how you drop the cups near the sink and follow Bakugo outside, or how the blond waves at him with a pressed smile against his lips, signaling that he'll be busy for a while.

His insides churn, tummy aching in a feeling of guilt, one unlike anything he's felt before. Losing you doesn't taste in the way he thought he would, it's worse; sour and poisoning. It makes him flee the party, furious and bitter.

When he's back, his body is heavy, feet dragging him across his apartment, mind blank as he follows his basic routine before bed time, fixated on how easy it seemed for you to just ignore him and flee with one of his friends as soon as he came over to the party he invited you to, wondering how you could be so ruthless with him all of a sudden.

Sweet talking Kirishima with a smile of gold, the sweetheart of the professional Tennis scene and you're over him in the split of a second, pushing him away from you without an explanation or heart wrenching speech. Not giving him the satisfaction of some closure, just forcing the cold tempo of your sudden departure in the depths of his heart.

He pays no mind to the girl that sleeps beside him, back turned to him like she's oceans apart, despite the unspoken bound that's keeping them together. He'll leave her, make up for all the damage that he's done, in any way that he can manage to.

It all comes down to the fact that no one can love you like he does, no one can want you like he does. Someone can do it better, but you have to want him.

5.30am [Missed Call: Red]

5.31am [Missed Calls(2): Red]

[New Message: Red]

Fuck, with Bakugo out of everyone?

Delivered: 5.31am

[New Message: Red]

Did you have sex with him?

Babe answer me.

Delivered: 5.32am

[New Message: Red]

I'm breaking up with her tomorrow morning.

And I'll come over.

Babe.

Babe please.

Delivered: 5.33am

[New Message: Red]

I'll take you on a date and we can talk about us okay babe?

Let me know when you wake up.

I love you.

So much.

Delivered: 5.38am

Read: 10.23pm

[You]

(Attached Image)

Sorry 'Red' even if you sound like a total douche, cheeks forgot her phone at my place.

I bet on her answering your late night drama when she takes her phone back.

[Red is typing...]

Super thanks to @celestidarling for proofreading this and giving me the biggest pump of confidence to post

↪Up Next: Dragon King Bakugo

[dienamights]

Daddy Daycare | K.Bakugou | Headcanons

Where Pro hero Dynamight is stuck at home babysitting little fucking gremlins instead of spending his day off with you.

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader 

» Word count: 0.9K

» Genre: Crack, Fluff embedded in between.

» Warning(s): Suggestive themes and mentions of sex - Minors DNI & Leave - Swearing.  

» Author’s notes: I COULDN’T GET IT OUTTA MY HEAD, I literally thought about it last Tuesday and just went off on a tangent with Aali -hey baby I didn't wanna bother you with the tags aahahahah love you - to get it out of my head so I can focus on my exams about how he’d babysit babies and I thought that was it but now its almost 6 AM AND I NEEDED TO WRITE THAT SHIT. Please enjoy ♡. Also I did proof read it but I honestly don’t trust my editing abilities at this time. And my drowsy ass keeps laughing at the header photo.

» Masterlist | Requests 

• Its Katsuki’s day off, knowing him, he for sure would not want to take a break from work, always saying "Evil never takes a day off, so why should we?” type bullshit to excuse his workaholic nature. So, despite his day off, he’d always find a way to do some paperwork, read case files about villains, or even train to ‘not waste the day sitting on my ass’. Alas, this time was different, he actually wanted to stay at home, in bed, with you in his arms, maybe filled by him once or twice.

• And you think that’s sweet, the sweetest thing ever, but you were actually hoping for the usual response the ash blond gave whenever he had a day off, to not be around, because you wanted to have a girls’ night.

• Already the ADULT pro hero is pouting like a little boy – arms crossed and all – talking about how you’re betraying him with some shitfaced extras for ‘friends’. Well, since he’s mad might as well dump everything on him all at once right? Wrong

• “Suki, could you also maybe babysit their kids?” “Fuck no.”

• Well, what were you expecting really?

• “Please?” You say following him around the house as he stomps and pouts away from you. “I’ll do anything you want just please do this one thing for me?” “Anything?” Oh sure, now you got his attention “Yes anything, name it right now.” Silence “You ride me next time we fuck” “Katsu-“ “Next time we make love, don’t get your panties in a twist shitty woman.” “That’s not what I- you know what? Fine, deal.”

• Technically, you didn’t specify how many there were, so Katsuki finds himself surrounded by snot-filled shitheads gawking up at him, with one baby perched up on his hip, as they gushed about spending their day/night with pro hero Dynamight of all people. And its all fun and games until that one baby takes a massive shit in their diaper.

• Cue the tears, wails, crying and for fucks sake the SMELL, the fuckin’ smell. Katsuki couldn’t deal with this shit no pun intended, so back up it is.

• Aka shitty hair.

• “Wha- the fuck is dunce face here for?” “He wants to help.” “The fuck would he know, he’s practically a man child himself and besi-”

• Lightbulb

• On one side, Bakugou and Kirishima are trying to outdo each other at pushups with the babies sitting on their backs as extra weights, the kids giggling and flailing while on the other side Kaminari is having a tea party with the rest that are waiting their turn to be used as pseudo-weights.

• Eventually, Bakugou and Kirishima ended up force feeding Kaminari cough syrup so he’d just shut the fuck up and sleep. “Wants to help my ass, fuckin’ dick startin’ a riot with these kids to get dessert before dinner.” “Yeah, should’ve seen that one coming.”

• Any of the kids misbehaving after the riot’s leader was taken down for a nap? They're being held upside down by their foot by Katsuki until they get light headed and apologize.

• This man will milk their adoration for him and he will not reply until he’s addressed as king explosion murder. Period.

• "Mister Dynamight, can I have a snack?" "What was that brat, couldn’t hear ya." "King... explosion mmm-murder, can I have a snack?" *glares* "please?" "That’s what’m fuckin’ talkin’ about brat, c’mon let’s get you some fruits." As if he’d sensor himself around them.

• Feeds off of them praising his cooking.

• “Mister Dyna-“ *death glare* “Mister king lord explosion murder.” Poor kid stammers in fear. *nods to keep going* “ Your cooking is better than my mamma’s!” “You bet your ass it fuc-“ “LANGUAGE” “ooh right, you bet your butt it fucking is” and Kirishima is on the other side covering his face and wishing this mess would just be over so he can go home.   

• When its bedtime, they wouldn’t want to listen to bedtime stories, oh no, king explosion murder better get his ass ready because they want him to tell them his greatest battle to date. And he delivers, sound effects and small explosions as he pretends to pummel an imaginary villain to the ground, earning squeals and giggles from the kids piled up on the futons set up for them in the living room.

• One of the kids would try to climb into his lap and he’d be like???? But kinda get over it after a while as the kids dozed off to sleep, whereas another one promises to be a hero like him, and he’d pat their head and tuck them in, telling them that they can do whatever they want as long as they work on it and believe in themselves.

• Yes, the kids will go back to their parents wanting Dynamight merch for DAYS.

• And yes, you’ll be pounded until tomorrow with a promise to fill you up with “a little brat of our own so they can shit on these extra babies”.

Bonus

• You see one of your friends a week later and they’re hella salty cause their kid can’t stop calling people shitty extras. 

• You didn’t know about this but before the kids left, he gave each of them a limited-edition figurine of himself that he signed so when they flexed about spending the day with him to their friends, they’d believe them.

• He would rather die than tell you this, but since he babysat these brats, Katsuki couldn’t wait to have his own with you to care for and love unconditionally.

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