#i’m so tired of this fucking fandom i swear

[azrielsbxtch]

Tiktok says Rhys sending Feyre to the Weavers cottage was toxic and we’re glamorizing bad behavior and he’s toxic for not saving her from the weaver

[freyjas-musings]

Have a feeling SJM is going to do the funniest thing ever and announce the next ACOTAR project is a Nessian novella. Weirdos are out here sending threat messages over the love interests of fictional characters, and the conclusion to this shipping war isn't even coming next. I wish she would just put us out of our misery.

I don't know about Nessian but I am certainly excited about seeing more of Nesta's journey in the next book, I dont know if we will get another dedicated novella though . It is clear her story isn't over, troves and made weapons will always involve Nesta.

As far as weirdos go they were always there trust me, yes the anti Az idiots have hit an all time low with the please pick Lucien energy but as far as ship wars go nothing has changed and it won't either...not even after the book release.

Ultimately, the fact remains this fandom will find something to fight about if not ships then characters. As exhausting as it sounds don't let it take away from the characters and pairings that you love ❤️

[heavy-buddy]

im gonna ban allistic people from writing autistic characters

[crazychaoticizzy]

Just the Tip

CONTENT: 18+, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, morning sex, dom/sub/switch reader and character depending on which one you’re reading, my knowledge on some of these characters is limited since i’m new to the fandom so they may be mischaracterized, the most basic concept but it’s something ✨

WORD COUNT: 573

MASTERLIST

“C’mon, baby… Just the tip, I swear.”

You both knew he was lying. He didn’t do just the tip. You knew that, and yet you still obliged him in the early morning.

“Just for a bit. I have a meeting today,” you mumble. You bury your face further into your pillow as he climbs on top of you. Now that you’d said it, you realized how much you didn’t want to go to that business meeting.

“I know, baby. I swear this time it’ll really be just the tip.”

You hum as he pushes your panties aside. His fingers briefly glide against your folds before he replaces them with his cock.

For a moment, he abides by his promise and only puts in the tip. He ruts into you and moans in your ear before pushing more of himself in. You’re too tired to notice entirely, although you can feel it. You don’t comment on it, though, even knowing that you should. You excuse it by convincing yourself just a little bit of indulgence wouldn’t hurt anyone.

It isn’t long until his hips meet yours. Your mouth falls open in a surprises moan when he pulls out almost completely and shoved himself back inside. Your eyes shoot open, and you look up at him with a questioning gaze.

“Oops.” The stupid smirk on his face tells you this is definitely not and oops situation, but you can’t find it in yourself to argue. Especially not after he begins a fast pace.

It looks like that meeting will have to wait. What a shame…

Jean Kirstein, Eren Yeager, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Roy Mustang, Portgas D. Ace

There was no sound prettier than the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, still groggy with sleep as he holds onto your hips for dear life.

Just the tip. That’s what he’d promised you. But Jesus Christ, the way your walls stretched and squeezed around just the tip made him delirious. You’d barely given him anything and his eyes were already rolled to the back of his head.

He whines and whimpers in your ear, pleading, begging for you to let him put more of himself inside.

“Baby… Baby, please… I know you’re busy today but I need-”

With the way he moans in your ear, his hands twisted in the sheets and leaving bruises on your hips, it would just be cruel to say no, wouldn’t it?

Armin Arlert, Reiner Braun, Choso Kamo, Sanji Vinsmoke

Sometimes you find yourself hating how coy he can be. How fucking clever he is infuriates you, especially when it’s early in the morning and the only thing you want is for him to not follow what you said.

You moaned his name, long and drawn out, as you tried moving your hips back to push more of him inside you.

But he keeps his hands on your hips, preventing you from moving any further. He tuts and shakes his head, barely moving the tip in and out.

“We can’t get too carried away. We both have things to do today,” he whispered, his voice still raspy and thick with sleep.

You groan, attempting to move your hips again. When he resists, you give up. “Please,” you beg.

He chuckles. You think for a moment that he’ll give in to your pleas and screw you until you’re a mess beneath him, but he only kisses your cheek and pulls away.

It leaves you feeling empty and upset, even with the promise of a proper fucking when the two of you return to work.

Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Kento Nanami

this has been in the drafts since at least February sorry about that guys hope y’all enjoyed 💜

[sohnric]

SUGAR TALK — S. JAEYUN

pairing: jake x fem! reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers au, vacation au, summer au, fluff. a tinge of first love au. jake and the reader discussing their feelings. shy jake (somebody protect him)

wc: 1.7k

warnings: swearing, a sexual joke :(

a/n: thank u @csenke my beloved for beta reading and hyping me up into posting this i owe you my whole entire LIFE. also lowkey fuck u for dragging me into yet another fandom. anyways my enhablr debut :)) kinda nervous.... pls be nice or else ill cry

A midsummer night in Italy reveals many things you and Jake managed to hide over the course of your friendship—all over a quarrel about ice cream.

“Is it good?” you ask, pointing towards the ice lolly in Jake’s mouth, your legs propped up against the wall right next to where his back is resting. You’re currently laying on the floor– because the heat in Italy makes it unbearable to sprawl on the bed during summer, just the blankets laying under you being enough to make your body flood with sweat. 

“I asked you if you wanted it,” he grunts, taking his eyes off his phone screen and gazing at you through the hair falling into his forehead and shielding his vision, “and you said no.” 

“Okay, and? I’m not asking to have it, I’m just asking you if it’s good–”

“So you don’t want a taste, yeah?” he challenges you. A second of silence passes by as the two of you stare at each other wordlessly before he sighs, right as you open your mouth and utter out your next comment.

“I mean, you can just give me a taste, it wouldn’t hurt you–”

“I’m not sharing my ice cream with you,” your childhood best friend says, shaking his head at your greediness. 

“Why not? I was generous enough to let you have the last one, so you may as well share it with me in this terrible, terrible heat–”

“I’m not letting you lick my ice cream, that’s disgusting,” he mumbles. That comment is enough to have you snicker out loud– because even though you and Jake aren’t teenagers anymore, your brain is still somehow stuck in the age where everything sounds like a sexual innuendo to you– but you manage to make the situation even worse when you let out your next comment, shocking the boy.

“You’re saying that as if it’s the first time we would be exchanging saliva.”

Jake almost chokes on the ice cream, nervously licking his lips. You and him have been childhood friends– with your parents being in the same friend group since high school, it was only natural for them to want their children to be each other’s safe haven as well. And it worked, for the most part– you could never imagine a better person to grow up with than Sim Jake, the energetic boy that lived just down the street from you– but that doesn’t mean you and him don’t have your fair share of memories you rarely talk about.

One of them being you kissing Jake when you got drunk for the first time. You just turned seventeen and although your parents were mostly understanding of your bad life choices, showing up home after underage drinking still wasn’t the wisest idea, and so Jake convinced both of your parents that you were staying over at his friend Sunghoon’s house instead. That boy can be really convincing when he tries to, and with the phone calls done and the fake arrangements in place, you two spent the night together in the nearby park.

In your drunken state, you managed to say a sentence that stayed in his mind to this day and haunted him on some nights: “You’re too pretty. I could honestly kiss you right now,” said slurred and with a voice tired– and without asking for his thoughts on the matter, you leaned in and just followed your gut. 

He kissed you back a few moments later– messy and uncoordinated– and although young Jake wanted to talk about the matter while it was still at hand, you fell asleep in his lap on the top of a skating ramp shortly after, leaving him dazed and confused, watching over you until the sun rose.

It’s now 4 years later, and somehow, you thought that bringing it up on a family trip to Italy– in the middle of the night, sitting on the cold tile floor of your shared hotel room– was the best time to talk about it.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t remember it,” you joke, watching the boy get a little red in his cheeks. “I was the drunk one and I remember, so there’s no way you don’t.”

Jake gulps down the ice cream melting in his mouth, averting his gaze from you completely. “I mean, it was my first kiss. Of course I remember.”

The moment the words escape his mouth, you feel like cotton was stuffed into your ears and the whole world stopped spinning. Your throat goes dry and you momentarily panic– you had no idea that you technically took your friend’s kiss virginity until now. Guilt washes you over– because what if he wanted to save it for someone else? Someone more worthy, someone he liked? What if he wasn't ready? You made that decision for him, and suddenly, you feel insanely bad– wishing that the ground would swallow you alive.

“So that’s why you were such a bad kisser–” you say instead, trying to act nonchalant– to which you earn yourself a kick to your side, having the boy laugh in embarrassment.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you caught me unprepared,” he says, shaking his head at you.

“Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry,” you hum in all seriousness. Now is your time to avert your gaze from the boy, pointing your eyes towards your legs resting up against the wall. There is a moment of silence following your sincere words, and just when you think the situation got too awkward to continue talking about the incident– which is why you never really brought it up in the first place– Jake speaks up again, breaking the quiet atmosphere of the hotel room.

“For what?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“For kissing you without asking,” you say, furrowing your brows. “It was selfish of me. Had I known it was your first kiss, I wouldn’t steal it all for myself,” you snicker, feeling a little shy.

“Oh,” he hums just before you hear him laugh airly at your words. “I mean… I enjoyed it.”

“Did you?” you ask, allowing yourself to look back at the boy– noticing the softness of his eyes when he watches you, something in the air tensing, but making you feel like you’re floating, light. “Because you seemed pretty frightened back then.”

“That’s because I was embarrassed,” he explains, laughing. “I had a huge crush on you back then, so it was kind of a big deal for me,” he hums, a tint of pink appearing on the tips of his cheekbones, eyes glimmering a little in the low light of the room.

Now is your time to let out a dead-pan “Oh,” the shock of the new information still settling into you. With how long you’ve known Sim Jake, you thought you could read him like an open book– easily and clearly. Most of the time, you were really in tune with his emotions and thoughts, you could predict what his opinion would be on most things and how he’d feel about certain situations– leaving you checking in with him whenever you sensed he’d be down but wouldn’t outright tell you to your face. But maybe you were wrong to believe this assumption– maybe you couldn’t read your best friend as much as you thought you could. 

Because you would’ve never thought of this being a reality. 

“You didn’t know? I thought you knew, but you didn’t want it to be awkward between us so you didn’t mention it,” he laughs, taking in the situation with much more lightness now, seeing how affected you are by the simple confession. This is not how you imagined this conversation to go.

“No?!” you exclaim, baffled. “How the fuck would I know?”

“Now come on, Y/N,” he sighs, shaking his head at you in disbelief, “I invited you to prom. I think that might have been a clear sign that something was going on,” he snickers before he continues munching on his ice cream. After speaking the fact into existence, Jake seems to be less nervous about the topic– approaching it with almost utmost nonchalance, leaving you space to process with panicked thoughts instead.

“I thought you invited me because you had no one else to invite,” you said, blinking slowly as if rebooting your brain.

“You thought I had no one else to invite?” he laughs, now in disbelief at your words. “I was cute in high school, thank you very much. You think no one else would wanna go with me?” 

“Okay, don’t get all cocky on me now,” you grunt, huffing and pointing your eyes towards the ceiling.

Your brain takes on the challenge of projecting every single memory of Jake and your high school self together, seeing all those situations with much different eyes. You remember telling your friends about how sweet of a guy Jake always was– carrying your stuff for you, helping you with your Science homework, walking you home after your tutoring, buying you lunch– ‘any girl would be so lucky to date him!’. Your little advertisements never worked out, though, because your best friend never really cared about any other girl in the first place.

Now you kind of see why. And it leaves you wondering– are the late night calls you two shared when you’re away at university really just two friends missing each other? Does he get overly-protective over you because he wants to take care of you, or is it jealousy? That one time he called you ‘his girl’, was it perhaps something deeper that you missed?

“Are we talking past tense, though?” you hear yourself speaking out, and you don’t know why you’re suddenly holding your breath.

When you look at Jake, the popsicle is in his mouth and his brows are raised in question. Thinking he’s confused, you ask again. “Or do you still have a crush on me?” 

The boy chokes a little on the ice cream, making you laugh at his animated response. His cheeks grow deep red, and he seems to be avoiding your gaze. Now, you’re no expert at body language, but if you were asked, you’d say this was a telling sign. 

“You know what? Just keep the ice cream,” he says instead, the sweet, cold treat levitating in front of your lips now. Satisfied, with butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your fingertips tingling when they come in contact with his skin around the wooden stick, you take the popsicle into your mouth with the knowledge that you won. 

Mid-july, melting into the hardwood floor of your Italian hotel room, you feel like there is something within your storyline that is slowly coming full circle. Maybe after years of denial, you’re finally going to face the feelings left unsaid.

[berrygoodjob]

PLEASE I NEED MORE TOKYO DEBUNKER PERVERT HC I’M GONNA GO CRAZY THE FANDOM IS SO NEW THERE’S PRACTICALLY NOTHING 😞😞😞😞

Mdni 18+

Pervert!TD hcs

Ft: Yuri, Haru, Rui, Ritsu, Romeo

Part one part three

Yuri Isami

—pervert!Yuri who is a MASSIVE tsundere, but accidentally mutter how badly he’d like to strap you to his medical table

—pervert!Yuri definitely thinks you’re using some sort of psychological mind games to make him want you as desperately as he does

—pervert!Yuri who will sneak peaks during his exams and scold you for being careless. He gets very embarrassed if you catch him and might leave the rest of the exam to Jiro

—pervert!Yuri who definitely insists that the hand restraints are necessary during your check ups, just in case….. and will be fucking his fist so desperately the second he’s home

—pervert!Yuri who is so tired, and your body looks so soft and nice, like the ideal stress ball for him to just hold or squeeze

Haru Sagara

—pervert!Haru who checks out your ass every time you see him, and might even brush a hand past it “by accident”

—pervert!Haru who brings you around semi-dangerous anomalies just keep an arm around you and have an excuse to pull you close to him. He will be smelling your hair though.

—pervert!Haru who remembers the smell of your hair, the feeling of your waist and the little gasp you let out when he pulled you closer at the most inconvenient times (middle of class, trying to advertise for the park, and when he’s running away from Taiga). Very poor times for him to get rock hard,,,

—pervert!Haru whose feelings and odd behaviors are noticed by Towa. So next time you head to Jabberwok, it just happens to start pouring rain all over your white t-shirt. Towa smiles and shrugs at you, but gives Haru a wink and a knowing smile.

—pervert!Haru who insists stretching is a must before going out and about around Javberwok (he’s not wrong, but he won’t be stretching as much as he’ll be watching you stretch and imagining all the positions he’d like to have you in) He will jokingly offer to help you stretch, but if you take him up on it, he’ll get too nervous

Rui Mizuki

—pervert!Rui who gets very frustrated knowing that he can’t touch you for real

—pervert!Rui who keeps his distance but will watch you, not intending to be creepy, but then he sees you bend over to pick up something you dropped. He will be undressing you with his eyes in that moment

—pervert!Rui who went to go find you at the cathedral once, but you weren’t home. Although a pair of your dirty underwear was right on top in your laundry pile. He looks at it and sighs deeply. He swears he’s better than that and walks past……. but he goes back and stuffs it in his pocket. After all, it is the closest he’ll be able to get without fear of killing you..

—pervert!Rui who plays with his dick keeping your underwear pressed to his face. He knows it’s a violation of your privacy, but he so desperately wants you, and this is the only way he can even get close

—pervert!Rui who would love nothing more than to be inside of you, but understands how unlikely it is due to both of you being cursed. he still holds hope nonetheless.

Ritsu Shinjo

—pervert!Ritsu who had no idea how deeply his desire for you would hit him and was fully unprepared it.

—pervert!Ritsu who finds himself listening to every recording of your voice, and whose mind starts wander to how you’d sound calling his name. And from there it gets very perverted very quickly,,,, he is shocked at himself, but he knows fantasizing in itself isn’t a crime… so what’s the harm…

—pervert!Ritsu who will want to fuck you and record the audio

—pervert!Ritsu who knows better than to cross physical boundaries, but will picture what’s under your clothes often…. Very often….

—pervert!Ritsu who you accidentally touched one time, so he sat you down and gave you a lecture on harassment….. (he doesn’t want you unknowingly causing problems for yourself or touching anyone else, but he struggles to convey that he’s not actually mad at you for it. He just emotionally shit himself and didn’t know how else to handle it). He will think of this moment in bed at night and get ridiculously turned on by how nice it felt.

Romeo Lucci

—pervert!Romeo who thinks it’s cute how desperately in love with him you are (he’s a little delulu, you barely know him), but then again how could you not be?

—pervert!Romeo who convinces himself that you’re the one obsessed with him, and definitely not the other way around…. He even asks you if you’d like to be kept in one of his cages so he can give you more attention

—pervert!Romeo who almost tries to convince you to go gamble away all your money so you have to be indebted to him (he decides not to at the final moment when he sees you smile at him)

—pervert!Romeo who still imagines how’d you look stripped to your undies locked in a cage, begging him for mercy…. He cums every other night to the thought

—pervert!Romeo who still has half a mind to forgive all of Kaitos debts if you offer yourself to him and obey his wishes. He has come very close to suggesting it, but he thinks it’d make him look desperate. And desperate is ugly on anyone. So someone as good looking as himself should never stoop so low (he fucks up into his hand so desperately wishing it was you he was cumming into).

[geminiwritten]

i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher

preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst

notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)

warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut

word count: 5315

Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.

Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.

“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”

“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.

You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.

Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.

“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”

Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.

Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”

“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”

MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”

“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.

“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”

“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”

Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.

MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”

“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.

Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”

Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.

You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”

She points at the sofa.

“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”

Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.

“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”

You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.

“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”

A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.

Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”

MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”

Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”

“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.

Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.

You blink, “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.

“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”

“Are you hungry?”

You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.

“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”

The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.

“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.

A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”

“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”

You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.

“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.

He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”

You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.

“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”

You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”

“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”

“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nate.”

You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.

“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”

You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”

His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”

As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.

His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.

It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.

“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”

You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.

“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”

“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”

You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.

A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”

With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.

The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.

It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.

“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.

You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.

Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.

You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.

You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.

“Hey.”

You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”

“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”

You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.

Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.

“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.

“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”

“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”

Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”

“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”

“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”

You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”

“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”

A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.

“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”

“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”

“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”

His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.

“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.

You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”

A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.

“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”

His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.

“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.

He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.

“You gon’a answer me?”

“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”

He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”

“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.

The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.

“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”

The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.

“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.

His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.

“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”

You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”

You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.

You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.

You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”

You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”

“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.

Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.

“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”

“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”

“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.

You frown, “Why?”

“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.

“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”

You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”

His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.

“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.

Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”

Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.

“You need to shower.”

“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.

“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”

Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.

You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.

You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.

“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”

You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.

“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”

“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”

His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.

“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”

You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”

One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.

“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.

You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.

“You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”

His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.

You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.

“All yours.”

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

[mal3vol3nt]

Hi. You’re probably tired of seeing me dump stuff like this. (I’ll try to make this the last time). But I have to vent to someone. Because I see this one guy, claim to not hate Aang, only to villainize him to a ridiculous extent, acting like he’s unempathetic, forcing Katara to tend to his emotional needs and this user completely downplays Aang’s genocidal trauma. Not to be rude, but how much of a heartless prick do you have to be to invalidate genocide and the trauma it can cause. These fake fans should honestly keep their mouths shut about this show, they clearly don’t understand it.

the southern raiders episode needs to be freed from the zutara fandom i swear. i’m fully convinced they never actually watched that episode cause it literally ends with katara saying she still didn’t forgive yon rha and aang accepting that. he literally says “im proud of you”. it was never her anger at the man that aang disagreed with, it was the action she planned on doing—murder—that he wanted to talk her down from. not for yon rha’s sake, but for her’s. so even though she didn’t forgive him, aang respected that and was able to recognize the strength and validity in her decision. i’m so tired of repeating this rebuttal to this stupid as fuck argument

aang doesn’t force her to do anything in the entire series. katara has her own agency and free will to do as she pleases and not a single character has ever taken that away from her, and the one time where her freedom was threatened (by pakku), she fought for it and ensured she got her way. when yall say aang takes her agency away from her, you’re also ignoring the core traits of katara: her fierceness, her determination, her ability to recognize what’s right for herself, and her sense of justice

she never blindly follows or takes direction from anyone. when aang tried telling her and sokka to stay put while he made the trip to see roku in the fire nation, katara (and sokka) put her foot down and refused to listen. she demanded that they go with him, and he accepted them making that choice for themselves. when sokka tried convincing her to leave after she met up with haru and they had the chance to escape from the fire nation ship, she refused and said she wasn’t abandoning the rest of the earthbenders. her decision was respected by both aang and sokka. in fact, there are so many instances of her making her own decisions regardless of what anyone else says that it would be impossible for me to list them all. she never succumbs to what aang or anyone else wants, and she always makes her genuine thoughts on an important decision known. katara does not need anyone to tell her what to do nor does she allow anyone to tell her what to do. this is the same girl who single handedly changed the “no girls allowed” rule in the northern water tribe after having been told “you can’t do that”. yall think she would let aang walk all over her??? please put some respect on her name

now this may be a controversial take but i don’t care it’s the truth: comparing sokka and katara losing their mom to aang losing his entire culture and people is actually insane and insensitive but not for the reason zutaras think. its because absolutely nothing any other character went through can compare to what aang did, and to diminish his tragedy by saying katara’s trauma surrounding her mom’s death is somehow worse is actual insanity and i need yall to go to prison LMAO

katara did not witness her mom get murdered. that only happened in natla and i refuse to acknowledge that. she ran out of the tent to go tell her dad that a fire nation soldier was with their mom and when she came back, the man was gone and kya was dead. still insanely traumatic, but she was not literally standing there watching as kya burned to death

that’s literally what happened with aang. from his perspective, he had just seen gyatso only a few hours ago. gyatso was alive literally moments ago in his mind and then he was greeted with his decayed skeleton among the bodies of unwelcome fire nation soldiers. just like katara experienced insane whiplash from that heartbreaking change, to see someone alive only to come back to them gone, aang went through roughly the same thing

the only difference is aang didn’t just lose gyatso, he lost all his friends and mentors as well. and he didn’t just lose all his friends and mentors, he lost every single person who looked like him. and he didn’t just lose every single person who looked like him, he lost everyone he had grown close to and seen from the other nations. and he didn’t just lose everyone he had grown close to and seen from the other nations, he lost the animals native to the airbending temples. and he didn’t just lose the animals native to the airbending temples, he lost the native plants as well. and he didn’t just lose the native plants, he lost the structural beauty and integrity of the air temples. and he didn’t just lose the structural beauty and integrity of the air temples, he lost the ability to practice his cultural customs with others. and he didn’t just lose the ability to practice his cultural customs with others, he lost the ability to bend his native element with others. and he didn’t just lose the ability to bend his native element with others, he lost the time to mourn for all that he lost

i’m sorry to those of you who wanna believe your favs have suffered more than anyone else in the series, but none of their tragedies compare to aang’s. and i don’t believe in downplaying what the others went through to support a fandom narrative, but this is literally just me acknowledging the severity of aang’s story. to suggest any one else has gone through more is to be ignorant and nothing anyone can say will ever convince me otherwise

only reason yall think zuko or katara or sokka or toph or azula or whoever the fuck else is more tragic than aang is because all of their traumas are more relatable to the everyday person whereas aang’s is something that most people can’t even comprehend

[vintagepresley]

I don’t want to be this person. But I feel like that new Elvis confessions account on here is just a gateway for people to start drama and spew their hate for people in this fandom and how others choose to love Elvis or how they write about Elvis and to basically shove down our throats how to be an Elvis fan “the right way”.

I just saw one of their recent posts about basically the fandom not being the same and how people don’t care about him and how people used to talk about his music and movies. Now people in the fandom only care about writing smut about him and don’t even know his songs or movies. Then saying how calling him “big daddy” is disgusting.

Huh? What? I don’t know what part of the fandom this person is on but we are constantly talking about his music and movies. I feel like most of the people in this fandom have seen all of his movies. But also some can’t depending on where they live in the world so it could be harder for them to watch them. He’s got so much music to listen like you can’t be mad if EVERYONE hasn’t heard every single fucking song. There’s actually some people who just joined and are still learning. It’s not that serious. Stop acting like you weren’t once new to being an Elvis fan.

Why are we acting like people haven’t been writing so much smut stories about him since 2022? Before I even joined the fandom here I was literally reading soooo many smut stories about him around that time. I don’t think that’s changed. There’s so many different stories besides smut. If you don’t like smut guess what? DON’T READ IT BABE. Keep scrolling. There’s so much variety when it comes to Elvis fanfics. It’s not just smut.

Then onto the big daddy thing. That didn’t just become a thing. It’s been a thing for the past two years. How is it disgusting? Lmao. It’s never that serious and honestly no one is being disrespectful when they use that term. That man has big daddy energy. That is never a bad thing, lol.

I swear. People don’t know how to just enjoy things and not taking things so seriously and constantly complaining about literally everything. Why can’t people just enjoy things? I feel like I constantly speak up about this because I’m so tired of people telling people how they should love Elvis or how there’s a wrong and right way. I’m so tired of people making others feel like they don’t belong here. We all love and respect Elvis. We all love learning about him in every aspect of his life. So many of us do so much research and constantly read books on him because we DO see him more than just a “pretty face” more than just an “aesthetic”. He’s a huge part of our lives and we all in some way have a story about how he’s impacted us or what he’s done for us. Doesn’t mean we can’t joke about things or like make unhinged posts. Life doesn’t always have to be taken so seriously.

Lighten up. Elvis would be bothered by how uptight some of you are.

Thank you for coming to my Elvis ted talk. ☺️

[angelatmidnight1]

Smile For Me

Hi, @supermarvel-fics! I'm your squealing Santa this year. It's my first time writing for the Scream series, but I really hope this fic is to your liking. I'm a big fan of the series myself :D. I hope you have a great holiday season and a wonderful 2024!

Word Count- 2,169.

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death, and tickling.

Fandom- Scream (1996).

Pairing- Stu Macher x Reader (Friends to lovers- two characters falling in love and character A finds out character B is ticklish (ends in kissing and confessing) Characters are both 18 in this fic.

It’s been a string of dark days for Woodsboro, California, as the Ghostface attacks ravage the town. Stu distracts you from your worries by inviting you over to his place. What was supposed to be a chill night of movies turned into playful tickling and heartfelt confessions. 

Diiiiing!

High school didn’t usually dismiss at 9:00am. You didn’t crawl out of the warmth of your bed for two hours of instruction. But, these weren’t usual times. 

A killer was on the loose. People were going missing, lives were being lost. Woodsboro High couldn’t keep you safe. So, they sent everyone home with a strict curfew to be enforced in the evening.

Even in a crowd, you felt afraid. Ghostface could be anywhere. He could strike at any time. You didn’t even bother going to your locker. Instead, you were one of the first students in the hall, holding your backpack strap in a death grip. 

You walked as fast as your feet could take you. But, someone behind you was faster. 

Unlike you, Stu was thrilled to have a siesta from school. He burst out of his boring history class with a huge grin. He scanned the crowd for you and, when he saw you, he pushed his way forward. 

“(Y/N!)

In the commotion of the busy hallway, you didn’t hear him approach. So, when two strong arms hoisted you into the air, you screamed. 

“No, NO! Let me go!” Your limbs took on a mind of their own, flailing about violently. If Ghostface was gonna take you out, he’d have a fight on his hands. Stu yelped and, after getting clocked in the jaw, he immediately put you back down. 

“Hey, HEY! It’s just me!” Stu wailed. He rubbed his jaw, wincing. “Fuck, that hurt…”

You sighed an exasperated sigh. “Damn it, Stu.” You stepped towards him, closing the gap, and tenderly put a hand on his jaw. “You scared the hell outta me. I’m sorry.” 

For a moment, Stu’s eyes softened. The two of you had been friends since elementary school, and it wasn’t really a secret that he adored you. He made an agreement with Billy that they weren’t allowed to hurt you. Ever. You were his calm in the storm that he and Billy were bringing to Woodsboro. 

And, for you, Stu was your light in the darkness. The Ghostface attacks had you on edge. You hadn’t been sleeping well, lacked focus in class, and constantly looked over your shoulder. A part of you wished that Stu took the ordeal more seriously. But, a larger part of you was grateful that he still found ways to make you smile. He leaned into your hand and gave you a little pout.

“Sorry enough to come by my place tonight?” Stu’s pout turned into a bright, hopeful grin. “My parents won’t be home, and Randy hooked me up with some killer movies. All that’s missing is you~.”

He ended his statement with a poke to your nose. You smiled, playfully batting his hand away. Then, you released his jaw and sighed. 

“I don’t know, Stu. I’m tired.” You replied. Then, as if on cue, you yawned deeply. “I haven’t been able to sleep because of, well, ya know.” 

Stu nodded. But then, he gave you another bright smile, leaning his taller frame towards you. “That’s exactly why you should come over! Ghostface’s got nothing on me.” He bragged and flexed his muscles. “Look, I’m so buff, I’ll totally protect you, (Y/N).” 

You regarded him with a smirk. Then, you reached up to feel his bicep. Stu gasped and made a dramatic show of leaning into you. You tried to hold him up, but he was too heavy, and he nearly made you fall. You yelped and stumbled back into a nearby locker, scolding him without malice. 

“Stuhu!” You laughed and grabbed onto both of his arms to keep yourself upright. Stu snickered and hovered over you. He gently shook your hands off of his arms and took them into his own. He squeezed them affectionately, thumbs rubbing the top of your hands, and his blue eyes gazed into yours. 

“Let me protect you, alright?” He asked softly. You froze and held his gaze. There was a sudden warmth in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks heating up. After a beat, you nodded.

“Alright, if you really promise to protect me.” 

Although the safety of your home comforted you, you needed a distraction. And, Stu seemed happy to deliver. Stu confirmed this with a wide grin. 

“Awesome!” Stu cheered. He suddenly scooped you up, making you squeal, and carried you through the crowds. Once out of the school, he put you down, patting your back. “Come by at six tonight. Oh! And bring food! Can’t have a movie night without food.”

You smoothed out your clothes, returning his grin. Honestly, he could’ve gotten lost in that smile. “I’ll bring the best of Woodsboro’s culinary delights. You can count on it.” 

Stu whooped and did a fist pump. Then, with another laugh, the two of you parted ways. 

Burgers, fries, and sodas spelled the perfect night-in for you. Stu’s house wasn’t too far from yours, but your older brother insisted on dropping you off. You waved goodbye as he pulled off and carried the food to Stu’s door. You had to put the sodas down to knock on the door. Seconds later, the door opened, and Stu greeted you with a huge grin. 

“There you are! Right on time.” He gave you a quick hug and helped you bring the food in. Once inside his home, you felt your shoulders drop. You’d been over his home so many times, it brought you a sense of peace. A rarity in the current state of Woodsboro. You followed him to the living room and set the bags down. He did the same. Then, he turned to you, playfully pushing you back onto the couch. 

“HEY!” You caught yourself with your hands, snickering. Stu flopped beside you, and you lightly shoved his shoulder. “That’s how you treat someone who brought you food?” 

Stu chuckled and cozied up to you, putting his head on your arm. “Maybe.” He smirked. He reached forward to grab the remote and his fries. “Now, shhh! The movie’s starting.”

You rolled your eyes, but otherwise relented. 

Stu picked out a scary movie for the two of you to watch. His head was still resting on your arm and, despite your best efforts, you flinched at the jump scares. You shielded your eyes from any more scares, and Stu looked up at you curiously. He smiled. 

“D’aww, you’re kinda cute when you’re afraid.” He cooed. He poked your cheek, snickering as you reeled away from him. 

“Cut it out, I’m not cute.” You argued, keeping your eyes shielded. You moved your hands when you felt him shift under you. He sat straight up, suddenly poking your side. You slammed your arm to protect the area.  “Aha! Stu!”

“I don’t know,” he mused, now harboring a playful glint in his eye. “That’s the cutest little giggle I’ve ever heard. And you know what?”

You didn’t respond, but when you felt the couch cushion dip, you jumped to your feet out of instinct. Just in time too, because Stu had scooted closer to you, wriggling his fingers in the air. You giggled nervously, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Stu, don’t you dare-”

“Oh, I dare, (Y/N)!” He grinned mischievously. He made the conscious effort not to dip into his Ghostface voice. “I wanna hear that adorable giggle again.”

He shot up from his seat and lunged towards you. You yelped and narrowly dodged him. You ran behind the couch for cover and tried to run around it. But, Stu mirrored your movements, moving left and right with you respectively. “Where ya goin’~?”

“I’m gonna kill youhu-” You snickered and made the last minute decision to grab a pillow for self-defense. Stu’s eyes widened and, after a dramatic gasp, he covered his mouth with both hands. 

“You’re gonna kill me? With a pillow? Oh my god, have mercy!” Stu pretended to sound terrified. Then, he suddenly vaulted over the couch, easily ripping the pillow from your hands. “I don’t respond well to threats! Now, you’re gonna get it!”

You screamed and took off running. Stu’s grin widened; he loved a good chase. He stayed hot on your tail and chased you through the house. He easily caught up with you and, just before you could book it upstairs, he wrapped both of his arms around your waist. He dragged you back to the couch and tossed you onto it. 

“Baaad move, (Y/N)! You don’t run upstairs when someone’s chasing you!” He playfully chastised. He straddled your waist and poked at random spots on your torso. You squealed and bucked your hips, giggling frantically. “Haven’t you watched any movies?”

“Nohohoho!” You whined and wrestled with his hands. You managed to get a couple of pinches on his sides, making him squeal, but he was faster and stronger than you. He gathered your wrists into one hand, holding them above your head. Then, with his free hand, he alternated pinches along your hips. You arched your back and giggled harder. “Thihihis isn’t fuhuhuhny! Lehehet me gohoho!”

“Nope! No can do, I’ve gotta have those cute (Y/N)  giggles.” Stu snickered and suddenly reached up to spider his nails along your neck. “Give ‘em to me!”

You yelled and scrunched your neck. “NOHahahaha! Stuhuhu stahaha!” You protested and whipped your head around, trying to avoid his fingers. After a couple more scratches, his hand found your side, and he squeezed at it rapidly. You arched your back again. “STUHUHU!”

“(Y/N)~” He responded in a singsong voice. He scritched across your stomach to get to your other side. “Poor baby, does it tickle?”

“Yehehehes!” You whined and fell deeper into your giggle fit. “Plehehehehease stohohohop!”

“But I haven’t even tickled your armpits yet!” Stu argued. Your eyes widened and you looked up at him, only to be met with a smug grin. “What? That wouldn’t be a bad spot, would it?”

“NO! Not there, Stu, plehehehease!” You started giggling again when he poked and prodded up your side. You squirmed, trying to roll away from you, but his weight on top of you kept you pinned to the cushions. “Plehehease nohohot thehehere!”

Stu smirked up at you, teasing your rib cage with his blunt nails. That was your second worst spot; you squirmed around more violently, gasping in between giggles. 

“Here I come, (Y/N)...” Stu taunted. He pinched at the spaces in between your ribs, earning short barks of laughter. “I’m gonna get you..”

You shook your head back and forth, laughing harder as he kept moving up. “Nahahaha dohohon’t!”

Stu’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Would you fall for one of the oldest tricks in the book? 

“Don’t what?” He asked, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. You snorted and pushed your head against his, making him chuckle. “Hmm~? Don’t what, buddy?”

“Tihihihihickle mehehehehe!”

No way. Stu switched to the other side of your neck to nuzzle. You pinched your eyes shut, now full-on laughing. “Well,” he breathed into your skin, making you laugh harder. “If you insist!”

Stu let go of your wrists and, in one fluid motion, plunged his wiggling fingers under your arms. You screamed and slammed your arms against your sides, which trapped his hands in place. 

“NOHAHAHA GEHEHEHT OHOHOFF OF MEHEHEHE!” You kicked your legs against the couch, your loud laughter filling up every corner of the room. “PLEHEHEHASE!”

“Listen to you, listen to that pretty laugh!” Stu laughed along with you and drilled his thumbs into your armpits. You squeezed your arms against your sides even more, falling deeper into a pit of laughter. “You’re such a cutie. Tickle, tickle, tickle, cutie pie.”

You blushed and writhed under him, laughing yourself silly. While tickling your armpits, Stu returned to nuzzling your neck. He blew quick raspberries into it when he felt especially mischievous. As much as you kicked and laughed, you weren’t going anywhere. It was the raspberries that pushed you into hiccupy laughter, and after one more raspberry, Stu stopped tickling you. 

You breathed heavily. Ticklish sensations still plagued you, so you were still very giggly. “Youhu’re suhuhch an ahahashole.”

Stu laughed. “You don’t mean that. You love me!” His eyes softened again as he looked at you; disheveled hair, a wide smile, those beautiful (e/c) eyes. “Right? Cause I’ve definitely got a thing for you, (Y/N).”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Your face spelled surprise, but somewhere in your heart, you already knew. “Really?”

Stu climbed off of you so that you could sit up. “Hell yeah, I do.” He repeated, patting a spot beside him. You obliged by scooting beside him, so that you were pressed against him. “Want me to prove it?”

That’s what you needed. Proof. Something sweet to seal the deal. You nodded. Then, wrapping an arm around you, he leaned down to kiss your lips. Deeply. 

You leaned up into that kiss and smiled. Stu smiled too. He’d kill to keep that smile on your face.

[tales-from-elysivm]

BOO! Hii :)) I luv your arcane work, wondering if you could write a lil fluff fic with Vi and Jinx w/ an SO that has trouble getting out of bed bc of motivation problems, and they help a lot (I'm not projecting...I swear...)

★。／ just keep driving ＼。★

pairing: vi x f!reader, jinx x gn!reader (separate)

fandom: arcane

word count: 480

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, other than that just some wholesome fluffy content for my girls cuz they really need it – not proofread. Im tired

song title: keep driving by harry styles (i’m in a phase ok-)

notes: dw anon i hear you, my sleep schedule has been busted recently and i have no motivation :DD hope you enjoy some fluffy content with our girls, they really need it, so i loved this request!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

↳˗ˏviˎ˗ ↴

i don’t think vi has ever had a moment to slow down in her entire life

going from looking after powder to living in a prison to trying to track down her sister and help caitlin, vi just simply doesn’t have the time 

but that doesn’t mean she isn’t sympathetic to you

she finds you one morning when you had been late to meet up with her to complete a bounty she had taken on for some extra cash, so she decides to travel to your home in zaun to figure out what’s wrong with you

walking through your front door, she worries that maybe someone broke in

are you hurt?

did you leave?

did something happen to you?

what if– 

but no, you’re just in bed, staring at the ceiling and not moving, even when your bedroom door swings open and you have a 5’8” buff woman in the doorway

she will drag you out of bed if she has to, carrying you around, gently coaxing you through your day’s chores one at a time, with her right beside you <3 

“hey cupcake… rough couple of weeks? i understand, i’ll help you out today, yeah? one step at a time babe, and i’ll be here the whole time. slowly, ok? let’s get you some food first before we head out for the day. you gotta get out of bed today though, and i’m not leaving you here.”

↳˗ˏ jinx ˎ˗ ↴

jinx isn’t going to be much help to be honest 

all things considered, i don’t think jinx really does anything she is supposed to do, without putting it off for weeks and weeks

this isn’t necessarily a motivation issue with her though, just just can’t be fucked-

so when she comes barreling into your house to show off a new bomb she had been experimenting with, almost setting your house on fire, she’s not entirely surprised to find you curled up in bed

she’ll put away the bomb if you ask nicely enough - and give her a good pair of puppy eyes - and instead she’ll join you in bed

she doesn’t have anything to do that day anyways

and if you do? she thinks you can do it tomorrow, who’s really gonna care?

you have a girlfriend willing to commit arson for you if you ask, no one is going to criticise you as long as jinx is around

cuddles are in store for you

(if you beg her, you might be able to convince her to help you with your chores later on too)

“heya toots! it’s a lazy day today, huh? no problem, i was gonna have one of those myself. leave monkey-bomb outside? fineeee. if you insist. we’re not doing anything today though, ya hear me? i could really use some cuddles after tinkering in my workshop all day. scooch over now, bubbles!”

hope you enjoyed anon!!!

be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed :))

[icekingofhope]

(Don’t worry I will give context on this image here) WARNING MENTION OF DARK TOPICS

I wanted to vent about shadowpeach shippers again cause like

I don’t think anyone understands how fucking toxic shadowpeach shippers are me and my friends met like really shitty ones and I seen how like they attack people who don’t even like shadowpeach

hell half of them literally mischaracterize azure to be a fucking assaulter!

how do I know this? i one time went to look up azure lion fanfics When season 4 came out cause he is one of my favorites and literally so many fanfics have him tagged as a assaulter or a stalker like

I’m sorry excuse the hell out of me?! and even when people who are actually from china go to talk about how like they are very uncomfortable with shadowpeach especially when smut is being made by the two of them shadowpeach fans literally send them hate and threats and shit!

and this one is basically a story time

One time as I was scrolling threw TikTok A person was like crying about how they fear of wukong and macaque being brothers (despite in canon they share the same dna) shadowpeach fans literally said how they would make a fucking au where they weren’t brothers or hell they would still fucking ship them EVEN IF IT WAS CONFRIMED DESPITE IT IS BEING CONFIRMED

and guess what? THE CREATOR OF THE FUCKING VIDEO AGREES WITH THEM

LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

like you don’t say that! Admitting that! Honestly it makes fear more Especially since the creators and macaques va repost shadowpeach shit

it makes me tired of being in this fandom I swear-

like I am at a point of taking a break cause of how toxic the lmk fans are people say they aren’t toxic and as a lmk fan they really are like

i could go all day writing a hour long rant about what makes me frustrated in this fandom but I don’t have the patience or want to deal with backlash

and I feel so embarrassed that lmk fans especially shadowpeach would literally gets so pissy when someone doesn’t ship what they ship

Anyways I’ll be off

please be safe out there everyone

[novamariestark]

He Hates You, He Hates You Not

Summary: Colombus and Wichita are tired of you and Tallahassee always at each other's throats. So they come up with the idea to lock you two in a room. What happens is the opposite of what you expected.

Warnings: 🔞, pet names (Darlin, Baby Girl), (unprotected sex), angry-ish sex, oral (f&m), piv, swearing, poorly written smut

Word count: 3604

Fandom: Zombieland

Pairing: Tallahassee x f!reader

[A/N] I don't know where this came from. It's 2:30 am so there may be some mistakes. 🤣

“Now, you listen here, Curly Fry!” you yelled through the door that had just been slammed in your face, “You open this fucking door right now, or I’m gonna kill you!”

“Shut up! You’re giving me a migraine,” the other occupant of the room spoke up.

You turned and snarled at him, “We wouldn’t even be in here if it wasn’t for you, Asshole!”

And it was true. Sort of. Tallahassee hated you and you had no idea why. He tolerates everyone else but you, he seems to hate with a burning passion, as if you were just a rotting corpse. But you being your stubborn self, gave as good as you got. A sarcastic, snarky comment from him was met with a sassier one from you.

For months, the two of you have been at each other’s throats and it seemed to get worse each time. Wichita and Colombus were fed up, so they took matters into their own hands and locked you both in a room together.

It was a dingy room, nothing very appealing to look at. Except him. When you first met him, you were drawn to him. He was attractive, he was older and he was sexy. The way his voice had a slight growl when he was angry or the way his arms flexed as he took down a zombie, made him even more attractive. But from the moment he laid his eyes on you, he kept you at arm’s length and started arguments with you over the smallest things and you couldn’t understand why.

Maybe you could find out now, but every time you have ever spoken to the man has turned into a shouting match, and you wanted out of this shithole.

But Tallahassee didn’t hate you. In fact, it was the opposite. When he first saw you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and when he first saw you take down a zombie, his attraction grew and he could see himself falling for you. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t allow himself to have a weakness (other than Twinkies of course). So he thought that if you hated him, it would make it easier for him. It didn’t. The first argument he started was something so minute but he made it into such a huge thing that you couldn’t ignore. What he hadn’t expected was for you to fight back.

And it only made him want you more.

“Is that so, Princess?” Tallahassee replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, “If I remember rightly, you threw a can of spaghetti at my head,”

“You said you wanted it,” you shrugged.

“On my plate, not on my head, sweetheart,”

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, glaring at him. The anger you felt toward him was tangible, the air between you crackling. You wanted to punch him, or better yet, rip his stupid grin off his face.

"Why? Don't you like it?" he asked, stepping towards you like a predator closing in on its prey.

"I don't like you," you hissed, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, pushing him back away from you. This time you stalked towards him, as if he were the helpless little lamb, "You're an asshole, Tallahassee." You pushed him again, “You’ve treated me like dirt ever since I met you,” you push him again but this time he grabbed your wrists as he backed up against the table behind him, “Let go of me!”

“Not until you stop acting like a brat,”

“You would know,”

Neither of you notice that you were both moving in until your lips crash together. You're both startled for a moment, but the anger between you seems to vanish as your mouths fit together perfectly. Tallahassee's lips are soft and full, his tongue pushing past your lips, demanding entry into your mouth. You part your lips, eager to taste him, and it's like the world around you fades away. Your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer as he turns you to sit on the table. His hips grind against yours, and you moan into his mouth.

You're both panting, your chests heaving as you break away from the kiss. Your eyes lock, and for a moment. "What the hell just happened?" you thought, you were confused but you didn't want it to be over. You wanted to taste him again. You had to.

Tallahassee licks his lips and leans in, his lips pressing against yours again, slowly this time. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, tangling with yours as you moan, arching your back against him. He cups your face in his hands, holding you still as he deepens the kiss, his hips grinding against yours in perfect rhythm.

Suddenly, he pulls away and drops to his knees in front of you. His hands find your hips, gripping them tightly as he looks up at you with those intense blue eyes. His hands move to unzip your jeans, and with a practiced motion, they fall to the floor, leaving you in only your lacy black underwear. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight of you, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

Then he removes your black panties, and you gasp as the cool air hits your skin. Tallahassee looks up at you, his gaze intense, and you can feel yourself growing wetter at his attention. He places a hand on your thigh, rubbing gently, and you arch your hips into the touch. "Do you want this?" he asks, his voice rough and low.

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in short gasps as he continued to tease you. "Y-yes," you managed to say, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. He smiled at your response, his gaze never leaving yours, and then he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your inner thigh. You cried out as his mouth moves higher, kissing and nipping at your skin, making you feel so sensitive, so alive.

His tongue finds your bundle of nerves and your hips jerk off the table, your head thrown back in ecstasy. He teases you with gentle sucking, using his teeth, making you moan and writhe under his touch. His other hand moves to your other thigh, rubbing, teasing, as he continues to feast on your womanhood. You feel the pressure building inside you, the need to come, to be released, and you can't help but arch your back, crying out his name. "Tallahassee!"

Finally, you feel him push a finger inside you, stretching you, filling you. It's almost too much, it's perfect. And then he adds another, thrusting slowly, relentlessly, each movement driving you closer to the edge. You can feel the muscles in your thighs tighten, the tension building, the need to come, to be free.

"Tallahassee," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Please..."

His fingers move faster, curling at just the right angle, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You grip the edge of the table, your knuckles white as your release rushes over you in a powerful wave. Your back arches, your hips buck, and you cry out his name, feeling the tension ease from your body. Tallahassee watches you with a mix of awe and desire, as you slowly come back to reality, your breathing returning to normal.

"Look at you, finally putting that mouth of yours to good use," you breathed heavily, watching him as he looked up at you with those intense blue eyes. You reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling the softness of his skin against your fingertips.

Your hand moved to hook under his chin, urging him off his knees. You maneuvered so that he was now leaning against the table.

"Yet yours still could use some work," he teased, a playful smile curling his lips. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your stomach.

"Is that so?" you asked as you bit your lip. Before he could answer, your hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and sliding it off. You undid the button on his jeans and lowered the zipper, revealing his hard length. He was bigger than you had expected, and you felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness course through you.

You sank to your knees, eager to repay him for the incredible pleasure he'd just given you. Taking his erection in your hand, you wrapped your lips around the tip, tasting the saltiness of his skin. He let out a groan that vibrated against your tongue, and you felt a thrill of power course through you at the sound. Your hand moved up and down his shaft, stroking him as you took more of him into your mouth.

He tasted like fire and spice, musky and familiar. You teased him with your tongue, flicking and dancing around the sensitive head, feeling his hips begin to move, urging you on. You took more of him, stretching your mouth as you sucked, relishing the feel of him growing harder, hotter in your mouth. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as his face contorted with pleasure, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

You began to bob your head, moving up and down his length, your hand curling around the base, squeezing gently. You felt the muscles in his thighs tense, felt the heat emanating from his body as he grew closer to release. You took him deeper, feeling him stretch your throat, and his hips bucked forward, pushing against your hand. The sound of his pleasure echoed in the room, filling your ears and making your heart race.

You looked up at him, watching his face as he threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth bared in a grin of pure ecstasy. The veins in his neck stood out, pulsing with each ragged breath he took. His hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements, urging you on. The taste of him, the feel of him in your mouth, the sound of his pleasure... it was all intoxicating, and you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensation.

As he grew closer, you felt the tip of his cock brush against the back of your throat, and you welcomed it, taking him deeper. His hips bucked wildly, his moans growing louder, more desperate. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, could almost taste the anticipation in the air. With a final, powerful thrust, he came, his seed filling your mouth, spilling down your throat. You swallowed every drop, savoring the salty, bitter-sweet flavor.

When you calmed down, you start to realize what happened. And you don't know why. He hated you. Why did he let this happen? You put your clothes back on and sat on the table beside him, where he still lay, catching his breath. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, seeming to think the same thing you were.

"Why do you hate me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged with emotion. He didn't answer immediately, just continued to stare at the ceiling, his expression unreadable. You swallowed nervously, wishing you hadn't asked the question.

"I don't," he said, finally meeting your eyes. "I never did." His voice was rough, like he'd been screaming for hours.

"Then why?" you asked, your voice still trembling with uncertainty. "Why did you act like you did?"

"Because I was scared of letting you close." His admission was quiet, barely audible over the sound of your heart racing. "I didn't want to risk having something else those rotted assholes could take from me,"

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His gaze was intense, searching your face for some sign of understanding. "I thought if I hated you, if I made you hate me, then it wouldn't hurt,"

"I understand," you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched at the contact, then relaxed slowly as your fingers trailed lightly over his skin. "I had a daughter,"

You paused, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. "She was 5 years old when she died. It felt like someone had ripped out my heart. I didn't want to feel that again. To let anyone close enough to do that." you looked down at your hands as they danced together in your lap, "So I do understand, believe me,"

He looked at you, his expression softening. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You shrugged, trying to smile. "It's okay."

He studied you for a moment, then leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. This time it was different than before, slower and more gentle. His hand cupped your face, cradling it as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the shape of your lips, teasing the seam until you opened for him, letting him in. You could feel the weight of his heart in this kiss, the desperation of someone who had been alone for far too long, who had closed themselves off. And yet, there was something else there, too: a fragile tenderness, a spark of hope that you hadn't felt from him before.

As the kiss ended, you both drew in ragged breaths, your eyes locked on each other's. You reached up, tracing the lines of his jaw, marveling at the way his stubble scratched against your skin. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your cheek, your earlobe. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for everything." You knew then that he meant it, that he was finally beginning to let go of the pain and the anger and the fear that had been holding him back.

"I know a way you can make it up to me," you said with a shy smirk, leaning in to kiss him softly.

"Oh yeah? How's that Darlin'?" He replied, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his erection already starting to harden against your leg as he moved closer.

You stood from the table and began to undress, he watched your every move with hungry eyes. As you stepped out of your panties, you turned around slowly, letting him take in your naked form.

"Come here," he growled, reaching out to pull you into his embrace. You climbed onto the table straddling his hips, feeling the hardness of his arousal against your aching sex. He cupped your breasts in his hands, teasing and pinching the nipples until they were erect and tender. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, leaning in to kiss you as he began to rock his hips up against yours.

You giggled but before you can respond, the door unlocks and in walks Colombus.

"Oh my God! My eyes!" he screamed, covering his face with his hands when he saw that you and Tallahassee were completely naked. "I-I'm sorry, I should have knocked!" he stammered, his face red with embarrassment.

"Yeah you really should have, you little cock-blocking spit fuck," Tallahassee growled, glaring at Columbus as he continued to stare at you and him, clearly mortified. "And stop staring at my girl. Get out!"

Columbus gulped, clearly shaken by Tallahassee's anger. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I just... I thought you might want to leave but I see you're okay in here."

Colombus rushed out the room, the door slamming behind him. You could hear the quickened footsteps practically running away.

"Where were we?" Tallahassee asked, nudging your hips with his. You moaned, arching into the contact, and he smirked. "Oh, right. I was about to make it up to you." He growled, his voice low and rough. He began to rock his hips harder against yours, his erection sliding effortlessly against your wet folds. Teasing you as his cock rubbed against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Yeah, you better," you moaned as you needily grind against him, trying to slip him inside of you. Of course, he noticed.

"Needy, baby girl?" he asked, knowing full well that you wanted him inside of you. He wanted to tease you more, but his cock twitched, aching to be buried deep inside of you. He groaned, feeling the head of his cock brush against your entrance. "I'm not gonna last long, Darlin'. You're so wet for me." He leaned in, kissing your neck, nipping at your skin.

You arched your back, pressing your breasts into his chest as you moaned his name. "Please, Tall..." you breathed, wanting him to finally fill you up. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you as he began to push inside. There was a burning sensation as he stretched you open, but it was a good kind of pain. You moaned loudly as he bottomed out, his thickness making you feel full and warm.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he held you close. His hips began to move, slowly at first, but gaining speed as he found a rhythm. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, the sound filling the room as he took you roughly. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure built inside you.

He stilled and you were about to yell at him when he leans back on his hands, "Take what's yours, baby girl," he growled sitting back, wanting to watch you fuck yourself with his cock. You gasp and lean forward, bracing yourself on his chest as you begin to ride him, your body tight and wet around his length. "Fuck yeah," he moans, watching your breasts sway with each stroke.

"Make yourself cum on my cock, baby girl," he groaned, he took one of your hands off his shoulder and placed it on your clit, "Play with yourself, make yourself cum," he ordered, watching your face as you obeyed. You moaned, your fingers pressing down on your sensitive nub as you rode him harder.

"Oh God, yes," you moaned, your hips moving faster. Tallahassee could feel you getting closer, the tightness around his cock telling him that you were about to come. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." you panted, your fingers moving faster. You arched your back, crying out as the pleasure washed over you, your orgasm crashing through you in a wave of heat. Your muscles contracted around him. Your juices coating his length as you came.

You leaned forward to kiss him before climbing off him and the table. You could see the momentary look of confusion on his face when you bent over the table. Your dripping hole just patiently waiting for him to fill it once more. He let out a deep chuckle before climbing off the table and positioning himself behind you, his hands on your hips.

He leaned in, kissing the nape of your neck before thrusting forward, burying himself inside of you. You moaned, arching your back as he began to move, his hips slapping against your ass.

"That's it, baby girl. Take it," he growled, his voice thick with desire. His thrusts became faster, harder, as he lost control. The feel of your body around him, the sounds you made, the way you moved... it was too much. "Fuck, I'm close," he warned, knowing that he wouldn't last much longer.

"Let go, baby," you urged him, needing him to release into you. His hips snapped forward one last time, and he let out a hoarse cry as he came, filling you up. You felt the hot liquid spill over the entrance of your body, coating your inner walls. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder blade as he tried to catch his breath.

You feel him pull out of you and you whimper at the loss of his heat. But then he's there, kissing your neck and murmuring words of love and affection into your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. I've always loved you." The weight of his words catches you off guard, and you turn in his embrace, looking up at him. His eyes are intense, his expression sincere.

You got dressed, your legs gave out beneath you but before you could hit the floor, Tallahassee caught you. He picked you up effortlessly and headed towards the door.

"Come on, Darlin'," he said softly, "Let's get you to bed," normally, you liked to do things on your own, you didn't need things to be done for you, but you loved the way he was taking care of you. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Would it?

He carried you through the area where the others were. You didn't take much notice. You were tired. You vaguely remember hearing Colombus' voice.

"I need therapy to forget that,"

"There is an amazing therapist not far from here," Tallahassee replied, his tone sounding so serious, Colombus sat up, waiting to hear more about this therapist, "I believe her method is to eat your brain so you can't think anymore,"

"Ha ha, very funny," Colombus replied dryly.

The next thing you knew, you were lightly placed on a soft surface. Soon you felt the bed dip beside you. He gently moved you to lie on his chest, placing a soft kiss in your hairline. You yawned and stretched, feeling incredibly content. Tallahassee wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you close.

"I love you, Tally," you murmured sleepily.

He let out a soft chuckle, kissing your forehead. "I love you more, Darlin'."

[nalyra-dreaming]

Can’t wait for people to flip when they meet “Privileged French White micro-aggression compilation”’s mentor, Mr. macro-aggression colonizer superiority complex Marius “I married a thirteen-year old former sex slave and adopted him as my son” de Romanus. Marius is his own trigger warning. Wait until they hear about Marius’ disciplinary methods involving whips and willow switches. Or the fact that Marius sent his son-wife to a brothel to learn “important skills”. Or that when he told Lestat about Those Who Must Be Kept, Marius literally framed Akasha’s genocidal tendencies as “taming savages”. Oh boy, it’s not gonna be good.

Like… Who do you think Lestat learned his skewed world view from? Moving to America was probably a bucket of cold water to Lestat. I would like to give Lestat the benefit of the doubt, as his father was an asshole aristocrat. Lestat quickly learned how privileged he was, even as a disgraced marquis’ son. His genuine horror at how the racist fat cats treated Louis said everything to me. I don’t think anyone understands that Lestat is interested in doing better. He is. He’s working through it. He will fuck up, because nobody ever gave him a look outside his little world.

The thing is, vampires do end up in ruin when they stay behind as the world around them goes forward. Just like humans, when we get stuck in outdated ideals. It’s heavily implied at the end of the Blood Communion novel that Marius is slowly going mad. All vampires do, at some point, go through a period of madness. Some just come out of it better than others. In the IWTV novel, Louis eats grass and mopes around his brother’s rectory for a while after Armand hesitantly leaves him. Armand kills his own coven. Khayman loses his memories for a while and wanders the world, snacking on mortals’ bone marrow. Daniel becomes mute and obsessive, luckily finding an outlet in model trains. Poor Lestat lost an eye and had to be restrained, before he slept for a long while. Thorne got tied down for a while. Benji and Sybelle. Unm. Well, Benji ended up with a podcast and Sybelle delved into the piano. And Louis, of course, tried to kill himself once— but it changed his relationship with Lestat for the better.

Okay, so I went on a meta tangent, but the point is, Marius is an even bigger fuck-up than Lestat, and covering him is going to get pretty ugly. And even more existential. I hope viewers stop and philosophize, you know? Everyone stops to question the nature of mankind and how we fall if we don’t move with time.

And as far as Marius goes, hope Justin Kirk is prepared. 😅

P.S. I swear I’m not high, just tired. 🥱

:))

(For those who think the "eating grass" is an euphemism here: "I was picking at the grass, and tasting it, though the taste was bitter and unnatural. The gesture seemed natural.":))

Marius... is going to be something. Which is part of the reason why I keep saying that Justin Kirk will be perfect if he is, because it needs a very seasoned actor with a lot of thick skin to pull him off (and, I mean, Justin does not shy away from difficult characters as we know *nods at Succession*).

It will be interesting to see what kind of wounds they will put their proverbial fingers in.

Like, the casual racism and superiority complex Marius employs has to clash with Armand's recast, too. Not necessarily with the choice (of Amadeo) per se, but with the circumstances. I am betting real money that there will be some very uncomfortable meta commentary on sex slave trade in combination with racism coming up right there (and I for one want them to make that commentary! Even though it will probably lead to more fandom drama.).

These vampires are children of their times, and they do change/adapt/grow, but... slowly. (I am not so sure about Lestat getting his world view from Marius, I think there is a reason why Lestat never became the pupil Marius wanted him to be, and I do think that Lestat might be willfully ignorant at times, which can come off a certain way, but his own backstory is more to blame here than Marius, imho.)

I do not need Marius to be a good character to enjoy the fuck out of him, on the contrary.

I am not sure if the show will go the "whip" way. They might insinuate. I think they will, as with other scenes let the mind of the audience do the rest, which will be more than enough, too. I mean, the audience can read up on it all in the book *coughs*. There's no need to go more explicit than needed.

But yes. I hope Justin Kirk is prepared :)))

And... I hope the audience is prepared as well.

[baileypie-writes]

shouko + protective reader? shouya’s middle school bullying era, he’s doing all that shit cause he thinks he’s cool. reader jumps in and genuinely bodies him verbally, asking why he even does any of it, wanting to protect her best friend.

honestly forgot about a silent voice for a while 😭 one of my favorite anime movies though. love your writing.

A/N ~ Sure! And thank you for liking my writing🩷Hope you enjoy!

~Where did Your Mother go Wrong Raising You?~

Shouko Nishimiya + Fem!Protective!Reader

Part 2, Part 3

Fandom: A Silent Voice

Reader: Female

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: You’re tired of Shoya bullying your best friend, so you chew him out.

Warnings: Bullying, swearing, mention of blood(Shouko’s).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight.

Eight goddamn hearing aids.

Who did this Shoya boy think he was? Bullying a deaf girl, and destroying her hearing aids? And not only that, no one defended her besides you. While the little devil committed his sins, your classmates just laughed along with him. What kind of class is this? Was no one a decent person?

You were more than tired. You were just about ready to destroy this kid. All you needed was an opportunity. Lucky for you, one came.

~~~~

The entire class waited for the teacher to arrive. He was taking his sweet time, so most students were messing around. But not you. You could never have a moment of peace during school. Nearly every second was spent monitoring Shoya, making sure he didn’t try anything.

You glanced over at Shouko. You smiled, as she looked peaceful. She was wearing her shiny new hearing aids. But your smile faded as you caught a glimpse of the scar on her ear. She got that when Shoya ripped her last hearing aids out, causing her to bleed. Just the memory made you feel angry.

Shouko noticed you staring, and lightly smiled at you. “Something wrong?” She signed over to you.

“No. Just looking at your new hearing aid.” You signed back.

“What are you guys talking about?” Shoya interrupted. You groaned, not wanting to deal with him.

“Nothing you need to care about.” You said, a thick attitude in your voice.

“Woah, calm down. I just think it’s a little unfair that you guys are having your own secret conversation.” He said, crossing his arms.

You huffed. “Well, it wouldn’t be secret if you bothered to learn sign language. You can’t just complain about not understanding something when you’re too lazy to learn it.”

Shouko looked confused. “What are you talking about?” She signed. But you didn’t have the chance to answer.

“Who’re you calling lazy? You know what, I don’t care. Why would I listen to someone who’s so desperate for friends, that she hangs out with the freak?” He says as he walks over to Shouko. He reaches over to, once again, take her hearing aids, his friends laughing in the background.

That was it. You shot up from your seat, and grabbed Shoya’s wrist. “Shouko is not the freak! You are! You’re so close minded, that you can’t handle the simple fact that someone can’t hear. I mean, honestly, it’s not that complicated. But I guess you can’t handle complicated things. Hell, you can’t even keep the tag inside your shirt.” You pointed to the fabric sticking out of his top.

The class laughed, including Shoya’s friends. He didn’t like that. He yanked his wrist away, and made another attempt to steal Shouko’s hearing aids. But you were quick, and shoved him away. You got in front of poor, confused Shouko, guarding her.

“Why do you even do it? Do you take pleasure in seeing others suffer? What the fuck is wrong with you? Where did your mother go wrong raising you?” Shoya froze at the mention of his mom. You knew that was his weakness, so you kept going.

“I’ve met your mom. She cuts my hair, and she’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. How in the world did her son turn out to be the spawn of Satan himself? I bet she doesn’t even know. What would you think if I went over to your house after school, and told her all you’ve done? I’m sure she’ll be very upset with you. And hey, if she doesn’t beat your ass, I’ll gladly do it.” You finally finished. And just in time too, because the teacher finally arrived.

“What’s going on?” He asked, noticing the silence in the room.

“Nothing, Mr. Takeuchi.” Shoya mumbled, making you grin.

Everyone went to their seats, and Mr. Takeuchi began class. You still kept an eye on Shoya, but he didn’t seem to be planning anything. At least for today.

Suddenly, Shouko waved your attention to her. She had a small smile on her face as she signed “Thanks.”

You smiled too, and signed back to her. “No problem. I’m always here for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI Part 6

My Weird Roomate, Midoriya Izuku

Week 3 part 2 / Meet the Gang!

~•🥦•~

Summary: Y/N learns about Midoriya’s past and the gang’s secret tattoos. …?!

Also, why is Kirishima half-naked all of the sudden?!

Warnings: Swear words, hints of suggestiveness (they tell “funny” stories, 2 sentences, really.) a tiny hint of platonic (?) jealousy.

First Part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“OH MY GOD, THATS RED RIOT THAT’S FUCKING RED RIOT, Midoriya!”

Okay, listen.

Red Riot doesn’t have a fan base; he has a fucking cult.

That guy had the glow up of the century after going through puberty.

Red Riot? More like Red Daddy.

No jokes, people say that quite a lot when they are talking about the hero. He’s so liked for his looks he actually managed to beat Dynamight and Deku on the “best looking bachelor” charts.

Red Riot barely had any presence in the hero world for his first few years; he had no confidence and he really didn’t think he can be a good hero or at least that’s what he’d said in the interviews. Then Dynamight took him under his wings, took him away from his last agency and that’s when the name Red Riot became a phenomenon; he got even more ripped and grew his hair out but still kept it red, just one shade darker; it’s shorter at the front and really long at the back which makes him look like a lion; majestic and frightening when fighting a villain. His close relationship with Dynamight also helped the blonde to get a better reputation, which he definitely needed at the beginning of his career; Dynamight might have been the one who saved the redhead first, but to be honest, they both saved each other from themselves.

Needless to say, the two heroes are constantly shipped by the fandom, and reading Bakugou’s rants on his official social media about it always makes your day better. Once he posted a picture about Red Riot sprawled out on his lap after a night out, drooling like a Rottweiler all over his trousers with the caption “Do you really think I would ever kiss that mouth?”, but people focused on the intimacy of the photo instead of it’s meaning. The blonde got so furious he deleted himself from the internet for two weeks.

Red Riot also admitted that he absolutely lives for Dynamight’s rants, so sometimes he stirs shit up just to get a reaction out of the blonde; he posts domestic pictures of Bakugou making breakfast in nothing but boxers and other shenanigans like that. The picture is usually followed by a selfie of him being beaten up by his best friend for being a menace or a screenshot of him being blocked on every social media when he’s away on a mission (because of course he has a secret stash of domestic pictures hidden in his phone, who wouldn’t?)

Ahh, you can talk about these two for ages, they are the funniest pair, like ever.

Midoriya giggles at your sudden outburst while you try your best to hide behind the sofa out of embarrassment.

“Aww, thank you!” The redhead smirks. “It’s always a pleasure to be adored by a beautiful lady like yourself.”

You don’t have time to really react to his sudden flirting because the air fills with tension for some weird reason; Midoriya stops smiling, black whip caresses your back and wraps around your body protectively. He looks furious and also does Bakugou, but his anger is pointed at you; if looks would kill, you would be dead by now.

“It’s a bit cold, isn’t it, Y/N? You should change into something warm before you catch a cold.” Midoriya smiles, but it’s more frightening than cute this time. Damn, if you would be a villain and he would look at you like that, you’d 100% piss yourself.

“I have no idea what the actual fuck is going on right now but I’m gonna sit down.” A purple haired, tired looking guy sighs and makes his way to the sofa like the time didn’t just freeze for a second. Honestly, you have no idea what’s going on either.

“Let me explain!” Chargebolt claps his hands happily. “Bakugou’s being a a possessive dick over his best friend, and Midoriya is the same with his roommate. Why? Don’t ask me.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

“This is why I’ll be single forever, Y/N. Don’t be like me.” The redhead sighs, also sitting down. Midoriya lets you go while mumbling ‘sorry’ but he doesn’t look sorry at all.

“What do you mean, Eijirou? Is Katsuki’s marvelous presence not enough for you to be happy? Aww, poor boy.” Pinky speaks up, clearly enjoying the drama. She looks even prettier in real life.

“Say another word, you pink bitch, and I’ll mount your stupid horny head on my wall.” Bakugou snaps, his face a lovely shade of red. Chargebolt blurts out a quiet ‘damn’ and hides behind the sofa, right behind the purple dude who just sighs at Kaminari’s shenanigans.

“Aww, is my face is so pretty you want to see it every day? That’s so cute, Bakubro!” Mina coos and that’s when shit hits the fan; you quietly leave the room to change as per Midoriya’s advice (what the fuck was that about? Yeah, you are wearing comfy shorts but so is he.) while Red Riot hardens between his two friends, acting like a shield to stop them from killing each other. After a few minutes, the yelling stops; apparently, their pizza order is more important than an impromptu mass murder.

It takes you a while before you have the guts to go back so you can properly meet Midoriya’s chaotic friends; you still have no idea what made the two friends so mad, but to be fair, Bakugou is known to blow up for no reason at all, so maybe you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Hey.” Midoriya’s green head pops in through the door. He looks a bit flushed and a little bit guilty. He’s absolutely adorable. “Can I come in?”

“I was just about to go out, but yeah.” You mumble, your voice strained from the stress. Deku closes the door and leans back to it; his face is contorted into a frown but he tries his best to give you a smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that to you. I had no right to treat you that way.” The greenette is clearly beating himself up for his actions and it brakes your heart.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Midoriya jumps in. “Eijirou is a nice guy, he talks like that to everyone. Bakugou is a possessive asshole over all his friends, especially him. I was so excited for you to meet my closest friends yet I fucked it up.”

Oh no, not the teary eyes. You can’t handle the teary eyes right now.

“Midoriya…” you move closer to the slumped greenette, taking his hand into yours. He looks at you with the cutest lovelorn expression. “Stop looking at me like that. I really want to hug you tight when you do that.”

You really didn’t mean to say that. You really didn’t.

“Then hug me, Y/N.” Midoriya says, a new kind of emotion swirling in his beautiful eyes. Your body moves on its own as you embrace your favorite hero with such passion that Midoriya’s back hits the door with a loud bang from the force of it. You can hear his heart beating loud and fast when your face hits his chest as you squeeze the shit out of the poor guy. The hero’s hand ends up in your hair, slowly massaging your scalp while he takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Midoriya lets your hand go and pulls you even closer by the small of your back; your bodies clash with each other completely as Midoriya melts into your touch; his muscles feel amazing under your cheeks. You’ve never felt so content in your life.

Okay, this hug is way too passionate to be called “friendly”. You are about to pass out. He smells so amazing, like pine and sea salt with a hint of spice, masculine and earthy. The world stops for a second, Midoriya’s friends on the other side completely forgotten as the two of you embrace each other, your true feelings showing without you even saying them out loud.

This is when reality really hits you; you don’t just have a crush on this guy; you are absolutely fucking smitten with him already.

Ahh, you are so fucked.

“STOP MAKING OUT, YOU FUCKERS!” Bakugou ruins the moment with his yelling. When you two realize the situation you are in, you jump away from each other with a “sorry”, like two emotionally constipated teenagers.

“Maybe they are just having a fight.” A tired voice mumbles, probably the purple haired guy you don’t know yet.

“With their mouths, yeah.” Pinky giggles mischievously. If your face wasn’t red enough before, now it is.

“I mean, can you blame him? Y/N is cute as hell.” Motherfucking Red Riot comments and that’s when Midoriya opens the door with a flushed face.

“Can we start this all over?” Midoriya yelps. His friends try their best to not comment on their disheveled appearance for the sake of you and nod in unison. “This is Y/N, my FLATMATE. She takes care of the flat when I’m not around.”

“She takes care of more than that by the look of it…” Chargebolt whispers into Jirou’s ears, who slaps the guy on his head to shut him up. Jirou is a great friend. You love her. “You know Kacchan and Jirou already, then you have Kirishima Eijirou, but you also know that, Kaminari Denki, Ashido Mina, Shouto Todoroki who doesn’t speak too much but he’s one of my closest friends and Shinsou Hitoshi who you might remember from the sports festival. He works with Aizawa-sensei as an underground hero so his face isn’t well known but he’s amazing.”

“I still don’t know why am I here today” Shinsou mumbles, clearly hating the fact that he was forced to come over. He doesn’t look like a guy who enjoys being in a large group.

“You are here because you are important to us, and I can’t believe I need to have this conversation with you after all these years.” Kaminari sighs, looking at the purple haired hero with disappointment in his eyes. Shinsou looks back at him with a guilty expression, showing the yellow haired man with his shoulder in a silent sorry.

Wow, you ship them. So much.

Damn, you really need to stop reading gay fanfictions when Midoriya is not home.

“Now that we all said hi, it’s time to embarrass Midoriya!” Chargebolt speaks up energetically. “Which story should we start with?”

“Guys, please!” Midoriya pulls you to the sofa while hiding his face with his other hand in embarrassment. You sit down next to each other while the group fights over which story should they tell.

“His first almost-kiss!”

“What about the time when Katsuki saw him doing nasty things in his room?”

“That’s not an embarrassing story, I literally thought he’s not into that shit until that moment. I was proud of him.”

“KACCHAN!” Midoriya hides his face in your neck in embarrassment and you try your best to not explode. Jirou looks at you with pity in her eyes.

“What about his secret tattoo?” Kirishima chimes in, and you perk up; you really like tattoos and you always wanted one. “Ahh, she likes that! So it happened on Katsuki’s 21st birthday…”

“Oh my god…” Deku mumbles, still hiding in your neck. “You might not like me that much after tonight, Y/N” he sighs, making your whole body tingle with his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin.

“I’m a loyal fan.” You deadpan. It’s really hard to concentrate on the story right now to be honest.

“So we were really drunk when Tetsutetsu and his gang came over and challenged us to a fight. The loser gang had to get a tattoo. The fuckers knew we are too drunk to realize they are all sober so they beat us to pulp. We woke up the next day with new tattoos. On our… bottoms.” Kirishima looks down with a flushed face. “I have a rock, you wanna see?” Kirishima excitedly jumps up, ready to show you his sick tattoo, but Bakugou is having non of it.

“Eijirou, if you pull your pants down in front of everyone I’ll absolutely kick you out of my house.” He whispers threateningly, his hands ready to block the view. Kirishima sits down with a sad puppy look.

“It’s not that far down!” The redhead whines, but gives up anyway. “Please, don’t kick me out, I fucking love the sauna and I also own the half of the flat.”

So Red Riot and Dynamight bought a flat together. Interesting.

Would it be weird to write a fanfiction about that, now that you know them in person? Probably.

The life of a hero fangirl is really hard sometimes.

“I have a Pikachu!” Kaminari chimes in proudly.

“I have a Hypno. Thanks for that, Denki…” Shinsou mumbles, clearly hating his teen self for being so stupid.

“I wanted us to match!”

“You have no reason to moan, Hitoshi, I have a fucking pinky tattooed on my bum.” Mina admits shamefully. The whole team bursts out laughing at the old memory.

“I have a picture of soba noodles. That’s my favorite food.” Todoroki declares with a straight face, like it’s a pretty normal thing to have your favorite food tattooed on your bottom.

“I have headphones! Like the ones I use when I fight the bad guys!”

“Mine was a small explosion but it was too boring so I made it into a massive one.” Bakugou pulls his shirt up, showing off a massive tattoo on his side. Wow, it’s really hot in here. Like, really really hot. Damn. You can’t believe no one ever realized that Dynamight has so many tattoos hidden under his shirt. The other side of him is also full of ink, but you can’t see enough of it to be able to decipher what it is exactly.

“Why can you show yours but I can’t show mine? It’s not fair!” Kirishima grumbles. “You know what, you can’t tell me what to do.” Kirishima slowly unbuttons his shirt and shows you a massive black and red dragon on his chest. So this is why the hero changed his costume into something less revealing. He’s hiding a fucking beast under it.

You might die tonight.

There is no way your heart can take more of this shit.

Where is the water? You are kind of thirsty. Respectfully… thirsty. For water.

Yeah.

“Can you guys stop stripping? I have a broccoli by the way. Not like anyone cares at this point.” Midoriya pouts and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Midoriya, that’s so fucking cute!” You yell, the two stripping heroes long forgotten. “Colored or black and white?”

Midoriya perks up now that your attention is back on him, a shy smile decorating his face.

“Colored. It matches my hair. I know most of us are ashamed of these tattoos but I really like it. It reminds me of my friends. It reminds me that I’m not alone anymore.” Midoriya smiles into the distance. “It reminds me that whatever happens, there will be someone there to catch me when I fall. We are a family.”

“That was so manly, goddamn it!” Kirishima cries, tears falling down his cheeks.

“What the fuck, shitty Deku, this was supposed to be fun, now I want to throw myself off a cliff!” Katsuki rolls his eyes aggressively but he can’t hide the fond smile when he looks at his crying flatmate.

“No worries buddy, Midoriya will be there to catch you!” Mina giggles, clearly having the time of her life as she looks at the three boys.

“Now you ruined it.” Midoriya mumbles, unimpressed. You really tried not to laugh, but seeing all these people taking the piss out of each other made you laugh out loud. You’ll never forget tonight, that’s for sure. These people are truly amazing.

After a few more minutes of banter the pizza arrives; Midoriya puts in a DVD with some old interviews and they all laugh at their awkward faces on the screen. The whole situation is so intimate, everyone is so close to the other, limbs and arms intertwined with each other while fond smiles are being exchanged when someone new appears on the screen. The guys tell you about Ingenium’s matching bum tattoo - he has a pair of glasses -, and about the time Jirou fell on the stage; you hear a bunch of stories the public have never heard about while Midoriya snuggles closer and closer as the night turns into an early morning… your heart swells from the happiness to be able to be a part of something so private without feeling like an intruder. The group welcomes you with open arms, letting you in without a question.

“Can I tell the story about Katsuki almost exploding his dick of when he tried to…” Denki mumbles half asleep, but Katsuki gives him a massive slap before he can finish the sentence.

“Midoriya had a girlfriend in high school for a few weeks but he was so wind up about their first kiss he threw up right in front of the poor girl. We haven’t seen her since. She changed schools.” Another half asleep mumble, this time from Kirishima, who somehow ended up sprawled out on everyone’s laps on the sofa.

“I think Denki’s bisexual awakening is a good story to tell. It was the first time I actually laughed in front of everyone. He’s helpless.” Todoroki chimes in, probably the only one still fully awake from the team.

“Says the guy who wanted to call an ambulance on a girl who blushed and didn’t even realize she was trying to ask him out.”

You have no idea who’s talking anymore. It’s almost 5 AM and Midoriya is so warm next to you, you can’t help but hide your face in his arms. You can feel Midoriya’s hands stroking your hair, the affectionate caress slowly lulling you to sleep.

“I’ll put Y/N to bed, you guys get comfortable. You know where to find the spare bedding, yeah?” Midoriya takes you in his arms, moving you towards your bedroom. The group mumbles incoherently, clearly ready to sleep as the hero puts you down on the soft sheets, tugging you in like a child. Something soft touches your forehead but you are too sleepy to react; it feels nice and warm like the sun on a breezy afternoon.

“Sleep tight, sweet pea. See you tomorrow.”Someone whispers. The nickname makes you smile subconsciously. “I don’t want to leave, to be honest. I always want to be around you, I wonder why.” You can still hear the mumbles but you can’t understand the words anymore; it’s too late and you are too tired to keep listening.

You dream about green curls and soft touches, about the stars and the moon, so close yet so far away, you dream about touching the sky, about reaching out for the brightest star only to fall back down on Earth, but you stand up and try again, until your hand reaches the one with the scars, until your fingers intertwine and you never let go again.

~•🥦•~

“Maybe it’s the cold of the night. Such a drastic change compared to the warmth of the day… I’ve never felt cold before but I probably didn’t even know how the warmth felt like on my skin until I’ve met you. Now that I know, I’m craving it. So much. You are like the sun, Y/N. Please, never change; and stay by my side for a bit longer, until I’m strong enough to let you go. I hope you’re sleeping. It will be really awkward if you’re not.” Midoriya giggles and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Midoriya Izuku really needs to get a grip, he thinks as he makes his way to his own bedroom, already hating the cold feeling of his sheets.

… Next Chapter!

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Potato ramble:

Damn, that ending. DAMN.

Fun fact, that bit wasn’t planned. At all. It just happened. The hug wasn’t planned either. It’s all Midoriya’s fault.

- I also feel like I owe you guys an explanation for the iffy jealousy scene: in Midoriya’s case it was 50% jealousy and 50% protectiveness. He doesn’t really understand his own feelings yet and he couldn’t really handle that situation very well. He’ll get much better at it in the future. Midoriya was never a possessive person but Y/N told him he can be a bit selfish sometimes and he listened. He’s growing as a person it’s just really hard to tell. He’s such a weirdo I love him 🥦

- Ao3 is down and I want to cry.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always 🥦💚

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @momothemasocist