#manly wail

[serenescribe]

Three sentence meme!

Epel has an extremely rough day and just breaks down, Vil is being a soft mum for him the entire time just wanting his little apple to know everything is alright.

[✐meme] three sentence fic meme [✐] ficlet frenzy

"Epel," Vil says carefully, his voice kind, "you know it is perfectly fine to cry, right?"

Next to him, the two of them seated on an elegant couch tucked away in one of Pomefiore's many rooms, Epel dabs at his eyes furiously with the end of his sleeves. Just this once, Vil will not chide him on the improper use of his dorm uniform as a handkerchief, only because there is a time and place for such reminders, and now is not one of those occasions. "Ugh, I know, I just—" Sniffling, Epel shakes his head, muttering, "I jus' hate cryin'," his accent leaking through his words.

"Well, it's a healthy outlet for your emotions," Vil replies, matter-of-factly, stifling the urge to sigh as he packs away another lecture for a better time. Right now, his priority is Epel's well-being, especially considering the dire situation affecting the boy.

There is a lull in the conversation, before Vil says, "Your grandmother will be fine, Epel."

"Ah know," Epel mutters, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again. "If it were real bad, my ma and pa would've told me to come back now... but still! How're they expectin' me to wait till the weekend when Meemaw's hurt?!"

Ah, Vil realises, as Epel rages and rants. The boy is crying now, tears streaking down his face. His heart twists at the sight; such a vulnerable, heartbroken expression, intertwined with streaks of red-hot anger, looks so wholly alien on Epel's petite features.

Wordlessly, Vil wraps his arm around the boy — his apple, a softer part of him thinks affectionately — and pulls him in closer, allowing the dam to break as Epel simultaneously weeps and rages. It's all he can do to be there for him while he lets it all out — and then after, he can take care of him.

[cleromancy]

not enough posts about jason is a crybaby on this web site

[dira333]

Good things come to those who wait - Kirishima x Reader

I don't know why but this was really hard for me to write. I hope you still enjoy it - @crimsonredlotus

"You good?" Mina's waving a hand in front of his eyes, back and forth, back and forth. "Never saw you zone out like that before, not even when they announced Crimson Riot becoming a playable character in the Hero Nights Multiplayer Game."

"I just saw the most beautiful girl in the world," he stammers, eyes still locked on the door you disappeared through. "Like... Oh, no, that was superficial, wasn't it? Like, I swear she's probably super smart and incredibly talented, but I just- I noticed- I swear I don't care about looks that much!"

"Relax," Mina slings an arm around his shoulder, "You're still manly. Now, describe her to me. I need the deets."

-

"Did you see that?" Yukie asks, giggling. "The redhead couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you. I swear, there were hearts dancing around his head."

"You're exaggerating," you tell her off, though your heart still beats a little faster. He'd been cute, really cute, with his red hair and flushed face, wide grin, and open posture. Like sunshine poured into a human being, but that might just be your imagination. You didn't know him, after all.

-

"Okay, so she's one of the business class students," Mina recalls, "She's getting good grades, and the teachers like her a lot. I think I've heard Ectoplasm call her by her first name and he's really picky with that."

"Sounds kinda boring," Bakugo declares as Kirishima presses both hands to his mouth to hide his glee. "See!" He preens, "I knew she was special. I bet she has an awesome quirk too." He falters immediately. "Oh, but that means she won't be interested in me."

"No, no, we don't think like that here," Mina bonks him on the head with her fist. "You've got great qualities, not to mention a solid body to show off. And you're a nice person, unlike some other people here." She glares at Bakugo who only snorts.

"So now that we know her name and her class, how are you planning to go over it," Sero asks, leaning in, "Business Class isn't all that interested in Hero Class. They think we're stuck up."

"I can't just go over there and ask her out!" Kirishima wails, "That would be totally unmanly. What if she feels pressured to say yes? I could never live with that."

"I'm going to infiltrate their friend group and get the intel," Mina promises. "Jirou, you're with me."

-

You blink in surprise when two girls slide into the seats across from you and Yukie.

"Do we... know you?" You ask, a little concerned by the bright smile on the pink-skinned girl's face. The other one looks like she might not be here on her own accord.

"Oh, we're from the Hero Class. We just wanted to get to know you people a bit better. How are you? What are your names? What are you learning in Class?"

"Which Hero Class?" You ask.

"1A of course, the best one!"

"Ah, so you've got Aizawa-Sensei as homeroom teacher?"

"The man, the mystery, you name it. I'm Mina, by the way." She offers you her hand and you shake it, albeit a bit reluctantly.

"Say, do you have any cute boys in your Class?" Mina leans in, "Because we might have some cute boys in our Class but they're just not my style, if you know what I mean."

You share a look with Yukie. She smiles. "Oh, yes, we do have some hotties. Look," she pulls out her phone to showcase the class photo you had to take a week ago. "This one's already taken though," she points out. And he eats his snot as a way to power his quirk. I'm not one to Quirkshame, but that's kinda disgusting."

"Oh, talking about Quirks," Mina flashes yet another smile. "Mine is Acid and Jirou's here is Earphone Jack. What are yours?"

Your smile tightens. "I'm Quirkless," you point out, waiting for the usual reaction. Mina's smile falters for a millisecond.

"Oh, I'm... sorry, I guess? I don't know if you feel bad about it, but I don't really think you need a Quirk to succeed-"

"Unless you want to be a hero," you point out calmly, grabbing your plate. "I need to get back to Class."

"No, wait," Mina's standing now, "I need to know if you think Kirishima is cute."

"Mina!" Jirou hisses. "That's not subtle at all."

"Maybe, but I'm not going without an answer." Mina stomps her foot and you throw her a look.

"I don't know who this Kirishima is, but I don't care for boys who cannot ask me questions themselves. And if you feel threatened by my existence, don't bother. I don't care about the Hero Class anyway."

"You really are a good liar," Yukie exclaims once you're out of earshot of the girls, "I might have even believed that myself had I not known you're crushing a teensy bit for that redhead from the Hero Department."

"Let's just hope he's not in Mina's Class," you tell her, looking back. To your surprise, Jirou's looking directly at you.

-

"Dad?" You ask after Dinner, sliding into the small space between him and the front door, "Can I ask you a Question?"

"Sure can, Bean," he pats your head before taking a seat on the stairs. "What's the matter?"

"Mina Ashido came to see me at Lunch today."

"Mina?" He looks surprised. "What did she want?"

"I'm not sure, she was all over the place asking questions. But she mentioned someone from her Class... Kirishima, I think?"

"Ah yes, they're friends. What about him?"

"What does he look like?"

Your Stepdad blinks. "Why do you wanna know?"

"For reasons I cannot disclose."

He laughs softly. "Alright, alright. Red hair, shark teeth. Does that answer your question? You don't look too happy about that answer."

"Is he nice?"

He ponders that question for a moment. "He's not the smartest and his Quirk is better for Defense, which clearly troubles him, but he's pretty social and gets along with everyone in Class. Why do you ask?"

Now... how to answer that? If you say he has a crush on you, will that fall back on him? Your Dad is his teacher after all. And if you say you have a crush on him, won't your Dad just end up embarrassing you? You want to do nothing but forget it, but your Middle School Crush is still fresh in your mind, or rather, how your Father tried to threaten him into going on a Date with you.

"Never mind," you lie, "I was just curious. Have a safe Patrol, okay?"

"Okay," he leans down to press a kiss to your temple, "Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Aye Aye, Eraserhead."

- - -

"Hey, ehm..." You turn at the call of your name, surprised to see Kirishima. You thought the Hero Classes would only come back to school next week.

"Hey," you give him a small smile. He deserves it, after all you've heard. "Glad to see you're alive and well."

"About that, yeah, I-" He stops, takes a deep breath, "I heard from Eri that you're... that you're Aizawa-Sensei's daughter."

You tense a little, but you nod. "Stepdaughter, to be exact. He does collect us like Pokemon, it seems."

Kirishima laughs softly at that. "How is he? Last I heard he got released from the Hospital."

"He's adapting," you shrug, unsure what to say. "Mom keeps making him a ton of food, so we're all gaining weight. He keeps forgetting to put his new foot on, so I often stumble over it. It's... eh..." you halt, take a breath, "It's good to have him back."

"I can imagine. I hope he... I don't wanna assume, but-"

"He's coming back as a teacher," you nod, "He'd never leave a class behind. Least of all you. He's very fond of you guys."

"Ah," Kirishima rubs the back of his head, "We're not that special. Annoying, yes. But not special."

You smile. It's easier now, talking to him, without the pretense and the Chaos of who likes who, of High School Rumours and all the Gossip.

"Kirishima? Would you... like to get something to drink?"

-

"What?" Midoriya blinks. "I missed all of that? I wasn't in the hospital for that long."

"Longer," Bakugo harrumphs before stuffing his face again. You'd been a little scared of him before, but Kirishima had vouched for him, calling him a softie with the prickliest attitude.

"Ah, Sorry, sorry." Midoriya grins, reddening. "So glad to be back though. How's Eri, by the way."

"Great," you smile, pressed into Kirishima's side. You haven't been official for long, but he's the touchiest person you know. "She's found a few friends in school that she keeps bringing home. One of them, Kota, is a huge fan of me for reasons I still haven't found out."

"Ah," Kirishima grins, "That's because you're Quirkless. He thinks you're like Midoriya."

"Like..." You blink at the green-haired boy who defeated All For One mere months ago. "Why?"

Midoriya laughs, cheeks now as red as Kirishima's hair. "Long Story."

[megumifuckmeguro]

CHOSO KAMO X YOU 18+

This is the most down bad thing I've ever written and it's my first real shot at writing something longer than 2 sentences enjoy 😭

Choso kamo felt something warm and wet happening down there, flushed between his thighs lay you, and your mouth enclosed on his cock..or penis? Does penis sound more appropriate when it’s limp and soft?

His heavy muscular thighs are tucked underneath your armpits while you nurse on his flaccid head sleepily on your side, producing soft kitten licks on his frenulum. But it was the noise that stirred Choso the most, loud wet squelching sounds yielded from the ease of deepthroating him softly, sounds almost like you were chewing on his chubbed cock, warm spit covering his entire penis.

He peaked beneath the sheets, and his eyes widened at the sight you made for him, you sobered his sleep-drunken state as he squirmed and jerked against your body so you hugged his legs firmly, not even he could stop you. He groaned in defeat “y/n…” he softly croaked.

You felt his penis harden in your mouth as blood surged to his cock, it grew quickly on your tongue like always. Thriving, but you didn't want that so you took him out of your mouth, looking up for the first time since you woke him up “Can you make it soft again?” you asked almost innocently, it was asking him for the impossible. This behaviour was designed from being so spoilt by his love and affection.

He looked at you with a pained expression, his teeth clenching because at this point the grip on your hair was too hard for his own liking, the top half of his body curled up almost like he was trying to get closer to you, maybe if he really looked into your eyes, you would sympathise and fulfil his basic manly need “please…” he whined.

You continued pouting, tapping the slit of his cock with your finger expectedly, shaking your head in unmerciful stubbornness. He groaned again, realizing you weren't going to budge.

“Can you? With your cursed technique?” you say excited.

It wasn't the 150-plus years that he successfully pushed the limitations of his cursed technique, it was here with you, when you asked him to turn his cock soft again.

“I..I c-can try” he whimpered desperately, he really wished you could just suck his dick. Or better yet, he could finish eating you out from last night, your residue still on his chin like hard wax. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating despite your delicate fingers playing with his cock, flopping it around like a toy.

After a few minutes, he calmed down and his cock softened, the way you looked at it with fascination as it shrank, do you appreciate his biology or do you appreciate his sorcery? He shuddered at your expression. You smiled up at him proudly and gave his limp penis a sweet kiss as thank you, kissing it's length, cherishing it as if it was your life supply.

You suckled his cock like milk would come out, but his sweet cum exploded in your mouth instead, it was wet and sticky, he shuddered and wailed above you, he was almost crying as you continued to milk him with your mouth, drinking his cum sweetly, his penis was flimsy and slippery, fleeing your mouth with ease so you used your hands to put him back in your mouth as it marinated, heavy yet wormy on your tongue.

“Ha-h h-aah y-y/n, y/n, please e-enough.” Choso begged, trying to push your head away gently so you let him this time. Choso crunched himself into a fetal position urging you to come back up to him with his hands, he nestled into your neck hugging you tightly, his breathing slowed, and you could feel it on your breasts as his hair tickled your skin.

“You n-next” he whines. Both of your were so spoilt for one another.

[hotyanderedaddies]

you are legit my fav author on here your stories are amazing, could I possibly request yandere wolf daddy with a forced feminized male reader ( who secretly enjoys it)

and can I be 🪬 anon? :3

[Yandere! Werewolf Daddy x Male! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Princess, it's time to wake up," Daddy whispered into your ear as he tightened his hold on you, squeezing you in closer to his hairy chest. He leaned down and placed a large kiss onto your forehead, exaggerating his kissing noises.

You grunted in response, already rolling your eyes at the older werewolf's foolishness.

The big werewolf rolled out from under you and stood up from the bed, stretching his powerful arms over himself. He looked down at you and mock-frowned when he saw that you haven't budged, too tired to get out of bed at such an obscene hour (7 AM).

Daddy crossed his muscled arms over his beefy chest, tsking at you. "Princess," he warned, putting on an authoritative air, "it's time to get up so we can get ready for the day. Now be a good girl and listen to Daddy."

"Shut up..." you whined, shoving the bubblegum pink pillow over your head in frustration.

You heard Daddy utter out a low growl.

Before you knew it, Daddy threw your tiny body over his broad shoulder. He stomped over towards the bathroom, plopping you on your feet in front of the tub.

"I'll lay your clothes out on the bed," Daddy said as he reached over and turned on the hot water for the shower, steam already billowing out. "Unless, you want some of Daddy's help?"

"Pass," you muttered, slamming the bathroom door shut so that you had some semblance of privacy.

As you washed yourself under the hot water of the shower, you couldn't help but sigh as you lathered up your hair with the sickly sweet strawberry scented shampoo. It was such a girly smell and the bottle was even bright pink with flecks of glitter garnishing it- you wouldn't have been caught dead using it at the gym with all of your buddies around.

Still, even you had to admit that it did smell a little good. You couldn't resist taking a big whiff of the sweet strawberries as you lathered up your longer hair that Daddy forbade you to cut.

Normally, you opted for buzzcuts since it was an easier style to manage, but now your hair was shaggy and starting to cover up your ears due to its longer-than-normal length.

After rinsing out the suds from your hair, you grabbed your equally sweet smelling body wash (this one shaped like a red candied apple), and washed yourself.

It's been four months since Daddy stole you.

You'd been packing up your stuff to move out of your freshman dorm at college. You'd been all set to leave the next morning and had lied down to get some much needed sleep.

That'd been when Daddy had snuck in through your open window, and had snatched you out of bed.

He'd taken you to the cabin he calls "Home", where he'd claimed that you were soulmates and where he dotes on you hand and foot...

and where he insists on calling you "Princess", "Baby Girl", "Sweetiepie", et cetera.

Daddy dresses you up in the girliest clothes that he can find, and he keeps on giving you gifts that would traditionally belong on the more feminine side of the spectrum (roses, jewelry, vibrators).

It was mortifying for a manly athlete such as yourself... or at least, it used to be.

Despite your annoyance, even you had to admit that having such a strong, hunky, muscly wolf daddy pampering you constantly was sorta nice.

Ignoring your irritation for the time being, you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You walked back into the bedroom and nearly wailed at the hot pink hoodie and light blue skinny jeans that Daddy had picked out for you to wear. It was a rather tame outfit considering that there were no frills or glitter this time; but you were never a big fan of pink to be honest.

Still, not wanting another spanking, you yanked on the clothes, surprised at how soft the fabric of the hoode was. Despite its garish color, the fabric was soft to the touch like fleece, and you could definitely smell Daddy's musk on it from when he absolutely rolled around on it to scent it.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, the bedroom door swung open and Daddy sauntered in, wearing tattered blue jeans and no shirt, allowing his buff chest muscles to be on display.

The split second his eyes landed on you, Daddy rushed forward and wrapped you up in his arms, nuzzling you lovingly.

"You look so cute, Princess," Daddy gushed happily. "You're Daddy's Baby Girl, right?"

The way Daddy looked at you with such love and adoration in his eyes, combined with the softness of the hoodie, the sweet scent of the strawberry shampoo, and the firmness of Daddy's large muscles caused you to completely melt into the wolf daddy's hold.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, blushing slightly as you rested your head on Daddy's chest, hearing the deep rumble of contentment as he kissed your forehead.

[madebyteenagefury]

it makes me insane that marvin (in cborles portrayal in the revival at least) cries like twice in the second act. makes me SICK makes me FUCKING SICK!!! SSLASH POS

Because idk about you guys but marvin totally is the kind of guy to haphazardly pat a man on the back and say shhh stop that now to crying. i know there’s the collective head cannon that his dad was a manly man that didn’t believe in emotions or humanity and maybe even abused marvin, and that makes the fact that he cried in the second act all the more precious to me.

personally i hold the head cannon that his dad was more absent than aggressive? not that he berated marvin for crying, he never provided any comfort whatsoever. he encouraged marvin to stop as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t have to deal with comforting him. something like that. so marvin is the same, dangerously close to doing it with jason, though trina wouldn’t completely let him. she wants jason to cry when he needs to she wants to be there for him and make sure jason feels like he can come to his parents. and i like to believe marvin’s love for jason overrides his knee jerk reaction to just shuffle him aside and get him to stop crying without even adressing the problem. it’s not that he wants his son to stop wailing, he wants him to stop being sad.

really really love that marvin allows himself to cry and be comforted by the people around him, his son his friends. genuinely think it makes him a better father and allows him to be there for jason better, until he can’t anymore.

[mushroommanstan]

Edging creepy Tenko until he’s a whining drooling mess with a swollen leaky cock Ɛ>

“A-aaah please-se-se”

Tenko didn’t know how much more of this he could take. It’s true, he’s always loved being touched by you, your velvety hands never failing to make him feel like he’s in heaven. But like Lucifer falling from said heaven, the pleasure had quickly turned into hell for him. Fuck, he’s sorry, he’s sorry!

“Mmhmphhh, I’m-I’m sorry! I’m sorry-hyyy”

You giggled, watching his desperately hard cock throbbed painfully, the whole shaft painted red due to you denying his orgasm again and again. You can practically see his balls throbbing as they beg to be emptied.

But you didn’t listen. Instead you waited until he was ever so close before pulling your hand away, letting his cock slap back against his stomach as he wailed out. You waited for him to cool down before wrapping your hand around his cock and jerking him, repeating the cycle.

“Oh? And what are you sorry for baby? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Despite this, he continued blabbering apologies, the lack of relief seemingly having short circuited his brain and only letting him say those words.

“I’m sorry! I-Iaaah, I’m s-sorry!”

You smirked.

“Baby I’m not doing this as a punishment. Not to my good, sweet boy~” his dick twitched at that making him moan in painful pleasure.

He then surprised you, switching it up and adding a new phrase to his currently limited vocabulary.

“T-then wh-aaah please, then w-why-then-then-why-“ he can feel tears gathering in his eyes, from what he doesn’t know. Frustration, yearning, insecurity, all of those feelings melting down and forming melancholy.

He refused to let those tears fall. He’s a man, he’s a manly man. And manly men don’t cry.

You grabbed him forcefully by his chin, making sure he was looking at your erotically devious face. “Because I want to see you cry for me.”

Maybe some men cry.

He wailed out, a mess of ‘please’s and ‘sorry’s tumbling out as he yet again reached his high, scared you would deny him. He felt his warm tears coat his cheeks as he broke down, begging you to let him finish in the most desperate, lewd moaning.

Satisfied, this time your hand didn’t stop, and you could practically see the relief on his face when the first rope of cum shot out of his dick. He threw his head back, legs quaking and back arched as he opened his mouth in a silent scream. Ropes and ropes of pent up cum burst out of him, coating him, you, and the sheets in his jizz.

You smiled, continuing to pump him until he was completely finished, his cock immediately turning back to the pink, soft state you knew and loved.

Wiping your brow (with your other hand), you finally look back up at him after admiring his fountain.

“Feel better baby?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t do anything really, hanging limply in his leather restraints. You snapped your finger in his face but got no response, pulling his head up only to find his eyes rolled back into his head, passed out.

You quickly checked his breathing, before patting his shoulder affectionately after making sure he was ok.

You then sighed, leaving him to get a towel to clean him up with.

Damn it, he passed out again.

[lakesbian]

“I knew he was the reason she had texted me for help, from the moment I saw her reaction.  Maybe I’d suspected there was something going on even before that, from the way her emails and texts had changed in tone.  It would explain that gut feeling I’d had that made me get over there as fast as I did.  I saw her shrink back, I felt her hold me tighter, and I went cold inside.

okay so just to set down the WoGs about this so we all know where i'm coming from

i think the biggest lie here aside from the obviously false constant reiteration he's doing that he Had No Idea Who The Man Was, No Sir is that he went cold inside...or rather i think 'i went cold inside' is a perfectly true statement, but he wants it to be taken as "i went emotionally dead inside and beat the man up like a cool and tough manly older brother and saved the day" when the reality is that he was frozen/chilled with fear from coming face-to-face w/ his abuser, and he hated himself for feeling so weak and incapable of moving/acting to protect his sister. his desire to be big + scary mixed w/ both his desire to run away/hide himself and aisha from their abuser and his mental conflation of "being able to care for people" and "being masculine/not being weak," and it resulted in the ability to generate darkness. darkness to scare people, darkness to hide him, darkness that makes him look bigger if he generates it around himself. all, of course, while he remains fundamentally vulnerable at the center.

like.

you know? You Fucking Know? brian laborn, man. & he explicitly details how this mindset was beaten into him as a child, while completely oblivious to the fact that there's anything wrong with it:

“Well my father is a hard man. Not the kind of man that’s meant to raise a son alone. I wouldn’t say he was abusive, but there’s never been any warmth to him, no charming anecdotes, no fatherly wisdom, no throwing baseballs in the backyard. The extent of our bonding was in the gym, him holding the punching bag in position while shouting at me that I was doing something wrong, staying grimly quiet if my form, my timing, the raw power of my hits were all flawless. Or we’d be in the ring, with boxing helmets and gloves on, a thirty five year old man in peak physical condition barely holding back against his fifteen year old son. He just expected me to keep up or take the hits, and I didn’t have much choice in the matter.

he has to be strong and masculine, because he's been taught that if he isn't, he will be demeaned and hurt.

so, my theory on the matter is that after he triggered from beating himself up over freezing, the little moment of him being distracted/staggered from coming out of the vision was enough for him to yell at himself in his head and kick himself into "fight" gear.

“So even if I was only fifteen, I was tall for my age, I was fit, and I knew how to throw a punch. I didn’t say a word, didn’t make a sound. I put my sister down and beat my mother’s boyfriend within an inch of his life, my mother screaming and wailing the entire time. When I was done, I picked my sister up and returned to the cab. We went to my father’s that night, and we went to the police station in the morning.”

i think the emphasis he puts on Not Saying A Word And Not Making A Sound is an indicator that that's another part of the memory he really wants to revise, just like how his constant reiteration that he didn't know the man is exactly what indicates that not only did he know the man, knowing the man was very significant and scary to him. i would put, like, 20 bucks down that he's insisting that he was dead silent precisely because he was choking back tears. as 4 the last bit of his big fucking lie....

“When you throw a punch barehanded, it doesn’t leave your hands pristine. A few good swings, you connect solidly with someone’s face, someone’s teeth, and it tears the fuck out of your knuckles. It was at my father’s place that night, washing and cleaning my hands, when I saw it. It wasn’t just blood leaking out of my torn up knuckles, but there was the darkness too, like wisps of really black smoke. You hear about the trigger event, you might think it’s all about rage or fear. But I’m a testament that it can be just the opposite. I didn’t feel a fucking thing.”

i think the fixation on the violence of the thing is in part a desperate desire to prove that he's strong enough--an indicator that he's still the same scared little boy he was 3 years ago, the boy with no route out of being beaten up by his father but violence, the boy being taught that knowing how to hurt people is what keeps you safe. he's trying to turn that into something good, by hurting the "right" people, by hurting people for aisha, but he's still fundamentally under the dysfunctional impression that being a strong, masculine man who can hurt people without flinching is good and impressive and a way to keep himself and his loved ones safe. i think it's also in part that this was the first time he ever really, seriously, intentionally hurt someone, and he's still got the vivid traumatic memories of the wounds to his knuckles to prove it. i do buy that he didn't notice the darkness until he was washing his hands--incredibly vivid and compelling symbolism, and one of the top all time worm things i wish people would redraw.

i also think it's really, really funny how he's insisting that he "didn't feel a fucking thing" RIGHT after a conversation between everyone about how trigger events are the worst day of your life. it's so comically teenage-edgelordy and fake as a trigger event story! and he is telling it because he wants taylor to think he's cool! and it works! she buys that shit! so so funny that he's telling this entire ass huge fucking lie right in front of lisa too. everyone on this team is always fucking lying in front of lisa like ooh good thing no one knows i'm lying. she is basically the bravest and nicest girl on the planet ever for not tattling on him.

[holylulusworld]

When we were kids

Summary: It’s his turn to wait.

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, past Fratboy!Bucky Barnes x Student!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, unrequited feelings, best friends to enemies, jealousy, hopeful ending

A/N: This sequel got inspired by another song from Walking on Cars “When We Were Kids”. Lyrics in Italics taken from the song.

A/N: So, I decided to give this story a sequel. It's necessary to read the first part to understand the story.

<< Part 1 - Waiting on the corner

Yeah, it was better back when we were kids  Thought we knew everything, we really did  Had no money but so rich  Nobody cared about what we did  Another fight and another kiss  But now it's water under the bridge

Bucky watches you walk away from him with your head held high. You don’t turn around, even though, it takes anything in you to not give in and look over your shoulder.

It took you years to get to this point. Years of yearning, crying, and wailing with pain. The pain Bucky caused because some girl he barely knew, and didn’t even love, was more important.

His shoulders sag, and he sighs deeply. What did he expect to happen? Did he honestly believe you’d forgive him so easily after you left town because of him? 

He thinks of better times. Times in which you looked up at him like he was your whole world.  

But I still call out for you Yeah, I still call out for you

Ten years ago, months before Bucky met Dot, …

“Doll, it’s spaghetti Friday,” Bucky mutters as you run through the living room, a bunch of noodles in your hands. He’s chasing after you, calling your name.

You giggle and speed up when he gets closer. Dashing toward the middle of the room you almost run Steve over. 

“Whoa, watch out, Y/N,” Steve jumps out of your way. “What has gotten into you two!” He yells as Bucky throws a handful of spaghetti your way only to hit Steve right in the face. The pasta drops on his shirt, and he sighs. “What the fuck, Buck!”

“We are having spaghetti Friday,” Bucky says, expecting Steve to understand what he means. The blonde frowns. Bucky and you always come up with crazy new rituals and Steve can’t keep up with all the shit the two of you pull all the time. “Y/N started a fight! She wanted to have farfalle, Steve. Farfalle for spaghetti Friday. That’s a sacrilege, my friend.”

“They look pretty on a plate, Buck. I wanted my plate to look pretty, and they were cheap,” you pout. “Why not try something new?” 

“I want spaghetti. They look manly.” Bucky says, making you snort as he defends the spaghetti. 

“Yeah. Because they remind you of your dick,” you sass back. With your hands on your hips, you give Bucky the stinky eyes. “You wanna eat dick.”

He chuckles, but his heart flutters as you step closer to put the spaghetti in his hands. “My dick is much thicker, doll. I can prove it.”

“Just tell this to yourself, Buck,” you gently pat his cheek. He hums and drops his eyes to your lips. If only he found the guts to finally tell you how he feels about you. “Now, Steve will decide which noodles we’ll eat. You hit him with pasta after all.”

“Keep me out of your crazy fights,” Steve grunts. He looks down at his brand-new shirt, decorated with spaghetti. I got a hot date, and you just ruined my shirt. Now I gotta change before I pick her up.”

“Sharon again?” You turn your attention toward Steve, making Bucky pout. “So, are you in love Steven Grant Rogers? Is she the one? Can you imagine marrying her?”

Steve’s cheeks turn pink. He clears his throat and tries to not give away he has a huge crush on Sharon. Maybe it’s even more than a crush this time. 

“Wrap it before you tap it, Stevie.” You groan at Bucky’s words. “Do you need condoms? I got a whole drawer full of…”

You snap your head toward Bucky to glare at him. “We got it Bucky. You have a lot of condoms because you fuck every girl with a pulse. Stop dragging Steve into your shit. He’s a good guy. Sharon deserves a good guy. We all do.”

Bucky watches you sigh deeply because so far, you didn’t get lucky finding a good guy. And the one you could fall in love with asks every girl out but you. 

“Uh-first base,” Steve mumbles. “Sharon wants to take things slow. I’ll wait.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you,” you hug Steve. “I knew you’re a good guy.”

“HEY! I’m a good guy too,” Bucky grunts. He had hoped you’d see more in him than a promiscuous frat boy one day. Now he knows better. Maybe he should give in to Dot’s advances and go on a date with her…

Ooh, tell me what I'm gonna do now 'Cause I feel a little lost without you I'm a little bit lost without you Hear me, hear me out Tell me what I'm gonna do now Because I realize now I need you I'd do anything now to see you

Now, …

Hear me, hear me I still call out for you Yeah, I still call out for you

Bucky walks back into the gymnasium, avoiding everyone but Natasha. He goes straight to her to ask her if she knows where you went to.

“Nat, hey. Do you know Y/N’s hotel?” He asks, hoping to see you again tonight. “Natasha?”

Natasha is tangled in Clint’s arms. She dips her head to glance at Bucky, frowning deeply. “How shall I know? She said something about leaving to clear her mind. I think she left.”

“Where to?” Bucky groans. “I need to know.”

“Ask Wanda, they talked before Y/N left. I was kinda busy with…”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I got that you were busy sucking the life out of Barton’s tongue.” He looks around the room to find Wanda. 

“Who asked you?” Natasha mutters. “Get out of my sight.”

Another consequence, another day And now I'm caught up in a rat race Yeah, no money, just got picked You take me back to when I was free You take me back to a memory To the water under the bridge

Walking around the room Bucky despairs. Wanda is nowhere to be found, you are gone, and Natasha was no help. 

What did you say? You want to meet him at your special place. “But when?” He asks himself. “I can’t wait there for hours…”

“Here,” Wanda appears out of nowhere. She hands Bucky a piece of paper. “Y/N told me to give you this.” She sizes Bucky up. “If you hurt her, I’ll castrate you. Don’t believe for one moment I won’t find you, Barnes.”

He takes the piece of paper, feeling his heart speed up once again. Just like it did the moment he laid eyes on you tonight.

Bucky leaves Wanda, and the party behind. He almost runs out of the building and toward his parked car to read your message to him in silence.

After unlocking the car, he jumps into the driver’s seat and unfolds the letter.

“Our special place. Tomorrow. At eight.”

“At eight…” he furrows his brows. “In the morning or evening.” Bucky groans because he’s got no clue if you want to have breakfast or dinner with him. “Doll…you always have been bad with time.”

Ooh, tell me what I'm gonna do now 'Cause I feel a little lost without you I'm a little bit lost without you Hear me, hear me out Tell me what I'm gonna do now Because I realize now I need you I'd do anything now to see you Hear me, hear me

Almost ten years ago, months before he met Dot, …

“Christ on a cracker, Y/N!” Bucky throws his hands up as you finally walk inside the apartment you share with your grumpy roommate. “Where have you been all day?”

“What?” You didn’t even make it inside the living room before Bucky started to look you all over. “Hey. What’s wrong with you?”

“Yesterday you said that you’ll be back at ten!” He argues and points at the watch on the wall. “It’s fucking ten p.m., Y/N!”

“Yeah, I know. I told you that I’ll be back at that time!”

“You said ten and I believed you mean in the morning,” Bucky releases a shuddery breath. “I was about to call the cops, doll! Never scare me like that again.”

“Oh-I forgot to write a.m. again,” you giggle, but your laughter dies when you watch Bucky. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Buck. I thought you knew I meant ten p.m.”

“I did not and was worried sick! Plus, you forgot your damn phone again! If you leave the apartment, tell me where you are going and when you will be back. And use a.m. and p.m. from now on!”

“Buck,” you wrap Bucky in a hug. “Love you too big grump.” He grins when you hold him tightly. “How can I make things up to you?”

“I’ll decide which movie we will watch tonight.” You’re tired and want to sleep for a week, but Bucky was worried about you. You will stay awake as long as possible and watch a movie with him.

“Deal.”

Half an hour later you are asleep in Bucky’s lap. He runs his hand over your hair, gently patting your head. “Never scare me like that again, doll…”

Now, Bucky’s car…

“Fine. I’ll be there at eight a.m., doll, and wait for you…”

The next morning, your special place, …

I still call out for you  Oh, I still call out for you  Hear me, hear me  I still call out for you  'Cause I feel a little lost without you  I'm a little bit lost without you  Hear me, hear me It was better back when we were kids

 No money, so rich Take me back to a memory  To the water under the bridge

Bucky shuffles from one foot to the other. He came here, on time. It’s past ten a.m., and you still haven’t shown up. “Fuck…maybe I got it wrong, and she wanted me to meet her at eight p.m.?”

He gets the piece of paper back out, rereading the few lines you wrote. 

Bucky sighs. What if he didn’t get it wrong? What if you won’t show?

“Still waiting, huh?” Steve steps out of his hideout to tease his friend. “Do you think she will show?”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky panics. Last time you were in his shoes and Steve showed up to tell you Bucky won’t come to meet up with you. 

“Uh-getting me some coffee,” Steve lies. He and Sharon wanted to find out if you will give his best friend a second chance. The first thing Bucky did was to call Steve and tell him what happened.

“She won’t show, I guess.” Bucky sits down on the sidewalk. He looks at his hands, sighing deeply. “I deserve this, right? I fucked up big time back then. I should’ve told Y/N that I love her. I didn’t even like Dot. She was the worst.”

“How much did you love her?” Steve asks. “Bucky, be honest with me.”

“So much that I forgot to eat and couldn’t sleep when she went on a date. I panicked any time she was running late. One time she was holding my hand while we were watching a slasher movie. I imagined this is how it feels when walk down the aisle together.”

“Hmmm…” you sit down next to Bucky, nodding at Steve as he looks down at you and his friend. “I bet you did dirty things in the showers too, imagining it’s me rubbing your spaghetti dick.”

“Stop with the spaghetti dick! I told you it’s thicker,” Bucky argues. “And farfalle don't count as pasta. It’s…too pretty.”

“That’s the whole point,” you talk back. “They look pretty, and you eat them to feel pretty inside too.”

Bucky snorts at that. “You’re late…like two hours late. Do you even know how to read a watch?”

You shrug. “I thought you should wait a little longer. I waited for much longer, only for you to not show. Now you will buy me breakfast and tea. They still make the best in town. So, I heard.”

Bucky slowly gets up, holding out his hand for you.

He doesn’t know where you go from here. But you showed, and he will be damned if he doesn’t take the chance and tries to win your heart over again…

I still call out for you Oh, I still call out for you Hear me, hear me I still call out for you 'Cause I'm a little bit lost without you I'm a little bit lost without you Hear me, hear me

Tags in reblog.

[novankenn]

A Winning Hand AU -- Dreams Unrealized

/== Master Post List ==/

(Thank you to @segmentaldragon for bringing Lisa Lavender into the fold. )

Pyrrha was relaxing in the overstuffed armchair that sat outside the entrance to Jaune's room. It was simply amazing what could be accomplished with Pyrrha's and Weiss' sizable trust funds. But it was even better when it was accompanied by the pure authority of Beacon's Deputy Headmistress.

With in days of bringing Glynda to the "light" other teams had been moved, and the entire top floor had been turned into a home for them all. Each had their own room, there was a common area, a kitchen, communal bathroom and showers... everything the hopefully soon to be growing family needed to be comfortable until a proper homestead could be arranged.

Playing with her scroll, Pyrrha giggled as even though the sound muffling and heavy door, she could hear the odd noise that indicated that Jaune was vigorously working on starting their family with Octavia and Dew. A ping from her scroll drew her attention.

Glynda => Just an FYI. Neo is one the move. There is a White Fang rally tonight... Pyrrha => So Deery? Correct? Glynda => Yes. But there is also something else I think you should see...

Pyrrha's scrolls pinged again. This time with a file attachment. Tapping it she download and opened the document. She frowned, reading it's contents.

Pyrrha => Please inform her... that I'm not interested. Glynda => Before you decline...

Another ping and another file landed on Pyrrha's scrolls. Tapping it a jpeg image opened.

Pyrrha => I see... Glynda => I know she was not on the original list of alternates, but I think we can make room for her. Pyrrha => Yes we can. Please arrange for a... private... interview. Glydna => As you wish.

Pyrrha closed the messaging app, and leaned back in her chair. A smile upon her lips. She was unsure if it was the prospect of bringing Lisa Lavender into the family or just the sounds of Jaune's energetic actions in the bedroom she was seated next to.

A wail of release underpinned by a manly grunt told Pyrrha that the three ensconced in the room were all most likely passed out from their activities.

Pyrrha: As much as I wish to join you my beloved... I have another to bring into the fold... Lisa Lavender... I'm going to bring you home.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Hi hi! I was wondering if I could request bakugou reacting to male reader who likes wearing skirts beating up someone for making shitty comments(most likely mineta) like readers in a pretty ass skirt just fully wailing on someone. If you’re not comfy writing this that’s totally okay! Love your writing <3

I'm so sorry this took so long! I started reading ACOTAR and it's just consumed my life at this point haha.

Hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for the ask!

Bakugo will always advocate for you wearing whatever the fuck you want, because whatever the fuck you want, usually looks hot as hell.

You've always had a certain...swagger about you. Not full of yourself just, quietly fabulous. Even in your school uniform, you just look...good.

The blonde's shameless eyes have a habit of wandering to you whenever he gets the chance, slowly growing to love the way you style your hair, noting which accessories you favour.

In second year, you started painting your nails, and he soon clocked your favourite colours and started wishing you'd let him paint them for you.

His attention is more obvious than he thinks it is, and you're not ignorant to Katsuki's lingering eyes. You preen each time his eyes linger for longer, swaying your hips with extra swing when he walks behind you.

Still, Katsuki doesn't act any different around you. Rough around the edges as always.

Summer this year was kicking everyone's ass, training in this heat was getting ridiculous, and wearing trousers all day was downright torture.

Katsuki was busy melting into the couch, regretting the extra workout he'd tried to get through that morning. It was saturday, most people with any sense were sleeping through the worst of the heat, but heroes don't get to turn on the AC before kicking ass.

His explosive sweat glistened on his forehead and he contemplates getting up to shower.

The heat, and the previous week of exams has the dorms pretty quiet, so Mineta's obnoxious screech of laughter is far too loud to Bakugo's ears.

'Dude! You know you're wearing a skirt right?!'

Bakugo felt anger rise in his gut like a reflex, he doesn't even know who Mineta's making fun of, and he already wants to drop kick the little shit.

'Skirts are for girls, what're you-'

'Shut your face, blue balls.'

The sound of your voice has Katsuki sitting bolt upright, craning his neck to see you standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a read and black plaid skirt and a black crop top, doc martins half unlaced on your feet.

Mineta's face is red with laughter, and Katsuki growled as he saw the menace reaching for his phone.

Laughing, making fun of you. Katsuki scowled dangerously, ready to jump to your defence just this once, because damn do you look good, he doesn't give a fuck what people say you can't wear.

Turned out, he didn't need too.

You slid one of your chunky rings off your finger while Mineta wasn't looking, and flung it, with pin-point accuracy, at the top of the tiny demons head, missing his "hair" to clock him right in the temple.

Katsuki watched your ring skid across the room, sliding into the carpet at his feet as you unleashed hell on Mineta, unknowingly drawing attention.

'Now listen here, dipstick, it's not my fault your masculinity's so delicate you feel threatened by a damned skirt and the colour pink. Go project your insecurities on someone else.'

Kirishima claimed how manly you were and soon dragged Sero and Mina into scolding the little shit while you went looking for your ring, now in Kastuki's hand.

The blonde stood as you approached, the skirt gently brushing your bare thighs, and he's suddenly a little jealous of that piece of fabric.

'Oh, thank you for picking it up.' You smiled brightly, knowing full well where his eyes have wandered as you held your hand out for the ring.

Katsuki gulped, placing the warm metal in your waiting palm, letting his fingers linger over your skin as he stepped past you, lips brushing your ear as he suddenly pressed himself dangerously close to you.

'You're welcome, hot stuff.'

You gaped, left blinking at the abyss of the empty sitting room, while Katsuki, smug, roguish Katsuki, chuckled at your back, grinning all the way to his room for a much deserved shower.

[samanddean76]

Dean Winchester & The Spider of Doom

The shriek that came out of the bathroom and drew Sam's attention was not manly. The best way that Sam would characterize it was that of a small child. Possibly a wailing infant. But that didn't stop him from getting up and quickly crossing the room to see if Dean was alright.

He found out as Dean ran smack into him, shampoo still in his hair, soap glistening on his wet body that was only obscured by a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. "Are you alright?"

Dean took a deep breath as his hand shot out and his finger extended and pointed towards whatever it was that had terrified him. Sam saw the culprit then. The fat spider sat placidly in its web in the corner above the motel shower. "Really?"

Dean shot Sam a baleful glare, so Sam decided to try again. "So, should I shoot it? Or just kill it with fire?"

Dean smirked as he responded, "Or both."

The arson investigator couldn’t pinpoint where the fire had started, but he simply knew that the explosion that had rocked the recently abandoned motel had been from the cavalier use of a grenade launcher as evidenced by the empty shell casings that were lying in the parking lot. But unless some more evidence emerged, like a witness or two, he was going to chalk this up to an act of God. Case closed.

[zacksfairest]

This is going to sound so fucking stupid but I can't even put into words how much it means to me that Manly Man Lemuel Adelier was a sobbing, snotty, wailing mess over Duane's body. It would have been so easy to simply have him be Righteously Furious. No tears. Just blind murderous fury.

Like, yes. The murderous fury was there. He went on a killing spree. I know this intimately. But his grief and agony were on full and public display.

Idk. It just means a lot to me. Let men cry. Let them sob and scream until tear stains streak their cheeks and mix with the snot running in rivulets from their noses.

[girlhogdiner]

Fuck I want to be put in my place by a strong lesbian, shown that I’ll never be a man, that having my girly tits played with makes me so wet and horny that it’s impossible for me to be manly. I want her to make me moan and scream and wail like a good girl, make me into the good little dyke I was meant to be

I'm sure I can make you scream, a few loads shot right in your dyke pussy oughta do the trick

[patrochillesvibes]

In your imagination, what does Achilles love most about Patroclus, both physically and in terms of personality? (feel free to talk about this for as long as you want 😎)

Honestly, Achilles’ gut reaction will be Patroclus’ magnificent cock. It’s big. It hits all the right places. First time in his life Achilles had to practice honing his skills (taking him in /all/ the holes, ahem), and Achilles just loves a rare challenge. Achilles’ mouth is watering just thinking about it. Give him another second and he’ll be dripping with eagerness for another go.

But I think Achilles loves most of all how steadfast and patient Patroclus is. Achilles is passionate. He feels deeply. Under his skin, emotions are broiling. He is full of energy and ready to burst if he doesn’t keep moving. But there is always Patroclus. Steady, faithful Patroclus. Patroclus who can calm him down, settle his pounding pulse. Patroclus who never leaves and always smiles no matter how many tantrums he might have. He is constant and true.

Other things Achilles loves about Patroclus in no particular order:

Patroclus has these warm, brown eyes that can instantly calm Achilles down (or rile him up depending on the mood). They make him feel loved. So eyes are for sure a favorite of Achilles.

Patroclus’ voice when he’s in ‘bossy’ mode is another major love (read turn on) of Achilles’. Maybe he’s training horses or leading some men. Or maybe he’s commanding Achilles to suck his cock or degrading him for coming without permission. Achilles gets all warm and fuzzy and willing when Patroclus starts talking with /that/ tone.

Achilles is also a big fan of his biceps, of course. It’s very thrilling when Patroclus picks him up and throws him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing. It’s an exciting moment, the prospect of primal fucking. And of course, Achilles also loves also being carried princess style because he is a pretty princess.

Oh! Oh! Achilles can’t forget the scent that is Patroclus and his hairy tits! When Achilles is especially upset or stressed, he will bury his face in Pat’s chest, in that space between the pecs where he can hear his strong heartbeat, and BREATH. His scent is a bit spicy with a note of cypress that reminds him of Pelion. It’s also a nice place for him to rest his head at night.

And how could Achilles’ forget Pat’s beard!? It makes him look SO HANDSOME and MANLY. Who doesn’t like beard burn? The first time Achilles saw him with a beard, oh! He was practically vibrating with need. Of course there are merits to Patroclus with 3 days of stubble. It makes him look just so rugged and wild. Like pin-him-down-and-take-him wild. But to achieve this look Patroclus would have to shave and shaving brings Achilles to instant tears. Like wailing tears of mourning.

Achilles loves love loves Patroclus’ fingers in his hair. He brushes his hair just right. It’s very rhythmic and sometimes lulls him to sleep. He loves the feel of his cool fingers sliding against his scalp when he plaits his hair. But his favorite is when those fingers slide along his nape before suddenly gripping hard. That sweet sting of his hair being pulled.

There’s also something about how Patroclus makes Achilles feel small, delicate, and precious. Achilles is a demi-god, the greatest warrior of his generation. Patroclus is very gentle and careful with him. Patroclus always takes such good care of him. It makes him feel so very safe and well-loved.

Also, around Patroclus, Achilles doesn’t have to be “on” all the time. He doesn’t have to be the persona of a great soldier (not that he tries very hard, but he does have to act “Princely”). He is feared by many. With Patroclus he can relax and let go. There is no judgement. There is no stress. He can just be.

And one last silly one:

Patroclus doesn’t get (or care about) fashion and most of the time Achilles thinks it’s cute. He picks out Patroclus’ clothes and usually coordinates their outfits.