#um...i dunno who to tag here

[femmefaggot]

am not meant 2 exist D:

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[steddieas-shegoes]

matches my weird

for @steddielovemonth inspired by the quote "we are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." - dr. seuss

rated t | 1069 words | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush on eddie, open ending but assume they're gonna kiss later

🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒🥒

Steve knows it’s gross, which is why he never does it when someone else is around. He opens the jar of pickles and the jar of peanut butter.

He scoops out a spoonful of peanut butter because he’s not an animal. He would never risk pickle juice getting in the jar when so many people come over to his house and ransack his cabinets. God forbid Robin try to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and end up with the taste of pickle on it.

She hates pickles almost as much as she hates Vecna. Seriously.

He dips the pickle into the peanut butter and puts it up to his mouth to take a bite.

“What is happening right now?” Eddie’s voice is high pitched and Steve jumps, nearly dropping his snack.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks. He can’t hide what he’s doing at this point, so he might as well embrace it.

“I left my jacket here last night, remember? I called and told you I would be by to get it before I went to work?”

Eddie is holding said jacket in his hands and looks…not as disgusted as he probably should be. He just looks surprised.

“Oh, right.” Steve does vaguely remember this phone call, but he was half asleep this morning when Eddie called. He can’t be blamed for forgetting.

“Are you putting peanut butter on your pickles?” Eddie asks as he steps closer.

“I obviously am,” Steve replies.

“Bread and butter?” Eddie clarifies.

Steve checks the jar to be sure. “Yeah.”

“You should try it with the dill ones.”

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“The regular dill ones are really good in peanut butter. These ones are too, but the savory– Oh! And the sweet and sour ones! I ran out of peanut butter once and used chocolate syrup. Wasn’t as good, but got the job done,” Eddie explains as he walks over and takes a pickle from the jar to dip into the scoop of peanut butter.

“Um. What are you doing?”

“I’ve never known anyone else to do this! I did it when I was little and Wayne thought it was gross, but he always kept pickles and peanut butter in the house for me,” Eddie shrugs as he chews.

“This isn’t you just trying to make me feel like I’m not weird?” Steve doesn’t think someone would go to such lengths, especially not Eddie, but who knows.

“No. Who would do that?”

“I…dunno. I didn’t know anyone else did this. It’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, have you met me?” Eddie laughs. “I’m a pretty weird guy. Wait until you see what I do to my hot chocolate.”

“What do you do?” Steve takes another bite.

“This is Wayne’s fault, but I usually make it with a mix of milk and cola.”

Steve makes a face, but immediately realizes that’s actually probably pretty good. He’s heard of people using cola in chocolate cake before, so why not make hot chocolate with cola?

“I should try that,” he says.

“Yeah, I can make it for you after work if you want. I only have a four hour shift today.”

“I can go get some hot chocolate packets from the store.”

“We don’t need packets if you have syrup,” Eddie says.

“I always have syrup. El and Dustin drink chocolate milk every time they’re here,” Steve sits back in his chair. “But is that really gonna make it sweet enough?”

“Trust me, Harrington.”

“I do.”

It’s a loaded sentence, and Steve recognizes almost immediately that it’s a bit heavy for a very simple discussion about hot chocolate. His face is warm as he reaches over to grab another pickle from the jar.

“So…I can be here around eight?” Eddie continues after a long pause.

“Yeah, man, sounds good.”

Eddie reaches over Steve to get another pickle from the jar. Steve holds his breath as their arms brush against each other. His heart stops for a moment.

“You know, Wayne always says I gotta find someone just as weird as me. I don’t think he meant this, but maybe it’s that simple.”

Steve blinks, staring ahead so he doesn’t do something stupid like stand up and kiss Eddie or pull him into his lap. Now’s not the time to explore the feelings he’s had simmering in his gut for months, not when Eddie has to go to work. They’ve got plans later, maybe he can be brave about it then.

“Anyways! See ya later, Steve.”

Eddie leaves. Steve waits until he hears his truck start up before he throws his head back and groans. He’s ridiculous.

The phone rings and he groans again. He’s almost positive he knows who it is, and her timing is always impeccable.

“Hello?”

“Steve. You have to hear what Keith just told a customer. We would have been fired it it was us,” Robin whispers into the phone.

“Are you calling me while Keith is next to you?”

“Obviously I am.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “What did he say?”

“He told them that if they wanted to watch kid movies as an adult, they should keep that to themselves,” Robin sounds half-crazed. “I promise it sounded more scathing when he said it. The customer left and said he’d never come back. But I always got the creeps from that guy anyway. You know the one who always asks if I turned 18 yet?”

“Gross. Hate that guy. Maybe he won’t come back,” Steve says as he closes the peanut butter jar. “Hey, you know how I have a crush on Eddie?”

“Duh,” Robin says, half-distracted.

“Think I’m gonna do something about it tonight.”

He’s met with silence.

“You there?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to do something about it for a month now. Why tonight?”

Steve looks at the jar of pickles and smiles. “Because our weird matches.”

“O…kayyyy. You’re probably right about that.” He hears Keith say something about getting off the phone. “I gotta go, but good luck with that tonight.”

“Thanks, Robs. Do you like pickles dipped in peanut butter?”

“That’s disgusting, Steve. Seriously.”

“Just checking.”

“Do you?” Robin asks, but Keith starts yelling about personal calls on the clock and she rushes to hang up the phone before he can answer.

Steve hangs up and leans his head back against the wall.

“He matches my weird,” Steve sighs, smiling to himself.

[steveseddie]

show time

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt “time, 485 words” | rated: t | cw: none | tags: corroded coffin concert, pre-relationship, eddie is nervous, steve is a sweetheart

***

The backdoor of The Hideout opens as Eddie takes the last hit from his cigarette.

Steve’s head pokes out. “Eddie?” 

“Right here, big boy.”

Steve squints until his eyes adjust to the alley’s dim lighting. “Hey,” he says with a soft smile that does little to calm Eddie’s nerves. “Gareth sent me. It’s almost time.”

Without meaning to, Eddie winces. He stubs out his cigarette before grabbing another one. His third one. “Cool, yeah, I’ll– I’ll be right there,” he stammers, fumbling with his lighter.

Steve steps closer, his fingers brushing Eddie’s as he grabs it and flicks it for him. “You okay?” 

“Yup, yeah, I’m okay. Great, even!” Eddie mumbles, his now lit cigarette dangling from his lips. 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Is that why your hands are shaking?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicker to his hand, shakily fidgeting with the lighter. “Um, okay, maybe I’m not.” 

A divot appears between Steve’s eyebrows. Eddie’s panicky brain spares a moment to think ‘cute’ before going back to spiraling. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Eddie tips his head back, groaning. He leans against the brick wall. “It’s dumb.” 

“Try me,” Steve says, doing the same, his shoulder pushing against Eddie’s. 

“I’m nervous? About the show. We’re– we’re used to playing for five drunks on a good night but today there’s like, an actual crowd! Which makes you wonder if some of those people aren’t here to throw tomatoes at the town’s freak, or– or pig’s blood! It’s also the first time I’m doing this since I was a demobat chew toy and you know how hard it was to– to get back to where I was with my guitar playing and my singing and I still can’t shake off the feeling that I fucking suck!” 

There’s a moment of silence as Eddie catches his breath after saying all of that in one breath. Then Steve is knocking their shoulders together, saying, “That’s not dumb.” 

Eddie sighs. “It’s fucking unmetal, is what it is! I don’t even care what these people think!”

“You care what some of them think.”

And of course he does– his bandmates, Robin, Steve.

“Shut up, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

“You’re kind of doing that already,” Steve teases. “Where’s that big confidence of yours, Eddie?”

“Dunno.” Eddie puts the cigarette out with his boot. “Probably in the Upside Down with my missing nipple.”

Steve snorts. “Maybe I can give you back one of those.” He stands in front of Eddie, grabbing his shoulders. “Eddie Munson, you’re a smoking hot, badass rockstar and you’re gonna kill it tonight,” he says earnestly–

Then he kisses Eddie square on the lips before he’s even done processing that Steve just called him ‘smoking hot’. 

And before he’s done processing that, Steve shoves him through the door to where his bandmates are waiting.

“Ready, man?” Gareth asks. 

Eddie winks at Steve who slips back into the crowd with Robin.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

[noirsdoll]

-> on the edge

pairing: leon x kidnapper!reader

words: 2.7k

tags: dubcon, vomit, implied drugging/roofieing, boobjob/blowjob, nonconsensual knifeplay and bondage, tiny bulimia reference (as a joke), mentions of drug use (from leon), reader is a femcel, leon is a perv and loves tits, reader threatens to kill leon several times

notes: sorry for being dead... this is the funniest thing i've ever written LMAO (which is like, rlly lame and rlly funny in its own right) yeah i was just like "how would og4 leon react if he got kidnapped?" and it devolved to "shy femcel pukes on dick" so yeah enter at your own risk LMAO um everything is a joke kinda mostly yeah

read it on ao3

Note to self— do not share needles. 

It’s the first thought on Leon’s mind when he wakes up to the blinding fluorescents of wherever the fuck he is. An acrid stench hits his nose and makes him grimace, one he’s all too familiar with. The smell of vomit— his vomit, crusted down the front of his shirt like a baby who just spit up. 

Leon tastes blood in his mouth— is a tooth loose? He feels one wiggle, searching with his tongue as he takes in his surroundings, or rather lack thereof. 

He’s been in these situations before, it’s nothing new for an esteemed government agent like him. Flash a badge here, a charming smile there, and they’ll usually ignore the illicit drug use. Perks of being the president’s fucktoy, he might as well ask them to stamp his punch card. 

But this isn’t an interrogation room, or a house that he recognizes, or anywhere remotely discernible. Just four walls, a cement floor, and one rickety swinging bulb. 

Leon goes to stand up from the cold floor and realizes he’s cuffed to the radiator behind him. What in the…? He tugs his arm once, twice, but this isn’t one of those gag handcuffs that comes off with a safe word. 

Did he get fucking kidnapped?

There’s no way anyone would wanna do that. He’s just blond, kinda tall, ridiculously handsome— okay, he’s kinda starting to get it. But spiking his drink? What is he, a teenage girl?

Leon’s pretty sure he got roofied, cuz his puke smells suspiciously like the cheap beer he was touting at the dive bar last night. Running through the list of faces he remembers— cute girl, buff dude, gorgeous pair of tits— he’s not sure if any of them would be the type to slip a pill in his drink. 

His thoughts are graciously answered, however, when the door opens and you come into vision. 

“Ah, you’re the one with the rack,” he says, the thrilling conclusion to the mystery. 

You prickle, staring at him. “What?”

“I’m flattered, sweetheart, but you really could’ve just asked me out. I’m not easy, but I’m open to a little begging—“

The sound of your switchblade cuts him off and Leon’s heart drops to his ass. “What are you doing?” He asks.

You walk toward him, kneeling down. You’ve got this thousand-yard stare that is not helping the butter face— and the knife too, he supposes. 

Dragging the blunt end of the blade along his cheek, your gaze flits from the metal to his eyes. “Got any last words?”

Leon chuckles uneasily. “Is this supposed to be like roleplay…?”

Your eyes widen and you glance at his dick and then back up. “Are you enjoying this?”

“I mean, I’m open to anything.” And by anything, he means his dick between your tits. How are they so big? “I dunno why you wanna do this while I smell like vomit.”

“Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Can you see your shoes when you put them on?” He blurts. 

“Are you calling me fat?” You ask in indignation. 

“I’m just wondering, considering the partition in the way.”

You slap him. Deserved, he thinks. You didn’t stick your knife in his chest though, so you’re not really mad. You’re just a bit stubborn— most ugly girls like you are. What kinda freak accident messed your face up like that? Is it hereditary? Will he catch it?

Leon can weasel his way out of this one if he tries. “That was a compliment. sweetheart. I’m just a little creative.”

“Don’t call me that.” You raise your knife, pursing his cheeks to force his mouth open. “I’ll cut your tongue out if you do.”

“What would you prefer? I’ve got a list.”

“You’ve got a death wish, is more like it.” You scowl. “You’re not scared?”

“Very little scares me, honey.” Leon’s seen the human body torn up a hundred different ways. He could teach biology, but he’d be bad with remembering all the names. He’s good with tits though, your tits to be specific. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you dead.”

“You got a vendetta against me or something?”

“Not you.” You say it like it’s obvious. “Your kind.”

“So you’re what, reverse Hitler?”

You don’t answer, instead trailing your knife along his tongue in warning, spit drools down his chin and makes him feel grosser— he was just getting used to the vomit too. “You’re insufferable.”

“Don’t need to kill me for it though,” he says once you’ve pulled the blade away. The metal and the fresh blood leaves a film of iron coating his mouth. It’s not as painful as it is disconcerting. “Is the dry spell getting to you?”

The way you stiffen up gives you away almost immediately. Women are so easy. “That’s none of your business,” you huff, actively making it his business.

“I can help with that, you know.” Leon’s got a lot to offer. Boil him down and he’s just a set of pearly whites with a couple of loose holes and a mostly functioning dick. “You’re pretty cute.”

You scoff. “Guys like you will say anything. I know your type.”

“Which is why you have it out for my phenotype. I get it.” Leon really doesn’t, but every serial killer needs a quirk and the list of available ones gets shorter every day. “But there are exceptions to every rule. Not all blond guys are assholes.”

“You are.”

“I’m a gentleman.” He leans back against the radiator, spreading his legs to allow you more space between them where you’re nestled. “I know how to treat a girl like you.”

“You don’t talk to girls like me.”

He has to hold back a laugh. You’re a fucking femcel. Tits like that and you’re a femcel. What has this world come to? “Have you looked in a mirror?” 

“I know I’m ugly.”

“I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about those.” Leon gestures to your chest with a nod. “You’re telling me no one’s offered to put a bag over your head and fuck you?”

You frown, “yeah, but it’s really fucking rude.”

“Women, you’re all so picky. If I was in your position, I’d take it.”

You slap him again– maybe he should keep a tally. Your eyes are tearing up, making the homicidal girl angry is definitely the wrong move.

“Hey, hey, I’m joking, okay?” Only sort of joking. It was more like a Freudian slip if he’s being honest. “Don’t cry.” It makes you look worse.

“Shut up or I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you grit.

The reason you’ve gone unfucked might not just be the face, you don’t seem to be mentally well either— no shit, you’re threatening him with a knife. “Relax, relax, alright? I was just trying to ask you if you, you know, wanted to do it.”

That seems to distract you. You stare at him for a moment, mentally debating it. “Would you actually do it?” You ask softly. Leon’s right again— all that anger when you’re just an insecure, unloved little girl.

“I’ve been trying to these last ten minutes, if you haven’t noticed.” Boobjob, here he comes.

“And you’re not just doing it because of this?” You gesture to your knife.

Yeah, obviously. “No, of course not,” he smiles, “back at that bar last night—”

“That was three days ago.”

“Whatever. Anyways, I was gonna talk to you. Swear it.” He holds up his cuffed hand like he’s swearing on a bible, knowing full well he’s been excommunicated from the church since his first line of coke.

You lean in closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. “So you’d kiss me?”

“I can do anything you want, baby,” he grins. 

You smile back, shakily, like you don’t know how. “If you try anything, I’ll kill you.”

Leon knows you won’t. He’s already got you. “Lay some on me, sugar.”

Tentatively, you kiss him, feeling him up, ignoring the puke stains. You’ve clearly never done this before– the shaky slide of your lips gives you away. And everything else too, he guesses. He was hoping you’d at least have some experience making out with a dildo.

Leon pulls back, resting against the radiator. “Hey, hey, relax, okay?” He tilts his head to meet your downcast eyes. “I’m not in a position to judge, y’know.”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah, I know. We should probably just… cut to the chase.”

Leon can assume what the chase is, because you go straight for his worn jeans. Pulling down that and his underwear grants you the sight of his pathetic semi. He was really trying, okay? Your tits can only do so much to balance out that face.

You grimace. “That’s what a dick looks like?”

He’d probably slap you back if he wasn’t restrained. “Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you?” You’re the one that robbed him of his nightly Viagra.

Leon shifts his hips. “You ever sucked dick before?” He knows you haven’t, he just wants to see your reaction.

Your eyes widen, you glance down and then up and then down again. “I have to?”

He nods earnestly. “It’s the only way.” This is payback for locking him down here.

“Okay…” You move your hair out of the way, sinking lower. It’s an awkward position— your ass is in the air and you’re hunched down on your elbows. Leon can only spread his legs so far, even with all the practice he’s gotten. The knife lays somewhere out of sight— forgotten, hopefully.

“It’s like a popsicle,” he says, “or a lollipop.” Whichever calms you down more. He can recognize first-time jitters when he sees it.

You grab the base with one hand and glancing up at him, pop the head past your lips. The whole thing is unintentionally lewd, you just want to see his approval, but Leon’s lips still part in half surprise. At least the wet heat of your mouth is decent. Not as good as your tits might be.

In a bit, he promises himself. Leon’s a patient man, he’ll try this first. You bob your mouth a few times, drooling saliva down his shaft. You only make it about halfway along the length each time. Leon drags his heels back towards him, giving him the leverage to rock his hips up into your mouth.

It’s gentle, of course, but you still gag. He lets up, letting you have a moment. You pull back to drag some grateful breaths down your throat. Spit pours in a cascade down his cock. Holy shit. You’re slobbering like a dog.

Not needing a pep talk this time, you go right back in. You sink lower this time, Leon can almost call himself proud. His cants into your mouth get more and more intense. The frequency of your gags increase and the worst happens.

You retch, dragging him deeper down your throat only to vomit all over him. Leon’s mortified, scuttling back as far as he can, essentially uncorking your pharynx and letting it gush out onto the floor and…. your tits.

Leon could almost cry. Both for his incoming UTI and the ruined state of your beautiful tits– the only hot thing about you. It’s his fault. He flew too close to the sun. The puke’s brownish-yellow, bits of food caught in it.

You wipe your mouth, catching your breath and staring down at it all. “I’m sorry. I’m just… used to throwing up.”

“You’re fucking bulimic?” He can feel your puke soaking into the fabric of his clothes. Gross gross gross. Somehow zombie guts are less horrible than this. 

“I can make it up to you!” You say, floundering. “What can I do?”

He stares at you for a moment, unblinking. Then he remembers this is your first time ever and you’re probably never getting fucked again. “Take your shirt off.” Leon’s not even sure why he still wants to see your tits at this point, but he’s in too deep now. 

You do as you’re told, surprisingly. Maybe you’re just too mortified. You’re in a cheap bra, you bunch up your shirt and try to mop up the vomit as best you can. 

“Can you take the rest of it off?” Anything to help his rapidly shrinking boner. 

You pause. “You want to see that?”

Can’t be worse than anything he’s already seen. “Course I do.”

You reach behind you and unclasp your bra, the material wilts off your figure and Leon finally gets to see your tits in action. They droop a little once free, so impossibly big and round, your nipples are hard from the cold. They need to invent new letters of the alphabet for your cup size.

You take the rest of your clothes off too, but it’s not as exciting. His dick comes back to life, a modern day miracle. “Put it between your tits.”

You stare at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” He holds your gaze, not backing down on this.

There’s no complaint on your end. Cupping your tits— the way he wishes he could right now— you maneuver them around his cock. And Leon finally gets his boob job. 

It’s not at all like he imagined, you clearly have no idea how to do this, but at least you look good, warm skin up against his dick that has started to leak pre like a faucet. He tosses his head with a sigh, gently moving his hips. 

Your face is flushed with embarrassment as you meet his gaze— it looks good on you, balances out your features quite nicely. Then your tongue lolls out and licks at the head of his cock and Leon could swear he just entered heaven. It’s a shame that heaven looks a lot like your cement basement.

Maybe he should go for ugly girls more often. There’s this sense of desperation you’ve got going on that is making you seem way better at this. It makes sense— you never know when you’re gonna get this close to a guy ever again.

His cuffs jingle as he tries to pull his wrists from them, his horny mind bent solely on getting his hands on you and your body. Leon’s getting greedy now, he wants to know what your tits feel like. He debates dislocating his wrists to slip him out of the thin metal cuffs.

Your eyes are zeroed in on the tip of his cock as you suck it. “Is this okay?” You ask. 

“More than okay. Can you put your mouth back on it—? Fuck—“ Your mouth sinks lower and his thighs twitch, his hips meandering hopefully toward your wet mouth. 

The last thing he was expecting when he woke up in this basement was a very satisfactory blowjob. Seems like he really is a lucky guy. You don’t seem to be very committed to your goal of exterminating the blond male race if you’re here sucking off the guy you planned to kill.

You’re working his dick like it’s a full time job, your spit pooling around the base of his cock and glistening on your tits. You press your boobs tight to his dick like you’re trying to keep it warm on a cold day. How thoughtful of you.

Leon busts embarrassingly quick, spraying hot cum all over your face, getting caught in your eyelashes. Your mouth drops open in shock and you sit up— your fault for being in the splash zone.

“Are you gonna let me go now?” Leon asks as his dick flops back down against his hip, softening up. 

You wipe the cum from your cheek, tentatively tasting some. You make a noise of surprise, going back for seconds. “No, I think I’ll keep you here.”

Fuck. So much for a quick getaway. Mr. President will find him eventually.

[ghulehunknown]

Mountain x AFAB Reader

NSFW — MDNI

Summary: You and Mountain take a break from your duties to have a little fun in his room.

CW/Tags: sex toy use, tail fucking, masturbation, unprotected sex (P in V and anal), double penetration

Word Count: 2.4K

“You bought how many toys, Mounty?”

“Um, just a few.”

“It looks like a lot.”

“Yes, well - Santa came early.” You stared blankly at him as he shrugged. “I didn’t know what to get so I just got the ones that I dunno, looked the best and had good reviews?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Well I guess you get to choose which one you want.”

“Ah, okay. Well this one here also goes up my ass. Which might be kinda nice. Um okay, these two vibrate, but one has a remote…” He flicked his eyes up to yours. “Uhh. And one of those extends down to my taint, I think? Oh, that’s the one Copia suggested. But it should feel nice for you too, you know, if we - yeah. This one is just a silicone dildo. Oh, and this one goes over my balls.”

“The vibrating ones sound nice,” you said, nodding.

“I can’t choose. What if I just…I dunno, use them all?”

“All of them?” you asked incredulously. “Think you can handle that?”

“I guess it’s time for me to be a ho ho ho,” he remarked with a small smile. You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly joke. He never failed to put a smile on your face. You supposed that was why he was your favorite.

~

You looked back on the events from the days prior that led you into his bedroom for this very exchange. You were making Secret Satan cards for the children’s hospital in the library, making out with each other in between cards, desperately trying not to make any noise while the other Siblings were working or studying - and failing, miserably. He caressed your body with his tail, completely taking you by surprise.

You had made a one-off comment, without even thinking. “Damn, you fuck with that thing too?”

“Yeah actually I do,” he replied, his face stoic but eyes twinkling.

“Hm, I’d like to see that,” you said - again, what were you thinking? This was insane. Plus, he was one of Cardinal Copia’s head ghouls…you really couldn’t afford to distract him. But the holidays were here, which meant the band was getting a lengthy and much needed break. So maybe this was your chance at giving into your desires.

You finished up the cards, stacking them neatly in a pile. You were supposed to be helping the Siblings decorate and Mountain was supposed to meet the other ghouls in the mess hall before Mass. But…you had more important matters to attend to. You had agreed, since this would be your first time with a ghoul and adding a tail in the mix, that he should try a new experience too.

You walked together down the hallway towards the Ghoul dormitories, arms linked as you people watched. There were multiple Siblings hanging up garlands and lights along the corridors and you even spotted Papa Terzo terrorizing some young Sisters of Sin.

“Jingle Balls, suck my balls, make my chimney rise. Oh what fun it is to cum on my amore’s thighs,” he sang, draping tinsel around one’s neck and dangling some mistletoe in another’s face.

“…and I heard Satan’s hells bells on the rooftop, I swear it, I did!” you heard Nihil say to Imperator who merely said “Of course, Papa,” as she led him down the hall towards the chapel.

Finally, you made your way past the hustle and bustle of the busy Ministry hallways to the Ghoul dorms. As one of the top Clergy member’s head ghouls, Mountain actually had his own room. But he shared a wall with Swiss and Dew on either side, who would tease him relentlessly if they heard any goings on in the night.

So you opted for the middle of the evening, when everyone was likely to be at Mass. And here you were, your very first dick appointment with a ghoul.

You both kneeled in front of each other in his bed, and leaned into kiss one another, his arms holding onto yours and his tail wrapping around your thigh.

Fuck, maybe being with a ghoul would be better…it was almost like being held by three hands.

The tail was surprisingly soft, not sharp at the end even though the arrowhead tip looked pointy. It approached you just as softly as Mountain wanted, and you knew he could be just as rough as he wanted to be too.

You ran your hands through his hair, his short dark locks tickling your fingertips. His kiss was passionate, deep. His lips were soft and inviting.

He gingerly moved his tail up your legs, in between them, and slowly slipped the tip between your labia. You inhaled sharply as the fleshy bit met your sensitive bud, pressing on it almost like a button.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed.

He paused, pulling his tail sway slightly. “You okay?” he said, holding your face in his hands.

“Yeah, I - yeah, no - god, it’s just so…fuck, it feels amazing. Please, do it again.”

“My pleasure.” He re-entered, maneuvering around your folds and finding your slick pooled near your entrance. He poked around, gathering your arousal and sliding it around, back up to your clit and focusing there. “You’re so wet already. Good girl,” he purred. His cock twitched against your leg, bobbing up and down as he slowly grinded against you.

“Should we put a cock ring on you?” you whispered breathlessly, smiling as you nodded towards the bedside table.

Carefully, you helped him put the vibrating ring on. He spread lube on it and his whole member while you warmed some up in your hands and spread it along his perineum.

“Mmm,” he moaned quietly at your touch, closing his eyes.

You clicked the toy to its lowest vibration setting.

“Oh, god! Shit, they weren’t kidding! Ahhh. This is, oh fuck, wow!” His hand flew to his cock, which was bobbing up and down involuntarily.

“And that’s just the first setting. I’m guessing the other toys are a no-go?” you asked, hovering over him still, straddling his thigh.

He let out a sound that didn’t sound too convincing. “Yeeeeah…? Um, this is fine. Actually -” He clicked the vibrator off and handed you the remote for it. “When it looks like I need it.”

“I’ll tease you with it,” you said, trailing your hand along his balls and up his shaft.

“You better not,” he said, biting at your nose and missing as you pulled your head back in time. “All right. First time getting tail fucked. Ready?”

You rolled your eyes and pretended to punch him in the chest. “Yes, I’m ready.” How much different could it be, really? “I’m more concerned for you. You’ve never used a cock ring before, let alone a vibe,” you said, widening your eyes.

“We’ll be okay,” he said. Something in the soothing way he spoke, ugh you could just melt into him.

He leaned back against the headboard, his arm bent behind his head to prop himself up. “Ahhh,” he uttered, hissing, guiding his hand over yours stroking his cock. “Sssoo good.”

He looked you in the eyes as he touched himself, bringing his tail in between your legs again, pushing past your folds this time and going straight for your wet core.

You leaned back, propping yourself up with your hands behind you, moaning as he entered you, tossing your head back as your neck went slack. You straddled his waist, almost like you were scissoring.

You watched his tail slide in and out of you repeatedly, moving in a wave-like pattern with a dexterity that a finger or a cock couldn’t provide.

Your body relaxed and you slid onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Finally, the tip of his tail found your g-spot, and as you shuddered against his legs and let out a guttural sound you didn’t even know you could make, he made an “ah-ha!” sound and you could feel him add more pressure to your spot. All the muscles in his tail flexed, going tap tap tap along your walls. You clenched around him.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he said, letting out an amused chuckle. “You’re fun.���

You shook yourself out of a trance-like state, almost entirely forgetting he was there. You forgot he was watching you like you were his own little porno, touching himself to the vision of you before him.

You leaned against his leg, resting your head by his knee. You lazily tickled along his thighs, in between his legs, caressing him, and looking into his eyes as you kissed his inner thigh. You shifted more on your back, arching it, resting one leg on his shoulder so his tail could go deeper inside you. He held onto your ankle by his shoulder, kissing it.

His tail flicked in and out of you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He slipped out of you and up to your clit, massaging it with the tip.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaimed. He tapped it against you in rapid succession - taptaptaptaptaptap - fucking hell! It had to be the musician in him, the quick and agile reflexes. He rubbed the upper part of his tail against your length, before flicking the arrowhead against your clit repeatedly. “Mounty, I’m going to cum! Fuck!!”

He held onto your leg, caressing it, while stroking himself with his other hand. He picked one motion and stuck with it - a firm, but gentle massage on your clit with his tailtip.

Your whole body quivered, your orgasm spilling over. You moaned and clutched onto his leg, biting into his skin to muffle the utterly pathetic moans you know would be coming out of your mouth.

“Ow, shit!” he exclaimed but you could barely hear him.

You bucked your hips against his tail to ride out the last smaller waves of your climax, before settling down again. He retracted his tail from between your legs, and you were left staring at the ceiling for a moment before hearing your name being called over and over again.

“Mmm?” you muttered. “Oh, sorry for biting you.”

He laughed. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you were enjoying yourself.”

You nodded feebly, feeling a little pathetic, but utterly blissed out.

“Think you have one more round in you?”

“Mmm,” you mumbled, not even giving an answer.

He patted the mattress beside him. “C’mere.” He pulled you back up to your knees, which were trembling, between his legs. He held your chin in his hand and whispered, “You wanna know what it’s really like to get fucked?” You nodded in his palm. “Good girl.”

You straddled his waist, hovering over his still erect cock.

“Did you want to use protection?” he asked, leaning over to his drawer to reach inside for some condoms. You shook your head. “You sure?”

You nodded and said, “Yes. Please Mountain, please just fuck me.”

He handed you the ring vibrator remote, but spoke before fully relinquishing it to you. “You hold great power in your hands. Use it well.”

Fucking nerd. You laughed at his corny ass joke and nodded, saying, “Yes sir,” in a fake serious voice.

He leaned over for the lube bottle and spread some all over his hands, covering his tail with it then circling your asshole, getting it nice and wet. You draped your arms over his shoulders as he took your waist in his hands, guiding you over his cock, lining it up with your entrance, then sinking you down onto his lap.

Fuck, he felt so good. It was incredible. And very different from the tail. His cock was firmer, building a different kind of pressure but every bit as pleasurable. You both moaned as you sank slowly on him. You moved your hips up and down, already so tired from before, and starting to falter.

His tail wrapped around your ass before teasing and prodding around it, finally slipping in. The feeling, while out of this world, was incredibly overwhelming. You fell down on his cock with zero grace, shuddering and breathing loudly, moaning every few breaths.

“Mmm!” he groaned, grimacing. He said your name through gritted teeth.

“Oh fuck I’m sorry,” you said.

“It’s okay, it takes a lot more than your beautiful ass to hurt me,” he said with a smile, kissing your lips sweetly while giving your rear a smack. “Mm? Everything okay?”

“I can’t, Mounty, I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

With zero hesitation, he removed his tail from your rear end and started to pull himself out of your entrance.

“No, no, fuck, please that feels so good. I just can’t, my legs are fucking jello. I need you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” he said warmly. He picked you up, his strong hands grasping your waist as he slammed you up and down on his cock. He pummeled into you from below. “Just relax, I got this.”

“Ahhh, fuck!” you wailed, his tail entering your ass once more, this time without teasing the invitation but instead thrusting in with more force. You let your body slack against his, letting him do all the work.

“Remember your very important job?” he said, eyeing the remote that fell out of your hand.

You nodded, tears in your eyes from the intense sensations ripping through your body. You clicked the button, feeling the buzz of the ring on his cock rub against your clit everytime you fell back down on him. You bared down, grinding against the ring and rubbing yourself along his pubic bone. You clicked the next button, heightening the sensation for you both.

“Oh god - I’m not gonna last,” he grunted. “I’m going to cum. Is it okay if I finish inside you?”

You nodded. “Yes,” you said breathlessly.

“You sure? Last chance before I blow.”

“Stop being so polite and just fucking cum inside me!” you shouted.

“Christ, okay!” He groaned as he continued to fuck into you, jerking his hips forward as he shot warm semen inside you, spilling out. He stopped, still holding onto you, burying his face in your chest, breathing heavily. You sat on his cock, the buzz of the cock ring now sitting against your clit. From that and his tail still prodding away at your ass, you came again just a few seconds after him.

“See,” you began, breathing hard and climbing up to him. “When you asked if I wanted to know what it’s really like to get fucked, I swear I thought you were going to use your drumsticks.”

“The thought crossed my mind. So how was it? Any different? Just as good…better?”

“Yeah…like a really wiggly dick,” you answered truthfully.

He laughed boisterously at you. “I always appreciate your candor.”

[suzukiblu]

An excerpt for @wherethevoidends, who wanted to see something that was "feral4feral TimKon". I figured this was close to the right vibe for that, at least, haha.

Context: this is pre-ID reveal for Tim/Robin and definitely "identity porn" is gonna be a tag on this fic when it's finished. Tim is trying to finagle Kon into not living in Cadmus 5ever and Kon just thinks he's been hanging out with a real cool civilian dude whose life he saved once who is for some reason weirdly invested in his housing situation and keeps buying him stuff.

Kon: oh he's hitting on me, duh me

Tim: I'm what??

"Kon–" Tim chokes out unthinkingly, brain all fried out on Kon's weight pressing down into his lap and Kon's body against his body and Kon's mouth high up his throat, on Kon's bare thighs and exposed stomach and the stretch of fabric across his muscles and his–and then he very abruptly remembers that Kon never actually told "Tim Drake" his name and his eyes flare in alarm and he panics and Kon–

Laughs? 

"Wow, you really did do your research," he observes in amusement, leaning back just enough to grin down at him. 

Tim is the luckiest son of a bitch alive. 

Also the stupidest, but that goes without saying. 

"Um," he says weakly. "Sorry?" 

"It's cool, babe, I'm starting to think scary stalker tendencies are just a Gotham thing at this point," Kon teases with another easy laugh, squeezing his arms around Tim's neck. They are unspeakably nice arms and Tim frankly does not deserve their presence. "To say nothing of the control freak stuff. I dunno, is there something in the water around here, or does it all just mean 'I like you' in Gothamite?" 

"So sorry," Tim stresses feebly, and Kon just smiles at him. 

"It's cool," he repeats quietly. "Seriously. I actually kinda like hearing you say my name. Or . . . okay, I really like it. It's still pretty new, to be honest, so I don't really hear it all that much. Shoulda told you it to begin with, I just . . . haven't had many people to tell, I guess.  But it's not like it's a secret or anything."

"Ah," Tim says, his gut twisting with totally, totally inappropriate heat. 

"Wanna say it again, maybe?" Kon asks softly, leaning back in with just the faintest trace of glitter and warmth in his eyes. "Wanna say it all the time?" 

Tim definitely wants to do that, yes. 

"Kon-El," he says, and Kon smiles. 

[hannahyesss]

You know, it be preferable if certain Jily artists would bother to tag their art with poc/desi james potter tag. Cause not all of us consider that headcanon to be ‘canon’. The author is problematic and all, but that doesn’t mean race swapping existing white characters is any better/makes y’all superior. It works for Hermione because she’s a muggleborn and the added subtext of her being picked on by a racist, pureblood white prick like Draco and the garbage Malfoys. And this doesn’t fucking mean Jily=Dramione! Fuck no. If anything, James being the reverse of Draco, but similar in he too was a white, pure blood privileged boy raised and pampered but was actual taught to not be a complete dick to those who’s blood status isn’t pure. Changing his race to fit a certain headcanon is bs and makes Dursleys hypocritical and worse(but skin color logic, they should hate Kingsley too). And it’s always James & Harry. Never Sirius, Remus, or Lily(who has the most reason to be race swapped). So overall, this fandom is a joke

Lolol sorry, I’m answering this despite the fact that I haven’t posted HP on this account in years but since this ask feels like it came out of 2018, I’ll address it…

Here’s the thing, I think you’re using my blog as a platform to be heard/seen. Because I don’t think I ever shared my headcanon of why James and Harry are POC? Because I don’t fucking have one. I dunno, I just drew them as Black once and liked the design.

Can I just get this straight, though? You’re asking me to tag a character as “POC” like it’s a warning? ‘Cause you’re scared you’re gonna see a Black person? 😂 That’s what I’m picking up.

I know you’re having some big feelings right now: “How come we always have to be PC? How come things have to change? How come I can’t be comfortable all the time?” But what it boils down to is the fact that you can’t handle seeing a drawing of a character not exactly the way you want to see them. If you’re unable to scroll past a drawing you don’t like, you might have an anxiety disorder. I am 1000% serious, but you honestly might want to get evaluated by a psychiatrist. Like I am really, really serious. I think this points to something bigger than just being racist.

Or you’re just racist.

Or both! You could definitely be racist and anxious.

(P.S. Also…um… James’s race is never mentioned? I mean, we know Dumbledore is gay but it was never mentioned. Also also, there are POC characters in the stupid Fantastic Beasts movies who belong to pureblood families, and Kingsley Shacklebolt comes from an exceptionally old, pureblood family.)

[whenthebirdsings]

the stranger in spring [ch. 5]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader [no smut here but very explicit language. the full thing is also very horny. so mdni]

tags (for this chapter): once again very bad banter, stalking, public fingering, sexual tension

word count: 4.3k

ch. 4 / full ao3 fic

Sunlight claws at your face as you crack the door open. One eye closed and the other one hidden behind a hand as everything turns blinding white before you blink it away.

The world around you seems to jolt in joy — but everything in you screams the opposite. Your shoulders slouch. Your lips downturn into a frown. A crease between your brows; that dull ache of an oncoming headache again. The day just started and you already feel like going back to bed. But you know you can’t afford that luxury. Already, your phone is blaring with one notification after another from your boss. It’s not even 7:30 yet.

You sigh as you reply to each and every one of them. The birds chirp, and you can vaguely make out the sound of school kids laughing as you sling your bag over your shoulder. Ah, you think, already despondent, another day, another round of depression at work. It’s something you used to say as a joke, but you don’t think it is anymore. Between your workload and the fact that your boss seems hellbent on making your life miserable, you might as well be selling your soul to the devil. Which, to be honest, wouldn’t be that far off the mark.

At this point, you wonder how you’re keeping yourself together. Your body is worn, your eyes have shadows underneath them, the lines of your face are terribly fatigued. And you think you’re starting to drag your feet more and more with each day. Every step is heavier, the pit in your gut seems to grow bigger. You feel suffocated. Just this morning, you looked into the mirror and you think you saw death. You feel like one, at least.

“Excuse me,” a voice chimes in from beside you, breaking you out of your reverie.

You turn just in time to see a delivery guy standing before the apartment next door. Briefly, you look down to see all the boxes from last night already gone. Then, you peer at the one in the delivery guy’s hands — this one seemingly bigger, seemingly heavier. Causing him to struggle as his arms shake and his legs threaten to give out. He’s trying not to stagger back into the railing as he eyes you sheepishly.

“Um, sorry,” he says. Apparently flustered. “Do you know if the person who lives here is at home? I have their package, but they’re not opening up no matter how many times I knock on the door.”

Well, at least you’re not the only person having a bad day.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t met them,” you answer. Smile soft, but bitter comfort. You can understand the pain of being just a cog in a bigger system. “Perhaps you can leave it there? I’m guessing you have other packages to deliver, so it might not be the best idea to wait. They probably already went to work.”

He seems to consider that. “You could be right,” he agrees. A pause before he then heaves out a sigh as though exasperated. “See, I could just leave it here, but I kinda need their sign? I dunno, company rules or whatever.” He looks over at you and appraises your work bag and your well-dressed outfit. “Sorry, you must be on your way to work as well. I shouldn’t be keeping you.”

You laugh. Shaking your head and dismissing him with a wave. “No need,” you say. Fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. You glance down to see school kids boarding the bus near your apartment. In a few seconds, the doors close and you watch it drive away. “But, yeah. There goes the school bus — which means mine might be here in, like, five minutes or something. So I do have to go.”

“Ah.” He nods. Following your gaze before sparing you an apologetic smile. “Right. I hope you have a good day, then.”

“You, too,” you say, nodding back. Your lips pulling up into a grin. Maybe today’s start wasn’t that bad. It’s been a while since anyone’s told you to have a good day. You check your wristwatch before spinning on your heels — but not before bidding the delivery guy farewell. “Well! That’s my cue to leave. Wishing you luck on that package. If push comes to shove, just knock the door down.”

He doesn’t say much else. Simply laughs as he waves back. Or tries to, at least. With that huge box pretty much covering up most of his body, you don’t think he can afford the privilege of freeing one hand to respond to your gesture. Still, you appreciate it nonetheless.

You step down the stairs just in time to hear the delivery guy knocking at your new neighbor’s door again. It creaks open — and your curiosity piques. Had it not been for your bus, you probably would have glanced back just to catch a glimpse of your next door neighbor.

But then the driver sounds a honk, and the thought is immediately forgotten. You rush through the doors just in time to notice a tall body behind the delivery guy. They’re covered, though — hidden behind a package too large. All you can tell from this angle is the fact that he’s a guy. His figure seems like one, at least.

“Took you long enough.”

Satoru opens the door to see Suguru standing there with a huge box. His lips thinning into a scowl as he exhales a loud, frustrated huff.

“Suguru,” is all Satoru says. Peering past his shoulder to stare at the bus speeding away before he dips his gaze back to his friend. A frown now marring his forehead as Suguru waits for no response and simply nudges him aside to step into his apartment. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you wanted no hand in this?”

“Well, I wanted to have a look at the girl,” Suguru shrugs. Dropping the box unceremoniously at the center of his room. “As always, she’s none the wiser. It’s kinda funny.”

Satoru stares into space before the lost look on his face dissipates. Eyes glazed over before they’re back to their calm ocean blues again. “What did you talk about?”

Suguru purses his lips in thought. Apparently displeased that he’s ignoring his snide remark before he expels a sigh. “Nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure,” he replies, voice lifting in a laugh as Satoru levels him with a look.

“Tread carefully, Suguru,” Satoru warns. Voice composed, save for that cold edge underlying his tone. “If she finds out who you are, it might jeapordize the both of us.”

“You mean you,” Suguru points out. Sounding a scoff as Satoru’s shoulders tense into a rigid line before he wills them relaxed again. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch, ‘Toru. I doubt she’ll even remember me if she sees me again.”

Satoru contemplates that. “And if she does?”

“Then you know what to do,” says Suguru simply. A shrug of his shoulder uncaring as he flops on the couch and switches on the TV. Flipping between channels to find something interesting before landing on a terribly-made horror movie. “It’s nothing you haven’t done. It’s par for the course the moment you decided to get involved with her, no?”

Satoru wisely opts to pay that no mind. “If you want anything to eat, there’s some leftovers in the fridge. Just heat them up,” he offers instead. Sparing a glance at the clock ticking 7:45 before grabbing the remote and changing the channel again.

“Hey!” Suguru protests. Hand already shuffling through some of the snacks in one of Satoru’s boxes. “I was watching that.”

“It’s a bad movie anyway,” Satoru snorts. Slapping away Suguru’s hand from his snacks as he gestures towards the fridge instead. “I do have a microwave, ya know? Besides, I need you to watch someone else for me. Don’t do anything yet. Just keep an eye on them.”

“I told you,” Suguru starts, words slurred and muffled from chewing on the few chips he managed to snatch before Satoru took the whole bag away, “I’m not interested in whatever weird plan you might have. This obsession has to stop somewhere.”

“And yet, you’re still playing along,” Satoru points out with a wolfish grin. He knows he’s won for now when Suguru presses his lips tight. “It’s nothing much. Just tell me what they’re up to now and then. Also, dig up some dirt if you have to.” There’s a pause as Satoru’s eyes flash. The slightest of a laugh before he curbs it. “The filthiest dirt possible if you can.”

Suguru looks down to see Satoru sliding him a photo. “She doesn’t even remember you, ‘Toru,” he says, voice oddly gentle. “I can do that for you if that’s what you need. But I’m not sure if I’m liking where this is going.”

Satoru peers him over for a moment. “Is that your opinion as an accomplice or a best friend?”

“Both,” Suguru’s answer comes quick. Even so, he takes the photo out of Satoru’s grasp. Albeit, not without heaving another sigh. “This won’t end well. You know it never does,” is all he says. It’s what he always says.

And then, Satoru would always give him the same expression. That same cold smile, that same edge in one eye. Features a vacant stare; gaze dead like he’s already lost to time. Like this, with the sunlight scratching at his face, his complexion seems strangely sharp. Details of his face tired but ruthless. Shards of glass broken to pieces; waiting to cut, to break through skin. Nothing good will come out from being at his receiving end or the object of his affection — whatever that means in Satoru’s point of view.

But that’s not Suguru’s problem to worry about. Not until later when he has to clean up after Satoru’s mess.

So he’s not surprised when Satoru simply brushes him off. As always, reticent. As always, flippant. Walls closing in on himself.

“She’ll remember,” is all Satoru says. It’s what he always says. That same pensive tune again. “She has to.”

[8:15am] handsome money bags: guess what

You halt mid-typing to glance at your phone. Satoru’s contact name stares back at you in white text, a half-smile tugging at your lips at the thought of him reaching out to you so early in the morning. You’re also already working your ass off so early in the morning, but you think it might be easier with something nice to leer at.

[8:16am] you: did your butt get stuck to the bed or something? how come you’re not already here at the office. lucky you, must be pretty privilege again

Stretching in your seat, you’re about to put down your phone so you can avert your attention back to work. But then your phone dings with another notification — a laugh leaving you at the words written on the screen.

[8:17am] handsome money bags: youre just jealous im hot. which, tbh, i don’t really get it because youre already hot as fuck. [8:17am] handsome money bags: but to answer your question, nope my butt did not get stuck to my bed. stop thinking about ass at work, y/n! that’s scandalous smh [8:18am] handsome money bags: also, what i meant to say before you (very rudely, might i add) interrupted me is that i had a dream about you

You arch an eyebrow at that last message. A flush coming to rest on your cheeks over the thought of him being that affected by you. It makes your chest swell with pride; the briefest of your ego stroked before you try to massage the blush away. Unfortunately, your hand isn’t an eraser, so it doesn’t help much.

Your fingers are an odd tremble as you brush them over the keyboard. Mindlessly typing out your reply.

[8:19am] you: bold words for someone who stares at my ass every five seconds [8:20am] you: also what do you mean you had a dream? haha what is it about? i’m totally not that curious.

You were too distracted by the feeling of your heart stuttering to notice the presence behind you. That is, at least, until you feel an arm draping over your seat. His cologne creeping up your nose even before you turn to face him as you meet dark sunglasses before white and blue. That sly grin lining ever so perfect and soft lips. Now that he’s so close, you can definitely tell that he’s wearing lip balm. The arrogant prick.

You find your own tingling with heat — itching to touch, to taste and smother him out of breath. Kiss the moisture away from his lips and replace it with a smear of red from your lipstick. Yet, you suppress the urge. Grabbing at his collar and shoving your tongue down his throat when your colleagues could walk in at any given moment probably wouldn’t be the best idea. Tempting, but not the best.

“Three guesses on what it is,” Satoru says. Looking around for any onlookers before leaning in to place the sneakiest of a kiss along your temple when he notices none. You jut your lower lip out in a pout — disappointed by the cryptic answer and the fact that he didn’t kiss you where you want. Then again, you don’t know if you’d be able to stop if he did.

“Speaking in riddles much?” you retort, sinking back into your chair and pinning him with a sarcastic smile. Seemingly calm, despite the red flushing down your neck and disappearing under your shirt. His gaze follows the trail of your shame; blues dimming in lust before he blinks it away.

“Curious much?” he shoots back. Hand propping himself against your desk as his sunglasses slide down to the bridge of his nose. He’s grinning; a little too smug and a little too pleased. You roll your eyes, but the look loses its intended effect when you sputter at the feel of his foot brushing up your calf. “For someone who claims she’s not.”

You scowl. “I’m really not,” comes the huff. Not that it says much with the lack of bite in your tone. The crack in your voice as you shudder when he inches his face closer. Too close, you think. Feeling his lips hover over yours, his hot breath on supple skin.

His hand wraps around your shoulder. His voice dipping into a low purr. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

It takes a moment for you to swallow a lump in your throat. Your chest tight before you cough out loud.

“Why are you here so early anyway?” you ask instead of supplying him a response. Changing the subject before the blood rushes too much to your head. “Didn’t peg you as the type to clock in fifteen minutes earlier.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything at once. Lips slanting into a smile as his gaze flickers in amusement. Seemingly entertained by your lame, pathetic half-attempts at collecting your tattered composure.

Still, he allows you some distance and reprieve. Pulling back — but not before giving your shoulder a squeeze and relishing in the sound of your breath hitching. Not before granting himself another chaste kiss on your cheek and tucking your hair behind your ear. Soft, before he’s gone again. Out of your space and away from your fingers that crave to pull him in. Closer and closer, until you don’t know where you end and he begins.

“Hm.” He sounds the hum, whirling your seat around to tilt you into facing your laptop’s screen again. In an instant, your hands start meandering over your keyboard — instinctive as you type out some words on a work file. Only slightly focusing on the task at hand as Satoru leans down. Lips ghosting the shell of your ear, breath wisping the hair on your nape.

“Well, I, for one, definitely pegged you as the type to clock in at least thirty minutes earlier,” he whispers. Teeth catching your earlobe before tugging it back. Nipping hard then letting go. “So I figured I might as well see you before anyone else. You know, maybe steal a kiss or two. Fuck my cum once or twice into you.”

Your fingers stop. A low whine escaping you as your mind grows heady with desire. Your skin prickling from where he touched, warmth left behind as his hand absent-mindedly traces your collarbone. Fingers dipping just slightly under fabric, mapping a line up your slender neck and eliciting a shiver. His nails scrape against your pulse — and your eyes flutter. Your toes curl and your knees buckle. Neck still remembering the memories of his hand wrapped around your throat. That crazed look in blue eyes as you choke, you pant, you sing him praise for knocking the air out of you.

“Satoru,” you pant. In warning, in want. Eyes blown wide before you blink away the haze in them. Panic flitting past your face at the sight of your coworkers walking in one by one. Satoru lets go at the same time you lean forward — laughing at you as you threaten to curl into your laptop in hopes that no one noticed.

“Relax,” he says. You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted. The slightest of lust lingering still even through your exasperation. He shrugs; that annoying mischievous grin ever present. “No one saw. They were too busy looking at their phones.”

“Thank god for social media,” you sigh in relief into your palms as you drag hands over your face. Peeking from behind your fingers just in time to see Satoru pulling out a chair from one of the other cubicles. “Nuh-uh, you’re not doing that. Also, Kujishima might have a day off today but I don’t think you should be using his belongings however you want.”

But it’s too late. Satoru’s already placing it next to you and sitting down by the time your tangent is finished. He ignores the weird looks your other coworkers send in your direction.

“Okay, little miss perfect,” he laughs. Brushing you off with a wave and tucking his chin into his hand as he studies the document in front of you. “And it’s called borrowing. I’m sure Kuji-what’s-his-face won’t mind.”

“Kujishima,” you correct him. But you don’t say much else. Exhaling a sigh as you already know he won’t relent either way. Satoru shrugs a shoulder, sounding a nonchalant scoff as he traces a thumb over the side of one paper in your many files.

“Honestly, you should be the one having a day off,” he says. Frowning a little as though in thought. “Do you even take breaks? I feel like all I see you do is work.” There’s a pause as he ponders that for a moment. You know from the glint in his gaze that it’s nothing good — even more so when his ankle flutters past yours from under your desk. “And, well, some other things.”

You flush at the implication, but choose to pay it no mind. “You never told me your dream,” you remind him instead.

He taps a finger on your desk. For some reason, the single sound resonates in an echo in your head. One thud louder than the last.

“It’s something to do with our weekend hang out,” he answers. Once again, a sly grin. Once again, something in his face you can’t really pick apart. “You’re still down for that, right? You said yes last time, but it doesn’t hurt to check.” You raise an eyebrow at him and he lifts up his arms in defense. “Hey now, don’t look at me like that. I’m just making sure so I don’t get stood up is all.”

All that does is cause you to shoot your other eyebrow up. This time, in surprise rather than confusion. “You’ve been stood up before?”

Another laugh breaks out of him. “No.”

“Oh,” you say, before slipping out your own laugh. Right. You should have figured as much. It’s just that there had been something there — his smile hadn’t been as wide, his laugh not as sincere. For a moment, it actually made you wonder.

He pouts at that. “Just ‘oh’? You’re toying with my heart over here.”

You slow down your typing to look him over. Somewhat enjoying the way he seems to fidget as he waits for your response. It sits foreign on his face — that look like he’s holding his breath. Maybe even afraid of a no.

You suck in the inside of your cheek. Smiling to yourself as a thought sneaks into mind. “Well,” you start, cracking your knuckles before resuming your typing again. Fingers quickly tapping on your keyboard. “I did say yes. But now you’re making me think it over because you’re being a dick about your dream.”

Satoru purses his lips. But then they tilt upwards. Another roguish grin. You can’t help but feel like you’ve walked into another trap. “Say yes and you’ll find out. We can just, you know, re-enact what happened in my dream and see what happens.”

You shoot him an accusing glare. “You’re trying to trick me again.”

He feigns a startled gasp. One hand to his chest for added effect. “You think that little of me?” he fakes a sob. Only to break character when you make an exaggerated gesture of rolling your eyes. “Seriously. I’m not trying to trick you. I’m just, uh, providing you a practical demonstration. Works better than a detailed retelling, right?”

There are eyes digging into your back as he leans too close. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee as he pretends to peer over the document you’re working on. You can already hear the whispers; the so-called tea spilled, the gossip under hushed breaths. But at the moment, you can’t seem to care. Not when Satoru’s trailing fingers up your thighs. Not when he’s parting your legs and kneading at supple flesh. Up and down — his laugh drowning out your low pant.

“You said three guesses,” you say lamely. Thankful as he drops his jacket over your lap and scoots you further into your desk. Hiding what’s happening underneath in plain sight. Not that it helps, because anyone with a brain and working eyes would be suspicious. But you can’t deny the thrill of excitement down the base of your spine. Aroused, even if another part of you fears getting caught.

“I did,” Satoru murmurs. Another laugh as he slides underwear to the side. Fingers feeling wet folds before sinking into tight heat. “But you don’t wanna guess.”

He hooks his fingers and angles them at your g-spot. Slow, deliberate strokes that cause your hips to shake. Firm rubs of his palm on your clit that render you speechless and mindless as he calmly flips through your files like it’s a normal Tuesday. He pulls out almost entirely before shoving back in — and you bite back a scream. Pleasure short-circuiting your brain as your mouth hangs open. Rust on your tongue as your teeth break through skin.

All that leaves you after that is a yes.

“You’re coming over?” you say as your best friend brings up Satoru. Your legs still feel like jello; shuddering and threatening to collapse even hours after. Even now, you can still feel his warmth on the apex of your thighs. His laugh burning into your skin. Tongue on your cheeks, lips on your lips. The way he pushed you against the wall in the store room during lunch break to finish what he started.

“No, I don’t mind,” you reassure her. You hope she didn’t notice how your breath grew heavier before you recouped yourself again. “It’s just that. He’s. Wow. He’s just. Wow,” is all you can manage to utter out. She barks out a loud from the other side of your phone and you’re flustered. Red tinting your cheeks as you try to cool that heat forming in your belly.

“Anyway.” You clear your throat. Deciding to save the topic of Satoru until after she’s over at your place so you don’t accidentally fuck yourself in the middle of nowhere. Not that being turned on in front of your best friend would be great either — but, well. Better than on a dark road at least. “Do you want anything? I might drop by the convenience store in a bit. Was just gonna grab a pack of beer, but since you’re coming over, think I’m gonna need the whole store.”

You lean into your phone just in time to catch her telling you to fuck off. A laugh ripples out of you — but that sound, too, gets drowned out by the rain as it drops quickly down your umbrella. Everything else muffled in the midst of the loud pitter patters surrounding you as you squint your eyes. Only barely making out the lights of the convenience store through the heavy downpour.

“Girl, I gotta hang up,” you say. Noticing that you’re almost running out of battery. “Text me when you’re co —”

“— ming over. Also, let me know what you wanna eat.”

One step, two steps, three steps — he follows you like a shadow sticking closely behind. Movements synchronized, pace set to match yours. Twenty feet becomes ten feet, and he’s lingered too close. Still, you don’t notice. Still, the rain is too loud for you to notice. He tilts his umbrella down to cover his face as he eyes your heels clicking towards the convenience store. Another waiting game. He’s had too many of those over the years.

He sniffs in the air. Catching moisture and petrichor at the same time you step out of the store. Always none the wiser; lips that oblivious grin, eyes that bright life despite the shadows all around. He sounds a laugh — but you don’t hear that either. Nor do you notice his steps; footfalls quiet and deadly composure. Any other day, he wouldn’t be able to wander this close.

He has the rain to thank for that.

[sacredswords]

Hello. Welcome to the blog, sacredswords. Wish I could've gotten us a better url but. Look where we are. hh. So anyways— this blog is dedicated to me and my friends who happen to be chosens of the Swords of Justice. Like. From Unova . We all share this blog so everyone will be posting.

Um, please specify who you're sending parcel to! I'm a little scared how it'll work, and I don't want someones mail to get mixed up— so please just specify! It's me— Sunday— writing this, but everyone else will have intros.

⚔️ Hi. Yeah. Speaking of, Sunday. That's me. Cobalion chose me. No cool powers come from it, I've actually felt worse since then. He/him. 19. Not in college right now, not interested... I'm still a busy guy though.

⚔️ Oh, uhh. My posts are tagged with #slice and dice / legends. watch me. If that isn't obvious, I start my posts with the first two words in blue.

Hiya! My name is Sabre, lovely to meet you!

Pronouns are she/they, I'm 20, and I'm the chosen of Virizion! The best sword, of course! In my very humble opinion anyways <3

You don't get to know about my personal life though. You have to find that out yourself, hehe! Do know my posts are in green though, and if you just do happen to have bad eyes, my posts are tagged with #As leaves fall. Excited to meet you all! ✨

YO! What’s up I’m Finnick chosen of Terrakion and use He/Him pronouns! I’m 18 years old, and definitely the strongest here!

I actually did get a big of super strength from Terrakion which rules! Fresh out of highschool as well! My posts will be tagged with #Finn says

HI. MY NAME IS. Well. uh. ACTUALLY JUST CALL ME SOMETHING TO DO WITH SWORDS!! or like. KEldeo kid. OR somethin. I DUNNO. I HAVE A KELDEO THOUGH SO THATS COOL. workin on. other things. FINNY SAYS THAT HES THE STRONGEST BUT ITS ME. Oh pronouns are. They and them. Or. YEAH THAT. my posts are gonna beee in blue 'n red!

Well. MY tags are gonna beee. something. #Keldeo kicks

open below

hello chat, adon here

welcome to group blog with my friends!!

we wanted to make chosen ocs and look where we are. please keep in mind that some things on a group blog are finicky and i dont exactly expect this to act functional on a website like this. additionally, remember that this is a pkmn irl/rotomblr blog! please keep ( post ) interactions limited to said community

before you interact, each mun is going to specify exactly what interaction or boundaries they have. pleassseee read through them and actually pay mind to them!!!

adon/sunday - hi!! all interaction (mail, malice, m!a) are allowed ... i may be picky with m!a on here though. nothing too nsfw/explicit, im a minor. any trigger warnings for sunday are just terrible/abusive parenting. my hub is @adonverse

castor/sabre - Hello!! I'm Castor, he/they/it, and I run @psn-stalling!!! I'm accepting most mail and whatnot, but will be rather picky with magic anons! Uhhh suggestive stuff is okay, but use common sense and whatnot. :3 Also I will note Sabre's personality is loosely based on another character's from a totally different franchise for sillies so if you end up noticing that that's why <3

somnus/finnick -hallo, so first all interactions are welcome. Suggestive asks will be okay but nothing to bad. If you’re ever unsure on what to say just send an ask :) my main is @somnussayz

Lane/Keldeo Kid - Hullo!!! I except most interaction (mail & malice) but I'm gonna say no on Magic anons, unless they're particularly funny (AND NON-PERMANENT!!) No nsfw/explicit, the kid is. Well. A kid. Haven't decided exactly what is Up with them yet, but there'll probably be some trigger warnings eventually. If something goes untagged and it should be tagged, please let me know, I'm not good at judging that sort of thing. My main is @wandering-lane!

extra notes

them, in the order they were introduced

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[thebluestbluewords]

and soon it’ll be spring

testing out some character voices. Set in a vague future timeline, fandom-typical discussions of child abuse.

+

Carlos hasn't seen his mother in years. Hasn't spoken to her since he left the isle. There's phones, and computers, and mail service to the isle, and sometimes the reception even works now, but he hasn't reached out. 

Evie sends letters to her mother sometimes. She addresses them to her old castle, encloses herbs and chocolate and eyeshadow. She doesn't read the responses that come back, but her mother sends them anyway, and Evie keeps sending her packages even though she can't bear to see whatever her mother has to say back to her. 

Carlos can't even do that. 

He's a bad son, probably. An ungrateful brat. Useless. Worthless. His mother could have drowned him as a baby, killed him like an unwanted puppy, and they'd all have been better off without the bother. He's been a bad son since he was born. Weak. A vulnerability. 

He breathes, keeps his voice steady. "Yup. That." 

Diego moves in a flurry of violent motion. He's facing away, towards the river, but Carlos still has to suppress the urge to flinch. Diego wears heavy boots, steel-toes even though he's never been in a real factory in his life, and every Isle kid's seen the damage they can do. 

The rock he kicked goes flying into the river. 

"Fuck." his cousin snaps. "Fuck! I remember that." 

Carlos can't laugh, but there's a sort of bubbling fear that's catching in his throat, and he can let some of it out. "Hah. Yeah. Um, I sort of — I cried a lot, that summer? It was hot and awful and you wouldn't come by the house, and I wasn't allowed to be at yours, so we started looking for a better hideout that year. D'you remember when Ivy found that place by the forest—" 

"—the one with the metal roof, where we got trapped by Kaa and you rigged a crossbow out of guitar strings." Diego finishes. "Fuck. I knew we found a new hideout that year, but I thought it was 'cause we got those drums for Sierra and couldn't keep them quiet down in the warehouse." 

Carlos shrugs. He's always been the little one, the tag-along. Diego's gang didn't tell him anything when he was a kid, and they still don't really talk. He's magicam friends with Sierra and Ivy, but Mia won't even accept his follow request. They didn't want him then, they don't want him now, and it's not even really a sore point anymore. He's got his own pack. No teenagers really want a little kid hanging around them, especially a kid who's already showing that he's a weak point.  "Might'a been. I dunno." 

"Nah, it was 'cause dad didn't want you hanging around the house anymore," Diego says firmly, shaking his head. "We found a new place so you'd have somewhere to go'n hide when your mom went ballistic. You were tiny, y'know."

It's sort of a logical leap, but sort of not.

 "I'm still short." Carlos points out. "You don't feel compelled to protect me now, right?" 

"Hah. Hah. Very funny, nerd." 

"I'm just saying—”He ducks the hand that shoots out to scrub his hair into a rat's nest. Score one for Isle kid instincts. "I'm say-ing," Carlos continues, undeterred. "That you didn't have to protect me back then. I could've taken care of myself." 

"You were a kid." 

"And you were what, twelve? Thirteen?" 

"Older," Diego says firmly. He's still looking out towards the water. "Old enough to protect my baby cousin." 

"Mom didn't kill me. I'm still here." 

Diego's arms are smooth and unmarked by the round cigarette burns that cover Carlos's arms, hands, chest, belly. Anywhere he was soft, she liked to burn. 

"She could've," Diego rasps out. "She almost did. I wasn't big enough to stop her."

"The spell—”

"FUCK THE SPELL." he shouts. Too loud. People are looking at them. People in Auradon love to stare and judge VKs, even when they're dressed just like anyone else in the city, but shouting was a reason to stare even back home. 

Diego notices, and drops his arms down, swinging the cup in his hand back and forth like a melting pendulum of coffee and sugar.  "Fuck it," he repeats, quieter. "If Auradon wanted us alive so bad, they should've put in the work themselves instead of relying on the barrier to keep bouncing us back." 

Carlos lifts one shoulder in agreement. He's pretty sure that the spell does a lot more than just keep them in their bodies, what with the healing factor and the way it won't kick you back in unless you've got a body to go back to, but it's a solid enough argument if you don't go into specifics. Claudine and the religious types at Dragon Hall had a whole rant on tap about how the barrier was being used to bounce their souls out of their path to heaven, so that they'd rejoin their bodies again and keep them alive even longer, but thinking about the concept of souls makes Carlos feel an emotion that Mal calls "stabbing" and Jay calls "a working bullshit sensor." Evie calls it "a rational emotional response to religious guilt-tripping bullshit", which sounds better than stabbing, but like, the point still stands that souls aren't real and listening to Claudine's lecture about them makes Carlos feel mostly doubtful, and also sort of like he's a shitty person. Which is probably the point of religion.

"S'not really bouncing," he says quietly, keeping his voice low and face turned down. People stare less if they're not obviously talking to each other, because Auradon has different standards for communication and watching VKs shout-talk directly at each other makes people stare. "It's not like we ever really die."

Diego levels a flat look at him. 

"Okay, yeah, they should've put more work into keeping us alive," Carlos agrees, because it's true. Auradon locked them up and threw away the key, and didn't even bother to check on their island of villains once they'd settled down from the initial bloodshed and power scrambles. "But the scientific basis for being bounced back into our bodies by the spell just isn't there. If they're using the barrier to trap our souls or whatever in an impenetrable bubble, then how're new souls getting in for the kids born on the Isle? If it's a true closed system it doesn't make sense. And I know--" He sucks in a breath before Diego can get a word in edgewise, because he knows. The souls aren't the point. The magic isn't even the point. "It doesn't matter how they're keeping us there so long as there's still kids starving and being killed on that rock. I know. But I can't push the wheels of government any faster, because I'm not the fucking king, or a representative, or anything. I'm a testimony at best,and it's not like being born on the Isle gives me the power to do anything about it."

Diego snorts. "Wow, you can't fix twenty years of systematic disenfranchisement on your own? Call the presses, my genius cousin can't fix something in five years that took twenty to break in the first place." 

The guilt that lives in the place where other people keep their feelings swirls up in Carlos's chest again. "I could've tried." 

"In between what, surviving high school? Petitioning the king to listen to us? 'Cause it seems like we're a lot further than we'd've been without your crew's work." 

"I built a machine to break the barrier," Carlos tells the river. "Back home. Before we left. It nearly worked." 

Diego kicks another rock into the river. "I know." 

Carlos feels his heart stutter-stop. "You—what?" 

"I know," Diego repeats. "You built shit all the time. You'd talk about it in your sleep. I stopped by that treehouse of yours one time, and you had the whole thing torn apart. You were talking to your crew about it. I listened for a while."

"When?"

The cold bottom of his cousin's coffee cup bonks into Carlos's skull. "Before you left, genius. I dunno. You didn't have it working yet."

"I thought I was being sneaky about that."

"You were. I'm just sneakier. If you'd been reverse engineering the whole barrier, you'd've built it better right?" 

"I would've given us the dignity of dying, if that's what you're asking." 

"Yeah." Diego says quietly, and then. "Fuck. That's morbid." 

Carlos shrugs. Maybe thinking about better ways to die makes them morbid, but it's still comforting to think that if he'd been the one to engineer their prison, that he'd've been able to give them the mercy of actually dying. "We're villains. It's our speciality. We're supposed to be all about death, and murder, and stuff." 

Diego laughs. They laugh the same way, the two of them. More of a bark than a real laugh. There's probably some irony there, if they wanted to go digging for it. "Didn't you hear, little cousin? We're supposed to be good now. No more murder. We're reformed villains, no more claws and fangs." 

They're reformed, but Diego still calls at 3am sometimes, just to make sure that he's still breathing. 

"Damn, guess I'll have to return the axe I bought," Carlos drawls, hefting his cup up like it's a weapon. "And the rat poison, and the chains for the dungeon..." 

"Kinky." 

[greattigeress777]

dropping all of my ideas here becauze what the fuck ist a diary dawg

okay sooooo

im tiredposting rn but... Punch Out AU that is Copacabana by Barry Manilow but Lola is Disco Kid and Tony is Piston Hondo and Rico is Super Macho Man??

And another idea, for my king hippo female design i'm gonna give her a coconut shell bra because i wanna

And for Bald Bull's female design i'm going to keep her bald (side rant but why does no one ever make bald bull bald when shes female?? Like its sorta her whole gimick cuz shes from turkey innit) but i'll pull a don flamenco toupee move sorta so in her contender mode she has a headband or a head covering thing that you knock of and that she doesnt have in title defense mode :3

an now i'm gonna drop three headcanons for each character + what they smell like because I got really bored in IEU so id like so share this with the class... The class that I didn't GO TO BECAUSE I WAS IN THE IEU-

Glass Joe:

• Has a weak bone problem (idk the name of the condition but idrc man its 00:40 💔)

• Has a slight lisp, doesn't notice

• Giggles at the word 'sprinkle' for some reason. Dunno why.

What he smells like: Cotton balls and maybe a bit of cannabis (same)

Von Kaiser:

• Hates the tags in clothes and has cut off all of the tags in his shirts and trousers ect ect

Sorry just had to show you guys this bug in my sink he is a right funny fella and I wish only the best for him

Anyways

• Likes moths a lot (autistic hyperfixtation) and whenever he sees one he gets all excited and childish

• moustache twirling is his way of stimming because hes a dapper chap innit

What he smells like: whiskey and the distinct smell of really old German bars

Disco Kid:

• walks really zesty and does that thing with his hand you kno wjat i mean??

• Says 'ballerina cappucina' a lot and giggles at Jaefei (?) memes loads too

• Number 1 childish gambino dickrider (i almost wrote discrider cuz of my fatass thumbs also FUN FACT AS A SOCITYEYI OUTR THUNBS AFE ACTUALLY GETTING WIDER FROM LIKE PHONES AND STUFF my geohraohy feacher told me that)

Also speaking of geopgraphy did u guys know that there was a wildfire in my town and it almost fucked up the forest water reservoir anyways back on topic

What he smells like: jojo siwa perfume- er i mean... Probably iced coffee, and some girly perfume im guessing So...? Unique candy love candies & rose body mist or maybe he uses setting spray as perfume (why) and id probably guess like... The e.l.f dewy coconut setting mist or somethinf

Why would u use setting spray as perfume by the way

King Hippo:

• actually very very hygenic and owns a bunch of different smelling soaps, his favourites has to be the dove orange one

• his favourite fruit is pineapple

• idk if i should have put this under disco kid's headcannon but disco kid is the only one who can understand his random fucking noises and they just have conversations together about furniture and stuff and disco just nods along and shit and can translate what he says to other people too

What he smells like: i just said it you fucking dung beetle (omg beatles reference KILLLLL JOHNNNN LENNONNNN KILLLLL JOHNNNNN LENNONNNNNNNNN if john lennon was a lesbian would he be john lemon)

Im stopping there cuz um lazy so im just gonna yap now wait why are you still readibg this well if yer still reading thsi drop a LIKE SUBARUSCRIBE AND FOLLOW AND COMMENT IN THE COMET SECTION no

Its 01:21 am and I have to get up at 03:50 are you so for real right neow

Might delete this bro im just bored

[nowoyas]

koi no yokan 41: girl's night!

First - Prev - Next - M.list 1-30 - M.list 30-60 - Ao3

A/N: happy valentine's day! here's a bonus update <3

Summary: You always did want an older sister or two.

Warnings and Tags: none!

Words: ~3800

It takes you twenty minutes to get changed.

It's less to do with the motions and more to do with your incessant need to scream. You spend most of the time sitting on the floor, face buried in your hands, making a sound something like a tea kettle so as to not attract unwarranted attention. You barely manage a text to the girls, letting them know that something came up and could you come by sooner? Once you receive a response, you drag yourself to your feet and finally get dressed, still trying to process Noya's cheek under your lips.

To your delight, your arrival at the Nishinoya household is greeted by Soba padding up, meowing in reply to your I'm home. Satsuki is a few steps behind.

"Welcome home, beautiful! What happened? Why aren't you at practice?"

Your shoulders shake a little with your inhale, and her expression shifts. "What's wrong?"

"I-I think it's adrenaline? I dunno, I—"

"Well, come on, sit down. Are you up for talking about it, and are you up for explaining it or hearing it explained more than once?"

"Story time?" you try weakly. "Just once, if possible?"

"Great! You get the bad day blanket. It tends to attract Soba, so good luck getting up." She launches the blanket in question at you, maneuvers you to sit down. In the next moment, she's yelling for Kaede, and Mei is emerging from the kitchen, and then, for some reason, you're all piling onto the floor in the living room, backs leaned up against the couch. Given the chance, you scoop up Tsuyu, cuddle him against your chest as snacks are laid out.

"Okay, we have a story time?" Kaede says when all is ready. "I'm assuming this has to do with why you're here four hours early?"

"Sorry," you cringe. "I didn't wanna—"

"Nope, no apologies. Story time."

So you inhale. You exhale. You kiss Tsuyu on top of his little head for comfort. "I broke Asuka's nose."

"Oh my god, marry me," Satsuki replies immediately.

You laugh. "Yeah, Senpai said the same thing."

"Did the cuck talk to you? I sort of threatened to break his wrist earlier."

"Satsuki…" Kaede sighs.

"There's more, isn't there?" Mei says. "Story time."

You nod. "Well, he didn't come talk to me. Apparently because a certain someone went and threatened him—which, thank you for your concern, probably not necessary? But appreciated—he went and confronted Noya. Who he then punched."

All three girls straighten up immediately. "Oh, did he? That's interesting." Satsuki tilts her head. "Do we wanna go on a field trip? I can find out where he lives in less than ten minutes."

"He's actually at the hospital with a broken thumb. I did tell him not to tuck said thumb when he makes a fist, but he didn't think I'd know anything about that so I guess he didn't listen. Senpai might be a little bruised tomorrow, but he's always a little bruised so he'll be okay."

She tosses her head back with laughter. "Would've been more satisfying for me if I'd done it, but I can accept that. Is Yuu okay?"

You nod, face already feeling hot. "He, um, h-he'll be fine. If he had been expecting it, I'm pretty sure Asuka wouldn't have done any damage at all. A-and he didn't get in trouble or anything, just me and Asuka. I'm suspended from school tomorrow and clubs for the next two days, and they sent me home today."

"Hang on, what are you getting embarrassed for? Breaking his nose was a good thing. I'm proud of you."

"Please don't encourage her to break people's noses." Kaede sighs. "I'm glad no one important was hurt. How are you holding up?"

A shrug, a weak little laugh. "Still processing. I didn't really break up with him properly but I think telling him I wasn't his fucking girlfriend was message enough."

"Attagirl. Mei's got a cake in the oven for the occasion, right?"

"Right!" Mei grins. "We've also got ice cream and snacks, and Okaa-san's fine with us ordering pizza later. Oh, I don't know if Yuu managed to find someone for a last-minute Monday night sleepover, though, so he may be joining us after practice. Is that okay?"

You pull your knees to your chest. You have no fucking idea how you're supposed to look him in the eye after earlier, but you'll avoid eye contact with that bridge when you get to it.

"I-it's fine."

Satsuki's eyes have narrowed onto you. "Are we missing part of the story? You're acting really embarrassed about Yuu. Usually you do that tough girl, tsundere thing."

"No, nothing! Just—never gotten that mad for someone else before, I guess." Like hell are you telling them you kissed him. Like hell. "It's just sort of embarrassing that my first response to seeing him get hurt was to break the other guy's nose."

Thank the gods, she buys it. "Did it feel good? Usually when I get into fights it feels really good."

"Yeah…"

"Do you regret it?"

"Of course not."

"Then there's nothing to be embarrassed about." Satsuki grins. "How 'bout you go steal some of his clothes so you can get out of that uniform and join us in pajama mode?"

So you do. You break into his room, change out of your uniform into his flannel pants and his least offensive t-shirt, and before you're even properly settled in again downstairs, Kaede is perched in front of you with an ominous tube of skincare.

"D'you want me to smear some clay shit on your face?" She asks. "It's supposed to make your skin soft and clear, but it will probably just make you have some clay shit on your face."

"Hit me."

"Love it. Hold still."

Satsuki puts on some bad drama show as Kaede works on you, and after the first episode finishes, you go to wash your face in the bathroom and feel yourself deflate in the solitude.

This is nice. It feels like they really give a shit. For a moment, you're intensely jealous of Noya, of how his life has built-in lovely people in his home. Even the fucking cat says welcome back when someone says I'm home—you've tested it and she meows in reply every time.

Without him, you never would have had a moment like this. When you're sure every speck of clay is washed away, you brush fingertips over your cheek and marvel at the softness—perhaps the clay shit really did something—before returning to curl up with the girls.

Piled in the living room, you settle in and idly watch whatever it is they've put on TV, contributing to conversation when you have the energy. Honestly, you should be relieved, and part of you is, but at the forefront is the sense that you've been wrung out and hung up in the sun to dry.

You're glad for Tsuyu letting you hold him—the purring grounds you, the gentle warmth of a kitten falling asleep on your chest. Soba, the little traitor, has elected to make her home on Mei's lap while the four of you talk. Satsuki commiserates with you, tells you about her exes and that time she also broke a girl's nose on Noya's behalf. Kaede tells you she's never delved into dating at all, which has Mei sitting straight up to stare at her.

"That's not true."

"What? Yes it is."

"What about that guy in high school?"

Kaede scoffs. "You mean the guy I broke up with in high school? We were almost exclusively together in middle school."

"Okay, but you were together. He was kinda sweet."

"That was middle school, Mei. Everyone knows middle school doesn't count."

"I dunno," you mumble, "I kinda feel like it counts for something."

"Oh, what are you on Mei's side for?"

"[name]-chan had a middle school girlfriend, right?" Satsuki elbows your side playfully. "What'd you say her name was?"

"Who, Kasumi?" You grin. "She was alright. So what's the situation with the guy who doesn't count? That sounds like a story."

"It's not a story. Listen, nothing in middle school matters once you hit a certain age. I know it feels really important when it was last year, [name]-chan, but trust me. No story."

You'd argue with that for a number of reasons, but instead, you hold in your reply.

"She's doubling down," Mei sings. "It's a story."

Kaede shoves her. "What are you even pressing for? You apparently know the story better than I do!"

"Ooh, Nee-san, you admitted it was a story. Now you gotta spill." Satsuki bounces a piece of popcorn off her head with eerie precision.

"Don't throw the popcorn, you know it can make the cats sick."

"The cats are fully secured. Look at Tsuyu. He is living every guy's dream right now. No way he's abandoning nature's best pillow for some salt."

You roll your eyes. "He's asleep because he's resting on my heart. It has nothing to do with—"

"Don't you play with me, I've had enough girlfriends to know. Nature's. Best. Pillow."

"Ohh my god. You are literally worse than your brother."

Satsuki flashes an innocent smile. "Cut from the same cloth, babe. Ooh, but, Nee-san! Wasn't middle school boyfriend some volleyball guy?"

Kaede sighs. "Yes, he played volleyball. We broke up because he happened to like volleyball more than me. But that hardly counts, and—"

The front door opens. Kaede pauses. You freeze, silently begging that Rina is home early, or that maybe Jii-chan has made a rare guest appearance.

It feels like an eternity between the door opening and The Greeting, but then—

"SHE KISSED ME!"

Oh god.

Even the neighbors probably heard that one.

"What?"

Three pairs of eyes land on you at once. You slide down against the couch, melting until you're slumped halfway to the floor. "Ohh my god…"

"So that's—" Satsuki starts. In the next moment, Kaede has launched herself to lean over you and place both hands over her mouth.

"Shush!" she whispers, face splitting into that same damn grin. "He'll stop giving the story if he knows she's here."

Satsuki nods slowly. You're starting to understand what it feels like to be circled by sharks when their eyes settle on you. Even Tsuyu has abandoned you, yawning before finding a more stable place to sleep, as though he isn't leaving you to their mercy alone.

"[name]-chan did?" Mei asks. Soba leaps off her lap with a mrrp, meandering towards the current source of your problems with a yawn.

He's talking a mile a minute. "She broke up with that asshole—hi, Soba, I missed you too—and broke his nose and oh my god I've never seen anything so beautiful. And she cupped my cheek and her lips were so soft and I think she might've been wearing lip balm? I don't know. I'm never washing my face again."

You find the edges of the blanket the girls had insisted on for you, pull it over your head in hopes of disappearing from existence.

Somehow, you remain real while this is happening. Despite your silent pleas for the floor to open up beneath you and swallow you whole, you are firmly in place, firmly stuck listening to Noya ramble about you to people who you very specifically did not mention the kiss to.

"Okay, wait, we're missing something here—she broke his nose? What happened?" Great acting, Kaede. Like you didn't already have that part of the conversation.

"Oh, yeah, I guess he also punched me. Kinda forgot about that." His voice is getting closer. You could die at any moment now. "Something about me sending Satsuki after him, like if I didn't think [name]-san would be mad at me for it I couldn't have fucked him up myself for getting too close to the love of my life. That, and I didn't even know Satsuki was going to do something until after—by the way, Nee-san, what was that? No one would give me the story."

"Can't tell you," Satsuki chirps. "I'm sworn to secrecy. But hey, it got you a kiss from the love of your life—" A hand shakes the lump you've become. "—so I guess you can't be mad at me."

"What're you doing here, anyway?" Kaede says. "I believe you were under strict instruction to find a friend and not come home today."

"Yeah, yeah, I was going to, but like—you know [name]-san. The guys know she got suspended and all that and broke up with him finally but I don't see her being happy about it if I tell everyone about how she literally kissed me on the face. With her lips! On purpose! For like, five whole seconds!"

"You're sure it was on purpose?" Kaede teases.

You can almost hear him nod. "She was so gentle with me after he hit me. All those soft are you okays and her fingers against my cheek and all that… she kept apologizing and I joked and told her she'd kiss it better if she was really sorry and then she actually did it and did that adorable blushy thing she does and told me she'd see me later and ran off." He sighs. "She's so perfect. Remind me to marry her sometime."

"Just to clarify one more time," Satsuki says, snickering, "are you talking about the girl currently trying to become part of our tatami?"

A pause. It seems he has noticed that you are here.⁵⁹ You're gonna kill Satsuki.

He doesn't manage to hold back on his laugh. "Oh, hey, [name]-san. Is that you under the blanket?"

A high-pitched noise leaves you. "Would it be way too much trouble to ask for you to be a little embarrassed right now?"

"Why would I be embarrassed?"

"What do you mean, why would you be—could you pretend?"

When you peek, he's tilting his head curiously. Soba has made a new home on his shoulder. "I mean, loving you isn't embarrassing."

You jerk your head back underneath the blanket. "Stop saying things like that!" you squeal.

He just laughs. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay, [name]-san?"

"Satsuki, I need you to kill me right now. Please. Just reach out and snap my neck and—"

She stifles a laugh of her own. "I'm good, babygirl. Beside, I'm pretty sure if Yuu says literally one more thing, you'll die anyway."

"Oh my god. I'm gonna go home." You slowly emerge from the blankets, pointedly avoiding Noya's eyes.

"But I made cake," Mei says with a pout. "You wouldn't want to waste the cake, right?"

"C'mon, [name]-san, you can't waste Nee-san's cake!" Noya teases.

"Oh, you be quiet before I start throwing things at you!"

"Fine, fine," he laughs as he strides across the room. "I'm gonna go shower. You're staying the night, right? Yeah, you are. It's not a breakup party if we let you leave."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

He leaves before you can actually find something to throw at him. The girls give you two blissful seconds to recover before they descend on you.

"So. Something you wanna tell us about?"

"No," you squeak. "I'm good."

"Planning on somehow trying to avoid him all night?"

"I can avoid him for now!"

Kaede leans forward to pat the approximate top of your head. "Out of the cocoon, sweetheart, we've got an interrogation to run."

"Noo."

Satsuki's arms close around your midsection, and you squeal as you're hefted into a sitting position. "Were you gonna tell us you kissed him?"

"Listen, it was a cheek kiss, he makes it sound like I was just—making out with him or something—"

"But were you gonna tell us?"

"Of course not!"

"See, that's not fair," Kaede says with a pout. "You gotta tell us. We're invested, you know?"

"I don't gotta. You clearly would've found out anyway. Doesn't one of you need to order pizza if we're gonna get it? It's getting late."

"Right, right. What do you want?"

"Do they have the sweet release of death? I could go for that right now."

A bark of laughter. "Best I can do is cheese."

Cheese pizza it is.

With the return of Noya from upstairs, you're subjected to a night of classic Nishinoya family torture—he sits right beside you, arm around your waist as he joins seamlessly into the conversation. Pizza comes, and over cake, you wind up doing therapist research with four additional voices to help you out on your decision making, wind up emailing your final list of potential therapists to your father.

At the end of the night, of course you get no reprieve. It's a sleepover, they tell you, not just you staying the night, which means futons go in the living room. Which means a decision between sleeping with Noya and surviving the night, and a refusal to let him carry everything on his own. Which means you follow him upstairs, his sisters' teasing the rock, being alone with Noya the hard place.

You make it one step into his room before he's reaching past you, closing the door the rest of the way only to cage you against it. "[name]-san."

Your voice comes out too high-pitched for the words to matter.

He's too close. His forehead rests against yours, a hand on your waist, all too possessive. "Don't ever run into someone else's arms like that again. Please."

It's the sort of demand that, from someone else, you wouldn't tolerate for a second. As it is, it transforms the embarrassed jitters into the same roiling fear that drove you towards Asuka to begin with.

It's the simple fact that you're his that does it. He doesn't need to say it—the implication is there, in the thumb brushing under the edge of his shirt, in the look in his eye, in the proximity. There's no room for argument in his tone or in between you, and it'd take precious little to kiss him like this, as something swoops harshly in your stomach.

You don't want to fight this. You're just scared.

There's a pleading look in his eyes when you manage to meet them. No more running. No more boyfriend or girlfriends. Run into my arms, only my arms.

Next time, if there's ever a next time, will be the last time. Next time, you lose this—your first home and your second, Noya's arms and Noya's life. Scared as you are, you can't risk it again.

"I won't run," you whisper, burying your face in his neck. "You have me."

"Would it be too much to ask for you to promise me that while looking at me?"

"If I look at you right now," you mumble into his neck, fingers finding purchase in his shirt, "I'm gonna do something I'm not ready for, and then it's gonna be really hard not to run."

A gasp leaves his throat, not really heard so much as felt. "I—okay. I'll wait as long as you need to be ready."

"I'll tell you as soon as I am. I promise."

He holds you like that a moment longer, fingers drawing gentle, looping shapes along your spine. "We could share a futon tonight, you know. Doesn't have to mean anything you're not ready for. I've missed you."

"In front of your sisters? In the middle of the living room? Noya, I'm not half as shameless as you."

"You could be," he replies with an easy grin. "You gotta work towards it, pretty girl. I know a guy who'd love to help you practice."

You smile and shake your head. Despite his pouting, you bring both futons downstairs together, lay them out side-by-side to quiet teasing from Satsuki (are you sure you don't wanna line 'em up against each other, lovebirds? Spent an awful long time upstairs, didn't you?)

And that night, you really do try to sleep apart from him. You lay awake, staring at him through the darkness, a pinkie linked with his where he's reached towards you in his sleep.

You don't wanna sleep so close without touching him.

You don't wanna sleep apart.

You gotta work towards it.

You reach a little further, shake his arm a little bit. "Noya."

He lets out a sleepy groan, eyes barely opening. "Mmngh?"

"I can't sleep," you whisper back.

In the dim lighting—a night light in the corner for late-night visibility, the glow of the clock on the DVR—you can barely see him, except that he's gorgeous. Your eyes trace the curve of his spine as he lifts his head to look at you, the skin of his neck as he runs a hand through his hair.⁶⁰

"You wanna cuddle?" he asks, already lifting the blanket to let you in.

You reply by shuffling across the distance into his arms, letting him pull said blanket over you both. When you're nestled up close and cozy, his lips brush the top of your head, like it's the most natural thing in the world to do. Though the action makes your heart hammer against your rib cage, being here feels better and calmer than your own futon, a meter away, barely able to reach him.

"Better?"

You nod, letting his scent wash over you. "G'night, Noya."

"Nigh'."

When you wake up in the morning to whispers, to Rina watching you from the doorway to the kitchen with a hand over her mouth and stars in her eyes, to a series of texts from the girls with multiple angles of you in Noya's futon, head nestled under his chin, it won't feel as worth it. Your embarrassment and the shame of having feelings will cover up the memory of now, when all you knew was that falling asleep without him just didn't feel right.

But right now, you know. Even if you're not ready to tell him, you know.

This is where you should be.

59. There's a lot of little scenes I write that could easily be ruined with the question of "why wouldn't he notice that [character] is home by her shoes in the genkan". Luckily for us and unluckily for our dear protagonist, I am enlightened, and know that Noya has ADHD and he simply Does Not Notice the shoes. If he's lucky, he notices shoes are there enough to avoid tripping.

60. This piece by main-bird on tumblr became a permanent part of my psyche the moment I saw it. Yes I was looking at it (esp. the bottom left one) while writing this bit. Yes you should also look at it. Yes I have a rotating widget on my homescreen of Noya art that makes me want to eat drywall and yes it is 90% main-bird's art.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[ghulehunknown]

Group Sex with Terzo

Terzo x F!Reader x Siblings of Sin

Day 11 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING - EXPLICIT, NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

“Let’s Have a Satanic Orgy”

Terzo x F!Reader x Siblings of Sin

Summary: After making a few too many jokes at Terzo’s expense, he proves you and your Siblings wrong.

CW/Tags: F!Reader, AFAB non-binary Sibling of Sin character, Sister of Sin character, nipple play, group sex, mutual masturbation, semi-public sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex, partner swapping, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, CMNF, love at first fuck

Word Count: 3140

Decorating the Abbey for a haunted Black Mass this Hallows’ Eve, you passed the time talking to your Siblings Selene and Alix. The pair of them were hanging black curtains against the stone back wall behind the altar and you held the ladder to make sure neither of them fell.

“So do you think he can really…well, you know,” said Selene. “When he talks about doing two at a time.”

“No way,” Alix replied with a scoff.

“I dunno, I think he still can,” you said, smiling while their backs were turned. It was almost like you knew a secret they didn’t - but you didn’t, not really.

You and Terzo had a bit of a…moment in the side hall linen closet last week. You were stocking the laundry with clean habits and cassocks for the Siblings when Terzo slipped in, likely avoiding Imperator or Nihil. “Shhh,” he told you at the time, peering out of the crack of the door to make sure whoever he was hiding from had passed down the hallway. “Ah, it’s you,” he said slyly, remembering your shy glances at him during Mass while he was leading worship. “Let me help you.”

He had helped you reach the top shelf, though he was not much taller than you, when he grazed against your chest accidentally. “Sorry, Sis-” he had begun to say. Unfortunately, your brain lost all control of your faculties and you let out a quiet moan when he did this. When you turned around to face him and his sneaky grin, he looked down your front, finding your hard nipples through your habit with ease. This one was a bit…worn, and see through. You had glanced down to find something of his that was hard as well through his chasuble. “Well this was fun. Gotta go,” he remarked with a wink, carefully poking his head out of the closet and darting down the hall in the opposite direction he came from. ‘The fuck?’ you thought to yourself at the time, hanging your head out of the closet and watching him go. But you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since then.

“Nah, I’m calling it. The man is gorgeous but I bet you he can’t get it up long enough to - ” Alix began to say but Selene elbowed them in the side.

“Who can’t get what up?” came a familiar voice and your eyes widened before turning around to face him.

“Papa - w-we were just, um,” you stammered.

“Relax, Siblings,” he said, looking at the three of you. “I was just coming in to check how things were going here. I would not normally hover over you, you see, but Sister she eh -” he rolled his eyes at the mere mention of her name.

“Yes,” you remarked morosely, looking up at Selene and Alix on the ladders with hooks in their hands, their eyes equally in shock - their attempts to hide behind the curtains not working. “Imperator always has her tight deadlines, doesn’t she?”

Selene nodded her head quickly while Alix pretended to lose their baphomet sigil amongst the heavy curtain panels.

Terzo picked up a few of the decorations on the altar mindlessly. “Now what’s this about Papa not being able to ‘get it up’?”

Oh fuck. Obviously your Siblings weren’t going to give up the game that easily.

“It was just silly gossip Papa, I promise,” you said while looking at him earnestly. “It meant nothing.”

“Mm, well I have a reputation around here to maintain,” he said, placing both hands on the altar and glancing between the three of you. “Imagine if this unfounded gossip landed in the wrong hands? Can’t have that now, can we?”

You couldn’t explain the effect he had on you, but his words… you could feel the heat build between your legs as he spoke with such a command, although feigning an air of innocence at the same time. He intimidated you, and you liked it.

Selene and Alix had finished hanging up one panel of the curtains, and came down the ladder steps. Alix approached the altar to grab another box of nails, but stopped dead in their tracks when Terzo shot a glance their way.

“You especially seem doubtful, Sibling,” he said to them.

Alix swallowed and didn’t respond, suddenly no longer your outspoken friend they normally were.

“So have you ever…I mean, taken two at a time after a show?” Selene asked.

Terzo smirked at her, then looked in your direction before answering. “I don’t kiss and tell.” But something about the way he said this told you he had - and probably had more lovers in one night than you’d ever had in your whole life.

“So why don’t we settle this score, and put to bed your little rumors, no?” he continued, looking at each of you. All of you glanced at one another, hoping the other might telepathically give you the right answer to say. Sensing your uncertainty, he looked towards Alix. “You. Come.”

“Yes, Papa,” they obeyed and walked up to Terzo, hands clasped in front of them.

“Kiss tua Sorella and take off your habit.”

They paused. “Er - which one?”

“Whichever you like,” he said, leaning against the altar and crossing his arms against his chest.

Alix walked over to Selene, who did not falter and leaned her head to the side, inviting Alix’s lips to hers. They kissed for a few moments, building until their tongues were slipping into each other’s mouths, quiet and breathy moans escaping as they clung onto one another’s arms.

Just when you thought Papa never noticed the lower ranked Siblings, he continued to surprise you. It was as if he knew and could sense the budding attraction between them for the last few weeks. Even you had caught them flirting with one another, even if they had never admitted it out loud.

Alix broke away from their embrace and turned to look at Terzo who nodded at them. They unzipped their habit and slid it down past their hips, letting it fall to the floor. Naturally small-chested, they often chose to forgo a bra, now standing in front of Papa in nothing but their thong panties.

“Those too,” he said, pointing down. They slipped those off too, now standing in front of their peers and superior completely bare.

He made a come hither motion and they walked up to him. He kissed them gently, caressing their body, his hands cupping their breasts. Alix moaned, closing their eyes.

“I love your fucking cute little tits,” he breathed in between their lips, cupping their chin his hand. “Così dannatamente perfetto.” He motioned for them to sit on the edge of the altar.

As Alix sat down, Terzo motioned for Selene to come to him. She followed suit, already unzipping her habit. He helped her take it off, turning her around so he could unhook her bra. He kissed her on the lips, thumbing her hard nipples and holding her petite frame in his arms easily. He tapped her on the ass and motioned for her to join Alix on the altar, yanking her panties off as she turned around.

Next would be you. You swallowed, closing your eyes for a moment as you realized the man you’d been longing for would soon have his lips on yours…

But he went to your Siblings to the altar instead, leaving you watching. He positioned himself in between them, bringing his hands to their sex, rubbing circles between their thighs while alternating kissing them. They kissed each other through pleasured sighs when he took turns sucking their nipples.

After a moment or two, he retracted his fingers from their clits and stepped back, allowing them to embrace each other and kiss more passionately. “Lick their pretty little cunt,” he instructed Selene. She eyed Terzo as she moved down Alix’s body, finally burying her face in their folds, slipping her tongue inside. Alix moaned louder, arching their back. “Brava ragazza,” he said before turning to you. “You.”

“Yes, Papa?” you asked meekly as he sauntered over to you.

“You better be fucking wet,” he said into your ear, sliding his hand between your legs and finding the barrier of the damp fabric of your panties - already saturated in your arousal.

“I think you’ll find what you’re looking for,” you said with a smile, finding a similar smile spread across his lips almost immediately. He tugged at your underwear, pulling them down your legs. You helped him by kicking them off your ankles and spread your legs for his exploring hand.

His gloved fingers met your clit with ease, already slippery with your slick. “Mmn,” you purred as he made gentle flicking motions. Rather than kiss you, he watched your face intently - each muscle in your face twitching and contorting at every graze to your core. He watched your eyebrows furrow and your lips open to coo as he added another finger, dipping inside your already dripping hole.

You could hear the contented sighs of your Siblings coming from the altar growing louder. You reached down and grasped his rock hard cock through his robes, hearing him murmur “Satanas.”

He led you to the altar, laying you down on your back while he undressed you fully. The cold marble startled your nervous system, your back arching to save your body heat, an “ah!” escaping your lips. You looked to your right, Selene still enthusiastically diving into Alix whose body was convulsing, evidently close to climax.

Terzo kissed your lips gently - the first time your mouths intertwined, feeling just how passionate and sweet his touch could be. He kissed along your body, along your stomach, along your hips, until his lips met in between your thighs. He exhaled, savoring this moment. You inched your hips forward, desperate for release at this point. He slipped his tongue in between your pussy lips, sliding around with the tip and exploring every inch of you. He moaned as he hit your entrance, sucking your slick right out of your cunt.

Your breath caught in your throat until a quiet hum formed. He stroked himself as he covered his face in your juices, sloppily sucking and licking like a desperate, starving man who had never eaten before and was determined to leave the plate clean.

To your right, Alix screamed out in the throes of passion, their body shuddering against Selene’s mouth. Selene held Alix’s head in her hands, tenderly kissing their face until their breathing returned to normal.

They switched positions with Alix now buried in Selene just as Terzo moved up your body, one hand by your ear, the other on his cock. He stroked himself, placing the tip right at your entrance. You spread your legs to prepare yourself for him. He glided inside you with ease, your aching cunt needing to be filled.

And oh fuck - he must’ve been made for you, he fit so well. You didn’t need to prepare for his stretch or length because he just fit, like Lucifer had made you two to piece together like a puzzle.

“Cazzo, you feel so fucking good,” he breathed, entering you thrusting in and out with ease. You cried out as he perfectly brushed against your g-spot from this angle. He continued for a few minutes, your Siblings’ moans acting as a horny soundtrack.

He leaned in to kiss you before sliding out and moving over to Alix, whose ass was in the air, mouth moving over Selene’s cunt. He slammed into them from behind as they cried out. He held onto their hips and pummeled into them. “Is this how you imagined it to be, caro, hmn?” he asked into their ear. Alix could only gasp in pleasure for an answer, satisfying Terzo.

Selene leaned over to kiss you and you could smell Alix’s arousal on her mouth. She reached in between your legs and massaged your clit while you both continued to kiss, Alix hovered between her legs, and Terzo behind them. He extended his arm to Selene’s cunt to relieve Alix, who was gasping and moaning as Terzo slid into them.

He pulled out after a few moments and positioned himself in front of Selene, yanking her legs so their hips were aligned. He lifted her chin with his hand, bringing her face to his and kissing her - though more roughly than he did with you, you noticed. He pushed her legs open, completely exposing her to him, a devilish grin on his face. He thumbed her clit while sliding his cock up to meet her slit, then pushing himself in. As Selene moaned loudly, Alix curled up next to her on the altar, caressing her face and running their hands through her hair.

“You see how your sweet Sister takes my cock so well?” Terzo asked, looking down at Selene as he pumped his entire length in and out of her. “Tell her Siblings, tell her how good she’s doing.”

“You’re taking Papa so well,” Alix encouraged Selene, still stroking her cheek and giving her a kiss on the lips. You stroked her hair and leaned in to kiss her as well, your hand buried in your cunt to alleviate the absence of Papa and Selene’s ministrations.

Terzo continued rubbing circles over her clit while Alix kissed her passionately. Selene’s breathing got quicker, moaning louder and louder. You grabbed onto Terzo’s ass, pushing him deeper into her. Terzo rode her through her orgasm, her body clenching and tensing, her legs wrapping around his waist. Terzo didn’t let up his pace or give her a chance to settle down, instead driving into her more wildly from hearing her cries.

Seeing three obedient Siblings wait so patiently for their turn with him seemed to nearly drive Terzo over the edge as he grunted through thrusts, “Cazzo, not yet!” and pulled out of Selene entirely. He looked you in the eyes. You.

He was saving you for last, his first taste not enough.

He motioned for the other two to get on either side of you. He slid you down towards the middle of the altar, Selene getting up and readjusting herself to your left shoulder, Alix scooting up towards your right. They both ran their hands down your body, massaging your breasts and nipples, touching your cheek, detangling your now messy hair, taking turns kissing you and each other.

Terzo watched them as he spread your legs apart and began to massage along your nethers. He was taking his time exploring a new body with his hands, almost as if to know your shape by muscle memory. He muttered something in Italian under his breath, likely filthy. Eventually his gaze fell to you and only you. He seemed to study you, watching intently as your chest rose and fell with his touches - which strokes and what intensity made you react a certain way. You inhaled sharply as he slipped two fingers inside you and his eyes met yours, watching the way your facial muscles tensed. He twisted and curled his fingers inside you towards him and you exhaled, your mouth opening. He muttered what almost sounded like, “hm,” watching you like a hawk.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“It feels so good,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Bene. Are you ready for more, Sorella?” he asked softly. You nodded, and he pulled his erection from his robes again, sliding his length along your slit from your core right up to your bud, over and over. He smiled and took delight in watching you hiss each time he tapped your clit with the head of his cock. Your body was tense but you relaxed the more he stroked you up and down, ready for him.

Once he decided he had worked you up enough to take him internally again, he pushed his member inside your cunt and glided in with ease. The two of you moaned together as he filled your walls just as perfectly as before.

“Satanas you are so fucking wet, so fucking tight,” he groaned happily. “Are you this wet from me, or from your Siblings?”

Your cheeks were flushed hot red, sweat forming at your temples. “B-both, I think Papa,” you said.

“Mmn - ! But you are getting wetter from me, Sorella,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, Papa,” you choked through his thrusts.

“Cazzo Sorella, I do not think I will last much longer,” he said, biting his lower lip and tossing his head back. He continued rubbing circles around your sensitive bud with his thumb. You could feel your Siblings caressing your breasts but you really only had eyes for Terzo.

“I’m s-so close, Papa,” you assured him.

“Mm, fuck - ! Where do you want it, sweet Sister? Your pretty tits or your pretty face, hm?” He looked at you, cocking his head to the side.

Goddammit, why did he have to look so cute? Before you fully registered his words you found yourself saying, “Inside me.” Wait, really?

“Merda Sorella, are you sure? - oh Lucifer fuck -”

“Really,” you breathed as you felt your own orgasm take over, and felt him coat you inside.

You had never experienced a high like this. Surrounded by lovers helping you, caring for you. But it was your embrace with Terzo that sent you over the edge. The two of you kissed as he grunted, spilling the last drops of his seed along your walls.

“Buon lavoro, Siblings,” he said, rubbing you each on the chin whilst still inside you. Each of you got up and began to put your clothes back on as Papa adjusted himself back in his robes. “I’ll be sure to tell Imperator you do very good work here,” he said with a wink.

“Grazie, Papa,” you all said in unison, bowing your heads slightly before grabbing your habits from the floor.

As you were each putting your clothes back on, Terzo instructed, “Put each other’s panties on - I want you to feel how wet you were for one another.” You grabbed Selene’s pink panties, feeling the cold wet spot meet your cunt as you slid them over your hips. You could feel your cheeks blush as you each looked at one another.

“Now these silly rumors,” he continued, walking up to Alix who was in the middle of slipping your underwear over their hips.

“Shall never be repeated again, Papa,” they said, lowering their chin but looking him in the eyes.

“Molto bene,” he said, gently clapping them on the cheek while giving you a wink. He began to walk down the aisle of the Abbey towards the front door, but turned on his heel to look at you all once more. “I believe that panel is crooked.”

The panel Alix and Selene had just put up fell off the wall just as Terzo exited.

Italian to English Translations

- tua Sorella (your Sister)

- Così dannatamente perfetto (So damn perfect)

- Brava ragazza (good girl)

- Cazzo (Fuck)

- caro (dear)

- Bene (Good)

- Merda (Shit)

- Buon lavoro (Good job)

- Molto bene (Very good)

[irrealisms]

btw I know I’ve been repeatedly (& pointedly) reblogging void’s post abt ppl hating kab today so. um. here’s some actual take. I know i said i would listen to bacon and complain less but im gonna try to keep this constructive.

it’s not about any individual person who doesn’t like kab or her style of lore. an individual not liking a character or storytelling style is normal and fine and demanding that someone SHOULD like this character and swallow down their emotional reactions or dislike bc shes a WOMAN is also very uncomfortable to me tbh! kab is not in fact one of my favorite characters by any means. in an ideal world life steal would have more women and i’d post about them more but like … there aren’t in fact many women in life.steal & not every character is for everyone & no one is obligated to like a character solely bc she’s a woman, yk? it’s not misogynist to dislike or even complain about female characters (although if you Never like female characters and find a reason to dislike all of them you, uh, should maybe be considering that!)

what makes me uncomfortable is the Pattern. and the Pattern is that women get hit harder & more universally by fandom criticism and hate than men do, without the corresponding positivity and appreciation their male counterparts get. what makes me uncomfortable is when ppl are getting intense abt how much she sucks in the twitch chats of ppl who, ultimately, are her friends ooc. this is all uncomfortable bc it is familiar, i have seen this pattern play out across different fandoms and different characters. it’s not just “this specific person doesn’t like this specific character”. it’s “fandom in general disproportionately dislikes female characters & has a tendency to harass the irl women playing those characters”. esp in spaces as sexist and male-dominated as mc.yt, that makes people justifiably sensitive.

I don’t really have a solution to this; like i said, I’m not interested in forcing people who don’t like a character to like her. (Especially since that doesn’t actually, you know, work.) But… I dunno, be a little nicer, especially places CCs can see (twitch chats especially; also twitter; to a lesser extent tumblr, esp if you’re maintagging or know they follow you)? Tag your neg/crit on tumblr so that ppl who don’t want to see it can just filter it out? (Honestly, this would go a long way for me—part of why I’m so bothered is just how inescapable the negativity is rn!) Think of how you’d feel if people regularly responded this way to lore you really like of your male fave, think about how you’d want them to handle their dislike or frustration, and then just … try to be considerate and fair.