#?!? how so cool so perfectly everything?!

[inkyrainstorms]

sorry to bother you w this, I really liked your fic ‘all the lonely people’ and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Thought I’d share the result(from fords pov)

“An uncertain thing”

I know your face

it is my own

nearly a mirror image

looking at you is like looking in a rippling pool

on the surface, my distorted image

but below it, when the light shifts, flashes of something deeper, that I can’t recognize before it’s gone

what came first, the chicken or the egg

do you have my face because you impersonated me

or did you impersonate me because you have my face?

I don’t know why

but I get choked up when I look at you

because I don’t know what to say

“I miss you” -but why should I feel that way?

or

“Who are you” -but why do I feel I should know?

I want to know you better

I wish I could study you like a bug under a microscope

I want to take you with me

… but that would be wrong

to say I want to study the strange things about you

-a stolen life, given back as soon as possible

-why the apocalypse ended, but left only you behind

-your intimate knowledge of me (I’ve never told you anything)(right?)

when really, I just want to study the well of tangled emotions I feel when you’re around

-anger

-guilt

-remorse

-sadness

-longing

-love

how can I ask you to stay with me when I’m the broken one, the one who needs fixing?

but I can’t help myself

there’s something about you

I can’t quite grasp

who are you, Stan Pines?

I am holding you by the shoulders. Kay. You are never a bother, this is the most beautiful thing to find in my inbox. This is incredible

and it perfectly sums up Ford character and perspective ??? Kay you cooked with this, I am absorbing it into my soul oh my GOSH

The imagery of Ford looking at Stan as if through a mirror, a pool of water that is near identical but different, and him having so many questions he should already know, aughhh yeah. Yeah. He wants to study Stan like an anomaly, and get to know him because Stan is important, even if he doesn’t know how

I’m genuinely so enthralled by this I’m gonna save it and stare at it forever

[bambiraptorx]

What is your opinion on the mystical magenta goat man? (Draxum)

Good dad? Deserved more screentime/emotional moments with the bois? (they gave us like 2 moments like that in the finale, and I'm sad that it's all we got)

owo

Ooh, I have so many thoughts about Draxum. Buckle up.

First of all, it's worst mentioning that when I started watching Rise, I knew ahead of time that he would get a redemption arc. (Reading the wiki and watching clips/analysis videos is what got me interested in the show, after all.) So admittedly, my view of how his redemption arc went was a little skewed just because I knew from the start that it would happen.

Personally, I wish more of it had been actually shown in the show. We get about ten seconds of him helpless in an alley then a hard cut to him in his apartment being bullied by Mikey, and I would love to see how that series of events played out. Also, his arc from mortal enemy to somewhat trusted by the turtles happened in one eleven minute episode, and I would have loved to see that tension be played with a little more. I do understand that the show was cut short, though, and I'm pretty happy with what we did get.

*looks at all my fics* honestly, I think part of the reason that they're all more or less about Draxum spending time with the turtles one way or another is because that dynamic was so underdeveloped and several things went unaddressed in order to give the show a decently cohesive finale.

For example, the roof incident. Leo is clearly very bitter about it and clearly mistrusts Draxum because of it, but the show just didn't have the opportunity to address it. Another issue that had to go unresolved was Draxum's relationship to Cassandra, because she seriously looked up to/trusted him in their episode together but he more or less threw her under the bus.

Not to mention all the little things that canon hints at but doesn't show. Like, somehow Donnie has Draxum's phone number, meaning they had at least one conversation off screen. How did that happen? Do they hang out or something? And really, the whole story of how Mikey got Draxum to move into an apartment and let him come over is so unexplored, at least within the show.

And speaking of things that canon doesn't show, I find Draxum's position among yokai to be absolutely fascinating, especially given that the only yokai he deals with in the show itself are antagonists to him (Big Mama, the Council of Heads, the cops) aside from the gargoyles.

There's a pretty big hole there about how he interacted with the rest of the Hidden CIty-- did he have friends? DId people know about his research and mutations? What did people think about him? And obviously the narrative doesn't address this because the story is about the turtles, not him. But still.

And why did he choose to create mutants in the first place? Its fascinating that the prophecy that motivates him is never actually shown in the show itself, just referenced. Why was mutating humans the best option to him? Did he try other things? When exactly did the Council tell him not to create warriors?

The timeline is pretty fuzzy, and frankly Draxum's motives aren't actually all that clear. That's probably why there's so many different interpretations of why he's doing what he's doing (and what, exactly, he's actually doing) throughout the fandom-- canon doesn't address it super deeply.

So yeah, his relationships with the turtles are really fun to think about and mess around with, but the gaps in the narrative (not a perfect phrase but the general idea) around him are fascinating to explore in their own right. And whether canon would have explored him more or not, I think its fun so I'm gonna do it lol. I have built so much lore about this man (almost none of which has showed up in my stories) because he's fun.

And he is genuinely a fun character, whether pre or post redemption. He's dramatic, he's arrogant, he makes bad quips (seriously, he has a line about "how very NOT NICE to see you" at one point, and that's how my sister used to talk before she figured out how to actually be sarcastic). He, the big bad of season one, ends up as a lunch lady at one point, which is frankly absurd and absolutely in tone for the kind of show that Rise is. He's a powerhouse at times and completely out of his element at others.

And once he's no longer actively fighting the turtles most of his screen time, there's a goofiness to the nature of his character, a powerful alchemist/warrior trying to live a normal life (mostly because a thirteen year old will yell at him otherwise) and not even trying that hard. Season 2 especially does a lot of fun things with his character, and I only wish that they're been able to do more.

TLDR: Draxum is probably my favorite character, and also I want to hit him with the hammer of 'forced to deal with teenagers'.

[torgawl]

i keep thinking about how “is this what justice means to you, answer me neuvillette”, despite having been used in a case all those hundred of years ago, was probably a question that haunted - and still haunts - neuvilette during the entire time he has been chief of justice. i keep thinking about how they highlighted his struggles through time with both carole and wriothesley's trials. how guilty and powerless neuvillette must have felt for not being able to support and save those he recognised as vulnerable and victims before a system that corrupted their fates but that he wasn't able to change despite his position. the theme of being a casualty of a system no matter if you're the victim or the perpetrator in its eyes. the way neuvillette took, in both cases, things into his own hands. even if it was too late to fix the hurting carole and those who cared for her went through, even if it was too late to save her life; even if it was impossible to change wriothesley's past, his verdict and subsequent imprisonment; neuvillette went above and beyond, making use of his influence, to allow both melusines and wriothesley the opportunity of a better future - to melusines by making sure they weren't discriminated, to wriothesley by supporting his attempt at a second chance in life. i think part of the reason he's so intriguing is our awareness that this internal conflict he's bound to have is so complex. you have a chief of justice, or a judge, that is supposed to be imparcial and follow the law stictly confronted with situations of social injustice, unable to protect those who rely on him. you have someone who understands better than anyone what it means to be an outcast, being able to relate to those who are ostracised and have their pain weaponise against them. you have, in vautrin's case, a friend who cannot even showcase his own pain and is still expected to fullfil his juridical duties despite being personally related with those involved in the case. someone who people constantly turn to but whom he feels like he has no right to turn to himself. it's about the conflict between his feelings and his duty, between what's expected of him and what he can actually do. i think that's why the end of his story quest is so emotional and why it's so heartwarming to have him realise he isn't an outcast anymore, that he has a community there for him too. because a system is a system and he will probably never be able to save everyone, because yes he isn't human, but it doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to belong or that an active demonstration of love towards individuals and people he can relate to rather than the theoretical concept of humanity isn't meaningful. in fact, i'd it's a lot about that, about finding ways to be kind and how community gives meaning to life; how personal relationships and targeted kindness can shape society, or at least i think so

[miraluking-respectfully]

For all my hipster pretensions, I do love Hunter. I also love the hyperspecific intricate, intense, and often erotic relationships everybody’s agent OCs have with him. It got me thinking about him and my own agent, and honestly?

He disappointed her. Deeply, and personally.

Like, okay, despite her misplaced fealty to the Empire, this is a woman who's had almost exclusively bad interactions with Force users in both camps. Her Sith grandfather belittled and tormented her for the crime of being born without her sister's powers. Her mother, his apprentice, only risked enough interference to keep her alive. When the same sister she was always compared to abandoned her and escaped to the Jedi (who then never let them contact each other again), Lyde only narrowly avoided being sent to Korriban in her place.

And then when she made it to Intelligence, Darth Jadus maimed her, compromised the missions of her employers, and critically endangered the Empire. One of her first missions as a faux-turncoat to the Republic was tracking down and incapacitating a fallen Jedi. The protégé she gained on Hoth? Another semi-Force sensitive, hiding from the Sith. Sith meddling dissolved Imperial Intelligence; Sith infighting ate up resources and cost Imperial lives on Corellia.

And, of course, the Dark Council called for her brainwashing, and a former Jedi abused it.

Sure, like Hunter said, the Star Cabal was never recruiting. There was no incentive for him to care about gaining Lyde's allegiance when he already had the remote to her shock collar, so to speak. But, holy shit, he had no clue how many concessions, how much sympathy to his cause he could have wrung out of the woman designated Cipher Nine, if he hadn't made her his whipping girl. If things had gone juuust a little bit differently, Hunter might've turned over the Black Codex, implored her to take care of it with his dying breath - and she might have fucking done it. Nobody, not the SIS, not Sith Intelligence, not even her former ImpInt superiors would have ever seen that data ever again.

But Hunter wasn't that sort of guy. What sort of guy he was learned Cipher Nine's codeword and used it every chance he got. He didn't have to pretend to play nice with her like with his other colleagues, so he made a point of whisking her brain like cake batter, and acted like it was the funniest thing in the world.

When the Dark Council pushed for Lyde's brainwashing, and when Ardun Kothe used it to control her, she was furious - but she wasn't offended. They're trained and powerful Force-sensitives, and as far as she's concerned it's in their nature to sting.

Hunter, though?

Hunter was a fellow frog.

[zhoufeis]

Truth be told: I am very certain that the only people who enjoy the ATLA live-action are those who have never had the pleasure of watching Asian dramas.

[no1ryomafan]

I be semi back into mega man and I’ve been thinking about why-despite it objectively being more known-it was harder to get people into compared to getter and I think it’s chalked up to the gameplay comes first over any story stuff. MM lore is still insane and a funny rabbit hole to fall into but its not what people think about when they think about this franchise past a basic plot summary, they think about a grueling platformer with freedom to do the stages in any order. But playing all these games, especially if platformers aren’t you thing, doesn’t give you all the lore context given this was a series made in the late 80s and continued up to the 2010s, so pieces of lore were kept to manuals or sometimes even interviews. Sure, a lot of people are use to outside sources for lore, but given how many games there are even if you could pretty much take away the first series out of it to make it seem clearer, you still have to deal with the fact the lord didn’t really pick up until the third platformer because X didn’t know if it wanted to be episodic like classic or actually be more serious- which among other reasons lead it to probably be the messiest series in terms of lore. And then there’s the fact you can’t even recommend someone to read a manga or watch a anime for lore retellings because all of the mangas basically are their own takes of games and anime? Lol despite some games having animated cutscenes the ones who got the anime privilege was the RPG games which everyone in the lore circles always ignore because it’s a separate timeline.

Basically: Mega Man really be “gameplay first, lore bits second” and given I meet a lot of people who don’t play many platformers/are good at them, + the factor there's multiple fucking series which makes it slightly confusing or overwhelming to a outsider, yeah me recommending niche mecha show that’s somewhat convoluted tends to be the better option.

[bidokja]

uncanny charm finished last week and im just laying here like....please....side chapters...i miss them sjdhgf

[kakusu-shipping]

Hey sorry I know this is weird but

You got that anon before talking about being worried because their F/O is a minor and people might not take their love for that F/O seriously in the first place, but like ?

It would probably be good to point out that people age while characters predominantly don’t? Or at least are stuck in a kind of stasis when there ceases to be new canon material, so like. I personally “aged out” of being suitable for one of MY F/Os even though I was also a minor when they became my F/O? And idk people are allowed to have their own opinions, but I’ve always operated under the assumption that my F/Os age with me, so we’re Both not minors anymore

People still might pick to hate if they’re so inclined and might not care to listen to reasoning, but it might be food for thought

I’ve never actually seen any instances of minors with adult F/Os going 😠 you CANT love them, they’re too old for you etc, soooo

You're talking about Aging Up an F/O? I think? Sorry I don't fully understand what you're saying or what you mean with this ask.

But yeah some people will age a Fictional Character Up to match their IRL age, or age up with them if they've been together long enough for that, and I always think that's neat! Childhood friends to lovers kind of thing, very cool. Always a thumbs up in my book.

But some people don't do that! Some people Age their S/Is down, or don't change at all, and that's good too!

I personally don't like changing canon very much, or thinking too far outside the Canon Content Timeline, it misses the mark for what makes Self Inserting and Self Shipping fun for me, so I'll usually make an S/I who's age matches the F/O in canon, and leave them at that age no matter my irl age.

Maybe it's just because I'm somewhere in the Age Dreamer/Regressor camp, but the idea of Age Sliding your S/I to fit the Canon Demographic seems a lot less complicated than Aging Up an F/O. I can be any age, but canon events only happen when they are This Age, you know? Does that make sense?

And of course there's people who like the age gap. My first My Hero self insert is in his early 20s and dating Toshinori Yagi who's in his... mid 50s? I think? My Kisses Sun on the Mouth Security Breach Self Insert is 4. My Promised Neverland S/I meets Leuvis at 16 and is half raised by him until they get married when he's 25. I have several Immortal S/Is who date Mortals as young as 20! It's a fun plot point! For some people it's angsty, but I use it for pure silly thoughts mostly, I don't take it too seriously.

There's a lot of different ways to go about self inserting with an age gap. You can make yourself older, you can make the F/O younger, you can match your ages or be drastically different. Sometimes you wanna be just a littol guy and sometimes you wanna be the oldest fart in the series

As always, the only point is to have fun, and do whatever you want forever.

[infizero]

you guys dont understand how much splatoon means to me. you will never understand

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[poppyseed799]

poppy’s origin design tip, AKA a post that nobody who reads it will get any value from because I highly doubt anyone who sees this is making origins for the minecraft origins mod:

Night vision power LITERALLY allows you to give it different strength levels. USE THAT. It’s crazy how almost every night vision origin has freaking full-bright on. This isn’t me saying “don’t give them full brightness that’s too op!” it’s actually the opposite. Having complete vision in the dark can be quite DETRIMENTAL. I have an origin I made that has full power night vision, because it’s a zombie and I wanted to replicate the stupidity zombies have of walking straight into daylight like they don’t even see it. I knew that with full brightness it’s hard to tell how lit up an area is, and I wanted that as a downside! I used the night vision as a double edged sword; yes you can see perfectly in the dark BUT you’ll have trouble differentiating between light and dark.

And the thing is, night vision as a power doesn’t have to be a double edged sword. Literally in the base mod the Feline origin has a perfect balance of night vision to where you can see in the dark just fine AND you can still tell what spots are darker/brighter than others. On that note, if you don’t want your origin to have perfect water vision, make sure you take away the night vision while they’re in water… like y’all can literally copy the feline code for the PERFECT night vision power and somehow every single night vision origin I see is so wrong. Like man.

+ the full night vision is just aesthetically not it lmao. Coming from someone who LOVES blasting my eyes with bright colors and spent much of my early minecraft years chugging night vision potions every possible second even in the nether. It doesn’t bother me much but I KNOW it’s gotta bother others. Make it subtle or at least not overbearing.

[yunisverse]

sometimes i remember my first ever experience with a time loop story when i was like 8: Help! I'm Trapped in the First Day of Summer Camp by Todd Strasser.

The title says it all; kid goes to camp, makes friends with "cool kids" and gets peer pressured into being a shithead and a bully, wakes up the next day with things reset to arriving at camp.

But the thing is, this book is part of a series. Most of the books are this same kid getting caught up in body swap shenanigans, but he had gotten caught in a time loop once in a previous book. So he knew the score. He just needed to not be a jerk today. Cue him being overly nice to the point of blatant insincerity, making everyone wildly uncomfortable. No growth, just trying to appease the forces that be. Loop continues looping.

Yadda yadda, finally figures out how to be a genuinely nice kid who stands up to bullies and makes friends with the nerdy kid, etc etc, got everything perfectly right.

When that loop doesn't work he immediately throws himself off the bus to camp to kill himself. Loop again.

Finally, having resigned himself to never escaping the loop but at least he can dedicate it to being a good kid with nice friends, a thought occurs to him. There's one thing he hasn't done a single time in all the loops.

He brushes his teeth before bed. And wakes up the next day.

and frankly, i think more time loops should be hinged on morality-neutral mundane tasks. escape the time loop by taking your meds. free yourself by taking a shower. my man todd was a visionary

[kavehayati]

the funniest thing ever is when I’m telling a story in my heart ik is probably excruciating for the other to hear (overthinking core) but then the other is like tell me but it’s not the words they say it’s the specific vibe I get too

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve faked it with every guy you’ve ever worked with. Every scene, every moan, convincing, but never real. Then Bakugo happens. One scene turns into something else entirely and now you can’t stop thinking about him, and you’re starting to wonder if it was ever just a scene.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, praise, light degradation, dirty talk, light choking, possessiveness, semi-public sex (on set), creampie, light aftercare, porn industry setting, blurred emotional lines, language.

PART TWO

You weren’t nervous. Not really.

You’d done this a hundred times. With all the big names—Keigo, who liked to make everything a performance; Touya, who had a thing for whispering filth like he was telling you a secret; even that wild three-way with Shindo and Hitoshi that still topped your subscriber requests.

So no, this wasn’t nerves.

This was something else.

Maybe it was the name on the call sheet. Bakugo Katsuki.

He was the guy. The one who didn’t just act like a powerhouse on camera—he was one. Every scene he was in got clipped, shared, memed, thirsted after. The kind of raw intensity people couldn’t stop watching. Or jerking off to.

You included. Not that you’d admit it out loud.

Okay. Maybe once. When you were wine drunk and swiping through his catalog. Maybe twice. Maybe more.

You’d watched him wreck other girls. Watched the way his hands gripped hips like he owned them. The way his mouth dragged moans out like he knew exactly what buttons to push. You always told yourself it was research. Prep for the inevitable scene.

Now here you were, in the makeup chair, legs crossed, phone in hand, trying not to stare at the clock. You didn’t even get this antsy for award shows.

You shifted your hips a little. God, you needed to get a grip.

“Five minutes, Y/N,” someone called from set.

You gave a casual wave, sliding your phone into your bag. Cool. Easy. You’d done this before. You were the girl. The one who always looked good, always knew her angles, always gave the most convincing moans. No one ever knew they were fake.

No one needed to.

You only did this for the money. Never caught feelings, never chased orgasms. You could finish on your own time. You always did.

But when you walked onto set and saw him—arms crossed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, like the cameras were already rolling—your breath hitched.

And then his eyes locked on you.

Bakugo didn’t smile. He smirked. All sharp teeth and slow drags of his gaze. Like he was already undressing you in his head.

“‘Bout time,” he said, voice low and cocky.

You raised a brow. “Don’t get cocky, Dynamight.”

He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up. He smelled like something spicy—cologne, sweat, and danger. His smirk widened.

“Too late, princess. I’ve seen your work. Bet I could make you actually cum.”

You laughed. It came out a little shaky. “You think you’re the first guy to say that?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek like he had every right to touch you already. “But I’ll be the first one to prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. Cocky bastard. You weren’t new to bold claims—hell, you’d heard that same line from half the industry. But something about the way he said it, all low and sure like it was a promise, made your pulse skip.

You turned away before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

The scene started like any other.

Lights. Camera. Action.

You were on your back, legs spread, eyes half-lidded. Your moans were perfectly timed, your hands moving just how they were supposed to.

Bakugo was above you, teasing at first, fingers trailing up your thigh, smirking like he had all the time in the world. You tried to stay in character. Tried to focus.

But then his fingers actually slipped inside, and holy shit—

You bit your lip.

That felt… different.

His fingers weren’t just thrusting. They curled. Pressed. Rubbed against the spot you usually had to hunt for on your own. And when he looked down at you, his eyes weren’t blank or performative. They were locked in. Watching every twitch of your mouth. Every hitch in your breath.

“You always fake it this early?” he muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped. Your thighs tensed.

“What?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled. It rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re tight,” he said, dragging his thumb over your clit just right. “But you ain’t clenching like you mean it. Not yet.”

And then he sucked on your inner thigh.

Not for the camera. Not for show.

For you.

Your back arched on instinct.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “I got you.”

And you hated—hated—how badly you wanted to believe him.

He didn’t start slow.

He licked into you like he was starving, like he’d been starving, and this was his first meal in weeks. His tongue was hot, wet, relentless—flicking against your clit in firm, practiced strokes that had your legs trembling before you could even bite back the first moan.

You weren’t acting.

Not anymore.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, white-knuckled, and your lips parted like you wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

He hummed against you. Smug bastard.

“Don’t hold back now, princess,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit slow, then latching back onto your clit like he owned it. “Let’s show ‘em what it looks like when it’s real.”

You whimpered. Whimpered. You didn’t do that.

Not even when Keigo pulled out the toys. Not even when Touya did that breathy thing in your ear.

This was different.

You tried—tried—to keep it together, but his mouth moved like he already knew every inch of you. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers still working inside you like he wasn’t giving you a fucking choice. He knew exactly where to press, where to flick, when to slow down and when to pick it back up again.

And it wasn’t even for the camera.

It was for you.

Your stomach coiled, tight. Too tight.

Your breathing hitched. Your thighs started to shake. You were going to—

“No,” you gasped, voice panicked, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—fuck—I’m—”

“Yeah you are,” Bakugo growled, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His mouth was wet with you, lips swollen, eyes wild. “C’mon. Don’t fake it. Just fuckin’ let go.”

And then he sucked—hard—right over your clit.

Your body snapped.

The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through you, ripping the air from your lungs. You didn’t fake it. You couldn’t. Your moans were raw, broken, punched out of you like the wind got knocked from your chest. You shook, hands flying to his hair, thighs locking around his head as your back arched off the bed.

And he didn’t stop.

Kept going. Licking, pressing, dragging your orgasm out like he wanted to ruin you.

You came again, again, before you’d even come down from the first.

Your voice cracked. “Bakugo, I—I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he muttered, not letting up for a second. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your vision blurred. Your whole body was buzzing, on fire, shaking like you’d lost control of every single nerve ending. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You didn’t lose it like this.

But god, he was still licking you through it, fingers still curling right there, his voice low and wrecked as he talked you through it like he wanted to brand the sound of your orgasm into your memory forever.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, voice gravel and heat, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, desperate, lost.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it’s real.”

Your lips trembled.

“It’s real,” you gasped, breathless, broken. “It’s real, fuck I’m gonna—”

And just like that, you came undone again. Loud. Messy. Helpless.

Bakugo didn’t stop until your hips were twitching, your thighs were soaked, and your moans turned into soft little sobs of overstimulation.

The lights above you still burned hot. The cameras were still rolling. But everything else felt far away—muted, blurry, unreal. Your legs were jelly. Your chest rose and fell like you’d just run a marathon. And Bakugo was still between them, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something forbidden and planned to do it again.

Your brain was still fogged when he stood, stretching to his full height.

Then his hands were back on you, big and warm and so sure, gripping your waist like he owned it. He flipped you over effortlessly, face down, ass up, skin still hot and damp with sweat. Your thighs trembled when they spread open again, already overstimulated and soaked.

Bakugo slid his hands up your back. Slow. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning over you, his cock grinding against your ass with lazy pressure. “That twitch in your legs? That little shake?”

You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering.

“That’s mine now.”

Your breath caught as he pulled his hips back. You barely had time to process before the thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance—hot, heavy, and already wet from you.

“You ready?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Then he pushed in.

Slow. All the way to the hilt. Letting you feel every inch. Stretching you open, filling you to the fucking brim. You choked on a moan, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depended on it.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy throb around him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, hips flexing. “So fuckin’ tight. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

You were. He hadn’t even started moving yet and you were clenching around him like you didn’t want him to leave.

Then—he moved.

A slow drag out. A sharp thrust back in. Deep. Deeper. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“That the spot?” he murmured, hips rolling again, hitting the same angle, slow and deliberate.

You nodded, gasping.

“You better fuckin’ tell me when you’re close,” he growled, pace still maddeningly slow. “I wanna feel it. I wanna hear it.”

He reached around and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made your arms give out. You dropped to your elbows, back arching like he’d wired you for pleasure.

Then he started really fucking you.

Not fast. Not rough. Just deep. Every. Single. Stroke. Reaching places that made your eyes roll back. His hips snapped forward with just enough force to jolt you up the bed, his fingers never leaving your clit.

You moaned into the mattress, voice high and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s the fuckin’ sound I wanted.”

You were spiraling. Every thrust, every rub, every low growl in your ear sent you closer to the edge.

“Bakugo, I—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he grunted, hips picking up speed, still hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

You shattered.

You clenched around him so tight he groaned, biting down on a curse as your body trembled under him. Your moan punched out of your throat, high and wrecked and real.

But he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck—fuck, wait—” you gasped, hips twitching as he kept thrusting, dragging you straight into another orgasm with no break.

He leaned over you, voice low in your ear. “Not fakin’ now, huh?”

You shook your head wildly, whining into the sheets.

“Bet you never came like this on set before,” he said, voice rough. “Bet no one’s ever made you cum like this off it either.”

He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently, just enough to lift your head.

“Say it.”

You could barely speak. “No one. No one but you.”

“Damn right.”

His thrusts sped up, rougher now, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, joined by your wrecked little gasps, your whines, the slick mess between your thighs.

“You hear that?” he said, low and smug. “That fuckin’ sound your pussy’s makin’? That’s all me.”

You whimpered, and he slapped your ass—not hard, just enough to make you clench again.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

And then he slammed into you. Hard. Once. Twice. Over and over. You screamed—literally—as another orgasm crashed through you, your body locking up, eyes rolling back.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, and then pulled out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your back, his voice ragged as he came with a low, wrecked growl.

You collapsed.

No faking. No poses. Just you, ruined on the sheets, shaking and soaked and completely fucking gone.

Bakugo dropped to his knees behind you, panting. He grabbed a towel off the edge of the bed, wiped you down gently—so gently it made your chest ache.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet now. Careful.

You nodded, still dizzy. Still pulsing. Still floating.

“I came so many times I lost count,” you whispered, dazed.

He chuckled, cocky and low. “Good.”

You rolled onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

“That was supposed to be a scene,” you mumbled. “That felt like a fucking movie.”

Bakugo leaned in, kissed your bare shoulder, then smirked against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, “that was just the warm-up.”

You snorted softly, still breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Your legs were still trembling, body wrecked and used and buzzing. But something else was humming under your skin now. That ache in your core—not from need, but from power.

You rolled over, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down his chest. His eyes tracked every movement.

“Get on your back,” you whispered.

Bakugo raised a brow but didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillows, smirking like he thought he still had the upper hand.

His hair was damp with sweat. His lips were swollen. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. You’d never seen him like this.

Your grin widened.

You leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, way too good to be acting. Then you sat back, hips lifting off him, and slid down his body.

“Where you goin’?” he rasped, half-laughing, half-breathless.

You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyes dark, lips parted. “Didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

His breath caught.

You licked up the underside of his cock—slow, teasing, wet. He twitched in your hand, muscles tensing as you took your time, letting your mouth work him like you had something to prove. And maybe you did. Maybe you just wanted to see him fall apart the way he’d done to you.

You looked up, mouth wrapped around the tip, and saw it—the crack in his composure. The soft clench of his jaw. The desperate twitch in his thigh. The helpless sound he made when you sucked just right.

“You’re so sensitive, you’re not gonna last,” you said around him, lips brushing the head.

His fingers gripped the sheets. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kept going, messy and perfect, tongue flicking and mouth sinking deeper, until he was panting, until he was cursing under his breath, until his hips jerked off the bed.

And then you pulled off, slow, dragging your tongue over the tip one last time.

He made a noise—wrecked.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips again. His hands found your thighs like muscle memory, gripping tight.

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“Beg.”

He froze. “What?”

You rolled your hips once, just enough to feel the slide of his cock against your slick entrance.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Tell me you want it.”

Bakugo swallowed hard. His voice was low, rough. “I want it.”

You licked the shell of his ear, teasing. “Not good enough.”

His hands trembled where they held you. Then he growled, breath hot.

“Please.”

You stilled.

“What was that?”

He gritted his teeth. Looked up at you like he hated how much he meant it.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want you. Need you. Fuck, I’ll say whatever you want—just ride me.”

You smiled. Real. Slow. Lazy and smug.

Then you sank down on him—deep, wet, tight—and his whole body arched beneath you, a broken moan punching out of his throat like you’d ripped it from his chest.

His hands flew to your hips.

You rode him slow. Sweet. All control. And when he finally came again—loud, raw, completely undone—you kissed him through it. Held him through it.

And when he whispered your name afterward, soft and stunned, like he didn’t know what just hit him

You smiled. Because for once, it wasn’t just acting.

Neither of you moved right away. His arms were still around you, chest rising and falling under your cheek, skin damp with sweat, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. Your heart was still beating too fast, and so was his.

Eventually, though, you had to get up. Had to move. The spell didn’t break, exactly—it just faded enough to remember where you were, who you were, what this was supposed to be.

You pulled on your robe in silence, legs still shaking slightly, and glanced at him across the bed. He sat up slow, pushing his hair back, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Like maybe he had more to say, but didn’t know how. Or didn’t think he should.

You hesitated.

So did he.

“Um…I’ll see you around,” you said, trying to make it sound casual, even though your voice came out a little too soft.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and reaching for his clothes. “Guess you will.”

Your stomach twisted, weirdly tight, but you smiled anyway. You nodded once, turned, and walked off set without looking back.

You didn’t see the way he watched you go.

Didn’t see the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to reach for you.

Didn’t hear the low, quiet fuck that slipped from under his breath when the door finally shut behind you.

You got home and didn’t even shower right away.

You peeled off your clothes slow, every muscle sore in the best possible way, and collapsed into bed wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and your post-fuck glow. Your thighs ached. Your voice was half-gone. Your lips were still swollen.

You looked wrecked.

You felt worse.

And yet somehow, the only thing you could think about was him. The way he’d looked at you. The way he sounded saying your name. The way his hands had held you after like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You tried to distract yourself. Pulled up the scene, freshly posted not even an hour ago.

It already had thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. More than anything you’d dropped in months.

You scrolled.

StepOnMeY/N: Holy shit, that was unreal.

BbyBakuGo: not y/n faking with everyone but bakugo

ToyasToy: Was that real? Tell me that was real.

It was.

You scrolled further.

KeigoOfficial: I feel personally offended. Gonna have to step my game up. Rematch y/n?

TouyaTodo: faked it? With me? damn. i must be losing my edge. hit me up when you wanna make it real doll.

You smirked.

Your DM notifications were blowing up. People you’d worked with. People you hadn’t. Everyone suddenly curious. Hungry. Competitive.

Your stomach flipped. It was fun. It was flattering. But none of it hit quite the same.

Then you saw it.

BakugoK: Already need more from my favorite girl.

You stared at it.

Read it once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make sure it was real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your fingers went numb. You sat up in bed, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Because what the fuck did that mean?

You clicked on his profile. Double checked that it was him.

It was.

No emoji. No game. Just a single comment that said everything and nothing all at once.

Already need more.

Favorite girl.

You slammed your laptop shut and screamed into your pillow. You kicked your feet like a schoolgirl. You laughed—hysterical, breathless, completely losing your mind.

Then you opened your laptop, stared at the comment again, and whispered out loud to no one

“Oh my god.”

Because yeah—you’d done this a hundred times. But this one was different.

[gracerings]

lestat somehow ends up having beef with taylor swift because she released the 15th version of her new album the same day the vampire lestat album came out and made it go number two on the charts. his fans are mad and they say she’s not a ‘girl’s girl’ because they think lestat is secretly using she/her pronouns. this causes MAD discourse on twitter because people say lestans (official name of his fandom) are co-opting struggles of real trans/genderqueer artists and that lestat is clearly just a cis white man who thinks his aesthetic is cool and hip with the times but he’s actually super cringe. lestat has killed his pr team so he tweets himself in response to the drama and says that mademoiselle swiftié is a perfectly fine musician but she’s basically a baby compared to his long relationship with music. swifties ratio him on twitter calling him ‘an old queen’ and ‘world’s worst father’ (this is because they read international bestseller interview with the vampire). lestat has an emotional breakdown and cries for three days and he eats his makeup artist for making him look old. his producers are desperate and they ask daniel molloy to fix him because daniel is the unofficial vampire therapist now. vampire daniel’s idea of fixing lestat is to go on a blood bender with him. somehow this works because in between victims daniel tells lestat to stop being a little bitch and grow the fuck up. here lestat understands for the first time why daniel and louis are friends and asks daniel to telepathically call louis for him because he needs him. daniel tells him to eat shit. as they return to lestat’s shack (yes he still lives there when he’s not touring) they find out that swifties have doxxed him and showed up to the shack to ravage it. lestat starts crying again while daniel falls over himself laughing and records everything and posts it on tiktok. armand likes the video 0.3 seconds after it’s posted. throughout all of this louis is on a beach somewhere enjoying a quiet night, he telepathically asks daniel how lestat’s doing and daniel tells him to not even worry about it.