#and if you ask i will be happy to enlighten

[iratusmus]

fiona fox is the love + light of my life . also no i am not taking any criticism on her questionable tshirt collection i can and will defend all of my choices.

also bonus artist commentary in the alt text

[overlyobsessedoddity]

Recently watched Brokeback Mountain 🏔️ and I just had a wackass dream where Alma sees her husband kissing Jack and is just super into it

She then spends the rest of the movie trying to have a threesome without scaring her husband off/letting him know she knows and that accidentally turns into a poly relationship???

I’ve been searching desperately for an hour to see if anyone else sees my vision but the answer appears to be no😭

ITS TIME FOR ME TO BE THE CHANGE I WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD

[princess-of-purple-prose]

I started reading ORV because of you.

[ID: A grainy gif of a person looking absolutely stunned when they win on a game show and confetti begins to shower down. End ID]

I'M SO GLAD TO HEAR IT!!!! (Plain text: I'm so glad to hear it!!) I really hope you're enjoying!! Feel free to tell me your thoughts!!!!

[johnbly]

it truly brings me joy that at least one person blorbos john bly in the year of our lord 2023 <3

And you in return have brought me joy that there are more potc brisco people on this here website B)

[felinecyan]

Reality of Realizations

[Shoto Todoroki x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After the Sports Festival, Shoto comes to realize just how awful his behavior was, and he’s determined to make things right.

WC: 3559

Category: Mega Fluff, Awkward!Shoto

This idea smacked me to my keyboard at 3 am and took me hostage until I finished it… I hope you enjoy it!! ☺️🫶

『••✎••』

In the beginning, Shoto didn’t feel guilty. He felt indifference. To him, U.A. was about succeeding his father without his father’s side of his bloodline, the fire part of his quirk. Everything was about becoming a hero that wasn't like Endeavor. Everything was about getting stronger without using fire.

Friendships weren’t his concern. In fact, he didn't give them much thought at all. He didn’t feel like they would be beneficial to his cause.

For some reason, though, you wanted to be around him. Maybe it was because you saw something in him, some type of potential that even he didn’t recognize. Or maybe you just had a lot of energy that needed to be spent, and being around him was your only means of releasing it. Either way, you never left him alone. You followed him, sat next to him in class, and asked him about his quirk.

And with his current mindset, he was rather annoyed with your persistence. He knew he could handle it himself. He could do well in school and become a great hero without any help. You were a distraction to his goal, and he was not having it.

When you first tried to start a conversation, Shoto looked straight ahead. His gaze remained fixed on the whiteboard. If you continued to be persistent, he would snap at you. It was a guarantee.

As much as he wouldn’t like to admit, sometimes the father-son resemblance would shine through.

You tried again, asking him what his favorite food was. When he didn’t answer, you shrugged and turned your head toward the window—another failed attempt.

Your attempts only increasingly became more annoying as time went on. The same questions, the same responses, and the same outcome:

An angry Todoroki who just wanted to be left alone.

But it wasn't until the Sports Festival that things changed for him. Midoriya helped him realize that his father wouldn’t define him, but his own choices would. It was enlightening, and after their fight, he felt a strong sense of respect for the green-haired boy.

And due to that awakening, he realized just how absolutely rude he had been toward you.

You were one of his classmates, a person who was in the same school as him, training to be a hero just like him. You were someone who deserved respect, and he didn’t treat you the way you should have been.

That guilt settled in.

He was a horrible person.

He had to make up for it.

And, no, a simple apology would not be enough. He needed to go the extra mile and show you that he meant what he said and that he was truly sorry.

The question was, how?

He knew little about you. He never spoke to you, not in the way you had tried speaking to him, so how would he know your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite animal? How would he know what kind of flowers or sweets you liked?

How could he make you happy when he was the one who hurt you in the first place?

He thought long and hard. He pondered and pondered, trying to think of what you could possibly enjoy, but his mind would draw a blank.

So, he did the only thing he could think of: he asked Midoriya for help. The green-haired boy had that entire notebook dedicated to all the quirks every classmate had, so surely it could give him some insight into how to approach you.

Surely, it would help.

After class, Todoroki went over to Midoriya. He kept his hands in his pockets, and he looked the other way, not quite wanting to see Midoriya's expression.

Needless to say, he was absolutely surprised when Todoroki asked him for help. Surprised and absolutely delighted. The way he started bouncing in his seat with the biggest smile on his face made Todoroki want to reconsider the offer. But before he could retract, Midoriya already had his notebook out.

He flipped through a few pages, his finger stopping when he found your name. Honestly, it was unnerving just how many notes were dedicated to each individual.

Midoriya read your likes and dislikes; apparently, they were all through observation and not from you telling him. Maybe if Todoroki wasn’t so mean to you, then he would‘ve known what you liked, too.

He figured you had to make it obvious for Midoriya to write it down, right? There’s no way Midoriya would be able to figure out that information from just watching.

Then again, his analysis was pretty spot on. He knew what your personality was; he dealt with it firsthand. Of course, at the time, he didn't think too much about it. All he thought was how much he wanted you to leave him alone. Now, however, he wanted you to ask him those questions.

He wanted to be your friend.

He learned that you loved reading books. Not only that, but you loved flowers. Not the typical roses or sunflowers, but the less popular flowers. The type of flower that not a lot of people would think of when thinking about the beauty of a flower.

You also loved sweets, mostly anything with the word "chocolate" in the name. You had a sweet tooth, and it was very apparent.

Todoroki didn’t know why, but he found himself smiling. Finding out your likes and dislikes and learning about your personality was interesting. He wished he hadn’t been so blind before. Maybe then, he could've been friends with you earlier.

But it was okay. He could still become your friend. He could still fix things.

Midoriya had written down a list of things that you would appreciate the most, and then it was on the planning portion.

Gift-giving was still a relatively new concept for Shoto. He never had any real reason to give someone a gift before, and when he did give gifts, it was mostly for his siblings on special occasions.

He never really had the opportunity to buy a gift for a friend.

Midoriya told him that the best gifts were meaningful and came from the heart.

"Think of a memory you have with them. Think of something that they would really enjoy."

But the issue was, he had no memories with you. No good ones, anyhow. They were all trash because he never gave you the chance to have a good memory with him.

"Hey, Todoroki, if you were—"

You always sounded so genuine when asking him those foolish questions, but the moment he turned his head, his glare could have killed you.

"Do you always have to bother me? Doesn’t it get tiring asking the same things, day in and day out?" His tone was harsh, and he didn't mean for it to sound that way, but it was the only tone he ever used on you.

"No wonder your parents sent you to boarding school in America before applying here. I wouldn’t be able to deal with you either."

Yeah, those were his words. Those were his exact words. Not the nicest, were they?

The sentence was completely laced with poison, and even Shoto knew it then. He truly didn’t mean to bring that up; it was a low blow, but the damage was done, and the second it was said, your expression fell.

Shame, really. You were only trying to be nice. You didn’t deserve his spiteful attitude. You were kind and thoughtful, and you were a very good person, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept your kindness.

So, how the hell was he going to be able to apologize to you? How was he going to give you a present that meant something when all his memories of you were filled with his hate?

He sat on his bed, his legs crossed as he held his head. He needed an idea, but his mind drew a blank. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Midoriya told him that a homemade gift was probably the best among a couple of special items. If he made something himself, he could show how much effort he put into it. He could make something meaningful and show just how sorry he was.

But... he wasn't the most creative person. In fact, his creativity was nonexistent. He didn’t know the first thing about making something from scratch.

He knew how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a tasty soba, but other than that, he was lost.

And it wasn't like he could ask for his siblings' help. He took that as a sign of not owning up to his mistakes. If he couldn’t figure this out, then he didn't deserve your friendship.

His eyes were fixated on his desk. His textbooks were sprawled out, and a couple of papers were scattered across the table. He was currently studying for the next exam, and his phone was off to the side, plugged into the wall to charge.

His mind should’ve been on schoolwork, but the only thing he could think of was you. He needed an idea, and soon, because if he didn't do anything, his guilt would eat him alive.

His mind continued to wander.

Flowers, chocolate, a book, a teddy bear.

None of these would be enough. None of these were personal; none of these would mean something.

His eyes wandered from his desk to the window. The sky was orange, a beautiful sunset. He watched as the clouds passed and the birds flew by.

Birds.

Why does that remind him of something?

What do birds have to do with a gift?

He closed his eyes, trying to remember a moment. Any moment, whether good or bad, anything that could help him get a hint as to what to do.

And then, a memory flashed.

It was a rainy day, and you were late.

You were walking and running, but the rain was coming down pretty hard. You weren’t an idiot, so you weren't wearing the U.A. uniform. Instead, you wore a jacket. But even then, you were still soaked.

You didn’t have an umbrella, a raincoat, or any protective gear. You were running through the rain, trying to get to the school before the bell rang.

Luckily, it wasn't too far away.

Shoto remembered seeing you run, and for a brief second, he thought you were an idiot. He wondered why you didn't just take the bus or the train. If you lived near the school, you would've had plenty of time.

And still, even being as late as you were, you were still determined to have your daily conversations with Shoto.

You were definitely an odd ball, but in that moment, a certain memory came to mind.

When you finally made it to class, you were absolutely soaked. Your hair was sticking to your face, and your shoes were squishing with every step you took.

You sat down, understandably grumpy, but you weren’t upset that you were late, wet, or even sick the next day. No, what was upsetting you was the fact that you had lost something.

A hairclip, to be specific.

You lost a hairclip.

It was a clip that had a hummingbird attached to it. The clip itself was silver, but the hummingbird was painted green. He knows this because you wouldn’t stop talking about it.

He remembered you saying that it was a gift from a family member. He didn’t know who, nor did he care at the time, but you cared.

You really cared.

You spent the majority of the day searching for the hairclip. You searched the hallways, the bathroom, the cafeteria, everywhere you could think of, but it wasn’t there. It was nowhere to be found.

And for a week, you wore your hair down, which was the complete opposite of what you normally did.

If only Shoto realized this at the time, then he would've helped you look for it. He was good at finding things, ironically, but the thought didn’t cross his mind, and neither did the memory.

Until now.

In a split second, he bolted up. He rushed downstairs, not caring if he was loud. He didn’t care if his family could hear him; he didn’t care if he was disturbing their peace.

He had an idea, a good one, and it was perfect.

It was the most personal gift he could think of. Throw in a couple of your favorites, and it would be perfect.

He would make you a gift basket, but he would add his own touch to it. Again, he wasn’t that creative, but he had a basic idea. You’d like ribbons, right? Why not a nice bow?

Unfortunately, your specific hummingbird hair clip was long gone, but the internet seemed to have everything. He searched for hours, ignoring his study guide for the upcoming exam, and finally, after what seemed like forever, he found a silver hummingbird. It wasn’t painted green, but it was the same model as your old one.

It was the best he could do. And fortunately, due to the one-day shipping, he would have it by the time Monday rolled around.

He ordered it, and when it came in, he put the basket together. He bought you a book based on your favorite genre, some chocolate, a bouquet of some of your favorite flowers, and then, he added the ribbon.

The clip he put in a special case, away from the basket. He would be giving this separately because it would mean more, and he felt like this was something that shouldn’t be touched by anything else.

And, well, he wanted to see your reaction to his apology. It would be easier to read your expression if he didn't give you both the gift at the same time.

Oh, right, the apology.

He didn’t really think about that, and honestly, he didn’t know how to start.

But the best way to do anything is with practice, right?

Screw that upcoming test. He had something much more important to deal with, and knowing him, he’d probably still ace the test anyway.

He cleared his throat, standing in the middle of his room.

Okay, how would he start?

Hi? No, that was too casual.

Hello? No, it's not formal enough.

Greetings?

No, no, he shouldn’t sound like a robot.

He needed something more genuine, more real.

Maybe... maybe he should start by telling you how sorry he was. Yeah, that would be the best.

He cleared his throat again.

"Hey," his voice cracked, and his eyes widened. He sounded so awkward. That was so not smooth.

He started over.

"I know we haven't spoken in a while," he started. "I'm... I'm sorry for everything I've done. For everything I've said. You didn't deserve any of that."

This felt like a speech. Maybe he should tone it down.

"I… I was a horrible person, and I wish I could take back all the things I said, but I can't, and I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. And I know a simple sorry won't fix everything, so..."

He went over to the desk and picked up the box with the silver hummingbird inside.

"I want to give you this. I hope you like it."

Okay, practice over. He’s better off winging it. He truly regretted how he acted, so regardless of how the apology goes, hopefully, you can see that he's being genuine.

He sighed.

Hopefully.

The next day came quicker than expected. He spent the entire night preparing, and by the time the morning came, he was exhausted.

But it was okay because soon, he'd be able to see you and, hopefully, make amends.

Panic didn’t set in until he caught sight of you at your locker, picking out your books.

The moment his eyes landed on you, his heart started to race. His throat went dry, and his hands got clammy.

This is it, he thought—all or nothing.

He took a deep breath.

Here goes.

"Excuse me," he started. His voice sounded shaky, but he ignored it. He had to stay confident and pretend he wasn’t nervous.

You turned to him, and the moment your eyes met his, he swore he could feel his heart stop.

Those eyes… full of utter shock and surprise. You were really caught off guard. And he was, too, because not a single word was uttered from his lips.

"Um," you cleared your throat. "Hey, Todoroki," you smiled at him. You seemed hesitant, and honestly, who could blame you? He had never really been nice to you.

"I was just heading to class, but uh," you rubbed the back of your neck. "Did you… did you need something?"

The question made him snap back into reality.

He was still speechless, so to fix the awkward atmosphere, he decided just to hand you the basket.

You were obviously confused. Your brows were furrowed, and you stared at the present like it was some foreign object.

"What's this?"

"It's a gift."

Your confusion didn't fade. In fact, it was almost replaced with concern.

"For... me?"

Oh, for the love of…, snap out of it, Shoto!

He shook his head.

"Yes, for you," he handed you the gift, and when you held it, he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat. "I…"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry. For everything."

You just stared at him blankly, and for a moment, Shoto felt the panic rise. What if you didn’t forgive him?

You were quiet for a while, and his nervousness only grew. He decided to try again.

"You were just trying to be friends, and all I did was push you away. I was so… rude and cold, and you didn’t deserve any of that. You were just trying to be kind. So, I wanted to make it up to you. I wanted to do something nice and show you how deeply apologetic I am."

Silence.

He didn't know what to say anymore, so he continued, hoping he wasn't making a bigger mess than what it was.

"I also, uh, got you this," he pulled out the case from inside his uniform. With the way you were silent the entire time, he was starting to think you wouldn’t accept the gift.

So, the moment your hand reached out to grab the box, he was relieved to know you were willing to listen.

"I know it’s not your original, but it's the closest I could find. And, well, it's the least I could do, considering how I acted."

When you opened the box, he could see the way your eyes lit up. He was so nervous about this, so scared that you wouldn’t like it, but the way you smiled proved him wrong.

And that smile. Oh, that smile.

He caused that smile. Instead of stealing it away or making it go away, he made it appear.

"Todoroki, I," you were speechless. Utterly speechless, he could tell by the way you looked up at him.

You were trying to find the right words, and honestly, he didn’t blame you. He was in a similar situation.

"You didn’t have to get me this," you said, a bright smile on your face. You were holding the hummingbird gently like it was a precious object. "I probably would've forgiven you even if you didn’t get me anything."

Wait, was that a yes?

Was that a yes?!

Shoto could feel the corners of his lips twitch. He felt himself smiling.

"Thank you," you continued, still holding the hummingbird carefully. "It means a lot to me. I appreciate the effort you put into this. And, um, thank you for the apology. I really needed to hear it. Honestly, I thought I did something wrong, so I'm glad that wasn’t the case."

You laughed a bit, and even if he was confused about why you were laughing at all, he was relieved that you were accepting his apology.

"You did nothing wrong," he told you. "I was the one who messed up. I have issues, but that's not an excuse to be a jerk."

You smiled again, and he noticed the way you fiddled with the box. It was clear you wanted to attach the hairclip.

"I can… um, help you with that if you want."

The instant nod from you was enough for him to grab it delicately from the box, and when he did, you turned around.

It was a really pretty clip, and it suited you. Whoever originally gave it to you clearly had great taste.

It took a second, but he finally placed it into your hair. When you turned back around, he nodded in approval.

"You look nice," he told you.

"Thank you."

There was a pause.

"Um, did you, uh, want to sit together during lunch? I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought I'd ask."

The amount of joy he suddenly felt was unexplainable. You were accepting him, and it was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "That sounds nice."

Mission make up with you: success.

The guilt of everything still lingered, and he would have to apologize to everyone else as well, but that could be done later.

Right now, all that mattered was his new friend. A friend that should’ve been his a long time ago.

[samodivaa]

permeated by jealously

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Summary: In your tight-fitting red dress, you look ravishing for the date with a Russian guy—but the moment you retort to Bucky in Russian, it begs to be ripped from your body.

Warnings: smut, angst, kitchen sex, rough/possessive, unprotected p in v, miscommunication Words: 4k

Bucky's veins are full of the serum, but at this moment, they are full with belladonna tincture, the substance of jealousy. Seeing you with another man, he speaks of Love in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him—that guy coming to pick you up from the compound, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, already a memory. For a split second you stare at each other, you smile at him ruefully. A fleeting, lasting moment for Bucky. Why do you even notice him? Seeing you happy, gives mixed colors to the air of the moment—he is lost in time, sleeping being his only lover.

Bucky wants to kiss you. Instead he puts his lips on the tumbler glass, pretending that it is you. His t-shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and he runs a hand through his hair before he puts the glass down on the kitchen counter—flashes of you in that dress that you wear for your date and the way it lifts your body up from a single look races through his head.

His cock jerks and he shakes his head, grinning as he stares down the bottle of vodka next to his cup.

And, for the first time in his innocent and confined life, he senses in himself a potential for a different corruption that takes his breath away. He doesn’t blame himself. He is a curious, wanting thing—finally, enlightened and free, but also lustful and carnal. But It stabs at him, almost like a physical pain, and he feels both deprived and angry, deprived because Bucky wishes to be with you and angry, because his own choices causes him misery. ----- “It is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I just wake up into another nightmare."

"And what is that nightmare, Bucky?" He keeps his blue, lusterless eyes fixed on Natasha with a calm but warm and kindly expression in them as he thinks how to say it  "My love life” “Maybe you need to ask her on a date, that’s what Vladimir does”

“Vladimir? Oh , so it is not just 'that one guy' anymore?”  he says in a quiet voice, without a trace of irritation, with a note of the simplest curiosity, his lips quivering as a forced smile comes on to his face. Nat momentarily startles. Then she starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of him?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m not jealous,” a note of personal affront creeps into his voice “I don’t like his name”  ----- You are on a date, having fun—but anxiety grabs his mind, it is self-perpetuating. Worrisome thoughts reproduce faster than rabbits, he is trying not to lose his balance. Not yet. Especially when the jealousy sets in. 

Bucky is conscious every moment in himself of many, many elements positively swarming in him, ah these, opposite elements. He knows that they have been swarming in him since you started going out with Vladimir and they are craving some outlet from him, but he doesn't let them, would not let them, purposely would not let them come out, because he believes there is nothing so self-destroying, and so despicable, as his jealousy. He tries to appear as a hard shell on the outside when you finally enter the kitchen at 1 am—while there is a runny mess on the inside as he tenses, waiting for you to say something, anything. When you near the sink, your fingers find the curve of the faucet, the metal cool beneath the touch. He turns around to lean against the counter as you pour a cup of cold water. Bucky stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. He is in such an irritated frame of mind, because of your quietness that in rude and abrupt fashion he blurts out the words:    “You must love that dress”

He takes time persing down the length of your body as you take a step back, watching you press against the counter and then back up before locking on your eyes again. You are not wearing a bra and your nipples harden from having his eyes on you. Red, the front needlessly too scandalous—at least for Bucky. The dipping v lets him see the swelled sides of your breasts pushed up and together. Just to be sure, though, a golden necklace with a teardrop pearl at the end, letting it trail just over your cleavage.

  “I didn’t know that you notice what I am wearing when I go out”

You answer, trying to look as innocent as possible. The vindictive smile that stretches on your ruined lipstick sends shivers down Bucky’s spine—did you make out with the guy, maybe more than that? You look beautiful sitting there looking at him like a she-cat. All he has to do is look at you, and he lusts. He wants to take off that delectable dress and make love to you until you don't have the energy to go out with anyone else ever again.

  “You’ve worn it for the second time. For your date.”

His gaze drops from your eyes, to the swell of your chest. Your chest tightens and you bite your lip to hide the grin wanting to escape. You notice the disgust written on his face and you laugh coldly, gaze never leaving his buff frame. With the certainty that you have well and truly punished him for not asking you on a single date. The angry, feral part of you feels so close to the surface that you can almost scent its blood-clotted fur. You want to lick the scratches you’ve made on him. You want to scratch him until he breaks apart. You gulp down the rest of your water to ease the heat flaming across your skin. Then you lick your lips. His gaze tracks the movement. You think you stopped breathing.

  “His name is Vlad” 

An audacious expression plasters on his face as you sigh in irritation at Bucky, rolling your eyes. Bucky is still leaning against the counter and rests his metal hand on the countertop while sipping vodka from the mug in his other hand. A beautiful yet deadly ornament—vibranium has no business being as hot as it is on him.

A note of personal affront creeps into his voice “Vladimir, mhm”

  “What else have you noticed about me?” your grin becomes a touch leery, innocently cocking your head to the side.

  “Try me” he says softly.

  “Favorite color?” you ask, interrogatively.

  He chuckles “Red”

  “Favorite quote?”

Your brows lift, anticipation making your nerves sing. You are not sure what he is about to say, but you have the feeling that it will be the right one, your heart leaps at the thought.

  “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid”  he answers, this time winking at you  “I know everything about you, sweetheart”   he adds and you feel like smacking that stupid grin off his face.

His mind works well when it comes to his work as an avenger, hovering on hummingbird wings, but when it comes to you, especially when you purposely play with his jealousy, It finds a way to push through any seal of his mind, his expressions are always an array of masks he uses to cover it up his emotions—but now, it is all over his face, pure surrender, because he is affected and you can tell, he is staring impudently at you, awning for your response.

  “I prefer kotyonok. Vlad says that cognac and wine is all for the heart and that vodka is for the soul. If it's hurting real bad and you’ve never had vodka before”

His brows lift, because this does surprise him and his stomach tightens at that particular Russian word. His mouth curls into a small snarl at the thought of that stupid man calling you that. A pang of jealousy surges through him. The bad kind. The kind of longing that makes him wonder that there must be a natural comorbidity between sexual appetite and sexual jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill. He clears his throat, his face souring before his mocking tone grates:

  “Looks like you know a thing or two about me, too”   

He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but jealousy is too much, even for Bucky. He settles back into himself, shaking whatever momentary emotion flitted over his face and replacing it with a confident aura that screams laid back and in control as he cages you to the counter, his flesh hand still holding his half full cup. Your throat gurgles slightly, looking at the bigger frame towering you through your lashes like the starved woman you are. You are overwhelmed by his bold move, leaving you both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion here—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. You try to ignore his hard cock pressing against your thigh, your attention remains on his face. You feel drunk without a drink, your nerves tighten, making your muscles clench―this is going exactly how you want. You want him to kiss you. But you make sure to keep your facial features mundane and level.   “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you have a crush on me, Bucky” You also ignore the annoying, visible blush on your cheeks, he must have noticed it because his expression goes grim for a second before a surprised laugh almost breaks free from his lips, responding only by a clink of his tumbler against yours. Judging by the rumble that vibrates in his chest, he likes your reaction, though the noise ends on a cynical note. His blue eyes drop to your mouth, warmth pours through your body and you moisturize your lips as he presses his knee between your legs. Right against your clit—you breathe out, a wave of pleasure sliding down your spine while Bucky just tips his glass back the last of vodka, allowing the burn to sear his throat and warm his stomach—while casually grinding his leg slowly against you, creating a sensation that has heat winding through your core and shooting down your legs.   “Na zdorovie” (cheers) You smile venomously with a kind of joyous sigh, your arrogance in this moment makes you feel very confident. Up to this moment possessiveness has not been that much of a torment, now it suddenly gnaws at his heart. As in slow motion, he pulls back to put both glasses on the counter. He realizes that you do something to him. Every time. It’s your only detriment this past month. To step on his heart—to test his feelings for you, and his jealousy already has made him erupt like a volcano. He has never been jealous before he met you. It burns. Some nights, watching you go with other men on missions, even that drives him mad. 

   “You and that fucking mouth, kotyonok” His voice sounds ill-natured, bitter, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the ways that you are trying to provoke him, but his tone shifts at the last word. Voice warm and low. Intimate. You like it this way. You like the way it sounds and it makes you gasp.   “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” Your character has absolutely changed. It is an entirely new and hitherto unknown being who now stands and stares at him somewhat lovingly. There is evidently, he concludes, something at work here, some storm of the mind, some paroxysm of emotion which he won’t question. When you say nothing, his hands move to your waist, his vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire. You let out a deep breath and can’t deny the strange elation you feel when you feel his hands, needing more of it, of his touch. Your pussy contracts as his hands reach around, gripping a handful of your ass, forcing you harder against his both body and leg. The grip is both bruising and possessive, controlling every movement.     “Oh, god-” You open your mouth, and Bucky dips down, catching the moan with his tongue. Satisfaction sparks in his irises and he tilts his head and keeps watching you with those fucking lethal eyes of his. Bucky gives a small grin, a fake one. The type that shows no teeth and barely lifts at the corners. You feel a very small spark to your ego, knowing you are getting a rise out of him. But all of the playfulness in the air drowns beneath the intensity of his thousand shades of blue dancing in his eyes as if he is peeling back your mental layers, his eyes looking down watching the bare length of thigh that shows through the slit in your dress. 

   “You and these dresses” he groans. Whether you want to admit it or not, physically, this man affects you more than anyone else ever has, and that causes panic to percolate through every nerve, you feel like you are losing control, but you don’t mind it. You feel vulnerable, exposed, almost at his mercy at this point. Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, but his jealousy is combined with modesty and there's even something touching about the filthy words coming out of his mouth. He wants you—and finally, he is not afraid to both tell and show it.

   “Ya ne mogu vyrazit', kak sil'no ty menya zavodish'” (I can’t explain to you how much you turn me on) Your lips part and you swallow audibly while he has the most delicious visual of his dick slipping between them, your eyes staring up at him in surprise and that sweet tongue running along the shaft. He surges forward, your face is an inch from his when you breathe out, he breaths in before crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing his lips to yours. It is not a sweet kiss. It is hard, demanding, and possessive, borne out of weeks of pent-up frustration and tension. His mouth is hungry and insistent, his tongue probing your lips, asking for greater intimacy. You grant it, tongues swirling together, yours follow his when it retreats and tasting his in return. When he finally pulls back, he rests his hands on your hips, and stares into your eyes for a minute.

  “Tvoy zapakh s uma menya svodit” (your scent drives me crazy) 

He speaks without haste, controlling himself so well, yet there is something in his voice, determined and euphoric, resentful and insolently defiant. Passion smolders in his eyes as he traces the line of your clavicle with his index flesh finger, pausing for only a fraction of a second. And then you become aware of all the magnificent silk wrapping around your body, you have the feeling that you might drown in his eyes, his two drops of winter rain.   “I would love to make love to you, but not tonight”  He studies your face, pleading silently for your approval, searching for the smallest sign, the slightest movement of your brow, the vaguest reddening of your cheeks, the surprise of your eyes. At that moment, your soul clenches as well as your pussy. The hard dick still pressing into you distracts you from replying. You can feel your panties dampening. And your nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive, aching as they pucker against the material of your dress. Your chest warms, desire winding like a rope around your core. You think you like Bucky this way. A smile shows on your face. This would be invisible to any, but the closest scrutiny—Bucky has noticed it and taken it for his sign. Then he leans forward and presses his lips once more, his sugar roughness, his possessiveness is what you need to finally feel.   “What did you do when you went out?”   “We had a few drinks. We danced.” you reply, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. His lip quivers slightly, forcing himself to seem calm, but Bucky’s eyes are sparkling irefully, there is no doubt in his expression the full success of your endeavors to make him even more detested.   “You danced with him?” he asks, with sudden vivacity.   “Well, he is my date” You murmur, trying to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, you sense a physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of your own heart, which beats visibly and audibly under the excess of agitation—but before you can even manage to open your mouth again, his metal fingers grab the front of your gown and pull it until it tears, no matter how beautiful, it was meant for another man—perfect breast on display just for him, his cock pulses at the sight. His touch tickles you on his way up to your boobs, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his palms. “Tony’s rules include no sex in the common areas” “Fuck the rules” he grits out, more animal than you have ever heard from a human. And then he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet—with the filthy touch of his hands, that unexpected warmth rushes through you. His thumbs run over the hardened peaks, making you moan and his dick is so stiff that he is worried that he might come.   “Ty moya” he says coolly. (you are mine)

   He leans in, his voice a rumble in your ear.   “Moy kotyonok” (my kitten)

Bucky moves, gripping the meat of your thighs before he spins you harshly around and bends you over the counter. Your walls are squelching around nothing as you feel him pull back, murmuring something in Russian, it is sinful—and pleasurable, drawing a muffled whimper from your mouth as you hear him tear apart your panties. You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you hear his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs before pressing his body against yours until every inch of him melds into you one more. Bucky’s metal hand grips your chin and forces your head back while the other closes around your throat as his cock presses against you—chills slide up your spine, arousal sending a shot of adrenaline through your center as you feel pre-cum on your naval. Fuck, he is huge. There is a certain satisfaction in manhandling you into this position, the flesh arm tightens around your nape, holding you close to him. 

   "How about we make a deal? You wear dresses for me and I take you out on dates?” He rambles against your ear, tongue slipping out to taste you, just a little bit. His cock nudges around your ass cheeks, to your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead with his metal hand, gliding through your delicate folds and returning his cold grasp around your chin. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you with ease, your wetness sucking him in, making it easy for him to thrust into you until he buries himself to the hilt.     “Fuck, you feel good”

Bucky moans quietly as his eyes close, focusing on feeling your cunt wrapping around his dick for the first time. His lips stay silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands hold, the way he fucks you. You want to see his face, but you can only imagine how perfect he looks.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind. It is an igniting feeling to have so much control over your body. It is sick and twisted, he has long learned to run from what he feels and wants, that's why he has nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control. And he needs to take control over something for once in his life. You. He has lost control over everything, even the places in his head. When your moans become too loud, his hand closes around your neck, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. His growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length.

   “Come for me, drench my dick”

He whispers, fucking his cock against your cervix. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath as you struggle to breathe. Jealousy…teeth dragging against your skin, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples, shooting up and down your spine as his thrusts never falter, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb.

Lust is the best of all the deadly sins, you realize as he pulls out and helps you go back on your shaky feet. It all happened too fast. You only wanted a kiss. You push his chest like you want him off of you, but your fingers have Bucky’s shirt clutched in them and he knows you are full of shit. You want him. 

   “I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did. I don't.” The timbre of his voice goes into that low register that makes your insides curl in on themselves. You want that tongue to swipe your sex like licking the frosting off a cupcake. It is the sexual chemistry you want more of. It is electric. But guilt sets in. You are feeling torn between your commitment to building a relationship with Vlad while engaging with Bucky, in a way it feels like cheating. A part of you is hoping someone from the team would wake up and catch you, so you wouldn't have to live with this lie. But no one wakes up and in the silence that follows, you understand the nature of your new curse: you are going to get away with it. Your silence hurts him, his mouth tightens. But there are some wounds that he can heal only by deepening them and making them worse. And yet, sometimes facts are no more than pitiful consequences, Bucky knows how the public will perceive you if you are dating the former Winter Soldier. Seeing you standing there unresponsive makes him realize that silence has a sound—he knows that you regret sleeping with him. You are the people's favorite Avenger, the one everyone look up to with admiration and reverence—he is sure that you are thinking about it, but he understands. The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put his finger on—and he should be sad, but instead, he feels nothing. He feels a lot of nothing these days. He is empty, as if whatever makes him feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving him hollowed out like a shell. This is for your happy ever after, Vlad might be a stupid Russian, but he is at the very core of his existence—a real human. He turns around and paces the room, as if he can leave his regret, you, behind. But it cracks you as you see him walk away, leaving you naked like an ugly shadow made by himself. You have mistaken his lust for love. Regret. It turns into anger, into hatred. And where there is anger there is always pain underneath. You eventually come to understand that in harboring the anger, the bitterness and resentment towards Bucky who has hurt you, you are giving the reins of control over to him—maybe It’s time to finally say “yes” to being Vlad’s girlfriend.

[drluvsick]

Hashiras x super cheerful excited golden retriever girlfriend PLSPSLSPSLPSLPSLS🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Reader is sunny , always smiling , laughing , extroverted , very strangely optimistic ^_^

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐬

hashiras with a sunny, optimistic s/o. 📝 ik the ask called for fem! reader but this can be read gn! as well. GOOSH I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO DO… ALSO i knew that if i just did this regularly for everyone it’d start becoming repetitive in each one, so i put them into categories first and then wrote down what might be different with each hashira— hence why some entries are pretty short. SORRY AGAIN!!

word count : 1.3k+

𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 . . . 𝘚𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘈𝘠 𝘉𝘌𝘚𝘛 — 𝘚𝘜𝘙𝘍𝘈𝘊𝘌𝘚

MATCHES your energy perfectly. absolutely loves the positive vibes, it makes their entire day and they live for it.

— rengoku, mitsuri, tengen (mostly)

FINDS it refreshing. the corps needs more people like you to make the negative energies of demon slaying wash away. may not completely match your energy, but it makes them happy no doubt to see you spreading that positivity (it’ll rub off on them soon enough if it hasn’t already).

— shinobu, obanai, gyomei

FOUND you annoying at first. absolutely thought you were stupid. though, in the end, they fell anyways without meaning to— soon finding your positivity and shining personality charming.

— sanemi

TREATS you like an any other day person they’d react with on a daily basis until you start spending more and more time with them, congrats! you’ve invaded their hearts.

— giyu, muichiro

𝐆𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐈 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

— you distract him from everything. you’re always so bright and happy that whenever he’s around you he can’t help but smile and forget all his worries and stresses.

— he likes that this is your true personality, not just some act.

— definitely falls further in love when you defend him from other slayers who question his capabilities as hashira due to his lack of sight.

— AND HE WILL DEFEND YOU whenever he senses that you’re sad because of another person. he cannot stand to hear you feel upset. it’s one of the rare times he’s passively aggressive towards someone, he simply just cares for you so much.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈

— finds you interesting. and when he spots an interesting person, you best believe he’s going to investigate.

— loves talking to you about nothing in particular, whether you’re leading or he’s leading the conversation it’s bound to be a unique and enlightening chat.

— ABSOLUTELY bedazzles you with some of his flashy items so that you’re positively shining in and out.

— sometimes when he’s just down in the dumps he may find your positivity annoying and will voice it, but he always backtracks when he sees your smile go a fraction lower.

𝐆𝐈𝐘𝐔 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐎𝐊𝐀

— this is a trope. it’s called extrovert x introvert. it’s also another trope called yapper x listener.

— you will spout out a whole paragraph or two about something and he’ll just give you a few nods to show he’s paying attention, maybe voicing his opinions once in a while with just a few words. but he’s definitely listening, after all, he loves hearing you speak.

— you go from just another person in his life to something way different, someone who recognizes him for something and doesn’t shun him like the others.

— he thinks that maybe—with you being a “look on the bright side,” kind of person—you’ll be able to see him from an angle that practically no one takes the time to see for themselves.

— he lets you hug him whenever you’re happy, but at the same time he hopes that you don’t hear his heart going a mile a second.

𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

— it’s funny, really; how fast his memories from way back when go to rest whenever you’re nearby, how immediate the thoughts of his scars disappear as you come into view.

— he admires your consistency to stay positive among the lifelong struggles in this job as a demon slayer.

— showed his scars to you early on after you convinced him that looks alone wouldn’t change your opinions on him. he’s so glad he did, because after some much needed pep talking he’s absolutely ecstatic. he can breathe easier around you now, taking off the bandages whenever he likes because you’re just that much of a comfort to him.

— possessive & protective, if someone’s making you sad they are DEAD MEAT. HIDE

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀

— fell so hard. and he didn’t even notice it! that smooth road from hating you to loving you never crossed any speed bumps that let him figure it out, it just hit him one day.

— “you can’t find positivity in everything. you’re bound to wake up to reality somewhere along this line of work.” sanemi said this to help himself so that he’d never be so hurt by your eventual sad expressions from who knows what. the only thing it succeeded in doing was convince you to prove him wrong.

— has the prettiest color on his face when he blushes at you complimenting or being enthusiastic at spending time with him, even if you’re enthusiastic at spending time with every hashira.

— it’s funny cuz he’ll just go from being so aggressive and mean towards you to just one day out of the blue being unusually gentle and kind. you bet he’ll be the first one to beat up whoever makes you cry or help you with your problems, because even if this man doesn’t see it, he is absolutely WHIPPED.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎

— he just wants to hug you every time you’re around (and he does, with your consent of course)!

— two golden retrievers running around with no leashes and no restraints. everyone should be terrified

— he’s happy that there’s someone in the corps he can really talk to for days on end about anything if he’s ever looking for positive outlooks. someone who sees his point of views and matches his overly optimistic nature.

— gets a lil jealous when you’re like this around tengen but we shall not elaborate as he’s stomped those feelings down long ago

𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐈

— LOVES your energy SO MUCH. it makes her feel all warm and fuzzy inside when you talk and laugh around her; she feels wanted.

— your hype girl. she will absolutely cheer for you whenever you need it and she’ll squeal when you pay her back with hugs or compliments.

— she never seems to need any words or comfort from you whenever she’s sad, because every time you walk in her point of view she immediately lights up and her mood does a whole switch.

— clicked easily with you when you first got introduced, definitely love at first sight for her.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐔 𝐊𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐎

— she’s surprised at first at how happy you could be in this line of profession, but soon after spending some more time with you she understands. you’ve given her a new reason to be happy everyday and she cherishes her genuine happiness closely.

— she refrains from teasing you as she does with giyu, because unlike with him she can’t stand to see your smile break even a little bit.

— likes the positive role model you present to her patients, encouraging them that everything was going to be okay and uplifting all the moods of all the people you speak with in her estate.

— eventually her own smiles will mirror your unfeigned ones over time. she thanks you heavily for that.

𝐌𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐎

— aloof with you as he does with most others at first. doesn’t understand the point and why you want to spend time with him so much—why it’d bring you so much joy to be around him.

— eventually he learns to tolerate it which leads to his days feeling unusually empty without you. he subconsciously asks for more missions with you with reasons that don’t fully make sense, but they’re more believable than “i don’t want to be apart from them.”

— and then when he regains his memories and the fog from his head is lifted; he’s absolutely smiling every time you’re around. he still dazes out of conversations once in a while, but that’s only because he’s busy looking at you.

— he comes to full terms with himself and hugs you a lot (to the point where he’d been called clingy by tengen a few times). he’s so, so happy with you and hopes you never fall to the line of work that you both reside in.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[youmustfixyourheartt]

banging on the glass of my enrichment inclosure the enlightenment was genuienly such an interesting time for the rising middle class and it was an experimental time that eventualy lead to some of the amendments in the US constituion, the women's rights movements, and the justice system in america DO YOU HEAR ME DO YOU-

[gay-dorito-dust]

Either college or old man Ford being with someone who, even after all the years theyve spent together, still looks at them like a lovesick puppy

like theyre blushing and getting flustered when he rests his hands on their waist or doing normal couple stuff, etc.

it's like their mind still doesn't register that they're together and instead, to cope, just proceeded to have the most down bad crush on their HUSBAND

(like that one reddit post LMAOO)

You knew that you were staring but you didn’t care, and you knew that Ford knew that you were staring and yet you didn’t care when the finest man in existence was before you and was also your husband?!

You still found it impossible to come to terms that this silver fox was yours forever and always, you still get flustered when he compliments you and your bed head, even more so when he cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead.

You really shouldn’t be this badly affected after being with Ford for so long, but you couldn’t help it! Your husband was hot and you’d be blind to not take time out of your day to stare at him, shamelessly admiring his aging face and silver fluffy hair that looked like storm clouds! It was unfair that Ford looked so effortlessly beautiful no matter what he did that it left you swooning and pining after him like a lovesick fool, you’d find yourself asking if he was single…

Only to remember that you were married to him and got to see him be so effortlessly handsome every damn day of your life and you end up smiling stupidly.

‘You alright my love?’ Ford asked and you internally squealed like a little girl.

‘I am just perfectly fine my dear, just admiring my beautiful and talented and smart husband is all.’ You admitted also sheepishly as though you were confessing to him all over again as you felt the best rush to your cheeks and tips of your ears.

Ford smiled softly as he walked over to you and held your face in his hands, feeling the warmth radiation off of your cheeks as he caressed them; After all this time together Ford was aware of the fact he still held some power over you and he couldn’t help but feel flattered at how little had changed from then to now.

It was charming and sweet and kind of you to still look at him through the lens you did since your time at college together, he didn’t feel like he deserved it, but he knew that feeling would fade the moment he looked into your eyes and saw the abundance of love you held for him was still thriving and very much alive.

‘That is very sweet of you my dear,’ Ford said softly as he kissed your forehead, ‘you truly enlighten me with your love and affection that I can not thank you enough for marrying this old fool.’ He chuckled as he saw your eyes widened as though you still weren’t accustomed to the reality that you two were indeed married and have been for the past two months. Ford often wondered what what off in that head of yours but from the look within your eyes, he already knew his answer and couldn’t help but find it endearing.

‘I’d be the fool if I didn’t marry you Ford, even a bigger fool if I didn’t say anything back in college. I think I’d fight myself if i didn’t.’ You admitted as you thought of an alternate universe where you didn’t spill your guts to Ford back in college, you honestly didn’t want to think of where your life would’ve been like had you not married Ford as you were certain it was one full of regret and longing for what could’ve been. So you thanked god every night as you cuddled up to him in your shared bed that you got to live in a reality where you got Ford to be yous in every aspect possible.

Ford chuckled. ‘I highly doubt there is one where we don’t end up together my darling, and trust me I’ve been through the entire multiverse for the past thirty years.’ His eyes then soften as he rests his forehead against yours, causing your whole body to heat up at the action as you found yourself melting into him and his warmth. ‘I’m just happy that you were willing to wait so long for me. So, so happy.’ He adds in a whisper.

You nudged his noses with yours, flighting off the butterflies that were now within your stomach and running rampant at his words alone. ‘I would’ve waited far longer if needed just to see you home safe and sound.’ You told him as you kissed his nose and cheeks softly, happy to be in his arms and breath him in, content in knowing that he was here and that he was real unlike the dreams you had in the past. ‘So don’t thank me for doing something I would’ve done ten times over. You deserve as such Ford.’ You add as you pecked him lightly on the lips reassuringly.

‘Still I must thank my adorning wife/husband/spouse for being by my side when they had every right to walk away.’ Ford said as he tugged you closer to his chest, just innocently holding you in his arms lovingly but yet you couldn’t help but feel your heart hammer in your chest at being so close with him as you burrowed your face into his heck.

‘Your wife/husband/spouse is just happy to see you home where you’d belong with your family.’ You murmured again his red turtleneck, holding his waist tightly as you indulged in his comforting scent, something you loved about him that rivalled your love for his six fingers.

‘And I’m happy that I get the opportunity to call you my wife/husband/spouse.’ Ford admits as he kisses the top of your head before nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing a tender kiss there which made your breath hitch in your throat. ‘I love you my darling, so, so much.’ He whispers as though it was something that would only be shared between the two of you, like no one else is allowed to hear such talk between lovers and soulmates.

Your love for Ford was insurmountable, no words could properly describe just how much you love this man that you were more then willing to rip heaven and hell for, to rip through time and space just to see him home safe, anything if it meant seeing a man as sweet and loving as him smile that adorable smile of his in your direction.

You needed Ford like you needed air to breathe, water to drink and food to eat. Ford was a necessity for your survival and you weren’t going to let him go ever again, for you didn’t know how you’d be able to cope without him again.

Sure you might still have an embarrassingly massive crush on your husband, and become flustered every time he held your hand, kissed your forehead or even looked at you lovingly but you weren’t ashamed of it as it just meant that you were that your love rang true even after so long. If anything it meant that your love was stronger then most that fizzle out after a certain period of time, and yet you couldn’t help but smile stupidly and look away whether Ford complimented you or engulfed your hand with his own.

Ford was your best friend, husband and your crush all at the same time and you were more then happy to have finally gotten your happy ending with him, all the while staying perpetually in love with him regardless of the passage of time because Ford was so much more then your husband but he was massive part of yourself that you couldn’t live without nor intend to.

‘I love you so much my beloved Ford.’ You said as you rested your eyes and listened in on his strong heartbeat that told you he was alive as he held you tighter. ‘So very, very much.’

‘Then I hope you keep loving me for a long time.’ Ford confessed as he kissed your neck some more.

‘And I’ll promise to love you for an even longer amount of time after that.’ You admit as you moved your neck so that he’d have more access as you clutched onto him, smiling dopey as you felt as though you were on cloud nine within your husbands arms, blissed out of your mind as it ran rampant with ideas for the rest of your shared lives together.

[goldenstring6123]

Hello! LADS boys with muscular fem s/o who can carry heavy stuff especially carrying them with no struggle at all just like Mikasa from aot hehe (I saw gym tiktok girl who can carry an adult man with one arm☠️)

Lnds: Muscle Mommy

Warning: F!reader, AFAB!reader, reader is not the mc, muscular!reader,

Author's notes: I'm a sucker for muscle women. Everytime i see one on my reels and my tiktok i just go 🙈🙈🙈

Zayne:

Zayne was more than happy to see you be so conscious of your health, and quite frankly, it was one of the strong points of your relationship. Even going to the gym would be considered a date for both of you. He's seen your body plenty of times as well, and he knows how toned you are and how you can handle doing heavy stuff most of the time.

But in reality, Zayne has no idea what you're capable of. Not until he passed out from drinking too much at a hospital dinner. It was surprising for you as well since Zayne knew how to moderate his alcohol intake; the night was probably an exception. People were quite worried when a 5-foot-something girl came to pick up the surgeon because you looked like you would topple under his weight.

You wanted to prove them wrong, and so you mounted him on your back easily like you would a child. The drunken crowd cheered you on while some of the girls really asked if you would be okay. You gave them a thumbs-up and a grin before heading back to Zayne's car. They were utterly impressed with what they saw, and some of them even followed you to the parking lot in case you fell over.

Again, as if they'd never seen anything like it, they were shocked to see you tuck him into the car too easily.

When Zayne woke up, he was more than surprised to see himself in his bed. When he went to check his phone, his messages were bombarded with Yvonne and Grayson sending him pictures. He turned red at the sight—he was on your back, and you were giving the camera that thumbs up and a cheeky grin.

"Oh, wow, I wish I had a lover who can do that…You're one lucky man, Dr. Zayne," Grayson said.

When you entered the bedroom in your running attire, sports bra, and cycling shorts with high socks, his eyes stared at your stomach and your arms like how a woman would check out a gym rat. He turned redder and redder as if he was slowly being enlightened with a new realization.

You, oblivious to his thoughts, thought that he was red simply because he was hungover. Luckily, there was some medicine in the plastic bag you were holding.

Xavier:

Xavier thought you were cute, and he found it admirable how you could keep up with his daily training regimen when it was made specifically for him by the hunters' association. He didn't think much of it, and if anything, he was more than impressed and happy that you could keep up. He thought not much of it until he happened to see you downtown.

Beside you was an older lady, small and shriveled up—beside her were boxes and boxes of what seemed to be groceries. From the looks of it, she lived in an apartment that was a few stairs above, and it looked like no one was willing to help her. He was about to approach you, but he was appalled when you threw two sacks of rice on either side of your shoulders.

"Granny, I'll help you out," you said to the elder with a smile. Passersby were staring, especially that old bakery owner who happened to stay outside and witness it all as well. You climbed up the stairs like you just had pillows over your shoulders. Xavier watched you from afar, indulging himself as he saw your arms and thighs bulge while you went back and forth to pick up the groceries.

It wasn't until there were two boxes left that Xavier snapped out of his prolonged trance. He approached you both and carried the remaining boxes. You were glistening with sweat, which further accentuated your muscles.

In his eyes, you looked absolutely stunning, and it was at that realization that something in him welled. Desire? He wasn't sure, but it was…something.

It was his fault he didn't dwell too much on your ability to keep up, but now he does.

It was a…mind-blowing realization.

Maybe he'll ask you to spar with him next time.

Rafayel:

It was very, very convenient and interesting for Rafayel.

Every time you were doing mundane things with him, he would ogle at your body. Those bulging biceps and quads enchanted him for some reason, and it was like he was a depraved woman craving to be touched. You weren't oblivious to this, either. You could feel his gaze every time you did something not even worth noting, but over time, you got used to it.

It was convenient for Rafayel because he could get you to do stuff he would have a hard time doing. For example, Rafayel was a clumsy man; more often than not, his floors would have splashes of paint and chemicals. This time, he accidentally kicked a bucket of paint, and it bled and spread to the underside of a sofa. He called for you and told you to use a mop, but since he was holding it, you decided to lift one side of the couch instead—with one hand.

He stared. He was staring like he was looking at a piece of art. "Uh, Raf? The mop."

"Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah," He snapped out of it and began mopping the paint. You moved on to a big potted plant beside the couch, and Rafayel didn't protest, seeing you pick it up with ease. To say that he was impressed was quite an understatement.

There was this one time when he had a whole human-sized block of plaster of Paris outside his doorstep, and only a single man was hauling it inside. It was pure coincidence that you were there to pick something up. Instead, you dropped your bag and took off your black shirt (to avoid getting white powder on it), revealing your well-chiseled abs. The man ogled at it, and Rafayel called for his attention, feeling a very strong tinge of jealousy. Together, you and he hauled it inside his house and into his studio.

When there was nothing to do, Rafayel would use you as his model. You could be sitting and reading a book, and Rafayel would be sketching away, perfectly capturing every curve. Sometimes, you would sit on a stool for hours and flex because, according to him, "You have the form of a goddess."

Well, you weren't complaining. It felt good being admired so much because you chose a healthy lifestyle, and admittedly, it felt good seeing your boyfriend ogle over your body.

Sylus:

Sylus doesn't know what you're really capable of.

Sure, you were sporty, and even if you were inclined to do mixed martial arts rather than boxing, you made a good sparring partner. Regardless, Sylus doesn't want you to get hurt. If anything, you wanted to complain that he babies you too much.

During Sundays, Sylus's form of entertainment is going to underground boxing rings. You went along with him, but rather than placing bets on the broker, you placed bets with each other. There was no money involved but rather something more valuable, ranging from favors to expensive items.

The rounds were progressing well up until it wasn't. Whoever that woman in the ring was devouring each and every one of her opponents, but it was getting boring. And just as you and Sylus were about to leave, the referee called in volunteers as the original player backed out, but bets were already placed on the backer.

You stared at Sylus. He stared, disapproving of your intentions without you even hearing it yet. "You're underestimating me," you glared at him.

"No. That woman fights dirty, and I don't want you bloodied on my bed tonight," Sylus replied.

You didn't listen to him and called for the referee's attention. Sylus clicked his tongue but didn't stop you. The other fighter had that ignorant grin on her face, and you couldn't wait to slam her face to the floor. The people were roaring when you stepped in and did your wrist wrap. Sylus was just behind you. "You sure you can do this?"

"If I win this one, I'll borrow your motorcycle for a month. What do you say?" you snickered.

"You bet too low. Don't underestimate yourself. If you win, I'll give it to you."

"Don't go back on your word, big guy." You placed a kiss on his lips.

Needless to say, you no longer have to take the train to go to work. Sylus, on the other hand, was staring at a picture of you on his phone, the referee holding up your hand while the spotlight was focused on you. He grinned at your triumphant smile.

Sylus expected no less from you.

He knew you were going to win anyway.

Author footnotes: Honestly I have a lot of headcanons for this one because being a musclemommy!reader has the ability to change a lot of things especially with the boys lolol. on another note, I'd probably be like Rafayel when i have a muscular partner. I'd be climbing them up all day everyday.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[sadiecoocoo]

I love how when Viktor woke up looking distorted and literally all his skin being weird shimmer and arcane stuff Jayce is just “oh my god you’re alive I’m so fucking happy, do you need a blanket, some food, water? I’m so happy you’re okay” and Viktor just leaves him because he reached enlightenment

Viktor asking what he was was and Jayce saying “you’re alive” is true love no one talk to me

[ourstoatmeansdeath]

I've seen a few posts from people who think Henry was being shitty to Gorgug or setting Gorgug up to fail by allowing him to do 3 years of the artificer track at once. But I have a lot of experience in STEM, and I think Henry was being incredibly kind in a very engineering-coded way.

I did an undergrad degree in engineering and have been in STEM spaces for more than 10 years. And the STEM way of being an asshole is much more like what Porter did. So many people who don't look like they fit the stereotype of who belongs in STEM have been explicitly told to leave. Like, I was at a conference last year where a presenter asked all the people in the room who had been told to change their major to raise their hands. And there were lots of us with raised hands. (This was in a diversity equity and inclusion session, so a lot of non-traditional looking people for engineering.) If Henry wanted to be an asshole he would tell Gorgug to leave, or that the curriculum was "rigorous" and half-orcs can't usually hack it, etc. But he didn't!

Henry did the classic STEM thing of laying out all of the options, even the ones that aren't desirable. Since Porter won't sign the MCAT, the reasonable options are all gone. Henry mentioned that Gorgug doesn't need to be in school for artificing to be an artificer ("If artificing is something that brings you joy and brings happiness to your life, you don't need school. You can do that on your own.") Which is NOT something that STEM people do. I've never heard an engineering professor say that someone who does STEM stuff as a hobby can call themselves engineers. Henry is being absurdly kind by saying this.

When Gorgug says that he wants to do artificing in school, Henry gives the option to do all three years of school at once. [Note that Henry did not suggest this at first. Henry didn't offer it until Gorgug basically asked for a loophole.] This reminds me so much of all the STEM people who know a system really well and give you advice on how to navigate it. They note that their path isn't what the system was designed to do, but if you really want to do it you could do it this way. Which is exactly what Henry does. This also gives Gorgug the agency to decide for himself.

Henry also goes out of his way to say that the people who work hard are the ones he would bet on. This is also so nice as a STEM person! I can't tell you the number of professors I had who said that a specific problem shouldn't take long, or "if you're efficient you should be fine." I also had a professor who said some people can code and some people can't, and he didn't know how to help the people who don't have a natural aptitude for coding. Henry saying he thinks Gorgug can achieve this through hard work is super enlightened for a STEM instructor.

tl;dr Henry is incredibly enlightened for a STEM instructor. He tells Gorgug that Gorgug can still be an artificer without formal schooling, and then when Gorgug expresses a desire for the formal education he tells Gorgug the path. If Henry does a heel turn I will be emotionally devastated lol

[foreingersgod]

i saw ur post that u write for paige… maybe a teammate fic? i don’t really have a plot in mind but i trust that beautiful brain of yours 😁

Friendly Banter . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you and paige may be teammates, but it’s hard to get anything done if you also happen to be dating

A/N: iiiiii kind of hate this :(

“your defending could use a bit of work, baby” you heard a familiar voice from the sidelines “don’t you think?”

you held back a smile, kissing your teeth as you turned on your heels. there was no one else in the gym except you and paige, the two of you deciding to get some extra drills in before practice tomorrow morning. you had just been practicing some shots and different dribbling drills while paige sat back to stretch for a while. there wasn’t anyone to defend, rather paige just wanted an excuse to tease you.

“i think my defense is actually quite good i’ll have you know,” you scoffed, bouncing the ball slowly as she walked towards you “what exactly could use the work, hm?”

“well for starters,” she said, matter of factly, cocking her head to the side. she rubbed her hands together and shrugged in your direction “you’re not being physical enough”

that made you chuckle, throwing your head back lightly in amusement. you nodded your head and rolled your eyes, “oh really?”

“really, i’d never lie to you, babe”

“care to enlighten me then?” you asked, her tall figure now standing over yours “i mean, you’re kinda obligated to help your girlfriend out, right?”

“oh i’d be more than happy to” she snickered, licking her lips as she looked you up and down. she got lost in you for a moment, you could tell, her eyelashes fluttered against the smooth skin under her eye as she surveyed your every move.

“well then show me, smarty pants,” you shoved her chest slightly, feeling yourself growing flustered by her intimate glances. you’d never get tired of the way she looked at you “what do i need to do?”

she slid past you, hands gripping your waist to hold you in your place as she came up behind you. it was silent in the empty gymnasium apart from the sounds of paige’s shoes squeaking against the varnished floors as she assumed her position. you were now facing the same direction, your back to paige’s chest as she leaned against you.

“you gotta be more assertive, you know?” she all but enticed, talking seductively into your ear. she was so close to you that you could feel her warm breathe on your neck “don’t be afraid to push your opponent around a little bit”

“i’m gonna defend you while you try to drive it in,” she continued “and i’ll show you how it’s really done”

you snorted, blowing a nervous breathe from your nose. she always knew how to get you riled up. her hands were hovering over you as you thought of a strategy to get the ball past paige. you began dribbling the ball, backing into her slowly which caused you to collide with her. the curve of your backside fit comfortably against her pelvic bone. instantly, you could sense paige’s breathe hitch at the contact, making you smirk. knowing its effect, you backed up even more, pushing against her harder to push your way closer to the net. she defended you to the best of her ability as she tried to keep you away, but the way your hips moved against her made it difficult for her to focus. while she was caught off guard, you faked her out and sprinted around her to drive it up and into the net. you cheered for yourself as paige shook her head in defeat, rubbing her hand across her jaw in disbelief.

“that’s how it’s supposed to be done?” you laughed, scrunching your nose “and you say my defense needs work?”

“that’s not fair,” she said “you were distracting me and you know it”

“i was just playin’ the game, paige! you’re the one who can’t get her mind out of the gutter long enough to defend me!” you came up to her, hands finding their way up to her shoulders, giving them a gentle rub.

“can you blame me?” she furrowed her brows “i don’t know anyone can even play at all when you’re out there on the court”

“maybe that’s my method of defense” you beckoned, teasing her harmlessly. you nodded your head behind you, motioning to your ass “don’t have to do much if everyone’s looking elsewhere”

she looked at you offended, raising her eyebrows as she widened her eyes “oh it better not be, nobody should be looking at my girl like that except for me”

“whatever,” you smiled, protective paige was your favorite “you have nothing to worry about, baby, nobody’s looking at anybody”

“you better hope so” she said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips “or you’re gonna be in trouble”

the tone of her voice made your knees weak, this was her way of getting back at you for your little comment. you kissed her once more before she pulled away from you, starting to make her way back to where both of your belongs sat on the sidelines.

“oh how so?” you prodded, already knowing the answer. you followed her as you chased her down, watching as she packed up her things. she handed you your duffel bag and draped her own over her shoulder.

“i could tell you,” she began as you both started to make your way out of the gym, heading for your car. she placed a strong hand on the small of your back, fingers snaking under your shirt, tugging you into her side with force “but id much rather show you instead”

[lupinsversion]

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐈’𝐦 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

• request: based on scene of ten things i hate about you when patrick sings “can’t take my eyes off you”, like instead of loving lily since first year, reader takes that place. a lot of fluffy, love confessions (even though it was obvious) by anonymous

• a/n: don’t hate me, don’t hate me, don’t hate me. i’ve neverrr seen it but i tried my best to fill the other parts, and i hope it holds up to your standards. enjoy <3

• contains: james potter x fem reader, long lasting feelings, friends to lovers, declaration of love, fluff

• word count: 1.7k

masterlist || requests

James Potter had been hopelessly in love with the same girl since their first year of Hogwarts. It had started as a simple crush, but over time, it had grown into something much deeper and more intense.

He found himself lost in thought about her, often stealing glances her way during classes or in the Great Hall. She was smart, independent, and had a sharp wit that James couldn’t help but admire. And her beauty… well, she took his breath away.

But James knew better than to act on his feelings. She was popular, intelligent, and seemed happy to focus on her studies and her girlfriends. Besides, he had his own friends and mischief to keep him occupied. He resigned himself to admiring her from afar, trying to ignore the way his heart leapt at her presence.

But sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to tell her how he felt.

One day, during a potions class, he found himself distracted as usual, struggling to focus on the lesson as he stole glances at her a few tables away. He watched as she wrote down her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration, her hair falling into her face.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't realize Professor Slughorn had called on him to answer a question until Sirius nudged him in the side.

“Uh, sorry, Professor,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling his heart racing. He quickly thought of an answer, hoping it would be good enough. “Can you repeat the question? I was... thinking.”

Professor Slughorn gave him an exasperated look before repeating the question. “I asked for the proper ingredients for a wiggenweld potion, Mr. Potter. Do try to pay attention.”

He felt his cheeks heat up as all eyes turned to him. He quickly rattled off the ingredients, thankfully getting them all correct.

“Yes, yes, very good, Potter.” Slughorn said, rolling his eyes. “Now, why don’t we let Miss Y/L/N give the next answer?”

Her head snapped up from her book to the professor, practically rolling off of anticipation to answer what he threw at her.

Professor Slughorn nodded in her direction, gesturing for her to answer. "Miss Y/L/N, please enlighten us with your knowledge of wiggenweld potion."

“The wiggenweld potion is a healing potion with the power to awaken a person from a magically induced sleep.” She answered without much thought. “It can also be used to heal some injuries.”

Professor Slughorn raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed with her quick answer. "Very good, Miss Y/L/N.” He said with a slight nod. "Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor."

James watched as she responded, his heart thudding in his chest. He couldn't help but admire her intelligence and quick thinking.

As the class continued, he found himself unable to focus on the lesson once again. His eyes kept drifting over to her, watching her take notes and answer questions with ease. He couldn't deny his feelings for her anymore, no matter how hard he tried to push them away.

As class ended and students began to pack up their belongings, he mustered up the courage to walk over to her table.

She was packing up her books and ingredients that were stashed in small little jars, setting them into her bag carefully. Her hair falling in front of her face as she did.

He approached her desk, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words to say.

"Um, Y/N?" He spoke tentatively, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

Her head lifted just enough as it turned slightly to the side to get a clearer view of him. a beautiful smile graced her lips before she spoke. “James, hi.”

His heart skipped a beat as she turned to him with that beautiful smile. "Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

He ran a hand through his hair, hoping that she couldn’t tell how nervous he was. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

She picked up her bag and placed the strap over her shoulder. “Walk and talk?” She offered. “I have to get to the library before charms.”

He nodded, grateful for the excuse to keep talking to her. "Yeah, sure.” He said, his heart racing as he walked alongside her.

They made their way out of the potions classroom and started walking towards the library. The corridor was relatively empty, with just a few students milling about.

He was acutely aware of her presence next to him, the scent of her perfume hitting his nostrils and making his heart pound even harder. He couldn't believe he was actually talking to her about this, the girl he had been crushing on for years.

But now he had to find the courage to tell her how he felt. He drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to say.

As they walked down the corridor towards the library, his mind raced with nervousness and excitement. He glanced over at her, taking in her every feature. Her lovely smile, her soft hair, her sparkling eyes. He took another shaky breath.

"Y/N," he began, his voice slightly shaky. "There's... something I've been meaning to tell you."

She glanced over at him quickly before glancing back down towards her feet, afraid of tripping if she didn’t watch where she was going. “I’m all ears.” Her voice was kind, willing to hear anything he had to say.

His heart fluttered at the sound of her kind voice, and he swallowed hard again. He took a deep breath, knowing that there was no going back now.

"I...I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now," he said, his voice softer than usual. "And I know it might sound stupid, but... but I've been in love with you since first year."

Her steps slowed down to a stop so she could look at him properly. There was a moment of shock, and all she could manage was a, “could you repeat that?”

He stopped walking as well, turning to face her. His heart was practically pounding out of his chest now, but he took a deep breath and repeated himself, more confidently this time.

"I said... I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since we were eleven years old."

“We’re sixteen.” She said without much thought. “That’s five years. Five freaking years, and I’m only hearing this now?” Shock was still evident in small little details about her, but her words were still kind.

He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know.” He admitted. "I should've told you sooner, I know. But I was scared. Scared you'd reject me, scared it would mess up our friendship. I know it's a bit pathetic."

A small smile started to form on her lips. “It’s not pathetic. It’s understandable. I like you too.”

His heart skipped a beat as he heard those words. She liked him. She actually liked him back.

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, his dark eyes lighting up. "You do?" He asked, almost in disbelief.

“I do.” She nodded as her smile grew bigger.

He felt his heart leap with joy at her admission. He took a step closer to her, his hands itching to reach out and touch her.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me.” He said, his voice filled with emotion. "Seeing you smile like that... I feel like I could take on the world."

“Cheesy.” She teased.

A hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks. "What can I say? You bring out the cheese in me." He took another step closer, his heart racing with excitement. He was so close to her now that he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo.

“You’re god awful.” She laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

He grinned at her playful jab, his heart swelling with love. "Hey, I'll take that as a compliment.” He teased back.

He took another step forward, closing the remaining gap between them. His eyes roamed over her face, taking in every detail. "You know, I can't take my eyes off of you," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "And I can't recall a single moment when you weren't on my mind."

It was true. From the moment he'd laid eyes on her as an eleven-year-old at the Hogwarts Express, he'd been captivated. Her laughter, her intelligence, her determination, her compassion... everything about her made his heart race.

"You've been driving me insane all these years," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "I can't count the number of times I've wanted to just kiss you senseless."

Her cheeks heated up slightly, and she could’ve sworn her smile would be permanently stuck on her face from this moment forward.

He chuckled at the sight of her blushing cheeks. "You have no idea how cute you look when you blush like that," he said, his tone low and seductive.

He couldn't resist any longer. He reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and filled with tenderness.

His touch lingered on her ear, his fingers tracing lightly along her skin. He took another step forward, bringing their bodies even closer together.

"You know, I could list off a hundred reasons why I’m in love with you.” He said, his voice soft and earnest. "But the truth is, I don't need a reason. I just do. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep."

He paused for a moment, his hand still cupping her face. "You're the sun that lights up my day, the wind that lifts me up when I'm down, and the very air I breathe," he continued, the words pouring out of him easily. "You're my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I wouldn't change a single thing about you. I’m in love with you, Y/N , and nothing could ever change that."

It felt good, finally admitting his feelings out loud. He'd kept them hidden for so long, and now that he had voiced them, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He gazed into her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or uncertainty. But to his relief, all he saw was love and affection mirrored in her expression.

“You’re so stupid.” She teased before she cupped his cheeks, bringing their lips together in a much needed kiss.

© lupinsversion 2024

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

[hihomeghere]

Hi can you do 5 and 23 with five? please and thank you !

Word count : 750

Warnings/Tags : Cursing, alcohol, older!Five. I was so happy to get a Five request! Haven’t written for him in so long it was good to get back into his head <3

Prompts : “If you seriously propose that I sit on your lap, I will kill you.", “Are they really just a friend?”

You could feel Five’s eyes boring into the back of your head from across the bar. Trying your hardest to focus on whatever Klaus was rambling about now. Even without the alcohol, his bubbly speech fit right in with the chatter of the intoxicated around you. You sipped your drink, something Lila had ordered for you. One of her favorites, since she couldn’t drink it.

It had become more and more of a challenge to deal with this unspoken thing between you and Five. Especially when you had his brothers and sister-in-laws constantly hounding you. He rested against the bar top, exuding confidence as his fingers curled around the crystal glass in his hands. His right hand laid on his thigh. You caught his eye for a moment, cursing as his familiar smirk tugged on the corner of his lip.

“Y/n.” Klaus said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“I’m listening.” You nodded, turning to look at him, bringing your glass up to your lips.

“I thought you were eye-fucking my brother across the bar.” He chuckled, a wide grin splitting across his face.

“Klaus!” You hissed, taking a step closer to him. Wide eyed as you turned your back on Five.

“What?” He laughed, “I can not tell a lie.” He said, holding his hand up in a fake salute.

“I was not eye-fucking him.” You say, feigning disgust, “Besides we are just friends.” You quickly brought your drink up, taking a large gulp.

“Is he really just a friend?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“You know Klaus, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to agree with Five here.” You said with a shrug, starting to walk backwards away from him, “You need to find some friends that aren’t your siblings.” You said with a teasing smile.

“Who peed in your wheaties?” He scoffed as you walked through the sea of bodies to Five. He greeted you with a smug smile, lifting up his glass.

“Got tired of Klaus?” He asked, raising a brow.

“How could you tell?” You laughed looking for an open chair nearby. His eyes got a certain glint in them, he took a breath clicking his tongue.

“You know-“ He started, holding his arm open over his lap.

“If you seriously propose I sit on your lap, I will kill you.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Just a suggestion sweetheart.” He said with a nonchalant shrug, his signature smug grin on his lips. You lean on the bar top next to him, swallowing the rest of your drink.

“You wanna know what Klaus was talking about?” You asked, hissing as the alcohol burned your throat. Giving you a newfound confidence.

“Enlighten me.” He chuckled

“He said that I was ‘eye-fucking’ you.” You chuckled, heat blooming in your cheeks at your admission. He raised his eyebrows, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Hm,” He thinks for a moment, “I would have thought he would have said that about me.” Your mouth goes dry at his words. You were glad you hadn’t been drinking because you’re sure you would have choked.

“What?” You chuckled nervously.

“Would have thought he would have seen me ‘eye-fucking’ you.” He grinned, his eyes raking over your body.

“Are you kidding?” You sputter, your eyes wide as you stare at Five.

“Do I look like I’m kidding sweetheart?” He asked, raising his brows, that stupid fucking smirk plastered on his face. You blink a couple times, trying to think of a coherent sentence. He sighs, sucking in a breath. “Look, I get it if-“ You cut him off, pressing your lips against his.

He reached forward, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. You stumbled forward, your hand falling onto his thigh. His slacks slick under your hand. His tongue swipes your lower lip, a silent ask for entrance. Which you happily agree to. The smooth taste of his cognac filled your senses as he licked into your mouth.

It was intoxicating, his hands were everywhere, as his tongue delved into your mouth. The rest of the world seemed to fall away, as though you were the only two people in existence.

You two parted, panting as he looked at you through heavy lidded eyes. A boyish grin spread across his lips, replacing the smirk he had earlier.

“I like that drink,” He chuckled, swiping his thumb over his lip “I think I need another taste.”

“I’d have to agree.” You giggled, moving forward to kiss him again.