#and that shocked me enough to stop crying

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hear me out:

Romantic evening with our boys. Making pizza, watching a romantic movie, just cuddling all evening long.

Jonny, all the ever horny guy, starts and it ends with smut. Lots of smut but reader started her period without knowing. They're shocked and first but when reader starts crying, they quick to comfort her.

(I need comfort too. And I'm literally this close 🤏 to rip my uterus out my body)

Thank you for the ask, anon! I had to dig deep for this one because while I enjoy reading the spicy I don't usually write the spicy. I hope this is what you were looking for.

cw: bad accents, vaginal fingering, unprotected PIV, menstruation, rainbow kisses (iykyk)

Ever since you started dating the 141, Friday nights were date nights for you and whomever of your boys were home. Whichever soldier isn't out on a mission gets to pick the event, and if more than one of the boys is around, they each plan something for the group. Their thought was they are so often gone they want to woo you right when they're here.

But the Fridays you love best are when all of your boys are home because that's when you get to plan the date. Tonight happens to be one of those Fridays.

The boys are on base while you make preparations for tonight. You planned to finally use the pizza oven on John's grill. You spend the morning making dough, setting aside double portions for your soldiers and their appetites.

As the day wears on, you head to Sainsbury's for the rest of your ingredients. You get the supplies to make red sauce from scratch and a small jar of pesto for Kyle who sometimes likes to experiment. You know if he doesn't use it tonight, you'll simply make pesto pasta another time. A fresh block of soft mozzarella lands in the trolley. You know Johnny will enjoy happily shreds it for you when he gets home. A jar of olives, some green peppers, and a red onion from produce all go in next. Then you're off to find rashers, gammon, bangers, and pepperoni. You know at least one pizza will end up being more meat than anything else.

When you get back to the car park, you don't bother putting the bags in the boot. You lean over and drop them onto the floor of the passenger side as you slide behind the wheel. A quick stop at the florist for a small bouquet, and you're home again.

The house is tidy, but you freshen things up anyway. You need something to keep you busy as you wait for your men to come home. You set out some Yorkshire pudding and kilted soldiers as a pre-dinner snack, but not too much. You're cognizant of how quickly Johnny will stuff his face with whatever's nearby and not save room for supper. You pull down the large popcorn tubs and set aside the oil and kernels to make popcorn after dinner. You slide Love, Rosie into the Blu-Ray player and cue up the main title.

You have just enough time before your men come home to get yourself cleaned up. You'd showered in the morning, so you focus on fixing your hair and makeup. A pink and blue floral skater dress has been hanging the back of your wardrobe for weeks, and tonight's the perfect night to throw it on and show it off. As you're screwing the cap back into your lip gloss, you hear Simon's voice call out for you.

Light feet and a joyful heart carry you down the hall to the foyer. You step into Simon's open arms, cleaving yourself tightly to him. He's only just back from a mission that lasted almost a month. You kiss him softly, and he pulls away far too soon for your liking. If it were anyone else, you'd be embarrassed by the whine that escapes when he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. Instead, he looks at you and says, "Missed you, luv."

You move from man to man greeting each in turn. From John, who's been back and forth between Hereford and bases in places he can't tell you about, to Johnny, who was on the first part of Simon's mission but came home when Simon was sent elsewhere, to Kyle, who's been behind a desk for the last few weeks as he recovers from nearly falling out of the helicopter. Each gets a hug and a kiss and a whispered welcome home.

You're sure when Kyle is better, Laswell will send them all out somewhere. As it is, you've heard John fielding her calls late in the evening when he tries to hide it from you. For now, you plan to simply savor having your men home.

"Go on, wash up," you chide, shooting them from the foyer to the cloakroom. "Meet me in the kitchen when you're done."

It only takes a few quick strides until you're in the room in question, making sure that all the toppings are ready, that the sauce is cool enough to use, and that each dough ball has its own pizza pan. Each of the men join you in the kitchen mere moments later.

You don't miss the gleam in Johnny's eye as he looks at the flour. He cuts a glance at Kyle, and you clear your throat, crossing your arms as menacingly as you can. "We will not be intentionally making a mess of my kitchen," you state, looking between Johnny and Kyle. "Are we clear sergeants?"

Shock flits across Johnny's face and he looks back at Kyle who simply shrugs. The two men glance at John who, like you, has crossed his arms in front of him and is ready to glare them into submission. "I'm waiting, boys," you remind them.

Kyle responds quickly. "No mess. We heard you'd, doll." To which John adds, "Aye, ma'am. Keeping the kitchen spick and span."

"Excellent," you say. Then you pass out aprons and tell your men, "I'd rather not scrub flower out of anyone's clothes, either, so put these on." There's a chorus of "Yes, ma'am." You can tell at a glance the only one happy about the apron is John, who's got his usual 'License to Kill Grill' apron on. However, the others don't fight you, and soon everyone's ready to make their meal.

You show them all how to turn the dough balls into flat crust and head out into the garden to turn the grill on. The pizza oven is set up according to the directions, and you want to ensure it's ready to go once all the pizzas are prepared.

When you come back into the kitchen, all four men have at least one crust ready, and Simon and Kyle are working on their seconds. You quickly put Johnny to work shredding the cheese into a large bowl and show everyone where the sauces are. Much to your delight, Kyle smiles widely at the jar of pesto on the counter. The cheese is ready once everyone has sauce on their dough, so everyone grabs a heaping handful. You point out where the other toppings are and let the boys design their dinners as you take your pizza out to the oven.

Each man brings you their pan when it's ready and they stand around chatting with you while the food cooks. You pull the first round of pizzas out and send John in to put everything out on plates and slice them. You put Kyle's and Simon's and Johnny's second pizzas in, then head into the kitchen to eat.

You slide into the open seat next to Simon and join the pleasant chatter. John pulls three tumblers and the bottle of Scotch Mrs. MacTavish sent at the holidays out of the cupboard. He pours two fingers for himself, Simon, and Johnny. Kyle pulls the top off a bottle of Carlsbad lager, pulling a long draught before setting it in front of him. Johnny places a glass of rose at your place.

Between bites of pizza, you fill the boys in on the gossip from work and hear some edited stories of Simon and Johnny's ops and John's base visits. Kyle chimes in with complaints about base staff.

You pop out to the grill for the second round of pizzas, bringing everyone but John their food. You and John both opted for one pizza and are both enjoying the meal and the company.

When everyone is full, Simon and Kyle pack up the unused toppings, John clears the table, and Johnny puts the large cast iron skillet on the hob. You stay in the kitchen with Johnny while the others head into the den. He pours a generous helping of oil in the pan and tosses the kernels on when it warms. It doesn't take long for the kernels to pop, and despite knowing what will happen, it still startles you.

Johnny chuckles at you, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Ah got ye," he says, nuzzling your neck. He reaches over, snags a kernel and holds it out. When you lean forward to take it from him, he pulls it back. "Uh-huh," he teased. "Close your eyes."

You obey, but instead of the warm, salty, buttery crunch of popcorn, Johnny's tongue invades your mouth. He swallows your moans, whispering, "Could a laid yerself on the table an' we would'a feasted, lass." He pulls away, an obscene sucking accompanying the motion. Your heart jackhammers in your chest. You're about to suggest skipping the movie when several voices call from the other room.

"Let's... let's, er, go join the others," you pant, quickly dumping the popcorn into tubs to carry in.

By the time you and Johnny make it to the den, Kyle and John are sprawled together on the sofa, and Simon's taking up the recliner. You and Johnny head to the loveseat, and he pulls you down into his lap.

Before the open credits finish, Johnny's nuzzling your neck and whispering more filth in your ear. "Ah cannae wait to fuck ye tonight, hen." "Gonna split ye open on mah cock 'til ye scream." "Yer cunt is the sweetest dessert. When can Ah have a taste?" The longer the film goes on, the wetter you get until you're squirming on Johnny's lap, hoping you aren't obvious to the others.

The heavy weight of Johnny's hand slips from your waist to your hips, and eventually, under your skirt. His fingers slip under the gusset of your panties and you gasp. "Shh," he coos. "Dinnae want to interrupt the film."

He slides one finger along your slit, teasing you before breaching your core. You groan low, and Johnny rumbles, "Yer so wet," into the skin beneath your ear. "Watch the movie, lass. Ye picked it special."

With one long finger in your pussy, Johnny's thumb presses hard on your clit, and you see stars. "Would rather," you pant, "focus on," another panted breath, "those talented fingers."

Johnny lightly bites down on your neck and shoves another finger into your pussy. You clamp down at the unexpected intrusion, and Johnny's thumb ruba little circles on your clit. Between the sucking on your neck, the fingers in your cunt, and the pressure on your clit, you climax quickly, biting your lip to keep from letting the rest of the room know what happened.

But when you glance at your other lovers, they're staring avariciously at you and where Johnny's hand disappears under your dress. Johnny shifts behind you, clearly turning to see the others. "Who wan's a taste?"

Kyle's off the sofa in a shot, kneeling on the floor next to Johnny. Johnny pulls his hand out from under your dress to press his slick-coated fingers into Kyle's waiting mouth. You glance down to watch and notice Johnny's fingers are covered in blood. You suck in a breath and grab his wrist. It hits you immediately what's happened.

"Johnny! Stop!" You look down and see Kyle's gaze land on the blood. He leans back and nearly falls down.

"Doll, wha'..." John and Simon are watching intently, and you want the ground to open under you.

You take a deep breath and cover your face with your hands. You can't bring yourself to look at any of them. "I think I got my period early." You spring off Johnny's lap and hurry down to your bedroom, trying not to cry. In your room, you strip out of your dress and see a small red spot on the seat of the skirt.

Before you can spiral into embarrassment, there's a knock behind you. You're standing stark naked, but there's no heat in his gaze when John looks at you. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, but the tears are welling up. "Aww, shh," John says. "'c'mere." He comes over to you and wraps his arms around your bare middle. "Dove, we're soldiers. We're not scared of a little blood." You don't think he realizes he's gently swaying you as he talks. It's soothing.

"But that's different, John," you whine. "This blood, this is dirty."

"Hush," he snaps. "Nothin' 'bout ya is dirty." He tucks your head under his chin and kisses your hair. "Ya think this makes us wan' ya any less?" He pulls back and taps your chin until you meet his solid blues. "Say the word an' all a' them'd be linin' up to fuck ya." He moans a little. "Can only imagine how good it would feel, yer cunt coated in somethin' even hotter than regular slick. Ya should hear Johnny out their praisin' yer pussy."

You feel heat rush up your neck and into your cheeks. "You really," you take a deep breath, "you don't think it's gross?"

The answer doesn't come from above you but from behind. "Nothin' you do is gross, luv," you hear Simon say. Now you know he's there, he isn't quiet about crossing the room. His large, calloused hands dwarf your hips when he pulls you tight against him. "I'd let ya ride my face for the pleasure of gettin' ya off, blood an' piss an' all."

It should disgust you, but you swoon a bit instead. You turn in his hands. "I can't believe you're okay with this."

"What's there not to be okay with?" Kyle's voice asks from the doorway. You look over Simon's shoulder and see him leaning against the jamb with smudge of blood on his lip.

"Kyle, what happened?" You know you sound panicked, but you can't reign it in. "You have..." You motion to your own mouth.

Kyle ducks his head and rubs his hand over the shorn back of his hair. "I, er, maybe still sucked your slick off Johnny's fingers." He catches your eye. "Any taste of you is worth it."

You're shocked at his admission. Before you can say anything, you hear Johnny's voice in the hallway. "Ye cannae start without me!" He barrels into the room and you notice a sheet of red on his lips.

"What?"

He flushes and admits, "Ah kissed Gaz ta see how ye tasted, since Ah couldnae taste from the source."

You're dumbfounded. Nothing in their demeanor tracks with what you've been told. When you were thirteen, Mum said your period was "a necessary evil." In school, the teachers spoke of biology and creating a space for new live, and while it wasn't disgusting, it wasn't appealing either. All your previous partners found other things to do with other friends when you had your period. But looking around at the faces of your lovers, all you can see is love and desire. There is no disgust, no revulsion, no recoiling.

"Dove?" John's voice breaks you from your reverie. He stands beside you and Simon still again, but now he'd discarded his shirt. The top button of his trousers is undone, and you could see his cloth-covered erection straining the zipper. You understand immediately what he's asking, and you dip your head once.

Arms scoop you up and deposit you in the bed. You're surprised by the scratchy feeling beneath you. You run your hand over it and realize it's a bath towel. A bark of laughter escapes you. "You boys pivoted quick, huh?"

John leans over you, growling in your ear. "We wan' ta enjoy ya. And even more, we wan' ya ta enjoy yerself." His hands ghost up and down your sides, the touch featherlight. "I'm gunna kiss ya now, dove."

"Okay," you reply breathlessly. John's kiss is possessive, tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you as one beefy hand strokes over your curves. His lips start against yours and slowly drift to your neck, your collarbone, your sternum, your stomach, and finally right above your bush. He looks up and meets your gaze, holding it as he dips further down to like a stripe up your slit.

When he pulls back, you see the bright burst of red on the top of his tongue. Then he plants his face in your cunt, tonguing your hole and sucking on your clit. You start thrashing only to feel the bed dip at your hip. Simon and his big hands are back, one heavy on your hip to keep your bucking down, the other running softly along John's head as he slurps obscenely at your sopping, bloody pussy.

John's pursuit of your pleasure is relentless. There is no edging tonight, no long drawn-out teasing. He is a Captain through and through, and tonight's mission is your orgasm. Before long your muscles clench, and the tension in your core snaps. You're twitching on the bed, breathing slowly to bring your heart rate down, when you look down to see John's beard covered in a milky red mixture of blood and cum.

He rubs a hand down his beard, collecting some of the mixture, then holds his hand to Simon. With his eyes holding yours, Simon leans over and licks the mess on John's hand before Johnny shoves him back to get another, more potent taste of you.

You're so distracted by Simon and Johnny fighting over the remains of your taste on John's skin, John has moved nearer to your hip, and Kyle's slotted himself into the space between your thighs. His long, lithe fingers smooth themselves across your thighs, hips, and stomach. "Can I?" he whispers.

Despite the other men sitting at your hip, you respond with a whispered, "Yes."

Kyle pushes himself to the hilt in one fell swoop. He doesn't hold back how he feels. "Fuck, doll, didn't know you could feel better," he grinds out. He waits a moment for you to adjust until he, like John, chases your pleasure. Each of Kyle's thrust is a long slow retreat before slamming home. He has one hand resting on your mons, thumb just lightly over your overstimulated clit. Every time his hips slam home, Kyle puts a lot more pressure against your clit. Soon he loses his rhythm, thrusts becoming erratic, fingers pulsing against your clit. You climax as he does, and when he pulls out you aren't sure if the liquid that follows us blood or cum, and if the latter, whose.

He flops beside you and throws an arm over his face as you disassociate. You hear Johnny whine and Kyle chuckle, and when you look over, Johnny's on his knees, Kyle's cock in his mouth. There's a lurid ring of red at Kyle's base that Johnny's spit makes messier.

Your eyes slip closed, and you feel the bed continue moving under you. Glancing on your other side you see Simon on his knees, John slamming into him. You catch Simon's eye and shift on the bed to kiss him. John pauses his movements enough to keep Simon from accidentally collapsing on you. After a moment, John grunts. You know he can't keep holding back, so you slide away from Simon to let John continue. Several thrusts later and John's sweaty form is draped against Simon's back.

You hear Kyle's choked moan and know he's close. Johnny has one arm perpendicular to Kyle's hips, pinning him in place while his other is below the edge of the bed. You're sure he's stripping his cock to match his mouth's movements on Kyle. When Kyle cums, Johnny swallows everything down, only a drop beading on his lip. He sees you looking, and instead of licking it away, he leans over to let you lick it off. When you sweep your tongue into his mouth, searching out the taste of him under the flood of Kyle, Johnny slips his cock into your warm, wet cunt. He thrusts half a dozen times before cumming, shouting your name. He's careful not to drop his weight on you, instead falling into the space next to you and tucking you against his larger frame.

You know you need to clean yourself up, especially if you don't want too much blood on the towels or sheets, but you're too blissed out to worry.

Date nights with all your boys are the ones you like best.

[iamhereforfunnzies]

Chapter 1: I see you

Bruce overlooking his paperwork and plans of capturing crimminals and crime rates, he felt his stomach grumble. Seeing the grandfather clock tick a 11:15 p.m. he smiled “Just in time for Lunch.” He felt a bit sad knowing he is eating alone today, Dick being Bludhaven, Jason never really visiting, Tim out somewhere with Conner, and Damian out doing voluntary work in a animal shelter. What a lonely time to be in the manor.

    Scratch   

              Heavy breathing was on the otherside of the door he saw you , (Name) how different you were usually … out? But it’s better than eating alone and it would be nice to converse with you , he called you but why do you look at him like that. You arm is bleeding from your intensive scratching , eyes forcing itself not to cry what happened? Why do you look like you died?  “(Name), what are you doing?” you turn to him. “OH- um… Just anxious that’s all” Bruce narrowed his eyes as you look down slowing down on the scratching. “About what?” He sat next to you ,why is he so tall?!

              “Just…I had a nightmare.” GREAT (NAME) (MIDDLENAME) WAYNE , he’s gonna think you’re a huge incompetent baby. Nice going , idiot your mind screams at you. Bruce blinks he feels so amused , how adorable he just wants to pinch your cheeks and coax you to sleep. He chuckled lightly “What happened in your nightmare?” he can’t believe he is having a normal parent to child conversation.  Honestly, your not sure if you can tell him , since it wasn’t a dream you died and then you just time travel back 2 weeks before your death. “ I was walking back to the manor after work.” Bruce hid his shock as you mentioned having a job. “There was a man …” your head throbbed as you try to see your memory clear. “He touched , choke, then…No, No it was choke , someone else touched me, then  a gun was shoved in my mouth.” Your head throbbed harder as your heart was trying to break out your ribs. “Something happened , c’mon remember” you hit your stupid head trying to make your death clear as you start mumbling curse words.

                Bruce stood still not knowing how to respond , he held your hands. “Don’t . Stop. Just don’t think about it.” He was comforting you , now that he had a good look at you. When did you get so tall? Weren’t you just a seedling a month ago? (Name) when did you get your nails done? Why are your eyes so tired? Weren’t you trailing Dick and Tim to play with you? When did your hair changed? Alfred eyes widen as he see’s Bruce hugging you with what looks like a panic attack.  “Lunch is here”

What is wrong with you? Why the hell did you cry infront of him! Never once did Bruce took the time with you. He always seemed so occupied with his little only boys squad doing who know’s what! It’s so weird they are always fighting at the gym with Dick , Tim , and Damian (Rarely Jason), they are so secretive that you just stopped asking questions. Pacing in your quaint room with all this awards from last place to gold , you stare at them how much you lost and won over the years. Yet, you held every lost with pride because you tried well that’s what Alfred tells you.

              A sudden text came in your phone as you see your manager asking you if your free in 2 weeks in Tuesday. You stared at your phone , you died at Tuesday. A normal Tuesday nothing special about the date but you died. You died, you left the message seen.  Staring at yourself in the mirror you said to the mirror. “Am I doing enough to worth living?” Years , hours , days and seconds of awards in your room but not one moment of them stood out. All of this rewards weren’t for you , they were for them.

                             You look at the photo stand of your family I the gala, you were always the one who they claim to protect you but they never tell you anything . Laughing among their little group never explaining to you or care to want you to join in. Even in movie nights it feels like your watching them instead of the movie. Game nights were just you being some extra player they never needed. You grimace as you hid the photo frame of your table. Your childhood was dedicated to appease their eyes , your life to make interesting so they can be interested in your welbecoming but you died. Dead with nothing to remember.

                            A robin in a tree chirping in the trees as the gotham sky in a rare moment glows gold  like heavens gate, the sun shinning, the air crisp and fresh . The robin turns it’s head to you tilting it’s head but flies away with the other birds in the sky. “Fucking heavens , God if this a sign I am not gonna take this second chance for granted.” You muster a trembling smile. “I am gonna lived.” You took your phone.

(Name), are you free the week after this at Tuesday 8:00 a.m.?

Today 12:05 p.m.

                                                                                                                        

   I quit. Thank you for the experience.

                                                                                                                                    Today 12:15 p.m.

I genuinely hope this is readable

[kbbueckers]

happy valentine's day

overview: you and paige celebrate valentine's day

characters: paige bueckers x reader

warnings: kinda long

author notes: literally couldn't wait to post this, more fluff coming soon because i love writing it. happy valentine's day! 💝, sorry if this sucks.

you and paige have been dating for six months and this was your first valentine's day together, she spent hours planning a surprise for you. she wanted it to be perfect, it had to be perfect. she had set up the kitchen with a fancy dinner, heart ballons and roses, getting you a promise ring as well.

paige sat waiting for you to get home, she was nervous and afraid that you wouldn't like it. even though she knew you would like it, the back of her mind kept thinking of everything that could go wrong, but she tried to ignore it.

after about 30 minutes, you finally got home. as you opened the door to paige's surprise, she yelled "surprise!" with the cutest smile on her face. you let out a laugh, jumping from the shock.  "paige, you did this all for me?" you smile, looking around at the decorated kitchen. 

paige pulls you into a hug, giving you a forehead kiss before resting her chin on the top of your head. "of course baby, happy valentine's day." as paige backs up, she realizes you have a shopping bag in your hand. "is that for me?" she smiles and attempts to grab the bag as you jerk it away.

"yes, but you have to wait. can we have dinner first?" paige pouted, but agreed. "fine, cmon." she grabs your waist and leads you into the kitchen, sitting you down and getting everything ready for you like you were a princess. "i really think you're gonna like dinner tonight baby, i know im not the best cook, but i've been practicing." 

you just smile and nod. you and paige both knew cooking wasn't her specialty, always making jokes about how she should stick to basketball, but at the end of the day you didn't care. the fact that she wanted to cook for you was sweet enough, no matter what it tasted like.

she sits the plates down, sitting down across from you and smiling as you begin eating. "not the worse thing ever." you say teasingly. "very funny, can i see my gift now?" she pushes the idea of you giving her the gift early. you roll your eyes jokingly, "fine, since you're so needy." you pick up the gift bag and hand it to her. 

she reaches into the gift bag and pulls out a small rectangular box, as she opens the box it reveals two courtside tickets to a new york knick's game, paige's favorite nba team. she looks up at you with a smile on her face, "you're kidding?" you nod, the smile on her face genuinely warming your heart.

"before we eat, i have a gift for you too baby." she smiles, pulling the ring box out of her pocket and handing it to you. you open it quickly with excitement, gasping at the pretty ring you see inside. "i got you a promise ring, because i love you y/n." she grabs your hand gently across the table.

you couldn't help but shed a tear or two as she grabs your hand, it was the first time you or paige had ever said i love you since you two started dating. "i love you too paige." she smiles as you began crying, "dont cry babe." 

she stand up and pulls you into a hug, you stand up and hug her tightly. "i love you so, so much." paige brushes your hair out of your face.once you stop crying, she smiles and gives you a kiss. "can we have dinner now?" you nod, not wanting to let her go.

after dinner, you and paige shower, and get into bed to watch a movie. as you're falling asleep, playing with her hair, you whisper. "tonight was perfect babe, you're so perfect."

she smiles, pulling you closer and she shakes her head. "you're perfect, i love you baby." "i love you too." you respond as you both fall asleep.

-kbbueckers💋

[strawberry-nugget]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

~In which you and Katsuki watch 'Ride your Wave' and you end up crying uncontrollably about it in his arms, featuring a twist on 'would you love me if i was a worm'

Tags // Warnings: Fluff, like a lot of it, crack, these two idiots are sappy and in love, they’re SAPPY I’m telling you, cuddles cuddles cuddles, a little somnophilia (??) towards the end, uhhhh reader smokes for a second.. Enjoyyyyy :>

All CHARACTERS ARE 20+

Word Count: 6.4k

You sob. 

Unfathomably hard and uncontrollably. 

Wine bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other, you dig your clothed knee in your eye socket and pat the salty tears away from your eyelashes— careful not to rub; your lash tech will kill you if you rip your extensions off once again. 

You're not even halfway through this goddamn one and a half hour movie and your eyes can't stop welling up. You have to pause it, wipe your eyes and then press play, then continue the circle all over again until you absolutely cannot keep your own two eyes open. 

The candle on the coffee stand that serves as the only lighting in the room hurts your eyes too much. Your nose is splitting at the seams from how much you've to wipe it with toilet paper— your chest heaves. Up, down. Like it's filled with all the sorrows that the protagonist of the movie you're watching carries.

And then, there's Katsuki. 

“Put out that cigarette, ya look like shit holding it”

Pressing his lips into an angry pout as you pause the movie again, red orbs boring into you from the corners of his eyes and as of now, you decide to unwrap his arm away from you. 

“You're so evil!” You sob as you speak, hiccuping a breath. “You're a bad, bad man, Katsuki”

“Oh you're never getting a movie rec from me ever again”

Even though he seems taken aback by your sudden change of position, his arm doesn't retreat completely. It hovers there, fingers twitching like he’s considering whether to pull you back in or let you decide your next position that uses him as a body pillow. 

“Good,” you hiccup again, grabbing the remote and jamming the play button. “Your taste in Shoujo is gut wrenching”

“S'not”

With pouty lips and the sides of his mouth wrinkled in action, his palm takes a hold of the side of your head, pushing you onto his lap. You give him little resistance, shocked and sobbed out as you are— you collapse into his knees with a gorilla grip on the neck of the wine. 

“Who makes a love story this sad Katsuki? Who does that?”

Instead of replying, he licks his lips slightly, catching his button lip between his teeth for as long as a second lasts. His eyes shut close for one, two, three seconds. He's far more dramatic than you, when you're the one who's crying. 

You try to roll your head to glare at him, to no avail. It's hard to do so with blurry eyes and his fingers being an obstacle to your ogling, but you do catch your glimpse anyways, as he inhales sharply through his nose. Just as his neck tenses. 

“You're a drama queen. That's all”

It's astounding how weirdly hot he looks right now. Half lid eyes that flicker golden and vermillion flames as the orange lights of the candle dance, casting rays of light onto every sharp feature and angle of his face. That alone is almost enough to distract you from the movie. Was he not the ultimate menace that he is with you right now, you'd jump him. 

The second he presses play, his thumb hooks over the bottle neck, over your fingers, to grasp it away from your hands. You hear as he gulps some wine down, even if your eyes are glued to the screen. 

Soon enough, when he moves your body to get the rest of the wine on the coffee table, you're already bursting into another fit of tears. 

You can't actually believe Himiko's best friend just confessed to his girlfriend. 

Katsuki pauses the movie, again and bows his head to look at you— the hand that's wrapped over your head to softly stroke the hair over your ear, ready to violate your face. 

Through silent sobs, you know he's trying to cheer you up. 

He absolutely hates to hear you cry. There's heartstrings that are being pulled into existence every single time he hears a sob coming from the depths of your throat. It hurts him more than this dumb movie ever could. 

Still, he opts to run his pointer across your face, hook it under your top lip and pull it. He tries to poke your eye open and he even taps the pad of his finger onto your good—and not runny, nostril to cut away your air intake. He laughs like a menace at it, before he shoves it into your nostril for a split second. 

“Katsuki!” you yell, and oof— there's that playfulness back in your voice “You're so gross. Ew”

“Trynna fuck new wholes babe”

You scratch your nose in disgust as he lets out that familiar raspy laugh of his, make a move to snatch your tissue from your hand to wipe his finger. He bullies you with it, wavering it across your face like he's going to touch you with it. Like you're not full of your own tears and snot already. 

“Ew ew” you laugh as you sob. Hand reaching out to shove his finger away from your face only to end up fighting him on the couch.  But with a flip of his wrist and his leg, you land right on top of him; chest to chest. As if you're not still holding his finger. 

If that's what he does with you while you're just holding his finger, just to play fight with you, imagine what he does to villains… that as a notion is almost hot enough to stop your sobs. 

You stay pinned on top of his chest, his hands, wrapped around your waist and trapping you in your position. The tissue is nowhere in sight for him to bully you with it, but as you squeal and wiggle to get out of his grasp and get the revanche you need, you dive nose first between his pecs and vigorously wipe your face onto his T-shirt. 

“Oh? And I'm the disgusting one?” he humors “you ain't getting me to move babe”

With a heavy head, you stop wiggling— you take a deep breath, as muffled as it is, and completely relax into his arms. A very well known surrendering tactic that has to make him let his guard down. 

You're more than determined to win this play fight. He made you cry with his movie rec and now he's acting all high and mighty, so it should be fair! 

While you're deep in thought about your next move, eyes already set on his neck and your upcoming attack on the spot, you're taken aback, when he grabs your cheeks in one hand, catching you with puckered lips. The lethal weapon! 

“Stop it! Katsuukii! Let go of my cheeks” you mumble. 

He groans as a response, opting to press play. 

Not even five minutes pass before you're caught up in tears again. This time though your boyfriend doesn't whine about it. 

He holds you closer, free hand searching the spot on the back of the couch where your fluffy blanket is, to wrap it around both of you. 

Only when he's turned the two of you in a human-couch-blanket burrito, does he leave a soft peck to your forehead. The sudden act of affection makes you nuzzle into him and in return he just wraps the blanket snugglier over you, until only your eyes and nose are poking out. 

Your fingers clutch over his T-shirt as new tears fall down your eyes and onto him. You try to steal a glance at him, only to find him boring his eyes into the TV. No emotion behind them whatsoever. 

“How are you not bawling right now?”

“I’m a baller not a bawler” 

Though you shoot him a disgusted look, the sound of laughter after a small pause, broken by one or occasionally two sniffles fills the entire living room. 

“You're a child” You whine and Katsuki sports the smuggiest expression a person could muster; one eyebrow raised, an evil and way too wide grin, chest rising impossibly high as he breathes— he's too proud of his humor. You almost don't want to ruin it for him. 

He rasps a laugh that's too loud, too throaty as he locks your body with his hands again.

“Katsuki, stop it!”

“Seriously though. Stop crying or I'm turning it off”

“Nooooo, don't do this to me” you wail dramatically. 

He plants a kiss to the top of your forehead as if to interrupt your sentence and with half poured lips that you can barely distinguish in the dark he says “You cry over everything” 

His tone is teasing, but there’s something gentler beneath the raspiness of his voice. Something as serious as a confession. You pout, your sniffles returning. Looking at him, you catch that otherwise undetected-by-most-people agenda that he pushes when he has to speak up about his feelings. 

It's as true as it can get; Katsuki hates to be the reason you shed tears. He hates to see you cry and he has to make sure you cheer up so he can sleep better tonight. Otherwise the guilt that'll start eating him away is going to be the root of an emotion that'll shutter his heart for good this time. 

You kiss him, slightly pecking his lips, and it's alright. It's fine. He's not the one responsible for your tears— he thinks. 

“Don't cry over a stupid movie too”

“You don’t get it,” you sniff, pulling a piece of toilet paper from the squashed roll on the couch next to you. “This movie—it’s not just sad. It’s like—” you gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. “It’s like someone reached into my soul and ripped it out! It’s—”

“—a movie,” he interrupts flatly, leaning back into the couch with a heavy sigh. His arm falls over the backrest, brushing your shoulder, and you can tell he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t care whether or not you snuggle back in. “That I'll turn off if you don't stop crying”

“I didn’t know it’d be like this!” you wail, grabbing the throw blanket and wrapping it around yourself like armor. “I thought it’d be... I dunno, like bittersweet at most. Not—” your voice breaks on another sob, and you bury your face into the blanket, muffling the rest of your sentence.

Katsuki lets out a long, exaggerated groan, but you don’t miss the way he leans toward you, resting his chin on his fist over your head, like he’s actually waiting for you to calm down. He won’t admit it—he’d rather bite his tongue off—but you know he likes it when you’re this messy around him, when you let him see all your raw, ugly bits.

“Shut up.” But you scoot closer anyway, your side pressing into his, and he doesn’t pull away this time. Instead, his arm falls naturally back over your shoulders, grounding you. “Let's just finish it”

With a deep, shuddering breath, you grab the remote, press play, and sink into him.

His arm doesn’t move far, just shifts slightly as if unsure whether to pull you closer or let you keep your space. But Katsuki isn’t one to stay unsure for long. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, fingers brushing against your blanket cocoon, and you feel the heat radiating from him—steady, grounding, like a lifeline.

You stay snuggled like this for as long as the last act of the movie plays out; unsurprisingly you’re laid on his chest again, by the time the movie is finished.

The movie finally ends, the screen fading to black as the credits roll. The soft hum of the ending theme fills the room, and you let out a content sigh, your head still resting on Katsuki’s chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, a soothing rhythm that makes your eyelids feel heavier by the second

“You’re such a crybaby,” he mutters, but his voice is softer this time, like he’s afraid of breaking the fragile moment. His red eyes flick to the TV screen, then back to your face, where the tears are still pooling right onto the middle of his shirt despite your best efforts to wipe them away. “Seriously. It’s just a movie.”

“It’s not just a movie!” you gasp, twisting to face him. The blanket slips off your shoulder, and he immediately pulls it back up with a small, exasperated huff. “Katsuki! It’s—” your voice wavers, cracking on a sob, “—it’s...

He stares at you for a moment, when you struggle to compose words in your sleepy state. 

The candlelight is making his features impossibly soft. For all his rough edges, there’s something boyish in the way his lips quirk into a half-smile, like he’s amused by your melodrama but doesn’t have the heart to call you out on it outright.

“You knew it was sad going in, though,” he points out, leaning back into the couch and casually draping his arm over your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I told you it’d be a tearjerker, and you were like, ‘No, Katsuki, let’s watch it anyway. I can handle it.’ And now look at you.”

“I didn’t know it’d be this sad!” you almost wail, clutching the edge of the blanket like it’s your only defense against the emotional onslaught. “I thought it’d be bittersweet, maybe a few tears. But this? This was—” you hiccup, your voice catching, “—soul-crushing!”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the small laugh that escapes him is warm, almost fond. “You’re so dramatic,” he says, but his hand starts rubbing small circles on your shoulder, the motion soothing despite his words. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” you gape at him, wiping your eyes with the corner of the blanket. “Did you see that last scene? Did you hear the song? It’s like they ripped my heart out and stomped on it, Katsuki. And you’re fine?”

“I’m not crying like a baby, if that’s what you mean,” he says smugly, but there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“You’re lying,” you accuse, leaning closer to squint at him. “You cried. I know you did.”

“I didn’t,” he insists, looking away too quickly to be convincing.

He looks at you with an all familiar pout; its a shame he took your sleepiness away.

“Liar!” You poke his cheek, and he swats your hand away, grumbling under his breath. But there’s a telltale softness in his expression now, one you’ve come to recognize as Katsuki’s version of letting his guard down. This time you won't tease him with the ‘are you leaving me’ joke, just because he shoved your hand away.

“Fine,” he mutters, finally meeting your gaze. “Maybe it was a little sad. But you’re the one who’s turned this into a whole production.” His hand squeezes your shoulder lightly, the gesture at odds with his teasing tone. “You gonna survive, or do I need to call an ambulance?”

“I’ll survive,” you mumble, leaning into his side and letting the warmth of him chase away the lingering ache in your chest. “But only if you let me pick the next movie for our day offs. Something happy this time.”

“Whatever,” he says, but his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer until your head is resting against his chest. “Just stop sniffling all over me.”

You let out a watery laugh, curling into him as the ending titles play on. And even though your heart still aches, it’s a little easier to bear with Katsuki by your side.

You sniffle, burying your face further into Katsuki’s chest, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket. His hand moves absently, fingers threading through your hair in a way that’s far gentler than one would expect from someone so rough around the edges.

“You’re really pathetic, y’know that?” he murmurs, but there’s no bite in his words. Instead, his tone is warm, teasing, like he’s not-even-secretly pleased to have you curled up against him like this.

“And you’re a liar,” you shoot back, though it comes out muffled by his hoodie. “I felt you tense up during that scene with the surfboard. You totally cried.”

“Did not,” he grumbles, but the tips of his ears are bright pink, betraying him. “You were too busy bawling to notice anything.”

“I wasn’t bawling!” you protest, pulling back just enough to glare up at him. “I was… emotionally invested.”

“Sure,” he says, smirking down at you. But his hand doesn’t stop stroking your hair, and the corners of his eyes soften in that way they only do when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You poke his chest playfully, your finger sinking into the soft fabric of his hoodie. “Admit it. You cried a little. Just a tiny bit.”

“Nope.”

“Not even when they sang together?”

“Not even then.”

“Not even when—” your voice cracks, and your eyes start welling up again. “When he—”

“Oi,” Katsuki interrupts quickly, pulling you back against him before you can spiral. “Don’t start again. You’re already dehydrated from all the crying you’ve done tonight.”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound breaking through your sniffles. “You’re the worst comforter ever.”

“And yet,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your hair, tilting his head smugly, “here you are, clinging to me.”

“Because you’re warm,” you counter, wrapping your arms around his waist for emphasis, wiggling them just between his hoodie and the couch “And because you’re not as mean as you pretend to be and you looooove me”

“Tch.” He looks away, but his hand settles more firmly on your back, holding you close. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Might as well sleep on you right now”

Your words are like a child’s whine. You grab onto him for life and bury yourself further into him—so much that everything suddenly feels too soft, too warm. The notion of that heartbreaking movie is a thousand years away.

“Don’t fall asleep here,” Katsuki mutters, though he doesn’t make any move to push you away. “You’ll drool on me.”

“I don’t drool,” you mumble, already half-asleep again. “But even if I did, you’d deal with it because you love me.”

“Dumbass,” he grumbles, but when you feel him press the lightest of kisses to the top of your head, you know he doesn’t mean it.

The room falls into a tranquil silence, save for the designated trailers of movies that follow the credits of the one you just finished and the soft crackle of the candle on the coffee table. You shift slightly, nestling closer into Katsuki’s chest, and he doesn’t complain—just adjusts his arm to wrap more securely around you, like he’s silently resigned to being your personal heater for the rest of the night.

“You’re gonna fall asleep like this,” he mutters, though his voice is quieter now, softer. It almost sounds like he doesn’t mind.

“Maybe I will,” you murmur back, your words drowsy and slurred. “You’re comfy.”

“Don’t call me that,” he huffs, but his thumb brushes gently against your shoulder, a contrast to the gruffness in his voice.

You peek up at him, your cheek still squished against his hoodie. His face is half-lit by the warm glow of the candle, and you can see the faintest crease in his brow, like he’s still pretending to be annoyed even though his hand hasn’t stopped tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“You like it,” you tease, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

He looks down at you, his crimson eyes darkening with curiosity. “Like what?”

“Mmmm” You respond, sporting your tongue out. 

Sleepiness escapes you in an instant when you light bulbs above your head with a different, new and so very fresh thought about how the conversation is going to turn out. 

He knew that you would ask him this at a point anyway, the second he picked that damn movie.

“What would you do if you died and your best friend confessed to me like Wasabi did?”

You ask and Katsuki sighs, bringing his palm across his face to wipe his annoyance away from it.

And though you might be giggling in your skirts about it, all Katsuki can think of is—Where the fuck did this ever come from?

“I ain’t answering that, babe” he deadpans

“please please tell me”

Katsuki lets out a heavy sigh, the kind that makes it clear he’s already regretting entertaining this conversation, but for the sake of you being sleepy and whiny he will—good news for the weird girlfriend community but you just made it!

Katsuki’s face contorts in concern for a moment as he looks at your mischief expression. His hand stays pressed against his face for a moment before dragging it down, revealing the faintest furrow of his brows and a glare that’s more exasperated than genuine.

He so knows you’re never giving up on this.

You sit up slightly, propping your chin on his chest and giving him your best —sleep-ish— puppy-dog eyes. Katsuki groans, tilting his head back like he’s praying for patience, but his arm stays firmly around your waist, keeping you close.

“I ain’t answering that, babe,” he repeats, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“But it’s important!” you whine, poking his chest with your finger. “What if your best friend pulled a Wasabi and told me they loved me after you—” your voice falters, “—you know, weren’t around anymore?”

His vermillion eyes snap down to meet yours, narrowing slightly. “First of all, I’m not dying anytime soon, so quit it with the depressing crap.”

“Katsuki!” you pout, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Just humor me!”

He sighs, dragging his palm down his face again, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Fine,” he mutters. “If some idiot—bitch ass idiot may I add—tried to pull that move, I’d haunt his ass. Forever.”

You snort, your pout quickly replaced by a grin. “You’d haunt them? Like, spooky ghost noises and knocking things off shelves?”

“Damn right I would,” he says, smirking now. “I’d make sure they can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t do anything without thinking about how badly they screwed up.”

“That’s so petty,” you tease, laughing softly.

“You asked,” he counters, shrugging one shoulder. “Besides, they’d deserve it. You’re mine, and even if I wasn’t here, that wouldn’t change. Did I mention there’d be a lot of blood apart for spooky noises?”

Your cheeks feel warm at the possessiveness in his tone, but there’s an unexpected warmth in it too, something that makes your heart flutter despite the ridiculousness of the conversation.

“You’re so dramatic.” you say, trying to suppress your smile.

“Says the one who cried through a whole ass movie,” he shoots back, leaning down so your noses almost touch. “But I mean it. Doesn’t matter what happens—I’m always gonna be yours and you’re not losing me anytime soon, got it?”

“Got it,” you whisper, your voice softer now. Oh that pout of his right now would have you haunting anyone for him as well. “Me too”

“Good,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, lower lip lingering on the spot for a second too long, before flopping back against the couch. “Now quit asking dumb questions and let me enjoy the peace and quiet for five fucking seconds.”

But you can’t stop smiling as you snuggle back into his chest, feeling more loved than ever—even if Katsuki would never admit it outright.

You nuzzle closer, your cheek pressed against his chest as his heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. His hand resumes its place in your hair, lazily twisting strands between his fingers. The room feels softer now, wrapped in a blanket of warmth that’s entirely him.

“You’d really haunt them?” you ask again, your voice a playful whisper.

“Damn straight,” he mutters, but his tone is lighter, like he’s secretly amused by how seriously you’re taking this. “They’d regret it the second they even thought about pulling something like that.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggle, your fingers tracing small patterns over his hoodie. “But I guess it’s kinda sweet. In a ‘territorial ghost’ kind of way.”

“Sweet?” he echoes, scoffing, but the way his hand shifts to cradle the back of your head says otherwise. “You’re so weird. Who calls haunting someone sweet?”

“You’re not just haunting anyone,” you point out, grinning against his chest. “You’re haunting them for me. It’s romantic, in a twisted Katsuki kind of way.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If you’re gonna call me romantic, at least don’t add the ‘twisted’ part.”

“I’d simply haunt you if I were in your place” you tease, tilting your head up to look at him. His face softens as his eyes meet yours, the usual sharpness of his gaze melting into something warmer.

His hand freezes for a moment before he lets out a quiet sigh, his breath ruffling your hair. “You’re ridiculous, there’s no place that I’m in for you to take it. Also what the hell… Me? What for?” he says, but there’s no heat in the words. If anything, there’s a hint of something softer, like he’s given up on trying to act tough. Like he’s genuinely curious as well.

“So I can be with you forever”

Katsuki clicks his tongue to sound displeased, but his grip tightens around you. He takes a deep breath—one that makes you move along with his chest— as in to erase any horrible thought that might have sparked from your interaction.

Sleepiness drowns him like the depths of a river.

You tilt your head back at the realisation, grinning up at him. “Say say…”

“Sleep.”

“Nooooo one more question”

He grumbles, shifting so that you’re more snugly tucked against him and closes his eyes. His other hand grabs the remote and lowers the volume on the TV, the credits now nothing more than a faint background hum.

“Shhh, the next number one hero needs to sleep”

“More like number thirteen. And that’s pushing it”

His left eye flutters open at your giggling “Huh? I’ll kill you” he barks and you burst out laughing. “Just let me sleep woman”

“But Katsuki,” you say with a mischievous grin, tilting your head to look up at him, “which one of your friends would ever do such a thing?”

“Stop”

Katsuki groans, his head falling back against the couch like he can’t believe you’re still going at it. “None of those idiots would dare,” he mutters, but there’s a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly where this is headed.

“Oh, come on,” you tease, poking his chest lightly for the uptenth time. “What about Kirishima? He’s your best friend. You think he’d confess to me?”

Katsuki snaps his head down to glare at you, his red eyes narrowing. “Kirishima? His bitch ass would probably cry over the idea of it being disrespectful or some crap like that.” 

Giggling impossibly hard, you wipe a tear from your eye, grinning up at him. 

“He doesn’t even have the guts to take the last slice of pizza when we’re all hanging out. He’s not confessing to anyone”

You’re laughing so hard now that you’re practically wheezing, and Katsuki’s smirk has turned into a full-blown grin despite himself. He shakes his head, his hand coming up to rest on your back, rubbing small circles as if to keep you from laughing yourself into oblivion.

“You’re seriously nuts, you know that?” he says, but his voice is warm, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Maybe,” you gasp, finally calming down enough to speak. “But…  this is fun.”

“You’re right. It’s only fun for you” he sighs “And for the record, none of those extras would stand a chance with you. Not while I’m around.”

You grin, your heart swelling at the certainty in his voice. He huffs, rolling his eyes, but the way he tugs you closer tells you he doesn’t mind. 

“If it was Izuku?” you ask, your grin turning so sly as you watch Katsuki’s expression darken instantly. His hand freezes on your back, and his red eyes narrow into slits, the annoyance practically radiating off him in waves.

“Deku? Nuh uh, no way in hell.”

You bite back a laugh, trying to keep your composure. “Why not? He’s sweet, polite, and—”

“Don’t even start,” Katsuki interrupts, his voice low and dangerous. “Deku wouldn’t have the guts, for one. And even if he did, I’d—” He stops, his jaw clenching as if the thought is too ridiculous to finish.

“You’d what?” you ask innocently, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

He glares down at you, his face redder than usual. “I’d beat the crap outta him, that’s what.”

“As a ghost?”

“Hell yeah”

You can’t help but burst into laughter at the image of ghost Katsuki chasing poor Izuku around like a storm cloud of fury. “Katsuki, he’s your childhood friend! You wouldn’t really beat him up, would you?”

“Try me,” he growls, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child. “If he even thought about it, I’d make sure he never forgot his place.”

“His place?” you echo, grinning. “What, at the bottom of your imaginary pecking order?”

“Exactly,” Katsuki huffs. “Deku doesn’t have the balls, and even if he did, you’d never go for him. Right?”

There it is—the smallest flicker of insecurity hidden beneath his usual bravado. It tugs at your heart, making you soften instantly.

“Of course not,” you say gently, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want Izuku. I want you, Katsuki.”

His eyes widen slightly at your words before he looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Tch. Damn right you do.”

“Always baby” You smile, settling back against his chest as his arm slides back around your waist, pulling you close. “But for the record, I don’t think Izuku would ever confess to me. He’d be too worried about hurting your feelings.”

“Damn right he would,” Katsuki mutters, but his tone is lighter now, the tension in his shoulders easing “and you’re not funny by the way”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” you tease, resting your chin on his chest. “I’m funny and you hate being wrong.”

“Damn right I do,” he says, smirking again. “You’re still not funny though. I ain’t wrong about that.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide and playful, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Katsuki," you tease, “I’ll be so funny now, promise” stroking his chest lightly as you speak "say... would you still love me if a villain turned me into a worm?"

Katsuki freezes for a moment, his brows furrowing in confusion, clearly not expecting the question. His eyes turn over to you, narrowing in the way they do when he's trying to figure out whether you're joking or if you're actually serious, only to find you trying to suppress a laugh.

And here he thought you were having a moment.

"Are you out of your damn mind?" he grumbles, but his tone isn't as harsh as usual—there’s a small glimmer of curiosity in his voice. His hand runs through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as if he’s trying to decide whether to humor you still, or not.

"But seriously," you prod, giving him your best doe-eyed look, the one you know always gets to him. The one from before. "If some villain took me and turned me into a little squirmy worm, would you still love me? Or would you just—what—leave me on the sidewalk to get stepped on and squished by some random person?"

His eyes widen at the thought of this even being an actual possibility—you being a worm. The horror on his face is too much, and you start giggling at the image of Katsuki having to deal with a tiny worm version of you. At the sight of you looking so enthusiastic, he grimaces in disgust first and then his face contorts into frustration.

“Don’t make that face and sayyy”

“Tch... If someone turned you into a damn worm,” he mutters “I’d punch that villain straight into the ground. Then I’d find some way to turn you back into a human. And if that didn’t work, I’d... I’d put ya in a jar or something. Keep you safe ‘n shit.”

You giggle again, completely delighted by his determination. "You’d carry me around in that jar too for dates?" you ask.

"Yeah, no" he grumbles, his voice thick with seriousness. "I’d find some damn way to make sure you're okay. No villain’s gonna turn you into some stupid worm. And you sure as hell ain’t getting squished.”

“But would you still love me?” You chuckle softly, pressing your lips to his chest. "I just wanna know”

“Yeah…”

“You’re so ridiculous, for answering” you tease, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “But I guess if I ever get turned into a worm, I’m glad I have you to save me.”

“Don’t joke about that,” he mutters, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck. “You’re not gonna be some damn worm. I’d make sure of it.”

You smile up at him, snuggling back into his chest. "I know you would. Because you’d loooove me, worm or not."

Katsuki huffs, but this time, there’s no denying the soft, fond smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming. Idiot ass.”

You can’t help but grin as you hear his words. His tone is gruff, as if he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s no missing the softness behind them.

“I’d love you if you were a worm, by the way” Katsuki hears you clear as day;  his gaze still slightly averted like he’s trying to hide how seriously he means it. “I’d even feed you your greens.”

His eyes widen in mock surprise, and you give him a playful shove. “Greens? You’d feed me, a worm, actual greens?”

He looks like he’s about to roll his eyes, but then he catches your grin, and his mouth tightens, clearly trying not to smile. “Yeah, you ass. I’d go out and get the best damn salad for you. Spinach, lettuce, whatever the hell worms eat—if I have to be a worm’s personal chef, so be it.”

“But what if I want my green juice one day and I can’t tell you?” He asks and you cringe at the memory of the taste of that atrocious juice. “With a scoop of protein in it”

“I’d sense it and squish you” you deadpan instantly and he grins in response “I don’t want a fucking farty worm Katsuki. You’re already all that in your human form”

“Shut the fuck up cause you’re lying right now”

“Now that’s a loving boyfriend”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you think he’s going to ignore you completely and finally go to sleep, too fed up with your silliness. But then he mutters something so low you almost miss it. “I love you, asshole, ain’t have to ask me all this shit for me to tell you”

“You called me an asshole.” You pout. “Like you don’t like it”

“Yeah, yeah. I like it. Happy now?”

Your smile widens, and you press your face into his chest to hide your excitement. “Very happy.” Wait–but maybe, this is the spot you wiped your nose earlier?

“Good.” He pulls the blanket tighter around the both of you, his chin resting lightly on top of your head. “Now shut up and sleep, idiot.”

You let his words settle over you, warm and weighty, and your eyes finally feel relaxed. Even the soft vibration of his chest as he clears his throat doesn’t startle you.

“Wanna go to bed?” You mumble out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Nah, I don’t wanna move”

“Okay then”

Katsuki’s grip on you shifts, his fingers flexing as he drags you even closer, chest to chest, until there’s barely space to breathe between you. You sleepily coo into him, into that calming heat that only he emits, wrapping the blanket impossibly tight around you and him. The tip of your tongue is sweet with the lingering syllables of a ‘goodnight’ that is exchanged.

Barely fazed by sleep, your fingers trace light circles on him, teasing circles along his ribs.

It’s such a simple thing. Barely a touch at all–but that’s what does it for him. That’s what makes something inside him snap into his usual malevolent self. 

His face lights up like he’s a super villain having just executed his masterplan.

Peacefulness hangs between you for half a second and then his grip on your waist tightens. It’s sharp and sudden. His head tilts, eyes narrowing slightly, even if there’s something dark and thrilled swimming beneath that nightly dulled vermillion.

You don’t react at first, just let your fingers keep moving against his ribs, slow and featherlight. But you feel it, in the way his breath hitches for just a fraction of a second. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your hoodie, teasing against bare skin.

Did you just fucking get him in the mood? 

Katsuki exhales sharply through his nose—almost a laugh. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as he moves a piece of your hair behind your ear. His voice is quieter this time. “Say babe,” he whispers, his lips cuing at the edges of his mouth “would you still love me if I fucked you on all fours with my foot on your head while you’re asleep?”

He has such a nice way of making you feel more cherished than anyone else ever could.

“I’d marry you, by the way”

Silence lingers, stretching between you both. It’s like his breath hitches for just a moment, but his eyes narrow at the sudden confession, as if weighing whether you’re teasing or serious.

“Oh yeah?” His voice is rougher now, lower, dangerous in a way that makes your heart race, despite the sleepiness. He pulls you in closer, his body shifting beneath yours, his heat sinking into your skin. “Pull those fucking panties to the side before you fall asleep."

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated equally💙

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Misjudged

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, getting hurt by car accident, almost dying, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A confrontation at a party sends you racing back home in anger. Dean follows behind you and watches the unthinkable happen. Now it’s up to him to save you.

Square Filled: enemies to lovers (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Normally, you love a good party. You love getting loose and forgetting what a shitty week you’ve had, but tonight is different. You’re on a mission and you’re not going to stop until you get what you want. Luna called you twenty minutes ago crying because she wanted to get picked up, and you immediately rushed over at the thought that someone hurt your little sister. She’s newly eighteen but she shouldn’t have been at this party in the first place. She’s too nice and naive for her own good, so you do your best to look out for her.

Too many bodies litter the living room holding homemade drinks and joints, causing the room to stink of stale marijuana.

“Luna!!”

There's no point in yelling when the music is enough to deafen a person, but you still try in hopes she’s close enough to hear you. Once you get past the mosh pit, the room becomes more open with fewer people. On the other side of the room is one person who makes your blood boil in rage.

Dean Winchester.

Of course, he’d be here. Suddenly, the thought of Dean making your sister cry is the only thing you can think about so you stalk over to him. He’s playing pool against his friends and winning, but not for long. You swipe your hand over the pool table, messing up the balls and Dean’s shot.

“Hey!” Dean whips his head to face the culprit and smirks when he realizes it’s you. “Oh, hey, sweetheart. Come to play?”

You bring your open palm back and slap Dean across the face. His friends go still with shock, and Dean moves his jaw back and forth as he processes what just happened.

“How dare you bring Luna here after I told you not to!”

Dean sets his pool cue on the table but otherwise doesn’t react to you slapping him.

“How do you know it was me who brought her here?”

“You’re our neighbor, Dean. She heard you talking about the party and you offered to bring her here.”

“She wanted to come here, Y/N. I was already on my way when she asked me to drive her. I didn’t see the big deal.”

“The big deal is that this party is full of drugs and alcohol and men with granny hands.”

“Last I checked, she’s eighteen. She can think for herself.”

“Last I checked, she’s my family, not yours. Stay out of my goddamn life and out of my business. You don’t see me going to your house and bringing Sam here.”

Dean tips his head back and laughs. “Good luck trying to get Sam over here. This isn’t really his scene.”

“I don’t care. Don’t ever go near Luna again.”

“Damn, man, you need to have a drink. Unwind,” one of Dean’s friends comments. 

You lunge toward his friend but Dean wraps his arms around your waist to prevent you from attacking. For a split second, you like having his arms around you. They feel strong and safe but then reality sets in and you push Dean off you.

“Let go of me. Where is Luna?”

“I don’t know. It's a big party.” Dean sees the glare on your face and fights back a smirk. “Relax. I saw her on the phone with you so I told Cas to give her a ride home.”

“Oh. Good.”

Castiel is a good guy so you’re relaxed at the thought of Luna being in his care. It’s the only part of Dean you tolerate. Castiel keeps him in check. With that, you turn on your heels and start to head toward the front door. Dean abandons his pool game to chase after you.

“Why don’t you stay?”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

You push through the crowd and leave out the front door. The ground crunches underneath your feet from how crispy the ice makes the grass. You press the button on your car which makes it unlock, and you sigh when you hear Dean still chasing after you.

“Wait, Y/N!”

“Leave me alone, Dean. Go away.”

“I don’t get why you hate me so much. What did I ever do to you?”

You spin on your heels to face him and he stops right before he collides with you.

“Hate you? No, I don’t hate you. You piss me the fuck off. Do you really think you can flash that smile of yours and call me sweetheart, and I’ll forget what an arrogant bastard you are? Not going to happen.” You open your car door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

“Wait. Let me drive you. It’s icy out there.”

“That’s nice of you to care, but I don’t need you, Dean.”

You get into your car and turn it on. Dean curses when you back out of the crowded driveway and start to drive away. What kind of friend man would he be if he let you drive off into the icy night?

Dean curses when he sees your tail lights disappearing around the corner, and he runs over to his shiny black Impala that he often catches you checking out. Wherever he goes, it’s a chick magnet but he only wants one chick in there.

You.

He leaves the party and follows you down the road, stepping on the pedal to keep up with you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened while driving home, and he didn’t know about it.

Yes, the roads are icy and it’s dark in these mountains and your headlights don’t really work well, but you’re doing fine. There isn’t any ice that you can see so as long as you continue at the speed you’re at, you should get home safely.

Key word: should.

Your phone rings but instead of taking your eyes off the road to answer it, you blindly swipe the screen until the call connects. Before you can say anything, Dean’s deep voice comes through the phone.

“Slow the fuck down, Y/N.”

You look in the rearview mirror and see the sleek headlights belonging to the Impala right behind you. For some reason, you’re in a mischievous mood that wants to piss him off. 

“You want me to slow down?”

Instead of doing what he wants, you press down the gas pedal.

“Y/N—”

“I know how to drive, Dean. I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen.”

“You’re going to fucking crash. Slow down.”

“Bite me,” you growl and hang up on him.

Just to piss him off, you go faster on the slippery mountain roads. You’re not going to admit this to Dean, but you’re kind of scared. With going downhill, you’re finding it harder to slow down. Your brakes work but the ice on the roads makes it hard for your tires to grip anything. Dean would only rub it in your face that he was right and you don’t want to hear it.

You’ve driven these roads all your life in worse conditions, but there’s something about this night that makes it more dangerous. The news has been warning residents of black ice on the roads, more so in the mountains than anywhere else.

Dean keeps a steady distance behind you which is a comfort because if something happens to you, at least you’ll be found. You press on the brakes only slightly but that causes your tires to swerve, and you grip the steering wheel with a deathly grip.

The deadliest part of black ice is that you don’t know you’ve hit it until it’s too late, and it’s too late for you. Your car starts skidding on the icy roads, and you try your best to get out of it by turning your wheel toward the direction the car is going in. That doesn’t seem to help, and your eyes widen when your headlights catch something.

A tree. You’re not wearing your seatbelt.

In the blink of a second, the front of your car smashes into the thick tree trunk, causing it to spin out of control. The side of your head smacks against the hard ridge of the window, and you lose your grip on the steering wheel as the car skids closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. You press down on the brake as hard as you can but that doesn’t seem to help.

Either you’re going to die by falling off the cliff or by plunging into the icy waters below. Your car comes to a stop right before you fall off the cliff’s edge, but the front half of the car is teetering over the edge. One false move and you're going to go over. You’re still-shocked and gripping the steering wheel with a deathly grip, afraid to let go. Tears roll down your cheek that mix with the blood coming from your forehead. Silence and then you hear his voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean?” you cry.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“I’m so scared,” you whimper.

“I’m right here. I’m not going to let you fall.” The back window was shattered when it hit the tree, so he is able to climb inside if he wanted to. “Can you get your seatbelt off?”

“I’m not wearing one.”

“Fuck. Okay, when I get you out, we’re going to have a serious conversation about proper car etiquette.”

The car starts to spin but Dean doesn’t say anything about it which makes you realize it’s your vision that’s spinning. Your head throbs in pain and black spots enter your vision.

“Dean, I hit my head. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Can you turn around?” With slow movements, you look back at Dean. He doesn’t shine the flashlight directly on your face but he can see the river of blood on your face. He’s fucking scared but if he starts to show it, you’ll start to panic. “I’m right here.”

Dean removes his jacket and lays it over the edge of the window where it broke to prevent glass from sticking to his skin. He keeps one leg on the ground and puts his other leg inside the car to get closer to you. He leans in as far as he can and stretches his hand out to you.

“Grab my hand and I’ll pull you out.”

“What if I fall over?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of never seeing your family again. “Please tell my mom I love her. Tell Luna that too. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’re going to be fine. Just grab my hand.”

“I’m scared,” you cry.

“I know you are but I need you to be brave right now, okay?” You nod shakily. “I can’t go any further so you’re going to have to climb over the seat. No sudden movements.”

You slowly rise and put both feet on the clothed seat. You grab the back of the seat and turn to Dean who is patient and calm. You know he’s freaking out so you appreciate him keeping a calm head. You sling your leg through the small gap over the center console and the car starts to sway lightly. You halt your movements and calm down when the car doesn’t fall over the edge.

You slowly lift your other leg over the center console but you step on one of your dogs’ toys that squeaks. Your foot slips and you slam into the back of the driver’s seat. The car immediately tips over and you jump to grab Dean’s hand. He pulls you out of the car just as it falls over the edge. You gasp and clutch onto his hand with a death grip because not only did the car go over the edge, but you did as well.

Dean is the only thing keeping you from certain death.

Dean uses his God-given strength and pulls you up from the edge and onto the safety of solid ground. You fall into his arms and cry, the adrenaline already starting to wear off.

“You’re okay,” Dean mutters. He strokes your hair to not only calm you but to calm himself. “You’re okay.” You pull away from him and he finally can see the damage done to your head. “You’re bleeding.”

“You saved me.”

He tucks a strand of bloody hair behind your ear. “I’ll always save you.”

You look down at his lips. Maybe it’s because of what just happened or maybe it’s because your emotions are all out of wack but you’re seeing Dean in a new light. As much as he wants to kiss you, you have more pressing matters.

“I’m not a doctor and you need to get that checked out. Come on.” He helps you to your feet and wraps a strong arm around you. “I’ll call your parents from the car.”

What would you have done if Dean didn’t follow you? How long would you have been out here for? Would you have died? He could have let you go off that cliff but he didn’t. Maybe you’ve misjudged him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be.

x

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[semisasseater]

YOU PLUS ME, YEAH

함께한 그 순간

SUMMARY ‘ se-mi surprising you for your birthday ♡

𓊆 世美 𓊇 x f!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 545 angst overthinking self-doubt crying but all ends in fluff — 类型 fluff birthday suprise hurt/comfort established relationship

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🤍⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : someone pray w me that anon finds another fish in the sea

You let out a small sigh as you stared at your phone, the screen dimly glowing in the dark room. Se-mi still hadn’t come home. You had called her twice already, and she hadn’t picked up. Maybe she was busy, but… she always made time for you.

After debating for a moment, you pressed the call button again, hoping she’d pick up this time. When she finally answered, relief flooded you—until you heard her tone.

“Stop calling me every damn second. I’ll be home later.”

And then—click. She hung up.

Your heart sank. Se-mi had never spoken to you like that before. Sure, she could be cold sometimes, but never annoyed with you. Never like this.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your phone. Was she getting sick of you? Had you been too clingy?

Maybe… maybe she really forgot your birthday. But you shouldn’t be surprised. No one had ever celebrated it before. It wasn’t like you were expecting anything big, just—something.

A simple happy birthday would’ve been enough.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you curled up under the blankets, your chest aching. You tried to tell yourself it was fine, that birthdays didn’t matter anyway. But the way Se-mi dismissed you, the way she sounded so irritated—it hurt.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled you into sleep, your quiet sniffles fading into the night.

—

A gentle tap on your shoulder stirred you from sleep. You groggily blinked as a soft voice called to you.

“Baby… baby wake up.”

You turned, your vision still blurry, and found Se-mi kneeling beside the bed, her eyes filled with warmth. But that wasn’t what caught your attention.

Your room—your plain, undecorated room—was now covered in pastel-colored decorations, fairy lights twinkling along the walls. And in Se-mi’s hands was a pink birthday ice cream cake, the one you had always wanted but never had the chance to get.

Your lips parted in shock as Se-mi smiled softly.

“Happy birthday baby”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They spilled over as you sat up, staring at her in disbelief.

“You—you didn’t forget?” you choked out, your voice small.

Se-mi quickly set the cake down before you practically launched yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her tightly. She let out a small laugh as she held you close, cradling you in her arms.

You buried your face into her neck, her warmth soothing every ache in your heart. When you finally pulled away, you looked up at her with teary eyes.

“But… I thought you forgot and I thought you were annoyed with me…”

Se-mi chuckled, brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

“No, love. I was just pretending. I did feel bad for acting like that though”

A small giggle escaped you as you wiped your tears. “It’s ok… let’s eat cake now!”

Se-mi grinned, ruffling your hair before picking up the cake. You followed her eagerly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

As you took the first bite of the sweet, cold cake, you realized—this was the best birthday you had ever had. And it was all because of her.

@semisasseater

[yumeaoka-chan]

Maybe It's Canon...

My hand slipped...? Blame @the-kr8tor @hyperfix-wip and @pleaktale for not stopping me😭🤚 Also credit to Bleaky for the ask sent to Katy. Lovely banners made by @cafekitsune ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x Reader x Hobie Brown/ Prowler! Ekko x Reader x Spider-Punk! Hobie Brown

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Angst, hurt/ no comfort (straight up bad times, man), fighting(im still bad at writing fight scenes), blood, no physical description of reader, can be read as any gender really, TW death, cursing

Summary: In every universe, you fall for them. Sometimes, it doesn't end well.

Blood rushes in his ears as he holds you close, senses buzzing and sensitive hearing picking up the way your heart thrashes like a battering ram inside your chest. Frigid air whips your face, tears from the sharp gusts of wind slipping from your eyes as you gasp, trembling like a leaf from being up so high.

“‘S alright, love,” Hobie breathes out, pulling you away from the ledge of the sky-scraping tower, arms firmly wrapped around you and thumbs rubbing circles against you. “‘M gonna get you down from ‘ere. Promise.” His bones still feel like it's rattling from Electro’s shocks, fingers twitchy and body aching and ribs creaking. But he had to get you to safety first. After everything you've done to ensure his win against the electric powered villain, he had to make sure you were safe. With a jerky nod, you blink away the stinging tears, face as cold as ice due to the blistering London winds.

Just as he goes to launch a web at an opposite building, his senses suddenly go haywire. Only giving him enough time to snap his head in the direction of danger before a sharp pain blooms across his ribs, breath leaving him in a whoosh as he's slammed onto the ground away from you. Your frightened cry rings in his ears as he pushes back at the force that had rushed him, rolling himself into a crouch as he whipped his head up to glare at the newcomer. A frustrated snarl forming on his lips beneath his mask, Hobie narrows his eyes at the flash of purple and green.

“Ain't the time, Prowler”, he snaps, eyes darting over to your shaking form, seeing as you latch yourself to the glass skylight windows of the tower. Your chest heaves as you try to regulate your breathing, watching with trepidation and worry as the Prowler stands up. Claws of his mechanical gauntlets gleaming under the light of the full moon, glowing white eyes of his purple mask sharp and narrowed. He points a clawed finger at the web head, voice deep and masking any resemblance of something human.

“You had time to fuck up my plans. I can spare a few minutes to kick your ass, insect.” Hobie scoffs, eyes focused on the way the thief circles around him like he's prey. He might as well be, what with his mind solely focused on protecting you, getting you out of this mess as quick as possible.

“Arachnid, P. ‘Sides, it ain't my fault you can't plan your heists at a better time.”

“Always a joke with you… Too bad I ain't laughing”, Prowler spits out lowly, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as you watch him shift into a defensive stance. Eyes drifting over to Hobie, you shake your head, hoping and praying that he understands that you don't want him to fight. Not this time. Your silent pleas are met with a firm shake of his head, Hobie throwing his battered guitar to the side and crouching lower, dashing any hope you have about no violence. It's silent then, nothing but the harsh winds whistling in your ears. The two men watch each other closely, muscles coiling beneath the skin as they ready themselves to spring into action. Everything that happens is a blur then.

Quick on his feet, Prowler dashes towards Hobie, swinging his fist at him once he nears the web head. The punk easily dodges the blow from his left, backing away from a hit from the right. A hand comes up to block the knee to his stomach before he drops down, sweeping a leg out to trip the thief. Falling down from the sudden sweep, the clawed man is quick to use the momentum from the fall, spinning his body on the ground and delivering a harsh kick to the masked hero's face. Hobie groans as the Prowler flips, standing up and rushing him once more. He delivers an onslaught of punches and kicks to the web head who weaves away from every blow before lifting his leg up high and bringing it straight down towards the punk's head in a mean axe kick. Hobie manages to sidestep away from it at the last second, moving forward and bringing up a hand to catch the thief's leg. Lifting up a fist to hit Prowler in the chest and right before he can kick his leg from underneath him, the masked thief suddenly grabs him by the shoulders. Clamoring onto him and wrapping his thighs around his head, they both tumble to the ground.

You watch as they exchange blow after harsh blow, watch as they somehow stumble closer towards your little safe haven called the skylight. Heart feeling heavy with slight dread as you see Hobie get punched so hard that you can hear the stuttered gasp of pain leaving his lips. Prowler yells angrily as he swipes his claws down over the webslinger's chest, bits of red spandex clinging to the sharp metal. Hobie hisses as pain blossoms, body still heavy from the previous fight and strength wanning. A mechanical fist collides into his nose and if his brain wasn't rattling inside of his head right now, he would have sworn he heard a distinct crack. A cry of terror sounds in his ear as his back collides with something cold, something breaking beneath the combined weight of him and the man leering above him. Another blow rains down on his nose, which he for sure knew was broken by now. Then another, making his head snap to the side, blood welling up behind his now swollen eye.

“That's all you had in you, Spider-Man”, Prowler hisses before delivering yet another blow to the downed man's face, name leaving his lips like a curse. “What happened to being the best, huh? This'll teach you to stay outta my way…!”

Hobie's head is swimming as punch after punch lands on his face, eyes rolling behind his mask as he tries to get up. He has to get up. It doesn't matter if his ribs were for sure fractured by Electro earlier, it doesn't matter if he could barely seem to move a finger. All that mattered was keeping you safe, living to make it back home and spending time with you and Ekko. The two people he loved more than anything. He could hear you, hear as you cried out for Prowler to stop, begged for any semblance of mercy for his sake. It broke his heart, hearing the fear for his life that he's unfortunately instilled in you. And, suddenly, the raining of blows cease, Hobie cracking open heavy eyes to blearily peer up at the man causing him harm. The Prowler's fist is raised up high, shaking with restraint as his head is turned towards you. You, whose standing up on shaky legs on the skylight, tears streaming down your face as you sniffle.

“W-What… What did you just call me…?” The thief let's out breathlessly, whatever you said having caused him to tremble as he speaks his words. Wiping at the tears you take a shaky step forward and Hobie lets out a jumbled slew of words, protesting your advancement towards danger.

“Please stop, Ekko… That's Hobie…” You choke out and it makes the pain he feels almost instantly go away. Because what in the world did you mean, calling the thief Ekko? Ekko…? There was just no way that could be true. Glowing white eyes now boring down at the injured man beneath him, Prowler lifts a trembling clawed hand up towards the hem of the webslinger’s mask, and Hobie can't even find it in him to stop him as it's pulled up and off of his head.

“N-No”, Prowler chokes before ripping his own mask off of his face. Hobie's met with familiar hazel brown eyes boring into his own and his breath leaves him. Twisted white locs falling over his face as he gently cradles the punk's face within his mechanical claws, Ekko has tears shining in his heartbroken gaze. And then, before he could utter a word, before he could try to figure out how exactly you figured out his identity, the glass beneath you three cracks. Everything seems to happen in slow motion then.

A gasp leaves your lips as you fall through the shattering remains of the skylight, air whipping past you as you tumble down the tower. Hobie and Ekko fall straight down, bodies bumping and landing on hard metal beams. Eyes darting around, looking for you, widening once they see you falling. In the last moments of your life, you gaze at the two men you hold dear, reaching for you, yelling out your name in horror. Tears slip from your eyes as you smile at them, your deadly descent never slowing. They're diving to you, fingers so far from brushing against your own. As a last resort, Hobie shoots out a web, hoping, praying to anything out there that it reaches you in time. It looks like a tiny hand, you think to yourself as you gaze at them lovingly. It latches just as you reach the hard floor of the tower and Hobie's heart thuds so loud within his ears that he can barely hear anything else.

He got you. He made it in time. You'd be okay. That's what he tells himself repeatedly as he and Ekko finally reach the bottom, his hands yanking away the web and holding you close. Hand cradling the back of your head, his mind doesn't register the slick warmth that seeps from it, smile on his pierced lips as he awaits for you to open your eyes.

“Love…”, he mumbles, russet brown eyes roaming over the serene look on your features. “Lovie…? Open your eyes for me, yeah? Can you do that, sweetheart…?” His sensitive ears can't seem to pick up your pulse, which he finds odd. Strange. You were okay. You were safe now.

“C'mon, darlin’. Jus’ open your eyes f'me and we can go home. Promise…” Hobie doesn't dare to look behind him, tunes out the sound of Ekko falling to his knees. When he sees that your expression never changes, that your face granted with serenity never wanes, he starts to trail his fingers down to your chest. Trembling as he searches for where your heart is beating. Because, of course, it was beating. Of course it was…

Oh…

Oh…

“No, no no… You can't do this to me”, Hobie whispers harshly, vision blurring and swimming as he lets out a choked sob, nose scrunching and face crumbling. Despair threatens to claw out his broken heart as he fervently shakes his head, fingers cradling your face. “C’mon, lovie, please. Please.”

The man behind him is sobbing loudly now, the sound rattling in his brain as Hobie holds you close against his chest, gripping your lifeless body like a lifeline. He couldn't breathe, breath coming out in heaving gasps as the tears streaked down his face, dripping onto your rapidly cooling skin.

“Don't fuckin’ leave me…” His sobs rattle in his chest as reality finally sets in. You're gone. He didn't make it in time. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he lays your body down on the ground and stands. Legs wobbling, he falls onto his knees a moment after, chest aching and grief all consuming. Ekko takes his place, holding onto you and whispering apologies against your hairline. And as Hobie watches him, he no longer sees the man he loved and respected. No longer sees the man he cherished just as much as he cherished you. No longer does he see the man he wanted to spend an eternity with alongside you. No. All Hobie can see now is red.

[cars2-renaissance]

Oh shit you guys I woke up this morning with another headcanon. Ughhhhhhhh this one really fucked me up. I’m gonna post it under a cut cause theres discussion about death and su*cidal ideation and it’s just super depressing. So please don’t read if you’re not in a good headspace.

I think this is the worst one yet. It's just pain.

So I always noticed that Finn is really quiet in Big Ben when they're tied up. Mater is talking back to the lemons and engaging with them but Finn is COMPLETELY silent.

Now maybe it's cause he's an experienced agent and knows not to open his big mouth. But when has Finn ever not been on the spot with these jokers? Why is he so quiet and resigned here?

He's resigned! He doesn't even try to escape. He's glad that Mater makes it out (maybe??) but after that, he's just like oh well guess I'll die?

Finn is incredibly crafty with cheating death. I mean just look at the oil rig scene. Even after the extreme shock of seeing Leland dead, he's still able to make split second decisions to save himself and make it out. And that was when it was just his life on the line! He doesn't even seem to care about Holley's life at all in this scene! And this is the same car who seemed genuinely gutted by seeing the wgp racers getting their engines blown in the second race, these random strangers he doesn't know. You can't tell me he doesn't care about others!

So what the FUCK did they do to him to break him that much??

Well. They had him prisoner and while they kept Mater gassed the whole time in between races, we don't know what happened to Finn or Holley. We don't know that they were unconscious the entire time. But we do know certain among the lemons are complete sadists. I've wondered for a while if they filmed what they did to Leland. Zündapp wasn't there for it and he seemed to take personal satisfaction in the aftermath. It's completely plausible that Grem recorded the whole thing even to just show the professor later.

But you know who they would take particular delight in showing a snuff tape of Leland Turbo to?

Finn.

And that would be enough to keep him quiet in Big Ben, to want nothing more than to die there, crushed to death just like Leland, because he deserved it after not getting there in time to save him. He wanted to die there so bad that even Holley's life didn't matter. And when he did get out of that situation (thanks to Holley), the only thing on his mind was going after Zündapp.

They just found out there is an actual bomb attached to Mater and he's heading for a highly populated civilian area IN LONDON FOR CRYING OUT LOUD; this is likely Finn's home town. You'd think he'd stop at nothing to go take care of that situation and not leave it to the total newbie.

But no. He is out for BLOOD against Zündapp. Holley can save London—who CARES about London or any of these cars he's gotten close to over the past two weeks—Zündapp is on the loose and Finn is not going to let that slide. He puts himself in deaths door yet again to catch this motherfucker. He barely flinches while getting heavy artillery shot at him. And his grand solution at the end is to blow them all the fuck up.

The size of that explosion SHOULD have killed them all. Finn was more than willing to kill himself if it meant Zündapp died with him, plus Tony Trihull who at this point he probably knows is the location of Leland's death. They can all just get blown to hell.

But he and Zündapp survive somehow—I don't think the same can be said for Trihull—and we see them later, finally pulling up to the races. We also see that Zündapp is completely tangled in Finn's grapple lines in ways that could only be possible if he was flipped around multiple times in all directions. Finn got him to the bomb site but not before beating the ever loving shit out of him. He is FURIOUS and doesn't bat an eye when Holley tases a car in full custody. Because it's Zündapp, and Finn only just stopped short of killing him.

Finn is a hot mess throughout the movie. He takes unbelievable risks and pulls ridiculous stunts. BUT he always has it pretty under control and above all, he shows genuine care for those around him. But there is a definite shift in his values and goals after Big Ben. There's a real possibility that it's because he had to watch Leland die in that window of time.

I hate this headcanon so much but I had to write it out this morning

This was all just off the top of my head a few minutes after waking up, haunted by this headcanon, so I’ll go back and rewatch the scene to see if anything sticks out to me. I’ve combed over the opening of the movie so many times to analyse it but I want to go over the Big Ben scene again to comb over it too cause it’s got a lot packed into it.

But yeah. Happy Valentine’s Day y’all!

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i would like to stop experiencing the full spectrum of human emotions every day please. putting this out into the universe

[butch-bakugo]

Its not a shock to me that most "transandrophobia doesn't exist" people are trans women, mostly white trans women. They have a very specific image of what a trans man looks like and it's only two categories: the hyper fem, tits out, make up, twink trans man who doesn't pass nor try to and the hyper masculine, bearded, t'd up, all the surgeries, big buff trans man who you could never clock. They genuinely think every "transandrophobia truther" is lieing about not getting privileges they don't fucking have.

They genuinely believe every trans man passes and therefore we get male privilege and they get backed up by trans men who do pass and think a cis man making rape jokes with them and asking about their lift set is male privilege. Lemme shatter the illusion because as much as you like to scream about some wide spread privilege that doesn't exist, most trans people, in general, do not pass. This is especially true for trans men due to the hyperfocus society puts on feminine features. I have never met a fully passing trans man and I've met over a hundred personally irl. never. I know they exist but the fact y'all think we, en masse, get male privilege is factually just fucking wrong.

Trans men are not more acceptable or palatable to transphobes. Trans men are not more likely to pass. Trans men in mass do not get male privilege by virtue of our lack of passing and our medical history. Most trans men are still affected by the gender pay gap and thus can not afford surgeries.

You do not acknowledge the existence of non-passing trans men, only uphold the voices of trans men who pass and have the money for surgeries (a small percentage) then wonder why trans men laugh in your face when you make claims about male privilege we do not experience.

We are more likely to be conversionally raped than you. We are more like to be forcibly detransioned than you. We are more likely to experience domestic violence than you. We are more likely to experience hate crimes than you.

Trans men's hyper visibility in online spaces dose not transfer to real life visibility. You are more likely to see white cis gay men and white trans women in any media or ever mentioned than even white cis lesbians or white trans men. Your rhetoric is the origin of the "theyfab" myth. Our issues are invisible to you cause you do not care about other trans people besides yourself and other transfems. Everyone and their trans mother knows about transmysogny and the issues you personally face yet you expect trans men to be silent about their issues and feel like they should be silent because they are men. Trans men are more likely to experience litterally all forms of violence over trans women in every single avenue of violence that exists; religious, sexual, domestic, familial, etc. We are more likely to be stopped and abused before we socially transtion than anyone else due to hyper vigilance of society over afabs. You can scream all you'd like about how we only bring up our sex/the gender we are often raised as when it's convenient but you always ignore those often traumatizing experiences when it's convenient for you.

Many Transmascs and trans men had a traumatizing upbringing because society views us as "bad women" and " bad women" get treated so much worse and by many more angles than "bad men" specifically because we were forcibly assigned as women. You take advantage of a lack of nuance in the community by trying to group us with cis men specifically because you group yourself with cis women. News flash, neither of us and our experiences should be grouped with ANY cis group because we do not have cisgendered experiences.

I seriously think you think you are the most oppressed group in the trans community and you are not, not by a long shot. You are not the most oppressed group in the transgender community and that's a statistical fact. The most oppressed group, by far, are two spirits and cultural genders by virtue of them being inherently indigenous and indigenous people being the most oppressed race of people in the community regardless of the location they are indigenous to.

You are literally taking advantage of the things that were drilled into transmascs at a young age to be seen and not heard and to be quiet and let others talk, that they are lesser than everyone. Everyday there's a new story in the community of a cis man or a trans woman getting a trans man/masc pregnant to hurt them or force them off t or to detransion, this is not a fucking accident. You are not men, no one ever said you were, but you sure love to silence them like they do.

I'm not quiet, you do not intimately know our issues the same way we do not intimately know yours, You don't get to tell us what we do and don't experience and the fact you'd rather cry wolf and suspiciously call us "bitches" than hear us out, tells me everything i need to know. That alt right to trans woman pipeline you said you escaped? Yeah, you didn't. Ur just an alt right trans woman, Try Again.

[i-will-go-with-you-five]

The third craziest run I've ever had was when I was seven and running with my mom and we saw a stampede of bison on the mountain range above us, and on that same run some guy complimented my mom's gun that she carried while running in case of mountain lions.

The second craziest run I've ever been on was one day at night I thought I was getting chased by zombies but nope the growls were not from my phone and actually turned out to be from a coyote pack hunting cows.

The craziest run I've ever been on was that I was running a new route when lo and behold two calves broke out of the fence and ran across the road in front of me to the field across the street, so being the sympathetic good farmer that I am with lots of livestock who've also broken out a lot, I told the farmer who I knew of but didn't know personally, and he somehow convinced me to help get them back in, but then in the middle of herding these two calves I have a zombie chase go off, and rather than turn the app off or let myself get caught like a normal person, I just sprint away the second the calves are back in and leave that guy scratching his head and I about died of embarassment a quarter mile later when I realized he knew nothing about my app and to his knowledge I just ran away from him the second the cows were back in but before he secured the fence. I have not been able to run that way again.

[trans-encore]

.

[things-to-tell-my-therapist]

😐

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

list of things i can depend on to make me cry

feathers across the seasons

starscream's confession + sentence at the end of till all are one

shigechi's death in jojos

the director watching allison's last words on repeat until he died

[welcometoteyvat]

ok very interesting quest in hsr

[luv-lock]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ SWEET GIRL 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Do They Eat That Kitty?

☆⁠ NOTE : Minors DNI. Damian is an adult. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

⎯ Bruce Wayne

Bruce eats pussy like it’s a goddamn art form—he’s precise, calculated, and maddeningly patient. He starts slow, always. Those big hands spread you open, thumbs keeping you vulnerable as he just looks at you, like you’re a meal he’s been starving for. Then, his tongue starts, slow and flat, dragging up from your entrance to your clit in one smooth stroke that has your breath catching. He doesn’t rush, not at first—he builds you up so slowly that you’re practically begging him to stop teasing. When he gets serious? Oh, you’re fucked. Bruce focuses entirely on your clit, his tongue pressing firm and circling in ways that have your thighs trembling. He slides two fingers inside you, curving them just right to hit that spot, and he watches you. His dark eyes stay locked on your face, reading every reaction like he’s solving some complex puzzle. And god, he loves control. If you try to squirm or close your legs, he growls, low and dangerous, “Stay still, or I’ll stop.” Spoiler: he never actually stops, but the threat alone keeps you in place. When you cum, he doesn’t let up. His tongue keeps working you, dragging you through wave after wave until you’re crying out his name, completely wrecked.

⎯ Dick Grayson

Dick? He’s a pussy-eating legend. You know how some people enjoy it? Dick fucking loves it. He dives in like it’s his favorite thing in the world, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you closer, his face buried between your legs as he moans like a man possessed. He’s messy about it, too—his tongue is everywhere, licking and sucking on your clit like he’s trying to ruin you. But Dick knows exactly how to build you up. He’ll start with long, teasing licks, making you squirm and whimper, and then he focuses entirely on your clit. His tongue moves in quick, flicking motions, switching it up with soft sucks that send shocks through your entire body. And he’s loud. He moans into you, murmuring things like, “You taste so fucking good,” and “I could stay down here all night.” His fingers? Fucking perfect. He slips two inside you effortlessly, curling them up in time with his tongue until you’re sobbing from the intensity. And Dick doesn’t stop when you cum. Nope. He keeps going, even as you’re begging him for mercy, his grin widening against your skin because he knows he’s got you falling apart.

⎯ Jason Todd

Jason eats pussy like he’s got something to prove. There’s nothing soft or sweet about it—it’s raw, filthy, and absolutely fucking primal. He doesn’t even bother teasing you. The second your legs are open, his face is buried between them, his tongue lapping at you like he’s starving. His grip on your thighs is bruising—he keeps you pinned in place no matter how much you try to squirm. His tongue is relentless, focusing on your clit with harsh flicks and sucks that have you seeing stars in seconds. Jason’s all about intensity—he groans against you, low and rough, sending vibrations through your body. And when he slides his fingers inside you, It’s game over. He pumps them hard and fast, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over until you’re screaming his name. Jason loves watching you lose control. He’ll pull back just enough to smirk at you, his lips and chin soaked, and growl, “C’mon, baby. Let me hear you.” And when you finally cum? He doesn’t stop. He forces you to take every second of it, holding you down as he works you through the aftershocks, leaving you completely wrecked.

⎯ Damian Wayne

Damian is precise. He approaches eating pussy like a challenge, determined to reduce you to nothing but gasps and moans. He starts slow, dragging his tongue through your folds with maddening patience, watching your every reaction. His hands hold your thighs apart, firm but not rough, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Once he finds what works, Damian locks in like a man on a mission. His tongue circles your clit in perfect, rhythmic motions, alternating with soft flicks that have your back arching off the bed. He doesn’t get messy—everything he does is intentional, calculated, and devastatingly effective. His fingers join the party soon enough, sliding inside you with ease, curling up to hit your G-spot with every stroke. Damian’s all about control. If you try to move, he tightens his grip, growling, “Stay still. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s also vocal in a way that’s almost mocking. “Look at you. Falling apart for me already.” And when you cum? Damian doesn’t stop. He keeps going, overstimulating you until you’re trembling, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to let you breathe. He’ll finally pull back, wiping his mouth with a smug smirk, because he knows no one else can make you feel like that.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.