#anyway I can SEE this argument in my brain

[melon-fodder]

Love You to Death • T. Hiragi

Warnings: angst, crying, insecurities, light sexual content

Word Count: 1k

Note: a @pixelcafe-network challenge! I was given the song Love You to Death by Type O Negative and did not think I’d make it in time, but then I decided harness my bad brain day into something creative. Some of the lines are taken by/based off of the lyrics. Dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

You struggle with it. Often. Wondering if you’re good enough for him—knowing you’re not.

He’s so strong, so honorable, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders while caring for you. You’re just another stressor, just another stomach ache.

Usually you can keep your doubts to yourself, work through them and rationalize. If Hiragi didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be, right?

But there are some days when he can just tell. It’s the set of your jaw, the sag of your shoulders, the way you take things the wrong way and then punish yourself for it.

You don’t deserve him, and he deserves so much more than you.

That’s what you believe, anyway.

Hiragi on the other hand…

“Stop being so fucking mean to yourself,” he tells you, begs you. “Hate when you get like this. What can I do?”

“It isn’t about what you can do, Toma. It’s about what I can or can’t or should do. It’s—” you hiccup, frantically wiping at falling tears. You hate crying because of shit like this. You’re already such a burden, and now it feels like you’re manipulating him. “It’s all the ways I should be better for you.”

“You’re perfect for me,” he insists, taking hold of your wrists to pry your hands from your eyes. “Look at me.”

You don’t, not until he gently takes hold of your chin. “Baby… if I wasn’t happy, I’d talk to you about it. I promise.”

All you can do is try and fail to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wish you’d do the same. Just talk to me.”

“I am happy with you. You make me happy. And you—you do so fucking much for me. I’m just s-so scared that one day you’re gonna—gonna realize that you’re tired of putting up with my bullshit.”

Your voice is all over the place, wet and warbling, squeaky then silent. You can’t control it, can’t control anything about yourself, it seems.

“I’m not putting up with anything,” Hiragi tries, “I’m not makin’ any sacrifices.”

“I don’t believe you,” you respond quietly. It’s not angry, nor is it argumentative. It’s a statement of fact because— “I don’t understand how you could, like, not get frustrated with me.”

Hiragi chuckles, the hand on your chin has moved to the back of your head to lightly scratch your scalp.

“Oh, I get frustrated with you, make no fuckin’ mistake. Just not for what you think.”

You stay silent, just stare at his handsome face, enjoying the weight of his hand in your hair.

“It’s not your little piles or your forgetfulness or your inability to be on fuckin’ time to anything,” he lists, and you clench your teeth to fight back more tears. “I don’t care about those things. Not anymore, anyway. It’s when you let shit fester and start spiraling and you don’t talk to me.”

You rest your head in his hand and shut your eyes, not surprised when you feel him wipe away the droplets streaming down your cheeks.

“Can’t help it,” your murmur. “Chronic overthinker.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” he says, and when you crack your eyes open again you see him smirking.

Fingers dig into your scalp with a little more force, scratching and making you hum in contentment. When he speaks again, his voice is laced with something a little more serious, a little more desperate: “How ‘bout you let me turn that brain off for a bit. Let me prove I mean what I’m sayin’.”

It’s hard to stay sad when he’s looking at you like that, brown eyes darkening a shade, sharp teeth nibbling on his lower lip.

“What’d you have in mind?”

Hiragi doesn’t answer, just pulls your face to his for a deep kiss. He licks the salt off your lips while wiping your puffy, tear-stained face with his thumbs then carefully pushes against you so that you lay back on the bed you’ve spent the last hour crying in.

“I love you so much,” you feel more than hear, the shape of the words molding to your mouth, wrapping around your heart and squeezing.

A knee between yours, he lightly presses it to your core, letting out a quiet groan when you grind down on it.

“Just tell me what you want, baby,” he breathes, kisses down your neck, tongue tracing the curve of it before he stops to suck a bruise onto your heated skin. “Your wish is my law.”

“I want…” you pause for a shaky inhale then guide his face back up to yours. “I just want you to love me. Forever. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Hiragi’s face softens. He sighs thoughtfully, blinks at you slowly before lowering himself to kiss you with a tenderness that makes you want to cry all over again.

“I do. And you won’t. There’s not a bone in my body that wants to leave you.”

His last kiss lands on your forehead, and then you’re both gazing at one another in a way that would make your friends dry heave.

“Close your eyes now, princess,” he says, voice low and full of desire, “m’gonna love you to death.”

You don’t fight him, don’t try to argue that you’re the one who should be begging him, serving him. No, you let him descend on you, let him do whatever he pleases because he makes you feel so good.

His tongue spells out sweetly sinful words on your most sensitive flesh, his fingers insistent and appreciative as they curl into spaces you only bear to him. He moves slowly and deeply, pouring himself into you in more ways than one—adoration and fondness and promises spilling inside of you in warm, blissful release.

As promised, Hiragi manages to turn your brain off, that network of unfathomable connections rendered absolutely useless as he destroys every doubt and self-loathing habit by way of mind-numbing, toe curling orgasms. You suppose there’s a reason the French refer to them as little deaths.

“Good enough for you?” he asks teasingly when you’re both breathless and dazed. His lips are pretty and kiss-swollen, a slick mess dripping between the two of you.

“Too good,” you reply, a lopsided smile spreading across your face. “Too good to me.”

Hiragi raises an eyebrow. “But not too good for you, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “Just perfect for me.”

[whatsfourteenupto]

In an effort to prove that his sleep habits are moving toward being relatively normal for a Time Lord, Fourteen has pulled out an old medical text on their physiology.

When he reveals that the TARDIS library has dozens of similar texts, their sleep schedule quickly becomes the least pressing topic of discussion. There is a lot of yelling.

[sttoru]

Honestly ur being disrespectful as fuck. Like if men were to say "all women are the same" after getting treated wrong by one yall would bitch and cry over it. Guys have insecurities too but you obviously can't seem to notice that. If roles were reversed and it was guys being r*ped more that girls and guys were saying fuck girls insecurity's and their feelings you'd be mad. Your never gonna have a guy actually want to talk to you atp. Your gonna be a virgin all your life and have to wright stories online just to make urself feel worthy cause no man will ever want you.

LMAOOOOO u dont understand that thats the goal STUPID 😂 . threatening me w a good time, thank u very much

[thecryptidenthusiast]

Title: willingness to bend

Rating: PG? Nothing much but some arguing further in. Abby is stubborn and not thinking straight, and Nate isn’t helping his case.

Pairing: Detective Abigail ‘Abby’ Brùn/Nate Sewell

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: how the post-forest argument would have actually gone between Abby ‘fiercely independent and stubborn’ Brùn and Nate ‘worries SO MUCH but terrible about talking through things’ Sewell. Also known as ‘these two care a lot about each other they’re just bad at saying so’

I was disappointed there was no sort of conversation or confrontation with these post-trapper, especially picking the dialogue option that gets you the famous “i won’t allow you to endanger yourself” line. so I’m rectifying it by making things worse <3 no spoilers really this all takes place in the timeframe of the demo, but I’ll tag it just to be safe.

Abby wasn’t expecting Nate to be waiting for her.

She’d lingered behind at the Facility after the debriefing. Longer than she probably should have, given the circumstances of…everything going on. But she’d needed some kind of respite, a little time to process without Unit Bravo looming over her shoulder.

Getting food with Vieno had been the perfect excuse for some time away.

Unit Victor had been an unexpected surprise, but ultimately a pleasant one. The group had no problems dragging chairs over and making themselves comfortable. Willing to talk about everything and nothing, they had little regard for personal boundaries.

Apparently news about her traveled far, and she wasn’t sure how she felt being at the center of it.

It seemed positive, at least.

The conversations were light. Nothing more than gossip to fuel the rumor mills. Was Adam as hard headed as everyone claimed, something Abby only gave a noncommittal shrug to because the last thing she needed was her answer somehow cycling its way back to him. They’d reached a tentative peace, she didn’t feel the need to argue with him at every comment, and he seemed to tolerate her being around. No need to upheave that progress.

They’d asked about Nate afterwards. About her relationship with him, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer around the sudden lump in her throat. Vieno steered them off by calling them a bunch of ‘nosy gossips’, and it was all Abby could do to give them a grateful nod at the intervention. Conversation still flowed afterwards as they all talked amongst themselves, and she happily let herself drift to the background.

But the lump never eased.

It’s- ridiculous. Selfish, even. Everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours, and it’s her own personal problems sitting on her mind like lead weights, something she couldn’t shake off. Added salt to the wounds of everything else.

Maybe it stung because Nate had been her point of peace. Someone that could help keep her afloat even when it felt like she was spiraling. She didn’t have that now and she felt- she felt alone.

Too lost in her own mind to be considered anything remotely close to ‘good company’, she gave a distracted good-bye before excusing herself and somehow managing to find her way to her car.

The drive back, trapped in the silence, hurt more than it helped.

She couldn’t stop herself from replaying everything over in her mind, trying to pick out where she’d gone wrong to make him so frustrated. Outside of the level of danger that was becoming a regular occurrence in her life, she’d come out of the attack fine. Stressed, a little shaken, but unhurt. She hadn’t even fought, technically. The thorny mess of underbrush had done the work for her; she’d just taken advantage of her…familiarity with the area.

Not that it mattered. Nate still hadn’t been happy she wasn’t willing to let him hide her away while everyone else fought in her place.

So, he yelled. Sort of. As much as Nate ever raises his voice.

And in turn, she yelled back at him. And if she hadn’t been so caught off guard, she would’ve been embarrassed that it all happened in front of the rest of the team.

No, that didn’t settle in until afterwards. After the chaos settled and the adrenaline faded, forced to sit through a debriefing with as much distance as she could manage between her and Nate. It mixed with the slow burning anger she’d tried to swallow down until it formed something toxic that left a bitterness in her throat.

It wasn’t Nate’s frustration that stung. Or the yelling - though that hadn’t helped. That, alone, she could have taken; sat with and picked apart into pieces of something that made sense, given enough time.

I won’t allow you.

No, the anger came even before they’d been reduced to shouting at each other. It was the declaration of what she was allowed to do, as if that’s a decision he had the right to take away from her. One sentence, buried in her mind like a splinter. The more she dug at it, the more raw she’s left afterwards.

It’s not rational, not really. One panicked phrase, said in the heat of a dangerous situation, shouldn't have struck her as hard as it did. But whether or not it was sane or fair didn’t matter - it left her feeling angry and constricted.

She doesn’t register the drive until she’s sitting outside the chain link fence of the Warehouse. It takes effort to uncurl her fingers, idly rubbing out the cramps brought on by the white-knuckled grip she’d had on the steering wheel. Staring up at the decrepit facade, with her headlights painting shadows in the gloom of the night, a part of her considers turning around. Peeling out before she has to face anyone, although…she has nowhere to go besides here. A stray thought passes through her mind about crashing at Tina’s, but she squashes it before it has a chance to take root. It’s well past 2 in the morning, and while Tina would open her door to her, Abby wouldn’t put her out like that. And she isn’t sure she wants to deal with the line of questioning that would bring on, either. And, Adam had been clear about her order to come directly back to the Warehouse afterwards.

Another order. Another decision made for her. Only this one smarts less, because she’s used to Adam telling her what to do.

So, against every nerve in her body, she forces herself to shut the car off and climb out. Mentally talking herself into taking each step forward, more mechanical feeling than anything natural. She’s not in the right headspace to handle anything more than collapsing into bed.

It’s late, anyways. Maybe she’ll be lucky and everyone will be busy doing whatever it is that keeps vampires busy throughout the night. They’ll hear her arrival, she’ll be able to get to her room and push off dealing with anything for at least a few more hours.

She wasn’t planning on Nate being up and about. Even if she shouldn’t have expected anything less from him.

“You’re back.” He startles her out of her thoughts. Perched on the couch in the living room, a book in hand, it’s clear he’d been waiting for her return. He’s smiling, doing his best to look relaxed, but she knows him too well for him to hide the tension in his body. The concern in his eyes as he looks her over.

Both get worse when she chooses to stay rooted to her spot by the door instead of moving to join him.

“I was at the Facility.” She says, words stilted and awkward as she debates her chances of making it if she were to just rush through the room and leave. She’d thought- a part of her hoped her aggravation would ease, if she gave herself time, but seeing him has it trying to claw its way to the surface again, settling like a burning coal in her chest.

Maybe he’ll let it go. Maybe he’ll just say goodnight and let her go-

“I was worried.”

He means it, that’s the worst part of it all. A passing remark made with nothing but genuine care in mind, because he always worries when she’s away. When he can’t be around. He just wants her safe. And there’s a small, logical part of her that knows that. The part that’s fighting and failing to pull her temper back knows it’s meant in kindness.

But the threats she’d been desperately grasping onto snap, all the same.

“I was with Vieno. And another Unit.” Her tone is flat, bordering on harsh. “Do I need your permission so you can allow me to go anywhere without you?”

She’s lashing out now. Feeling twisted up too tight, throwing barbs in the hopes of something sticking. There’s no pleasure when her words hit their mark though, no enjoyment in the way she sees him flinch. Just a building pressure under her skin, a rolling nausea in her stomach.

She hates this. Hates everything she’s feeling, but is too far in to pull back now.

He sighs as he pushes up from the couch, and she shuffles the rest of the way into the living room to take a place in front of the fireplace. Just- to give herself somewhere to stand besides the front door, so it didn’t seem like she was seconds away from bolting. She keeps her eyes on the ground though, just to find something to look at that isn’t him. Still, she feels him take a place beside her, even with the deliberate space he’s kept between them.

“I suppose we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we really do.” As if drawn by a magnet, her eyes flit in his direction, unsure of what she’ll find. Frustration on his face? Exasperation in his eyes at her attitude? She’s not being kind, it would be deserved.

She isn’t prepared for the deep crease between his pinched brows. She isn’t prepared to find him looking so incredibly sad.

“I know I didn’t handle the…situation with the Trappers properly.” He starts after a brief pause, clearly trying to gather up his thoughts. She lets herself relax, just a little. At least this seems like a step in the right direction. “Seeing them close in on you, while I was too far to help, filled me with terror. Every worst case scenario went through my mind, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

He sounds properly contrite, at least. His shoulders are drawn, hands pushed deep into his pockets. It's only her own stubbornness that keeps her from reaching out to him though. “It worked out, though.”

“That it did.” He smiles, but it’s a wobbly thing. Brittle. “All it takes is once, though. As I said, they will stoop to whatever means necessary to take you and I- I cannot bear the thought of that happening.”

“And I can’t handle sitting back, doing nothing while everyone else fights my fights.” She turns to face him now, and he mirrors her movement. “And I can’t handle you telling me what I’m allowed to do.”

“It’s our job to protect you, and we don’t mind-“

“But I do!” She snaps, cutting him off. She knows they’re making no progress. Two steps forward, three backwards. Unlike before though, she can see him trying to figure out a way to diffuse the rising tensions before they can come to head.

“We’re getting off point, and I’ve upset you again. I apologize, for then and now.” His apology soothes her annoyance, if only a little.

“Thank you.” He takes a few tentative steps forward at that, trying to close the distance. “But again, Nate, it’s not just the fight. It’s you trying to tell me what you’ll allow me to do.”

He pauses then, and she realizes he’d been hoping she’d just pass that point over in favor of being angry about everything else. “I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” He says finally, carefully, and she narrows her eyes. “I misspoke, I’m not trying to make every decision in your life.”

Just certain ones, the thought is a cranky, nasty little one. “You’re going to have to let me help. If I’m going to be part of the team, let me act like it.”

His brows furrow at that. Reaching out, hesitating just long enough to give her a chance to push him away, he cups her face in his palm. Cradling her like she’s something precious, she can’t help but lean into him as his thumb traces her cheekbone. “Being a part of a team also means accepting your limitations and allowing us to help you, though.”

Any warmth from his touch vanishes then, chilling in her veins as she shakes him off. “What does that mean?”

“I told you to hide because, at that moment, that was the best thing you could have done to help us.” His tone is gentle, but Abby knows him well enough now to know he’s picking his words with care, working up to his point in a very Nate-like way. Kind, always so kind, but unwilling to budge. “Your safety is my priority, always. At times, that means you have to be willing to let us protect you.”

He’s not listening. He’s not hearing a word she’s saying, and she can feel her anger rising again.

“I handled myself though.” She’s trying to be reasonable. To quell the part of her that wants to snap, and snarl, and fight. “I didn’t even fight, I was able to handle it my way.”

“And what if you couldn’t? What then?” Nate crosses his arms, as if he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands now that she’s out of his reach once again, and Abby has never thought he looked more stubborn. “I just wish for you to be safe, is that a bad thing?”

“It is when you expect me to sit back and let my family fend for themselves!” She won’t let herself focus on the fact that was the first word that came to mind, slipping out before she could stop it. Not here, not now. Not with so much tension, or with the storm of emotions making her chest ache. Or with Nate’s face lighting up, even in the midst of her yelling at him. She’ll dissect it later, with nothing but four walls watching her and the safety of an empty room around her.

“I’m simply asking for you to trust us,” He says slowly, as if to placate her, though all it does is further stoke her temper. “I- We can handle threats against ourselves, but you-“

“You almost didn’t before!” She shouts, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Memories of Nate, battered and bruised, laying in his own blood, flash in her mind, too quick for her to block them out. As if sensing her distress, he reaches out on instinct, but she jerks back before he can make contact.

She can almost pretend like the flash of hurt on his face doesn’t make her ache.

“I was taking care of myself long before you guys showed up.” As soon as the words are out there, she wants to snatch them back. Bury them, stuffed away in the dark where they belong. Panic and embarrassment has her pacing now, too much of something buzzing just under her skin. She was prepared for fighting, yelling she- she’s not ready to see pity from him.

Because maybe, that’s the true, awful core to all of this. Why Nate’s protectiveness feels like an ill-fitting coat, clinging too tightly. So long with no one, pushed to grow up too fast. She doesn’t know how to let somebody else care for her.

Would she even want to? To let herself be that vulnerable with someone else?

And Nate knows. Of course he does. Even with ehr pacing, and her stubborn refusal to meet his eyes, she can feel him watching. Picking up on every little thing she wants to hide from him but can’t, because he’s always seen too much of her. He’s close to hovering, she’s sure, wanting to provide comfort but unsure how. The thought makes her cross her arms, as if she can make herself a smaller target.

That’s what makes him finally move, though. A gentle hand on her arm to stop her in her tracks, providing a warmth she can feel even through her layers of clothes.

“You shouldn’t have had to.” He sounds so soft, so sure of himself. Steady, where she’s drifting. “And if I could, I would mend that for you. But you don’t have to now.”

Let me care, the words are there. Unspoken, left to hang between them, but there nonetheless. I would if you’d let me. I want to.

And it would be so easy to let him. To drop her guard and let him in. To let him take the few final pieces of her heart she has hidden away, because he’s already taken the rest. Given to him willingly the first time they’d kissed

She could.

She wants-

I won’t allow you.

But she won’t. Can’t.

“Well, I did.” She cuts through the silence that had grown between them with sharp precision. Squaring her shoulders, she turns to face him, trying not to miss his touch as his hand slips away, and forces herself to meet his gaze head-on. Whatever he sees when he looks at her has his shoulders slumping, ever so slightly. “Which means I don’t need you panicking over every little thing that could potentially go wrong, or you deciding what I’m allowed to do.”

There’s a rare flash of frustration in his eyes, there too fast for him to be able to tuck it out of her sight. “It’s not about permission, Abigail.”

“That’s exactly what all of this has been about!” She snaps, barely resisting the urge to yank on her hair in frustration and instead settles for pulling at her sleeves to give her something to dig her nails into. Her tone is rising again and she can’t stop. This is falling apart in front of her, too fast for her to do anything but embrace the inevitable crash waiting for her at the end. “You’re trying to tell me what you’ll allow me to do, stressing over things that might happen. None of this is going to work if you don’t trust me to know my own limits.”

“You ask me to trust you, yet you have an alarming pattern of paying little regard to your own wellbeing. So forgive me if I’m inclined to doubt your choices.” His tone is harsher than she’s ever heard it, words sharp enough to make her wince. He notices, immediately softening as he scrambles to backtrack. “I care about you Abby. So much.”

That’s all this is about. Everything it boils down to. But it’s not enough to fix anything. And that realization has her deflating, a sadness creeping in to replace the anger.

“But I’m human.” It’s a quiet sort of admission. One that hurts, because it doesn’t matter what she does in the end. How much she prepares herself, or tries to help. She’s still the weak link, and Nate will always treat her as such.

Half a dozen emotions flicker across his face in that instance, almost too fast for her to recognize. Fear. Frustration. Affection. Something- something heavier, deeper than the others, and she feels her heart thumping painfully against her ribs.

“That-“ He cuts himself off, tearing his gaze away to look at the wall. There’s something more there, that much she’s certain of. Something he’s barely bitten back, and part of her wants to grab him. Shake him and demand an answer, an explanation, anything to tell her she’s wrong. “You are.”

Nothing more. No deeper answer. Just a heavy hearted agreement, that hurts more than her own words had.

A bitter part of her wonders why she expected anything any different.

The fight leaves her as quickly as it had come. The exhaustion of everything suddenly presses down on her with such a fierceness that she’s left aching. So she crosses her arms again, like she can hold herself together a little while longer as she shuffles backwards. Desperate to space between them.

“I can’t do this right now.” She’s speaking more to herself than to him at this point, turning towards the door. “I can’t- I need to go.”

“Abby?” There’s a thread of alarm in his voice now, and she hears his muffled footsteps on the carpet as he keeps pace behind her. “Wait, we can talk-“

“All we’ve been doing is talking, Nate. And I’m done.” There’s a hollowness in her, like something carved out a piece of her, and she rubs her chest as if she can massage the ache away. A chill has seeped through her clothes, settling all the way down to the tips of her fingers, and she chooses to blame it on the lack of sleep.

“Please.” It’s one word, practically begged, but it’s enough to make her stall. Enough to have her spare one more glance at him. Frozen halfway from touching her, panic and desperation have brought a sheen to his usually warm eyes. Torn between having her stay, and afraid of pushing her further away has him teetering on an edge. “Please, stay?”

It hurts. So much, more than it should, and it isn’t fair. Leaving him like this, when a part of her wants to turn around and let him soothe away everything. Let herself be lost in him awhile and pretend like everything is fine between them. To take the easy path.

But she knows how that will end. Another fight, sooner rather than later. She knows she can’t keep burying things away, as much as he wants to when things get tough.

So she shakes her head, pulling the door open and forcing herself to look away before he can notice the tears she can feel burning her eyes. “I just need some time, okay? Give me some space.”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer. She can’t, not if she’s going to keep her resolve. So she leaves, letting the door slam closed behind her. And maybe, everything will feel a little less painful when the sun rises.

[queenerdloser]

me, sharing my personal book tbr wishlist with my family so they don't end up buying me books i already have for christmas: i am going to get a good grade in what kind of books i want to buy which is normal to want and possible to achieve

[royalberryriku]

Huh I forgot there's a lot of social justice on here, which is weird bc I started sj-ing from Tumblr so idk why I didn't just assume that obvs it still would be the same lol. I guess I was just so used to the popularity and mainstream-ness of Twitter that I forgot that Tumblr also could reach a lot of people and is a great way to write social commentary and fight for equality as well...

Maybe I should revive "NoahsNibNook" or formerly NoahSnzPolitics back on here? This time with a focus on not just politics but writing and such? I'm unsure. I'm also wondering if I should copy the trend from other writers of having the name I'd use when publishing a book + author in the format but idk. I still don't feel stable or secure enough irl to be out using my full name or anything when being so open with my political stuff.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Katsuki having his first fight with his s/o :(

We all know he just gets so unbelievably angry all the time that when something hurts it only comes out as anger instead

so he’s screaming, not necessarily at them but still screaming, and he doesn’t know how to get his point across because his chest is tight and his voice is shaky so he yells because he doesn’t know how to tell them how he feels

and they suggest leaving it off for the night because they already gave up on trying to talk and he mistakes it for them giving up on him

he knows he’s hard to love and it hurts him so fucking bad

while I search for the way to your world, leave a mark on your way.

a/n : YOU. NEED TO BURN AT THE STAKE--i mean tysm for the ask mootie !!! youre. so. sweet. but no all jokes aside i think about this like all the time are u sure ur not in my brain, i switched things up juuuust a lil bit bc i actually had a daydream about this lololol, i hope you don't mind <3 much luv !! ps yall this is @lunarfleur’s fault not mine blame them

fem reader, first bad argument, emotionally constipated desperate katsuki i love him anyways, gentle reader, hurt/comfort, kinda making up towards the end, clingy katsu, kissing, mentions of wanting to vomit !! not proofread atm but will fix later ! lmk if i missed sum else !

katsuki cannot for the life of him remember what you'd even started arguing about. all he knows is that he's pissed off. what he doesn't know is why.

katsuki hates how quickly he gets emotional. it makes him so mad, it makes his skin burn. he hates how he feels the burn of tears in the back of his eyes the moment his chest feels tighter and he knows what's coming. so he closes himself off from you. he hates how fucking shaky his voice gets when you pull yourself away from where you were cuddled up just moments ago, so he just starts speaking louder. until he's screaming and his throat is sore and burning.

he doesn't know why he's screaming at you, he doesn't want to. but he's so mad, at you and at himself and he has no other way to say so except for this. it makes his skin burn and itch and his head is throbbing and his heart hammers in his ears. all he knows is that he doesn’t want to fight with you because you’re not like him. you’re not used to just amping up the heat, to continue arguing until the other submits and you come out victorious.

instead, you sigh. you’re frustrated but you don’t scream. you’re quiet, and it makes katsuki that much more angry. he tells himself it’s because you act like he’s a child having a tantrum with the way you grip your temples, just so he can stay mad longer. but he knows you’re just tired. your head hurts and your tired of fighting, maybe even tired of him. and that scared him so much.

so he gets louder, gets in your face more. when he’s scared, katsuki gets real mean because he hopes he can scare you harder. but he knows it’s not a competition, you’re not trying to be scarier than him, you were never even trying to scare him but all he did was cut you off, scream at you and scoff at your words.

no wonder you’re tired of him, a little voice in his head nags. his limbs are on fire.

but then your shoulders slump, you sigh dejectedly and you tell him you can’t do this. and it feels like a bucket of water’s been dumped onto him.

you’re saying something, he can see it. but he’s frozen. he can’t move as he watches you wait for something, for him to say something, to act maybe ? but he doesn’t know. what did you mean just now ?

you sigh again, he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates that it comes from you. then he registers you’re putting your shoes on. and he swears he hears you sniffling as you reach past him for your keys and grab your jacket by the door.

oh. you’re leaving.

you can’t do this. you can’t stand being with him anymore and he made you leave. he should be happy, you were being annoying..but fuck he doesn’t want you to go. work had been stressful lately and he couldn’t wait to spend time with you again. so why are you leaving ?

why’d he make you leave ?

you can’t do this, that’s what you told him. katsuki feels like he’s gonna vomit.

when he feels cornered, it’s practically instinct for katsuki to bare his fangs at whatever is keeping him there. he doesn’t feel scared, that shit wasn’t for him. but he’s scared now, so scared that you’ll leave and that you won’t call him when you make it home. so scared that you’ll leave and never come back and he has to live with the fact that he’d pushed the most important person in his life away.

he’s desperate, so he does the only thing he knows. and he begs in his own way.

you can’t even twist the doorknob because the large hands that slam against the door don’t let you. you feel katsuki before you see him. can feel the warmth radiating from him on your back and you see your shadow grow bigger through your misty eyes. you feel him press himself harder against you like he’s trying to trap you between the door and him. you feel his hair tickle your nape and you feel his lips tickle your neck as he presses them there, and you feel like crying.

“katsuki..” you sigh, feeling him kiss all over your skin, your neck, behind your ear, your cheek. desperately like he’s on a mission. “katsuki..no.” you whine, craning your neck away from him and he stops then, when he has nothing to reach, when you’re unreachable. he wraps his arms around your middle to keep you to him, to keep you here.

“what..?” he asks, you scoff. looking up at the ceiling to keep from tearing up in front of him, katsuki feels his heart shatter as he looks at you desperately. do you hate him ? why won’t you just let him make it better ?

“i don’t—what are you doing..?” you whisper sadly, his heart pounds. you lean away from hims as much as you can with his arms still around you. he doesn’t tighten his hold, but he doesn’t let go. he can’t risk hurting you.

“i—i’m..” he stutters, searching around on your crumpled up face for anything. he doesn’t know what he’s looking for. his eyes drift around “i’m just—trynna make it up to you..”

“how..?” you ask, and when he keeps looking confused you rephrase “do you even know what you’re making it up to me for ?”

wordlessly, he pulls you closer to him despite you struggling a bit. he noses at your neck, hiding his eyes from you as he speaks again “‘cus i made you sad..” he admits slowly, that’s reason enough for him.

you sigh again then, and katsuki has to use all his strength not to flinch at it. “i don’t like it when you yell at me. and you don’t listen to me at all, that’s what i’m upset about.” you slump over in his arms, like you’ve given up. “i wish you’d get that..” you finish bitterly.

he gets it, he wants to say. he understands now, he’ll listen to you, he swears. but he knows it won’t be that easy. katsuki has no experience with things like this. with relationships and communication to resolve disputes. he wants to know, to learn. for you. but he fears he’s too late and he’s afraid. he hadn’t even realized he was doing the total opposite of what you wanted from him.

“okay, okay. i’ll listen just—” he grits out. he wants to give you space because he knows that’s probably what you want. you want to leave, but he can’t let you. so he shoves his head in your neck selfishly “don’t leave.”

the way he sounds is almost painful, like he’s forcing the words out despite them causing him pain just for you. you don’t want this, you hate arguing with katsuki no matter how petty it is. but it’s never been this bad. it’s not like you find it fun, but you wish he’d just bother listening to others, to you. it might sound like he’s just trying to appease you so he doesn’t have to stay alone, but when he’s like this and in general, to you katsuki is extremely easy to read. and you know he knows he’s gone too far. and you don’t want to leave, ‘cus he’s so warm. but you think maybe he’s a bit overwhelmed and needs some space. he’d been a bit antsy because of demanding hero work lately and you know he hates admitting any type of weakness, so he’d tried to push it away.

of course, it’s no excuse. and katsuki has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong, but you think he’s starting to understand it slowly.

you sigh, his hands feel warm where he’d loosely settled them above your stomach. you squirm a bit in his hold and he lets you, only because you decide to turn to look at him. you hadn’t even realized he’d been so upset, his eyes glossy and a bit red. tentatively, you place a hand on his shoulder and he softens that much more. slowly you reach your other hand up to his face and it hasn’t even made contact for him to lean into it like a magnet. it makes your heart break.

“i think..it’s better if i do..” he flinches, but you rub against his cheek and continue “because i think you need to be left alone for a bit.” he hides his face in your hand. pulling your other one off his shoulder and to his face. you can feel his lip tremble even as he bites hard into it and feel the tips of his eyebrows twitch. “i think you’re tired..right ?” you say softly. he lifts his head up to deny, but his mouth hangs open. katsuki hates having to talk about how he feels more than anything in the world, but if that’s what it takes for you to still love him, he’ll swallow his pride. and he’ll beg in his own way.

he begs you to stay with him by closing his mouth and nodding lightly, sighing harshly as he looks off to the side, grip still on your wrists. his nose nuzzles against your palms. fuck, he could fall asleep like this. maybe he is more tired than he’d realized.

“yeah..” you smile lightly, “so i think it’s better if i go for a while, leave you to think, okay ?” you’re happy he’s sucking up his pride and actually listening to you talk, not raising his voice and actually listening to you. he wordlessly nods to your every word, head bobbling as he agrees to everything, it has you holding back a giggle but not your fond little smile as he presses little kisses into your palms.

he raises his head a bit to hold eye contact “..you mad at me ?” you hesitate before responding.

“i’m still upset, you were being really mean katsuki.” you correct. it hurts, but he nods again, understanding. your heart feels just a little bit lighter.

“‘m leaving now, suki..” and he sighs heavily but he thinks he feels just a bit at ease. his heart feels just a bit lighter when you tell him “i’ll text you when i get home, kay ?”

he wants to ask you to call him instead, he wants to hear your voice but he knows he’s supposed to listen now, listen to what you want. and he nods again. you lean forward just a bit and it’s like he can smell what you want because he meets you halfway, pulling your arms around his middle and pressing his lips to yours so softly, so loving. so not like him, he thinks. but he’ll try for you, he’ll listen.

“i love you.” he whispers when you pull away, you think you could cry just from that. “i love you too.” you sniffle. it doesn’t feel like goodbye, and that makes both of you feel just a tad better.

you pull away and he doesn’t chase after you. he’s still a bit scared, but he doesn’t fight back, and let’s you go. you flash him a shy little smile when you turn to leave and he sends you one back. he stands in his door way when he hears the door clack shut and he stands there some more after you’re gone.

worry gnaws at him as he goes to make himself dinner. it gnaws at him when he’s in the shower and still when he’s going off to bed. but just before he goes to lay down and get some much needed rest, you text him. like you said you would, and katsuki feels he can sleep with a lighter heart.

he’ll rest up. and as his eyes slowly fall shut he swears he’ll make it up to you and never make you want to leave again.

[stonebutchery]

it's kind of baffling to me that entire sub-groups of queer folks endured a decade of being singled out and targeted for being asexual, aromantic, bisexual, pansexual, nonbinary, polyamorous, etc. and i have yet to see any substantial apologies from people who were directly responsible for causing genuine harm. i find it completely bizarre that there are so many people who want to sweep their past contributions to widespread lateral aggression toward specific queer groups under the rug like it didn't happen so they can wash their hands of it... there are people who are irreversibly traumatized because of this. there are people who took their lives because of it.

i'm wording the post like despite the fact that exclusionism targeting these groups (and more) continues to persist partly because it was a really frighteningly common trend to harass people just because they were ace, aro, bi, pan, nonbinary, poly, etc... and it's crazy to me that many of the people who were affected by this massive multi-pronged public online bullying campaign against the 'unacceptable types of queers' are the ones still receiving messages like "my url got put on an aphobe blocklist in 2016 because apparently a post i made making fun of asexuals got some teenage asexuals harassed and i still distrust asexuals to this day because of that" ...are you fucking kidding me?

we will never achieve any kind of unity as a queer community while we are insisting upon ignoring the hurt that lateral aggression has caused, and acting like the burden lies on the shoulders of the people who were harmed to forgive the people who harmed them and 'just move on', many of whom are not sorry for what they did! or they don't consider what they did to be wrong! how is that not deeply disturbing and troubling to more of you?

03/06/2024 edit: i’m putting a complete moratorium on this post because i am really sick and tired of having my point not only completely misconstrued and distorted entirely but also weaponized against transfems (particularly in replies i have decided to delete about how “ugh yes, exclusionism, and now transfems are bullying transmascs”) i find that really sickening and i’m demanding that it stop, and i can make it stop by turning off reblogs. so i have.

my objective in writing this post was never to request an apology from people who have been laterally-aggressive exclusionists in the past. i don’t think we’ll ever get more than a handful of apologies from those people, anyway. my point was that it was pretty terrifying to witness and experience a lot of lateral aggression that transferred from the real, in-person world to the deeply online spaces back into the real, in-person world in a really fucked up feedback loop and being a young queer person during this time and having that shape me, snd shape the experiences of my queer friends who have been traumatized by it.

however, it is absolutely unacceptable to me that the issue of transmisogyny is so blatantly overlooked by our entire community. for decades, transfems have experienced oppression and exclusion from transmisogyny-exempt women and queers. their exclusion from political queer liberation movements has caused many of the major schisms within our community we are still having arguments about to this day. if you want collective queer liberation, you must uplift transfems. there is no other option. you don’t get to write off all transfems just because one person who happened to be transfem was mean to you online or something.

i have answered and responded to way too many conspiracy-brained transmisogynist reactionaries to allow this post to keep fucking snowballing with people writing paragraphs in the tags about “transmisandry” or “transandrophobia.” please get your heads out of your asses.

this absolutely is the transmisogyny website, as always, and the place where all basic textual comprehension skills go to die, apparently.

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

[ahsxual]

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader where they are dating but the readers parents hate him so one night are 2:33 am Stu knocks on the readers window and she opens it it tells him to leave but before she can get a word out Stu is kissing her and telling her how much he misses her and one thing lead to, and so Stu had to push the readers head into her pillow so she didn’t wake anyone.

Sorry if the store request does not make any sense i’ve been wanting to request something from you for a while and this idea kinda came to my brain as I was falling asleep at four in the morning so I am very sleep deprived lol anyways I love your story. I hope you have a great day

Surprise Baby

Genre: Fluff & Smut

Warnings: +18 content, clingy and soft Stu, dirty talk, degrading, cursing, dom!Stu, p in v (w/o protection), sad Stu at the end (reader comforts him)

Word Count: 1,8k

A/N: This was actually a very interesting request and Ik very well that our daydreams before we sleep are the best 🤭 I added something to the plot at the end, so I hope you still like it! Tysm, I'm so glad you like my writing! It always feels so gratifying whenever you guys tell me that &lt;33

Right now you're lying on your bed crying, while hugging your favorite bunny plush that Stu gave you for Valentine's Day. You'd just had an argument with your parents, since they weren't the biggest fans and supporters of your relationship with your boyfriend Stu Macher. You didn't understand why they didn't like him and didn't even make an effort to, even though Stu always made you happy and made your life more colorful and enjoyable from the moment you met him. Of course Stu had his flaws like everyone else, since perfection is impossible to achieve and that was fine by you. But not for your parents. They said that Stu distracted you from school, that he "lived" for parties and didn't give you your "precious" time to concentrate on your studies, because he always took you on dates so that he could spend more time with you, even when you said you were busy.

You perfectly knew that Stu wasn't a guy who would take "no" for an answer. Maybe it was because he'd always been spoiled by his parents and didn't understand the meaning of that word? Maybe he hated the fact that you would say "no" to him, because if you truly love him as you always say, why would you reject an opportunity to go out with him? Both answers to those questions are probably correct, because you knew that Stu didn't know how to respect your personal space either, not that you minded anyway. But your parents did and that was the problem. They even told you once that Stu was obsessed with you and that your personal life has also become his, as if it were his property. Maybe they were right about that, but that's how Stu showed how much he loved and cared for you and it always worked well in your relationship. And you really missed him.

Sleep didn't want to make its presence known, so you decided to watch your favorite show on your new tv. However, you still couldn't stop thinking about the argument with your parents. Of course you defended your boyfriend and were always on his side to protect him against anyone, even your own parents, but it did made you very upset... all you wanted was for your family to see how genuinely happy Stu makes you feel, how he always admired you and treated you as if you were the only woman to walk on earth and how he's so funny that it's practically impossible not to laugh because of some silly joke he's made until your cheeks hurt. You just wished your family accepted him and loved him as much as you did...

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when you heard your window being knocked on repeatedly. You screamed for a second, because you weren't expecting that to happen in the middle of the cold night. Nevertheless, you immediately felt relieved when you saw Stu standing there with his puppy eyes and big smile on his handsome face you loved so much. A wide smile appeared on your face the moment you realized your boyfriend wanted to surprise you and that he had actually made an effort to see you.

His giant body barely fit through your window and the way he clumsily tried to get into your room, like a cartoon thief, made you laugh until your belly started to get sore.

"Baby, what are you doing?? It's cold outside!" you asked worriedly, before you watched him fall face down on the floor as he let out an "ouch". You couldn't stop laughing at his poor attempt to sneak into your room, as he already knew that your parents would never let him in, especially so late at night. You looked over your bedside table, where your alarm clock was, to see what time it was, as it marked 2:33 am.

"Surprisee baby!" he shouted excitedly, with a contagious smile that didn't leave his face for a moment. His breathing was accelerated, which made you realize he had some trouble climbing up to your window. You felt your heart warming at his romantic gesture, yet you didn't want your parents to find out and kick him out of your house or worse.

"Be quiet babe, you're not supposed to be here! You need to leave Stu, my parents are gonna ki-" you were really worried about your boyfriend's safety, but Stu didn't give you a chance to finish your sentence, as he grabbed you firmly around your waist and began kissing you passionately with his long, skilled tongue. His hands were all over your body and his grip was tight, not allowing you to move away from him.

"Shh- don't worry about them. It's just us now. I've missed you so much, baby." he admitted, before kissing your neck eagerly. When he he'd had enough, he pulled you up by your hips and laid you down on your bed, his mouth never leaving yours. You couldn't help moaning as you felt his sweet, loving assaults on your body, his lips and big hands making you melt into his addictive touch.

"Love, we have to be quiet... and you're making it hard for me." by now you were feeling breathless, unable to contain your desire for your horny and needy boyfriend. Instinctively, you rubbed against Stu's crotch which made him groan in pleasure, as you could feel him already hard under his jeans. He began to gently pinch your nipples through the fabric of your short pajama top, enjoying and closely analyzing your reactions to his teasing touch.

"Looks like I have to shut you up so we don't get caught, baby..." the last thing you saw was a mischievous grin on your boyfriend's face, before he firmly turned you around so that you were on all fours for him. He pressed his erection against your ass, while his eyes rolled back as he put his head back from the stimulation and his mouth was slightly open. You were starting to enjoy this game way too much, to see who couldn't hold back their moans, and you made sure you would win this battle. You pushed your ass against him and started rolling your hips in a provocative way, knowing that Stu wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. He bit his lips at this and frowned, realizing what you were trying to do to him.

"My girl really wants to get some, huh? You wanna play dirty, doll? Do you really think you can win this game against me?" he laughed trying to mock you, making you feel pathetic if you really thought you could stay quiet with the way he was about to fuck you.

"Just fuck me already Stu, I can't hold it much longer..." you quickly gave up and decided to beg him for mercy, so you could feel him inside you for once. You were dripping by now and the thought of having to keep quiet so no one would catch you at such a vulnerable and intimate moment turned you on even more for some reason.

You finally felt him give you want you wanted, since Stu himself wasn't a very self-controlled guy when it came to you. You felt his tongue lick a long, firm strip from your throbbing clit to your pulsing, empty hole. This made you grip your pillow as hard as you could while he ate you out from behind. Unfortunately, it didn't last much longer like you'd hoped, as you didn't realize how horny and impatient Stu was feeling that night. Suddenly, you felt his fully erect cock enter you without any resistance, sliding easily into you because you were so wet with your cum and his saliva. He didn't give you any time to adjust to him as he usually did and started pounding you hard and fast. He knew you all too well, so he pushed your face against your pillow to prevent any sound coming out of your pretty mouth and kept his strong hand on your head. You prayed that no one would hear you both fucking like horny teenagers who can't control their sexual hormones. It wasn't your fault that you and Stu were so fucking attracted to each other and that your shared love was considered obsessive, right?

"You like that, don't you babygirl? You love it when I fuck you like this... You needy slut, can't get enough of your boyfriend's cock inside your tight hole. I bet your parents would be so embarrassed if they saw you getting fucked this good." he whispered in your ear before changing his angle to fuck you deeper. Wet sounds, your muffled moans and his heavy breathing were the only sounds being heard in your room, turning you both on even more. It didn't last much longer when you both came at the same time, since Stu was way too horny to hold his orgasm. He was so glad he'd made you cum before he climaxed inside you.

After the moment of ecstasy you both experienced, you lay there trying to catch your breath while staring at the ceiling. It was then that Stu pulled you closer to him and hid his face on your neck, clinging to you more than usual. He was acting way too needy and clingy, and wasn't trying to be the "dominant" one, which made you worry about him.

"Are you ok, love? Do you wanna talk about it?" you asked him softly as you caressed his hair and cheeks. You knew him too well to recognize whenever he wasn't feeling good, even when he was trying to hide it.

"My girl knows me so well." he chuckled weakly, trying to find the right words to tell you what was had been bothering him. After a moment of silence in which you tried to comfort him with your tender touches, he finally spoke. "My parents won't be able to make it for my birthday. Again." your heart ached for him, because you knew this problem had happened before. Although Stu's parents loved him and treated him right, they had never been very present throughout his life and that took a tool on his emotional behavior. That explained why he was so addicted to your attention and wanted you all to himself, all the time. It made you really sad that you couldn't help your boyfriend properly, because the presence of anyone's parents is irreplaceable.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, baby. I'm sure they're extremely busy with work and that's the only reason for their absence on such a special day. We both know that they love you and I'll be there for you to make sure you have the biggest party ever." you gently grabbed his face and smiled warmly at him, admiring his ocean eyes that reminded you of the maldivian water, as he stared back at you with pure love.

"I know you will. What would I do without you? You're the love of my life, you know that right?" you chuckled as you softly kissed his cute nose.

"I love you too, Stu... so much. You have no idea of how much love I have for you and no one ever will."

[neptunesyellowsands]

I don't know if this has been done before, but I've got a Merthur alt ending/prompt boring holes into my brain and I can't let it go. So, in DotD:

Merlin, realizing they won't make it to the lake in time, decides to try one last thing to save the king: to trade his own life for Arthur's via the power of life and death, a la Nimueh. It's a bold move, and it's unpredictable, but Merlin is both desperate and slightly ruthless when it comes to Arthur. Because he loves him.

However, since he wants to sacrifice himself, he needs a third party to work the magic. So when Morgana finds them, Merlin doesn't kill her. She's a High Priestess, like Nimueh. She could wield the magic herself. She might be the only one who can, actually, because Merlin has killed the only other two High Priestesses we know of - Nimueh and Morgause.

So he asks her to do it. He makes a convincing argument. She could be rid of him, Emrys, the bane of her existence, and they both know that he's the only thing keeping her from defeating Arthur. Once her army is rebuilt, she could return and take the kingdom for good, if she wanted. If not, she could live the rest of her life in peace, knowing she has defeated the greatest sorcerer of all time.

But Morgana is a seer. She sees that Arthur now knows about Merlin's magic and is accepting him. That Arthur is accepting Merlin, magic and all, because he loves him. That Arthur would likely, if he survived, return to Camelot and legalize magic, now that he knows. For Merlin. Because he loves him. For the first time, she looks in Arthur's eyes and believes he actually might have turned a corner, and in a wild fit of nostalgia and hope, she agrees -

But it doesn't work. The gods won't kill Emrys. It goes against the prophecy. Arthur and Merlin are to build the Golden Age together. One cannot exist without the other. They won't make the trade.

Instead, she explains, they demand something else in exchange for Arthur's life. Something that will allow them to replenish the dwindled population of magic-users without draining the earth's coffers and throwing off the balance once more. They will restore Arthur's life, but in return they will accept only one thing:

Merlin's magic.

In the end, it's not a hard decision for Merlin to make. Of course, he agrees. Of course, he would die for Arthur. He would kill for Arthur. But when he sacrifices his magic, it's something different altogether. As Morgana performs the spell, as the gods take back what they gave, as the golden magic pours out of Merlin's hands and ears and skin and trickles back into the earth to be dispersed elsewhere, Merlin gives away a part of himself he never thought could be separated. A connectivity that tied him to the ground. It's like going blind. It's like coming apart, atom by atom, and then being put back together with only half the pieces.

And Arthur watches it. He’s glad, at first. This will be easier anyway. None of them have to die today, and Arthur can keep Merlin’s secret. They can forget about the magic. They can go back to the way things were before. It might be hard, but their friendship might survive. And Arthur won’t have to protect Merlin. He’ll be safer, really.

He’ll be normal.

But then the thing happens, and Arthur watches, and he’s horrified. He's seen death. He's seen injury. But he's never seen this rending of a person from their essence, never seen the torment and pain of someone's magic being ripped from their body. He's never seen Merlin looking so gray as he does now. The golden light that he was taught to despise flickers in Merlin's eyes, like it's alive and trying to hold on, like it wants to stay, and then it's gone, and Merlin's tears aren’t rivers of gold anymore. They run tired and clear, and Merlin is a shell on the ground, fragile and hollow.

As the pain in Arthur's side begins to fade, as he takes the fullest breath he has in days and feels the vitality come back to his body, Arthur feels like he’s the monster here. Not Merlin. Not even Morgana. Him. His father. Everything he was taught to believe in.

Because he’s seen now what his father’s Purge did to his land. He’s watched Uther’s great vision for Camelot come to pass in the body of his best friend. The stripping away of magic. The destruction of this special, beautiful part of a person. 

And he’s seen what’s left. The shell. The empty gray.

Morgana disappears into a cloud of smoke. There is no place in Camelot for her now, but she has at least accomplished her goals. She's safe. She's free.

Arthur rises from the ground and picks up his sword. Merlin lies unconscious, and Arthur does the obvious: he carries him home.

Once he's back home, and Merlin is asleep in bed, and Gaius is digging out spellbooks and potions and all manner of incriminating truths, Arthur learns a few things:

Merlin is still Merlin. The magic was a tool, not his personality.

For those who possess it, magic functions like a sixth sense. Everything is learned and experienced through it, like any other sense. Everything. Moving through the world, seeing it, understanding it. 

Merlin was never actually clumsy.

Merlin was only ‘accident-prone’ because he had to suppress his magic so often. Sometimes, he played it up for his own advantage, but sometimes he just tripped because it wasn’t natural to walk around without reaching out with magic to find the floor first.

Now he has no magic.

Merlin is crippled, physically, once he wakes. He can move his body, but he can’t figure out where to put it.

He has no magic, but he is still Merlin. He’s still prone to fibbing, overwork, and sitting up late into the night to read. Still holds onto hope when he shouldn’t. Still tries and tries. And when he gives up, Arthur tells him he needs him, and he tries some more.

Because Arthur does need him. He wants to heal the rift in his land. He wants to stitch the wounds of his people put there by Uther. He never wants to see what happened to Merlin happen to anyone else. And he wants Merlin to be there, because he trusts him. Relies on him. Loves him.

Merlin has no magic, but he used to. He knows what’s needed by the people, the Druids, the land. When he drafts the documents needed to legalize magic, Arthur asks for Merlin’s help. And Merlin gives it. Of course he does. He’s still Merlin. He’s still too ready to give himself away. Still cheeky, to Arthur’s delight. 

Still wise.

Over time, Merlin learns to use utensils again. Two crutches come next, then one. Over the years, he is able to reduce it down to a staff, which he uses to find the floor. He trains a bird to go longer distances for him, across town or even just down the many flights of stairs in the castle. His mind rewires itself, relearns, but he will never have the wrist strength to buff armor again. 

Arthur wouldn’t have had him as a servant anyway. He makes him an advisor to the king, and he sits at the round table, at Arthur’s right hand. 

He sleeps, of course, in the king’s bed.

They call it the Golden Age, because all the magic Merlin poured into the earth comes back to the kingdom in waves. You can almost see it sparkling in the air sometimes, when the light hits it just right. Harvests are full and free of blight. Orchards blossom and hang heavy with fruit. More babes are born with magic in three years than have been in the last thirty. It’s Merlin, woven into every inch of the kingdom. It’s his gift to Arthur. To Camelot. To himself.

Merlin becomes a legend in his own right, known for his far-seeing eyes, his trusty staff, his surprisingly robust beard (Arthur is astonished and openly jealous). The kingdom benefits from his kindness and his ability to judge risk vs. reward. And the dragon helps, too, occasionally. 

Above all, Merlin is known for his wisdom, his council, and his unwavering love for Arthur.

Is it sad that Merlin had to give up his magic? Yes. But he never actually wanted it to begin with. Not really. Not to the extent he had it. He never wanted the burden of the prophecy. Like Arthur and his dream of relinquishing his reign and running off with Merlin to live on a farm, Merlin wanted to set aside the burden of being Emrys and return to himself. He wanted a life surrounded by love and peace. That was why he came to Camelot in the first place. He never, not once in his life, actually wanted power. He wanted the Golden Age. He wanted Arthur.

And he gets him.

[zmbiesuga]

TWENTY TWENTY VISION — m. atsumu x gn!reader

sypnosis: atsumu needs glasses, but why on earth would he make his & your life easier by wearing them?

warnings: i'm gonna beat the shit out of atsumu oh my GOD he irks me so bad, post-timeskip atsumu, eensy bit of angst if you squint super super hard, osamu mention, i can't write the miya accent™ for the life of me but i tried so sorry, petnames such as baby used, he calls the reader pretty

notes: inspired by the fact that i just recently got my new glass and haven't had a pair since i was 14 so seeing the world focused fucks with me a lil bit, ALSO, atsumu with glasses has been flooding my brain, osamu is farsighted cause i said so

"I'm not wearin' 'em."

"Atsumu, please, you need to wear them, you have astigmatism in both of your eyes! And you're nearsighted!"

Atsumu lets out a soft huff as he crosses his arms, as if he isn't the reason you've been having this argument essentially since you brought up him even getting his eyes checked.

It all started when Osamu had gotten new glasses, that's what Atsumu thinks anyways, that this is all stupid Samu's fault.

Osamu came over one afternoon for a harmless visit, with new glasses on. You had asked Osamu about them, and commented that you never knew he needed glasses to which he responded:

"Oh yeah, me and Tsumu both do, he just hasn't worn his since junior high."

You swear you've never seen Atsumu react so quickly, his head snapping to Osamu and immediately telling him to shut up through gritted teeth. The subject gets dropped instantly, but now you're giving Atsumu side-glances throughout the night until Osamu leaves.

After you two are settled into bed and Atsumu is almost asleep, until your voice rings out in the dark.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

"...What are ya on about?" Atsumu asks, turning to face you with a soft expression.

"Is that why you squint so much?" you ask again, "Because you don't wear glasses like you're supposed to, so the world's all unfocused for you all the time, is that why?"

Atsumu's silence and stunned expression is all the answer you need.

"That's what I thought," you mumble before turning away from him, "your eye appointment is Saturday at four."

And that puts Atsumu where he is now, sitting at the island connected to the kitchen in your small apartment, staring down the thick black lenses as if he was trying to explode them with his mind.

"I said, I ain't wearin' 'em," he huffs again vehemently, looking at you with an unwilling expression, "and that's final. I don't need no stupid glasses, I can see just fine."

"Oh yeah?" you challenge, palms resting against the island as you stand on the opposite side of it, "If you don't need your glasses, read the paper on our fridge. Without squinting."

Atsumu's face goes a little pale, his eyes widening slightly. He looks over your shoulder at the paper held onto the fridge with a stupid magnet in the shape of a volleyball.

"It, uh..." he trails off, trying to not squint as much as possible, "...it...it doesn't matter what it says! I'm still not wearin' those glasses! I don't need 'em!"

"Atsumu that paper is no more than four feet away from you, and you can't even tell me what the bolded title says," you responded in an almost pleading tone, "baby, you need your glasses, so I am begging you, please put them on."

Atsumu's face softens slightly at your pleading voice, before it turns unwilling again as he looks down at his arms and mumbles something you can't quite make out.

"What was that?" you ask.

"...They make me look dumb," he repeats a little louder, looking back up at you, "they make me look like an idiot, and since my eyes aren't used to being focused, I feel like a baby deer learnin' how to walk."

"Tsumu," you reply gently, your own expression softening, "if you didn't like the way glasses look, why didn't you ask for contacts?"

"Because they scare me," he rebuttals, "which I know is stupid because they're an easy solution to my problem, but they rip and get stuck and...I don't know, that just scares me."

You stare at him blankly before taking a deep breath, "Atsumu," you start, "I'm not...trying to make you look stupid, okay? I just know that you need them, and you know that too. It might be awkward at first, but won't it be worth it to see the world a little more clearer? So you won't have to squint to read traffic signs or drive through menus? And, glasses aren't a permanent solution, we can work our way up to contacts, but you need to wear these for now."

Atsumu looks down at the glasses again, letting out another unsure sigh as he picks the thick rims up, and places them on his face.

It's weird at first, everything is clearer. The titanium fridge, that stupid volleyball magnet and the paper it holds, and more importantly...

You.

The way your entire face shifts into focus leaves Atsumu speechless. He knows how pretty you are, he doesn't need glasses to see it, but god do they make it better.

You give Atsumu a weird look, "What?" you ask puzzled, "Can you see better?"

"Yeah," he responds with a small smile, "I can see real good, pretty."

[leafostuff]

Private Appreciation [FT. TripleS Nien]

Tags: smut, established relationship, slow stripping, body worshipping, cunnilingus (at least an attempt lol)

Author's Note: quite short but it was fun writing, really into Nien lately so i had to write something about her, it does count as my September upload

I have been feeling a bit down lately so it took me longer than expected to finally finish the smut (started writing in 20/8/24), i hope yall enjoy it even though the end may feel a bit rushed.

=================================

“Baby…im horny”

“Nien, what the fuck?”

Honest question: was this the appropriate time for such a saying?

you and your girlfriend Nien are cuddling on your couch, watching some random romcom movie on a saturday afternoon, you would've gone outside and had a normal date but today your laziness was next level so you decided to stay at home, it's not like it was gonna get any less hot.

And here’s Nien, telling you the most random thing you heard this week (and for the time you know her, she said a lot of random things) during a movie where it's not like there is a sex or kissing since its was only the first 25 minutes of the movie, so there wasn't anything to trigger her.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck’?” She whines while her eyes look as tired as ever. “I am feeling hot, wet and it's sure as hell not making it easier for me with all of the sexual tension going between them” she complains while pointing at the screen.

“They are just… flirting” you say, a bit confused

“And?! I can tell 30 minutes from now they are banging” she annoyingly added while her hand goes to grab some popcorn, cutely munching on it.

“Nien are…is it that-”

“NO ITS NOT THAT TIME OF YOUR MONTH” she responded, now angry at you. “I am just horny, and wet, and i need you RIGHT NOW,” she explains.

“In the middle of the movie though?? I already paid fo-” You wanted to ask when suddenly Nien leans forward to capture your lips and quickly releasing, leaving you surprised.

“Please jagi…?”

Its unfair how weak you are to her, the pleading puppy eyes that look at you with glimmer in her pupils, her innocent and sweet smile that will one day will be the cause of your death, and her nickname for you that sends tingles to your brain to switch into ‘yes’ mode almost automatically for her.

You sigh in defeat, its not like you couldve changed her mind anyways.

“Ok babe…lets do it” you say

“Yayyyy, thank you baby” she responds, pulling you into a tight embrace. “You are the best, you know that?”

“Brat” is the only word you can think to yourself when you see how happy she is as you cant help yourself but lean in and mesh your lips with hers engaging in a slow, lazy yet very sensual makeout session.

It's quite clear how much both of you enjoy this, making hums and quiet whimpers in between each kiss while your hands roams around each other’s back. Slowly you could feel Nien slowly fall into the couch with you joining her as now you are on top of herz still focusing on the kiss.

Release yourself from the kiss and look at her. Wearing a pink tube top that shows her smooth belly and tiny navel in their full glory paired with denim jeans that make her look more curvy than she is, her eyes look directly into yours with a mix of excitement and arousal, so you ask.

“Bed?”

“No, on the couch” she answers, “don't wanna move” she lazily said with a wide smile, with that logic you won't look for any arguments with her.

“Okay babe… what do you want me to do?” You ask, in the end, it's her wish to do this so who are you to not let her have it her way?

“My tummy…kiss it” she cutely pleads, you know how important foreplay is for Nien as in her eyes, foreplay is the key for having the best time. So nod with a smile before lowering your face to be parallel to her belly, take one last look at her before planting your first kiss barely above her navel, sending tingles directly to her brain.

“Ngh..yes…” she hums in excitement while closing her eyes, seeing her reception to your first kiss was good you continue peppering kisses all around her navel. Sometimes giving a teasing lick that makes her elicit a quiet moan.

“My pants…Ah-baby…” she breathes 

“What about them babe? I can't read your mind” You teasingly ask, knowing exactly what she wants you to do with them but hearing her say it is part of the fun for you.

“Nghh…take them off” she instructs as you oblige, your fingers working diligently as each button of her jeans that you pop, you place a soft kiss directly to her belly button, after the last button is undone you lower her denim clothing down her thighs, revealing her white panties with a visable stain in the middle.

“You weren't joking when you said you were wet”

“shut up” she moaned, giving you a light smack on the head. “take the panties… off too baby".

“Should I continue kissing?” A simple question in which Nien just nodded, your hands now went to her panties, sliding them off slowly, letting the friction drive her insane as your girlfriend takes her hands and plants them on the back of your head.

Eventually, you leave her completely naked waist down, letting you see her soft thighs and her glistening sex without any obstruction as you could feel yourself get harder by the view. “What now babe?” You ask, waiting for your next orders.

“One hand on my thigh… and-” she stops for a second to release a small moan. “Kiss higher” It's hard for her not to sound needy, especially when you pleasure her midriff with only your lips and tongue.

But, her wish is your command.

So let your palm rest on her right thigh, knead and massage it to your heart's content, all to amplify her pleasure from you tenfold. Meanwhile, your lips travel up from her midriff, eventually stopping near the in-between of her two mounds.

A glance at your girlfriend and you know exactly what she needs as your free hand holds the hem of her top, slowly taking it off revealing no bra and instead a pair of boobs neither too small or too big, just the perfect size for you to let your face dive into the gap between her tits, savoring their sweet taste.

“YES…more….” Nien whines a breathy moan while you alternate between each mound, kissing and licking all around her nipples while her hands get inside the back of your shirt, gliding across your back in an attempt for her to be as close to you as possible.

This goes on for a while, you kiss your girlfriend’s entire body while she instructs you, telling you exactly how she wants to feel good from you, each correct action you follow causes Nien to moan loudly but eventually she pushes you away from her tits.

“What happened?” you ask, confused by the sudden push as she looks at you with a horny smirk.

“I want you to eat me out oppa”

Pause, Nien letting you eat her pussy out is something quite rare for her to suggest since she always felt it was a bit uncomfortable for her. Disagreeing with her request would be foolish of you so look down at her glistening pussy, waiting for you to devour it like your next dinner and let your face close between her thighs.

One last look at her grinning smile and you start

“Yess…” she hisses, your first lick sends tingles to her brain, causing her to wrap her legs around your head, meanwhile her hands grab your hair, trying to not lose herself in the haze, after that you let yourself run wild on her inner thighs and wet pussy with long licks and kisses.

She is still not close however, it is just the beginning for the both of you. So increase your pace slightly to raise the volume of Nien’s breathy moans let her thighs squash your face signaling how horny she is 

“I'm close baby…” it's not hard to tell, how her moans are getting higher pitch, how her thighs are clamped around you and how her grip on your hair is harder, it may hurt but you don't mind, both of you are close to your high.

Eventually you let yourself enjoy the main course since Nien finally let herself go, her wetness flowing out of her as your mouth salivates her sweet taste, meanwhile her left hand gropes her left breast to amplify her own pleasure audible by her sensual moans

Eventually her climax comes to an end, her last wave of cum comes out of her pussy into your mouth. Raise your head and see Nien, a panting mess after the high she has been feeling all this time as now she also rises up from her lying position now seated near you, hands wrapped around you and leans in to kiss your right cheeks.

“Thank you, i feel much better now”

“Anything for you babe” you respond, returning the favor with a kiss of your own. You were helping your girlfriend find her clothes when suddenly you heard sounds of moans coming from the TV. 

You forgot the movie was playing the entire time, the main couple were now making out, half naked and ready to begin their own endeavours for their orgasm.

“I CALLED IT!!”

=================================

Hope you have a good day leafies

[onceuponapuffin]

Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands

So, especially in the early days after the release of S2, I saw and heard a lot of people comparing these two as if they were the same. There were fan comics and fanart and fanfiction that included dialogue that was something along the lines of "why are they so healthy after only a few years and we aren't?" or "why do THEY get a happy ending and we don't?" And I mean, I haven't seen any of that in a while so maybe people have come to this conclusion on their own, but just in case, I wanted to point out

That they are fundamentally different. They are not the same.

And the reason why comes down to this conversation from 2x3:

So, hold this conversation in your brain while we go through this.

First of all, we have our Ineffable Bureaucracy, Gabriel and Beelzebub.

So these are the ones who, figuratively speaking, were born in a castle.

Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel for however many millenia, and Beelzebub was the Grand Duke of Hell for the same, roughly speaking. They are equals in positions of power.

So, when they fall in love, you have two supernatural authorities who have lived their existences believing that they can reasonably expect to have and keep whatever they want. After all, that's exactly what their lives have been (with the one exception being Beelzebub's Fall) - they want something, they get it, they keep it, and no one tells them no.

The biggest risk is to Gabriel. If Heaven were to find out, he would Fall. I can imagine Beelzebub being a bit concerned, but "Oh no," Gabriel probably figured "I Fall to Hell, and straight into your arms!" And I could see Beelzebub with a little smirk saying "I'd look after you, babe," in response.

The only time Gabriel actually worries is when he finds out that there's another punishment that he didn't realize was a possibility.

Falling to Hell is one thing, but having his memories erased is an actual threat, and possibly the first time he's ever been told no. This is when we see him panic, and leave Heaven in a mess, storing his memories away to keep them safe from the Metatron. We find out later that he was on his way to Hell anyway and just forgot halfway there and got lost.

And so, we have two beings who were always told they were Good Enough, who approached each other knowing they were able to have whatever they wanted, and were therefore able to communicate and fall in love in a healthy way. They didn't need to tip toe or hide, because they had no reason to believe anyone would ever tell them no until someone did. Their risk, because of their positions of authority, wasn't nearly as great as Aziraphale and Crowley's risk.

So now we come to our Precious Ineffable Husbands

Crowley and Aziraphale start off in much lower positions on the Celestial Food Chain. We know that they have to be very careful about their relationship to avoid the repercussions. They can't mention The Arrangement out loud, they can't put their feelings for each other into words. It has been made clear to them that they are always being watched, and anything they have can be taken away from them on a whim.

So how can they communicate safely when they've spent millenia living on eggshells and tightropes? Of course they won't, and of course it's going to be much harder for them to believe they can once they finally are safe. I definitely believe that they will get there (for my own wellbeing I have to believe that their love is stronger than anything), but they will need to fight tooth and nail in a way that Gabriel and Beelzebub didn't. All because they aren't figures of authority.

It might honestly be another good argument for Crowley taking the Grand Duke of Hell job (even though I reeeeaaaally don't want him to). It would put them in the same position as Gabriel and Beelzebub, and might give them the footing to actually escape the system (even though I think it's more likely that they're going to dismantle and/or repair the system in s3, but that's my own opinion).

These two pairs aren't mirrors of each other. Rather, they illustrate the problems with inequity that Crowley was pointing out in Edinburgh. And if S2 showed us that, I'm hoping S3 will show us possible solutions for it.

[kentoavenue]

thunderstorms - kuroo tetsurou

kuroo has a new girlfriend.

you’d heard it in the hallways; the boys had just gone back from a friendly match, and you were at your locker to take out something you can’t seem to remember now—a book, maybe?

though the hallway was mostly empty, it seemed like the boys hadn’t spotted you, so you continued on with your business when lev started whining to kai about how envious he was of kuroo’s new girlfriend.

new girlfriend.

you had froze in spot when the words entered your ear. your mind went blank, and you’re almost sure that time and space froze right along with you then.

slowly, you twisted your head towards their direction, and released a breath when you saw that kuroo wasn’t with them, shoulders sagging. you had, however, accidentally made eye contact with kenma, and a slight nod from him had been all the confirmation you needed.

it’s not like you can blame kuroo, though. after the both of you had ended it during that argument two months ago, you had given kuroo the cold shoulder for weeks.

and kuroo, being kuroo, had held on tight to his own ego and went on with his days pretending like you didn’t exist, too.

basically, it’s been radio silent between the two of you. though, in the back of your mind, you had assumed it was all just a game, albeit stretched on too long, to see who’d cave first.

up until that hallway incident, that is.

as if that wasn’t already enough, new gossip started to surface as well about how perfect she was for kuroo—she never failed to come to his matches, was always supportive of him, and just all around perfect, everyone had commented.

kuroo has a new girlfriend, so you’re wondering why he’s standing outside your door at 2am during a thunderstorm.

he’s looking at you with his all too familiar honey eyes, which softens as you finally take him in. he’s head to toe drenched in rainwater. his usual bedhead is wet, sticking to his forehead, and his lips slowly part, as if wanting to say something.

“kuroo,” you start. lightning flashes in the background, and you blink twice, thrice, to see if it is actually him standing on your porch, and not your brain playing games. “what are you doing here?”

“you love thunderstorms,” he finally breathes out, his chest rising and falling quicker than usual. he ran here, you realize.

you nod once, “i do.”

“you love me, too.” kuroo continues.

you furrow your brows, and raise up a palm to stop him. “you have a girlfriend, kuroo. go home.” you swear you can hear your heart crack the moment you said girlfriend out loud.

“i don’t,” kuroo shakes his head and his hands reach out to take your palm—and blame it on the situation or the time, you let him.

his hands are cold and dripping, which usually you’d protest against, but right now there’s something in the way kuroo’s looking at you that keeps you from saying anything.

something that looks a lot like yearning.

“i hear she’s perfect for you,” you whisper. the words don’t even seem real to you, yet you say it anyway. it’s not right that kuroo is here, you think.

“she is,” he swallows. “perfect.”

you start to pull your hand away from his, but his grip is unrelenting. “i don’t need to hear it kuroo. go home.”

“she’s perfect, you know,” he continues.

this is insane, you laugh silently. “so you ran all this way to gloat?”

you turn to step back inside, not wanting to hear any more of his new relationship, but he holds you back still. his hands keep their grip on yours as he steps closer.

“but she’s not you.”

you flick your gaze back to him, lightning flashing once more.

“i was empty for two months without you,” he admits. the rain pours harder behind him, and the sane part of you is telling you to come inside, but you know kuroo, and he’s not moving until he’s finished. “i thought she could fill back the hole in my heart, replace maybe even a speck of you, but i was wrong. dead wrong.”

“she came to my matches, but all the while i kept looking for you. i was so fixated on looking for you that i was off my game. coach even had to sub me out once.”

“kuroo–”

“no, wait,” he interrupts. “you can ask kenma if you don’t believe me. he called me out several times about it.”

“after the match, when we were having barbeque together, i was waiting for a comment to tease me for getting fish instead of beef, until i realized there won’t be one because you weren’t there.”

“and she never gets my jokes about docosahexaenoic acid. even after i explained to her that it’s good for the brain and—”

“—found in fish. that’s why you like mackerel so much,” you finish for him.

“exactly,” he whispers. his gaze is now pleading, and your heart strains at the sight. you know he means all of it, because he’s rambling. it’s not often kuroo does that.

“i’m not with her anymore.” kuroo’s hands move to interlace his fingers with yours. “i never was, not really.”

you nod again, feeling too many things at once.

the wind is cruel tonight, your hands freezing, but kuroo hasn’t held your hand in too long, so you stay like this.

“i haven’t let anyone take your seat at my place either, you know. that’s your spot, no one could take it,” he says.

“tell me why you’re here, kuroo.” you ask, even though his eyes are telling you everything.

“take me back.” his tone is pleading too, now. and you can feel his longing in the air, palpable. you think it’s mixed in with yours, too. “i’ll do anything.”

“kuroo,” you breathe, but he stops you again.

“tetsurou. not kuroo.” he corrects. “not for you.”

and there’s a silent pause, before you whisper, “okay.”

“okay, what? okay as in you’ll call me tetsurou again, or okay as in you’ll take me back?” he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting it up for him to see better. “you look perfect, by the way.”

“thought you didn’t want perfect.”

“i want you. it’s only you for me, no one else.” his face is inches from yours now, the tension borderline tangible. “so what do you say, kitten?”

you smile up at him, “okay as in both, then.”

and he kisses you, as lightning flashes for the third time that night.

read the prequel

[sissylittlefeather]

I'm sorry this took me a million years to write @sloppiest-of-jos! Anyway, I hope it lives up to what you were wanting!

Searching for You

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and touch of angst

Word count: ~2.5k

"Elvis, you have a WIFE and a CHILD. Tell me again how you think this could possibly work out?!" Elvis sits in a chair, watching you pace around the room from behind his silver sunglasses.

"Honey, I've told you and told you. Those are my problems, not yours. I love you. I want you." He stands up and walks over to you, taking your hand gently and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb. You look up at him and almost melt. Then, you yank your hand away and walk across the room.

"No! This has gone on for way too long." Memories of how you met on the set of the Singer special in '68 come screaming back to you. You think about him noticing you, a humble back up dancer for the bordello scene. He had walked straight to you and asked your name, not even bothering to pretend like he didn't like you. You'd seen him with the other girls and couldn't believe he was actually talking to you. But something about you caught his attention and he wasn't letting you get away. He invited you up to his dressing room after filming was finished and it didn't take long at all for you to end up naked on the couch, squirming as he brought you pleasure you had only ever dreamed about.

That was two years ago.

No matter how hard the two of you tried, you couldn't stay away from each other. The space between you was electric and you made ways to be together as often as possible, despite his marital status and your guilt. You fell hard and fast for him and he insisted he felt the same way, but he never entertained the possibility of ending his marriage.

On this particular occasion, you pace the floor half-dressed insisting this will be the last time. You're leaving California, removing yourself from the equation, and he is not pleased. Once you pull on the rest of your clothes, you point your shoe at him and yell.

"I'm done, Elvis. I'm done with being your back up girl to keep you company when your wife is gone. It hurts too much."

"Honey, it's not like that! You're the one I want! If anything, she's the back up girl."

"Then why won't you leave her?"

"I-I I can't."

"Yeah." You stuff your shoes on your feet and head for the door. "Goodbye, Elvis."

This isn't the first time you've had this argument, by far, but what Elvis doesn't know is that this time you're really leaving. You pack up all your things with tears streaming down your cheeks and head for home. The drive is long, but you've hit the end of your capacity for loving Elvis like this. You wonder how long it'll take him to figure out you're gone. Will he even care?

******

Elvis gives you two weeks to get over this most recent fight, sure that all he has to do is call you when Priscilla goes out of town. But when he does, your phone's been cut off. He hangs up and looks at the receiver in confusion. Surely you didn't actually leave.

He gets in his car and drives to your apartment. Maybe you've just changed your number and he needs to appeal to you in person. But when he knocks on your door, a man he doesn't recognize answers. He gets over his initial wave of jealousy and asks about you.

"Uh, I'm looking for y/n?"

"No one here by that name. Wait are you-?"

"Thanks." Elvis turns and walks quickly back to his car before the guy can ask him for anything.

When he gets back to his house, he calls all of his Memphis mafia into the living room and gives them an assignment. They need to find you and he wants it done yesterday. The guys all look at each other in mild panic and then head out to see what they can do while Elvis sits on the couch smoking a cigarillo trying to process his shock. You're really gone. Where on earth did you go?

******

After a week of Elvis wracking his brain and the guys bribing neighbors and friends, Sonny finally has a breakthrough.

"I was able to get ahold of her best friend at work."

"Yeah, and?"

"She went home to Kentucky."

"Home to Kentucky. Where in Kentucky?"

"She didn't know, but she said she knew it wasn't far from Nashville." Elvis rolls his eyes.

"What the hell does that even mean?! There are a lot of places in Kentucky that aren't far from Nashville. How does she define far?" Sonny looks at the ground and shakes his head.

"I don't know, boss. That's all she knew."

"Goddamnit." Elvis kicks the nearest table and Sonny looks at him hard.

"Might be time to give up on this one." Elvis meets his eyes with his eyebrows raised and then shakes his head.

"No. She's... no." He turns and heads for his bedroom. When he comes back with a suitcase, Sonny tries to stop him.

"Where you goin'?"

"Well, I guess I'm going somewhere in Kentucky that's not far from Nashville."

"You're really gonna go after her then?"

"Yes." Elvis gets in his car and starts on the road East towards Kentucky and you.

******

When Elvis finally makes it to Kentucky, he drives from small town to small town looking for you. He has a picture of you that he took one night that he shows to people. He has lots of pictures of you, but this is the only one appropriate for public consumption. He thanks God that he thought to take one with your clothes on one time. Honestly, it's his favorite photo of you because it's so naturally beautiful, your smile gentle and your hair a little messy from lovemaking.

The more he looks for you, the more it becomes apparent how much he loves you. He's been saying it for a while, but the emptiness he experiences at not knowing how to find you makes him know exactly how true it is. He loves you so much that he's driving around Kentucky just to find you again. How did he think he could give you up?

He's starting to lose hope when he comes across a preacher in a small town called Franklin. Exhausted and hopeless, he shows him the picture of you.

"That's y/n!"

"Yes!" Elvis looks up, shocked. "Do you know her?"

"Of course I do. I baptized her, didn't I?" Elvis laughs and hugs the man.

"Is she here? Where can I find her?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time, but if she's in town, she'll be at her parents' house." He gives Elvis the address just as it begins to rain. For the first time in weeks, Elvis is filled with hope and he decides he'll do anything to get you back.

He pulls up in front of the address that the preacher gave him and his heart beats wildly. He's so close to being with you again. The steady rain soaks him to the bone and he knocks on your front door and waits for someone to open it.

You see him through the windows and panic. How the hell did he find you here?! You know you won't be able to resist him if he talks to you, so you run outside and jump in your car, backing out of the driveway quickly.

But he sees you and tries to run to the car.

"Honey, wait! I just wanna talk to ya!" You focus on the road ahead and step on the gas to get away. Elvis runs back to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, starting the engine and throwing it in drive. He tries to catch up to you, but you're driving like a crazy person. The rain is still coming down pretty hard and he starts to worry about you driving like this. As you head out of town, your car spins off the road into a ditch and he realizes he was right to be concerned. Thankfully, because of the spinning, you don't hit the ditch too hard. He parks and jumps out of the car to run to you. You manage to get the door open and stumble out.

That's when you feel strong arms around you. The familiarity of them makes you cry and you shake with sobs as he holds you. He stands there in the soft rain, stroking your hair and whispering to you.

"You're okay, honey. I've got you. You're okay." After several minutes of this, you pull away from him and yell.

"What are you doing here Elvis?!"

"I needed to see you."

"Why?!" He pushes a piece of rain-soaked hair behind your ear.

"Because I love you, baby." You look up at him, your eyes wide as the rain continues to fall on you both.

"No! I'm not falling into this with you again!"

"Honey, I drove across the country to find you. Is that not enough to prove that I'm serious?!"

"Where's your wife, Elvis?" He groans and pulls his wedding ring off of his finger.

"I don't care." He turns and throws the ring into the patch of trees and you gasp.

"Elvis, that was worth a lot of money!"

"Maybe, but I don't want it anymore. I don't want her anymore. I want you, ya stubborn brat."

"Why?" He rolls his eyes. His patience is wearing thin as the two of you stand in the cold rain together.

"Because I'm so in love with you I can't even think straight when you're not around."

"I don't believe you."

"Y/n! Do you know how many small towns I've been to in Kentucky looking for you?! I love you so much I can't even imagine my life without you." You contemplate what he's saying. This is a long road to travel for casual sex. Maybe he does love you as much as he says he does, but there's still too many complications.

"How, Elvis-?"

"I'm leaving Priscilla." Your heart stops. Is he serious? "I can't live another minute without you. You're all I think about from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. Honey, I will do anything to prove to you that I want you and no one else."

You look up at him, your heart so full of love for him that you feel like it might burst.

"You'd really do that? Leave your wife and the mother of your child. For me?"

"Yes. I should never have married her in the first place."

"Elvis..."

"All my life I've been searching for you. I just didn't know it. I should've waited. But I'm here now and I'm telling you. I love you more than life itself. Let me love you, honey."

And then you utter two syllables that will change your life forever.

"Okay." In the blink of an eye, he wraps himself around you, his mouth pressed to yours in a passionate kiss. He grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you so that your legs are around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. The rain has softened, so he carries you to the hood of his car and sets your bottom down. You've never kissed anyone with such fervor before. It's like you're trying to melt into one another with the way you press yourselves together. You arch your back as he rolls his hips forward into you, his erection pushing against you through his pants. He runs his hands up your thighs and pulls your panties down under your mini skirt. His thumb runs up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top and he begins to rub circles there. You drop your head backwards and moan loudly. Without another thought, you unzip his pants and pull his cock out, stroking it slowly with your hand. He groans and kisses down your neck, while you pull him to you and run the tip of his dick up and down your entrance. He mutters against your lips.

"You're such a tease, honey."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"God, I really do. So fucking much." He thrusts his hips forward and pushes into you, almost filling you in one motion. You cry out with pleasure when he does and lean back against the car. He pulls out and thrusts forward again, grunting. This time his hips meet yours as his entire cock is inside you. He makes a sound that's somewhere between a whimper and a moan and begins to slide in and out of you, pounding you to the steady rhythm of the rain.

The sensation of him slamming against you is enough to push you over the edge and you tumble headfirst into an intense orgasm, moaning and writhing and pulsing around him.

"Fuck, honey, I love you." You pull him down on top of you and whisper in his ear.

"I love you too." It's the first time you've ever said it back to him. He whimpers and kisses down your neck to your cleavage, never changing his steady pace of pumping into you. You can tell by the way his thrusting becomes more erratic that he's getting close too.

Finally, he slams into you hard and shudders against you, filling you with ropes of cum. It's also the first time he's ever cum inside you: another indicator that he's serious about you.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as he collapses on top of you, spent and breathing heavily. He slides out of you and stands up, pulling you into a sitting position on the hood of his car.

"Come home with me, honey." He kisses your cheek affectionately and then backs up to look you in the eye, his blues ones seeing straight through to your soul. You couldn't tell him no even if you wanted to.

"I gave up my apartment."

"I want you to live with me." You raise your eyebrows.

"You still have a wife."

"I won't for long. I'll buy us a house. Just please say you'll come home with me." You nod and lean your forehead against his chest.

"I'm yours, Elvis." He tips your chin up to look at him.

"And I'm yours." He kisses your lips tenderly. "Now come on. Let's get out of the rain."

He drives you back to your parents' house, where you both change into dry clothes and settle on the couch together. Surprisingly, he's perfectly comfortable there with your mom and dad. He stays for a few days with you, letting you give him the grand tour of your hometown. Eventually, you head back to California together. Your car is totaled, so he promises to buy you a new one once you get home.

He wastes no time in leaving Priscilla and starting divorce proceedings. In the meantime, he buys the two of you a cozy little love nest and you're perfectly happy there with him.

The Kentucky rain was a baptism of sorts and you both came out of it changed for the better. It's not always smooth sailing, he is Elvis Presley after all, but you're happy more often than not. You never run away again, though you know he'd chase you if you did. And every time it rains, he holds you close and you remember the cold Kentucky rain.

******

The End

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