#but it's not stupidity in a vacuum just because people “are stupid these days�� or something

[kyofsonder]

I understand the immediate emotional recoil, and the need to defend humanity and/or the self. You read "we each have a nazi in us" and it's perfectly reasonable for the emotional part of your brain to think "that word means evil and I don't want to live in a world where I have evil inside me -- I might not be a good person, but I'm not evil." It makes sense that this fear would naturally override calmer analysis of what's actually being said.

"We all have evil within us" doesn't mean we all act on that evil. It doesn't mean we all have an evil phase where we're cruel and bigoted until we see the light. It doesn't mean we all have a curse that transforms us into were-nazis on a full moon.

It means that "hatred, rage, fear, narcissistic self-regard and contempt for others" as actions and beliefs that harm others are the building blocks of what we call evil by another name. It means that everybody gets mad, finds things or people to hate, gets scared, gets too much in their own head, and forgets that others deserve patience and respect. Everybody has the capacity for these things in normal, manageable, human degrees.

Everybody also has the capacity to have these things turned up full volume in their own heads until nothing else gets through. There are people whose internal slider goes up the less they're exposed to the humanity of others, and in their isolation they become so bitter and hateful that they look down on others in a way that becomes outright cruel. There are people whose internal slider goes up the more they're exposed to other people's cruelty, and in their fear they decide to fight fire with fire. Become cruel or die. This is the impact of trauma that the author is talking about.

We are not all evil by default. We are not all good by default. We are all human by default, and that means all of us have emotions that can be turned into actions and all of our actions can be cruel or kind or otherwise if we let them.

It's our responsibility, individually, to check on our emotional state and our emotional history (with whatever guidance we need to make it safe, some people need workbooks and others need groupchats and others need to try a few times to find a good therapist) and make sure our sliders are set at safe and reasonable levels. It's up to us to avoid having the evil that's within us become evil that acts on the world around us.

If this helps, it's a little like saying all cats are dangerous because they have claws. It's true that claws are dangerous, even a small cut can become easily infected. It's true that having claws is the normal state for a cat. It's not true that all cats will scratch no matter how you treat them. It's not true that all cats need to he declawed to be safe around humans, and the declawing process is actually actively harmful to cats. It's not true that all cats are dangerous to humans any more than it's true that all humans are evil. What is true is that it's important to treat our cats with patience and understanding, and teach them proper claw control so they don't scratch us by accident. We find compromises that are the least harmful to both cat and human in those cases where claw control can't be taught.

To say "we each have a nazi in us" is to say "cats each have claws within them." We don't need to defend ourselves against the statement. We don't need to apologize pre-emptively for being evil. We need to treat ourselves with patience and understanding, and learn proper emotional and mental control so we don't fall into hateful doctrine or lash out emotionally.

We all have the capacity for cruelty. Every person in the world. No matter what. It's up to us how to manage that, and whether we want to break the cycle of cruelty that already exists.

im gonna be real with you guys a little but you are all deeply fucking stupid

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[animeyanderelover]

The way of an aggressive yet very loving househusband

Tw: Yandere themes, obsession, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior, aggression but not in the way you may think, darling has periods, abduction, this is no poly relationship by the way

Can I just say that Bakugou and Barou are basically the same type of a Yandere almost down to the tee? A type which I have decided to call the aggressive househusband.

Think about it. Both are really intimidating and scary and I wouldn't hold it against you if you would be very scared of them the first time. You see how Bakugou constantly yells at people and glares at them with his red eyes. You see how Barou completely annihilates people on the field as if this was more than just a sport and notice how he towers over anyone who annoys him off whilst glaring at them with his red eyes.

So you when you are abducted you genuinely believe the worst is going to happen. That you'll be stuck with a violent and aggressive man obsessed with you who will physically harm you and beat you up.

Only for none of that to happen.

Obviously he isn't happy to see you being so scared of him. Yes, he isn't going to deny that he is maybe a tad bit scary but you're acting like he's going to undo his belt at any moment and give you a goddamn whipping.

However, despite him being quite offended that you would put him in the same category as a fucking abuser he knows that he has to give you his patience right now. Acting right into any stereotypes you have already out him into would only harm his reputation more.

He speaks quieter and tries to sound less harsh when he's talking to you. He bends down so that both of you are on the same height or he sits down somewhere so that he is actually looking up at you whilst you are looking down on him. He gives you your space. Yes, he still checks in on you because he is considerate and not fucking stupid but he doesn't invade your privacy.

His aggressive side resurfaces as soon as chores are involved but in a way you would have never expected. He is a bloody perfectionist and no matter how you clean your room, wipe the tables or vacuum-clean the floor, you somehow never do it right. There is always something that he has to criticise. There is a spot on the mirror left from when you brushed your teeth. You forgot to clean under that little gap of your wardrobe. You didn't fold your shirts right.

The list goes on.

He doesn't hit you though and yells at you that you never do stuff right and that you're useless. No, instead he guides you promptly to the bedroom, pushes you into the mattress and just bluntly tells you that you can just watch one of the 10+ Streaming Sides he pays for whilst he is going to properly clean the goddamn house. And whilst you are sitting in bed, slightly perplexed by what just happened, he is mopping the floor and mutters occasionally about how he can't believe that you can't even clean properly. That's fine though. He can do that for you.

He cooks for you. Every day. Without fail. He hates when you go out and eat some junk food. Sure, he is guilty of eating it once in a while too but it is different when it comes to you. You shouldn't enjoy greasy and unhealthy food unless it is his greasy and unhealthy food that he has prepared for you. Don't expect him to cook you that stuff every day though. He will cook nutritious and healthy food for you and you better eat what he serves or he will be very mad and grumble about it for the entire rest of the day.

You want to go an a diet? Don't even dare to attempt any bullshit diet a beauty influencer on Instagram, YouTube or other social platforms has recommended. He happens to know the one or other thing about a diet that is actually healthy and still tastes good.

You want to try a new dish? Write him down the groceries he needs and he's the next evening in the kitchen, all ingredients tidily placed in front of him as he reads the recipe through before he starts to prepare the dish.

If you want juice he is not buying the bottles but the fruits themselves and prepares fresh juice for you. If it's orange juice you want he just squeezes every last drop out with his bare fists before he serves it in a glass to you. He generally keeps a lot of fruits and vegetables in his fridge because he likes to prepare randomly a small bowl for you so that you consume your vitamins and minerals.

You, who has lived a humble life the first twenty-something years of your life, always look at price tags when something catches your eye and as soon as you notice a number far too high with what you're comfortable to spend you just turn around.

Case closed.

Or maybe not.

Because in the next moment your lover is dragging you into the store with him, grabs whatever it is that caught your eye and then asks you with a scowl on his face if there is anything else that you would like since the two of you are already in here. Do not let yourself be mislead by that scowl on his face. What he really means to say to you is "if there is anything else you want just fucking grab it because I have the money". Honestly, who do you think is he earning all his money for nowadays?

Taxes and all other paperwork is something he mainly does. You are free to help if you insist but be aware that he is most likely going to complain about something again because there is always something he can nag about.

You never have to worry about running out of pads or tampons because he always keeps those shelves filled. As soon as you're down one package a new one magically appears the next day. He's not one of those guys who feels embarrassed about buying this stuff for you. I mean, who is going to make fun of him? Most people are in general far too scared to comment about it when they see him standing in line with packages of pads in his basket.

He ensures that you have all your needed doctor appointments. A general health check. A visit at your gynaecologist. A visit at the dentist. All of that at least twice a year so that he can see it through that something is treated the moment it is spotted.

When you're sick he is the best person to take care of you. He doesn't judge you for your terrible mood, the coughs, the sneezes or other symptoms you may experience. However, he is going to bully the spoon of medicine in your mouth, is going to monitor you to see it through that you consume your tablet and will carry you right back to bed and wrap you up as soon as you attempt to do something when you should rest instead.

Scary dog privilege is real with him just as much as the saying "my girl can wear whatever the fuck she wants because I can fight". It doesn't matter at which time in which location you are at, absolutely no one is getting to you with him by your side.

As soon as he notices someone giving you a weird look or oogling at you suggestively? Then it's up to you to cling to his torso as he drags you with him, red eyes promising a burial. Luckily you manage to be a voice of reason and stop him from potentially committing a crime in public.

You realise that you have severely misjudged him. Apparently you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | end up here

a/n: i'm going FERALLLLLLL over this chapter. enjoy poisoned mercury's debut album hehe.

iv. end up here by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“your band name doesn’t even make any sense,” you argued, eyes narrowing at the boy in front of you. 

luke crashed your secret spot, again, and refused to let you smoke in silence until you gave him a detailed explanation of how your day went. he knew you didn’t smoke every day, only on days that were particularly hard. he noticed that your bad days always had something to do with your dad, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to bring that up. 

anyway, you got fed up with his badgering and that stupid smirk on his face because he knew you were about to crack, and decided that if he was going to act like a toddler, you would too. hence, why you were now bringing up his band name. 

luke took offense to that because he thought the band name was cool. he was the one to suggest it. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let his hurt show on his face, “what do you mean? poisoned mercury is a sick name.” 

“mercury is already poisonous. your band name is like redundant or some shit.” 

“then why did so many people in history ingest it?” luke asked, recalling the one thing he remembered from his high school history class before he dropped out. he took a drag from his cigarette, turning his body a bit so the wind didn’t blow the smoke directly in your face. 

“they fucking died, castellan,” you replied, deadpan. 

“oh,” he blinked, staring off, “i didn’t know that.” 

you rolled your eyes, a habit that you’ve picked up whenever you were with him and sat back down on the bench. luke joined you, silent as he thought about what you just said. he really needed to stop zoning out during lessons, but since he was already out of high school, he guessed it didn’t matter anymore. 

as much as you hate to admit it, luke castellan was growing on you. sure, he got on your nerves like nobody else– the boy just doesn’t quit– but, he wasn’t half as bad as you originally thought. not that you’d ever tell him that though. 

when you got back to the cabin last week after helping with concert prep, the cabin was spotless. there were no empty red bull cans in sight, the table tops were free of crumbs, floor vacuumed and mopped, and there was even a candle burning on the counter. you approached your bedroom door to find a post-it on the handle. luke’s messy writing was smudged around the corners, but you could still make out what it said. 

“five star, 

i snitched on the boys and my mom will have a stern talk with them about their cleanliness. can’t promise that people will stop talking about me, but i can promise you won’t have to live in the dojo casa house mojo or whatever it was. 

ps i’m using the spot tomorrow, just thought i should let you know. maybe we can set up a calendar for reservations. 

luke :)” 

the cabin hasn’t been as messy since. whatever may castellan told the boys worked like a charm. there was still the occasional trash, but nothing crazy. it smelled better in the cabin too, still like a boy, but it smelled like expensive cologne more than anything. cedarwood and pine. 

and thankfully, the luke castellan hype train was starting to run out of steam, with many people finally realizing that he was also just a human being and the surprising revelation that luke castellan was not entertaining anyone during his time at camp helped with it as well. you still heard whispers about him here and there, but you were glad the topic of conversation was beginning to switch to something else. 

you and luke walked to the gym and back home every morning together. he and the boys sat with you and clarisse during meals. they tagged along for music lessons and spoke to the kids, which they really appreciated. they helped the older campers with writing music, luke particularly. you’d been around a few musicians in your life and many of them only kissed ass when your dad was around, but poisoned mercury was different. they were passionate about their music. that was clear.

after a conversation with clarisse, where she managed to convince you that not all musicians are like your ex, you began to let loose a little bit. you hung out with the boys more, partly as an excuse so clarisse could hang out with chris without causing too much suspicion, and found that you actually enjoyed their company. and luke castellan? well, he wasn’t half bad. that doesn’t mean he got off easy though. 

you took a hit of your vape, facing him, “are you done interrogating me?” 

“for now, yeah,” he smiled as you shook your head. “are you coming to the concert tonight?” 

“well, i did help organize it.” 

“a simple yes would’ve sufficed, five star,” luke teased, relighting his cigarette. it was burning unevenly and luke was never one to waste his cigarettes. “you gonna watch us play?” 

“don’t have a choice. dad wants me there the whole time.” 

“you can act a little excited,” luke ran a hand through his curls, “we are pretty good, you know.” 

“i know,” you hummed. the sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze in the air. goosebumps formed on your skin, the t-shirt and denim shorts you wore didn’t offer much comfort. you shivered, “i have listened to your music.” 

“are you cold?” 

your teeth chattered, but you shook your head, “i’m fine.” 

luke took off his hoodie, tossing it in your direction, “take it.” 

“no,” you tossed it back to him, “told you i’m good.”

always so stubborn, luke thought.  

“if you catch a cold, that’s not on me,” he placed the hoodie on the bench between the two of you. “which songs have you listened to?” 

“kilby girl, of course. it played on the radio so much when you guys first dropped it,” you said, remembering the days where you and your hometown friends would blast it in the car. it reminded you of high school, reckless decisions, life-long memories, and the thrill of knowing you were going to be playing the sport you’d worked so hard to excel in at a d1 level in the fall. you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, “i really like family line. it might be my favorite.” 

luke’s eyebrows shot up. not many people talked about family line. it was probably their least streamed song. they never performed the song on tour because it was difficult for luke to sing it. it was a personal song to him. it was inspired by his relationship with his father, or lack thereof. 

when poisoned mercury first got signed to olympus records, luke sent a message to his dad on facebook. luke hadn’t tried to contact him since he was ten, not since his father returned his letter to him unopened, no response but a “return to sender” stamp plastered over the envelope. but after the small congratulatory party his mom set up for the band after they signed, luke felt like a little kid again, a kid who wanted to share the great news with his dad, so he found his dad on facebook, made an account, and sent him a message. 

he didn’t get a reply, which was expected, but it felt good for a second to pretend that he had a father to tell his good news to. luke thought he didn’t care about whether or not his dad was proud of him, but when his message went from “sent” to “read” a few days later, he was brought back to those moments in his life when he cried and wondered why he wasn’t enough to make his dad stay. he wrote family line in one sitting, on his bed in his bedroom in connecticut, looking at the little league medals on his wall that seemed to mock him. 

he originally didn’t want it on the album because he felt like it didn’t fit the vibe of the rest of the songs and that it was too real, too vulnerable for a debut album, but then he played it for his mom and she loved it. she cried when she first heard it and luke knew that even if people didn’t like the song, he was going to put it out for his mom. 

“huh,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, “wasn’t expecting that one. thought you’d be more of a crash my car type of girl.” 

“i like that too,” you shrugged, “but family line. that song. i don’t think i have the words to describe it.” 

“thanks, five star,” luke looked down at his feet, taking a puff from his dying cigarette. “that’s my mom’s favorite, too.” 

“did you write it?” 

luke nodded, looking to face you. there was a new expression on your face, one that you’d never used with him before. it was a mix of disbelief and awe. he tried not to get offended that you didn’t think he could write something like family line, but he couldn’t blame you. he didn’t really portray the type of person who would be able to be that raw and vulnerable on a song. “me and trav write the lyrics for our songs, mostly. chris and connor help too, but the bulk of the lyrics are me.” 

“you need to stop doing that.”

he cocked his head to the side, crushing the cigarette butt on the hardware of the bench, “doing what?” 

“surprising me,” you shook your head, “i don’t like it.” 

“i don’t know what to tell you,” he chuckled, leaning back on the bench. he looked out into the lake, watching the sun disappear behind the mountains, “i have layers. you just gotta give me a chance.” 

“how do you do it?” you sat criss cross on the bench, leaning against the arm rest. “how do you write like that?” 

you’d always been curious about music, even if you weren’t good at it. your dad was never one to answer your questions, especially because you were interested in lyrics more than anything, and that wasn’t his forte. 

luke mimicked your actions, “i dunno. personal experience, i guess?”

you frowned, thinking about the lyrics of family line. luke never talked about his dad, but spoke highly of his mom. was family line based on his own life? if it was, his dad was an asshole. 

you relented to the cold, grabbing the hoodie that he left in between the two of you. you ignored the triumphant smile on his face when you draped the sweater over your bare legs, shielding them from the wind chills. 

he continued, “sometimes things happen to me that get me worked up and i have to write a song about it. sometimes, it’s based on my imagination. it depends.”

you wanted to ask him about his dad, but you didn’t know if he considered you guys friends yet. it’s not like you made it easy for him anyway. you could deal with the banters and annoyance, but you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he wasn’t ready to. you could be a dick, but you weren’t cruel. 

you changed the subject, “okay, let’s play a game.” 

“21 questions?” luke bit his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. he waggled his eyebrows, dodging your arm that reached out to smack him. 

“you’re gross,” you gagged, knowing the implications of the game, “no, i’m gonna ask about the songs on your album and you tell me if it’s real life or from your imagination.” 

“alright, go for it five star,” he beamed, propping his elbows on his crossed knees. he loved talking about music with anyone. he could go on and on for hours. 

“18.” 

“real,” luke snorted, remembering the first time travis pitched the idea for the song to the band, “but not my experience. it was trav. he met this girl at one of our gigs in new york, right after we got signed, and he was obsessed. she was a freshman at nyu and she kept telling him he was too young for her, even though she was just less than a year older. trav was hooked.” 

you could picture it. it was definitely something travis would do. “okay, another one of my favorites. only angel?” 

“not real,” luke shook his head, a slight blush creeping up on his face. “if you tell anyone, five star, i will vehemently deny it, but i had a crush on jade west from victorious and i wrote it about her.” 

there was something about jade west that made luke like a love-sick puppy. ignoring the fact that she was hot, her attitude was something that luke was attracted to. she had a tough exterior and acted like she didn’t care about people, but she had her moments where she was soft and kind to the people she cared about the most. luke liked that. the idea that someone could be sensitive but only to the people they deemed worthy. 

he’d spent so much of his life trying to be worthy, in whatever way the stage of his life defined it, and he craved it– a pat on the back, an approval, a confirmation that he was worthy of it. 

you threw your head back laughing, surprised by his ridiculous confession. the sound of your laughter rang across the woods, making luke smile. your voice echoed throughout the trees and he his senses were surrounded by you. it hit luke like a truck. 

he sucked in a breath, taking out his phone. he jolted from his seat for more than one reason. “shit, five star. we gotta go.” 

you took out your phone too, checking the time. your eyes widened as you got up from your seat. you threw his hoodie over to him, “fuck, we’re late.” 

the two of you raced out of the woods, arriving to the concert venue with flushed faces and rapid breaths. you could feel clarisse’s knowing eyes on you as you got ready for the concert. you tried your best to ignore it. you were going to deal with that later. 

–

“and for the final event, i know you guys are looking forward to this one,” your dad laughed into the mic. the sun was long gone and there were disco lights illuminating the stage. a smoke machine was on either corner, making it difficult to see the bottom half of the stage. you and clarisse stood in the front row, listening to the deafening cheers of the campers. “ladies and gents, welcome poisoned mercury!” 

the screams got louder which you didn’t even know was possible. travis entered the stage first, sticking his tongue out as he expertly twirled his drumsticks around his fingers. connor came in next, smiling and waving at the crowd as he plugged his guitar into the amp. chris walked in with his bass strapped around his neck, eyes immediately finding clarisse and sending her a shy smile. you nudged her teasingly, enjoying the way she blushed under the lights. 

then luke castellan walked in. he ditched his hoodie and t-shirt and walked in with a white tank top on, messing with the curls on his head. he tugged on the silver necklace around his neck as his eyes scanned the crowd. he threw a wink to the group of the older girls in the back, turning to travis to let out a laugh at their reaction. the lights on the boys were blinding and a thin layer of sweat already began to form on their skin despite the bite to the air. 

luke took center stage, picking up his guitar. he leaned over directly in front of you, fingers pretending to mess with the wires connecting his guitar to the speakers, “hey, five star.” 

he straightened his back before you could reply. clarisse’s eyes darted between you and the boy, now nudging you like you did to her earlier. you rolled your eyes, smiling at the rest of the boys as luke began talking on the mic. 

“what’s up, camp half blood?” luke screamed into the mic. the crowd roared. “we’re poisoned mercury and we are so happy to be with you guys here this summer. before we close out this awesome concert, i wanna introduce our lovely band.” 

“on drums, we have the one and only, travis stoll!” luke turned around to applaud travis as he did a little drum solo, head banging as he hit the drums. he turned to connor, “on lead guitar, we have the amazing connor stoll!” 

connor strummed his guitar, leaning over on the left side to soak in the applause of the crowd. the girls beside you swooned as he unleashed one of his award-winning smiles. 

luke faced chris, “and on bass, we have my very best friend in the entire world, my 4lifer, chris rodriguez!” clarisse cheered loudly for chris as he played a tune on his bass, mouthing, “love you, brother,” to luke as he played. the crowd quited for a second as luke addressed them again, “and my name is luke castellan. we’re poisoned mercury!” 

you turned around to look at the crowd. the size of the crowd tripled when the boys got on stage. everyone had a smile on their face, excited to hear them play. 

“the song we’ll be singing for you guys today is from our debut album,” luke adjusted his mic on the stand. he got closer to it, lips touching the metal, “this is only angel.” 

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at their song choice. this was not the song they were supposed to sing. they’d been rehearsing kilby girl for the past week. luke saw your reaction, laughing along with you. 

the instrumentals began and you nearly missed the beat drop because of the cheers from the crowd. as the song progressed, the boys were one with the music. you watched luke sing, working the crowd like a pro. his skin glistened under the spotlight, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. he approached chris when the chorus started, dragging his mic stand with him. he swung his guitar around so it rested on his back as he sang the lyrics. his curls were sticking to his forehead, eyebrows raised in glee as he performed. 

you couldn’t take your eyes off the lead singer, not even when the rest of the band had their own solos in the song. your eyes were glued on luke; how his adam’s apple was on full display as he threw his head back, getting lost in the music, how his arms flexed as he wrapped the mic cord around his fist, how his thin tank top stuck to his body and how it raised when he lifted his arm up to bring the mic closer to his lips. you saw the outline of his abdomen and his v-line. 

but what really got you was his face. he looked at peace on stage, a wide smile on his face, full lips pink and glossy as he licked them in between verses. he looked incredible up there, like that was where he belonged. he was born to be on stage like this. 

“fuck,” you mumbled, applauding at the end of their song. luke’s eyes found yours as he sang the last bit of the song, smiling at you. you hoped clarisse couldn’t hear you talk to yourself. you looked down at your feet, tugging nervously on the collar of your shirt, “i get it now.”

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

And so we're back to this.

There's many things to consider. Betty chose to give Simon all the credit. Betty never extended an invitation to her trip.

If you take the episode in a vacuum, it makes Betty look like a generous woman. And that's harmless.

But this isn't taken in a vacuum. It follows a line of Betty's character that also needs to be explored and was only briefly touched on in the main series.

Temple of Mars episode had this briefly highlighted the way Betty's impulse is to always forsake herself for Simon. Her go to response is to shrink herself - first, by not taking credit with Simon (considering him first), then skipping her trip to be with him (considering him first again).

And even in minor ways, when she downplays her letter as stupid after Simon's first response to it was to (and wow, he's such a Dad for this) lecture her for leaving such sensitive sentiment out in the open.

Betty brought that instinct and inclination to sacrifice herself to the table - to the relationship.

And Simon isn't selfish per se because he didn't go on the trip with her. But he also isn't considerate. He knows the value of a research trip. He got his success because of her. And he straight up said if Betty hadn't reached out, Simon would have parted ways with her. Betty always has to reach out first.

And Simon simply seems blinded to the fact that he is tacitly encouraging her self-effacing behavior. This doesn't make him monstrous. Honestly, this is pretty normal as far as things go, but ESPECIALLY when Betty was just like that since day one. Like people just arent going to be objective observers in their own lives which is why what appears apparent to an outsider won't to someone who is living that life.

And Simon wouldn't notice that as a red flag because he's always seeing her with rose colored glasses anyways. So he doesn't understand the way his own behavior contributes to hers.

So it goes, so it goes.

Taken in a vacuum, Simon's decision to not go on the trip is not the worst or most monstrous thing a potential boyfriend could do. But it also shows the way minute decisions build and build and build.

And next thing you know, that girl is jumping through time portals because she can't imagine living without him and getting sent to Mars on probation because she no longer knows how to be Betty without him being Simon.

[aeshiiteiru]

soo could you write about dazai, chuuya and tecchou's red green and beige flags?

…My Flags?

— Their green, red and beige flags ft. O.Dazai, N. Chuuya, S. Tetchou

— Warnings & Notes

sfw | Mix

|| thx for the request, made me have an unwanted reality check lmao

|| kinda angsty but also fluffy and funny, those are based on my own thoughts and opinions!

m.list | writing rules

— Dazai

The green flags

He tries his best to be a good boyfriend. Of course it takes time and effort, but he really tries to give his all for you and you notice it (most of the time). He just tries his best for you (even though he has his moments)

He showers you with compliments. He wants you to know what he feels for you every step of the way. Some compliments are actually just so ridiculous it’s funny

“Mh, ‘bella! You’re so beautiful I would definitely steal your photos, make a fake account, and impress other people online!”

“That’s, uh….creepy but cute, thank you love…”

Conversation with him are never boring! He will find thousands of stupid topics just to talk to you about them! He wants to hear you laugh and see you smile as you state your opinions on all these weird things. (He probably doesn’t want to do his work smh)

The red flags

He tends to gaslight you…a lot. Mostly about that you’re just paranoid that he gaslights you. He doesn’t do it on purpose most of the time, it’s just how he is.

Unfortunately he still flirts with other women. He isn’t cheating, but the sweet words and looks still happen sometimes. He does it unintentionally, but it’s there, it happens. He says he tries to get rid of these habits, but you’re doubtful.

 Dazai runs away from his problems. Always. Whenever there is a conflict between you two he tries to brush it off and act like everything is okey. That is until he notices you’re genuinely upset with him, then he just leaves. He leaves and returns after a few hours or days of no contact and acts like nothing happened again.

The beige flags

 When he notices that he accidentally made you cry, he will jump on top of you to aggressively suck the tears off your face like some human vacuum in order to make you laugh and feel better. It’s ridiculous but it works.

Whenever you ask him what he wants to eat he always, always replies with “you” or “nothing”. No in-between, no specifics. It was funny at first, but at some point you just started to sigh and shake your head at it.

He keeps his undies that have holes in them so that he can surprise you by walking out the bathroom and tearing them off his body only leaving the waist band. He calls it the “grand reveal”. Always whenever you least expect it. Makes you question many things.

— Chuuya

The green flags

He notices the little things. You have a sparkle in your eyes whenever you see a flower you like? Expect a bouquet of these flowers on the table the next day. You pick out a vegetable from your food because you don’t like it? He noticed, and he made sure that that vegetable never appears in your house ever again.

Yeah so he is always trying to impress you with things. He often makes a fool out of himself because of it, but it brings a smile to your face so you let him do his thing.

Chuuya loves to gossip about people with you. You know the second he says “you won’t believe what happened.” Means you’re in for the hottest, spiciest tea spill in history. His gossip is always so juicy it leaves you gasping with every sentence. You love how he trusts only you with it.

The red flags

The way he expresses his anger makes you feel unsafe sometimes. You never know when he will accidentally harm you during one of his anger outbursts. It’s very worrisome to you and actually him too.

He is an alcoholic already a separate red flag, so stuff happens when he is wasted (which is often). Chuuya often tells you hurtful things during that time. It’s things he would never, ever allow to leave his mouth while sober, but we all know drunk Chuuya is not your Chuuya anymore.

Always needs to know where you are and what you’re doing. He is very, very controlling. Is it because he is worried? Possessive? Obsessive?? No one knows. But he is, and it’s suffocating sometimes. You basically have no privacy. (It’s probably because he has trust issues that you’ll leave him at some point just like others ekhem Dazai )

“So, where are you going? Who will you be with?”

“….to a bar, with just some friends..?”

“Is that so? What friends? Actually, I’ll have some of my men go with you to be sure you’ll be fine.”

“……”

The beige flags

Whenever he spills the hot tea of the day in the mafia, you’re no longer “love, dear, doll or baby” etc. No, no, that’s when you become “dawg” or “bro” and you deal with it. He is not aware of it and you never tell him. You are dawg. That’s final.

Whenever he misplaces his belongings, the first thing he does is ask you “what did you do with my (insert item)?” It doesn’t matter what it is, his phone, his hat whatever, he thinks you took it.

When you guys go to bed he scoots closer and closer over the course of the night in order to cuddle you, except he always scoots a little too much and you always end up falling off the bed, and then when you try to get him to move back a little he will complain that it’s late and you should be sleeping instead of waking him up. (He is only half awake the whole time, forgive him for being a bitch)

— Tetchou

The green flags

He respects your boundaries. When you say no, it means no, and he understands.

He never flinches when you order something no sane person would eat. That's because he also does that. (It should be a red flag that his taste in food is horrendous, but he will never judge you sooo forgiven)

He always listens to you. He might not understand a thing you're talking about, or might not get why that thing is so exciting but he will listen, and agree with everything you say to show you he is interested and is paying attention.

The red flags

Puts his job above you. You always come second. He loves you, but if the job required him to break up with you, he would without a second thought. I’m sorry, justice above all.

He is lacking in emotional intelligence. He doesn't really know how to comfort you or empathize with you which leaves you to mostly deal with the emotional distress yourself.

Sleeps with his socks on during summer. Thats all, that’s the reddest flag.

The beige flags

Whenever he's hungry and you're not he will starve himself, because he refuses to eat when you're not eating. It makes him feel bad and you don’t get why.

Whenever you ask him a question he will answer without elaboration. —

"How was work?"

"Good. As usually."

— A man of few words, but you need him to spill the details, right now.

He can't use emojis. He thinks “🙄” is someone looking up, not an eye-roll. It makes texting more difficult than it should…

Copyright © 2023 Aeshiiteiru.

[flagellant]

this might seem dumb and i promise im being genuine here. im just kind of fucking stupid and i would appreciate a little reassurance if you have the time

am i a bad person for not being able to reclaim queer?

i have a lot of trauma with the word and people using it for me without my consent is really triggering. my abusers used it and other words as slurs while they were hurting me. ive been trying really hard to get over it, i promise, but when it's used against me i still like... have panic attacks and flashbacks. other people using it for themselves doesn't do that to me, it's just when it's used toward me.

does not being comfortable with it being used on me make me a TERF? in the past people have taken "please don't call me queer" as "nobody should ever use that word" and even though im trans, theyve told me it's TERFy not to use it? i absolutely support other people reclaiming it and i really am trying to get over myself, but the panic attacks keep happening and now i'm paranoid that im a bad person for not being able to use it

I think the biggest frustration I have with this whole thing is that a narrative has been created where people would tell you yes, Anon, that you are a TERF and so on. And that's just not the case.

Even beyond the fact that words mean things and TERF doesn't just mean "transphobia on tumblr", the fact is that there are always going to be people whose experiences with a word will never be able to be reconciled. I've said throughout this whole thing: Every word we have ever had for ourselves is a slur, because they have all, always, been used as slurs against us.

And what I mean with that is not just "So fighting against queer as a term is therefore transphobic for this and other reasons".

What I also mean is "We need to be aware that there will never be a perfect word. There will never be a word which has been harmless. There is no point in trying to invent new terminologies to escape ongoing oppression, because those terminologies will just be used against us in the same way all others are."

Anon, you aren't a bad person for having traumatic experiences with being called a slur. The idea of that is ridiculous, and I'm as sorry you've been made to feel that way as I am angry at the people who said that to you. Barely better than your traumatizers if at all, all of them.

But I want you to also hear what I am telling you. You have faced experiences which were traumatic for you. This word is one which is a weapon that can always be used against you, right now, and it will never miss its mark. Traumas do not exist in a vacuum: you can't let it keep festering in you.

Because it's like I kept saying as well...if you allow your oppressors to have the language that can harm you, they will use it. Queer is a word you can't use for yourself right now. That's okay. You are not a bad person for that. But traumas can't go untreated. I'd recommend looking into mental health resources for LGBTQ+ people in your area. Therapy works. At its most basic level, therapy would give you the vocabulary you need to express how this is a trauma of yours, and might even be vocabulary which better helps you understand why it remains so harmful for you. I hope for your sake that you can one day make a decision for yourself on this word that isn't being controlled on a traumatic level for you, even if the decision you make is "I still don't like it for me". Hell, especially if that's the decision you make. What matters, Anon, is that you decide what words you want for yourself, and not the people who traumatized you deciding for you.

[yxtubers]

✩ ABC's

𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞!

—‘A’ IS FOR AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?)

in public, not much. the most he’ll do is maybe hold pinkies or have an arm around you/on you - but at home he is allll over you. literally will lay his head on your shoulder whenever he can, kisses (esp forehead ones) are a must, too. he basically cannot bear to be away from you when you guys are alone.

—‘B’ IS FOR BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestie?)

he’s your boyfriend, but first and foremost, he’s your best friend (corny, whatever). he really values deep relationships with people and if he can’t talk to you like you’re his friend, then he’s most likely not dating you. he wants you guys to be able to goof off and be comfortable around each other. definitely likes to do stupid stuff with you like trying to cook and failing miserably.

—‘C’ IS FOR CUDDLES (how do they like to cuddle?)

you could not waterboard this information out of him but he is 100% the little spoon. he likes to lay his head on your stomach or lap, have your arms around him from behind - all that jazz. he also definitely mumbles in his sleep when you guys cuddle, especially if he’s extremely comfortable. he also loves when you scratch his scalp or back to help him fall asleep. and for you, he likes to draw shapes on your torso with his fingers - it just relaxes him for some reason.

—‘D’ IS FOR DOMESTIC (settling down? how will they be helping out around?)

matt is definitely a family-oriented person so he knows that if you two end up getting married he’d want to settle down with you and eventually have kids. he helps a lot around the house, especially with things like laundry (duh), dishes, anything that involves cleaning. he hates cooking though, but will do it if it’s necessary - he just prefers your food over his. also hates folding laundry and mopping. he’s mostly a dishes, laundry, vacuum kinda guy.

—‘E’ IS FOR ENDING (how would breakups work out?)

he wouldn’t hold any resentment or hard feelings (unless it ended badly). basically very civil. generally i think he wouldn’t go out of his way to contact you if things break off, but he’ll occasionally check on you or ask your friends about you if he can. he’d still hold some love for you in his heart, but ultimately he wouldn’t really want to stay friends.

—‘F’ IS FOR FIANCÉE (how do they feel about commitment?)

absolutely knows he’s going to marry you some day if you guys are long term. he wouldn’t be a fan of getting married young but if you guys are still together in the future he could see himself being with you for the rest of his life. commitment is a big deal to him and i think he’d appreciate someone who is the same.

—‘G’ IS FOR GENTLE (how gentle are they?)

it’s matt like… he’s a sweetheart. he doesn’t treat you like you’re fragile, but more like you’re something special to be admired. you’ll catch him staring at you all lovey dovey sometimes to which he’d blush and turn away from. other times he’ll caress your cheeks before going in to peck you on the forehead or lips. all in all he leaves feather light touches everywhere he goes (because he knows you deserve to be treated with care and love).

—‘H’ IS FOR HUGS (do they like hugs?)

is this even a question? he may not be all that touchy with his friends or with you in public but if you offer a hug he can never deny it. he’s a sucker for having you close to him. he likes feeling cherished and safe, and that’s how he feels when you embrace him. you are the living embodiment of his safe space.

—‘I’ IS FOR I LOVE YOU (how long does it take them to say the ‘l word?’)

i think it would take him a while to say it out loud. it’s not that he didn’t develop those feelings - he actually knew he loved you pretty early on into the relationship. he just doesn’t want to scare you off by saying it too soon, so he actually waits for you to say it first. but once that first ‘i love you’ passes, he’s saying it all the time. in his good morning texts, whenever he leaves for a meeting, whenever he ends a call. all. the. time.

—‘J’ IS FOR JEALOUSY (how do they get jealous?)

matt doesn’t get jealous often. he trusts you wholeheartedly and he expects the same from you. the only time he would get jealous is if you were like overly touchy with a friend or something, but other than that he really isn’t worried about stuff like that. he knows you love your friends and you show that through affection - he would never in a million years be jealous of that. not when he knows that you’re his, and he’s yours.

—‘K’ IS FOR KISSES (what's their kissing schedule?)

sorry to burst the bubble here but i honestly don’t think he’d be a big kisser. he loves to kiss your hands, forehead, cheeks, etc. but kissing on the lips is only reserved for when you guys are chilling in his room alone. ofc if you ask for one or initiate it he won’t decline - because he does enjoy kissing you. he just prefers to keep that stuff private, so on a day-to-day basis it won’t really happen often since you guys are almost always with his brothers.

—‘L’ IS FOR LITTLE ONES (how are they around kids?)

he definitely adores kids, he just finds them so adorable. kids love him because of his calm nature, and he’ll happily do whatever with them if it means it’ll make them laugh or smile - even if it’s a princess makeover. however, he does get a little awkward sometimes since he’s not sure how to act around other people’s kids, but he’s still an absolute angel to them.

—‘M’ IS FOR MORNINGS (how will your mornings go?)

usually if he wakes up before you he’ll scroll on tiktok while stroking your hair. he likes to enjoy the mornings with you since it’s one of the only times you two can be fully alone. you guys will watch videos or listen to a podcast or something while you cuddle and get ready for the day. he also loves brushing his teeth with you - he just melts for domestic stuff like that because it makes him feel like you guys already live together.

—‘N’ IS FOR NIGHTS (how will your nights go?)

typically he’ll get you guys some food before calling it a night and retreating to his room. he’ll put on a movie or a show that you both strictly ONLY watch together. you guys will cuddle up and make dumb jokes about what’s going on on the TV. this always ends up with you two fallen asleep before the end of the movie, the low buzz of dialogue like a lullaby in the background.

—‘O’ IS FOR OPEN (when will they tell you about themselves?)

if you start off as friends i think he opens up way faster than if you don’t. due to the fact that you’d be hanging around him and his friends and brothers, he’d open up way easier because he feels comfortable around the company that you’re in. he’ll still take a while, but he definitely becomes more talkative before you enter a relationship - since he believes that you both shouldn’t go into dating each other blindly. he wants you to know the ugliest parts of him, and him you. that way he’ll know he really wants to be with you, because you’ll accept him for who he is - and vice versa. he’s very in tune with his emotions. although it would take him a while to feel comfortable crying in front of you (not because he’s ashamed, but he physically can’t cry in front of people).

—‘P’ IS FOR PATIENCE (how patient are they with you?)

this man needs an award for his patience. matt has had enough experience with his brothers to have mastered the art of it. but also, he just doesn’t like the idea of pressuring you. if you don’t want to do something, or go somewhere - he will immediately accept it, no questions asked. if you stutter a lot or just have trouble speaking he’s always there to help you, no matter how frustrated you are. also, this goes without saying, but he’s extremely understanding and patient of any mental health problems you have.

—‘Q’ IS FOR QUIZZES (how much do they remember about you?)

i feel like i don’t even have to say anything. he remembers every little detail about you. your favourite colour, your mom’s maiden name, your childhood pet’s name. he knows what you’re afraid of, where you like to eat, he remembers every important date of your relationship - and any significant dates for you, too. he writes them down in his journal so he remembers but he honestly doesn’t have to. it’s like he has a little file reserved just for you in his brain because he knows everything.

—‘R’ IS FOR REMEMBER (what is his favorite moment in your relationship?)

it would definitely have to be right before you two got together. his most vivid memory of your early relationship is the first time that you guys had a genuine, deep conversation together. you were sat by the pool late at night, both of your feet dangling in the water below you as you spilled your souls to each other. that was coincidentally also the night that he first held your hand and asked you on a date.

—‘S’ IS FOR SECURITY (how protective are they of you?)

he’s protective, but not in a male alpha toxic way. he just wants to know that you’re safe and happy. he’ll always drive you home and wait for you to get inside before he drives off - if you’re out with your friends and you need a ride, he’s there, if you go home with a taxi he asks you to update him so he knows you’re okay. if, on the off chance that you absolutely have to walk, he’ll stay on face-time with you with your location shared on his phone so that he can make sure you make it home alright.

—‘T’ IS FOR TRY (how much effort do they put into dates? special occasions?)

plans dates literally weeks in advance. he always just wants things to be 100% perfect for you because you deserve nothing less. he loves to surprise you with nice things if you're going out for your anniversary or birthday. also he's just a sucker for seeing you all smiley and giddy so he will sit and plans for a month if that's what it takes. one month he couldn't make it back home in time for your birthday (so he said) but that morning you woke up to him cuddled into your side, his luggage at the end of the bed. apparently he "made some adjustments" so that he could come and see you.

— 'U' IS FOR UGLY (what's a bad habit of theirs?)

he bites his nails. a lot. that’s why he always asks you to paint his nails with him; it helps him stop nibbling on them. it’s usually because of his anxiety but over the years it just became a habit that he hasn’t been able to kick. he’s tried several remedies but the only thing that seems to help is painting his nails nicely - because then they’re just too pretty to ruin!

—‘V’ IS FOR VANITY (how insecure are they?)

he doesn’t get insecure often but when he does it’s bad. he’d get really anxious, and he’d probably feel a little stupid for it - he’ll always eventually let you know what’s going on if it does happen. you’re the only person that can really comfort him when this occurs, because his brothers don’t really know what to say to bring his ego up, especially if it’s about his looks or how he is as a boyfriend. overall though, he doesn’t get insecure about your relationship too much. he knows he’s a great boyfriend, and he knows that you love him just as much as he loves you.

—‘W’ IS FOR WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?)

again, not even a question. similar to how he feels when he’s without nick and chris (but to a lesser extent) is how he feels when you’re not around. he just feels like he’s not whole. especially if he sees something he knows you’d find funny or enjoy and you’re not there to experience it with him he’ll get a little upset - mostly when he’s on tour and you can’t come.

—‘X’ IS FOR XTRA (a random headcanon about them?)

i think he’d love if you drew on him - and also head scratches. he’ll sometimes just straight up ask you to doodle on him when you’re bored. he really just loves to see what you come up with, and he likes sporting around your drawings like a badge of honour. also if you give him head scratches and have your nails done? he’s a goner.

—‘Y’ IS FOR YUCK (what are some things they dislike?)

he absolutely hates hates hates being messy. sure, he’ll leave his shoes lying around occasionally or forget to throw wrappers away - he’s not a saint - but he always goes back and fixes it/cleans it up. he just can’t stand being in a dirty environment. also, he doesn’t really put many condiments on his food. if he does it’s like… minuscule.

—‘Z’ IS FOR ZZZ (some of their sleeping habits?)

as i mentioned before, matt is a mumbler. he won’t say flat out sentences but you’ll catch him sleepily muttering gibberish before he falls back asleep and is knocked out cold. he also likes to sleep in. he could not be an early bird if he tried. i feel like he also likes to curl up when he sleeps, especially if you’re cuddling. he’ll curl up into your side, or both of you will, whilst facing each other, blankets up to your chins as you fall into a peaceful slumber.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @lollibumblebee @dwntwn-strnlo @st4rgzer @20nugs @thetriplets3 @sunshinewwx @gwenlore @gabbylovesreading @ssturniolo @opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @mxqdii @slaysturniolo @rainsoakedphoenix @querenciasturniolo

©𝐬𝐭𝐯𝐫𝐧𝐢𝟎𝐥𝐨

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König aka The Human Weighted Blanket pt 1

Let it be known by anyone and everyone that, based on my stupid quick google searches, only less 4% of US men are taller than König. Less than 1% of women in the US are taller than König. So, if I'm guessing that the majority of english speaking fans are in North America or Europe (and this is a very uneducated rough guess), which are two places with very tall people, then I am going to make the uneducated guess that König has probably met only at most 5 people in his entire life that are taller than him. The likelihoods of you being in that 5 are slim, so bear with me when I choose to write a YN shorter than König. Again, forgive me for being a bit discriminatory when writing here, but if you'd like a post for taller YNs, please tell me.

Okay, so, König is big, we just covered this in the above paragraph. But the thing is, height is one thing. Weight is another. To keep a man like König fit, he eats a lot of food, and I think he builds to be a broad man as well as a tall man. This is someone who makes a door frame look small when he ducks through it (which btw, average standard door height is 6'8). So with such a big body, such immense strength, he has learned to be a very gentle man.

König is the type of person who really makes an effort to control himself. He has extraordinary self discipline that he makes an effort to exert every day. He's not the kind of guy to be caught slacking in this department. He's not gentle to an effeminate state, he's still a big gruff man, but if he wanted to he could crush a watermelon with his hands. He is quite careful when opening bags of chips. As a teenager, his mother would have him vacuum up his messes, which is probably what drilled this principle into his head.

So this is where you come in.

König is always gentle and careful with the amount of force he puts on other people. When you tell him to lay on you, he's a bit confused.

It doesn't matter if you're 4'8 or 6'9, he's going to be worried about you. Obviously more if you're a pipsqueak (like me, hehe), but even if you're tall and strong like him he'll still be nervous. He really isn't used to this sort of request. Who the heck asks for this? Who tells him to do this?

If you're asking just because you want him to, he's much more hesitant. Why would you want to be crushed? He's never really heard of such a thing. He can't understand why. Sure, he'll do it, but you probably won't get his full weight (not until he realizes that you're serious about this, at least). He doesn't lay on you for long, and he doesn't push you in any way, and instead is constantly asking if you're alright because he's worried he'll break you. He is so confused.

If you're neurodivergent or something, then he'll understand a bit more, but he'll still be nervous. It'll take less convincing to get him to relax, but still he'll worry. After all, you're a human being and he doesn't want to hurt you. He especially doesn't want to hurt you because you asked for him to do something nice for you. That would devastate him.

Now, the thing that will crush him. If you're having an anxiety attack, you needn't tell him twice. He'll do anything to help. Genuinely. He knows what anxiety attacks are like himself. He'd never wish that pain on anyone else. So if you manage to string the words together to ask for help (and I am so proud of you for being so strong), he'll do it for you without a second of hesitation. Well, somewhat. He'll lay on you, yes, but he'll hold back a bit. It might take you telling him you'll be alright for him to fully relax himself. So yes, you will need to remind him you're okay, but only once. Then he'll do it for you. And the next time you have a panic attack, he'll do it again without you having to ask again. He'll do it for you whenever he can.

[the-cauldron-witch]

Eeeermmmm👉👈

13. "I'm not letting go, so you can stop fighting it." With raph pls(or anybody, people usually specify the character too but I see you didn't ask for that so I wasn't sure).. :^

That's absolutely okay! I probably would have written for Raph anyhow, it's a very Raph coded line honestly. I hope you enjoy! 🫂🫂🫂

Tag list: @silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @yorshie @truffle-draws-turtles @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen

The last set of stairs felt like a mountain as you trudged up them, each step sending a wave of pain from your feet up to your hips as you ascended. After standing on your feet all day working a double shift from 7AM to 7PM, not to mention every single break continuously being interrupted by coworkers asking for assistance or some stupid question they could literally ask anybody else, it felt like your day just had no end to it. Just a little further, you kept thinking despite feeling like the hallway was impossibly long.

Once at your apartment door you let out a withering sigh, you knew all too well your day wasn’t over just yet. Behind the beige painted door awaited more chores; the dishes you had been neglecting since yesterday, various laundry piles scattered about your room growing with each passing day, on top of the floors that needed desperate vacuuming and trash that you forgot to take out when leaving this morning. Keys jingling as you unlock the deadbolt, you dragged yourself inside and wanted to simply collapse.

Exhaustion weighed so heavily on your shoulders you almost didn’t register the sound of your kitchen faucet running. Did you leave it on this morning? No, you couldn’t have, you didn’t even have time to make coffee this morning because you woke up late. It didn’t come as a surprise to you though, knowing well who was using your sink. Kicking your shoes off with enough force for them to bounce on the floor once before joining the other pairs in a heap, you round the corner to the kitchen.

“Hey, you,” You called as you entered the kitchen, tossing your belongings onto your kitchen table. Cutting off the faucet and drying his hands Raph turned from the sink and smiled at you warmly, plucking the dish towel from where it hung on the wall. “Did you really do my dishes for me?”

“And your laundry and trash is taken out as well,” Raph stated proudly, grinning widely as your shoulders slouched with pure relief. It felt like a weight had been physically removed from your shoulders. Hanging the dish towel back on its hook Raph gave you no time to thank him, his massive arms sweeping you clean off your feet and holding you to his chest.

“Ah! What’re you doing?” You giggled as Raph began walking to your living room, squirming and kicking your feet in a half-hearted attempt to escape his grasp. Rolling his eyes he didn’t respond to you verbally, simply holding you tighter against his chest to keep you there.

“I’m not letting go, so you can stop fighting it” He chuckled, squeezing you firmly against his chest while leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. Not giving you a chance to question further, Raph hopped himself over the back and flopped onto the couch as lightly as a three hundred-something pound turtle could. Pizza, some of your favorite drinks, snacks, and plenty of blankets.

Grabbing one of the many blankets crumpled onto the couch, Raph kept you pressed against his plastron gently while getting comfortable on and settling down on the couch. With how little energy you currently were running on there was absolutely none left to argue, so you didn’t. Resting your head against his chest and listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat you finally allowed your body to relax against the warmth of your boyfriend.

[salllzy]

Sal's ramblings #3

Another bunny from the pile and it is only going to get worse, my brain is going a million miles a minute and I am trying to work on a chapter. So here it is. ------- Alastor is an omega and he doesn't hide it, he simply doesn't tell anyone what he is. If the other citizens of Hell wrongly assume that he is an alpha? Then that is on them. But while he doesn't hide it, he also isn't shouting it from the rooftops. Omegas in Hell are nonexistent after all, Alastor hadn't met any other omegas but he knew that Heaven tended to snatch any and all omegas up to stop Hell from having packs, Which in his humble opinion is stupid. The same as Heaven believed that Hell is an uprising, oh, they were in their own way. Rebelling against God and what the creator had planned for them and thanks to Lucifer, breaking free of the chains that had cruelly been wrapped around them.

As far as Alastor was concerned what Lucifer did was a blessing. If people choose to squander their chance in life, then that is up to them to decide. No one else. But just because Alastor respected Lucifer to a degree it didn't mean that he liked or tolerated the King of Hell. Far from it. He thought that Lucifer was a deadbeat dad who didn't deserve Charlie, Charlie who had begun to patch his broken heart.

Charlie reminded him of his daughter that he had lost, long ago. She had been snatched in the middle of the night. Truthfully, she wasn't his by blood. He had found her when he had been burying one of his victims, a disgusting piece of filth that had deserved what he had got. Alastor had found him preying on children and well, Alastor didn't tolerate anyone who targeted those of fairer means. But that didn't mean that women were off the table. They weren't he had killed more than one abusive wife and mother. And he would continue to do so. But he was getting off-topic. He had found the little fawn wandering around his bayou, the little thing had been crying and calling for her mother. For a split second he wondered if he had been the one to kill her mother, he had quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

Instead, he had picked her up and cleaned her dirt-covered face, only to find himself staring into strange gold eyes. Despite not having the best father and his mother was long since dead. He had done his best to help her. He had asked around and put a report in with the police, which had been a risky move given his hobbies. Unfortunately for Charlotte but fortunately for him, they were unable to find her parents. So he had adopted the fawn, given her his last name DeCoux and he had raised her as best as he could.

Shortly before his death someone had broken into their home and had taken Charlotte from her bed, he had done everything in his power to try and find her. Only to fail. Something had died inside him that day. Then he had been shot shortly afterwards and he had briefly wondered if he would see his daughter again, that perhaps if someone was kind enough he would find her in whatever afterlife awaited him. Sadly it hadn't happened. So he had slapped bloody bandages on his heart and didn't let anyone in, Rosie, Niffty and Zestial were the exceptions. And after the disaster that was his relationship with Vox, he had no desire to acquire more friends. So naturally when he saw Charlie's disastrous interview he had decided that he would lend her his aid. After all, there was nothing like free entertainment. He just hadn't expected the King of Hell to turn up.

Logically he knew that at some point he would, he was Charlie's father after all.

But then somehow, he had a suspicion as to who had leaked the information, it was revealed that he was an omega. Suddenly he had lines of suitors at the door of the hotel, suitors that he didn't want. He had to be careful who he killed, the last thing he wanted to do was create a power vacuum in an already unstable Hell and Hell was unstable. The moment it had been revealed, Hell had gone rabid. The only omega in Hell? And single as well? It was every alpha's wet dream. Eventually, Lucifer proposed that Alastor faked a relationship, with someone of power and standing. It would be the only way to get them off his back and with the amount of mass murder that Alastor had been doing? Well, it was sending a message but not the one he wanted to send. All it was doing was making it look like he was something to be tamed, a vicious animal that needed to be domesticated and not as the warning it was meant to be. Naturally, Lucifer had volunteered himself. After all, there was no one stronger than him or had a position higher than the King of Hell.

But what Alastor didn't know, was that it was a trap, one that Lucifer had designed himself. It had been him who had leaked the information about Alastor being an omega to hell.

Alastor was cunning and wily, he would never let himself be trapped in a deal, so Lucifer had to use other means. Alastor already belonged to him after all, they had a daughter together.

Not that Alator knew that Charlie was Charlotte, Lucifer had told Charlie that it was important that no one knew her full name. At the time he had told her that it was because names had power and it was true they did. But he didn't want Alastor to find Charlie. At least not until Lucifer was ready for him. His first step had been to get rid of Lilith, she had proven that she was an unfit mother and Lucifer wasn't going to allow her anywhere near Charlie. Lilith had forgotten that while he was the King of Hell now, he was still an angel and that came with all of the instincts and behaviours that came with being an angel. Which included getting rid of any threats to their flock. Which Lilith now was. He had scattered her bones all across Hell and made sure that she would never be able to regenerate. Sadly by the time he had dealt with Lilith, the mortal that had taken such good care of Charlie had died. Lucifer knew that he would need to find this Alastor that Charlie was so attached to. However, he hadn't counted on it taking nearly a century to do so. He had to admit that the sinner was devious and clever, especially since Alastor had been able to escape him time and time again. But not this time. Lucifer wasn't going to let him go this time.

[bearieio]

hi spencer lets talk about keegan! 🥰

ummmmm !!! i don’t really think i have much to say about keegan !!!!!!! hmm……. (＾＾＃)

except for the unfortunate fact that i think of him as being a total heartbreaker :(

I DONT KNOW WHY DONT ASK!-

another thing is when the two of you first started going out, and he tried to act like the nonchalant, quiet, and mysterious guy, but failed on like the third date because you mentioned your love for video games. 

now that the two of you are moved in together, he WILL torture you with that voice and those eyes of his.

he’ll sneak up on you and startle you with his deep-toned and booming voice, making sure to get his lips as close to your ear as he physically can. 

he’ll also just stare at you until you notice that he’s staring at you. genuinely scaring you, and giving no context as to why he was staring at you. AND LIKE IT’S INTENTIONAL SO-

toxic loser gamer bf. idk. probably plays overwatch and league/valorant and gets mad and screams into that poor mic of his..

“where’s our GODDAMN lucio?!- w-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING REIN-“

definitely makes random dad noises…

speaking of dad noises, he has one of those la-z-y boy recliners that has a built in cup holder, back massager, and led lights or some shit

i think he gives off a sort of “older brothers best friend” typa vibe… which ALSO means that he’s definitely a bully and teases the absolute hell out of you.

one day he’ll go to town on some show you seem to enjoy. “isn’t this show for kids?”, “ babe why the fuck does the main character look like that?”, “you’ve seriously watched 3 seasons of this bullshit?-“

and then like the very next day he’ll be like “baby, why aren’t you watching that show you like so much?

MOTHERFUCKER YOU-

also correct me if i’m wrong but isn’t keegan’s love language acts of service? whether it’s big or small, he’ll always want to do something for you!

tying your shoes

opening doors/pulling out chairs

helping you out with the laundry

putting gas in your car

making you a cup of coffee/tea/anything in the morning

helping you out with dinner

taking the time to ask you how you are, if there’s anything you wanna talk about. 

how he loves watching your eyes light up and widen and how your lips will contort into that “stupid little smile of yours” (his words, not mine!), and how you get all excited and your muscles don’t look so tense anymore.

he’s mean but he cares :(

keegan is that person we all know whose literally an endless pit. eating anything and everything in sight (he’s just like me fr).

he will eat tomates whole

and more than likely brags about his “human vacuum” ability to everyone he meets. 

is most likely the person who asks if you’re gonna finish something on your plate you haven’t even touched yet.

speaking of eating everything in sight, when he’s the one making dinner, he’ll serve you 2-3x the amount you usually eat. but he just wants to make sure that you’re okay and eating! (eat your food, people!)

keegan’s just a really crazy silly wacky guy!

he sends you and the guys memes that only he understands.

and he MAKES the memes that only he understands.

the one time you guys can even look his memes without trying to decipher the four color theorem first, they usually look something like this: 

circling back to when i mentioned that he bullies and teases you every chance he gets- he teases you ALL the time, in private AND in public!!!

“babe- it was literally just like that time when you shot milk outta your nose and then you tripped and fell over-” he shouts, in front of the rest of the ghosts

“guys this one time my girl and i were walking somewhere downtown- and- and we saw a lizard scurrying along the ground- and she LITERALLY almost crapped herself-“ 

this guy will almost always automatically bust into a full song & dance routine whenever he hears taylor swift on the radio. 

does he necessarily like taylor? fuucckk no! but IS going to be bussin it down to ‘love song?" fuccckkkk yea!

‘party in the USA?’ you’re curled up on the bed, reading a book, when you’re suddenly transported into a stadium with 50,000 people screaming and the voice of miley cyrus is engulfing your ear canals. minus the fact that you’re not in a stadium, and 50,000 aren’t screaming and jumping around you. it’s keegan and his portable speaker blaring the obnoxiously loud music, while doing backflips n shit on your guys’ shared bed, messing up the sheets and prompting the dogs to come running in right after him.

he’s insane. i love him.

[bwabys-scenarios]

also 🤗🤗 for the sfw/nsfw headcanons… how about nobubaga?

Nobunaga SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REPOSTS APPRECIATED!!

warning: period sex, oral(f+m receiving), creampie, daddy kink, cockwarming, pegging, slightest mention of Nobunaga thinking you self harm(you don’t he’s just stupid)

A/N: anything for my moots!! 🫡 I’ll try to make a few positive HCs for him but it won’t be easy…

(If you’d like to see SFW/NSFW HCs for your fav HXH character, send me an ask!!)

SFW

-this man does not know what personal space is. You’ll sit on the couch, then he’ll sit next to you super close. You move? He moves with you. Doesn’t get that you want some space

-if you want someone that is completely and utterly devoted to you, he’s your guy

-if you’re alright with him being kinda pathetic

-he definitely has low self esteem. he’s quick to put himself down, and even ends up neglecting himself. he’ll need to be reminded that he is loved and handsome to you. show him what self care days are!

-okay I joke about his greasy hair a lot but to have such long, pretty hair he does actually have to take care of it. can it get greasy because he’s having a bad time or is too lazy to take care of it? yeah, but he usually does keep up with it

-he’s really good with hair, when he was a kid he was the one that cut everyone’s hair and styled it.

-he both likes his hair being played with and playing with your hair! also he will 100% learn how to style your hair, he’s pretty good with his hands

-pretty affectionate, he ain’t hiding his love for you. he may be a little shy kissing and hugging you in front of his friends in fear of teasing, but otherwise he’s a big PDA guy

-bad texter, but will call you anytime! he just doesn’t understand tone through text and almost always tends to seem angry or upset through text(this is the same for Phinks)

-he doesn’t understand memes. he’s not even really that old but god does he act like it. he’ll squint at your screen then be like “I don’t get it.” then will huff and say “it ain’t even funny. this is why I don’t have social media.”

-if you get a scratch and he notices, he gets angry and is like “who did this to you?” And then you have to explain to him you scratched your arm on the stove because last week he accidentally broke the handle

-also might say something like “baby… don’t hurt yourself… stop, for me.” and hold you as if you didn’t scrape your knee after eating shit in the driveway 30 minutes ago

-his attempts at romance are mediocre at best. he’s the type of guy that will buy you a head of lettuce thinking it’s a flower

-scattered flower petals around the bedroom he picked outside but it’s during allergy season so now you have to vacuum pollen off your carpet while the two of you are sneezy and choking on your fluids

-DO NOT LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN YOUR KITCHEN!! ANYTHING HE MAKES IS HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH AT BEST!! You’re 90% sure one of the things he made came to life just to beg for death

-also he’ll find some way to break at least SOMETHING. Scrubbed your nonstick pans with a fucking metal sponge thing.

-he likes to carry your things around, will follow you like a lovesick puppy while you shop, holding your shopping bags

-he knits! it’s not something he tells many people, but he picked it up from Machi when they were on a mission together and he was bored out if his mind. if you beg ask nicely he’ll make you a hat or mittens. wearing anything he makes you will make him swoon

-he’s a decent cuddle buddy, if you don’t mind being groped and grabbed the whole time

-he doesn’t smell bad most of the time, but goes days without showering at times. you’ll have to promise him sexual favors or allow him to shower with you if you want him to shower everyday

NSFW

-cries when he cums sometimes…

-switch. he’ll say it’s a dom lean but… you can decide that for yourself

-y’all… this man and period sex. once he learns that’s a thing he’s asking to “help with your cramps” every time you’re on your period. yeah he’ll go down on you, yeah he’s a messy eater.

-speaking of pussy eating he’s decent! he tries to make you cum at least once on his tongue because he’s really bad at about cumming almost instantly once he’s inside you. he can go multiple rounds don’t worry, but he feels kind of pathetic after. “Just feel too good, baby, can’t help myself…”

-he’s around 7 inches me thinks. I don’t usually include dick size in these but 7 inches just seems perfect for him?

-I feel like he’d have a daddy kink. do I like that? no not really. but I can picture it

-he fucking LOVES hearing you moan and make noise. he can be a little insecure with his lovemaking skills, so hearing you enjoy yourself gets him going

-give him a blowjob and swallow his cum. he fucking loves to watch you stick out your tongue and show him it’s covered in his cum

-he likes cockwarming but he’s also super impatient and will just end up bouncing you before bending you over onto whatever surface is closest to you

-again with him being impatient, he’s not the biggest fan of lingerie. he’s going to rip it off you anyways, and he’d rather not deal with the headache of you complaining that he tore your expensive set

-he prefers cumming inside your pussy! he doesn’t want to get you pregnant, it’s more of a possessive thing. he wants to claim you!

-he’s got pretty good stamina. the first few rounds he’ll cum pretty quick, but once he gets into his rhythm, he can last a while!

-tug on his hair… he will moan and just stare at you for a second. he won’t ASK you to do it again, but he’ll wear his hair down around you more often

-he wouldn’t let you peg him 😔 would he like it? probably, but he doesn’t want to “feel emasculated”. this is code for “I don’t want you to see me moan and whimper like a bitch while you pound me”

[lowkeyremi]

HE'S TROUBLE ✧ Atsumu x fem!reader

Summary: Starting fresh is never that easy and here you are starting a new school year as a freshman in college. Frat boy Atsumu is determined to make your life all the harder, because why the hell not? Will you make it to the end of your first year without losing your shit?

Content: Implied black female reader but anyone can read (reader wears a scarf/bonnet to bed), swearing, the miya twins have a little sister. (divider)

WC: 2k words

ONE - MOVING IN (Chapter Masterlist)

Reality finally hit you when it turned July 29th. You’ve graduated high school and now you’re going to college. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the college on the top of your list but it was the third option, which in your opinion is still pretty good considering some people don’t even get into any of the colleges of their choosing.

Now your only issue is packing. You’ve been procrastinating all summer, hanging out with friends, playing video games, and doing other random little things you like to do. You have not packed a single box– or bought any boxes for that matter.

Your mother has been urging you to at least start on the little things so you can get something done. Of course you’d blow her off with the idea of ‘I can do it later’.

August is approaching fast and your dorm move in day is August 16th. That gives you two weeks and four days to get everything you want to take with you packed and into your dorm. After that, classes start on the 21st.

Are you nervous? Just a little of course. It'll be weird not seeing family everyday, having your phone taken away because of something stupid you'd done, or being asked to drive your cousins/siblings somewhere. As a college student you'll be expected to manage yourself and get up for classes and what not.

It sucks that seniors get the first pick for classes. Freshmen are last on the list meaning you get the scraps. It's okay though, at least you're taking the essential classes, right?

"[name]! Have you started packing anything yet? I bought you some containers and vacuum seal bags!" Your mother yells from the living room.

"Uhhh..." She's bound to be upset, it's obvious. She asked you to start packing like last week– or was it the week before that?

"I'm packing right now!" Why did you say that? Now she's going to come and check for herself. With haste you begin to spread things across your floor to make it look like you're packing stuff. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, decor, stationery, anything in your line of view is tossed on the floor- in a neat pile of course.

When you look up you meet your mother's eyes and her look is skeptical, doubtful even, she can tell you probably hadn't been packing.

"Mhm... have you looked at that list I sent you? The one with the essentials." Your eyes meet the stuff in her hands then her face once more.

"Will you be mad if I say no?" The sound of soft laughter fills your room. Your mom joins you on the floor, giving a good look to everything on your floor. "Oh what am I going to do with you? For years it was 'I can't wait to move out and go to college.' and now that the time has come you haven't even started packing yet."

"Yes I have! Do you not see the stuff I have out?"

"Girl bye, I am not stupid. I know you just threw this stuff on your floor before I came in here."

"Okayyyy you got me." You raise your hands in defense your mother starts to organize the stuff on your floor.

"It can be a little scary, but you'll get used to it. If you ever have any trouble.. call me. I fight kids." That statement lightens your anxiousness to pack a little bit. The fact that she's actually serious makes it all the more comforting.

"Okay.. I want at least, half your stuff packed by tonight. Your move in day is a little over two weeks from now. That time is gonna fly by and knowing you; you'll want to get some more goodbyes in before you leave." She's right of course, if there was a president of 'waiting until the last minute' it might've just been you.

"I'll get it done. I promise!"

"Is this everything?" Your mother asks looking at both her car and yours. They're packed to the brim with all your things: bedding, boxes of clothes, your small TV, decor, and other things that may not have a use as of right now. At this point it would have been better to rent a small moving truck.

"Uhh.. I'll go check one more time, but I think it is." In order to move things along faster your siblings (or cousins) decided to tag along to help with the moving process. There's a little space in both cars to fit them comfortably without being pulled over... you assume.

When you make it upstairs to check your room, you ultimately decide on not even walking in. Even though your bed, dresser, and some of your posters are hanging up the room feels empty, void of life. It's going to be a lot getting used to your new living conditions, but no one forced you to go to college. It was your own choice.

"Take care of my room for me, okay?" You'd ask no one in particular. Hesitation fills your body when closing the door to your old room, it'll only be a few months until you see it again, fall break. Your youngest sibling or cousin stampedes up the stairs, "Hurry up [name]!! we don't wanna be late!!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Let's get on the road."

Your first thought is that this school is huge, and well duh of course it is.. it's a college campus. It's nothing like the little high school you went too. Your second thought is that there are a lot of people too.

People of all kinds of backgrounds; you realize. People come from all over the world just to go to school here which seems a little crazy but in reality it's not in the grand scheme of things.

All you family members are helping you haul your stuff up to the second floor where your dorm is. Since you are a freshman you're getting a dorm in one of the older buildings while seniors can rent out school apartments and what not. It's only the beginning, you'll reach that level some day, but for now, this is your life.

Your RA is a young woman probably around 8-10 years older than you are. A kind lady with a welcoming face. She's a bit on the shorter side, but her face also gives you the impression that she is not one to mess with.

"Good morning! You must be a new resident. Can I please get a name and an ID?" A polite nod is sent her way while you search your bag for your school ID. The trip across campus to get your ID was certainly worth it, if you hadn't gotten it before hand you would have had to walk back and get it.

The woman walks you through everything, tells you where everything is and the policies of the dorms, even though you already knew them because they had you read them online and accept them. Minutes later a key was placed in your palm, excitement and nervousness welling up in your body.

"This is it, baby. Time to see your room!" Your mom sounds a little too excited to see your dorm and she says it's because you'll be out of her house but you know she'll miss you.

It was the moment of truth when you reached your door. With no haste at all you placed the key into the lock and slowly turned it in the way that unlocks it. You pushed the door open with your leg because there was a box in one of your arms. Once you could move the box from your face you got a nice look at your room.

Definitely small... it looks pretty bland. Well, at least your side of the room does. Your roommate, Emily, had already moved her stuff in a few days prior to you and she's not here at the moment.

"Cute little room." Your mom snickers your way. When she isn't looking you roll your eyes in fake annoyance. She's most definitely making fun of you. It's not like she has room to talk though, you'd seen her dorm in pictures that she took with her roommates.

The move in was smooth. Stuff was once again everywhere. It was hard making choices of what goes where. Your family spent a little bit of time with you before they were on the road again to go back home.

You can't even lie you started missing them the second they pulled out of the parking lot. It's different, very different. Emily bursts through the door pulling you out of your sorrowful thoughts. Upon seeing her for the first time you can kind of tell she's the 'life of the party'.

"HIIII ROOMIE!!! YOU ARE SO CUTE AHHHH!! I was scared I'd end up with an ugly or weird roommate. Thank God they put me with someone cool though." She's also a chatterbox.. which you are one too but not upon first meetings.

A giggle falls from your lips at her words, you like her already, "How can you tell I'm cool if you don't even know me?"

"Trust me, I know cool people when I meet them. Sooooo do you wanna go get dinner? I was hanging out with some people I met in order to give you some time to settle in." She also seems to be considerate. The two of you will get along just fine. All your worries start to fade away as Emily talks your ear off.

The first couple days of school were nothing like you thought they'd be. When classes were over you immediately crashed in bed when you got back to your dorm. Waking up and trying to actually get ready without your mom telling you to hurry up was hard.

You managed to arrive two minutes before your first lecture but the way those seats were packed made you feel like you were late. You ended up sitting all the way in the back with some girl who had chocolate colored eyes.

Ever since then she's decided to buddy up with you. She always saves you a seat because she somehow is pretty early. Her name is Emi, you learn. Emi Miya. When your professor starts to get boring Emi will tell you stories about her crazy older brothers. You've never met them but you've heard a lot about them. Specifically a lot about the older one, Atsumu.

Three weeks into school Emi invites you to eat lunch with her at this cute little brunch place she's been frequenting. Of course you said yes because honestly you had nothing better to do. Most days you would buy lunch and take it back to your building and eat it in your dorm or one of the common areas.

Emi is so easy to talk to, which you like about her. Sometimes you can be a 'I won't talk to you unless you talk to me' kind of person so you like people like Emi who make socializing easy.

As the two of you are walking to the brunch place Emi strikes up easy conversation, "Soooo do you have a boyfriend?" Her eyebrows wiggle, causing you to laugh a little bit at her silliness.

"Nah, I haven't really met someone I can connect with. All my crushes in high school were just guys I was physically attracted to." Her eyes widen at your statement and she quickly comes to a full stop.

"No way! I thought you would for sure have a boyfriend, but your reasoning is valid. I guess that kinda makes you like a forbidden fruit, huh?" A cheeky smile is painted across her face, she knows something you don't.

"What do you mean by 'forbidden fruit'?" Genuine curiosity courses through your body as you match her steps.

"Well this little group of guys came up to me before you got to the lecture yesterday and asked me if you were single." She's kidding.. she has to be. Well maybe not.. you're attractive of course, and those boys probably just want what you can give them rather than a genuine relationship.

"Yeah well... they probably just want sex, you know?" She nods in agreement, "Which is why I told those boys you have a boyfriend. Just looking out for you."

"Thank you, Emi." The restaurant is in view now so the two of you fall into a comfortable silence.

Well what do you know? Maybe this won't be as bad as you thought it would be. It's a lot to adjust to but you've got it figured out.... for right now at least.

note: second chapter will be more interesting. you meet tsumu for the first time!! I hope you guys enjoyed this little intro chapter. i'm excited to see where this story takes us :3

taglist: @luvly-writer @bugglesboop @vleathers67 let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

[olderthannetfic]

I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

--

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.

[strawhatkia]

boyfriend.

INCLUDES ! katsuki bakugo x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! general relationship headcanons with katsuki !

WARNINGS ! cussing, kats still in highschool, suggestive(?), edited for grammatical errors but lemma know if i missed something

WORD COUNT ! 0.9k+

A/N ! once again, another old work reposted from my last blog. and again, i think it is so hot of this fandom to just headcannon that bakugo is for black women like- yes 💕(i had to break this up into blocks or this post was not going up)

MAIN MASTERLIST | BNHA MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊🧨💢✧

this mofo y’all-

this boy loves you so much but that pride fucks him up every single time

he has no problem saying i love you or even showing his love through actions but in public? you ain’t getting shit !

he just gets wayyy too flustered but i truly think that actions mean a lot to him so he'll still he’ll hug you and whisper it to you

“i love you” “huh?” “SHUT UP! I DIDN’T SAY SHIT!” “nigga damn-”

but beyond that! this man will go above and beyond to make sure you know that you are loved

hell, he’ll spoil you for the sole reason that he does in fact love you more than life itself

(this is saying so much because as much as loves heroes and wants to become one, i truly think that for you, he would do damn near anything even if it means jeopardizing his dream)

i personally think he takes pride in buying you shit so when people ask, you can be like “oh yeah, my boyfriend brought me all of that” “…sis thats at least twenty damn bags of clothes and jewelry-”

his big-headed self is probably like “hell yeah I did”

ironically, he hates when you spend yo own money on him or yourself- don't get it twisted, he definitely does not mind you being independent, he actually encourages it!

...but this is the one thing he won’t let go

this nigga will start hiding yo cards and shit or start blowing them bitches up (card pieces gets vacuumed by the damn roomba before you even notice)

he feign like he stupid or some shit despite being the smartest, most organized nigga you know

but when yo card goes missing...all of sudden, he lost his damn memory?

“kats, where did my card go?” “…....huh?” “nigga- YOU FUCKING HEARD ME! WHERE IS MY DAMN CARD!?!?”

this motherfucker is definitely checking on yo back account every two days just make sure money is coming in and not out

hell the fucking bank tellers know him by name, could point him out a meters before he walks in

if you somehow find that card, first of all: props to you!

second of all: it is not yours forever and it will go missing again in under 24 hrs.

however, the most important thing he decided to buy you was a pretty gold custom necklace of his name and gold bamboo hoops to match !

the hoops he didn’t really care for, they cute and you look gorgeous, but that necklace- chile...

it was almost like he cared for it more than you did…cause he did

he always touching it, fiddling with it, and you know that bitch is real so sometimes he likes to polish it especially when you two to go to events- let it shine in people faces and let 'em know the one by you don't play about you

but if you take it off- sis, did you write yo will yet? put that bitch back on before he catch you

it’s real for a reason- so you don’t have to take it off

if he does catch the necklace not on yo body, he’s gon be pissed

“WHY IN THE HELL IS YO NECKLACE NOT ON YO NECK AND IN MY HAND!?!?” “hol on now- calm yo self. i took it off cause i didn’t want it to get messed up-” “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN! PUT THE SHIT BACK ON!!” 

….it’s such a silly thing to get angry over but don’t take it off sis, if you value yo life

(sidenote: tying back in with his love for actions, he just loves giving gifts, more importantly gifts that you can wear or use b/c then you can think of him when you do wear/use it)

for some reason, whether big or small, he loves hitting your ass. and i don’t mean no petty swat, i mean he’s throwing hands 

*SMACK!* “ow! my nigga, have you lost yo god damn mind?!?” “what~? it looked at me first”

not to mention but any chance he get- he’s grabbing the yams

motherfucker can not keep his damn hands to himself, he gotta touch, even if it’s a quick squeeze 

y’all laying in bed? grabbing the yams. you laying on yo couch, minding yo business? grabbing the yams. talking to yo lil friends? grabbing them yams. working on the field with him? grabbing the yams. 

when y’all sleeping together, his hands always gravitates towards ya ass and stays there maybe even some soft booty rubs

moving on

i’d like to mention that: he is a big baby... like the biggest baby you have ever seen

he won’t ever admit it out loud but sometimes he hates how good you get along with his friends

like yes, he’s happy that all of you get along really well but damn it pay attention to him, not no fucking extras 

and he’s so petty about it. you’ll be talking to kiri and em’ and all of sudden this mother fucker is pulling you into his lap

if you still continue to ignore him or don’t give him all of your attention, he’ll pull away from everyone to some where private and start ranting on how you should pay attention to him and not some fucking extras

and if it’s deku who’s has your attention- ok first of all, how dare you? and second of all, 'getcho yo ass over here before I kill that nerd'   

dramatic much? like damn nigga calm down

and now lastly, let’s talk about golden hour

at first he didn’t know what the fuck it was but when he learned, he was obsessed

“suki, do you wanna do golden hour pictures with me?” “what the hell is that?” “…just bring yo ass on-”

 the way you was just sitting there, shining and shit; melanin taking in all that good sun and the way his necklace was shining against you- mans was hooked 

man’s in his head was like “i’m dating a literal goddess….good job, katsuki😌” 

now he thinks it’s his personally duty to become yo photographer at golden hour. if you let anyone else do it, he will throw a very big tantrum

he loves taking the pictures especially when have just woken up, bonnet still on head, bare face, wearing his t-shirt- yuh yuh, that part;those pictures go up on his instagram page that has more pictures of you than him, with the caption “look at my baby 🥰” sappy, corny ass nigaa

the fangirls was not happy about that but ha! the comments have been off- 

but yeah, boom boom boy loves you more than anything in this world💕

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