#for the innocent people dragged into this

[magical-reid]

The Bucky Barnes Cake Conspiracy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (implied) Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: When Wanda convinces you and Natasha to do the “Hear Me Out” cake trend, you think it’s just harmless fun. That is, until every single one of your picks is a different version of Bucky Barnes, the entire Tower gets involved, and Bucky himself finds out in the most humiliating way possible—via Wanda’s viral video.

It started as a joke.

A harmless, ridiculous joke.

And then it spiraled into something much, much worse.

“I’m just saying,” Wanda said, shoving her phone in your face as the three of you wandered through the grocery store, “we should do it.”

Natasha glanced at the screen. “Oh, the ‘Hear Me Out’ cake trend? That’s dumb.”

“Exactly!” Wanda grinned. “Which makes it perfect for us.”

You furrowed your brows, watching the TikTok she’d pulled up. The trend was simple: buy a plain cake, decorate it with pictures of celebrities or characters you found attractive, and then justify your crush by sticking ‘Hear Me Out’ in the middle.

It was stupid. But also hilarious.

“I’m in,” you said.

Natasha groaned. “Fine. But I’m not helping if this turns into another Tower-wide disaster.”

Wanda hummed, already making a beeline for the bakery aisle. “Oh, it definitely will.”

Back at the Tower, you sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as Wanda set up her phone. The cake—a plain white-frosted one you’d grabbed from the store—sat in the center of the table, looking all innocent. It had no idea it was about to be used for nonsense.

“Okay,” Wanda said, grinning. “Time to put down our picks.”

Natasha went first. She taped a photo of Keanu Reeves onto a skewer and stuck it into the cake. Classic. No one would question it.

Then Wanda went. Pedro Pascal. Another solid choice.

And then you—

“Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

You hesitated, mid-skewer placement. “…What?”

Wanda started cackling.

Because instead of picking three different people like a normal person, you had, without realizing it, picked three different versions of Bucky Barnes.

One was a picture of him in his tactical gear, scowling like he was about to murder someone (hot). Another was of him in a hoodie and jeans, looking all soft and domestic (also hot). And the third? The one that really sealed your fate?

It was a close-up of his metal arm.

You winced. “Okay. I see how this looks—”

“This looks like a confession,” Wanda said gleefully, already zooming in on your picks.

“Oh my God,” Natasha muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I panicked!” you hissed. “I wasn’t thinking—I just grabbed the first ones that looked good!”

Wanda was shaking with laughter. “Oh, babe. This isn’t panic. This is obsession.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you both.”

The video went up on Wanda’s account that night.

By the next morning, it had one million views.

And the Tower was in absolute chaos.

Clint greeted you at breakfast with a slow, knowing grin. “So,” he said, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “should we start calling you Mrs. Barnes, or—?”

You threw a banana at his head.

Sam nearly fell off the couch laughing when he saw the video. “You put the metal arm?” he wheezed. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

Steve, who had clearly been dragged into this nonsense against his will, just gave you a long, unimpressed look over his coffee. “You could’ve just told him, you know.”

Tony, of course, had the most Tony reaction possible. “This is the most effort I’ve ever seen someone put into a crush. If I had known Bucky was your type, I would’ve set up an HR department just to make this more scandalous.”

You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

But the worst part?

Bucky.

Because by some miracle, he hadn’t seen the video yet.

Which meant you were living on borrowed time.

It happened later that night.

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book but mostly trying to avoid eye contact with the entire human population, when Bucky strolled into the common room.

“Hey, doll.”

Your stomach flipped. “Hey.”

He sat next to you, arms stretched out over the back of the couch, his face unreadable. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought—maybe he doesn’t know.

And then—

“So,” he said, far too casually. “You like my arm that much, huh?”

Your entire body locked up.

Your soul left your body.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—what—who—?”

Bucky chuckled. “I saw the video.”

You shut your eyes. “Kill me.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Nah. ‘Cause then who’s gonna take me on that date you clearly want?”

You choked. “What—”

Bucky turned to face you fully, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “I—That’s—You—”

Bucky leaned in, voice low. “Next time, maybe write my number on the cake instead.”

You exhaled sharply, heart hammering. “Are you—Are you flirting with me?”

His grin widened. “You tell me.”

You stared at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we go on a date, I’m making Wanda pay for it.”

Bucky laughed, eyes warm. “Deal.”

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴜᴛᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴍʙ

…𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘴

fluff, awkwardness, friends to lovers?, light flirting, unintentional flirting, banter, miscommunication, teasing, mild sexual innuendo, lighthearted, platonic? feelings, silly

word count - 1.2k

You’re mid-sentence when it happens.

“I just don’t think the moon landing was real,” Chris says, stretching his legs out on the couch in his room. “Like, yeah, sure, space exists or whatever, but you expect me to believe they had the technology to land on the moon in the sixties? People barely had color TV.”

You roll your eyes. “You wouldn’t believe in the moon landing.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Are you saying you do?”

“I’m saying I’m an innocent until proven guilty kind of girl.”

Chris shakes his head like he’s disappointed in you. “This is ridiculous.”

And then, just as you’re about to throw another sarcastic comment his way, your phone lights up. Noticing its low battery, you roll onto your side on Chris’ bed, plugging it in. Unbeknownst to you, your oversized shirt rides up, exposing your sleep shorts. Chris doesn’t mean for it to happen, but his gaze flickers and then his brow furrows, his head tilting just slightly.

As you turn back around to face him, Chris can’t help but blurt it out.

He clears his throat. “You have a cute butt, you know. Very round, nice, compact-”

You freeze mid-laugh, blinking at him. “Chris, what the actual-” You can’t even finish the sentence. Did he seriously just say that?

The room falls silent. You blink at him, utterly stunned, while he stares back at you like you’re the one who just said something weird. It takes approximately three full seconds for his own words to catch up to him, and when they do, his face shifts into something between mild horror and begrudging realization.

“Oh. Oh, wait-” He holds up a hand. “That sounded kinda-”

“Insane? Wildly inappropriate? Like something I should slap you for?”

Chris huffs, crossing his arms. “It was a compliment!”

“It was about my butt!”

“Yeah, but in, like, a normal way-”

"There is no normal way to say that, Christopher."

Chris huffs, crossing his arms, but his mind is already racing. It was just a compliment, right? He tries to push the weird feeling out of his chest, but it’s there, like something’s stirring under the surface. It was a compliment.

He clears his throat anxiously. “It was a compliment!” he repeats, trying to sound convincing, but the way her eyes narrow at him makes him second-guess himself. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to phrase it… You’re so smooth, Chris. Real smooth.

“Right.”

 “Whatever, man. I was just making an observation. Like, just, you know, being honest.”

“You sound like Jake Peralta right now.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

“You literally just recreated a classic Peraltiago moment. ‘Your butt is da bomb. There will be no survivors,’ Christopher.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s a compliment. Second of all, your butt is da bomb- wait, no, that sounded worse.”

You sigh dramatically, before an idea comes to you. “First of all, compact? As a compliment? What does that even mean?” you ask, gesturing wildly. “Second of all, if we’re making observations, let’s talk about your butt. Very, uh… symmetrical. Good proportions.”

Chris chokes on air, his Pepsi not even having reached his lips. “What- wait, seriously? Are we doing this?”

“Yeah, I mean, if we’re handing out compliments, it’s only fair” you say, teasing, but also grimacing.

His ears go pink, his voice a little less certain now. “That’s- not the same thing.”

“Oh? So now you see the issue?”

Chris groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

You shake your head, grabbing your water bottle and twisting it in your hands. The moment lingers, Chris still sulking over your lack of appreciation for his totally normal and platonic compliment.

And then, as if to pivot into something equally bizarre, you mumble, “When I couldn’t sleep as a kid, I used to try balancing my water bottle on my forehead.”

Chris lifts his head slightly. “What? Actually?”

“Yeah, like, I’d just be lying in bed, eyes wide open, and I’d think: What if I could balance my water bottle on my forehead for a full minute? Just... to see if I could.”

He stares at you like you’ve just confessed a strange, deeply important secret. “And?”

“I could do it. Didn’t help me sleep though.”

Silence. Then Chris sits up, slow, thoughtful as if he’s considering your childish admission seriously. “You think you could still do it?”

You narrow your eyes, leaning forward just a little. “Are you… challenging me?”

“No, I just don’t think you can do it.” He smiles at her, his tone doubting but playful.

The water bottle is in your hands before he even finishes speaking. You lie down completely, looking up at the ceiling, and carefully place the bottle on the center of your forehead. Chris watches, elbow on the armrest, chin resting against his palm, looking equal parts skeptical and intrigued.

For a few glorious seconds, you think you might actually pull it off. But then Chris stands up and flops on the bed next to you.

“Hey-”

The bottle wobbles once, twice, and then tumbles off your face, and you catch it with your hand. Chris bursts out laughing, practically folding over, and you groan in annoyance. You throw the bottle at him, the movement dramatic, not even trying to aim. It bounces off his shoulder and hits the floor with a soft thud.

“Okay, rude,” he wheezes, still grinning. “Not my fault you have terrible focus.”

You scowl, but you’re smiling too. “Not my fault you say weird things about my butt.”

Chris opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, then stops. Shuts it. Tilts his head.

And then, for the first time since this conversation started, his brain finally catches up.

“Wait. Hold on.” A little crinkle appears above his nose, like a thought is just starting to bloom. He stares at you for a beat longer, eyes flicking back and forth as if he’s sorting through his words. “Did that… what I said before… sound like flirting?”

You blink. “Chris”, you warn.

“No, but, hold on.” He suddenly looks very, very deep in thought. “Because I was just saying it, like, observationally, but now I’m thinking about it, and…”

Your heart skips a beat at the way his voice falters, and you find yourself wondering if you’re just imagining it. Was he really…? You shake your head. No, this is just Chris being Chris, right? You tell yourself, brushing it off.

“Chris, oh my God.” You throw your head back with a groan, smacking his arm before standing up and walking toward his bathroom.

He calls after you, still stuck in the rabbit hole of his own making. “But wait! If I was flirting… hypothetically… would it have worked? Like, actually?”

He says the last part slower, like he’s genuinely trying to piece it all together, his gaze fixed on you.

You call back out to him. “You’re never getting an answer to that!”

Chris stares at the ceiling, groaning internally. He can’t decide if it was the best thing ever or the worst mistake he’d made all week.

They were friends, he reminds himself. But it was just a half-assed attempt to comfort himself as he waited for you to come back.

thank u rose for the dividers!! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: this is me coming out as a silly girl. let me know if u enjoy!

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner comment if u would like to be tagged in my main (non-au) works!!

[storiesoflilies]

warnings: angst, violence, death.

you’ve known toji for a long time.

longer than most people could say they’ve known another person. ever since you both had cheeks still big and swollen with innocence and milk – though, you remember toji lost his much quicker than you did. ever since you were both young enough to understand that there was something fundamentally wrong inside you. something that wrapped around your soul and ribs like rusting iron, squeezing, squeezing, and squeezing until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what used to be a person.

you both weren’t like the others.

you couldn’t see the things they could, or do the things they did. when you were scratched and bit and left bleeding by things you couldn’t see, they all laughed at you. you both still didn’t understand what it was exactly you were missing, but you knew that something else was in its place. you were there when toji threw a punch so hard it crushed bone. and he was there when you moved faster than a person could blink.

and you were there the day toji got that scar on his lip.

when he finally explained it all to you through blood-stained teeth, a lone tear dragging down the expanse of his cheek, you never said a word as you patched up his wounds.

like you always did.

toji didn’t need to ask you a thing the day he appeared on your doorstep when you were sixteen, with no tattered rucksack slung over his shoulder because he had nothing to his name. you knew why, because you both were one and the same. that heavy ball and chain had been wrapped around you both since you were born, dragging at your heels and splitting your wrists, and you’d always know him.

leaving it all behind was easy.

you never looked back once.

but the anger living inside the two of you was an unquenchable, undying thing. it savagely clawed at your insides from the spaces in between your ribs, begging you to just release it. to let it break and bend those that had hurt you first. your mind couldn’t quite uphold the weight of the power that was your hands and body. there were so many times you woke up in the middle of the night and you felt like nothing more than a bag of blood and meat, and it made you want to cry.

and toji would just look at you.

because he never slept, not properly anyway. he’d be sitting there beside you, a knife dancing over his index finger, swooping down the valley of his palm and across his ring finger. you wondered if he was making his mind up whether you were strong enough for this. it scared you, really. the moon hung above you, and all you could see was the emptiness in his eyes. perhaps, if he cared, he would have put a hand on your shoulder and tell you that he understood your pain, that it was going to be okay, and that you weren’t alone.

but he didn’t.

he never did.

the only thing toji ever did for you was force you to fight him. you didn’t know if it was because you were the only one he could ask, or because it was because you were the only one who could put up a real fight. whatever it was, it made you stronger – faster than you ever thought possible. you’d go at it for hours, your knuckles throbbing and gums bleeding from how hard you clenched your teeth.

he never held back, not a bit.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t live for this.

because you fought like gods. ordinary people couldn’t comprehend what it was they saw when the two of you collided again and again and again. it was a dance, you see. rain lashing against the wind, the sea breaking against the cliffs at the edge of the world. a heartbeat against a ribcage.

his old knife at your throat.

your dirty fingernails pressing gently into his.

a shuddering exhale from him, like the air was too cold for his lungs. his knife would drop, clattering to the floor like an icy shard against a frozen lake.

resonating, all consuming.

you knew you loved him. how could you not? toji zenin was your sun. a brilliant, green sun, and you the deep, lonely earth destined to orbit around him. always chasing him, but never quite touching him. he was smoke slipping through your fingers, and you were fine with that. loving him was natural, like the water in your veins, the calcium in your bones. fluid, yet ever solidly present. wherever toji moves, you do to, flowing around him to the shape of whatever he wanted you to be.

and this thing inside you could either eat you both alive, or you could use it. for power or money or good. what did it matter? it was only a thing.

toji used his for money.

and yours?

yours followed toji, and it always would. so, you became a killer just like him.

in a way, it was cathartic. you ended the sorcerers who once thought they were better than you. one after the other, they fell, dominos tipping over, tumbling toward the edge of the table. they always begged, their faces smothered in snot and tears, the overwhelming smell of shit in the air.

neither of you cared to listen.

the both of you could have ended the world together if you wanted to. set it all on fire and taste the ashes spreading on your tongue like honey.

you’d said that to toji once, and he cracked a smile.

you felt like he was proud of you in those moments. for not letting yourself be eaten by what lived inside you. you let yourself believe that he might love you too in those moments. when his eyes softened into something like gold. a little warmer, a little more malleable to you. and maybe he could be yours the same way that you were his.

then he met her.

her.

a woman carved straight from the rib he broke the day he got the scar on his lip.

he left all the money and the killings. the barely furnished apartment – the only thing that had your names together on it. a home that obviously has never been a home to toji. all his clothes, old leather wallet stuffed with failed betting tickets and loose change, like the remnants of a man who never meant to stay in the first place.

and you.

you stood there in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the mug half filled with water – the same one he’d only used this morning – and all you could think about was the affliction inside you, writhing like a worm in your intestines.

a heavenly restriction.

heavenly?

you did not feel heavenly, nothing like an angel. angels did not have searing mercury running through their veins, or a hatred so hot it burned you from the inside out. you went to the sea and screamed at the heavens to break your chains.

they didn’t.

because you were more than an angel, something more like them.

and you remained a fallen god, their most beautiful, broken disgrace.

you followed her sometimes. trailing behind her as she shopped for groceries. watching as she delicately places peaches and mushrooms into her basket, two steaks and a carton of eggs. your mouth would sour, bile rising to the back of your throat, and you tasted salt on your cracked lips.

what was so special about her?

she was so… ordinary.

slow and uncoordinated and nothing like you. she tripped a little over her own feet, giggling sweetly at her own mishap. and you stood there judging her for it, still as marble. you, a lethal machine made of fluid metal, forged from the steel that toji had made you from.

your finger twitched on the handle of the gun in your pocket.

you could do it now.

you could pull the trigger, plant a bullet with your name on it right through the space in between her eyes, and be gone before her brain splattered all over those perfectly pink peaches on the fruit stand. you wanted to. oh god, you really wanted to.

but you couldn’t.

toji was hers now, in body and name, and that was his choice. you never once crucified him for what he had done in his life, and only ever following the script of the religion the two of you had made.

why would you start now?

you turned, leaving the dry, cool air of the grocery store behind as you slipped through the sea of people outside.

you never saw her again.

but you saw toji.

you hadn’t expected to. he was just standing there in your apartment, looking around at the things you hadn’t changed since he left, a baby on his hip staring at you with the same green wildfire in his eyes as toji. you didn’t ask what happened, and you didn’t care to know. but you knew she must have died, because there was no other reason why he would have come back.

the two of you couldn’t slip into the same pattern as you did before. you couldn’t, it just wasn’t the same. there were arms of marble wrapped around your body, cradling you in a cold embrace, and you buried yourself in it. toji didn’t care about your silence. he didn’t care about anything anymore, except perhaps money. it flowed like water through his spread fingers, because he never even thought all that much about holding onto it.

not for you, not for megumi.

you’d raise a questioning brow at him whenever he asked you to come to pachinko parlors, like nothing at change, pointedly glancing at his son sleeping quietly on your futon.

toji only scoffed and left anyway.

that was one of the last times you ever saw him.

one day, you came back to an empty apartment again. toji had taken megumi with him, and you didn’t think much of it. he was practically a ghost, he would only come back if he wanted to. for the most part, you didn’t care if he did. but there was a small part of you, one that you tried to ignore, that told you it was different this time.

a few years later, you found a man standing outside the door of your apartment.

he said his name was shiu kong, and that toji had told him to come here. when you asked why, he’d only motioned for you to follow him to his car. and there was megumi sitting inside, a little older, bigger, and so much more like toji. there was a baby sleeping next to him, a girl swaddled in baby pink blankets.

shiu shrugged helplessly, sighing as he lit up a cigarette, before opening the backseat door.

“he said you’d take them,” he muttered, taking another long, slow drag from his cigarette. “said you’re the only person who can look after them.”

toji had never once given you softness. he never promised you love or patience. he never gave any part of himself to you. but this? maybe this was his way of finally saying something to you after all this time. he could never give himself to you, but as you looked at the two precious blessings sitting in the back seat, you knew that he was giving you something.

you tended to those two kids with quiet diligence, slipping into a domestic rhythm with them that was oddly comforting. you made sure they ate, bathed, and slept properly. it was important to you that you were a steady presence in their lives, and even when the silence stretched on, you made sure that it was never lonely or cold. you watched them not out of obligation, but from something real and good inside you. it kept you tethered to toji, even if he never called or visited once.

you like to think you felt something the day he died.

that you felt the chains around your wrists shatter like glass, and that you felt the thing chained around your ribcage loosen for the first time. you gasped as your lungs pulled in a sweet, fresh inhale of air you never imagined could feel so clean.

you cried like never before, and you haven’t since.

megumi told you a strange boy with white hair had visited him the morning after, saying something odd about working hard and getting stronger. you clenched your fists at that. megumi didn’t need to be stronger. he didn’t need to be anything other than who he was, because he had you to be strong for him. you’d take the blows for him, bleed to death for him and tsumiki if you needed to, would rage a war for them.

you’d only be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t love them just as much as you had loved toji.

so, you went with megumi to that school for sorcerers when he was older. the higher ups had tried to keep you out, but it was that strange boy – satoru gojo – who convinced them to let you stay.

megumi was so quiet those first few months, kept to himself mostly, and you wondered if that was because of you. it wasn’t from his mother; she’d been full of life, nothing at all like you. he’d never once called you his mother, he knew you never were to begin with and you never tried to pretend otherwise. still, he was like you, with the face of his father staring back at you.

sometimes, you had to look away.

but megumi was also good. he pretended not to care about things, but he really did. it was in the way he fought alongside his classmates, in the way he knew to hold your hand when you woke up in a sweat haze, plagued by the screams and the locusts and oceans of blood in your dreams. it was in the way he dried your tears with his hand, wiping away the sweat on your forehead with the edge of his sleeve, before he crawled back into his futon.

through him, you became something better – a person who actually deserved to live.

the day megumi told you that something big was happening in shibuya, you didn’t question him at all. you just strapped your old weapons to your back and agreed to go with him.

and you saw him again.

toji.

but it wasn’t him.

his eyes were black, pupils barely visible. a washed-out white cotton sweater hung off him like a blanket of death. you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. he had a grin on his face, wolfish and unsettling, and you knew he was out to draw blood. his fangs bared at megumi, and you knew that it would be either you or his son that died that day. you pushed megumi away, letting toji grab you and throw both of you out of the window.

and so, you met one last time.

the final, greatest battle between two old gods.

but you didn’t fight like gods this time. there was no glory, no grace. it was jagged and brutal, repeated collisions of bodies that had forgotten how to move together. you thought you might remember the steps to this dance. but you didn’t, not as well as you thought. maybe because you were older, just a little slower, or because everything was different this time.

this wasn’t toji.

his body was written in a language you couldn’t read – something ancient and dead, lost in a world you were never once apart of.

there was a ringing in your ears, like rain drums.

the gods are calling me home.

toji’s fist slammed into your ribs, and you heard a deep crack in the once perfect marble of your body. your vision blurred at the edges, your eyes watering and reacting to the pain before you did.

“fuck you,” you snapped, your fingernails tearing at his cheeks and lips. “i won’t cry for you anymore.”

he didn’t answer.

his breath rattled in his ribs, his body sagging on top of you. you stared into his eyes, black as a void, empty as death.

and then you saw it.

a flicker of something familiar. a spark of a chained god you once knew. was that sorrow you saw, or regret? perhaps, once upon a time, you and toji could have been someone else. that you both could have lived differently, been more than broken pawns doomed to die, whether it was now or in a hundred years. a sadness for the indisputable truth that you both knew that this was the only possible way it could have all ended.

in the end, you were grateful that you had known toji fushiguro.

©storiesoflilies 2025, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance Valentine's Day Special

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Valentine's Day Special 2025

            “Welcome to the P.K. Academy Valentine’s Day Dance!” said Hairo, standing onstage and smiling at his classmates. “I hope you all have a great evening! We’ve got food, drinks, some games on tables, and music. Let me know if you need anything. Now, let’s dance!” Behind him, the hired band struck up, and the students cheered.

            “Hairo did a great job planning!” said Kuboyasu.

            “What’s with all the hearts? Is this a surgery party?” said Nendou.

            “Idiot.”

            “No, this is for Valentine’s Day,” said Kaidou.

            “Not that it matters, we’re all single,” sighed Yumehara.

            “Not everyone,” said Kuboyasu.

            “I’m just lucky,” said (Y/N), beaming at Saiki.

            He softened slightly as they looked at him and nodded. I’m the lucky one. “Yes.”

            “We should try some of the cupcakes, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), eyes landing on the tables of sweets. “Have fun, you guys!” They looped their arm around Saiki’s and dragged him towards the side of the room.

            I’m jealous.

            Saiki smirked at everyone’s thoughts. Yeah, well, they’re my partner.

            (Y/N) and Saiki each grabbed a cupcake and bit into it. They sighed happily. They were delicious.

            “Red velvet,”��said Saiki, nodding approvingly.

            “Look!” (Y/N) held up the candy heart decorating their cupcake. “ ‘Ur cute!’ ” They grinned at him.

            Saiki managed not to blush at the compliment, so honest coming from (Y/N). He looked at the candy heart on his cupcake. “ ‘Be mine.’ ”

            (Y/N) laughed. “I’m already yours,” they said.

            Saiki was very glad they were.

            (Y/N) looked over at where their friends hovered at the side of the dance floor. “Hm…”

            “(Y/N).”

            “What?” said (Y/N) “innocently.”

            “You’re thinking of getting up to something,” said Saiki.

            “…Yes,” said (Y/N), smiling. “I was thinking of getting some of our friends to dance.”

            “I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I?” said Saiki.

            “Nope!” chirped (Y/N). “Be right back!” They handed their cupcake to Saiki and ran back towards their friends.

            Saiki stood and watched, curious about what they were planning on. They talked to several people, gesturing to the dance floor. A few people turned red, and (Y/N) laughed, dragging them out.

            Huh, thought Saiki.

            (Y/N) stood with a pleased smile and hands on their hips, looking at the dancing partners they made. Dancing not well were Kaidou and Kuboyasu. Neither had grace, but they were having a lot of fun, that was for sure. Kaidou was red in the face, but that was nothing compared to his thoughts—not that Kuboyasu was much better. And as for the other couple, Rifuta was turning bright red as well as she held Teruhashi’s hands and danced. Teruhashi was smiling kindly at Rifuta, and Saiki sighed. Hopefully everyone staring at the cutest and most beautiful girls in the world meant no one would pay attention to him. He wanted some peace and quiet with (Y/N).

            Speaking of which, they had returned to his side. “What do you think of my work?” They grinned.

            “It might work,” said Saiki.

            “Might get a few people some love lives,” joked (Y/N).

            “And get people to stop bugging us,” said Saiki.

            “Come on, Kusuo, it’s Valentine’s Day! Have some romantic spirit,” teased (Y/N). “We’re not the only ones who get to date.”

            “Yare yare,” said Saiki, and (Y/N) just laughed. “Fine.”

            “Fine?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “Fine.” Saiki took (Y/N)’s hands. “You want romantic spirit. You’ll get some.”

            “So sweet,” said (Y/N).

            “Do you want to dance?” asked Saiki, looking at them

            (Y/N) brightened. “I’d love to.”

            Saiki led them to the dance floor, and (Y/N) happily held his hands. Playfully, they spun him, and Saiki indulged them. He was unable to ever say no to his partner. He loved them too much. (Y/N) grinned at him, and he twirled them in return, and as they laughed, Saiki smiled. Moving with the music, he held them and spun them in the air, and (Y/N) held onto him, letting out a yelp of surprise but smiling. When they spun back to the ground, (Y/N) landed with their arms around his neck and his around their waist.

            “Thanks for always indulging me,” said (Y/N).

            “You make things fun,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N)’s smile was full of warmth and love. “So do you.” They pulled him closer. “I love you, Kusuo.”

            “I love you, too.” And Saiki dipped them into a kiss.

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[joongdunking]

"Sexiest places to visit near me" with fadelstyle x ais play

Plant nursery: 10/10

There's a haunted atmosphere, but the ghosts can't do anything while you're getting it on. All the gardener's ghost can do is watch with his hands on his hips while you love on each other. but don't do anything 18+. The trees were only planted 3 days ago, they aren't of legal age yet.

Car repair shop: 7/10

If your car breaks down, but your legs are still working fine, then just walk! This garage is closed for repairs. I called for the technician 3 hours ago, but no one is coming.

Storage room: 7.5/10

Dragged him into the storage room to curse him out, but there doesn't seem to be any insulting going on here. If the chairs had teeth, they'd all be pervertedly protruding out of their mouths. #SpicyStorage

Burger restaurant's kitchen: -1,000,000/10

Rating from the POV of waiting customers. Once you guys are full from eating each other, please come out to serve the fujoshis their meals.

The gym: 2/10

People who just want to exercise can't make any progress when you're being all "creamy" with each other. The innocent bystanders' heart rates will drop to 0.

Sauna: 6/10

One seduces while the other gets entranced.1 point because you need to mind your manners when it gets steamy in the sauna, but another 5 points for the guy who got steamy by himself in his bedroom afterwards and used up all the tissues.

Translation credit

[titaniaqueenoffairie]

Was the Story of Rhysand’s Mother and Sister’s Death Really That Black and White?

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about the story of Rhys’s mother and sister’s death, and honestly… are we really sure we got the whole truth? We only hear about it from Rhys’s perspective, but something about the way he tells it feels so specific, like it’s framed to paint Tamlin (even though he wasn’t directly involved) as this ultimate villain—or at least to fit the narrative that Tamlin comes from this brutal, dishonorable bloodline.

But here’s the thing

we never get Tamlin’s side. And love him or hate him, we can all agree he’s not exactly the most talkative guy. He has massive communication issues (which, let’s be real, was the root of his entire conflict with Feyre), and even when Feyre asked him about it, he barely responded—was it grief? Guilt? Something else? (love maybe?? see this post for this incredible theory)

And looking at everything we do know about Tamlin’s character, does it really track that he would’ve just stood by and let two innocent people be murdered?

This is the same guy who:

Risked his life to save Feyre, Elain, and the human girl (and Azriel) from Hybern’s war camp.

Went to war without an army to fight for what was right.

Dragged Beron by the neck (which was very hot and very unspokable about) and forced him to help.

Revived his literal enemy (Rhys), even though he had every reason not to—because it was the right thing to do.

Does that sound like the kind of man who would just go along with something so dishonorable? Especially when Rhys himself was supposed to be in his mother and sister’s place?

I can’t shake the feeling that there’s so much more to this story—maybe even more than Rhys himself realizes. Thoughts?

[joocomics]

1k followers celebration event — ⌞⌗ xdh drabble⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 soft!dom!seungmin x sub!reader x mean!dom!junhan

genre: smut ( 18+ ) wc: 0.9

request: “does she deserve to cum? what do you think?” + corruption kink

contains: threesome, less experienced!reader, corruption kink, light degradation, orgasm control (reader!rec), orgasm denial (reader!rec), sensory play (restraints and blindfolds), oral sex (m!rec), dirty talk, pet names, name calling (slut once)

[ event masterlist | xdinary heroes masterlist ]

“We’ve seen the way you look at people.”

“Surely you’ve had your tongue down someone’s throat before.”

“You can’t be that innocent.”

Rolling your eyes, you try to look unfazed by the comments of your two friends, but you feel blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Rules are rules.” Seungmin glances down at the scattered Truth or Dare cards on the floor - the game that had you admitting you’ve never been french kissed before and now had led you to this situation. “You have to pick.”

You try to steady your excited breaths as your gaze flickers between the boys in front of you.

Seungmin crosses his arms, still resting against the couch meanwhile Hyeongjun propps one knee up lazily, his arm hanging over it as he speaks up; his voice much lower than it was moments ago.

“It’s all just for fun.”

For a moment, you wonder if there’s any chance you can back out… or worse - just kiss both of them.

“I choose Seungmin.”

Hyeongjun's lips twitch crookedly as he glances over at his friend who's tittering.

“See?” You burst out with frustration. “This is why I don't want to do this!”

“Really? It's not because you're worried you're gonna like it too much?” Seungmin raises an eyebrow.

“You guys are ridiculous”, you murmur, looking away from their puckish smiles. You hear Hyeongjun's subtle chuckling.

But your body speaks for itself too much already - your chest heavens at the idea of this possible kiss, your skin runs hot and you keep biting your lip without even realising...

“Alright,” Hyeongjun sighs, “it's time to get your first french kiss.”

You go over to Seungmin after Hyeongjun signals you with a quick tilt of his head.

Seungmin takes your face in his hands and the next moment you feel his lips - warm and inviting. They separate your mouth slowly, cautious not to overwhelm you, before his tongue flickers playfully against yours in a nice rhythm.

You don't back away, because you don't want to; instead, you let him deepen the kiss until he turns you dizzy with a burning urge to take a proper breath.

“If you don't want me and Hyeongjun to be mad at each other over this then maybe you should kiss him too.” Seungmin's smooth voice drips with lust; his soft lips curl with assurance, knowingly. “After that, we can show you some other fun things we know.”

They said that tying you up and blindfolding you would help you completely immerse yourself in the pleasure, and they were right.

Instead of getting distracted by their good looks, and the appealing view of their hands crawling up your body, you're now perfectly focused on their touch, and their mellow voices accompanying it in the darkness, only making it more impactful.

The moment they pulled the first orgasm out of you, you realised nobody has touched you like this before, and the moment they got the second one, you knew the chance of experiencing something incredible like this again is pretty low; nonexistent.

You doubt that you'd ever meet someone with such strong patience like theirs - along with other several good qualities both of them posses. They build up each orgasm in your core with diligence; with slow studying of your body simultaneously taking your reactions and overall behaviour into consideration.

Which results into them letting you cum when they think it's the right time for you to cum.

“You pretended to be all innocent and pure for so long,” Hyeongjun drags his curled fingers out of you, guiding them up to your clit in an insufferably slow pace; the slippery moisture provides him with the best surface to glide his digits on. “Looks like you’re truly yourself now.”

“J-Jun—“ You stutter; the scorching knot of pleasure is extremely close to bursting as he swipes his fingertips faster, “p-please, please, can I cum, please?”

“Does she deserve to cum?” Seungmin glances at his friend whose hand turns wildly speedy. “What do you think?”

You know what's about to happen - it's as though your broken whines, indicating how little you need in order to reach your peak, are provoking them to tee you off with another denial.

“Maybe not yet.” Hyeongjun lets out a brief chuckle, noticing how you clench your fists.

“Sorry, baby.” Seungmin whispers above you, gently returning the head of his cock between your lips - the same moment Hyeongjun breaks off your rush, causing you to groan frustratedly with full mouth. “Shhh, it’s okay…”

Seungmin's touch is familiar yet holding a sort of newfound weight as he keeps your head tilted with one hand so he can glide further into your throat.

A moment passes before you hear Hyeongjun's voice again; you really have to concentrate on what he's saying at this point as your mind is muzzy from so much stimulation.

“Are you curious to know what you taste like?”

You make out something wicked tugging at his lips.

Seungmin pulls out with a sigh and you gasp for air.

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, panting through your drooling mouth as you centre your head against the pillow. “Show me, please…”

You're unable to stop your thighs from rubbing together as you anticipate to welcome Hyeongjun's fingers.

Once they rest on top of your flat tongue, spreading your arousal in small circles, your lips close, wanting to earn more.

“You like how your pussy tastes?” Seungmin asks softly; you still haven't unwrapped your lips yet when you humm in agreement. “I bet it’s sweet like your mouth.”

“You know,” Hyeongjun’s voice spreads slightly closer than usual, allowing you to feel his warm breath brushing the skin of your half-hidden face, “that’s how sluts taste.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[satureja13]

On a grey and hazy morning on whatever planet they were on, Sai got up early to check if the solar radiation storms had stopped. Seemingly. The lights were on, the droids hummed and beeped and did whatever they were supposed to do.

And the registration office was manned too. Awesome! Registration Office Droid: "Good Morning, Sir. My name is hephaestus. How can I help you today?" Ah a nice and friendly officer! That's a sight to behold ö.ö Quickly get that code, grab the others and leave to find the tin can! To finally get that Therapy Game stopped!

Saiwa: "Good Morning, hephaestus. I'm Saiwa and I need a registration code for our droid scanner." hephaestus: "Very well, Sir. Fill out this form, please." Sai did as told and handed the form back. hephaestus: "Due to your statements, you need the scan permission only once." Saiwa: "That's correct." hephaestus: "To locate and eliminate the astromech 'Tiny Can' who runs the 'Therapy Game'." Saiwa: "Also correct."

hephaestus: "Permission denied." Saiwa: "What? But we need to stop him!" hephaestus' face display went black, blinked and showed the following: 'Initiating Calm Protocol - 187b for difficult customers - please wait...' Sai blinked too. Difficult customer? How ...? Then hephaestus came back: "Sir, we ask you to leave quietly before we inform the authorities for attempt murder of a sentient being. I don't know where you come from, but we take androids rights very serious. Punishing an android without a fair trial is illegal and will result in prosecution. You are hereby banned from this planet. Head directly - and with no detours - to the shuttle landing site. The drones will track you." Saiwa: "But..." hephaestus: "Immediately!"

And really, a drone poped up above Saiwa and followed him! Drone: "Run!" And Sai ran. Seems he's getting some of his own medicine here ö.ö' As often as he'd said that to Jack ^^'

How are they supposed to stop the tin can now from dragging more and more innocent people into that damn game?

The drone shot a warning bolt at Sai. Saiwa: "OUCH!" Drone. "Keep running."

He has to contact the others before the shuttle leaves! Luckily he can run and text Jeb at the same time!

It seems they still have time, no shuttle in sight. Phew.

Sai sent Jeb another message and told them to hurry up! But Jack is missing!

He thought he was the first to wake up and also went to the registration office ^^' Jack: "Good day, dear friend. I'm Jack and an astromech friend of me went missing. Is there anything I can do?" hephaestus: "Good day, Jack. My name is hephaestus and I'm always glad to help. Do you have a droid scanner?"

Jack: "Yes." hephaestus: "Perfect. Here is the permission code. I hope you get your friend back soon. Good luck! Oh, and there is some brute out there who is trying to harm your friend! Make sure to desintegrate him before he suceeds!" Jack: "WHAT? Oh my! Sure, will do, thanks for the warning!" hephaestus: "Have a good day!" Jack: "You too!"

Then Jack went over to the market. To look if there are more of these books available. Kiyoshi: "Jack! JACK!? Where are you?" Jack: "Over here. There are more of these books!"

Kiyoshi: "Oh. Do you really want to read more of them?" Jack: "Sure! Maybe I'll find one about the Night Shadow/Saiwa hahaha." Kiyoshi: "But what if it's about Conny/me and the Night Shadow?" Jack: "Ugh, that would be weird..." Kiyoshi: "Jack, we need to leave. We're in kind of a kerfuffle and have to take the first shuttle. Hurry if you want to buy them."

Kiyoshi went ahead and one of the aliens came up to him. Alien: "I see you're checking out. We hope you enjoyed your stay. Let's see. Three of the 'Mother's Sweetest' Suites, no breakfast. Makes 1387 credits." Kiyoshi: "Eh, sure."

Alien: "The Mother Plant surely was in a mood yesterday, huh?" The alien winked and nudged Kiyoshi twice. Kiyoshi: "?" Alien: "The solar radiation storms enhance the Romantium in her tank, you know? You used the hot tub. You must have felt it." Kiyoshi to himself: "So these really were tentacles we felt???" Jack: "What?" Kiyhoshi: "Nothing!"

They caught the shuttle just in time and headed back to Great A'Tuin II...

It seems Jack found more of the spicy books. We got no likes on the post with the first of these books, so I thought it was a bit much ö.Ö' Or maybe you read/liked it and just wanted to stay anonymous?

Omg I just wanted to move the Boys and Lenny back to Great A'Tuin II, went in build mode from the map (to make the ship accessable for Lenny, since he can't teleport) and when I returned to manage worlds, the endless loading screen happened! So even though we don't have a single of these damn rental lots in the game (I even deleted the ones in Tomarang that came with For Rent), the save corruption hit us too? ö.ö' I hope we can at least shoot the last episodes until our inZOI break in March. That save is 10+ years old T.T Even though I make an update each month, it's still a pain.

Today's song is not lyrics/mood related to the episode, as always. Its MV inspired me to build this lot. And: the main cast includes a goat 🐐

Bouncy - ATEEZ

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter 'Goats in Space': starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Piglets in Space' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-29

[bunabi]

i've just been quietly blocking every time i see it, but i have seen a lot of people being like... weirdly invested in "solas is DUMPING lavellan in favour of rook 😤" in a way that is a bit needlessly inflammatory. it's weird to predicate enjoyment of a ship on complaining about another one, and sometimes has a weird undertone in "lavellan is a simp, but my oc is so much cooler and better". i don't care for the "solas is an innocent meow meow" type of vibe either, but i feel like that's more standard behaviour that happens to any character, and doesn't seem like it's intended to drag in a different ship and instigate a reaction from others. and that's a corollary to how fans in general have a huge difficulty in ever acknowledging that characters could be racist on an in-character or writing level, especially if it's a romanceable one.

but in conclusion, i think veilguard was just so poorly written in general that people have very little to actually discuss or get excited about producing themselves, aside from beefing with other people. and the developers' weird commentary on solas doesn't help either, hah. perhaps it'll get even weirder than the unhinged cullen fics and ai next!

At this point I think people are just doubling-down to get a rise out of each other. I've seen as many 'Solrook is a lowly crackship that fantasizes about him cheating' posts as 'Solavellan is misogynistic and glorifies submission over equal partnership' posts.

It would help if there was a DLC or second season of Absolution to distract from this wouldn't it? Well this is where we find ourselves.

It really is too bad. The most gorgeous spread of companions by far but without that emotional connection to them its hard to feel invested in fanart. Speaking for myself. 🥲

[forthegothicheroine]

You folks seem to be biting, so here goes.

Checkmate Lincolnites is a webseries about debunking pro-Confederate "Lost Cause" pseudohistory. The first episode started off as youtuber (and horror filmmaker) Andrew Rakich making fun of obnoxious commenters on his history videos, but later episodes became more involved and in-depth. At this point, the characters of Billy Yank and Johnny Reb solidified, a pair of homoerotic frenemies who are either military history buffs or actual Union and Confederate soldiers, depending on what's funnier for a given joke. Importantly, while Johnny Reb still reads objectively (and often comically) wrong arguments from the comment section, he's supposed to be the kind of person who was taught a bunch of lies which he's invested in due to his pride, but who knows slavery is wrong and doesn't want to think of himself as racist.

And then at the end, the series turns into what Billy Yank calls "a Sam Raimi movie." Andrew Rakich is, remember, a horror filmmaker whose favorite movie is Ravenous.

The dark horror comedy finale is where the overt folk horror stuff comes in which initially prompted me to make this post. Dark magic brings an army of the undead crawling out of their graves to try to reestablish their old ways, and the heroes gain an uncomfortable ally in The Witchfinder General of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay (that's his name), who would be a villain in any other folk horror movie but just in this one specific case happens to be right about there being demons and necromancy afoot. (He's far less evil than Vincent Price's Witchfinder General, but has killed a lot of innocent people and communes with a bloodthirsty supernatural being who claims to be Jesus but sure doesn't seem like it.)

But if we want to get philosophical about folk horror, it's rooted in the series from the very premise. Johnny Reb stands in for people who were brought up with pro-Confederate beliefs by their communities, and as Billy Yank points out in the episode "Is Civil War History Being Rewritten?", those communities were founded along pretty straightforwardly cultish lines. Learning about the catechisms written and taught by groups like the Sons of Confederate Veterans or Daughter of the Confederacy, recited at annual celebrations, at least one of which calls upon "the god of Jeff Davis" is seriously chilling. If folk horror draws upon fears of the Bad Old Ways, then look no damn further.

As Billy Yank finally explodes at Johnny:

"You think I'm the bad guy? No! I'm coddling you, like the big fucking baby you are, trying to gently COAX you into the 21st century before the people behind me fucking DRAG you there! People think you are a FUCKING JOKE, Johnny! You've been discredited time and again, your monuments are coming down, your staunchest advocates are doddering old fools and pretty soon, they're gonna be in the fuckinig ground!"

What would it take to break someone out of that kind of old time religion? His very ancestral heroes appearing before him as grotesque monsters to gloat that everything bad he's heard about them is true? Or would even that not be enough?

In true horror fashion, Johnny can only see the truth once it's too late.

(But thankfully, going by the comments saying these videos broke people out of the Lost Cause beliefs they'd been taught, it wasn't too late for everyone.)

I wonder if I can convincingly argue that the Checkmate Lincolnites series is folk horror.

[userarmand]

The wilderness that is our daughter. I think the medication has overwhelmed our boy.

[andi-o-geyser]

all my favourite characters are just people i see who make me go "damn you sure do clean up well but I'd much rather see you grinning with blood between your teeth"

[messiahzzz]

i’ve seen many people interpret gale’s outrage at nettie poisoning the player as concern for them. that it’s super sweet how much he cares and how protective he is over tav after they had just met. while he (naturally) does care about his companions, it should be pretty obvious that he is mostly projecting here. he states so himself:

player: are you all right, gale?

gale: yes. yes, i am. it's just that, had it been me... had it been...

gale is terrified of what would’ve happened if he had met the same fate. if all of his precautions had been rendered irrelevant merely due to the self-righteousness of some healer, acting as a judge over another’s life without being aware of the consequences. the destruction nettie would’ve unleashed, how many innocents she would’ve doomed to death, merely because she believed she was doing the right thing.

gale is furious at nettie’s ignorance.

gale: how dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle?

player: she thought she was doing the right thing.

gale: right? she had no right!

player: it was one hell of a surprise, but nettie came around!

gale: yes - against her will, without rhyme or reason!

gale: it's not right to feel the cold breath of death in your neck, then move on as if it was nothing but a soothing breeze.

gale: one respects life by fighting for it, and one respects death by fearing it.

once the orb becomes too unstable (if tav refuses to help gale with his condition and elminster doesn't stabilize the orb) he will state that he can’t stay any longer with good conscience. he will then leave the party immediately, search for a secluded place and wait for death to take him.

gale: i'm afraid this is where we part ways - my condition's deteriorated beyond even my capacity to salvage.

gale: it would be selfish of me to stay, when in doing so i'd be putting you, and everyone else within spitting distance in catastrophic peril.

[nodecontext: saddened - he's about to wander off into the wilderness to die, essentially]

[shannonsketches]

He said "Fuck this shit, I'm out" I'm crying. Toriyama's Vegeta was so top shelf 🤌

(From Neko Majin Z Chapter 5!)

[hearts401]

Nothing in a superhero story hits me quite as hard as a superhero seeing their sidekick/computer guy get hurt

[finisnihil]

I should check on HoyoLab to see if there's anything about the new update

*Opens HoyoLab to immediately see somebody getting flamed for disliking Jade, seeing rampant Ruan Mei hate, and seeing people call Sunday a facist*

Actually I think I need a drink.