#full offense intended

[spirkbitch]

just saw a post saying there was still ‘hope’ for spapel… you do remember that this is a prequel right? like have y’all even watched tos? because if that’s what you’re hoping for from snw i have some serious doubts about your media literacy skills

[here-but-forgotten]

I think I’m just bitter from the American education system but it annoys me when I see STEM academia posts about how it’s so neglected— no it’s not. My school alloted so much shit to science and maths. I didn’t get to have almost any English, composition, reading, arts, or humanities classes. STEM is already loved and seen as the “right” academics or the “ones that are useful”. Any amount of art and humanities and actual literature classes are dying in the name of college board and school budgets. I don’t want to hear shit about STEM anymore. It was either you’re good at STEM or you’re not good at anything useful. I promise you no one is neglecting STEM in the same way as the humanities.

[leon-boytoy-kennedy]

"hmm is this manipulated character who hides secrets for the government for the sake of his own life and the lives of other people he cares for the example of gray morality? Obviously!"

I just saw a screenshot of someone defining Leon as a MORALE GREY CHARACTER

LEON. MORALE. GREY. BECAUSE. HE. WORKS. FOR. THE. GOVERNMENT. AND. CHOSES. TO. HIDE. THE. TRUTH. FOR. THE GOVERNMENT'S. SAKE. ...

HMMMM...

This fandom tires me... PLEASE. PLEASE TRY A LIFE OUTSIDE OF THE SHIPPING FANDOM

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.

[caparrucia]

Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

[peppermint-toads]

quick thought about cockwarming simon on a camping trip.

he’s taken you deep into the woods, somewhere nice and safe and secluded, a place both of you could relax without worrying about anybody else.

he wouldn’t let you help him set up the tent, insisted it was easier if he just did it himself.

you’ve learned not to take offense when he says things like that. just because he never intends to hurt your feelings, it’s usually just true.

he also insisted on buying the biggest, fanciest tent available.

no, simon isn’t usually so flashy, but he wanted this to feel like an escape.

the inflatable mattress he packed was topped with a plush mattress pad, and he definitely didn’t skimp on the blankets and pillows.

it was certainly more comfortable than most of the places simon has found himself sleeping in before.

you were hesitant about the whole trip when the radar showed rain, but simon just grunted when you shared the news.

it was like him to shrug off something that should’ve ruined your weekend away.

and it did rain, but simon came prepared for that, of course.

he packed two tarps, one for underneath the tent, and one to drape over the tent for extra protection from the downpour.

now here you are, pleasantly full of your boyfriend, listening to the rain hit the tarp and roll down the sides.

despite the relatively cool weather, your cheeks are flush with warmth.

you feel the heat radiating from the tops of simon’s thighs and you sigh. his huge hand is petting back your hair, and even though he’s not entirely graceful about it because he’s half asleep, it’s still nice, and you’ll still complain if he stops.

feeling the weight of him between your own thighs calms you to sleep. the pressure of him filling you up so well and the soothing smell of the rain sends you right to sleep in his arms.

[ironclawallosaur]

"Hey, hey!" I yelled from inside my unassailable fortress. Once it had been a suburban shed, but I'd cut and welded pieces of an abandoned semi and downed signposts to the weakpoints, wrapped concertina-wire around the whole thing, and built it into a structure of unassailable might, with firing-holes and even a spot for boiling oil. Not that it did me much good any more.

Outside, the two girls paused. One was wearing a teal hoodie, the other a chunky earthtone sweater.

"Oh, hey Earl!" Sweater called. "Thank you for your service!"

I growled aloud. I knew I was a minor celebrity—hell, I was the reason this particular neighborhood was free!

Sure, I didn't know the CDC would manage to hack together a vaccine within a couple of years, that a government that could rarely keep the roads intact would manage to create safezones that kept the majority of America's population from succumbing, that our porous borders would manage to slam shut while we were the only ones affected, much less that Corid of all substances would effect a cure on all but the most advanced cases... but I'd been publicly thanked for my part in safeguarding humanity, even in the absurd confines of depopulate suburbia. President Donaldson had shaken my hand and everything.

No, I was good on the fame front.

"I'm not fishing for complements!" I barked at her. "I want to make a deal!" Sweater looked vaguely irritated, but Hoodie seemed intrigued.

It wasn't like I couldn't go back—my wife had thankfully been away in one of the Green Zones during the initial outbreak, and we'd long since cleaned the house out from the zombie rats and the flesh flies that had accompanied the hordes. I spent four nights a week in our house, most of them curled up next to her and thankful for every moment.

It was just... when it came to putting that spot in our lives behind us, she liked to roleplay endless scenarios of being stuck at the airport with others who'd been caught in the Green Zones similarly. No, not that kind of roleplay—get your mind out of the gutter—but the sort of scenario where she'd travel somewhere in the States or abroad only to hear again "The United States is under quarantine. Please remain calm and move to the nearest designated Green Zone officer." and how, this time, she would respond.

Me, however? I have my "man cave" shed full of all the supplies I thought I'd need for the end of the world, and a full character that had evolved through 46 months of bizarre interactions with my fellow left-behind survivors.

And the supplies... well, they needed to be downsized.

"I wanted to ask ya if ya knew anyone who wanted 100 cases of MREs." I clarified.

Sweater pulled a face, but Hoodie laughed. "Ah, sure thing Earl, my brother's all trying to get prepared for when the Vaxx turns people into More and Worse zombies! I'll give you his digits."

I looked around at the pallets and pallets worth of MREs, 40 years' supply of ready-to-eat "food".

In the few years the outbreak had lasted, I'd learned a lot of valuable things. The importance of sticking together and listening. That willpower could overcome an awful lot. That most domestic animals were immune to the shambling hordes unless they too became zombies. That even a stupid little neighborhood in southern Michigan could be a hill worth dying on.

But the very most important lesson was that MREs sucked.

I grimaced, and looked back out the firing-hole. "Think he might want a few more than that?"

When the zombie apocalypse came, you were prepared. What you weren’t prepared for was how quickly it ended.

[st4rbwrry]

𝒩𝒪𝒪𝒦𝐼𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: getou isn’t fond of the new gardener you hired who’s clearly flirting with you when he’s not home.

warnings ౨ৎ 2.7k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, cunninglingus/face riding, cottage core au? + getou’s a farmer, missionary in da kitchen, praising ofc, exhibitionism, jealousy, possessiveness, getou’s kinda rude, sub / dom dynamic, established relationship, rough play, m oral, impact play, unprotected, pet names ex. [ baby, sweetheart ], minors aren’t welcomed! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

getou doesn’t appreciate that you aren’t greeting him with his usual kisses after you raise on your tippy toes to smooch him after he comes home from a long day of churning butter and tending to livestock. it doesn’t make him happy to know that you’re not tending to his attention and rather giving it to another man after he strolls through your large kitchen, that he built for you, to head into the back of your farmhouse to find you giggling and conversing with the new gardener. a gardener that you personally hired that he had yet to meet.

he could smell the pan of shepherds pie and cornbread in the oven, ignoring the way his stomach growls hungrily and it quickly being consumed with irritation. you’re wearing your cute pink apron with tiny patterns of sunflowers and bunnies as you hold a woven basket of freshly picked strawberries the man before you tossed into. having a conversation about fucking strawberries. he didn’t expect this man to be. . . of your type. tall, nice smile, good hair, makes you laugh a little too fucking hard. what about fruits could possibly be so fucking funny, [♡]?

“what a surprise,” getou’s voice is laced with annoyance, deep and causing the two to go silent as he makes his way down the steps to stand directly next to you. you blink, knowing your husband very well and easily you could tell he’s off.

“hi, baby! this is matteo, he’s our new gardener! we were talking a lot about the new setup i plan on having!” the smile on your face is pure, looking back and forth between getou and your gardener. “he just started today.”

“hey, man. nice to meet you. your wife told me all about you,” matteo remains professional, extending his hand for a handshake. you roll your lips in, waiting for your husband to comply with respect. it’s silent as you stare between both men, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck rise from anxiousness.

“mhm,” is all getou can say, matteo taken aback by his approach. it’s extremely rude, and you blink excessively to keep your composure. taking a deep breath, you form a tight lipped smile towards your gardener.

“excuse me for a moment,” you speak, side eyeing getou before pulling him to the side, matteo continuing his job by picking juicy fruits from their stems.

“what’s your deal? that was fucking rude,” you denounce, gawking up at him with a raised brow. getou folds his bulky arms, not understanding how you’re acting dumb right now. you knew this would piss him off.

getou leans down to get closer to you, lips inches from your ear. “who told you to hire somebody like this?"

"hire somebody like what?" the man retaliates, overhearing getou’s weak attempt of whispering to you, taking offense. regardless, he spoke on his name when he was right there.

getou turns his face only an inch or so, barely giving the man full attention. you swallow, his face nearly touching your own possessively, like an animal protecting it’s mate. getou then switches his eyes fully, intensely staring at the man. "like someone she'd fuck."

his immature response causes you to step away from him with a look of disgust, brows pinched with anger. you couldn’t believe his mouth. you’re not sure what the fuck’s gotten into him, but it wasn’t cute. quite frankly, he looked stupid.

“you’re making a fucking fool of yourself,” you spat, eyes burning. knocking your head back in the sweet gardeners direction, you hold your hand over your heart apologetically. “i am truly sorry for my husband’s rudeness. please forgive me for this, but i think it’s best if you go. i will give you a call tomorrow. i’m sorry again.”

the man nods only once, keeping his focus solely on you, not even bothering to glance in your husband’s direction. his possessiveness a black cloud over the party. “it’s not a problem at all. have a great rest of your day, ma’am.”

the minute your gardener is out of view, that’s when you give getou an irritated snarl, looking him up and down as if the man had no shame. which he didn’t, and that was the problem. “what is wrong with you?!”

getou intakes air as you strut away angrily, heading back into your kitchen to adapt into the ignoring him bubble and completely tuning into your dinner prepping. since you have freshly picked strawberries, you decided to start a mixture for muffins you could sell to the neighborhood tomorrow morning. a festival was being held at the ranch a few blocks down, already promising a few ladies you’d whip something up sweet.

getou follows behind, studying as you huff and puff to yourself while gathering eggs, milk and other things you needed.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“because it’s fucking stupid. why’d i hire someone to help me out? oh my god, such a mystery.”

“you’re being immature.”

that causes you to stop all movements. holding onto the edges of the island and staring at him with disbelief, mouth actually drawn open as you scoff. “i’m immature? because you didn’t just disrespect that man for no reason. you know him or sum?”

“don’t act slow. you hired that man ‘cause he’s someone you can eye fuck when i’m not home. don’t pretend you don’t find him attractive,” getou grits his teeth.

you roll your eyes. “ohh, so it’s jealousy! why would i want to cheat on someone i’m in love with? you’re being extremely distrustful. take that shit out of my kitchen, suguru.”

“say that again,” he’s approaching you now, getou observing as you cross your arms and pretend to be unfazed by how much bigger he was compared to you. his bare feet thumps along the floor as he nears you, hands in the pockets of his dark washed jeans, shoulders broad as he stared down at you darkly. now your body’s pressed up against the kitchen counter, turning your head the opposite way to avoid eye contact.

“suguru,” you stand on what you say, uncaring. your husband deviously grins.

getou kisses his teeth smugly. you practically moan when his hand grips your jaw to bring your attention back, fingers denting into your cheeks to make your lips pout, head tilted back. “watch that mouth of yours. there’s no need to be bratty.”

teeth sinks into your lips he gawks at for a split second before meeting your eyes again. a feeble noise comes from you as he swiftly pulls up your white sundress, hands on the backs of your thighs to spread you open, fingers pulling your pussy open. not surprised to see you weren't wearing underwear. really, that pisses him off even further. it’s windy out and you were engaging in conversation with that man knowing your pussy was bare. he wants to laugh, seeing how wet you are already. fucking nympho. even though you’re mad, you can’t ignore how hot his touch makes you. you gulp, holding onto the edge of the counter as your gut flips after he crouched on one knee.

his breath hits your clit, and instantly your thighs tremble, getou slowly sticking his tongue out his mouth, wide, long, and slick with saliva. it hovers over your clit, barely touching it. part of you wants to grab his hair and shove him down, but the look in his eyes says not to try it. his fingers come up to your face, extending two of the long digits inside of your mouth. you suck obediently, moaning around them while rolling forward towards his, aching for it. his free hand smacks your inner thigh causing you to release his fingers and whimper, getou wasting zero time and curling them deep into you, shaking them frivolously as his lips suction on your clit, kissing your pussy deeply, using so much saliva.

his stare is hard on you the entire time, wrist moving instantaneously as he fucks you with them. he’s having a ball watching you wither and roll your hips, squealing and raising your thighs higher to your chest, listening to his fingers slam into you, that gushing sound of your pussy coating his fingers.

"c-can’t. . .”

"shut up," briskly, he pulls his fingers out and spanks your clit with them, standing to his feet, towering over you. you rest your head back against the wall by the window, shifting your body since your ass hurt a little from being on a granite countertop.

most of his words are blocked out as you watch the sexually pent-up man drag his pants down until they sit at his waist, pussy clenching at the dark pubic hairs sticking out, lust in your eyes as his veiny, big hand fists his cock. the thick vein leading up to the crown leaking precum makes you smile hazily.

"look at me when i’m talking to you."

you're too fucking mesmerized by him. his slightly dirty white tshirt is hiked up now, godly sculpted abs enticing you to run your fingers over them with a giddy laugh. getou tilts his head to the side, clenching his jaw.

"hey," he calls to you, snapping his fingers twice in your face, voice deeper than usual. you can see that he's not up for bullshit. he’s arched over you, hair sticking to his forehead as he places his right hand on your lower back, arching into him until your chest presses against his. "listen to me when i talk to you, woman.”

the smell of his skin is intoxicating, reaching your hands behind him to claw at his ass, open mouth on his chin, moaning as he slides deep into you, looking down at you with a groan escaping his throat, furrowing his thick brows. getou tries not to lose it, because despite his frustration, there's no way he could deny just how fucking good you felt pulling him deep right now. you hold tight, eyes hazy as he pounds into you without another word, arm stretching over to press his palm on the cabinet above, balancing himself and dragging you to meet him thrust for thrust.

"pussy so needy for me. it fuckin’ better be,” please shut up, is what you think. his voice is too damn addictive, and the way he fucks you, virulently, like he fucking despised you . . . you didn't know if you could take much more. the other half of your brain is the opposite, thanking him over and over.

"oh, look, princess. there’s your favorite man,” it doesn't register that the two of you are legit fucking near an open window where anyone could see. “let’s say hi, baby."

unsure why he came back, it only takes ten seconds for your sweet gardener to immediately be swept with trauma, catching a glimpse at the two of you, getou’s dark eyes burning into him while yours are shut to hide the embarrassment, stomach still flipping with rouse. his fingers has your jaw locked still to keep your fucked out face in the direction of the man who’s nothing short of unimpressed. tasteless, he thinks. wasting no time and turning away to hop back inside of his truck, only coming because he forgot to give you back the key to your garage. his lips are by your ear now. "looks like we’ll have to hire someone else.”

"you’re s-so . . . mean,” it’s the only thing you can think of, trembling and yanking your face out of his grasp. you wanna say you hate him, but deep down you knew this is what you've been craving all along. he’s exactly how you wanted him to be; lecherous. "fuck, can’t stand you.”

"you love me, sweetheart,” he coed, you hiccup. sobbing as he throws one of your legs over his arm, angling his hips slightly to the right and hitting into you faster, rolling your neck back, listening to how viscous his skin claps with your own, and his breath fans over your face.

"awe," he pouts, giving your forehead a chaste kiss. "y‘not gonna say it back?”

“d’nt deserve it,” you’re slurring your words and it pisses you off how dumb he makes you. his hand is around your neck now, choking you until you feel the blood rushing to your skull, luring the back of your own hand to your lips, using it as some sort of blockage for how loud you were being. louder than usual.

inching his lips towards yours, he studies how desperate you are to latch your lips with his, only for him to snatch them away. “then you don’t deserve my kiss.”

a frustrated whine leaves your throat, getou humming tauntingly, delicately skimming his bitten red lips over yours with a moan following along with a whispered ‘no’. tightening his lock around your neck, he rolls his hips deeper, your hand clutching his wrist with tears in your eyes. “not until you tell me you love me.”

you gently sink your teeth into the back of your hand, getou leaning closer before sloppily kissing at your palm where your lips rested, an evil stare painted his expression. he sucks, licks, and moans on your hand, knowing you were wishing he'd do that to your mouth instead. fuck, that was enough to get you to the breaking point. thighs trembling as you drop your mouth open, nothing coming out.

"wait, are you gonna cum?" his mouth upturns as he widens his eyes and mouth with fake surprise. "you’re cumming, aren't you? don’t cum. if you cum, i’ll stop."

"suguru, fucking stop—"

"stop what, huh? why you talkin' back?" shoving his thumb in your mouth, he fucks you harder, body jolting as your eyes roll back and your mouth drools, clutching his wrist harder to keep him there. "weren't you gonna cum?"

"yessss!" you wail, tears falling down your eyes. that coil in the pit of your stomach is ready to snap, getou’s sadistic voice ringing in your ears as he praises you, hips ramming harder to get you to break, clutching the back of his neck and screaming into his chest, giving him the answer he wants, riding the wave. "love you. love you.”

“good girl, good girl,” he proceeds to fuck you through it, just enough until you're pushing at his stomach to stop, kissing up the side of his neck drunkenly. getou slides out of you, holding back a moan before he's grabbing your hand and pulling you off the counter, holding your waist so you don't fall over.

"knees, now."

you're more than happy to lower to your knees, already knowing what to prepare for, lulled, teary eyes focusing on him and the slick coated cock stretching over your face. you hold onto the back of his thighs, widening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, getou holding your head still before gliding his dick inside the cave of heat now inundating him, jaw dropping, using the other hand to hold the cabinet once more and mercilessly fucking your throat. his moans are coarse, grunting and throwing his head back, hips stuttering as he holds you still and shoots deep in your mouth, cursing thousands of times he nearly filled the dictionary.

"swallow it and show me," and you do, without hesitation, sticking your tongue out proudly and it makes getou even prouder. "that’s my girl."

"whatever," you wipe the side of your mouth, getou lifting you off the floor, legs still too weak to function.

“there’s that mouth again, sweetheart. cut it short before i fuck you harder,” oh, he’s serious. that darkness in his eyes telling you not to try it again.

“s-sorry, baby. love you,” you give him those pretty doe eyes he falls weak to, rubbing your hands over his waist while placing your chin on his chest. batting your lashes innocently.

getou hums. “tell me that after you get rid of that fuckin’ gardener.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[probablybadrpgideas]

Bad Signs In A New RPG Rulebook

It quickly becomes clear the "What Is An RPG?" section at the front isn't intended as informative but is in fact a genuine question, complete with a number to call if you know the answer.

All the art is AI-Generated. You can tell this from subtle clues like the composition, blurry details and the fact that rather than anything to do with the game they're images of humans being shot with lasers labelled "DIE MEATBAGS DIE"

"What you need to play" is dice, paper, friends, imagination, cards, a roulette table, masks of your characters, desecrated holy objects from at least a dozen religions, a box full of nerdy snakes, a b-tier youtube celebrity and something they only refer to as "the tit-ripper 9000" .

The character creation section seems to be a guide on how to use the Pinkertons to enforce game copyright that was put in by accident.

The example play game session is a transcript of your last gaming session, word for word.

There is a section on avoiding outdated offensive stereotypes in gaming and instead using more modern offensive stereotypes that better resonate with a contemporary audience.

It has a sidebar titled "How to avoid scheduling errors" that just says ";)"

The sample starting adventure is a QR code. When you scan it it downloads Suicide Squad Kill The Justice League but with your party in the place of the main characters. It's actually really technically impressive, but you wish they'd chosen a better game.

Regardless of the genre or tone, It's using the fucking 5e D&D system again. It's not a generic system, guys! I can handle the character sheet being rigged to detonate if written on but this is where I draw the line!

[satorena]

𐙚˖˚ LIVING ROOM FLOW !?

featuring. f. toji x fem!reader

warnings. explicit content, plot what plot/porn without plot, implied freeloader!toji, fingering, mating press, belly bulge, breeding kink.

rena’s note. love this damn song so much <3

“mmhm— toji, fuck, we shouldn’t!”

“says who?” his lips ghosted the slope of your neck, words hushed as he placed wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

“w-we’re friends,” you moan softly, body contradicting your statement as you tilt your head to the side, fingernails tugging at the locks on his scalp.

you feel the vibrations of toji’s humming against your jugular, before the plunge of his teeth into your supple flesh. you whine at the painful pleasure, heat bubbling deep in your gut and arousal dampening your panties.

you grind subconsciously against his prominent bulge in his grey sweats, bottom lip tugged in your teeth while your body melts at the tantalizing touches of his warm hands down your bare skin.

a big hand lands a firm blow at your ass mounds, the stinging sensation drawing a mewl out of you, and the grip on his head forces his nose deeper in the crook of your neck.

“just ‘friends’?”

you nod your head, eyes resting shut. you knew if you voiced out your lie, it’d come out wavering and full of uncertainty, and toji would read you like a damn book.

your lack of answer, however, has toji pulling his head from your neck, lips smothered in saliva and swollen from the love bites littered across your neck.

“look at me.” he orders, a free hand creeping to your jaw and tilting your chin down. you can feel his thumb rubbing circles at the corner of your mouth.

you flutter your lashes and open your eyes, the angle of your head making your gaze on him seem sultrier than intended.

toji smirks, pressing his thumb down on your bottom lip and pulling your jaw open. you comply easily enough, hands sliding from the back of his neck to rest at his bulky chest.

“suck.” there goes another command you comply with ease. you latch your lips around his fingertip, coating the digit in your saliva. your mind screamed at you and begged you to stop before it got worse for you, but your body reacted to his all too well to neglect.

“just friends?“ toji scoffs, almost offensively, cerulean eyes boring deep into your own, as if trying to strip your soul bare and read you sincerely. “don’t gimme that bullshit.”

the warm hold on your ass trails up to your breast, buds hardened and peeking against the flimsy camisole you wore.

he gropes your chest with one big handful, and your moans come out muffled around his finger. he grins boyishly, index and thumb tweaking around the sensitive nipple and pushing the digit in your mouth further in.

“hnng!” you whine, the focus of stimulation at your chest shooting waves of pleasure down at your core. you ground yourself against his lap, desperate for more friction and attention at your pussy.

“do friends grind their pretty pussies all over the damn place like a bitch in heat?” toji asks, leaving you no room to speak as he tugs on the wet muscle in your mouth and pinches particularly harder at your aching nipples.

“answer me.” he squints his eyes, tweaking your bud harder, feeling his dick twitch in his sweats as you whine pathetically around his finger.

you shake your head frantically, hips never ceasing to grind in back and forth motions, the angling of your position sending tremors of blissful sensations at your clit.

“uhn uhn,” you try to answer as best as you can, and luckily toji accepts such as the right answer, though you knew better.

“‘s what i figured too,” toji clicks his tongue, releasing his soaked thumb from your lips, a soft plop! sound being echoed in the silence of the room. “now—”

you furrow your brows as you watch him never take his gaze off of yours, despite leaving ghostly tingles of his fingertips against your torso. he lowers and lowers himself down your body, trails of saliva telling the tale of where he’d been.

it’s when you realize your booty shorts have been infiltrated by foreign hands, your panties would soon follow next, “what are you—”

“shut up and keep your eyes on me, kay?” he’s quick to shut down your thoughts, fingers slipping past the material of your panties and coming in contact with your center.

you gasp at his lubed finger swiping at your folds, collecting up your dripping arousal from your clit down to your slit. his eyes never leave yours, intent on keeping that solid contact while he pleasures you.

“fuckin’—hah, oh shit, toji!” you moan, leaning your head forward and resting it right onto his. your fingernails claw at his shoulders and your back arches into his touch.

he growls, the sound rumbling deep from his chest, thumb rubbing figure eight circles at your dripping pussy, deep blue eyes narrowing and focusing at the pattern of your dazed orbs.

“feel good?” toji mumbles, pushing up and pressing a deep kiss onto your parted lips. he pulls away as quickly as he initiated, “talk t’me, baby—tell me how y’feel.”

“more,” you whine, feeling greed and need creep and seep into your bones. your limbs felt weak, spine licking with heat as he worked expertly at your pussy. “want more toji—need more!”

“want my fingers in yer pussy?” he dips his thumb into your clenching hole, and you fly a hand to cover your mouth. the stretch of his fingers alone had you wanting to cum hard, the burn spreading to your core.

toji frowns at your actions, quickly slipping his thumb out to slide in two fingers. despite them being coated by your slick, the sudden intrusion had you yelp, body turning to mush as you felt him scissor your velvety walls open.

toji grabs the hand muffling your voice and immediately pins it behind your back. “mmhm—shit, ahh, oh my fuckin’ gosh!” the cussing slipped past your lips before you could even help it, hips bouncing and riding the digits that fucked into you.

the drag of his fingers against your walls had drool accumulate at the corner of your lips, to which toji was more than content in lapping with his tongue.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he coos, slipping his tongue from the corner of your mouth to the inside. you gracefully accept the intrusion, kissing him back feverishly and desperately— your high washing over you sooner than you anticipated.

“cummin’cummin’cummin’—” you cut yourself off with a squeal when you feel your clit being toyed with while being fucked open.

your juices stain his sweats a deep gray, thighs quaking as your thighs and ass jiggle over his lap. your jaw slackens and you let out a string of profanities, nails clawing deep into his skin.

“that’s it, friend.” toji chuckles darkly, wetting his lips as he felt your showers spray him. his hand grew wetter and wetter, and the slip inside your pulsating pussy became much easier. “cum f’me pretty girl, do it for toji.”

time seems to get even hazier between your first orgasm to your third one. your second orgasm hits you even quicker since toji hadn’t let you catch your breath from the first and so you cream on his fingers once more, till he has you riding his gigantic cock all on your own, chasing for the pleasure you want, thus awakening your third one. you’re well spent and all out of energy, and so toji finally takes pity on you, which leads to the fourth and final orgasm.

“shit— yer suffocating me here,” he groans, hips meeting the back of your thighs with harsh slaps. your knees are at the shell of your ears as you hold yourself open for the man above you, presenting yourself to him shamelessly for him to do whatever he pleases.

“pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” he praises you, lips nipping at your hickey littered neck. you moan and whine and babble, unable to process and think anything other than his dick ramming into your guts.

“is best friend toji dicking you good?” the older man has the nerve to mock you, grinding his tip into your soft walls, dragging each vein from his shaft to the velvety goodness.

you nod your head repeatedly, too fucked out of it to stop yourself. you curl your toes and arch your back, which allows toji to slip deeper inside your pussy, reaching impossibly further and genuinely having you see stars, “y-yesyesyesyesyes!”

“tsk, ‘course i am,” he snorts, brows cinched to the centre of his forehead. he feels sweat accumulate to his hairline, dampening his locks matte. “what else are friends for, hm?”

“tojiiiiii,” you mewl, dragging out his name so loudly you’re certain you’d be getting noise complaints tomorrow morning.

the squeaking of your worn out couch fills the room, mixed in with the sinful squelch of your wetness meeting his sharp thrusts, his balls slapping at your ass, and your melodic moaning. if you asked toji— this was the meaning of life.

he spares a glance at your point of contact, and sees a pearly white layer of your essence enveloping his cock enthusiastically. your puffy lips were reddened and clit fully swollen. fuck, if he didn’t want to pull out and have you finish on his tongue.

with a deep groan, toji throws his head back, “coatin’ my dick with your sweet cream, tryna drive me insane or what?”

“‘s too big toji,” you whine, tears streaming down your cheeks as your lips fall into a pout. “‘too full, i feel you everywhere!”

“that’s cause i am everywhere, darlin’” toji snickers, pressing a hand on your lower belly, where the print of his dick tells a tale. he fucks into you with precision, in love with the way your belly swells then deflates as he thrusts in and out.

“fuuuuckkkk,” you throw your head back into the cushions, giving up on attempting to keep your eyes open. nobody had ever fucked you this intensely before, had your breast bouncing in clockwise motions, had your legs shaking uncontrollably, or had your eyes cross to meet in the middle of your face.

toji fucked like a madman, and you couldn’t get enough.

“feel it comin’ again!” you babble, your nails clawing into the supple flesh of your thighs to hold yourself open. with strong arms barricading you inside, you doubt that even if you did let go of your thighs, you wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“‘m right—fuck—right behind you, doll.” he groans, hips picking up the pace. he slams inside your cunt like he has something to prove, watches as your lips stretch and open up for his dick, taking everything he gives you and then some.

he spits a glob of saliva and has it land at your clit, thumb moving to play with the bundle of nerves one more time, wanting to drag out this last orgasm as best as he could for you.

the added stimulation has your moans turn higher pitched before suddenly cutting off, mouth opened in the shape of an ‘o’ and your back arching off the sofa. you swear you blackout momentarily, the world turning somber and eerily quiet as stars dance over your vision.

“there we gooo,” toji grits through his teeth, locks sticking to his forehead while pounding a few more thrusts into you, gold chain dangling over your head, before painting your insides white with his hefty cum.

he cums loads, you’re brought back to reality as you soak his dick yet again in little splurts of your essence, and he’s still cumming rivers, the uncontrollable clenching of your pulsating cunt milking him for every drop he’s worth.

time stills and sooner than later, he’s panting above you, catching his breath. you stare at the ceiling of your living room, thoughts running miles a second while simultaneously having no thoughts whatsoever. this may have not been your smartest move, but you hadn’t felt this good in months, so you couldn’t genuinely bring yourself to care. you’d simply deal with the repercussions another day.

“don’t….” toji begins, words getting caught in his throat. you shift your gaze to stare him dead in the eyes. his pupils are dilated and seem to be shaking with emotions. “don’t you ever say we’re just friends. got that shit?”

you’re temporarily taken aback, but the longer you stare him in the eye, the longer you think back to when he first moved in, you soon realize this was inevitable.

you giggle weakly when he nuzzles his nose in your sweaty neck and plants a gentle kiss there, “i hear ya, bestie.”

i literally hate this omfg.

[shakingparadigm]

I'm really enjoying these new glimpses of Till where he seems rather calm? Naturally he still has big feelings and expresses them accordingly, but compared to past instances it's a lot less explosive.

Most of Ivan and Till's fights seem to happen when they're younger. This is most likely because they weren't familiar with each other yet and were still at the age where most things were taken at face value. They're still getting used to each other's "strangeness", and that could be the cause for certain misunderstandings.

By the time Ivan started developing his "attractive" persona, he was much more aware of what made Till tick. Instead of toning down on his behavior, he used it to his advantage.

Throughout childhood, all Ivan knew was that if he performed certain actions he would get a response from Till (whether he intended it or not). Their shenanigans were incredibly childish, but they made a prominent impact on Ivan's perspective. His thoughts gradually transitioned from "I didn't know" to "oh. this is what I need to do so that Till will notice me."

Despite maturing a great amount and presenting a princely image to everyone else, Ivan never grew up when it came to Till. He continued to apply the same tactics from childhood just to keep Till's attention.

This is why the Anakt Diaries mention that though Ivan is mature for his age, he acts childishly when he's with Till. It's what he knows best.

As they grew older, they both became more fine-tuned to certain aspects regarding each other. Ivan understood what would get a rise out of Till and began messing with him on purpose, hoping to get a reaction. Unfortunately for him, Till started getting used to it (for the most part).

Despite his rebelliousness and bold expression, Till is timid when it comes to people. He only attacks when provoked, and unfortunately for someone as sensitive as him, that's quite often. Ivan took great joy in poking and prodding at him until they resorted to pulling hairs.

However, an older Till seems much less inclined to attack a pestering Ivan. In fact, he seems to brush it off suprisingly well. Of course he reacts, but he no longer reacts violently.

He goes back to a neutral (probably mildly annoyed, definitely weirded out) state almost immediately afterwards. The important part is that no hands are thrown. At this point, it's been years of Ivan and Till knowing each other. Till has watched Ivan grow from this gloomy little boy to the literal "Prince Charming" of Anakt, yet one thing has always remained the same: Ivan stayed by his side. Whether they like it or not, being close for so long will eventually endear someone to another. Thanks to the Ivan Exposure Therapy (and probably a bit of his own growing maturity), Till isn't so phased by Ivan's antics anymore. At the very least he seems to reply instead of taking full offense, poking fun at Ivan's lack of a birthday instead of just saying no. Older Till seems less irritated and more like he's just exasperated. Familiar, accustomed to Ivan's presence.

@geospiral already made a great post about what Ivan's side of this whole development might have been like. It's really interesting, so I recommend checking it out!

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco , I don’t know if your still doing requests if not juts by past this .

Fem reader x Marshall

Reader is some sort of celebrity and her and Marshall’s sex tape gets leaked

SECRETS OUT - ONE SHOT

Eminem x Celebrity Reader

Author’s note : Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it ❤️. I thoroughly enjoyed writing one shots and HCs so if you have requests, feel free to send them to me in my Ask.

Synopsis : You’re a prominent influencer, having a secret relationship with Em for years. None of you intend on making it public… until your sextape gets leaked.

When you started dating Marshall, the two of you had a serious talk about how important it was to him that your relationship remained private. He knew that you shared a lot of your life online - hell, it was kind of your job as an influencer - and respected it, but he was adamant about not being featured on your social media accounts and YouTube channel. You respected his wish. To be honest, you were a little relieved : your last relationship had ended because of public scrutiny and you didn’t want history to repeat itself. Especially since the person you were dating was a megastar. No offense to your ex, who was still a very successful influencer, but next to Marshall Mathers, he was chopped liver. If publicly dating someone with ten million YouTube followers was hard, you couldn’t imagine how it would be if everyone knew you were dating Eminem.

You actually did a good job at keeping your followers and his fans in the dark about your relationship. To everyone, the both of you were single and, even though they were rumours about the two of you dating other public figures, you had never been linked together. No one expected you, a twenty-something fashion and beauty influencer to date Eminem. From the looks of it, you didn’t have much in common and didn’t run in the same circles.

So your relationship flew under the radar for years and you even managed to get married without the public knowing. You had the most beautiful wedding, held in a secluded location with only your closest friends, with a lot of logistics and NDAs involved. Everyone joked that you had to be the only influencer who didn’t share the most important day of their life on social media. Especially when the wedding was so insta-worthy. A few years ago, you would have been a little bummed about it, but being with Marshall kept you grounded and reminded you that not everything was meant to be shared online. If anything, the secrecy of your wedding and the « no phones or camera allowed » rule allowed everyone to enjoy the moment instead of focusing on filming it or snapping pictures of their plates or outfit. That didn’t mean there were no pictures taken though. The only person who immortalised the wedding was the photographer and, though guests were sent the pictures, they were asked not to share, and everyone respected your wishes.

Just because the two of you didn’t share pictures online didn’t mean you didn’t take plenty. In fact, your phones were full of cute selfies of the two of you. At the beginning of your relationship, he often made fun of your habit to try and immortalise moments, but he ended up getting into it. When the two of you met, he was still using an old BlackBerry and took the crappiest selfies, but you managed to turn him into the perfect Instagram husband. In fact, he was the one who helped you do your daily outfit posts and he was more than decent at telling you how you should pose. And if he was a bit judgy of influencers at first, he had come to understand your line of work and your love of fashion. He was extremely supportive of every thing you did and his eyes were gleaming with adoration when he was watching you film your videos, though he still liked to tease you.

One evening, during your honeymoon, you found him filming himself in the mirror as you walked out of the bathroom in your finest, sluttiest lingerie.

- What are you doing ? You giggled.

- Immortalising the outfit. So, it’s simple, the boxers are Givenchy, fall collection… care to share yours ? He chuckled as he pointed the phone to you.

- So tonight, I’m wearing a gorgeous Dita Von Teese set, you said as you posed and played along. We have this gorgeous corset, and the panties are amazing, too…

- Turn around and show the back, babe, he instructed. You’re gorgeous.

This became a little game that you played during the whole honeymoon. Each night, Marshall filmed you in your lingerie, under the pretense that he wanted to remember your honeymoon as vividly as possible. This made you laugh and you let him. It started as « innocent » « outfit of the night » videos but, on occasion, you both felt frisky and ended up filming a literal sex tape, or rather a series of them. Nothing especially elaborate, just one of you holding the phone while doing the deed, just for laughs. You didn’t even watch them after or think about it. It was really just the two of you clowning around, making fun of your own IG account and enjoying your honeymoon. Once you got back home, you didn’t keep it going and eventually came to forget there were videos of you and Marshall having sex on his phone. Until the videos were leaked, that is.

You had been married for about six months and enjoyed your weekly brunch with Marshall’s daughters when they suddenly went silent, after Stevie showed her sisters something on her phone.

- Oh my God, I’m going to puke, Stevie said.

- Girls, no phone at the table, Marshall groaned.

- Have you guys… seen the news ? Hailie asked.

- What news ? You asked back, a tad confused.

- The Pistons headline, Alaina said.

- What’s wrong with the team ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.

The girls frowned and stayed silent for a second before handing the phone to the two of you. There was an article about you and Marshall, soberly titled : « Detroit’s ultimate Piston : Eminem sextape leaked (featuring influencer Y/N ». The headline was enough to make you want to die. The article wasn’t much better. It commented on the videos and showed a few screenshots of tweets reacting to the leak such as « Bro can’t take a decent selfie but you can trust him to point the camera at his dick correctly 👀 » or « Damn. He’s 51 but Y/N’s the one who’s gonna need hip replacement surgery with these trusts 💀». You and Marshall stared at each other while the girls were looking at you. You felt humiliated. Not only were the videos leaked online, you were confronted by your step-daughters - though they were old enough to be your sisters - about it. You looked down, absolutely mortified.

- Don’t watch these, Marshall told his daughters.

- Like we’d want to see that, Stevie pointed out.

- Really, guys, a sextape ? Alaina asked. Dad, you’re 51 !

- I’m going to be sick, you said as you left the table and headed to your room.

You heard Marshall calling your name but there was absolutely no way you could face anyone right now. Once you were alone, you anxiously checked your phone. Of course, everyone was in a frenzy. Your manager was texting you and your social media accounts were flooded. Both in the comments and your DMs, people were going crazy and talking about the videos. You already had a huge following, but it was something else entirely. You immediately called your manager, who was beyond pissed. Apparently, some brands you collaborated threatened to sever their ties with you. Of course, you getting rammed on video didn’t really fit in with your usual good girl image and it wouldn’t be a good look for them. Now, not only were you ashamed but you were also terrified. You had worked too hard for your career to crumble that easily.

- What should I do ? You anxiously asked.

- For now, nothing, she said. I’m going to consult with a few people to see what we can do for damage control. Though if I were you I’d get ready to film an apology video.

- I didn’t do anything wrong, you pointed out. These videos were not meant to be shared.

- You know how it is, Y/N. I’ll get back to you ASAP.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly. Talk to you soon.

When you hung up, you couldn’t resist the temptation to go and check other articles. Obviously, news traveled fast and you were now a trending subject. Marshall being the more famous of the two of you, his name was on every headline but, from the looks of it, you were the one whose reputation was suffering the most. While everybody seemed to praise his performance - and impressive physique - you were deemed a slut by the Internet. Even worse, some people were already making memes with your face and some rappers beefing with Marshall were reposting them. You had always been a « glass half-full » type of person but you literally wanted to die. In a flash, it seemed like you could kiss your career and reputation goodbye.

After about an hour, Marshall joined you in the bedroom and took you in his arms while you were sobbing.

- Hey, he said sheepishly.

- I-I’m sorry, you said. But I can’t go and face your daughters. I just can’t. I can’t face anyone right now, I-I…

- It’s fine, he replied before kissing your forehead. I sent them home.

- Im sorry, you said. I know how much family brunch means to you…

- As it turns out, having your kids lecture you about your leaked sextape isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, he said sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but chortle. Even in this type of dramatic situations, you could always count on Marshall’s dry humor. He placed another kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- We’ll be fine, he said reassuringly. Don’t worry, babe.

- Why aren’t you freaking out ? You asked. You should be freaking out.

- Oh, I’m freaking out, he said. I mean, I’m livid. But on a practical level, I know people will forget about it eventually, you know.

- Easy for you to say, you pointed out. The Internet is raving about the size of your dick and commenting about how in shape you are for an older dude… meanwhile, people are calling me a slut.

- You’re not a slut, he said as he rolled his eyes.

- Tell that to the thousand of people calling me a rapper groupie or whatever that is, you groaned.

- Doesn’t matter, he shrugged. We both know that’s not true. You’re not a groupie, you’re my wife.

- Well I’m about to be a stay at home wife, you said with tears in your eyes. I had my agent on the phone and sponsors are already breaking contracts… I-I’m losing everything, Marshall…

The tears started streaming down again. Mentioning the situation out loud was upsetting, it only meant it was real. You were really on the verge of losing everything. Your husband knew better than anyone how much your career meant to you, the work you put in and everything you had invested to be successful. To you, it wasn’t just a job : it was your dream. You had always tried your best to have a pristine reputation as an influencer and stay out of drama but now, people were looking down on you and calling you names. And you dreaded the perspective of doing an apology video. It was humiliating. In most recent years, you had focused your content on beauty and fashion instead of your private life but now, it was up for public consumption. Marshall held you tight as you told him about the comments you received and how sad you were about losing collaborations you were looking forward to.

- You don’t need these people’s money, he said.

- You know it’s not a matter of money, you replied curtly. It’s never only been about money. It’s more than that.

- I know, he said. But look, these videos were stolen from us. And if these brands who put that much effort into building a so-called relationship with you drop you easily, it’s not worth it. They should be sending you flowers and publicly supporting you.

- You know that’s not how it works, you sighed.

- All I’m saying is that it’s unfair, he said. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But I know you. You’re strong and you’re resilient. And your followers love you. You’re not going to lose your career over this.

- I’ll do my best, you shrugged. My agency wants me to film an apology video.

- Are they serious ? He groaned. You don’t have to apologise for shit. These videos were fucking stolen, Y/N !!!

He was clearly mad. Funnily enough, he seemed more angry over the unfairness of the situation than the fact that everyone could see him having sex on video. But then again, it probably had something to do with his reputation being pretty intact. Sure, that would probably earn him a few lines in diss tracks people might be tempted to put out, but there wasn’t much to be ashamed of, as far as he was concerned. First of all, the videos clearly made a good job of shutting down rumours about his size, and he still came across as someone who had sex. On the other hand, you were more visible on the videos and earning a reputation of an easy and slutty influencer, hungry for fame. Typical double standard. You cursed whoever had managed to steal these videos. And deep down, you were mad that they had been so easily stolen.

- Why were they stolen in the first place ? You groaned.

- What ? He asked. You know how it is… people’s phones get hacked all the fucking time. Whoever did that was probably hoping to get their hands on new music. Joke’s on them, though. We only function with CDs to avoid this type of leaks.

- Joke’s on them ?! You almost yelled. The joke is on me !!! I couldn’t care less about your CDs. No offense but I’d rather have your album leaked than my career ruined, Marshall !!!

- Sorry, he said as he nervously scratched his beard. Poor choice of word. Of course it’s worse. What I mean is… hacks happen all the time. Every month there’s a new story about a celebrity’s phone or computer or cloud being hacked.

- And I’m usually over here, making fun about people who don’t know how to protect their data, you said as you rolled your eyes. The most basic thing to do is to at least put this type of photos in a folder that requires double authentication.

- Double what ?

He looked at you with big eyes. Of course, he had no idea what you were talking about. « That’s what you get for marrying a dummy when it comes to technology », you thought. You didn’t want to get mad at him, but you were pissed. You rolled your eyes at him and let your head fall on the pillow.

- I have to go and call Paul, he said. We’re both going to have to do damage control. But we’ll be fine, I promise you.

- Mmmmh, you groaned.

- I’ll do my best to find whoever did that and sue their ass, he assured you. And whoever shares these videos, too. When we got married, I swore I would protect you and you best believe I’m making good on that.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly.

The following couple of days were especially tough. News had obviously traveled fast and everyone in your life knew about the videos. You thought facing Hailie, Alaina and Stevie was hard, but FaceTiming with your parents was even harder. You could tell they were disappointed, and mostly worried for you. Both of your management teams were trying to find the best way to get through it. Unfortunately, crisis management wasn’t the same for a rapper as it was for an influencer. Marshall’s team advised him to stay silent while yours was almost begging you to address the elephant in the room, preferably with your husband, who was an ogre about it.

- I’m not appearing in your damn apology video, he groaned. It’s stupid enough that you have to do one of these.

- I have to do what’s best for my career, you pleaded.

- You always said these videos were disingenuous, he pointed out.

- Well, yes, but what am I going to do ? You groaned. Disappear and kiss my career goodbye ? And I’m not you, Marshall. I can’t just ignore it and go back to posting videos as if nothing happened.

He hummed and you kept talking about it, trying to come up with a solution. You weren’t thrilled about the idea of addressing the situation and he was right : you had nothing to apologise for. And he was fully against the idea of standing next to you like a First Lady while you filmed something so silly. Of course, it turned into an argument. There was only so much pressure you could take. And you knew Marshall was doing his best and keeping in touch with his lawyers, but you were mad that he wouldn’t support you publicly.

- I’m asking you to stand next to me for a damn video, that’s all, you sighed. I’m not asking for the moon, here. You don’t even have to say anything.

- Then what’s the point in me being here at all ? He shrugged. We agreed that I would be kept out of your content, Y/N. That was clear from the start.

- Because everyone thinks I’m a whore ! You yelled. I was fine with people not knowing about us, but I am not fine with people calling me a rapper whore. And I am not fine with my husband not supporting me. You said we were a team ! You promised to care for me and protect me for the rest of our lives. Or were these vows just words to you ?!?!

You knew he would be pissed off by your words. He had always made it clear that his vows were absolutely serious and solemn. And you knew for a fact that he had put a lot of heart and thought into writing them. He didn’t say anything, just sighed and left the room. Obviously, you both needed to take time off because this escalated into an argument. You groaned and stayed in the bedroom, which you had barely left since the videos had leaked.

A couple of hours later, you went downstairs and found Marshall watching some boxing match on TV.

- Hey, you said sheepishly.

- Hey, he simply said.

- Look, I’m sorry, I…, you began.

- Don’t sweat it, he shrugged as he gestured for you to come sit on his lap.

You sat on him and watched with him in silence, enjoying the sensation of his arms wrapped around your waist. When the match ended, he turned off TV and smiled at you.

- I took care of things, he said.

- You did ? You asked.

- I did, he confirmed. You don’t need to film that stupid video.

- What did you do ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed pretty sure of himself, proud even, and you tried hard not to show it, but you were still a bit doubtful.

- Check Instagram, he simply said as he handed you your phone.

You nervously checked your account. You were tagged in thousands of new posts. Only these weren’t posts of the sex videos. Your account was flooded with pictures of your wedding, posted by your friends and reposted by tons of fan accounts. Your closest influencer friends had posted the beautiful pictures of them with you at the wedding. Marshall’s friends had done the same : 50, Dre, Porter, Royce… everyone was posting about your nuptials. The most beautiful shot was the one shared by Marshall on his account : a gorgeous black and white shot of the two of you after the reception, holding hands and staring at the fireworks, captioned : « For better & for worse. Happy 6 months anniversary. ». Everyone was going absolutely crazy in the comments, not failing to show their surprise and mentioning that he was now following one account : yours. You looked at him, almost crying and took him in your arms.

- Oh my God, you said. I can’t believe you did this.

- Called in a few favors and asked our friends to post the wedding pictures, he said with a smile. I figured the Internet would focus on these rather than the videos. So far it seems to be working…

- You didn’t have to, you said emotionally. I know you wanted to keep the wedding a secret.

- I also wanted to keep our sex life secret, he chuckled. But I care more about you and supporting you. Now, everyone knows I have your back. Until death do us part. And if anyone dares come for you, I will end them. I promise.

- I love you, you said emotionally.

- I love you too, he replied before kissing you. I’m sorry I was grumpy about the whole thing. You were right, these vows were never meant to be just words. I want to put them in action.

You kissed him passionately and you both took a minute to enjoy the posts everyone made about your wedding, reminiscing about that special day.

- I’m happy I don’t have to make that stupid apology video, you confessed.

- Me too, he chuckled. I did make an apology though.

- You did ? You asked in surprise.

He showed you his IG story. A black screen with simple text - in true influencer fashion : « I want to take a minute to apologize about the videos that have been leaked. I am sorry if anyone was confused. They were misleading and I want to state that the boxers were actually not Givenchy but Calvin Klein. Sorry for the confusion. 👀». You chortled and kissed him.

- What ? That was the only thing worth an apology, he pointed out with a smile.

- You’re such a troll, you said as you playfully rolled your eyes.

You spent the following days in bliss, showered with love from both your followers and his fans. Everyone was going crazy about your wedding and, even though there were still mentions of the sextape, most of the attention was focused on your relationship. Both of your management teams were also happy to put the incident behind them, though now they had to deal with plenty of interview requests. However, you agreed that even though your secret was out, nothing would really change. You slowly got back to business. Though nothing didn’t really change for Marshall - who was always in hermit mode in the studio - you had a lot of new followers and tons of collaboration requests. The sponsors who had been quick to drop you even came back and attempted to suck up to you, though you absolutely refused to work with them again. You were in your home office, reviewing partnership requests when you came across the biggest offer of your career : none other than Calvin Klein wanted you to be the new face of their underwear campaign, offering you a shit ton of money. It was the biggest opportunity you had ever received but you were a bit nervous when you mentioned it to your husband.

- What do you think ? You asked after you brought it up to him.

- I think we’ve established that you look good in underwear, he grinned.

- Yes but that would be banking on our sextape, our relationship… would it be ok with you ? You asked.

- I’ll cut you a deal : I’m ok with you doing that campaign if you’re ok with me using your moans as ad libs, he said with a smirk.

- You can’t be serious, you giggled as you rolled your eyes.

- What ? He chuckled. We’re partner in life, we might as well be business partners.

[death---dealer]

Hiii! Fan of your work (especially the Noa fics they are to die for omg). I remember you wrote something about the reader jumping in the river after a fight with Noa cuz chimps can’t swim that deep. It would be cool and funny to see a full on head cannon about that! Looking forward to all ur future works!

I'm giving the people what they want, MOM.

Title: Waterworks. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: K. ( FLUFFY with some good banter from the sunset trio BABY we need more of that. ) Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 2.1K+ Summary: Did you know that Chimpanzees cannot swim at depths? Shallow water is good, but due to low-body fat ratio, they'd sink in deeper waters. At least you had that in your mind when you needed to get some space. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

Noa paced relentlessly at the crest shoreline which was lapping white small delectations between the hardened pebbles below. His green eyes were focused on something drifting in the water, falling and rising as the river drove through the landscape with pure determination to make itself known for miles upon miles. Grumbling deep inside of his chest, he shouted nothing of sustenance and still… The floating object did not bend to his will as he so wished it would, instead, it stubbornly stayed where it was with the help of arms, waving up and down against the current as to not be taken downstream.

He hated this - this thing that only you did, knowing to your very core that it was something that sent him flying off the rails of annoyance. Noa hadn’t meant to say what he said when you had asked him his opinion on something. Looking back at it now as he ventured towards the water more fervently on all fours, only wadding until his hands and ankles were encased with water, before drifting back to the sandy embankment, he had no idea what the intended argument was about. For all the male Ape knew, it was nothing truly contentious and he happened to capture you in one of those rare moods where all you wanted to do was pick apart the aspects of his words in search of a fight.

You had only asked his opinion on a necklace that you were working on, a gift for another Ape of the clan who had the courtesy to help you get wood for the fire that was inside of your hut, something Noa often did but he was indisposed the moment you needed it, so you did what you needed to do. He gave his honest opinion. The detailing wasn’t even - that’s all that was said, and in the flurrying of the moment, he recalled you saying a few things, some in defense, some in offense. There may or may not have been some speckling from Noa’s side that just spurred the heated flames.

He brought up this other Ape - rather aggressively making accusations that were simply not true, and even though he knew them to be, he still said them anyway. ‘Maybe you should go show your new friend your… your ugly necklace’ seemed to be the nail in the coffin for you and the piece of jewelry in your hand slammed onto the work bench that you had, your legs rising and trailing off in a blaze. The entire moment left Noa remarkably slack-jawed at your reaction, even more so at the audacity at his words.

Noa was quick to follow you, refusing to yell for you as you made your way through the village and then began stripping yourself of your clothes. His eyes widened at that for a moment, lingering on the delicate nature of your skin and how it shone in the sun, but it was all torn away when you turned to look at him, your eyes so flushed with animosity before you turned back around and dipped into the water, quicker than he had wanted, knowing the water was cold and it probably came as a shock to your bare body. It didn't stop you off though - you proceeded. With each stroke, you were getting more and more out of Noa’s grasp. Unless he wanted to drown himself, there was no way to actually follow you in.

Most of the time, it was easy to brush them off, and you’d apologize to each other for the brief mis-understanding and come to some mutual agreement. That happened approximately 99.9% of the time. The other floating percentage was reserved for these very moments where Noa was left dry, and you were submerged, on your back so even his words couldn’t reach you past the barrier of water around your eardrums. This time seemed to be sparked by unintended jealousy from the Eagle Clan leader, something he ardently tried to deny feeling, but it was ultimately always there, hanging at the back of his head like an arrow had been embedded there.

“You cannot stay out there forever!”

His voice was muffled to your ears as you raised one of your hands in a simple ‘thumbs-up’ action. Noa scoffed at that, narrowing his eyes at the action as he turned towards the trees and then back forward again. He sensed Anaya and Soona before they even made an appearance, their smells eradicating to Noa as he ventured they were going to ask what was happening. Instead of letting the question float around, Noa’s fiery gaze hit Anaya first, “She is… angry! Won’t come out of water,” He growled again, bringing a fist up and then back down on the ground in intense aggravation, “She does this to me! Every time!” A lie, but it was making himself look better in front of his friends.

Anaya’s green and golden eyes caught hold of you in the water, sharing a glance with Soona before they both hooted out a small laugh at Noa’s infuriation. “What… did you say to get so mad?”

Soona floated forward towards the water, feeling it tickle at her knuckles when she called your name.

“No point, Soona, she will not come back,” Noa huffed, “Only when she is ready, not angry at Noa anymore.”

Anaya pressed onwards, “S… Seriously, what did Noa say?” His gaze flittered backwards towards you again, watching as Soona tried to bargain with you, but to no avail and she returned, defeated to stand next to the other two Apes.

Noa hesitated - it was obvious that his words were not appropriate and he acted out in a rage of unfit jealousy. He knew that Anaya and Soona would be able to recognize that and they’d end up on your side. He weighed the discomfort of lying to his friends to the absolute chaos that would ensue if he just told them what happened. Sighing, his shoulders rose and then fell in complete defeat, “Told her… Necklace was ugly.” Soona’s mouth opened at that, Anaya tilting his head, “She asked… my opinion… Told her, it was ugly. Accused her of… liking… Another.”

There was a blanketed silence between the three of them. Anaya, completely flabbergasted at Noa’s ability to say the wrong things at the wrong time, and Soona, shocked, but not as much as Anaya. She moved forward, placing a hand at the back of Noa’s head and for a moment, he thought that she was going to bring him in for a forehead grazing that said ‘I’m on your side’. Instead, all Noa got was Soona digging her fingers into the muscles of Noa’s neck, causing the larger of the two to stagger and hiss out of ache that the action caused.

“You… are so… childish!” She finally spoke, “You would not tell Ape that, why tell Echo?”

Noa grappled, “She… deserves the… truth.” He was brought to his knees by Soona’s grasp getting more aggressive, Anaya cheering her on with his arms and a few wild hoo’s and huffs coming from his mouth at the amusement of the situation.

“Not when it hurts feelings!” Soona snapped at him and released his neck. Noa faltered, falling face down onto the ground below, proceeding to roll onto his back with a groan. “Stupid Noa! Why think she wants another? Are… are you that blind to see?”

“Stupid, stupid.” Anaya responded and looked down at Noa with laughter seeping from every pore. “Now… Echo won’t come out to hear Noa's apology… and Noa has to… beg…”

Anaya fell onto his knees and crawled towards Noa with outstretched hands, “Has to beg forgiveness from Echo. Please,” He wailed his arms rather dramatically. “Forgive Noa, I am… just stupid Ape.” The voice Anaya displayed sounded nothing like Noa, but Soona found it funny and chided out a laugh.

“Will not… help you get her out,” Soona declared, Anaya nodding in agreement, “Your problem, only, Noa. Should know better. How to talk to… females.”

Anaya looked at Soona and then to Noa, “Different, very sensitive.”

Soona gasped at that, smacking Anaya’s arm with her open palm, “What is that… supposed to mean!?”

As another argument took hold between those two, Noa glanced back out at the river and watched as the water flapped against your body, causing small ripples of waves to encase around your extremities.

“(NAME)!” He hadn’t meant for that to be so loud and ripping, cradled around the edges with a primal guttural growl. Even through the thick water, you were able to hear it and it spurred you finally to roll off of your back.

“What?!” finally snapping at him, you kept your balance in the water by the swing of your legs and hands in tandem with the small current.

“Please, come back to shore,” Noa pleaded, though his voice was still carrying moments of irritation, “Cannot come get you if something happens.” Noa always knew what to say to get you to come to him and he just prayed to the highest Elders that his words were enough to get you to consider. “Please.”

“No!” Growling again, he paced towards the water at your response.

“Please?”

“Let me think about that--- No!”

Anaya spoke up, finally tumbling from the heated argument he and Soona were ranting about, “Anaya want to know about this other Ape! Are they… As handsome as Noa? As big? Good provider?”

Groaning, you floated a bit towards them and looked at Soona, the most understanding of the bunch. You were swimming now on your stomach, not wanting to come out due to the pile of your clothing sitting near Noa and the fact that you were otherwise bare in the water and Anaya and Soona would see if you veered towards them on your legs. “I’m not mad about that.”

“Is she…”

“Yes.” Soona confirmed it to Anaya before the question even got out. “Naked.”

His eyebrows raised in mild interest and the daggers that Noa flew his way sent Anaya backwards and pacing towards Soona in some hope that she’d protect him if Noa went for his neck.

“What are you mad at?” Noa inquired, a bit more soft now that he was getting more context into your unfurling anger.

“You called my necklace ugly.”

Noa groaned again, this time a bit more loud and rolled his neck, indicative to you that he was actually rolling his eyes. “That should not matter!”

“Your opinion matters to me!”

Noa fell quiet, almost deathly so as Soona and Anaya looked between you in the water, and Noa on the shore, only drifting into the shallow depths to the point where his forearms and lower legs were drowning. His green eyes, even from the distance you were holding yourself at, were vivid and bright as they bore right into your own. “What?”

“I care more about your opinion,” Now on the verge of tears, you cursed your swinging emotions and sniffled quietly, “You called my work ugly.”

Noa sat - directly into the water below him and just stared at you, the way that the water was hitting your cheeks, the way you were bobbing with buoyancy. He just wanted you to come a little bit closer, wishing desperately at this time that he had a net he could cast and catch you like a fish. Noa tilted his head at that. It would not go well, he imagined, and you would probably get your arms and legs stuck.

His mouth opened but it felt suddenly dry, and drinking the river water would only make it worse, it seemed. The admittance of what he needed to say was not something favorable to say in front of his friends. But, unless he went for it, he was going to spend the rest of the afternoon, and probably part of the evening, waiting for you to come out completely to talk to him.

“I said… that because…” His voice deepened, ratting more with a baritone than you were used to, as if what was about to say was a secret. “I did not want you to… give that other… Ape a gift…” Noa could have sworn he heard Anaya mumble a soft ‘I knew it’ as you tucked close to your mate, still encasing yourself in the water to keep your privacy.

“Why not?”

The sound that ripped out of Noa was nothing less than shocking as he stood on his feet, making a circle around like he was dancing before he quite literally glared down at you. You were doing this on purpose, there was no other reason.

“You know why.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

As the two of you went back and forth, Soona tilted her head towards Anaya, “How long… Do you think they will do this?” Struggling his shoulders, Anaya fell back to sit and pulled Soona down with him to watch the rest of this play out.

“Do not know, but I think Echo will win.” Anaya commented haphazardly.

Soona laughed, “Why is that?”

“Noa is… a push over.”

[rae-writes]

part-time

N.M || 0.8k || some romcom for a man I don't even have any solid thoughts/feelings on but the inspo slapped me in the face. violently.

You would think that after attending Yuuei for three years now and being classmates for said three years with dumbasses like Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijiro, and Izuku Midoriya (yes, class 3-A’s golden boy. You just have to catch his dumbassery at the perfect time) that you would learn to…not engage in their ideas that lack common sense. 

But either you haven’t learned or you just don’t have any self preservation, because that’s exactly how you got here:

Pulling open the door to the infirmary, mumbling curses under your breath (still grinning, might you add— it had been funny as shit, even if you got a sprained arm for the trouble). Though, as you looked around, Recovery Girl didn’t seem to be around. 

But Neito Monoma was. 

“Oh, fuck no.” 

Listen, you honestly didn’t have a real problem with Monoma. He was just…

A prick. All because your class starts with an ‘A’ and had its fair share of spotlight encounters (mainly with villains— all of which were highly unwanted, thank you very much). 

“It’s so good to see you, too, Y/n.” Monoma’s annoyingly condescending voice managed to come out sickly sweet, immediately making you turn around and start to go right back out the door. 

But unfortunately, he’d caught sight of your swelled arm- which had started to bruise pretty badly- and stopped you from relieving yourself of his presence. 

“Now, now. I am here assisting our lovely Recovery Girl and I can’t just have you leaving while still injured, that would make me look like I’m not doing my job.” 

You deadpanned, reluctantly sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “No offense, and by that I mean full offense, but I’d rather just walk it off than let your lips come anywhere near me.” 

His copy quirk is what allowed him to help out as a healer in the first place— and Recovery Girl’s quirk healed by kisses. You’d be damned if you were letting him have the privilege of kissing even a sliver of your skin. 

“Oh my, so rude. You’re breaking my heart.” His grin was a little too smug, but Monoma couldn’t help it. He’s had a stupid crush on you since year one: this opportunity was just too perfect. 

Not that he would ever admit it. Especially the part where his heart was fucking racing faster than Iida could run right now. 

“Good. Perish.” you groaned, looking away with an apprehensive frown. Your arm was starting to hurt as the adrenaline slowly wore off and…you did come all the way to the infirmary to get healed…

Was it weird that your heart was thudding in your chest? You barely even knew Monoma, for fucks sake, he was just…an academic rival at best. 

‘And pretty.’ Your brain supplied. To which you promptly told it to shut up…which it didn’t, because Monoma’s pretty face was currently all up in your business. 

“That arm of yours looks painful. Are you really too prideful to be healed by me? That’s not a good heroic quality, you know.” 

He sincerely hoped you would cave before he just started begging— and the embarrassing part is, Monoma wouldn’t have to even think twice about it. That’s how..tightly you have him wrapped around your finger. 

“Shut up. You’re one to talk about pride, smug bastard.” Your words didn’t really have the bite that you intended- and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn- so with another colorful curse, you relented. 

“Fine.” 

Except no kiss came after your agreement. You’d even tensed up your arm in preparation for his touch but there was nothing. That was funny— he was so smug just a second ago and now he’s all quiet. 

“Monoma, are you gonna heal me or not-“ 

As soon as your head turned towards him, his lips pressed against yours. It was as shocking as seeing Bakugo Katsuki be nice, which was pretty damn high up on the ‘what the fuck is happening’ list. 

But it felt…good. 

Monoma himself was surprised, not at his actions, but at your own: the reciprocation of his kiss (when he was so sure you’d pull away and knock his block off), the way your hands- both of them now that your arm was healing- had cupped his jaw, pulling him closer. 

It was like the room was spinning, but..softly. With warmth being woven in, making you feel fuzzy starting from the tips of your toes and moving all the way to your fingertips. 

When the kiss finally broke, it was quiet, only unsure breaths filling the air. Oddly enough, he felt nervous and had to fight the urge to apologize. 

“Well? How was that for healing?” Is what came out of his mouth instead. 

And you didn’t even have a witty response to give back, too dazed and flustered to even care at that second. 

“Do it again…still hurts.” 

‘Academic rivals’ be damned.

inspo credits:

(I found the text post on Pinterest so I just screenshotted it because who knows how old it may be oasjihrugoajfk but their user is still the same: @energon-with-a-curly-straw)

[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

don't know why I thought it'd be any better / I'm fine now, it doesn't matter

》 Me & My Dog, boygenius

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 let the cat out of the bag [idiom]: to allow a secret to be known, usually without intending to

The music playing in the club is questionable at best, pounding in your head in a way that makes you wish you could turn hearing aids off as your grandfather used to do on family events.

You’re not sure why you indulged your friends, or why you let them throw a party for an award you have not even won yet. You’re not sure why you’re sitting in such an uncomfortable booth, sipping overpriced drinks and side-eyeing your boyfriend every other shot.

You’re not sure how you ended up in this situation in the first place, but you sure know the reason why you’re still here.

The reason itself is hooping her arm around your shoulder as her head drops down in a laugh so loud it makes you grin too – even if you have no idea what it’s all about.

Leah holds you closer in a familiar way, having noticed the discomfort growing in your chest all night long. Somehow, her gentle fingers drawing abstruse shapes on your arm and her distinctive, warm presence manage to ease your body and mind immediately.

“You good?”

“Good enough”, you answer, your friends distracted as necessary to give you a moment to hear your own thoughts.

“Just say the words and we’re out of here”

She winks, trusting you to actually use the secret sentence a much younger version of the two of you come up with to get each other out of trouble.

Never failed so far.

The bubble enveloping you pops when Keira, your boyfriend, and a couple of your mates come full speed into the booth, looking for drinks and victims to drag on the dance floor.

“Having fun?”, your boyfriend asks, his arm claiming the right to hold you closer.

You don’t have time to answer; Keira is loudly teasing Leah for something you can’t hear, and your friends are trying to get you to join them. They push and pull, too excited to properly move in the tiny free space left on the booth.

That’s how you find yourself on top of Leah, her hands on your back to keep you steady and your gaze fixed on her easy smile.

“They’re doing it again!”

Someone, somewhere around, comments that you look very good together. They point out the teasing and the flirting, you think her touch on your skin feels like second nature. The weight constantly pressing on your chest moves to and fro, stirred by gentle wind like a leaf. They make fun of the way you look at each other, the way Leah looks at you as if you’re the reason the Sun rises every morning.

You can breathe freely around her, you notice just now in the loudest and most crowded club in London.

“If not for the pretty boy right there, one could think–”

“In her dream”, you quip back, holding Leah’s cheek between your knuckles in a childish way – the grin on her lips never fading.

The excited and amused reactions around you aren’t able to catch your attention, not questioning the frown on your boyfriend’s face.

“Make her dream come true then”

That makes your head turn, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. It must be a drink too much, it must be his bruised ego; but he’s challenging you and he knows it never ends well.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time”, the blonde gets involved, bursting into a laugh believable enough to fool everyone but you.

“As if”

The annoyed scoff is barely registered by your mind.

Your hand on the back of Leah’s neck rises just enough for your fingers to find some loose locks – the movement always able to calm her.

A moment later, your lips touch.

The kiss is too soft to be offensive, too caring to be just a dare.

Something inside your stomach rises awake, your heart stops suddenly and explodes like a million fireworks at the same time. It feels like a completely new and unexpected emotion invades your own body.

A piece of a puzzle you didn’t even know was missing finds its place.

It goes on past your friends’ cheers and laughs, your boyfriend’s ego, your own beliefs. It starts with Leah’s hands on your back and your lips sealing her downfall, it carries on with your bodies finding a way to get even closer, it doesn’t stop with the music and the need for air.

It will not end due to the fear of facing consequences.

It’s a lot, but you don’t care. It’s right.

Maybe the entire club goes silent, maybe just the doubts so deeply rooted in your soul you thought were a part of you.

Leah cups your face so kindly you find yourself chasing her lips like you can only breathe now you kissed her, but you feel her pulling away just enough to know.

“Rio called”, she says gently.

Two words able to drag you back in the actual moment, seated on her lap with your hands around her neck. You’re in a crowded club in London, the music still sucks. Your boyfriend’s looking at you both like he doesn’t know who you are and like he really sees you for the first time.

Leah whispered your secret sentence.

Leah just used your secret sentence, and she rarely does.

You don’t have to think too much after that, you sit up and reach for her before anyone can comment or even realise what just happened.

She needs you, so you make sure to get her out of here as soon as possible – holding her hand the entire time.

You will fight with your boyfriend tomorrow, you will blame the alcohol and the loud music and the teasing. You will reassure him that it really didn’t mean anything, that it was just fun. You didn’t even enjoy it that much.

He will not believe you.

You will not believe yourself either.

[nhlclover]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: you and matt go to an apple orchard for a fall date.

warnings: sweet (no pun intended) fluff, lil tiny kiss

word count: 0.84k

notes: first remps fic! also first fic of cozytober, hope you guys like it!

It’s the perfect fall day in New York, the kind of day that begs you to pull on your coziest sweater and admire the blaze of color lighting up the trees. The air is crisp, carrying a sweetness from the apple trees, but the sun still lingers, casting a golden glow over the orchard. It feels like the kind of day where everything slows down like time itself is in no rush.

"You ready to fill this bag to the brim?" you ask with a grin, holding up the empty apple bag. It sways a little in the breeze, and Matt smiles back, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your heart skip.

“Of course, lead the way,” he says, slipping his left hand casually into your back pocket, the simple touch sending a soft flutter through your heart. Apple picking is just one of the many fall-themed dates you’ve convinced him to do, and he’s never complained. In fact, he’s embraced it, surprising you in the best way. You’ve never seen anyone so willing to dive into your love of the season, but here he is, playing along like it’s his tradition too.

You start down one of the rows of apple trees, finding a few with bright red apples still clinging to their branches. Handing Matt the bag, you reach up and tug a couple of apples from the lower branches, their skins shiny in the warm light. But as you move along, you notice the easier-to-reach apples are becoming sparse.

“I think all the easy ones are gone,” you say, scanning the higher branches with a mock pout. You turn to Matt with a hopeful smile. “Any chance you could grab a few from up there?”

He arches a brow, a playful glint in his eyes, before handing you the bag. “I knew my height would come in handy today,” he quips, reaching up effortlessly to pluck a couple of perfect apples from the upper branches.

You smirk, adjusting the bag as he drops the apples in. “This is why you were invited. Gotta have someone with some vertical skills.”

He feigns offense, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “Is that all I’m good for? Reaching apples?”

You laugh, leaning into him for a second before moving toward another tree. “No, you’re also here to carry the bag when it’s too heavy for me. Obviously.”

Matt shakes his head, his laugh deep and genuine, as he plucks more apples and hands them to you. Before long, the bag was nearly full and heavier than you had anticipated. You were no longer able to hold the bag by the handles, instead cradling the bag in your arms.

“We might’ve gone overboard,” you admit, shifting the bag to keep a few apples from tumbling out.

Matt eyes the bulging bag, then shoots you a knowing look. “Yeah, you think?”

You glance down at your purse, biting back a grin. “I mean, I could always start stuffing them in here. We can’t just leave them.”

Matt lets out a chuckle, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “That’s stealing, you know.”

“We’re not paying by the pound… so I don’t see an issue with throwing a few in here.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement as he steps closer. “Pretty sure it’s still stealing,” he says, his voice low but playful.

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing along with him. “Fine, I’ll be law-abiding and just stack them in this bag.”

Matt grins, but before he says anything, he reaches out and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is soft and careful, but it sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the sun. His hand lingers for just a beat longer than necessary, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he murmurs, his gaze holding yours for just a moment longer than usual. “But I love it.”

For a moment, the world around you stills. The distant laughter of families, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, everything fades. It’s just the two of you, standing in the golden light of the orchard. Slowly, Matt leans in, his eyes never leaving yours. The space between you narrows, and before you even realize it, his lips are on yours—soft, warm, and impossibly gentle. The kiss is sweet, like the apples around you, slow and tender, as if time itself had paused just to let this moment linger.

When you pulled back, matching smiles formed on both your lips, admiring how the mid-afternoon sun hit your faces. Matt snaked an arm around your waist, giving your hip a comforting squeeze. “Now, come on—let’s get these apples back before you start a crime spree.”

You smile up at him, the teasing light in his eyes making you feel warm despite the chill in the air. The day couldn’t be more perfect—just you, Matt, and a bag full of apples. And maybe a few that almost ended up in your purse.