#god i hate Endeavor so much

[pens-and-paperbacks]

Endeavor is almost a perfect allegory for what the society in the mha universe does to people who can't be heroes or use their quirks in a way to benefit society, which is cast them aside or pass them over without over giving them a second glance until uh-oh! Suddenly they're worth being noticed because they're a threat.

He apologizes to his family, which is good! If you're a bad person and did terrible things, the first step in your own transformation and atonement should be to acknowledge what you've done and to apologize to those you've wronged. Great!

Thing is, Endeavor set off a chain reaction with his abusive, neglectful and downright irresponsible choices that it damaged everyone in his family for life.

I don't think someone who causes one of their own children to literally go up in flames, crying because they're finally getting attention from their father and family in the very end, ever deserves to be forgiven.

[kurthorton]

im just saying i could do aria justice better than the show ever did and i dont even like aria

[busylilbee]

The Vibe of my life at the moment is my best friend and I discussing going on a 40+ drive through largely remote grizzly territory where we would be sleeping in our car with all of our food and shit and being like "if the car gets attacked by a bear in the night and we have to scramble to the front to make a get-away half asleep at least it will be a funny story"

[artist-issues]

I Hate How She Talks About Snow White

"People are making these jokes about ours being the PC Snow White, where it's like, yeah, it is − because it needed that. It's an 85-year-old cartoon, and our version is a refreshing story about a young woman who has a function beyond 'Someday My Prince Will Come. "

Let me tell you a little something's about that "85-year-old cartoon," miss Zegler.

It was the first-ever cel-animated feature-length full-color film. Ever. Ever. EVER. I'm worried that you're not hearing me. This movie was Disney inventing the modern animated film. Spirited Away, Into the Spider-Verse, Tangled, you don't get to have any of these without Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937.)

Speaking of what you wouldn't get without this movie, it includes anime as a genre. Not just in technique (because again, nobody animated more than shorts before this movie) but in style and story. Anime, as it is now, wouldn't exist without Osamu Tezuka, "The God of Manga," who wouldn't have pioneered anime storytelling in the 1940s without having watched and learned from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in the 1930s. No "weeb" culture, no Princess Mononoke, no DragonBall Z, no My Hero Academia, no Demonslayer, and no Naruto without this "85-year-old cartoon."

It was praised, not just for its technical marvels, not just for its synchronized craft of sound and action, but primarily and enduringly because people felt like the characters were real. They felt more like they were watching something true to life than they did watching silent, live-action films with real actors and actresses. They couldn't believe that an animated character could make kids wet their pants as she flees, frightened, through the forest, or grown adults cry with grieving Dwarves. Consistently.

Walt Disney Studios was built on this movie. No no; you're not understanding me. Literally, the studio in Burbank, out of which has come legends of this craft of animated filmmaking, was literally built on the incredible, odds-defying, record-breaking profits of just Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, specifically.

Speaking of record-breaking profits, this movie is the highest-grossing animated film in history. Still. TO THIS DAY. And it was made during the Great Depression.

In fact, it made four times as much money than any other film, in any other genre, released during that time period. It was actually THE highest-grossing film of all time, in any genre, until nothing less than Gone With the Wind, herself, came along to take the throne.

It was the first-ever animated movie to be selected for the National Film Registry. Actually, it was one of the first movies, period, to ever go into the registry at all. You know what else is in the NFR? The original West Side Story, the remake of which is responsible for Rachel Ziegler's widespread fame.

Walt Disney sacrificed for this movie to be invented. Literally, he took out a mortgage on his house and screened the movie to banks for loans to finish paying for it, because everyone from the media to his own wife and brother told him he was crazy to make this movie. And you want to tell me it's just an 85-year-old cartoon that needs the most meaningless of updates, with your tender 8 years in the business?

Speaking of sacrifice, this movie employed over 750 people, and they worked immeasurable hours of overtime, and invented--literally invented--so many new techniques that are still used in filmmaking today, that Walt Disney, in a move that NO OTHER STUDIO IN HOLLYWOOD was doing in the 30's, put this in the opening credits: "My sincere appreciation to the members of my staff whose loyalty and creative endeavor made possible this production." Not the end credits, like movies love to do today as a virtue-signal. The opening credits.

It's legacy endures. Your little "85-year-old cartoon" sold more than 1 million DVD copies upon re-release. Just on its first day. The Beatles quoted Snow White in one of their songs. Legacy directors call it "the greatest film ever made." Everything from Rolling Stones to the American Film Institute call this move one of the most influential masterpieces of our culture. This movie doesn't need anything from anybody. This movie is a cultural juggernaut for America. It's a staple in the art of filmmaking--and art, in general. It is the foundation of the Walt Disney Company, of modern children's media in the West, and of modern adaptations of classical fairy tales in the West. When you think only in the base, low, mean terms of "race" and "progressivism" you start taking things that are actually worlds-away from being in your league to judge, and you relegate them to silly ignorant phrases like "85-year-old cartoon" to explain why what you're doing is somehow better.

Sit down and be humble. Who the heck are you?

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

older brother touya au, endeavor is still an asshole, shouto interacts w his siblings lol, bby shouto, hyper active kinda rough reader (you tackle shouto), shouto and touya have an unspecified age gap but i was thinkin like 10 years (so touya is 17 and shou is 7), just a liiiil bit angsty but mostly fluffy, lemme know if i missed sum else !

touya knows his little brother shouto is kinda weird.

he rarely ever sees him happy, or with any sort of emotion on his face for that matter. he has little habits that he hates not being able to follow and he's incredibly nit picky about them. he doesn't outwardly emote but that doesn't mean he couldn't be bratty when he wanted to be, cus he is but that's also about super specific weird stuff like what he wants to have for dinner (which always ends up being cold soba anyways).

he's also not much of a talker. he's a little shy, but he also just doesn't like talking. it's impossible to miss the huge red scar around his eye, he doesn't like to play outside and roughhouse like touya did when he was his age and he still doesn't have any friends at school. shouto never seemed to be bothered by it, though touya assumes that his peers might find him weird too.

except they better not, because touya's the only one who can call his brother weird. and deep down, he worries a little for him.

until he comes back home from school, his sweater is tucked out and there's a dirt stain on it. his hair is messy and his backpack is haphazardly closed, his little notebooks propped inside and his pencil case threatening to fall out.

natsuo, the one charged to pick him up that day, sheepishly scratches at his neck "he won't tell me what happened to him." he explains as touya practically charges towards shouto, he doesn't look hurt, so his older brother roughly turns him around to check his bag.

" but i told you what happened, natsu-nii."

"you don't have to lie, shouto--"

"what happened to you ?" touya cuts in, looking inside his brothers bag to check if nothing was missing, it looks intact from what he can tell.

"i played with my friend." shouto says simply, like that explains why he looked like he'd just walked through a hurricane. touya already knows he's gonna get an earful about this from his father. he inwardly groans.

"you sure your friend didn't just mug you ?" he flips his brother around and shouto's little arms flail as he does, unbothered by his brother's rough treatment. he tilts his head, touya sighs.

"bully you, i mean."

shouto's eyes widen, then he hurriedly shakes his head, denying him ever getting bullied and simply claiming he was playing. touya shares a look with natsuo, who looks just as unconvinced as him at his brothers words.

"who's this friend of yours, shou ?"

"yn."

"yn ?" both brothers say at the same time. shouto nods and touya catches a small little glint in his eyes as he looks back at him "she's really nice."

"this doesn't seem nice. you look like you got robbed." touya furrows his brows, sneering at his brothers dirty shirt. he starts dragging the youngest toward the bathroom. hopefully he'd be fully clean before their father got home and he wouldn't have to get in trouble. for god knows what reason. enji todoroki would probably find a way to place the blame on him, something about how he should've been the one to pick him up or gotten there earlier he guesses.

"yn likes to play games where you move around a lot." is what he offers as explanation. touya hums absentmindedly as he ushers his brother into the bathroom, deciding on how he should deal with his youngest brother's first ever bully. because of the age gap he doubts the kid is any smaller than his brother is, so he thinks he'll probably just try to scare off whoever this yn is.

"how 'bout i pick you up from school tomorrow and i can meet yn. that sound good ?" and shouto excitedly nods at the idea, gushing about how funny and nice you are and that you share your snacks with him. it's weird how fondly he talks about his bully, but touya knows his brother's always been a little weird, he probably has no idea what's happening to him. the thought makes him frown just a bit harder.

the next day after school, touya is already at the gates before they've even opened ready to scare the pants off of his brothers harasser. he sees shouto walking out of the gates with a few other kids, alone. the little boy perks up once he sees him and sends him a high wave, which touya returns with one of his own lazier one's.

"where's your friend ?" he tries his best not the spit the word too venomously, shouto doesn't seem to notice.

"yn is coming. her bag isn't closing well, so she told me to go ahead without her." he explains, reaching for his brother's hand absentmindedly.

touya is about to respond when he hears yelling. yelling that gets closer and closer to them until he notices too late that a little person is rushing towards his brother. before he can pull him out of the way the person has jumped onto shouto and knocked the both of them onto the ground. and touya watches flabbergasted as his younger brother does not look surprised at all, like shit like this just happened every tuesday. his mouth falls open when the little girl that had charged into his brother excitedly starts hopping slightly on top of him.

"shouto !"

"hi, yn."

touya is going to fucking lose his mind.

you get closer to shouto's face still sitting on him, touya assumes to make sure he could hear you even thought he doubts he couldn't before. " i thought ya left without me, i couldn't see you !"

shouto shakes his head, still on the floor "i said i would wait for you." he says seriously. and you practically beam, nudging your cheek to his and rubbing it against his affectionately. shouto doesn't seem fazed by it, but he definitely doesn't seem angry.

you don't seem like a bully, at least.

you finally realise you're not alone, looking up at touya strangely "who're you ?" you ask bluntly. shouto responds before he could. "touya- nii's my older brother, he's the one i wanted to show you."

you don't seem like a bully, especially not when you immediately turn to shouto the moment he opens his mouth, holding onto every word you hear. your eyes widen looking between touya and him, "that's your brother ?!" shouto nods proudly. you finally get off of him allowing shouto to get up too.

"coool !" you exclaim, but then you quickly turn towards shouto " but you're cooler, shouto !" shouto's eyes widen, before he almost bashfully looks away, claiming that his touya-nii is was way cooler than him. touya has never seen his brother this expressive before. it might not be much for others, and if he were anybody else he'd think so too. but even the fact his brows raise when you speak and he actually engages in conversation with you, as short as he keeps it, is surprising.

but from that small interaction, he can assume that you're not a bully. and he understands why his brother looked like he got jumped yesterday.

you're so much more different then him though, it's weird. you're hyper and giggly and chatty. you jump around and you can't seem to pull yourself away from shouto, who really doesn't seem unhappy although you're a bit rough about it. it’s like you’re glued to him.

shouto who barely even talks to his family talks to easily with you, even though you start the conversation all the time. shouto who only ever eats cold soba gleams at your promise to bring more snacks to share with him, like you apparently do every day. and shouto who touya barely ever sees emote, smiles when you tell him something funny. he can't tell wether his little brother smiles because he actually finds what you said funny or because you do. but whatever it is, it's making him happy.

touya is so shocked simply staring at his brother interact with another human being that he fails to use the little 'leave my brother alone if you know what's good for you.' speech he'd practiced the night before and suddenly you have to go. waving at him and shouto (not before hugging him with all your might first), who sadly waves back as he watches you leave. though he cheers up just a bit when with a last wave you tell him that you'll see him tomorrow.

touya, despite not having said a word feels incredibly tired, so he starts pulling his brother along home with him.

"so..that was your friend."

shouto nods "yn." he says.

"yn." touya parrots, eyes drifting from his brother to the road ahead of him. "she's kinda weird, huh ?"

at that, shouto's eyebrows furrow hard and he furiously shakes his head, tugging at his brother’s hand "no. she's nice." he corrects adamantly. touya stares at his brother, before looking away again "right.." he sighs "well, she seems to like you a lot."

his little brother nods again, a faint smile forms on his face "cus the people in class are mean to her. cus she's new and they say she's weird, but i don't think she is." he rambles, he actually rambles, touya blinks. he doesn't think he's ever been more surprised than he's been today. "yeah ?" is all he utters.

"yeah. people think i'm weird too, but yn says she thinks i'm cool." touya's eyes soften at his brothers words. he raises his arm up so his little brother is slightly lifted in the air. "course you're cool, you're my little brother." smiling softly to himself when shouto giggles.

touya knows that his little brother is weird, but he doesn't have to be worried anymore. cus it seems you like him, that you think he's cool and that you're weird too, in your own way. shouto keeps coming back home with dirty clothes and messy hair after that, but with happy and satisfied eyes and little candies he shares with his siblings that he made them promise to keep a secret. and he thinks his little brother will be fine, as weird as he is.

[solbaby7]

Az is so🤤🤤 toxic men in real life repulsive me but Az does it soooo well.

Can you do a slutatious reader meets possessive Az?

Like he refuses to make it official so she continues about her life and he stay hearing rumors about her activities. He doesn’t want to be another fuck buddy but he’s also holding back from her and that pisses her off and encourages her to continue w her endeavors.

I’m talking screaming fighting throwing shit toxic🤭

i love your work mamita, I’ll read ur fics all day😩🤧

Maneater

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: toxic relationships, possessive!az, promiscuous girl, swearing, sexual themes, lemme just say thank god for this request, probably typos

—

“You’re not wearing that.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” The retort comes easily, all too familiar with this dance. You continue as if he’s not there, staring at the material that molds to your curves like second skin. The entire back is out, the sultry swoop accentuating the fullness of your ass even if the front was fairly tame. Curled hair is flicked over your shoulder, lashes flirty and lips glossy as you reach for your clutch.

A shadow beats you to it, sliding the clutch just out of your reach and a slightly agitated smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you turn to face him. “I mean it. If that’s what you’re wearing, then you aren’t going.”

A brow raises, eyes taking in the perfect structure of Azriel’s face, the strong neckline and tattoos that crept up the left side. Rippling muscles strain against the black top; a pleasant contrast from his usual leathers and you nearly forget his audacity when appreciating his physique. “You must have the wrong room, Az.” You can’t help yourself but to touch, two manicured fingers dragging down the middle of his abdomen. Nails catch on the belt holding his breeches in place and the teasing tug has his pupils dilating. “Possibly confused me with one of those simpering females with damsel in distress tendencies? The ones who actually allow the tone you’re taking with me right now. ”

“I know exactly whose room I’m in,” Unashamed possessiveness radiates from every word and the step he takes to close the distance has an annoying effect on your body. “Just like I know exactly who won’t be leaving it if you don’t walk back over to that closet and change.”

“I have no reason to listen to you,” Azriel refused to admit it out loud, but he secretly loved this part—the pushback. The flirtatious flutter of your lashes and the seductive scent lacing every inch of glistening skin. “You have no claim over me. I’m a free female,” You know exactly what you’re doing; goading him with the same implications of the relationship that you and Azriel had been dancing around for the better part of a decade. It could’ve been different, could’ve spent more time making love rather than hate fucking against any sturdy surface after the shadowsingers jealousy had gotten the best of him after hearing yet another rumor about your latest conquest. “Free to do whom and whatever I please.”

He’s too good at feigning restraint when he truly was grappling for purchase; falling victim to such feminine curves and unwavering confidence. You peered up at him without fear, heart rate steady in his presence and he just barely catches the slightest hitch of your breath when Azriel’s hand wander up the bodice of the dress. Familiar fingers brush over the thick of your thighs, up the soft curve of your belly, taking special time over supple breasts and peaked nipples. Foolishly, you lean into the touch, goosebumps beginning to dot at your spine when the fabric rips in two. “It’s adorable that you believe that.” He doesn’t acknowledge your surprised expression, hands hovering over the ruined material as if it would magically sew back together. “Don’t ever make me repeat myself again.”

“You just—“

“I will see you there—in something much more appropriate, I’m sure.”

Azriel’s gone before you can respond, a humorless laugh passing glossy lips as you shuck off the remnants of your dress. High heels stomp against hardwood floors as you make your way to the closet, ripping through shades of deep navy’s and obsidian until your sights set on a sexy little number saved for special occasions.

A sinister smirk forms as you slip into it, eyes almost sparkling as you regard yourself in the full length mirror.

The halter neckline crosses at the chest, cupping cleavage with ease as the intricate golden bustier cinches at your sides, creating the illusion of wider hips and ensures nothing less than an elegant posture when you stride inside. Soft silks and chiffon kisses at the length of your legs, grazing over painted toes in painfully high heels but it pulls the attention you were searching for. Necks craning and hungry eyes eat up every dip and curve of your figure, mouths salivating at the liquid gold that pushes up the weight of your breasts. “You’re late,” Rhysand voice murmurs in your mind, utter boredom creeping into his every feature.

Your eyes slide to Azriel when you answer, anticipation buzzing beneath the surface of your body. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

To anyone else, the shadowsinger would appear to be the embodiment of stoicism.

But you knew that hard line of his shoulders, the barely restrained tick of his jaw, the slight flexing of his fingers around the thick arms crossed over his chest. The firelight crackles around him, golden light casting perfect shadows that nearly blend seamlessly to the ones that sang to him. With each step closer to the dias, those shadows grow more agitated, wiggling restlessly at Azriel’s feet, stretching up the length of his back to whisper in his ear.

You play coy too well, nodding respectfully to the High Lord and Lady before taking your place but those shadows shove you in closer. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Azriel’s towering form, the wings held high behind him subconsciously tucking you out of view. “Appropriate enough for you?”

“You are the most stubborn female I have ever met in my entire life.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d just admit it.”

He pretends not to care, masking desperate glances with hardened side eyes. The grip on his crossed arms gets tighter, barely refraining from the urge to drag you away from all the eyes greedily eating up your form as if it were a six-course meal with desserts on the side. “Admit what?”

“That you want me.”

That you love me the same way I love you.

That you don’t want it to just be a game anymore either.

Azriel doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even look your way but the sneer that curls at the edge of his perfect mouth was enough to have your confidence faltering. “I have better things to do with my time than chase after some harlot.”

Your brows snap up, nearly blending in with the seam of your hairline. He regrets every word when the teasing spark fades from your eye. Taking a sizable step away from him, your face goes hard like steel, nose scrunching with barely concealed humiliation and your teeth bare like a wild animal when Azriel reaches out to touch. “Don’t,” Angry tears make your eyes go glassy but not once does your voice waver. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

Rhys had already dismissed the others, waving a lazy hand and music fills the space. The strong smell of food permeating the air and you’re quick to blend into the gathering crowd, making a beeline for the elegant champagne pyramid tucked on the other side of the room.

Your hands shake when you grab the first glass, taking it back more like a shot than a classy sip of the flute but you just needed your hands to stop shaking—your heart to stop racing. One drink quickly turns to three and you’re well on your way to a fourth when a hand curls around your shoulder. “Fueling up for me?” The familiar drawl of Autumn’s first born heir reaches your ear, halting your display of gluttony.

This was why you were here—in Hewn City, prancing about the Court of Nightmares. Acting as a pretty faced guide the Night Court provided as light entertainment before Eris would be escorted off to the private meeting room two halls down. You’d amuse a few dances, allow him to talk your ear off and pretend you don’t notice his fingers inching down the curve of your spine. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for you, Vanserra.”

His brow raises, a sly smirk growing as the lights from the iron-wrought chandeliers casted their shadows against the burnt copper of his hair. Warm eyes trail down the length of your form, a single finger twitching when taking in intricate details of your gold bodice; the rich fabric that was so dark it almost seemed blue in certain light. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, I’m just hot and talking.”

Eris is just as bold as you remember, laughing softly under your breath at his proximity when you’ve turned around for another glass but a quick hand has swiped it from your grasp before a single drop can coat your tongue. “You’re testy tonight.” You can feel the cool caress of Az’s shadows curling around your ankle, a silent claim that has your teeth gritting against each other.

For once, you amuse the Autumn heir and his playful fire, dancing into the thick of his flame when you allow him to finish your drink and guide you to the dance floor with the others. “I double booked,” You lie easily, following his lead effortlessly as if you didn’t feel that cool wisp of a shadow steadily clamping tighter against your ankle. Low chatter blocks out the ability for others to eavesdrop but you can feel those golden eyes burning holes into the side of your face—to the bare strip of skin at your hip where Eris’ hand rested for the entire duration of the dance. “Can’t help the attitude that lingers knowing that I have to spend my night prattling about with you when I could’ve been indulging in multiple orgasms.”

A laugh that’s smooth like whiskey escapes Eris, a hint of a dimple forming on his left cheek and you hate that you notice the perfect lines of his teeth; his bottom lip that was fuller than the top, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicating it’d definitely been broken at least once in his life. “There’s ample time before my meeting if you’d like to have your cake and eat it too.”

“Maybe I’d agree,” You make a show out of examining him, subtly inhaling the spice of his cologne. Handsome but not Azriel. “If the ‘cake’ was a different flavor.”

Eris doesn’t falter for a second, even with the entirety of your Inner Circle’s attention fixed on him and the hands he had on your body. The deep baritone of his voice rumbles against your chest, nipples pebbling at the sensation. “Close your eyes then,” Words whisper at the lobe of your ear and the glittering jewel poked through it. “You can pretend I’m whoever you want with my tongue between your thighs.”

A witty remark crawls to the tip of your tongue, readying itself to leap off when that ghost chain around your leg pulls taut. There’s only enough time for your eyes to widen before you’re tugged away from Eris like a dog on a leash. It leads you out of the room and into the hall, refusing to loosen even a touch when you stubbornly resist but there’s no point when you’re cloaked in shadows. You barely notice the scenery change before you’re back at home and tossed over a shoulder. “You stupid, brutish, ape of a male!” Your shouts echo through the empty halls, bouncing off closed doors as Azriel strides through the foyer like he was on a mission. “Put me down right now!” Every word is coupled with the palms of your hands slapping at his thighs and digging into the back of his knees. One hand cranes back to dig into the thick of his hair and tug—hard.

Azriel’s hand is harder though, pure heat burning against the skin of your ass when it connects with a deafening clap. “Shut up.”

Your jostled back into place, cheeks warm and hands frozen where they’re bunched in the fine material of his dress shirt. “Az—“

His hand comes down once more and this time you yelp, teeth biting into the fat of your bottom lip as he clears the stairs and makes a sharp left. “I told you to shut up.”

Every bone in your body screams for you to comply, primal instincts igniting deep within advising you take the route of self-preservation but your pride overrides better judgement. “And I told you, I’m a free female. Let me go, right now!” You squirm once more, legs kicking and arms clawing for release when you’re roughly thrown off his shoulder and shoved into the wall in a motion so fluid it takes the air from your lungs.

Fuck your pride for letting her mouth write checks your ass couldn’t cash.

You’d never seen such darkness in such a vast sea of gold, the whole pupil of Azriel’s eyes blown out like a feral animal salivating at the mouth. “Do you feel like a free female right now?” He already knows the answer judging by the pleased smirk beginning to creep in the corner of his mouth at the sight of his shadows holding your hands in place.

You swallow thickly, annoyingly affected by his closeness and the hard bulge that throbs at your belly when he curls a hand around your neck, nose brushing your own. “I certainly don’t feel like I belong to you.”

“I can fix that.” It’s a promise. One you silently scold yourself for praying that it’s a promise he makes good on.

The Mother has favorites and tonight you must be one of them.

The kiss Azriel initiates is nothing short of brutal; the drag of his tongue across the seam of your lips his only kindness before gaining access and completely dominating from the inside out. Every touch is claiming; a strong hand calloused from centuries of skilled swordplay is generous when easing off the expensive gold bodice before the delicate fabric beneath is torn to shreds. Pretty strips of dark material spills to the floor, left for the house to clean as your thighs are gripped and your weight is hoisted up, legs cradling the muscular taper of Azriel’s waist.

He’s sucking marks into your neck, back pressed against the wall as his teeth graze at the sensitive skin there. Breasts spill from the confines of your bra, straps eased down your shoulders to make more room for his mouth to lay claim to. Azriel pinches at your nipples, eating up every sound like it’s offered on a platter. “Those noises sound like you belong to me.” Every nerve burns where he touches, marring your flesh and branding his mark as arousal collects in your underthings.

“Azriel,” You pant, trying to clear the fog of your brain but he’s all consuming; refusing to allow you air if it’s not the same one he breathes.

The flimsy underwear is pushed aside, familiar fingers collecting the slick gathering between your legs and a cruel smile grows on his face. “It certainly feels like you belong to me.” A thumb pressed firmly on the stiff bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles that has your toes curling. A thump sounds from where your head falls back to the ball, exposing the line of your neck and the dark purple bruises smattered along it. Your eyes close for a second, breath labored and mouth salivating from the promise of more but all that changes when his hands bunch up the elegant curl of your hair. He wraps it around like a leash, forcing you to look him in the eye and the rasp of his voice is devastating. “So why the fuck can’t you get it through your pretty head, huh?”

It’s a rhetorical question, that much you gather when he moulds his mouth to yours before you can even begin to muster up an answer. You’re boneless in his grasp, allowing him to take you to his room and share his sheets. The bedside table screeches when Azriel’s boot kicks at it, knocking over lamps and light bulbs shatter on the hardwood. He doesn’t even flinch, glass crunching under the soles of his shoes that he kicks off as he eases you down. “Az,” Insecurity threatens to rear her ugly head and ruin the moment, trying to push forth his hurtful words and the years of dancing around this feeling but Azriel’s already there to push that away. “Are you sure you even want to?”

“You belong to me,” He says and it’s final. Offering up the keys to the locked box filled with everything you’d dreamed about when you closed your eyes and wished on falling stars every year. Off goes his shirt and shortly his pants follow, dragging his underwear along with it and you can’t fight the moan when all of that bare skin is exposed and hovering above you. “Say it,” He urges, the hard length of him slotting between spread legs, grinding against warm need until you’re keening soft pleas into his chest, heels digging into his back.

The intrusion makes you gasp, hands greedy and mouth glued to his while he fucked into you like he always did. It’s a demanding pace; forcing you to take all of him while he watched you lose all your composure—all that beautiful fight that drew him to you in the first place. Az doesn’t stop, spurred on by strangled moans and choked words garbled together begging for more of him; harder, faster, deeper. Your clenching around him when the words stutter out of you in a whisper. “I belong to you.”

[scorpiussage]

Logan Howlett with a SO who likes to make him ugly sweaters

He has no idea who taught you to knit, but if he ever finds them he’s going to murder them in the bloodiest way possible. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t support you or your various hobbies and endeavors, he’s always the first in line to tell you how amazing you are and wear whatever you’ve knitted for him proudly. But Jesus fuck he can’t believe how ugly you make some of these sweaters. It’s like you have a gift or something (he makes a mental note to ask Charles if you’re actually a mutant and your power is making clothes that would make the blind weep) 

And you always look so excited whenever you give him a new one and he’s physically incapable of making you sad so into his rotation of clothes the new sweater goes - guaranteeing a mocking from Scott when he wears it. 

Though, as much as he hates the sweaters, no one fucks with them. He got into a fight with a usual baddie and he’d happened to be wearing one of your sweaters during it. When it got damaged, the whole battlefield went quiet and the X-men were quick to tell the enemy that they fucked up big time. No one ever hears from that particular villain ever again once Logan is through with them.

When Wade brings home a new (and alive) Logan, you begin your hobby all over again, gifting this very confused variant of your dead love sweaters. 

This Logan is also incapable of making you sad it seems, because he started to make a joke when you give him his first sweater but his face had gone panicked when you tearily asked him if he didn’t like it. 

“No no! Of course I like it! Look, Bub, I’ll even put it on right now,” and he does so with iron conviction written on his face, “It fits perfect. Look at that darling, you’ve got a talent.” 

It’s actually how this Logan falls in love with you. He can tell how much love and care you put into each sweater you make him and it does something to him. Touches a part of him that he thought he’d locked away forever. 

God above, though, he just wishes you’d use normal colors or something. 

(Charles nearly falls out of his chair laughing when this new Logan asks him if you’re a mutant and your power is making ugly sweaters) 

[fluff-n-cookies]

Thinking about yandad Dabi and his child who's now around 9-11 years old. Your writing has absolutely captivated me <3

Dabi starts getting more possessive, more protective, and certainly more assertive. He's your dad, after all—you HAVE to listen to him, no? It's too dangerous to go outside without him keeping an eye on you, you're still so tiny and fragile. He'll be damned if his kid steps foot out of the apartment without his say so, no ifs or buts.

After a long day of setting people on fire and committing various crimes, Dabi just wants to scoop you up into a bone-crushing hug and plop down onto the couch to snuggle his baby, paying no mind to your complaints.

While he's soft and affectionate towards you, it's a completely different story when it comes to others. Dabi is ruthless and aggressive, destroying anyone and anything that may try to take you away–much less harm you. It doesn't matter how small, Dabi will turn it into ashes without remorse. If you somehow figure out about his actions and try to make a run for it? He'd be crushed, obviously–Dabi can't stand the thought of you fearing him. Rest assured, he'd track you down and bring you back home, suffering you in cuddles while scolding you. He's your dad–you need to listen to him.

(Btw sorry about how long this became didn't realize I was ranting)

omg hi???? thank you for gracing me with this masterpiece??? wtf???? (lovingly)

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

and this is all so fucking true. I plan on making a longer fic on this (sorry to say that I haven't drafted it yet, I'm working on overhaul posts)

but he's so paranoid, so utterly terrified 24/7, he dead bolts all the doors and windows at night and only lets you go outside between 11 AM and 5PM unless it's for school.

speaking of which, he hates them for giving his baby so much homework and taking away from their time together buuttt he genuinely believes you need to get your education, don't skip out on highschool like he did.

and he does this thing, this god awful thing, after dinner, after your daily shower, and after getting you all nice and snuggly for bed and into your cat pajamas. he'll do this thing where he'll hold you tight to his chest while he flicks through the news channel.

now normally this would be fine, perfectly fine, if I weren't for the fact he either goes to true crime channels where they display the horrific acts of villains (himself included) live. he tells you that the world is a horrifying place, that that's how he burned himself, how painful it was, the scorching flames. he doesn't mean to traumatize you, it's just to warn you!

either that, or he'll go to news channels covering endeavor's problems, scandals, recent missions, interviews. please don't ask who that strange man with eyes like yours is. he'll hold you tighter and say in the lightest voice possible. "he's a bad man, don't you dare go near him, he'll hurt you like he hurt me."

don't say anything else after that.

he's just tired, so tired, and you're there, right when he gets home after running "errands". you're his reminder of what he's working towards, this future with no heroes and no pain that he's trying to build. the revenge he longs for and the aftermath where you thrive. really, you're the reason he gets up in the morning these days, the reason he stopped smoking in the house, the reason why there's no more beer in the fridge, only tenderly made lunches that he makes every Sunday to prepare for the week.

you're like this stress ball, this hit of Serotonin and Dopamine and what not. every time you smile he can feel his heart clenching. when he looks at you, he sees the boy he once used to be, happy. you're so happy, so pure.

he refuses to let you go out much, his reasoning being that the world's a terrible place. when you ask what's his job, what he does at "work" every day, he only chuckles.

"Oh baby, I'm trying to makes this world a better place, my job is to try and stop all the bad things from happening. I'm a type of... Freedom fighter, really."

and he so, so, so so so so so so sweet to you. you have never known Dabi, ruthless arsonist and serial killer. you have never known Touya, a boy lost in his own insanity and deprivation of paternal love. both are vicious, people, downright insane. one's a criminal the other's incapable of ever recovering from his own madness and fury.

the only person you know is your Dad, Dad's a nice guy, he plays doll house and dress up with you and watches cartoons with you every morning before school. he lets you wear his jacket when you're cold and left yours at school in your cubby, and he takes you out for donuts or ice cream monthly. sure, he doesn't have money, he can't buy you that many toys and sometimes they turn the light off because he missed too many bills, but he loves you. that's all you need to know.

Dad is a kind person, he's not Dabi or Touya, he's definitely not a hero. he's your dad.

And Dad does the best job of gas-lighting you to hell and back. you want to go outside after 5 or before 11? welp, he's not coming with you, sorry honey, maybe tomorrow. what do you mean you'll go anyway? the boogeyman'll get you! (it's him, he's the boogeyman, he knows you won't last a second out in the real world with your loving father's help and he's going to exploit it the moment you start to show independence.)

but it's very unlikely that Dabi would ever even get the chance to do this when you're 9-11 years old, you know why? because you'll be in Endeavor's custody by then. I refuse to elaborate since then I'll be spoiling the plot of Part 3 and I don't want that.

P.S. you wanna be tagged?

[vitalverstappen]

The Tortured Poets Department - D. Ricciardo

summary: snapshots of your relationship with Danny

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader

warnings: smoking, anxiety, self sabotage

word count: 1.6k

a/n: writing is quite literally the only thing getting me through the danny news so enjoy!

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Daniel was into the arts. He constantly had a camera in his hands, he had a .jpeg account, and his favorite dates were always to the local art museum. So it was no surprise that when you first started dating, he started to dabble in writing. What did puzzle you was the fact he bought a typewriter for his endeavors. And that he had a habit of leaving it at your apartment. 

“I don’t understand how you keep forgetting this thing. It’s huge” You joked as you flipped your phone camera to show the machine that was collecting dust on your kitchen table. As much as you loved him, you’d never understand why he chose such an antiquated way of putting his stories to life. 

“I left it there again?” He asked “Maybe I should just keep it there. We could start a club: The Tortured Poets Department” 

“Yeah, good luck with that” You said, a smirk plastered on your face. 

The next Grand Prix came quicker than you would’ve liked. You loved watching the race, and loved seeing Danny do what he loves, but you hated that he always ended up self sabotaging. It didn’t matter if it was a race win or if he came in last. He always found something to be upset about.

A frown was plastered on his face as he climbed out of the car. He had gotten fourth, so you would think there was nothing to be upset about, but that’s not how Daniel operates. You were easily able to decode that the finish meant he was either upset that he didn’t get on the podium, or that he didn’t think he deserved to be that high. 

“There is no way I actually got P4.” He began 

“I don’t deserve that” The two of you said in sync, a playfully mocking tone in your voice. You already knew how this was going to play out, as if it was a show you had watched countless times. You had the dialogue memorized.

A sigh escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, your tone becoming more serious, “Yes you do, love. You deserve that and the whole world.”

“You really mean that?” He asked as he pulled away from you, his arms still at your waist.

“Yes, I fully mean that. You’ve hauled that tractor of a car all the way to fourth. You have incredible talent behind the wheel.” You reassured him. 

That night, the two of you returned home to Monaco, where you had a nice, relaxing evening of listening to your favorite songs, smoking, and going through the F1 gossip blogs. It was a guilty pleasure, hearing what everyone had to say about you two. Both you and Daniel didn’t care how everyone felt about you two. If anything, it was funny seeing how wrong the internet was about everything that happened behind the scenes. 

“‘I think Danny and Y/N should get a dog. They’d be such cute pawrents!’” Daniel read and then glanced over at you, wiggling his eyebrows “Should we?” 

“God no” You laughed “ We can barely take care of ourselves. What makes you think we can take care of a dog?” 

Daniel shrugged “True, we’re not Charles and Alexandra. We’re just two idiots” 

“You’re gonna love this one ‘Rumor has it that Y/N Y/L/N is leaving Daniel for another F1 driver.’” You read off of your phone “And guess what the attached photos were of?” 

“What?” Danny asked as he took a bite of the chocolate bar he had in his hand

You managed to form a smirk with the blunt in your mouth as you tilted the phone for him to see. On the screen was a photo of you in the VCARB garage talking to another man. What the world didn’t know was that the unnamed man was your twin brother. 

“Wow, you and Matthew seem pretty close. I heard he’s into you” Daniel joked as he plucked the blunt from your mouth and putting it in his instead

“Oh shut up” You said, the two of you quickly breaking into laughter

The sound of laughter slowly died down as the album that was currently on the record player ended. The walk over to the dresser was like a minefield littered with empty chocolate wrappers.

“How many of these did you have?” You asked, picking one up

“Seven?” Daniel answered, unsure 

“Oh my god you’re ridiculous” You chuckled as you threw the wrapper at him, nearly hitting him in the face. “What do you wanna listen to next?” 

“Charlie Puth?” Daniel suggested, as he put out the end of the blunt “You know, he should really be a bigger artist” 

You thought about his comment for a second as you put one of his old records on, “Yeah, you don’t hear much about him nowadays”

As you climbed back into bed, Daniel rested his head on your chest. Out of instinct, your right hand began running itself through your boyfriend’s curly hair. He took your left hand and started fiddling with the ring on your middle finger - your mom’s engagement ring. Daniel loved playing with it for some reason, but you never questioned why. 

His chest began to rise and fall slower and slower, the fiddling stopped, and snoring began to fill the room. Never in your life did you imagine having a tattooed golden retriever of a boyfriend, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

But the doubts always crept in, and this night was no different. You were awakened by the feeling of Daniel tossing and turning all night, something clearly bothering him.

“You alright?” You muttered, turning to face him

“Wha? Yeah everything’s fine. Can’t sleep that’s all” Daniel spoke

“You usually sleep really well after a race. Something’s up. Talk to me.”

At this point, the two of you were fully awake and sat up in bed. Like you predicted, worry was spread all over his face. 

A sigh left his lips before Daniel spoke again, “Is this too much for you?” 

“What?” You asked 

“The relationship, the media attention. I know there’s a lot that comes with dating me. The cameras, the rumors, me constantly being away. I know it’s a whirlwind that even I can’t keep up with sometimes. Is this all too much for you?” 

Silence overcame the two of you as you became deep in your thoughts. It was a lot on you, and he knew that. It was always tough being away from each other, and you never thought your relationship would have a magnifying glass focused on it. 

But to you, it was all worth it to be with the one you truly loved. Love was about sacrifices and being there for each other regardless. And that’s what the two of you had done. 

“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a lot to handle” You began “It’s never easy being away from you, or worrying about your safety every weekend. And the constant comments about us aren’t exactly rainbows and butterflies, but honestly? I don’t want it any other way. I chose to be in this cyclone with you. I wouldn’t want it any other way as long as I have you.”

You could hear Daniel release the breath you didn’t know he was holding, “I love you”

“I love you too” 

The reassurance you gave that night was all Daniel needed. Once summer break arrived, he insisted on taking you to your favorite restaurant; the same one he took you to for your first date. He had managed to get you a secluded table with rose petals covering the cloth. 

“Danny, you didn’t have to do this” You said as he pulled the chair out for you 

“Maybe I wanted to” He said as he pushed you in and then sat across

The night was spent talking about anything and everything, from the first half of the F1 season to reminding Daniel why you refuse to eat pineapple on pizza. As the night continued on, you could tell Daniel was getting more anxious about something, but you couldn’t put a finger on what. 

“You know I love you, right?” Daniel blurted out 

Your eyebrows furrowed “Yeah Dan, I do. And I love you too”

“No, I love you, a lot.” He began as he took your left hand, “More than I thought was ever possible to love somebody. The day I met you I knew I wanted to be a part of your life. I wanted to experience everything that you do. Be there to celebrate your highs and support you through your lows. It has been so much fun getting to live life with you, and I’m so thankful you’ve been doing the same for me.”

Daniel paused as he got up from his seat, his hand still holding yours as he bent down on one knee. As he slid your mom’s engagement ring off of your middle finger, you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. This was happening. This was real life. 

“Y/N Y/L/N, Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?” Daniel askes 

“Yes Danny. Yes, yes. A thousand times yes!” You answered, the words falling out of your mouth with ease 

As you two returned to your apartment, the same typewriter Danny bought all those years ago greeted you on your dresser. Dust covered each of the keys, but it seemed to shine with a new brightness. There was something about the machine that drew you in. So you sat down, as if you were greeting an old friend, and blew the dust off the rusty keys, ready to join the Tortured Poets Department with Danny. 

[sunboki]

wrote this thinking of how adorable aftercare w fiancé! minho would be. no smut included!! just tooth-rotting fluff <3

the air is hot and heavy and in all honesty, you should be cringing because of the stickiness of it all, but you can’t. not when your gloriously handsome fiancé is hovering over you, bodies still impossibly connected despite reaching peaks of ecstasy long ago.

tonight was the night minho had proposed, the night he’d officially popped the question while roaming away from your beach chairs on Jeju Island’s breathtaking coast.

so now, intoxicated simply thinking about making love to you, he did just that, taking things slow and cherishing this newfound closeness as opposed to your usual roughness in the bedroom (that you heavily enjoyed). 

tonight was filled with whispered praises and long, deep kisses upon sweaty skin — something minho wouldn’t normally indulge in but didn’t hate.

“min..ho.” the syllables of his name slip off your lips, holding his cheeks in your hands as you carefully thumb away strands of dark hair that cling to his forehead. you don’t miss his small smile, eyes closing in contentment.

he doesn’t want to move; wants to stay like this forever, but knowing how exhausted you must be, he carefully pulls himself away, hushing your quiet whine at the loss of contact with a kiss.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper against your mouth because god, you want him more despite your body begging for rest, aching and swollen from previous endeavors.

luckily, the sensible one in the bedroom pulls himself away before things can escalate like before, grinning down at your pitiful frame that stares up at him so temptingly, begging for his self-control to crack.

“‘can’t sweetheart, have to keep my baby safe, hm?”

he made it quite obvious how fragile this moment was using “sweetheart” and “my baby” without alternative motives, and you’d hate to admit how much it impacted you as well.

you send him a look but don’t argue, melting into minho’s gentle touch when he lifted you up and carried you into the bathroom where he propped you on the counter — helping brush your teeth and clean the sinful residue off your skin.

soon enough you’re both comfortably situated in the bathtub, leaning back against his chest while the warm water eased the atmosphere into a cozy abyss.

“i may of carried you here but don’t think i’m dressing you so you better not fall asleep.” he playfully warned and you grumble a retort, ceasing to notice his stare trained on your sleepy blinking as he admired how cute and soft you are.

and… you’re out, looking unbelievably beautiful even while fast asleep.

to think he’d get the chance to experience this every week—maybe even more than that—has his head spinning, a dreamy smile overtaking his once serious expression. 

he’d like that. he’d like that very much.

all rights reserved by @sunboki. repost and plagiarism will not be tolerated.

[spideyhexx]

saccharine - sharing the bed

saccharine - aka; cowgirl!reader who teases the shit out of him x billy who 'hates' you, or so he says.

sharing the bed

fem!reader, little nsfw

Billy tasked you with paying and booking a room at the local inn while the two of you made a stop in the nearby town. You were scouting with him, meeting some top notch lawyer that can help the gang’s endeavors. 

It came as a surprise when he specifically asked for you to join him on the trip (less than a 20 minutes ride on horseback, but nonetheless a trip, alone, with him). 

He addressed the group with his usual laidback confidence that made you swoon. So much so, you almost missed the way his voice perfectly said your name, followed by his instruction for you to accompany him. Later that day when you confronted him on it, you asked, “did you enlist me as your confidante for this job because of our kiss or…cause I’d-”

He scoffs, “No. You’re just perceptive. I need…perception from you when we meet this guy.” 

It makes you cock your brow and he shoves his shoulder into yours when he walks away. Most hasn’t changed since the two of you kissed. And frankly, you did not mind that one bit. At the most, there were more lingering glances and touches and that was fun enough. You swear to god, if Billy jumped your bones one of these days instead of just brushing his shoulder to yours, it would have you dead on the floor before he was even in you. 

You scold yourself for thinking about that with him. 

Billy had gone off who knows where, stating he needed to take care of some business whatever the hell that meant. But you knew better than to question him too much. You did like twice and he gave you the silent treatment and a look with his pretty blue eyes. So here you are, paying the lovely innkeeper for the room and trudging yourself up the stairs. 

Your eyes immediately lock onto the fact there’s one bed, but it doesn’t phase you. You’re an adult and the bed is large enough for you and Billy so who cares? Right? Right. 

You busy yourself while he’s gone. The money in your pocket was just enough to buy yourself a sad looking hat to replace your lost one, but at least it was something. You wrap one of your handkerchiefs around it to make it look better and when you stand in front of the mirror with it on, your shoulders sag. It’s not an ideal look but again, it was something. 

The rest of busying yourself ends in continuing the wood carving you had started. You were unsure of what exactly you were making, but it would come along eventually. Maybe you’ll give it to Billy. He did seem the sentimental type at times. 

Just as you’re gathering the wood shavings in a pile on the desk, there’s a knock to the door. You had told the innkeeper Billy’s name so she’d know to give him the room number. Jumping to your feet, you straighten out your shirt and smooth your hands on your pants. A quick adjustment to your hat is made before you open the door and he walks in before you can speak. 

“Hello to you too,” you say, closing and locking the door. 

Turning back to face him, he’s holding something behind his back and his eyes linger on the bed. “There’s only one bed,” he mumbles. 

“You can see.”

Billy rolls his eyes as he looks back to you, about to say something, but then he tilts his head, “you got a new hat?” 

“Yeah, I needed it, my head was burning up in the sun and I hate being-”

“Also I told you to get a room with two beds,” he interrupts, looking back at the bed, and you use that opportunity to move closer to him. 

“I forgot to ask about that, but it’s a fairly big bed. What do you have behind your back?” 

Billy’s gaze returns to you and he doesn’t even flinch at the fact you’ve moved close enough to be right in front of him. He just knew you would do that. 

“You forgot to ask?” He gives you a look, his brow raised, like he’s disbeliebving of you. 

You give him a dramatic sigh, “Yes! I forgot! But it’ll be fine, you prude, we can sleep in a bed together.”

He shifts on his feet when you call him a prude and his lips turn into a pout as your hand hits at his chest. “What’s behind your back, Bonney?”

Billy glances back at your hat, “That looks stupid on you,” he nods his head to it. A smirk graces his lips when you groan. 

“I know! But I needed one. So get used to this stupidity, I guess,” you grumble at him. You pause a moment, then just shove at his chest again. Billy purposely stumbles back a little and you know it. Almost makes you smile, but you don’t let yourself. 

“What was thar for?” Billy walks back close to you, his gaze ever so intense even with his calm smile. 

“I don’t know!” 

You throw your hands up with your words. Billy lets out a breathless chuckle, looking to the floor and you shift to try and see what he’s holding, but he turns before you can. 

“Take that damn hat off,” he tells you, waiting. 

Part of you wants to keep defying him, but he’s got a spark in his eyes and it’s making you weak. So you take the hat off and just toss it aside. 

“Better,” Billy says, and he moves his hands to his front, your perfect hat that he bought you in his hands. Your eyes widen at it, looking back to his eyes, then to the hat. “Did you buy a new one or-”

“No, it’s the one you lost,” he says, delicately putting the hat on your head, fixing it just right. 

“But how did you-”

“None of your business.”

You roll your eyes at him and his smirk is a legitimate threat to your sanity right now. 

“You need to learn to stop interrupting me, I thought you had some manners.”

He scoffs, “Only some? I have manners.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. Oh. They look nice. Like you can tell he has muscles even through his shirt. Oh. 

“How did you get the hat back?” You try asking him again to block out your other thoughts. 

Billy thinks for a short moment before he shakes his head, “Like I said. None of your business.” 

Billy knew someone must’ve taken the hat, it was nice, and probably lying in the dirt. He went into every shop on the main street in town, hoping to catch someone with it on, with the reddish brown tie around it that he added. His luck of finding it was running out when he sees no sign, until he’s walking out of the general store, and sees a little girl with it on, too big for her head and her mother at her side buying some fruit. He initially decides to just let it be and buy you a new one, but he’d have little no money left so. 

He approaches the mother with his typical charming smile and a nod of his head. 

“Afternoon, ma’am,” he says, and the woman looks wary at first but gives him a greeting. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, it just seems your…little girl there has a hat that belongs to…a friend of mine. A special friend,” he adds on without really thinking. That’s what you were, yeah? A special friend. 

“I can show you the receipt if you need me to, my friend’s just been upset over losing her hat and I wanted to make her…,” he trails off and the woman seems to get what he means, bending down to talk to her daughter, saying something along the lines of this nice man says the hat they found belongs to a good friend who would be very happy if it was returned, etc. etc. 

Billy smiles at the little interaction and he takes the hat from the woman when she gives it to him, then he pauses. He digs into his pocket and takes out the money he had. “Buy her a hat that fits her with this. Sure she’ll love it even more. Every cowgirl needs her hat,” he says, before bidding them goodbye and heading to his horse with a stupid grin on his face. God he hates how he feels about you, but he can’t even hide it anymore. He’ll get his head together before he sees you. 

“You’re annoying,” you tell him when he keeps denying you how he found the hat. 

“Likewise, sweetheart.” 

Your heart does a jump, but you’ve already turned away from him, so he doesn’t see the way you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment. 

“Thank you for getting it,” you say to him and all he does is give a hum in response.

When the both of you settle for bed, you take up the opposite sides, so far from touching, yet it feels like you can still feel the heat from his body. There’s only the one blanket, so you share it. You tug it closer to you. He tugs it back more to him. 

You consider kicking him under the blanket but refrain because you’re not sure if you could handle feeling his leg. 

He falls asleep fast and you envy him for it because now you’re left with his calm expression and messy hair next to you. He’s just so beautiful. You’re not sure if he even knows how pretty he is or if you should tell him. Surely you’ve said it to him before, but he always wrote it off as you mocking him. But you wanted to stare into his eyes and tell him you thought he was pretty. 

“You’re pretty,” you whisper aloud without another thought. He doesn’t move, nor change expression, which gives you a sigh of relief. 

You watch him for a bit until you feel creepy and turn on your side, facing away from him, sleep slowly drifting over you. 

As the morning light shines through the window, you start to stir awake, your hand reaching up to rub at your eyes. But you feel him. Close. His chest flush to your back and his arm over you, his leg loosely tangled with yours, his breath on your neck, his groin…

His groin and the undeniable arousal from him pressed right to your backside. 

Your sleepy state doesn’t fully register it all at first until he shifts and you can almost feel how big he is. How nice it feels against your ass and how the slightest shift from you would make you rub against him, so close to your own pooling desire. 

Your eyes open. 

It snaps you out of the daze and you almost shriek, pushing your elbow back against his chest. It pushes his body to the edge of the bed. Billy stirs awake at the hit, but he’s too asleep still to realize his position and he falls off the bed, landing with a thud to the floor.

“What the fuck…” he mutters out, groaning, rubbing his chest where you shoved him. 

You quickly roll over to other side of the bed to see him, partially trying not to laugh, partially feeling very guilty. “Uh…I’m sorry?”

Billy, sleepy, messy-haired Billy, looks at you with his brow furrowed and his hand rubbing his chest still, “What the fuck was that for?” 

He sounds angry and you’re about to answer when he pauses, his gaze down at his lap. The blanket had fallen off the bed with him, but it still did not hide how hard he was. 

“Well you were kinda spoonin’ me,” you mumble, then put your hand over your mouth when he looks back up at you. His cheeks are flushed and he shifts the blanket so you can’t see his erection any longer. 

“I was?” 

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over the two of you and he’s trying to decipher if he actually made you uncomfortable but then he watches you try not to laugh and he shakes his head. 

“You can laugh,” he resigns, rubbing his hand through his hair, then at his chest again. 

You do laugh, just a little, then give him a pained expression, “I didn’t mean to push you that hard. Your head all good?”

“Fuckin’ shoved me, cowgirl,” he mumbles and you squeeze your thighs together, “yeah, head’s fine, but you probably got my ass bruised.”

A snort comes from you and it makes him smile. Oh you loved that smile. Since when did he like when you snorted?

“It’s not my fault you were a pervert with your…morning wood against me.”

“Okay, hold on, I am not…” he trails off and shakes his head, “I am not that. And don’t call it that.”

“What should I call it?”

He rubs his hand over his face, groaning, “just be quiet.”

“Will do, boss,” you say, smiling like a dork at him even though he can’t see it. 

But silently, you hoped he was also grinning like that under his hand.

[taetr4ck]

LOVE IN SCRIBBLES — ten things bang chan writes in his love letters for you

bang chan x reader, no warnings — fluff, a bit of angst if you squint

a/n: i need to get this out of my brain !! christopher got me on a chokehold for months now. even years. he’s such an adorable man. he deserves all the good things in the world. to my fellow bang chan girlies, please teach me how to stay sane ‼️

bang chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

i. do you remember those shared nights when we are in my studio, minding our own endeavors? i once saw you sleeping on the couch, with your phone nearly slipping on your hand — it made me melt. something inside me softened. at that moment, i wanted to hug you tight and tell you how beautiful you are – a mesmerizing sight. a beauty that i will never get tired of seeing.

ii. you made me realize how strong the power of love is.

iii. whenever i’m on tour, you are the one i’m always finding in the sea of crowds. i wonder if you’re with stays, chanting their own i love yous? and if you do, is it for me? because even if i didn’t get the chance to hear it, you already know the answer — i love you too. no words can describe how strong my love is for you.

iv. your presence reminds me of home.

v. i love your smile. it’s too cheesy for me to say, but your smile makes my day. i love it the most when you smile because of the things that make you happy. i’m glad that you smile whenever we’re together.

vi. i told you i love all the things you love. you said you love me, so i’m trying to love myself too. god, do i even deserve you…?

vii. at the end of the day, you are the one i always yearn for.

viii. no matter how many songs i write, my heart still calls out for you.

ix. i hate seeing you cry. i hate it even more when you cry because of me. i’m sorry, i really do. you don’t deserve me – no, i don’t deserve you. it pains me to see you in such a state. i love you. i’m sorry. i love you so much that it hurts

x. you made me feel as someone worthy of love — i am more than worthy because i am loved by you.

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[slayfics]

ive been thinking about a comfort story but instead of katsuki comforting the reader, she comforts him after a long day or struggling with something ❤️

You comfort Katsuki.

1k words

You prepared for an angry Katsuki to burst through the door any moment now. The new hero rankings had come out this afternoon and he had dropped rank, again.

It didn’t take much for you to imagine why. The week before the rankings Katsuki got rushed by reporters. Fresh out of a fight with a villain, adrenaline pumping, they spat out questions pushing for answers.

All the questions they knew would push The Great Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamite’s buttons.

“Dynamite, did you know it was the anniversary of the day you were attacked by the sludge villain?”

“Dynamite, how does it feel being behind Endeavor’s son in the hero charts?”

“Dynamite, can you make a statement about the damage you did to the city in your last fight?”

The list of draining questions went on, all captured on video, as Katsuki quickly lost his cool. Blurting out some colorful words for the reports to, not so politely fuck off.

You heard the keys in the latch and braced yourself for the sight of the angry blond. Yet, such a sight never came, instead, you met with a sight that was much more concerning.

Slumped shoulders, flat affect, vacant gaze. Katsuki sat on the couch silently working at taking off his boots. Not a word spoken to you. No sign of anger.

“Hey,” you greeted, testing the waters with him.

“Hey,” he mumbled without looking up as he tossed his boots aside. Head leaned back against the couch he closed his eyes.

"You want to talk about it?" you asked softly.

Katsuki inhaled sharply and shook his head no without opening his eyes. It was unusual to see him so defeated. Typical fiery ambition completely extinguished, lacking the energy to even be upset, he just sat.

You knew all too well how to extinguish the burning rage inside him, but this? This was new ground.

Your momentary paralysis gave Katsuki exactly what he needed. Space and quiet to just be. Slowly he opened up.

"You think it's because of how I responded to those damn reporters?" He asked.

"Possibly," you hummed. "You're human though Katsuki, all those pestering questions would have got under anyone's skin.

"Yeah but," he sighed before continuing. "You saw all the articles and viral edits. They didn't show the whole video, just the part of me losing my shit. A big majority of people think I blew up at some civilian reporters for no fucking reason," Katsuki huffed. "I don't give a damn about that though; people can think whatever the fuck they want... I'm I don't know," Katsuki paused and you gave him the air to finish processing his thought. "I'm fucking disappointed. All that damn therapy I went through- to still get so pissed at some dumb reporters, I should be way past that now. I'm still losing my temper like a goddamn child," he groaned, the displeasure in his voice weighing heavy.

"Katsuki," you cooed and moved closer to him bringing him into an embrace. Katsuki didn't fight you he welcomed your affection, finding solace from leaning into you. Head resting on your chest you combed your fingers through his hair. "Success isn't linear, and one mistake doesn't erase everything you've accomplished and worked for. It's a minor setback. It's tough but, it's nothing you can't come back on top of," you comforted him squeezing him with one arm and messaging his scalp with the other. Katsuki hummed into your chest taking in your words. You always knew what to say.

"I just fucking hate that I gave those reporters exactly what they wanted. They wanted me to blow up, gives them a good damn news story. Fucking vultures," he scowled.

"Mhm," you nodded. "You did, and you can't change that, but you can change how you're going to react moving forward because we know they aren't going to stop. Especially now that they've seen the effect they've had," you spoke problem-solving with him.

"Tch- yeah. I don't know what the fuck to do though. Walking away has been my go-to when I feel myself about to explode, but- in situations like that I'm rushed and cornered. Can't let out an explosion to fly away either because I'll hurt the fuckers. What's worse is I'm still workin' and trying to get back to the cops and agency to report what the fuck happened with the villain," he replied.

"Maybe you could say that... I'm working please move... or I'm working and cannot accept questions...," You suggested.

"Ha- I don't know about the please but... that's not such a bad idea... I'm goddamn working can't talk idiots," Katsuki huffed then relaxed more into your chest.

You giggled, "That does sound more authentic to Dynamite."

Katsuki nuzzled into your chest, his breaths becoming deeper, and the tension in his shoulders he had been carrying around all day finally easing up. "I shoulda called you right when I found out," he murmured.

"You know I'm always here whenever you're ready to talk... about anything," you answered. "I'm sorry I didn't call right away... sometimes I'm not sure when you need your space to process."

"You ain't got to apologize... I know my temperament isn't the easiest to read," he noted.

"I wouldn't have you any other way," you teased, pulling him up to press a kiss on his nose.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, "Cut that cheesy crap out," he complained the tips of his ears burning hot. "Besides, I still got dirt and shit all over me."

"I don't care," you remarked, giving him another kiss on his cheek.

Katsuki shifted in one swift motion pinning you down on the couch, "I said cut it out brat," he smirked, taking in the sight of you beneath him. "Why don't you come get cleaned up with me instead," he offered.

An offer you happily accepted.

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69

[souryoong]

good for you | myg (18+)

Pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x f!reader

Genre: smut!! (18+ readers only pls), established relationship

Word Count: 2,278

Summary: you've been teasing your boyfriend over text while he's been away in paris for business, and he comes home early to teach you a lesson.

Warnings: mentions of sexting, cunnilingus, fingering, making out, clitoral stimulation, tongue kissing, praise kink, edging, reader gets teary, orgasm denial, hitting it from the back, creampie (god I still hate that word!!). also showering together is henced because after all, they are a couple.

Authors Note: hi guys!!! welcome to my own version of march madness (some watch basketball, I write smut. jk I do like basketball too.) I said it before, but just in case you didn't hear, I am celebrating yoongi's bday as well as my own this month by posting my favorite pisces 2 (or 3? its the aries in me to be a menace) times this month. enjoy the smut and happy birthday to my twin flame, yoongi!!

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Yoongi’s patience with you seemed to always be never ending. Nothing that you did ever seemed to cross the line, and when it did, you knew.

Well, today was one of those days.

Yoongi had been in Paris for work for a few days, and with the time difference, you got bored at night and stayed up late, sending him pictures and videos of yourself. They started off with sending him cute outfits that you bought, and then lingerie. However, he stopped responding when you sent him a video of yourself in the bathtub, making you wonder if you might have taken things a little too far. You didn’t want to interrupt him if he was dealing with important business.

Feeling kind of panicky and unsure what Yoongi was thinking, you eventually went to bed, hoping he would somehow not see it, or completely forget about it.

In the morning, you woke up to a text from Yoongi.

Yoongi: You like teasing me like that don’t you, distracting me from work?

You knew he wasn’t actually mad, he probably did enjoy what you were sending him, but maybe it was a bad time.

You thought for a second, and sent a quick text back to him.

You: Just thinking about you, baby.

Hoping that smoothed things over, you went on with your day. Since the time difference, you weren’t expecting to hear from Yoongi until later on in the night.

Later on, when you were winding down for the night, changing into your pajamas, your boss at work called a zoom meeting, discussing some business endeavors.

Since you were very much not modest — your pajamas were a pair of underwear and a big t shirt, your camera was turned off so no one could see you.

The meeting felt like it was going on for forever, you had one of your AirPods in even though sometimes you felt like you probably weren’t even paying attention. The good thing was is that you probably didn’t have to talk.

You pulled your knees in towards your chest in your chair at your desk, taking a drink from your glass that was next to your computer mouse. Suddenly, you heard a knock, but brushed it off as one of your coworkers making noise. You didn’t look away from your computer screen.

A few seconds later, there was another knock that was slightly louder than before; making you realize it was in the room and not coming from the computer. You looked around the room and was almost in disbelief when you saw Yoongi leaning against the doorway, one of his hands in his pocket of his tan colored suit.

“Yoongi?” You questioned him quickly. “I thought you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.”

Yoongi stepped towards you. “My manager told me there was an earlier flight, so I left right after my event; hence why I’m so dressed up.”

“Yeah, you look so sexy.” You complimented him as he walked behind you. “What made you decide to leave early?”

That was a stupid question.

“Oh did someone suddenly forget what she did to me?” Yoongi’s large hands were on your shoulders.

You were silent, looking at your computer.

“Hey sweetheart. That was a question.” Yoongi leaned down, his low voice in your ear.

“I forgot about it.” You responded, reaching to rest one of your hands onto his.

“I’m not mad. You can send me whatever you want; you know that.” Yoongi brushed a piece of hair away from his face. “But to send me a video of you in the bathtub, while I’m sitting at a meeting? I had to cover my lap like I’m a goddamn teenager.”

You smirked to yourself at his reaction, not realizing he wasn’t done talking.

“Now I’m in the mood to edge you until you cry. Make you learn your lesson.”

You bit down on your bottom lip. Fuck. You knew Yoongi meant it when he said things like that.

“Yoongi, I —" You started to speak, but you were cut off.

“Hey, looks like someone has a meeting to listen to, right?” You wondered how long he was standing there earlier as he planted a few kisses along your neck, making you close your eyes. He was for sure pushing your buttons as you hummed in response.

“How was Paris?” You tried to distract your mind, at this point you weren’t even paying attention to your meeting.

“It was nice. I think you’d like it. Next time you should go with me.” One of his hands was now on your inner thigh, and you knew for sure that you were probably soaking your panties.

“I think —“ Your words were cut off when Yoongi’s fingers brushed against your clothed clit, making you swallow hard.

He moved one of your legs to rest on top of the desk, giving himself full view of your panties that were in fact soaked.

“Already worked up for me?” It was a stupid question to ask; you always were.

“Yoongi.” You spoke, a neediness in your voice.

He moved your chair back, somewhat startling you. Then he was hovering over you; his face close to yours. He gave you a quick kiss, making your heart flutter.

He slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties. “Lift your hips.” Yoongi suddenly spoke, and you did.

Yoongi pulled down your panties, swearing to himself when he saw how wet you were. Stuffing them in his suit pocket, he turned your chair and got on his knees in front of you.

“Fuck.” Yoongi muttered to himself, putting his hands on your thighs. You felt like you were holding your breath. Trying to focus on your computer screen, but also trying to brace yourself for Yoongi’s tongue or fingers.

Yoongi barely touched your clit with his thumb; making you jump. He pressed harder, moving in slow circles.

You let out a sigh, practically feeling your arousal dripping out of you at this point. Yoongi paused for a second, pulling your hips towards himself so that you were sort of laying back in your chair; and more comfortable. Just as you looked away from Yoongi, you felt him push his middle and ring finger inside of you, pressing against your front wall hard.

You cried out his name, leaning your head back.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Yoongi grunted. “Fuck.” He was right, you could hear the squelching noises from his fingers going in and out of you.

Yoongi didn’t say anything before leaning down and sucking your clit into his mouth; forming a rhythm with the way his fingers were moving in and out of you.

Your body shuddered when his fingers brushed against your sweet spot; and you knew you weren’t going to last long if he kept going like this.

One of your hands was in his long, dark hair; trying to hold him there. You could feel yourself getting close, hanging on the edge of your orgasm.

Until suddenly, Yoongi stopped.

“Yoongi!” You were so frustrated, panting. “What the fuck?”

“Baby.” Yoongi spoke lowly, kissing your inner thigh. “Did I say that you could cum?”

“No.” You sighed, looking towards your computer screen.

“Be good for me.” Yoongi glanced up at you, giving you a look that gave you chills and reminded you that you were practically naked in your home office, while he was still fully clothed.

He suddenly stood up in front of you, removing his tan suit jacket; and then throwing it off to the floor. Yoongi leaned in close, grabbing your jaw and giving you a deep kiss; making you taste your own arousal.

“Can you do that for me?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes.” You answered, even though it didn’t sound very promising. “But Yoongi, I think I might have to talk in this.”

“Then you can talk.” Yoongi pressed three of his fingers against your clit, then in a half of a second they were inside of you again.

Yoongi was going way harder than before; fucking you with his fingers. He stood up, trying to get better leverage. You felt his fingers bump your sweet spot, making you grab onto him; practically begging him not to stop.

“Yoongi, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” Your voice was a whine as your walls were clenching his fingers.

On the brink of your second orgasm, you could hear the squelching noise coming from between your legs; realizing that you were probably gushing at this point.

“Yoongi.” You whined, pulling him in for a kiss.

You felt his fingers leave you again, making you let out a sob of a moan against his mouth. At this point you wanted to cry. You wished that your stupid meeting was over and Yoongi was pounding you into your mattress.

“Yoongi, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.” Your voice was shaky as you exhaled.

“I think you can handle more.” Yoongi answered you. He was right, you always liked to push yourself until you found your limit.

You let out a whine when you felt his fingers teasing your entrance again. “Yoongi, please.”

In what seemed like perfect timing; you heard everyone in your meeting saying their goodbyes and wrapping up.

“Alright have a good night everyone, see you Monday morning.”

You watched Yoongi in front of you undoing his belt, and throw it onto the floor with a thud. You quickly unmuted yourself in the meeting to say good bye, then left.

You took out the one AirPod you had in your right ear just in time for Yoongi to grab your chin with one of his hands, kissing you with such a force you thought he’d bruise you.

You grabbed onto his wrist when he simultaneously slipped his tongue into your mouth as his fingers started rubbing your now over sensitive clit.

Yoongi let out a moan into your mouth, making your core clench around nothing.

You broke away from the kiss, his face was still close to yours. Practically aching for him, you whined. “Yoongi, please.”

Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, Yoongi stood back up, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Go to the couch. With your back towards me.”

As Yoongi’s shirt was discarded onto the floor, you got up out of your chair; your legs feeling like they didn’t belong to yourself at first. The couch was only a few steps away from your chair at your desk.

You put your knees onto the seat of the couch, then leaned your upper body onto the back rest. Never thinking you’d be having sex in your office; you were glad that this couch was surprisingly roomy.

Hearing movement and fabric rustling, you could only assume that Yoongi’s pants were now off. He moved his hand along the small of your back, pushing your t shirt up to expose more of your body to him.

“Fuck.” Yoongi swore as you arched your back, getting ready for him. “Look at you.”

You let out a moan when you felt his cock head against your entrance, and you moved, trying to fuck yourself onto him.

Yoongi grabbed a hold of your hips, keeping you still he pushed himself inside of you; bottoming out in one thrust.

“Fuck!” You let out a moan, your mouth falling open.

Yoongi sucked in a harsh breath. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

You put your knees further apart on the couch in attempts to feel him a little deeper.

“Yoongi, fuck.” You slightly turned, grabbing onto his wrist as he held onto you. “Don’t stop.”

You felt him nudge your g-spot, making your walls abruptly clench around him. You could tell that your orgasm was somewhat close.

Suddenly Yoongi pulled you up so your back was against his chest; the new angle making you feel him so deep it was like he was in your stomach.

Your eyes were watering as you still clutch onto him. “Fuck, Yoongi I’m so close.” Leaning back into him, he planted a few kisses along your shoulder and neck.

Yoongi reached between hour legs with one hand and started to rub your clit, and your legs started to shake underneath you.

Your eyes were getting teary as Yoongi’s pace never faltered. “Yoongi, please.” Your voice was a whine. “Let me cum.”

“Yeah, you wanna cum?” Yoongi’s voice was breathy against your neck.

“Please.” You leaned into him, one of your hands making its way to his dark hair as you craned your neck to kiss him. “Tell me I’m a good girl.”

Yoongi grunted, starting to fuck into you so hard that you fell forwards back onto the couch. “My good girl.” It was almost as if he was enunciating the words with his thrusts.

“Oh god.” The words left your mouth like a sob as your orgasm crashed into you; this time Yoongi doing nothing to stop it. Your body nearly trembling as Yoongi continued fucking into you. “Fuck.”

“Shit.” Yoongi swore under his breath, his hips stuttering before releasing himself inside of you.

“Yoongi.” You whined at the feeling before it was apparent it was running down your inner thigh. You laughed slightly. “My couch.”

“What?” He was panting, then laughed with you. “Sorry, baby.”

You turned to face him. “God, what time is it? I’m exhausted.”

“You’re telling me. I’m jetlagged as fuck right now.”

You looked up at him, both of you were sweaty, fucked out, and exhausted.

“I’m happy you’re home.”

Yoongi smiled at you, pulling you up off of the couch. “Me too, now let’s take a shower and go the fuck to bed.”

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Tags: @dearlyjoonie @thepurpleghost @che-er-ful @thoughtfullysassysublime @yoongiscta @polyparkj

[oliversrarebooks]

a good grade in being brainwashed: wants and needs

Masterlist > Next

tw: pet whump, bbu-adjacent, dehumanization, conditioning, references to drugging, references to dubcon

He was getting a good grade in being brainwashed, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

"He seems a little clingy, though."

B211's heart sank into his knees. He knew that was one of the absolute worst things a prospective owner could say about him, the very thing his handlers had spent so much time trying to train out of him. Don't cling. Don't be needy. Be affectionate, but only when your owner desires it. Be silent and still and obedient otherwise.

Don't be needy. Don't need. Don't want. Wants are for people. Your only wish is to please your owner.

He didn't miss the nasty glare that the salesman shot him before putting his customer service smile back on his face. "Yes, this one is very affectionate, which isn't to everyone's taste. Perhaps you'd be more interested in this Romantic…"

B211 fought down the whine in his throat as the customer removed her hand from his chin and walked over to one of the other Romantics, A797. He watched as A797 flawlessly executed each position, all with a smile that was just loving enough without seeming desperate. Just the way they'd all been taught.

God, B211 hated him.

B211 knew he could be the best Romantic in this whole damn showroom, if only he could be given a chance. He'd worked so hard at his training and conditioning, absorbing everything thrown at him, always striving to be the best in the room. He knew his quality -- he was eager to please any sort of master in any way they wished, ready and willing to become whatever they wanted him to be. Their lover, their fantasy, their toy, their shoulder to cry on. He was confident he could do it all.

And yet, here he was, left in the lurch yet another day. If things didn't look up, he'd spend another night in his cold bunk. Another night where his training headphones whispered to him about how much he craved touch and affection. Another day where he had to fight down his cravings so he didn't scare off potential owners. Another failure, another denial.

It was enough to make him want to pull his hair out, if that wouldn't absolutely ruin his appeal.

"I think I'm going to talk to your handler about another course of conditioning. I don't know how it's possible, but you've still got too much willfulness in that head of yours."

B211 scrambled down into a kneel, touching his head to the floor, as soon as he realized that the salesman was addressing him. "My sincere apologies, sir. I will endeavor to do better," he said, reciting one of his hundreds of programmed phrases.

"I can tell when a pet's more concerned with his own needs instead of the customer's," said the salesman disdainfully. "Honestly, you could probably do with another round on the Drip, wash that right out of your head. I think that's what I'm gonna recommend."

"Yes, sir," said B211, his inner elbow twinging with the feel of a phantom needle. He knew very well that he should accept whatever medication, training, or punishment he was given, as it was all to make him a better pet. But he hated the way the Drip made him feel, the way his mind was so slow and dim now, compared to --

No, that wasn't right. His mind had always been slow and dim. That's why he was well suited to being a pet. That's what they'd told him, why he'd signed up. He was slow, and dim, and unable to cope with life, unable to pretend to be a person. So he'd done the right thing and signed up. Instead of an endless cycle of pain and disappointment, he'd receive unconditional love and affection from an owner who truly wanted him. All he had to do was follow his training. Simple instructions. Practice these poses. Recite these mantras. Speak politely. Let go of your wants. Let go of your needs. Be perfect.

That was all he had to do.

He didn't actually remember signing up, of course, because the Drip had erased his memories (how many times). It was best for a pet to not remember (what didn't they want him to remember) so he could be blank and empty for his owner to fill with love (what was he before he was blank).

(was he ever loved)

He shouldn't be thinking those thoughts. That's why he wasn't getting bought. Stupid, stupid.

"Well, B211? Do you have a problem with that?" the salesman demanded, pulling him back to reality.

"No, sir."

"Oh, I think you do. I can tell you have something to say. Out with it."

It was a trap. It was always a trap. He'd fallen into it before, he thought, although his memories of those times were hazy and tinged with pain. "I think whatever you and my handler decide for me would be best, sir."

He was being hauled upwards by his shirt, the salesman glaring down at him. "That's your problem. You shouldn't think. You should just get it right."

B211's mind searched for a better answer. Slow, too slow. "I want whatever training I'm given, sir. I want to be the best possible pet for my owner. I trust in my handlers to make me the best pet I can be."

"Better," he sneered.

The ring of a bell indicated another customer had arrived, sparing B211 the salesman's wrath for now. This particular salesman always liked to take it out on the pets when they weren't selling like he thought they should be.

All he wanted was to be touched and loved. Wasn't that what he had signed up for? He couldn't remember, of course, but that's the only thing it could have been. Why didn't anyone see that? Why didn't anyone pick him?

Maybe the salesman was right. Maybe he should go back on the Drip. He was thinking too much. Of course he was right -- his handlers always knew what was best for him.

"Oh, I'm not sure a Romantic is what I'm looking for, exactly," said a voice that was so strangely familiar. "I don't need -- I mean, I don't really have those kinds of needs."

B211 strained to hear the conversation in the other room, beyond the curtain separating the Romantic showroom from the rest of the pet store. That voice. He didn't know why, but wanted to hear more of that voice.

"There are a lot of unfortunate misconceptions about Romantics, and I'd say that the primary one is that they're only for sex," said the salesman. "That's absolutely not the case -- maybe ten years ago, but modern Romantics are so much more. They actually have much of the same programming as our platonic Companions, and even some Domestic capabilities. They're the perfect choice for a busy man who wants a little love in his life."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a look at them…"

The customer pushed aside the curtain leading to the Romantic showroom, and B211's heart stopped.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and darker curls, and large, sparkling eyes that he could get lost in. He was handsome, very much so, but that wasn't what caused B211's breath to catch in his throat -- he saw many handsome customers. No, there was something about this one that ran deeper than his looks. B211 was seized with an inexplicable, undeniable desire -- this man absolutely had to buy him. This man should be his owner.

(But pets weren't supposed to have desires.)

The customer was staring at B211, too, but not in the way he would prefer. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that one," said the salesman. "He's a bit more high maintenance than our other Romantics, and you're looking for a pet that's very independent, right? I'm sure a lawyer doesn't have that much time to spend entertaining a pet, which is why I'm going to recommend this model…"

The customer, the lawyer, let himself be pulled away from B211's case, and B211 was filled with bubbling rage towards the salesman. Something flashed in his mind, a memory, perhaps, of fighting, of kicking and screaming, of having to be held down by four people as the IV was inserted into his arm --

No, that wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. He couldn't hate the salesman, or the handlers, who only wanted the best for him. If the lawyer wasn't a good fit…

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Why was this so important? He'd been passed up by so many people, what was one more to him?

B211 couldn't help but watch the lawyer out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he seemed bored with the other models the salesman was showing him. Distracted. He glanced back at B211, who quickly lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I think I have just the right fit for you!" said a bubbly saleswoman, emerging from the front of the store. She was leading along a man in a slouchy t-shirt and jeans, who was looking around the Romantics showroom in awe, as though he'd never seen so many pets. The saleswoman stopped in front of B211's case. "He's a refurb, so he's available at a discount! He's very affectionate and quite intelligent for a pet."

"Well, he's not bad looking," said this new customer. "Pet, introduce yourself."

B211 snapped to practiced attention. "Hello, sir, my designation is B211, and I'm a Romantic designation with additional Companion training. I enjoy cooking, old movies, and cuddling, and I'm always open to new adventures!"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. He's not really my type. I was hoping for something a little more… demure, do you have anything like that?"

"Certainly, sir, right this way!"

Normally, B211 would be devastated at losing another prospective buyer, but this time, all he could think about was the lawyer. The lawyer who was currently standing in front of the showroom's most expensive pet, being given the hard sell.

"…and he can do anything you want, sir. He'll be there for you when you need companionship, and quiet and out of the way when you need space. He's fully automated and intelligent enough to serve as a personal assistant or run a household. And when it comes to his Romantic skillset… he's very easy to please, and very eager and capable of pleasing others. If this pet is within your budget, I think he'd be the best suited to your needs, sir."

His needs. What were the lawyer's needs? Pets didn't have needs, couldn't have needs. B211 knew he could do whatever that so-called premium model could. But the lawyer probably had more than enough money to go premium, and why would he buy a discounted refurb when he could buy a brand-new luxury model?

"He does seem like an ideal fit…" said the lawyer.

"Would you like to spend a little time with him? I'm sure once you do, you won't be leaving this showroom alone."

"Well… maybe… but I'm still interested in that one. The one I saw when I first came in."

And the lawyer looked straight at B211.

It was impossible, wasn't it? Why would he be interested in B211 when a premium model was an option? Did he actually recognize B211's value? Was that why he'd been so drawn to this man as an owner?

The lawyer walked his way. B211 tried his hardest to read the expression on his face -- an essential skill for Romantics, to be able to read their master's smallest emotions -- but came up short. He couldn't tell what this man was thinking at all.

But his eyes looked kind. And B211 felt…

It was a feeling he couldn't place. It wasn't happy, or aroused, or quiet, or agreeable. B211 suspected it was one of those feelings he wasn't supposed to be having, one that the Drip was supposed to wash out of him.

"Are you sure, sir?" said the salesman, trailing after him. "This one is a refurb, you know. That's why he's on a discount."

"A refurb? Do you know why he was returned?" The lawyer's eyes never left B211.

"Ah, his original owner simply found a new relationship, and was displeased with the amount of attention this Romantic required. He's been wiped of those memories, and we've done our best to train out his unfortunate need for attention, of course, but he'd be a risk compared to our premium models, which can all be customized just for you for only a small additional fee…"

The lawyer wasn't paying attention to the salesman at all as he continued his pitch. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

And B211 finally placed what that strange feeling was. Safe. The lawyer made him feel safe. It wasn't something he had felt in training. It was something much older, something he shouldn't remember.

"I want to buy this one," said the lawyer abruptly, cutting off the salesman's patter.

The salesman couldn't hide his shock. "Are you sure, sir? There's no rush. We'd be happy to put a model on hold for you for a small deposit if you'd like more time to make up your mind."

"I've made up my mind. I want this one." The uncertainty on his face from a moment ago was gone, his voice firm. Firm enough that B211 dared to hope.

"If you're certain, then… I'll draw up the paperwork. But keep in mind that we don't accept returns on refurbished pets."

"I won't be returning him."

And the lawyer smiled at B211, actually smiled.

And someone had finally seen him. Someone wanted him. Someone was going to love him.

All he had to do was not screw it the fuck up.

Masterlist > Next

[itsnothingofinterest]

You know, for as much as I really don't like the AFO reveal of this chapter and how it looks to attack Tomura's agency; I do like how almost in the same breath it confirms just how much the things and people Tomura's been fighting for mean to him. And I need some Tomura positivity as a palate cleanser to AFO; so I think I'll join everyone in rightly gushed about his lines of being a hero for villains, because that part made me so happy.

Like, I have heard over and over until now how Tomura doesn't and never did care about the League’s causes or all this systemic stuff he yaps about, he only cares about the trauma of having killed his family with the quirk he was born with. And that's all AFO's fault probably, so once the reveal is done it'd turn out Tenko has no reason to be a villain, since as the cringelord put it, "[Tomura's] never made a single decision of [his] own".

But immediately after learning just how much he cares about being born with Decay, we also learned that his conviction is not so shallow. He truly did and does want to be a hero for the people the system doesn't support & heroes don't save; the unpopular kids, the petty crooks, the complete psychos who no one, not even Deku would give a real chance too. For as much as it messes him up to think about his past; the hatred was just drive, gas in the tank much like Bakugou's attitude or whatever anger Deku reserves for guys like Overhaul or AFO.

And it’s not even just the League either; the entirety of the PLF’s 6-figure membership came around to him, and outside of them we see this chapter a handful of other civilians rooting for him instead of Deku. Heck, even before this chapter we heard mention of people who looked to and supported the League in secret; online and such. Some will call these isolated examples, but who knows how many or how few people there are looking at him as their symbol of hope instead of Deku or Endeavor because they too are desperate for a change the heroes aren't offering.

Redestro once asked what Tomura wants to build. He responded he only wants to destroy. I believe the full truth is that he wants to clear the way to a world for them.

Despite what's claimed by AFO and readers who I feel overstate his impact on Tenko; Tomura really did care about the League, he cared about doing away with the threats to their lives & livelihoods, he wanted to be their hero and save them. Deku can reach his heart but no pretty words about holding hands could ever change that; and this core motivation never had anything to do with AFO.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I mean, unless it was. Everything else about Tenko was caused by AFO's manipulations in service to him apparently, why not his drive to be a hero for the discarded too? God I hate the direction that reveal is going, have I mentioned that yet? Oh how I hope expectations are subverted there.)