#holy shit did i make price a fucking manipulator in this

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 14 - makeup sex

price x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.2k, established relationship, mentions of fighting (nothing physical), NONCON: somno, nipple-play, dry-humping, fingering.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

“Fuck off,” had been the last thing you yelled at him, tears in your eyes as you slammed the door in his face. Maybe if you hadn’t been so heated, brain a tempest of emotion, heart pounding in your chest, throat hoarse from a long shouting match, you would have noticed how eerily calm he had become. You stood in the entryway catching your breath, waiting for him to start shouting outside, to pound on the door. Something. Anything.

All you heard was his car start and then cooly drive away. No slammed doors. No revved engine. No tires peaching away. You swallowed hard, still gasping at air as you let your back fall against the cool metal of the door. For the next few minutes you waited like that. Waited for him to come back, for the sound of his engine rumbling back up the driveway, for him to demand you open the door, for you to talk to him. 

But that never happened. You wiped your tears away and got on with the shameful task of cleaning up the house after your fight. You went room by room. You swept up plaster dust from the hole John had punched in the kitchen wall and glass from he candle you’d smashed in the bathroom. The clean up didn’t take long, but it left you emotionally exhausted. Your heart still thrummed in your chest, adrenaline flushing your cheeks. 

You knew you should get the hard part over with, should get packing his things and maybe send him a text to let him know when to pick everything up. Maybe you could even convince him to leave his key too. You huffed as you stared at your disheveled reflection in the mirror. You should be an adult about this, but you didn’t want to. You wanted to shower and curl up in bed and forget this whole mess. You had a silent hope he would just ghost you, but you laughed at it. Men, actual mature men with careers, didn’t do shit like that.

You couldn’t remember a time you’d been this tired. You snuggled up with a pillow in your arms (not John’s, certainly not) and fell into a death-like sleep. 

The mattress creaking under his bulk in the middle of the night gave him away. It scared you, and for a moment you considered confronting him, trying to get away, maybe calling the police. Not that you could do anything now. Even if you tried, you would have to scramble out from under the sheets and try to bolt for the door before he could intercept you. As he lay down at your side, you steeled yourself, ready to endure. There was no point in running, and you knew it. 

You kept your eyes closed and steadied your breathing, pretending to sleep. He shuffled up behind you, pulling you into his arms to spoon against his chest. You could feel his heart beating. His hands were gentle on your arms, stroking continuously over your shower soft skin. His face pressed into the crown of your head, breath ruffling your hair, breathing in your shampoo. All gentle, stupid things he had done early in your relationship. Things you had spat in anger not five hours ago that he never did anymore. 

“Don’t want to fight,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear, making you shiver, as he continued to massage your arms. “Don’t want to lose you. Love you.” 

You didn’t respond, only clutched your pillow to your chest and metered your breathing. He wasn’t drunk from what you could smell, which was strange. You could usually only get him to say “I love you” when he had a few pints in him. There was maybe a hint of that pungent cigar smoke, most likely from hotboxing in his car, something that you loathed, as he continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

“Love you, baby. Love you so much. Don’t want-” He stopped to suck in a shuddering breath, hand clenching on your bicep. “Don’t want this to be the end. We’re stronger than this.” He nuzzled your neck, beard pricking your skin, forcing an involuntary shiver. 

“Come on, love. Talk to me,” he grumbled, one rough hand on your jaw forcing your head to face him. You stubbornly kept your eyes closed. You weren’t going to give him an inch. You knew better.

He proved you right immediately, reaching down to stroke at your breasts, kneading at your perked nipples. You don’t think he saw your brows scrunch together in frustration, trying your hardest to suppress any reaction or sound. He was too busy pressing his face to yours, huffing long, tired breaths over your heated skin. You bit your lip when his other hand began to pet your pussy, working you up just the way you liked it. The way only he could. 

“You asleep?” he asked. Your mostly impassive face must not have been a bother for him, because he groaned against your lips while his hands plucked at your buds, core dripping around his fingers. 

“Please, lovie,” he whined, planting a delicate kiss over your lips. The contrast of his butterfly-light kiss with the thrust of his trapped cock against your hip was not lost on you. “Please just, fuck- lookit me. Lemme-” he groaned again, his fingers swirling against the soaked cloth of your underwear in time with his thrusts. “Lemme make this right.”

You remained rigid, holding onto your pillow until John apparently had enough. He ripped it out of your grasp, making your arms fall to your chest. The next thing you felt was him rolling over you, his thick, muscled thigh taking the place of his hand pressed to your sopping core, the dry skin of his fingers tracing over your cheek and jaw.

“Baby. Love. Please,” he pleaded, a gentle kiss following each word until he met your lips. His hand on your jaw pressed into your cheek, forcing your mouth open. Your eyes shot open in shock as he pressed into your mouth, lapping and sucking at your own languid tongue. He groaned, rolling his clothed hips against yours.

“Can feel you,” he whispered, a dark edge, like a threat, in his voice as he broke from his kiss. “So wet. Always so wet for me,” he continued, fingers fumbling to pull your underwear to the side, exposing your hole to him. Two of his thick fingers were quickly thrust inside you. His mouth pressed to your ear, making you hear every wanton noise he made. 

“Easier if you just listened to your cunt, lovie,” he growled in your ear, punctuating his statement with a bite on the lobe of your ear and a curl of his fingers inside you. He landed with perfect placement right on the spot that always had you shuddering, crying and begging to cum. “She knows what she wants. Knows I can give it to her. Smart little thing.”

You opened your eyes again, tears blurring your vision. John kissed your cheek, purring as he thrust against the push of your hip again. 

“Theeeere’s my smart girl,” he said, voice all smiles and sing-song, as his thumb swiped a circle around your clit, his fingers pumping again.

[ceilidho]

okay you opened a can of worms by inviting me to share my thoughts but i'm spewing this jumbled mess into your inbox.

i don't know why the fallout price cult leader got the worms WIGGLING as much as they did but it's so, so brilliant. because cults are so, so sneaky. there's a reason why people join them, or are born into them, and never ever leave. they're charismatic. kind. they make the weird acceptable in ways most others wouldn't. like i mentioned before, out of the frying pan and into the fire; except you don't fully realize you're on fire.

price's vault runs so smoothly that no one would ever expect anything sinister because all the inhabitants are completely content, if not thrilled with their lives. they welcome you with open arms, which is much needed and extremely missed after not having real human contact for x amount of time due to distancing because of the sickness that ravaged your old home.

oh god, and new breeding stock? i just know that if you make a comment about it, unsure if they're joking, they pass it off as an archaic term. it's your strong genes. you survived a plague, didn't you? if you eventually choose to wed and have children, it'll strengthen the population. that's it. don't think too hard about it.

but all it is is fucking mind games. they have to rewire your brain if you'll ever be an upstanding citizen of the vault. everything is completely normal, especially the things that make you uncomfortable. it's how they get you. how they hook you in and never let you go. and hell, if they can't train you? good on Mr. Price, our Overseer, to take in such a wreck of a woman. he truly is our good leader, setting such a wild thing straight.

it's like if midsommar and fallout had a fucking child and i'm so here for it. i think this will rot me from the inside out for a few days.

but also the idea of raider!johnny just. fuckin covered in blood after slaughtering the band of raiders for ever dare insinuating that you were anything but his is also hot as fuck. i do love my men feral and disgusting.

omg I forgot to post this the other day because I read it as I was falling asleep but holy shit……please write this I beg of you 😫 sometimes I look back at the way Price spoke to Gaz in MW1, the subtle manipulation of it all, and god. He’d make such a good cult leader.

[cranb3rryb3rry]

I saw your post about the hero of auras!! And why he’s called that. If you don’t mind elaborating on him a bit more?

You said something about him using his spirit to push out the evil (auras??) that were starting to corrupt the people? How did he find out he could do that? Was it a folklore based thing or was it a “…well shit”

I would never mind elaborating

in fact, I love elaborating actually

me onw to dump so much info about him onto you

1. Why he's called that:

so he's called the hero of Aura's because of his special hero power (ex. time and his masks, wind and his wind).

he has the power to see and manipulate the auras of others.

(Also an aura is basically the person's spirit!)

For example, let's say that he's being overcharged for an item (lmao), he would be able to go into the shopkeeper's aura and play with the different emotions/consciousness in there to sort of tug on heartstrings for them to lower the price.

However, he can not make someone do something that they wouldn't do. he can only push someone to do something that they have already been considering!

2. How he uses his own aura

so his aura is very (god how do I describe it)

smothering/dominating

in like an unsettling way

like you can tell he's here to help but god that (his aura when it is in use) feels so awful

it's like the aura of an animal always on edge

His aura is so powerful that it can actually manifest enough for normal hylians to see it and for it to be corporeal

when uncorrupting people, he sort of works like a purifier

he takes in the bad stuff and breathes out the good stuff!

like a tree!

and yes it does kinda burn for him to take in the bad stuff

considering he's been blessed by Hylia and is technically some sort of holy creature

but eh

3. How he found out he could uncorrupt people with his aura:

it was actually during the beginning of his adventure

like the beginning beginning

like he didn't even know he was the chosen hero beginning

it was when he was on his way to the church of Hylia with his family

when he was inside he was going to pray like usual when he was accidentally pushed into the statue by his little siblings

this contact with the holy statue was the catalyst for the beginning of his adventure

Hylia spoke with him when he touched the statue and he couldn't really hear her at all (imagine gods talking to you but they lowkey sound like they're underwater)

anyways when she stopped he was just kinda like what

and nothing happened at first

but throughout the day he started to see little mist-like tendrils coming out of people

like they were covering the people's eyes, ears, and mouths

and all the mist was the same color, a dark and murky red mixed with black and a sickly shade of plum purple

and to skip a lot of not-really-important stuff about him freaking out

all the villages then turn on him and try to sacrifice him to Ganon 🤗

and of course, he starts freaking out like his entire circle of family and friends just started actively trying to kill him

and that's when it activates (like at the moment he's about to be killed by his older brother)

he basically does a mega-purification on his brother who stops and just kind of looks at him before the other villagers start attacking him instead

and as his brother is being like mobbed, he looks to Auras and tells him to run

and that's the last time he saw his brother

and the game (if he had one) begins with him in a forest after he just ran away from the village

so it was more off a 'what the fuck' moment, instead of a 'well shit' moment

Fun facts!

Hylia was actually trying to tell him that this would happen if he didn't leave the village and she was the one who gave him his Aura powers

and the reason he didn't hear her is because of how close he was to his family who were already corrupted (like one of his siblings was holding him while she was tryna tell him and this fucked up the connection lmao)

chocolate makes him sick!

he's adopted! and the family taking care of him are very very very very VERY distant descendants of Time and Malon!

I hope you enjoyed my little rant about him

feel free to ask about his Zelda too!

I'll draw her as well and include her in the next post!!

[rounderhouse]

SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE. It's Time.

The Man in the White Suit series could be read as an allegory for war and how that so deeply fucks up everyone involved IN THIS ESSAY I WILL—

Part 1 of this mess of a ramble!! General Thematics! This series fuckin loves using this shit as a backdrop. Fritz Obermeyer essentially sells his soul to the Nobody entity in the trenches of war, Chiaroscuro is ENTIRELY backdropped to World War (I think?) II, throughout SCP-5353 they’re a busting a German war criminal, exposing corruption, causing riots, and trying to locate things related to WWII (also a handful of other stuff in that file can def contribute to the allegory but to save adding like two more paragraphs I don't know how much the tumblr ask system can handle) in their search for Fritz if I'm recalling properly. AND I don’t remember if it’s Whitesuit or Nobody but ONE OF THEM explicitly refers to their conflict with the other AS A WAR. THEY CALL IT A WAR.

Next up? SCP-5877, just in general. When I fiiirst read this series last year this entry had briefly confused me before I realized they’re meant to be people the Nobody entity chewed the identities of like a particularly destructive dog and then abandoned once it was done with them. HOWEVER they also really contributed to this whole reading as an allegory. They’re a large chunk of population who can’t be perceived until they turn up DEAD. Twin stillborns when there was only one child detected (nnnoot even getting into the implications behind THAT), bodies in a plane crash strapped overtop of other passengers. It’s eerie. The whole intro part of that article is incredibly unsettlingly but similarly tragic. They’re people. They are people caught in the crossfire of Nobody and Whitesuit’s little war. Their nature makes them naught but nameless and faceless statistics. Numbers on a spreadsheet. They are causality to a conflict they did not wish for. And in their deaths they are reduced to nothing but a number. Causalities. Like a ticking toll of deaths in war. A cruel price that those fighting will either seldom acknowledge, or deny. I can go further and point out they were “drafted” by an entity beyond their understanding to be a puppet. A foot soldier in it’s eldritch quest for what it claims to be a greater good. But what happens to a puppet when the strings are suddenly cut? When their “purpose” comes to curtain call? They are lost. They are scared. They are never the same.

Another point for this reading of the story is Fritz in the coda and this builds off of the last bit. He’s free from the Nobody entity but he’s,,,, out of time. Displaced. He’s a man from the god damn 1930s the narration remarks how he's probably the only man from his time STILL ALIVE. Its the fucking 2070s. Everything that man knows is GONE and CHANGED and he is scared and alone and confused and hey this sounds like what happens when people return from WAR. No longer in touch with what's happening, and ungodly levels of traumatized by what they’ve endured— never the same. Fritz, honey, please seek therapy. Actually all of them should. Please guys. Holy shit. 

To harken back to the coda again there's a line that goes “There didn’t have to be a grand plan, an artful ending. Just the march of life.” There’s no glory, there’s no final fight of confrontation, at the end of the day it's just people — it’s just scared, manipulated people trying to fight for SOMETHING to give themselves meaning after tragedy stripped them of all they are. 

And hell, what is Whitesuit if not an amalgam of a handful of 5877 instances that came together and wanted to fight against the horrid thing that made them the way they are. He is a literal embodiment of destruction that Nobody leaves in its wake, like a wraith or ghost. Fitting for a man dressed in white. He is an angry, mourning entity lashing out in hopes of stopping what’s happened to him (them?) from happening to more people- but in the process is just fanning flames. The retaliation sparks war. The creation of a century spanning cycle of violence and revenge.

To make a similar point to the paragraph about the SCP-5877 instances, the Maliz family too are caught in the crossfire of Nobody and Whitesuit’s fight against each other. And it's implied to occur across generations. Hester Maliz, and her grandson Tyler are the main focus. Funnily enough I remember an exchange between Hester and Nobody where he chastises her for enrolling Tyler in a Foundation program at such a young age. He calls it a brainwashing fascist boot camp. Nobody goes on to threaten Hester with how the future of the Foundation will turn it to more militarism, fewer compromises, and corruption. A machine that will cement an empire. For history repeats itself time and time again. War never changes (funny fallout line, laugh now).

And all of this is fucking rich to hear from the entity that’s been possessing people and bending them to its will and goals the whole story. For no matter how noble the entity may think its own goals, it too is a frightful machine. Whitesuit even remarks to Hester prior to her exchange with Nobody: "think about what the Foundation would be like if it had all the drive in the world and no purpose, doing things and hurting people just because that's what they'd always done. Like an automaton." Nobody too is an element of war enforcing something very few understand. For the entity is blind to this (or perhaps just uncaring), just as Whitesuit perhaps is. They are two entities caught up in a cycle of horrible violence without much acknowledgment of who they hurt and who is caught in the crossfire. Tyler Maliz tries to stop them, but his efforts to do this culminate in something perhaps cruel when he turns to try and stop Nobody and Whitesuit from ending this war through the Name Machine.

Which is something he fails in. But hell, even then it's not the true end, despite it closing the story. Nobody and Whitesuit are gone, but the effects of their actions will linger like a horrid specter over the survivors. Things will not be the same again. But life marches on, does it not? It won't be the same, but an attempt to move on and heal can be made.

This series doesn’t really end in a victory. It ends in survivors trying to pick up their own pieces.

Hey, just like war. 

Jesus christ this was way longer than I thought it would be LMAO. Hi I’m Dino--Draws and I am so fucking autistic about this series. Have this 1,000+ word borderline essay/ramble about thematics and allegories.

oh sweet zombie jesus that's a lot of words

this is a really good breakdown! i admittedly can't really answer how much of the war allegory was on purpose, since The Man in the White Suit wasn't written by me alone -- but I can say that a lot of the elements you're talking about were deliberate decision. the idea was definitely that Nobody is this abstract thing that hijacks people for its own purposes, completely apathetic to whatever lives they have going on, and then throws them away when it's done, leaving a husk behind. and Whitesuit is this amalgamation of husks that have decided to Do Something About It, but is he really any better? he also doesn't give a shit about collateral damage, he's more than willing to hurt and kill people to get what he wants (Nobody, dead).

so, sure, on a grander scale the series is very much about the casualties of conflicts -- not necessarily war, but that's certainly a valid way to read it. all the faceless nobodies left behind after these two tear through their lives, just trying to pick up the pieces and form themselves back into Somebody. the coda, one of my favorite articles on the site in general, goes into this; after Whitesuit 'splodes, his constituent parts don't really feel liberated or filled with relief. his mission was never their mission. they just want to live the lives they missed out on because they got drafted into a cosmic war they never had a chance in.

i'm really glad someone enjoyed the series enough to think about it this much; it's one of my favorite things i've written. thank you for the Big Thoughts 💙

[meowstix]

hold on someone made a post about Those Fuckers (i can't keep calling them that i swear. uh they're called team cyber or whatever in the manga right? whatever you'll see who i'm talking about) and because Holy Fuck, Another V-Force Enjoyer i may aswell make a long post on them too

-gonna get this out of the way jim and goki don't matter. like nearly every team in bsb has a member or two who doesn't matter and this is a case of two. they Exist i guess

-kane and salima are interesting though, that said kane was very much kind of a dick when it came to handling the whole digital sacred beast situation to say the least. motherfucker went "oh well i'm just built different" and paid the price when salima was ACTIVELY TRYING TO WORK THINGS OUT

-but yeah uh. that whole situation's ABSOLUTELY gonna give em some trauma let's be real

-i think them and kai (on behalf of yuya) and depending on how things were to go post-canon. perhaps even zeo should get to form a beating-the-shit-out-of-zagart club. NEVER forget that zagart was technically the one ultimately behind this and he was well aware of what was happening in the battle tower

-speaking of zagart actually this is a bit more of an au thing (more specifically a hypothetical version of v-force where psykick just did not exist, same events zagart is just more directly responsible for things now) but you could proooobably make an argument for it being applicable to canon if we're saying zagart told them abt psykick. but i feel like how they ended up involved with this whole thing is like, already existing group of friends who were interested in zagart's research on the four sacred beasts. and he sees this group of probably like, high schoolers? i'm just takin a shot in the dark idk but he sees these people who genuinely look up to him and he's like "oh you know what. yeah i'll manipulate these people into helping me steal the sacred beasts"

-god i really i need to write more i swear to god. like everything i write is an au to some degree even if that's not like, the basis of it. i have like 3.5 different story ideas relating to v-force though. i think about the digital sacred beasts plotline every day of my life

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

[piecksz]

forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader 

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol 

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container. 

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen. 

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her. 

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.  

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.  

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.  

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.  

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

���Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.  

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process. 

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

[roses-ruby]

BTS as types of Yandere

Warning: Yandere themes, Abusive relationships, Psychological manipulation, Selfharm, Submission, BDSM mention

The Gentleman.

Seokjin is the perfect man.

Sure, he acts goofy but he’s also handsome and polite. He jokes around with you, he cooks for you, he doesn’t even befriend other women and he’s even a big romantic at heart. Your friends want him and your parents adore him - you couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend! So, in return, when he kindly asks you not to talk to other men or not to go out too much, it’s only natural that you listen. You taunt him about his slightly conservative and traditionalist nature. But what kind of a man who was raised with high standards and morals wouldn’t have one? When he tells you not to wear something in public - you don’t fucking wear it. When he tells you you’re going to be a stay at home mom - then that’s the end of the fucking discussion. And if you disobey him, then you deserve to be verbally berated until you change your mind. People call it abuse, but he calls it love. Trust him, he only has your best interest at heart. It’s the only way you’ll learn to obey your man and gain value as a female.

It’s the only way you’ll become his perfect woman.

Lowkey.

You never expected a grown man to be so whiny, especially not one who seemed so intimidating initially. “You were gone too long.” - “Why do you have to leave so often?” - “Who were you with?” - Holy shit, the way he was bombarding you with questions made you feel like you just came back from committing a statewide murder spree, even though you were only gone grocery shopping for approximately thirty minutes. But it’s fine, your husband was harmless. It was definitely strange being married to a rapper. You heard most of their true feelings and inner thoughts only came out when they wrote or performed. So it did worry you when he wrote a song about binding you in a cage and keeping you chained like his little pet. But you passed it off as kinks or some shit. And it definitely worried you when he freestyled about torturing and killing your guy best friend in graphic detail on stage, which ultimately led to said friend cutting off all contact with you. But you passed it off as adrenaline-filled, in-the-moment jealousy. Sure, Yoongi was either testy or silent for the majority of your relationship - but that didn’t mean the “real him” was a temperamental and obsessive psychopath.

...did it?

My way or the highway.

Hoseok made his standards clear for you since day one. This relationship will go by his terms, and only his terms. Which meant he got to go out whenever he wanted, yet you never did. He got to touch you when he felt like it, yet you had to ask permission. He got to have female friends, yet you didn’t get to have any - of any gender. You’ll understand one day, he tells you, but you think years will pass before that time arrives, because the truth was you didn’t and might never truly understand him. It terrified you how Hoseok, the friendliest, most carefree man you’ve ever met, can turn into someone so menacing. Someone who threatens your well-being when even the slightest part of his rule is broken. A section of him was detached, while the other section was a pure freak. All of his punishments were sexual, from bondage to torture. Sometimes you think he punished you on purpose just so he could teach you your place. You’re not sure if he had an addiction to total domination or if he just craved mummification and impact play.

All you know is that he had certain habits, and they all happen to revolve around you.

Daddy.

You roll up the door to your room.

Namjoon knew everything. At least that’s what it seems like. He was the smartest guy in your city - actually no - the smartest guy in your whole country. No other man could ever compete with the intellect and raw talent he possessed. You greatly admired him - which he also knew, of course. The one thing he understood the most in the world was you. He memorized your habits, every inch of your curves, the moles in your skin and even the pattern of your breath. He told you when to eat, when to sleep, who to [not] meet, and what to do for the day. Your needs had never been fulfilled to such an extent until he appeared by your side. And you knew then that no one could understand you better than him - not even yourself, which is why you took his words for scripture. Since then, you’ve done everything he told you to do without question. Crawling into your room, you turn around and roll the cage door back down before settling into one of the cushions in the corner.

It was almost 7, which meant daddy would be home soon, and then you could eat.

Kerosene in my hand.

Today in psychology class you had learned about psychological manipulation. You didn’t want to think like this, but the definition of the word reminded you of your boyfriend. Like when the professor talked about using underhand tactics to change social perceptions, you thought about the time Jimin kept flirting with your best friend until she fell for him, even while knowing you liked him. It led you to completely ostracize her from your life. Or when the teacher mentioned using deceit and lies to influence the thoughts of others, it made you remember the time Jimin told you about the things people were saying behind your back until you lost trust in everyone but him. Somehow, the whole ordeal of being gaslit really resonated with you, and you’re not even sure why. Jimin only did these things to protect you from others, you reason. You shouldn’t think like that - not when Jimin is the only person in this world who cares for you. Regretting what you just did, you beat yourself in the head with your fists in dismay. What kind of horrible person thinks these lies about the person who loves them more than anything?

The pain from your head and heart surrounded you in an agonizing heat as you began to cry, sitting down on your bed to text Jimin. You wanted him to come over, you wanted to tell him what you did and you wanted him to forgive you, so you could forgive yourself. He’d be able to tell your bad thoughts to go away, he’d be able to make you feel safe again. Jimin was right all along - the only thing you ever needed was him.

Artist at heart.

“Say ah~”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh my! Doll, you’re too pretty to be cursing.” Taehyung replies with a gasp, feigning shock as he places the caviar back on his plate. You roll your eyes and scoff. It’s usually a good thing if your boyfriend treats you like a priceless artifact, right? Well, not for you. Not when your boyfriend can actually place a price on you. $10,000 to be exact - $10,000 to a random thug so he could break the arms of the man who asked you for your number in the coffee shop.

“I heard about the man you hired, Tae. How many times will I tell you I’m not an object?”

“Everyone’s an object, doll.” Taehyung smirks, casually wiping his mouth with a linen napkin, “Some are just more...costly than others.”

You stare at the unbothered man in annoyance. His whole room was filled with original paintings, marbled statues, golden gadgets and silver trinkets. And in between it all, you had also started to feel like one of his art displays with the way he dressed you silk and bathed you in luxury - refusing to let others sully you by their dirty looks or touches. But then again, it isn’t too bad, you think as he brings the caviar and cream up to your lips yet again. He never hurts you - he’s never even raised his voice at you. You’re too precious for that, he says. And well, at least you’d never get injured or feel lonely with all the love and care he gives his possessions. So, with a sigh, you bite into the dessert he was offering you and watch him break out into a boxy grin.

He wasn’t so bad - just a little artist at heart.

Baby Boy?

(Are we surprised? No)

Your boyfriend was an enigma. Baby-faced, but with the body of Apollo. But he wasn’t just physically confusing. You had a hard time understanding him mentally as well. For one, he’d sternly tell you to do something but then get all teary-eyed if you dared say no. Then there were times where he’d swear he wasn’t jealous but he’d become green, red and purple at the mere mention of a guy in your life. In bed, he always preferred to be on top but the slightest pressure you applied turned him into a crying and whining bottom. You just didn’t get him, but it was definitely fun to press his buttons. It never occurred to you just how much you might enjoy making a tall-ass, jacked man into a whimpering and pouting mess, but you definitely enjoyed it nonetheless. Other girls would kill to be in your place, you were just so lucky. Everyday you’d get braver with your tests, whether it was flirting with other men or wearing skimpy outfits. His jealousy was endearing and his possessiveness made you squeal with glee. The bolder you became with your crusades, the more you failed to realize that everyone had their limit. And once they’re pushed past it, the consequences can be jarring. Especially if they’re someone as mysterious as Jungkook.

Then again, there was no better way to find out then to try. So keep trying him...just so we can see how lucky you truly are.

_

A/N: I’m back I think? This is for the rock anon, I hope you like it doll ;). anyway i wrote it in an hour and i was telling myself not to make it basic and sht readers read like 100 times in this tag but whaddya know i failed. lmk what you think cause i need a compliment.❤

[rainbowgod666]

Well yeah, if they were to make dbxv3 they would have to do the following

Add Orange mode, Black mode and Ultra ego (to the other transformations) and have all of them AT LAUNCH.

Make a shitton of more body types for Majins (I WANNA MAKE MY VANTABLACK SUPER BU SHAPED BOY DARN YOU)

The storyline follows the ENTIRE THING UNTIL THE T.O.P.

DBS:Broly and DBS:SH are POSTGAME SHIT

Future super saiyan is basically op

Ultimate mode takes 400 ki to activate, but its WAY better

Moves have a widdle image that tells you what the attack looks like

QQ BANGS CAN BE SUBJECT TO RNG MANIPULATION DEPENDING ON THE ITMES USED BECAUSE FUCK GETTING A SHITTY LEVEL 1 WITH TWO TIER 5 DRIP PIECES AND ONE TIER 5 ITEM. SERIOUSLY WTF

Hidden shrine to Toriyama, just like Hypixel did with Technoblade (BOTH SHALL FOREVER BE IMMORTALIZED IN LEGEND) (TO FOREVER BE REMEMBER EVEN WHEN MILLENNIA FROM NOW WE SHALL RIDE THE STARS AND TRAVERSE THE VOID OF SPACE LIKE NOTHING)

Even larger map than conton and tokitoki COMBINED. Like holy shit

(Almost) All tp bots are unlocked

LOWER PRICES ON TP MEDALS

AND MAYBE EASIER FARMING

ACTUALLY ALSO BETTER ONLINE. FUC

Raids not crashing on you if your connection as much as fluctiates by ONE BPS.

Getting past the levelcap is kinda easy

Max level (but like, TRUE levelcap) is 256 and the maximum amount of points is 540, which means 90 in all stats... and then the max amount of attribute points you can have is 256

Which would make QQ bangs touch the border of the stat display

Heck, if done better than what i just said it could go a few pixel beyond

NO FR I WASNT JOKING MAKE THE THIRD GAME GO THRU THE STORY OF SUPER

SSG would have the same requirements and also SSb... buuuut since the first levelcap is 100, and you get SSb at 90...

Yeah.

Also ultra instinct would be at level 128

No fr add orange mode for namekians im a saiyan player but i think our pickled people deserve it.

ITS FUCKIGN ORAGNE <- if you get the reference...

Really stupid idea but: super saiyan rosè. Dont ask how it would go

Super saiyan 4 and legendary super saiyan are added in two separate DLCs and like. LSS requires to make the two brolys meet and help you in a mission (AND ITS A STORY THING) but also SS4 is

Uh

...

Ok so you know how in DBGT vegeta needed an outside machine?

Yeah, first transformation is like that.

Whoops

I’m thankful that the trend of making a new game every year is not industry wide. Dragon Ball Xenoverse 2 is eight goddamn years old and they’re still putting out dlc for the game.

[prisonhannibal]

Do you have any cablepool fanfic recommendations bc I suffer daily trying to find good ones (especially comic based, but movie is fine too)

I think you might be a long distance telepath because I got an ask like this a while ago and didn’t answer it bc I needed time to think. and then I couldn’t find it in my inbox so I decided to just write a regular post, and while I was writing that post I got this ask!

ok these are in no particular order and I’m not using the actual plot summaries the authors used on ao3, just making stuff up or using quotes from the fic

one-shots

Landing on both broken hearted knees by rayguntomyhead (1.6k words, rated M)

Post Deadpool 2. Wade and Nate share a hotel room. I know what you’re thinking, it’s not that kind of fic. Nothing is going on with them yet.

Tropes by quakey (2.2k words, rated T)

Wade’s been reading TVtropes, and if Nate is fucking with him right now, Wade is gonna gut him like a fish and throw his bloody corpse in the sea for the sharks.

These days are great and so are you by bankrobbery (3k words, rated T)

Movie based. Wade gets kinkshamed by Weasel and hawaiian-shirt-shamed by Cable. They’re at the bar, basically

Motormouth by pavonine (13k words, rated T)

Wade can’t shut the fuck up, and this time it’s not even his fault! Wade’s been cursed to never be able to stop talking, which is really fucking inconvenient if you’ve got stuff you’re trying to not say.

also the norwegian prime minister is in it very briefly, and it was posted in 2013, when jens stoltenberg was the PM so I’m just gonna assume it’s him and bring your attention to this picture of him which I think is hilarious

Pressure points by denims (2k words, rated M)

Cable keeps casually touching him, which probably doesn’t mean anything (don’t listen to domino, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about), but it makes Wade feel weird. So, so weird.

Multi-chapter

Wade will f*** shit up for you by Quakey @withoutaconscienceorafilter (48k words, rated E, so minors stay away from this one, it’s the only thing on the list with actually NSFW scenes.)

The craigslist ad said “My name’s Wade and I fuck shit up professionally. So your ex getting married? I’ll crash that shit. Your job fire before their company picnick? I’ll show up with tequila and throw hands. Got some one one you hate an just wanna fuck their day up? I’m all over that shit. Serving all situations where we customize your service to your liking email me for pricing. Services guaranteed with video.” Maybe this is a horrible idea, and maybe he shouldn’t have, but Nate did answer it, so things are definitely about to get weird

I’m biased on this one because it was based on a post I made but it seriously is really good it’s super funny (almost choked to death trying not to laugh on the bus at one point) and in character and some of the scenes are so so so cute. Not sold yet? Hope is in it. AND Ellie. Hell yeah! This one is movie based, and I really like that it’s a regular non powered AU, but Nate’s arm+eye and Wade’s scars are still included. Like Nate has a prosthetic arm and Wade actually looks like Wade.

Fistful of shovels by surefall (28.6k words, rated T)

Now, you might be thinking, ms. Mutantapologist, this is tagged spideypool?? It is, but just trust me okay

Wade’s best friend, bromanciest of bros to ever bro, Nathan Summers is back in his life, and he’s really starting to get under Peter’s skin. They’re just too close, and Nathan is there all the damn time. List of things Wade’s weird time traveling BFF would look good in: 1. his own damn home. Nate and Peter get passive aggressive and competitive, Nate’s manipulative tendencies make an appearance, Peter is kind of a dick, and Wade’s honestly just happy to have his BFF back.

this is one of my favorite portrayals of their relationship dynamic tbh. just...their unbreakable bond...the way they keep coming back to each other through time and dimensions...that shit makes me cryyyy. and how well they know each other..the trust...the casual intimacy....how comfortable they’re with each other...also the dialogue in this is perfect, love their banter. This one is “screenshotting quotes and sending them to your friends” level funny. they also play mario kart and I think that’s nice.

Read Omake: Fistful of shovels for the Deleted Scenes Edition that has stuff that didn’t make it into the final fic or alternate versions of scenes. includes: Nate sending a shirtless selfie with ulterior motives, Nate being sort of a home wrecker (but at least he’s more honest about it!), aunt May, Nate being accused of being a bottom, etc.

Strangers by totallynotremus @totallynotremus (31k, rated T)

Nate plays games. Not weird manipulative mind games this time. Actual games. Online. With Wade and his friends. Wade feels targeted because come on, you behave mildly flirtatiously with the guy your friend group is gaming with online a lot acouple of times and suddenly your so called “friends” won’t stop harassing you about it. unbelievable. this one is also super funny

Motion Practice Universe: Cablepool Edition

I couldn’t put these in either category because they need to be in order and there’s one-shots AND a multi chapter fic so i’d have to separate them and that wouldn’t work. These are part of the (as of august 2020) 1,405,078 words long Motion Practice Universe, but you don’t need to read the rest of it to know what’s going on, I didn’t and it works 100% fine as a stand-alone storyline

Wade Wilson explains it all (or at least, how Clint’s keeping his job. Mostly keeping his job. It’s complicated.) by the_wordbutler (3.3k words, rated T)

Wade is trying to put together a fruit basket for Clint, because he’s a thoughtful friend (who does not get enough credit, hello?), unlike some other people. Example: his coworkers, who won’t let him focus on his super special important project (fruit basket!). And Nate, who’s eating an orange (from the fruit basket!😡) which has no business being that distracting.

it’s sort of an introduction to the next thing in the list, and I highly recommend reading it first. Definitely does a great job at showing what you’re gonna get from the full fic. Also, it’s cute and funny.

Admissions, Interrogatories, and other discoveries by the_wordbutler (150k words, rated M)

No, that wasn’t a typo, it really is 150k words. And I read it. Twice.

Basically, Wade is a criminal defense attorney, good job, you get to defend goat fuckers and other weirdos. Fun times. Nate’s a coworker, works in immigration and civil rights law, they do projects together. Just a bro he jokes around with, who sometimes brings Wade lunch, and whose arms Wade really likes to stare at, but that doesn’t mean anything, right?

this one is REAL slowburn (never in my LIFE have i experienced slow burn like this one holy FUCK), great relationship development and I just love their dynamic and banter in this one. Perfect dialogue and it’s really fucking funny, made me laugh out loud at several points! AND!! Hope is in it<3

What I learned on my summer vacation, an essay by Hope Summers by the_wordbutler (4.5k words, rated T)

Sequel to Admissions, interrogatories and other m discoveries. Wade, Nate, and ten year old Hope go to Disney World, and the beach. A lot of love and family<3 Wade took 3 sign language classes to talk to Hope (who’s deaf)

I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot of great ones but here’s what I could think of rn!!

[blackypanther9]

Part 39 - Stories about the past Destiny...

No one’s POV...

Laufey mentioned for you both to go outside, you nodded and you both made your way out of the house.

"So..it worked ?", Laufey asked.

"Yes it did."

"What did you see ?"

"....Before we start about my past...We need to change my plan about the Infinity Stones. They have a strong gamma radiation, Thanos can detect them with that. So the Guardians got a fake gem and will say a spell to make it look like the stone never left. It will weaken my magic and maybe this body won't be my host for long. This gamma radiation will also be stronger than the originals. And they will all go to Midgard into my hide out."

Laufey stared at you and nodded slowly.

"Now...I believe that I knew Lena once...your wife...", you mumbled.

"How ?"

"I lived once, long before even the Midgardians existed. I believe I should be over 65 million or so years old...Which means in my old home that I am maybe...22 years old...And still we look young. We won't age until we are in our own home 10 000 years. And in...I believe 18 years you start to be a teenager.  With 20 years I got send into exile. For 1 year and...In space flashed millions of years before my eyes...It was scary..."

"WAIT ! 20 years on your home planet are almost 61 million years and 8 months long ?! How is that even possible ?!"

"Time...The deeper you are in space the slower you age."

"Holy...shit..."

"Yeah...Asgard is an example. Most of them count in Midgardian years, newly. If we would go for Asgardian years...Loki wouldn't be 362 years old, but maybe 19 years old now...If I calculate correctly. Soon turning 20... When I was still there, as little kid, I just handled with Asgardian years...Now not anymore."

'Lena ran maybe to her lover. She never told me what race he is, but she said his name was Laufey.', you heard yourself whisper.

"LENA !!", you screamed.

Laufey jumped.

"What is with a Lena ?"

"Your fucking wife Laufey ! She was an eternal being just like me ! Is there something you never told me ?!"

Laufey looked taken aback. Then sighed.

"She never told me, what she is. The only thing she said was that our son is very different from everyone. He is something special."

"Laufey...Loki is half Frost Giant, half eternal being ! A being with immense power ! He is a dangerous weapon ! Like me !"

Laufey stared at you shocked.

"WHAT ?!"

"He could control the Infinity Stones. I bet Loki or even somebody else never knew or found out ! Odin would have raised Loki like Hela ! And if Thanos would have known, he would never let him still live ! My kind is standing above Thanos' kind and Loki is half of that !"

"What means...!"

"He lives longer than even Thor and his heir. He would outlive them all and see them all die."

Laufey stared into space.

"I need time to let that sink in...", he said breathless.

"Laufey...Odin can never find out about this. We both know what he would do to Loki if he would know."

"Kill him..."

"No. Worse. He would torture Loki until he is agreeing to cause chaos in all realms and make them tremble under Odin’s mercy. Odin would make a monster out of Loki, like he did to Hela."

"We need to tell Loki.."

"No ! Loki can't know it ! He isn't ready for that. He just found out that he is a fricking Frost Giant, he got tortured, forced, manipulated, beaten, almost got killed, almost imprisoned and is traumatized. He is too broken to know ! We firstly need to fix him. He hates himself enough already."

You started to look even more sad.

"And he will soon hate me too..."

"What do you mean ?", asked Laufey confused.

You sighed.

"We need  the Soul Stone and it is practically cursed. I cursed it...and...I can't undo it. It wouldn't work..."

"What wouldn't work ? And why are you pulling Loki into this ?"

"To get the Soul Stone you need to sacrifice what you love dearest. We can't let Odin know anything. Thor wouldn't have the ass to sacrifice someone he loves dearest. Leaves only Loki, because I can't sacrifice anything. And even if I could sacrifice anything, it wouldn't work, because I put that spell on the Stone. It wouldn't react by me."

"Who does Loki loves dearest ?"

"You know who. It's a woman, family member also."

"Frigga...", Laufey whispered.

"Yes. Loki has to sacrifice her in Vomir. The thing is...it is a big price. A Soul, in exchange, for the Soul Stone. Which makes us come to the conclusion..."

"Loki has to kill her...", Laufey mumbled.

"Sadly yes. He has to kill her. Frigga is the person, Loki loves dearest. He has to push her off of a cliff. And Frigga's soul will never move on, nor you can bring her back with all stones. An exchange is an exchange."

"Never move on ?"

"Her soul will forever stuck in the Soul Stone. Once done, no turning back. It will be hard for him and Frigga, but we have no other choice. I don't know how I shall teach that to them..."

Little did you both know that someone eavesdropped on you... The person ran quietly and quickly back in the house. Loki opened the door and awoke Frigga with panic. As she was awake, she stood up and Loki told her to follow him. After they were in the living room they sat down and Loki let his facade fall, breaking down crying and hugging Frigga. Tight.

"I don't...I can't...Mother !"

Frigga looked at him worried. Loki never acted like a 5 year old child before. Not even when he was five. She hugged him back, rocked back and forth with him and humming a calming tune. After Loki calmed down again Frigga asked Loki worried.

"Son..what happened ?"

Loki slid down on his knees and buried his face into Frigga's stomach. He cried harder again.

"They want me to get the Soul Stone !!"

"Who, son ?"

"Destiny and Laufey !!"

"That is great ! They trust you."

"No ! You don't understand !! The gem wants a sacrifice !! You need to sacrifice what you love dearest !! A soul in exchange for the gem !! And I love you dearest, Mother !! I can't do this ! They can't do this to me ! Please !!", he screamed into Frigga's stomach.

She heard every word he said and then understood. He has to sacrifice her for the Soul Stone in exchange. She rubbed Loki's back, trying to calm him.

"Shh, Son. If you have to sacrifice me then so be it."

"No ! You could never move to Valhalla ! You would stuck in the gem forever ! I can't let that happen !! We can't even bring you back then either !!"

Frigga frowned for a second then smiled and lifted Loki's chin up with her finger.

"Loki. If it is the only way, then so be it. Also I do not think that Destiny wouldn't find a way to get me out of the gem. She made so many impossible things possible, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I will never be mad at you, no matter what you did."

Loki's tear stained face broke Frigga's heart.

"What did she do ?"

Frigga smiled and created a little video screen then she told him...

Flashback Frigga's POV...

Many things. Like I said she made the impossible, possible. Without much trickery, lies or murder. I remember that one time when she ran down the halls with a determined expression. Many of our people just disappeared and didn't return in a couple of days we started searching. Destiny had a firm lead that day and ran to King Bor. She was still a freshman but was still better than anyone else.... for causing very much mischief. *chuckles*

"King Bor ! King Bor !"

As Destiny spotted Bor she yelled after him and he stopped in his tracks.

"I think I know where they are ! They are in a cave not far from here ! I saw 2 people go there ! Please let me go there with a few men."

At first Bor didn't believe her and shook his head.

"I am sick of your tricks, Destiny."

"B-but king Bor, I am not lying ! I saw Augustus Verlan go in there ! One of our guards ! King Bor please-!"

"Enough !! Guards ! Bring Destiny Dust in the dungeons ! For trying to lie to me again."

"But King Bor ! I swear on my life I am serious ! I saw- Hey ! Let go of me !"

"Lady Dust, you are herby a prisoner and you will stay there chained on a wall for 20 years and are fired as a guard ! After your years in prison, you aren't welcomed here anymore and get thrown out of the castle ! Take her away !"

She struggled to get away, but it was no use. The last thing she screamed was a warning, which Bor didn't took serious.

"THEY ARE AFTER YOUR SON ODIN !! WATCH OUT OR HE IS NEXT !!"

It didn't take long, maybe 2 days after that and Odin was gone. No trace left. At first we thought he comes back...but the next day we grew worried...Bor ran down the dungeons to Destiny, in anger. He still didn't believe her and thought that she was still pranking him. But I knew she wouldn't dare go that far.

"WHERE IS MY SON ?!"

Destiny knelt there in chains on the ground. Never touched her food, never spoke, she just knelt there. Her head hung low and Bor was even more furious he banged on the glass.

"ANSWER ME !!"

As Destiny lifted her head, you could see black, very visible, circles around her eyes and her body was very skinny, her face a deep frown. You never saw her like this. She still didn't speak.

"Destiny AnDrEa DUST !!! ANSWER MY QUESTION !!! NOW !!"

Destiny just looked at him and then opened her mouth. Bor saw what he thought couldn't be.

"What happened ?!"

Someone cut out her tongue. He send healers and me inside there and we gave her something, so that her tongue is growing fastly in her mouth and after that we tried to give her water, but she refused and glared at Bor.

"Why should I tell you ? I warned you, I told you that I think I know where they were and still you stand here and ask me again ? You said I no longer serve you, so be it. Have fun finding him alone. And never heal me again, so I can't 'lie' to you anymore !"

Destiny spat and then just like that, she bit through her freshly new tongue and it fell out of her mouth. We all were disgusted, but I understood her too and pitied her. The next day more of our people disappeared and Bor again went down, just to find Dest gone. She broke out. Bor send out many guards to find her, the traitor. Later 10 guards saw her and chased her, in the end they lost her, but heard screams from afar. They followed and were on a cave, as they went inside they were shocked what they saw and that was all the Asir's who went missing. With Destiny on a wall trying to break free. She send out illusions to come to them. Not every trick was a trick. More a signal for help. As they killed the kidnapper, who were cannibals, Destiny was gone again and wasn't seen for a long time. The guards told Bor what had happened and he felt terrible, he was begging that she would return. And she did. She got captured, while she was sleeping in the dirt of the forest in Asgard. Thanks to Heimdall. She looked absolutely terrible. Her clothes torn, very skinny you saw every bone and very dirty. We healed her tongue and were shocked that she tried to kill herself with starvation and thirst. She was almost there. Bor quickly brought her back on her feet. He forced her to eat, drink, talk and lastly listen to him again. We even found out that the chains she was in, were blocking her magic. We still don't know how she made illusions of herself, without magic. After Destiny was fit and on her feet again, Bor gave Destiny's reputation back to her and she was a guard. And she was allowed to cause more mischief.

End of flashback No one’s POV...

Loki stared at the magic and was amazed from the story.

"What did she do also ?", he asked.

"She came back from the dead more than 2 times. Once against the Dark Elves, then against Hela and then against the Frost Giants. Because of Destiny we won all 3 times, sadly...she didn't return after the Frost Giants in war, like we expected.

"How did she defeat the Dark Elves ?", Loki asked curious.

Frigga smiled a soft smile.

Flashback Frigga's POV...

It was a dark time. Everyone was worried and afraid that Asgard can't safe anything this time. Bor broadcast desperately many men to Svartalfheim to stop the Dark Elves. No matter how many he sent...they never made it back alive. It was the first war with them.

"Wait ! You had a second war with them ?!", Loki interrupted.

Yes. Yes we had. Anyway ! Destiny was sick of his failures and planned a plan. Her job was to train a newbie. His name was Jackson. He did everything without getting it said twice. Without doubt and questions. But she gave Jackson to someone else to risk her luck and ask Bor to handle that herself with a few guards.

~Knock ! Knock !~

"Come in !" (King Bor)

~Door creaks open slowly~

"King Bor ? Am I interrupting something important ?"(Destiny/You)

"Who is this beautiful servant, Bor ?"

Bor was in a meeting, planning a big war. One of the men had to be a pervert. Destiny told me how the man stared her up and down. It was giving her goose bumps. If some random men just compliment her and stare at her like a pervert she snaps...

"First of all, I am not a servant ! Second I am not beautiful ! And third my name doesn't concern you ! Now...Can I speak with you king Bor ? Please in private ?"

Bor got a wolf whistle as he nodded. She glared at the man and slapped him across the face.

"Shut the hell up ! Get yourself together or leave !", she yelled angered.

After that they both left and Destiny told him her plan. He refused it and said they will go tomorrow with all guards and kill the Dark Elves. Destiny argued with Bor that he is doing it again.

"But I know that it'll work !"

"No is no, Destiny."

"You are doing it again ! You don't trust me ! Just like last time !!"

"Why should I trust you ?! All you do is causing mischief ! All you do is trick and lie to us !"

"That is not fair, Bor ! I once before showed you that I am not kidding if it is about Asgard and shit about going down ! Who do you think is always doing your fricking paper work ?! Odin ?! He gives it to me and I finish them, so he can rest ! Who is still polishing weapons, shields and armor ?! Do you really think I let the Newbie do all that ?! Who do you think is never really sleeping to work all around the palace ?! Huh ?! YOU ?!"

"Destiny that is enough !!"

"I hate it to always prove myself to you, Bor !! Then go there ! Die like everyone else ! I quit !!"

With that she stormed out of the hall and into her room, packed her stuff, some money and left, before Bor could talk to her again. The next day they went and Bor just took a half of the guards with himself. He returned with dead guards and badly injured ones. His plan didn't work. And now Destiny was gone again. He told Jackson to try and find her.

"Jackson try to find Destiny and bring her back to us. She was right...if I would have taken everyone with myself they would be already dead.  If her plan works...I will never doubt her again and do what she asks of me. Never proving herself to me again. That I swear."

And like always...Jackson did as he got told. Meanwhile Destiny saved a little girl in a forest, from a beast and brought her back to her family.

"Joanna !", a woman screeched in happiness.

"Mom !!"

They hugged each other tight, crying in happiness. The woman looked up to see Destiny.

"Thank you ! H-how can I ever thank you enough for saving my daughter ?"

"The words 'Thank you' are enough for me. Just watch more out. The forest is dangerous and not for kids to play there. Next time I may be not there to safe her. Have a nice day ma'am."

"Destiny !!"

She turned and saw Jackson running to her. He was smiling, but she started to run away.

"No ! Wait ! I have a message for you !!"

"I don't wanna hear it ! Go home Jackson !"

"Destiny please ! I NEED YOU !! YOU ARE MY ONLY FRIEND !!"

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. Now they stood face to face. She crossed her arms.

"What is it ?"

"You were right."

"About what ?"

"About the Dark Elves and all. If Bor would have taken everyone with himself they would be dead. He is sorry and needs your help now. If your plan works...you never have to prove yourself again. He will do everything. That he swears. He wants you back as his guard. And my...teacher."

Destiny was touched but also still angered. She turned her back to Jackson.

"I won't return. He always thinks he is better than me. I am sick of it. He can use my plan, but I won't be there. That is my last word."

With that she was gone and Jackson alone. Jackson fell on his knees and cried silent tears.

"But we need you...I need you...You promised to never leave me..."

Later he returned and told Bor what Destiny said. Bor was shocked that she didn't join them this time again. He just then realized that he crossed her line. He sighed and said that tomorrow the plan will be in action. The next day was on and guards stood at the Bifrost. Armed from head to toe, on different places will they get set. Always a 10 men group will be on a different spot of Svartalfheim. They will trap the Dark Elves like that and win. It almost went all as she planned, but Bor didn't watch out for Jackson and he almost died. A hooded person pushed Jackson out of the way and stopped the weapon to pierce through themself, in a close catch.

"Keep fighting and look everywhere you idiot ! What did I train you for ?!"

"Dest...?"

"....Hello....Jackson.", the person whispered.

"KING BOR WATCH OUT !!"

As Jackson and the hooded person turned around, Bor was at the mercy of the Dark Elves.

"Go back or your king will die !"

"Not under my watch !!", the same hooded person yelled.

Malekith turned and saw 6 more hooded people, all the same. Suddenly someone tapped his shoulder and as he turned he had a dagger pressed against his neck.

"Kill our king and I kill your dear leader, you bastards !", the now un - hooded person yelled.

"Destiny !!", Jackson yelled happily.

"You were right, Jackson. I promised you something. And to be frank...you are also my only friend. I thank you for making me to see my wrongs."

"Let the king go ! They have our leader !", one of the Dark Elves yelled.

Bor was released. But Destiny didn't release Malekith.

"Drop your weapons. Or else !"

They really listened to her and let their weapons fall.

"Now...IF YOU LITTLE SHITHEADS EVER DARE TO START A WAR AGAIN I AM AT YOUR DOOR AND KICK YOUR SORRY ARSE'S !!! UNDERSTOOD ?! YOU REALLY ARE BRAINLESS DUMBSHIT'S !!"

They all nodded and Malekith shuddered at her outburst.

"Mmh...Someone is stressed, should I help you out ~?"

"Eww...Heck no !"

She then pushed Malekith from herself and went home with the others. On the same day she became General. Irrevocable. Not even Odin could undo it. And if Destiny doesn't follow Odin, then the guards and fighters don't follow him also. As their General they have to follow Destiny.

End of Flashback No ones POV...

"That's why you are not in prison. Her name appeared and he knew that he can't do anything against her agreement, or else she would stand up against him with all the guards. He isn't allowed to banish her and everything else. Or he has to live with the consequences." , Frigga finished.

Loki stared at her in shock.

"That means she is like...my...guardian ?"

Frigga smiled at him.

"Yes. She and I. We both are your guardians, sadly I am a little trapped...but Destiny ? She can do what she wants. She escaped so many times death or punishment. And she saved so many times Asgardians...I lost count after 10 000, on her second rescue of Asgard. All the stories I told you and Thor...were mostly from her."

"Wow..."

"She once brought someone back from the dead too. I believe she can do it again, with me this time. Don't worry Loki. She always finds a way. Like she found one to safe you and let you grow up, knowing what life means. And you just learned a part of all this. Wait until you find your true love and have your own little family."

"I don't think I deserve love and a family...I am a monster, mother. Nobody will ever forgive and accept me, for who I am. Not even Thor."

"Loki...You tell that yourself. I love you as my son, no matter the race. I love you as what and who you are. Destiny loves you as a friend, dearly. And Thor...he does too, but because of what you did and tried to gain...he loses his trust in his younger Babybrother. Yes, you aren't related or connected by blood, but you were raised together. Means you share a bound. You both just need to find the way to this bound and accept it. Fighting and hating the other won't help you both. One day Odin and I won't be there anymore and Thor and you are all alone. While you maybe can live on your own...Thor couldn't. Without you there is a hole in his chest, he can't fill. He tried as you were gone for 2 years, but couldn't. He never celebrated and swore to celebrate when you are back and well."

Loki was surprised to hear this. Frigga stroked Loki's leg stood up and went back to the room to go back to sleep. Loki laid down on the couch and quickly fell in a deep sleep.

Part 40

Masterlist with all Chapters of this Story click here !  

[idlecreature]

the buried fic comment from hell (it's so long i'm SO SORRY, I GOT EXCITED)

DEL.. I WASN’T SURE IF IT WAS APPROPRIATE TO LEAVE A LONG ASS COMMENT ON UR BURIED FIC IN PUBLIC….. SO I’M DROPPING IT HERE i’m so sorry in advance this is about to be a mess,, i’m so fucking emotional right now

((the review under the cut is in response to my fic which can b read here))

okay first –

The mental image of tiny gangly Barnabas and Jonah crouched with their hands in the dirt….. is so fucking cute?? I could feel Jonah’s jealousy just burning off of him. You had me right away. Fuck. You know how to open a story and I’m deeply envious, I’ve always struggled with it. Also, you threw in that little hook:

Despite what Jonah believes, there are some things that just can’t be explained in words.

Barnabas’ voice is so fucking good… guh… you know. I didn’t much care about Barnabas in any deep way before I joined the Jonah server and you guys have all just completely GUTTED me, I can’t believe how much I care about this highly-strung bastard,, he is so GOOD. HE’S SO GOOD???? HE’S SUCH A SWEETIE. LIKE. BARNABAS FEELING GUILTY AND HORRIFIED THAT PEOPLE ARE GRATEFUL TO HIM AND WANT HIM AROUND???? AAAAAAAAAA. And the melancholy aspect, too, which I imagine is how Mordechai was able to relate to him, get attached to him… Barnabas being bitter about how useless his tears are while he’s crying anxiously at the prospect that he might not be able to help those families after all…….

All of those scraps of Barnabas’ letter to Jonah made such EXCELLENT transitions, holy hell. Again I am inspired by your storytelling prowess. I am taking notes, for whenever my ability to write longform fic returns from war. This one was my favorite, made my heart clench:

A good world starts with a good person and a few choices that are made with the heart—

He’s so earnest I’m going to weep ;_; Barny.. you can’t make Jonah a better person he’s AWFUL,,

(Side note, super digging that I can indent stuff, block quoting makes this SO much easier.)

Also really digging that Jonah doesn’t have as nice a reputation as Barnabas… Jonah is the bad influence friend lmfao. AND JONAH’S CAT… I LOVE HIM…

And then you delivered a swift blow straight to the religion kink, as promised… “There’s something undeniably old testament about Jonah; the fire and fury of creation, the self-annihilating stare of Lot’s wife.“ LOSING IT I’M LOSING IT… WHAT A WAY OF DESCRIBING HIM God, here I thought I couldn’t possibly be more attracted to this bastard man. I am aghast at myself.

LOSING IT EVEN MORE OVER BARNABAS STACKING TEACUPS ON JONAH’S HEAD???? Why must you make them so fucking cute oh NO this is going to hurt isn’t it. ((This was the note I stuck in the Word doc while I was reading it and I thought I’d leave it as was for your enjoyment))

“Taking cues from your dreams?” Barnabas replies. “You know only the desperately mad do that?” 

“Or desperately inspired—savants and prophets and visionaries.”

And then you continued to try to kill me… Jonah thinking of himself as a prophet……. hhhhh canon-typical overambitious zealotry I’m HERE FOR IT………

“Are you trying to make me angry with you by playing the devil’s advocate?” 

“Just testing you,” Jonah says in his alloyed voice, silver-and-honey-gold. 

Del I cannot stress enough… My religion kink………. It’s been SO VERY ACTIVATED.

“Your morality has only ever been a thin cover for your shame.”

OUCH, JONAH, JESUS

Every bit of their dialogue was so familiar and tinged with bittersweetness and I owe you my entire life… Sincerely. Ugh. Like, how you described Barnabas’ internal angst about it later on – when he’s thinking of Mordechai, and he refers to "his many dog-eared fantasies” about Jonah it just really vividly conjured the thought of he and Jonah having a sort of? Queer solidarity, ESPECIALLY having grown up together. And that makes Jonah’s flash of betrayal at Barnabas not wanting to be SEEN with him that much more agonizing, personally. Like. I’ve had that happen to me more than once in real life. And much as Jonah is a piece of shit who is absolutely manipulating him………. still, ouch. Ouch. (Barnabas’ thoughts on the company Jonah keeps also made me wince. You did an AMAZING job with all of the internalized shame and frantic rationalizations, hooooooboy.)

The Lukases being colorblind is such an interesting piece of lore by the way I love it????? Now I have. Some questions, about Peter. Mordechai’s characterization in this is so fascinating to me. I’m enTRANCED by how you reverse-Uno’d it so that Barnabas was the reason Mordechai lost himself to the Lonely… the power dynamics……. so tasty. Ugh. And all of the sensual descriptions, especially of that first visit Barnabas had at Moorland house?? I didn’t clip any because I would have ended up clipping the whole fucking thing. It was aching, haunting, beautiful, holyshit. Their romance is somehow more fucked up than Barnabas and Jonah’s…

Also, I was so eager to read this I skipped the tags/warnings and completely didn’t realize Mordechai was going to be an actual vampire so that was a VERY fun surprise lmfao.

Barnabas feels like he’s close to learning something about violence and desire, how close they are, how the wires can get crossed.

THIS QUOTE IS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEE ugh I’m having an aneurysm over how Jonah managed to fashion Barnabas into a creature that could understand him by gifting him to Mordechai for a while… letting Mordechai crack him open at the points where he was already brittle and experience an influx of some of the true darkness of the world. Just a tasty taste. That way when he discovers the truth of Jonah’s occult interests he won’t run away, because he’s already got his own fingers in the mess. He’s already given himself to one horror, why not Jonah? Shave some of the shine off of his morality, make him nice and gray so he won’t contrast so much with Jonah… And satisfying his curiosity at the same time. Two birds.

Oh, also, still sobbing about this line:

he realises that he doesn’t want to wear any colours that Mordechai can’t properly see.

EVERY TIME I let my guard down for ten seconds you smacked me with more of Barnabas being the most precious bleeding heart in the universe!!!!!! He aches so much for the people he’s trying to help and he hates people like Mordechai but part of him also wants to save Mordechai, somehow… maybe recognizes the parts of him that are like these people, still. Nearly faded but not quite gone yet. And as you’ve already established, Barnabas simply cannot let things go. Can’t disappoint people… can’t leave them when he could be doing something. Anything. Augh, FEELINGS.

Of course he knew Mordechai and Jonah were friends, he’d just temporarily believed in a sane and fair universe where things like this don’t happen. 

AND YOU HAD SUCH A PERFECT BALANCE OF HUMOR… This could have been such a feelbad fic, and tbh it still would have been spectacular. But you always eased it at just the right moment to keep it from going off the rails into irretrievable deepdark territory. Fed me little soft moments so I’d still be vulnerable enough to have my HEART RIPPED OUT LATER…

I’m not super interested in the Buried canon-wise but I love how you’ve written Barnabas’ natural affiliation with it… so subtle but powerful? (Of COURSE Jonah was jealous, lmao. He had to work so hard and he’s still not on Barnabas’ level. There’s some kinda beautiful commentary on ambition versus goodwill in there somewhere but I’m too busy nursing my battered little heart right now to articulate it.) It wove its way in and out of the rest of the plot so naturally, too. For some reason it compliments Barnabas’ temperament as I read it in canon just… so well. Was there a discussion about this on the server, and if so, PLEASE tell me about it sometime I’m so fascinated.

Jonah wasn’t even present for a lot of the fic but his characterization was so INTENSE and luminous, Christ… I know I already praised it a bit but. Woof. I wasn’t expecting to get a taste of his POV at the end and I was so excited I kicked my feet (my cat was very disgruntled) like, this line!!!

Now, he thinks there’s some truth in those false statements, in the lies we tell and why we want to be believed.

GOD, YOU’RE REALLY GONNA GIVE ME FEELINGS ABOUT JONAH AND FUTURE-JONAHLIAS IN THE SAME FIC?????? EVIL… I’m so so so fucking here for it, oh my God, Jonah with an amplifying anxiety disorder, THE PRICE OF IMMORTALITY… too bad the Eye doesn’t let you see the future, Jonah, lmao… the line “immortality just made his anxiety turn nuclear” is SEARED into my brain now, I am NOT accepting canon to contradict this ever again. I’ve always wondered how Jonah’s neuroses might have worsened in two entire fucking CENTURIES and I love the way you wrote it. I am fucking. Losing my mind.

There’s so many other things I could comment on, like. The brief but glorious Jonah-grinding-himself-off-on-Barnabas’-thigh shenanigans. Was incredibly hot, and Mordechai’s poor fragile heart breaking, and Barnabas telling Isabel that it’s fine to call him Barny…….. I’m hhhhhhhhHHHH fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m just!! I am incomprehensible!!! Everyone told me this fic was amazing but it’s fucking amazing, Del, what the hell. I’m never gonna be the same after this. The end was SHOCKINGLY sweet and I have WHIPLASH.

………… So, now that I’ve made you read a novel. Hah. Sorry. My point is. I loved every bit of this. It deserved heaps more praise but my eyes are starting to cross. Thx for sharing :’) 

Love,

Tony xx

TONY. TONY THIS MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME. FIRSTLY I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THIS. SECOND OF ALL, THANKS TO YOU I’LL BE SCREAMING FROM THE ROOFTOPS FOREVER HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW THIS REVIEW HAS AFFECTED ME? IT’S THE BEST FEEDBACK I’VE EVER RECIEVED IN MY LIFE I FEEL LIKE A FIRSTGRADER GETTING THEIR FIRST GOLD STAR I FEEL ON TOP OF THE WORLD LIKE I COULD THROW THE JEWEL OF THE SEA OFF THE SHIP AND LEAN OVER THE RAILINGS BECAUSE YOUR ARMS ARE AROUND ME TONY IT’S BEEN MONTHS AND THIS REVIEW HAS BEEN A FIREPLACE KEEPING ME WARM THROUGH THE WINTER MONTHS I LOVE YOU DEARLY FOR THIS YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE CHAMPION IF YOU WERE IN FRONT OF ME RIGHT NOW I WOULD FRENCH KISS YOU WITHOUT HESISTATION UNTIL THE BOTH OF US HAVE RUN OUT OF AIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING BLESS YOU TONY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

[bludino]

I have a disease called bitchites, I can't stop bitching so y'all get to hear if you want to or not.

I love Mao Mao, I've wrote fanfictions drawn fantastic made bs theories cooked up all kinds of head canons, but holy shit is this show mediocre. Most of the episodes are just eh, but I'm not here to bitch about the episodes, I'm here to bitch about the characters.

First on the chopping block; Mao Mao. We're just gonna get him over with right now. Mao Mao is probably the most developed character in the show, but he's still 2D. His character just feels like he's traumatized, has daddy issues and tries to be tough to mask his series of emotional issues. His character is mostly trauma mixed in with an ego as big as Texas. I just feel he's one note. It's disappointing, most of his personality comes from the fans putting some in. Ego is such a loose character trait it's easy for people to build it up.

I once saw a post saying Mao Mao stans have daddy issues, and that is 100% true. Daddy issue people relate to him and since he's portrayed as the main and important character with a loose personality, people project onto him and accidentally give him more personality.

Then there's Adorabat's personality; more the lack of one. What is her character? What makes Adorabat herself? It's nothing, she's just a yes man fangirl with violent tendencies. Honestly if you cut her out of the show you wouldn't miss much. Don't get me wrong; Adoradad was an amazing episode, but it wasn't about her. It was more about Eugene moving on from his dead wife or girlfriend and trusting his daughter, as well as showing how connected Adorabat and Mao Mao are as teacher and pupil.

There was that one episode where Adorabat got a laser Canon on her leg, but there was nothing learned or developed from that. I get it; she's a five year old toddler, kids aren't exactly rich in character at that point, but can't she get a little more like why she wants to be a hero? Does it have connections to her dead mother to show it had an impact on her? Literally anything? Hopefully we can get some more character development in season two, she's a blank sleight so she has a lot of possibility for character development.

Ding ding ding, lightning round!

Tanya is a peice of cardboard, we haven't seen her enough to get a good feel for her character. Shin Mao is a stereotype for an emotional distant and neglectful dad. The sweetiepies are just set peices. Rufus and Reggie also have no character, their just one note villian characters. Bao Bao is a good boy, reminds me of the dog I use to have and died last year. Eugene is also an ok character, he doesn't really have one but his character arch was pretty neat.

As you saw I didn't include King Snugglemane, and that's because holy fuck it ain't good. We've gotten two episodes that feature him promently (I'm not including best in show in this, we don't see enough of him there) one is in my opinion the weakest episode in the series where he's just a spoiled little brat who needs attention. In the other episode he's portrayed as insecure in his own image. He doesn't really have a set character, but I actually don't have that much of an issue with that, but it's how he's coded in the show.

King Snugglemane is very feminine and we see that he has a passion for fashion; a common stereotype for gay men. Weither on purpose or an accident, that how he comes off and it is not good. Granted no one on the Mao Mao staff had confirmed nor denied this, but either way it should be fixed to avoid confusion or to give the audience a better representation of a gay man. Again, not confirmed or denied, but this is how I'm interpreting it.

I saved the worst for last like a smart boi; Badgerclops. Holy shit Badgerclops. Badgerclops is such a fucking prick to Mao Mao. Case and point; the puppet episode and the season two sneak peak. Mao Mao is obviously terrified of puppets, Badgerclops recognizes this, but because Mao Mao refused to admit it the guy torments him with the wooden little fucker. And in the story board we see him use a present Mao Mao gave him to manipulate Mao to do what Badgerclops wants. In his defense Mao Mao and Adorabat were prices to him too, but they fixed it. At least in the puppet episode he doesn't even say sorry. What's fucking worse is that Simon said in a tweet that Badgerclops wasn't suppose to learn anything because it's kid morals and he knows it (I'm paraphrasing, y'all are gonna have to trust me on this because I can't find the screen cap on Instagram) which is ten times fucking worse. Either A, he actually isn't that smart and didn't know any better, or B, he knew it was wrong but did it anyways.

B is way fucking worse, but A doesn't completely clean him up either. He's a dick, straight up, and it's disappointing.

But what's worse is what I realized looking back on the show, is that he is just the comic relief with the least effort put into his character. He says some funny stuff sometimes, but you gotta admit the comedy can sometimes come from the show writers playing off the fact that he's over weight.

I can't be the only one who realizes that the only over weight character that is prominently shown displays stereotypical fat people traits.

I have at least two solid moments to show this. The first is in Sick Mao, where Mao Mao touches all of the king's food when he's sick and Badgerclops is clearly upset to destroy the food. The second is in that episode where Badgerclops refuses to shower, and in an attempt to bathe him they lure him in with beignets and it works. There are also smaller scenes where Badgerclops picks food out of Mao's teeth and ate it, When Badgerclops and Adorabat leave Mao Mao to fight the sky pirates alone in that one episode where Mao gets hella leg Badgerclops and Adorabat fight over who gets to eat Mao Mao's cheesy paws. There's also a more subtler scene in Sleeper sofa when the trio splits up Badgerclops chooses to stay in the kitchen. But that's not all of the stereotypes.

Episode 4 in season one, Badgerclops gets upset and walks home, mentioning how much he hates walking. There's also the episode where Badgerclops runs away to join the sky pirates, the whole reason he does that is because he doesn't want to do his chores. Two other stereotypes that fat people hate exercise and are just lazy. I may be reading into this too much, but holy shit from what I'm seeing it ain't good.

Despite me trashing these characters, I still fucking love this show. It's my hyper fixation, I'm very attached to these characters and love them with all of my beaty little heart and probably will for awhile. I hope everything gets better in the second season and the characters are fleshed out more.

Talk to me in the comments. I'd like to be corrected if I fucked up somewhere or have a civil discussion about these characters. Note civil, if you just call me a stupid dumbo I'm not responding and may delete the comment.

[ali-kitkat]

Audacity Ch 3

Start    Previous      Next 

Adrien followed the boy who sabotaged his plans to Chloe’s hotel. He assumed that he just left Marinette’s home before leaving for the night. His newest strategy was to show Marinette the error of her ways by hurting her friend, before he re-did the wish. She should have told him about her new friend, he should’ve met him before they were even alone together. She made her choice. She’s going to live with it now, he mused. When he re-does the wish, she’s going to remember her friend was injured, but only because she was going to have inkling of his actions, she should know that he wasn’t going to put up with insubordination. Altering her memories wouldn’t be difficult, she’s going to believe her friend was beaten because he was dangerous, which he is. That her friend was going to hurt her, Damian did, he took her away. He was going to be her hero again. Damian, he recalled, was checking in and headed upstairs to sleep for the night.

Having all the information he needed he headed to the bakery to get the ring. He loved her but she wasn’t exactly the smartest, hiding the ring in her diary box was a huge mistake on her end. He remembered that box very well as she had to unlock Sabrina’s hand from it. Since she wouldn’t open the box for him, he needed to delay her. Knocking her out was the smartest option, she wasn’t going to remember he hit her either.

*~*~*~*

Damian wasn’t surprised that the blond idiot couldn’t even hide on the roof tops very well. He spotted Adrien, pun intended, instantaneously. His was in a bright, obnoxious red suit, and he was sitting on the edge of a roof top watching the street, only moving when he had walked into his line of sight. He was easy to divert as well, all Damian had to do was walk into the Grand Paris hotel and Adrien left as feigned checking in. He left as quickly as he entered.

*~*~*~*

Adrien stared at his room in bewilderment, it was a mess. Marinette had destroyed it searching for the earrings.

“Spots off.” He muttered. Tikki flew out of the earrings and floated in front of him.

“What’s your plan now? Marinette has the ring and her memories; you can’t win her back and you can’t beat her either.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Teeks. I’ve got the ring right here,” Adrien taunted, holding out the diary box in his hand. “and you’re going to open it for me.”

She phased through the box and barely contained her giggles at the ring inside. She recognized Mari’s craftsmanship. A fake, she gave him a fake ring. Adrien snatched the ring out of the box. Slipping on the ring, he stood waiting for Plagg to appear and when he didn’t, he glanced down at the ring to see it hadn’t changed.

“Marinette gave me a fake.” He sighed infuriated, he ripped the ring off and threw it across the room.

“I’m going to show her the error of her ways, starting with her friend. Spots on Tikki.” He shouted as he leapt out the window.

*~*~*~*

His family didn’t worry about where he was all day, they did wonder why he was going out in his suit when all they were supposed to be doing was research on the botched timeline.

“Why are you going out as Robin? You know we’re not supposed to be seen, right?” Tim questioned, not looking up from his laptop.

“I have a friend who knows why the timeline was changed.” He replied, putting the ring in a false wall. He hoped his brothers wouldn’t question him about it.

“Wait what?” Dick asked, shock written on his face. Bruce looked up from the document he was reading and raised an eyebrow in question.

“You have a friend!” Jason and Tim yelled; the shock on their faces was quite amusing to him.

“Focus idiots, the timeline. You know why we’re actually here. Magic users and speedsters felt the change and my friend knows why. I’m going to check up on her because the person responsible happens to be obsessed with her.” He snarked exasperated, at the rate they were going to make him late and he was worried about Marinette. Damian had left immediately after.

He knocked on the balcony window waiting for a response. The interval of silence was too long for it to be normal, sure she could be asleep, but she knew he was coming back after he hid the ring. Carefully climbing in through the window he could see her on the ground, unconscious. She was still breathing, that much he could see. When her side he was enraged, her jaw was starting to bruise. Adrien knocked her out, and Damian was going to skin him alive. Lifting her into his arms, she shifted closer to him. He slipped out the window back to where he and family were staying.

When he got back, his family was waiting for him, Bruce and Drake sat while Todd and Grayson stood. They were all wearing shocked expressions.

“Damian, what the hell? Did you kidnap her?”

“What? No! Fucking Adrien Agreste knocked her out.” He defended, his rage rising. He attempted to set Marinette down on one of the sofas, but she wouldn’t let go much to his family’s amusement. The snickers behind him were setting him off further.

“Come on angel, you have to let go.” He muttered; she didn’t let go much to his annoyance and relief. He shifted her around enough that he had eventually woken her up. She froze in his arms before letting out an unholy screech.

“Who in the hell are you?” She yelled, flailing out of his arms. His family let out snorts and chortles at her bewildered expression.

“It’s me, Damian. Did I forget to mention that I’m a vigilante?” He replied dryly. She shot him a glare while rubbing a hand across her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just peachy. My ex-partner punched me in the face after he got what he wanted. Add that on top of the fact that he’s been manipulating me for the past year and that he caused my mother’s death. Yeah, I’m doing fucking swell; I’m going to tear him into pieces Damian.”

He could hear his family making noise behind them, fairly certain he heard Todd mutter Holy shit there’s two of them and decided to bite the bullet and introduce them motioning Marinette in the direction of his family.

“Marinette this is my family, unfortunately.” Damian presented, waving a hand in the general direction of his family.

“That’s rude baby bird.” One of the men standing spoke in a teasing voice.  

Marinette didn’t bother to muffle her laughter at Damian’s disgruntled expression. He glared down at her and she stuck her tongue out at him in return.

“I’m Jason Todd, the old man in the chair over there is Bruce Wayne. He’s Demon Spawn’s father.” A man with the white streak in his hair introduced himself.

“I’m Dick Grayson. How did baby bird meet you, because you are too cute to have just made friends with him?” The shorter man beside Jason spoke. “The one on the laptop is Tim Drake, don’t take his silence for rudeness though.”

“Right, Damian said you know why the timeline is screwed up. Can you tell us?” Tim interrupted, turning to face Marinette and Damian. Marinette raised an eyebrow in question. “Magic users and speedsters have experienced the backlash. They’re saying it originated from Paris, but they can’t place why or how.”

“A year ago, Paris was under attack by a magical terrorist named Hawkmoth and his accomplice Mayura. He wanted the miraculous from the local heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. A set of earrings and a ring, together those two miraculous can make any wish true. Adrien Agreste the son of Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste, took the earrings and wished his mother never fell into a magical coma.”

“There’s no evidence of anything like that anywhere. How do you know that?” Tim questioned; wariness etched onto his face.

“I was Ladybug. Adrien betrayed me. He used them to wish for his mother back and magic comes with a price.” Marinette responded. She paused a moment. “That price was my mother.”

“Isn’t Agreste your boyfriend? Why would he betray you? Or knock you out?” Dick inquired.

“That asshole is not my boyfriend.” She snarled. “he’s the bastard who wished for me to love him and made me lose my memories of the last year.”

Dick stared at her in shock. “He made more than one wish?”

“Yes. He wished for me to love him and manipulated me into being his.” She sneered. “Not long after my mother died either.”

“What happens when you get the earrings back? Are you going to wish the timeline back to what it was?” Jason asked, curiosity taking over the shock. “Do you have the ring to do so?”

“No, I’m not going to wish for the previous timeline. I’m not stupid enough to abuse magic like that. Damian hid the ring for me, speaking of which. Could I get that back? I want to go rip Agreste a new asshole.”

*~*~*~*

Tag List: Let me know if want to be removed or added. 

 @bluerosette23 @thepeacetea @noirdots @tv-zombie-blog @2sunchild2 @vivilakitty @northernbluetongue @kurogaya913 @xxmadamjinxx @ayuchan07 @asianfrustration13 @poshplumcot @saltier-than-the-dead-sea @ladylb @littleredrobinhoodlum @mewwitch @winter-gardenflower @sonif50 @mooshoon @crazylittlemunchkin @captainmac6 @wookiestephen @octoberscorn @eliza-bich @dani-ari @theatreandcomicfreak @rikku052 @lysslovsanime @creator-josie @segajr @my-name-is-michell @luciferge @friedchickening @graduatedmelon @nomiegnome @kitten-rouge @beaversuenightly

[shasta-reese]

so...just watched Tiger King

Initially wasn’t gonna watch it but literally saw the name everywhere and I caved to see what the hype was about. This is going to be an extremely long post since I will be giving my thoughts on the entire docu-series, so if you like reading thorough reviews, welcome but if not this ain’t for you. This won’t be in chronological order but just whatever comes to my mind first. 

After finishing it, naturally I went on social media to see what people opinions were. And I. Was Baffled. To see that some people are saying that Joe Exotic should be out of jail is fucking insane. Like yeah I could maybe see why people say he was framed and was kinda set up by Jeff Lowe for the murder-for-hire. But are people literally forgetting about the other charges he had like i don’t know ANIMAL ABUSE. Like come on people, okay fine people argue saying her never physically abuse them but it’s quite clear that he did not have proper enclosures for those animals. Tigers are largely solitary animals, and he placed multiple tigers into a single enclosure that was barely enough for one tiger. That is still a mistreatment of animals. 

And then we find out about the WalMart expired meat, which sure animal stomachs can handle some slightly expired meat sure but you cannot say that it’s right to feed them that. Let’s not forget that he was also using that meat to serve to people. 

Next up we have the obvious manipulation of his apparent husbands. I can’t say much for Dillon (the current husband). But it was so obvious that he was controlling Travis and John in some kind of way. They were both so young and addicted to drugs and Joe clearly saw that as an opportunity, and basically kept them from leaving by giving them gifts and drugs. 

Just the entire tiger breeding part was just hard to watch for me. They literally show us that Joe took a newborn tiger from its mother. HOW ARE THERE NOT MORE PEOPLE UPSET THAT HE RIPPED CUBS FROM THEIR MOTHER MINUTES AFTER BIRTH! Yes, tigers are endangered. Yes, they should breed to be able to keep the species alive. BUT Joe exotic is not qualified and does not have the knowledge of proper animal conservation to be breeding tigers! He is breeding them to make a profit by cub petting, and selling them to be pets (which they are not).

I personally cannot find any redeemable qualities in Joe Exotic. Maybe he did actually care for the animals and truly loves animals but he got too caught up in the money and fame, completely throwing what he initially wanted to do. And to his credit he did have a moment of self-awareness when he was talking about the chimpanzees that were relocated. But even then he still did what he did and now he’s paying the price. He also made his mother sign documents that she didn’t even know what the contents were and got her dragged into his legal messes which is just fucked up.

I don’t think it’s possible for me to put every single thought I have into one post so I’ll try to give a brief summary of the main characters at least.

Jeff Lowe is an obvious con artist that scams people into thinking he has money but clearly doesn’t. He is absolute scum. yeah just scum. Just seeing his face just makes me wanna punch him. He has a very punchable face.

Antle is somehow worse that almost everyone in this entire thing. and i think the worse thing is that he is still getting away with all the shit he’s done/doing. Just listening to what that girl that escaped all that makes me sick that someone can do this. He’s literally breeding hybrids, that in itself is unethical, so fuck him. He’s literally leading a cult.

Carole Baskin. She’s clearly a flawed person and she definitely had something to do with her ex-husbands disappearance. Based on evidence or lack thereof, can’t say she killed him but she definitely knows more than we think. I dislike her in that she involved Big Cat Rescue into a personal feud. I will also say that she is a petty bitch. She’s not as bad as the others in terms of treatment to animals but still bad.

Big Cat Rescue (BCR) as an organisation is legit and should not be dragged down just because the founder has some shady personal stuff. Big Cat Rescue is quite open with how their facility is run, from their YouTube videos it shows clearly that the enclosures are way bigger than what they tried to portray in the docuseries. What was shown in the doc was only a small part of their enclosure where they feed the big cats. They offer a large area, hiding spots, shade, a pool for the tigers, and regular enrichment for their big cats. They rescue their big cats from abusive and neglected environments. And I am saying this for the people who keep claiming that BCR is doing the exact same thing as Joe or Antle, and that they’re keeping animals in cages too. Well, where else are we supposed to put them? CAPTIVE BRED ANIMALS CANNOT BE RELEASED INTO THE WILD! THEY WILL NOT SURVIVE! Literally all these people saying that these animals shouldn’t be in cages, and I agree but what so you propose we do with them? Leave them in the care of private owners who only got them because they were cute as a cub or as an ego boost to say “OhHh i OwN a TiGeR” and clearly don’t see that they are inadequate to be keeping a fucking tiger? Leave them in an environment where their basic needs are not met? Sanctuaries missions are to rescue these animals, their ultimate mission is to rescue these animals until there are no more privately owned exotic animals to be saved, give them a place of peace to live the remainders of their days and have empty cages. I cannot say anything about the treatment of the workers (because I didn’t see any solid sources saying they don’t pay their workers) but from what i gathered they do have some permanent staff but majority are volunteers (which by definition is someone who works without being paid, because its volunteer work), but I will say that BCR provides for their animals with the best of their abilities.

Holy shit... just ...when I watched the first episode I already didn’t want to continue because of the blatant disregard of animal welfare. But I watched the whole thing anyway to get a proper opinion instead of basing off of only one episode. On a slightly lighter note, I really liked Saff, he was one of the only people I liked. The dude with no legs (sorry can’t remember his name). And also Joshua Dial the campaign manager, like dude was nice, its just so tragic that he witnessed Travis shooting himself, hope the dude is going to therapy for that. RIP Travis Maldonado. Like they said in the end, nobody won and definitely not the animals, they suffered the most out of all of this.

I think that’s all off the top of my head that I have to say for now. Leave a reply if I missed out on anything. At the end of the day this is just my opinion, obviously we all have different opinions. So feel free to leave your opinion but I only want to have a civil discussion and don’t have the energy to argue with anyone. Guess that’s all.

Goodbye, for now

[shirakinnie-moved]

Shopping

I wrote a fic for transtalia week I’m hosting on @the-transtalia-blog and the prompt was Shopping! I’m thinking of posting this to ao3 and ffnet but I need to think of a title first.

"How do you do that?" Alfred asked. 

"Do what?" Aldrich asked as he picked something off of the shelf and inspected the price. 

"Wear your hair like that?" 

Aldrich gave Alfred a confused look. "I'm just wearing my hair in a low ponytail. I don't understand what you mean."

"Before my transition, whenever I wore my hair like that I looked like a founding father," Alfred pouted as he put a jar of jam in the shopping cart. "We need this."

Gilbert laughed. "You looked like a what?" he asked. 

"A founding father. I looked as if I was ready to fight the British and write the Articles of Confederation," Alfred said. 

"I don't know what that means," Aldrich said as they started to walk down the aisle again. 

Alfred groaned. "I mean, I looked really weird before my transition. Don't tell me you didn't look weird before your transition."

Aldrich sighed and stopped. "Alfred," he said, "I grew up in the eighties, and I was punk. Of course I looked weird."

"You were punk?" Gilbert asked. "I can't imagine that."

Aldrich raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you heard the music I listen to?"

"No," Gilbert said. "Is it punk?"

Aldrich looked Gilbert in the eye. "I listen to Green Day."

"I would like to see pictures," Alfred said. 

"Yeah!" Gilbert exclaimed. 

Aldrich rolled his eyes and continued down the aisle. "What else do you need for food?"

"First of all, I want pictures, and secondly, we need rice," Gilbert said. 

"Will you eat the rice?" Aldrich asked, ignoring the first part. 

"Yes," Gilbert said, "but Alfred doesn't know how to cook it."

"Yes, I do!" Alfred exclaimed. "Who said I can't? Was it Elena?"

"Me," Gilbert said. "I've seen you try to cook rice before, and it's sad."

Alfred pouted. 

"But, yeah, Elena also said you can't cook rice," Gilbert said, smiling. 

"That was a secret I confided in her," Alfred said. "I trusted her, and she betrayed me."

"Alfred, it was about your ability to cook rice. It's not like she told me of the bodies you've buried," Gilbert said. 

"She told you about those too?" Alfred asked. 

Gilbert became silent and Aldrich raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm just joking! Come on, you guys," Alfred said. "Let's just get our rice so we can get out of here."

"Sounds good," Aldrich said. 

They collected the rest of what they needed and made their way to the self checkout. They scanned all their items, and Aldrich paid. 

As they were walking toward the parking lot, Gilbert said, "If you're not going to show us pictures of you when you were younger, then why don't you tell us about what you were like?"

Aldrich sighed as he thought about his life when he was younger. "Well, for starters, my parents wanted Agnarr and I to be good, Christian children. We used to go to church every day and they wanted me to wear dresses all the time so of course we rebelled. It started with Agnarr growing his hair out and me ripping up my dresses. We also stopped going to church.

"You can imagine how angry our parents were. They tried everything they could to get us 'back to normal.' They even hired a priest to do an exorcism on us."

"How'd that go down?" Gilbert asked. 

Aldrich smirked. "We really fucked with them. We pretended to actually be possessed. My mom cried so we stopped."

"Holy shit," Gilbert said. "You never told me about this."

"I didn't?" Aldrich asked. 

"You've told me none of this."

"Well, I'm telling you now."

They reached Aldrich's car and started to unload the groceries. When they were done, Alfred ran to the passenger door and jumped in. 

"Hey!" Gilbert said. "That's my spot!"

"You have to sit in the back because you're cis," Alfred said, smiling. 

"You heard him," Aldrich said. "Trans men get to sit in the front."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and got into the back. Aldrich was the last to get in. 

"Okay, now that we're in here, continue your story!" Alfred said. 

"Where was I?" Aldrich asked as he started the car. 

"Exorcism," Gilbert said. "You made your mom cry."

"I got into a big fight with my parents after that," Aldrich said. "They told me and Agnarr to leave and never come back."

"You got kicked out?" Alfred asked. 

"Yep," Aldrich said. "We barely made enough to get by, but we were getting by."

"Damn, how'd you guys reconcile?" Gilbert asked. 

"I came out as trans, and I thought they deserved to know," Aldrich said. "My mom cried again, but she just hugged me and said she missed me. Our relationship after that was tense, but not more than it was before.

"Agnarr and I spent our time beating up transphobes. My parents would, of course, scold us about it. They didn't understand any of what we were doing at all. They still tried to get us to go to church until we told them we were pagan. They were furious, and our dad kicked us out again."

"Damn," Gilbert said. "How many times were you kicked out?"

"We got kicked out one more time after that when Agnarr hospitalized some transphobes who tried to commit a hate crime against me."

"That's fucked up," Alfred said. 

"Yep," Aldrich said. "We traveled after that. We drove around the country, and Agnarr almost got arrested when we went to Canada. That was fun."

"How did you turn into this boring man who teaches high school German?" Gilbert asked. 

"Because I then met Hans who then manipulated me and forced me back into the closet and forced me to stop being punk. That was the least punk thing I've ever done," Aldrich said. 

"Abuse doesn't make you any less punk," Alfred said. 

"Yeah, and you kicked Hans out and that was pretty punk," Gilbert said. "And you still fight transphobes."

"Thank you," Aldrich said. "That means a lot."

"No problem," Gilbert said. "Now how about we go home so we can teach Alfred how to cook rice."

Aldrich chuckled as Alfred groaned and said, "Fuck both of you."