#like i want to cry and punch something at the same time but ITS A HAPPY ENDING LIKE

[insectduck]

I just finished reading the most fucking devastating +100k word fic in three days and I'm nawt okay

[kameyyy]

#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay. 

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke. 

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens. 

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?” 

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

.

.

.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

.

.

.

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

prev. | m.list

extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[alnilaem]

HELLO HELLO HI!!! just read your butcher!simon and i’m. in LOVE??? maybe you could continue about reader like. keeps running into him at the Worst Times (running late going somewhere looking like shit, barely awake or crying in the elevator idk LOL) and he’s just like 🤨🤨??? OR reader tries to make small talk with him since they usually get off work at the same time but simon being simon he’s just like. hm. or grunts HE’S TRYING! BUT HE’S JUST a bit socially inept… oRRR reader bakes and had some leftovers and decides to give extras to simon and he’s like. Okay . and pretends that he’s not amused but secretly loves it SO CUTE AAGHH can’t think of anything else but penny for your thoughts? teehee LOVE YOUR WORKKK

ARGHHHH socially inept butcher!simon is so cute. i wanna build a shrinking machine and zap him with it and fossilise him in amber <3

-

Dusk has eclipsed Manchester, draping a greyscale blanket over the city by the time you enter the laundry room with a hamper tucked under your arm.

That was fifteen minutes ago. And since then, you’ve been trying to get the damn washing machine to work.

It’s an old hunk of junk. Repurposed scrap metal with duct tape lining its corners and a dog-eared note hanging above it, reading, Do Not Overload! in crude writing.

You bend your thumb into the start button for the umpteenth time, but it’s fruitless. The feeble machine rumbles to life, sputtering, then has its embers killed as it fails to continue running.

You angrily huff. Your eye bags are as laden as your muscles, heavy and weighed down with the stress of everything piling up. Job hunting; the constant maintenance your neglected flat needs; the abrasive attitude of your new neighbours.

Fleetingly, you consider moving back home. But before the rumination snatches you, you snuff it out with a swift, irritable kick to the drywall next to you, your toes bending with the impact, the pain crawling up your marrow.

“Bit uncalled for, don’t you think?” Chimes from behind you, and you swirl around, coming face-to-mask with Simon. You hope he can’t see your dewy waterline.

“Don’t believe that wall ever did nothin’ to ya,” he tacks on.

The cellophane of the plastic bag he holds—which you presume carries his laundry—crinkles as he clenches his hand. He’s swathed in sweatpants and a compression shirt, slick with a wisp of sweat, and lets his curls sit freely, its tint somewhere on the threshold between rustic cocoa and gilded blonde.

Simon’s words belatedly catch up to you. You heed his attempt at a playful inflection, unsure if it was meant for you or for him, and flush when you see how expectantly, and bluntly, he’s eyeing you.

You listlessly gesture to the washing machine. “It isn’t working.”

His grunt is prefatory. Simon walks towards the machine, poises a fist over it, and brings his hand down on it in three, sparse punches.

The machine coughs out exhaust, then burgeons into a smooth run.

“Not broken,” Simon grumbles, his words barely lucid beneath his Manchester lilt, “just fucking old.”

“I see,” you mumble, “thanks.”

Simon steps back and begins unloading his own laundry. He stuffs wads of clothing, all imbued with blood and the scent of meat, into another machine.

A pinprick of gluttony tugs your stomach. To say something, anything, to keep the conversation warm.

“The mask…” you begin, “is the black mold in your flat that bad?”

Simon turns to you, his eyes deadpan. It sends icy humiliation up your spine, leaving you pettish.

The hum of the washing machine loosely offsets the thick embarrassment in the room. Loud and tinny.

Beneath the rumble, however, a small, barely-there chuckle crosses Simon’s tongue. “Ha,” he says. It’s charitable at worst and genuine at best.

“… I should go… while my clothes’re washing,” you mumble, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.”

You’re past the threshold, stepping into the corridor, when Simon calls after you.

Your lungs stutter and stop. You want him to ask for your number, ask you out to lunch some time, but when you turn around, you feel like you’re falling.

An ornamental pair of panties dangle from Simon’s forefinger. It’s lacy, gauzy, and should be lying on the floor of your flat.

You burn a searing molten as you snatch it from his hands, mortified, and sprint towards the lift.

You turned around before you could see it. A caper in Simon’s eye, the barest implication to something more than a maladroit interaction: an amused, titillating smirk beneath his mask.

[malisorn]

𖤓 || 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary | Aemond has begged for many things in his life and for one last time, he gets down on his knees and begs for you ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions | Fluff & tiny bit of Angst, soft dark!aemond, heavily inspired by Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by Deftones (originally The Smiths)

Speak the wrong thing, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

These words have rotted deep inside Aemond's mind ever since he was a child, for he has always been the butt of a joke to his own brother and nephews.

In the beginning, he lets them jest all they wish, enduring their laughter as if it meant nothing. But after times and times of the same old jokes, it is no more fun, it has never been fun.

He started to defend himself, spit back at Aegon's words and try to fight, but still he failed. And in the last resort, he found himself on his knees, crying over and over again.

“Please, please, please, give me the biggest dragon in the world.” Tears streaming down as he begs the gods. He promises to be a changed man if he ever has a dragon.

And the gods seem to have heard him but nothing in the world has ever come without its price. For the very first time in his life, Aemond got his wish as he rode Vhagar through the dark night sky. And for a minute, he felt like he had own the world. After countless nights of practicing High Valyrian, imagining a dragon in front of him as he shouted the word out loud.

“Dohaerās!”

“Lykirī!”

“Sōvēs!”

Now, slowly patting the back of Vhagar, this is real, seeing his tears dropping on Vhagar, this is truly real. He has finally proved himself worthy to be a dragonrider to his father, a perfect son to his mother and a true Targaryen to his brother and his nephews.

His thoughts run short when he notices the Velaryons and the Strongs from below.

“I will not fear them, Vhagar has proved me worthy of her, I will not fear anyone.” He thinks to himself as he comes down to face them.

“It’s him!”

“It’s me.” Aemond feels confidence runs through him like a raging fire, pushing him to all the ways to say things he's always afraid of.

“Vhagar is my mother's dragon!” The girl argued hard with no less confidence than him. “Your mother's dead.” Aemond worries he is too bold but there is no stopping from this moment. “And Vhagar has a new rider now.” He continues with pride on his face.

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena shouts with her twin sister’s comfort from the back. Aemond was silent for a second as he observes everyone around, none of their dragons can compare to his. Arrax is young, Vermax can barely obey and Moondancer is nothing to Vhagar. Smiling at his realization, “Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.” He looks at all of them. Threats shouted with punches exchanged, Aemond has insulted them just as they once did to him but never in his life has he thought something so brutal would happen to him.

“The scar will heal but the eye could never do the same, your grace.” Aemond grips the chair hard, he has lost his eye. He looks at his mother with tears full of pain. “Please, please, please, mother, help me.” He thinks to the mother and his own as the maester stitches his scar.

And his mother tried to help him, with the same pleadings in her eyes as she looked at his father, The King, the one who can truly give him everything but the King didn't return the same look in his eyes, he gave those to only his daughter and bash away Aemond's pain. However, his mother couldn't give up, she stood with duty heavy on her back, running to takes Lucerys’s eye. Everything from that night still haunts him and he couldn't look at the King the same.

Aemond did become a changed man, just as he promised to the gods in exchange for a dragon. Nog the kind of change he has imagined. Instead, he has become a brute, poisoned with hatred and not even an ounce of sympathy left inside of him.

The Sept is no longer his place of comfort and he rarely begs the gods for anything. Aemond believes he has gotten everything he ever wanted, everything he needs to be a Targaryen. But no, it is far from the truth. Deep inside, Aemond feared that if he ever dared uttering a single wish to the gods, they would take something important from him in return. It could be his other eye, his title, his dragon or even his own life-

“Please, please, please, let this woman be the bride of mine for I have endured the pain my whole life. Let her be mine, for this will be my one last wish.”

Aemond feels bitterness twists through his words, he feels like a fool being down on his knees. After all these years of resentment, he broke all his promises and ran all his way back to the gods once more time. He said his prayers sternly, the gods must answer his wish after all they've done to him, he believes himself deserving something as dainty and perfect as you.

All of his thoughts slowly fade as his blurring sight clears into the vision of you standing right in front of him, wearing a pure white gown with wild flowers in your hair.

The gods have answered his prayers, you are now his bride.

With each time he blinks, each breath he takes, every single piece of you has finally revived into a wish he has always yearn to be blessed. The way you talk, the way you smile and how you spin around with that white gown of yours, he has never been allured by a woman's beauty like this.

“I am forever grateful to be your wife, my prince.” The sweet words dropping from your lips. He didn't know whether he wanted to be eternally confined by your love or to be freed from your lure. After nights of endless prayers, thinking that his wish has been torn aside and forgotten. But at this sight with you as his bride and from now on, his wife. Aemond feels seen, listened and answered, not only by the judgment of the gods but also by you.

He turns to look at you once more, “Same as I, to be your husband is truly a gift from gods.”

Feeling all smug with his answered prayers, Aemond seems to forget that nothing in the world has ever come without its price. Now, he can enjoy his days and nights with the love of his life but soon, the gods will find their ways and take anything they could in exchange of his one last wish.

masterlist for more

requests are open! feel free to ask ♡

images' credits

Society Lady With a Spray of Lilac by Hermann Clementz

Dancing Fairies by August Malmström

Peacocks and Delphiniums by Jessie Arms Botke

[idanceuntilidie]

Huloo, just read Yandere cheater and it was hook line sinker for me, do you still do request? If so can you do a Yan! cheater but the reader is like one of those cold stone face to others but warm to their friends and family but especially soft towards someone they really like? (In this case the cheater). Im curious about your take 😭. Scenario would basically be the same same I guess, like Yan! Cheater jumped to conclusion and, being an idiot, decide revenge cheat is the solulu to his delulu thoughts.

(If your requests are closed, please ignore this, Id be embarrassed)

I would have finished this way earlier today, slowly back to posting I hope yall are proud of me Warning: non con touching * blood * mentions of rotting meat and killing people * yandere themes ofc

yan cheater x gn reader

„SMILE FOR ME ALRIGHT?”

“I like when you smile, you look really cute when you do” “Haha aren’t you a charmer?” “Listen, I am serious! Your smile is special, not many can see it bunny.” “I love you” “I love you too.” Your face doesn’t reflect on how you are feeling, unless it is someone that you actually care about. It is only natural that people can’t tell what you are feeling, and that comes with its pros and cons.

People won’t know if they hurt you. Ciaran was pretty, but underneath all of that hid a disgusting freak. Too bad you have learned that when you saw the man you love kiss someone else. You remember he kissed you with such passion not even a few hours later. You hate to admit, he looks pretty even now. Standing at your doorstep, red hair clinging to his face. Make up slightly smeared because of the water. Ciaran looked beautiful, even if messy and wet. It made your blood boil. You wanted to rip his hair out, punch him and then curl into a ball and cry your eyes out. Instead you kept leaning against the door frame, the scent of rain calming you down. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t to you. He knew that you found out, and you knew his only regret right now was that he didn’t hide well enough.

The more you look at him, the more sick you feel. You waited for him to come back though, so you could spit on his face and throw him out of your apartment. You didn’t even bother with a suitcase, a trash bag fitted his personality more. “I have nothing to say to you Ciaran, take your shit and get lost.” Your voice was cold, monotonous but it made him shudder. You threw the bag into the closest puddle and finally slammed the door in his fucking face. There was something about you, Ciaran couldn’t put his finger on it. He doesn’t know why you are so attractive to him. Your eyes are cold, dead just like your expression that you wear. It’s like making eye contact with a corpse. Despite your very dead expression, you are quite attractive. Beautiful. It made his heart flutter, so it was only natural that he tried to get close to you. With time he got to see more of you, your little traits. Likes and dislikes. What you listen to, and what you eat.

The best part was when your stoic expression was replaced with a smile. He lived for those moments, but then it got boring. Can you even blame him? It all felt lukewarm. He needed that excitement back, and you couldn’t give him that. That is, he thought you couldn’t. But he was wrong. Ciaran wouldn’t admit it of course, it would hurt his pride. He was too proud, and you were just difficult and used.

He couldn’t admit that after just a week his body ached for your touch, scent. He wanted to see you smile again, hear you speak, touch you.

Every single time he tried to crawl back to you, you welcomed him with an ice cold stare and blank face. After God knows how many times he appeared in front of your house, you didn’t even bother opening the door and soon enough you moved away.

How could you? Leaving him wailing in the dirt in front of the place both of you called home. You are so cruel, didn’t you say people deserve a second chance?

Maybe he just needed to try harder.

The house breathed with you, calm and unbothered. The air felt heavy still and moist, in other words it stank in here quite badly. Slightly rotten food with the mix of your sweat made you gag. You laid still in your bed, eyes tired, achy and dry from the lack of sleep. You feel like you are going to suffocate in here. You listen to the melody of the forest surrounding your house, the gentle sway of the trees and cicadas. It’s dark, why were you up again? Your eyes start to wander around the room trying to adjust to the soft light of the moon. It’s dark, you see your furniture and that pile of clothes that looks a lot like a human now that you stare at it.

You turn on the light, it blinds you and you close your eyes and hiss in pain. When you open them again you see the same pile of dirty clothes. It looks normal, like a pile of unwashed clothes would. You thought it was.. nevermind, brain tends to imagine weird shapes when you can’t see shit. That’s what it was, you sigh as you get up. The air feels stuffy.

 If it wasn’t for the crippling anxiety you would open the window, you can’t see outside but it can see you. That makes you worry.

You dragged your heavy feet to the kitchen to grab something to eat even though there is not much you can choose from. You need to go shopping. Your stomach recoils at that thought. Ciaran just waits for you to leave. He is probably not very happy that you have ignored him as much as you did. His gifts lay unopened at your front door, slowly piling up. The sweet scent of rotting meat emitting from them. Just thinking about it makes you weak in the stomach. The kitchen is dark, after the bedroom incident you didn’t bother even turning on the light. Your poor eyes. Your shaky hands search for the least dirty cup so you can at least drink some water.

After your break up, Ciaran hasn’t left you alone. Blocking him didn’t help, the police didn’t help. He made sure you were alone, with no one to help you. Your ex successfully tracked you every single time, that's why you are stuck at home. Looking and smelling like shit. It has been a week without him trying to contact you but you aren’t sure he finally moved on. You will sneak out of the house, leave everything and just escape this madness. You will be free. There is a warm breath on your neck.

The glass shattered against the wooden floor. “Did you miss me?” he rasped out. He smelled like forest. His voice goes through your ears, making them ring. You didn’t respond, praying that your brain is imagining things. It surely is, he imagines how he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his hands slowly wander around your body.

You feel weak in your knees, hands gripping the sink in an attempt to get some stability. Ciarans cold hands painfully dig into your stomach. You feel like you are going to puke.

Then everything stops. You turn around and you are greeted with the sight of your kitchen. No Ciaran.

You raise your shirt, no marks.

You were going crazy or the lack of sleep is really getting into you. Forget the water or food, you are going to sleep. Ciaran is not here, you are safe and you need sleep. Badly. The floorboards creak against your weight, the trip to your room. It’s like being like a kid again, and you feel like someone is chasing you so you run up to your room to turn the light on and scare the evil away. The thought of it makes you chuckle. Something feels wrong though, you look at your front door. It’s open.

Fuck the sneaking, you are ready to run to your room when someone grabs you. Their hands are sticky, warm. The metallic and sweet rotting smell fills the room. “Bunny, bunny calm down. It’s okay, I am here finally.” “Ciaran, Ciaran please…” you choke out as he squeezes your frail body. “Ahh how I missed that voice of yours.” he moaned into your ear and hugged you tighter. You want to cry, you want to throw up but you can’t give him the satisfaction of that. You can show him any basic human emotion, that’s what he wants.

 He kissed your neck, nipping at some places. Like he used to, when you two were together.

“You missed me too, right bunny? you missed my voice?” “Ciaran leave my house.” “But baby why? We are finally together again.” He let go of you. Your body ached, head pounding and all of your senses screaming to run.

“Aren’t you happy? Please bunny, smile for me like you used to.” His hands grabbed your face, fingers jamming into your mouth forcing it to open. It hurts, you can taste the blood coating his hands. He forces you to smile and you stop yourself from actually throwing up. Your thoughts are muddy, body weak. You claw at his hands but he grips you together. Nails digging into your gums, you gag. Ciaran beams at you, happy. Smiling widely, just like he used to.

“Now, was that so hard?” he hums.

You try to protest, but you are unable to speak. You are so tired, so weak. He took notice of that. Kissing your forehead.

“Oh my poor baby, you are exhausted waiting for me right? Don’t worry, I will help you.”

The last thing you remember is pain, the amazement on how strong his head is and a small thought that no matter how far you run. Your loving ex will find you.

[ashwhowrites]

OMG I CANT BELIEVE REQS ARE OPEN YAYAAYAYAYAYAYYYYY

okay so basically i was wondering if you could do something with popular!bully!eddie x sensitive!reader

okay okay. so reader and eddie like each other but its a secret from the other and eddie bullies her lightly (cos he doesnt know how to deal with emotions) and shes super insecure cos she has like no friends and stuff and he went prom dress shopping with chrissy and saw reader there and teased her about the dress she picked and she got sad and cried at home then its prom and eddie's rejected everyone cos hes waiting for reader to show up and finally confess but shes nowhere to be found so he goes to her house with flowers or smth and he finds her crying and he comforts her and has her put her dress on and they kiss

IM SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE!!!

but thank you SO MUCH ash your writing is literally amazing it always has me in my feels <333 thank you for bringing so much happiness (and angst LMAO) to my feed!!

You are so sweet!! Thank you so much 🫶🏻I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting!

Prom Dress

Eddie never had a good hand on his emotions, he never learned how to express what he felt correctly. All he saw growing up was expressing emotions through anger. His dad was never around to tell him about girls and his mom was never there to teach him how a girl wants to be treated. So he went with what came naturally, except he barely ever felt real feelings towards a girl.

Until he met Y/N

Eddie was popular, it was easy to have girls on his arm and in his bed. But he didn't have feelings for them, so it was easy sweet talk and then they wouldn't talk again. But it was like his brain froze when he was in Y/N's presence. His sweet talk was out the door as he stuttered out something to say, and it was always a comment that sent her over the edge. He just didn't know that.

Y/N was a very alone person. She wasn't the best at making friends, making peace with being her own friend. She was insecure, never telling a boy how she felt because she knew it would go the exact way she thought it would. And when she realized her heart raced when Eddie walked in the halls, she knew that one would never happen.

Plus she has a good damn feeling he hated her guts. He added fire to the hell she lived in but there was something about him that she wanted. She allowed herself to be his punching bag because she felt alive when his eyes were on her. He was practically the only person that talked to her, and she didn't want to give that up.

Because at the end of the day, she had Eddie Munson's attention.

~~~

Eddie groaned as Chrissy picked up another dress to try on. He looked at his watch, annoyed that they had been in the same shop for two hours.

"At this point, Jason won't care what you pick. Can we please go?" Eddie moaned, his head thrown back as he sat on the uncomfortable chairs.

"You're fine. I have two more dresses and then we'll leave!" Chrissy sighed, going into the changing room.

Eddie moved his head back and looked around the store. He blinked a few times when he saw someone familiar. He stood up and slowly walked closer, squinting his eyes as a girl walked away from the register with a puffy pink dress.

"Y/N?"

She froze as she recognized the voice. Already on edge as she turned out. Panic in her eyes as she met his brown ones.

"Hi Eddie," she said, a small smile as she greeted him politely.

"Is that your prom dress?" He asked, his eyes looking over her shoulder as she held it.

"Yeah," she said quietly

"So you are going to prom? What? Alone?" He scoffed, a mocking chuckle left his mouth and Y/N shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

"Um, I don't know yet. Depends if someone asks" She shrugged

Eddie felt his body burn, a sense of discomfort thinking of someone asking her. Some guy takes her, takes pictures, and spins her on the dance floor. Someone she would have gotten dressed up for. He wasn't sure why the thought made him so damn angry. But the good news for him, he knew how to express anger.

"Ask you? You know that's not going to happen" he argued, his eyes dark as he stared down at her. "And while you are wearing that? A puffy pink dress, you think you are some fairytale princess? That dress looks like it's for a five-year-old old" He teased, but it wasn't his usual tease. This time it felt like every word he said sliced through her.

The one dress that fit her like a glove. The one dress that made every problem wash away. A dress where for once she felt beautiful.

She didn't say anything, just turned around and walked out of the store.

She cried as she raced to her car, harshly throwing the dress in the backseat. She cried the whole way home, feeling helpless in this world. She wasn't sure why it felt like everything was always up against her.

~~~

It was the night of the prom, and Y/N ignored the dress that hung up in her closet.

She bought it a week ago, a week since Eddie ruined the one bit of confidence she had left.

She wanted to return it, but the store wouldn't take it. So now she was stuck with a reminder that she would never be the gorgeous girl who walked into prom and changed everyone's perspective of her. She would still be that loser everyone laughed about.

So she stayed home. Her parents weren't too involved with her life, out on vacation as she sat on the couch. She watched romantic movies, crying as she stuffed her mouth with chocolate ice cream.

~

Eddie checked his watch for the tenth time of the night. The loud music overwhelmed him as he kept his eyes on the door.

"Want to dance?" A girl from the cheerleading squad asked.

"No thanks. I'm waiting for someone" he said with a tight smile, then moved his eyes back to the door

The prom started two hours ago, and she still wasn't there.

He turned down about ten dances before he took matters into his own hands.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and hit the road. The flowers he bought sat in his passenger seat, guess he was going to drive them to her instead.

He pulled up to her driveway, letting out a nervous breath as he got out. He fixed his suit, patted down his hair, and gripped the flowers. He knocked on the door, stepping back as he waited for it to open.

"Eddie?" She was surprised, her body mostly covered by the door. Some sort of protection for herself.

He looked up and frowned. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. And she wasn't anywhere near dressed up for prom. Her hair was down, but no makeup on her face.

"Hey, can I come in?" He asked

"Why?" She asked, covering her body even more with the door

"Why didn't you come to prom?"

She was surprised he even noticed. But she was more curious as to why it mattered to him.

"Didn't want to go. Is that all?" She snapped. It was enough that he could torture her at school and outside of school. But at her own house is where she drew the line.

"Um, uh, these are for you," he said shyly, not used to her face looking so annoyed and a snap in her tone.

She eyed the flowers as he held them out for her. She opened the door wider to grab them. They were truly beautiful and it was the first time she ever received flowers.

"Oh um thank you, Eddie," she said, smelling the flowers

"Can I come in? Maybe we can talk?" He asked, he twiddled his fingers as he waited for her to reply

"Uh sure but don't you have like a date or something?" She asked

"No, I was waiting for you," he said honestly, for once just saying what he felt instead of turning it into a joke.

She didn't know what to say so she opened the door and let him step inside.

She walked to the kitchen and got a vase for the flowers. He followed without asking.

"So why were you waiting for me? Was a big bucket of red paint gonna fall over me?" She asked, watching as the water filled the clear vase.

"No, why would I do that?" He asked, his head turned like a confused puppy

She laughed to herself bitterly

"Because you make my life hell" She looked at him like it was obvious. Softly placing the flowers on the kitchen table.

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry" his eyes looked sincere but she wasn't sure what trap he was waiting for.

"Then why do you do it?" She asked, her arms crossed as she angrily looked at him. Maybe this was her chance to finally stick up for herself and tell him to shove everything up his ass.

"Because I like you, and I wasn't sure how to show that" he explained, a small blush formed on his face as he muttered the words.

Y/N stood frozen as she stared at him like he had two heads.

Eddie confessed he liked her?

What kind of prank was this?

"Which I can see now I did in every wrong way possible. I'm sorry for everything, I didn't know I was upsetting you."

She sighed as the apology lifted some weight off her body. It felt nice to finally be apologized to.

"Thank you for apologizing," she said, a small smile on her face

"Thank you for allowing me to," he said, a shy smile on his face

They stared at each other, neither knowing what the next move should be.

"Can I uh see your dress? I saw it in the store but didn't get to see what it looked like on you" he asked, his eyes moving to the floor

"Are you going to make fun of me?" She asked, her arms crossed. Her protection shield is back up.

"No!" He shook his head dramatically, "I know my horrible take on flirting was more hurtful. So I will keep my mouth shut" he said

"That was flirting? God, you are horrible" she joked, loving the way the air shifted into something lighthearted. He laughed with her and agreed.

She led him to her room, allowing him to sit on the bed as she went into the bathroom to change.

She slipped on the pink dress, looking at herself in the mirror. That same rush of confidence filled her body. It was like the dress was magical and healed every broken part of her. She tried to reach the back zipper but couldn't get it. Her face was already on fire as she realized what she had to do.

She walked into the room, Eddie looked up from his hands and his mouth dropped. His eyes skimmed over her dress, the way it hugged her body perfectly.

"Could you zip me up?" She asked, turning around as she tried to keep her breathing normal.

He coughed and stood up. Wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. His fingers danced down her spine, making her shiver. He reached the zipper and slowly pulled it up, her skin disappearing under the fabric.

The room felt thick as she slowly turned around. The ghost of his fingers was still on her back.

"You look breathtaking," he said, his voice a quiet whisper as he looked into her eyes

She gulped when his eyes dropped down to her lips. Then he was slowly leaning in.

His hand moved up to hold her cheek, and his eyes moved up to her eyes to check for a sign of rejection. But her eyes were zoned in on his lips.

He smirked as he noticed, slowly leaning in until his lips pressed perfectly against hers.

She wasn't sure where to put her hands so she softly placed them on his chest. Her head turned as he deepened the kiss.

She felt like he kept chasing her lips, sucking away her breath as she gripped his suit in her fingers.

Her body buzzed with electricity. His lips and hands were softer than she thought they would be. His kiss was gentle and slow. Her stomach fluttered and her head spun.

He held back his moans as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm. Her hands on his chest made his heart race and his face flush. He tried his best to not get carried away, not wanting to scare her. His free hand slipped to her back as he pushed her further against him. He never felt this way ever when he kissed a girl.

She pulled back when she felt like she couldn't breathe. She took a huge puff of air into her lungs as they kept their faces close.

Panting against each other as they looked into each other's eyes.

Like she said, it was a magical dress.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[tojisun]

military man simon (ghost) riley x nun!reader

!! suggestive - minors dni, heavy on catholicism; play on blasphemy; im ignoring the code of canon law (of confession and absolution) so yall should too!!; it’s all one-sided btw; female reader

song playing: the apparition (ST) // prev posts: 01, 02

simon feels the hesitation surround his throat, coiling past the shame before settling in his stomach.

he is hovering, he knows that, but simon will have to disappear for a year at least and while the duration has never daunted him before, he couldn’t say the same now anymore. things have changed. because this time around, he has someone he wants to return home to.

sure, you do not love him that way, but simon chases the affection in your prayers, licking the remnants of your devotion from the edges of your words. he pretends that it is enough. pretends that he is not woken up in the middle of the night by the explosion of his desire, ever so expanding in its carnality.

pretends that there is something else for him in this chapel.

his lips twitch when you finally turn to him with a smile.

“mr. riley!” you greet, walking to him excitably.

“just ‘simon’. please.”

simon’s aware of how his body reacts to you. how, as you draw close, he shifts, muscles rippling to see you better. to hear you better. to pretend that he can ever touch you.

but he doesn’t have to wait. not when you take his hands in yours, holding in a way that is so gentle and sacred, the shame he tried to stomp down begins unfurling from the base of his lungs to tickle the base of his throat, ready to spill over.

“you’re usually not here for the sunday services, simon,” you say, and simon tries to suppress the tremors that racked his body upon hearing you say his name.

again, he wants to plea. say my name again.

but you are looking at him with worry, and while simon is a greedy, greedy man who wants to at least have your concerns if he can’t have your love, he doesn’t like the way your face falls as you fret.

so he smiles, crooked as it is, and tightens his hold on your hands, careful not to do any more lest it just pushes you away.

“yeah,” he replies, his voice croaking. “may i request something, sister?”

sister. it leaves such a vile taste in his mouth.

“of course.” your eyes are still furrowed, your lips downturned in a sorrowful pout. “anything.”

simon breathes in sharply, the weight of your words punching the air out of him, and he buckles, folding into himself as he chokes on his words.

your worry explodes, gentle prodding now a panicked cry. “simon!?”

“it’s nothing,” he lies. “i’m okay.”

you let his hands go—simon tries not to whine—only to feel you pull him closer, short arms curling over his back, your warm palms rubbing soothing nothings against the plane of his spine.

this feels like torture—your kindness will be the death of him.

“please, tell me how i can help you,” you whisper, darling even as you look as lost as you feel. “the church is here for you, simon.”

“i know,” he says even though all he wants to say is ‘all i need is you.’ he breathes in, staggered rasps not quelling your worries, but simon bulldozes past your gentle touch, afraid that he’ll get addicted to this.

“i need your help,” he continues. “help me repent.”

you blink, going slack. you begin to pull away and simon, a man who has faced more painful things more than the feeling of your warmth separating from his, shakily lets you go.

“i cannot give you penance, simon. only the priest can do this—i can go get him-”

simon pulls you close again when you begin to stand up, surely to locate the priest that gave the service today, but simon doesn’t want him. he doesn’t want a stranger to hear the rising tides in his heart. he doesn’t want someone to forgive him for his guilt.

“no,” he whispers, his voice so quiet. so vulnerable. “i can’t-…”

your lips are pursed but your eyes are alight with wonder. with consideration.

simon prays that you will grant him even this.

a heartbeat passes, a stuttering silence ringing in his ears, and then, “okay.”

simon smiles. “thank you.”

-

the rite started like this: with simon sinking into the confessional, watching you from the thin divider as you do the same, noting the way your fists are balling your habit, your hands trembling at the sacrilege.

because simon knows. before coming here, before bowing into himself in front of you, simon already knew. he knew that you could never give him the penance he told you he seeks for. he knew that this—you sitting in the confessional—is a chip to your vow.

he knew that you’ve, once again, put him before the lord.

simon aches to sink his teeth in the plush flesh of your body. to worship you the way you deserve to be. instead, he ignores the festering desire, swallowing the yearning he feels as he does the sign of the cross.

“bless me sister for i have sinned.” he licks at his dry lips. “it’s been…” he hesitates.

“tell me,” you say when his silence draws on. “this is not a place of judgement and forsaking.”

tell me, is what simon hears instead. tell me, i will understand.

“it’s been eighteen years since my last confession,” he continues, breathing raggedly, his face burning up as the words begin spilling. “these are my sins: i am lusting for her, i cannot stop thinking of her.”

the gasp on the other side of the confessional makes his blood jump, his mind feeding him images—is this how you would gasp out if you give yourself to him? is this how you will sing when he takes you, gently and deeply? is this how?

“i dream of a life with her. i dream of the way she will fold herself into my arms, tucking my sharp corners into her tender parts. i dream of the way i can touch her—all-consuming and ravenous. i dream of how she will feel when she’s with me. how she will taste like when i’m with her.”

simon breathes in deeply, the sound slicing through the heavy silence in the booth and passing through his teeth like a hiss.

“i want to devour her. i want to strip the layers of her honesty and fill her with me. just me.”

he clenches his fist, preparing for the last of it all.

“i want to worship her.”

the weight of his words fall like judas’ tender kiss, resounding in their immorality.

“for these, and all my sins,” simon begins after the stretch of silence. “i am truly sorry.”

“i see,” you whisper, breathless yourself. simon wonders how you must look; would you have your eyes open in surprise? would you have your lips pursed in distaste? would you look at simon like the sinner that he is? would you begin to leave him be?

“pray with me,” you say, ripping him from the depths of his uncertainties.

simon lets your words wash over him, dripping down the lines of his veins and dragging across the stretches of his scars. he knows you couldn’t possibly offer absolution, but simon feels forgiven.

more than that, simon feels seen.

he feels raw, his vulnerability exposed to the very person simon who makes simon’s knees buckle, but it feels correct. it feels like this is where simon should be.

at your mercy.

when the confession is over and you two have stepped out of the booth, simon relishes in your shy gaze, eyes fleeting between him and the altar. he smiles, his eyes crinkling, because simon’s heart truly feels at ease.

“thank you,” simon murmurs, hands twitching by his side as he yearns to reach out and pull you close.

“of course,” you reply, bravely holding his gaze. “always.”

that night, in the comfort of his room, simon traces the hardening length of his cock. he shuts his eyes and conjures the image you made—shy, quiet, flustered—and the sounds that spilled from your lips—breathy, choked out, hesitant—and fists at his flesh, thinking.

dreaming.

ending with an a/n: growing up in a private catholic school and seeing all the censorship pushed sm of us (in school) to romanticize blasphemy n transgressions tbh sooo heres the continuous manifestation of that indulgence (mentioned in pt 01)

[stillness-in-green]

The thing that doesn't make sense to me if Izuku resolved to kill is how it doesn't let them prove AFO wrong? AFO did his big reveal which only makes it clearer how deep the grooming went and it should've been time for Izuku to understand Tenko and Tenko to understand the abuse then reject the mindset forced onto him. But Izuku killing Tenko doesn't do that. Tenko just dies. It feels very wrong.

I guess Izuku just wasn't very interested in proving AFO wrong! Honestly, the only thing I immediately remember Izuku disputing the guy on was the same thing he disputed Shigaraki on: that he was anything more than a human being. AFO isn't a Demon King, but just a lonely man. Shigaraki hasn't transcended humanity; there's still a human somewhere deep inside of him. Izuku won't correct his allies' use of dehumanizing language for Villains, of course, but he's quick to push back when the Villains themselves self-aggrandize.

Sorry, I really only have withering disdain for Deku at this point. And I guess I don't really see any evidence that Deku was ever particularly driven by "proving AFO wrong." He wants to stop AFO, certainly, but that's because AFO is a monster who takes advantage of vulnerable people to maneuver them into doing Bad Things that advance AFO's Bad Plans and sets them onto Bad Paths that are difficult to walk back, not because he expressly opposes AFO on this or that ideological point about the nature of humanity and society.

(Hit the jump for the rest of a somewhat rambly reply.)

If anything, current evidence is that neither Deku nor the manga itself really do disagree with AFO about the frailty of humans, as expressed by Tsukauchi answering Deku's question about how to prevent future tragedies by shrugging and saying, "You don't, because life fucking sucks sometimes and that's just how it is. Our hands are completely tied on improving the system as we have it, so all we can do is punch out the Villains that appear in front of us to stop them from causing more harm."

That's also me being a bit harsh, of course. The fact that Deku is even still asking that question in the epilogue suggests that the manga hasn't reached its final answer yet, and maybe it will yet come up with something better! It doesn't have much time left, but it's still possible!

All the same, Deku is still having to ask that question in the epilogue because he never truly faced it over the course of the story. Never thinking about what Shigaraki as a person said in favor of fetishizing the Crying Child, never coming up with any kind of non-violent plan of attack or conversational approach, I have to ask what exactly about Shigaraki did Deku ever disagree with AFO on?

AFO, in the end, characterized Shigaraki as a puppet he molded exactly as he desired, a doll who he sculpted and programmed to act as he wished, a feeble child who has never made a single decision that AFO didn't cultivate him to make. So far as I can tell, Deku never really contested that framing. He didn't know the extent of it until the full reveal, of course, but Deku, like AFO, insisted on approaching Shigaraki solely through that "Crying Child" lens. He seemed to believe that nothing Shigaraki said or did on the surface really mattered (save as a reason that Shigaraki had to be stopped and potentially killed), that the "truth" of Shigaraki was that feeble little weeping boy who never grew up.

How could Deku possibly "prove AFO wrong" in that context? He doesn't even disagree with him! I mean, he's got some nice talk about how people deserve a second chance, sure; he says that people doing wrong doesn't make them Villains for the rest of their lives. What does do that, however - insofar as I can tell from how opaque the series keeps Deku throughout the final war - is refusing the hand out of the darkness. You stop being a victim and become a Villain for the rest of your life by choosing to remain a Villain even when offered an alternative (no matter how patently awful that alternative is).

Shigaraki chooses to remain a Villain and Deku doesn't have a counter for that because Deku never really got past the false binary represented by Villains and Victims to begin with. And I think the same goes for people who expected Shigaraki to just fold when he realized the extent of the grooming he'd undergone. Disallowing Shigaraki any agency in who he is and what he's done is defining him the same way AFO and Deku both did; when Shigaraki refuses to accept that framing, refuses to be a passive victim, the only thing left for him to be is a Villain. And when a Villain refuses to stop...

Well, Hawks already told us what the Heroes' answer to that is. "Someone has to die." As no one ever stepped up to prove him wrong, as far as the story is concerned, he isn't.

AFO always knew that victims can be turned into Villains with the right nudges; that's the whole reason for him cultivating "warped seeds" whenever and wherever he found them. Hero Society is - and always has been - much too rigid in its enforcement of the Hero/Villain/Victim narrative to effectively combat him. Crucially, Deku - the boy who wants to bring everything back just the way it was - doesn't disagree with him. He thinks AFO is an asshole for setting people up to fail, but he doesn't disagree about what failure means. So if AFO, Deku, and the story itself are all in agreement, what's even there for Deku to disprove?

Now, there is something that would prove AFO wrong, but it isn't something you can do while insisting on drawing lines to separate sad manipulated woobie victims who just need to be saved from awful unrepentant villains who just need to rot. It isn't something you can do while infantilizing Shigaraki Tomura.

The way to prove AFO wrong is to make room in society to help all Villains. Even if they aren't asking for it, even if they never ask for it, and even if they're jolly bastards who don't really deserve it! As long as there's a point at which it becomes okay to give up on trying to save Villains, Shigaraki will remain unsavable. He will insist on being unsavable. He could no more let that go than All Might could step aside and let AFO's attack kill an innocent at Kamino.

That's what it means to be a Hero for Villains.

Ultimately, what makes AFO right is that he knows that Hero Society makes it difficult if not impossible to uncross the victim-to-Villain bridge, and so anyone who does cross that bridge (with or without his influence) is that much more susceptible to him. Deku, in turn, thinks the only Villains he can save are those who drop everything and come sprinting as fast as they can back to the Hero side, so anyone who won't do that is someone he can't help.

Shigaraki refused to stop trying to create a better world for Villains. Toga refused to live in a world that would imprison her. Twice refused to give up on the friends no Hero would help. It's the same with every other Villain who refused to quietly endure their status quo: in a society that refuses to change how it treats Villains, anyone who won't submit to suffering in silence cannot be saved.

That's the paradigm AFO exploits, and Deku will never prove him wrong without resolving to change the paradigm first. We'll see if the last two chapters get him there.

[icarusredwings]

Not really comfortable exploring his part of his charater since its a bit too close to home for me but it's common for patiants with brain cancer to become violent and agressive depending where their turmor is and what it's hiting/ the way your brain is physically reacting to it's changes.

In the comics, there's lots of reference to domestic abuse from Wade and sometimes towards him in return and this is not a "Logan should have to deal with Wades overly agressive behavior" but I can see how utterly terrifying this would have been for his non regenerative partners.

Wade's LITERAL brain chemistry is changing and fluctuating all the time so it wouldn't be uncommon for him to come home and suddenly be acting very weird for him. That's the thing though. Everyone knows that Deadpool is unpredictable, its one of his largest charater traits. He's so unpredictable that even Task Master wants nothing to do with him.

Though I think about this being an easy fix for Logan, where else it might not be. Sure, before he figures it out he definitely would be pissed and confused, maybe even emotionally hurt.

Yeah they fight, yeah wade hit him a lot during those fights but it wasn't really the same. It's like those fights were unwrittenly consensual but hes been angry for no reason all week, cursing up a storm. The things Wade said never usually were this hurtful. But it was starting to get to him. His last straw is when he has the audiacity to kick puppins out of the way.

A 'There is NO way that's Wade' moment before stabbing him in the head.

Theres a fuss, some wrestling, but ultimately this fixes the problem. No you idiots not because he beats wade into submission Tch you could never actually do that. One of his second biggest traits is resiliency. He was literally deprived of air for al.ost 3 days straight and still managed to beat the fuck out of people, had his chest put a huge hole through, and then proceeded to run off. There is no "breaking him like a horse" or even a dog. His spirit is far to strong and he hates himself so much that nothing you say will truely hurt him, only hurt his trust in you cause he trusts you not to say those things but have been thinking the same thing about himslef for years.

It's when Logan finally hits the tumor (and or digs it out) when Wade's brain tissue regenerates and therefore removes the presssure/chemicals causing the problem. Wade also has a ton of memory issues because of stuff like this and honestly I can see him not even remembering that he did all thess things so when Logan tells him he was being an ass to him, how he called him a useless good for nothing, how he hit him when they weren't even play fighting, how he kicked puppins(?!)

He would be extremely over apologetic and probably cry because he himself knows what its like plus he can't control it and knows this will not be the last time.

Wade is toxic. He is extremely abusive in the eyes of healthy normal non regenerative non mutant relationships. And theres nothing he can do about it.

Yeah, Wade gets bitches. But keeping them is harder then making Al stop doing coke. It's never going to happen. Unless somehow someway someone removes his cancer without him dying, he will forever be like this. Ofc he dosn't want to be. It's why Vanessa probably left him. DV is hard enough but "Sorry I punched you in the face I had a huge tumor in my brain" is one of the very very very very very VERY few excuses for it. Because he CAN'T change though and often falls into manic depressive episodes as well, It's too much for a human.

It's impossible to handle if you don't have the correct tools.

Fortunately for Logan, He has 6. And won't let Wade get too out of hand. I can actually see him beating the fuck out of him the second he even tries to swing at him, sit up from all the blood on his face and hands, tumor between his teeth or something. "Better?"

It takes a few seconds for him to kick back, but it's one of those things where it can't be helped without ripping your boyfriends skull open.

"Better... I'm sorry, Logan.."

"You better be. I had a black eye for about 3 seconds, and I was really pissed about that."

"I bet you looked hot tho.."

"Shut up. You're introuble. Now clean up your brain juice before Al slips and dies."

Later that night, Wade tries to cuddle with Logan as an apology, curling into his back and snaking an arm over his waist.

A growl comes from Logan but he dosn't do anything about it. As mad as he is, he knows Wade cant help it and Wade was never angry at him when he blacks out and attacks him so why should he stay angry at him?

Honestly, he's more pissed about the name calling because it kinda hurt his trust with him. It hurts far more coming from his mouth than his own.

[lueurjun]

ENHA REACTION ⋆̩ s/o that wears a hip chain and anklets

. ˚◞☁️ ✧˖🤍࿐ྂ

. ˚◞☁️ ✧˖🤍࿐ྂ

🖇·˚ ༘┊ 𝐑𝐄𝐐 . @666booklover , , Heyy 😁 Its me again lol.. can I pls request an enha reaction to a s/o that always wears a hip chain and anklets, if it's not too much trouble 😅. (like do u think they'd think it's 🥴 or something Imao). My Indian bestie heard I had an account and I am speaking on her behalf (aaand I just got pinched) tysm!!

˚ ༘💭 ·˚ message from lueurjun . . . hope this was okay for you my love !! sorry it took so long, i had a major brain fog and couldn’t seem to find the right words, but i hope i did your request justice.

★ ! H E E S E U N G

no but he hasn’t breathed the same since he met you

bro wheezes in your mere presence

legit the embodiment of the pick up line: ‘are you an inhaler because you took my breath away’

yeah he’s cute but i’d write you poetry just sayin

he’s so in love with you in general, but with the added combination of you wearing hip chains and anklets, he’s enamoured by you

enamoured 🤓 look at me thinkin i’m smart

literally would go out of his way to get you more

drives the rest of the members up the wall with how much he talks about you

“they were wearing such a beautiful hip chain piece, the other day with a gorgeous anklet to match it- it brought out their eyes and-‘

‘heeseung im glad you’re a simp, but please shut up’

that was 100% jay or ni-ki ( i bet jay )

i can see him pouting when you decide not to wear one

like he just stares at you for a little while and you’re like ??

not that he doesn’t find you stunning without them, he does, but he’s grown accustomed to you wearing them

not him being obsessed… i could be more obsessed if you want. say the word, i’ll roundhouse kick him

he also likes the noises they make whenever you move

it literally soothes him??

bro stop before i literally cry

he’s so in love pls let me be you for a day

or be with you 😏

★ ! J A Y

slightly more reserved than heeseung

as in, not as obsessive about it, but he still loves them type of thing

he doesn’t make a big deal out of it, but not so much that you feel unappreciated because he still makes sure to compliment them — and you in general

that’s right. yeah he does. if not, he’ll have a meeting with my fists: pretty and punch.

though just because he’s not as obsessed does not mean he’s not observant

he pays enough attention to know which ones you prefer, and which colour you wear more often

so when he decides to surprise you with a new anklet or hip chain, it’s always the colour that you prefer

OBSERVANT KING 👏

jay is also a fashion icon, so a lot of the time, he helps you pair them with a super nice outfit

super proud to strut around with you on his arm wearing your pretty hip chain which matches with your outfit, paired with a gorgeous anklet

mesmerising the locals with your outfits during a little coffee date

this could be us but you playinnn 😔🤟

no but seriously, jay loves your hip chains and anklets ( almost as much ) as he loves you

i could love you more tho

★ ! J A K E

this man legitimately GIGGLES whenever he catches sight of the chain

someone poison me he’s so cute

just when he thinks he’s found his favourite one

you rock up in different one and suddenly, that’s his favourite

and don’t even get him started on the anklets

bro loses all composure

me when you exist fr 🤭😌

to be honest, i can see jake wanting to match anklets with you

and he for sure would gift you one with a ‘j’ initial on it just because he loves you

‘not because he owns me, ‘cause he really knows me’ BOP

jake is 100% the type to play with it

like you could be laying together and all of a sudden you’d feel his fingers gently brush against your skin

and when you glance down, he’s absentmindedly playing with your hip chain

or if your feet are in his lap

he’s fiddling with the chain of anklet

someone be my jake, i can’t handle this anymore

it’s a habit of his at this point so now you don’t really bat an eyelash when he does it

but it does cause a stir inside of you when he does it in front of his friends

because it’s so intimate?? and loving?? and in front of his friends proves that he doesn’t mind showing that bit of affection

a man that is secure and proud 👏 you deserve nothing less baby !!

but it’s also not over the top enough to be considered as PDA

sighhh i’m obsessed with you guys

★ ! S U N G H O O N

a lot like jay, like he doesn’t really make a huge deal out of it

he thinks they’re nice, and he likes them but he doesn’t feel the urge to make a massive deal

like jay, he will compliment you and make sure you know that he thinks you’re stunning and that they really go with your outfit

he may even become slightly more touchy but won’t say anything about it

nonchalant mf tryna act all cool 🙄😎

despite acting all cool, i can see sunghoon secretly making you a hip chain or an anklet ( maybe both )

like on valentine’s day, amongst all of the other gifts he’s spoiled you with

he just whips out a box and sheepishly hands it to you

imagine he just launches it at your head and walks off-

and when you open it, your eyes instantly brim with tears because you imagine him just sitting there for hours

awh imagine him sitting with his legs crossed- STOP I CAN’T BE PUBLICLY CRYING OVER A GROWN MAN SITTING DOWN

it’s obvious he’s put a lot of effort into it

he may have even followed a tutorial step by step

and it definitely becomes your favourite piece

posting it on your story and him complaining that all his friends are going to see

but then refusing to let you take it down when you offer because he feels superior knowing their partners will whine about him being so sentimental and creative

HES SO REAL FOR THAT PLS

once he sees how much you love it, he will make it a tradition for him to make you your very own piece every year

soon you have your own little boutique of hand crafted anklets and hip chains

that’s so romantic someone run me over

the boys tease him for being a simp, obviously but he can’t find it in him to feel embarrassed

not when he sees how happy you are

he’s well and truly smitten, but so are you so it’s all good

literally i would die for you both

[strawberry-seob]

runaway ✩ hwang intak

🍹 wc: 4.6k

🍹 genre/pairings: fem!reader x intak, one night stand, SMUT, MDNI

🍹 warnings: dubious consent!, mdni!, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, drunk intak, one night stand, groping, sleep groping, reader crying/having an emotional breakdown, hurt/comfort (comfort provided by intak), cuddling, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, creampie

🍹 a/n: my very first intak fic is here! i wrote this as a gift for my bff @leepace (aka essexdogs on ao3) and it is crossposted to my ao3 account here.

note: the sexual practices depicted in this fic are not safe or entirely consensual - please take precautions regarding consent and STI/pregnancy safety in your own real life sexual encounters! :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The sound of the shot glass slamming down on the worn wooden surface of the dimly-lit bar startled the few of the other patrons close to you, but they quickly went back to minding their own business after giving you a brief sideways glance.

You winced as the liquid burned its way down your esophagus: poisonous, warm, and, more than anything, soothing. You’d lost count of how many you’d had already, but the bartender was starting to give you that concerned expression that he probably gave to folks when he was about to cut them off for the night. You didn’t care. You could just drink at home if that happened. You’d never been kicked out of a bar, but there was a first time for everything, right?

After spending a few moments wallowing in your thoughts, you sensed someone pulling out the barstool to your right and taking a seat right next to you. Your inhibitions entirely gone at this point, you brazenly looked over to find that the person was a man: young, probably not over the age of 22, and obnoxiously attractive.

He was tall — but not too tall — and had golden tan skin and dark hair with a slight wave that hung partially in his face. His face was supple, all prominent cheekbones, soft-looking cheeks, full lips, and a nose that you could imagine men showing to a plastic surgeon to beg for the same exact one.

You looked him up and down, and nearly rolled your eyes at his outfit. It was adorable , and part of you hated him for it. How undeniably good he looked. The loose white tee shirt with the gray and black neck-scarf partially covering his defined neck, the bomber jacket that he’d hung on the back of the stool, and a pair of fitted black pants that had you trying your hardest to keep your eyes above his beltline — he was cute . So cute, in fact, that you nearly wanted to get away from him, especially on a day like this. After everything that had happened.

He turned his head and met your eyes with his wide, round, dark ones. He looked like a curious puppy, and you realized he’d caught you staring. Your face flooded with heat.

“Sorry,” you murmured, turning back towards the bar, embarrassed at the way you’d been lost in your own world and had been completely studying this guy from head to toe as if he were public property.

You heard him giggle and it sounded like music. Of course he has an adorable voice too , you groaned inwardly to yourself.

“It’s all good. Can I buy you a drink?” the man asked, and you turned to see him smiling at you, perfect teeth framed by his perfect lips, and you had the sudden urge to punch him as hard as you could, cover your fist in the blood from his mouth, knock his stupid perfect teeth out.

“Sure, if they’ll let you,” you slurred, and he gave you a look of understanding, waving the bartender down and ordering something you couldn’t quite make out.

Not long after, the bartender brought the man what looked like a highball, and in front of you, set down a tall glass of ice water with a couple large lemon slices floating near the top. You rolled your eyes and sighed, gripping the straw in your fist and jamming it down against your thigh to pop it out of the paper wrapping before shoving it into the water. You took a large sip, your vision not quite blurry, but not quite clear either, as you watched the water level in the glass go lower and lower.

“Hey, slow down,” the man said, giggling again and patting your shoulder gently. You scowled at him. “Thanks for the water. Cheapskate.”

He burst out laughing, that same warm, innocent sound, and extended his hand towards you. “I’m Intak. You’re welcome for the water.”

You smiled in spite of yourself, and reached out to grip his hand. It was warm and slightly clammy, which you found oddly charming. “I’m y/n. Are you here all alone, Intak?” you asked.

“Sure am,” he replied, and you weren’t sure if you were just drunk and seeing things, but you thought you noticed a hint of sadness in his expression.

“Pretty little thing like you? Be careful, lots of weirdos in a place like this,” you said with a wink, and he threw his head back again laughing, his cheeks flushing slightly as he calmed down and covered his mouth with his hand bashfully. You found yourself wanting to make him laugh again and again. You also found yourself wondering what he sounded like when he cried.

You scowled at your repugnant thoughts and focused your attention back on your water, taking another big sip, the freezing cold citrusy water nearly giving you a brain freeze.

“You okay?” he asked, eyes suddenly wide with concern, brows furrowed together.

“Yeah,” you began, a reluctant smile forming, “just not at my best right now.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he replied, holding his near-empty glass towards you. You clinked your water glass against it a little too hard, and it made a loud, grating sound. “Shit, sorry,” you said, leaning forward and nearly falling out of your stool. You would have fallen if the man, Intak, hadn’t reached out his hands to steady you, hands going immediately to your arms and holding them until you were upright again.

The scent of his masculine cologne lingered, filling your nose with notes of musk and bergamot. You felt dizzy, despite the fact that you were no longer falling out of your stool. You shivered, trying to shake the feeling.

“Cold?” he asked, reaching behind him to grab at his jacket and hold it out to you.

“No,” you scoffed, finding yourself annoyed with his flawless charm. He was probably out trying to find someone to cheat on his girlfriend with, and your stomach turned sour at the thought.

He nodded politely, returning the jacket to the small back of the stool. You looked over at him and softened a little. “No thank you, I meant.”

“You’re fine,” he said, holding his hands up inoffensively and smiling sweetly.

Intak ordered another highball, and your head, slowly but surely, began to clear a little. You used your newfound clarity to try starting an actual conversation with him, and found out that he and his girlfriend had broken up recently. Well, at least according to what he told you. It sounded like the perfect bullshit story to garner pity from girls to get them to go home with him, but for some reason, you didn’t get the feeling he was lying.

“Yeah, my friends don’t know that I’ve been coming here alone, but I just don’t wanna burden them with my drama. Plus, I feel a little pathetic that I’m still not over it, y’know?” he said, taking the last sip of his second highball before ordering another one, this time with gin instead of whiskey.

You nodded, staring into your second empty glass of ice water. You were starting to feel a little too sober, your thoughts getting a little too coherent and threatening to ruin your night, so you ordered yet another drink, this time a scotch, neat, that you were planning on sipping instead of shooting.

“Bathroom,” you said to Intak after placing your order with the bartender, slipping off of your stool and sauntering off to the dingy, poorly-lit restroom, head feeling like it was floating, your feet barely touching the ground. Once inside, the creaky door locked behind you, your head spun as you sat down to relieve yourself. This wasn’t exactly what you’d expected when you’d come here, but you figured you might as well enjoy it.

After flushing the toilet and walking to the stained sink to wash your hands, you stared at yourself in the mirror, your face looking unfamiliar and ghastly, and felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. You splashed some cold water on your face, dulling the heat that had made its home there for the past hour, and headed back out to the bar.

As you entered the main area again and spotted your new friend hunched over the bar staring at his phone, you paused to watch him. You had to lean against the wall in order to keep your balance steady, but you wanted these few moments to yourself. You noticed he had his feet crossed at the ankle and one of his legs was bouncing nervously. You wondered if he was a fidgety person in general. He seemed like it.

You watched as he ran a hand through his hair. And as he turned his head slightly to look at something, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his side profile, you noticed the bags under his eyes. You also noticed the way the corners of his mouth stayed slightly upturned, despite his melancholy expression. For the first time tonight, you realized… how utterly sad he looked.

It was at that moment that you also realized you wanted to take him home.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said as you hopped up onto the barstool, and he shrugged and shook his head. “None of my business, really. No need to be sorry.”

Your chest tightened a little. Maybe you’d misread the vibes he was putting out before.

“I wasn’t shitting or anything, just so you know,” you added, and he burst out in a fit of laughter yet again, nearly falling out of his stool, hand covering his mouth. He held out his hands as the laughing calmed down, but he could barely contain himself.

“Oh my god, you don’t have to explain yourself, I wasn’t getting any ideas, god,” he said, and started giggling again as he sipped his drink.

“You’re funny, y/n,” he said, and this time he was giving you a look that indicated that you weren’t wrong about the vibes he was putting out before. He’d propped his elbow up on the bar and rested a pink cheek on his hand while he looked at you with a goofy, inebriated smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thanks,” you responded. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

He blinked a couple times, eyes widening in surprise and he gave you a shocked smile, then looked away for a moment, then back at you. “With you?”

“Who else would I be talking about, you idiot?” you responded while slamming some cash on the bar, grabbing his hand, and pulling him off the stool and towards the door. Intak giggled while being dragged behind you, your chest flooding with warmth as the both of you stepped into the chill autumn air and ordered a ride to your apartment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Once inside your dark apartment, you and Intak nearly tripped over each other trying to kick off your shoes in the entryway. You grabbed his hand and yanked him down the dark hallway and into the kitchen, giggling, before turning on the light and letting go of him to open the refrigerator door. You bit your lip thoughtfully as the alcohol still running through your body continued to warm you. You looked at the row of cans lining the door of the fridge.

“Rum and coke?” you asked, whipping your head around to look at Intak, who was standing awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen.

“Sounds great,” he said with a sweet smile, and any remaining reservations you’d had about inviting a strange man to your apartment dissipated. Intak seemed nice. You hoped that your intuition had been right, but ultimately, you didn’t really care all that much. You were just glad he didn’t seem like a creep, at least not so far.

You handed him his drink after you’d made one for each of you, and took a long sip of it, glad to have yet more alcohol entering your body. At this point, you weren’t thinking at all about how you’d feel in the morning, because you knew it was too late — you were going to wake up wishing you were dead, anyway. So you figured you’d better enjoy it.

Looking over at Intak, you were shocked at how beautiful he looked, even in the shitty yellowish overhead lighting of your small kitchen. He lifted the glass to his lips and you stared at his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed the liquid. As he lowered the glass, he caught you staring and walked over to where you were standing, your ass backed up against the counter.

A thick silence descended in the air as he reached over to set his drink on the counter, leaning in close enough that you were once again able to smell his musky cologne. He still had his jacket on. But you didn’t have the chance to think about that much more as he placed his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

And then, he kissed you.

Your head was still slightly spinning, so as you closed your eyes, you had to grab onto the sides of his waist in order to keep yourself steady. His mouth was warm and sweet, and he reeked of alcohol. You slotted your lips against his, and without much warning at all, sucked his lower lip into your mouth. He moaned quietly at the unexpected sensation and brought his large hands up to cup either side of your face. They were warm and soft against your cheeks, and you thought for a brief moment that you wanted them to touch you everywhere.

At that thought, you slipped your hands underneath his shirt and pressed your palms against the smooth skin of his sides, causing him to gasp slightly and smile against your mouth. Lowering your hands to his hips, you pulled him up against you, surprised that he wasn’t already flush against your body, but quickly realized why, feeling the stiff bulge under his jeans press up against you.

Your breath hitched once you felt it and without a further thought, lips still moving against his, you rolled your hips against him while you pulled his hips even harder against yours, eliciting a strangled moan from him. And before you knew it, he was releasing your face to reach down and cup his hands against your ass before lifting you up onto the countertop, shrugging his jacket onto the floor, and untying his scarf, pitching it aside. Your loose pants allowed you to spread your legs easily around his hips as he gripped your waist, deepening the kiss, and starting to become sloppier, his warm tongue licking into your mouth desperately as he started making little noises each time he rolled his hips against your parted legs.

You gasped loudly as he slipped his hand up your shirt to palm at one of your tits, twisting your nipple indelicately before impatiently pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside. One hand on your upper back to steady you and the other on your hip, he leaned your body back slightly and bent down to suck wet kisses down the side of your neck before eventually making it to your nipple, tongue lapping against the hardened bud as you whined from the sensation, the pleasure shooting straight to your throbbing pussy.

When you’d started nearly rutting against him, the stimulation nearly overwhelming you, he reached his hands under your ass yet again and picked you up. You immediately hooked your legs around his low back and wrapped your arms around him as he carried you easily into the living room, the only dim lighting coming from whatever was leaking in from the kitchen.

As he carried you, you laid your head on his shoulder, face hidden in the crook of his neck, and it began…

The tears.

You knew he must not have noticed it at first. Didn’t notice the way your face was wet against his neck, and probably thought the first sob was simply a drunken hiccup, but once Intak made his way to the couch and sat down with your body still wrapped around his — that was when he seemed to realize something was wrong.

He slid his warm hands soothingly across your bare back and kissed your cheek, trying to get you to look at him, but you stubbornly stayed put, face pressed firmly into the junction where his neck and shoulder met, tears flowing freely, eyes closed.

Once he felt the first sign of resistance, you could sense his muscles tense beneath you.

“Y/n? Hey, are you okay?” he said, voice tense with worry. You didn’t want to answer, but figured you needed to, considering at this point, he was probably worried he’d done something wrong.

“Yeah,” you mumbled wetly into his skin, sniffling loudly before another quiet sob shook your body gently.

“Oh my god, hey, hey,” he said, voice softening and a hand coming up automatically to pet your head gently, which made it even worse, the tears coming faster than ever. “You’re scaring me, was it something I did?” he asked, and you shook your head adamantly.

“Okay, okay,” he said, sounding borderline frantic. “Is there something I can do?”

You shook your head again, persistently keeping your face against him.

“Do you want to stay like this?” he finally asked, and you nodded your head, fresh tears pouring out of your eyes despite the fact that they were closed, quiet sobs sending tremors through your body. The entire time, Intak held you close, one arm wrapped around your lower back while running his other hand through your hair.

Even in your drunken stupor, you were mortified at your behavior. You could feel the way his dick had softened underneath you almost immediately, and you wanted to die. Like, really, truly, die. If he’d snapped your neck right then, you would have haunted him just to be able to come back and thank him.

After your sobs had slowed down and you’d gotten the chance to catch your breath, everything started to come back into focus and you realized, much too late, that maybe, you just weren’t ready for this yet. After everything that had happened… it had been too much too soon.

You peeled your face away from his shoulder and grimaced at the huge damp spot that you’d left, made of tears mixed with snot and probably some saliva as well. You couldn’t make eye contact with Intak, but he reached a hand up to cup your cheek and guide your face to look at him.

Your embarrassment was blunted by what you saw there — his big, deep brown eyes, full of pity, concern, and warmth. He was frowning and looked legitimately concerned. You almost wished that he’d been annoyed, that you could just get rid of him, but…

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, reaching his other hand up to your face in an attempt to wipe off the mess of tears.

“You don’t have to stay. It’s fine,” you said, removing his hands and putting them at his sides, trying to maintain some shred of your dignity.

“That’s not what I asked. I’m staying unless you ask me to leave, okay?” he said and you scoffed, voice still wet, and averted your eyes, wiping your nose with your bare arm.

Your shirt was still off, tits on full display, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at this point. Your pride was already long gone.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said, “this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I brought you home.”

“It’s okay,” Intak responded sincerely, not an ounce of disappointment in his voice, and you found yourself a little angry once again. Why couldn’t he have just been normal and pushed you off of him, then walked out the door, never to be heard from again? That would have been a little more along the lines of what you were used to, anyway. But here he was, his perfect obnoxious self: perfect skin, hair, eyes, teeth, body, and now he was perfectly sweet as well? Fuck off, you thought to yourself.

“What?” Intak replied, a hurt expression coloring his features, and you realized you hadn’t thought it to yourself, but had said it out loud, and for the first time tonight, you felt truly embarrassed, a shameful heat brightening your cheeks.

“Sorry, just talking to myself I think. Still drunk,” you muttered, and leaned forward again to press your body up against his and bury your face in his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he replied quietly. “Do you want me to go grab your shirt?”

“No,” you pouted, “don’t wanna move.”

At that, he pushed you away slightly so that you were sitting up again, and pulled his loose white t-shirt over his head before pulling it down over yours, helping you get your arms through the short sleeves. The shirt was soft and warm from his body heat, and it smelled like him. You found yourself shamelessly looking down to take in his slender but softly sculpted form, his tan skin, the soft swell of his pecs, his nipples dark and slowly hardening against the cool air of your apartment.

“It’s rude to stare,” he teased, snapping you out of your trance with a pinch to your arm, and you laughed, actually laughed, for the first time in a while.

You rested your head on his bare shoulder again, folding your arms in front of you against his chest while he wrapped his arms around your back.

“Sorry. Thanks,” you mumbled.

“You’re welcome, and don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I’m sorry for whatever it is that’s going on.”

You didn’t accept his veiled invitation to open up, and he seemed fine with that, sighing softly against your hair.

“Bed?” he asked quietly after you stayed like this with him for a while, his energetic voice finally starting to sound sleepy.

“Mm,” you affirmed quietly, and he picked you up yet again and started carrying you down the dark hallway before he realized he didn’t know where he was going.

You giggled into his shoulder. “It’s the one on the right.”

He opened the door and shut it gently behind both of you before setting you down on the unmade bed. You took your pants off unceremoniously and crawled under the covers as he turned to walk out.

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” you asked, voice coming out a little more desperate than you’d meant.

“Restroom. I’ll be right back,” he said, giving you another one of his sweet smiles before walking out.

You’d almost drifted off to sleep when he came back in and slipped his pants off, the warmth of his body enveloping you as he crawled under the comforter with you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

Before long, sleep took you both.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up at some point in the night, disoriented, with the moon as the only light source, shining eerily through your window.

You were still fairly buzzed, your decisions from the evening starting to take root as a series of aches along your temples. You were just thankful that the nausea hadn’t come yet.

Intak was exactly where he’d been when he fell asleep behind you, bare chest pressed up against you, a single arm wrapped around your waist, but you soon realized why you’d woken up in the middle of the night.

He was beginning to stir subtly, an undeniable firmness pressing up against your ass, and his breathing was coming out shaky, disturbed, and restless.

You responded by arching your back to press your hips up against him, and he reacted by breathing out a strangled sigh, gently rutting his erection against you, and you smiled into the darkness before reaching back to touch him.

You could feel that he was already leaking and so, so needy, and you strained your arm behind you to wrap around his length over his boxer briefs, in an attempt to stroke him.

You heard him take a deep breath in through his nose and then gasp as he started to awaken. He groaned as the arm he'd draped along your waist shifted, his hand traveling downwards to your groin before he started rubbing you over your underwear.

After several moments of rubbing you with his hand, he dragged his middle finger across your middle, the pressure causing your wetness to start soaking through the thin fabric. You whimpered as he pulled away momentarily and shoved his hand underneath the fabric, fingers spreading you apart to find your clit and start rubbing wet circles against it, meanwhile gently thrusting his painfully hard dick into your firm grip.

Before you knew it, amidst a tangle of sleepy limbs, the both of you struggling in the dark under the covers, Intak was hovering over you and lining his leaking dick up against you, swollen head rubbing up and down along the folds of your opening and your sensitive clit, his wetness mixing with yours before he slowly eased himself inside.

Without a word he relaxed his weight onto you — not so much that he was crushing you, but just enough to ground you underneath him — and began a slow, steady pace of gentle thrusts as you reached up to rest your hands on his upper back. You spread your legs to allow him deeper access and eventually opted to hook your legs around his low back.

You were still wearing his shirt, and it started to dampen with sweat from both of you. It was suffocating, the way his naked body pressed against yours, his face resting in the crook of your neck, breath coming out hot against your skin while he fucked you, both of you still enveloped under the safe and comfortable warmth of the blankets. 

It wasn’t amazing, but it certainly wasn’t bad either — his dick was just the right size, big enough to cause a pleasurable stretch, but not so big it hurt. Not short, but not so long he hit your cervix either.

His labored breathing slowly changed to quiet moans, a sound that sent pleasure right to your clit and had you clenching gently around him. A strangled moan left him and he slowed down his movements.

“I’m close,” he whispered into your neck.

“Okay,” you whispered back, and began to roll your hips up into him to help him find his release. And it came even sooner than you expected, the man’s hips stuttering to a halt with a quiet series of desperate whimpers.

He stilled for long enough to soften halfway before pulling out of you, and you could feel his cum leaking out of you. You’d have to pick up a Plan B from the drugstore in the morning.

“There’s rags in the bathroom across the hall,” you said quietly and he kissed your head before getting out of bed and exiting to clean up, coming back after just a few moments with a warm washcloth for you. You cleaned yourself up silently while he put his underwear back on and crawled back into bed.

“Want me to take care of you?” he asked, resting a hand on your stomach and leaning over to kiss the side of your forehead.

“I’m good, thank you though,” you said with a wan smile, and curled up next to him, head against the warm swell of his chest, your arm wrapped around his soft stomach. He wrapped an arm around your back and kissed your head, and the intimacy of it made your stomach turn slightly, but you tried not to resist it.

Sure, you might wake up to a nightmare of a situationship, but for now, this had been everything you needed. So you decided to let tomorrow handle whatever trouble may come, and allowed the relaxing rhythm of Intak’s breathing lull you to sleep.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[jinwoowoo]

Flames

Male reader x Aespa Winter

Length: 5564 words

TW: smut

Perfection is a word you rarely use, if not, have not used it at all, believing that everything has its own flaws and weaknesses. It is almost like a mantra of your life, an excuse to let every mistake in your life have a reason why it happens, but that stubborn way of thinking changed after you met Kim Minjeong.

Minjeong, who prefers to be called by her friends as Winter, has an exceptional beauty comparable to a fine winter morning. Her beautiful eyes shine like sparkling snow reflecting the sunshine. Her nose is so small it looks like a fawn resting peacefully inside its hole, protected against the layer of the cold snow. Most of all, her cold glare and attitude against strangers fit her name, that's why they wonder how a tacky, not-so-cool-looking guy like you managed to melt her ice-cold heart.

Though you see Minjeong as a perfection, a pearl among a sea of pebbles, she sees herself differently. She loves how you cherish and worship her like a lover, respecting her for who and what she is, but she still can't help but compare herself to others. Society has this image of what they define as a sexy, alluring woman; marvelous bust, tiny waist, and round hips. Minjeong fits on all of it except the first category.

Even if she has a smaller, sexier hip and waist compared to other women in her same frame, Minjeong’s breasts are too small to be considered a woman’s. Because of her tight, teenager-like body, Minjeong has frequently become a target of malicious unwitty slanders on Instagram; that a chopping board has more curves than her breasts and kissing them will let you know what kissing a man’s chest feels like.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask Minjeong during your cozy cuddle, sensing her sudden gloom as you spoon her on the couch. Today is one of the rare days when both of you are out of work. Every time you two are free, Minjeong invites herself over to your house to hang out, sometimes arranging a dinner date in advance to enjoy sweet moments together.

“Oh, it is nothing, oppa. Don’t worry about it.” Minjeong replies, dispirited.

You take a peek over Minjeong’s shoulder to see what she’s been doing, and you witness something that breaks your heart. Hands trembling as she tries to control both anger and sadness breaking her heart, Minjeong scrolls through her latest Instagram post, reporting every malicious comment about her.

Minjeong senses the fiery anger fuming out of your nose touching her skin, scrolling downward to refresh the app quickly. She knows and is aware of what you have done to help her against her haters, reporting and filing cases against some of them, and she doesn’t want to bring this more in front of you, more than today you two are supposed to be chilling out and getting cozy.

You reach over Minjeong’s body and shut her phone screen off. Setting her device on the coffee table in front of her, you hold your girlfriend by her shoulders, spinning her body to face you.

Meeting you eye to eye, Minjeong cannot suppress her feelings anymore. She breaks down, wailing against your chest heavily. Your blood boils in an instant, filled with rage as you see a fragile kind girl like Minjeong crying and hurting over some trolls behind their monitor who doesn't care how much they hurt the person they are criticizing. Your fists clench until your knuckles turn white. You want to punch someone, you truly are, but you suppress your anger as Minjeong needs you right now. Grabbing some tissues on the coffee table, you wipe Minjeong’s tears, rubbing her back to calm her down.

“Oppa… Do I look hideous?” Minjeong asks while sobbing, stifling between her words.

“Of course, not! Why are you asking that? You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen, Minjeong. The most beautiful woman I fell in and will love forever”

“But the comments on my Instagram account. They said I look ugly. Maybe I-"

As you don’t want to hear Minjeong doubt herself and assure her she isn't as ugly, you lean forward and shut her lips with a kiss. Minjeong gasps, startled by the sudden kiss. Her hands grasp your shirt, toes are curling when you deepen the kiss.

“You are not ugly, Minjeong. People who call you ugly don't know the real definition of beauty, let alone know you personally. Please don't doubt about your looks." Patting her head, Minjeong slowly nods her head, now blushing and burying her face on your chest again for a different reason.

Feeling Minjeong relaxing, your chest feels a lot lighter now. You hold her chin with your thumb and index finger, lifting her head to face you again. With eyes sparkling like stars, lips quivering as they touch, puckering and parting away, it is Minjeong’s turn to catch you off guard, leaning forward and surprise you with a kiss.

You kiss her back and up the notch, licking her lips for an entrance that she didn’t hesitate to provide. The simple soft soothing kiss to calm down Minjeong slowly turned into a making out, her hands wrapping around your neck to pull you on a deeper kiss. The sound of your lips smooching and smacking, followed by soft groans and wet sucking of each other’s tongues broke the silence of the quiet morning.

Your body heats up in excitement, and you can feel Minjeong feel the same when your hand slides under her shirt, rubbing the skin of her back. Her legs are rubbing against each other, seldomly hitting your leg with her knee as the heat reaches her core. Getting needy as she is, your other hand reached for Minjeong’s top leg, lifting it so you can slide in your thigh between her legs. Your girlfriend slowly slides her crotch on your thigh, her body grinding against your torso.

Minjeong is having the best feeling of her life completely forgotten the malicious comments about her on her Instagram, now that the one that truly cares for her worships and loves her back. She grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging and begging for you to take them off. You smirk between the kiss and pull away, staring at your girlfriend's eyes who's aroused right now.

“W-why, oppa?” she asks, stuttering as her lips quiver, already missing the taste of your lips. “Why did you stop?”

“Because this isn’t the place to treat you with love, my princess. Let’s go back to our love nest.” Smiling, almost a smirk, you answer Minjeong with a wink.

Minjeong was still flabbergasted when you rolled and stood out of the couch. She yelps when you scoop her body, easily lifting her body and carrying her to the bedroom. Slowly, you put Minjeong down on the bed, letting her sit on the edge as you take your shirt and pants off, leaving you in your boxer. Putting your hand over Minjeong’s shoulder, you gently push her down until she's lying on her back, you hovering on top of her. Your hand that holds her shoulder now reaches upward to cup her cheek, the other rests beside her head to keep your body supported.

“You are so beautiful, Minjeong. I can’t help myself but fall for you even more.” You told her the sweetest yet sexily as you could.

“Hmph. Flatterer.” Minjeong huffs, looking away from your melting gaze.

You chuckle and hold your girlfriend by her cheek, turning her head to face you. Her blushing cheeks and welling eyes are the most adorable you have seen, a stare hitting your heart directly and calling out for your love. Losing your control already, you dived in and captured Minjeong’s lips with yours, continuing the making out you two hadn't finished on the couch.

Minjeong gasps, feeling the fiery heat of your love surging in the kiss. Her hands reach forward and rest on your chest, but you immediately take them on each of your hands and pin them beside her head. Her fingers entangle with yours, nails digging on your skin as your hungry wet kisses trail down from her lips down to her jawline.

“O-oppa~ mhhh~” Minjeong groans a throaty moan, fueling your lust further.

You don’t stop kissing her neck until you leave hickeys all over her soft skin, marking her as yours. You keep going further south until you face the hem of her shirt, quickly biting on the fabric and pulling it up to her chest using your teeth to reveal her sexy tummy. With no hesitation, you dwell down, and French kisses her belly button, tongue sweeping the sweet tiny hole.

Minjeong groans from the sudden surge of pleasure, her hands slip out of your hold and immediately grabs the pillow sheets above her head. She didn’t have the chance to process the delectation she feels as you raise her shirt higher, taking her bra up along the way to expose her perky boobs.

The tingling feeling suppressed Minjeong’s urge to hold her moan as your fingers played with her nipples, trapping each inverted nub between your ring and middle finger while the rest pressed and played against her teats.

Squirming hard and lively underneath you, the way Minjeong’s body moves shakes the cage of the wolf inside you. You want to be an unleashed beast, to become feral and feast on the poor gentle fawn beneath you, but you always remind yourself that you must take care of Minjeong’s needs first.

You stop kissing your girlfriend’s sexy midriff and capture one of her teats in your mouth, suckling on it with your tongue rolling on the hardened bean. The sweet taste of her perfect size boobs fills your buds, your glands activating to salivate and savor every flavor you could get. Your free hand roams on the side of her body, tracing the outline of her slim alluring waist until it goes down to her pubic, reaching down to discover her heating core.

Minjeong closes her legs in a snap, trapping your hand to stop your advancement but you still prevail and push her soaked panty aside. Your digits are immediately coated with her slick juice that she squirts after you sucked her breast a bit harder. Wasting no time, you plunge your middle finger inside Minjeong, sliding in and out leisurely while using your thumb and pinky finger to spread her thighs apart.

“Oppa~ ahh~ more please~” Minjeong pants heavily, her neediness shown in every word.

“More of what, Mindeongie? You should tell oppa more clearly” you tease, earning you an unsatisfied grunt from your cute girlfriend.

“P-put more inside me, please~ I need yo-mhhhp! ~" You abrupt Minjeong’s words mid-sentence by putting your index and ring fingers in,

Minjeong’s back arches, pushing forward against your chest as your additional fingers inside her descend deeper into her dripping cavern, each thick digit curling and pressing hard against her warm walls. Her love honey squirts out, wetting the back of your hand as it keeps pumping her.

You stop devouring your girlfriend’s boobs to watch her squirm in pleasure. Her eyes are shut tight, lips parted with tongue sticking out, trying to elicit a moan but can't as she finds herself choking on pleasure.

As you keep giving Minjeong the care she needs, your fingers feel a sudden tightness around them; your hand is soaked and dripping. Her moans are getting high-pitched, breathing turns erratic as she trashes her head around. Knowing that she is already at her limit, you decide to level up your game. You lay down beside Minjeong and tuck her hair behind her ear, blowing hot moist air on her neck.

“Don’t’ hold it, Mindeongie. Oppa wants to feel his baby squirt~” you whisper in Minjeong’s ears, stimulating her mind just as you do her body.

“No! ~ Nghh ~ You are so unfair, oppa~” she wince, still fighting her urge not to cum

Growing impatient, you pump your fingers harder, intentionally making loud, lewd. and wet noises. You then whisper in Minjeong’s ears how much naughty she is for being so wet right now, that her little coochie makes not-so-innocent sounds. You position the base of your palm above her slit, finding her swollen clit effortlessly, and rub it in circles.

Minjeong feels her defense crumbling, slowly succumbing to the pleasure and urge to climax. Having you near her neck, sucking her pulse point, and licking the back of her ear doesn't help either. With a suppressed squeal, each muscle of her body tensing, Minjeong finally let go and orgasms hard against your hand. Her pussy clamps vice around your fingers, thighs trapping your arm as her warm juice floods your hand. Her breathing hitches for a while, mind shuts down due to overstimulation.

“Oppa… I really hate you… You perv…” she pants between her words, eyes still trying to focus.

“Awww~ I love you too, Minjeongie. But I’m sorry. Oppa is still not done with you yet.”

You pat Minjeong’s head and give her a sweet peck before reaching for her clothes. Minjeong groans as she tries to move her tired body, helping the much as she can while you undress her. Now that she’s fully naked, you remove your boxer from your hips, finally unleashing your penis that's been begging for Minjeong’s touch.

“Babe, can you help me with here please?” you beg cutely, earning a chuckle from your girlfriend.

You grab Minjeong’s small hand and wrap her fingers around your veiny shaft, forming a knuckle with a hole to slide your penis on. Minjeong giggles as you give her puppy eyes, which she always says doesn't suit you, yet always falls for it. She slowly moves her hand back and forward, stroking your penis delicately while pulling it closer to her at the same time. You just follow her tugs until you are kneeling beside her head, your bulbous glans reaching close to her face.

“Do I have to suck it? It looks dirty" Minjeong teases, making you pout. "I’m just kidding, babe. Kneel in front of me"

You follow Minjeong's command and straddle her chest, hips hovering above her so you won’t crush her body with your weight. Your girlfriend smirks and parts her lips, attempting to catch and put your dick inside her mouth without the help of her hands. Her futile attempts only cause your dick to grind all over her beauty. Sometimes you make your dick twitch once it aligns with her lips so she has to try capturing it again.

Annoyed and needy, Minjeong surrenders to putting your dick into her mouth using only her lips and finally uses both hands, stroking it hard and rough as a little petty revenge for your teasing, before putting it inside her mouth.

The pleasure your cute girlfriend's small lips give makes you groan sexily. Her soft yet rough tongue flicks on the slit of the tip, harvesting the oozing precum as if your glans is a tap that releases precious sap. You look down and watch Minjeong giggle while sucking your dick, not sure if she finds her actions funny or she’s enjoying having your dick in her mouth; nonetheless, she looks so cute and innocent.

Your hips thrust slowly, carefully fucking Minjeong’s mouth to the back of her throat. She hates it when she gags, complaining that your penis is too big for her throat. You once tried to teach your girlfriend how to deepthroat you, but her uvula immediately contracts and pushes your dick away, an unpleasant feeling for both of you.

Though you dream to have Minjeong suck your dick all day, that plan should be done next time. You retreat your hips, pulling your drool-lubed dick out of her wet lips. Minjeong tries to chase your dick back, looking like a puppy chasing for her treat, but she pouts at you when you rest your whole length on her face instead.

"Appetizer's over, baby~ time for the main course." You coo, putting your hand on Minjeong’s cheek where she grinds over it.

You go out of bed and position yourself in front of Minjeong. Slowly, you crawl your way up starting from her feet, kissing her soles and calves. You then fold her knees and point them to the ceiling, pushing her heels closer to her cute ass. Getting closer to her thighs, your girlfriend tries to kick her legs and straighten out of impulse, feeling ticklish as your tongue and warm breath touch her rosy skin.

You hold Minjeong’s legs firmly, spread them apart, and invite yourself to have a taste of her body. The juices she squirted still linger on her thighs, adding exquisite flavor to her soft skin. You purposely make loud and lewd licking sounds, telling Minjeong how much you enjoy her taste that words can’t convey.

Minjeong curses under her breath as she feels your warm breath teasing her shaven pussy. Her toned legs are trying to close but your body blocks her attempt. Even if you want to taste her more, you teased Minjeong enough and can’t contain your excitement any further.

You trail your perverted tongue from her sexy tummy up to her jawline, hastily capturing her lips and making out with her.

Minjeong’s body squirms underneath you. Her craves for your touch, the lingering feeling of your body against her skin that keeps her warm, are expressed by each slight movement of her body. Her hands slide from your shoulders down to your chest, and one continues to go south until she holds your dick and aims the head in front of her entrance.

You stop kissing Minjeong and look her in the eyes. Minjeong stares back, gulping hard when she feels your warm heavy breath blowing on her face, and nods slowly. She strokes your penis a few more times before pushing the head inside her, letting you do the rest.

“Fuck…” you and Minjeong moan lowly in unison.

Minjeong embraces your body tightly, gasping as you keep pushing and putting your whole penis inside her vagina. Her walls immediately contract around your dick, recognizing its owner and welcoming it with a warm hug. You move your hips slowly, allowing your girlfriend to adjust to your size.

Your leisurely slow pace continues, letting Minjeong enjoy the pleasure your dick gives her. She moans softly as you push in, grinding your dick against her sensitives, but whines adorably when you retreat your hips and pull some of your lengths out. Her fingers are digging into your skin, scratching and wounding up the old wounds she dealt on your back.

“Shit, baby… Why do you look so cute even while having sex?” you groan on Minjeong’s face.

With her eyes half-lid, welling up with cheeks reddened in a rosy hue, Minjeong’s lips parted as she pants, her red tongue sticking out and looking like a puppy. You release a raspy growl, feeling the lust residing deep inside you unleash.

With one arm wrapped around Minjeong’s shoulders, you pull your girl closer to your body, capturing her lips and harshly making out with her. Your thrust increases its pace, pistoning Minjeong’s slick pussy roughly.

Minjeong’s hug on you tightens, embracing her body to accept your wild relentless thrusts. Your sudden roughness sends her to her climax, cumming around your thick and have her juices splashing as your hips collide. Her moans and air in her lungs are being sucked by you, taking her breath away during her orgasm

Feeling her body being less active, her grip around your pussy tightens as she cums, you let Minjeong catch her breath for a while, unlatching your lips from hers and attacking her neck instead.

“Mhhh~ daddy slow down~” Minjeong whines thoughtlessly, gasping for air.

Minjeong’s words sink in both of your minds in a second, and you realize what she just called you. Lifting your head, eyes wide open out of shock but with lips curving upward while trying to suppress your laughter, you and Minjeong slowly turn your heads to look at each other, too sync that it is almost comical.

Mijeong’s whole face turns red, her ears fuming imaginary steam when she looks at your teasing gaze. Never once in the history of making love with you she calls you daddy, saying it was too cliché and hates being treated like a baby now that she’s an adult, yet here she is right now, uttering such an embarrassing word unknowingly in the middle of sex.

 "What did you just call me, babe?" you ask with a chuckle, breaking the awkward silence between you and her.

“I-I didn’t say anything! It is just your imagination.” Minjeong huffs and turns her head, looking to her side to avoid your teasing gaze.

“Yes, you are. You just called me daddy,” you say back, “can you please call me daddy one more time?”

Taking her hands away from your back, Minjeong crosses her arms and huffs again. “I don’t want to! Hmph. I’m already done. I lost the mood.” Pouting, Minjeong puts her hands on your chest, trying to push you away

“Wait, wait! Okay fine. I’m sorry babe. I won’t insist on it anymore.”

Trying to bring her mood back, you pepper Minjeong with kisses, alternating between wet lewd kisses with ticklish ones. Her stern angry look crumbles easily with your ticklish lips, can’t resist when you are giving her puppy eyes and sincere care. You lean and peck her pouting lips, hand pats her now ruffled hair. Minjeong sighs and wraps her arms around your neck, keeping her eye contact with you.

“You promise? It was just a spur of the moment, okay? I don’t why I called you daddy. Don’t make me say it again, it is embarrassing” Minjeong explains softly, speaking with her lips open as tight as possible.

You nod and peck her lips, your forehead leaning against hers. “Of course, baby. I won’t insist you to call me daddy unless you want to”

The kiss to seal your promise turns into a messy making-out. Minjeong closes her eyes and kisses back, her fingers sliding against the frame of your broad shoulder. Your lips never left hers as you start moving your hips again, slowly picking up the pace with thoughts of not breaking her.

Your hand leaves her head to knead her boobs, pushing the supple flesh with the base of your palm. As Minjeong breaks the kiss to catch her breath, moaning in pleasure, you lower your kisses down to her neck and chest, capturing her unattended breast between the pair and suckling on her nipples.

Minjeong’s whiny moans feel like music to your ears, her body writhing and dancing to the symphony of making love. Her pussy is now slicker and easier to thrust in, walls are contracting around your shaft and massaging it. Wanting to feel you deeper inside her, Minjeong spreads her legs wider, her feet barely standing on their toes, almost leaving the drenched sheets.

The monotonous thrusting, though you enjoy being on top of your girlfriend and giving her the climaxes she needs, tires your body easily. You feel that your orgasm is near, but exhaustion slowly chases on you, and might even finish you first before you get your pent-up release. Noticing that your pace becomes sluggish, Minjeong smiles and leans closer, kissing your lips and wiping the sweat on your forehead.

“You look tired already, Daddy. Let Mindeongie ride you this time”

Minjeong’s words shock you especially when she spoke in a sweet cute voice and have the thought of her hating calling you daddy. She seizes the chance while you are flabbergasted and flips your bodies over, being the one on top this time. The sweet and caring Minjeong you know has changed, flipping her personality and now letting you be the receiving end.

Your girlfriend leans down and captures your lips with hers, sucking the air and soul out of your lungs and body during the kiss. Your hands instinctively reach for her waist to hug them, but she intercepts you midway and pins your hands on each side of your head. Just like how you do her, Minjeong kisses your jawline and neck, slowly positioning herself to sit upright with your dick impaling her pussy.

Moving her hips up and down, groaning as your whole shaft slides against her velvety walls in a new yet familiar way, Minjeong moves her body sexily on her desired state. Her eyes are half-lidded, pupils rolling to the back of her head, her cheeks flushed and drunk in pleasure, even drooling and biting her bottom lip to suppress her sultry moans; you are on a treat with Minjeong’s sexy show while she’s riding you.

Her grip on your hands is slowly getting weaker, allowing you to unpin your hands from the space beside your head. You place Minjeong’s hands over your shoulder, freeing yours so you can hold her by the waist.

After a few minutes of riding you, bouncing herself on your lap and having countless orgasms, Minjeong reaches her limit and falls on top of your body. You peck and kiss Minjeong’s forehead, combing her hair to the back of her head to thank her for a wonderful ride. Gaining bits of your strength back after Minjeong’s ride, you flip your bodies over, hovering on top of your girlfriend again and fucking her to chase your orgasm.

Minjeong whines and complains as she is still sensitive, triggering a cluster of orgasms that sends her nerves haywire. Her pussy holds and tightens around you, sucking your penis deeper as if it wants you to penetrate even her womb.

As the tightness in your groin grows stronger, breathing gets heavier with some blood on your brain sending down to the other head for additional backup, you lose your control over your lust and reach your peak, cumming hard inside Minjeong. Ropes and ropes of your semen shoot out of your penis, filling up Minjeong’s heated womb to the brim, even leaking some of it to the crevices of your connection.

After the intense orgasm, exhaustion hitting you like a truck sending you to a parallel universe, your dick grows sensitive and limp, slipping out of your girlfriend’s swollen gaping hole. You pull Minjeong and hug her tight, keeping her convulsing body to post orgasm warm in your embrace.

You roll to your side and snuggle her, burying her face to your chest. She once said that your heavy panting and warm breath blowing on her hair helps her to calm down, so you are doing your best to keep your bodies tangled together after sex. Gaining her senses back, nerves calming, Minjeong looks up from your chest, slapping your pecs playfully.

“You meanie… I told you to slow down…” Minjeong whines, looking like a child in your arms

“Sorry, babe. You are just irresistible”

Mustering the rest of your strength, you pull Minjeong to the side of the bed, wrapping her with the dirty sheets and carry her to the bathroom princess style. She complains a bit, worried that you might turn her into a cute “sushi roll” by fucking her while she’s wrapped up like a sushi, but you promise that you just want to clean her up.

You unwrap Minjeong and let the warm water soak her body, sweat, and other bodily fluids being washed away while the heat of the water calms her muscles down. You go back to the bedroom and clean up all the mess, wiping fluids from the floor and airing the scent of sex out. After cleaning and changing the sheets, you went back to Minjeong and saw her staring at the bathroom mirror.

“What’s wrong, Minjeong? You seem to be deep in your thoughts." Hugging her from behind, you kiss her shoulder and ask.

“Nothing is wrong, oppa.” Minjeong shakes her head, but she knows you are not convinced by mere words. Sighing dispirited, she turns around and faces you, putting her hands on your waist. “I’m just thinking of some things. May I ask you something, oppa?”

“Of course, Minjeong. I am your boyfriend; you are free to share your thoughts with me if they bother you.”

You hug and carry Minjeong by her butt, where she instantly wraps her legs around your waist and brings her back to the shower. It became your habit to keep a small plastic stool on the shower for moments like this, letting Minjeong sit on the small chair while you lather her body with soapy water.

“Do I bore you? Most guys prefer busty women with nice hips and tiny waists, but here I am, chest flatter than a teenager” Minjeong rants while behaving like a puppy getting bathed by her owner

“Most guys just admire something big, Minjeong. Others love big butts, some love huge breasts because they look like their mom’s when they were being nurtured,” you answer, making Minjeong tilt her head back and look at you. “But that doesn’t mean all guys are the same. I love you, Minjeong, everything about you. I don't love you for your looks alone. You just came to my boring life and made everything perfect. And I want to be like that to yours. I will do everything that will make you happy. So Minjeong, will-”

“Stop being cheesy, idiot. Don’t say something like a marriage proposal while we are in the showers.” Minjeong hushes you quickly, blushing and turning small right after.

You chuckle and raise your hands, retreating and stopping being flirty with Minjeong. You pool a huge amount of water on the basin and rinse your girlfriend in an instant. After cleaning yourself up and drying up your body with Minjeong, you carry her back to the bedroom and tuck her under the newly replaced sheets, cuddling her in a spooning position.

“You still didn’t answer my question, oppa. Do I bore you?” Minjeong asks once more while scrolling through her Instagram feed.

“Me? Getting bored of you? Of course not. You turn everything around me exciting and I even feel sad that we have to sleep than having fun together.” You cheekily reply.

“Gosh… stop being cheesy. You know how hard I fall for your corny antics. But no jokes, oppa, Do I bore you?” Minjeong asks for the third tike

“Never, Minjeong. I sincerely don’t find you boring. Why do you ask though?”

Minjeong smiles excitedly and scrolls more through her feed until she finds one of her close friend's accounts. She taps on the username to view the full profile, along with some of her pinned posts.

“This is my friend, Jimin, but I sometimes call her Karina. She has beautiful breasts and a plump ass. I was wondering if you would agree to have a threesome with us." Minjeong explains excitedly, keeping her finger on her phone to scroll and show more of her friend’s photos.

The girl in the subject is indeed one hell of a beauty. Her boobs are enormous and a bit saggy, bouncing on even slight movement she does. She has a taut midriff and defined abs as well, lean arms and toned thighs that tell you she works out a lot. You are a bit concerned though as her face looks like a video game character, that she might be using some filters to hide her real beauty. Nonetheless, your mind goes back to Minjeong’s words.

"A threesome? Where did that thought come from? I didn't know you were up to something kinky."

"D-don't call me kinky! I'm just feeling guilty that I can't give you much of what other men feel during sex time with their partner. Karina unnie is bi and has experience in handling both genders on the same bed, so I was wondering if we could bring her to a threesome the next time we have sex."

Minjeong’s explanation gave you a sudden spurt of lust, turning you on in an instant. "Okay we will do it, but I want you to be the mediator over us. If you feel jealous or insecure, we will stop immediately after that."

Minjeong nods fast and with excitement. The thought of a threesome never came to your mind as you are contented with Minjeong, but right now, your heart won’t stop beating fast knowing that two best friends are willing to share the same bed and get naughty with you. Your dick got hard immediately after imagining them moaning your name. Out of instinct, more of a habit, you hold Minjeong by her waist and push back inside her pussy, flipping your body over until she’s on her stomach while you are on top of her.

“Eh?! I thought you were already tired, oppa” Minjeong gasps as she feels you penetrating her again.

“I know, baby. I know… Just one more time, please?”

You hug Minjeong’s body, trapping her arms along with your embrace and start fucking her like a rabbit in heat. Little did you know, this is just the start of a new chapter of your love story with Minjeong, where the smoldering heat of love your girlfriend provides to you will grow stronger, melding with the scorching, roaring fire her best friend will bring to your life.

[cloudcountry]

a broken symbol ⤿ you bring toshinori out of his mind

comments: i have nothing to say...hello mha fandom...are we still here...

tags: sir nighteye is mentioned, fluff, established relationship, toshinori is whipped, retired toshinori, insecurities.

These days, it doesn’t take much for Toshinori to collapse. He’s been retired for quite a while now but still helps out behind the scenes, always the hero even though he deserves nothing but rest. He ends up excusing himself from his work every hour, only to run to the nearest bathroom and crumple over the first drain he can reach.

His side flares up with pain and he clutches the flesh, feeling the stretched and scarred skin that caused his health to decline so rapidly as he hacks up far too much blood. Despite everything—the scar and the blood he spits up and the way he really doesn’t have a quirk anymore and the way he can’t maintain his muscular form even if he wanted to—he still works.

And at the end of the day, his gnarled, gangly form drags its way over to you, the person he is finally able to love just a little bit, because the public knows he is All Might and he is still very much a target, and he knows he can still protect you but he’d rather not have it come to that.

Each day was harder than the last, more taxing on his broken and battered body. Even simple tasks like getting out of bed were becoming difficult, the scars and residual pain a constant reminder of just how beaten he truly was.

Why were you with a man like him?

What could he give you, really? He wasn’t young anymore, nor was he muscular or flashy. He couldn’t give you the life you deserved, with a partner the same age as you, in top condition, ready to spoil you relentlessly. Instead you got a run down, broken man, his muscles and glory gone. The only thing he could possibly offer you was his smile.

(Not the well trained one for the press, or the one he saved for victims during and after he saved them. The one that only his colleagues and his students have seen, the awkward one that droops a little on the right, the one that makes his eyes shut with peace he hasn’t known in forever, the one that accompanies a nervous laugh.)

He doesn’t notice your presence when he steps through the front door, muttering a soft “I’m home,” as he takes his shoes off in the doorway. You stand there, waiting for him with a ladle in hand, a cute apron wrapped around you. Your touch feels like an anchor when it reaches him, brushing his snarled hair away from his eyes. You look so concerned and it punches him right in the gut, guilt seeping into his expression. He feels so frail in front of you, like a giant skinny bug. Why do you treat him so gently?

Toshinori’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t deserve you. He’s pathetic, a broken symbol of peace, a reminder that he couldn’t do more for the people he wanted to protect, for his Master who bet everything on him, for young Midoriya who looked up at him with stars in his eyes.

You ask him if he’s getting in his own head again. Your words swim around his skull, only barely making sense as he ducks his head, lanky arms pulling you into his chest and holding you close. He doesn’t cry, it’s rare that he ever does, but he doesn’t stop the single tear that falls down his cheek. You hug him back immediately, pressing your hands into his back, and it feels so soft and warm.

What did he do to deserve something—someone—as soft as this?

“You’ve done everything.” you scold, holding him a little tighter.

How can you sound so gentle even when berating him for being pathetic?

No, that’s not what you were doing. You were just loving him.

“You’ve saved millions. You fought for them for decades. You stopped All for One time and time again. You’ve saved the world over and over. You’ve built society from the ground up.” you reprimand him for each mean thought he has about him, piecing him together from the ashes of his legacy.

He doesn’t say anything, slumped over on your shoulder, taking in your words like they’re the softest, sweetest thing he’s heard his whole life.

Everyone else wanted All Might. He was so, so lucky to find the person who loved Toshinori.

“I understand that the world isn’t safe yet, and I get that you will always be a hero at heart. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” you pick and choose your words carefully, he can hear it in your tone, “This is the life you chose and I won’t try to take it away from you. Just let me support you. And for the sake of the world, stop being so harsh on yourself.”

As he gazes at you, he can’t help but think that his world has narrowed down considerably since he retired. He entrusted the Earth to his students and colleagues, putting blood, sweat, and tears into the staircase he built for them, just so they could reach the highest peak and succeed in protecting everyone they cared for. He is, no matter how he feels about it, just a man now. And his world became you a while ago.

It feels selfish for him to admit that to himself. He will never stop caring about the public, the people who put their hopes and dreams on his shoulders and allowed him to carry their burdens for him, but you’re the only one who has ever really taken his burdens.

Maybe it’s because he never allowed anyone else to. He holds you just a little bit tighter, memories of friends long gone who pleaded with him not to go flashing through his mind.

“You will always be a hero, love.” you sigh, brushing his cheek with the back of your hand, “You will forever be my hero. But right now, I want you to just be you.”

That’s right. He shudders in your arms, a remnant of what once was, but this remnant loves you with every shattered bit of him.

“Right.” he says, voice low and soft.

He hardly has the energy to say anything else, but he knows he doesn’t have to.

Not when it’s you.

[reashot]

We're Just Shower Buddies, that's all...

Jaune: *whistling in the shower* 🎶

Ruby: Hi there shower Bud! Room for one more?

Jaune: For you Ruby, of course. Come on in the water is warm.

Ruby: Yay! *Glomp*

Jaune: Hey, what's gotten into you? You being extra clingy right now.

Ruby: That's because something really good just happened to me.

Jaune: You do? That's great. Tell me all about it Rubes?

Ruby: Well guess what? I asked Weiss out on a date and she said yes!

Jaune: Oh My Oum!!! That is good! Heck it's Great even! We should go out and celebrate! *Tightly embrace Ruby*

Ruby: Yeah! Where do you think we should go?

Jaune: Well, where do you want to go?

Ruby: Wait you're asking me. Oh geez, I don't know where do you like to go?

Jaune: Oh, you want me to choose... Well how about we go to that firearms show you been wanting to go to?

Ruby: Really!.... Uh, I mean. Can we go somewhere else?

Jaune: But why. I thought you been dying to go there?

Ruby: Yeah... But that's where I want to go. I like guns but you don't. I want you to have fun too. I want for the both of us to have fun together.

Jaune: Ruby you don't have to force yourself not to have fun on my account. I'm happy with whatever you choose.

Ruby: And that's why I want us to go place we both can enjoy. Jaune you would be "happy" with anything I choose. But its not okay Jaune. You need to be selfish once in a while and put your happiness first. On this issue I'm putting my foot down.

Jaune: Really? Okay fine... Let me think. Well, There is an amusement park where I been wanting to go for some time. Do you want to go there with me?

Ruby: Oh! You mean the brand new Montyland amusement park. 🎡🎠🎢 Oh My Oum! That's the same place where Weiss is asking me out on a date too.

Jaune: Wow. What a coincidence... I guess it's true that great mind does think alike after all.

Ruby: *giggle* Why Jaune. I think all these hot shower is starting to get inside your head. Cause I'm pretty sure you're full of hot air right now.

Jaune: And I guess it's true that a genius is never appreciated in their lifetime... 💡Hey Ruby. I just had an idea. Why don't we treat our celebration as pre-date for your real date with Weiss?

Ruby: *gasp* You mean like a practice date?

Jaune: Yes. That way you will be prepared on your first date with Weiss.

Ruby: Ah. You really are a genius Jaune. *presses her soft chest on Jaune's hard one*

Hmmm?

Jaune: What's wrong?

Ruby: Jaune, have you been working out?

Jaune: I see you finally noticed it. I been working out with Pyrrha for a while now. And the result you can see for yourself.

Ruby: Wow. I can tell. Look at how fit you are right now.

Jaune: Let see Weiss call me a noodle boy now. 💪

Ruby: You still a dork you know. No matter how much of hunky beefcake you are right now nothing is ever gonna change that.

Jaune: Okay. That's it Ruby you've awaken the dragon. *nibble on Ruby's neck*

Ruby: N-no.... S-stop it... You big j-jerk... Aahhh! (Inaudible moan)

Jaune: So ready to apologize yet?

Ruby: *gasping for air* O-okay, okay I give. I apologize. Jeez, you jerk I was only kidding.

Jaune: I'm only kidding too Ruby. Learn to take a joke why don'tcha *giggle*

Ruby: *playfully punch Jaune in his hard chest* N-O-T F-U-N-N-Y.

Jaune: Okay I'm sorry too... *hug Ruby*

Ruby: *whisper in his ear* Jaune now that I finally asked Weiss out when are you going to ask Pyrrha out?

Jaune: M-me. A-asking Pyrrha out. I-I don't know whatchu talking about?

Ruby: Oh, for crying out loud. Jaune I know you have a crush on Pyrrha.

Jaune: You knew! A-anyway I can't just ask her out, okay. She's clearly way over my league. And if I do what if she said no?

Ruby: Jaune Arc! If I can ask Weiss out on a date. A girl that's clearly way-way out of my league. You can definitely ask Pyrrha out. And Jaune trust me on this she clearly have a crush on you too. She will definitely say yes if you ask her out.

Jaune: R-really? *shakes head* L-look we better get back on track, okay? We can deal with my dating life later. For now it's all about your date with Weiss.

Ruby: Speaking of Weiss... D-do you think she's gonna kiss me on the first date?

Jaune: A kiss with Weiss I don't know Ruby, but isn't it a good thing?

Ruby: But what if I messed up? I mean it's not unheard of that a great date can be ruined by a bad kiss... D-do you think we need to add a kissing practice on our not date?

Jaune: As much as I would like to help you. I have to say no on that... I mean the entire point of a first kiss is that you supposed to be bad at it. So don't worry too much about it Ruby. I bet you'll do "great" on your first kiss.

Ruby: I-I just want the entire thing to be perfect...

Jaune: That's what our practice date are for... And Ruby this might not count as a practice kiss... *tenderly kiss Ruby's forehead*

Ruby: *blush* You sly! Oh Jaune, you are so lucky that we're friend. If you kiss any other girl like this she might get the wrong idea.

Jaune: He, he... That's why I kiss you. And enough talking about date for now. I'll help you wash your body. Here, let me lather your body first. Now, turn around Ruby I'll do your back.

Ruby: Okay... *moan*

Jaune: C'mon Ruby why do you always making that sound every time I do this?

Ruby: I-I don't know why. It just felt so good that I automatically make that noise, when you touch me.

Jaune: Well thank you for the great review, Rubes. But it's distracting when you made noises like that. Now let me do your front...

The sound of soap slapping and rubbing accompanied by the sounds of Ruby's moaning starts to envelop and fill the shower room. Not realizing that someone has been there overhearing them this entire time.

Ren:

If anyone asking they're not doing what you think they are doing... They're just really good friend that's all.

[mdhwrites]

Recently, I've been poring over the 'TOH critical' tags and, as someone who wanted to properly watch the show, seeing just how many flaws the writing and characters have kinda turned me off from even starting for a bit. Before I found these tags, I would have assumed Owl House was some kind of flawless untouchable masterpiece. Now, I can see that it is immensely flawed. Not bad, but flawed. It has great ideas that it just spaffs up the walls. In some cases that I've seen, it goes against its own message, which brings me to the point of this.

The show seems to have a message of 'be a weirdo! Be who you want to be and don't let anyone tell you to be something you're not'. This 'be yourself' message is fine in a vacuum, but then there's a character who's treatment in the show goes against this. Hooty! From the moment he's introduced, Hooty is presented as a weird creature. Even other people in the Demon Realm find him unnatural. He's kinda in his own world, and he says and does things that are weird. This would work well for the message, but the problem arises from other characters' treatment of him.

Everyone fucking HATES Hooty! They loathe him! They call him names, they hit him, they put him down constantly, the works! Everyone holds him in open contempt! I wouldn't really have an issue with this at first, but Luz also takes part in some of these actions. It would be one thing for negative/antagonistic characters to be doing this, but the self-proclaimed 'weirdo' main characters? She seems annoyed by Hooty's very existence. Don't get me wrong, he IS annoying, but he's also just being himself. He's a proud weirdo and doesn't let anyone stop him from being who he wants.

Why doesn't Luz love him?

He is exactly the type of person(?) who she should feel connected with. And the fact she joins in on some of the bullying is real shitty. Keep in mind Luz was ridiculed and ostracised for being weird, so her then turning around and being all dismissive and annoyed by someone who is, for all intents and purposes, just like her is shitty.

Personally, I would have had it that Luz really likes Hooty. She admires how he's so unapologetic in his weirdness. You could even still have Eda hitting him and calling him names, which Luz calls out. She knows what it's like to be put down for just being yourself, and she's not gonna stand to see someone else get the same treatment.

Or, another idea, Luz starts out sharing Eda's view on Hooty and being annoyed by him. One time, he does something or shows Luz something he's proud of. She calls him or it or both stupid, and Hooty just....cries. I don't mean overblown waterfalls-out-the-eyes crying, I mean he turns his head down and looks visibly upset.

Luz sees that her words have genuinely hurt Hooty. This could be her realising that Hooty isn't just some weird talking punching bag to hurl abuse at. For his weird actions and appearance, he's a person too. Her being mean to him just for being himself, she realises, makes her no better than her bullies.

Then, to make this even more shitty, the characters DO start being nicer to him later on, but only after he's proven himself useful. So that's a good message, isn't it? 'Love is conditional!' It really makes the 'found family' aspect of the Owl House residents feel all the more forced.

Tl;Dr It's okay to be a weirdo, unless you're Hooty!

(But that's just me! I hope all of this made sense and you can decipher what I'm trying to say😊)

So the short answer to this is that Hooty is essentially character/thematic assassination on... Everyone? Because the show wants to say "Be who you are! Have freedom! Express yourself!" Hooty however is constantly mocked, belittled and literally hurt by others with at best an apology. People treat his portable form as gross despite that letting him experience more of life and the one time people begrudgingly acknowledge he is truly good, they then force him to promise to not repeat the helpful behavior. He is not allowed freedom, expression or to be himself without ridicule, EVEN BY LUZ.

This... However has a bigger problem. Hooty is a bit character after all. If you want to claim he doesn't matter because he's just a joke... There's okay precedent for it. The problem is that then you have to ask what he's mocking. After all, gag characters are all about mocking a certain archtype or the like. King's whole point is to mock children who think themselves as self important and point out how deluded and funny that is, or how funny a deluded sense of self grandeur in general is, at least in the first season. As such... What is Hooty?

Hooty is Sheldon. Not literally but spiritually and this is gonna get kind of rough but here me out. For those who don't get the reference, Sheldon is the main autistic representation in The Big Bang Theory. He is also the most antagonistic force within the friend group. Not because he's evil or anything but because he his own certain ways of doing things and ways he looks at things and as such actually has a lot of episodes about expanding his perception of the world and of others learning to understand who he is and why he is the way he is. The show is actually shockingly respectful in this way, at least most of what I have seen of it, and I can portray this with the best joke I can recall from the series. It also will help me later in why The Big Bang Theory is better than TOH at one certain element people REALLY want to say TOH is great about.

The setup is that the other three main dudes are at a white board, discussing plans to go so see a movie. Every plan they devise runs into a road block because of allergies, time, etc. like that, not even only just because of Sheldon's quirks. However, then the lead, the Ross of the group, stops and goes, "I see it." The others squint and look closer before he adds, "It's the only way." The other two agree... And then they all just leave without Sheldon coming with. Sheldon pauses, looks at the board and goes, "They're correct. It was the only way."

I LOVE this joke... Because it's not mean AT ALL. One might think if they're overly sensitive that it is. I mean, how could they leave their friend behind!? But Sheldon is very honest and up front about his quirks and habits. These guys know him well enough that they know better than to force him out of his comfort zone. That he doesn't function that way. Sheldon KNOWS THIS TOO. As such, when presented with the options of telling Sheldon they can't go because they can't go without him or still having a good night and not making their friend feel bad for being why they couldn't go out, they choose to go out and Sheldon agrees that it was the correct option. They respected him while still living their lives.

And this is because The Big Bang Theory's pitch is not to be offensive to nerds like many online people like to make it out to be (I fucking hate people who call it 'Nerd Black Face') but to just make fun of us like any sitcom would. Sitcoms are parodies of real life. They always exaggerated characters we know are somewhat true. We know a Kramer, we know a Ross, we know a Barney, we know a Lorraine. Are they exactly like this? No, it's cranked up so that it's a comedy, that's the fucking point. But this comedic framing also allows it to be honest about ALL sides of nerd dom.

Sheldon is BY FAR made out to be the most successful, intelligent and wealthiest of ALL the guys. Also, all the guys are doing well in their fields and monetarily. Do they have widespread fame and acclaim? Not really but they're not discredited or anything, they just have interdepartmental bickering. That's accurate from literally every scientist I have seen talk about the subject. It's genuine about the good and the bad of the nerd experience while being entertaining.

So what the fuck does any of this have to do with The Owl House? And especially Hooty? It's actually quite simple. While TOH champions having a nerd protagonist, it presents the 'gentrified nerd'. The convenient nerd. They know about fanfiction but won't force you to actually hear about it. They have interests but not hyperfixations. They don't ever get lost down a rabbit hole because they're passionate about something or just want to tell you a neat fact.

Do you know who does though? Hooty. Hooty just wants someone who is willing to listen about his day. He has some weird quirks to how he behaves and he likes some strange things like bugs. He will talk to you for hours on a subject, randomly and just because he can and might forget that you might have other things to do. To me, those are very, VERY accurate parts of nerd life... And we're supposed to fucking HATE Hooty for these things. Remember the only person, in the ENTIRE SERIES to actually befriend Hooty instead of treating him at best as a convenience is Liltih... At the start of her becoming a joke. The only person who shows him real, genuine compassion... Also becomes 'The Cool Aunt' who hyper fixates on niche architecture and has her trauma of working the EC mocked as just being really bad at her job.

It is, genuinely, kind of gross to me. I've actually talked about this before that the show is so hyperfocused on a very specific, very small set of people for who it approves of, which is essentially whoever fits into Luz correctly, that anyone who felt excluded by the show is extremely valid. And yes, Luz has a montage at the start of silly, over the top and extreme behavior... That doesn't continue. At all. The one time she subjects someone to an Azura rant is to torture Eda enough to go to the Convention and that's only because they were already on the subject because King was interested. She quotes Azura but quickly and doesn't lose the thread. She might say a cute word like 'Snorses' but not even enough to make a break in the conversation.

She is convenient. Gus is only interested in human stuff when it's convenient. Willow will put aside her interest in plants when it's inconvenient. Amity just stops giving a shit about being an intellectual AT ALL post her getting a crush. Hunter wears a wolf t-shirt and gets into Cosmic Frontier enough to cosplay it for Halloween... But only Halloween. These are people who are extremely socially acceptable in every way.

Which... explains why nerds love them actually. See, I think Big Bang Theory does deserve criticism, it is by no means perfect and I would be VERY interested in hearing what the Jewish community thinks of Howard who is easily the most problematic character in the show but not all of the criticism is genuine. I think a lot of it comes down to the fact that we're used to a side, gag character representing the kind worst parts of us... But we're not used to being the focus. We can laugh at all the broke bitches who show up in Sitcoms or the jock failures who are meatheads, etc. like that... But laugh at ourselves? Why would we do that? Why would we allow that? We're better than what this show depicts, even if we're not.

It is inconvenient to the narrative we wish to tell ourselves that we are still the outcasts. That are we not part of the dominant culture and so it is unfair to mock our interests and lifestyle. But like... Marvel movies have been the biggest blockbusters for well over a decade and no one bats a fucking at that. D&D is quickly becoming a household name due to its ever expanding influence. We are not the outcasts anymore. Being into a weird cartoon is not some shocking thing like it was 12 years ago when Bronies first made people aware that this subculture of nerds existed. Times are changing but we still wish to see ourselves as only the victims, even as more and more our spaces show that they are just as evil, corrupt, manipulative and cruel as any athletic superstar or pretty boy actor's club.

A lot of these nerds want to believe they are Luz. Never wrong, never giving anyone a reason to dislike them, and always just passionate about the things they like, never annoying. And you know who those people would mock? Who those people HAVE mocked?

Hooty. Because he's more real. He's the demon they wish they didn't have to face in the mirror. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I really do want to re-emphasize this: FUCK HOWARD. Big Bang is NOT good for the jewish community and I don't think if I watched it nowadays I would be able to tolerate his depiction AT ALL. Also, Raj is also probably all sorts of rough too. I'm ONLY defending the nerd portrayal part of Big Bang.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.