#like there is NO excuse for any of that shit

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (2) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post match vibes

warning: mentions of stitches, needle, and blood

note: 2/5 parts for this mini series! thanks for the love w pt1! mwah

//

jungkook sits on the edge of the ever-so-familiar hospital bed.

his legs are spread, hands draped over his knees, and he fights the urge to shut his eyes as the overhead light casts sharp shadows over the planes of his face.

he can feel it—his blood dripping down the sides of his face. the fresh cut on his forehead stark against his skin and the throbbing almost makes him feel like shit. jungkook takes a deep breath and stays still as you prep the needle. though the sterile scent of disinfectant settles between you, jungkook is doing his absolute best to memorize the way you smell.

you smell so freaking good.

"i thought you said you were good at boxing."

your voice is light, but the weight of it presses against his ribs. he grins, dimples threatening to form despite the sting above his brow.

"i am."

"so i'm stitching you up because?"

his gaze flickers to you, dark and intent. "i've been lacking the motivation."

"to win?"

"to focus,” he confesses. “how long has it been, doc? 3 months? shit. haven’t been myself since then. every day i hoped someone would beat the shit out of me so i could have an excuse to see you.”

"so you got yourself beaten up just to see me? is that supposed to impress me?" you ask him unamused.

he shakes his head. "no, but my dedication to seeing you again is."

"do you ever take no for an answer?"

"did you even really say no to me, though?"

the air stills.

then, you exhale through your nose. pretending to be unimpressed at him before pressing the needle to his skin. as you wait for his reaction, you run through different comebacks.

but you're out of time. in fact, you barely had any.

jungkook doesn’t flinch.

it truly does impress you because this shot is a bitch. yet, you notice how his fingers curl into a fist against the sheets.

"it's okay if it hurts," you murmur. "it's not supposed to be painless."

his jaw flexes. 

"i can handle hits. stitches? easy."

"i never said you couldn't handle it. i said it's okay if it hurts."

jungkook isn’t sure what it is… but silence drapes over the room. like a heavy mist or early moving fog.

it’s thick and weighted. 

jungkook swallows. his throat feels dry. his mind races. 

all his life, pain has been an afterthought—background noise to the only thing that’s ever mattered; winning. to jungkook, if he isn’t bruised, battered, and bleeding by the end of a fight, he hasn’t fought hard enough. pain isn’t something to be acknowledged and dwelled on. it’s a consequence. a transaction. 

but now, here you are… speaking about it so simply and coated in acceptance and warmth. then, there’s also your motherfucking gaze. 

so soft. 

so kind. 

so present. 

all of these things mixed together make his stomach twist. he doesn’t know how to act. he does’t know what to say. he doesn’t know what to feel.

he wonders if this is what pain really feels like—not the kind he’s trained to endure, but the kind that sneaks up on you, curling around your ribs when you least expect it. he wonders if it’s because he’s spent so long numbing himself to it… or if it’s because, for the first time, he’s realized something worse than losing a fight…

losing the chance to keep seeing you.

because holy fuck. 

where have you been his entire life? 

seriously.

jungkook clears his throat, stretching out his fingers, forcing the tension from his knuckles. "so, doc," he starts, a smirk playing at his lips, "do you date doctors?"

you blink. "pardon me?"

"you don’t date patients, right? well, everyone is a patient at some point, but not everyone is a doctor. so, do you only date doctors?"

you almost laugh. 

almost.

"you just got seven stitches on your forehead and you're concerned about whether or not i date doctors?"

jungkook shrugs before dropping the most nonchalant information about himself; "i have a degree in nutrition, you know. used to specialize in sports nutrition. just wanted to give boxing a shot—"

"wow. i didn't know that. that’s really cool." you say, genuinely intrigued, "what school did you go to—"

"i won't quit boxing... at least, not yet... but if i ever do, just know that i can be a doctor too… if that’s who you date and shit."

“and shit?”

“and shit.”

this time, you do laugh. 

it’s so pretty. 

the sound of it and the sight of it—mesmerizing. 

it catches jungkook off guard. his eyes flickering over your face, lingering a second too long. he looks at you… he really looks at you and it’s like he just won the best thing in the world. like he’s a kid who won BINGO in his class for the first time and got to choose the scented eraser as his prize. 

he watches you and thinks; to have you is to win. 

you’re the only victory he wants. 

as he shifts forward to hop off the bed, your hands move on instinct, catching him before he can fully rise. your fingers press lightly against the firm muscle of his forearm, his skin warm beneath your touch. he stills at the contact, his gaze flicking down to where your hands steady him, then back up to your face.

for a beat, neither of you move.

the air shifts—thickens—his breath slowing as he watches you, unreadable. your pulse kicks up, just slightly, just enough for you to notice. but then jungkook smirks, lazy and knowing, the tension splintering just as quickly as it built.

"careful, doc," he murmurs, voice lower now, laced with something teasing, something else. "if you keep holding onto me like that, i might start thinking you care."

"you shouldn’t be jumping off like that so fast—"

"okay. whatever you say. hey, look at me," he says, voice quieter now, more deliberate. your fingers still against his arm. "i'm not bad looking, right? i have an education. i follow my passion, and it's going well—"

"again," you interject, "i just gave you seven stitches."

"again," he repeats, "i just needed a reason to see you."

"you requested me and refused to be treated by namjoon," you point out.

"exactly," jungkook smirks.

you bite your bottom lip, catching yourself before you react. suddenly, you’re aware of how close you are—his warmth pressing into your space, the scent of sweat and antiseptic clinging to him. his eyes are locked on yours, waiting, watching.

"___—"

"doctor ___," you correct, stepping back, straightening your coat, severing whatever was hanging between you.

"doctor ___..." he tests the words on his tongue, then nods. "i’d really appreciate it if you could reconsider the whole... only dating a doctor thing. honestly? i don’t mind school. i just don’t want to go back and be old by the time i get to your level… but if that’s really the only way you’ll go out with me—"

rolling your eyes, you brush off your coat, turning toward the door—just like last time. pushing it open, you pause before you step through. taking one final glance at him, you titl your head ever so slightly. 

jungkook mirrors you. 

"no, mr. jeon," you say, voice laced with amusement. "i do not just date doctors. in fact, i avoid dating them."

then, the door swings shut behind you.

jungkook exhales, pressing his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head as he lets out a breathless chuckle.

hope. 

that’s what this feels like.

he’s had victories before, ones that have left him bruised and battered, ones that have left him undefeated. but this? this is something else entirely. something he’s willing to lose for. something he knows, in the deepest part of his chest, he can’t afford to.

not this time.

not when it’s you.

[lovebitesandcrosses]

THIS OMG. A lot of people are like ‘booktok is giving women porn addictions’ and I get the point, I do think it’s weird to read smut out in public and/or only want to read something if it is based around explicit sex scenes, but that’s NOT the issue. At least in my opinion. I don’t think written pornography is the same as videos for hundreds of reasons that I’m sure most people understand.

The issue is it’s LAZY. The writing is lazy, often worse than a lot of fanfiction because they aren’t as passionate and their only real inspiration is from Colleen Hoover books they’ve absorbed and poorly written porn. It’s not about escaping into a new world or creating fascinating characters you truly connect to, I think it’s the modern day equivalent of self insert Wattpad fanfics. It’s about fulfilling a fantasy. I don’t think that’s bad inherently, and I think fantasies are normal, but it shouldn’t be an excuse to give up on any quality or personal style in your work. That’s just it though, like many romance novels, they make the characters completely empty shells with bare bone stereotyped personalities. So you can imagine it’s you and your friend and some celebrity or guy you’re into.

Again, if this is how people unwind go ahead. I think it’s the literature version of watching thirst trap slop videos or trashy reality TV, but I don’t think it’s inherently this terrible and morally corrupt thing. They’re just having lazy, brainless fun. I think it’s misogynistic to get up in arms about it as though it’s rotting women’s brains, I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to make that argument because it’s just stupid and overdramatic. It probably isn’t harmful to consume at all and I respect your right to read it. I am going to judge if you tell me you’re a huge bookworm and these are the only books you read. They are fundamentally different in intent to a majority of books from other genres. You can not give a fuck about that and I can be pretentious about it. This is the beauty of humanity. It ultimately is just watered down fanfiction without any of the characterising or charming details. That’s it. I wouldn’t be as irritated if it wasn’t the majority of new shit being advertised and published right now. Take it to AO3 where it belongs, most of y’all read on screens anyway. Damn.

Sorry it’s early but you really can’t use fanfiction terms in a non fanfiction context like if someone is trying to sell me a book to read and they tell me there’s an enemy to lovers I would be annoyed because why are you spoiling the story lol

[lych33dragoncookie]

Ooooohhh how glad I am he was characterized well this update. No, he doesn't hate himself. No, he doesn't feel any guilt for his own actions, past or present. No, he's really not all that sad, all things considered. Loneliness and sadness are, really, not exactly synonymous. Loneliness can very well manifest in other ways; as, in the end, it is an emptiness. A lack of something. How each person individually handles it is where it really varies. Shadow Milk Cookie, at his core, is angry. He's not sad, he doesn't feel guilt, remorse, regret, nothing of that sort. He's too caught up in his own little tangled web of contrivances and excuses he uses to bury any and all more rational feelings under childish sadistic urges! In his eyes, nothing that happens to him is fair, if he doesn't get his way, if he doesn't get exactly what he wants, it's not fair, he feels like he SHOULD have gotten what he wanted, like he should ALWAYS get exactly what he wants, and the only way he ever deals with any burden that MAY be on his mind, however briefly, is to lash out. Thrash, inflict pain, break shit, throw a little goddamn tantrum. He's already assumed, for so long, that he knows better, he SHOULD get what he wants, he's ALWAYS in the right, and if he can't get what he wants, he WILL take it by force.

He chooses to be this way, he SO desperately wants to be in control, he SO desperately wants a world that is strictly his', and that's just kind of inevitably a lonely road, since to him, no one will ever be important as he is to himself. And, for a moment there, he got his childish needs fulfilled; someone just like him, someone who can just as well be important, and do everything he wants them to do. Essentially; he just wants another of himself. He doesn't WANT actual love, any actual meaningful relationships, he just wants someone JUST like him. Never have his views or beliefs contested, never have to change. That won't fix the loneliness, but he doesn't care. He doesn't WANT it to be fixed. He just wants to have all his own petty little urges met.

He is awful. He is positively, extremely, irredeemably awful. But he is human. And that alone, the fact that there are feelings there that will inevitably rise up for anyone in his position, no matter how absolutely irrevocably and horribly evil, is enough for someone like Pure Vanilla to hold on to hope. Somewhat misguided hope, yes, but hope nonetheless; the very thing that makes every facet of his being. They may remain opposites and apart for all of time. After all, both of them choose to be opposites, both knowing what they could be if they didn't choose to. They both wish they weren't this way, that they could be on the same page, but they very well may never be. And that's both their choices to make.

God this update was fucking good.

[writeriguess]

Katsuki x f reader one bed trope??? PLEASE????

Frozen Flames

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the steep, frost-bitten slope, the icy wind biting at any exposed skin. The mission brief had been clear—track down and neutralize the villain terrorizing the nearby village. But of course, luck had thrown Katsuki Bakugo into your path, turning an already difficult mission into a nightmare.

“You’re too slow,” Katsuki sneered, his voice barely carrying over the howling wind. “At this rate, the villain will be sipping hot cocoa before you even show up.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks stinging from the cold and his biting words. “Not all of us need to blow everything up to get the job done, Bakugo.”

“Maybe if you actually did something useful, I wouldn’t have to.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on the task at hand. Katsuki had always been a thorn in your side since UA. Every mission, every training session was a battleground, not just against the enemies but against each other. You both had climbed the ranks quickly, proving your worth as heroes, but your rivalry never simmered down. If anything, it had only intensified.

The villain’s hideout was nestled in a cavern halfway up the mountain, obscured by snowdrifts and jagged rocks. The ambush happened fast—a blur of motion, cold wind, and ice shards hurtling toward you. Katsuki’s explosions countered them, the blasts lighting up the twilight sky.

Your quirk surged to life, heating the air around you and melting the snow at your feet as you redirected the villain's attacks. But the terrain was unforgiving, and your focus slipped for just a second.

A sharp pain tore through your side as a shard of ice embedded itself into your flesh, your blood seeping out in a vivid contrast against the pure white snow.

“Idiot!” Katsuki roared, his eyes wide with a mixture of fury and—was that worry?—as he blasted the villain backward. “Can’t you do anything right?”

You grit your teeth against the pain, forcing yourself to stand straighter. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do.”

With one last explosion, Katsuki subdued the villain, snow and debris settling around the both of you. His chest heaved, crimson eyes blazing as they darted to your wound.

“Let me see,” he demanded, stepping closer.

“I said, I’m fine.”

“And I said let me see!” His voice was harsh, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he peeled back the torn fabric to inspect the injury. The cold was quickly numbing your senses, making the pain less sharp but more dangerous.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. “There’s a cabin a few minutes from here. Can you walk?”

You nodded, though your legs felt like they were made of lead. “Just...don’t blow anything up on the way.”

The trek to the cabin was brutal.

The wind howled like a wounded beast, whipping the snow in furious spirals that made it almost impossible to see beyond a few feet. Your boots crunched against the icy ground, each step sending a dull ache through your body. The wound in your side burned and throbbed, the cold numbing the pain but stealing the strength from your limbs.

And then there was him.

Katsuki Bakugo walked beside you, his presence an irritating combination of warmth and hostility. His hand, firm and unyielding, had latched onto your arm the second your knees threatened to buckle, and he hadn't let go since.

“Stop dragging me, Bakugo,” you snapped, your breath coming out in visible puffs of air.

He scoffed but didn’t loosen his grip. “Oh, excuse me, princess, for stopping you from eating shit face-first into the snow.”

“Maybe I want to eat shit. Did you ever think of that?”

His eye twitched. “You’re so damn annoying.”

You shoved at his shoulder with what little strength you had left. He barely budged, the heat from his body stark against the bone-chilling cold. “Then leave me alone.”

“You’d freeze in ten minutes. Not my fault you’re built like a damn icicle.”

Your retort died in your throat when the cabin finally came into view. It was a squat, wooden thing, nestled between the jagged ridges of the mountains, almost buried beneath thick layers of snow. Smoke no longer curled from the chimney, which meant it hadn't been used in a while—but at least it was shelter.

You barely had the strength to stumble through the door before Katsuki kicked it shut behind you, shaking the snow off his arms with an annoyed grunt.

The interior was barebones—worse than you’d hoped. A single wooden table, a few cabinets that might hold emergency supplies, a fireplace, and…

Your stomach dropped.

One. Single. Bed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Katsuki followed your gaze, blinking at the pitiful excuse for a sleeping arrangement before a slow, smug smirk crept across his face. “What’s wrong? Scared to share a bed with me?”

Your face burned hotter than it had any right to in subzero temperatures. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Be my guest.” He shrugged off his heavy coat, tossing it aside before crouching by the fireplace. With a few well-aimed sparks from his fingertips, flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows against the log walls. The warmth was immediate, seeping into your frozen bones.

Reluctantly, you shuffled closer to the fire, rubbing your hands together.

Katsuki glanced at you, then at your still-shivering form, and let out a long, suffering sigh. “You’re still cold?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re useless like this. Get in the damn bed.”

Your stomach flipped. “Excuse me?”

“You’re freezing, dumbass,” he grumbled, standing to his full height and stripping off his gloves. “You’re losing heat too fast. Either we do this the hard way, where you pass out and I have to warm you up anyway, or you stop being stubborn and get your ass under the covers.”

You hated that he made sense. You hated even more that he was always warm—like a walking furnace, his body heat already making the space around him feel unfairly comfortable.

But the alternative was actually freezing, and you were really starting to lose feeling in your toes.

“…Fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, standing on shaky legs. “But if you try anything, I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah, stab me in my sleep, blah blah. Just get in.”

The bed creaked under your combined weight as you clambered in first, bundling yourself under the rough, thin blanket. The moment Katsuki slid in beside you, the whole mattress dipped, pressing you closer together. Your entire body locked up.

And then—

Heat.

The contrast was almost shocking. His warmth radiated, sinking into your frozen limbs, your aching muscles, the marrow of your bones. You exhaled a shaky breath as relief flooded through you, but that relief was immediately overshadowed by the realization that you were spooning.

Spooning. With Bakugo.

“Relax,” Katsuki grunted from behind you, his arm firm around your waist to keep you close. “You’re shivering like crazy.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore how solid he felt, how the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back was weirdly steadying. “I hate this.”

“You think I’m enjoying this?” His breath was hot against the back of your neck, making you worse. “Tch. You’re ice-cold, it’s like hugging a damn corpse.”

You elbowed him weakly. “Then let go.”

He didn’t.

Silence stretched between you, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. The exhaustion from the fight, from the cold, from everything, started creeping in, turning your limbs heavy.

“…Thanks,” you murmured reluctantly.

“For what?”

You swallowed. “Dragging my ass up here. And, y’know. Not letting me freeze to death.”

Katsuki huffed. “Damn right you should be thanking me.” But then, quieter, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it:

“…Just don’t die on me, idiot.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. The warmth, the exhaustion, him—it was all too much.

For once, you didn’t argue.

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 - 𝒁𝒐𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

This is a quick little Valentine's Day fic for Zoro! Short and sweet (pun intended,) but I loved writing it. I have a few other things I'll be trying to post leading up to Valentine's Day, but at the very least I've managed to get this out. I may end up editing it after the fact as I usually do.

CW: SFW, strong language, alcohol, tsundere-ish Zoro, female reader

~2k words

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“I hate chocolate.” 

“Good. These aren't for you, anyway.”

Zoro grumbles under his breath as he follows you out of the little confectionery shop, begrudgingly holding a bag of various chocolates. He's never been a fan of sweets, not at all, not even a little. So when you dragged him inside on the one day you have off the ship, he was a little annoyed, to say the least. 

“What, so you bought this many for yourself?” He asks. His steps keep in time with yours as he walks beside you, careful not to lose you in the crowd.

“Nope. For the crew.” You explain, peeking into the bag you carry. “I thought it'd be nice to get everyone something since it's almost Valentine's Day.”

Shit. Zoro knew he was forgetting something. 

“Right. Valentine's Day.” Zoro mumbles, glancing down at the bag again. 

God, how could he forget? Everyone's been babbling about chocolates, roses, festivities, and the cook has certainly been the worst offender, asking every woman aboard if they'd be his Valentine. Somewhere between his training, their fights at sea, and taking naps with you, he lost track of time. His eyes remain locked on the bag of chocolates, and just as he's trying to push the strange blend of feelings from his mind, he feels you tugging on his arm. In his train of thought, he'd started veering off the opposite way. 

“Whoa, there. Ship's this way, Mossy.” You say in your goddamn adorably teasing tone. It makes him clench his jaw. 

“Yeah, I know. And don’t call me that.” Zoro responds curtly, bristling with annoyance. 

It just makes you laugh. 

“Whatever you say.”

---

Zoro stares at you from across the deck, watching you hand chocolates to your crewmates. Luffy's confused at first, then overjoyed; Usopp’s awkward, then grateful; Franky's making his stupid poses; Nami's taking it off your tab; Robin's thanking you; Brook's asking to see your panties; Chopper's wiggling and grinning; Sanji's nose is bleeding; blah blah blah. All the same antics, the same lines, yet all Zoro is focused on is that look on your beautiful face as you give out your Valentine's chocolates. Your eyes light up with every ‘thank you,’ every hug, and all Zoro can do is think about how the hell he forgot about Valentine's Day. 

But it's too late now, isn't it? The ship has already left the port and he didn't buy any flowers or gifts. He sucks at making cards, expressing his feelings, baking cookies - basically, anything that could make a decent Valentine. Then there's the most troubling part of all. Is he even your Valentine? Does it even matter?

You've been dating each other for somewhere around two months now. That doesn't necessarily mean that you're Valentine's, though. Nothing was ever said, neither of you asked the other, and at this point, he's not even sure how to bring it up. It seems rather obvious to him that you'd be each other's Valentine's, but that's what makes it even more frustrating - what seems obvious to Zoro isn't always obvious to others. Sometimes he's exhausted being surrounded by so many idiots (though he refuses to admit that he’s one of them.)

But not you. You're the idiot he doesn't get tired of. But, god, why did it have to be chocolates? Valentine's Day has always seemed like some kind of worthless, annoying day where everyone just gives out candy and useless junk as an excuse to make out. Making out, Zoro can handle - sweets, not so much. But then there's you, who's all sugar and spice and everything nice. The antithesis of what he's supposed to like, but your attitude has proven irresistibly charming to the stoic swordsman. 

The way your smile beams across the ship could end wars, call ships away from danger, light up the moonless sky as it so often has when you've been on watch together. It's damn near impossible to deny how much he loves to see that look on your face, and even more irritating that currently he's not the one that put it there. So, chocolates. Zoro can't do that. But that smile? He'll maim, kill, and die for it. He reasons that maybe there's a simpler way. 

---

You're a little skeptical when your boyfriend asks you to come up to the crow’s nest in the middle of the night. Hell, neither of you is assigned watch and it's well past your usual hours for training. Usually, this late at night, Zoro's fast asleep in his hammock if he's not tucked into your bed with you. So, what gives?

“Just shut up and trust me.” He chides, his tone slightly irritated but mostly playful. Well, that's Zoro.

As you follow him out onto the deck, the cool night air hits the exposed skin from your pajamas. The stars are beautiful, glittering above in a way that's almost distracting, but you don't linger your gaze on them for too long. Instead, you stay closely behind Zoro, your arms crossed over your chest long enough to keep some semblance of warmth. The journey up the crow’s nest is longer than you'd like given the temperature and your sleepy mind, but you swear you can almost smell something weird wafting down from the open door hatch. 

It's not only until you peek inside that you recognize the scent of lavender, and through the candlelight, you recognize a large blanket, several pillows, a bottle of sake, and some kind of food on a few plates. As you're trying to register what you're looking at, Zoro pulls your hand gently to assist you up the rest of the way. 

“What is this?” You ask, and the way your lips curl into a smile makes Zoro's heart stutter. 

He lets go of your hand, walking across the planks of the crow’s nest to his makeshift picnic. It’s a romantic setup that took him all evening, and he can recall the several conversations he had with himself to try to figure out something to throw together. He’s a little satisfied with himself - smug, even - but he maintains his usual demeanor for now. Zoro doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, after all.

“Well, what does it look like?” Zoro responds in his classic, gruff tone. “Made you a picnic. Since it's Valentine's Day and all that.”

Your eyes glance around the candles, and while the setup is fairly simple, you can't deny the wonder you feel at the sight. Never once had you expected anything like this from Zoro. Quite truthfully, you thought he would have forgotten or written off the whole thing as stupid. Taking a few careful steps, your gaze finally glances back up at him. 

“Where did you…I mean, food and candles? I really didn't…”

Zoro hums, and his lips finally quirk up into a cocky smile for a moment. He couldn’t keep that smug feeling aside for long, especially when your eyes light up the way they do.

“Candles are from Robin, and I owe Nami for tricking the cook into getting us some snacks.” He responds before his eye flicks back up to yours. “You like it?”

“Like it? This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.” You grin, and you move to close the space between you two. It makes Zoro's heart stutter yet again. 

“Really? Is the bar that low?” Zoro replies with an amused huff. “Didn't think it was all that impressive. I pulled it together sorta last minute when I realized Valentine's Day meant so much to you.”

“It doesn’t.” You respond quickly, and you let out a laugh at Zoro’s shocked expression. So, you elaborate. “I mean, I like Valentine’s Day because it’s an excuse to express how much people mean to me. But the holiday itself doesn’t make or break anything. I wasn’t expecting you to actually care about it, which is why I never said anything.”

Zoro seems contemplative for a moment, his eye trailing carefully over to the makeshift picnic. He lets out a huff, one hand resting casually on his sword, the other against his thigh. 

“Of course I don’t care about Valentine’s Day.” He says, almost snapping. Guess you struck a nerve. “It’s a stupid holiday designed for people like that love cook to hit on women. I didn’t even know it was Valentine’s Day ‘till you bought all that candy.”

Despite his harsh tone, you can’t help but smile a bit wider at his response. He seems irritated, and likely just because he was in his own head about it. And god, that smile you give him…

“But I care about you, moron. That’s why I threw this together.”

Zoro sits down on one of the blankets, patting a pillow next to him for you to join. You don’t hesitate, and as you sit down you watch as Zoro grabs the bottle of sake and pulls the cork out with his teeth. He spits it aside, taking a long swig of it. If the candles weren’t so dim, you might have been able to notice the way the tips of his ears light up red. 

“I already told you that this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me. You don’t have to feel weird about doing it just because I wasn’t expecting it.” You finally speak up, a hand moving to rest on his forearm. “Seriously, I appreciate this. It’s honestly really…sweet.”

Zoro takes his free hand holding the bottle of sake, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with a sigh. He’s definitely embarrassed, but that sweet tone of yours makes something in his chest feel lighter. 

“Yeah, well…I don’t normally do sweet. You know that.” Zoro says, setting the bottle of sake down between the both of you. And he knows that you know that - hell, you probably know him better than most people. “Just felt like now that we’re dating, I wanted to see you…have a good Valentine’s Day.”

“For someone who claims to hate sweet, you’re very good at it. Thank you, Zoro.” You reply, leaning against him just a little bit. The skin-to-skin contact makes Zoro heat up a bit, and when you lean in closer, you can’t contain the small giggle that leaves you. “But I feel like I should let you know that Valentine’s Day isn’t for another few days.”

Zoro’s expression drops once again, and that stupid annoying feeling of irritation fills him. His head snaps in your direction, and he visibly bristles. It makes you laugh.

“Dammit! Why the hell were you giving everyone chocolates so early then, woman?” 

“Because I didn’t want them to go bad! Plus, I’m horrible with surprises. I get too impatient.” You laugh again, and that laugh somehow both irritates and soothes Zoro. He’ll never understand the effect you have on him.

Grumbling, he grabs the bottle of sake again. Before he can bring it to his lips, though, your hand moves up to his chin, gently pulling it so that he looks right at you. With a grin, you lean forward and press your lips tenderly against his. That irritation in him is gone, and his eye slowly shuts as he feels you both melt into the kiss. Goddamn, Zoro hates sweets, but the taste of your lips against his is addicting. His chest aches when the kiss breaks, but your lips linger against one another.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” You murmur.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

i think it's also a problem in university arts departments too, in a way. for example, while i was in undergrad, my home uni's philosophy department refused to ever assign presentations (as well as group work) as an adequate form of assessment. this however, imo, gave plenty of students, including myself, excuses to just straight up refuse to do their readings bc "it's only marked as part of my 5% or 10% participation grade.... so what's even the point of reading sindquist, anderson and zazo "the examination of the twin earth problem from the systems analysis standpoint" (not a real paper) or whatever the fuck in the philosophy of mind, for example. "i can just pretend i've done the reading and scab answers off everyone else in the tute, if we have minor unmarked group work".

this bred a student base of mostly uninterested, disengaged, confused students (and some bitter legal and journalism etc/media & comms students who found philosophy to be "a waste of time" bc "i can already argue!!!! bc im going to be a lawyer and/or journalist!" and "i was also in debate/parliamentary/school newsletter team at school!!!!" and also..... HOW and WHY are you doing journalism etc/media and comms or law if you don't ACTUALLY CARE about the fundamentals of argumentation, rhetoric/discourse (which you'll be creating with your so-called "think pieces" in journalism and media!!!), logic and language??? are you fucking stupid??? [tbf they were teenagers. of course they were going to say dumb shit]). i was one of the above philosophy students, obvs. because how the fuck are you meant to communicate these ideas to people when you're NOT doing the readings??

when you're not FORCED to do the readings, for a presentation or, y'know just the essays, you just make excuses not to do them. tbf. like yes, i could do the 2,500 word essays and 500 word essay plans just fine. but when it came to engaging with the readings, i couldn't get past more than the second page of every 50 page reading. but if i was given a presentation to do??? bruh, i probably would have forced myself to do at least 10 to 20 pages of all of the readings??? i DON'T want to look like a fuckwit in front of the 25 to 30 people in my tute time class. but just giving me essay upon essay upon essay??? and the occasional open book exam/take home exam? you're giving me an excuse to just coast by on the bare minimum and then force out an essay 8 hours before it's due, in the hope i'll get at least a credit/65% to 70%, minimum grade.

you're giving everyone the horribly stereotypical impression that the philosophy students are just locking themselves in their bedrooms (their classic ivory towers) to do their essays and nothing else. that they don't know how to communicate complicated, esoteric ideas to the layman through a presentation..... and then, very suddenly, and ironically, you expect grad students to be happy to present to a crowd their dissertation??? or just to their thesis/dissertation advisor every week??? what the fuck??? HOW does that make ANY sense??? how does that give anyone in this study stream CONFIDENCE to present???? the confidence to have the literacy to present their cogent arguments, when in undergrad they weren't deliberately given presentations in this field to practice these skills??? "oh but they'll have them in english. or sociology. or cultural studies.... so why do we need them at all?" to be fair, for me, i had to address this after an anxiety attack before a presentation in ancient history. i went to toastmasters. and lo and behold, i did meet the occasional philosophy postgrad person there. because they were far too nervous to present each week to their thesis advisor. after 3 years of NO presentations in their philosophy undergrad (and possibly their WHOLE degree). we also got plenty of engineering honours people too, right before their thesis presentations. because a similar thing happened in their field, apparently.

okay yes, i had good literacy skills in general in school and in uni, in my actual major, english. i learnt the hard way with exams and inclass tests to DO the readings, or at least do a really good study jamming session at least 2 days before sitting modernists and having to write an essay for james joyce's portrayal of himself in "a portrait of an artist as a young man" (i FUCKING HATE this book. fuck james joyce all the way to hell) , a book i couldn't read past page 10. but my god. the literacy skills in philosophy classes were ABYSMAL. mostly because everyone refused to do their readings and refused to even grasp the topics we were doing. and tbf, probably on this post, my comprehension is in hell. because due to the devaluation of arts in society, i don't engage in textual analysis or read as much dickens or bronte or dickinson, etc, as i should these days. which is what i think is wrong with engineering or science majors (and other high earning degrees) having low literacy skills.... and moreover, the overall bs discourse on YT of "ONLY do degrees that GENERATE MONEY! don't you DARE go into the arts when you KNOW you will NEVER pay it back! who needs reading comprehension and literacy, when they don't PAY THE BILLS AND STUDENT LOANS BAYBAY!?"

all in all, yes. in the end the philosophy dept did introduce marked presentations AND group work (yes philosophy did NO group work the whole time i was in uni), right as i was graduating in 2018. because. of course they did. and yes, a lot of is down to the a student's drive and interests in the subjects they choose. and how they interact with their readings and classmates. but also, i think it can rest on department teaching and assessment tactics as well. certain departments NEED to have presentations in their curricula because HOW FUCKING ELSE are students going to develop the necessary communication and comprehension skills to present or just normally talk to people about their course content??? if the whole general vibe from the student base is "oh we NEVER do the readings!"

i also feel this is an issue with the media and comms dept at my home uni, deliberately cutting off their old cross department majors/minors within the arts department option that was there when i began in that degree. so now if you want to do an english major with your media and comms degree, you're actually now FORCED to do a double degree.... and most esp if you're in the marketing comms and advertising major that i originally chose, you HAVE to do a major or minor within the degree stream ONLY. like i get on some level that it's to do with cross media skills and employability skills. and that in the last 10 years (wow what the FUCK) since i started uni, digital media skills and study IS its own field. but also. but also, what about the broader social context brought from a history major or sociology major or an english double major??? WHY does it HAVE to be a double degree???

ANYWAY. that's my rant. and probably, my reading literacy and comprehension on this post was poor. so piss on me (or don't)- is that what fall out boy said all those years ago???

I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.

[ramp-it-up]

https://www.tumblr.com/noellez-best-life23/775232829230546944?source=share Hi!! It was this one, I think it should work! And can't wait for the next chapter!

Oh, My. Oh, Nonnie. 🥵

Yes, that look was (excuse me, I have to wipe my mouth).

VERY Inspirational.

And it is the week of love. Why the hell not?

And thank you for the ask, Nonnie! This actually helped me with the next chapters of the story. 😉

Smut under the cut

Bespoke

Summary: You have to express your feelings about how Bucky looks in that suit.

Word count: 500 ish

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This drabble is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both Worth the Fall and the Steve Rogers fic Peach VI.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Furmoasa prepared to gossip, lust, Bucky Barnes being smoking hot, spitting, implied blow job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

You walked into Bucky's closet the early afternoon of the gala with piping hot tea that you were going to spill. You knew he was in there getting his suit together for the gala.

“Oh my God, Bucky! Peach and Steve are….”

You lost your train of thought when you saw what was happening.

Bucky was standing in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt in the sleeves of his tailored suit jacket. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and the pants fit his slim waist perfectly.

"Those two fools are fucking? It was only a matter of time..."

You’d seen him in suits before.

Many times. 

But something about this moment, the effortless way he moved, his broad shoulders in the suit coat, and the sweet wrinkles of concentration on his brow hit you like a damn freight train.

That, combined with the extra floof in his hair from his fingers raking through it and the fact that he was barefoot made you feral as fuck.

He looked so handsome and he wasn’t even trying.

You stopped in the doorway of the closet, biting your lip as you took him in.

Bucky caught the reflection of you ogling him in the mirror and a slow smirk graced his face.

“See something you like, Frumoasă?”

You looked at him in the mirror and licked your lips.

“You have no idea.”

Bucky turned around and in a moment, you were on him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles there under the expensive cotton broadcloth and grazing over the exposed skin at his collar.

You craned your neck to run your lips along the whiskers that adorned his sharp jaw line and then trailed kisses down his neck, unbuttoning the rest of the fastenings on the shirt.

Bucky chuckled, running his hands down your sides and landing on your ample hips.

“Baby…”

“Shut up,” you murmured against his skin, biting down on his collarbone just enough to make him hiss.

“Jesus. It’s just a tux, Frumoasă.”

You shook your head, pushing him backward out of the closet and toward the edge of the bed. You didn't hesitate to cop a feel of his pecs.

“No. It’s you in the tux. My sexy ass man.” 

Your hands slid lower, teasing over his belt and cupping his now hard cock.

“Looking like this.”

Bucky let out a low groan, his head tilting back slightly as you sank to your knees. You were busy unbuckling his belt like a mad woman and looking up at him with those eyes.

“Fuck, Doll. The hair and makeup people will be here in…” 

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall on the floor.

“You probably want to take all this shit off, because I’m about to get real nasty.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his sac through his boxer briefs.

Bucky’s eyes dilated as he grabbed your hair. He looked down at you and the black of his pupils was taking over the blue. He gave you a wicked grin as he kicked the pants away from him and took off the shirt and jacket, flinging them on the nearest chair.

“You are going to be the death of me.”

You grinned as you tied your hair up. Bucky took off his underwear and sat on the edge of the bed as you took him in your grip and spit on his cock. You watched it drip down his balls, then you replied.

“Then I'll suck your soul out for you.”

------

Let me know if you like it!

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Sonic game where Eggman kidnaps all the "important and dangerous" characters, leaving behind Tails, Cream, and Charmy. He thinks Tails is nothing without Sonic and will just fall into despair again (like with Infinite) and hide away again. Cream and Charmy are just annoying children to him, not a threat.

That was Eggman's first mistake.

These are the three most feral children known to man. They were raised by equally feral teenagers who have faught gods on multiple occasions and won. They have seen and been through absolute bullshit! And you dare underestimate them???

Tails: Little bro has the morality of a roulette wheel if his love ones are in danger. He is looking for ANY excuse to crashout. Sure, he's a bit of a scaredy cat at times but also he's fucking 8yrs old. But that doesn't matter right now because being scared don't mean shit to him when his big bro and friends are in danger. He has lost Sonic once and was too scared to do anything but Chaos be dammed if he's EVER gunna let that shit happen twice. Gerald Robotnik would quake in fear at the weapons of mass distribution this child would create just to save his brother. And don't think it's just his brains you need to worry about, this boy has been hanging around and rough housing with Sonic and Knuckles for YEARS. When it comes down to it not only will he throw hands but he WILL bite a bitch if he has to.

Cream: As innocent and unsuspecting as she maybe this little girl hands around team dark and team rose all the time. Though one seems much more intimidating than the other DO NOT BE FOOLED!!! Amy and Bigs are absolute heavy hitters and have taught Cream all the basics to defend herself if need be. This little bitch is STRONG! Like damn near Knuckles and Amy strong! Amy gave her one of her old "light weight" hammers as a gift and that shit weighs at least 80lbs. That's not even mentioning all the hand to hand combat Rouge and Shadow have DEFINITELY taught her in secret. Let's also not forget that she can command an army of Chao to attack at will if need be.

Charmy: The most feral of the three. He picked up some ninja skills from Espio and is just as clever in problem solving as Vector. Little bro can sneak up on you out of nowhere then kick you ass! You don't think he can? Bro flies around carrying a lanky teenage ninja and a grown ass crocodile, the fuck he can!! He is just as much if not more of a menace to society as Tails is. Also you just stole the two most important people in his life and you think he's gunna let that slide? Nah, he is going to kill you! Well maybe not "kill you, kill you" but he'll get damn near close to it. Also, bro is the biggest instigator, he's going to be egging Tails and Cream to do some reckless shit just because he knows it'll cause Eggman a lot of personal stress and because he thinks its funny. Dude is petty as hell and WILL be praying for your downfall.

So yeah, by the end of it Eggman was absolutely cooked by a group of elementary school students. 🤣

[redrose10]

hi!! im happy to see you are taking requests, i really love your fics. Could we do Yoongi x f!reader, idol exes to lovers au and smut sentence 85? Thank you in advance!!♡♡

Thanks for requesting, I hope this is okay!

<Be My Valentine>

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, insecurities, light smut nothing really explicit, swearing

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Yoongi has no idea why he is here right now, standing in front of your door tightly gripping a bouquet of pink roses that are wilted beyond saving and missing a bunch of their leaves but at 9pm on Valentines Day it was the best he could do.

He has no idea why he left his own date, a nice woman, but just someone he knew he wouldn’t have a connection with so he ended it early, and came to your place.

He has no idea why the thought of you crying behind that door has his heart breaking into a million pieces.

He has no idea why he has the urge to hunt down this guy he’s never even met and make him pay for what he did to you because what kind of a monster breaks up with someone on Valentines Day.

He has no idea why he’s having all of these feelings because as of June of last year you were no long his to worry about.

Buying you flowers is no longer on his to do list.

He should be worrying about his own dating life instead of pushing it aside for you.

Your tears are no longer his responsibility to wipe away.

And he definitely should not be considering murdering a stranger for you (he really wouldn’t, but the thought it still there).

But when he ran into your best friend at the restaurant earlier this evening and she spilled all the details about this guy you had been dating for a few months and how he broke up with you this morning over a text message of all things, something about not believing in a holiday built on capitalism and not wanting to spend the money to get laid when you should be doing that anyways, Yoongi knew he had to see you because even if you still hate him he never stopped loving you.

“Yoongi I can’t do this any more.”, you cried into your hands. “Y/N, you know I would never cheat on you…ever.”, he spat back getting annoyed at having this conversation yet again. “What’s the excuse this time? Hmmm? Are you producing a song for her? She just needed your opinion on something? She was cold and you just brought her in your studio for warmth?” He rolled his eyes at your attitude.

An anonymous person had sent you some photos of Yoongi welcoming a woman into his studio. While normally you would be annoyed by that you still understood that it was part of his job and you would have moved on.

But at the time he was on his military leave so while he was allowed to work on his own music in his free time he wasn’t allowed to be helping or “working” with anyone else.

“Y/N, she’s a makeup artist with the company. She found a ring that belonged to Jimin when they were doing their yearly clean out. She knew we were going to meet up after Jin’s discharge so she asked me to give it to him.”

“She couldn’t give it to him herself? She couldn’t have given it to someone else who works for the company? She could’ve just left it there for him to find another day. Why was it you?”, you questioned.

Yoongi ran his hands over his face in frustration, “It was an expensive ring. She didn’t want to just leave it there. She was on her way to meet her BOYFRIEND at a restaurant by the studio and asked if she could stop by and drop it off real quick and I said yes. She was in my studio for a total of like ten seconds.”

“Why would they even send me this then?”,you hissed shoving the phone in his face.

“Because they’re shit starters.”, he scoffed, “You know this. They look for any reason to cause drama.”

“I’m done Yoongi.”, you said shaking your head, “I can’t take it any more. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with this.”

At the time he was so angry and so hurt that you didn’t trust him after all these years that he didn’t even try to stop you as he watched you pack your bags and walk out the door. Looking back he wished he would’ve fought, even got down in his hands and knees and begged if he had to. His life has been hell since you left.

Maybe that’s why he was standing in front of your door this late at night.

He knocked realizing for the first time just how much his hands were shaking. A little smile crept onto his face thinking about the day he picked you up for your first date. Much like today he was so nervous he was shaking, so nauseous he hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day. He had flowers then too, although they were significantly nicer and cost half as much. When you opened the door that night his heart fluttered with how beautiful you were.

But today when you opened the door his heart had a different reaction and not in a good way. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your nose looked sore liked you’d blown it a hundred times.

“Yoongi?”, you sniffled, “What are you doing here?”

The brokenness in your voice shattered him.

“I uh I got you flowers.”, he said watching you look over the sad bouquet. Maybe he should’ve paid for the overpriced teddy bear he thought.

“Thank you. But why?”, you asked brows furrowed.

“I wanted to ask you to be my Valentine”, he shrugged.

When you didn’t say anything else he added, “And I heard about what happened earlier and I just thought I’d stop by and make sure you were okay. That was pretty shitty what he did to you.”

“Yeah he’s a real dick.”, you grumbled.

“Well I hope his dick falls off.”, Yoongi added hoping to see you smile and you did give a little one and it as just as beautiful as ever.

“Umm I just got a pizza delivered if you want some.”, you offered.

The truth was he was full beyond belief after stuffing himself with garlic bread to avoid conversation with his date, but he’d eat a full seven course meal right now if you asked him to so he nodded and entered your apartment.

“Sorry it’s not much.”, you gestured around before offering him a drink and leading him to the living room.

“No it’s perfect. It suits you.”, he said noticing a blush form on your cheeks.

The two of you talked and updated each other on what had happened since that evening in June. Yoongi loved hearing about your job and your friends. He even loved the rant you went on about how your coworker Mia was dating your coworker Han, but Han was best friends with Yongsu who was Mia’s sisters ex and it was a big mess apparently. He didn’t know who any of these people were nor did he care. He just loved hearing your voice and feeling like he was living in the past again. The two of you eating and talking and laughing like nothing had happened.

Then you abruptly cleared your throat before getting quiet. He worried that you had reminded yourself of the earlier events and became sad again or maybe it suddenly hit you that you were spending your Valentines with your ex, but you surprised him instead.

“Since you’re here Yoongi I want to apologize for how things ended. I was upset and angry and I know I should’ve trusted you, but I was just tired of getting messages like that all the time and feeling like I had no choice but to believe you. I was frustrated because I always felt hurt and sad and insecure. I should have listened from the start.”, you sighed afterwards like a weight had been lifted from you.

“What made you finally believe me?”

“Well…I think I realized that I always believed you because I knew deep down that you would never cheat on me. I also….I heard from Namjoon. He reached out to me and verified everything and even gave me the makeup artist number if I wanted to contact her, but I never called her because I realized I didn’t need to. I wanted to call you then, but I was so embarrassed and ashamed of how I reacted that I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Yoongi noticed the slight shake in your shoulders so he pulled you in close to him for a hug before you could start crying again, “Y/N you shouldn’t be ashamed of anything. The amount of bullshit you had to put up with because of me was enough to make anyone snap eventually. I’m ashamed I didn’t fight for you, try and stop your from leaving that night. I’ve regretted it ever since because I love you so much Y/N.”

Yoongi hoped you couldn’t feel his heart beating a million beats a minute in his chest. Internally he scolded himself for getting so worked up until you looked up at him with wide teary eyes. “I love you too.”, you whispered.

And he felt a rush of relief. He knew things wouldn’t snap back to normal instantly, but for the first time in months the sense of dread was lifted and he felt hopeful, excited about the future even.

“Can I kiss you?”, he found himself asking out of nowhere.

You nodded pulling him in and the kiss sent him into a state of bliss. He felt like he was whole again like he was finally on the path to happiness.

One little kiss turned into two and then into three. Then his hands started roaming your body touching all the spots that got you going. He had me memorized everything about you and it was like you never left.

Gently he picked you and carried you to your bedroom laying you down on the lavender colored comforter. His brain had to fight his body for control as he pulled back to check with you, “We can stop if you want. We don’t have to go any further. We’ll take it slow.”

“No I…I want this. I missed you Yoongi.”, you smiled.

It was like all of his senses had imploded all at once.

“I missed you too.”, he said gently lifting up the tshirt you were wearing revealing nothing underneath. He bit his lip to stifle a moan as you helped him out of his layers of clothing as well.

When it came to sex Yoongi was normally a pretty dominating person. He always made sure his partner was fully satisfied, but he was usually a man on a mission.

But he wanted to take his time with you tonight. He didn’t want you thinking he was only here to use your misfortune and heartbreak as a way to get his dick wet. He wanted to savor every little sound you made as you writhed and wiggled underneath him. He needed to make you feel good and wanted .

He checked with you one more time and when he finally entered you he stilled. Not only because he was afraid of loosing it and finishing too soon, but also because he wanted to bask in the feeling. The feeling he never thought he’d have again. One he could never find elsewhere.

“Please move Yoongi.”, you whined clenching around him. “Sorry baby.”, he chuckled not realizing his daydream was taking longer than anticipated.

Slowly he snapped his hips back and forth over and over. It was at an almost agonizingly slow pace, but he loved the feeling. He almost felt selfish for how gentle and soft he was being with you because he just wanted to relish in the euphoria for his own needs.

As his head hung watching himself disappear inside you over and over he felt you card your fingers through his hair. He looked up to meet your gaze.

“Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you’re rough.”, you asked making his movements stall. You looked so sweet and so innocent like you didn’t just basically ask him to wreck you.

“Are you sure?”, he questioned.

“Yes Yoongi, please. Please fuck me fast and rough.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out and flipped you over onto your stomach before pulling you up onto your knees and pushing your face down into the bedding. He gave your ass a hard smack before entering you again and swiftly achieving a vigorous pace.

As your mouth was releasing a litany of curse words mixed with moans and whimpers and begging for more he grabbed onto your hips at a near bruising strength and smirked, “If rough is what my baby wants then rough is what she’s gonna get.”

[dolche-tejada]

"So you agree that if they're alive then they're still going to be put on sentences."

The villains ? Yeah that's kinda my point actually... They constantly suffer from consequences of what they did and even from undeserved shit (both before and after becoming criminals) when the heroes hardly ever does.

"Deku: LOSING OFA but become still a hero."

Firstly, yeah so he didn't really sacrifice anything if he can still be a hero through his super-suit granting him similar abilities to his previous set of quirks.

Secondly since Deku haven't even tried to talk with Shigaraki, it was either renouncing to OFA or dying alongside every other hero and overall the entirety of Japan so "sacrifice" is already arguable.

"significant personal sacrifice, altering his future as a hero. This isn't just about physical healing but about a life-changing choice, which does have consequences."

Lmao what ? It only happened because Deku is fucking lazy and didn't bother training to still be a hero (or even a policeman or firefighter) after losing his quirk. We saw through Aizawa, Shinso, Knuckleduster, Mandalay, Stein or even Nighteye that you can clearly be a hero through training. Yet Deku needed to wait 8 years for Bakugo and Mei to provide him some high-tech suit on a silver plate to keep playing heroes with his buddies instead of doing so by pulling his fingers out of his ass by working out.

"Hawks can no longer fly or use his feathers for combat, reconnaissance, or rescue operations."

I've already answered to that in my initial post, have you even bothered reading it ?

"He retired from become a hero. He lose his identity as a hero"

You mean almost as if it was treated as a good thing for him and not a sacrifice since he was groomed by the HPSC into becoming a child soldier super-hero ? His wings were even symbolically framed as his own cage, because it's through them that he was exploited his whole life. You can hardly do less subtle than that. Losing his quirk isn't a consequence, it's basically a reward from Horikoshi.

Besides, the argument I've made about Deku works here too. Hawks wasn't forced to give up being a hero after losing his quirk. Mirio didn't need a quirk to give Overhaul a ride for his money. Nighteye, Aizawa and Shinso are basically quirkless in a fight and are still able to work as functional heroes. A middle-aged man out of his prime like Knuckleduster can beat the shit out of powerful quirk users, Hawks has no excuses.

"and why can't he be forgiven too ?"

When did Hawks sought forgiveness to begin with ? He was confronted to his crime only twice : The first time he justified it in front of journalists and the second time, he just admitted he was wrong to a clone of Toga before she vanished.

"If the villain is redeemed in your eyes?"

When did I said that ?

"He's been a hero that saves countless lives."

A hero who didn't suffer from any personal consequences for murdering a villain running away.

"Endeavor: Loss of Arm: Endeavor indeed loses his right arm during his battle with All For One (AFO)."

And aside from that, Enji suffered no backlash for abusing the shit out of his family for years and still has his money + Hawks, Shoto, Fuyumi, Rei and his partners at his side.

"His fate was not revealed on chapter 431 but it seems like dubious."

So as I said in my initial post, the difficulties he will apparently have to endure are offscreened (assuming they really happened). From what we can actually see, he's fine despite being now disabled.

"You point out that while heroes suffer seemingly lesser consequences? Do you read manga and think mmm this people continue their lives and careers with little to no real change or punishment."

Because that's the case. The "consequences" you mentioned are either superficial or not even real ones since Hawks and Deku could have continue their hero career if they truly intended to.

"Contrastingly, you imply that the villains do not receive similar leniency or redemption, suggesting an imbalance in how the story handles character outcomes"

I'm not suggesting, I'm stating. Heroes like Hawks, Enji or Mirko can get scott free with the shit they did, meanwhile villains have to assume the consequences of each one of their crimes.

And if you want to talk about the more "physical" consequences, from the heroes' side, once again Gran Torino survived having his ribcage destroyed by Shigaraki, Bakugo his heart blown to bits and Enji to being ragdolled against buildings. From the villains' side, Toga died from a mere blood loss and Kurogiri from a random explosion of Bakugo...

Yes heroes do get a special treatment from Horikoshi, it's just ridiculous to deny it at that point.

"In mha the context might differ, where the societal structure, the nature of Quirks, and the scale of destruction might call for different resolutions."

Except at the exception of All For One, nearly all the time heroes have non-lethal options to neutralize criminals.

"However, the point stands that NOT ALL heroes need to resort to killing to be seen as just or effective."

Which evidence furthermore that Hawks allegedly needing to murder Twice in order to stop him is bullshit.

"Anyway. Twice and his involvement in villainous activities inherently puts innocent lives at risk."

Which still don't justify to murder him when :

Twice was running away.

Hawks could have subdue him at any moment without trying.

It's his fucking job to capture criminals putting innocent lives at risk without killing them. Again if he can't do that, then he's an incompetent.

He had prep time to plan his arrest and even the perfect quirk to counter Double.

"You're correct that modern justice systems aim for rehabilitation over retribution in many cases."

I didn't say that though, just that most modern societies aren't based on a childish principle like "an eye for an eye". Putting criminals in prison is still a form of retribution for their crimes and in most countries, rehabilitation isn't that much of a priority.

"However, within mha the discussion isn't just about justice."

Uh yes, it quite literally is. You can't write a story about super-heroes without treating notions like justice. Also this story has for prominent themes how unfairly treated some categories of people are, racism or government corruption, how can you read this manga and pretend that justice isn't the point ?

"The "eye for an eye" argument here not about endorsing that philosophy but discussing how stories sometimes use it to resolve conflicts."

In your first reply, you argued that the League dying was only karma, that they don't deserve a happy ending and that it doesn't matter if they were "pitiful before". As far as I can see, you were pretty determined to endorse this philosophy.

"Your point about wanting the League of Villains (LoV) to live might want characters to survive for more story or development"

It's not a matter of content or development, it's a question of consistency and good writing. As I've said before : If you promised something during your whole story, that everything you developed goes that way but that you suddenly chicken out at the last second by making a 180°, then your story is ass since your conclusion makes all these themes and development pointless.

There is no point in following Shoto and his family trying to save Toya because he will die in excruciating pain not even 8 years afterwards.

There is no point in following Deku trying to be "the greatest hero" by understanding villains and saving them because each time he got the opportunity to do that, he just resorted to violence at the first difficulty.

There is no point in trying to see Uraraka understand Toga and reaching her heart because Toga killed herself at the end.

There is no point in following this story overall since nothing really changed at the end despite what Horikoshi pretend.

And when some things did changed, it happened magically offscreen (like the heteromorph racism) so no point in following the story here again since we don't get to see how this issue was adressed.

"but within the story's logic, their death might serve a greater narrative purpose."

Except their death served zero purpose except maintaining a status quo repeatedly shown across the story to be blatantly unfair and creating more problems than it solves. And even on a more symbolic or thematic aspect, what does Toga killing herself actually brings ? Or Toya slowly dying after being reduced to a piece of charcoal ? Or Deku punching Shigaraki out of existence after a life of suffering ?

In addition to that, I could point out there's not much value in adding something to your story anyway if by doing so, you contradict everything you've been telling up to that point and convey fucked up messages as if they were good moral lessons.

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[dare-writes]

But God Works Too.

After asking Dave for a break, Kick-Ass comes to your window after a week?

dave lizewski x female reader

genre: slight hurt/more comfort, smut; 18+ MINORS DNI

wc: 3.5k

sexual content warnings: making out, biting kink, breast play (it’s dave.), slight blood kink, marking kink, hint of jealousy, lying down 69, oral (m&f receiving), he calls reader Ma’am and God, Dave doesn’t wear boxers with the Kick-Ass suit, cumplay, cum swallowing (both parties!), implied p in v

warnings: f!reader, college!reader, college!dave, implied cheating, reader asks for a break, dave cries and asks for forgiveness, he didn’t cheat, hit-girl mentioned, hurt/comfort, dave loves you

i am such a self indulgent writer! 😓

__

It had been a week since you asked for a break. It tore you apart to even ask such a thing, and it wasn’t great that you weren’t being honest with how you felt. You were emotionally overwhelmed, Dave was late to get another date, and you just wanted Dave to ask why you were upset. When you said it, you regretted it immediately but the damage was done. Dave sighed and left with one last kiss to your forehead and said to come to him when you were ready.

You were exhausted from Dave being late to everything. Every date, study session, every single thing you wanted him to be there for, he was late with a terrible excuse like the traffic. He rode a bike, for Christ's sake. You didn’t want a break, you wanted Dave to be honest and find a way to be honest with him back.

You knew this wasn’t a healthy way to start this conversation, but fuck were you an emotional wreck after being hung out to dry for the 5th time this month. Your days blended together, honestly it hasn’t even felt like a full week. It feels more like you have been droning on like a lifeless office woman.

Now, it was 7 p.m., and you had your taser in your right pocket as you walked through the streets of New York to return to your shoddy apartment with three roommates. It was past sunset, and your boots were thudding against asphalt and concrete as you crossed the streets to Broome Res Hall. You shrugged everything off immediately, got inside, and trudged to your room, your house slippers scrolling on the floors.

After hanging everything up or tossing it into the hamper, you quickly showered and were out in minutes. Damp hair trickled water against your skin, and you tugged a smaller towel around your neck to take the damp instead of your sleep shirt. Your laptop and various worksheets lie across your desk, filing through them at insane speeds so you can go to bed. Your playlist of any alt-rock band played off your laptop at a loud enough volume to not hear the jiggling of your window.

A loud knock came, and you screamed at the sight of a masked individual at your window. He yanked off the mask to reveal Dave Lizewsk. Instinctively.c you ran towards the window at the sight of his beat up face. It almost distracted you from the bright green suit with yellow accenting lines. Your eyes jumped around, his bloody face, green and yellow suit, the mask in his hand, and back to his face.

“Dave- what the shit!” You shouted as you opened the window latch and yanked him inside from the fire escape. He ducked in, banging his head on the window, but ducked in nonetheless.

You purposely distanced yourself from him. You wanted to grab him and inspect his entire body for wounds, but fuck you needed space that’s what you said. A gray zip-up fell off one shoulder as you crossed your arms protectively over your chest. Your heart was manically pumping as you calmed down.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dave whined with a crack in his voice. Finally, in the light of your room and a real chance to look at him and his attire, it clicked, You recognized the suit; I mean, every person did. Everyone knew who Kick-Ass was. Only there was blood everywhere.

“Dave… why are you in Kick-Ass’s suit?”

“Baby, please let me explain,” he begged as he walked closer. Dave was never aggressive; his doe-eyes brimmed with water, and his hands were open gently as he tried to beg for acceptance. Regardless, you took another step back. It felt like a stab to both of your hearts, and Dave knew you didn’t. The way your eyes watched him with remorse, watching blood drip from his forehead down to his cheek.

“You… your drawer still has a shirt and sweats, I’m sure. I’ll go get a first aid kit,” you said, creating the distance again.

The distance wasn’t for Dave to remember their break; it was to stop you from running into his arms and holding him, asking who kicked the shit out of him. The way you saw this, it was going two ways.

A) Dave was going to say he was Kick-Ass.

B) Dave was going to say he went to some convention and got his shit rocked.

You couldn’t decide which made more sense, but the inexplicable amount of times he’s had random bruises or even scarring from “old dumb things” he did as a kid made a lot more sense.

You needed this distance to pretend you didn’t want to crawl into his arms and kiss him like mad. He looked so pretty, even with his face bloodied; you couldn’t help but want to kiss him stupidly.

Returning to your room quietly with a glass of water and a warmed-up hot pocket, Dave sat at your desk, reviewing some of your math assignments. He was writing on the sides with a pencil.

“Dave?”

“Oh, sorry… I was… helping you with some of the stuff here. I know you aren’t a fan of math,” Dave said awkwardly. He set the pencil down and spun the chair to face you. It felt so typical having him back here. A swell of warmth flushed your body as you watched his bruised and bloodied face face you. You cleared your mind with a quick blink.

“Come sit on the bed. I’ll fix you up there,” you said quietly, handing him the hot pocket on a paper plate and a glass of water. Dave wore an old, shoddy navy blue T-shirt, the arm hem cutting nicely around his biceps and gray sweats. He devoured the hot pocket–a typical college kid.

He had to know those were your favorite sweats on him. There’s no way he didn’t. You tore your eyes away, took a small stool from your makeup desk, and cleaned off his wounds.

“Can I explain… please,” Dave asked quietly as you stood above him. Your hands carefully worked around his face and forehead, and the blood was still sticky as you took small alcohol wipes to his skin. Orangey-red blood smears dragged across his forehead and temple.

“Dave,” You started slowly.

“Please, I��ll explain everything. I know you wanted space, but— god, space from you felt like my world was ending,” Dave said with a slight whine. He was killing you, and he was still so undeniably cute.

“You’re Kick-Ass,” you asked quietly. He met your eyes and nodded slightly.

“Kick-Ass came out four years ago, Dave. You’re telling me you’ve been Kick-Ass since you were in high school?”

“It was dumb, and it wasn’t a lot. I took a lot of breaks because… I mean, why wouldn’t I? But you know Hit-Girl?”

“I heard about her.”

“She’s like my sister… I got her dad killed when she was like 13, so I try to be there for her,” Dave began quietly. “She came back into town and needed Kick-Ass.”

You glanced down at his eyes before tearing them away to grab out bandaids. A hum left your lips. The tone and inflection of the hum was neither impressed nor dissatisfied. You refused to be jealous of some kid, but if she was taking more of his time and priority, what? Dave could tell it was off. He was always good at that.

“It started before we started… dating-dating. Before we made it official, like the day before.”

“And you’ve been helping her this entire time but put me on the back burner?” You bit. Admittedly, your tone was a lot meaner than you intended it to be. Your eyes shot down to Dave with regret. “I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it to sound so mean. You have to understand why I asked for the break, though.”

Dave, whose eyes were watery from the proximity of alcohol to his wound and likely your comment, just nodded.

“I should have been honest from the start,” he added. “I’m sorry, I just want you back already… I was hoping a week was enough, but if it’s not—”

“Dave, I just needed time to breathe.”

“No, you didn’t. I get it. I was being a bad boyfriend,” Dave shook his head. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, but you didn’t appreciate being left behind. It was always like that, with Marty or Todd covering or giving each other a look at each other as if asking What excuse this time?

You knew you would not get anywhere if you didn’t admit your feelings. You dragged the desk chair over and sat before Dave while you put away the first aid kit objects. Your tone was quiet and meek. “I asked for a break because I thought you were cheating. I hoped you’d just rip off the bandage and call it quits.”

His silence horrified you, and you couldn’t look away from the small white plastic box. The latch wouldn't press into the receiving end to keep it closed. The plastic rattled until Dave took it from your hands, and your face met his abdomen. He smelled like sweat. Even with his suit sweat, you smiled softly into the hug. Dave took your hands while he slid down, kneeling in front of you with damp cheeks.

“I never wanted you to feel like that–baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest earlier,” he whispered. His lips kissed your knuckles, putting his freshly bandaged forehead into your thighs with a despondent sigh. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was Kick-Ass. I want to be more honest with you.”

Before you could even get to it, Dave looked up at you. His cheek pressed against your thigh with tear streaks, “I want you back.”

“Dave–”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” Before Dave could try to stand and pull away, you took your hands from his and grabbed his face to kiss him. You pulled off and ducked your head beside his face, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Dave. I– I needed answers… I was scared.”

“Do you still want answers?”

You took your face away from him, and looked back perplexed. “You… already explained it?”

“I’m sorry I was so out of touch with you, I never want you to feel that way again. Hit-Girl has always just been my little sister, I swear,” Dave whispered.

“I—“

“I’ll do anything,” he added lastly. You smiled down at him, and pulled him to sit back on your bed. You sat beside him and pulled your arm around his shoulder to lean his head into your neck.

“Dave, you’ve explained enough. It’s okay.”

“Promise?” He hummed into your neck. He honestly fought the urge to pull you into bed and cuddle you into oblivion.

“Promise.” Dave threw himself into you more if it was possible. His arms wrapped tightly around your torso as his lips kissed up your neck to your face.

Between kisses, he input each word. “I missed you so much…” He kissed your lips, without giving you a chance to return it, he was pulling away and mumbling into your neck again. “Missed holding you and kissing you.”

“Then can we keep kissing?” You asked teasingly. You hooked your finger beneath his chin to look up at you. A small giggle left your lips as you met his eyes, he was lacking his silver wire glasses. “Can you even see when you’re in that suit? You don’t wear your glasses when you’re Kick-Ass.”

“I squint really hard all the time,” he answered with a whine.

“We should get you some contacts then, love. Or lasik,” you teased. Your fingers held his chin tightly before pulling his chin to yours to kiss him softly. Dave whined at your teasing before kissing you back.

Dave would never admit to any of his friends, or anyone else in the world that he liked sitting on your lap. It wasn’t a surprise when he kneeled over your thighs and pushed you into the bed with him on top of you. His hands felt up the edge of the gray sweater and grazed around your tummy. His lips fell from yours, instead focusing on your neck now. His hand hooked onto the zipper’s tag to reveal your chest more.

“Missed the way you smell,” he whispered before biting down into your collarbone. A loud moan of shock left your lips and your hands moved to grasp his hair.

“I heard some guys asked for your number…” Dave mumbled with his teeth in your collarbones. His teeth grazed away, nipping up your neck. His next target was biting in the soft pulse point next. When you mumbled his name out, Dave couldn’t help but bite harder. “Todd told me… it happened in your guys literature class. I almost found him myself and…”

He laughed before pulling away, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, I almost kicked his ass, as yours truly.”

He leaned back down, his hands tugged down the loose fabric of your zip-up to reveal your breasts. “But I didn’t, cause I’m good,” Dave added before he returned licking and kissing down your chest. “Dave…” drool leaked from his mouth slightly as he sucked around your chest mindlessly.

“Mhm..?” His hum vibrated you, your hips ground up into his sweats. He laughed again before taking one breast into his hand and jiggling it. Dave wrapped his lips around the hardened nipple and groaned around it. Your thighs squeezed together as you felt a pulse of dampness between your panties and your pussy lips.

“You're a tease.”

He took his lips off, keeping his teeth wrapped around the nipple, “I learned from you.”

He did. You taught him all of this when you sucked his cock the first few times. Weirdly enough, Dave was overly attentive to the way you sucked his cock. He loved it, watched like you were a magician. Your hands lifted his face off your breast and reached to take his t-shirt off. “Lie down,” you commanded as you sat up on your right elbow.

Dave has no issue following your command. He slinked off your waist and sat in the middle of your bed. You kneeled up and shed your sleep shirt off, lifting one knee, you trapped Dave’s thighs between yours.

You dipped down, kissing his face and doing the same pattern with him. Your teeth sank into his pulse point as he whined out, his heart rate raced beneath your tongue. A metallic taste entered your lips and you pulled away.

“Fuck… Dave, I’m sorry,” you whispered. You got ready to stand up and grab your small medical kit you left by the foot of the bed. Before you could even leave his thighs, his hands clamped down on your waist and kept you there.

A bulge made eye contact with you before Dave did. “Leave it,” he whispered.

Your lips gaped at the sight of Dave’s neck, a small bead of red trickled down. There wasn’t anything more, but his flush red face and boner told you enough. Your hands touched down his abs to the tip of his hard on, a small whimper released from your renewed boyfriend.

Leaning down beside his left ear, you taunted as you play with his cockhead through the gray sweats. “You like when I bite you Davey? When I make you bleed?”

“Yes… ma’am,” he whispered with a nod. You left his ear, hovering your head above him to give him a gentle kiss. “Mhm… my good boy aren’t you? Always so obedient, so good for me hm?”

Dave limply nodded, his hips grinding into your hand. You gave him some leeway. Taking his elastic band with you as you slid down his legs.

There were no boxers below the gray sweats. Your eyes shot up, his eyes watching you with either horror or pure lust. “Did I speak too soon, have you been bad? Where are your boxers?”

“Don’t… I don’t wear them with the suit on sometimes… It’s uncomfortable,” Dave answered shakily. You tutted, before pulling back his foreskin and licking up from his balls to his tip. You spat on his tip and sighed.

“Perhaps I should get a treat too, considering my goodboy isn’t all that good apparently,” You wondered out loud. Dave had no idea but just nodded. “Whatever you want.”

Your eyes squinted. “Ma’am.”

You smiled before getting off the bed and rolled down your shorts and lace white panties. “Those are my favorite,” Dave whispered quietly as he watched you intensely.

“Glad I wore them?”

“God I missed you,” he added with a puppy dog gaze and nod. You smiled, joining him back in bed. “God yes, please,” he whispered as your pelvis and pussy neared his face.

“Normally I prefer ma’am,” you said. Your face was towards his cock, your hand took it, letting hot spit dribble out your mouth and fall onto his tip. You finally took your seat before Dave could respond or cry. “But God works too.”

Dave hummed, his lips mumbling out. “Hold… thighs,” he said between sucking your cunt, trying to drink you dry.

“Mhm, go ahead,” you answered before lowering your lips onto his cock. He moaned as he hooked his arms around your thighs to smother him further. You groaned on his cockhead as you did your best to deepthroat him, never an easy task with him. His cock was damn near the size of your face while hard. He wasn’t thicker than normal, but his length took you out enough.

The room was full of crude slurping and sucking sounds from the two of you, thank god your roommates were out partying instead of staying in for the night. Not more than a few moments later, Dave was crying between your thighs.

“Maam I wanna cum, please please,” he cried against your clit. You waited, you entirely stopped, his cock lodged near your tonsils. Testing him to see if he remembered what you said earlier. His mind spun, feeling you gagging slightly around his tip. “Please God, please make me cum. You’re the only one who can make me cum God.”

You hummed around his cock, resuming your sucking and licking. Your hand jerked off the rest of his cock you couldn’t reach. “God, yes I love you,” Dave whimpered as his thumb made contact with your clit. His tongue ravished your hole, it felt constant but so fast that time was blurring together. Your hips ground into his face slightly with moans around his cock as you neared completion.

“Mhm.. Dabbve,” you hummed around his cock.

“Can I cum, god please?” his voice asked small as he fingered your clit with his thumb. “Please God, I know you’re close I can feel it.”

“Come on, Dabbve, come for me,” you responded with his tip in your mouth. You sucked down again, lodging him in your mouth near your throat as you squeezed around his tongue one last time. Cum spilled down your throat, you did your best to make sure it wasn’t at an awkward angle that would make you choke. Your mouth was full of cum, and couldn’t keep taking it all. You pulled off and sat beside Dave, your thighs shaking from spending so much time bent over his face.

“Fuck…” Dave whispered, cum still trickling down his softened cock. You sigh heavily, cum was also down the side of your lips. You leaned over, kissing his lips softly, exchanging some of his cum with him.

“Babe,” he groaned as he took some down his throat.

“You deserve it,” you said with a wink. You took the rest from your lips and dragged it across his nipples. “I just came like a water fountain, and you’re trying to fuck me again?”

“What— did you not jerk off this entire week?” You asked as you laid beside him. He sat up and shook his head no with an embarrassed smile. “Why do you think I came in like 3 minutes?���

“Cause my head game is wonderful?” Dave giggled and leaned down to kiss you softly.

“It is,” he replied. The taste of each other on your lips as you swapped spit. It was slower now, softer, but still messy with all the liquids on their faces. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you two kissed, happy flits of moans left you both.

“I love you,” he said into the kiss. You responded the same, with a large smile before giving one last big smooch to his lips. He pulled you by the waist to lie in front of him. “Please… God, can I have more of you?” Dave begged as he leaned to close the space between you. His needy eyes made you warm, and your pussy swell with warmth.

His cock was hard against your lower tummy. You couldn’t believe him, it’s like he was still a high school freak who jerked off three times daily.

“Fine.”

Dave didn’t waste any time with you, he had a whole week to make up for.

[bunnib4b3s]

Rafayel- Last Minute Gifts

Synopsis: With Thomas on his ass, he totally forgot to get something for MC to show that his love goes beyond her being 'just' his bodyguard. In a rush to get his gift done, with ribbons and wrapping paper strewn everywhere you stumble upon him.

Genre/ Warnings: 18+, Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, Coworkers-to-Lovers, Smut, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Porn-with-Plot

MDNI

Word Count 2,000+

Raf did not have a sense of urgency at all. Twenty missed calls from Thomas, his phone on silent, and yet, he still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. He had already completed the underpaintings for all his artwork for the upcoming exhibit—so why did he feel like there was something else, something important, slipping through his fingers?

With a frustrated sigh, he flipped open his sketchbook, idly running his fingers over the well-worn pages. His eyes traced the lines of various sketches—each one of you, captured in different poses, different moods. Some were rough, quick gestures; others were detailed studies, the kind he poured hours into, shading every contour with the softest touch.

Then it hit him.

His stomach dropped.

"Shit."

Valentine’s Day.

And not just any Valentine’s Day—this was supposed to be the day. The day he finally told you how he felt. The day he gave you something that said everything he hadn’t yet been able to put into words.

Panic shot through his veins. He had spent so much time agonizing over how to confess, how to make it special, that he had completely forgotten to actually prepare something. The idea of just blurting it out without anything to show for it made his skin crawl. He needed something—something meaningful.

His gaze snapped back to the sketchbook, heart pounding. The answer had been in front of him all along.

He didn’t have time to second-guess himself. Grabbing a blank canvas, he worked quickly, paint and charcoal smudging his fingers as he poured himself into each stroke. The world outside faded away—his only focus was you.

The minutes ticked by in a blur of color and movement. He barely registered the mess he was making—ribbons, wrapping paper, and discarded sketches littered the floor as he scrambled to finish.

Then—

Footsteps.

The door creaked open.

His stomach flipped as he looked up and saw you standing there, taking in the scene: the chaos, the half-finished painting, the way he was very obviously hiding something behind his back.

“…Raf?”

He froze, heart hammering against his ribs. His mind raced for an excuse—any excuse—but all that came out was, “…This isn’t what it looks like.”

Your gaze dropped to the mess of art supplies and ribbons at his feet. Then to his paint-smudged hands. Then to the telltale canvas peeking out from behind him.

You crossed your arms, a teasing glint in your eyes. “So… what does it look like?”

He swallowed hard. He could lie, brush it off as nothing. But looking at you now, standing there with that curious tilt to your head, that knowing smile—he realized he didn’t want to hide it.

With a slow, deep breath, he turned the canvas around, revealing the painting.

It was you. Not just any painting—this was different. More delicate, more deliberate. The way he captured the light in your eyes, the softness in your expression—it was raw, vulnerable, honest.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes flickering over the details. “Raf…”

His pulse roared in his ears. “I—” He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep going. “I was going to give this to you. As a—um—a Valentine’s gift.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, only succeeding in smudging more charcoal on his skin. “And, you know, maybe… finally tell you that I—”

You stepped closer, gaze locked on his, and suddenly, the words he’d been terrified to say didn’t seem so impossible anymore.

Maybe—just maybe—you already knew.

The room felt smaller, warmer, the air thick with something unspoken. You reached out, fingertips skimming along the edge of the canvas before meeting his hand. The touch was light, hesitant—but the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers curled instinctively around yours, sent something electric pulsing between you.

"You spent all this time drawing me," you murmured, voice softer now, more intimate. "Was it because you were too scared to tell me how you feel?"

Raf swallowed hard. His lips parted, but nothing came out. His pulse hammered against his skin as you took another step forward, closing the space between you.

The scent of paint and charcoal clung to him, but underneath it was him—warm, intoxicating, unmistakably Raf. Your free hand lifted, thumb brushing against a stray smear of charcoal on his cheek, and his breath stuttered.

"I—yeah," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t know how else to say it."

You tilted your head, fingers still lingering against his skin. "And now?"

His gaze dropped to your lips. His restraint was hanging by a thread.

"Now," he murmured, stepping forward so that your bodies nearly touched, "I think I'm done waiting."

His hand came up, cupping your jaw, and then—

His lips crashed into yours.

It was hungry, desperate, months—years—of pent-up tension unraveling all at once. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you flush against him, his other hand threading into your hair. He tasted like breathless anticipation and something impossibly sweet, and when you sighed into the kiss, he groaned, deep and low.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. The unfinished painting, the mess of ribbons and paper, the forgotten gift—all of it faded, unimportant compared to the way he was touching you now.

"Raf—" you gasped against his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, pressing you back against the nearest surface, hands roaming, exploring, finally claiming what he'd wanted for so long.

"I should've done this so much sooner," he muttered against your skin, trailing heated kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

You laughed breathlessly, tugging at his shirt. "Then don't stop now."

His answering grin was nothing short of wicked.

"Not a chance."

Raf's hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to his hungry kisses. He nipped at your pulse point, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

You tugged at his hair, pulling him back up to capture his lips in another searing kiss. Your tongues danced as hands roamed, exploring newly exposed skin with reverent touches.

Rafayel broke away, breathing heavily. His eyes were dark with want as they raked over you. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his thumb caressing your cheek.

In response, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in one fluid motion.

His eyes widened, drinking in the sight of you. His gaze lingered on the curve of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts, the smooth expanse of your stomach. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, voice filled with awe.

His hands skimmed up your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered at his touch, arching into him. His fingers danced along the edge of your bra, teasing.

"Can I...?" he asked, eyes searching yours.

You nodded, pulse quickening as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. It fell away, and Rafayel's breath hitched. He cupped your breasts reverently, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You gasped at the sensation,

Your gasp turned into a low moan as Rafayel's skilled fingers continued their exploration, teasing and caressing. He lowered his head, replacing one hand with his mouth. His tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Raf," you breathed, fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed against your skin, the vibrations making you shudder. His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your pants. You whimpered in anticipation as he slowly unbuttoned them, sliding the zipper down torturously slow.

Raf's lips trailed back up to your neck, nipping and sucking as his hand slipped inside your underwear. His fingers found your slick folds, and you both groaned at the contact.

"You're so wet, so perfect for me.

His fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing and exploring. You whimpered, hips canting forward, desperate for more friction. He chuckled softly against your neck, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Patience," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe.

But patience was the last thing on your mind. You tugged at his shirt, needing to feel his skin against yours. Understanding your urgency, Raf stepped back just long enough to pull it over his head before pressing against you once more.

Your hands roamed over the planes of his chest, tracing the lines of muscle. When your fingers brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, Raf's breath hitched. You filed that information away for later.

His lips found yours again as his fingers continued their ministrations, building a delicious tension low in your belly.

Raf's mouth, unable to contain the pleasure building inside you. His hand moved faster, his lips and tongue keeping pace with the movements of his fingers.

You were lost in a sea of sensations, each touch and kiss sending jolts of electricity through your body. You couldn't remember ever feeling this way before, so consumed by desire and need for another person.

As his fingers found their mark and you felt yourself reaching the edge, he pulled away from your lips and looked into your eyes. His own were dark with lust, but also filled with tenderness.

"I want to make love to you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Without hesitation, you nodded. Rafayel helped you out of the rest of your clothes before shedding his own. As he settled on top of you, skin against skin, he kissed every inch of your body with reverence.

The heat between you intensified as Rafayel's lips blazed a trail down your body. His hands caressed your curves, mapping every dip and valley as if committing them to memory. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

He paused, hovering above you. His eyes locked with yours, filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice husky and warm.

In response, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. "I've never been more sure of anything," you breathed against his lips.

With a groan, he entered you slowly, giving you time to adjust. You gasped at the sensation, feeling deliciously full. He stilled, pressing his forehead against yours, both of you savoring the moment.

Then he began to move, setting a languid pace that had you clutching at his shoulders. Every thrust had you seeing stars, the pleasure building with each movement. Raf's name escaped your lips in a continuous stream as he brought you to the edge and over it again and again.

He held onto you tightly, his own release close. With a final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and spilled his seed. You both rode out the aftershocks together, clinging to one another as if afraid to let go.

Afterwards, Raf rolled onto his side beside you, pulling you into his chest. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"That was...amazing," you said, still trying to catch your breath.

"It was," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You stayed like that for a while longer, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Eventually, reality started creeping back in and with it came a sense of unease.

"What happens now?" you asked softly.

Raf turned onto his side to face you, cupping your cheek in his hand. "What do you want to happen?"

"I don't know," you admitted, feeling uncertain about how this would all work out.

"All I know is that I want to be with you." Firmly pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You couldn't help but smile at his words. "I want that too."

And just like that, all of your worries seemed to disappear. You had no idea what the future held for the two of you but for now, being in each other's arms was enough.

As if reading your mind, Raf pulled you closer and whispered against your hair. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to keep us together."

[pennyold]

teasing | r.c

Summary: Teasing your boyfriend during the dinner didn't end well... He wanted to have you ruined, begging for mercy.

Warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, suggestive content, choking, teasing, face slapping, spitting on the face, slight masochism (don't read it if you don't like it)

w.c: 1,6k

a/n: this is not a romantic shit, i just wanted a excuse to post again alr? So, I really wanted to write about this so bad, but I don't know if you guys are ready for my dirty mind ideas... so enjoy it, and I hope you like it!! And not proofreading, sorry for any grammatical mistakes!!

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ���

All set, Rafe was waiting for me in the living room. I looked in the mirror and noticed the invisible straps connecting my panties to the black stockings. I turned around and went down the stairs. When I looked at Rafe, he smiled at me, hugged me, and kissed me on the cheek. "So precious, as always." He took my hand, leaving the house and walking towards the car. He opened the door for me, and as I sat down, my dress got caught. I looked at him, and he kept looking at me. "What a provocateur, darling." I smiled, and he slammed the door in my face.

During the trip, he wanted to put his hand on my thigh, but I didn't allow it; I just held his hand. "Let me," he said, "not now," I said, noticing how he was looking at me, smiling. "Please," I grabbed his jaw and kissed him. "Wait until we get home." He shook his head, looking at the road. "We could turn back." I shook my head, laughing. "No, we're going to have dinner and then home." I smiled at him, and Rafe focused on the road.

We were having dinner at Rafe's and my favorite restaurant, where we had some of our first dates when we met. Very cheesy, but it doesn't change the fact that he liked coming here frequently, and it had become my favorite place too.

"Do you like it?" he asked, pointing at my plate. I had ordered something different from the usual. I nodded, "It's very good, delicious," I said, smiling at him. I looked at his plate, and he had almost finished it. "You were very hungry, weren't you?" he nodded, wiping his mouth. "Yes." Besides, I want to go home, right? I slightly tilted my head, and he smiled, "I haven't stopped thinking about it." I knew what he was referring to, but I wanted to tease him a little. "What are you talking about?" I said, tempting him. "You know what I'm talking about." I shook my head, drinking from my glass. "Don't play with me," he said. I laughed, "I don't know what you're talking about." "About your..., you look beautiful," I nodded. "I know, you told me at the house." It seemed like I had thrown it back at him, and in a cruel way, but I just wanted to tease him. "I didn't mean to..." he raised his hand and asked the waiter for the bill. "We're leaving." I took the napkin from my lap and wiped myself.

"What's the rush?" he was drilling me with his gaze. I smiled at him and looked at the waiter when he stood next to the table. Rafe paid the bill, stood up almost knocking over the chair, and helped me get up. "I can do it myself," I challenged him. I was playing dirty, but I liked how he couldn't say a word. As we walked towards the car, I opened my door before he could. He didn't even look at me and returned to the driver's seat, started the car, and drove away.

I grabbed the doorknob. Rafe was driving at high speed, so I clenched my thighs and adjusted the seatbelt. "Rafe..." He didn't speak or look at me; he pressed the accelerator harder, and I could feel my body contracting against the seat. Finally, he slowed down, and we arrived home. When I unbuckled my seatbelt, Rafe opened the door and extended his hand for me to get out. I stayed in the seat fixing my lipstick and combing my hair, "Could you get out of the damn car?" I nodded, taking his hand, and walking to the house door, leaving him behind. I opened the house with my keys and left my bag in the dining room, and upon hearing the door slam and the front door lock, I knew I had crossed the line.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He spoke to me from behind, and I simply removed my heels and left them aside. "I don't know." I held back the smile and headed towards the kitchen. "Look at me," I ignored him, pouring myself a glass of water. When I turned around, he was right before me, with a serious expression. "You like to play dirty, don't you?" I remained serious and nodded. "And in public, what a slut." He grabbed my cheeks and jaw with one hand and tightened his grip, making me look at him. "This pretty girl wanted to tease me, ‘m I wrong?" I shook my head; he wasn’t wrong.

At this point, my panties were so wet, soaked. I couldn't even speak. I swallowed hard and squeezed my thighs, trying to lessen the throbbing of my clit. I let out a moan and opened my eyes wide; I messed up. Rafe smiled, "I know you're a dirty bitch who likes being called the whore that you are. Right, darling?” I nodded, holding my breath. I was going to moan again, but I held it back in my throat.

"This dirty bitch needs to be fixed, go to the room," he demanded, and I obeyed, walking barefoot, I picked up my heels and went upstairs.

I knew what was going to happen to me. Normally, I don't bother him like that; I just wanted to play a little this time. Now I had to serve my sentence.

Upon entering the room, I sat on the bed looking at the full-length mirror we had next to the bed and remembered the countless times I looked in the mirror and saw his reflection fucking me, which turned me on even more. I got startled when I heard the door slam again, and my skin prickled. Without looking at him, I looked in the mirror once more, then saw his reflection in it, "Are you reflecting on your actions?" I ignored him and tried to get out of bed, but he pulled me back down with a yank. "I didn't tell you to get up, so sit down.” I nodded and took the edge of my dress to pull it down, but he placed his hand over mine, pulling it away from the dress. "No... I want to see how you take it off."

I wore thick stockings and began to unfasten the straps that connected to my panties. I slowly took off the stockings, and when I lifted my leg a little, my folds parted, and I felt a familiar throb starting again. I bit my lip and continued with the other one, and when I finished, I remained motionless, waiting for him to speak. "The panties too.”

With my heart racing, I did it. I slowly took them off, leaving the fabric on the floor and closing my legs. "Are you wet?" he said, running his face along my neck, then licking it, leaving a wet sensation on it. I nodded, closing my eyes.

Then he slid the strap of the dress off my shoulder, kissing it. "Do you like it like this or rougher, huh?" I whined, squirming; Rafe grabbed my jaw, making me open my eyes and look at him through the mirror. "Are you going to keep that damn mouth shut all the time?" I was left breathless and then spoke: "Slut me out."

I should have thought of the other answer, but after all, I was enjoying it, damn it, of course i was.

He slapped me and then spat in my face. There was a puddle between my thighs, dripping my juices around his cock. "I'm crazy about you, so bad that I want to ruin you." He pushed his pelvis against my core, hitting my uterus. "Would you let me, darling?" I moaned, biting my lip. "Fuck... yeah" I barely manage to form a coherent word.

Rafe took my neck and squeezed it lightly, making me gasp."Squeeze harder," I said, breathless, and he did. He squeezed me but quickly let go, kissing my cheek. "You might be a little slut, but don't make me choke you again for pleasure," then he leaned closer to my ear, "Make me give that big ass of yours a slap, mmh." I turned around, rubbing my ass against his pelvis, brushing my folds against his still hard cock. "Do you want me to slap you while I fuck you? Is that what you want?" I nodded, looking at the pillows, then he thrust his cock into my pussy, stretching my walls once again.

I was a mess moaning, screaming into the pillow and squeezing his cock when he slapped my ass. I could feel my stomach tightening and my pussy contracting, "Shit, I'm going to cum" he slapped my ass hard and pushed my face sideways against the pillow "Whores like you aren't allowed to cum" I whimpered and squeezed his cock "Let me cum, please" he mocked my pathetic voice and fucked me faster "Beg for it" I grunted against the pillow without being able to utter a word, I was about to cum, I could feel my pussy getting hotter.

"Please, let me cum" he ran his hands down my spine to my waist, tightening his grip without stopping to thrust and pull out his cock. "Cum, cum on my cock, pretty" and I did, I reached my climax, covering Rafe's cock with my sticky cum "So sticky... wait until I cum" he kissed my cheek and caressed my cheekbone with his knuckles "I'm going to cum in this tight and lovely pussy. Ready for me and fill you up?"

[rachhaven]

For poly!moonwater, the three of them all being in different houses and get their ties mixed up and that's how Sirius discovers their relationship?

here you go lovely- i wrote this in my lecture and during an endo flare so apologies if it doesn't make sense 😭

635 words- ish?

Last night had been- fun, to say the least. A game of exploding snap between the three of you leads to a cup of tea spilled on the wooden floor of your dorm, and then Regulus’ feeble attempts to clean it up lead to a bleach stain on Remus’ trousers, and the horrid smell left in the air, so to the Slytherin dorms it was, spiked hot chocolates in hand a good book to fall asleep reading together. It was nice, peaceful even, to sneak around and spend the evening together without fearing your and Regulus’ older brothers finding out. 

The brothers, the older brothers, James and Sirius are a package deal, so it only made sense that their little sister and little brother met and spend time together, and Remus just slotted in so perfectly and beautifully in the way that only he can, it just worked, but James and Sirius still don’t know. Well, until now. 

It was safe to say you were all running late when you woke up with only half an hour of breakfast left before lessons, so you were all in a hurry to get ready, chaste kisses and hugs goodbye as you all head to your separate tables, Hufflepuff for you, finding Hannah sat and waiting, Reg heading towards the Rosiers and Barty at slytherin, and remus towards the rest of the marauders on the gryffindoor table, happy as larry and finally ready to start the day. 

“moony?” Peters brow furrowed. “reg?” asked between laughs on Barty’s behalf. “Y/n?”, Hannah’s voice breaking you from plating your food. 

“Who’s tie are you wearing?”

Shit. 

You look down, a green and silver tie around your neck, your head spins to regulus, a red and gold tie around his neck, and finally Remus, adorned in a yellow and black tie. Shit. Shit. Shitty fuck. 

A squeal breaks through the air and it’s the only two you can imagine it would be, Sirius and James. Something about being ‘brothers in law’ and ‘family holidays’ and ‘shared bloodline’ and you’re all lost, you and reg excusing yourself to the Gryffindor table to sort this mess out. The tie you originally had on is in your hand, passing it to regulus as regulus passes his to Remus, you taking yours back at the same time. Cheeks burning red and embarrassed, but the feeling of safety you only get when you’re with your boys, Remus welcoming you to sit down with him, and sort this out, your forehead falling on Remus’ shoulder as regulus shoots daggers at his brother. 

“how long?” asks James, eyes curious and filled with such joy, speaking at the exact same time as Sirius, “how didn’t I know about this?”. Both questions are valid, James is nosey, always has been, but Sirius, he’s best friends with Remus, regulus is his little brother, and since moving in with the potters back in third year, he’s your older brother by proxy too, he means a lot to all of you. 

“six months”, you mumble, answering your brother, regulus answering his. “they were hesitant, didn’t want to upset you if anything went wrong” he explains, his head tilting towards you and Remus, Remus’ arm over your shoulder to try and ease the anxiety all the attention is giving you. Reg was loud and proud about his love, relieved to have finally found someone, two people, who he can actually open up to, who love him for him, but with your brothers antics and both yours and Remus’ hatred of being looked at by everyone else, it was nice to keep it quiet, like a sanctuary, but with how open and welcoming James and Sirius have been, maybe there wasn’t any need of fear. And just maybe, everything will be fine. 

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Tommy's introduced as a bigot in season 2 and often shown taking initiative in starting the bullying of Hen and Chim vs. waiting for Gerrard to do something and just not standing up for them. There's even a scene in "Chimney Begins" where no one else is even in the room to overhear and Tommy still chooses to be nasty to Chimney instead of a bare minimum of civil. Even after the "resolution" of the episode and his 'apology' (not for racism, but for making Chim prove himself at work), he's still shown to have spent years not learning his lesson, becuase he goes back to the same behaviors with Hen and Chimnney even mentions that "the Asian guy" still isn't invited out by the team for drinks or BBQ.

Then when it's "addressed" in season 7, we see remarkably little growth from Tommy, where he's blaming "the environment" and Gerrard for his choices and actions as a grown man. And in season 8, we get a healthy dose of misogyny in ageism with how he speaks of Abby, while casually acknowledging he also screwed up her life.

It's not just that he was afraid to stand up against bigotry in the face of an evil boss. He could've taken Eli's route, and just be silent. But no, Tommy is someone who chose to actively participate in workplace bigotry and bullying, and then almost 20 years removed, shrugs it off as everyone else's fault.

let’s not forget his very recent comments about Abby that were reeking of misogyny. Talking about her dating some “himbo” younger than her (as if he wasn’t actively doing the same thing) and admitting he was lying the whole relationship (not just about his sexuality).

Word for word that man said, “Heard she went a little nuts after that” as if her entire world wasn’t flipped upside down with her engagement ending and having to take care of her sick mother. The only tiny bit of understanding he showed was him saying she deserved better, which duh. 

One time when I was five I put a bead in my nose and it went all the way up to the bridge and I had to push down on it from the top until I could get it out because I was scared it would go to my brain and kill me.

That has nothing to do with any of what you said, but I just thought I'd put that out there because you're doing some dumb shit and I wanted you to know we've all done dumb shit. This is a safe space.

Anyway, I don't think you've ever been a closeted queer person who's said and done some at times questionable or outright fucked up things to keep yourself safe from scrutiny.* I grew up seeing people like me getting murdered and heard people explain why it would've been avoidable if they hadn't been so obvious or if they'd just chosen to be normal. I also grew up with a lot of bullies who were only bullying me because it put them in the protected group. It kept them from having people look at whether or not they were actually a good target for bullying. I'm actually friends with a couple of those people now. Not close, but we're cordial and we'll talk when we bump into each other at the store. That has more to do with us being in our thirties and living our own lives. There's a couple who had no excuse whatsoever other than being actual homophobes, I don't talk to them.

I dated in high school, I was engaged but I was 18 so I don't know how much that counts, but then I came out when I was in my early twenties. I knew I wasn't actually interested the entire time I was with those people, either. At first I just thought the relationship wasn't right for me, then I started to realize what was actually going on. I still dated, I still asked someone to marry me because I thought I could be happy with them. I did love and care about them, just not the way you should if you're going to marry them. I also didn't tell anyone I was non-binary until two months ago, even though I figured it out about fifteen years ago. A trans person hiding their identity to protect themselves from danger or rejection is nothing new, but it's kind of a shitty feeling to know you've been lying to every ex you've ever had about something like that. I don't like that feeling, and it's going to take a while for me to shake that. I don't know that I ever will.

So all of that is to say that a character like Tommy is actually kind of important to those of us who also weren't perfect at being queer, especially those of us who grew up during a specific time. I was actually pleasantly surprised that a basic network show would have someone like that, but times they are a-changing. So onto your last point:

Abby Clark is played by a now 57 year old Connie Britton (drop the skincare routine, girl), Lou Ferrigno Jr is 40, and Oliver Stark is 33. When you're an actual grown person, a seven or eight year age difference is kind of nothing. One of you might be a little more ready for things like kids or marriage, but that's not a guarantee. But hearing that your ex started dating a 26 year old when she's about 50, whether or not he knows that she actually pulled Buck's info in a very questionable way (I love that no one going after Tommy ever seems to care about the massive ethical breach from Abby), is kind of...wild. And he presumably heard about this from a mutual friend of some kind, who likely gave him this information colored by their own perception of the situation. This is where critical thinking skills become important. Based on context clues, I can safely guess that Tommy asked someone how Abby was doing or ran into someone who knows her, too, and they said "Hey, did you hear about Abby's new guy?" Otherwise he would've said "I saw that she was dating...." or "She told me she was dating..." So this could've been secondhand bitchiness, it could've been that her behavior was being framed as extremely not okay by someone they knew. We'll never know, the show doesn't have the strongest writing all the time. I'm not touching the thing about her mother, because a very close family member of mine has Alzheimer's, a good friend just lost a parent to it, and I do not want to examine the behavior of a person who's dealing with that or that of the people in their lives.

Could he have said "But I get it, she would've been going through a lot because of her mom and then our breakup"? Yeah. Would it have been nice if they wrote any scenes between Tommy, Hen, and Chimney that bridged the gap between when they weren't close and when they actually celebrated him and his accomplishments when he left the 118 to show why he would be someone Chimney would call on in two major emergencies? Yeah. I think I would've liked to see them talk things out onscreen and to show any apologies. Mostly because it would keep people from dropping an essay in my ask box when I feel like my sinuses and temples are filled with hot needles. I don't actually need to see it other than liking the three of them together, because I figured that they would've shown some hesitation before Chimney would reach out to him or he would've pulled Buck aside to warn him to be careful with Tommy. Or Hen and Karen wouldn't have been so thrilled when they realized what had gone down before Buck and Tommy came into the hospital room. There's a lot of stuff they don't show on this show, but they'd at least make a point to do or not do certain things if a character hated or disliked a character.

*I believe a certain dispatcher even did a whole big speech about this on the very show you apparently watch. I didn't like the Glee part, because I don't like Glee after season one. But the rest of it was good.

[pretty-mik-97]

When ‘Dark Romance’ Is Just an Excuse for Abuse: How Cry or Better Yet Beg fails Matthias as a Love Interest (Rant Included)

Oh, and do I have a lot to say about this mutha fucka right here. ESPECIALLY with the most recent chapters on Webtoon.

I ain't go lie, I half expected Cry or Better Yet Beg be like a slow burn enemies to lovers historical romance fiction. But I gotta ask all the Matthias x Layla shippers and Matthias fans:

HOW IS MATTHIAS VON HERHARDT THE LOVE INTEREST AND WHY ARE WE ROOTING FOR HIM?! 👁👄👁

Like I never see this guy show or express any romantic that doesn't involve him being a bully and humiliating and abusing Layla because apparently he enjoys making her miserable and cry.

And people are like: He doesn't know how to express himself because he never experienced love so it's all so new to him.

Umm, no bestie. That man has no love for ANYTHING at all, period. Especially not for Layla, you know, the WOMAN HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE IN LOVE WITH!

And when people rightfully call out and criticise Matthias as a character and the story as a whole, they get hit with the: It's a Dark Romance.

Umm, no, sweetie. This is not a dark romance. It's abuse cosplaying as a dark romance. There is NOTHING romantic about a man who enjoys bullying, verbally and emotionally abusing the woman he's supposed to be in love with, and sees her as less of a human being.

Matthias himself actually admitted and told Layla TO HER FACE why he despises her when she asked.

You want proof?

BOOM! RECEIPTS:

Again, I ask: WHY ARE WE ROOTING FOR THIS MAN. WHY?!

Where is the romance coz I ain't seeing shit!

And that brings me to my next point. The argument that people hate Matthias because he's not acting like "the typical green flag love interest in fluffy romance stories."

Lemme just show y'all two comments I found on reddit for reference.

Comment 1:

It's okay to read stories where the antagonists regret their actions or face consequences for their actions. I love me a good revenge story and a story where the antagonists get their long-awaited comeuppance. But here's the thing: Matthias has not shown ANY FORM OF REGRET AND REMORSE FOR HIS ACTS AND HAS NOT FACED ANY CONSEQUENCES.

Like this dude, THREW Layla's glasses into the lake where she had to get them and almost drown in the process coz the sistah can't swim.

He killed birds KNOWING she would come to bury them to lure her in the forest so he could talk to her instead of approaching her like a normal person.

He swiped her shoes while she was dozing off waiting for Kyle and told Layla that he was going to give them back if she CRIED. On top of belittling her and telling her that her only purpose is to BE NOTHING.

He made her make a bouquet of roses (I think) for him only for him to make her make another bouquet over and over again because they weren't up to his standard (but I personally think this mutha fucka did it to be petty AND be a prick).

And he stepped on her hand when she was picking up her coins after spending time with Claudine when she was NINE YEARS OLD. An EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD at his big grown old age at that time bullying A NINE YEAR OLD.

And not ONCE has he shown ANY remorse or guilt nor faced ANY CONSEQUENCES for his actions. As a matter of fact (spoilers), he gets rewarded for all of the heinous things he did to Layla by getting with her in the end.

And that basically makes the argument of "reading and fantasising about toxic relationships where the toxic person feels guilt" pointless.

Comment 2:

Yes romance and dark romance are two different things. Dark romance explores taboo, morally grey, toxic relationships and unequal power dynamics between the characters.

HOWEVER, for it to work as a dark romance, the characters need to be morally grey, have internal conflict with themselves, and some level of character development and character depth.

And our boy Matthias has NONE OF THOSE. He's just an asshole who gets off from making Layla cry and beg. He's not a misunderstood character who's battling with his feelings or whatever. He knows EXACTLY what he's doing, and he does not care.

Plus there's supposed to be ROMANCE in it. It's in the name. Dark. ROMANCE. The key ingredient that's nowhere to be found in Cry or Better Yet Beg.

Common arguments made in both comments:

People hate Matthias because he's not acting like the typical green flag male love interest in "fluffy" romance stories.

Nope. Most people don't hate him for not acting like the green flag love interest. People hate him because he's an asshole and a bully period.

These Stories Exist Because People Enjoy Them/Liking Dark Romance Doesn’t Mean I Want It in Real Life/If You Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It

Yes, there's an audience for dark romance, and people eat it up. Yes, just because you like reading dark romance doesn't automatically mean that you want it in real life. And yes, people shouldn't read dark romance if they don't like it.

But that's not going to make any dark romance stories ESPECIALLY Cry or Better Yet Beg above criticism (VALID criticism at that).

If anything, stories like Cry or Better Yet Beg are an insult to people who have experienced trauma and abuse because the victim ends up falling in love with their abuser and the abuser gets away with it.

Are THESE the type of stories we want to push into the mainstream?