#shit i shouldn't have had to go through my whole life man.

[bleakbluejay]

There's fragments now, all in me / Of hospitals, all in me

[magentagalaxies]

.

[lizard-ratt]

This idea got stuck in my head, not to be taken too seriously. If you find any typos, no you didn't <3

Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

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Steve Harrington knew how to haggle. Raised by the most cutthroat business man in all of the state of Indiana, if not the United States as a whole, he knew the ins and outs of getting the best deal possible. He used this to his advantage a lot more than anyone knew.

The first time he brought out Steven Elias Harrington, son of Richard Jay Harrington was when he first got forced to sign NDAs to keep quiet about everything going on in Hawkins, Indiana. Despite only having shown up at the end, he still had a fat stack of papers to work through.

And he worked through the entire thing, taking his sweet precious time to read the entire thing, word for word. He signed nothing that day, letting the government employees watch as he took notes on every little detail, humming to himself, scoffing, and overall being as annoying about it as possible.

"These are terrible. Do better." He didn't say that exactly, but it was the general consensus as he gave them a verbal dressing down that would make his father proud (and his father was never proud). He made demands for money, for protections, for anything that he could think of. By the end, the government had agreed to provide him with a heaping helping of cash (enough to buy a house and help him live a comfortable life for the next twenty-or-so odd years), government provided medical insurance (complete coverage for the rest of his life), and a full ride scholarship for any college he wanted to go to.

Suffice to say he had rung that towel dry of anything he could ask of it. He knew that those government employees wished nothing but the worst for him, but he was satisfied with what he got, and he happily signed the fifth NDA they provided him with, flourishing his signature with relish.

Then, he became even more wrapped up in the whole thing when Dustin Henderson decided to raise a baby Demogorgon in his basement. A lot happened in those forty-eight hours, but the main one was that he got attached to the little shits, so he told them in no uncertain terms that they were not to sign anything before he looked the paperwork over.

They scoffed, rolled their eyes, but ultimately agreed. It was a very amusing few days, to say the least. The government agents (the same ones as last time) showed up with their giant stacks of paper, and came face to face with Steven Elias Harrington, and he could just see them die a little bit inside. He could practically hear what remained of their souls wither to dust.

And again, he forced them to sit as he read through every NDA, taking notes, scoffing, humming, and overall being a nuisance to them and their time. Then, he got the kids' attentions (as their eyes started to glaze over after minute thirty) and began his process.

The looks of pure awe, too, would be treasured for a very long time as he got their college tuitions paid for, government-provided medical insurance for the rest of their lives, and of course a big fat pile of cash ready for when they would turn seventeen years old. Each of them had enough money lined up for them that they wouldn't have to worry about anything until maybe their late fifties to early sixties if they were bad with their money.

And of course, he got himself another big pile of cash and access to the best lawyers in the United States if he would ever have need of it.

After that, he shouldn't have been surprised when everyone came to him for help post-Battle of Starcourt (dubbed by Dustin, of course). This time, he took two solid weeks pushing and pulling Uncle Sam in this direction and that to make sure everyone got what they needed. (Another fat stack of cash for everyone, legal protection for whatever they'd need it for, and a cover story that made everyone look the best that they possibly could. He also got college payment for Robin, since she wasn't there the first time, as well as the same medical insurance he got everyone else). Those government employees looked at Steve like he was the devil himself.

"You kinda are," Robin told him one day, after Steve recounted the specifics. "I mean, you are bleeding the government dry."

He gave her a grin. "Absolutely, I am."

Then, he and his merry band of misfits saved the world, stopping the Upside Down for good. The same government goons showed up, and instead of doing what they tried to do the previous time, they just came to Steve with all of the NDAs, and asked in the most sarcastically professional voice imaginable, "Are these up to your standers, Mr. Harrington?"

He gave his charming, King Steve smile and told them that he'd read it over. In the hospital room that held Max and Eddie, Steve pulled up a table and allowed everyone to watch as he flipped page after page, noting down the loophole phrases and weak protections, and every single trap meant to put them into a worse-off position and he threw it in the government's faces.

In return, he forced everything his heart could imagine out of them.

Another giant hunk of change for each of them.

Eddie Munson free of all charges, effective immediately

Government-provided medical insurance for Eddie Munson for the rest of his long, long life

A cover story so beautiful, so concrete that it got even the most closed minded to look at Steve's People and call them heroes.

A house for Eddie and his Uncle Wayne

"I hope I never see your face ever again," the man told Steve, forgoing all niceties at that point. "You're going to burn in hell."

"I'll save you both a seat," he told him with his sweetest, most charming smile.

The government agents left, and in their wake, Eddie Munson looked at him like he hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky.

"Wow," was all the metalhead was able to get out for a while. "Just wow."

Robin glanced between Steve and Eddie, leaned into his side and quietly sang, "The lovers, the dreamers, and me."

Now on AO3

[gojosprettyprincess]

Raise!!

Synopsis - You were going through a really tough time and needed more money so you asked your boss Nanami for a raise but it seems like he has something else in mind.

Not proofread

A/n - Repost from my account that got terminated.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Fuck look at you clenching around my cock like a fucking slut". He groans loudly as he uses his pure strength to bounce you on his cock like a ragdoll.

"You dirty fucking whore bet you'll do anything for money wouldn't you?”. He snickered, chuckling while he lets out a low “fuck”

This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. You were going through a really rough time and struggling with money for the past few days, and you'd hoped your sweet boss Kento would understand what you were going through and give you a raise even if it's something small, after all, he's a Jujutsu sorcerer, that man makes more money then you ever will in your whole life. But it seems like he had something else in mind.

And that's how you end up in the situation you're in right now, in your Boss's office. His cock nested into your tiny wet cunny, thrusting himself in and you of you, his angry leaky tip hitting your poor cervix with deep ecstasy as he trails wet kisses on your neck.

"You have no idea how fucking long I've been hah—waiting for this" he whispers against your neck, sending literal chills down your spine.

"Always walking around in those tiny fucking skirts, it's like you were begging to get fucked. Shit you always look so fucking hot, always making my dick hard".

You were really surprised by that, Nanami was always really nice to you, nice to everyone actually, always smiling at them and asking about their day, he’d get everyone coffee and pastries in the morning he was just super nice and sweet. This side of him was very unexpected. What's even more unexpected was the fact that he wanted you.

"Wha—what??" You asked confused, your eyes widenings

"We shouldn't be doing this sir!" you squeaked.

"But you wanted a raise, didn't you? Well, you're going to fucking get it" he groans as he picks up the pace fucking his cock into your pussy from below as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders for dear life.

He hugs your frame, your breast against his hard chest as his arms tighten around you, he starts ramming his cock into your cunt at a faster pace, his cock brushing against your g spot with each roll of his hips while he's stretches you open.

“Fuck Ken, It's s'big" you moaned loudly, as if they aren't other people in the next room that could hear, feeling completely split apart around his cock, he was so big, the biggest you've ever had.

“You’re so fucking loud” he grunts as he lands a harsh smack on your plush ass that definitely left his handprint, “Fuck, you want everyone to know how much of a fucking slut you are clenching around my dick like this, don’t you”.

“Tell me how much you fucking love my cock you filthy bitch.”

"Lo—love it s'much” you try your best to make out. Feeling fucked out as ever.

"Fuck, have I really fucked you dumb already that you can't even form a proper sentence?" he groans while laughing. "You’re gonna have to do better than that princess."

"Your cock feels so good inside of me daddy, it's s'big!" you cried out, feeling his cock twitching inside of you.

"Good fucking girl, Hah—Fuck, that’s what I like to hear, you're gonna make me cum darling".

"You’re going to be so fucking full after I'm done with you."

Your eyes widen with the realization of what he meant. "N-no not inside, please"

"What about that raise princess? Don't fucking make me change my mind, I'm gonna fill your slutty cunt with all my cum and you're going to fucking take it" he stands up with him still inside of you as he places you flat on his desk, your legs hanging over his shoulders as he continues thrusting his massive cock into your gushing wet cunt, your slick dripping down to your asshole, ruining the freshly printed papers from below.

"Hah—Oh fuckk" he moans, slamming his cock into you at an impossible pace, his nails digging deep into your soft thighs as you looked up in horror at what he's about to do "Fucking take it bitch."

You felt his release spurting inside of your pussy, filling you up and causing your eyes to roll at the back of your head. His cock twitches inside of you nonstop, his head falling back as he slowly began pulling out, watching as his cum gushes out of your ruined pussy, dripping down on your asshole onto the desk you were planted on. A small puddle appears beneath you. You were completely fucked out, trying your best to regain your breath as you look up at him.

He slaps his cock against your soaking cunt, groaning as the cum splatters on him. "You like being filled, don't you? You better get used to this if you want to get paid more or maybe you can just be my little office slut, getting paid to Cock warm me all fucking day”.

[possiblyreallyme]

Once a Beckman girl, always a Beckman girl

warning: very spicey/smutty but no actual penetration, toys (vibrator), size kink if you squint, big dick benn canon.

hello! i got this idea from one of my favorite one piece writer on tumbler, @innerfare!! everyone, go check them out!! thank you so much!!

"Come on, honey. Don't you wanna come back to my cabin?" Shanks asked drunkenly through his hiccups and wolfish grin, staggering over the countertop to hold onto the wood and wink at you.

You'd giggle, but you shook your head, cleaning the counter when he knocked over a glass of alcohol with his one elbow.

"I'm sorry, sir," You told him with that sweet smile, though you didn't seem very sorry. "I already have plans with your first mate."

Shanks backed off immediately, nodding his head and walking away before you could ask why. Even in his drunken state, he knew it was a complete waste of time to try and woo one of Benn's girls.

Plus, his first mate wasn't one to sleep around, so Shanks knew better than to interfere when he needed a night to relax. He was drunk, not heartless.

"Tough luck," Lucky Roux murmured through his mouthful of meat when Shanks told the table of pirates about the barmaid, not even looking up to console his captain. "No one gets one of Benn's girls."

"Yeah, no shit," The captain murmured with a hiccup, before slouching against the table with a few more, spinning a bottle cap around like a pouty child.

"I just wish we knew what he does to get girls so crazy," Yasopp replied under his breath, though he didn't necessarily care to keep his voice low. Anyone who knew Benn knew he was a charmer, even if he didn't go around flirting as much as his captain.

If only they knew. If only they knew how their Benn could drag his fingers across a lady's skin and make her feel like she was a work of art. How as much as Shanks told him one-night stands and hookups shouldn't last more than 30 minutes, he just can't leave a girl like that.

Was he not supposed to stretch her with his fingers? How was she supposed to fit him if he didn't— while you're at it, doesn't it feel better when you let her ride your face until she's squealing and pulling at your hair? And it would weight much too heavy on his conscious if he left a woman alone in bed when she's tired and sore and in need of some love, when he could put his left-over energy to use and make her a nice meal, maybe give her a massage to ease the ache he caused.

Of course a man like him was so popular with the ladies. He was practically made for women, with how he could memorize your body like the back of his hand, as if he's known you his whole life, but he only just learned your damn name.

He'll coo in that deep voice of his, say things a pirate most certainly shouldn't be saying to someone he'll never see again, with that charming smile on his face and slowly rolling his hips into yours, thumbing at your clit until you've coated the sheets in as much cum as you could give him.

And yet, he's never come across as a player. He isn't a womanizer; he isn't someone like Shanks who can't be trusted to remember his partners names after a week. He's tough as nails and brutal, but to the women whose hearts still throb for the first mate, he was a sweetheart. The type to empathize and sooth when he's just a little too big to fit all the way in your cunt, wiping your tears with kisses and assure you that you've taken more than enough for him to enjoy, so don't feel guilty.

"Benn," You're whining that night, just after you close and the Red Force was snickering when Beckman puts his hand on the small of your back, dwarfing you so intensely you felt your face go hot. You should have fucking guessed that a man with hands bigger than your head had a cock to match.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart. Just relax," He soothed, large fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling the little nerve with an ease that made you wonder if he'd done this before with you.

You knew good and damn well you'd remember if a man like this had ever been with you before, but he hadn't even taken his eyes off your face and yet he found your clit almost faster than you could.

You couldn't focus on that though, already fighting off delirium you only thought a cock could bring you, taken by surprise how he could get you so dumb when all he had done was fuck you with that big black vibrator. He kept you sat upright on his desk by letting you lay your head on his shoulder, fluttering kisses against your jaw and rubbing your back when you clenched around the toy and whined for more, soothing you with his whispers like a father soothing his baby in the dead of night.

"Not yet, little one." It had been not yet all damn night, and you were ready for more. Eyes locked on the tent in his pants, large and clearly thick enough to stretch you to your limit, but you couldn't find it in you to care how much it would hurt. He cared though, and thank God for that. He couldn't live with himself if one of his sweethearts got hurt when it was his job to make sure they were well taken care of and happy, even though Shanks tried to explain to him that his job was simply to get off and go.

When he finally pulled the vibrator out and let you slump against hi desk, he kissed along the inside of your thighs and cleaned up the mess dripping to your knees, murmuring enough poetic praise to keep you high on orgasm for longer than your ego appreciated.

"Aw, baby doll," He chuckled faintly against your cunt, a smile stretching across his lips when you squirmed and whined when his stubble brushed along your sensitive thighs. "You still wanna take my cock, don't you?"

"Yes." Your mother would be ashamed at how fast you answered the pirate, who merely chuckled again and lifted you into his arms.

[blingblong55]

Now that we don't talk- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: funny enough...these two drivers are no longer with the girls in these pictures. also, this is not me telling you how reader looks like

--- F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, F1 au, F1 driver!Simon, cheating ---

A/N: watched the Las Vagas shit show of a race and then got inspired....so here's this shit mess of a fic

He was the guy every girl wanted, from the teens to the older women, yet he held your hand on the red carpet at that award show. He kissed you in yachts and danced with you in galas and ballrooms. Paraded your name when he won races. You were everywhere, from tea pages, to fan-made edits and now you're here, stuck in a hotel room, waiting for him. For the past seven months, he's kept you hidden, like you were some kind of repunzel. Never to be let out of the tower unless it was by him. He had what every driver and fan wanted in their lives, fame, wealth, social status, a gorgeous and supportive girlfriend and the way he was the best at his job. 

They always say to look for the smallest of clues, that's why, all the tabloids talked about how he 'had it all'. Now, he took out the girlfriend part and added Playboy to the list. 

Three months before you and him announced your split, he sat down with you. Told you all the truths he kept from you. Your tears well up in that pretty face of yours. "I started to see other women, that was nine months ago, in Spain, that's why I told you to stay at the hotel," his eyes too teared up. It took a lot to not slap him, scream and yell at him for being such a man slut, but you needed to hear it, needed to know the truth before the internet did. He took a deep breath, "I...there's been at least ten different women, I've slept with more but...only those ten did I take to race weekends instead of you." His eyes, full of regret look at you. "When did you stop loving me?" Your question caught him off guard. "I...I think it was a year ago but I thought it was me being anxious over that whole contract thing and having to move and...I'm sorry, I shouldn't make excuses for my actions," he looks down. 

You nod, not daring to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, R/N," his voice small. "No, I'm sorry," you respond and he looks at you confused. "What do you mean by that?" He questions you. "I'm sorry for falling in love, for being a fool and seeing myself with you for the rest of my life. I'm sorry for trusting you were sleeping alone when I wasn't there...I'm sorry I wasn't enough to make you stay...or to be patient enough and end it like a real man would," you play with your phone's edge. You look at him, finally. "Why did you keep me hidden?" He shakes his head at that question. "The times you were there, the other women were there too," he confesses and your heart stops. "...oh," your voice is small, so soft and filled with so much woe. 

"I...I guess I should go," You stand up. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you deserved, I hope you find a man who treats you like you are the universe to him, I hope he kisses you in public and I wish you happiness, I'm sorry." He stands up too and walks you to the door. 

A month later, you and him confirmed the rumour. "Formula 1 driver Simon Riley and long-time girlfriend [R/N], have announced their split on a joint social media statement." The article read. Your phone is on silent as you reread the message you put out to the world. "To the fans, it is time we confirm that we are no longer together. We have grown apart and it's time we grow up and move on to new parts of our lives. We will always love each other, together or not but our relationship has run its course. All our gratitude for the six years of acceptance, Simon and [R/N]." Your eyes glistened with sorrow as you shook your head. 

For days, you stayed indoors. Cried, looked through memories, private ones the world never saw. What did he do? He was photographed in clubs, hand on a woman's waist, drunk kisses, alcohol, tight dresses and that new title, "F1's playboy." He kept winning, getting more fame and having his name all over the world. Meanwhile, you walk the streets alone. You were there for when he was accepted in F3 and when he moved to F2, even were the shoulder he leaned on all the years he waited to become an F1 driver.  

His bed was never the same, neither was his flat. It was no longer cosy, no longer comforting after a bad or long day. His bed missed the warmth of it. His lips missed the consistent pecks after he gave you a pouty lip when you denied staying up late on race day. What did he miss the most? You, all of you and that was soon to be shown. That Playboy facade was for show, inside, all he wanted was to stop being seen with so many women. He wanted one and quickly, his team noticed. He stopped showing up at parties, and clubs and stopped talking to all the women who weren't there for official business or if they weren't a fan who asked for an autograph or picture. 

That mask only stayed on for eight months, thirteen days and four hours. He stopped showing off his wealth, dressed in only team attire, comfy clothes, or in suits and ties. His bed was empty most nights, his right cheek was no longer stained with the red lipstick you left at every little accomplishment he made. He fixed his image and unfollowed any woman who wasn't important in his career, except one, you. 

And as he did this, all you saw were the old tabloids. Him all over women. You dated off the light the media gave you, you kept your nights away from sight, fixed and resolved all your problems and then, by some cruel mistake, you saw him. Jogging by your place. For some twisted way, your heartbeat fastened. It brought you back to when you'd time him before the season started. That's where the kiss on the right cheek came from. A towel-dried that side of his face, just so you could kiss it. This happened all through your relationship. And, on some Wednesday, a friend invited you to attend the last race of the season. 

You attended, not just because of the invite but because it was a promise. "When I win most if not all races I want you to go, be waiting for me, look up to the podium because my love, that entire season will be yours," he, one night whispered to you. And there you were, in that garage, wearing a hat, his number on it as you watched the qualification. The cameras awaited to capture you and him kissing, but none of that happened, not even a glance from you to him. 

"Riley takes pole, all eyes on him to see if he breaks yet another record," the commentator said. And as he sat there, he thought of you. The good luck kiss, the pat on his helmet before any race. And holding hands when walking to the paddock. It was a ritual, something he held holy to him. If only he could prove he is the man you now deserve if he could get out of his car, run to you and confess a speech he memorised. The one that said all the truth, the one in which he tells you that just in your first year being together, he had a ring picked out, the same one he kept in every coat for when the time was right. And there was that mistake, one fatal one that cost him his Mrs. Riley. Every single second was the right time, every stare, every kiss, every laugh, the whispers, the running from the cameras, it was always you, it was always the right time when with you. 

Simon Riley, world champion, world record breaker, the man every driver wants to be this year, now claiming every single race of that season as he walked to that podium. And, in a crowd of friends, teammates, fans and cameras, he looked for you. National anthems played and as he was about to lose hope, he saw you there, the spot he told you to stand in for when the day came. You look up, and the cameras pan to you and him. That stare, oh that stare that spoke the romance no other book or poet could explain. His smile widened, gaze softened when he noticed you cried. Proud of the man who made his dreams come true. 

Maybe you weren't there for all the days he drove but that engagement ring, that symbolised you, was there for all of them. You give him a nod and his smile widens.

"I'll do it, I swear one day, I'll be added to the list of legends who came before me and when I do, I need you there, my love," he kissed you. "And when I do, you nod at me, that's how I'll know you are proud of me," he whispered. 

As the night came to an end, the photos, flashes, and signatures, all rushed to come and find you. He needed his right cheek kissed and maybe this time it wouldn't be his lips but to just feel you next to him, that fed him enough. He spotted you and as he ran to you, he stopped in his tracks. 

One month, two days and three hours. That is how late he was to you. His gaze was now filled with tears as he saw you hold another hand. A woman, looking for nothing but sex approached him and he declined. "Why not?" She questioned him. "I have a fiancé," he said coldly and moved away from her. He looked down, at a paper, written by his poetic hand, a small box, made by him with the help of some carpenter, all gripped as he swore he would not give up. Not ever, especially when he knows that in this life, he was meant for one woman. Maybe he did fuck up, maybe he will be forever alone but to know that for one second he held you in his arms, that was enough. 

He nodded and sighed, "Is it over now?" he thought. "No," your heart would've responded for you. As he turns and walks away, you look back and you notice that box. Your heart...oh that tingle that makes you feel alive. Maybe it was all in his head, maybe he wasn't late...maybe. "Simon!" you called out, the crowd too loud for him to hear you. Your friend lets go of your hand. "Simon!" you move through the crowds. "Simon, stop!" You push and run. Adrenaline, maybe not like the one he has after every race but it's still something. He walks away, getting into a car and looking at that piece of paper. 

No one heard of him for months. No one heard of you for months. 

My love, my R/N, I made a mistake. Not cheating but one that is worse, pretending I didn't call you my wife to everyone else. A vow I made in my head, a wedding night I planned one night as we made love. Truth is, no, I didn't cheat. No, I didn't sleep with anyone when I was with you. What happened was, I noticed it. I noticed how you paused your life for mine, how you took care of me, how you made sure I ate healthy, slept enough, and got used to different time zones, all whilst giving your life no attention. I was 17 when we first met, you and I, an accidental 'Hi' one that gave me the privilege of falling in love with the woman who knows me better than anyone else. I've known you for a decade now, loved you for nine of those years, and made you my girlfriend for five of them. I wore that title with pride. By the way, didn't you ever question why everyone called you my wife or Mrs. Riley? Funny how you didn't even ask me about it. I admit, I was only at those clubs looking for you, I didn't drink but pretended to, I kissed their cheeks, made it look like I kissed their lips. In my head, I was married. I am married. Called you my little wife when you patted my helmet to the mechanics, they laughed. I did sleep with other women, I confess to that but I didn't kiss them, didn't care for their pleasure, not when I promised it was your pleasure...just yours that mattered to me. Did you keep my locket? I hope you did, if not...it's fine, we'll find a new one and start fresh. I know you are wondering, why I can't let you talk as I give this speech and I know you are crying, your lips quiver as I confess. It's a reason why I haven't looked up from this piece of paper. I can't see you cry, you know that. I am begging, begging as an imbecile, to have you again. To prove that I never cheated, I lied about doing it but never did. You'd think I'd be crazy to cheat on a crazy girl like you? Baby, that was a joke, although...you are a little crazy but I still love you. I love you...yeah...yeah, I do. I know you are asking, when will this stupid man stop talking and it's now. Well, wait...just let me say this. Marry me, marry me so I don't have to pretend anymore. So...please, be kind to my bastard heart and marry me.

A/N: you know well a Kasper fic isn't a Kasper angst fic if it doesn't end in a 'but are they together? did he die? did she die?' way

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[anothermansjeans]

Bau team having to be at an award show for some reason and you win an award and make a speech:

Shout out to donatella versace for making this dress and to that pretty fbi agent whos taking it off of me tonight *winks*

Spencer: 🧍

Bau: 😲

(LIKE IMAGINE THIS BEING THEIR FIRST EVER MEETING LIKE... HE WOULD DIE)

OKAY SO I DIDNT HAVE THEM AT THE SHOW (im so sorry i will write them at an award show at some point this is just what came to my mind as i wrote) BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

cw: innuendos, pretty fluffy, spencer light (i'm sorry)

wc: 599

singer!reader masterlist

++

You were one hundred percent sure you were currently dreaming. Here you are, sitting in Crypto.com Arena in downtown Los Angeles, sitting at a small table with your manager, and your best friend, Katie. It was the night of the Grammys, and your album, favorite, was nominated for best pop vocal album. Never in your life did you imagine you'd be nominated, but here you were.

Early in the day, you had been very nervous regarding the whole thing. You were sitting in your hotel room with anxiety creeping up on you and Katie sat next to you and held your hands.

“Hey, it’s okay, you'll be okay!”

You let out a shaky laugh, “I don't know, K, I’m freaking out. I won't win– I shouldn't have even asked Spencer to be here. He came here to do nothing but sit in this hotel room and watch me not win.”

“Y/N, babe, he loves you and he doesn't care if you don't win. He was very happy to be here, even if he can’t be at the arena.” She sighed, giving you a knowing look, “now, shut the fuck up before he hears you speaking like this.”

You groaned and put your head in your hands. “I just don't want to feel like this.”

Her sigh was soft, and she gently rubbed your back, comforting you. “How about this,” she began, “I’ll give you a dare you have to do if you win. That way you'll be too worried about that and not on the whole Grammy thing.”

You gave her a skeptical look, “what dare?”

She gave an evil look and leaned into you. “Well you're wearing a one of a kind Donatella Versace,” you have an acknowledging hum, “and you're going to look hot as fuck,”

“Yes, and?”

“And if you win, you have to throw in a shoutout to Donatella and the man taking it off of you tonight.”

“Oh my God,” you smacked your hand over your mouth, concealing some of your giggles, “okay…”

And the rest of history. You sat through the ceremony, listening to the live performances and the other category winners, only holding your breath when they made it to yours.

“And the Grammy goes to…” Breathe in… breathe through… breathe deep… breathe out… “favorite, Y/N Y/L/N!”

And holy shit, you won.

You shakily looked over at Katie, who had the biggest grin, and even with her here, you wish Spencer could also be next to you as well, giving you a hug and kiss before encouraging you on stage. After the congratulations from the people around you, you walked up the stairs and over to the microphone, letting out a breath.

“Um, thank you so much, I- wow,” you laughed, looking down at the award in your hands, “thank you to my management, and my producers, and my best friend, and my muse for this album. And a huge thank you to the fans; without you I wouldn't be employed.” You gave another laugh, looking out to your friends and thinking of the man currently thinking of the man sitting on a hotel bed watching this speech. “Also…” a smirk was plastered on your face, “shoutout to Donatella Versace for making this dress, and the pretty FBI agent who's taking it off of me tonight!”

The crowd went crazy over it, and when you saw Spencer later that night, he was a blushing mess. It also helped that Penelope made sure to text you that everyone was watching and instantly had something to say to Spencer.

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant @chericherrypie @punksnotdeadbutiam @stillhere197 @laddywitch @httpstoyosi @obi-wansgirl @amandareids @mynameiskelly

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!

[zweiginator]

give us more of forbidden love au patrick!!!

here is the link to the last part, in case anyone needs their memory refreshed!

cw: talk about unwanted pregnancy, abortion

patrick lifts his head from the dashboard; it feels like all his blood rushed to his brain but he still can't think. doesn't know what to say or how to make you feel better. because he feels like shit. and he feels awful because you're going through this too, and so much worse than he is--but how could you keep this from him for so fucking long?

his temples ache, and patrick rubs them with the pads of his fingers. his palms are clammy so he wipes them on his legs.

"are you serious?" patrick asks. it's all he can think to ask. maybe just to get it out of the way. for him to realize he isn't dreaming and this is real and here you are with his baby, gestating in your body.

"yes, i am." you want to yell at him. but you know it wouldn't do any good. how could he ask you that? why doesn't he fucking care to hug you or tell you it's going to be okay? it's hard to look him in the eye, but you do it.

"do you want to keep it?"

there isn't a bite to his words and you can tell he's genuinely asking. he doesn't know what to do, how this will look. well, he knows it will look fucking horrible. given how adamant both your and patrick's fathers have been about despising the other. it was ingrained into you, programmed from a young age, like a chore that didn't make sense but had to be done nonetheless.

it's either a scandal for patrick knocking you up out of wedlock, or a scandal when they find out you chose not to keep the baby. there's only a tiny sliver of a possibility that it can stay completely out of the public eye. and, maybe it's possible, given how both sides have an interest in keeping it hushed. except the media doesn't. and neither of you are even sure they're not there now, snapping pictures, or waiting to ask for inside scoop, sliding the woman at the front desk a fifty dollar bill.

"i don't--no."

"you don't know?"

"no, i dont want to keep it." you say, softly. meekly. patrick has never seen you look so helpless.

he looks at your stomach. obviously, it doesn't look any different. but a tinge of melancholic guilt stings his chest like an electric shock. to think about a baby, his baby growing inside you.

but you're both too young. stupid to think you were immune to the natural order of the world. why didn't patrick use a fucking condom?

"this shouldn't have happened. the baby." you mutter, looking up at patrick. a tear falls onto your nose and patrick wipes it with his thumb.

"i know, i'm sorry." he mumbles.

"what do you think we should do?"

"it's not my choice to make."

it's frustrating to you how patrick isn't taking a stance. isn't being a fucking man and telling you how he feels, what the plan should be. you roll your eyes.

"can you just--say something? you're acting like a fucking robot."

"it's--" patrick groans. "i'm not going to tell you what to do with your body. i know it's my baby too--but i don't know. i think if you don't want to keep it then don't."

but you weren't so sure. neither of you were. you had been ready to talk to patrick about abortion, gung ho about not wanting a baby at this point in your life. but a sadness hung in the air that wasn't there before you brought up that word.

"maybe we think about it. for a little longer." patrick tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

you sniffle and nod your head.

"your family will hate me."

"yours already hates me."

and weirdly enough, you both felt as if you could take a full breath after admitting maybe you did want the baby. the hard part would be hiding it, and eventually, finding a way to break the news not only to your family, but to your whole fucking city as well.

[blackdagger456]

Let's Talk About: MHA 430, How This Fandom Can't Read, How Leaks Ruin Chapters And While Imperfect This Finale Was A Good Sendoff

So, here we are.

Ten years. Ten years and 430 chapters we've been with My Hero Academia. Ten long years of excitement, fandom interactions and so many fics I won't bother to count saved, subscribed and bookmarked.

It's strange really. To be apart of this fandom for so long...and find out that so many still can't read.

Like holy cheeseburgers Batman, so many of my fellow MHA readers/fans can't read it's astonishing.

So, for what'll be the last time for this series, let's go over the latest chapter of MHA and allow me to inform you of what it means. Or at least, that was the plan before the leaks came out. Just with the added addition of going over how people have reacted to chapter 430 before it was even officially out, and we're going to start with the first stone that began toppling Dominos.

[Official Spoilers Below]

This. Oh god, this sentence has been nothing but a headache for me and so many others. Because of the leaks ,and subsequent mistranslations, being taken as fact the reaction to the finale started out as shit. This entire week leading up to today has been frustrating for me and many others as we tried to explain what should be obvious.

Firstly, none of this is coming from any official translation. What people were seeing before today were things fans and unlicensed translators are spreading around as if it's fact. This does NOT mean that they are correct and therefore these translations shouldn't be treated as such.

Secondly, in no way shape or form does Izuku imply or state that his friends abandoned him after he lost his powers. All he said, was that it was a bit more difficult to meet up regularly. Something that makes sense not only because they were working in different fields but also because work in general is like that.

It can be hard to meet up with the boys n girls for hang outs but that doesn't mean you don't talk. That doesn't mean you don’t call or text or keep in touch. Something which is easier to do when you've fought and lived through an entire war together!

His friends didn't abandon him. They didn't stop caring about him because he became powerless. Hell, the ending of the chapter proves this wrong if nothing else!

Now, is it a shame the ships didn't get officially confirmed? Yes. But I think the implications are more than enough to satisfy. Even if they aren't, there's no reason not have fun with things being open ended. It opens the door to so many fun possibilities OUTSIDE of this whole NTR trend people are trying to start. [Thankfully that's a small part of the fandom]

But moving on, lets go into what he's been doing since becoming OFA.

In what way shape or form does him becoming a teacher make him 'fall off'/make the Mc Donald’s meme become a reality?

 First off why are we hating on the man for enjoying his life without conflict after saving the world? We doing my boy like Gohan now? If he wants to retire to a teaching role, one he very clearly enjoys, let him. What do people think they can take him? Ya'll forgetting exactly what he had to do BEFORE he was able to get OFA in the first place. Izuku is still physically stronger than most normal people both in MHA and in reality.

But, I'm getting off topic. The point is Izuku has and continues to be an inspiration to those that will follow after him. Even to the point of mirroring his starting point with All Might when he inspires yet another young kid to become a hero.

Is he a bit sad he isn't an official hero? Yes. Is he frustrated or unhappy with where he is in life? No. Not at all. He's content. His goal was never to be the No.1 Hero it was to be like ALL MIGHT. To inspire and protect people like his mentor had.

He's done just that and for it---for it he's rewarded.

His kindness, his determination and his faith in those around him comes back to him in the best way for it was those people he spread said traits too that spent those eight years putting together the thing that would bring his dream back to him.

That would bring HIM back to standing by their side on the field of battle. For Izuku Midoriya never truly stopped standing by his friends. For they too had become their own inspirations to Japan and the world. But now, finally, their friend...their inspiration...their Deku could lead them on the frontlines once more.

They, and he, couldn't ask for anything less.

[inu-jiru]

Jazz's "Apology Tour" ramble

Episode was trash, let's go.

First off, the whole "Fuck Blitzo" party is so stupid to me, like you're telling me this 30-something year old man had intimate relationships with ALL these demons and HE was the sole thing that ruined ALL of them?

And how did Verosika even find out about Stolas? Like I know Ozzie's happened, but how'd she hear about their "breakup" (they weren't together but whatever, show)?

Why the FUCK does Verosika care about Stolas being an uwu sad victim of mean old Blitzo aside from everyone being written to want to huff Stolas' sad boi farts?

Why is no one trying to kill Stolas like in Loo Loo Land, like suddenly we're just cool with the oppressive racist now (who am I kidding, the rank system doesn't exist anymore unless the "meanie supremacist" characters bring it up I guess)?

Don't think I'm trying to be "Blitzo's#1Bitch69" or anything, but Season 2 is just so gross in how they've written him. Either he's the big bully meanie for hating his abuser, or they've had him commit the most out of pocket atrocities (like possibly SAing Stolas since he was technically drunk or the circus incident or the shit he pulled with Verosika because what the fuck kinda trauma makes you steal someone credit card for horse riding lessons???) that they just gloss over because fuck having Blitzo actually progress normally or Stolas taking actual responsibility for his own actions, let's just speed through everything so it's back to Stolitz City, don't think about the implications. I just can't stand itttt, I still like and pity Blitz to an extent but his writing is killing meeee

Stolas, stop whimpering about being wanted YOU HAVE A KID WHO HAS STILL NOT APPEARED SINCE SEEING STARS WHERE IS SHE?

Am I really hearing that people are hating the dude flirting with Stolas like come on yall STOLITZ IS NOT OFFICIAL YET CHILL

I've honestly started skipping through episodes, like I can't fucking listen to "WAHHHHH BLITZO I WANT YOU TO WANT ME" for the millionth time, I wish this episode could've just been Blitzo and Verosika facing their issues or something I just don't wanna see this owl loser act like a victim anymoreeee

Man really said "when have I ever been condescending?" SEASON ONE???? How about every time you grab his face and call him out of his name and watch him be shot at while demanding he come over one a month? Oh, but when Blitz starts doing it back it's "Oh I'm uncomfortable ooOoOoo stop it Blitz hnnghhh I don't like it :C :C :C", like whatever man.

The Striker comment was dumb and wrong but that's because Stolas is dumb and wrong

Honestly I feel like I'm repeating the same points I and others have made in the past so all imma say is, I hope Octavia and Stella are enjoying their off-screen and better written adventures together. I'm gonna draw some AU stuff now to give my eyes something better to look at.

OH I forgot to talk about Verosika, uh, she was there? I honestly think she should just get over herself at this point, idk when she and Blitz broke up but what the fuck is it about this clown that she was so enamored over where she's this hurt? I can get being mad about her credit card and Blitz being a lazy partner but if that's the case, I fail to see how they got to a point where she got his name tatted on her arm. Idk it's weird

The Mayweather shit or whatever her name is was pointless and made no sense, like "I want you to kill this woman who made me attempt to kill her and myself but now we're dating" like? Hey Vivzie if yall can callback to that why can't yall call back to Stolas being a creep huh?

EDIT: They really made that fuckass "it's hell" excuse canon, huh? Like, it doesn't even make sense in the context of Blitz saying that, like people say "it's hell" because Biblically speaking, it's where those who truly oppose God in order to live a life of wickedness go as just punishment. Blitz the equivalent of a regular guy in Hell unlike the Hazbin characters, he shouldn't understand that there's a better alternative to Hell because he's not human and never had any opportunity to learn about Heaven or God (unless it's just in their DNA or something idk who knows with this show)

[satrs]

ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ꨄ︎

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; It seems that vampires are indeed real.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; Vampire!Shidou Ryusei x fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 1.8k Tags; NSFW/DARK CONTENT! MDNI! blood kink. blood. violence. erhmm shidou eating raw meat at one point. clothed grinding. oral(fem!revieving). dumbification(?).

ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ 18+!

It was night time, a nice time with your friend soon turning into a spook story.

"Vampires? Shut your shit. You're not scaring me." You looked at your friend, unimpressed by their spooky stories.

"I'm not kidding Y/N! They're real! Rumor has it that one is strolling right in our town!" Yeah right. What nonsense. Vampires are not real, a creation of fiction, the human imagination. There is no way that they exist. In a shit town like this on top of that.

"Shiver me timbers. Alright, see ya." You waved off, the voice of your friend loud in your ear while their footsteps approached your form. "Y/N! Wait! You shouldn't go alone! What if that vampire-"

"If that Dracula comes across me? I'll just huff my breath at him, he'll sure fall down dead if he gets a whiff of the garlic bread I had earlier." This was a joke, for sure. Or a prank of some sort. Maybe one silly guy decided to prank the town, lifting the boredom there.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

As you strolled through the streets, moon, and lanterns the only light source, you heard rustling behind you. Fear filled you, the thought of a vampire now really not a pleasant thought in your mind, as you quickly glanced back, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw nothing.

You went home as fast as you could, chills filling your whole body. As you reached your doorstep, your demeanor relaxed and you let your guard down. Big mistake.

As you were about to reach for the doorknob, somebody beat you to it, twisting it in a fast motion before pushing you into your home in one swift motion. Your scream never left your mouth as you came to face with the person hovering above you- magenta-like eyes glowing dangerously, his big and sharp fangs visible as he bared his teeth, chest heaving up and down rapidly, seeming to escape a chase.

He seemed to be in pain, brows twisted but a faint smirk plastered on his lips as he looked down at you. One more look at his form and you noticed a big bright red imprint on his shirt. This can't be. it must be some kind of dream or- something. Just please, not what you think it is. Because hell, if this man is what you suspect him to be, you might as well faint right on the spot.

"Fuck that was a close call", he just so muttered to himself, eyes intensely inspecting your face, soon landing on your partly exposed neck. His mouth watered at the sight, a menacing aura surrounding you as he bit down on his tongue to suppress his urges.

That's it, you're going to die. By a fucking vampire. Never in a million years would you have imagined this, you always thought you would die because you're old and fragile but no- life always has some sick and twisted surprises.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to ready yourself for what was about to come but- nothing. Through closed eyes you noticed the shadow above you disappearing and as you opened your eyes, you saw him sloppily stroll over to your couch.

He plopped down, a painful groan escaping his lips. "I'm not gonna bite you but I'm also not trynna die here either. So you better find somethin' for me or you're done."

You realized from the tone of his voice that he wasn't fooling around, quickly standing up on your feet as you paced into the kitchen. You had some meat in the fridge that you wanted to do tomorrow. Maybe that'll do.

You quickly placed it on a plate, bringing it to the stranger in your living room. Now with the lights on you could inspect his face better, his beautiful features almost startling you. "Are you serious?", he said, voice in pain as he inspected the raw meat in front of him.

"I'm not some animal- well, got no place to complain." He shrugged, grabbing the meat into his hand and placing it into his mouth, sucking out any drop of blood he possibly could. He lifted his shirt up while he did this, a big injury being visible as you stepped back, the intense smell of blood and the sight of the injury shocking you.

But to your amazement the injury miraculously closed itself up, only leaving leftover blood on his toned stomach. He sighed in relief, throwing the meat back onto the table, not caring to put it on the plate as he threw his shirt off without a care in the world. You looked at him, astonished by his now changed demeanor, seeming to be completely fine.

"W-what? But-" you silenced yourself as you noticed his eyes back on you, pulling some of the flesh that caught itself on his fangs from them. He mocked you, repeating your words in a high-pitched voice before laughing, hand driving through his blonde-pink hair. "Get me something to clean up yeah? Don't wanna be all dirty next to such a delicious lookin' snack." He grabbed a bottle on the table, gulping down the taste of blood out of his mouth, refreshed sigh escaping his lips.

He laughed again at the sight of your expression. "Just jokin'. Oh, and thanks." You flashed him a nervous smile, unsure of how else to react.

"Are you? You know..." you began carefully, his ears perking up at your words. "Bull's eye." The same teasing smirk was on his face again and you didn't know if your legs were shaking because he is a literal fucking vampire, or because his handsome expression did something to your lower region.

You didn't utter another word, quickly disapearing into the bathroom to prepare a damp towel for your uninvited guest, quickly moving back to him to hand it to him. But he just looked at it with an unbothered expression, confusing you. "Nuh-uh pretty. You do it."

You do it? Is he serious? As you were about to open your mouth and object, he wrapped his hand around your hip, throwing your right onto his lap in one swift motion, leaving you flustered and wide-eyed on top of him.

He motioned his chin to his exposed stomach, looking into your eyes expectingly. You gulped at his action and his well build chest, carefully cleaning off the crimson color, coloring the towel in it.

"C'mon. Don't gotta be so soft.", he retorted, face leaning closer to yours in the process, his whisper tickling your face. "I like it rough." Your heart beat rapidly in your chest trying to create distance between the both of you but he grabbed the back of your neck, gasp erupting from your lungs as your mouth was mere inches from his.

"Why shy away? I don't bite. Only if you want me to." His white and sharp fangs flashed you, fear rising in you as your breathing increased. "You know at first, I was just planin' to have a little snack after those rascals were on my ass. But when I saw you, I just had to change my mind."

You felt a bit bold at his statement, testing the waters. "W-what do you have in mind now?" You were scared at his answer, but excitement also rushed through your veins. Yes, he was a vampire but- damn was he attractive.

It didn't take him long to let you know what he intended to do, smashing his lips against yours, leaving you gasping as you felt his sharp fangs against your plumb lips, quickly moving away from his touch.

He managed to pierce through the skin of your lips, small line of blood dripping from your mouth. He almost went crazy at the sight- your delicious smelling blood dripping down your chin, fear in your eyes. "Shit sorry pretty. My bad." The smirk that decorated his features told you right ahead that he wasn't sorry even in the slightest.

"you smell heavenly. Lemme' get some of it. Please." His voice was desperate, foaming at the mouth as he watched your red-painted lip, almost whining in disappointment as he noticed the bloody rush stopping. You nodded your head in a daze, too scared of what might happen if you wouldn't.

In that moment his lips flew to yours, a heavy groan escaping them as he licked every single drop of red liquid he could catch in his mouth. The way his lips and tongue danced along yours left you dizzy, sighing into the kiss.

"So fuckin' tasty. More, I need more. Please, pretty." The way his hips twitched up into yours as you felt his big bulge through his pants made you succumb to his touch, needily moving your hips against his, the friction of his aching length touching your pulsing clit over and over again. "You can have me."

This was all it took for him to bite your lip again, careful to not be too harsh. This made you moan out in both pleasure and pain, grinding against his pants increasing. "Fuck you like that? So fuckin' dirty." you only whined in return as you felt his hand grope your behind harshly, his hand moving your hips right into his needy thrusts. "Oh fuck."

He then swiftly threw you off of him and onto the couch, animalistic strength tearing your pants and anything under apart in one swift motion. Before you could gasp in shock, a cry of pleasure went past your lips as you felt his tongue swiping over your wet folds, groaning at the taste.

"P-Please be careful-" You still tried to clench onto the small string of sanity left, shaky fingers finding comfort in his soft blond locs. "I know what I'm doin' And I said,'" He snapped, followed by a smack against your thigh, causing you to yelp in surprise. " I only bite if you want me to." His head dived back in between your thighs, slurping up any of your juices he could get, tongue swirling across your folds like a starved man, teeth softly biting your bundle of nerves, twirling it between his fangs for a brief second. "Ain't that right pretty?"

He was displeased by your dazy nod. "I asked you something. Or did you already go dumb on me?" You were quick to reply as you noticed his intense stare under you, magenta-painted eyes staring daggers through you like a wild animal. "n-no! I mean yes! You're right!" You hated how high-pitched your voice sounded, but you simply couldn't contain all the noises he ripped out of you, the feeling of his tongue exploring your needy cunt was just too much.

"Fuck I can't! I'm gonna'-" He looked up to see your face as he drove sound after sound out of you with his tongue alone. He smirked against your heat, hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you from squirming. "You're gonna cum? I got you. C'mon, give it to me."

With one more flick of his tongue, your breath catches in your throat, eyes rolling behind the sockets in euphoria as the tight knot in your stomach snapped, your cries and the sloppy wet sounds of the man slurping up your fluids the only thing filling the room, thighs clenching around his head.

One last lick over your folds caused your legs to twitch in his hold. He came back to view between your thighs, head laying on top of your belly as he flashed your exhausted form a cheeky grin.

„So I did get to eat you tonight anyways.“

a/n; part 2?!? Y‘ALL LIKE THIS OR NAH૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა IDKKK

ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇ���ˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°

[foodtruckery]

(Abo anon) your ideas are making me FERAL I'm so obsessed with how you characterize the brothers and god poor stan has been THROUGH it. But oh?? My gosh??? The imagery of stan working himself through his heat in the basement, fantasizing about stanford YOOOO I'm just imagining him trying to basically fist himself as a makeshift knot and imagining if his hand had just one more finger- and then losing himself a little bit at the thought (which he will then bury deep deep down in the "do not touch" box of his mind)

I wonder if ford questioned what could have caused the damage to his first journal lmfao or if he noticed it at all (I'm sure if stan ever tells him about it hed blue screen over the mental image)

And ofc stan would absolutely try to brush the whole event aside even if the smart thing to do is just stay off supressents (I'm glad you brought up his age because I WAS wondering if him being older would actually affect his likelihood of having heats) stan is gonna crush this all down under gravity falls new fav phrase "never mind all that"

Until ford realizes what stans planning and throws a fit I assume lol bro probably tries to play it off like hes worried for stans health but in reality hes just does NOT want to give up his deepest fantasy come to life

Which reminds me (I would apologize for yapping but I'm just meeting your energy here lmao) the idea of ford putting stan in his place of the hierarchy when he comes back through the portal? I keep thinking about the "what if" of that. Like. Would stans suppressants fail or would he just have to play along and pretend hes an alpha getting bitched? If it's the former I imagine ford (because as smart as he is, hes still an idiot) would somehow assume he MADE stan into an omega right there and then lmfao before stan corrects him ofc

I feel like I should start signing these off with something so I dont have to keep putting abo anon at the top lmfao

hahahaha! by all means, if you wanna have a sign off or an emoji or something, i'm all for it! especially considering at this point you've basically become my primary co-conspirator for this shit -- you know that right??

because, see, YOU GET IT. the way i yelled at the 'trying to fist himself to emulate ford's knot' comment like fuck yeah buddy, absolutely. i like to think that once he had his head on straight again, stan tried really hard to clean the journal up as much as possible, but there's not a ton to do for where it stained, or where pages got, ahem, wet and then dried out of shape. but if he calls it water stains most people aren't gonna look twice (most people will never even SEE this damn book), and honestly he'd be a liiiiittle bit relieved that it gets torched.

but he does probably slip up or get comfortable enough later on, when things are out in the open and a little more relaxed, where he makes a joke about it. spills a little water or coffee or something on whatever new journal ford is maintaining of their seafaring adventures, and laughing it off as "hey, not the worst thing i've ever gotten on one of these things, quit griping, would ya?" and ford's like "what is THAT supposed to mean?" and yeah, absolutely fucking bluescreens when he eventually gets the story out of stan because first of all, how did that even work and second of all, the idea of carrying around his journal knowing it's stained with slick he got out of stan? my mans is a mess.

and yes! i was thinking that the reason stan is still having heats at all at this age is largely due to how badly he fucked over his own cycles for most of his life and then just going cold turkey off all of them cause eh! he doesn't need that shit anymore. like it probably wouldn't actually be that big of a deal if it was just suppressants - lots of people take those! - or just beta or alpha pheremones. but going back and forth between all of them, getting a lot of those drugs from less-than-reputable sources to keep the secret safe, mixing shit he shouldn't have or taking enough expired stuff? frankly he should be less concerned with still getting heats and more concerned with checking his fucking liver or something.

and yeah, the easiest way to deal is definitly just to grab more drugs and nip this shit in the bud the way that's always worked. but ford is Not About That at all. catch his ass upending pills into the ocean if that's what it takes. and of course it's for stan's health, it's clearly not good for him to be on these drugs, and also what is there to worry about if it happens again? ford isn't going anywhere, he can help if stan needs him to, as many times as he needs him to. and stan is the one who said he didn't care about presenting as an omega nowadays, right? why upend all that over something so silly?

(and you know damn well at this point that we're just yappers, keep it coming) cause like I WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS TOO. about if they had gotten into it when ford came back through the portal. like other than some posturing and shit (okay like a LOT of posturing when it comes to some jackasess, cue bud for example), stan probably hasn't been legitimately threatened by an alpha in ages. and back when that did happen more regularly, stan is used to punching above his weight class, and probably hasn't been on the "bitch" end of a bitching in a long fucking time. probably hasn't even been on the receiving end of regular sex in a hot minute, as much for general preference as to keep up appearances.

but even when he has dealt with prick alphas trying to make a point since settling into gravity falls, they definitely weren't as worked up and aggressive as ford is after coming through that portal. and it's absolutely never happeend in the room where he has, in fact, gone into heat at least once. or with, y'know, ford himself. so yeah, it's absolutely possible that it's a perfect storm for triggering a heat. or, if not triggering a full on heat, it may trigger more biological bullshit; producing more slick than he has outside of a heat since he was in his damn 20's. and ford would ABSOLUTELY ASSUME he had done that -- which YEAH okay technically he did, but not because he has a magical dick, ford you moron.

it might actually kill stan to let ford think that bullshit if it means getting to keep up appearanaces for a little longer.

[homunculus-argument]

I'm pretty sure I've made a post about this exact specific thing before, but I'm going to type this out anyway, because I can't get over how Tove Jansson's work depicts masculinity, and the idea of gender in general.

While she was - and still 100% is - absolutely a wlw icon (being the first woman to bring a same-sex date to Finland's annual independence day ball in the Presidental Palace), and her work doesn't focus on men or masculinity, she had no resentment towards the male sex as a whole. In her works, the male characters are mainly amusing creatures, up to their silly masculine antics that men are bound to do just the same as squirrels are bound to build their certain type of nests and migratory birds are bound to fly to the south for winter.

There are characters - whole species, in fact - that more or less represent people trying to perform their respective gender roles, like the Fillyjonk who manages to be a strictly normative Housewife without any mention of her having a husband, and the masculine counterpart of generally male hemulens. While there are both fillyjonks and hemulens that are happy being Traditionally Feminine and Traditionally Masculine, there's one short story of a fillyjonk who doesn't enjoy micro-managing an immaculate household, and another one of a hemulen who doesn't enjoy any traditionally masculine hobbies but tries to arbitrarily pick one anyway, because of societal expectations to have one.

But the thing is, the characters who don't fit into standard strict gender presentations are perfectly comfortable with themselves and neither they nor anyone else really gives a shit. Jansson was born in 1914, and it's remarkable how neutral the characters' depictions are to a modern eye. Being personally finnish and introduced to her works in a language that doesn't have gendered pronouns, I literally did not know what gender a few of the characters were before encountering their english or swedish descriptions with pronouns. And I never wondered whether they're supposed to be male or female. Hell, even the character representing the love of her life is depicted like this, and it never crossed my mind to wonder whether Too-Ticky is male or female. She's just Too-Ticky, who dispels wisdom.

But coming back to masculinity, the way Jansson depicts male characters and The Masculine Urge To Do Shit isn't depicted as either superior nor inferior to her female characters' ways of doing their own thing. Sure, men cause problems on purpose from time to time, but the narrative doesn't depict this as inherently bad any more than it is inherently good. The protagonist Moomintroll is a boy and does his best to perform some ideal of being manly, but it's depicted as a part of him trying to grow up. His father's misadventures in trying to be either a wildhearted Manly Adventurer or a Stable Provider For His Family - and the conflict between these two ideals - aren't depicted as bad things to want, or something he shouldn't want, but just an inherent part of being a man.

The protagonist's girlfriend Snorkmaiden is depicted as vain and frivolous as much as she is kind and loving, but her girlish silliness and genuinely kind heart aren't depicted as being contradictory to each other, it's just who she is as a person. The protagonist's mother, Moominmamma, is the platonic ideal of a loving and patient mother and wife, and The moomins' TvTropes page actually goes as far as describing her as fitting the definition of the platonic ideal of the perfect traditional japanese woman, being gentle, loving and hospitable, but strong and unhesitant to protect her family. She doesn't humour her husband's whims out of some schooled and practiced dedication to the role of feminine submissiveness, she puts up with his stupid shit because she loves him.

Tove Jansson was a splendid woman and her work and art are rightfully one of Finland's proudest gifts to the world, and whether she was gay or bisexual, it clearly shines through her work how as much as she loved women, she didn't dislike men. The Masculine Urge To Do Shit is aknowledged with a jovial shrug: "Yeah, they do that sometimes."

[sunrisemill]

♡ The little things ♡

Summary: Matt has always been pressured to live up to his father and everything that he expects him to be. Y/n has always been very quiet and has been pressured by her whole family to step out of her comfort zone and live her life free from her worries. What will happen when they unexpectedly run into each other at a random ice cream shop?

(Warnings: Toxic family members (Nothing happens though dw it’s only mentioned)

Pt.2

(Matt’s POV)

“You want me to leave?! Fine then, I’m done dealing with this shit.”

I shout out across the house before slamming the front door behind me.

This is the third fight we've had this week.

Ever since my dad found out I've been ditching classes he's been on my ass about everything.

So what? I skip a couple of art classes. It's not like it actually matters.

The thing is my dad is a stern man. Ever since I was a child he told me that I needed to learn how to be a real man.

So that means I shouldn't ever talk about how I feel. I should just suppress my emotions, so I do that.

The only downside is that my emotions come back up in bursts of anger that I can't control.

It's not like I want to be this way, it's the way I've been wired since I could remember.

But the truth is I’m scared.

I’m scared that I’m never going to escape these emotions.

Everyone is going to forever know me as the miserable grump, Matt Sturniolo.

I wish I could change it around but nobody gives me the chance.

Maybe… when the opportunity arises I might have a chance, but I know that's not true.

As I start to spiral into worse thoughts, a hot pink neon sign in the shape of an ice cream cone catches my attention.

I find myself squinting my eyes as I try to make out the letters.

“Gelato Galore”

No way they’re being serious…

GELATO GALORE?

That's ridiculous but I might as well try it, all I want is to be alone and what better place to be alone than an ice cream shop during winter?

I step through the door and I’m instantly overwhelmed by the bright colours, I feel like I’m drowning in an ocean of pink.

It’s everywhere I look!

As my eyes dart around they land on the only person in the shop besides the workers.

It’s a random girl and she seems upset, I feel like I know her from somewhere but I can’t place it.

The way she looks is something you could only describe as a depressing portrait made by a struggling artist, her hair falling in front of her face as tears roll down her cheeks.

The redness on her nose matching the small cherry on top of her sundae that she seems to be refusing to eat by the way she pushes it aside.

I feel a strong urge to check up on her but I don’t know if I should. I’ve never been good at helping people in need.

I sigh as I walk up to the counter. Whatever she's going through is none of my business.

~~~~

(Y/ns POV)

I let out a couple of sad sniffles as I push the little maraschino cherry that's on top of my ice cream to the side.

He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago…

I keep telling myself that he must be stuck in traffic or maybe he's just running late and I'm overthinking it all.

I've been repeating all the different scenarios in my head and reasons why he could be late.

My nails impatiently tap against the pink plastic spoon they gave me, I feel as though I’ve been here for hours when in reality it has only been around twenty minutes.

Why can’t he just call me or even text me if he’s running late?

That's when I see my phone light up on the table. I quickly pick it up and I'm met with his contact name.

As I read the message he sent me I could physically feel my heart drop, all of the hope I had was crushed within a second

“I can't make it.”

What the fuck? No sorry? No explanation? Nothing.

I can't believe he could treat me with such disrespect.

I feel like such an idiot…

I sigh in defeat, I place my phone down on the table and dive straight back into my ice cream to distract myself from the current heartbreak I'm feeling.

As I scraped some ice cream from the bottom of the tub, I noticed that the chair in front of me had just pulled back and someone had taken a seat on it.

“Hey, I hope you don't mind me asking, but I couldn't help but notice that something seems to be bothering you. Is everything okay?”

what? I lift my head and I'm met with the sight of a stranger.

But he's not really a stranger, It appears to be Matt Sturniolo.

Although I have seen Matt at school and around the small town that we live in, we don't necessarily run in the same social group.

I sigh as I sit up straight and put down my now-empty ice cream tub.

“I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it.”  

I look back down at the table, silently praying that he goes away but he stays.

“So…you a fan of ice cream?”

His small voice catches me off guard, I’ve never heard him talk with such little confidence.

Every inch of my body screams at me to get up and leave. To ignore the boy sat opposite. To run straight back to my room and rot in bed. Run back to my comfort zone.

But I hear my mother's voice ringing throughout my head.

“Come on, Y/n. You're not going to go anywhere in life if you don't put yourself out there. Just try it once, you might be surprised by what could happen.”

So I swallow every anxious feeling screaming at me to leave.

“Yeah. I mean… who isn't?”

A small smile on my lips. I lift my head to look at him, noticing the corners of his lips curled up slightly.

~~~~

I feel a peaceful smile tug on my lips, the scent of cold crisp air filling my senses.

I've always loved the winter. It has a sense of comfort that has always overwhelmed me.

I feel myself dipping deeper and deeper into a state of tranquillity when suddenly the boy next to me speaks up.

“You never answered my question earlier.”

He peers down at me. I sigh.

“What question?”

I know what question he's talking about. I've been asked the same question for years and I've grown to become annoyed at it as I grow older.

“I asked you, why are you always by yourself? Don't you have any friends?”

I tense up and he notices. He stops walking and grabs my wrist, forcing me to stop in the middle of the pavement.

“I'm sorry…”

I watch as his face contorts into a remorseful expression. His eyebrows knitting together.

“I didn't mean to come off as rude. It's just… I've seen you around school and you're always alone, I'm curious.”

I sigh as I look away from him. This is the last thing I need right now. I don't need someone here pointing out stuff that I already know.

It's frustrating. I tug my wrist out of his grip.

“Why don't you… oh, I don't know… mind your business.”

My tone is filled to the brim with annoyance. The way his face falls causes a twinge of guilt to seep into my heart but I push it down.

“Look, I'm just trying to help.”

He speaks through gritted teeth.

That was my last straw.

Without saying another word, I spin around on my heels and walk in the other direction. Completely ignoring the sound of his voice calling out for me.

So much for trying to make a friend.

(A/N: omg this literally took me weeks to finish 😭 I’ve been having an INSANE and extremely frustrating writers block but she’s done 😋 thank you so so much for reading <333)

Tags: @guccifrog @junnniiieee07

[liyatime]

💭 . . . " CHICAGO TYPEWRITER " . . ⌚

⌚ pairing ; hwang hyunjin x male reader

⌚ genre ; smut , angst (?)

⌚ cw ; cock stepping , gun-on-penis (NO GORE) , cursing , no aftercare , hyunjin couldn't give a shit abt reader emotionally , filming , dubious consent , thoughts of being cut up (not actually) , temperature play???

⌚ a/n ; can yall guess where i got the title from GIGGLES , also this has been on my mind the whole day , i HAD to write this out..

it was a cold , desolate place. you don't know how you got here , or who or what brought you here , but it was silent , and lonely. you writhed around , trying to set yourself free from the roped that tied you down to this wooden chair.

after a few minutes of writhing around , you sat still out of breath. you thought about giving up and letting whoever brought you here take your life , afterall , you kinda deserved it. you snuck into a rich man's house and thought you could get away with it. (🫵🤭)

a door opened. you could hear the sounds of footsteps , but it was more like clacking , like the sound of expensive shoes that belonged to an old fashioned gentleman. you made sounds through the cloth that was lodged into your mouth and started to thrash again.

the clacking stooped right in front of you , you kept moving around , hoping he'd have sympathy for you , hoping that he wouldn't kill you.

all of a sudden , you feel something pressing down on your crotch , and it was pressing down hard. you groaned through the cloth in your mouth , soon recognizing it as a shoe. you also began to hear sounds of rustling.

"let's see here ," the voice of a male said , "(m/n) (l/n) , interesting name.. you're (age) years old , and you live in (town)." you shivered at the thought of this man knowing all your private information , maybe you shouldn't have broken into this house.

"so , mr (l/n) , why my house ? because it's large in size ? i don't know how rich you think i am but this house was just inherited , i don't have that kind of money , and if i did , i wouldn't spend it on something like a mansion." the man said, inserting the ID into his back pocket.

"oh dear , it's kind of awkward talking to myself.." he said , his hands touched your face and you felt the cloth being removed from your mouth. you immediately began shouting , "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?" "LET ME GO!" "I WONT DO IT AGAIN , PLEASE!" the man scoffed at your incessant pleas.

"oh , shut up. your screaming is unpleasant." he said, plugging your mouth back up. the man took his foot off your crotch you could hear him walking away , going back up the stairs. you panicked yet again , thinking he was going to leave you here to rot for your wrongdoings. you also thought it'd be useless to thrash around and accepted your punishment.

after a few minutes you could hear the man's footsteps again and the sound of metal clashing , and it made you think , 'shit.. this psycho's gonna cut me up and sell my organs' well think again , the man set down the box and began to put together something. after a few minuted you heard a flash , "oh sorry (m/n) , just testing my baby out." he was going to record you being cut up..

you got scared each passing moment that the man didn't talk or when you heard the sound of metal clashing. you were close to crying , and maybe even pissing yourself.

a minute passed before you heard the man's footsteps again , and they again stopped in front of you. you began to cry , pleading for your life , but all the man did was unzip your pants , freeing your cock from the confinements of your pants. you felt the cold breeze of the empty room on your cock and it gave you goosebumps.

"your tip , it's a pretty color (m/n).. it suits you." the man teased. though you and him were the only people who were in the room , you still felt embarrassed. he glided a finger over your tip , tracing it in circles. you whimpered and your cock let loose a small amount of precum which he smeared all over the tip of your dick.

"you know , (m/n) , i have a little present for you , will you give me a minute to collect it?" the man asked , you didn't respond , but hyunjin went to collect it anyways , what kind of authority do you have in his house? your dick got cold and you were closer to an orgasm each time a breeze passed over your dick and you continued to moan from the cold feeling.

you heard the man's footsteps again after a while , he was coming down the stairs and stopped in front of you yet again. "oh , you didn't cum yet? should i help you with that?" the man asked. you started to give a slow and hesitant nod.

you heard a gun reload and you nearly pissed yourself. the man took the gun and placed it on the shaft of your cock , tracing upwards and downwards with it. you were scared but turned on , the cold feeling of the gun took you closer to your orgasm. the man put his foot on your crotch , taking the gun off.

"do you like it? i won this at an auction, it's a 1918 thompson machine gun , or it's also known as the chicago typewriter." the man said "i wont get my baby dirty , so your orgasm will be painful , i do apologize." he said the last part sarcastically , stepping on your dick harder and twisting his foot , you moaned loudly through the cloth in your mouth , a few more twists of his shoe to your orgasm..

he kept twisting his shoe on your cock , and you could feel the rush of your orgasm come. as you threw your head back , your cock shot out bundles of sperm , dirtying the man's shoe. "gosh.. i just bought these too , and you got them all dirty.." the man said disappointingly. he took his foot off your crotch and put your dick back in your pants without cleaning you or anything. "you can clean yourself right? I'll let you go in a bit.." he said , patting your dick.

you were fucked out , still feeling the high of your orgasm and your head was tilted back. but all of a sudden your felt a piercing pain in your neck , and passed out.

when you woke up , you were laying on the concrete sidewalk , you got up and felt something in your hand. it was your wallet. you looked up to the house you previously broke into and sighed , rubbing your forehead and walking away , there wasn't much you could do about this , it felt good though. you should probably get home and take a shower.

a/n ; tbh i don't like it , I could've written it out way better zhshssjjns

[unlucky-phantom]

Losing his spark: Cayde-6 x Solar Guardian reader

so, my first actual full fic. Don't get your hopes up, I've no idea if this is any good or makes any sense, tried to keep it as in character as possible. It's barely proofread and I'm only like 4 hours sleep so excuse any typos but fingers crossed it all makes some sense.

as always, have a good day lovlies and I hope you enjoy xoxox

WARNINGS: Death, injury detail, angst and violence under the cut, if you can't handle these please scroll away, I promise I'll write something fluffy and sweet.

Well, this wasn't going as expected.

Cayde and yourself had been trusted with what was supposed to be a simple in and out mission. Into the cabal stronghold, grab the intel (maybe shoot a few bad guys and look good doing it) then back to the tower in time for some piping hot ramen. His plan was flawless. or as you had called it "winging it".

Praise was reserved for quiet moments, whispers about how you were his favourite, how he had never seen such a bright solar spark in all his years at the tower, just so he could watch the blush bloom onto your cheeks and your smile. Oh, your smile, he would set aside what little pride and dignity he had to see it just once. You could point at any star in the night sky and if you asked, he would retrieve it for you. If only he had the guts to tell you this. He would eventually. He had plans, a clear summer night, hot ramen, something strong to drink with a nice kick. Just the two of you.

Well, you had always been overly cautious, but it worked surprisingly well for the pair of you. Cayde, the man with the plan and a slightly headstrong attitude and you, cautious and always with 6 back up plans. That's what he loved about you, of course, he wouldn't say that out loud, no, he had a reputation to maintain.

The mission was going well. the pair of you had crept into the cabal's stronghold unseen. Suspiciously easy. That's when all hell broke loose. The plan was lock tight. They shouldn't have known you were there but now both of you were up shit creek without a paddle...or a boat...or a life jacket. Someone must have tipped them off. Legionaries, phalanxes, gladiators, centurions, and war beasts surged out of every doorway and corridor. It was nothing either of you couldn't handle.

He thought.

As bullets flew the pair of you slowly drifted apart, swamped by cabal, the well-oiled machine the pair of you were when fighting started to rust. Soon you were just a distant blur of solar energy. His little firefly, his solar flare. He couldn't stand and watch though, as shot after shot was fired from his trusty hand cannon into the swam of red.

The ambush was thinning, he knew the pair of you would pull through you always did.

Then he felt it.

As if a part of his own light was ripped from his very being. A tidal wave that rocked the whole room, he had to catch himself from being thrown against the wall as the pure light that surged through the area bowled him over, knocking the wind out of him. No. Not you.

The red tide didn't stop, but the surprise of the explosion gave him the perfect window to see the despair as your ghosts shattered shell, lightless, scattered across the floor. The scream trapped in your throat as the gladiator speared you onto its cabal serverus blade, the stench of searing flesh permeating the air, the way your legs buckled, and body thudded against the floor as the gladiator kicked you off its blade.

The war beast that clamped down onto his left arm causing him to drop his hand cannon was first to feel his retribution. Snapping out of his trance he grits his teeth, throwing the war beast with such force it dented the steel wall behind him and grabbing ace he reloads and unleashes hell. Shot after shot echoed over the roaring screams of the cabal. Bones crunched, tendons snapped and popped until all that was left was the gladiator, your body at its feet in a gasping crumpled mess.

Cayde saw red. He doesn't know how many rounds he pumped into the gladiator. He doesn't remember ripping its jaw apart as he screams in pure unbridled anger. He doesn’t remember being beating it into a bloody unrecognisable mess.

The red tide was now a red sea. Cayde had spilt enough blood in his lifetime, and he would spill more in future. But now wasn't the time to dwell on his crimson-stained past.

It was Sundance who snapped him out of his anger, his body tense, chest heaving. "Cayde....they need you" Sundance says quietly.

Cayde is at your side in an instant, hand barely able to cover the ragged wound in your abdomen as he pulls you onto his lap. "No no no no no" he mumbles his hand instantly soaked in your blood. You had always been a paragon of strength, the pair of you often rough and tumbling in the tower, sparring in the training room, but now in his arms you felt fragile, body trembling as you gulped for air.

"h-hey" you rasped weakly a pained smile on your face. "We...we sure showed them."

He choked on his words "Yeah, we sure did”.

"I’m sorry"

Why were you apologising? You shouldn't be apologising. He should have been beside you; he should have been better; he should have done more. It should have been him. His thoughts fly a million miles an hour.

"Don't you dare apologise" he rasps, his voice synthesiser becoming more staticky.

"I'm sorry we couldn't have been more" you whisper, his hands stroke your hair as he rocks you gently.

"Wasn’t supposed to be like this. Was supposed to take you back home, treat you real nice" he growls in frustration. He couldnt loose you, not now. Not after there was so much he wanted to do, so many words left unsaid. He had saved so many cheesy pick up plines, so many date ideas, crimson day, festival of the lost, the dawning festival.

He had plans for every single one with you beside him. He removes your helmet, if he was going to say this if he was going to hold you in your final moments, he wanted to see those eyes he loved so much. the ones he would think about late at night, the ones he longed to see when he would turn in bed to the emptiness of cold sheets. Sheets that would remain cold. That would never see your warmth.

"Oh yeah? tell…Tell me about it" You begin to cough, and his arms tighten around you, he can feel the visceral rattling gurgle that accompanies each breath and he knows it will haunt him.

"Was gonna take you to that ramen spot in the city, you know, the really nice one in the city, has the pretty lanterns outside? yeah, I’d get you whatever you wanted, on me, really spoil you. Then I’d take you to our spot-"

"That little overlook on the city wall?" your voice, quiet and scratchy barely reaches his audio receptors.

He nods smiling through the pain to keep you relaxed, he had time to scream and shout and cry later, right now you were the only important thing "that's the one. Bring with us a little something to drink and watch the sunset. Maybe we would have a little slow dance under the stars. Always said I’d take you dancing one day didn't I?" the static in his voice was becoming more prominent as he had to force the words out, willing his body to stop trembling, trying to comfort you.

“Sounds nice”

“Then I'd tell you everything, everything I should have told you months ago” he mumbles burring his face in your hair, if he could cry he's sure he would be in floods, just another reason he despised his exo body.

“It's okay, I knew”.

“You knew?”

You weakly nod and struggle to put on a smile, bloody lips barely managing to up turn, your face was pale. You were fading fast, trickling through his fingers like sand and no matter how hard he tried it was like trying to catch water with a siv. “Always knew. I love you to”.

He can feel your faint heartbeat getting harder and harder to pick up under his blood-soaked fingers.

“I love you”.

Sundance didn’t have the heart to tell him they were already gone before he said those three words. She wasn’t ever going to tell him.

You knew.

You had always known.

Traveler help the poor bastard who tipped off the cabal about their arrival. Because no force within the known galaxy could protect them from Cayde-6