#shutting down completely is letting them and their bullshit win

[catalisst]

On occasion, yes ... less so now that I channel Daisy Duck, who "does Not give a fuck."

Do you ever go “ wow ok” and shut down entirely

[coff33andb00ks]

world around us

summary: you're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night word count: 1k pairing: lando norris x oscar piastri x driver!reader (lilli. it's lilli) warnings: just pure fluff, slightly suggestive language(?) a.n.: final installation of my I need Lilli to have an amazing birthday series! this is once again for @maxlarens HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLI MY LOVE!!! playlist: completely unhinged songs that fit the vibe

"No no no no no no no! You can't do that! You fuckin' muppet!"

Oscar mirrors your eye roll as Lando protests you placing a house on one of your properties. "She owns it though?" he says tentatively.

Lando scoffs, snatching up the guide and snapping it open. "The rules say–"

"I refuse to follow rules when you rolled twice so you wouldn't go to jail," you say with a huff, snatching the guide from him.

"I had to! One of the dice landed on the floor!"

"Oh but when we play golf I have to play no matter where my ball lands?"

"Yes." Lando gives you a look of disbelief, as though the idea of breaking a golfing rule is akin to murder. "It's not my fault you can't hit a ball straight."

"Just for that–" You slap more brightly colored money in front of Oscar - Oscar has to be the banker he's the most honest one among us - and grab a hotel to replace the house. "Suffer."

Lando groans, throwing up his hands. "You're cheating. I hate games night."

Oscar's grin shifts and he begins to chuckle. "We could play Trivial Pursuit?"

"No," Lando whines, picking up the dice to take his turn. "That game makes me feel stupid."

"Uno?" you suggest sweetly.

"No, we'll finish this. Capitalism is good to me, I'll make a comeback." Lando nods to himself as he shakes the dice. "Just shut up so I can focus."

And then, twenty minutes later–

"What d'you mean I owe you double the rent?!"

The rules are checked - well this is fucking bullshit - and he counts out all of his money to pay up. Suddenly capitalism sucks and he's clinging to his one property block and his cash like they're his lifeline.

You'll never know how (he probably cheated) but he wins. Monopoly money rains down as he celebrates and you fall back with laughter when Oscar flips the board in disgust.

You love games night. The silly playlist Lando put together plays, Disney movies play, muted, on the tv, and you've got them.

Lando and Oscar. Your biggest rivals on the track and your closest friends off. You're celebrating Oscar's first win this week now that summer break is here, enjoying the lazy days before you each take off in different directions to visit family and recuperate from an exhausting first half of the season.

"Loser cleans up," you remind Oscar and he groans as he gives you a kiss then begins picking up the mess. Lando's singing along to the latest country song he's obsessed with - Is it your heart or mine? Is it whiskey or wine? Is it somethin' in the night Makin' us wanna cross that line? - and he follows you into the kitchen to get more drinks.

"You sure you don't want to come along with me?" he asks, reaching around you to get a beer from the fridge.

"Let me see... Golfing with a bunch of men versus beach time with my best friends…" You hum thoughtfully, squealing when loops an arm around you.

"That can't be right. Me and Osco are your best friends," he says.

"Let me rephrase. Best women friends."

He's holding you close, swaying a little to the song playing - you think Oscar's the one who added ABBA, or maybe it was you - and you smile a little as you sway with him. He hums songs without realizing it and it's one of his more endearing habits.

"But I'll miss you," he murmurs, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you too." And you will. This season you've grown closer to him. Literally, considering he finally talked you - and Oscar - into moving to Monaco. But also figuratively. You're just as rough on yourself as he is on himself, and with all the macho bravado that surrounds you every race week, it's nice to have someone who understands your being upset over missing out on a podium due to your own failings as a driver, your miscommunication with the team. It's rarer to have someone who understands shouldering the blame of the team's missteps – if I was better at this, they would trust my judgment but I'm not so they don't and that means—

"Not getting sappy on me are you?" Lando teases.

"You started it," you mutter. Turning, you wrap your arms around him. "We can live a few weeks without each other."

"I mean… You'll text right? Call?" he asks softly.

"FaceTime too," you promise.

It's tentative and new and so fucking scary but he gives you a soft kiss. Not your first with him, but it still makes your heart do that weird little flutter that it's only ever done with one other person.

"Jenga?" Oscar calls from the living room and Lando perks up instantly, nearly knocking you down in his haste to get back to the only other person he's going to miss during break.

Jenga with your boys is impossible. They're too competitive, know too many things they can say that make the other break and send the blocks flying.

"Oh of course he's going for the bottom, man loves to be at the bottom," Oscar mutters to you and Lando's giggling, covering his face with his hands as the tower collapses.

The games are abandoned, and you're squished on the couch between them, Oscar's lips on your ear, Lando's head on your stomach as the three of you, tipsy and relaxed, begin making plans for the last days of break while a Studio Ghibli movie plays. It's not said by either of you, but you already know that the three of you will find each other long before the break is over.

The world is easier to bear when it's the three of you together. It's still new, still tentative, still scary as hell, but it feels oh so right.

[morganwrites12672]

Five More Minutes

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/n tries to convince Sam to stay in bed for five more minutes, class can wait (Stanford!Sam).

Rating: PG-14

A/N: This is dedicated to the lovely @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles

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Y/n groaned and mumbled several rather colorful curses as the blaring alarm clock interrupted her sleep. On Tuesdays, Sam and Y/n had the same lecture. And, it was too goddamn early. Every week, she pleaded with Sam to stay in bed. Every week, Sam resisted.

Y/n wrapped her arms around Sam even tighter, glancing up at him. He gave her a tired smile and threaded his fingers through his hair. She knew he was about to get up. She didn't have long if she was going to convince him to stay in bed.

"Five more minutes," She pleaded, hoping he would agree. No one would notice if the two were late one week. It was only one time.

Sam sighed, she could see the contemplating look on his face as he gazed down at her. He wanted to stay in bed with her all day. It was his favorite place to be. Having her wrapped around him, it was his own personal heaven, and the happiest he had been in years. He reached his arm over and clicked off the alarm clock.

She didn't know about the other life he used to have. He had made up a bullshit story about his father being a traveling salesman. She couldn't know the truth about what went bump in the night. Sam planned on telling her eventually, but not anytime soon.

He gently played with her hair as he spoke, "Come on. . . We can get back in bed after we finish the lecture."

She frowned, rolling over so that she was laying on top of him. Their chests were pressed together, their faces mere inches apart. Usually at this point she would give up. The two would get up and begin their day. Today though, she refused.

"Please?" She asked, pressing gentle kisses to his chest and collarbone. She heard Sam's breath catch in his throat. The sound brought a smile to her face. She had him right where she wanted him.

Sam groaned, and she knew the second he looked at her that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He let his eyes flutter shut, giving up completely. He didn't have the will power to tell her to get up. Missing one day wouldn't hurt.

"So, we can stay in bed?" She asked, stating st his face, waiting. She had stopped pressing kisses to his chest and collarbone. She wanted to enjoy her victory.

Sam groaned, "Yes, we can stay in bed. You win," Sam said, even if his words were said slightly annoyed, she could see right through it. Sam wanted to stay in bed just as much as she did right now.

Y/n smiled, she was about to make another remark whenever Sam flipped the two of them over. Now it was Y/n on her back with Sam hovering on top of her. She saw the look in his eyes and smiled, they would be staying in bed for a while.

Sam quickly pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her like a man starved. She moaned into the kiss as Sam's hands began wandering. Their lips moved against each other, only pulling away for a brief second so the two could breath. This was going to be the perfect morning.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please comment and/or reblog to show your support! Also, my requests are open!

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Shang Tsung x Reader: A Chance To Prove Yourself

~~~~~~~~~~~~ The leaves all swooshed on the tree they were bound to in reaction to the wind. The same tree you sat under, sulking as you usually did. A decent distance away from the Wu Shi Academy you used to be devoted. Now it made you sick in a way. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you pointed blame at the Thunder God that shut you down.

You remember all too well the secondhand embarrassment and devastation when Raiden bluntly turned you down from joining Earthrealm's champions. Right in front of your best friends, Kung Lao and Liu Kang. The demigod claimed you weren't skillful enough and your ego would get you killed in battle. Yet somehow Lao still gets to go?! The equally arrogant bastard was also confused on that part.

"Maybe Lord Raiden just wants to protect you." You recalled Liu Kang reasoning for his father figure. Bullshit. You may have started late but you train just as hard.

Ever since that situation happened, you became distant with those two. You didn't hold any resent for them, hopefully, but being around them after that made you feel negative. They're good friends and you didn't want to bring the mood down.

Dreading on about everything you were unaware of someone creeping up behind the tree.

"...And she sits alone, wondering if she will ever be good enough. Or perhaps wallowing in self-pity, believing all of them are wrong and don't deserve her strength."

You turned to whoever it was narrating you with a supercilious tone. Opening your mouth with the intent to tell them to shut the hell up, only a gasp would come out when that specific voice belonged to Shang Tsung. You knew Liu defeated him before, but it was definitely not so simple You hopped up ready for a fight with the old, evil coot.

He raises a steady hand as if he isn't looking for a fight. "Oh, so 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 going to defeat me? Do you think you'll win?" Shang asks with continuing patronization.

"No." You lost your battle stance and stood there normally, feeling stupid to even think that. Your ego couldn't be more destroyed so it's easy to be put in your place.

"Good girl. Smart." Shang chuckles and slowly walks to you. You only kept your head down. Carefully with his clawed finger guard, he tilts your chin up. "Poor Y/n. You have so much potential. Truly a loss for Earthrealm that Raiden doesn't let you fight beside him- or your close allies."

"What would you know?" You sneered, eyes following him as he walked behind but you didn't dare move your head even slightly.

"Quite a lot, actually. From the very moment he put you down, up to your friends deserting you."

"Deserting me?" Confused, you faced him and immediately corrected him. "Liu and Lao never deserted me. I just... hang out with them less. Purposely."

The old villain narrowed his maroon eyes at your rebuttal. "And have they ever asked you why? Check on you like they're supposed to? Have they ever even stood up to the foolish demigod and defended your progress?"

Being completely gagged, you couldn't defend that. The answer to those questions were all the same. "...No."

"You call them friends?" Shang shakes his head. "How does that make you feel? Don't you want to prove yourself? Show off truly what you're capable of?"

"Of course, I do!" You snap- not out of anger- but with newfound motivation. "But I train a lot every day. What more can I do?"

He pretends to think on it, you hardly notice. "I could offer my own mentoring to you, if you wish. Help you be advanced than whatever cheap combat monks do." Plotting with his back turned from you, his eyes gleamed at an extra part of the offer. Something you'd likely be interested in. "Say, do you have your own arcana?"

"I don't actually. Why?" As expected, you became more interested. You couldn't shoot fireballs or teleport annoyingly around the perimeter. But what you could do is deny the snake's offer and be a boring rejected fighter. Nope. "Could you get me one?"

"Easily." He nods, then extends his hand. "Is it a deal?"

Almost taking his hand, you retracted a bit. "Wait, what would you be getting out of it? I don't want to be accused of treason or you make me hurt them. They're not perfect but-"

"Oh dear, I would never make you hurt them. I'm trying to help you do the opposite actually. How lovely it would be to make them proud by being just as- pardon me- more powerful than them combine! And you wouldn't get in trouble unless you go chatting which I trust you wouldn't."

It all seems easy and promising. "Deal!" You smile and shook his hand, suddenly getting the feel of something awful overwhelm you. But you pushed it off thinking it was just excitement.

"Now why don't we return to my palace and discuss giving you magic." Shang begins walking away and you were quick to follow your new mentor.

"How long will that take? Won't Liu Kang or Kung Lao notice I'm missing?"

"You think so?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Fifteen

Estranged

The stage door burst open and you poured out into the damp alleyway. The neon signs illuminating the wet asphalt, providing just enough light for you to flick your lighter repeatedly in a failed desperate attempt to light your cigarette. It took you longer than you would have liked to realize you weren’t alone in the alleyway. As if by design, you found yourself again staring at a shadowy figure in an alleyway, eyeing you down like a predator. His dark curls enthralled his dark, chiseled face. He turned his face up to confirm your suspicion-it was him.

“No.” You shake your head immediately turning to open the stage door, but slash beats you to the door, overpowering your attempt to open it and slams it shut as his arm encases you into him. He was larger and stockier now, more muscular and manly. You instantly pull away. “I guess you’re still not above running away huh” slash bites, his voice deeper and gravelly. “I have nothing to say to you.” You bite back immediately shutting his remark down. A tense burn was thickened in the damp night air. Both of your hearts racing with adrenaline as your chests both rose in anger. Your back is turned as he towers behind you, his large hand still holding the door shut.

“Seems like after a couple years you might think of something to say for once.” Slash growled. His labored breath from the brief struggle was hot on your neck. His sharp sweet musk filled your lungs and your knees weaken slightly. Words fail you. Rejecting the desire to drink him in completely, you remain unphased. You simply can’t believe this is happening right now.

Only the gentle rainfall onto the pavement filled the void. Slash reissued his anger with a fist to the door, you jolted in fear underneath him as the sound banged out on the metal door. A frustrated grunt escaping from his lips

“Y/N! What are you doing here?!” He barked out some sort of expression of concern and confusion and shock to see you, especially here. You had enough and ripped yourself away from his enclosure and stood away in the alley now facing him.

“WHY DOES IT MATTER SLASH?! HUH?! WHY DO YOU SUDDENLY GIVE A SHIT? WHAT DO YOU CARE?!” You broke your silence.

“BECAUSE IVE ALWAYS FUCKING CARED, Y/N!” He immediately replied.

The two of you wasted no time picking up a long awaited conversation. The conversation was clearly reminiscent of the past now.

“That’s bullshit - that’s bullshit and you know it!” You retort.

“I WAITED Y/N!” Slash took a pause and continued, you watched him.

“I WAITED AND YOU NEVER WROTE! YOU NEVER CALLED, YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING!” He took a slight step forward pleading in anger, a tinge of sadness trailing in his voice.

You unintentionally roll your eyes and let out a loud scoff/laugh/cry. You glance upward at the sky in frustration. The level of disaster and frustration had you almost chuckling.

“They took me AWAY!” You laugh in total anger at this whole situation. Slash’s demeanor slows as he tries to understand what you mean. You notice his confusion and go on.

“God slash- they locked me UP! In that-that fucking asylum! I wrote- I wrote you every fucking day I could and THEY never sent them.” You ramble and flail your arm.

And then you turn to face him again. “And you know what slash-?” Your arms hit your sides limply defeated. “it didn’t even fucking MATTER in the end because as soon as I got out you were already moved on! Okay?! I saw you on MTV, I saw you win all the stupid fucking awards, the girls, I saw it all slash!” You roar off this all as slash stood still and watched.

“I MOVED ON BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU DID! WHAT CHOICE DID I HAVE? I COULDN’T LIVE IN THAT ANY LONGER. If I felt it any longer it would have fucking killed me. Do you understand that? My fucking life depended on forgetting you. Living-…with the fact that I lost you seemingly so quickly, foxey.. I couldn’t…I-“

The nickname spilled out of his mouth like acid. Causing a slight pause between the two of you. You snapped. This was stupid. You had a job to do, he could return to his night of luxurious squalor. You start stepping backwards, wiping a tear off your cheek.

“Did it mean anything then?” You ask quietly.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You shrug. “All of it- slash. Did any of it mean anything to you then?”

Slash took a step forward.

“ it meant fucking everything.” He emphasized. His voice choking ever so slightly.

You give slash a wholehearted smile through your tears, feeling silly. Still hurt, still angry. And now confused and terribly frustrated.

“Well, this has been great, just lovely-“ you laugh and sniff up tears. “but I don’t have time for this, I have to go. ” You continue to walk away.

He stands there looking at you in awe and defeat. Words failing him.

You round the corner, your heels clacking on the ground. You rest for a moment up against the opposite corner to catch yourself. The bright lights from the street shining down on you against the brick wall. You cup a hand over your mouth as additional tears etch their way out of you against your will. Everything you have fought to forget came spilling through you like tidal waves. The air swept from your lungs. And now that entire confrontation to top it off. What a nightmare you thought. An absolute fucking nightmare. Everything he said just then…..all of this- it had broken him too. By the emotion in his voice, it was clear he was earnest in his heartbreak. It was real- he really had been wounded just as you had.

Clara rounded the corner “there you are girl! Hey wassa matter doll? come on you know we gotta end tonight with a bang. Don’t let no stupid guys hold you down” She held you as you composed yourself. Her cheery demeanor always lifted you off your feet. She was right, you had clients to please and money to make, a roof to pay for. You had to earn your keep.

Clara pulled back and held your face in her hands“I got somethin that’ll cheer you up-“ she giggled like she had a secret and pulled out a small baggie of coke, shaking it playfully it in her fingers. You wiped your face and took a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s fucking do this.” You said sighed. You and Clara circle inside through the front door as to avoid returning to the alleyway. “By the way- did ya catch that total HUNK in the alleyway back thea? Gawd what I would do to climb that guy like a tree, didn’t catch his face but I’m sure it’s as good as his ass!” She remarked nonchalantly unaware of his identity or relation to you. I mean she was right. Time had been extremely kind to him. He grew into himself. His curls were somewhat darker and larger than life. His body fit and toned to the point that it was noticeable even through his clothing. His stature was taller and thickened with muscle. His strength was greater and so was his overall energy. Something undeniably cravable about him that pierced through the anger and pain associated with his presence. Memories infiltrating your mind. Had things gone differently back there, a small part of you wished to turn around and run back into his big muscular arms, to feel his large strong hands hold your body like a doll, his hot breath to caress your neck again….

*snap snap* “Helloooooo. Are you even listening to me?” Clara laughed. You returned to reality.

“Sorry right- what were you saying? God- sorry Clara I’m just off it tonight.” You admit still staring off. She takes no offense.

“Oh I was just sayin about that VIP client that booked you tonight. Pretty exciting stuff to have such a big name like that request you specifically like that- a last minute booking for you like that ain’t cheap, oughta put up some big cash to reserve you like that. Of course I suppose cash ain’t no worry for guys like that., bein famous n all.”

You queue back into the conversation.

“Famous?” You ask

“Yeah girl, ain’t you neva hearda Guns N’ Roses before?”

[randomthefox]

I've actually been looking forward to this one

So let's see it! Let's see Evan Stanley turn what SHOULD be a total one sided curbstomp win for The Chaotix and TAILS and AMY ROSE who SHOULD be able to COMPLETELY FUCKING DEMOLISH these clowns and nobodies into Clutch somehow pulling off a win. You KNOW that's what's gonna go down. You KNOW she HATES the Sonic cast so fucking badly that she's going to have them lose even though this should be the most noncontest in the entirety of the franchise history. Let's watch.

AND RIGHT OFF THE BAT we have Rough SOMEHOW getting over Vectors scream WHICH IS A FULL SCREEN CLEARING ATTACK THAT DESTROYS EVERY ENEMY IN THE ROOM IN SONIC HEROES

and just grapples his jaws shut. Also Stanley still doesn't know how to write Rough and Tumble.

fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off

OH! OH AND CLUTCH SHOOTS AT TAILS WITH A NORMAL FUCKING GUN! AND TAILS FLEES FROM IT! AND HIDES IN THE RAFTERS TO EVADE THE BULLETS!

INCREDIBLE!

AMAZING!

I'M NOT INFURIATED AT ALL BY MY BOY TAILS BEING ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DISRESPECTED BY THIS COMIC AT ALL!

And what the fuck is THIS bullshit why can't Vector just fucking slam his jaws around with the force he used to fling Espio and Charmy at giant stone walls to shatter them to pieces like he did in Sonic Heroes to shake Rough off?

What the fuck even happened here? Charmy rolls FORWARD underneath the gunshot, and then he's suddenly being held by Rough? What? That's so much off screen action that it's actually incomprehensible. And why would Charmy roll FORWARD instead of BACKWARDS *away* from the person shooting at him??? Charmy was taken hostage because Evan Stanley wrote Charmy being an idiot in a truly nonsensical bit of sequential art that is borderline visual gibberish. Awesome. Really living down to all my expectations for this fight scene.

"oh no"? OH NO?

FUCK OFF, WHO IS THIS AND WHERE IS AMY ROSE? YOU'RE AMY FUCKING ROSE, JUST CHARGE FORWARD AND SMASH ROUGH ON THE FUCKING HEAD, WHAT'S HE GONNA DO?

This is so fucking stupid, this is actually so much stupider than I expected it to be.

"Just don't hurt Charmy" gotta love the infantalization of a character that has helped fight Metal Overlord before. Gotta love the insinuation that Charmy is in ANY kind of danger right now. Hey, remember how I brought up before how it's weird that the comic never shows rings? Surely if this comic was canon to the video games, the characters should at least be paying lip service to the lack of rings they have on hand, to lend credence to the danger Charmy is in right? "Oh no, Charmy doesn't have any rings, so one snip of those crabmeat claws could spell game over!" No? Right, this comic is written by people who hate the video games, so lord knows we can't have anything like that included.

Again, what the fuck is even happening here? What was stopping Charmy from kicking his way out of the hold in the first place? What did Espio's thrown ninja star even do? Did the ninja star cause Rough to let go of Charmy? If so then why is he still kicking him? Did the ninja star just loosen his grip enough to allow Charmy to kick him? How would it have done that? Why was the ninja star even needed?

The sequential art for this fight scene is really bad. It's genuinely hard to even discern what the fuck is even supposed to be happening.

TAILS

DIDN'T

EVEN

FIGHT

TAILS DID NOT EVEN TAKE PART IN THE FIGHTING AT ALL

TAILS WAS ENTIRELY ON FLY BELLE TO THE CONTROL PANEL TO HACK OPEN THE DOOR DUTY! TAILS DIDN'T EVEN DO THE HACKING HIMSELF! IT WAS ALL BELLE! TAILS LITERALLY JUST FLEW BELLE TO THE COMPUTER!

TAILS ENTIRE ROLE IN THIS FIGHT SCENE WAS BEING A VEHICLE FOR BELLE! HE DID NOT FIGHT! HE RAN AWAY FROM THE FIGHTING! HE DIDN'T EVEN DO THE HACKING TO OPEN THE DOOR HE JUST CARRIED BELLE OVER TO IT! BECAUSE GOD KNOWS THIS COMIC OC IS SOOOOOOO MUCH BETTER AT USING COMPUTERS THAN FUCKING MILES PROWER WOULD BE

Wow that was somehow even worse than I was expecting it to be. Good job comic. I fucking hate you.

[antiradqueer]

Hey tumblr.

It's Luna, or more, someone of us who has no clue who they are right now. We feel like the embodiment of being sick and tired and just so done.

We have been thinking long and hard about what to write in this post or if we even want to make a post like this, but now that we're typing out these words, we don't know why we put it off so long.

We are permanently fucking off from the radqueer discourse. We can't take it anymore and we don't care anymore. We've lost all empathy and sympathy for everyone and everything involved in this shitshow, no matter which side they're on. The reason for this is not that we suddenly are neutral, we are still anti-radqueer, but we are so burned out and just start to dissociate the second we open the tags or see a radqueer post in the wild. We're naturally low empathy to begin with, but now every last ounce of that is completely gone when it comes to this topic, plus we just... don't care anymore. There's the 100th transnazi popping up? I don't care. Another "cisabuser" in the tags? doesn't matter. whatever. We're not a bad person, we are just done. We can't keep on doing this or this will eventually throw us into depression again and that might literally kill us. and I'm not going to let that happen.

when I think about radqueers, I feel so much anger, frustration and sadness - or more, that's what I felt. now all of that is just drowned by a dark cloud of tiredness and nothingness.

so, this is our goodbye. Knowing us, we will probably still roam the tags sometimes and depending who is fronting, some of us might even interact with discourse still, but like, officially, we are gone. (@ mod mew: if you could let us still have access to this account that would be dope af tho!)

I will also use this post to to encourage every anti-radqueer who's fighting tooth and nail to get blogs taken down and people banned, to step back for a minute, take a deep breath and think about if you really want to keep on doing this. we thought this would never take a mental toll on us, yet here we are. I'm not saying what you're doing is wrong, but I'm saying that maybe you could use your energy and will to fight for something else.

let's face it, radqueers will never be an actual threat to society. they are pathetic, sad people, hiding behind their screens, screaming "the future is radqueer!" over and over, but in reality this "movement" will burn to the ground eventually and they will go down with it.

do people get hurt in radqueer spaces? yes, they do and that's horrible (just a note as to how bad it's gotten with us: I write this and logically know that yes, it IS horrible - but I feel absolutely nothing. In all honesty, I currently don't care if people get hurt or not, because I can't care. it's like our brain shut off all emotions regarding this topic to protect ourselves). and I'm not saying you should stop offering them help, but I think you can stop worrying about the radqueers taking over society or whatever. if you feel this taking a toll on your mental health, please put yourself first. protecting your health and your life is always, ALWAYS more important that fighting strangers on the internet.

okay, in case you don't think of us as a total asshole with a heart of stone now and are interested in our plurality- and alterhumanity-focused tumblr life, here's out brand new system blog: @the-exodus-fleet And also our hosts blog: @talks-with-the-void

Take care of yourselves and thanks for every kind word and all the support we've got along the way /gen

PS: if any radqueer reads this and wants to celebrate this as a win or whatever, go ahead. if you need this to feel some joy in your sad, miserable little life, I'm not stopping you.

PPS: I still genuiely hope all radqueers eventually come to their sense and leave this bullshit ideology behind

PPPS: and to all radqueers who hide behind this label to abuse and groom other, I hope you lose all your friends and your family over this. you deserve no happiness.

[thebetawolfgirl]

Bonding Time

Pairing:Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut. There’s a teeny tiny bit of toxicity between the two.

A/N: If you don’t like complete smut Smut smut then this series won’t be your cup of coco!

Bonding Time

Y/n stood on the sideline as she watched her mother saying her vows with her new man. She wondered how long this marriage would last. Don’t get her wrong, Greg was a very nice guy and he was head over heels in love with her mother and treated her like a Queen, the problem wasn’t Greg it was her mother. She changed her mind like y/n changed her jewellery, she was actually surprised when both of them announced they were getting married. The only upside of this whole thing was Greg’s son, Timothée, they didn’t like each other at first in fact they hated each other. They constantly riled each other up to the point she would turn and throw something, anything at him, an ashtray, a glass. They were always arguing and fighting, but each parent eventually ignored them saying they would get used to being around each other at some point.

But over the past few weeks something was different, they didn’t argue as much. In fact it was their parents who had began arguing more and more and they had been spending more time together usually in each other’s rooms so as not to have to listen to the fighting alone. One night something happened, during the wedding preparations both parents were arguing downstairs again and y/n was in her bed listening to the raised muffled voices when her door opened and Timothée came in shutting the door behind him. ‘Hey you okay?’

‘Yeah I’m fine, just bored of this bullshit.’ She sighed sitting up slightly.

‘The fuck are they arguing about this time?’

‘Apparently your dad invited someone called Kerry or Carrie?’

‘Terri? All this noise because of Terri?’ She nodded.

‘Who is she anyway?’

‘She’s the daughter of an old friend of my dad’s. He’s known her since she was a baby. She used to babysit me. Jesus Christ!’

Y/n sighed hearing a glass break downstairs. ‘Can you stay? I don’t want my mother crawling in beside me when she’s drunk and crying.’

Timmy looked at her before nodding in beside her and draping his arm lazily around her waist. The room was still in complete darkness so they couldn’t see each other very well but they could hear each other’s breathing.

‘I’m sorry for throwing that ashtray at you, I was just in one of my bad moods’

‘It’s fine, I deserved it. I shouldn’t have handled you like that.’

They looked at each other in the dark their eyes adjusting slowly.

‘Why did you act offended when Stacey asked you that truth?’

She could feel his breath on her face as he asked the question.

‘I don’t know. I think it’s because she asked the question, if anyone else asked it would’ve been a simple no.’

She felt him nod and heard his hum.

‘Why do you care?’

‘I don’t, I was just as pissed off as you when Stacey asked it.’

‘I think she wanted to know because she wants to fuck you. I mean you have been dating for 3 weeks why haven’t you slept with her yet?’

‘She’s not as soft as you are’ he mumbled in reply before he pulled her closer getting more comfortable around her and she sighed shuffling down against her bed to get comfortable with him and ended up tangled with him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. ‘True I am built more softly than Stacey whereas she’s all muscle and hard and… manish.’ She made a face and began playing with his hair ‘What the hell is she training for’

‘Maybe she’s training to kick your ass’ he mumbled against her chest sniggering

She glared at his head in the dark and moved her knee between his legs but before she could reach her target he grabbed her throat and pushed her head back into the pillow ‘Don’t even think about it little girl’

‘Ow, Timmy fuck off, fine you win.’

She grabbed his wrist and struggled against him before he let her go ‘Good. And I always win.’

He smirked and wrapped his around again and she did the same mumbling ‘Dick’

She felt his smirk grow wider and sat up slightly pulling him up by his hair and licked a trail from his chin to his top lip hearing the noise in the back of his throat and smirked hearing him grumble ‘Fuck you’re such a bitch y/n.’

She chuckled at him laying back again. They started playing this game of having the last word, only it had become more physical although this was the first time she had done that. He lay down again this time on top of her and rested his chin on her chest between her breasts.

‘It’s gone quiet, who do you think walked out first this time?’ He asked as she listened too ‘Hmm sounds like both of them. It’s too quiet if that makes sense?’ He nodded agreeing with her.

‘Let’s just stay here and enjoy this peace while it lasts.’

She looked at his shadow and nodded in agreement and ran her hands up his back and brought her knees up so he was resting between her legs and listened to him sigh contentedly and moved her fingers through his curls ‘You don’t let Stacey do this do you?’

He closed his eyes and made a negative noise ‘I don’t let Stacy lick me either, I also don’t lay on her like this.’

She listens to his breathing calmly and continues to rub his back under his shirt before he sits up and removes it laying back on top of her. ‘Better.’ She instantly moves to run her fingers over his back when he lifts her pyjama top up mumbling ‘More skin’

She nods and pulls it off tossing it aside letting him bury his face in her chest.

‘Fuck this foreplay, Timmy just fuck me.’

‘Thank fuck’ he rips the rest of their clothes off and rams into her without warning knocking the air out of her lungs, as he flips them pulling her on top to ride him. Once she gets her breath back she does exactly that and goes hard not holding back as he runs his hands up and down her torso grabbing parts of skin he can reach.

He sits up with her and kisses and bites her neck and shoulder wrapping his arm around her waist and digs his fingers into her ribs making her gasp and throwing her head back.

‘Ah Timmy.’ She grabs him by his neck with both hands and kisses him open mouth pushing backwards riding him into the mattress. He felt the whole bed frame move with them the headboard hitting the back wall, he hoped the house was empty because no one would mistake these noises downstairs. They broke the kiss and y/n buried her head against his neck and rode him harder panting as he gripped onto her skin damp with sweat and he rammed his hips upwards to meet hers feeling his eyes roll back into his head from the joint force and heard her squealing against his neck and felt her nails drag down his back as they came together as their orgasms exploded around them. They were both sticking together on their skin with perspiration panting against each other heavily.

Y/n lifted her head and he pushed her hair from her face and kissed her sloppily which she returned with tongue. They broke away still licking each other trying to catch their breathes before rolling her over and laying on her chest.

‘What now?’ He asked as she played with his hair again.

‘Let’s call this our bonding time.’

He chuckled and moved his head up trailing his tongue and teeth up her chest and neck before reaching her mouth ‘We should have more bonding time.’ She smirked against his mouth before breaking away licking up his lips again. ‘We will.’

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamss

[herehavesomeheadcanons]

Hihi! I saw you were taking requests and so I was wondering if I could have Poe or Sigma fluff (and maybe angst if you're up for it, you don't have to!) hcs? Like where you are sick or smth and they take care of you? And possibly how they make you feel better? Can I also be 🍥 anon if you're okay with it?

Whew, back to writing requests. Sorry for the long wait, but my brain shut down after I finally finished that Christmas event. I'll try to get on with the requests still waiting in my inbox!

Anyway, fluff is absolutely my specialty, and these two dorks are the perfect characters to take care of a sick s/o! I had the idea floating around in my brain, so I added an accidental confession for Poe as well <3

Edgar Allen Poe and Sigma taking care of a sick reader~

As usual, snatched the images off Pinterest

Poe

🤎🦝 Poor Poe freaked out when he heard you were sick. He immediately rushed over to your house and insisted on taking care of you! It doesn't matter how many times you try to push him away and tell him he'll get sick too, he's determined to take care of you!

🤎🦝 The reason for this is that Ranpo gave him the idea. Poe wanted to know how he could win your affections, and Ranpo suggested that he should go and see if you needed care, since you called in sick that morning.

🤎🦝 So now you're being forced to lay on the couch while Poe spoon-feeds you soup that he made himself. I don't see why you would complain, except if you're one of those Akutagawa kinnies that won't admit you're sick until you're dead.

🤎🦝 Poe insists on doing everything for you. To be fair, he is a pretty big help, considering it feels like someone fucked with the Earth's gravity settings and turned them all the way up. Oh, and you're delirious with fever, so no amount of willpower is going to make you able to do chores.

🤎🦝 As you feared, Poe gets sick too. Somehow, he still managed to drag himself to your place, so now you're both lying inert on different couches with a bad flu. You have some absolutely hilarious conversations while you're both completely out of it with fever hallucinations. Unfortunately, you probably won't remember them.

🤎🦝 After a few days of this bullshit, you're starting to feel better. Poe isn't, but your head is starting to clear. One night, you wake up to him rambling on and on about something to Karl. As you listen, you realize he's talking about you.

🤎🦝 "Oh Karl... What am I to do?" *Karl noises* "Yes I suppose you're right... You're so wise, Karl!" *More Karl noises*

🤎🦝 If he didn't talk to Karl like this all the time, you'd probably suspect that the fever had addled his brain to the point of no return. You decide to speak up and see what this nonsense is all about.

🤎🦝 "Hey, Poe, what are you going on about?" "Y/N! You're awake?" "Obviously. Now what are you asking Karl about?" "Oh, I was just trying to figure out what to do about my feelings for you." "...your what?"

🤎🦝 It takes a moment for Poe to realize what he just said. Once he does, he hides under the the blanket for ages. He refuses to come back out and speak to you for the rest of the day. He won't even eat! He's going to need lots of reassurance after such an embarrassing mishap!

Sigma

🤍🎰 Sigma doesn't really have a lot of time on his hands, being the manager of the casino and all. So, when he hears that you're sick, he has an existential crisis. Should he take care of you? Stay? What if he gets sick too? Can the casino run smoothly without him?

🤍🎰 Seeing how worried he is, some of the people working directly under him (I couldn't think of a good word, ok? Leave me alone-) convince him to go look after you. They can handle running the casino in his absence.

🤍🎰 Let's get one thing straight: Sigma is a fabulous caretaker. He just has the instinct for it, I guess. You'll be perfectly fine under his care. He gets you any medicine you need, cooks for you, does chores, and anything else you need. He has absurd multitasking skills, and will keep everything neat and orderly to ensure your speedy recovery.

🤍🎰 He is an absolute sucker for you, so you could probably get away with a lot while sick. You want him to read to you? On it. You want him to sing you to sleep? He'll try his best. He won't do anything that could get him sick, though, so no physical contact. Sorry, but he can't afford to get sick too.

🤍🎰 He is rigorous about keeping your stress to a minimum. He sets limits on who can visit you, how often they can visit, and for how long. He's like your nurse or something. You know Madam Pomfrey from the Harry Potter series? Yeah he's like that.

[my-shields-are-down]

Chenford ❤️ + argument/sparring

Lucy stands on the kitchen stool, still not quite taller than everyone and yells, “Attention everyone! Gather ‘round! It’s time …”.

“This is complete bullshit! I am again protesting the results of the last semi-final. I did not lose!”

Grey steps in before Lucy can argue with her boyfriend, “Tim - the judges have spoken. Multiple times. YOU. LOST. Now sit down and shut up like a the well-behaved loser you are.” People around them laugh as Tim sits down on the sofa and pouts. Grey turns back to Lucy and nods at her to continue.

Once the room quiets down, Lucy states: “it’s time for the final people! In this corner (she gestures to her left) - we have returning reigning champion Angela Lopez (crowd lightly claps) and in this corner (Lucy gestures to her right), we have upstart-streaking newcomer Genny Bradford who just won a highly contested bout against her brother by split decision. (Crowd cheers and claps as Tim continues to pout).

Let’s go over the rules one last time - there will be three rounds, first round dominant hand, second round non dominant hand, third round whichever you want. First competitor to 2 wins. The goal is to knock the Santa hat off your opponent’s using only the wrapping paper tubes we’ve provided. Ok?! Let’s arm our contestants!”

For the next 5 minutes each “opponent” was dressed in the following - a BBQ apron and one of wade’s ginormous wool winter gloves on their dominant hand which weakened their tube grip. The non-jousting hand was zip tied to the back of their aprons/jeans’ belt loops and each combatant wore ski goggle as eye protection. Lastly, a size too small Santa hat was placed on top of each woman’s head.

Angela was the favorite because she had been playing this game since she could stand against her four older brothers.

While considered to be the underdog, Genny had several secret weapons at her disposal - 1) she was ambidextrous so she was equally strong with both arms; 2) she had dated a fencer for 2 years in college and had several trick moves waiting to be used and 3) she had seen every Elementary episode while on pregnancy bed rest with her second son and had studied up on pate/stick fighting as a result.

Once the women were properly armed and space in the basement cleared- Wade hit play on his daughter’s boom box and “LETS GET READY TO RUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMBBBBBLLLLLEEEEE!” screamed out.

The women nodded at each other and before Angela could step forward, Genny spun on her toes, raising her tube over her head, and then stepping forward to slice her tube down across Angela’s head knocking off her (Angela’s) hat. Genny then stepped back and winked at Angela. Wade shouted “Point to Bradford!”

Angela just stood there dumbfounded, mouth open gaping. No one had ever scored on her so quickly.

The second round, after their arms were switched and reattached to the backs of their aprons, Angela attacked out of the gate, screeching like a trapped wild animal poking and smacking Genny with her tube, putting Genny on the defensive. Genny blocked and ducked and parried Angela’s attacks but never fully engaging, always deflecting and defending.

Until… she noticed Angela’s arm wasn’t raised as high as when they started .. Angela was getting tired.

Genny was not, but she backed up away from Angela pretending to be scared, and then rapidly and repeatedly started hitting Angela on the head, beating the jingle bell on the hat, before doing a bob and weave move to throw Angela off balance making Genny’s parry/lunge to knock off Angela’s hat look like an Olympic fencing move - which it was.

When Angela’s hat hit the floor, there was a moment of silence, of disbelief, before the crowd leapt to their feet and cheered. Genny was handed the “Holiday Troll - Best Sparring” trophy and was celebrated the rest of the night.

P.S. as far as we know, Angela and Tim are still sitting on the sofa in Wade’s basement sulking over their sparring losses.

=====

My family made up a ton of random holiday games growing up and we’d “duel” or “spar” with the tubes.

[smilingformoney]

Today marks one year since I started publishing Soul of Ice.

I didn’t publish it on Ao3 until 24 Jan due to waiting for an account, but it was first posted here on Tumblr. That original post has an entire seven notes.

As of writing this (this post is queued - I’m writing this on 14 Dec. Hi future Tumblr!), on Ao3 I have 160 comments, 278 kudos, 46 bookmarks and 11k+ hits. Plus Merlin knows how many Tumblr comments, messages and asks I’ve had over the last year.

This is honestly overwhelming. I know there are a lot of Snape fics out there with better numbers - but OC stories are a lot less popular than reader or canon character fics, so I very much take this as a win. We all know we can’t kudos twice, so the fact that over two hundred and fifty people have gone “yeah this is alright” is beyond anything I comprehended a year ago.

So what did I comprehend a year ago? Honestly, barely anything. I certainly didn’t expect the story to turn into what it is today. I had this concept of Dad Snape rattling in my brain itching to get out, so I started out with the intention of a few one-shots, writing them down in whatever order they came to me in - similar to what the spin-off prequel, Morality Is An Illusion, is now.

Obviously, I failed at that. The story just kept growing and growing in my mind, and Sephy and Abbie just took over. Abbie has been rattling around in my head for 11 years now, and she’s taken various forms in various daydreams about various fandoms. But she began life as Snape’s daughter, and she will always be Snape’s daughter.

Sephy is fairly new. For a long time she had a different name and wasn’t relevant to the story. Even when I started writing, she wasn’t intended to be all that key to the story. And while Soul of Ice will always be a love story about Snape and Abbie, the development of Snape and Sephy grew into a much bigger part of the story, and I can no longer see the story as anything other than one of three players.

I have met some incredible people on here. I’ve been active in various fandoms in various formats (I’m old enough to remember when fandoms mostly congregated on message boards 👵🏻) for 16 years and I can say, without hesitation, that the Tumblr Snape fandom is the best fandom I have ever been in. Some of my mutuals read my fic, some don’t - and honestly, kudos to those that don’t but still let me on their dashes with my bullshit. (But also, you should read it 👀) This feels like a space I can talk about my hyperfixation without judgment or anyone telling me to shut up. We are all here with love for Professor Blorbo, whatever form that may be.

Y’all know I’m in love with @sevsnapes and want to steal her from her husband. Even in 16 years of fandom, most internet friends come and go, and I’ve rarely found someone who became an irl friend. But Becca has definitely become not just a snestie but a bestie 💚 and it’s all thanks to bonding over writing. Sometimes I think Soul of Ice lives in her head rent-free more than it does mine, which is saying something. The story would not be what it is today without her input and support.

I’ve said it on here before, but every story and every character is a little piece of the author’s soul. Abbie in particular is a massive chunk of my soul. So the fact that people adore her? When people say they came for the romance with Sephy and stayed for the love story with Abbie? When people (usually Becca) message me out of the blue saying “I was just thinking about Abbie”? Honestly fills me with so much love, and it makes me feel seen and accepted.

As I’ve said, Abbie has been a part of me for so long, and I’ve never shared her before. Sephy may be a newer creation, but she was the spark that got me to start really turning concepts into a story.

So what has happened over the last year has been more than just a bit of fun. I have exposed a previously hidden part of my soul to some complete strangers online and I’ve been met with overwhelming acceptance. For someone with trauma deeply rooted in rejection, this is a completely new and, honestly, very healing experience.

I’m not the same person I was a year ago. I’m not where I expected to be now a year ago. And that’s all thanks to Abbie, Sephy, Sev and, most importantly, you lot.

Every comment, kudos, like, view, ask, message - they all bring me so much warmth I could never describe. Thank you 💚

[whimsicalworldofme]

Saving Grace: Chapter Thirty-Nine

The newly proposed Sokovia Accords have Grace on edge, but Tony and Steve insist she not get involved. Adding to her worries is the teenage “mentee” her dad has decided to take on.

With her wedding dress purchased and the venue booked, it truly set in for Grace that she and Steve would be married in year’s time. Pepper had set up a few interviews with wedding planners for them in the coming weeks, but in the meantime, life returned mostly to normal. She’d taken on a new project at Stark Industries, despite the hectic nature of getting her foundation up and running, but it sounded promising and she couldn’t in good conscience let it fall by the wayside.

“Hey.”

She came upstairs to the apartment after a ridiculously long day to find Steve sitting on the couch, hunched over a thick booklet open in his lap. It looked suspiciously familiar to the one she’d seen her father reading when she’d gone up to the penthouse for lunch. She kicked off her shoes and plodded over to the couch, dropping to a seat beside her fiancé, leaning against him as she reached up and scratched her fingernails lightly along his scalp, starting at the nape of his neck and working upwards. He’d cut his hair again, much to her dismay. She loved the fluffy soft look from the forties a lot more than the spiky modern cut. He was handsome either way, but she definitely had a preference. He broke his concentration momentarily to kiss her sweetly.

“What is that?” She asked, noting the tension in his jaw and tightness of his posture. “My Dad was poring over a copy of that at lunch today.”

“The Sokovia Accords,” he answered tensely. “Bunch of bureaucratic bullshit.”

“That bad?”

Grace raised a brow. He rarely ever cursed, so if he immediately resorted to swearing, something had to be seriously wrong. Steve sighed, his whole chest heaving, and shook his head, thumbing through the manuscript.

“Essentially, if we agree to this, the government would own the Avengers. Literally own us Grace,” he spat. “We would have to get approval to do anything. We couldn’t just go help wherever we’re needed whenever we’re needed. And if the government doesn’t give the ok and we go anyway, we go to jail. In order to keep us in line, they’d have to surveil us.” He propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, pressing his mouth against them as he leaned forward, lost in thought for a moment. “Any action not sanctioned by the government, whether refusing to do what they ask or acting without their permission means we would be jailed immediately, no trail, just immediate imprisonment. Our constitutional rights would be completely stripped away.”

“And if you don’t sign the accords?” Grace was afraid to ask, but she needed to know the full picture.

“Then if we’re caught doing what superheroes do, helping people, saving the world, we’d be jailed. They’re making it illegal to exist outside of their reach.”

“You can’t win either way,” she felt her stomach sink. “You either submit yourself to their rules and have your rights taken away or you have to give up helping people.” She felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that she’d just been talking with Pepper the day before about how she wished he’d retire from superhero life. He does so much good for the world. He shouldn’t have to give it up because of this.

“Signing the accords,” he waved a hand at the book in his lap before slapping it shut and tossing it on the coffee table in front of him, “it could all go wrong before anyone even realizes what’s happening. SHIELD was nearly overrun by HYDRA just a few years ago. And there are still HYDRA agents vying for power that we haven’t rooted out yet. Any government agency is equally susceptible to them. If we aren’t careful, we can easily go from being earth’s greatest defenders to its greatest threat.”

“Come here,” she rubbed his back lightly with one hand and tapped her other hand on her lap, beckoning him to lay down, which he did, his head in her lap. She stroked his hair in a bid to soothe him, taking her time to think through the situation. There really were no good options. “What does the rest of the team think about all this?”

“We’re mostly undecided,” he sighed, eyes shut as he relished the comfort she provided. “We agree that we need some sort of structure in place to ensure as few people get hurt as possible, limit collateral damage, provide financial help for anyone who winds up displaced or losing a car or something. What we can’t agree on is how that structure is enforced, what and who should provide oversight.” His jaw relaxed a little as she massaged his scalp. “Tony thinks we should sign.”

Grace’s hand halted mid-stroke and Steve opened an eye to look up at her.

“His guilt is eating him alive,” he posited. “I tried to explain my concerns, but after everything that happened in Sokovia and Lagos, he can’t see the terrible execution through the good idea. I hate to ask, but maybe you can give me some ideas how to get through to him.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No,” Steve reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear before cupping her face, thumb running along her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to mediate. It’s Avengers business. This is something we have to hash out ourselves.”

“You do know that before I met you, Fury hired me to manage my father, right?” Grace laughed. “I don’t mind getting involved.”

“It’s different now,” he insisted, his hand falling down to rest on his abdomen. “Tony’s your dad, you two have a special relationship that you didn’t have before. And now you’re not my shrink, you’re my fiancé. It’s all too dangerously interwoven and tangled. I don’t want you involved.”

“I can help,” she insisted as he sat up. They turned to sit facing each other, each shifting into their usual spots on the couch.

“No,” he frowned, tone flat and firm. “You’re not to get involved. Promise me, right now that you won’t.”

“Steve,” Grace began to protest but the look on his face made her falter, his eyes steely.

“No, Grace,” he grew genuinely stern with her. “If we have any chance of working as a family, you can’t be the one in between me and Tony all the time. We have to learn how to work things out between just us. So you,” he took her hands in his and looked her in the eye, “are going to promise me right now that you aren’t going to try to be a mediator this time.”

“I promise,” she sighed. “I won’t try to mediate. But I do want to talk to my dad about this.” Steve rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh of frustration. “It worries me. Did you really think I could just not talk to him about it?”

“I’d hoped,” he said. “I can’t stop you though. You are your father’s daughter.”

“What does that mean?” Grace laughed incredulously. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d said something to that effect, but usually he said it when she was being silly, not when she was frustrating him.

“It means, my beautiful, bride-to-be,” he said, pulling her into his lap, her back to his chest, and wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her cheek then her neck, making her giggle. “That you have a wild impulse to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you have to fix everyone’s problems. It’s how you save the world, keep people safe. And I love that about you, even when it’s infuriating and meddlesome.”

“I’m infuriating?” She tipped her head to one side, blinking as she assessed the statement.

“That’s not what you were meant to take away from that,” he squeezed her tighter to him and kissed her neck again, down to the sensitive spot where it met her shoulder.

“Mhmm,” she moaned as one of his hands began to wander. “Hey, do you think you can call me infuriating and meddlesome then get out of consequences by getting frisky?”

“I’m willing to give it a try,” he murmured in her ear, his hand slipping under her blouse. “And then maybe a nice dinner?”

“Well you should try it in the shower,” she directed him.

With a laugh, Steve plucked her up, carried her to the bathroom and slowly, tantalizingly made up for his commentary in a very unclean shower. Once they were dressed, in loose terms, since he was just in his pajama pants, Steve set about making them a fancy dinner. Going out for a nice meal wasn’t something that happened a lot for them, because doing anything out in public always felt like tempting fate, or at least, the paparazzi. Tony’s PR team was good, but the pregnancy scare had proven they weren’t infallible. Pepper had had a press release drafted up about their engagement and it was set to release to strategic press outlets, but they’d agreed in the meantime to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. Luckily, they had both gotten fairly good at cooking in the last few years, having taken some private lessons together, and made a lot of progress through trial and error together. Steve had a more natural knack for it, despite Grace’s best efforts, but she loved watching him.

Sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, wearing one of his tee shirts and a pair of underwear, Grace sipped on a glass of ice water, trying to cool down, which was hard to do, watching Steve cook, the muscles of his bare back rippling under his skin. Unlike her, he had no fear with a kitchen knife, so he prepped quickly like a professional chef and had even mastered the artful flick of the wrist technique for tossing the contents of a frying pan. Whenever Grace tried it, she sent things flying all over the stove. So she was happy to let him cook while she watched.

“Can I ask you something?” She leaned forward, propping her arms and torso on the counter, swirling her glass of ice water with one hand.

“Anything,” he smiled fondly at her as he began cutting up the potatoes he’d just finished peeling.

“Have you given any more thought to what you might like to do other than being Captain America?”

“I thought we’d landed on stay-at-home dad,” he answered. He scootched a cubed potato off to one side of the cutting board before grabbing the next one and chopping it in half.

“Ok, but even when we have kids, you only have to stay home full time with them for the first few years, before they start school,” she pointed out. “You’ll need something to fill your time. And I know you, you’ll want to do something meaningful.”

“Does it really matter right now?” He shrugged.

“If the government forces you into retirement before you’re ready, yeah, it kind of matters,” she sipped her water. Steve looked up at her through those impossibly long lashes of his, blue eyes carrying a strange pain. “Being a soldier is all you’ve ever known. I worry about the day when that’s not who you are anymore. I know you’ve thought about it, but now that it’s real?”

“Grace,” he finished cutting the potato he’d been working on and grabbed the dishtowel to wipe his hands off. Coming around to her side of the counter he turned her to face him, hands on the underside of the stool she was perched on, strong arms hemming her in as he leaned in to kiss her softly. “I know you’re worried. But you’re the one who told me that Captain America is only part of who I am. When the time comes, whether it’s my choice or not, I’m going to be ok, because of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he gave her another quick peck on the lips before he went back around to his meal prep.

The next morning, Steve headed off to the boxing gym with Sam, who was in the city to discuss some new leads on Bucky, as well as the Sokovia Accords. Though there was a gym in the tower, sometimes they liked to go somewhere a little more down to earth. Grace had opted to take the day off from work, so she spent the morning, unbeknownst to her fiancé, skimming through his copy of the accords.

There is so much wrong with this, she mused after hitting on most of the major points. She’d learned to speed read as a child, so she got through most of it unnaturally quickly. There has to be a better way.

She knew her dad would be home in the penthouse all day, he’d made plans with her the day before for her to come up for lunch together, but with nothing else to do, she decided to head up a little early.

“Dad?” She called out when she got into the penthouse, not sure where he might be, or if he was even there. I should’ve checked with Friday. He could be down in the gym. “Hey Friday, do you know where my Dad is?”

“Mr. Stark is in the lab, Dr. Turner,” Friday answered. “Would you like me to tell him you’re here?”

“No, that’s ok,” she replied, heading towards the lab. “Thanks, Friday.”

Heading to the lab, she saw her father hunched over a workbench, lost in thought, his back to the door. Grace couldn’t help but smile, loving how this was how she usually found him, creative gears turning, lost in his latest project. It was one way they were very much alike.

“Hey Dad,” she greeted him but when he turned around, she spotted a young boy standing on the other side of the bench. He had mousy brown hair, big brown eyes, and a slender frame. “Oh, hello.”

“Gracie,” Tony wrapped her up in a hug and kissed her temple before turning around to stand beside her, arm around her shoulders. “This is Peter Parker, my new mentee.”

“Mentee,” Grace took a minute to process.

“You told me to get one,” he stated and she remembered that she had encouraged him to get into mentorship. “He’s brilliant. You should see some of the stuff he’s done.”

“Oh, I’m not comfortable showing –”

“He’s doing things with science fair projects that MIT students couldn’t imagine,” Tony made a face, the kind of face that Grace knew meant ‘zip it, kid’, along with a cut it gesture, swiping his fingers horizontally across his throat, before forcing a smile on his lips once more, casting a glance at Grace. Peter shook his head, looking confused, between the father and daughter duo but he said nothing. “With any luck, he’ll get into MIT in a couple years.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” Grace smiled.

“Hey kid, why don’t you take a snack break,” Tony suggested, releasing his hold on his daughter and going around to the other side of the workbench, slinging his arm around Peter’s shoulders and guiding him towards the door. “I need a minute with my daughter. There’s a cookie jar on the kitchen counter by the fridge, it says cookies, can’t miss it. Grace and Pepper made chocolate chip the other day, go wild. Milk’s in the fridge, glasses in the cupboard right next to it.”

“Oh, sure, Mr. Stark, thanks,” Peter nodded.

Once Tony got him out of the lab and shut the door, Grace crossed her arms over her chest, staring him down.

“Dad,” she started slowly, “that is an actual child. Please tell me he isn’t running around doing superhero stuff.”

“Why would you think he’s doing superhero stuff?” Tony shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “I found a kid with a brilliant scientific mind and plan to mentor him, per your suggestion, to be the kind of person to solve the problems of the future.”

“He freaked out when you mentioned the stuff he’s done,” Grace pointed out. “And this,” she copied the cut it gesture he’d so frantically done, “wasn’t subtle, so tell me the truth.”

“Ok,” he sighed and ran a hand down the side of his face, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew it wouldn’t do any good to try to lie to her. “You know those news stories about Spiderman in Queens?”

“That’s him?” She yelped. “Dad you can’t be encouraging this! He’s a child! What is he, twelve?”

“Sixteen, I think,” he looked up and to the left, silently searching through his memory for proof of what he’d said to confirm.

“Dad!”

“Hey, he’s been doing the superhero stuff all on his own,” he waved his arms towards the door, gesturing in the vague general direction of the kitchen. “All I’m doing right now is making sure he’s safer doing it.”

“Oh my god,” Grace dropped to a seat on a nearby stool and massaged her temples, eyes fixed on the floor. “When I said you should mentor, I meant find some college kids who are into robotics and clean energy, not children running around in tights beating up street thugs.”

“Look, it’s happening, with or without your approval, so instead of obsessing over it, why don’t you tell me what you came to talk to me about?”

Tony grabbed another stool and set it down beside her, dropping to a seat and leaning against the workbench, head in his hand as he rested his elbow on the work surface. Grace heaved a sigh.

The child superhero problem can go to the back burner. Too much else to worry about right now.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Sokovia Accords,” she came right out with it. Her dad groaned, head falling to his chest. “I read them this morning.”

“Shit,” Tony ran a hand down his face again. “I’d rather talk about the kid.”

“Dad,” Grace gave him the ‘this is serious’ look. “You made a mockery of a congressional hearing, on live television the last time the government tried to tell you what to do, that they wanted to own Iron Man. Are you seriously considering signing these accords?”

He snickered when she mentioned the congressional hearings, probably playing a highlight reel in his mind, but he grew somber very quickly, frown marring his usually jovial face.

“Grace, I’ve grown up a lot since those congressional hearings,” he said. “You can’t honestly say that you think it’s ok for me to be running around, unchecked.”

“That’s what the rest of the team is for,” she stated. “Nat, Bruce, Steve, you all keep each other in check. With Rhodey joining the team, you’ll have more checks than ever. But letting the government have that much control over you? I don’t like it. I don’t trust it either.”

“Did Rogers put you up to this?” He asked, raising a brow.

“No, he made me promise not to try and mediate between you.”

“Doing a bang-up job of keeping that promise,” Tony snorted, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not here to talk about Steve’s views or try to get through to you on his behalf,” Grace stated, getting up from her seat and going to lay her hands on her father’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I’m seriously worried about this arrangement, Dad. I read the Accords and honestly, I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He softened when he saw she meant it. “Gracie you know I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

“I would consider my Dad and my future husband losing their freedom a bad thing,” she told him. “Or unwittingly winding up working for HYDRA. You saw how easily they infiltrated SHIELD.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Tony insisted.

“You’re just one man, Dad,” Grace exclaimed. “You can only do so much. I know you feel guilty about people you couldn’t save, but this isn’t going to stop there from ever being collateral damage. It just puts a government held leash on the Avengers. One that can throw you in prison on a whim, without a trial, without explanation, and without exceptions. I don’t trust it, Dad. Please don’t sign them.”

“It’s going to be ok, Grace,” he got up from his seat and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, wrapping her up tightly in a hug. “I promise you, it’s going to be ok.” He rubbed her back, holding her close, repeating that it would be all right, though whether it was meant to convince her or himself, Grace couldn’t be sure.

Chapter 38

Masterlist

Chapter 40

[interruptingmooshroom]

It’s 1 AM and I’m sick as fuck with the worst flu I could have gotten ever but Imma make a post I’ll prob delete later

This sort of stuff bothers me, and to be clear, VOTING SHOULD BE MANDATORY. Worse case, nothing happens. Best case, it matters enough to change life for the common people. So yes, vote, it’s cool and based and it’s accessible even if you can’t for some reason leave home.

That being said

Critics of Kamala Harris/the Democratic Party are not inherently saying that you shouldn’t vote for them. The reason people vote against them in polls within the party is to apply pressure to political figures so they figure out “Hey people really don’t like the whole genocide thing” and might listen to the people like they’re supposed to.

The Democratic Party has recognized for awhile they can get away with a lot of bullshit simply by being the lesser evil. When the Republican Party was, for example, talking about shutting down the border and dealing with “illegal aliens”, the Democratic Party has decided to copy this stance since it seemed popular to a certain voter base. This is a low risk situation because no matter what, they recognize they’ll get a majority of the vote out of being the lesser evil.

As a consequence, the Republican Party has since decided “Actually, let’s just do mass deportation” which if you don’t know, would be having people in concentration camps (not to be confused with death camps) and removing them from families and established lives. So yeah, much worse. A lot of this messaging also includes “legal aliens”, because they’re totally mad about immigrants and not racist at all.

This is a perfect example of the ratchet effect. People smarter than me have explained this better, go look at the wiki, but in summary it’s when the Democratic Party doesn’t go back from a farther right standing as the Republicans slowly become more and more insane. Since they don’t actually do anything 99% of the time and rely heavily on being a lesser evil, they naturally follow a political sphere that has suddenly nudged a bit more to the right. Ideally they could change this, and move us back to something normal and sane. They do not do this, because taking action is not how the democrats win votes for a lot of people. They win them by allowing the republicans to be insane, so their empty promises and still-harsh policies look appeasing.

Critics of the Democratic Party and Kamala Harris are completely expected and should be encouraged. Shutting down this conversation by saying it “Discourages voting” or “So what? I cant vote for the other guy” IS EXACTLY THE FUCKING POINT. You can vote for them while trying to actually hold them accountable and be louder about your complaints on shit like “Supporting Genocide and the apartheid state of Israel is wrong” or “Immigrants are people just like us and should be treated as such” or whatever the fuck.

You can still vote, while holding people accountable. You miss the point when you either

A) Decide “my vote doesn’t matter”, which is already incorrect for a number of reasons Im not diving into at 1am

B) Shut down critics of the Democratic Party because you think they’re discouraging people from voting.

When you see something dissing the democrats, don’t think it’s to make it seem like there is no hope. It’s to actually try and hold political figures accountable for what they do, something that Americans forgot was the main point of a representative.

Ramble over if you actually read all that here’s a cookie. 🍪

sorry for resorting to a meme about this but people are making me mad 👍

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79 @boxdyeblonde @fangirl-316 @niiight-dreamerrrr @tanzthompson @theamuz @gallowsjoker @helmet-comes-off @jesfreedark @amyk-37 @altarsw @feminist-violinist @spideysimpossiblegirl @lazybeeches @shameless-h  @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @mamacitapascal @the-ginger-hedge-witch @disgruntledspacedad @asta-lily @aesnawan @frannyzooey @gaiuswrites @beskarboobs @honestly-shite @sherala007 @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @missminkylove @pedros-mustache @headinthestarz @leannawithacapitala @sharkbait77 @radiowallet  @danidrabbles @magpie-to-the-morning @mandocrasis @juletheghoul @javierpinme @voteforpedro09 @theorganasolo @aprilqueen84 @Prostitute-robot-from-the-future @wanderlustmags @darnitdraco @castleamc @outlawedmando @lawfulgranola @jaime1110 @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @taticalsparkles @chasingdreamer @beautyagegoodnesssize @pintsizemama @recklessworry @tarolovesyoo @xgoldenjenny @prideandpascal @amneris21 @mylovelycomandante @ohhersheybars @heartsofbeskar

A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots​ 

[literallybyronic]

TBH OP you’re being far too nice about this.

You don’t vote for democrats because they’re wonderful and progressive and getting them in will fix everything. You vote for democrats because they’re marginally less awful than republicans, but also they’re the only electable party that is willing to perform the slow, arduous, tooth-and-nail fight to implement ranked choice voting which is the ONLY way any actual progressive party or candidate has a shot in hell at getting elected to anything beyond small-time local gov’t outside of a very, very occasional fluke, and never EVER in the presidential office. It just won’t happen. That is the end-all be-all if you want this country’s politics and international relations to change. There is no other way past the monopoly the two party system causes short of complete armed insurrection and societal breakdown, and even that would just result in an openly fascist military state takeover because a bunch of idiot tankies are not going to fight the largest and most well armed military on the planet and win.

Stop being whiny children mad because you’re not getting instant gratification. No one ever told you democrats were sugarplum fairies with pockets full of sunshine and rainbows. If you thought that, that’s on you. The hard truth is that it’s too late for most of us to see any of the results we really want. We’re already fucked. Deal with it. It’s not going away. This is the long game. Vote so your children and grandchildren have a chance to not be. Or don’t, and fuck over your descendants the way all our parents and grandparents fucked us, because taking your ball and going home was more important to you.

How anyone can think this “abstaining” bullshit helps anyone after all the jackasses doing it in 2016 got fucking ROE VS WADE repealed is beyond me. Politics is not a game of making sure everyone knows how offended you are for social media clout. It’s a series of terrible choices with no good options or answers that you will have to make over and over for the rest of your life and none of them will turn out exactly the way you want and you will not feel particularly great about any of them but you have to keep doing it by inches or you are laying down for fascists to walk all over you. If you think everything not being instantly perfect after you did one thing is a good excuse to flounce off petulantly then do us all a favour and shut the fuck up and let the grownups talk.

Yes, Biden’s and the US gov’t as a whole’s response to Palestine sucks shit, as it always has. Throwing both the Arabs and Jews that live here, along with other POC, queers, women, the disabled and neurodivergent and pretty much everyone else that’s any sort of minority under the bus is not a useful response to that. Or did you forget we were having fucking large, public NAZI RALLIES a few years ago??????

sorry but i want to hit every american talking about not wanting to vote democrat anymore with hammers. lol

[t0wnspersonb]

Twin Bed (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Anonymous said:

are u taking requests rn? 🥺 ive read ur tsukki fics and i know to myself ur the only one who can write this request amazingly: tsukki sneaking in to his s/o’s room at night bc he misses her and he saw how cute she is in her pajamas but couldnt help getting turned on as well bc she is wearing shorts and an oversized shirt it also didnt help that her bed is for one person only ;) UR AN AMAZING AUTHOR AND NEVER STOP WRITING TSUKKI OR HAIKYUU SCENARIOS COS THE PPL NEED U

~~~

Word Count: 2,475

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: SMUT, my shit writing, bad language

~~~

Yoooo this is was legit so fun to write lmao. I hope I did your request justice anon and I appreciate your kind words!!! I know I have other requests sitting in my inbox and I will try and to get to them soon. I might be a bit inactive the next couple of weeks, I will be going vacation (I definitely fucking need it lol) this week and then I start classes again. RIP. I hope you guys enjoy this one and let me know what you think!:) I literally am at a lost for words with how amazing you guys are and how unproblematic you guys have been considering the bullshit that’s been going around in the community. I just want to reiterate that this is a safe and fun place for everyone, it is never my intention to make anyone uncomfortable and if I do please let me know so that I can apologize correctly for it! But to make things clear I will not tolerate any fuckery on this blog, I don’t have the energy nor the patience to deal with shit like that. We are all capable of being decent human beings to each other. No drama, no bullshit, just a fun and safe place for everyone that wants to be part of it. ANYWAY, enough of my ranting, please enjoy this filth and my shit writing lmao 😘😘😘💕💕💕💕

~~~

You frowned slightly as you looked at your phone, your eyes squinting against the harshness of the light. 

 Tsukishima had texted you, multiple times - at two in the morning - in fact. While you dearly adored your boyfriend of only five months, you didn’t exactly adore the fact that he woke you up at this time.

 Especially considering you had to be up in about five hours to get ready for an exam.

 You sighed through your nose as you tugged your blankets from your body and made your way to your door. 

 “Kei… it’s two in the morning…” You yawned, looking up at your tall boyfriend with sleepy eyes. “The dorm manager is going to get mad at me if she catches you here.” 

 “Well let’s not get caught then.” he drawled out, gold eyes flickering over your body. A blonde eyebrow arched up; “is that my shirt?”

 You blinked at him for a moment, not fully registering what he had just asked before a soft blush began to coat your cheeks.

 You were definitely wearing one of his shirts, a green Sendai Frogs shirt that was way too big for your body, given his tall stature. He had left the shirt at your dorm two weeks ago, and naturally you wore it to bed almost every night. 

 “No.” You said in a small voice, carefully playing with your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes.

 A soft blush covered Tsukishima’s cheeks before he scoffed, his slender fingers reaching up to push his glasses back up his nose. “You’re a terrible liar. Looks good on you though.” he said, brushing past you to get into your room.

 You turned to see him plop himself onto your bed, and you couldn’t help but stare. It was a strange sight to see to say the least. His 6’4 frame was just a tad out of place in your room, especially sitting on your incredibly small bed. But more so he was out of place because, well, your boyfriend was beautiful. It was like a Greek god decided to pay you a secret visit before the sun came up, ready to disappear at any moment. 

 Tsukishima’s hair was tousled perfectly, the tight black shirt he wore complimented him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick biceps. You felt your mouth go dry as you realized that he was wearing grey sweatpants, clinging low on his hips.

 How could someone look so good at two in the morning?

 “Are you just going to stare at me the entire time?” He called out, his back leaning against the wall your bed was pushed up against, his phone in hand. 

 “You’re the one that wanted to come over.” you frowned, locking your door before making your way towards the bed. “You’re taking up all the space.” You whined. 

 He rolled his eyes before his long legs parted, creating a space on the bed. “Come here.” 

 You felt your face burn even more, a strange shyness overtaking you at the intimate position he wanted you in. 

 It wasn’t like you had never been close to Tsukishima before, you guys had been intimate, many times... but then why were you so nervous all of a sudden?

 “What are you waiting for?” he asked, a blonde eyebrow quirked up.

 “Shut up.” you grumbled, carefully climbing over one of his long legs. You settled yourself against him, your upper body fitting easily between his legs, your back resting against his stomach and your head gently pressing into his strong chest.

 Resting against Tsukishima was far better than resting in your tiny bed. 

 One of his arms carefully wrapped around your waist, his large hand gently pressing against your stomach, the other hand held his phone in front of both of you, a volleyball game overtaking the screen.

 It was silent for a moment, both of you absorbed in the video. It had only been fifteen minutes into the game when Tsukishima began looking over your body. His gold eyes taking in your bare legs before flickering up. He zeroed in on the exposed skin of your hip, the shirt you wore had been pulled up slightly. 

 He swallowed thickly, arousal beginning to spike in his blood. Christ, it wasn’t like you were naked right now; it wasn’t like you were wearing anything incredibly enticing, but… fuck. Tsukishima began wracking his brain for when the last time it was that he had seen you. That’s right, it had been a while, a little over two weeks in fact. 

 His sudden desire was because he had just missed you right? He couldn’t possibly be turned on from the simple fact that you were in the shortest shorts known to man, or the fact that you were in his shirt and you weren’t…. Christ, you weren’t wearing a fucking bra. 

 He could see your hardened nipples through the shirt despite how baggy it was on your small body. 

 “Can you hold the phone, my arm is getting tired.” he said quietly, hoping that you hadn’t felt his hardening member against your back just yet. 

 “Really Kei?” you rolled your eyes but took his phone nonetheless, your eyes completely glued to the screen. The game was just beginning to get interesting.

 It was silent again.

 But this time, Tsukishima trailed his hand down to your exposed skin, carefully sliding his fingers under your shirt, gently tracing against your soft skin.

 You sighed softly at his touch, your body wiggling slightly against him to get more comfortable. Tsukishima took that as a good sign, his hands traveling further up, the rough pads of his fingers felt incredible against your skin; goosebumps erupting over your body.

 You shivered slightly, desire spiking in the pit of your stomach as his long fingers began moving further up, until they rested just below your breasts. Your breath hitched, your heart thumping loudly in your ears now. 

 His fingers carefully dragged against the soft underside of your breasts. You felt Tsukishima shift, his upper body sitting up slightly, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your outer ear, hot breath rustled your hair. 

 “Who’s winning?” he murmured, lips grazing against your ear before carefully brushing down towards your neck.

A soft whimper tore through your lips. “It’s uhmm… uh - o-oh Kei.” your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue darted across your skin, tasting you before biting down softly. You could feel your cunt clenching at his actions, your bundle of nerves suddenly throbbing to be touched.

 “What was that?” he teased softly, the hand that was gently caressing the underside of your breasts suddenly moved up, carefully cupping your entire breast, long fingers gently tugging at your hardened nipple.

 You moaned loudly before immediately dropping his phone, both hands clasping your mouth shut tightly.

 “Oh, that’s right, if your dorm manager caught me here, she would be furious right? I don’t want you getting in trouble, so you best be quiet hmm?” he murmured softly against your skin before pinching your nipple hard between two fingers.

 Your breath hitched, your eyes squeezing shut as pleasure rippled through your body.

 “But you make the cutest noises when you're turned on.” he said, his voice incredibly quiet and calm, despite the growing hardness that was pressing into your back now. “You’re in quite the dilemma, aren’t you?”

 His other hand suddenly trailed down, his fingers curling against your through your shorts. 

 “Fuck… you’re soaked.” he groaned quietly, feeling your arousal leaking through your panties and staining your shorts.

 He suddenly leaned back once again, your head once again resting against his strong chest. But despite his composure, his heart was racing just as much as yours. 

 He suddenly bucked his hips up, his cock rubbing against your back. A soft sigh escaped his lips, the hand that was groping your breast pulled out of your shirt and tangled into your hair, gently tugging and forcing you to arch your neck, staring up at the blonde male now.

 His gold eyes held nothing but lust now as he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes. 

 You had never seen a more gorgeous man in your entire life. 

 “What do you want?” he asked, his voice deep with arousal. But before you could say anything, the hand that was grasping you through your clothes suddenly tugged your shorts and panties to the side, long fingers brushing softly against your weeping slit.

 Tsukishima exhaled loudly, his cock jumping against your back as he felt just how wet you were. 

 “Fuck…” he whispered quietly, and carefully slid his finger to the top of your cunt, his finger gently pressing down against your clit.

 A jolt of pleasure erupted through your body, your mouth falling open in a silent plea as your eyes fluttered shut.

 He began rubbing delicate circles against you, a soft pleasure beginning to build up in your lower stomach, your hips rocking up carefully with his movements.

 “K-Kei…” you trembled, your hand reaching down and grasping at his forearm helplessly. 

 “Are you close?” he asked, his finger pressing down just a little bit harder, but that was all that you needed to get your legs shaking.

 The way he touched you… the way that he took care of you… it was no wonder you were completely head over heels for him.

 He was just too good.

 You nodded helplessly against his chest, and then suddenly he pulled his hand away from your dripping cunt, a soft cry of distress tearing through your lips. Why did he… but you were so close…

 ��Can you move away for a second?” he asked quietly, gently pushing you forward. You shakily scooted away from him and heard the rustling of sheets and clothes. You twisted your head to look back and - your mouth went dry.

 Tsukishima was still resting against the wall, his lower body easily sprawled out against your bed as you still sat between his long legs, but this time… this time… he laid with one hand behind his head, the other was easily grasping his member, lazily sliding up and down his shaft. His grey sweatpants were bunched up around the tops of his thighs, his black shirt pulled up slightly, exposing his lower stomach and the perfect lines of his Adonis belt.

 “Come here.” he demanded, you turned to crawl over to him, fully intending on taking him into your mouth- his hand flew up, halting your movements. “No. I want to be inside you.”

 Your lips parted slightly as you nodded in a daze, your cunt squeezing around nothing at his words. But before you could sink down on top of his cock, he stopped you once more. 

 “Turn around.” he commanded. Your lips trembled softly, your hands gripping his upper thighs as you situated yourself on top of him, you could feel his fingers tugging your shorts and underwear to the side again, and then something blunt and thick began rubbing up and down your soaked entrance. 

 “Don’t tease me Kei, please.” you whimpered out, but before you could plead further, he grabbed your hips, forcing you to sink all the way down onto his member in one movement.

 You gritted your teeth tightly, biting back the loud shout that wanted to escape your throat at the sudden intrusion, at the force of him already hitting the most devastating depths within you.

 Fuck you had never been quite this full, never had someone quite this deep until you met Tsukishima.

 “Shit.” he cursed, growling slightly, his grip on your hips tightening as his eyes fluttered shut as your tight heat engulfed him completely.

 He could never get used to this. 

 After a moment of adjusting to the new intrusion you began rocking your hips, carefully sliding back and forth, your lips forming into a silent o as pleasure jolted through your body at each drag of his cock against your walls.

 A soft whimper tore through your lips as he began grabbing handfuls of your ass, his fingers gripping tightly at the soft flesh, kneading and pulling your cheeks apart. Before his hand settled on pulling your shorts and underwear further away, his eyes taking in the obscene way your cunt swallowed his cock.

 The quiet room was filled with the sound of rustling sheets, the wet noises of your arousal leaking through your stuffed cunt as Tsukishima slid in and out of you, the soft and breathless moans that escaped your lips, and the soft grunts of Tsukishima as he fought back his release. He couldn’t cum yet, not until you did.

 But he could tell that you were close by the desperate way you rocked your hips, faster, sloppier, chasing for a release.

 “Cum for me.” he demanded, his large hand cracking down against your ass. Your hand came up, stifling the loud gasp that wanted to escape your lips, your cunt clenching tightly around him. You could feel it then, the pleasure mixed with the sharp pain, the tightness in your lower stomach finally releasing. 

 “Fuck that’s it.” He murmured, watching as you trembled above him, his hands coming down to grip at your waist, forcing you to move faster against him as he began chasing his own release.

 Tsukishima gritted his teeth tightly before carefully shoving you off of his member, a soft cry escaping your lips as you collapsed on top of his legs. He gripped his member tightly, shooting thick ropes of his warmth all over your raised bottom, staining your shorts completely.

 “Shit hold on.” he panted slightly, carefully moving himself from under you. He tucked his softening member back into his sweatpants before moving towards your closet, grabbing a towel and making his way back to you. His gentle hands easily cleaning you up before tugging your shorts and panties off, replacing them with fresh ones.

 You looked up at him sleepily as he began situating you both on your small body, half of your body resting on top of his as he drew the blankets over your guys’ form. 

 “You suck Kei. If I fail this exam because I’m too tired to focus, you have to buy me ramen.” you mumbled against his chest, your eyes drooping as sleep began to tug at your mind.

 “If you fail this exam just because you’re tired then that just proves you didn’t actually study for it. You should’ve been able to retain that information regardless.” he said, fingers gently running through your hair.

 “You suck.” you sighed again, softly nuzzling your face into his chest.

 A smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say anything else. 

 Not that you would have listened anyway, considering that you were knocked out now. 

 Tsukishima’s body was definitely more comfortable than your twin bed.