#the fog says that ​you do not get to see it

[theotherbuckley]

Tommy’s dad dies on a Monday.

He checks his emails on a Wednesday. There’s an email from his aunt. It’s only a few sentences. She was always very succinct and to the point.

His dad is dead.

It was a heart attack.

Bastard didn’t even suffer. 

He stares at his laptop screen until the words start to blur together. For an hour, he just sits there, looking at his computer but not really seeing anything at all. His coffee is long since cold. He never even took a sip. 

His mind feels empty, like there’s this fog that’s settled inside, clouding over his thoughts. He’s stuck. His brain doesn’t know how to process this, and neither does his body.

So he stays frozen. Just staring.

He doesn’t notice the time until he feels large arms wrap around him from behind.

“Tommy?” Evan asks. It doesn’t sound like the first time he’s spoken.

“I—“ The words are stuck in his throat. 

Tommy turns around from his chair, blinking a few times, until he manages to say, “My dad died.”

“Are you okay?”

That’s all it takes for Tommy to break.

He opens his mouth, closes. Shakes his head. 

And he just—

Cries.

Full body-wracking sobs overcome his body as he slumps into Evan’s open arms. He shakes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he burrows his face into his boyfriend’s neck. He’s getting snot and tears all over Evan’s shirt but his boyfriend doesn’t complain, just squeezes him tighter as he continues to be overwhelmed by his emotions.

He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He just can’t seem to stop. 

He cries and trembles in Evan’s arms until he’s run out of tears left to shed. Evan murmurs sweet nothings into his ear, holding him tight and never letting go. 

“I’ve got you. I'm here,” Evan whispers in his ear. 

He feels like he’s run a marathon by the time he’s calmed down enough to pull back from Evan. His hands shake as he wipes the tears from his eyes, Evan’s own warm hands coming to hold his. 

“I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m cry—crying,” Tommy hiccups. He’s sure he must look a mess, red-faced and covered in tears.

Evan gives me a soft look, a small comforting smile on his face as he presses a kiss to Tommy’s forehead.

“You lost your dad. You’re allowed to cry,” Evan says kindly.

Tommy just shakes his head. “But he wasn’t— he wasn’t good.” He has an awful, vile human who never gave two shits about him. Only cared about him being a man, enlisting, stepping up. He doesn't understand why his chest still aches like his loss matters. It doesn't. It doesn't.

Evan wraps his arms around Tommy. He’s practically sitting on him, but Tommy doesn’t mind. Not when it’s Evan.

“He— He was a big part of your life, Tommy,” Evan says, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “And now he’s not. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Tommy just nods, collapsing back into Evan, who rubs gentle circles on his back in comfort, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He lets his boyfriend soothe his pain with his touch. He wishes it didn't hurt in the first place. Still doesn't understand why it does. He hated that piece of shit.

He's glad he's dead.

He hiccups as another tear makes it's way down his cheek. Evan squeezes tighter.

“Is there a funeral?” Evan asks softly.

Tommy almost laughs. “There’s no one who cares enough to give him one. He doesn’t even deserve one.”

“But you do,” Evan says sincerely.

That gets Tommy to look up, eyebrows raised in question.

“You deserve to have the closure,” Evan continues. “It’s a lot better than trying to pretend you’re alright when you're not. Trust me.”

“You lost someone?” Tommy asks. Evan’s never talked about it, but maybe—

“No, no. I just know what it feels like to— to bottle your emotions up when it comes to the people who are supposed to love you.”

“I’ll speak to my aunt about a funeral,” Tommy says. Evan gives him a soft smile and a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him close again, Tommy wasting no time to burrow into the corner of Buck’s neck, soaking up the comfort of his boyfriend.

“I love you,” he murmurs into his shoulder.

“I love you,” Evan repeats back. 

[oceantornadoo]

(simon riley x f!reader, same rank!)

violence, cod inaccuracies, reader is a badass

simon riley never calls you baby

until he does.

you tell him it has to stay hidden. you can't be known as "the girl fucking the lieutenant", no matter if you're the same rank as him, the same sweat and tears put into the job. it scares you, the thought of losing decades of hard work over some stupid fling with a man they call ghost. a man who brings you tea on your sick days, a man with soft eyes and a listening ear, the only man who's ever brought you to orgasm. the push and pull of your autonomy and your love is ever growing, that bone deep fear rooted in your marrow.

simon's scared too. scared of waking up and it's all a dream. scared that his enemies will find out, scared that it'll show he isn't so dead after all. he's been a rotting thing on earth for nearly four decades and he's comfortable with it; no matter how alive you make him feel. his hand on your waist feels right, but he can't bring his heart into the light.

so you call each other "lieutenant." maybe "riley" when he pisses you off, just to get under his skin. "dove" is rare, but it warms you up just the same, gives you an unbidden vision of hot chocolate and snow days. mainly its "l.t.", remnant of johnny, the respect and friendliness woven together sweetly. you murmured "babe" to him once, in the early morning when he sneaks out, and felt his shoulders bunch, the weight of it too much to bear. that was the end of pet names, or so you thought.

--

it's a foggy day on what becomes the worst night of your life. the mission is at a standstill, the intel outdated. you were supposed to be taking out a terrorist organization, blowing up the base of their operations, but instead the building is damp and abandoned, echoes of life the only sign they were here. price is in your ear, telling you to clear one last room and retreat, simon already on his way out. you nudge your way into the room with caution, years of practiced steps coming to you on instinct. for some reason, you don't catch the glint of a stranger's eye in a hidden corner. you don't see the rope in his hands, the knife between his teeth. the next thing you see is the floor, fog seeping over concrete as rough hands gag you and mutter promises of ungodly harm.

something's wrong. "price." simon murmurs soft and low, crossing out of the building to the tree cover below. "where is she? s'pposed t' be out by now." he's scanning the building through his scope, looking for that figure he knows so well, could find blind. "copy. 'er tracker says she's still in the buildin'. let's-" there's a piercing scream in the air. the ravens take flight from the trees. dark wings, dark words. "ghost-" "goin' in." a sigh on the other end. he can practically feel price's hesistancy but he doesn't care, heavy feet already moving back into the building. "you're goin' in blind, radar's jus' gone out." he swears under his breath, clearing hallway after hallway as the building falls back into silence. just as he comes upon a 4-way split, you scream again, the sound far away and to his left. "'m comin' dove, hold on." there's no gunfire, no sounds of fight. it's so eerie he thinks he might have dreamed it, his worst nightmare come true. his instincts lead the way, some knowledge of your location hidden in his blood. pop. finally a gunshot, and if he squints hard, he tries to imagine it being from your weapon. he's close, nostrils expanding at the scent of you, memorized even without your favored perfume.

there were four of them. you still can't believe you missed them, the thought in the back of your head as you fight for your life. scrambling from the rope one tries to force on you, becoming an eel as you slip out of their grasps. this is what you do, what you're trained for. until someone stomps down hard on your ankle, the force of it cracking straight through. you scream, can't help it, searing pain blinding your vision for precious seconds. they take advantage of it, gloved hands tying your own behind your back in a tight know. you can't reach your comms so you scream again, this one out of frustration, desperation that your team, that simon, might not find you.

the big one shuts you up with a hand to your throat, a bruising group that leaves you unable to speak. they aren't well trained, fumbling hands and shaky grips, and you're finally able to reach your holster, shooting the first between the eyes before you can even glimpse his face. now you're in your element, adrenaline covering the pain of your ankle as you fight back, shooting one after the other, digging out your knife for close combat. it's over in a blink, the men no match for your skills, and once you double check they're dead, you collapse in the corner, the pain of your ankle roaring. that's when you hear it.

"baby?" it's him (but it can't be). he's never called you that. you pretend not to see when he whispers it into your neck as you feign sleep, when he murmurs it in a grunt as he's deep in your cunt. he's never said it to your face. "baby!" it's definitely him, that gruff voice cutting across the fog. you whine out of frustration, your throat too sore from your attacker to call out. instead, you limp to the door, almost running into simon as he comes crashing into your own personal hell. he sweeps you into his arms and you let him, grabbing his shoulders to make sure he's real.

"y' hurt?" he takes a look around the room, at the carnage in your wake. "my brave girl." you're sobbing, unsure whether its from frustration or relief. still can't believe you got caught, feeling like such a stereotype to have your knight in shining armor rescue you. "handled them all y'rself, hm, baby?" he's all sweet and it hurts, seeing his eyes swell in pride as he takes in the four dead men, gunshots and a knife sticking out of one's eye. "why- why are you calling me that, simon?" he's ushering you out, your arm around his neck as you limp towards freedom. "proud of you." he says it simply, eyes trained on potential threats, not watching your reaction.

"aye, i told you, gaz. ye owe me a drink." soap's voice crackled through the comms. they were on. which meant your team heard the whole thing, heard simon practically claim you, knew you were together, thought you were a slu- "she's too good for him. i don't believe it." gaz's voice replied. "bugger off." simon grumbled into the mic, the sounds of them snickering loud and clear. "good?" he turned back at you, stopping you before you approached the clearing where your team waited. his eyes told you something different, that he'd walk out of here right now if you wanted. the cock of his head meant he'd follow you anywhere, live off the lamb for decades if you needed it. that was all you needed to know. you nodded and pushed forward. "yeah, i'm good, baby."

--

this is SO CRINGE but it's been in my drafts forever and needed to start paying rent

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi, I was stalking you a little and discovered this https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/949418 fic where Stiles is accidentally seducing Derek acting like a ideal mate without even knowing and I was wondering if you had other fics like this one.

Even if you don't I want to thank you for your hard work! Ganbatte kudasai!

Hi @nenehyuuchiha! I think so.

You're Turning Heads When You Walk Through The Door by Sheynora

(1/5 I 7,612 I Explicit)

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence:

Kate knows the weak link in the Hale Pack.

It'll be easy; seduce Derek and use his love to destroy the pack. Only... this loud-mouthed, klutz named Stiles keeps getting in the way. Derek can't notice Kate if he's too busy noticing Stiles.

Damn Stiles for being so sexy

---------------------------------

Or the AU where the Hale Fire didn't happen, but Kate Argent plans to make it happen. Except Stiles and his accidental sexiness keep ruining Kate's plans to seduce Derek.

***

Cause I Built A Home (For You, For Me) by nymphe

(1/1 I 6,860 I Teen)

Erica is giggling somewhere in the background. “I think he’d like exactly what you’d like, mom.”

Or, a 5 Times fic wherein Stiles doesn’t realize he’s been accidentally co-parenting a gang of furry teenagers/displaying Perfect Mate Characteristics, + the 1 Time Derek enlightens him.

Wanted and Wounded by RoxyRosee

(3/3 I 12,781 I Explicit)

Derek can't seem to get off. It's been days with no luck, and he's constantly on edge. But then pack night rolls around, and when Stiles falls into him as he goes to sit down on the couch, Derek is suddenly coming, right where he sits.

Turns out, Stiles is his mate. And among a whole slew of embarrassing side effects to this whole "mate" thing is the fact that Derek will never again be able to have an orgasm without Stiles by his side.

So yeah, Derek's life kind of sucks right now.

Try To See It My Way by Phantomlimb

(19/19 I 24,577 I Mature)

Derek has no fucking clue about what to do. He doesn't know how to woo someone. Let alone if that someone is Stiles

The Boy Is Mine, You Bonkers! by frownypup

(3/3 I 35,535 I Explicit)

It turns out that the words ‘a painfully smart and brave unclaimed human who is stupidly unutilized in Beacon Hill’s pack’ became the hottest gossip in werewolf underground. Yes, what the hell. Stiles’ existence has changed from a plankton to a rising sun.

Derek Hale has something he needs to say about it.

for a good time, call... by EvanesDust 

(10/10 I 46,841 I Explicit)

Stiles unlocks his phone to send out a quick text asking his father what he wants to eat, even though he’ll get salad regardless, and notices a strange number on his recent call log.

His face scrunches in confusion before realization dawns on him.

Oh shit.

Events from the night before peek through the hazy fog of his mind. Stiles thought, or he was hoping, that the phone call was a dream. But there it is, staring at him in the face—a one minute and 57-second call to an unfamiliar number.

Oh God.

Did he seriously call someone—possibly an alpha werewolf!—for phone sex?

...Or the one where Stiles drunk dials a very grumpy alpha werewolf and propositions him for phone sex. Hilarity, misunderstandings, and feelings ensue.

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[inexplicifics]

Oo okay so in Thread Mage!Milena is Guardian another word for Witcher (so Guardians and Witchers are the same, just doing different jobs), two types of 'enhanced human' (so there are Witchers, and there are Guardians, but their abilities/way of obtaining abilities are different), or do Guardians take the place of Witchers? <br> Also if there are any more WIP snippets for Thread Mage!Milena/Cats Amongst Wolves/ISNLIV/Broken Lock/Cat!Milena/YW getting Aiden that are hiding, could we see them?

The thread mage Milena 'verse has Guardians instead of Witchers. Frankly the Guardians would all prefer to be hunting monsters.

Have a snippet of that:

Milena hesitates visibly, then stands and spreads out her skirt. “These are my spells,” she says quietly, touching the embroidered flowers and geometric designs on her dress. “Clear sight, and steady hands, and swift healing - that is on Aiden’s tunic, too -” “I’ve got protection from most kinds of weaponry - this tunic’s as good as armor,” Aiden says, tapping some of the embroidery on his own clothing. “Spells to keep my senses from being fogged by magic. Good luck.” He snorts. “That one seems to have failed.” “It has not,” Milena says, to Lambert’s blank surprise. “This is good luck for you. You are to be freed!” “You two are the weirdest damn pair I ever did see,” Lambert says.

And one of the Wolves acquiring Aiden:

“Will you eat if I bring you stew?” Lambert finds a smirk somewhere. “Did you make it?” Gweld laughs. “Most of it. Eskel helped.” “I dunno,” Lambert snarks. “Did he toss in any old boots?” “Hey,” Eskel says mildly. “That was once.” Lambert presses his face into Voltehre’s messy hair to muffle his laughter. A lilting, hesitant, unfamiliar voice says, “How worried should I be about eating that stew?”

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Valentino Owns Adam’s Soul AU)

⚠️Warning this AU will deal with forced sex work, sexual assault, trauma, and abuse, you have been warned)

*it had been a year since the failed attack on the hotel and the residents of the hotel didn’t know that Adam had revived as a fallen angel, Adam stumbled out of a bar forcing his arm back into its socket, while the hotel residents didn’t know he was back, lots of other Sinners did and they wanted revenge, he was still very strong, but the constantly attacks were wearing on him and the way things were going, he would soon run across someone with a weapon of angelic steel*

?: I could help you.

*Adam turned and saw a moth like demon leaning against the wall smoking on a cigarette*

Adam: Who the fuck are you?

Valentino: I am Valentino, one of the Vees, sell your soul to me and I can offer you protection. All you have to do is work for me and I must say you are quite gorgeous especially with all that weight you lost.

*with the constant fights Adam had, he slimmed down to being closer to what his weight was in Eden, in fact he had a little more muscle than usual*

Valentino: You will have a home, protection, and food.

Adam: Fine, lead the way.

*Adam followed Valentino to the Vee Tower and once inside Valentino summoned a soul contract and pulled out a quill and cut Adam’s arm with it because it must be signed with the person’s blood, Adam’s blood got on the quill, Adam then signed the contract*

Valentino: Good boy, now we need to pull out on of your fangs and replace it with a gold one.

*the fang was pulled out and replaced with a good one, Valentino then kissed Adam making his mind fogged and compliant, Valentino ripped off Adam’s clothes and he was pleased to see that Adam had the parts of both a man and a woman*

Valentino: I can sell you to both men and women, they will love you.

*Valentino the had sex with Adam, he looked so perfect with half closed eyes and Valentino’s red drool dripping out of his mouth, even he was done, he handed Adam over to his servants*

Valentino: Get him some clothes that will show off that body.

*Adam’s mind became un fogged as he lay on the bed and he remembered what Valentino did to him*

Adam internally: What have I done?

Months went by and Adam was still in his fogged state, on the inside he guessed it was a part of being under this Val guys control.

Adam currently was being filmed, his hands held onto the bars of the headboard as two muscular demons fucked him from behind and had a tight grip on his hair. He was getting fucked in each hole and his mind was blank as he just took it.

It was rare that he topped anybody, even the women had full control over him.

And to think, when he's done here Adam will have to suck Val's dick.

When everyone was done Adam could finally catch his breath for a moment.

Val: And cut! Great work today people!

Adam was given a robe and was taken back to his room. What he didn't notice was he passed Angel in the hall.

Angel: Wait, was that Adam?

What the fuck was he doing here? Angel would have to tell everyone at the hotel about this.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! I just wanted to thank you for the incredible work you’ve done with this blog. I can’t imagine how much time and energy it takes, so I hope you know how informative and helpful your writing and compiled resources are. They’re challenging me to do better, and anything that helps people learn and change and grow is awesome.

I especially want to thank you for the extra effort in how you format your posts (bolding, colors for emphasis, manageable paragraph sizes). Attention span and brain fog issues make reading comprehension hard sometimes, but your writing is set up in a really nice way for that! It’s important, and I would read it anyway. But it’s helpful, so thank you!!!

🥹🥹🥹 see, Hot Chocolate said that a lot of people would end up skipping my posts bc they were very long- he didn't say it to be mean, but he said to think about how The Internet could be. So I said, that's true, but that's them choosing to stay antiblack when they don't have to be, and that's on them.

But yeah makes me very happy to hear that the extra formatting I go about helps you focus and comprehend, even when they're as long as they get 😊 thank you for telling me that! I personally format them the way I speak, and the way I also learn as well. I'm very bullet point and outline oriented, so I take my notes and make them into paragraphs from there.

[nqueso-emergency]

It took me a while to get the courage to type you a message. (This is a nice one! I promise!) I know certain people have not taken kindly to you or the things you share, but I really wanted to personally message you to say "Thank you" for being our beacon in this fog that is the other side of the fandom.

I've watched 9-1-1 since having my daughter in 2022, and it got me through some really tough times with post partum. I just recently joined the fandom, and part of me wishes I didn't. I've met some real sweet BuckTommy shippers, but it's sometimes really hard to tune out the crazies and the nonsense they spew. It's really hard to ignore the wishful thoughts of cheating and off screen break ups. Dont get me started on the LFJ hate. did any of their other LIs get this much hate? I don't understand and I don't care to. Honestly, when I was watching the show I didnt get coupley vibes from Eddie and Buck, but a deep brotherly connection that 2 best friends can form. (Yes, I'm watching the same show everyone else is.) Thank you for showing that I'm very much not the only one that thinks this way.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me hope that these 2 will get their happily ever after that they deserve. I'm so excited to see their relationship bloom and grow with time.

Thank you for sharing this with me!

I completely understand your feelings about wishing you didn't join fandom, because I feel the same. It doesn't matter what you say or do there is always someone watching ready to twist everything into ruining your experience.

I also wish I never would have opened up about my mother's passing and my cousin's career.

Ignorance sure is bliss.

I hope you can still find joy in this fandom and just know I'm always rooting for everyone in my notes.

[graveyardrabbit]

above the morning fog on California State Route 35

[mysteryboy1249]

Finally went and watched Zero Tea Time and like, how is this man still functioning at all??? If we're to assume that Furuya sleeps about 2 hours a night regularly, I'm sorry but this man would in no way shape or form be able to do what he does. - Sincerely, someone who has legitimately slept 3AM to 5AM regularly for several months due to having pre-existing sleep issues and a job that started at an ungodly time.

Like, yes I get that I shouldn't be thinking too deeply since anime logic, but also on this same schedule I felt like I was about to die by week 3 and was essentially a human zombie with my mental health down the sink by week 6(and technically I was sleeping more than 2 hours since I would take some naps as well) so I have some strong feelings about this. Hell, there's no way this man would be able to keep track of what time it is let alone all his jobs and secrets with that amount of sleep. Even if we go under the assumption that he sleeps 3-4 or even 4-5 hours usually and the 2 hours was a special case this man would still not be able to make all those deductions and chase all those criminals. Sure you won't feel as shit, but you definitely will still be feeling quite shit.

No wonder this man depressed and insane with a sprinkling of anger issues and seems to be constantly lowkey disassociating in Zero Tea Time. Yes most of it is because he's the only one left and is horribly traumatized but also like Furuya, have you considered taking a nap? It doesn't solve the trauma, but give yourself 8-10 hours of proper sleep and you'll be waking up ready to take on god.

As a side note, are there fics where Furuya is severely sleep deprived and how that impacts him? Because so far I haven't seen any but I also don't usually go out of my way to find Furuya centered fics. Because if there isn't I'll write one myself, not enough chronic sleep deprivation rep round here in general. Mans mother hens everyone around him, he deserves someone to mother hen him back to force him to sleep because the world will not in fact end if he takes some time off.

[derrygirlstrash]

Not to start shit, if you know me you know I'm a "ship and let ship" kinda gal and saying this I truly have no problem with James/Orla as a ship it harms no one and plenty of people like it, I like people having fun... that said...

I have never understood the common argument that James/Erin as a ship makes no sense and James/Orla should have been the ship instead. Often one of the arguments is that James/Erin wasn't set up while James/Orla was and I'm sorry... what? James/Erin have at least one ship heavy episode each season as well as plenty of background moments and several significant moments in Erin's Diary.

Even if you ignore all the background moments of the two holding hands, being inside each others personal space, the times where they're clearly matching and whatnot. There is at LEAST the implication that Erin would ignore her supposed crush for James, that she cares what he thinks, that Erin is James's type, that they're aligned in creative values and match each others energies, that Erin thinks he's handsome, that James thinks she's beautiful, that she can't imagine her life without him, etc.

James/Orla have some touchy moments... that's kinda all they have as far as romantic coding and I don't see how those two hugging in the Season 2 finale is somehow more significant than what setup James/Erin have throughout all the seasons.

Honestly, while I can see Orla liking James - you could build a case for it and convince me even though I see Orla as ace/aro in my own personal headcanons... no one has ever been able to give me a convincing argument for James liking Orla back. It kinda feels like you have to ignore that he never has a reason to fancy Orla back and just project onto him that.

Which, again, go off if that's your bag I think their friendship is fun and I could see making a ship out of it, but the common argument is that the SHOW makes a better case for James/Orla and like, no? No it really doesn't? It's just not main girl/main boy and some people really don't like that trope or Erin as a main and I think that if you say the show didn't set up James/Erin well and you argue the show would have been better with James/Orla based on what's in the show, you just might not like Erin very much?

I've also never been able to make sense of the argument that James/Erin is somehow the trope that 'guys and girls can't just be friends' like, is that not also James/Orla? Y'know, besides that Orla isn't a girl. They do use she/her during the show time period though and some people who argue this think Orla is a girl, they just think they're not THE girl. So somehow it's better even though it's the same thing.

Basically what I'm saying is that shipping is fun and we all oughta do it. Every ship besides the obvious ones is potentially fun and I'm down for it, but there is one ship the show was setting up and we all know what that ship was and I think it would be better if we all were honest about it.

PS: "James was gay the whole time!" Truthers, if you made it through this post somehow I'd like to offer a compromise: James Maguire is the most bisexual coded male character in media history we can all win here.

[bylertruther]

society if the duffers had gone through with their original plan to have mike go to the upside down in s1 to find will

[vyrantium]

thinking about halsin and his relation to trauma. how he was able to heal from the terrible thing that happened to him, how it doesn't control him, how he can acknowledge it but he doesn't hurt how he used to. how it doesn't consume his every waking thought. it's incredibly healing to be able to see a character who has immense grief and trauma still able to be hopeful, still able to make a change, and be able to interact with the things that hurt him in the first place.

[mokeonn]

I'm playing bg3 again and trying out the honor mode (which as it turns out, might be a bad idea if you never beat the game in general, much less beat it in tactician mode) and I have been confronted with the fact that I absolutely have dnd race favoritism and it absolutely is contributing to my need for many many bg3 saves because I constantly think "hmmm I want to try playing as a deep gnome to see if I get special dialog with Barcus Wroot, the Iron hands, and the underdark" before picking Drow for the 4th time.

[yourprobnowdumdum]

That "I think I see someone I lost across the room so I go to them but no it's someone totally different who I've confused because I'm staring at them like I haven't seen them in a million years" scenario but with Rick

[gibbearish]

hi i’m not really sure how to do this but i came from your uquiz and you seem knowledgeable and nice and so i’m asking you a question now i’m sorry

uhm, so, i think i maybe might be trans (ftm) because i’m super dysphoric and i sometimes look at guys and i get really jealous because they just get to, like, exist like that (i’m not really sure what the “that” is, but god, do i want it) and i very much don’t and when i refer to myself using he/him pronouns in my head it feels, uhm, at the risk of being a cliche, right, i guess.

but the thing is that i don’t really fit into any of the stereotypical trans guy things. like a lot of my friends when i was little were girls and though i have some stereotypically masculine hobbies (sports and physics) i also sew, and when i was little i was obsessed with being a princess for like a month before i started refusing to wear dresses.

i don’t think i’m non-binary, i tried using they/them pronouns this summer and while they didn’t actively hurt like she does, they didn’t really feel right.

so, like, am i lying to myself? i don’t know, maybe i just want to be special (i don’t want it, though, if i could just be happy as a girl i would).

sorry i just unloaded half an essay on you you obviously don’t have to reply and i know you’re probably not qualified to answer anyway, i just needed to tell someone, you know?

anyways, i hope you’re having a nice night or day or whatever. thank you, for, like, existing on the internet i guess. your quiz was very nice. bye.

howdy anon! dw i am always glad to answer questions abt this stuff even tho it make take me a while lol

my best advice for situations like this is i know its easy but don't let yourself get caught up in the trap of "well this is the label that makes me feel best but i dont technically check off every single box for it so am i just lying?" people arent video game quests, you dont have to hit every single box for it to count, youre allowed to have stuff fall outside the technical definition of a term while still calling yourself it. im very similar to you, i was in tap and ballet growing up, wore dresses and makeup for most of highschool, sewing crocheting knitting the whole shebang. but the important part is that none of those things make a difference to your identity. knowing how to sew doesnt make you a girl, it can just make you a guy who knows how to sew. its a thing you do, not who you are.

all that being said, i think another helpful angle to look at things is "does the distinction between two similar labels actually make a difference to me?" using myself as an example again, i dont call myself a trans man because while i do prefer presenting masculine, for some reason the term 'man' just doesnt feel right for me. but at the same time, to the rest of the world that's functionally what i am, right? so does that change /who/ i am? no. so for me personally, ive deliberately chosen not to file myself into either "trans man" or "nonbinary" and just move on with my day, because to me it doesnt actually make a difference which one i am, im still gonna stay on t, i still want top surgery, i still want to be perceived masculine, and thats not gonna change no matter what name is on the box so who gives a shit. just do what makes you happy