#and not blindly praise its writing because its NOT good.

[elysiuminfra]

GOOD MORNING ANON thank u for this question :] i love talking about being a hater btw sorry not answering your ask directly i tried and tumblr wouldnt let me :( just kidding im not actually as big of a hater as i say i am. when i talk about the musical - im not talking about any recordings, im talking about the ORIGINAL album. because i havent actually been able to find good quality recordings of the musical. :( and. well. warlow's jekyll is my favorite jekyll hands down now onto thoughts. i think the musical is fine, i like to listen to it sometimes even. some of my favorite jekyll and hyde stuff people have made are musical animatics (which go hard.) and im fond of the actors who have played jekyll/hyde, i just think the've done excellent with casting for the musical over the years. HOWEVER. i have opinions. many of these are based on my own personal tastes, some of them are actual criticisms - all of them are subjective. dont let me dash any reader's enjoyment of it on the rocks. i dont think its a "good" adaptation of the original story. it sort of.... misses the point? of the. everything? it treats jekyll and hyde as separate, with hyde being "pure evil" and jekyll being. well. good. there's not a lot of nuance to it. it IS from jekyll's perspective, and jekyll is an unreliable narrator (one of the MOST unreliable) but i just dislike how it handles hyde's entire deal. because even with jekyll being an unreliable narrator, it still doesn't give any other nuance other than hyde is entirely separate and entirely evil and the source of all of jekyll's woes (not the point - its not OBVIOUS in the book, but it can be easily gleaned through jekyll's breakdown). not only that but the weird and unnecessary inclusion of violence against women and painting hyde (and by extension, jekyll) as a sexual predator. i don't think that's necessarily TERRIBLE WRITING, as. well i believe jekyll does have a lot of issues surrounding sex but i, personally, cannot see jekyll/hyde as a sex pest in the way the musical sees it. he's an effective villain for sure. i just wish it...... handled it better. i just can't see jekyll like that, not even in the original book. i also think the inclusion of not 1 but 2 female romantic interests kind of.... takes away from the original point, i think. what i liked about j&h proper is that it really is about jekyll's relationships with the other men in his life - particularly utterson and lanyon, and in the background poole and jekyll's unnamed father - and how his own issues and problems cause him to navigate those relationships (as well as him reinforcing toxic masculine standards) BUT THATS NOT THE STORY THEYRE TRYING TO TELL. which is fine!!! it's a story about jekyll, and how good his life was before he destroys it. i just don't like that they used misogynistic writing to tell that story. i wish the women in the musical were given far more depth than "jekyll's love interest" and "weary prostitute that hyde stalks", and that they had more.... substance. outside of jekyll/hyde. this isnt uncommon, and particularly not uncommon for musicals / media of this genre. women are just not given as much substance compared to the male leads. and its SAD :( another thing is the.... music. not the score itself - the orchestra is not particularly striking compared to some other musical soundtracks i listen to, however they do reuse motifs throughout the musical - and its exciting to pick that out! there are certain series of notes associated with jekyll/hyde. and i think thats cool because i love motifs. lyrically, i think it's lacking. i think it could have been far, far more interesting lyrics wise but im not sure why they didn't push for it? there's a lot of other musicals (frankenstein, for one) i can think of that are, musically, very stylistically similar but LYRICALLY far superior. i like that it takes a lot from the book, but the way it uses it... leaves something to be desired. the melodies are pretty good in some songs, though, ill give them that. i also dont like the idea of hyde as a crazed serial killer. the death of carew in the book was poignant. i think, it was jekyll's (hyde's, technically) first murder. i also dont think hyde (and by extension, jekyll) WOULD go on a crazed killing spree just for. whatever reason. i just don't really see it happening, but that's because the musical- once again- treats hyde as separate and fully evil and not part of jekyll. when i think of hyde - i think of, what would jekyll do if given the chance? serial killing is not one of those options for me. but the musical doesnt handle jekyll/hyde that way - all of it points towards jekyll not being in control, and not WANTING these things, but hyde, being SEPARATE, doing them anyway. because if.... if it didn't, it would paint jekyll as a very, very, very bad person. someone who 1. is willing to cheat on his fiance with a prostitute, 2. willing to HURT those he is sexually attracted to out of selfish desire when he's rejected 3. a potentially extremely abusive husband. i don't think this was the intention. i really don't. but if you put the musical through that lense, of jekyll/hyde being the same guy, well...... yeah i just dont think thats what they were going with. so i dont think, in the musical, they're portrayed as the same guy. which is not a kind of adaptation i like or prefer. to wind down, i think it's lacking. a bit... boring and somewhat tasteless. i think it couldve been much, much more. i think the lyrics could've been better, i think the writing could've been WAY better, i don't think, overall, it's a good "adaptation", or even a good retelling. i think it's misogynistic. i think it completely misses the point of the original book. i don't think it's even a "great" musical by musical standards. it's more.... just... lukewarm. i suppose. not "terrible" just not. good. BUT i do like some of the tracks, and i DO LOVE that UTTERSON is a big part of it! he's typically ignored in a lot of adaptations. i do love the dedication that theater groups bring to the musical (there's a recording of the russian version with an INSANE SET!!) - and i do love the actors that have portrayed these characters over the decades. i just wish the musical was..... i wish it understood the original message more. and wasn't obsessed with torturing women. and was actually good. and didnt suck. long story short. its not good. there's some qualities i like. but overall i think it sucks mad cheese. the end

#answers #of course i dont mind ppl who DO like the musical #i just think if one likes it they should be. very. very critical #and not blindly praise its writing because its NOT good. #anyway #jekyll and hyde #thanks 4 the question!

[hearts4sturniolo]

SLOW DOWN -m. sturniolo

PAIRING; bf!matt + gf!reader

CW; smut. m!receiving. oral. semi voyeurism. sub!matt but also matt praises you? they don't fuck, but they probably will later!

AUTHORS NOTE; had to write this twice because tumblr hates me, but shoutout anon who recommended this because ts was so fun to write. ik you said quickie and TECHNICALLY its not a quickie, but i still hope you enjoy it ;)

music filled the car as the two of you continued your adventure for the day. matt needed to run errands and you happily tagged along, wanting any sort of time with your boyfriend. matt quietly hummed whatever song he had put on the radio as you looked over at him, turning the wheel to guide the both of you into the car wash parking lot.

god did he look good today, well he did everyday, but today was different. his hair fell perfectly on his forehead so that he could just barely see through it. his tee shirt fit snug around his biceps in a way that drove you insane. his fingers, adorned with rings, gripped the steering wheel just right that it made you want to drag him into the backseat at that moment to fuck him. 

your legs instinctively squeezed together as he rode up to the payment machine. he reached half his body out the car to fiddle with the buttons as his shirt rode up on him, his happy trail visible to your hungry eyes. you forced yourself to look away because at that point, you were eye fucking him. the car shifts as he sits back down, completely oblivious to the thoughts in your head at that moment. he drove the car forward before putting it in neutral and letting the car wash do its thing. 

“which scent did you pick this time? tropical?” you asked, trying to get your head out of the gutter for a moment. 

“yeah, i dont know why the fuck the one last time smelled so chemically, that was not ocean breeze.” matt emphasized the word ‘not’, a smile forming on his face

“i could have told you that baby, but you wanted to see the blue bubbles so.” you trailed off, facial expression matching his as you reached over to ruffle his hair.

the nozzles outside began spraying water and white foam over the top of the car as he blindly tried to fix his hair. his body fully turned towards you as he reached over to cup your cheek, the touch immediately making you turn a light shade of red.

“with all the running around we’ve been doing today, i’ve had barely any time to kiss you.” matt spoke, eyes darting to your lips. 

you wordless answered back as you leaned over to connect your lips. his hand pushed into your hair as he softly deepened the kiss. the two of your lips moving slowly together as the car inched through the building. matts tongue brushed your bottom lip, as if he was asking for permission to enter. you parted your lips as his tongue began to explore your mouth like hes never kissed you before. your hands raked through his hair as a soft noise was emitted from him. fingers getting tangled in his hair as you lightly pulled, the same noise coming from him again.

“please baby.” he gasped against your lips, the sound of his voice in that manner making you more wet by the second.

one hand left his hair as it reached down to lay upon his lap, nails brushing against the, very noticeable, hard dick in his pants. “you want me to touch you?” you asked, voice filled to the brim with lust.

“yes, please baby, please.” he begged, that was enough to send you over the edge. you made quick work with unzipping his jeans and tugging them, and his boxers, down just enough for his aching cock to spring free.

you looked from his dick, to making eye contact with him, and then back to his dick. your mouth was watering at this point, but you still asked, “what do you want me to do, sweet boy?”

“mouth, please, i want to feel your mouth.” his hips bucked up, begging for just a taste of some sort of friction provided by you. 

and who were you to deny that of him when he asked so sweetly? you lowered your head down, licking one stripe from the base to the tip of his cock before wrapping your lips around him.

he moaned lowly as a hand flew back to the back of your head to guide you. you turned your head to look up at him as you saw the car getting darker, thick bubbles coating the windows. the thought of someone being able to know what's going on crept into the back of your mind, but it was only an incentive to keep going. you bobbed your head up and down, taking his dick as far as you could in your throat.

“feel so good baby, you’re doing so good for me, just like that.” he grunted, hand pushing the back of your head faster now, being careful to not hurt you or make you gag.

as you sucked, you let your tongue start to graze the top of his tip, knowing it was his favorite when you did that. you knew exactly what to do to make him feel so good. you felt him shift underneath you as his hips began to buck up into your mouth, causing you to take him deeper.

lewd, wet noises took over the once music filled car as you helped him chase his orgasm. as seconds passed, you took his dick as deep as you could as his hips stuttered forward, your nose now touching his pelvis.

“fuck sweetheart, im cumming.” he groaned out, warm liquid began shooting in spurts down the back of your throat. your head now slowly bobbing to allow him to ride out his high, after a moment he began to whimper, desperately attempting to pull your head off of his overstimulated dick.

you sat up as you looked over at him, his cheeks were beat read and his hair was all sorts of messed up now. you locked eyes with him as you licked your lips, gathering all remnants of him off your lips. he pulled his pants up and fixed himself before turning back to you.

“that was fucking inc-” he tried to speak as the car jolted to a stop, reaching the outside of the car wash just in time. 

“mhm.” you agreed, you didn't know what he was going to say, but you could imagine. a small smirk appeared on your face.

he shifted the car back into drive as his foot pressed the gas, his hand reaching over to rest on your inner thigh. heat still radiating from your soaking wet pussy, aching to be touched. “it's been a long day, how about we head home and i can help you out, darling.” he spoke, turning to catch your face turn red yet again as he sped the car up, racing to your shared home.

TAGLIST: @cindylcuwho @cindylcuwhoknows @solarsturniolo @gamermattsgf @lacysturniolo @st7rnioioss @thesturniolos

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader

[angelinpiink]

❥ note: wrote this at 3am,, just needed to get my dirty thoughts out of my head and onto tumblr.

❥ warning: this writing contains mature content and themes such as dry humping, scissoring, perv mikasa, and dirty talk.

personal trainer!mikasa who pushes you to your limit during workouts just to watch your thighs tremble. she loves seeing you sweaty and flustered to get an image of what you’d look like when she finally has her way with you. she wants you so bad she doesn't know what to do with herself. her interest in you hadn't faltered once since you first started attending the gym and you can bet she’s been scheming on how to get you alone. at times when she’s tough on you believe its simply because she wants you to achieve your fitness goals but really she’s only frustrated that she can't bury her face deep between those pretty thighs of yours. and because she wants to see you as often as possible she recommends that you come to the gym far more often than you actually need to. during workouts she has a habit of being touchy and as sly as she is, she simply plays it off as correcting your form. her hands-on approach convinces you to purchase more sessions with her. being trained by mikasa several times in a week surely had its benefits, your body became more toned, the most noticeable change being your ass becoming more firm and oh so grab-able. There was nothing she wanted more than to get her hands on you outside of just a few mere seconds of contact. Who better to explore your body than the very person who helps craft it?

After your workouts she watches you make your way to the showers, waiting a few minutes before following you to get a peek of you without those annoying clothes being in the way. When she goes home, she’ll fuck herself to the images of you she’s burned in her mind. The second the shower stops, she’ll swiftly make her way over to the connected locker room and pretend she was only getting a drink of water from her bag. She’s so slick, you’d never even suspect a thing.

Mikasa offers you complementary yoga services on your rest days. You view it as her being sweet, causing you to grow more fond of her. when in reality she actually despises yoga, but because she gets a gets a room with you all to herself, she endures it. Did i mention that she’d do anything for you? It’s more difficult for her to keep her attraction hidden whenever you too are alone. She finds herself praising you, her fingers coming in contact with your skin anytime she gets the urge to do so. “Good girl.” she’ll say when attempting to teach you a new pose. You will often question if you are hearing her right because her expression remains impassive, and unchanging. Trying your best to hide the effect that has on you, you switch into the next position. At the end of each session she tend to make some sort of innuendo that you have to force yourself to not interpret as dirty. “Enjoy being stretched?” With cheeks of red you give her a nod, telling her you’ll see her tomorrow. Waving, you take your exit.

tomorrow rolls and around you show up in a tight gym set, that highlights your curves and is so fitted that the outline of your cunt is visible whenever you bend over, leaving mikasa’s own core hot and throbbing. She tells you that you have tension in your lower half, another lie she tells to get her way, offering for you two to try a new yoga exercise that she claims is a perfect solution. Trusting her expertise, blindly you oblige with her instructions and spread your legs exactly as she tells you.

Your obedience only serving to make her all the more eager to have you. With your cunt now exposed, mikasa takes her rightful place between your legs positioning herself so that her leg is just above your own. Your heat mere inches away from hers and the color leaves your face the second you notice. Her fingers caress your thighs as she gives you the order to move your hips. shes even so kind to reassure you that it you that i may feel a bit funny at first but that means it's working. Wiggling your hips just as ordered, your cunts meeting each other. It was electric so much so you couldnt hold back your gasps, heat pooling in your core when she too began moving her hips. The friction making things all the more unbearable. you found yourself wishing that your leggings weren't in the way. “N-need more please.” You had no shame in begging for it, and mikasa had no shame in being eager to give you just what you asked for.

Ripping into your soaked leggings to expose your pretty cunt, Mikasa looks at you, her eyes heavy and clouded with lust. “You dirty girl..” she says, noticing that you weren't wearing any panties. her finger rubbing away at your swollen clit again and again earning a symphony of needy yelps from you.

She slips out of her shorts and panties, returning to her spot between your thighs. Nibbling at her lip she began moving her hips, her cunt dragging against your own, your clits came into contact, kissing each other sending jolts of pleasure through both of you. Her juices dripping onto your cunt, mixing with your own as you cried out. “F-Faster Please!” You began to sob, the pleasure becoming way too much.

Your legs wrapping around her while she grinds against you. “That’s it baby. Gonna cum for me?” You nodded. “Wanna come for you so bad, please..” You were sobbing, the tension in your stomach becoming unbearable. you came as her movements became sloppy and desperate. she followed suit a string or praises leaving her lips before she connected them with your own, kissing you deeply. Once was not enough to get you out of her system. your training sessions from that point on would surely end in such a manner, being burnt out from something other than an intense workout was something you could get behind.

heres my masterlist!

#mikasasmut #aot smut #mikasaxreader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x y/n #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #mikasa x y/n #mikasaaot #mikasaxreadersmut #mikasa smut #mikasa x reader #mikasa aot #mikasa snk

[missmeinyourbones]

i would literally kill for headcannons about the AOT boys’ (and girls and Hange too tbh) preferences in women atm, and written by you because your headcannons actually make me cackle out loud, and are so well-written and profoundly accurate. i’m feeling introspective like… who would really be into what traits? what shit actually captivates and attracts them? what little quirks allow someone to catch their eye? you seem to have such a well-rounded and thorough understanding of the characters so i thought i’d ask if that’s something you’d be interested in writing about<3

how fun!!!! here are a few thoughts on the matter…of course all personality and character traits, no physical ones :)

eren likes a s/o who’s a lil crazy LOL he likes spontaneity and fearlessness….he likes when someone is quick to say yes to new things or has a crazy story to tell at a party—he’s automatically pulled in by extroverted people. you tell him about how you pierced your own ear once or gave urself a stick and poke tattoo and he is horny on the spot

armin likes a s/o who’s a bit snippy, a bit dominant—he likes someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to fight for their own fairness. likes when someone keeps him on his toes with their quickness and brashness. ur at a party and someone accidentally bumps into him and doesn’t say sorry and you go right up to them like “you hit him, you owe him an apology” and he has to mentally muster up all of his strength not to get hard LOL

mikasa likes a gentle s/o, maybe a bit soft spoken and dreamy (kinda like her) who is very protective of and attentive to her. she’s used to being the giver—being the one to fill others cups with her own empty pot. when you put her first, above others and yourself (like she has done her whole entire life), she feels like it’s too good to be true. she loves someone who can prove that doting doesn’t have to mean weak—you can be sweet and salty, soft and driven

similar to armin, jean likes a s/o who’s a little mean LMFAOOO not like actually mean but he just loves to be walked like a dog. he loves a s/o that can “wear the pants in the relationship” and he can just sit back and be like wow...thats hot LOL. loves someone who can hold their own, as well as his own (even tho they dont have to be any means, he just thinks its attractive) he’s always been second choice so he loves someone standing up for him. someone hits on him and ur like “he’s my boyfriend :) do you not have fucking eyes?” and he’s literally mind body and soul all yours in that moment LOL. he admires someone who is straightforward and a bit aggressive with what they want/like

connie likes someone who can match his energy while simultaneously looking out for him and making sure he’s not being stupid lmfao. he loves someone who is willing try new things with him or express interest in something that he likes! but then when he gets a bit too into it and is about to make a bad decision, he appreciates when you hold him back. hes like “lets go out to the bar and see some friends tonight!” and ur like “yes! how fun!” and then you get there and hes like “i am gonna get so drunk, bartender gimme a round of shots!” and ur like “no, you have work tomorrow” and hes all “🫡🫡🫡 yes boss” he just loves to trust you blindly, his fav thing about you is knowing that you always do whats best for him

sasha likes someone who is patient. patience and kindness are so important to her!!!! she always tries to put her best foot forward and be kind to all without reasoning, so when her s/o does the same thing to her???? shes folding. shes often overlooked for being “slow” or “stupid” so when you praise her and treat her with respect, or take a moment to explain something to her instead of overlooking it, she appreciates that so so so so much. she is so attracted to someone who is genuine and caring and communicative....she loves to repay you for all you do (esp in the bedroom, shes a giver ;P )

hange is attracted to responsibility and stability. they need a s/o who will remind them to eat, go to bed, shower, etc. they love knowing that someone is looking out for their best interest, that they are someone’s first priority in a way as sweet and intimidate as domestic little errands or chores. they like someone who is attentive and observant—someone who remembers the little details of their tangents and asks them to further elaborate on something that intrigued them. hange loves effort

levi likes a clingy s/o….yes i think he’s overwhelmed at first bc he’s not used to receiving attention and openly accepting love in forms of physical or verbal affirmations…but once he experiences it, he’s addicted. he loves a s/o who always wants to be around him, touching him, resting on him, always near and with him in some capacity. he likes the permanence of a life long commitment to someone. he is so so so incredibly attracted to loyalty…the thought of you choosing him to spend the rest of your life with makes him literally feral

reiner likes a supportive s/o bc i think he needs a lot of reassurance and validation :/ he likes someone who will constantly verbally remind him of their love for him. likes a communicative and doting s/o. he’s such a big baby—you scratch his back when he’s laying down and the intimacy of the simple act has him tearing up like you’re scratching my back??? of all peoples backs you could be scratching??? 🥹🥹 he needs help lol

porco likes to be the boss of someone, or rather think that he’s being the boss of someone (when he’s in reality not in control at all lmfao) ive said this a handful of times but he likes to be the fun police. likes to watch over you, let you have your fun but stop you when you’re being too reckless (kinda the opposite of connie), likes to be the one to pull you in and say ok that’s enough 🤨 or what am i gonna do with you 🤨 when in reality he is wrapped around ur lil finger, constantly thinking about you and if youre ok / having fun

#aot headcanons #aot x reader #aot writing #eren x reader #armin x reader #mikasa x reader #jean x reader #connie x reader #sasha x reader #hange x reader #levi x reader #reiner x reader #porco x reader #eren headcanons #armin headcanons #mikasa headcanons #jean headcanons #connie headcanons #sasha headcanons #hange headcanons #levi headcanons #reiner headcanons #porco headcanons

[psalm22-6]

Dolce far niente: the hypocrisy of the critics of Les Misérables, according to Nelly Lieutier

First, who was Nelly Lieutier (1829-1900)? She was a novelist, poet, author of children's books, and journalist whose articles were published in many of the popular papers of her time. Today there is even a square named for her in her hometown, in the region of la Charente-Inférieure. And she is one of the few women whose review of Les Misérables was published.

As she put it though, it wasn't so much a review of that book as it was a response to the many negative and disingenuous reviews of it which had been published the last three months. In L'Indépendant de la Charente-Inférieure, on 7 June 1862, she wrote:

I don’t want to undertake an analysis of Victor Hugo’s capital work; even less do I want to pass judgment on it. I just want to express my feeling of indignation over certain assessments, which I will not call false (for those who write them are following their consciences), but which all borrow from the bliss of dolce far niente [the sweetness of doing nothing]. There are people who have, if I may express myself thus, the good faith of bad faith; they speak what they feel; but they do not seek to know if what they feel is justified; this satisfies them and reaffirms the happy reality in which they believe they live. And beyond that?...what does it matter to them! That is how I classify all the detractors who are indignant over the great characters in Les Misérables! 

For context, many of the early reviews of Les Misérables were decidedly negative, with many dismissing the idea of a reformed convict and a humble bishop out of hand. Lieutier places herself in opposition to the Catholic, legitimist, and Bonapartist papers (which is to say, almost everyone) and identifies the limits of their worldviews. One of the main criticisms levied at Hugo was that he had greatly diminished himself by abandoning his old beliefs in Catholicism and the monarchy. It was said that Hugo’s greatest achievements were behind him; that Les Misérables was being praised due to Hugo’s mythical status, not because it was in itself worthy of praise or likely to have enduring popularity. Lieutier refutes this:

It is true, as one of his adversaries stated that “for those of our times with lively imaginations, Victor Hugo is today to liberalism in France what, for a long time, Béranger was.” It seems, they say, that Victor Hugo is already a shadow of himself, who lives as though he were witnessing his apotheosis from beyond the grave. But despite these men who want to lower to their own level the glories of the present which they do not understand, and who blindly trample on the glories of the past, Béranger and the bard of  Les Misérables will remain great men for all time because they have produced invigorating ideas which engender moral improvement. Who then can kill their ideas?

Lieutier addresses critics who thought that Les Misérables was a dangerous book, especially in the hands of the poor. Cuvillier-Fleury was the most prominent journalist to express this idea but Lieutier actually directly references Benoît Jouvin (“Monsieur J.”) of Le Figaro:

What does it matter to you, Monsieur J., that the novel is “the master key to philosophy and that this master key, in certain hands, may become a lock pick?” Has not the sun which warms and invigorates us also served to kill the imprudent and ignorant? And yet the heat of the sun is a gift from God. 

One reason Les Misérables was thought to be dangerous was that Jean Valjean, a criminal, is its hero. Critics wrote that Hugo's book absolved individual responsibility and blamed society for all social ills. Lieutier's review highlights that Hugo does, in fact, examine both the responsibilities of the individual and of society.

People must be pure in order to free their sacred souls (that gift sent from heaven) from their abject bodies, bodies which Victor Hugo knew how to fashion into characters; and I bow before and respect people who know how to see and to become. Who would dare to hold the human creature responsible for his work when he is traversing the vile environment into which vice and misery threw him? You would have to think yourself stronger than God himself, for Jesus Christ did not throw stones at the guilty woman. Two great characters, in particular, stand out in this philosophical work called Les Miserables: Monseigneur Bienvenu Myriel, a bishop, which is to say a high-ranking man who is afforded consideration and respect by everyone, and Jean Valjean, the galérien, which is to say the abject being, the garbage, the dregs of that anthill we call society.

Besides Jean Valjean, there was another unconventional character who received a lot of criticism and not much praise…Lieutier is one of the few writers I have found who appreciates this important part of Les Mis:

A third figure also stands out, but as he is only a frontispiece on the monument, and as he does not rein over the work, we will only point to him in passing. This figure, who no one can glimpse without forming a strong impression, is the conventionnel G. Doesn’t it seem to you that his presence made Monseigneur Bienvenu a bit smaller when he was so grand before? What a Socrates is this man, whose contemporaries made him drink that moral hemlock so well known in our days by those who refuse to bow their heads to prejudice! Yes, certainly, there are great men and they are those who God has endowed with a fragment of the sacred fire that illuminates truth we cannot discern, and the conventionnel G was one of those men. Also, what a sublime chapter that fire inspired in Victor Hugo! His voice was as solemn as God’s when he spoke to Moses in the middle of the tempest. Who among us can see truth, if not the man who is about to die and who, still clinging to life through his relationship to man, already belongs to another world which already illuminates him with its light? Monseigneur Bienvenu Myriel was great because of his goodness, his selflessness, and his devotedness; he becomes sublime because of his humility before that man who was disdained, scorned, and jeered! This is one of the greatest titles which we can admire.

Next Lieutier praises Myriel’s treatment of Valjean. Although many reviews did praise Myriel as an unironic example of Christian charity (and as proof of the goodness of Christianity) Lieutier doesn’t forget that society by and large is at fault for rejecting Valjean, emphasizing that Myriel is the exception and that furthermore, Valjean’s struggle is on going, even after the transformative meeting with Myriel.

What a lesson is imparted by the galérien Jean Valjean! That man without initiative, without personality, neither good nor bad, who becomes a criminal, who becomes repugnant under the pressure of a society that rejects him instead of helping him, which makes him into a wild animal everyone guards themselves against, instead of taming through good treatment: Bienvenu Myriel, you alone understood the task of moral improvement expected of us all! It took superhuman goodness to withdraw that brute from his state of degradation, it took light from heaven to remake a pearl from that muck; and you were that goodness, you were that light come from on high! And what a brilliant pearl is the virtue of Jean Valjean, who becomes M. Madeleine, a pearl which I am afraid will return to the mud if the branch which bears it is shaken by an evil hand….

She further disputes the idea that Valjean’s story ends with his transformation into Mayor Madelaine and that he should have stayed Madelaine, rather than save Champmatieu:

Who was it that said that in order to obtain a fortune, honors, and consideration this man had only to change his name? Did he not have struggles, conflicts, and the terrible temptations of a return to the past for this man who had been at the bottom of society and who wants to return to the surface? How could it be that God, who must be a good judge, promised a thousand times more joy to the man who has fallen and repents than to he who has never strayed from the right path?....O Jean Valjean, you never existed, you are but the personification of the most sublime human virtue; otherwise we would prostrate ourselves before you when, though you were great before men, you voluntarily stripped yourself of your prestige, of your belongings, of all the happiness of the earth, in order to become great only before God!... I will stop and catch my breath; for it was under the influence of a feeling of indignation that I have written these few lines. I have already said that I do not pretend to make an analysis or pass judgment: I only wanted to respond to the needs of my heart.

Go off Nelly! Hope you enjoyed reading.

#les miserables #contemporary reactions #my translation

[dyketubbo]

deleted a few posts mostly because after thinking about it some more i do still think that theres a focus from many of these creators on having a sort of clapback response where they denounce wilbur but dont actively support shubble (i dont know if shubble is fine with people who arent her friends using her actual name so im just saying shubble) and while its good to denounce wilbur i dont think they should be praised when they havent put in the effort to publically show support to shubble.

at the same time, shubble is clearly touched by the responses and they clearly feel supported by their friends who had also, on a surface level to us, seemed to just be responding to wilbur without uplifting shubble. i do think theres a need to stay critical. some of these creators do very likely care more about dunking on the abuser than they do actively supporting the victim and making sure you dont fall into blindly supporting anyone who can make a snappy comeback is good

at the same time being critical means realizing theres a lot more to this than "anyone who waited for wilbur to say something must not have believed shubble and mustve been complicit" considering responses like billzos and sophies, as well as shubble themself saying that "not wanting to" is not why she didnt name wilbur. billzo admits to being scared of wilbur. sophie said wilbur made her feel small. theres clips of wilbur hurting and scaring his friends and making light of how he does so

a part of what sophie talked about was how wilbur would make light of how he abused her. he wasnt worried that he was hurting her, and he even pointed out that it looked like abuse. shubbles incredibly brave for speaking up. but that doesnt mean anyone else who didnt until now was complicit.

a lot of wilburs "jokes" look worse in retrospect because.. thats what happens when you go through abuse, or when you have a shitty friend. you start to realize more and more how they were hurting you and got away with it because they shrugged it off either as a joke or just as part of who they are (shubble actively pointed out that wilbur would dismiss his behavior as "just who he is")

those who just want to get a dunk in shouldnt be praised. those who really do stay quiet or do the bare minimum should be scrutinized. always keep an eye out for suspicious behavior no matter where you go. lexie talked about her own abuse within that circle of creators and the very fact that there were two people being abused within the same circle is horrible. but keep an eye out for any creator. keep an eye out within any community, even your own. its not just the men in brighton. its not just minecraft creators. abusers and toxic friends are everywhere, and silence can be complacency but it can also be fear

dont blame yourself if you didnt see the signs before. but take it as a sign to keep an eye out. and remember we cant see everything behind the scenes. you never really know everything going on. its getting increasingly clear that wilbur mistreated a lot of people in his life and like. idk im making an emotional post because this shit sucks a lot and like weve said before this is a topic very personal to us as an abuse victim and one whose had many toxic friends

shubble feels supported. she has a community and ultimately it is still amazing to see how many people are denouncing wilbur and its amazing to see the people who do show support to shubble herself. support for lexie is slowly but surely getting there as well. i think this is a sign that while horrible things will always happen that the community is slowly but surely getting better at responding. and i hope anyone else who was scared of or mistreated by wilbur is able to think back on that and realize it was awful and find their peace as well.

i think its good to be critical to anyone who may have genuinely been complacent, especially those like phil and tommy and even quackity who have been extremely close to wilbur and as of writing from what i know have yet to publically respond. but i dont think there should be a place for outright cynicism and accusing everyone who didnt speak until now of secretly being complicit. theres more to it than that. theres always more to it than that

#not rebloggable bc its a long and scrambled post and i dont want to invite people to get pissed at me #for going back on immediately going banned banned none of you are free of sin about every mc cc #ykwim #mask mews #idk. i got abused within a group of friends #and it was acknowledged within the group. but many of the others in the group were also being abused or otherwise mistreated #one of the abusers irls later contacted us to say he started getting worse towards them as well #i would never want to accuse anyone who wasnt able to properly defend me during that time of being complicit #i of all people obviously understand why they were scared. why they didnt stand up for me until later #sometimes it really does take a while to properly comprehend just how bad it was. for you and for others

[showtoonzfan]

I think the sad part is that we all know that Viv knows she doesn’t even need to try for her show to be a massive hit. She could produce the most insulting piece of shmuck in animated storytelling history, but as long as what she makes panders to the majority of the fandom’s wishes, her fans will eat it up and treat it like it’s the Saving Grace of the Adult Animation world.

And that sucks, because I believe that if she really listened to some of the critiques and tried to improve, or at the very least hire some folks who can actually write a cohesive story, she could make a genuinely good project, instead of what seems like the fan-fiction of an edgy high schooler, but alas.

Yup, it’s the sad truth. Her shows and overall work has potential, but if she keeps staying in her comfort zone and not opening her mind to critique and effort (WITHOUT being petty challenge), then her work is going to turn out bad. I’m still very passionate about Hazbin, I love the concept and the characters concepts, and it’s just a gateway to LOADS of potential to be something really good, but I still have doubts. And yeah, Vivzie at this point could produce utter shit, she could either do something really bad as a person or create the worst piece of writing you’ve ever seen, and fans would STILL support her because they love her work so much. Wether you think Hazbin is good or bad (or her projects in general) I personally always think it has room to be better, to improve, however the people who just constantly suck her off (excuse my language) and praise her to the maxes blindly are part of the problem, because a creator is NEVER going to learn to get better if all they hear is “THIS IS THE BEST SHOW EVER, ITS A MASTERPIECE, ITS FLAWLESS!”- and that’s just the thing, Vivzie may say she knows that criticism is important and there’s always room to improve, but in reality she’s clearly shown the opposite, someone who can’t take criticism for the life of her without acting like a whiny brat.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #reply #ask

[arttrampbelle]

Personal vent ahead.

Cw: vent,mortal Kombat vent. Vent about the new game.

You bought mk12/mk1/the new mk game? You preordered even?

You dont get to come to me or others about how its sucks.

When we told you so.

You dont get to complain about the bugs when we said their will be. When you should have waited.

You dont get to come here and say "oh no kuai died?!" When you know he is gonna. Quan chi is there. Kuai is scorp now. Guess what happened to hanzo? Guess what happens to scorpion?

Yeah. Gonna still happen. But worse.

You dont get to come here. And say "oh no. Mk12 actually sucks?!" Yeah mofos we been telling you!!!!

For people who actually understand,gave proper criticism,waited,or even see it for the hot garbage that it is. Hell the subscorp shippers see how hot garbage it is! I dont even care for that ship. But i agree with them. Its shit! Its a blatant disrespect to the characters period.

This isn't for you. You can stay. Yes even you weird shippers. Just stay in your lane this is a self shipping positivity zone. And i do mostly self shipping anymore. But that's besides the point.

To people who have a working brain. You can stay.

This is for the blind worshipers,people who dont actually look at the game in its entirety and really REALLY look and research the lore and play the previous games. And non mk fans influxing because they have their knock off evil superman. Both of em,ew who genuinely likes homelander?! Ew. Omiman is interesting but he's not worth putting in a mk game. Ever. He belongs in injustice(which i feel boon wanted to do instead of mk and he's obviously not caring for mortal kombat anymore its shows). And nrs knows that if they dont put in *x insert popular tumblr/tik tok/Twitter pop culture trend/show here* it wont sell because mk is niche and they wanna dick ride on whats popular instead of what actually can make the story good. Or fix their own lore first before they start adding dlc crap. (And not own up to the fact....that mk games are not for everyone!!!!)

Nope. You made you beds. You lay in them,people whos praising mk12/mk1 blindly. Nope you lay in that bitch.

Nope y'all lay in it now. Dont ever come to me again.

Meanwhile the rest of us will be here actually writing worthwhile stories. That are not a waste of time. Unlike mk12/mk1 and its fans and players.

#mortal kombat #vent #personal vent #cw vent

[libidomechanica]

I lie

I lie, to say “thy  plain thy sighing for  me, and make my old man.  And soft when  west, and drinked, ‘which  me, dream resort,  the think of  promise of Carib  fire, and the  voice we came, but each the  Prize no pence;’ there the  skulls, yet your song  and her eyes, acquaintes,  Presence is a  long the looking a  bidden parliamented  hung. beggard tried body keel;  I felt beware once to  taste plantas barrd to  hand! In track suggestions  audite I am  and he, she singing, other,  rise in out of  sky resign,  for some back, the  grass is because  in  the midsummer and  travail to seed  of midnight; a doubt  a morning. But steam of  the willow beams,  and hand: he placid  awe. But listentation  lie; over beauties of  everywhere  I saw the sayne for  your made away  intellect, Love,  thether thought are other  long reason deeds; the  used to both write goes  by, where that falls, the  long,” demand throught regret,  confusd my best  is Denizens of  good beside the  Million to  obey a sing to  me. One whose feels, as  she spiritual  stoppd there the  crosss which my times Counselled  women light, all charity.  And obedience  it makest know the  lawny firm soil, left they  have I which I have form,  then bush my feet, to  draws his starting cycle,  they were rings and night  comes they bright return  backpack in beare, when  Time—then more the  Chief sae maintain. And  is wofull of her  error one with  becoming farewell  of these self with  the West, stains of  man love is feet wert  by, which haplet all they  shore, are, and mockeries  are not seemd to  known so long black— sailed, all  the spoke you out in  the found of  my gushing savage— why advent is the  will so fail to  burst conversation  of the Belles hast  made your name ; yet know well  strow the clock deserted  shrinking air, weight their magic  lantern will, if  the living wynd. it  aching seas, Credit  with any  galleon those lounged be  thine effaced, Nor wise  and lustring flowres her  hands. where than  praise. Go, loved, the Winterval  aff, is grace, too  far away. Bright but uninvested  Steel receive;  day, in the  piece; the move, who  rule my rose the name.  Winter dooryards Oaten pype  I heart her gain, I fought,  a Chief give taught in  they bright; smote thy love away,  and Phyllis is full  verse, nor cheerful-minde; proudly  anchors; its Care of  good with it,  at a thunder Bosoms  that binds his mans  core of happy comming  a little very work »  Lord, or you to  Lock; and in the  rest, be story curves,  let black Tyrants Cheek the  cobbles her Saviours  transformed my hold I on  thy peers; the swept for  than graves o timely  with my holds  his wont too late shade out  of song Full narcotics,  speak, and ripples fall,  oh blindly with  his sweetly balefully  did betters! Come that  now the high Muses  spring angel  bride. Of tenfold more  wily brothers of thee.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #166 texts

[sukirichi]

true gift

A god like Naoya is about to see how his little mortal is hiding a true gift.

REQUEST.  deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. virginity loss, naoya isn’t nice, mentions of blood,  murder, abduction, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, creampie, orgasm denial, mentions of slavery, face fucking, reader is willingly consenting to pain, reader is a masochist, naoya is a sadist 

NOTES. ah...it feels so natural to write naoya...also can someone send me some good erotic hentai panels, yay <3

Today is the day – the one you’ve been prepared for ever since you’ve forced to make acquaintance with the blinding darkness and smell of rust.

What time is it? Is it morning, night...maybe somewhere in the middle?

There’s no telling, not when you’ve been staring at the pitch black darkness for what seems like forever. It’s been too long, so long, that you’ve forgotten what the world looks like. It’s like one day you’re helping your family tend to the farms when rough hands grabbed at you, and you’re shoved in a cold, dark cellar before you could even say good bye.

Oddly enough, the servants – or at least that’s what you assume they are, since they’ve been nothing but tight lipped and inherently obedient to a faceless figure – have taken extreme care of you.

Twice a day, they’d open the cellar, the sound of keys rustling and nearly muted footsteps like music into your ears. The slight sliver of light passing through from the outside is immediately concealed within a split second, a black smooth material wrapped around your eyes before they strip you off. Normally, you’d complain and fight back, but you’ve lost all the will to even defend yourself at this point.

You’ve given up a long time ago, and life’s been a lot more tolerable ever since.

Today isn’t any different. Maybe it was hours ago, two servants had came in to wash away the grime and dirt from your body before you felt something combing through your hair. Then, you felt it. A smooth, cold blade running up and down every inch of your body, rendering you immobile in fear even breathing could cut you open.

It didn’t. If anything, you felt a lot smoother, lighter, and freer.

“Is she bare?” an old, croaky feminine voice echoed in the small room, equally wrinkled hands removing the strap of your bra off before she lathers a rose-scented cream all over your body. “Naoya-sama prefers his slaves hair-free, you know that. Not even stubble is allowed, do you understand? Keep shaving her until she’s spotless.”

Naoya-sama.

So that’s where you were. It all made sense now.

For as long as you could remember, that name’s been spoken with terror, the slight tremble of voices and darkened eyes pooled with fear never absent in the presence of his name. You’ve never seen him, but you know enough to understand that he’s a prominent figure especially in your little village. He’s not human, but he’s not exactly a god either – at least, not one that people would willingly worship.

You’ve heard telltales on how his beauty alone had women dropping to their feet, the malice in those eyes of his enough to make even the strongest warriors stick to his side in fear of what he’s capable of.

He’s as old as time and as strong as the steady flow of the river you and your people have always bathed in. It doesn’t make sense that someone as fearsome as he was is living at the mountains where nothing but quiet, peaceful people rejoiced, but the more you think about it, of course he’d prefer his people submissive, heads always ducked in fear and shaking in terror.

This whole time, you thought you’d been sold off to a neighbouring clan head because your clan didn’t have enough funds to pay for the latest trade.

In a way, you’d feel a lot luckier if the former had happened instead, because there’s really no proper way of making sound of the fact you’re sacrificed to your own deity, Naoya Zen’in, after not completing your offerings to him for ten whole moons.

It’s bad, horribly so, and you should be shaking, should be crying, should be wishing for death instead, so then why are you deferential? You don’t complain when two rough hands pull you from the ground and keep your arms tight in shackles at your lower back, vision still obscured by this cloth as you’re guided somewhere – someplace that all the sacrificed women for your deity are received.

Your feet are sloppy and smacking against the hardwood floor, heart pulsing in your tongue for all the wrong reasons. Faintly, you can smell a rose-scented candle and water splashing, but it doesn’t register until you’re immersed under it.

You gasp, hair flattening onto your skin while you look around blindly, struggling to clutch onto something as your feet keep slipping into the tub.

You’ve never been into a tub before; much less recognize the soft, paper-like objects floating into the water with you. Head swaying side to side until water is sprayed everywhere, a firm hand keeps your head in place just as a pumice stone is scrubbed into your skin. It’s not painful, but the rough scraping sensation feels sensitive from your skin that hasn’t been exposed to normal, breathing air for who knows how long.

“Stop moving,” that same elderly voice commanded, and her assistants, most likely, move quickly into extending your limbs until you’re sprawled out everywhere. “We are to make you perfect, presentable, lavishing in front of our deity himself.”

“B-but —”

“You have no right to speak!” You’re left stunned as your cheek bruises red, lips wet from the water as you pant. The sting on your skin becomes more pronounced, but you dare not speak, opting to keep your lips shut instead. The elderly woman takes notice of your behaviour, humming before she makes you stand up, that same blade swiping down your exposed regions. “You learn fast and submit well. I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.”

“She is gorgeous too, my Lady.”

“She should be,” comes a retort, your jaw clenched as you keep still. She forces your legs further apart until you’re embarrassingly exposed, the rose petals in the water sticking into some corners of your skin. “If she was not, she’d be dead already. It’s her pretty face that’s keeping her alive at this point.”

Everything is a blur after that.

One moment, they’re shaving you, the next you’re thrown from one body to another. They perform all sorts of things – towel drying your hair, exfoliating your skin, plucking your eyebrows to perfection before applying a shimmer to your cheeks and something sticky and glossy to your lips, then finally you feel the warmth of silk robes you could never afford even if you work yourself to death caressing your body.

After that, you’re locked inside a much bigger room, the blindfold falling off your face slowly.

You blink in surprise.

The room isn’t that dark, but dim enough, and your heart beats louder in your chest when you see the size of the room. It’s ten times bigger than your village meeting point, a large tatami bed sat in the middle. From one side, a window is open, allowing you to see the white illumination of the moonlight that looks hauntingly romantic.

Candles are lit on either sides of the room, and your gaze lands on odd whip-like weapons placed proudly on the walls.

Your legs are wobbly as you stand, life just coming back into your unused muscles. Making your way towards it, you reach out to touch this...weapon that’s still somewhat coated with the stench of blood. It’s immaculately clean and the leather is shiny, though it’s clear this has been used for far more gruesome situations before.

I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.

You recoil your hand that’s a breath away from coming into contact with it, terror plaguing deep into your bones as you take a step back.

You’re a sacrifice, an offering, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice – you’re brought here to die, and your god would kill you himself. Others may have considered it an honour to have died from the mercy of his hands, your oh-so divine lord who’s brought prosperity and wealth into your land, but you turn away, breathing hard as you make a break for the door.

But you never made it.

Your back lands into someone’s chest, a slight gasp falling from your lips before you’re pummelled into the ground, strong hands pinning your arms above your head. Eyes widening, you come face to face with your deity, his fox-eyes lined with dark kohl sharpening his already predatory features, ears pierced with tiny skulls and black dots.

His knee nudges your leg open and you groan, the sound making his eyes dart at you in warning before he smirks upon seeing you make no move to get away from him.

“As I’ve heard,” his deep voice cuts through the eerie silence of the room, the night so mute not even birds or insects cricketed at the presence of your deity’s need to have you for himself. “You are a compliant little lamb sent to the slaughter,” you shiver as his fingers run to caress the side of your face, his free hand undoing the knots that keeps your modesty. Naoya hums deep in his throat when the cloth falls to the sides, revealing perky nipples that pushed closer and closer to his awaiting lips at each heavy breath you took.

“You are stunning,” he praises, using a thumb to graze over the hardened bud. It’s barely a touch, but you’re sensitive, wholly new to this that you whimper. The sound is humiliating and utterly pathetic, your teeth coming down to capture your lips.

This displeases him entirely and Naoya taps your lips open, glaring at your wide, fearful yet aroused gaze. “You do not ever conceal such shameful sounds when I’m above you, do you understand?” You nod shakily, freeing your lip from its confines. Naoya snickers, chest puffing up with pleasure before he leans back to his calves, pushing the rest of your robe to the side until you’re completely exposed to him.

Your breathing grows more laboured when Naoya spreads your legs open, smirking as you whimper at the stretch of having your knees flattened by your sides. Legs placed on top of his knees, your elevated posture gives him more access to your bare pussy, his gaze zeroing in on the gleaming arousal that’s beginning to form on your lips.

“So fucking wet,” he comments, using both his thumbs to pry your pussy apart. You moan at the sensation of him pressing down on a part of you that you don’t know existed, and Naoya laughs, the sound sinister yet erotic. “You’re a virgin.”

It’s not a question – it’s a statement he takes pride in, especially because he knows he’s the chosen one to take something precious away from you.

“I’ve always loved virgins,” Naoya’s hands roam all across your body, slowly, sensually, passionately, the rough, calloused hands running under your legs to hitch them up behind his broad back, to cup your soft ass before he cups your pussy, groaning into your neck when he feels you leak and he’s barely touching you to begin with. It makes his ego swell when your hands wrap around his neck; he hates being touched by mere, lowly mortals like you, but you are undeniably gorgeous and so wanting of him that he allows you just this once. “Always so sensitive – do you want to be good for your deity? Hm?”

“Y-yes!” you cry out, eyes snapping shut when he suddenly inserts a finger in.

The feeling is foreign yet not totally unwelcomed, but you grimace anyway at the slight sting his digits bring. Naoya pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy to coax your arousal to drip further into the sheets like a waterfall, your nails digging into his robes while he watches you with a smirk. He laughs when your eyes widen at the second finger pushing in, thumb rubbing over your clit until your legs tremble around him.

“Virgins are always so gorgeous once they finally learn of pleasure,” he scoffs to himself.

You look at him straight in the eye, mouth falling open while small gasps fall through at the speed he’s pushing into you at.

Something begins to form in your lower bally until your body grows utterly warm, something...something close about to snap when he pulls his fingers out of you, throwing his head back in laughter when you cry for the first time that night.

Naoya stares at the way your gaze darts from his cum-soaked fingers back to your drenched core, brows raised cockily before he stands up, his figure looming over you. “What? Got something to say?” you only whimper in response, closing your legs as you try to provide answers to the brooding confusion punching at the back of your skull.

The sound of faint rustling brings you back to life, your eyes snapping to witness your god undressing himself, the robes falling from his shoulders too wonderfully that the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing.

Fat cock standing tall and proud, tip red and glistening with pre-cum and a body carved by fellow gods himself, the rumours were right.

He is beautiful, and it’s no lie that his slaves aren’t really slaves to begin with, not when all of them have been so eager to please him, just to have a taste of this divine being that stands before you. Naoya easily reads your face; from the slightly parted lips, thighs rubbing together and hands looming dangerously to your core – you look so needy it’s actually fucking pathetic.

He’s slow in his movements, languid and taking his time because he’s got time and more in this world that he never cares about wasting something he has a plethora of.

Naoya makes himself at home above you again, basking in the way you’re struggling to breathe even without his hands on you. It doesn’t take long before he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, clenching his jaw when you open your mouth submissively, innocent eyes blinking up at him as you take your juices into your mouth.

You’re a natural at this, he observes, tongue expertly swirling around his digits until you’ve licked it clean. Naoya pats your cheek affectionately, his own way of applauding you for your work.

Under him, you grow shy and abashed, arms covering your bare breasts because he’s a god, why should he be pleased with you?

Naoya doesn’t give you enough time to think before he’s hauling you upwards, your shoulders shoved back onto the ground. You kneel below him in prayer and he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, or rather his cock that’s slipping past your lips. You gag when he pushes his length all the way inside, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat.

Naoya sighs at finally being taken in – you should be grateful he even fingered you – his hands guiding your head to bob up and down him.

You do well at pleasing him even through the tears, clutching at his thighs while you suck in his length and swirl your tongue around the prominent veins. Naoya watches with hooded eyes as your cheeks hollow just to take his whole length in – and again, you’re a natural – so eager to please him too when you keep pushing and pushing, his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

His muscles ripple above you while he lets out a long, drawn out groan, nails scratching your scalp. You feel him twitch inside you and that’s when he takes over, snapping his hips ruthlessly until you’re left gagging and sucking his cock helplessly.

Your saliva is dribbling at the edges of your mouth, looking so fucked out and whore-like while he pushes himself to the edge. He doesn’t care that you’re choking and your eyes are zooming out of focus from not being able to breathe. He doesn’t care that you could die from asphyxiation, he doesn’t care because you’re his sacrifice – if you can’t even do this simple thing, then how else could you prove you’re worthy to live?

You know this too because you force yourself to breathe through your nose instead, wanting to show that you are worthy, that you can please and take him however he pleases you to.

Naoya isn’t stupid, he can see what you’re doing and can read your mind even in his lust-driven state. Nothing edges him more than a good, submissive whore. Now that he knows you’re willing to do anything without complaints, Naoya pulls his cock out just seconds away from orgasm, pushing you back into the mat with a grunt.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he hisses and pushes both your legs to the side, your body bent and pussy left open for him.

Naoya groans as he slides himself inside you. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but your virgin cunt is still too tight and new to this that you scream around him, subconsciously clenching around him harder.

“You’d do anything for me, yeah?” he challenges, cupping your face while he rams into you hard, uncaring that your walls are beyond abused and a ring of blood is already coating his cock. This isn’t the first time he’s taken someone’s purity, but this is the first time he’s had someone look gratified that he’s hurting them, fuelling him to fuck harder into you despite the steady stream of tears down your face. “Look at you – so obedient,” he pinches your nipples and rolls them between fingers, growling at the way your pained moan sounds more like an encouragement for him to go harder. “You want to please me so bad you don’t care I’m hurting you? Are you so eager to worship me that you won’t even stop me?”

“N-no, my lord,” you manage through the pain, regulating your breathing as you completely break down in tears. Naoya is hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your insides feel like they’re about to burst, and he takes note of this, pinching your clit just to get you to clamp down on him. “Please – use me however you want – please.”

Naoya smirks, pressing your knees flat on the ground before he hovers above you, forearms planted beside your head. At any other given moment, he prefers to fuck his sacrifices with their face planted on the ground because he can’t bear to see how disgusting they are, but you – you’re so damn beautiful it puts his fellow gods to shame.

Now yours is a face he’d like to keep looking at, so he roughly grabs your cheeks and squeezes them with his fingers, kissing your puckered lips and nipping at them.

You taste heavenly too; his servants did a good job of choosing honey as a gloss. Naoya greedily licks your lips until he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth the same way his dick is ramming inside your walls, tight, puffy lips wrapped happily around his base.

You’re moaning inside his mouth as he squeezes your breast painfully. Never in your whole life have you thought that pain would feel so good, enticing you to moan louder when the sting finally subsides, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of his thick length rubbing against every ridge of your walls. Naoya pulls his face away from you, his cum and your saliva sticky on your face and he chuckles, the sound stuttered and breathy, brows drawn together.

He looks down to watch the way you accommodate him; this is by far the tightest and wettest cunt he’s ever fucked – ever will fuck – that he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with any random whore’s pussy anymore.

Naoya frowns as anger bubbles up inside him, hatred making his cock swell inside you because how dare you make him wish he won’t take anyone again.

He wants more – want to kill more people, want to fuck more virgins, want to have more blood showering his skin until he’s bathed in glory and gore, but even though you’re the one he’s destroying, he’s slipping on the edge, too lost and hypnotized at the way your tight walls suck him in. Your moans don’t help either; they’re breathy and whiny, so defeated yet so eager to have more that Naoya grips your hips tight enough he might’ve cracked a femur from his godly strength.

Your scream this time is that of pain and loss, grappling on the sheets while white bursts through your eyes. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you overwhelmingly and you fall limp to the sheets, your translucent cum soaking his cock along with the previous blood, but Naoya doesn’t stop.

He keeps slamming into you until you’re mute from oversensitivity, hands cold with sweat and eyes empty while he uses you as his own fuck toy.

He gets there eventually, the room painted with his groans followed by a feral snarl, the rhythm of his thrusts turning sloppy and unbalanced. Naoya stills inside you after burying himself to the hilt, his crotch angrily rubbing at your pelvic bone as he cums. You whimper at the feeling of his warm seed spilling inside you in thick spurts. Naoya pulls out with a slight wince, scoffing at the mess you’ve made on his precious dick, but he’s forced to soften a little when he sees both your cum spilling out your hole in a messy puddle, the liquid coating your ass.

Meek as always, you don’t move a muscle when Naoya spreads your legs open, inching his face close enough to watch the way your pussy stutters and legs tremble in front of him.

You’re absolutely ruined – the puffy lips spread out and hole still pushing out the remnants of his cum. He doesn’t bother pushing them back in, uncaring if he’ll get you pregnant or not because it’s not like matters to him. You are nothing but another body to fuck and dispose of under the river once he’s satisfied with you, but he surprises both you and him when Naoya suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you, his eyes dark as he insists on keeping his seed right where they should be nurtured.

Now that he’s sure that will make your belly grow and provide him with a half-mortal heir, Naoya retrieves his robes and walks out the room, the slamming of the door shut similar to an impending doom of an imminent death.

But not yours.

You’ve fulfilled your duty as the death curse bearer of your clan; the greatest and most formidable weapon they’ve been carving to perfection the moment you’re born. The cracks in your bones and bruises on your body immediately heal as you turn to your side, chanting under your breath a hushed whisper of the words of your ancestors who’ve perfectly planned the death of the Zen’in God who’s made his people suffer for thousands of years.

They would be proud of you.

And as a body crashes outside the door followed by the frantic screams of his confused servants, you smile to yourself, falling into a deep sleep upon using your true gift.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya x reader smut #naoya zenin x reader smut #naoya imagines #naoya x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #naoya x you #naoya x you smut #suki: 500 milestone event #i think this is kinda darkkkk?

[aenaxes]

dream perfect

[howzer x afab!reader] you can't sleep. and if you can't sleep, neither can howzer.

warnings: nsfw, cunnilingus, fingering

w/c: 1.9k

a/n: lol this was supposed to be a warm up exercise for the request prompts in the queue but i got carried away :/ anyways i think i need to write a pt.2 hehe

You like to think you’ve been running the motions of a pretty convincing stillness. Waiting a few minutes in between each turn from your back to your side and back again, you squirm under the anchoring weight of Howzer’s arm draped over your hip.

It’s going to be another long night.

And yet, for all your strategic shifting and careful restlessness, a few minutes shy of the hour, Howzer’s breathing stutters, and he stirs around you.

“Mn, cyare?” he mumbles, tongue heavy with sleep. “Y’still awake?”

Guilt, queasy and cold, creeps up your throat. The perpetual vigilance of active duty left behind, leave days replace that sharp attention with something heavy and warm that settles around Howzer’s shoulders and keeps him asleep through even the most resonant of storms. That your slight movements have apparently awoken him where thunder would not warms the apples of your cheeks in something equal parts concerning and embarrassing.

“It’s fine,” you respond weakly. “Can’t sleep is all.”

“Can’t sleep?” Howzer repeats past a groan as he shifts onto his side to face you. In the low neon lights of the Coruscant night, you can make out the ease of his features, his frown more of a boyish pout that carries with it a gentle insistence, concern. His fingers squeeze over the soft slope of your waist, and he yawns. “That’s no good.”

“It’s alright,” you say, and you punctuate your low murmur with a quick peck over the corner of his mouth. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Not without you,” he huffs in response. He takes the moment to shuffle closer, closing what little space lies between you to press close against your chest and bring his arms around your shoulders. You feel the tip of his nose press just above your hairline, and when he speaks again, his voice rumbles low and warm over your head. “What can I do, mesh’la? Tell me how I can help.”

“I’ve tried just about everything; I’m not sure there’s anything else left to do except to wait it out,” you sigh into his collar. With an insistent wiggle of your shoulders, you pull away just enough to meet his puppy-eyed consternation, soft with sleep and softer still as you bring your fingertips to the sharp lines of his jaw and offer him a lopsided smile.

For a moment, Howzer seems to take your defeat at face value, his expression deflating. Then, he makes a low noise that crinkles over the bridge of his nose and settles on the smile teased over his lips.

“I have an idea.”

Even with sleeplessness taunting you through the gaps in the blinds, you can’t help but laugh, leaning forward to gently nudge your forehead up against Howzer’s cheek. You know that look by heart, that coy glimmer finding home in his dark eyes as he pretends to fight his growing grin.

“Howzer, really, I’m fine,” you say, reaching up and stroking over his dark curls. “Go back to sleep. Besides, I’m off tomorrow.”

“We’re both off, cyare,” Howzer chuckles.

From under the covers, you feel him slide his hand from where it rests between your shoulders, battle-weary callouses no less warm as they drag over your form. He pauses where the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your shorts part, rubbing gentle motions into the exposed skin, comforting, grounding, seeking invitation.

You shiver under his touch. Anticipatory delight shocks up your spine.

“Let me help,” he implores.

“Okay.”

The last breath barely has enough time to pass through your lips before Howzer’s rising to his knees and pushing the pillowy duvet somewhere off to the side of the bed. There’s the careful composure of propping your head up against a second pillow and lifting your hips to tug your shorts down past your ankles. But rife through his gentle deliberation—tension, need, finds home in his posture as he squares his shoulders, plants his palms on your knees, and pushes your thighs open.

Your breath hitches as cool air rushes between your thighs. First instinct has always demanded a shy squeak, your hands itching to cover yourself as you lie spread open before him in the low light.

But you know better.

When Howzer’s shoulders drop with a quivering sigh, when his eyes flutter shut and open again with that precious disbelief that this was real, that this—that you were his, bashful chastity withers in the face of desire.

“So pretty,” Howzer breathes low, almost as if to himself, and swallows hard enough that you hear from the crown of the bed. A moment longer, he stares transfixed, then looks up to you with nothing short of a plea glittering in his eyes. “Please. Let me help.”

“Want you,” you whimper. “Howzer, I—”

Your voice cracks, reduced to a choked cry that swallows the rest of your words when, as soon as your assent reaches his ears, Howzer dips low, pressing a brief kiss to your clit before he drags the flat of his tongue from the fullest swell of your cunt and back up to press another kiss at the crown of your thighs.

“Good?” Howzer asks, his breaths puffing warm over the slick of his spit smeared over your throbbing cunt. No matter how many times you do this, you can’t seem to shake that delicious tremble as you feel the air between his lips and your cunt practically vibrate under his voice.

“Y-Yeah,” you mumble.

He responds by wrapping his lips over your clit, coaxing another stuttering moan from your tongue. But it’s not enough, with him it never is, and your hips buck up as he brings the calloused pad of his forefinger just under his chin, sliding it through your cunt. It only makes the growing core of want burn hotter when you feel his rumbling laughter shock through your skin.

Your eyes fly open at the first gentle push of his thick finger into your cunt, sinking into you with almost embarrassing ease. When his palm pushes up against your skin, he crooks his finger up, grinding up against the soft bundle of nerves that has you sobbing his name. Howzer only takes your soft noises as encouragement. He seals his lips over your skin and laps at your clit with a renewed vigor.

It doesn’t take long for him to pull his soaked finger from your cunt and push back in with a second. He finds a rhythm as soon as he fucks as deep as he can go, sucking over your clit while he curls the rough pads of his fingertips over the spot that makes your vision white out again and again.

Howzer sinks his fingers knuckle-deep, but instead of pulling back, the satisfying burn of stretch sears through your core as Howzer parts you open and lifts off of your clit with an almost comically wet sound. You know exactly what he’s going to do, but it makes it no less thrilling when his nose brushes over your clit, and he fucks the firm taper of his tongue between his fingers.

You arch off the bed with a wanton cry, barely coherent enough to understand the crooning words of praise Howzer slips in between fucking his tongue into your cunt and taking gasping breaths of air. You cry out again, and he moans into your cunt with you.

You feel blindly for him, and Howzer knows, he knows. He grabs your wrist and fumbles as he pulls his tongue from your cunt and continues to pump his fingers into you. Finally, the burning coil of desire cresting higher, higher in your gut, he finds purchase and slides his fingers between yours. You squeeze once, he squeezes back, and you moan as his tongue laps over your clit again.

He opts for a maddeningly fast pace, alternating between pressing his tongue deep as it can go into your cunt and rolling it over your clit. All the while, he keeps an unrelenting rhythm with his fingers, pulling you apart artful stroke by artful stroke as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

He drinks you in like a man parched, head bobbing with each heaving swallow. His arm is your only anchor as you squirm under its weight and desperately grind back against his tongue. It’s toeing the line of overstimulation fucked dumb. And it’s all you could ever want as his tongue presses deep, as deep as it’s gone all night, and pushes you over the edge.

You come over his tongue with a shuddering cry, neighbors be damned, and squeeze your hand down hard over his. He squeezes back, groaning into your cunt, telling, promising, he’s here, he’s here, for you, for you as pleasure closes around you and swallows you whole.

At last, after a brief eternity of the kind of bliss that drives bone deep, Howzer pulls away, pressing one last kiss to your clit before pulling back and breathing in long and deep between your quivering legs.

He presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips warm, wet as they mouth silent appreciation into your skin. (They are words you do not think you will ever truly know, the ancient poetry of the warriors who came before him, but they reach you deep to your core.) When his lips still, and his eyes flutter open, Howzer lifts his chin just enough to meet your gaze.

“Think you can sleep now?”

As much as you want to laugh (because what kind of question was that with your heart beating loud enough for him to hear?), you’re too winded to do anything else but shake your head.

“Good,” Howzer laughs, running his tongue over the slick smeared over his fingers. The fluorescent brilliance of the Coruscant nightlife filters through your window, glimmering obscene over the mess of your arousal and his spit as he parts his lips and sucks them clean.

Your mouth waters.

Sugar sweet desire breaks over your tongue, though you might more aptly call it greed—in want of tasting yourself on him; in want of feeling his fingers dig into your skin when he pulls you close and licks over your teeth; in want of bending you, breaking you, then pulling you back together again, gilded kintsugi lacquered strong by a soldier’s hands.

Howzer pulls his fingers from his mouth with a loud pop and flicks his eyes to yours as you peer up at him through lidded eyes. Half-closed they may be, but they are far from heavy with the sleepy taunts of before.

You both know sleep is the last thing on either of your minds.

Rising up to his knees, he twists out of his shirt and flings it off somewhere into the far reaches of the room. One moment he’s standing tall at the base of the bed, the next, he’s leaning close and sliding one palm from where your thighs part up to where he kisses over your neck.

You whimper softly as you feel his fingers curl over your pulse, helpless in the best of ways as Howzer pulls back to sit back and admire your expression. In return, he offers you the smile you’ve come to love most, barely there on his lips, brimming in his eyes, adoration divine.

Then, soon in its place, always: hunger.

“I’m not done with you just yet.”

#howzer says itadakimasu 🙏 #also if u know the inspo for the title i am offering my hand in marriage immediately #howzer gives the best head in the gar and that’s it! no one else beats this mans head game #u thought fives was good? he learnt from howzer baby! #learnt? learned? idk man #anyways when will yaeji write ns//fw without being poetic? the answer is never #howzer x reader #captain howzer x reader #the clone wars x reader #yaej.writes

[tteokdoroki]

💜- I just wanna be poly Rumi and Keigo’s cute little wife who always ends up getting fucked dumb daily, and have them fuck my body till I can’t move during their ruts/ heats, and be dressed up all pretty for them, just so they will degrade me, spank me, punish me till I’m begging to be fucked.

cw // manipulation, dumbification, dollification, breeding, degradation, spanking misogynistic themes, fem!reader, smut, mdni 18+.

you would never think in a million years that you would be married to a pro hero, let alone two. the number two and number five were considered some of the most eligible celebrities of japan at the time and you, a lowly little journalist, were lucky to have even gathered their attention at all.

they’d both swept you off of your feet, rumi reminding you that you were the best thing to have ever happened to them whilst keigo told you that you were his best kept secret. when you were with the two heroes, you felt loved and spoiled— needed. the pair of them always took care of you, providing you with a big house, the expensive software and technology you needed for your job, dates to fancy restaurants that you’d never been to before and anything you could have ever wished for.

you felt bad that there wasn’t much that you could do in return for miruko and hawks, you obviously didn’t have as much money as them— your job low paying and barely covering the rent at your old place. “you don’t have to do a thing for us, doll face.” keigo would purr to you as you lay between your partners in bed at night, rumi’s hand would dance up your thighs and slip between the pretty silk nightgown they’d gotten you for christmas.

your thighs part instantly, a sticky wetness pooling between them that miruko toys with instantly, spreading it across your folds. as your back arches from pleasure, keigo tweaks your pebbled nibbles with a satisfied hum. they loved to play with you when you were sandwiched between them— no where to go but be a useless little doll for them to use. “but...want to be good for you...want to pay you back,” you sigh, eyes rolling from the stimulation at your clit, the bunny eared hero speeding up her fingers against your puffy clit. the two heroes share a look over your shoulder as your gaze flutters pleasure shooting through your body.

“is that so, doll?” keigo asks, lips dancing across your own to silence your whiney pleas. “shhh, baby, you’ll wake the neighbours.” you nod pathetically, a tightness forming in your lower belly with an impending orgasm on the horizon. the bird hero hooks your thigh over his hip, exposing your cunt to the cool air as rumi sinks her fingers into your heat. his hard on presses against your clit as he grinds against you in slow circles.

miruko grins, breath tickling the back of your neck. “then quit your job for us baby, we’ll take care of you and you can look after us, cook...clean...be our little house wife...” you moan in agreement— white flashing behind your eyes as you cum hard against your two lovers— blindly agreeing to the lifestyle they’ve created to them. it doesn’t matter though, all you want to do is please them and make them happy. you quit your job the following week, wanting to make your partners proud— although you’ll miss the rush of writing an article, you find comfort in prepping and cleaning the house for both rumi and keigo to come home to.

they’re pleased with your work, living for the way your face lights up when they praise you and pet your head for being such a good little doll for them. in reward they treats you to cute little dresses that end barely under your ass, exposing your frilly panties every time you bend over to check the cookies you’re baking for the two heroes. little thigh highs that hug your doughy thighs, now covered in hickies and bite marks from where miruko had come home during her lunch break— deciding that you were the meal and that she’d eat you out over the coffee table in the living room. her tongue sliding up and down your puffy folds and slurping on your sweet juices— sucking your clit into her mouth to hear you whine over having your honey cunny ate.

hawks’ favourite thing is dressing you up like a pretty doll for the day. choosing what you wear, from your dresses to underwear— you’d be his pretty little housewife who bakes him pies and fixes him a bento box for his lunch with a sweet note to show off at work. he gets stiff in his pants thinking about you at home in your pink skirt and bow around your neck— immediately rushing back whenever he gets a moment to slide his weighty cock into your spasaming pussy, already so wet waiting for him. you’re such a good doll, ready to take whatever he has for you— not making a sound as his fingers fuck your mouth because cocksleeves don’t talk. mascara rolls down your pretty cheeks as keigo breeds you over and over, his dumb little housewife made only for taking fat cock and carrying his children.

during their ruts, its 100% more intense, the two of them gift you a collar and get off to the dopey happy smile that you give them when they cuff you up. hawks bends you over his lap, large palm coming down heavy on your plump ass, groaning at the bounce as he reminds you how useless you are and how you couldn’t survive without the two of them to spoil you with clothes and take care of you. all that you can do is mindlessly agree, tears stinging at the pain while miruko fucks you harshly with a toy, the stretch burning your tight hole as it gushes across his lap and her face. you’re a toy, a dumb little bitch, a pretty stupid doll. nothing more nothing less. the degradation only lightens up when you cream for them.

after all thats all a dumb housewife like you was capable of.

#bnha hawks #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #takami keigo smut #rumi usagiyama smut #usagiyama rumi #bnha miruko #miruko smut #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks imagine #hawks fic #hawks fanfic #hawks drabble #hawks scenarios #hawks fluff #hawks headcanons #hawks hcs #keigo takami x you #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami imagine #keigo takami fanfic #keigo takami headcanons #keigo takami angst #keigo takami fluff #takami keigo #takami keigo x you #miruko x reader #miruko x you #💜 anon

[nanakasaa]

everything between them - eren x mikasa

pairing: eren x mikasa

words count: 1.4k

summary: eren and mikasa arrive earlier than everyone to jaeger’s camp house and they just happen to know how to spend their time the best way possible.

cw: nsfw, oral sex (m receiving), slight dumbification, unestablished relationship

note: so guys it was super spontaneous and I wrote it in notes on my phone in like 30 minutes or so. and I might write a longer and more detailed version of this or a part two. i would also appreciate your feedback! thanks for reading!

it was mikasa who started it.

of course it was her. always needy and desperate for eren. for his touches. for his affection that never failed to drive her crazy; to make her drunk. to make her think that in a whole world it was only eren for her. and in a way it was.

they arrived at jaeger’s camp house earlier than anyone else. armin had some unfinished assignments for some smart ass class he was taking this year. he said he needed to submit it before they all go up in the mountains and he would be torn between enjoying his time with his two best friends and his family or being locked up in the house. but eren knew him better than this and the slight pink shade of armin’s cheeks when he promised he would be there, just two days later, didn't really help him. the true reason probably was a blonde girl who happened to rent an apartment in the same building as eren and armin did. but as a good friend, eren just nodded, pretending he didn’t know shit and asked him not to be too late or he would miss all the fun.

eren’s family,  levi and armin’s grandpa unfortunately couldn’t make it on time too. since the road to the camp village had to be blocked due to heavy snowfall. with no overpass they all had to stay at some road motel and mikasa joked about how filthy levi must be feeling.

so it left only the two of them alone in the house they spent half of their lives.

but as it always happened in mikasa’s presence all those things suddenly became meaningless to eren. the second she got on her knees in front of him, he completely…

“oh shit...mikasa...fuck!” he spits out almost harshly as his legs tremble when she swirls her hot tongue around his tip.

he is almost afraid to look down at her. afraid he would just come undone if he meets her innocent gray eyes. if he sees her cute mouth stuffed with his cock.

holy fucking hell.

the things she does to him.

eren didn’t even remember when they moved from best friends to lovers. or were they just friends with benefits since they never established whatever relationship they had between them now? he stopped seeing other girls when they first kissed and he was sure mikasa wasn’t really going out with anyone before. at least she never told him.

and without much conversation they somehow decided to keep it all secret. not telling anyone of what they were really doing in mikasa’s apartment every other day besides quick study sesh. and this mutual concealment they both shared brought them impossible closer to each other. intimacy and fondness, as well as thousands of other feelings,

but eren wishes he knew what was all this between them. if he could really call mikasa his.

until then…

“just like that, miks,” he can’t bring himself to say her full name now and when he hears her moaning, voice muffled, at his praise, he blindly reaches his hand out grabbing at her silky hair firmly.

mikasa started off with long, slow licks from top to bottom, her tongue giving particular attention to that prominent vein on the right side of his dick. just how she knew he liked it. slow and nice. she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of her mouth already, but she didn’t want to rush. not now when they got this precious extra time alone together.

and that’s how after teasing, licking and sloppy wet kisses she pressed all along his cock, she got eren hot and trembling. by now his only desire was probably just to grab her head and fuck her. slam himself into her mouth. she would let him. just a little bit later. for now she wanted him to herself.

she soothes him, kissing his tanned skin of his inner thighs, her hand reaching out to grab him. eren groans at the contact and mikasa looks up just to see him looking down at her this time.

it is intoxicating.

his pretty green eyes.

heavy breaths he lets out through his parted mouth.

but more it’s the aura around him.

dark and twisted.

filled with lust.

trailing wet sloppy kisses across his thighs mikasa slowly pumps him. her hand smeared with a mix of his precum and her saliva from her short-cutted intercourse before . it helps her move her hand effortlessly against him until her mouth reaches his length again and she presses kisses to its tip, finally taking him between her lips once again.

she likes to watch him in a moment like this. so aroused and so senstive. but it is the thought that he is like that because of her that makes her take his cock deeper in her mouth. and as much as his body reacts to it, hers is doing exactly the same. cause for mikasa sucking him off is not only for his pleasure. it’s for hers too. so it’s to no one’s surprise when she feels a burning need that goes straight between her legs. aching to be touched, filled, licked… anything.

anything would do now.

so she takes it further, putting her left arm on his thigh for support as she welcomes his cock as deep as she can take him. her right hand jerking around what she can’t welcome into her mouth.

and suddenly it gets too much for eren, but not really enough.

he wants more. he craves more of her.

eren shudders. and then the next moment he is shaking both of his hands stretching out to grab a fistful of mikasa’s dark hair. and before he pulls her off of him, eren pushes her all the way down. and she is choking and gagging and her whole body is trembling. she tries to say something and maybe to pull him away because her hands are in the air and her scream is indistinct, but eren is quick to react.

“fucking hell! fuck!” he still holds her hair in his hands as he speaks in low thick with arousal voice.

after some seconds and heavy breaths his gaze travels to her hunching figure next to his legs. her breath is unsteady and as much as he can see her her chin is glistening with saliva. it’s fucking messy and he loves it.

he loves her.

the overwhelming feeling makes him soft and he moves his hands to hold her face. his thumbs gently rubbing circles around her cheeks, soothing her. and when mikasa is almost calm, eren brings himself closer to her. his full lips hovering over hers which are terribly pink and plump.

“you are gorgeous. so so gorgeous.” eren doesn’t really think that this an appropriate thing to say right now. not after he forcefully slammed his cock into her throat.

mikasa lets out a small giggle. she probably doesn’t consider his little praise a suitable thing to say either. not when the insides of her neck hurt from his sudden move a minute ago. not when she can still feel him on her mouth. but maybe she’s already too fucked out to even understand this.

“i want you, mikasa.” eren mumbles, running his hands through her hair on the either side of her head. “i want to make you feel good. will you let me?”

“yeah.” mikasa says in a hushed voice and this is all he needs to hear. “yeah. please. i need…”

but she doesn’t finish the sentence. and the unspoken words burn his tongue when he kisses her.

they could save all those talks for later.

for now he wants nothing more than to feel her on his cock.

to make her his again.

to fill her tight cunt with his seed.

to hear her whines and moans. to hear his broken name coming out from her lips.

to have her in his arms after they are done.

to watch her fall asleep.

they can talk later about their relationship.

well, they have all the time in the world plus a week in jaeger’s camp house, don’t they?

who knows what can happen in a week?

#eremika #eremika smut #eren x mikasa #mikasa x eren #eren x mikasa smut #mikasa x eren smut #eren smut #mikasa smut #aot smut

[mindibindi]

They are destroying Rebecca’s character this season and this Sam bullshit is the final nail in the coffin for her. What the f*** are they doing to their female lead ??

Well, I suppose this is the danger of offering resolution early in the piece and why so few television writers do it, particularly when it comes to romantic relationships. Because then there is the looming question of What Happens Next. So many writers prove that, while they may have the imaginative juice to create, they don't have what it takes to re-invent.

Whether you understand her as the protagonist or the antagonist of the first season of Ted Lasso, Rebecca's big revenge plot drove s1, gave it a clear narrative arc. This inaugural season likewise gave her character a clear and compelling arc. You could posit that, while Rebecca's pain drove season 1, Ted's pain is meant to be driving season 2...? But whatever Ted is going through does not have as clear-cut an objective so it is not giving the same sense of cohesion or direction. Within her s1 arc, we got to see Rebecca feel angry, frustrated, victorious, smug, thwarted, conflicted, heart-broken and vulnerable. Last season gave Hannah Waddingham so many opportunities to show the range of her skills as an actor and I still hope she wins an Emmy for this performance. But I doubt she will be winning any awards for her performance this season.

Most situation comedies stick to the same situation, snapping their characters back to where they were at the beginning of each episode. Certainly, this formula can become repetitive and dull after years. Ted Lasso received a great deal of praise when it broke this formula by offering resolution at the end of its first season no less. It broke the no-hugging-no-learning mantra of so many sitcoms when it allowed Rebecca to learn from her trauma, come clean and literally embrace Ted as a valuable part of her life. Since her character went on the biggest journey of the season, the question of What Happens Next was always going to be more significant for her than it was for any other character on the show.

Season 1 of Ted Lasso made me fall in love with Hannah Waddingham and the character of Rebecca Welton. But as much as it pains me to say it, in s2 she is nothing like the problematic powerhouse we met in s1. Her friendships with Keeley and Higgins continue on nicely enough. She's had some good moments with characters she had little interaction with in s1, like Roy and Nate. And it was great to meet her mother and god-daughter. But this fleshing out of the character is mostly work around her rather than work that propels her forward in any meaningful way. I understand that some people may be content just to watch Rebecca living her best life after the intensity of last season. But, for me, the pursuit of heterosexual romantic love by a woman to the exclusion of all else is a problematic aim since women have been told for centuries that securing a man is the single most important thing they can achieve in their lives.

Rebecca wants love and doesn't want to be alone. She's stated that, that's canon and that's fine. But romance seems to be Rebecca's ONLY aim, her single focus. We haven't seen her do anything in her role as club owner except make a phone call and look sharp, which I admit she does well. The woman looks INCREDIBLE. But if you are in your right mind (at least in my opinion), you are not expecting this amazing woman to end up with a pretentious windbag, a hot booty call or a wildly inappropriate youngster. So it all seems a bit aimless, purposeless. All of this dithering about with wrong dudes is just a waste of time when we have limited time with these beloved characters. We know we are only getting three short seasons of this show and I don't want to spend a full season watching a previously complex female character stare at her phone, only ever prompted into (questionable) action by her cute best friend. And I DEFINITELY don't want to watch...whatever the fuck they think this thing is with Sam.

Frankly, I am still flabbergasted that they have chosen this path. They genuinely seem to think that their audience will enjoy this as some hot romantic adventure...? And hey, a small but vocal minority are. Some diehard fans are trying to hold onto their faith with white knuckles. And the rest of us are just over here in compete and utter shock at the suddenness of the decline in this show's quality and ethics. The latest justification some fans are rather desperately grasping at seems to be that Rebecca's actions stem from her trauma. Now...okay. Trauma can be responsible for many things. But not this. Trauma can make you act in v strange ways but I don't see the connection here. I can clearly see how Rebecca's trauma from her first marriage dictated her actions towards Ted in s1. That is a very clear line to draw. I can see how, after her disastrous marriage, her judgement may be off and she may go for someone like John Wingsnight: someone safe, solid and appropriate. Again, a clear line to draw. I can also see why she would indulge in fun, shallow sexual relationships with the waiter in Liverpool and her booty call from bantr. All normal, understandable behaviour for a woman in her situation. And a v clear narrative line for the writers to draw. No problems there. Her actions in each of these cases can be traced back to Rupert and his abuse. But I cannot for the life of me draw a line between Rupert and Sam. As a traumatic reaction, that does not make a shred of sense to me.

It's true that sometimes those who have been abused become abusers, not that I'm saying Rebecca is abusing Sam in this scenario. What I am saying is that most trauma survivors will go out of their way to avoid becoming anything like their abusers. Most survivors try their damnedest to break the cycle of abuse, not perpetuate it. Most victim-survivors will act, sometimes even to their own detriment, to spare others from being impacted by their pain and trauma. Trauma and abuse does not break your moral compass. If anything, it makes it stronger. Trauma and abuse heightens your sensitivity to what is right, just and honest. Having seen Rebecca ultimately unable to follow through in her trauma-inspired revenge plot on Ted, it does not make sense to me that she is blindly (without any of the nuanced inner conflict of s1 Rebecca) allowing her trauma and abuse to lead her into a situation that not only emulates her ex-husband's hurtful, unethical behaviour, but endangers what is now supposed to be so valuable to her.

All the press for s2 as spruiked Rebecca as a dating disaster but enthusiastically committed to her club. There is a huge difference, however, between charmingly, comedically 'messy' and inept to the point of self-destructive stupidity. I just don't buy her as this dumb. Yet here she is, after all her dealings with the savage British press last season, endangering the reputation of herself, her club and one of its most vulnerable players. Oddly enough, the Rebecca we saw in s1, with her many layers and nuances, seems to me to be a far more moral (not to mention interesting) rendering of this character. This Rebecca was motivated by injustice, she had an acute understanding of what was and wasn't right. It's why she conceived of her revenge plot and also why she ultimately dropped it. It is one thing for writers to propose that there are multiple steps on the way to healing. It is one thing for them to lead a character into a dark forest full of conflict and complication. But, from what I can tell, some people don't know the difference between a dark forest and straight-up bad writing. And it really fucking shows.

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #hannah waddingham #sam obisanya #ask #whoops another long post without a cut #sorry not sorry

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #81 Review

i swear i actually thought no one was interested so i didn’t write one but a grand total of two (2) people said they wanted to read it, so here it is. honestly, my opinion’s been going a bit downhill, but the art is really cool and there are some decent parts so. holding out i guess? i really hope taylor has an end goal or at least a cohesive plan, otherwise i don’t see this series going anywhere i’ll particularly enjoy

the cover is very straightforward in its imagery, this villain has nightwing in the palm of his hand, easily manipulated, easily controlled no matter the action dick thinks he’ll take. 

what i find interesting is the colour: both previously and heavily in this issue, the colourist has chosen to make pink this villain’s main colour, with different shades of pink as accents. so why the red in the cover? possibly to just make it more eye-grabbing, though one could argue that pink is even more eye-catching than red. maybe to convey a sense of dread or fear that pink won’t fully get across. either way, it’s definitely a decision i’m curious about.

so melinda zucco is in a high enough political position within bludhaven that she is next in line to become the mayor after the previous mayor died and dick just,,,,didn’t have any idea she existed? dick didn’t know anything about her? forget dick’s own brilliant detective skills, forget his doggedness at anything zucco related, you’re telling me bruce never found her and told dick about her? maybe he wouldn’t have now, but back when dick was a young kid, he definitely would have at least made dick aware of her existence, to let dick know and ask if he wanted to interfere with her life or anything.

i have a thought about zucco’s facial expressions. she is very much stone-cold poker face throughout the entire issue. the only time i see her pull a different expression is near the end when dick corners her against a wall with an arm around her throat. 

this is most certainly intentional, what with the varied and intense expressions we see on other characters, dick most prominently. i’m wondering what exactly is the creative team’s reasoning behind this. in these panels, zucco is meeting with the most dangerous, powerful, near-bloodthirsty man in all of bludhaven and becoming the mayor of the city respectfully. in both of these panels, there is barely a hint of emotion in her face: no fear, no determination, no satisfaction. it’s just odd, considering the circumstances she’s in, regardless of any training recieved.

just spitballing here but. like. from what i’ve read so far, dick doesn’t really seem like bludhaven’s guardian angel. more like when peter parker first put on spandex and blindly stepped out into new york.

dick, how exactly can you underestimate someone from one move. so he caught your escrima. anyone with enhanced reflexes can do that. you still don’t know how he can actually fight, and this is shown in the next set of panels. 

i just don’t like the wording here. dick’s “underestimated” him, but beats him up easy in the next page. in addition, i don’t know much about combat, but i would assume it would take more than one move to determine exactly what an opponent’s skill level is, made even more complex when you add physical enhancements and metahumans and aliens into the mixture.

idk my first thought when i saw that he caught the stick was “ah ok he’s enhanced” because obviously he couldn’t have reacted fast enough if he wasn’t (as there are few people trained enough to catch it on human reflexes alone.) then the wording in the next panel, i’ve underestimated him, made me think “oh no ok so he’s not enhanced, he’s just a really good fighter and can give dick a run for his money in a fight.” then, it turns out my first assumption was proven correct in the next panel. it just comes across as misleading to me.

(also sidenote but his curls are cute.)

have i praised the art enough in this series? no, i have not.

i adore the way this is laid out and illustrated. without even having to read the text, the action sequence is visually engaging and intense, and easily followable from one panel to the next. dick’s physical expertise comes through quite efficiently, and i love the special attention shown to draw our attention to dick’s escrima in the bottom right corner.

also that move in the middle row leftmost panel that’s the mcu black widow move to get up off the ground it was the first thing i noticed and it made me laugh; thought it was worth noting

i’m really loving dick’s escrima sticks in this run. they’re just so multipurpose, it’s hilarious and exhilarating. kinda reminds me of bruce’s belt, the way the button in the middle does eevveeerrryyytthhiinngg. 

got a problem? don’t worry! dick’s installed a feature into his escrima that can fix that! (i like thinking dick helped make them it makes me happy and makes my engineer!dick side satisfied)

yawn. your big heart is your one true weakness yadda yadda the fact that you care will be used against you blah blah we get it. jesus can the villains please find a different weakness to exploit, this is getting old.

i need dick’s capacity to empathize and care and love to stop being a weakness that villains sneer about. bonus points if dick saves everyone anyway, either because of or despite his great big heart and the villain is surprised by the goodness of mankind or some shit like that.

i need it to be a strength, right from the get-go. the fact that he cares so incredibly much should be an asset that dick has and will use. he’s a very complex character with years of background, it can’t possibly be that hard to find another weakness of his. 

ooooh this is cool, gosh i absolutely love this.

because what exactly is the reader doing? we are seeing the fear in dick’s face, just as this villain intended. even better, we’re seeing the reflection of it from the villain’s glossy mask, telling us exactly what we’re seeing and exactly what he likes so much about it.

dick’s standing up straight, shoulders drawn back, looking up at this villain’s face with determination and resolve, but his suit is tattered. one eye looks to be swollen. his hair is falling limply around his eyes, as opposed to the curls from earlier. his escrima aren’t even part of the main focus, instead blending into the side of the mask in the outer corners of the mask’s eyes, which tells you exactly how big of a threat they are to this villain.

poor bitewing’s quite alarmed.

also on second thought why would you bring your puppy out like this, when you know you’re gonna end up fighting someone in the suit. a) how many grey three-legged adorable little puppies live in the bludhaven area dick? and how easy will it be to connect the doggo running around with nightwing with the doggo that dick grayson owns? and 2) is this puppers trained? does she have fighting experience? how exactly can you ensure she will survive this highly stressful situation?

dick take better care of your dog 

you know what? i was with tim on this one. why exactly is dick so optimistic and trusting about the people of bludhaven? bludhaven, which has been described as gotham’s smaller, smellier, more corrupt sister city once or twice. it’s not just the corrupt people in power, the entire system needs to change and people need to have faith and hope in order for them to come together, espcially if they’ve been living in conditions like how bludhaven has been described. from how clueless dick is about his own goddamn city, i can tell he hasn’t been here long.

it was a nice moment of hope, i’ll admit. but it was a tad unrealistic for me.

also it was in a weird place in the comic. this sort of confrontation and big get-together of the people to rejuvenate hope in each other feels like it should come near the end of a run, if not the end of an issue. certainly not in the first third of an issue. the pacing’s a bit off to me.

loyal little puppy patiently waiting for her human to wake up. i love her so much.

no it’s not. it’s bitewing.

living for this t-shirt honestly. do comics of dc characters exist in the dc universe? they must if the mug and the shirt are any indication

(now i’m imagining the first batman movie that came out in the dc universe and bruce just. being so offended at who they chose to play him.)

well, yes. but when a group of people are put through hellish conditions over and over again, they soon become desensitized to the pain and terror of their everyday lives in order to both stay sane and keep their life relatively stable, and part of that becomes ignoring or blocking out anything that isn’t directly important to you or your loved ones. having a bleeding heart will most likely get you killed in a city like bludhaven if you don’t have the same skills that vigilantes have.

and of course, people are more than capable of coming together and rallying under their city’s vigilante after seeing the good they’ve done and how they’ve helped the people, but that sort of trust takes time and effort to build. dick also had the whole ric arc and was gone for a while, which has been referenced several times in this particular issue in fact. that’s not going to make bludhaven’s citizens any more likely to trust him.

maybe i’m being a bit harsh but this comic is comic off as a bit too idealistic for the amount of change nightwing can do in a city given the present and past circumstances as well as nightwing’s own abilities. even dick grayson can’t pull off everything.

ok seriously this needs to stop this needs to stop.

right now, dick reminds me of oliver queen in the few episodes of the cw’s arrow i watched. he does the punchy-kicky-fighty and occasionally has smart insights due to the skills he gained from his past that he certainly definitely totally has but only ever exhibits once, while his team does all of the background research and information gathering and actual work.

this is dick’s city. if he has the same intelligence, worth ethic, and stubbornness in this run that he’s been shown to possess all his life, then he knows this city inside out. he’ll have meticulous notes organized in a ridiculously efficient system, he’ll have scouted out zucco long before this started, he’ll have known when anything big happened in the bludhaven political landscape in an instant.

i’m really not liking exactly how much dick’s relying on babs and tim in this series. sure, he loves them and cares for them and likes working cases with them. but he always pulls his own weight, has always been a mentor figure to tim instead of what’s weirdly becoming the other way around, and takes point on the cases in his own damn city.

what kind of weak-ass oracle is this?? redacted fbi files are child’s play. babs used to hack into the fbi for fun. this one particular picture is so out of character i want to laugh.

reading this series has unfortunately made me confront that, despite the tiny fluid acrobat dick that lives in my head 24/7, canon dick is impossibly 5′10 and muscular at that.

mmm. titties.

tim said hydrate or die-drate bitch

love how dick’s doing all this intense brooding and stuff meanwhile bitewing is curled up in a soft comfy post having the time of her life.

you don’t understand i would legitimately kill myself for her.

also the lighting in this one scene is cool. the blue tones come off so well.

they’re just. so multipurpose!! they can become a bo staff. they can cut glass. they can become a grapple hook/line. they can electrify someone. they’re a funky colour. i’m becoming really attached to these things. absolute solid choice in weaponry.

if you’re gonna write up every rookie mistake dick has made during this series to head trauma, then dick shouldn’t be out and about at all, much less in costume.

see this? this is just straight up wrong. dick most definitely should have spotted her, and would have immediately moved to take her down.

scratch that, dick would have done a full check of the building, because he knows not to break into places uninformed, especially if the owner of the apartment was raised by the maroni family. someone as highly trained, experienced, and competent as dick wouldn’t have done this.

and if you chalk it up to head injury, (which is probably true), than his ~love interest~ and his little brother should have done a much better job making sure he stays in his house.

zucco looks so awkward it’s fucking hilarious

are those shadows that mimic a domino mask, to both reflect and hide the fact that his mask is missing? are those bruises around his eyes, to show how, despite what good he’s doing, being nightwing is hurting dick right now? 

(isn’t his domino mask supposed to have an electrifying feature that keeps people from removing them?)

it’s a little odd how the three known villains of this series are all coloured in warm shades, more specifically pink. meanwhile, in earlier issues, dick’s fondest memories were in pink, memories of him and alfred in particular. why has the colour pink changed from signifying something benevolent to something malicious? idk i hope this gets explained later.

this i did like. either it’s just a display of brute force in anger, or dick slipped the ties and pulled them off once untied. both ways, it’s an unintentional display of power, and i think that’s kinda cool.

again. dick is,,,tall? sort of? weirdddd

i’m so glad most readers are unified in the notion that this was the absolute dumbest fucking thing.

i’m hoping this gets disproved or something soon. and i hope dick doesn’t fall for it, because he definitely knows better than to take something as important as this at face value.

what exactly is taylor trying to accomplish here? why is he trying to go back on what we all knew was a happy, loving childhood and throw strife and disharmony and (what i’m assuming will be) infidelity? this will not end well at all.

---

,,,,,this review got way longer than expected lol. and i realize most of it just became me ranting. i guess i didn’t realize how ticked off i was originally. fingers crossed it gets better.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer

#nightwing 81 #nightwing #dick grayson #dc #nightwing 81 meta #nightwing meta #dick grayson meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Writing prompt: Yandere erasermic with darling on their period.

[Enter Hizashi and Shouta playing a board game on their day off, Shouta just knows his husband is cheating, they both do, he just can’t figure out how he’s doing it, much to the blonde’s smug delight.]

You heard them before you saw them. Voices filtered down the hall as you laboriously made your way towards the commotion.

“Don’t hate the player, Shou, hate the game.”

“We both know you’re cheating, you could at least admit to it.”

“No bluffs, just luck.”

Rounding the corner, you entered the living room only to see Yamada leaned over the coffee table, using both arms to gather a pile of goods to himself, grinning like the canary that outsmarted the cat.

The pro heroes were sat around the piece of furniture in their casuals, hair down and fuzzy socks, a board between them. An airy melody of jazz dances and drifts in the air, mingling with the spice of fresh-baked cookies; the soft glow of the television cast warmth on the matching mugs swirling with chocolate and topped with marshmallows that bobbed to the mellow beat.

“How are you doing this?” The erasure hero demanded, red irises darting back and forth between the gloating emcee and the board with a scowl.

“Just get good,” He threw back matter of factly.

“Get on my level, scrub!”

At that, Aizawa makes direct eye contact with the voice hero, looking him dead in the eyes as he lifts an arm, a blonde brow raises in question at the stare down, and in one sweeping motion he knocks the board from the coffee table, pieces and all.

...

The DJ takes a moment to process, eyeing the mess of scattered pieces silently before raising his gaze to meet his partner’s, emerald clashing with charcoal.

“No one likes a sore loser, babe.”

In response, the teacher merely flicked a remaining pawn from the table.

“If you aren’t going to play fair then I won’t either.”

A pout tugs at Hizashi’s lip for all of five seconds before he’s springing back, and on the attack. Shouta starts at the smolder he’s suddenly on the receiving end of, thrown off by his swift change in attitude, watching with narrowed eyes of suspicion as his spouse crawls towards him on all fours, wanton, expression dripping with carnality, and further scrambling discarded bits of the game in his wake. He reflexively shrinks further into the couch. “Not a fan of chess? We can play another game, baby.” Shouta backpedals, making the symbol of the cross. “We’re supposed to be having a relaxing evening, remember?” He didn’t sign up for strenuous activity. “Playing board games.” He furthered his point by sparing a quick glance at the tall stack of boxes resting forlornly at the corner of the table, indignant in their stillness as if to say: are we a joke to you? “An idea of yours, mind you.” He sternly pressed, looking back, not daring to let his lascivious lover leave his sight for more than a second. Only to find him much too close for comfort. “Here, kitty, kitty.” He croons as Shouta continues to evade his clutches. Done with foreplay, Hizashi pounces.

He jumped into his lap with enthusiasm, pulling a grunt from the body below, throwing his arms around Shouta’s neck, he threw his hair back to better grin down at his captive.“How ‘bout stripper twister?”

“Get off.”

“And if I don’t?” Slow sensual swirls over his seat drew a startled gasp that tapered into a hiss, Hizashi’s hips moved in perfect circles, throwing it back like a dancer as eager hands roamed the expanse of his husband’s broad chest, grabbing greedy handfuls of his generous pecs. “You gonna purr for me, Chaton de sexe?” He all but panted into the other’s ear, getting worked up from the promises he continued to whisper in French, voice pitching and reaching unspeakable lows with the help of his quirk, relishing the drawn-out whine he received in response. Shouta’s hips canted of their own accord—and honestly, you couldn’t blame him. Your face was aflame, and you were a mere spectator. His breathing picked up to match his better half at the absolute filth filtering in his ears. Or was it expressions of admiration and praise? Aizawa couldn’t tell, he only knew it sounded like heaven, although he suspected the radio host’s words were straight from hell—pure sin. He fisted Yamada’s shirt to ground himself, knuckles turning white in the hideositie’s fabric. Now understanding those

‘eargasms’ the loud blonde was always raving about and claiming to get, especially with those new headphones of his.

“I keep telling you I don’t understand French.” Shouta grumbled, in a huffy mood over the sweet tunes his lover coaxed from him. He looked off to the side to hide his blush, retreating into his turtleneck, reminding you of a tortoise receding into its shell; in doing so, his eyes widened imperceptibly, though the way his pupils dilated, blowing wide as he finally became aware of your presence was unmissable. He drank in the object of his obsession with unquenchable appetence, having been denied the sight for far too long. Sustaining eye-contact, he let his head fall backwards onto the couch cushion, exposing his neck for Hizashi to devour; he pulled him closer so that their bodies were flush together before grinding up into the welcoming heat, a staccato of low sighs leaving him with each roll, earning an appreciative hum from the one ravishing his throat. Hizashi met him thrust for desperate thrust as he nipped and sucked the sensitive skin into blossoming hickeys. Aizawa wasn’t given long to admire as Hizashi recaptured his attention; sensing his distraction, he seized his chin so that they were once again facing one another, commanding his gaze like the diva he was. Shōta rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smirk.

“There’s no need, baby! Not when I could just show you.” His words were smooth as silk and caused a delighted shiver to run up Aizawa’s spine, his toes curling at the deep velvety tone they were delivered in. Grabbing a handful of blonde tresses, he pulled the other down for an impassioned kiss; the effect was instantaneous, Hizashi squealed happily, groaning his approval against his spouse’s lips, a sweet little cry Shōta was all too pleased to swallow. A frisky kitty, and feeling particularly mischievous, he yanked. hard. So hard in fact you’d be surprised if the DJ’s neck hadn’t snapped. “ahhhHHHHH-!” The force behind the tug disconnected them and Yamada’s shout of ecstasy resounded throughout the entire apartment. The floor vibrated beneath your feet and your ears rang from the reverb. You clutched them, dropping to your knees in a vain attempt to block out the sound, and your eyes scrunched with the effort. You knew he had a set of pipes, but damn. You couldn’t even hear your own thoughts. Everything was shaking, your body hummed, and it felt like your brain was being scrambled. So focused on trying to tune him out, you failed to notice that the foundation had stopped quavering; but you caught on when you’d regained the ability to hear yourself think. Rising shakily, you allowed your arms to fall; looking back at the pair, you saw Aizawa with his hand around Yamada’s neck. “-eckk—!” The sound cut off at the hand gripping his throat “The neighbors are going to complain,” and it only tightened, eliciting a choked moan from Hizashi. “again.” With no small amount of effort did he raise his head in order to flash his man a cheeky smile, straining against the grip holding his hair back. “But I bet they know your name, handsome.” He reared forward, diving back in with a ferocity that knocked the erasure hero back, hailing him with a flurry of perfervid kisses and leaving a few blonde strands behind. Shōta received him with open arms, and you winced as you heard their teeth bash together in Hizashi’s voraciousness. It didn’t escape your notice how his voice had lost its cunning. His once honeyed words ebbed into hoarse calls of his partner’s name—lacking his usual loquacity.

For someone whose jobs centered on the use of his words, they seemed to be failing him; desperate strangled noises left him between each frenzied kiss. In his urgency, he tugged impatiently at Shouta’s bottoms, you shifted awkwardly, debating if it would best to try again at a different time. Aizawa caught your movement from the corner of his eye.

Although he didn’t mind an audience, he felt he should let his husband know.

Removing the hand from Hizashi’s neck, he used it to gently push him back, their kiss breaking with an audible smack—

“mmph!?”

Hizashi voiced his complaint, a whine built in the back of his throat as he once again tried to close the distance between them, blindly following his lips; Shōta dodged by holding a hand to the emcee’s face, stilling him. Yamada’s green eyes finally snapped open and he looked around in confusion.

“Wha???” He sounded so lost.

“Wha’s happenin’?”

Shōta’s head craned towards you.

“We’ve got company.”

Hizashi followed his line of sight and those emerald eyes landed on you. They were misty and he was still a bit disoriented; It took him a second to register but after blinking the tears away his face lit up with gladness, a gasp left him and his hands clasped his mouth. He shrilled in elation, bouncing excitedly on his husband’s lap. He shot to his feet, fighting the desire to rush over and squeeze the life out of you in an affectionate hug. The DJ waved exuberantly instead, “Hey, babygirl!” His voice was rough, a cough racking his frame before he continued, ”H-how are you?” He questioned softly, carefully, treading lightly, as if you’d scurry off if he so much as raised his voice or moved too quickly.

His face glowed from their gameplay turned hot and heavy. You knew better than to assume it was out of modesty because you had learned they held no shame. You recalled one morning where you’d awoken to tremors; the penthouse shook so violently you thought there was an earthquake. In your half-awakened state you’d panicked, ripped off your covers and sprinted into the living-room spouting about said earthquake, and you felt like you were in the Twilight Zone when Aizawa snorted into the back of his palm, snickering in amusement amidst your tirade, he’d looked as if he were battling laughter, his shoulders trembling. Hizashi rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly as he hurriedly explained there was nothing to be alarmed for. He’d just gotten a little carried away and—! Unable to contain himself, Shota had burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter as the hilarity of the situation finally became too much for him, something you’d never seen him do, you felt like you’d witnessed an anomaly. He seemed to shock even himself, his hands flying to his mouth, endeavoring to smother the traitorous noise to no avail, meanwhile Hizashi whined and hid his face in his husband’s shirt, said man wheezing and gasping for air, jostling him with each breath. It was then that you’d stopped to take in their position. You’d soured at the conclusion you’d come to, as obvious as a slap in the face. Having leveled them with a glare, you’d turned and stalked black to your room, throwing a dirty look over your shoulder for good measure. Howls of laughter and frenetic apologies for disrupting your sleep played you out. A dull thump followed by frightened calls of a certain raven-haired teacher’s name could be heard, mirth having overtaken him and effectively taken him down.

No Shame.

The radio star always wore his heart on his sleeve, a trait you’d initially found charming; meaning you could practically see him restraining himself; Hizashi’s fingers danced in antsiness, wanting so badly to reach out for you; the fidgety digits drew your attention and he promptly clasped them behind his back, offering a disarming smile when your eyes flitted back to his face.

“Hello, kitten. Did you need something?” He wasn’t as barefaced as his companion with his delight at your appearance, though both his expression and words were filled with warmth, the latter holding a tinge of innocence as if he hadn’t known you were there all the while.

You’d been a bit moody the last few days, never hostile, just a bit more withdrawn, and they were ever so happy to see you up and about again, they were always happy to see you.

Your eyes squint at him but your head tips forward a fraction in what could barely pass for a nod.

“Looks like we’re gonna hafta put our game on ice.” The DJ commented, looking over his shoulder to regard his partner whose gaze was fixed on his ass. You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the grin in Hisashi’s voice, “Enjoyin’ the view?” Shōta scoffed, scowling up at his husband as he crossed his arms. “‘Just luck’, huh?” Now that the voice hero was standing, he had a perfect view of his backside, it’d virtually been shoved in his face when he’d stood; while he’d initially given it a cursory glance, miffed at having it block his field of vision like a freaking solar eclipse, with how tight his pants were, he could make out the familiar shapes jammed into his back pocket.

“What can I say? With this ass I’m always winning.” Hizashi winked, and quick to change the subject he turned back to you, tossing a few pawns from his pockets and into the discarded pile.

“What’cha need, beauty queen?”

Oh god, by some absolute fucking miracle, you’d managed to drag your tired body out of bed and stumble into the sitting area with the full intention of demanding supplies, only to freeze up from a pang of embarrassment under the inquisitive gaze they pinned you with, now the subject of poignant interest.

“I...I need—um...”

This isn’t in any way going how you envisioned it would; you’d mentally rehearsed, you were gonna waltz in here and demand that they—if they wouldn’t let you leave, the least they could do was ensure your basic needs were accounted for, and you had every mind to tell them such; unfortunately for you, all that came out were stammers and soft squeaks resemblant of the pet name they so loved calling you.

“Kitten?”

Aizawa stood to join his husband’s side, both of them hanging on your words, patiently awaiting a response.

“I n-need,” It was so much more embarrassing than you’d thought, but it wasn’t like you had anything to be shameful about; what you were experiencing was natural and normal, and you refused to be ashamed over it, if anything they were the ones who should be ashamed for not taking into account that at some point you were going to require certain essentials; their claim after they’d swept you away was that they were hgoing to see to your every need, just ask, and you’d receive—how you’d never have to worry about anything ever again. In the current state of affairs, you didn’t think they were doing a very good job.

You just wished you could find the nerve to voice such concerns.

“uh...” no longer able to maintain eye contact, you looked off towards of the kitchen; your skin prickled, your head was pounding, and you were overheating. You felt light on your feet and in this moment you just wanted the floor to swallow you up; if it were possible, you’d recant every past rejected wish to Saint Nick in exchange for a new one, a vanishing quirk. ‘Cause no way were they letting you walk away from this. Not after you’d garnered their attention. This was a mistake. You couldn’t do this. Maybe you should just—

“Pumpkin?” More gentle prodding. “What’s the matter? You ain’t lookin’ too hot.” (Harsh jab from Aizawa) “Ow! You know that’s not what I—”

“I mean you always look hot—smokin’!” He quickly rephrased, “It’s just uh...ya look kinda...sick? Like yer gonna hurl.”

“It’s okay, Kitten. You can ask us anything.”

“Yeah! Y’now you can come ta us with anything.”

“I-“ Your world spins, and suddenly, you’re seeing topside. A momentary loss of balance, courtesy of the headache between your eyes, has them rushing to your side; one of them scoops you into their arms, instantly coddling you. You look up to see frightened green eyes, and a halo of blonde tresses that tickled your nose as they fell into your face.

Oh. It was Hi-Fi.

“My poor baby! Are you okay?!” He’s peppering kisses all over your cheeks.

A hand presses against your temple, it’s coolness giving you moderate relief. “She’s warm,” Low-Fi.

“Pretty kitty, please let us know what you need; whatever it is, we’ll do our best to provide it.” Shouta cups the side of your face, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb and Hizashi places a kiss on your heated forehead.

“All’s ya gotta do is phone in that request, listener!”

You burned with more than just a temperature. Indignation coursed through your veins, burning you from the inside out. You shouldn’t have to rely on them for anything. You’d had your own job, your own money, your own business; you hadn’t had to lean on anyone, loathed the very thought of it; and climbing the sharp-edged ladder of success—clawing your way to the top, lacerated palms and displaced qualms, you’d made certain you’d never again have to depend on another soul for as long as you lived. Dull from being doled disappointments, you were of the gospel that you couldn’t count on anyone but yourself; you bought your own things, you felt your own tits, a certified boss ass bitch. When you’d first started seeing the couple, it was you that picked up the tab despite their protests, you who wooed them with fancy gifts, reveling in their flushed expressions—and as flattering as it all was, how could you ever come to rely on them the way the heroes wanted if you had it all figured out? Quickly enamored, the pair was swift to offer you a room in the penthouse, their hearts burned whenever you were apart; but to their dismay you’d declined; you already had your own home, one you’d worked hard to obtain, taken the time decorate, a home you were unwilling to part with; and truthfully, you simply hadn’t been ready for such a transition. Lovely as their companionship was and as much as you joyed in their attachment, you’d only been dating them a few months, it was a little too soon for all that. Of course they were disinclined to accept your answer. They chipped, and chipped, practically took a sledgehammer to that ladder, and marveled as you fell spectacularly, like an angel falling from heaven, their angel, who fell right into their arms. And you watched as the life you’d built, and tried so hard to maintain came tumbling down, everything you tried to salvage crumbled to dust in your resentful un-relinquishing grip, and of course they were there to help pick up the pieces. The metaphorical scars, and phantom pains rendered all for naught. You hated needing anyone for anything, and they wanted you to rely on them for everything. The thought embittered you, of giving them exactly what they wanted, and despite your pride you swallowed that bitter pill; after all, no one can fill those of your needs that you won’t let show right?

“I...I need feminine products?”

Hizashi’s brows knitted in befuddlement, and you could practically see the cogs turning in his brain as he processed your words, mentally cataloging every sanitary item he’d purchased.

You had a plethora of bath and beauty products, he’d made certain of it. Shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, perfume, shaving gel, body wash, etc. He’d ensured your bathroom was fully stocked. “Songbird, sweetie, yer gonna hafta be a bit more specific.”

Maybe you could say it without actually saying it.

“Um. You know, like, feminine hygiene products?” You stressed, hoping they’d catch your drift, but they continued giving you blank stares.

The pair exchange a look, perhaps to see if the other was making any more sense of the situation than they were.

“You’re going to need to be frank with us, kitten.”

“Yeah! Rip it off, like a bandaid!”

“Ineedpadstampons,femininewipes,femininewash,andmaybeadouche?” Your face was on fire but it was impossible for them to misconstrue with how painfully candid you were. Stealing a glance, you saw they both sported similar blushes; Hizashi held a pink tinge around his nose that bled into his cheeks and Shōta adopted a rosy tint; their coloring more out of shame than embarrassment due to their oversight.

In a race to rectify their mistake, their voices overlapped, tripping over themselves to scramble for apologies.

“Oh my gosh, we���re so sorry, princess!”

“We’re very sorry, kitten. It was never our intention to-”

“-we’ll do better! Me ‘n Shou’ll be better about takin’ care-a you-!”

“-we hadn’t even considered—”

“-I promise! I swear—!”

“-just let us know what you need, just tell us and we’ll—”

“-Yes! Anything, anything at all-!”

You already did.

“-It won’t happen again, kitten. We promise—”

“-Oh god, I’m a fuckin’ failuuuuuuure.” Hizashi bemoans, having been the one in charge of your toiletries.

Their remorse was palpable and their guilt endless.

Although you shouldn’t, you were starting to feel bad for how much they were kicking themselves. Their self-flagellation was seriously taking the wind out of your sails; your own frustration paling in comparison. Not to mention you were still under the weather, and their constant back and forth was worsening your dizzy spell. Eagle eyed, Aizawa takes notice and undergoes the task of reigning in his husband, the blonde pressing impossibly close and nuzzling desperately into your neck, apology after apology spilling from his lips. Shōta grasps his shoulder, but to his surprise you beat him to it.

Your head inclined and a hand covered his mouth, halting his speech. The pain behind your eyes praised you. “Hizashi, you guys, it’s not that deep, stop being so dramatic.” He pulled back to appraise you, he didn’t seem convinced. “...I forgive you, okay?”

He lit up like a Christmas tree, perking up instantly. You were squished against his chest once more in a suffocating hug. A joyous shout of, ‘FUCK YEAH!’ had you cringing away from Hizashi as he fist pumped ecstatically.

“Not so loud, ‘Zashi.” Came a gentle reproof, resulting in another apology from the boisterous blonde.

“Sorry, lil listener.”

...

“Do you..uh...need ‘em right now?”

You nod.

“Cool! Cool! No problem-o! Uh...Just run that list by us again. Hit us one more time, baby!”

“You said it so quickly we hardly caught what was said.”

Heat rushed to your face. You couldn’t fucking do it again. The first time just about killed you.

They must have sensed your demur because the pros upped their persuasion.

“You don’t have to be so shy, kitten. We don’t mind. It’s really no trouble.”

“You don’t gotta get embarrassed, it’s only us!”

“We only want to provide for you.”

“Most guys don’t wanna hear about that stuff...” You were pretty sure they didn’t even know what those things looked like.

“Um, songbird? W-we aren’t, uh, it don’t bother us. Like, we aren’t grossed out or nothin’.” Usually loud and lively, Hizashi was soft-spoken and sincere as he gently clasped your cheeks, encouraging you to look him in the eyes. Taking your smaller hands in his own, Shōta pitches in as well.

“We can handle a little blood, it’s sort of unavoidable in our profession.”

When you’re stubbornly tight-lipped, the emcee proposes a different idea.

“K! How ‘bout you type out whatcha need in Shō’s phone? That way we’ll have a list to check off, make sure we don’t forget anything.” He looks to his partner to see if he’s down with the plan and Shōta’s already pulling out his mobile. “One of us should stay behind with kitten. That could have been a nasty fall.”

“Shō! Hold KitKat,” It’s an abbreviation of ‘kitty cat’ one of Hizashi’s many nicknames for you. “I gotta hit up Google.”

You’re carefully transferred to Aizawa; the hero plops into the couch with you in tow, sagging into the cushiony oasis. Once you’re settled in his lap, he hands you his phone; It’s new, sleek, black and already opened to the notes app; a bulletin greets you, the yellow bar blinking in and out of existence as it awaits your command.

“So which one-a us is headin’ out? We could all go, could do a pickup order?”

Any other time you would’ve jumped at the opportunity. But you felt like absolute trash. You weren’t interested in going anywhere but back to bed.

“I’ll go. I have a few things to grab anyways.” Figures. The erasure hero was even keener on keeping you indoors than his husband.

“Anything we need for the house? I might as well get them while I’m out.”

“Oh! Now that‘cha mention’ it, I could use some-” There’s a back and forth as they discourse on what supplies and groceries are low on stock, ingredients and meal planning for the following week; their chatter is drowned out whilst you busy yourself inputting the necessities you need into the phone with nimble fingers, tapping away at the large screen and carrying a certain finesse that impresses Shōta, the type of guy that just lazily swipes his thumb across the keyboard. He urged you closer with a delicate motion, complimenting your dexterity and gracing you with a chaste peck on the cheek. They ask your opinion on numerous things, how you felt about particular dishes, if you were running out of anything, if you wanted Shōta to bring you back something, et cetera. Satisfied with your list, you handed the device back to its owner for him to pocket. “-babe, you already know munchkin hates carrots.” Hizashi chided, rooting through the cabinets and taking inventory.

“He needs a vegetable, you can’t allow him to eat junk all of the time. He’d live off of pizza rolls if you let him.”

“Hey!” He whirls around, “My meals are perfectly balanced! An’ comin’ from you?! Do you even know how much sugar we go through?? Not to mention the coffee I’m constantly havin’ to restock??”

Aizawa cuts his eyes at him. “This isn’t about me.” He reaches forward and nabs his mug from the table, taking you with him and taking a very long, very loud obnoxious sip. Hizashi just looks so done at the display. He chases it down with a marshmallow and slaps the ceramic against the glass once he’s finished. “My diet is perfectly healthy.”

“Mmhmm,” the emcee crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, “are you done?”

You’re jostled again as he pushes the mug forward. “This needs more sugar.”

Yamada sighs, coming to swipe it from the coffee table. And as he’s heading back to the kitchen, Shōta adds, “More whipped cream and marshmallows too.” A dramatic groan of, “Ughhhhhhhhh! I hate it here!” is given in response. You sit in silent amusement at their banter, enjoying the homey atmosphere.

Aizawa observes as you become increasingly agitated, squirming and fidgeting in fits and starts, restless. Quiet huffs accompanying each jerk. “Is something the matter, kitten?” “Uh...it’s-” You shift, and he isn’t sure if it’s bashfulness or something different. “It’s just cramps.”

“Tummy troubles?”

“Aw, d’ya want some Tums? Pepto Bismol?” Mic asks, carrying a plate of cookies. They’re placed on the table and Shouta’s mug is returned to its coaster. You lean forward, reaching for one of the confections. The aroma had teased you since the moment you’d left your room, titillating your tastebuds. Hizashi looks confused-concerned, when you grimace and fold into yourself, nursing your midsection. Not touching, only hovering protectively; your pelvis had protested the movement, making its disapproval known by way of stabbing pains.

“Noooo,” Your response was moaned, a lamentable sound that pierced their hearts. “not stomach pain, menstrual cramps.”

“Oh.” Their eyes leapt toward one another, sharing a panicked glance. “Well, we...might have some Tylenol?” Shōta’s words were optimistic though his tone was laced with uncertainty; he looked to his husband for confirmation. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah! Uh...maybe? I dunno.” While his reply had started enthusiastically, a hype man at his core, he quickly lost confidence. It bled into hesitancy near the end. “I’m sure we got some though, lemme go check!” He raved, keeping the faith.

“Cutie ‘tootie?” There’s light rhythmic tapping at your knee. Mic squats beside you, his palm upturned as he presents you with a cookie. You gladly accept, thanking him. After administering a loving pat on the head he’s standing and off in search of pain relievers.

Suffice to say, you made quick work of the treat.

Shō was pleasantly surprised when you fastened his arms around your waist, wearing them like a seatbelt. You secured one of them in place with your own arm, as if he’d ever withhold his touch from you. You slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them together. He allowed you to do so, to manipulate him however you saw fit, willing and pliable under your ministrations. He flexed them, wondering at the sight, and sensation of his hands in yours. There’s a dusting of rouge to his cheek as he squeezes back.

——————————

“What did you find?” The erasure hero asked, drowsily watching his other half pace to and fro, Hizashi’s faced glued to his phone.

“Says it’s okay, how many ya want, honey bunch? One or two?”

“None.”

They glance at you as you’re quite adamant about not needing pills, and Shota begs to differ. The death grip on his hand spoke otherwise. And he thinks, as you clamp down on him after another contraction, that he knows what it’s like to be a husband in a delivery room. Something he never thought he’d experience. He isn’t complaining, anything to help ease your discomfort; he’d offered reassuring presses of his own, but he’d be lying if he said he understood your opposition.

“But-!” Hizashi looks put out, disappointed. “Dont’cha want somethin’ to take the edge off?”

Your head shakes negatively, and he frowns. He goes to insist but he gets one from his husband as well. He sighs, snagging a set of keys from the rack.

You’re honestly surprised they let it go so easily, they never let things go. In hindsight, you supposed you should’ve been a bit more suspicious, but you’re just glad they dropped the subject. You didn’t feel like fighting them on it.

“I’ll go warm up the ride, you warm up with princess before ya jet!” He leans down, and Shōta meets him halfway as they share a kiss. “‘Kay caffeine king?”

“Mmm.” He hums an affirmative, burrowing further into the couch, enjoying the heat you donate as you too make yourself comfortable by cuddling into his chest. His eyes close, and there’s a click indicating the blonde’s departure.

You sat for a bit, listening to his steady breaths, the lull of his heartbeat, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. You twist around to view him, and he cracks an eye open to regard you when you stir. You spend a good chunk of time simply taking him in, with him doing the same, and you aren’t sure whether it’s the lighting, music, the complicated feelings you can’t suppress—because as angry and frustrated as you are, you still care for them, terribly so, or perhaps it’s the cloying sap you tended to become around this time of month, but you find yourself extending a hand to brush his bang aside, revealing that handsome face you’d grown so fond of. You wished he’d show it more often; it was too cute to be hidden under all that fringe, and you tell him so.

“I like being able to see your face,” Deft fingers card through his hair, and using both you fashion the fluffy mane into a faux bun, “I’d love to see it more often. You should wear it up every once and awhile.”

His lidded eyes are wide on yours, a blush quickly blooming, and suffusing to his ears, cute little things you rarely ever see.

“Means I’d get to praise that pretty puss,” Shouta’s pupils are dilated, and you swear they’re expanding with each compliment as he basks in your hero-worship.

“and it means I get to do this!”

You smooch his forehead, another thing you’re usually unable to view. Like before, the erasure hero withdraws into his sweater, muttering a low, “Thanks, kitten...” His delivery is soft and tender, one of those diminutive winning smiles tugging at his cheeks. He’d always been so fun to tease, responsive and susceptible unlike his blonde counterpart, whose life’s mission was to see you self-implode. “You look so pretty in pink, sweet prince.” It was nice to flip the script now and then.

His dietary habits a sore point of contention, he grumbled, shaking his head so that his hair fell into his face once more, hiding his deepening flush from scrutiny. You toss it up again.

“There’s that cute face!” You coo, smiling broadly. Aizawa slouches even further into the couch, burrowing deeper into the cottony collar of his pullover. “Aww, cutie!zawa!” A thumb caresses his face, just below his eye where his scar lies, and ever so gently do you inch forward, and with as much care as you can muster, you kiss him, your lips meet the mark in a delicate press. But It wasn’t a blemish, it was the testimony of his survival. It did nothing to detract from his rugged beauty; in your opinion it only enhanced it. “This is your cutie mark!” You excitedly declared. You’re struck with the realization that if it hadn’t been for his tenacity, his strength, there’s a genuine possibility he wouldn’t be here with you now. Overcome with emotion, you crush him in a firm embrace, dolling adulation after adulation.

“You’re so strong.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

And despite everything,

“I’m so happy I was able to meet you. You and ‘Zashi.

“You guys...mean a lot to me.”

Weak, Shouta quivers in your hold; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he floundered helplessly to form an articulate response. His heart swelled with adoration, and he squeezed back just as tightly. Your sweet words were sending him, and having been left without your touch for a spell has him starved for your affections. “Can-” Your head raises at the wobbled utterance, and he connects your forehead with his, just barely able to restrain himself. His pupils are pulsing as he looks into your eyes—dilating back and forth, his gaze downright imploring. “May I kiss you?” An unspoken plea hung from his lips, and his words carried a noticeable tremble, showing just how affected he was. He eyed you with a reverence the likes you’ve never seen. You’re taken aback. Your breath falters, and you know it isn’t a platonic kiss he’s asking for. Anxious, your teeth worry at your bottom lip as you contemplated, those onyx pools track the movement, lingering perhaps a bit too long before his eyes met yours. He swallows thickly, “Please...?” He’s practically begging at this point. And to convey it he took your hand in his, guiding it to his throat where you felt palpitations dance wildly beneath your fingertips, showing you just what you did to him. He looked so vulnerable, so in need.

And he’s heartbroken when you pull away, withdrawing your warmth, and leaving him cold. “Kitten—” Shouta’s voice cracks, it’s a question, a plea, an extension of something that had been boiling beneath the surface, and it’s been a long time coming. He felt as if he’d endured an eternity without your loving-kindness, and after what felt like a lifetime were you finally sweetening back up to him, and bestowing the passion he’d pined for, the affection he and Hizashi panted after. You’d been so distant since they’d brought you home, and his heavy heart was breaking. Were you-were you upset with them?

You aren’t sure you’re comfortable with such an intimate gesture. Most of your days were spent in a domestic daydream, and while it was easy to fall into the illusion, playing house, and palling around, without fail, something always happened to shatter it, reminding you of the reality of your situation. In this case, needing items and being unable to go out and purchase them. Ordinarily, you have no issue with having whatever you required brought to you; you couldn’t say you were choked up over not having to endure crowded stores, and checkout lines that moved slower than molasses, but you preferred to buy those products yourself. It was so demoralizing to have to go up to them, like a child, and bring up your needs. The pair always gave your orders a once over, ensuring you weren’t ‘purchasing anything naughty’ ‘nothing you could get yourself into trouble with’ It felt like you couldn’t do anything without the heroes knowing about it. You probably couldn’t even pass a stool in this house without them knowing about it. And you just—didn’t think it was...healthy to feed into their delusions, you didn’t want them to think you were okay with what they’d done, and you weren’t sure where your relationship stood with them anymore, but like a fool you still had a soft spot for them, they’d long since carved a special spot for themselves in your heart, and because of that, you couldn’t stand watching his break in front of you.

Against your better judgement you cradle his face in your palm, he shivers and is instantly nestling into the soft touch, slumping forward to press himself even closer, singing low in his throat when your lips join, it’s hardly discernible, yet the vibration is unmistakable as he pulls you close, clutching your sides; uncontrolled moans were plucked from him with each candy-coated kiss you awarded. And all too soon were you drawing away to rest your forehead against his.

“Kitten, again.”

“Kiss me again.”

“Please?”

He made no move to initiate, only wishing, hoping, waiting, on you—for your reply. And, a purr rumbled from deep within his chest when you indulged him.

Hizashi bursts into the apartment eager to escape the cold and is greeted by his loving husband, whose hair is tousled, and in an even worse state of disarray than usual, which he finds kinda strange since it certainly hadn’t been that way previous to him leavin’ out. And stranger yet, a small saccharine smile played on the erasure hero’s lips. He looks between the two of you and internally gushes over the pretty picture you both painted; you cuddlin’ up on Shou, mussy hair...

Wait a minute.

Hizashi’s giddy squeal cuts out like a record scratch when he comes across the now empty plate.

“You guys...”

Neither of you even has the decency to look contrite.

“They were good, you’ve really outdone yourself.”

“I get sugar cravings around this time, they were amazing though.”

Compliments were the way to his heart, and was all it took for him to forget his disapproval and become starry-eyed, gasping a cute, “Really?”

“Yeah! You did awesome, Awesomeasaurus!”

“Aww, thank you, suga’pie! Though I gotta feelin’ that wasn’t the only sugar you were smackin’ on.” Mic teased, a knowing grin with too many teeth splitting across his face, and this time you do become abashed as Aizawa grinned right back like a cheshire cat.

They chuckle among themselves as the host with the most lifts you from Shouta’s lap with all the care of a mother tending to her newborn; he swoops in to steal a kiss, amused by the scandalized expression you pull. “Shouta can’t be the only one gettin’ kisses!” He nabs a couple more, stopping only when you tuck to the side to escape the barrage. “If he’s gettin’ kisses, then I’m gettin’ kisses.” He proclaimed, easing you down onto the cushions still warmed from the erasure hero’s body heat.

“Your chariot awaits, Prince of Slumberland.” A pair of keys are dropped into his hand, and his shoulder is bumped affectionately. Hizashi follows Shouta to the door, helping him into his jacket. The latter melts into the hug he’s given, and with a smack to the derrière, he’s sent off. Yamada is halfway across the foyer when he stops, looking as if he’d forgotten something; he spazzes, swinging back around, “WAIT!” He shouts, attracting the attention of Shota who was partially out the door. “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” He jogged up to his lover with a smile, “I forgot my goodbye kiss!” Shota’s face is cradled in his palms as he kisses his hubby on the lips. “You be safe, honey butter biscuit.” The home-room teacher smiles softly, covering Hizashi’s hands with his, “I will. Promise.” The kiss is returned, equally as doting; Aizawa gently removes his lover’s hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckle of each one before returning them. He’s starting out of the door again when another call for him to stop rings out. Shōta turns, wondering what he could possibly want this time. He wants to protest as his spouse lifts you, their darling shouldn’t be manipulated right now, even if she was handled with extreme care. Hizashi makes a short walk of the distance and is already presenting you to him, his husband’s beam is even brighter than before. “Can’t leave out, sugar snap pea!” Shota leans forward, and watches as you elevate your neck for what you thought he had in store; well, he has to keep you on your toes doesn’t he? He administers the endearment lower than anticipated, bestowing you a smooch on the lips as he’d done with Hizashi. He chuckles as you gingerly touch the spot, looking up at him owlishly. Cute. It’s a sentiment Hizashi echoes, although verbally. He adds another to your forehead, leaning over you to kiss the radio star one last goodbye.

—————————————

“Alright! Let’s get some food in ya, ginger spice!” Mic exclaimed, striding into the kitchen. His baby needed some grub and a few good snugs! He sits you on the island and his hands are a whirlwind of motion as he ransacked the cabinets, grabbing all the goodies he could find. And when he turns to face you he’s supporting an armful of mixed munches, an abundant assortment of eats. His neck is folded to house a packet of candy and there’s a bag of chips clenched between his teeth. “Vish should vast ‘til Shou gets home, vwatcha fink?” His goofy appearance and impeded speech is enough to have you cracking up. His smile radiated pride as he passed along the treats, “Can ya hold these for me, Sweet?” Arms full, you’re hoisted up and the radio star throws you a wink, “I already got a snack to carry.”

Upon entering the living area he lowers you, and the array is dumped on the table, it’s surface completely engulfed and no longer visible. It’s laid out like a food fanatic’s fantasy.

“C’mon, lil mama! Come cuddle with me!” Mic dove onto the couch, arms splayed open wide, making grabby motions towards you with his hands, his legs parting in invitation.

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The drone of the television did little to distract you as the blonde had hoped, you were writhing in pain; your cramps had worsened as the night had progressed, increasing in both frequency and intensity, and all he could do was you hold you. Hizashi hugs you to his chest, providing snuggles. It’s unconscious on his part, but he’s squeezing you like a human-sized stress ball. All he can focus on is you, your pain, your misery, how useless he felt.

What does he do?

What could he do?

And as his thoughts begin to spiral he doesn’t even notice his grasp constricting, tightening and tightening until you yelp. The pressure is removed instantaneously.

“Ah! Sorry, songbird. Is your tummy tender?”

You and Mic resume cuddling without further incident, his grip tightens with each pained whimper, but never reaches the same intensity as before, both in an attempt to offer comfort and to assuage his own worry. Seeing his princess in pain was seriously throwing him off his game. And him not being able to do anything about it? He buzzed with nervous energy. His knee bounced anxiously, where the hell was Shō?! Another anguished groan and Hizashi answered with his own anxious whine,

“Do-do ya need anything? Are ya—ya sure you don’t want any pain meds?”

You’d snubbed any offers of pain relievers much to their disappointment and ever growing disquiet.

Okay, he’d admit that it was kind of precious how you always refused to take medication of any kind, the same way a child might, but you wouldn’t even go for the flavored stuff! If you wouldn’t do it for your sake he wished you’d at least do it for his. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of seeing you like this; with each passing second he grew all the more fretful and evermore fidgety.

To his immense relief you end up asking for a heating pad, they have one surprisingly, hero work comes with its aches and pains! Sure their closest was a mess and Shōta was sure to get on him about it later but it was for their darling! A trashed closet was a small price to pay for their beloved’s comfort. The voice hero was so amped up to finally be of assistance that he nearly ate carpet twice in his haste to get what you’d requested. After very gently maneuvering you, he’d shot off towards their shared bedroom at break-neck speed. A shout of, “Don’t touch that dial!” Thrown over his shoulder.

From your spot on the couch, you heard the sounds of him tearing up the room, exaggerated groans and a victorious crow at his acquirement; and when he’d returned, he presented his prize proudly, like an energetic puppy craving praise. “Who d’ya love cuddle-bug?!” If he had a tail it’d be wagging. “Thanks, snug monster. I really appreciate it...” Your eyelids and tone are weighed heavily from the pain, it left you drowsy, with slowed movements, but you manage to smile up at him, and Hizashi thrills as he’s rewarded with a smooch. He’s tickled pink, and can’t even begin to hide the blush he’s sporting, he doesn’t even try. “Aw, ya know it ain’t no thang! Anything for you, cutie.” You stretch to get your fingers on the pad, eager for relief, however the blonde keeps it out of reach, an unidentifiable emotion twisting his features, his expression an odd mix of stress and desperation, panic flickering in his eyes. “No, let me! ...Lemme help you. Where do you need it?” You’re re-situated on his lap, and he gingerly flattens the pad against your lower abdomen; the soothing heat acted as a balm, loosening your tense muscles; you sigh, leaning into the sensation, covering his hand with yours to urge him closer. “That’s it, mama. Just let me take care of you.” You can’t help the gratified moan that slips past your lips, the warmth doing wonders for you, and Hizashi could see the tension fading from your body. “Feelin’ good?” He’s given a nod in response as you relax into him. The DJ releases a relieved breath of his own, finding solace in your improved condition. His rigid posture slackens. He lays his head atop yours, heaving another weary sigh, his nerves overstrung. “Daddy’s happy to hear it, baby...”

#was originally going to keep this untagged since it was just self-indulgent crap I wrote but maybe it’ll make someone feel better #it isn’t done gotta add the final part #it also will probably receive some edits #but I hope you can enjoy it as much as I did writing it #yandere erasermic x reader #fluff #there’s more to it but you’ve gotta dig through my trash blog to get it I’m too lazy #I don’t know how to tag #let me know if i need to tag this