#people fucking exhaust me i think i should never interact with anyone ever again

[anirudhpisharody]

today has drained me

#people fucking exhaust me i think i should never interact with anyone ever again #if i could exist as a disembodied void that just floats around that would make me happy #shut up hanna

[jerzwriter]

Our fandom is made up of 30 people, half of whom have the other half blocked, so I'm an idiot for even addressing this. But since this continues to be posted publicly, I'm going to set my record straight—MY RECORD. I'm not speaking for anyone else, and no one else can speak for me. None of us are mind readers, no matter how much some seem to believe they are.

Back in April, a creator posted commissions of Bryce Lahela and Keiki Lahela in which the two AAPI characters were whitewashed. I interacted with this post in two ways: I ❤️-ed and commented on it from my personal blog. Also, I was the mod of CFWC at the time and I reblogged it there as part of the Choices Fics/Art of the Week. When I realized what I had done, I posted an apology here without solicitation.

I was angry at myself for my involvement and distressed that my actions caused pain to others. I know whitewashing is wrong. It is racist. I've spoken out about it in the past. Still, I interacted. But I didn't delete my comments to try to hide my involvement as some did. See, when I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong. I apologize and will make amends when it's the appropriate thing to do. So, criticism and corrections are never a problem for me. In fact, they're welcomed because it allows for reflection and improvement.

I'm sharing information not as an excuse but solely for context. See, the world isn't as black and white (no pun intended) as some like to believe it is.

I interacted with that post at around 1:00 AM after being awake for over 18 hours after working a long day, tending to real-life responsibilities, and seeing real-life friends (something I suggest each of you attain.) I was exhausted and should have gone to sleep. Instead, I logged on to reblog and do my "CFWC-work". Something I did every day (for free...) when I was still the CFWC mod.

When I was reblogging, I noticed it was the OP's birthday post (it was mentioned in bold in the header). I interacted from my personal to be kind, and I reblogged to CFWC as I did with all submissions. Did I really "look" at the art? No, I did not. I was exhausted and working on auto-pilot. I'm sure you've all done it - ever end up home and not remember the walk/drive there? I'm sure you have.

Now, I'm sure our fandom mind readers will scream, "WELL, YOU SHOULD HAVE!" and "HOW COULD YOU NOT HAVE!" And have at it. In fact, that's exactly what I said to myself ... days after ... when I happened to see a post calling it out (days after THAT post was originally shared). I went back to look at the OP again, and that was the first time I truly looked at the art, and I was like, "Dude, what the fuck?" <- That was directed at me for not seeing it before because it was so obvious, and I was super upset over it.

I took action and accountability right away. I deleted the reblog from CFWC and took it off the F/AotW List. I removed my comments from the OP and really reflected. I discussed it privately with the OP - you know —like an adult. Then, I issued a public apology, and, most importantly, I learned from it.

It was a reminder to check my white privilege. Did I not see it instantly because I was exhausted and not paying attention, or was it because I am so used to seeing through the lens of privilege that I overlooked it? Truth is, it was a little of both. So now I know to be more cognizant and do better going forward. It was a reminder that no matter how much you think you've learned, there is always more to learn. Always.

It was also a reminder to be more conscious of the content I interact with. I have always tried to interact with as many creations/posts as I could so people felt appreciated. Most people in our fandom are not very supportive. They will interact with one or two of their friends at most. I know how much people put into their little blorbos, and I won't apologize for trying to make people feel appreciated. But no more. Now, I'm interacting much less and only when I have the chance/time to TRULY look everything over. (To those of you who ❤️ something to go back and look at it later, you may want to reconsider that, too.)

I also posted this, and it was especially offensive to some - though for the life of me - I'll never understand why. It's merely saying stop with the vaguing, stop with the hate anons, just talk constructively. It was not directed solely at this event - but every stupid fucking bit of drama I've seen. Everyone is so quick to assume the worst in everyone. Things would be so much better, and so much needless drama could be avoided if people communicated like the grown-ups they profess to be.

Just be a decent human being, and spare me the "it's not my job" bullshit. Because if you're screaming about it publicly, you've already made it your job. You're just not doing the job very well.

I'm not perfect. I have, do, and will make mistakes - just like every single one of you reading this will - but I'm committed to treating people fairly and learning when I make mistakes, and I will offer grace when others make mistakes and show contrition because I know no one's house is clean.

I ran CFWC for years and tried to make it as inclusive as possible and encouraged diversity. A mistake was made, and it was immediately corrected. That does not make a blog racist, and it's narrow-minded and ignorant to suggest it is. But as is often the case in this fandom, those who criticize the most are those who tend to offer the least. Always have a problem with the way things are done, but god damned if they'll do anything to benefit the fandom as a whole.

I hate seeing all the problems and division this has caused. I hate that three people have come to me and told me that they were told to "choose a side." That they want to interact with me publicly but are afraid to for fear of attack. I'm telling you right now, no one will ever hear that from me. I will never tell anyone to block anyone. In fact, I only block people I consider unsafe or who block me - because you don't get to have it both ways. In real life, if a friend tells me I have to choose between them and another friend? I will ALWAYS choose the friend who did not ask me to choose because the one who did already showed me who they are. Make your own choices, but if you feel you can only interact with me privately, I'd rather you block me and move on. I don't need "friends" like that.

It was very hurtful that someone I considered a friend didn't think enough of me to come to me privately and assumed the worst of me without so much as a word. A conversation could have done wonders. But you know what that tells me? The "friendship" wasn't as much of a friendship as I had believed. It happens, and it stung for a bit, but that's done. After all, we never lose true friends.

I totally broke my rule of not explaining myself to those who were committed to misunderstanding me, but I just had enough. Besides, I don't give a damn about them - consider it a gift to my haters. Have at it - tear it all apart - if that's what you live for and have nothing better to do - go for it. I honestly feel sad for you. I wrote this for me - to put my truth out there. And I wrote it for those who are afraid to say these things themselves, and trust, they are out there. It's really, really, really pathetic that a fandom about stupid pixelated people devolves into this.

#open heart #fandom discourse #why am i even here? #why is any sane person even here #oh - we're not sane!

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

It's been a while. Sorry.

Hi, all.

I've had a couple people in my inbox asking where I am, if I'm okay, what's going on. And I just wanted to say I'm alright! At first, I wasn't online because I had a work project to do, which was taking up all my time.

At first.

Honestly, being offline has been great for me. Every single time I've thought about going back, I've gone into my Tumblr to find a new hate anon in my inbox (mostly centred around wanting me to KMS, etc.) or someone else in the fandom venting about cliques, bullies, hate anons or the like, and I've immediately been turned off. I'm so, so exhausted by all this.

I think it's fairly obvious to state that I don't like some people on here. That's fine, isn't it? Sometimes people just don't like each other, and everyone is entitled to their reasons for that. I've not brought those users up, not said a single word about any of them for ages, and I'd really like to keep it that way. Part of that has involved my choosing to disengage from users who frequently interact with them, and that's not because I hate those users or want to punish them for their friendships - I'd just prefer not to be reminded of anyone I've felt uncomfy with while on here, and I feel like that's a fair boundary to set? I would never ask anyone to stop being friends with people because that's a different bag of crazy than I am, but I also feel it's unfair to have to force myself to be okay with the names of users who I've had negative experiences with pop up on my dashboard all the time. It doesn't make for a healthy environment.

I guess the reason I bring that up is because I can't really fathom who else is sending me all this hate; I have to assume it's people who are upset that I've chosen to unfollow or stop engaging with, because I've blocked all the rest.

I'm honestly struggling to figure out why I'm so hated. I've only ever stood up for myself and for my friends. That's what friends do, isn't it? Stick up for each other? And sure, I've been unkind a couple times. It's human to not always be capable of rising above the shit that gets flung your way. But I don't know why that makes it okay to tell me that I'm so fat that I'm going to die, that people hope I die soon, that I must be ugly IRL which is why I'm clearly such a bitch, that I'm going to die alone with no one who cares about me, that I should be SA'ed, that I deserve to get beaten up and left for dead. I don't know why people want to say these things to me. I've never ever felt that strongly about someone, let alone angry enough to actually send them that kind of message. The worst message I've sent on here was actually to ewanmitchellcrumbs - spoiler, it's related to crackfics. All of those messages were cursed, lol. Who the fuck sends death threats on Tumblr anon?

That's on top of the constant vague-posting others do. I've been so offline that I barely check Tumblr, and it's not because I don't want to come back. I do. I just wish I wasn't slapped in the face by some new uprising of hate and toxicity every time I've tried. I'm paranoid. I don't know who to trust on here. I don't know who's being nice to my face and calling me shit behind my back. I don't know if people want me as a friend or think I have some sort of 'clout' they can piggyback off. To be clear, I don't. I doubt people care about any of my opinions, or my thoughts/feelings outside my writing. That's fine. I don't want to be a part of whatever cliquey shit people are always claiming there is. I don't know if people are talking about me when they're saying these things, because there's been one or two people I've fallen out with to go ahead and accuse me of it. I'm a person? Not a community? This isn't Mean Girls. I'm not Regina George. I'm not even Karen. The Plastics aren't real. I like what I like and who I like and it's just insane to me that there are people who think that's problematic. If they do, of course. Again, I'm really paranoid right now so dunno if people mean me by this or not. Point is, I don't know why people think others owe them engagement.

I can't keep doing the same thing over and over and wishing things would turn out differently. I think a certain scientist with frizzy hair said that's the definition of insanity. I'm tired of thinking I've found friends only to have them decide that I'm inherently unlikeable or worthless to them because I won't invest my all in promoting them like I'm a brand deal. I'm tired of people viewing this community like it's some sort of race to the top. I'm tired of the gaslighting. I'm tired of the insincerity. I'm tired of the rumours and the anons and the vent posts. I'm tired of people making sweeping statements about shit but never specifying anything, leaving everyone to wonder who the fuck is 'in' or 'out'.

I've been transparent on here. You can literally read accounts I wrote of ALL the quote-unquote "drama" I've been involved in. Who else can say the same? I'm not interested in hiding behind my words, or pointing my finger at the room but never at any ONE person, no, because who wants anyone to tell the truth ever? What you see is what you get with me. If I like you, I talk to you. If I don't, you've been blocked. Everyone else is neutral, either because of limited crossover or because we simply haven't had the chance to interact yet. There.

Anyway. I'm in a pretty negative headspace, but most of this has nothing to do with the people who read my stuff. Sorry if you followed for fic and got this. Yikes, right?

Dunno. This might be my last post for a while. This might be my last post ever. Or, this might be my return. I haven't decided yet. Hm. I'm feeling really bitter and alone and just ugh about fandom. Not writing, though. I want to write. Which is why I've decided that, if I do end up returning, I'm going to stick to my own bubble. Write fic. Post fic. Reblog gifs. Get out. Limit interaction outside my inbox where I can. Stick to fic. I've been burned too many damn times to do anything else.

So, yeah. That's what's on my mind, I think. Sorry if you were hoping for something a little less bleh.

Whatever I decide - for those of you that are following me, thank you. I've been so incredibly enriched by my experience here. I love HotD. I love my work. I'm proud. And I love you all.

#bit of a vent post honestly #soz #em writes stuff sometimes personal

[lyramundana]

Since @whatudowhennooneseesyou wants more and I’m a people pleaser, here’s another version, again based on another convo we had. 

This time is about my man, the icon, love of my life and the only person that makes me want to have children. His children only. My bias and the reason I got into Stray Kids. 

Christopher Bang

Now here’s the thing:

This man is a fuckboy. That much it’s obvious. Just look at his interactions with Stay and his messages on bubble. Not to mention he’s an aussie (and a former eshay) this men are the definition of “danger”, For fuck’s sake, his nickname among friends was “Mr Steal your girl”, which fits perfectly with a Libra’s description because that’s what they usually do: Stealing girls (and make anyone question their sexuality). 

Now there’s a wrongly extended misconception that fuckboys have to be “cold, sarcastic, too-cool-for-love type” type of dudes. That they go around wearing leather jackets, riding motorcycles and spend their days fucking everything that moves. But this isn’t it. A fuckboy is simply a man that gets off from being desired and having the people he wants at his mercy, specifically in bed. There’s not a settled manual of dressing and general behaviour to be one, the name says it all: A boy who fucks. Easy. 

Christopher it’s exactly that. He fools us with his good boy persona, acting all shy with pick-up lines but still fishing out for more. Showing off his muscles at every single opportunity he has (like that one concert where the members went to lift his shirt and he just let them, putting his hands behind his neck in surrender), but if you pay close attention, he doesn’t really hide his fuckboyish manners. I can’t explain it, but there’s something in his attitude, the way he speaks sometimes and acts, that screams “i make girls orgasm every week to relax”. 

“Does that mean I’m your daddy? MOvIng oN”

“You know what else is big?”

“Say please”

Do you need any more proof? I think not. Now back to my delulu intepretation of him:

Christopher is the type of bf that would feel that he must be the "caregiver" of the relationship. He's the one who leads, who provides, who looks after you. That's his role and you shouldn't ever take that away from him. You can take care of him for a change sometimes because he also needs some coddling and attention, but most of the time, he's in charge. I think raising his members by himself for so long has enhanced this side of him. He's very protective, very picky and a perfectionist, so his partner has to learn patience because this man can be mentally and emotionally exhausting for them.

In his toxic version, he's extremely controlling and possessive. He doesn't let you hang out with other boys, or anyone he doesn't approve of. He makes big decisions over your own life for you because "he knows what's best". He'll treat you more like an accessory that needs to look good on him rather than a person. In his mind, you belong to him and that's final. If gets hit on, he’ll accept it with zero regrets and may return the gesture. He’ll show it when he likes someone’s physically and may flirt with them, but you’re not allowed the same behaviour. He expects you to be always at his beck and call, but he’ll most likely never be completely loyal to you. Funny thing is that he truly believes he loves you and you should be grateful for all he does for you. He simply wants his partner to be the best version of themselves, and if that casually fits his standards of perfection, well, does it matter? Every single thing you do has to pass through him first. He’s the type to end fights with angry sex and call it “talking things out”. He’ll make sure you never move on from him. If you break up, he’ll be the ex that still calls you “his” and sabotages your love life. He’ll manipulate you to the point you’re totally dependant of him, his perfect delicate doll. Remember this guy is one perfectionist dude and he has very high standards, and as his partner, he expects you to meet at least some of them.

As a yandere, he’ll be pretty much the same, with the difference that he won’t look at anyone else and he’ll never be unfaithful. He’s a smooth motherfucker, and so he knows how to keep you with him subtitly without you noticing. He’ll isolate you from everyone else, planting seeds of suspicion in your mind and pushing you to overthink stuff and doubt everthing around you, becoming almost paranoid. He’ll deliberatly create situations than can be easily misunderstood so you come running to him for comfort, believing he was right all along, while he hugs you tightly and kisses your hair, smiling to himself at seeing you right where you’re supposed to be. He’ll use every dirty asshole trick during arguments to win. Gaslight, pulling out insecurities, emotional manipulation, everything. He’s mad at you for not behaving the way he wants to but he doesn’t want you to leave him either.  He’ll start fight with you with the twisted purpose of getting you to be vulnerable and having the excuse to put you in your place. He does everything for you and gets angry if you try to do stuff for him. Your autonomy is taken away and you can’t leave him. Ever. He has a way to make you feel so loved, so cared for, so desirable, that you won’t notice the darkness closing around you until it’s too late. 

As a normal person, he’s also territorial, but in a relatively healthy way. His caregiver complex is still off the roof tho. He feels like it's his duty (and also his joy) to take care of you and make sure you're content. This man, when he loves, he does wholeheartedly. He worships the ground you walk on, he sees you as a heaven sent angel just for him, he adores you and would give you the world if he could. He hates when you go to other people for comfort or advice, because in his eyes, who's gonna help you better than him? He lives off feeling needed, of having you rely on him. He doesn't let it get to the toxic point because he's mature like that, but there are times that he wishes he could hide you from the world and keep you to himself. If he's in a bad mood, the members know they only have to bring you where he is and suddenly it's all good. The bad mood might not always wear off, but at least he wouldn't snap at anyone if you're there.

He gets shy with other people's compliments, but with you? He pulls out the fuckboy manual. He loves to make you blush, push your body against him and whisper the most indecently, spiciest pick-up linea. Those wicked pick-up lines he's not allowed to use with Stay? You've heard all of them. His incessant need for control purrs when he has you all flustered and nervous under his hands, submitting for him. We treat it as a running joke but I truly believe this man is an Alpha in an alternative universe.

The type of bf to assert his claim over you by physical contact. Throwing an arm around your shoulders, grabbing you by the waist, pushing his hand in your lower back to guide you. He makes sure you're never far from him when you guys are out. Another dude staring at you too much? He moves right by your side or behind you to send him a message. He's another one that loves seeing you wearing his stuff. The type to place his coat/jacket on your legs or shoulders, not only to keep you warm, but also to mark you even further as his person.

Honestly most of your fights are because of his jealousy, because when it comes to other problems, he talks it out like a champ and communicates his feelings. The only thing that makes his blood boil is the idea of losing you, especially to someone else. He can't stand people getting close to what he considers his. Like I said, an Alpha.

If I don't stop here this post will never end. Feel free anyone to add your own opinion about the matter.

#i didn't intend for this to be so long #but this man is my bias for a reason #ops #bang chan headcanons #skz headcanons

[somanyscarsonmyskin]

incoherent thoughts

07/07/2023

I’ve gone completely numb. Discomfort and frustration. Lonely. Still feel like a fraud. Maybe it’s all performative. It must be. Nothing that bad ever happened to me to justify such a reaction. I’m overly dramatic. Why do I feel like I need to have something wrong with me? Maybe I just want to be a special little snowflake like the rest of my generation. Numb. Everything feels flat. I wish my tummy was also flat. Restrict. Restrict. Restrict. Restrict. Don’t break the habit. I’m not even restricting enough. I just want to grab a knife and drag it through my arms and thighs. But I promised I wouldn’t, so I won’t. Or maybe I’ve become too cowardly to do it again. Maybe I was never actually brave enough. Other people’s scars look better. They last longer. There’s more of them. They go deeper. I want to be that beautiful. Beautifully sick. Sickly beautiful. Maybe I’m just going crazy. Hope my therapist doesn’t get too concerned; I’m not actually sick anyway. This must all be fake. There’s no reason for it. I’m just too high maintenance for anyone to give me enough attention. I’m just too competitive not to get on the mentally ill train with the rest of the people I know. They have actual problems though. They deserve a spot on the train. I should just be under it. Under it with all the other normies. With the neurotypicals, and the ones that didn’t have it that bad. The ones that are just overreacting to minor inconveniences. The ones that are not on meds. The ones that just have the blues sometimes. The ones that never needed to be in the hospital. Or under observation. The train is for the ones that had actually narcissistic parents, that got beaten up in school, that cut deeper, that tried to end it, that get the help when they look “off” because off for them means an actual crisis, not just looking slightly sad or distracted. It’s for the ones that actually got to that goal weight and ended up scaring everyone around them. I want to look like a ghost. I want to be repulsed by food instead of craving it so much. I want my clothes to fall off me. I want my nails to be blue, my lips dry, my jawline sharp, my hipbones to create that nice little gap between my tummy and my underwear, and my legs to not touch. I want to count my ribs without lifting my arms. I want bruises all over my body. I want. I want. I want. I’m so greedy… I’m too lazy to even have an ED. I think about running until I collapse. I never actually do it. I give in to food when it gets difficult to stay consistent. Maybe I just don’t hate myself enough. Maybe I haven’t gotten to that point yet. Definitely, I’m not sick enough. Definitely, I’m not mentally ill enough. Definitely, I’m not sick at all. For sure I’m just faking it. Otherwise, I’d just do it. I’d just fucking do it. I would have done it. I’d bear the evidence on my fucking body. My scars would be beautiful. Too deep to fade. My bones would be exposed. People would think I’m about to die of consumption like a Victorian child. I’d look ethereal. Otherworldly. I don’t want to see anyone anymore. Social interactions drain me. Even seeing L. has become too much. Taking care of D. has become too much. It’s triggering. It makes me feel invalidated. It reminds me that no one listens to my advice or anything I have to say, really. In turn, I’m draining K. myself. He gets triggered by my self-punishing behaviour, he feels like his efforts are pointless. I’m just too exhausted to keep up the good girlfriend act. My libido is the lowest it’s ever been since we got together. I used sex to punish myself today and to feel something. Anything. And I triggered him, cause he sees right through me. It's not fair to use him to hurt myself. But I can’t hurt myself in other ways. I want to smoke until my lungs burn. I want to put out each cigarette on my arm. I want to cut. I want to run until I collapse. I can’t do any of that. He would know. He would be upset. He would be disappointed and betrayed. He would feel powerless. I can’t get out of bed. I just stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep. I just want to sleep.

#apathetic #i'm not okay #depressed #depression #fraud #imposter syndrome #ed #ednos #ana #anorexia #meanspo #self hatred #self deprecation #self harm #self destruction

[strider-rambles]

avoidant attachment sucks balls

i keep feeling the urge to spill my guts but i'm so used to keeping everything behind tight lips and grimaces that its almost impossible for me to really put it into words now. i have so much to say and i have so many feelings its just not. happening and i keep wanting to sit my friends down and have heart to hearts and everything else but i think i might've managed to completely convince myself that they don't want to hear it.

and i miss having in depth, intellectual conversation, i guess. i wish i could sit down and have that side of me satiated because its its kind of a comfort i was raised on debates, and beyond that, the wholehearted sharing of experience

but i was also raised to be deeply isolationist. i avoid everyone i love because i get uncomfortable with the idea of intimacy the idea that someones expecting, begging for a reply i get so fucking uncomfortable and yet i crave that closeness to no end

and if i can control it, its fine if i can control every aspect of conversation; when, where, what, etc. i am okay if i can control every aspect of interaction; touch, time, location, i am fine

but that's fucked up. its fucked up. because they have feelings too and they might need more interaction than i can give them comfortably and i wish i wasn't like this i wish i wasn't so scared of the idea of being known, being loved, having expectations placed upon me but i don't know how to fix it so here i am rambling on tumblr, instead of being like. a normal dude, and talking to people, because its gotten to the point where im not comfortable talking to people about these sorts of things BECAUSE i'm so isolated everyones at an arms length away i am trapped in my own prison of fear and boy do i not know what to do about it like you'd think i'd have some idea of how to fix it but i don't and i i kind of don't WANT to fix it. because this is comfortable. yes its lonely but its comfortable as soon as someone starts showing interest i almost just avoid them ive gotten through it a lot of the time and there are special cases where i just don't find the person to be someone i could really get down and dirty in conversation with but a lot of the time its just my own fear that brings me here alone, and sad, and so so so exhausted

i dread it when my friends dm me. like its that bad and i don't want to dread it i want to be excited and everything else but im getting worse. im getting so much fucking worse i just want to be stuck in my own little hole and reach out when i want to but that's unfair to them and it doesn't help anyone not me, but fuck. its just so comfortable and i cant. find any reason to not do it and i fuck

its so unfair to them but i want it so bad i want that control at this point i'm gonna get accused of being a dirk LMAO i am my fathers son, something something fuck, i wish i were normal like its such a pain in the fucking ass to be like this i just god and part of me wishes those friends would find this blog because itd be so much easier than looking them in the eye and explaining this because fuck, man its embarrassing. hey, just so you know, i wasn't allowed to have friends as a kid so im super weird about having friends now and also uh never contact me ever until i reach out to you because i- like shut the fuck up dude

its like i want to punish people for liking me for wanting to hang out with me self hatred is CRAZY dave you should be over that arc i guess its just mild self dissatisfaction because like ugh. i'm totally trying to punish people for liking me and also punishing myself by never letting myself be normal

but heres the problem as well its like god i don't WANT to be honest with people because they get emotional and then that just makes me uncomfortable all over again and like god i just feel the need for control so so so fucking bad. i don't even know why its not that i don't want to get close its just that i don't like when someone RECIPROCATES. fuck more thoughts coming soon maybe i don't know.

#strider rambles #emo shit #<- kind of #this is more irl based but it could be interpreted as kin based too because well. yeah

[alright-gay-two]

My mom sent me a text with the word "folx" in it and I haven't responded because it's making me want to combust. I cannot think of a polite way to ask her to never send me a gender neutral word with an x thrown in it for no reason ever fucking again because it's making me go feral.

Idk I'm just thinking about when i came out and I didn't want to and everything went to hell and the only thing I asked is that they make an effort to use my pronouns and they said they would try. And then my dad literally never tried (he sent texts to my mom about me that would have they in it like once and she a billion times and my mom would show me and be like see look how HARD he's trying!!!! Like ma'am he's trying to get back on your good side after he fucked up the dogs face and then refused to let you take him to the vet because they would think he's a dog beater ((he was)) so forgive me if I'm not feeling the love for something he's preformatively doing for only you to see) and my mom uses them sometimes and then mostly just says my name a lot and throws a she in there when she's said Katie too much in a sentence. Like you could just use my pronouns like I asked you to when I came out to you 7 years ago instead of sending me words that are already gender neutral but with an x (to be inclusive!!!!! :-) ) so you can feel like you're showing you support me without having to commit to the thing I asked you to do to support me

Anyway its getting me thinking about how I literally never directly tell anyone my pronouns because I don't want to experience being misgendered on purpose and once I break that seal it's like. Cool that you're not putting an effort in. It makes it impossible for me to want to maintain any kind of relationship. But lately there have been people in my life who I'm not expecting to use my pronouns because I've (purposefully) not told them and they've found out through other means and started using them anyway and it feels uh. Really good. Which has me thinking maybe I need to reevaluate my stance on never telling anyone my pronouns directly?? And the more I'm thinking about it the more it's like. Fuck. Did I really let myself get so beaten down by a fear of rejection and disregard for the bare minimum that I've packed it away in a neat little box and tell myself it's fine because no one can hurt me if it's in the box!! :) but at the same time it just feels exhausting to have to bring out my pronouns with every interaction and then hope I don't get hurt. Idk I'm working on uh. Being able to do things that make me uncomfortable with my therapist and like. Trying not to pack everything away as soon as I get nervous that it could potentially hurt me and this feels like something I should be able to advocate for but. It's in the box. The box is safe. I can't be upset with people misgendering me if they don't know they're doing it and everything gets to stay nice and safe and unhurt in the box. Every time I feel my soul shrivel up a bit more I just break it off and put it in the box and it doesn't matter that everyone will always think of me as a girl because the box is redirecting the feeling of rejection that I cannot deal with. The box holds on to all my trust issues and keeps them safe. And this probably has nothing to do with the ongoing issue I have with my parents not using my pronouns after being the only people ive directly told "it is important to me that you put an effort into using my pronouns" and being so shitty when I came out. That one hasn't been able to fit into the box for years now

[vvildflowerrr]

vent post ab chronic depression

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people don't talk about how hard it is to actually reach out to people.

like I get told all the time to just reach out to people, but I find it so difficult when I never know what's going on in my friends' lives and know many of them are going through their own shit anyway. how can I justify bringing up what I'm going through to them?

I'm so sad, I'm so lonely, it's hard to move day in and day out. I can't remember the last time I had a genuinely good day.

I remember all the reasons I got sober, but every time I end up sitting alone or even with other people just remembering what things used to be like and the people I love that I never get to see now and I just think relapsing would make things better, even if just temporarily. But I know it won't help.

I made chili today, in a slow cooker, and it's so good, I'm proud of that. But while I was waiting I sat in my room, which finally has furniture in it, and scrolled through every streaming service I pay for looking for something to make me laugh or feel better. But romcoms are sad to me, I can't laugh at regular comedies, nothing new interests me, but watching my comfort shows makes me feel sad too because it's the same stuff all over again.

I'm not even 25 yet, but I'm worried I don't have enough time in my life to do everything I want to do. The career I want feels unattainable, I'm still hung up on the same person I have been and don't have a clue where to start with dating or if that would even be a good idea for me, I don't have the experience to find a better paying job that doesn't kill my soul and even if I did, I lost my car awhile ago, so how would I get there?

Everything is expensive, I hate the way I'm functioning, I hate the way the world around me is functioning, and I don't think there's anything I can do to make it better.

I have friends but I miss my other friends. I hate that everyone is so busy that we've become so distant. The last time I hung out with someone it was me being depressed and stale, I felt terrible, like I harshed the vibes by just inviting them over to be around me.

I'm just complaining now. But genuinely, with all this, I genuinely can't say I know where to go from here. I mean, I can't even romanticize the past too much, I was miserable then too. I've almost always been miserable, and I'm so tired of it. I don't know if I'll ever be happy, I don't know if that's even a possibility for me.

My mom once told me she didn't think she was made to be happy and maybe I internalized that a bit too much, but I feel that way right now too.

I'm open to it changing, in fact, I want it to. But I'm exhausted, my brain feels like it's dying every day, I can't make anything click, I can't make art, I'm not even listening to music anymore, and when I do it's all just kind of there. The only reason I haven't kxlled myself is because I pay a portion of the rent and bills and it would be so hard on my roommates. And because I wouldn't be able to see my cats again, and I'm so close to that!! I've already made my peace with the fact that I'll be a passing memory to my loved ones, hell, I feel like one now anyway.

I don't want to perform like I'm fine but I also don't want to make anyone worry about me or change how they interact with me. And I know I have reasons but I don't feel like I should be this sad. Fuck, sometimes I'm not even sad, most days I'm just numb, and if I'm not numb I'm just weeping at the dumbest shit.

I don't know where to go from here, I just don't. I'm gonna fall back into my cycle after throwing this into the void. I may even delete it at some point (then again, probably not because I'll want to show it to my therapist and look back on it later, hopefully at a time when things are better rather than worse).

I just hope something turns around soon.

#vent post #vvil posting

[dreamingofaizawa]

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

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“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

*

***3 months later***

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A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

#erasermic #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #erasermic smut #erasermic mha #erasermic bnha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada smut #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #hizashi yamada mha #hizashi yamada bnha

[unoriginalmess]

Untitled Feralnette Fic Ch. 1

Hiya there anyone who happens upon this first chapter of this fic. I would like to start out by saying that this is my first fanfic ever. I've been wanting to write a fic for the miraculous fandom for a while but I haven't had any inspiration until I stumbled upon this glorious AU created by @bigfatbreak. I highly suggest checking out all of their posts about this au because they are hilarious and genius and about 100 other amazing adjectives that could be used to describe them and their posts. Anyways enough with my rant and let's get on with the fic. ⚠️Slight angst⚠️ ⚠️Swearing⚠️

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When Marinette got home after her and Luka's breakup, all she could do was cry. She wanted to be with him, but her Ladybug duties came first. If lying is a deal breaker for him, then maybe it was best that they ended it now while their relationship was still in its early stages. Still, she couldn't help but feel the loss of her first relationship. She ended up crying for a whole entire day. She just hoped that Hawkmoth(or Shadowmoth or whatever the fuck he wanted to be referred to as this week) wasn't feeling particularly akuma-y today, because she didn't know if she could bottle up all these feelings, even though the world is relying on her ability to do so.

Ugggghhh!! It has been exhausting having to be "happy and perfect Marinette" and "happy and perfect Ladybug" All. The. Time. She's also pretty sure that Hawkmoth had discovered the similarities in her personality as Marinette to Ladybug, and that's why she's been targeted by multiple akumas lately. She has had to have her emotions under control even more than usual. If only there was a way to get Hawkmoth to stop targeting her. Maybe she should just not give a fuck anymore. Haha as if! It couldn't be that easy! Could it?

The more she thinks about it the more it starts to make sense. If she just let herself go completely crazy as Marinette, she would be killing like 10 birds with one stone. She would get hawkmoth off of her trail, she wouldn't have to deal with having to hide her emotions all of the time, she wouldn't have to deal with the added stress of maintaining her perfect persona, she wouldn't have to deal with the stress of Lila's lies taking her friends away if she didn't have friends in the first place, and so much more stress would be taken off of her plate! It was perfect! It might hurt a little at first, but it's for the best in the end. She spent that night planning out her outfit for tomorrow, doing her homework, and going to sleep knowing that, in the morning, François Dupont isn't gonna know what hit them.

....

Adrien Agreste had been having a rough week. He had been abandoned on patrol by ladybug, been broken up with by his girlfriend, and was feeling completely and utterly alone. He knows that his lady has been feeling overwhelmed by her guardian duties lately, and that he 100% deserved that verbal lasting that kagami had given him but he couldn't help but feel this way. He was also feeling guilty about lying to kagami and leading her on for so long. After she broke up with him he took some time to assess his feelings for her and realized that he had more of an admiration for her than an infatuation. He definitely didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him. She told him that she LOVED HIM, and he was so distracted (blinded) by ladybug that he didn't even process her confession. So, he was looking forward to Sunday morning. He cleared his schedule and on that beautiful Sunday morning, he did what he is only allowed to do on very rare occasions: sleep in. Or at least... thats what he had planned on doing.

When Nathalie had knocked on his door that morning Adrien was not in a good mood. He vaguely heard her say something about father wanting him downstairs in some amount of time for something involving a business partners child and some other robotic sounding words that his half asleep brain couldn't process completely.

"I have a cleared schedule this morning, Nathalie. What could father possibly want me for that is more important than my precious sleep?" He asked snappily.

"Your father wants you downstairs to welcome the new guest that will be living in the house for the rest of the school year. You have 15 minutes to make yourself look presentable and I suggest leaving the attitude upstairs," she half informed/half reprimanded him. As she walked away, Adrien reluctantly rose from his nice warm bed and went to go get ready with only one thought racing through his mind: Who could possibly be staying with them?

....

Felix Culpa was not looking forward to living at the Agreste mansion for the rest of the school year, but for their parents' sake they would do what they had to. It wasn't all for their parents either, they were also concerned about the strange "dissapearance" of Emilie (who was his aunt in all ways except blood relation) and about the treatment of Adrien since said "disappearance".

You see, Felix Culpa is the heir to the Culpa Fabric Empire. The Culpas have been the sole fabric supplier of the Agreste brand since the very beginning. Felix's mom Diana was best friends with Emilie since their college days. Diana and Emilie made the deal with the two brands because as best friends who are both involved in the same industry, it just made sense to have a business relationship with each other. Diana never really cared for Gabriel as a person, but she could tell that he loved Emilie more than anyone else in the world so she could tolerate him for the sake of her best friend.

When Emilie went missing, Diana was absolutely devastated and tried anything she could to find her. She invested in missing person ads as large as billboards, organized search teams, tried to aid the police in their search for her in any way she could, but there was no leads, no legitimate calls to the number on the billboards, and the search team came up empty handed. While she was doing all of this to try to find her, she couldn't help but be furious over the fact that Gabriel was doing nothing to help in the search. All he did was hole himself up in his oversized mansion and call it a day.

The last straw for Diana was when Gabriel tried to use the "grieving my wife" excuse to try to abuse their business arrangement. That day, she told him that the Culpa brand would no longer be associated with the Agreste brand and that after the new collection is released, he would need to find a new fabric supplier. She knew that the Agreste brand would take a huge hit from having sub-par fabric, but she never thought that Gabriel would try to make up for that fact by using Adrien as a walking mannequin and locking him up in the desolate prison that he calls a home. As soon as she realized that he was doing this she scrambled to find a solution.

That is how Felix ended up here, standing in front of the mansion they would be living in for the next 9 months in exchange for Gabriel getting back into the Culpa brand's good graces. Don't get them wrong, they were excited about being able to be in Paris, home of the most innovative fashion pieces in the world, and about being able to see their honorary cousin Adrien (who wasn't half bad to be around despite him having no backbone whatsoever when it came to anything involving his father) but dealing with Mr. Agreste was definitely one of the low points of this arrangement.

They decided to just get it over with and knocked on the door. It was opened by the man that their cousin affectionately referred to as Gorilla. They nodded a thank you to the man, remembering that he was a man of few words, and proceeded to the bottom of the staircase. Mr. Agreste stood at the top with a very tired looking Adrien a few steps down. Felix wasn't even slightly surprised that this is where he chooses to welcome his guests, looking down on people must give him some sort of power trip or something. It's almost as if he heard the phrase "It's over, Anakin, I have the high ground," and made that his own personal motto. Whatever, let him have the feeling of false power if he wanted it, Felix knows that they have all the power in this situation and they're sure that Gabriel knows it as well.

"Hello Felix," Mr. Agreste greeted them with the same amount of warmth in his voice as liquid nitrogen, "while you are staying in this house you will abide by my rules. Adrien will inform you of them and show you to your room. You will attend school with him in the morning and I'm sure that you already know that you must represent not only the Culpa brand, but also the Agreste as well. I will be in my office working, do not disturb me. Contact Nathalie with any questions that cannot be answered by Adrien." He finished his spiel and left to what Felix assumed was his office space.

"Hello Felix!" Adrien greeted him with as much enthusiasm as he could muster in his sleepy state. "Come with me and I'll show you to your room."

Adrien led Felix to their room and listed all of the rules of the household that they were expected to follow. And... wow. Felix could not believe that their cousin had to live like this. The only social interaction this kid gets is at school and fencing? Pre-approved outings only with people determined socially acceptable by Gabriel? And if he gets even one "B" he isn't even going to be allowed to go to school at all? Felix knew that the living situation was bad for Adrien but know the only question running through their head was: What did they get themselves into??

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And... thats it for chapter 1! Mostly background info at this point, but next chapter will be the class' reaction to feralnette and felinette meeting for the first time. I just want to say thanks again to @bigfatbreak for giving me the inspiration to write a fic for the first time ever. Feel free to leave constructive criticism, I'm always looking to improve, especially at writing since this is my first time posting anything I've written online, so I want to get better so that I can make better content for you guys, gals, and non-binary pals. If anyone wants to be tagged just let me know and I'll make a tag list for ya. :)

#feralnette au #felinette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #felix culpa #also in case i havent made this clear enough PLEASE go check out bigfatbreak #they made this fantastic au #i would love any title ideas if anyone has any because if you couldnt tell by my username im super unoriginal and cant make titles #if not it might just end up being untitled feralnette fanfic forever

[mara-xx217]

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.

#Halloween #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x reader #og michael myers

[kenmascatears]

Yours

You haven’t seen Shinso in a year, with him moving away for his job. So when you visit him, harboring secret feelings, you don’t know what to expect.

Genre: an actual plot, smut at the end, fluff

Warnings: alcohol usage, dubcon(sex under the influence of alcohol), public sex (bathroom), squirting, creampie, possessive themes during sex, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification (reader gets fucked out)

a/n: let me know if i forgot any warnings or if you want me to tag anything!

Word count - 3.8k

“______!” You heard a voice call out to you. You had been weaving through hordes of people at the arrival gate for the past 10 minutes, lugging your suitcase behind you, looking for Shinso, who had promised to pick you up. 

You twisted your head around to try and locate the tall purple-haired man, but couldn’t spot him. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your back. Whirling around you turned to face the smiling man.

“Hitoshi!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his frame and burying your face in his chest. 

Shinso laughed, and warmly returned the hug. The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the feeling of seeing one another again. 

He hadn’t changed since you had last seen him, the muscular arms encircling your back were the same ones that had hugged you when you had last seen each other. His cologne was still the same, you noted, the woody scent that invaded your nostrils was the same that he had worn for the past 5 years, ever since high school when he claimed it made him smell “manly.”

The two of you finally let go of one another and as you pulled away you noticed a flush covering his cheeks, You didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, as he took your suitcase into one hand, and yours in the other and began pulling you towards the exit.

“Shit your suitcase is heavy ______, did you bring your whole closet or something?” He asked, laughingly.

“Fuck off Toshi, I packed less this time and you know it.”

It was true, Shinso did know how much you had packed. The day before your flight you had called him in disarray, asking what kind of clothing you should bring and what activities the two of you would be doing. It had taken the purple-haired boy half an hour to convince you to bring what made you comfortable. 

It was always like that between the two of you. Shinso always grounded you, always took care of you. 

As the two of you shot jabs at one another on the way to the car, you began to slip back into the familiarity of his physical presence, having been limited to video calls and texts since he moved away for work.

Your conversation had calmed down and shifted to your plans for the week, by the time you got into the car, where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do. You hadn’t visited Shinso yet, nor had you been to the city and you were eager to explore everything.

Throughout the car ride, your energy had begun depleting, and as you arrived at Shinso’s apartment, you wanted nothing more than to eat a meal and pass out. However, as Shinso opened the door, the person in the kitchen was presenting a challenge. 

As the door clicked shut behind you, the figure turned your way, the expression on their face going from bewildered to excited.

As you and Shinso took off your shoes and removed your coats, the person rose from their spot at the table and spoke. 

“Shinso you didn’t tell me ______ was arriving this early! If I had known, I would have attempted to clean the apartment” His voice held no trace of malice, and you found yourself smiling at his words.

“Shove off Kaminari, you wouldn’t clean the apartment for the life of you. And I told you ______ was coming, your dumbass just forgot.”

You smoothed down the front of your outfit, suddenly self-conscious of your appearance. You knew Shinso had a roommate, he often spoke of the energetic blonde and you had seen him briefly on video calls, but you wanted to make a good first impression. Shinso noticed your hesitation and placed a hand on the small of your back, prodding you further into the room. 

Stepping forward to formally introduce yourself to Denki, you reached out your hand. To your surprise, he avoided your handshake and pulled you into a hug. 

You squeaked in surprise but quickly returned the favor, wrapping your arms around his lean frame. 

As he let go of you, stepping back, he spoke.

“It’s really great to meet you ____, Hitoshi has said so much about you over the past year. In fact, he won’t shut up about you.” He exclaimed, throwing a cheeky grin at Shinso.

You glanced inquisitively at Shinso who was suddenly staring intently at the carpet beneath his feet, pretending like he didn’t hear the statement. 

You turned back to Denki and smiled, “All good things I hope” you replied cheerily. 

“Nothing bad, just all about how you’re his best friend and your job and how much he depends on you, sometimes he acts like a schoolboy with a cr-“

“Kaminari,” Shinso cut him off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he glared at the blond-haired boy, “you don’t need to repeat to her everything that I say.”

Your stomach flipped upside down as you processed Denki’s comment. You had been harboring feelings for Shinso for about half a year but hadn’t felt like he had felt the same way. 

Countless nights had been spent pondering your emotions, wondering if you should confess your feelings or keep them to yourself. And here Denki was, hinting towards Shinso liking you. You knew he hadn’t had a girlfriend in the past year, his excuse being that he wanted to focus on his career, but before that, he had gone through a slew of them. You never thought that he could like you, after all, you were simply friends.

Shinso touched your arm, breaking you out of your train of thought. “You good? You zoned out there for a second.”

You turned to look up at him and mustered a smile. “Yeah I just need some sleep and food in me, I’ve been up for almost 24 hours.” 

Shinso nodded in understanding, hand reaching up to ruffle his purple hair. “I’m about to heat up some leftovers for myself. I’ll make some for you as well. ”

You smiled at him in relief. “That would be great Hitoshi, thank you.”

“20 minutes?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take a shower and get the airplane smell off of me if that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right.”

After your much-needed shower, where you spent more time thinking about Shinso’s reaction to Denki’s comment than you should have, you were seated at the table with the two of them, downing some leftovers. 

In between the flurry of questions that Denki was sending your way, you realized something.

“Where am I gonna sleep?” You asked around a mouthful of noodles. You knew that the apartment Shinso and Denki lived in only had two bedrooms and not much room for guests. 

“You’re sleeping in my room and I’m taking the sofa.” Shinso replied decisively, twirling his fork around the noodles on his plate.

“Are you sure?” you asked worriedly. You knew Shinso didn’t sleep well and that sleeping on the sofa was going to cause him to get even less sleep.

“Yeah, I’m sure ______. You’re the guest here and if my mom caught wind of me having you sleep on the sofa I would never hear the end of it.”

After finishing up your meal, the three of you kept talking, sharing stories, and discussing what to do tomorrow. To Shinso’s dismay, you and Denki had bonded over a shared love of goading him, an act that continued throughout the evening. Eventually, you realized how tired you really were. Glancing at the clock, you stifled a yawn.

You stood up and began clearing your plate, stating that you were tired and it was best for you to go to bed. 

“I cleared my stuff from my room and there are spare blankets on the chair in there” Shinso replied, “Goodnight ______ and let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, goodnight _____” Denki chimed in.

“Goodnight guys.” You replied back, before heading down the hall to Shinso’s room. 

As you laid in bed that night, you played back your time knowing Shinso. He had always seemed more receptive and warm to you than the rest of his friends, but he’d told you during a drunken night a few months ago that he wasn’t looking for anyone at the moment. 

Exhaustion taking over, you drifted off to sleep.

****

The next few days went by quickly. Denki and Shinso took you around the city, visiting museums and monuments, or simply just walking around. At nights you guys hung out, watching movies, or going to explore the nightlife. 

The city fascinated you. Musutafu was a big city, but where Shinso lived now was even bigger. With bustling streets, buildings so tall they disappeared into the clouds, and more attractions than you could count, you loved it. 

You had grown closer to Denki over the course of the week, with him asking all about your life, and him telling you all about his. The blonde was a nice contrast to Shinso, who was usually reserved, the calm to the storm that Denki was. You hadn’t ignored the way he looked at you and Shinso when you interacted, however, staring at the two of you like you were a couple. You were only glad he hadn’t asked if you had feelings for Shinso. You didn’t think you could confess that to anyone yet.

You had realized a long time ago that you and Shinso were closer than the average friends, but for the longest time you had chalked it up to being lifelong best friends. 

You sighed, clutching the glass of water you held with both hands and lifting it to your lips. You supposed it wasn’t normal, the dynamic the two of you had, but you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. No use getting your hopes up for him to end up not having feelings for you. 

You were in a restaurant with Shinso and Denki, a few train stops away from their apartment. It was your second to last night with the two of them. For today's activity you had gone to an exhibit at a museum you wanted to see, and as the evening was coming to an end, so was your energy. 

Throughout the meal, you had been opting to sit and listen, or rather overthink in your head, instead of contributing to the conversation Shinso and Denki were holding, and Shinso, inquisitive as ever, noticed that. As Denki got up to use the washroom, he leaned towards you.

“______ Are you okay? You seem distant?” He inquired with a concerned look in his eyes.

You turned to face him, smiling gently at his expression. He was so adorable when worried, you mused, with his eyes crinkling softly and a small pout adorning his face. His hair was down today you noticed, the soft strands framing his face beautifully. He had once let you make little braids in it, and you reveled in the memory of his silky hair between your fingers. 

“Yeah I’m fine,” You finally replied, “I didn't know walking around a museum was so tiring. I might have to take a nap when we get back.”

Shinso laughed at your reply, “I didn’t know the girl who pulled all-nighters to study for final exams in high school couldn’t handle a little museum.”

You scoffed at his reply and punched his arm, “You’re the one who’s been taking naps at every opportunity. Have you not been sleeping enough?

Shinso gently shoved you back, ignoring your question and the momentum sent you into his body. You leaned against his arm, relishing the familiarity of him. You were going to miss that when you left.

Shinso’s arm moved, draping itself over your shoulders so you were now leaning against the side of his chest. You stayed like that for a few more seconds, the both of you basking in the softness and peace of the moment until Denki came back. 

As the three of you paid for your meals and left, the moment the two of you shared was still in your mind. The way you fit so perfectly next to him, almost as if it was meant to be.

The thought consumed you for the rest of the evening. It was at the forefront of your mind while you watched a movie, hyper-aware of Shinso’s body next to yours, knee bumping into yours every so often. It consumed you as you took a shower, as you bid the two boys goodnight, and it consumed your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up abruptly to a voice. Disoriented, you turned to the door to see Shinso standing there. 

“Are you okay?” You blearily inquired, checking the time which stood at 3:27. 

“The sofa is really uncomfortable and I can’t take it anymore” he whispered, “The spring keeps digging into my back and I was wondering if I could sleep with y-I mean not with you but like in the b-”

You cut off his rambling with a simple “Sure, I put the spare blanket on the chair if you want it.”

He thanked you and began to move towards you as you scooted towards the side of the bed to give him more space. 

Your heart was pounding. Even though you guys were best friends, you had never slept in the same bed before, and with your feelings toward him, you were getting anxious.

After Shinso had settled in, tucking the blanket around him, you bade him a good night, which he said back sleepily. 

You laid awake, not daring to move in fear of disturbing him. The bed was big enough for the both of you, you mused, and you could feel his warmth from where he was, could smell the remnants of his cologne. It seemed just right. This is how you had wanted it to be for so long, the two of you together,  

You woke up the next morning stiflingly hot and with a weight on top of you. In the course of the night, you and Shinso had found your way to the middle of the bed, covers puddled by your intertwined legs, while his arm was draped over your side, keeping you close to him. 

This is how it could be, you thought, lazy mornings curled up with Shinso in bed if you told him how you felt and if he reciprocated those feelings.

Shinso was still dead to the world, soft snores leaving his mouth. You watched him for a bit, not wanting to leave his side, nor the warmth he was providing you. When Shinso was asleep he looked at peace, almost childlike, in contrast to his usual blasé face. Smoothing your free hand over his forehead, you brushed some strands of hair away from his face. 

At the soft touch, Shinso stirred, dark purple eyes meeting yours. You smiled softly, uttering a “good morning” to him. He hummed in reply, raising his arm away from you to stretch. 

“ ‘m sorry about the contact,” he finally stated, voice scratchy, “I hope you didn’t mind it”

“No, it was fine,” you quickly replied, heat rising through your face, “You were warm anyways.”

He smiled, a slow, sleepy smile that made your heart melt. 

“Thanks for letting me sleep here,” he said, “I slept so much better than on the sofa.”

“You’re welcome Toshi,” you replied, “It was no big deal.”

Pulling away, you got out of bed, shivering at the loss of warmth that Shinso had provided. 

“I’m gonna get ready for the day, okay?”

****

That evening found you in a club a few blocks away from Shinso and Denki’s apartment. Denki had found someone and left a few hours ago, leaving you and Shinso alone. The two of you had been downing drink after drink, and they were starting to kick in, making your head all fuzzy and your actions unpredictable. 

Shinso, when drunk, wasn’t as serious and collected as he normally was. So when you asked him to dance, he accepted.

That found the two of you on the dance floor, Shinso opting to stand and sway to the music, while you danced to your heart's content around him. 

You always felt more carefree around him, felt safe and protected, and with the alcohol flowing freely through you, you had no qualms about sidling up to Shinso when a particularly suggestive song came on, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his.

Shinso’s hand dropped to your hips, holding on to them as you moved. 

As you danced, chest to chest, you stared at his face in wonderment. 

The strobe lights made his face glow, the colors distorting his features. However through all the colors, through the haze, you could see one feature clearly, fierce, dark purple eyes, violently staring at you, almost as if he was trying to figure you out.

It was the alcohol that made you pull Shinso’s face level to yours.

It was the alcohol that asked him oh so boldly, “what’re you thinking about Toshi?” with your mouth pressed against his ear.

And it was the alcohol in Shinso that made him reply.

“I’m thinking about if I should kiss you.”

And it was the alcohol that pressed your lips to his, bodies flush against one another, in the middle of the dancing bodies.

That found you in the bathroom 10 minutes later, sitting on the sink, dress shoved up around your waist and underwear pushed to the side.

“Fuck Toshi,” you moaned out, dick dragging along your folds.

“You’re dripping,” Shinso said in amazement, staring at where the two of you connected. “So wet and all for me.”

He was enthralled, at how your little pussy was all stretched out for him. You were gripping him so tightly, pussy fluttering and creaming around his dick. 

The second he had slid his dick inside, you had come almost instantly, moaning and clinging onto him. At that moment, he knew you were made for him. Only he wanted to please you, to satisfy you. And he was determined to do just that. He wanted you drunk on his cock by the end of the evening. To send you home with the reminder of him. To make you unable to be satisfied by anyone by him. And most of all, he wanted to make you his.

“‘s so big Toshi” you moaned out, enraptured from the feeling of him so deep inside you, filling you up. Enraptured with the feeling of the alcohol that was flowing through your veins. 

His cock was filling you up so nicely, pressing against your gummy walls as you clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist. That was consuming your every thought, Toshi, Toshi, Toshi.  

You didn’t realize you were crying out his name until he gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“What do you want princess,” he asked lowly, eyes burning with desire.

“You Toshi, please, want your cock, wanna cum.”

With that, he began moving, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks.

“Good girl,” he groaned out, “you’re taking me so well.”

And you were. With each thrust, he could see the translucent ring of slick you were leaving at the base of his cock, your juices dampening the neatly trimmed hair. 

You moaned out without regard to those outside the bathroom. Right now, there was no one but the two of you. All that mattered was right now was you and Shinso.

Wrapping your arms even tighter around his neck and arching your back to meet his thrusts, the new angle made him hit that little sweet spot inside of you, and you keened at the sensation. 

Your orgasm was building up fast, the knot in your stomach building up and Shinsou could tell.

“Hitoshi ‘m so close,” you cried out, head foggy.

Thumbing at your clit, he began thrusting faster, feeling you tighten up under his ministrations.  

It didn’t take much, and you were soon sent headfirst into an orgasm, the pleasure rippling through you. 

Shinso was convinced that the alcohol enhanced your orgasm, as you trembled and cried out, nails digging into his biceps. 

Continuing his ministrations, you were sent straight from your second orgasm, into your third. Maybe you hadn’t even come down from your second. 

Suddenly, your juices squirted from your cunt, coating your cock and his thighs, as you trembled and shrieked.

That was the most filthy and erotic thing Shinso had ever seen. You were completely fucked out, twitching underneath him, the only thing coming out of your mouth were broken moans and his name, over and over again.

The feeling of your walls gripping him, along with that visual sent Shinso towards his orgasm.

Shinso stilled, head falling into the crook of your neck, moaning, as he shot his load into you, your cunt milking him for all he was worth. 

As the two of you came down from your highs, he slowly pulled out, putting your panties in place to ensure that his cum wouldn’t leak out.

Even when drunk, Shinso was attentive.

"You okay ______?" He asked you softly.

You could only groan in reply, eyes fluttering. 

He had tired you out, and along with the alcohol, you had reached your limits.

"'m fine Toshi" you managed to get out, "just wanna go home with you."

Adjusting your dress, he scooped you up, in his arms and took you home.

****

The next morning, you woke up with an ache between your legs, a pounding in your head, and a warmth next to you.

Groaning, you turned to the source of heat.

"Good morning," Shinso said, leaning over to grab some painkillers and a glass of water before handing it to you. "Do you remember last night?"

You downed the pill and water, before turning to face Shinso. "Yeah, I remember the club and bathroom."

Shinso hesitated before speaking, his voice quiet, "D-Did you regret it? Did I push you too far? We were both drunk and I know that might have impacted your judg-"

"Toshi, I wanted what happened last night. I like you Toshi, and I always have. And I hope you like me too. And if you don't, we can forget all about last night." 

As you spoke those words, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. After all those years, you had finally confessed to Shinso how you felt, and it felt calming, to know it was in the open now.

Shinso blinked, and a slow smile grew across his face. Pulling you closer towards him, he cupped your face, planting a soft kiss on your lips. 

"I like you too ______," he said against your lips, "and I want you to be mine."

You kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck. 

As you pulled away, with the sun filtering in through the curtains, creating a halo around you, you spoke.

"I would love to be yours Hitoshi."

#shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader smut #shinso smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader smut #hitoshi shinsou x reader #tw dubcon #tw dumbification #tag:dubcon

[highfaelucien]

While on the topic of wishing sjm had done something different for her characters, I really wanted something more for cassian. For example, cassian’s wings going from being completely ruined in the end of acomaf to being 100% healed in acowar made no sense to me. I think it would’ve been an opportunity for the growth of cassian’s character to see him go through the loss of losing the ability to fly and instead retrain himself to be a warrior in other ways and find other things about himself that prove his own worth to himself. Given the fact that cassian’s confidence is aligned with his ability to protect and serve others, it just would have been sooo good to see him overcome his grief and become even stronger of a character. And how wings, in general, are a sense of male pride among illyrians. I think this would’ve been the perfect way to write cassian and have him break away from his own idea of masculinity. He could have redefined what it meant for him to be a Man ™. Ugh, it just could have been so GOOD, imagine the character we could have gotten from him.

Listen, after ACOMAF, when this happened, EVERYONE was buzzing about this. Most people thought he wouldn't outright lose his wings permanently, but there would be a LOT required.

And then ACOWAR came and approximately nothing happened whatsoever. Oh he had to be healed. the healer had to rebuild his wings. he had to do strength training every day. But fundamentally: not a sausage.

Personally? I think Maas chickend out. I think she was unable to commit to taking Cassian's wings, or figuring out how to write him as anything other than what she's established him as: fun jock man who likes to hit things real hard and make dick jokes sometimes.

Having to see Cassian vulnerable? Having to see him broken, and struggling, and having to reevaluate his entire life and self-esteem and sense of masculinity would have been an incredible option for a character arc.

Most of the theorising/Nessian fics involved Nesta helping him. The two of them being broken/fundamentally altered by their experiences in Hybern - she being killed and Made with a dark power, Cassian losing his wings.

There was expected bonding over that, peeling away the masks they both wear to discover the softness underneath. The two of them being able to reach one another, because of their bond, in a way the others could not. It produced some pretty epic stuff, honestly.

And how badly I wanted that I didn't FULLY realise until the disappointment of ACOSF, when it hit fully.

Because instead of stripping Cassian back and seeing the tactician, the strategist, forcing him to put his other skills to use, to develop those skills, rather than 'smash with sword and ask questions later'. This man is a General. All the combat training in the world doesn't let you be good at this job if you can't command, if you can't use tactics, if you can't strategise.

And THIS is where I wanted to see Nesta. Nesta, the woman who calculated how many ships would be needed to save the humans of Prythian. The woman who looked at Greysen's manor and assessed its capabilities and saw a prison. The woman who devours history novels, who has a tactical, cunning mind. Who has never been a warrior or a creature of brute strength or physical abilities.

THIS is how I wanted to see Nesta evolve. This was how I wanted to see her develop. I didn't want her taken out of lady's dresses. I didn't want her forced into fighting leathers, to basically become another copy of her sister, and follow down that path.

I wanted her to take her own. I wanted her to finally be in a place where she could learn, and strategise, and contribute. And I wanted her to work with Cassian on this - who was grounded because of his wings, who couldn't command on the frontlines anymore, or even fight. Who had to stay back, and see how he handled this. How he maintained his authority. How he maintained his sanity without his wings.

We could have had so fucking much. Such a powerful narrative about survival. I wanted her in the library, with the other survivors, (and with fucking MORRIGAN - not sidelined, not dismissed, not being bitchy and catty for the sake of it. But someone who visits the library frequently, who interacts with the women there, and sometimes just is a woman there herself, because there are still hard days.)

But no. No instead of something nuanced, and original, and actually tailored to Nesta's strengths as a character, we got Yet Another Weapon's Trainng Montage.

We got the narrative that the only way to heal from abuse is to be able to beat the shit out of your abusers. Because that's #GirlPower, right?

It makes me so furious I almost want to just. Just fucking rewrite the whole damn fucking thing myself the way it SHOULD have gone.

And I know you talked about Cassian and not Nesta, so I do apologise, but they were tied together. But I agree.

We all wanted Cassian to evolve from that 'Lord of Bloodshed' / "savage brute" because reading between the lines and forcing some nuance from these books, which is the only way to survive: Cassian has a lot of layers. There's a lot of trauma there. A lot of insecurity. A lot of angst. A lot of heart. A lot of fucking INTELLIGENCE. (I'll fight on that point, I really will. Cassian is not a dumb himbo who can barely add 1 and 1).

But sjm was too busy writing him having a hard on for Nesta to explore....anything about himself. Or his relationship with Azriel, and Rhys, and Mor, and everyone else.

The removal (even temporarily) of his wings would have allowed for a LOT of that exploration.

Firstly, the fact that he injured them by CHOICE, saving Azriel's life. That would have been such a deep connection and bond between them. The guilt that Az would feel - but the potential for Cassian to step in, even with his wings gone, and say that he'd do it again.

Because Azriel is his brother. He loves him. And it was worth it. It would be worth it a hundred times over to save him. Because he's worth saving. And he's worth sacrificing for. And what that would have done for Az as a character, too. Who always offers himself up first for dangerous missions, puts himself in peril to protect the others.

And having Cassian join Feyre and Az's flying lessons? Because Cass having to relearn how to fly once (if) his wings healed to that extent, means letting Azriel train him. Because those old instincts aren't enough. And he has to learn how to strengthen them, and train with them. And how this affects his perception of himself and his masculinity, as he said. But also deepening his understanding for Az, and the bond the two of them share, in having this experience together.

Bonding with Rhys, who FINALLY fucking opens up to someone and has some nuanced therapy-like conversations about what happened with Amarantha. The sacrifces they've made for their people. How they'd do it again but it still hurts, and changes them, and how they have to learn and grow and move on from that and heal together.

Rhys working with Cassian on his other talents, using him as the skilled strategist and tactician he MUST be. Helping him to develop that, keeping his brother from losing his mind while he can't fight or use his physicality to solve problems, as he usually does.

Mor personally healing and tending to Cassian. Mor being there at his bedside every day while he was bed bound. Mor becoming as possessive and overprotective of both him and Az as any mate ever has been.

Mor speaking to him about her own rehabilitation after what her family did to her, the physical toll that took on her. Mor's heart breaking because she nearly lost both him and Az and she couldn't handle that at all. Mor reiterating how much she fucking loves him, and how she needs him.

Mor helping him through the darker days of his depression because she's been there. And she knows what it is to put on a front. To always be laughing, and joking, without the seriousness of life -leave that to the others. But sometimes it's too much and he needs to break down. And be angry. And furious. And hopeless. And scared. And that's what she's there for. Because she understands.

Mor winnowing him to his favourite spots that he can't fly to anymore, just so he can be there. The two of them spending time, and bonding, and developing that relationship we got in ACOMAF beyond 'we bicker constantly and drink together and make sexual innuendos'.

Even Amren showing up and doing her part. Snapping at him to stop brooding so much. But also bringing him some of her puzzles. Some of her favourite military history books (which she has anotated and edited to highlight the bits that have been incorrectly reported). Spending time with him to stop him going mad. Exhausting herself those first few days personally attending to Cassian's wings, and snarling at anyone who tried to interfere.

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH.

IT COULD HAVE DEVELOPED SO MUCH WITH THE INNER CIRCLE. AND CASSIAN. AND NESSIAN. AND JUST. EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER BUT NAW. IT WAS BASIC ASS AND BORING AND I'M GONNA DIE MAD ABOUT IT.

#cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #rhysand #azriel #morrigan acotar #amren #acotar series #acotar meta #cassian meta #IT'S WHAT WE DESERVED I TELL YOU #IT'S WHAT WE FUCKING /DESERVED/ #im still ANGY #answer tag #anonymous #taryn answers #long post #taryn rants #anti sjm #anti acotar

[lilliagradiewrites]

flinch (harry styles)

Summary: When you are arguing with Harry, you flinch away from him, and he realizes your last relationship was worse the he knew.

WC: 1.3k

WARNINGS: HUGE TW! THIS DEALS HEAVILY WITH DOMESTIC ABUSE/VIOLENCE! PLEASE KNOW THIS BEFORE CONTINUING!!

This story is mainly angst, with a lil bit of fluff at the end.

A/N: Another Harry one shot! My last one did so so well, and I gained so many new friends on this profile! I really hope you guys enjoy this super sad/angsty piece <3

(this has not been proofread.)

LET’S DO IT!!!

~~~~~~

“I’m sorry Y/N! I don’ know what you want from me! I’m always filming, there’s nothin’ I can do!”

“I’m not mad at you, Harr, I know it’s not your fault! I was just saying that it sucks, okay? I miss you so fucking much, all day, all the time! Excuse me for fucking missing you when you’re not here!”

The argument had sprouted an hour ago, when you told Harry you missed him. Now, here you were, having a screaming match with him in your living room.

Harry was currently starring in the new Olivia Wilde movie, Don’t Worry Darling. You were incredibly proud of him, but his constant filming was hard for you. He was always gone, filming in Los Angeles.

At first, he would fly you out every other weekend to visit him on set. While you didn’t see him as much as you would like, at least you got to interact with him face to face.

Unfortunately, this routine didn’t last very long. After the first crew member contracted COVID-19, they decided to maintain a closed set, to prevent the spread as much as possible. So, your meetings with Harry were reduced to facetime calls, which always left something to be desired. Not having your boyfriend with you was taking a massive toll on you, and all you did today was express that to him.

For some reason, he took personal offense to your statement, and the two of you began fighting.

“Do you think I don’ miss you too? Of course I do! But this is such a big opportunity for me, I’m not gonna drop because you miss me! It’s only lasting a little while longer, I promise you can manage!”

Tears began welling up in your eyes. There was nothing you hated more than getting yelled at, and it’s even worse since it’s Harry. You loved him so much, and just the thought of him being upset with you made you want to cry.

“I know, babe, and I’m not asking you to. I just.... I’m sorry. It’s alright. Can we please not fight? You’re only home for two weeks. I don’t want to waste it being angry with each other.” your voice was barely a whisper.

“I just need you to understand! It’s not my fault I’m always gone. You’re bein’ selfish!”

At this moment, he took a step forward as he yelled. In instinct, you whipped away, putting your hands up in defense. A whimper left your mouth, and for a moment, you forgot that it was only Harry standing in front of you.

Immediately, your boyfriend froze. His brows furrowed, and he went silent. You were still standing away, and your hands are still held towards him.

When you realized he’d paused, you came to your senses. Recomposing yourself, you turned around towards him, your hands folding over your chest.

When you met his eyes, the look in them was terrible to see.

He was absolutely devastated. The emerald green that normally shined when he looked at you had been dulled.

“Lovie…” He begins, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Did you just- did you think I was going to hit you?”

You dropped his gaze; you couldn’t bear to look at him.

“I would never. I would never, ever, lay a hand on you. Did… did your ex hit you, my love?

You could do nothing but cry. As your knees began to give out, Harry moved immediately forward, catching you before you could collapse.

Sobs wracked your body as Harry lowered himself and you to the floor. Silent tears slid down his face as he consoled you, the pain of this newfound information tearing him apart.

He couldn’t believe it. How could anyone ever lay a hand on his beautiful angel? You were nothing but sweetness and love? Hurting you was like shooting an angel down from the sky. You were so amazing.

What hurt even more was that you flinched away from him. He knew it was instinct, because of what you’ve been through, but he still hated himself for allowing the conversation to even get to that point. Seeing you move away like that, like you were scared of him… it caused him physical pain like he’d never imagined.

And now, you sat here, crying in his arms. His lovie, crying.

The sound of your sobs hurt like hell, too.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I-I wish I could go back in time and protect you from him. I’m so so sorry.”

This only made you cry harder. You hated that you made Harry feel like you were scared of him; you were far from it. When he was near you, you felt safe and protected. When people yelled at you, you went to a different place in your mind.

When you were being yelled at, it didn’t matter who was yelling at you.

All you see was him in front of you.

When your sobs grew less intense, Harry spoke to you again.

“Why didn’ you tell me, lovie? You never told me. I wish you’d said something.”

You looked up at him, and the sight was a knife to your heart. Your beautiful boy was crying.

You hated it when he cried.

“I-I didn’t want to upset you. It was ten months ago. I didn’t think I needed to.”

‘Ten months isn’ that long of a time period, baby. You still need time to heal. I wish I could’ve helped you before now.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was weak, and you began to cry again. You buried your head in Harry’s shoulder, but it was only there for a second.

He took your face in his large hands and moved it away from his body, making sure he could look you in the eye.

“No, my love. Don’ you dare apologize. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for you. How hard it must be. I get it why you didn; say anything. You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. Absolutely nothing.”

All you could do is nod.

“I wish I could protect you from your past.” Harry whispered as he held you against his chest.

For over an hour, you sat there on the floor of the living room, holding each other and crying quietly. You both had so much to say and nothing to say simultaneously.

Once a while had passed, Harry whispered something inaudible, then picked you up bridal style.

He carried you into your bedroom, sitting you gently on the bed. You just laid there with your eyes closed, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to do anything.

Harry moved quietly throughout your room. You could hear drawers opening and closing, hear the soft sound of his feet padding against the carpet.

When he came back to you, he lifted your upper half off of the bed, holding you close to him. You felt his hands on the hem of your shirt, and then felt his mouth near your ear.

“Is it alright if I help you undress, love? You should change into pajamas or you’ll be uncomfortable.”

You nodded sleepily, but that wasn’t enough for Harry.

“I need a yes, angel.”

“Yes, harry, it’s okay.”

He nodded lightly, accepting this as an answer. He lifted your shirt gently, tossing it to the side, and replacing it with one of his own. His shirt was soft and comfortable against your skin. You smiled at the feeling; there was nothing you loved wearing more than his clothes.

Harry got permission from you again before pulling off your jeans. He didn’t replace these with anything, knowing that you usually slept in your underwear when you wore his shirt.

Once you were in comfy clothes, Harry lifted you once more, placing your head on your pillow and pulling the blankets over you. Once you were settled, he climbed into bed beside you.

“I love you so much, angel. You are the love of my life. I will protect you with everythin’ I have in me. No one is ever goin’ to hurt you like that again, I promise.”

Those were the last words you heard before drifting off to sleep.

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writer #harry styles x reader

[a-n-conrad]

Painting (Steve Rogers x Reader)

[Summary: You decide to paint your friend, Steve Rogers, realizing that no one had ever painted him without his uniform. However, things start to get heated after you start to daydream during your painting session. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT (18+, but with emotions), Not Canon Compliant (Because fuck you, Marvel.), Swearing, unprotected vaginal sex

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/D9rsJtkERoBPaKvv8)]

You and Steve Rogers were widely considered to be an unlikely pair. There were a lot of things that you didn’t exactly agree on. Steve was a lot more social, being bold and outgoing. You were a bit quieter, preferring to avoid the company of a crowd. Steve was prone to waking up early to exercise. You stayed up into the quiet hours of the night, choosing instead to get a majority of your sleep in the morning. You weren’t exactly fond of Steve’s workout routines either, though you would join him on a short jog on occasion.

While you were technically considered an Avenger, you were really only brought out to fight for emergency circumstances. You had some incredibly powerful, incredibly volatile powers, but you really had no interest in using them unless it was completely needed. So you ended up making a few deals. You’d be treated like an Avenger, but you were basically benched unless some drastic, world-ending issue came up. So until then, you were kept on hold in Avengers Tower, spending most of your time painting in the studio that Tony had gotten set up for you.

Despite this power, and despite your title as an official Avenger, you were still a bit of an outsider among the team. You tended not to talk to them a lot, becoming a bit easily overwhelmed by the chaos that the team seemed to radiate. But surprisingly, you and Steve got along incredibly well.

You had originally bonded over your love of art. You loved Steve’s drawings. You admired the linework and shading in his drawings. He could do so much with just a pen, let alone if you gave him a few colors. He admired the amount of emotion you managed to instill into every single painting that you made. No matter what you painted, whether it was a portrait, a landscape, or something entirely different, it was always filled to the brim with the emotion that you had felt while painting it. It was like looking through a window into your soul. It was so honest and refreshing.

Eventually the two of you started to talk a bit more while you worked. It started pretty tame, just discussions of how your day was or general questions about each other like “What’s your favorite color”. But eventually you moved on to the harsher topics of your lives. Steve would talk about how exhausting it was to be the face of America, to be held on such a pedestal while also being expected to sacrifice everything at the drop of a hat. You talked about how cold and dehumanizing it felt to be seen by the American government as nothing more than a weapon, a walking nuclear bomb.

Your struggles overlapped at certain points. You both spent a lot of your time being used by the government. You were both seen as tools more than you were seen as people by a lot of the general public. You were a weapon and he was an idol, some sort of trophy. So you bonded a lot over your shared struggles as you talked to each other and worked on art side by side. And when the hard stuff got a bit too heavy, you’d sit and talk about art. About subjects that you just loved to add to all of your work. About what each shade of every color meant to you, about the emotions that you saw in every tiny color shift.

It was so nice, for both of you, to have something like that. The studio that you spent time in was so safe and peaceful for both of you, since the other Avengers tended to avoid it. And the two of you had started to see through each other’s masks enough to truly get to know each other. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had known him as Steve Rogers more than they had known him as Captain America. He had Bucky, but Bucky was far too busy with his own issues for Steve to even consider burdening him with anything else. But with you he could truly be himself, even if that meant getting angry, sad, or frustrated.

So the two of you had become incredibly close, despite your differences. And every day that you had some free time without any big meeting or mission, you would be in the studio helping each other with art. It was a good way for you to relieve stress, just relaxing with each other. It was one of those days that you came to a realization.

- - - - -

“Has anyone ever painted you?” You asked suddenly one day as the two of you sat side by side in the art studio. He looked a bit surprised, and then he looked confused.

“Of course. There are murals of me up all over the place, (Y/n).”

“No, there are murals of Captain America,” you responded, shaking your head, “They don’t really look that much like you. You really only look like that when you’re working as Captain America. So has anyone ever painted you? As Steve Rogers?”

He looked surprised again. And you could tell as the emotions cycled through his face that he didn’t really know how to respond. You supposed it was a bit of an odd question. And you knew that it was a bit odd to think of someone and their superhero persona as two different people, but Steve couldn’t disagree. He wasn’t Captain America all the time, and he loved that you understood that, “I suppose I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess not.”

You hummed a bit, “That’s a shame. It feels like a waste that everyone paints a costume. You should let me paint you sometime.”

You said it in a way that he wasn’t sure if you were serious. Your face was entirely serious when you said it, but you said it so casually, not even really looking at him, “Really?”

You finally looked up at him, noticing the pure confusion on his face, “Of course. I mean, you’d have to sit still for a while, but honestly, you could probably just sit and sketch for a while. You just seem too good of a subject to not be painted without the costume.”

Steve wasn’t really one to blush, but it was quite the compliment coming from you. He had women trying to hit on him all the time now, being Captain America, but that never really felt heartfelt. It had been a fairly long time since he had actually felt a real connection with someone. But to hear you compliment him, thinking of him as Steve Rogers instead of Captain America, made his heart flutter a bit. And the fact that he knew that you were rather picky about the subject you painted only made it more effective.

“I, uh, think that’d be cool,” He responded as soon as he was sure that he could trust his voice not to crack, though he couldn’t hide the slight stutter. It was honestly endearing how much his personality changed when he wasn’t working. While he was still headstrong and stubborn, he was a bit less confident. He knew he could win a fight. He knew that he looked good on television. But he didn’t really know how to interact with people in the new modern age. He was lucky to have the friends that he did. At least, that’s how he felt about it.

“Wonderful,” You hummed, starting to put away all of your supplies, “Why don’t we pack it up for the day and I can start painting you tomorrow if we aren’t too busy?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

- - - - -

The next day was surprisingly slow. You had to say that you were thankful. You had been looking forward to getting to paint Steve, even though you knew it was making him a little nervous. You were honestly excited to have a new project, and part of you was excited for the opportunity to stare at Steve for a bit without it being considered weird. He was easy to admire, both physically and on a personal level, so you found yourself staring more often than you’d like to admit. You were pretty sure that you had been lucky enough to avoid being caught though.

He was physically gorgeous. Obviously. But something about the way that he looked when he was drawing was nearly angelic. The way he furrowed his brows just a little and turned his paper at odd angles to make sure that the proportions of his sketches were right was adorable. The look in his eyes when his work started to come together made your heart melt. When he got a bit frustrated and would run a hand through his hair you could feel your heart skip a beat. You felt a bit dumb to be drooling over your friend, but you had to admit you were falling pretty hard for him. So you’d use this painting as an excuse to admire him without any questions.

He was already blushing a bit when he came into the studio, and you had a feeling that part of it was from Tony teasing him. He had a habit of giving the two of you a bit of a hard time about how much time you spent together. But the blush was still adorable. Something about Steve when he was nervous stole your heart. He was surprisingly soft when he had the space to be.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” He asked as he strode over to your work station that you had already gotten set up.

“Just pull a chair up in front of me. You can get comfortable, start sketching, and I’ll get a base outline and block out as much as I can. Just let me know if you need a break and try not to change your pose too much. At least until I can get all of the base shapes right,” You instructed, trying to keep your voice even. You were surprised at how well you managed to hide the fact that you were completely lovesick.

“Alright, sounds good,” He responded, pulling up a chair and getting himself situated. He crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his ankle on his other thigh to give himself a place to set his sketchbook. You tossed him his pencil once he got himself settled, and then you got to work.

You had to admit you had started to get a bit frustrated with how easily you managed to get distracted by him while you were trying to paint. You had hoped that maybe painting him would help. You had no reason to get distracted from your painting when you were painting him. At least, that’s what you had thought before you started sketching out the form.

You felt yourself losing focus as your brush moved smoothly, the incredibly thin, light paint building a form that you found yourself wanting to know a bit more intimately. You tried your best to stay focused on the canvas in front of you, but you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting. You imagined what his body looked like under his clothes as you blocked out the lights and shadows of the fabric that rested over his abs. And the vivid image in your brain, the detailed picture of his body that you had conjured up in front of you, followed your brush as you worked.

The brush slid smoothly across the canvas, outlining his muscles, almost all of which showed through his thin t-shirt. Your brain almost instantly conjured up a matching image, the fantasy becoming more and more dynamic as you went on. It shifted from regular images of what his abs looked like when he was shirtless to more detailed images. Thoughts of his biceps flexing a bit as he held himself over you, his arms covered in sweat. Thoughts of his hands sliding across your skin. It only got worse as you moved down, eventually reaching the point between his legs.

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Steve’s voice finally broke you from your thoughts, his eyes which had been focused intently on his drawing when you had last looked were now trained on your face, scanning for any sign as to what was causing you to space out, “You don’t normally get distracted when you’re painting, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” You tried your best to pull yourself back to reality, though the fantasies seemed to be burned into your brain, “Yeah, sorry. I was, uh, spacing out a bit.”

“Do you want to take a break for a bit? Maybe we should get up and stretch,” He suggested. You nodded in response, hoping it would help you refocus on your painting.

It didn’t help much, though, as Steve stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted up just enough to show some skin, and his pants were riding fairly low. Your eyes almost involuntarily moved to look at him, landing right about the button to the jeans that he was wearing. The muscles in his hips and stomach formed an almost perfect V shape leading into his pants.

“(Y/N)?” You had been caught staring. You tried your best to look casual, relaxing your posture. Your mistake was to try to lean on the table, setting your hand directing on your palette, which was covered in paints.

You froze, and Steve’s eyes landed on your hand, the red and blue paint gushing out from the sides. You felt like an awkward teenager, doing stupid ridiculous shit in front of your crush. You watched intently for a reaction from Steve, not really knowing what to do and hoping that the way that he reacted would give you something easy to respond to.

He raised one of his eyebrows at you, a look of confusion, with a small hint of amusement under the surface painted across his face, “You seem to have set your hand in your paint.”

“Uh, yes, it would seem so,” You responded awkwardly, finally lifting your hand out of the paint. You still really weren’t sure what to say, and not knowing where to put your hand so that you wouldn’t smear any paint anywhere wasn’t really making you feel any better. You cleared your throat a bit, trying to think of something smart to say, something that wouldn’t signal exactly how far gone you were into your fantasies, but instead you just signaled to Steve how flustered you were.

You knew that Steve had never been the biggest ladies’ man. From what he had told you, he was actually pretty awkward growing up, but the confidence that washed over him as he finally figured out what was getting you so flustered was visible. He walked closer to you, standing close enough to emphasize how tall he was, “Got something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh,” You stuttered, not sure what to say. You could tell that he knew from the smirk on his face, but you could feel your face heating up as you thought about explaining your fantasizing to Steve. He smirked even more as you got visibly flustered.

“It’s okay, honey, I don’t mind if you stare a little,” He said, standing a bit closer, his hand moving to hold your chin. You swallowed deeply as his fingers brushed against your skin softly. Your eyes locked with his as his hand tilted your chin up just a little.

As much as he was keeping up his confident, masculine persona, you could see the complete warmth in his eyes. He softened completely when you looked at him, pure admiration in your eyes. He had to admit it warmed his heart to see you looking at him like that, like he was your whole world. And maybe it was because he felt the same way. He had been falling in love with you slowly, and as he looked at you, he wanted to find every way possible to express it.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his voice soft.

“Please.”

His lips were much softer than you thought they’d be, but you didn’t think about it too much as his lips moved against your own. It was soft at first, but it began to escalate quickly, getting rough and more passionate. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body into his own, and your hands moved to his face, too focused on the kiss to notice the fact that you were smearing paint across his cheek.

He pulled back, allowing you to get a breath of air. That was when you noticed the red and blue streaks across his cheek, “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about,” He brushed it off, before pulling you into another kiss. He truly didn’t seem to care at all about the paint, choosing instead to focus on you.

This kiss started off much more passionate, building even further. Before long he pulled away again, pulling a groan from your mouth as you instinctively wanted more. Your complaints were silenced, though, as he began to kiss down your neck, nipping slighting at a few select spots, leaving marks for you to see later.

“If you want me to stop, just say it,” He said, as his hands started to move towards the hem of your shirt. He was moving slowly, giving you the chance to stop him at any point. You didn’t.

Before long, your clothes were entirely discarded, scattered haphazardly across the floor. Steve’s followed shortly. Neither of you could keep your hands to yourself, feeling the curves of each other's bodies as you continued to kiss. Both of you were desperate, the tension that neither of you even realized had been building finally crashing to the ground around you, any sort of restraint being thrown out the window.

However, you had to take a few moments to admire his body. You knew that it was perfect, he was a super soldier, of course it’s perfect, but you didn’t really know how perfect until it was right in front of you. There was no way you could’ve imagined it in a way that did it true justice. The warmth under his skin, the pace of his breathing, the firm feeling of his grip on your waist. Those were things that you could never have imagined fully.

He lifted you up without any issue, placing his hands under your thighs, carrying you to the work table and setting you on a clear section of the table without breaking the kiss. His hands slid across the tops of your thighs before grabbing your hips. Yours moved from his cheeks to rest on his bare chest, smearing a bit more paint across his scalped chest. You could feel his erection brush against your leg as he leaned over you, the two of you trying to get as close to each other as possible.

You were breathing heavily, your brain clouded with need, both new and left over from your earlier fantasies. Fantasies that were coming true, “Please, Steve.”

“What is it, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, looking down at you, his pupils blown wide with desire, “What do you want?”

You began to grind against his thigh without really thinking about it. He had to admit that something about you needing him this much turned him on, but he wanted to wait until you said it before he did anything, “Please fuck me.”

He would’ve liked to have a bit more foreplay, but both of you were so needy, having built up to this for so long with so little release until now. So he complied with your request. He pulled you quickly to the edge of the table. You were forced to lay your upper body down completely so that he could pull your hips to hang over the edge a bit. He took a few moments to rub himself against the entrance to your pussy, coating the head of his cock with liquid that was practically dripping from your pussy. Finally, he pushed himself into you slowly, making sure to monitor your reaction for any sort of discomfort. You were indulging in the feeling of him slowly stretching you out, completely enjoying the feeling of having him as close to you as possible.

He started moving after he was sure that you were comfortable, his hands beginning to wander your body, squeezing at your hips and breasts, basically any part of you that had a bit of squish, something for him to grab. His mouth latched on to the base of your neck, leaving a deep, dark hickey. You could feel every movement of his hips, his cock brushing against your internal walls again with each thrust.

You couldn’t hold back your moans as he found the perfect spot to hit, one of his hands gripping one of your hips tightly to hold you in place as his thrusts gained momentum. He started picking up speed a bit, taking care to continue to hit the spot that made you moan the loudest. His other hand slid down further, his fingers making their way between your folds. He was surprisingly quick to find your clit, not that you were complaining. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as he started to rub small circles over it, keeping pace with his thrusts.

You were practically putty in his hands, falling apart as he found every way to make you moan. Touch, squeezing, kissing, and biting exactly where you needed him to. You had no idea how he knew exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t really care as a knot began to build in the pit of your stomach.

You practically screamed his name as the knot finally snapped, Steve continuing his motions, continuing to rub your clit, as you rode out your climax, your whole body feeling as though fireworks were shooting through your veins. Your walls tightened with the waves of your orgasms, the fluttering feeling clear to Steve as he continued to bury himself inside of you. Soon after your climax finished, you could feel his thrust begin to get a bit sloppy, focus clear on his face as he tried his best to hold on longer.

He couldn’t hold on that long, though, soon giving in to the building pleasure. He came hard, his hips snapping into your own and his head being buried in your neck to hide his curses as he came completely undone. You could feel the thick hot ropes of his cum coating your insides as he finished. You both stayed like that for a few moments in order to catch your breath.

As you started to come back to reality, you finally noticed the mess you had made. Steve’s hair was a mess, blue paint sticking some of the tips together. You couldn’t even remember when you had grabbed his hair, but the paint smears left a clear map of where your hand had wandered. The blue and red stripes across his face and chest were clear, too. In fact, you had gotten paint all over his sculpted body, the blue smears outlining his muscles.

“We should probably clean up and get back to work, huh?” He eventually sighed, his eyes never leaving your body.

“I suppose.”

(A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want to send me a tip for my writing feel free to tip me over venmo! My venmo is Al3x13l. Tips aren't required, but as a broke college student, they are appreciated.)

#steve rogers x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #smut #friends to lovers

[elysianslove]

hi eli bby !! its me vio again shhshf

i loved ur vball player crush hcs w miya twins && suna and can i have that too w sakusa, semi && shirabu ? MY UNDERRATED BOYS CRIES SM <//3 thank u sm <33

hiiiii my love!!! tysm for requesting these boys i love them so much. i hope you like this lysm <3

sakusa kiyoomi 

considering what i’ve seen in the anime, and some manga panels, i really don’t think omi’s a peoples person. so even in school, i doubt he was very involved with other students, and probably kept to himself 

he’s also hyper-aware of his surroundings constantly, including the people around him, so the fact that he noticed you wasn’t a shock

it’s that he noticed you, and then he couldn’t stop thinking about you

probably had some dream about you that same night that cursed him with a crush on you yk the dreams i’m talking about right? 

he still continues to keep to himself, and whenever he spots you from his peripheral vision he just dashes out of there. he realizes that forcing himself to act normally around you might actually improve his situation and help him get over whatever this stupid crush was but he was not taking any chances

he also knew nothing about you, just your last name! 

so anyways both the boys and girls vbc’s are heading the same school, so they got one bus for the both of you and combined them. 

because his general dislike for crowds, omi usually sits out in the front, especially because the door to the bus is right next to him. idk he just seems like the kind to map out an escape plan for every room/vehicle he enters i don’t have a reason why i think so

the game was happening on a weekend, really early, like way too early, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were tired. it’s an unspoken rule that those who sit in the back make a lotta noise and all that, so you opted for the front seats instead to at least try and rest a bit before the game

you don’t sit directly next to him, but there’s only an aisle separating the two of you

because, yk, manners, you give him a small smile before saying, “good morning!” and settling in your seat, your bag between your legs

omi on god freezes up lmfao

he doesn’t mean to sound so rude but it just comes out that way! he says something along the lines of “what are you doing here?” and immediately regrets it after it leaves his lips. he visibly cringes 

but instead of being thrown off, you just laugh, and sakusa curses everything behind his mask because holy shit were you gorgeous and wow was his stomach just somersaulting 

not a nice feeling 

you explain to him briefly that you’re on the vbc and you were heading to play the girls of the same school he was gonna play against and all that, and he just hums and nods and tries to ignore the thump thump thump of his heart 

you don’t really interact during the bus ride going to, it’s coming back that you do 

you tell him that you managed to glimpse the last bit of his game, where he was landing a spike, and you complimented his skills and pointed out his freakish wrist move 

he noted that he didn’t get to see you play and your brain went opportunity! 

you go “well maybe you should come to one of my dates” like the absolute smooth talker you are 

omi just hums and goes “i’ll see” 

absolutely is there lol

the development into a relationship is more implicit than explicit. the two of you don’t announce to the world, but honestly, neither do you do it to yourselves. like you’d been on a coffee date with him at some point and your parent or sibling texted something you found funny and mentioned him as your boyfriend and you showed it to him and he was like

hm

am i your boyfriend 

like idk am i your girlfriend 

he said yeah obviously 

i love this boy so fucking much pleaseeeee

but yes just as your development into a couple is subtle, so is your overall relationship. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way

semi eita

omg pretty setter semi eeee

so yk how shiratorizawa students live in dorms? there’s no way semi hasn’t noticed you before, even if it’s separate dorms for different genders. like you two probably come across each other every once in a while at a vending machine or something, and exchange a word or two 

it’s not until when semi starts to look forward to seeing you, or when he gets disappointed every time you don’t make an appearance, that he realizes, you know, he’s kinda developed a liking to you

he doesn’t really know much about you, aside your name and your favorite go-to snack from the vending machine, so he’s left a little frustrated at the lack of interactions you two have. like he’s just living off that small laugh of acknowledgment and the hi, hope you sleep well! you know? like he wants more from you. he wants to get to know you

he can’t seem to ever see you in school either, because the stars hate him that much and don’t wanna align for the two of you, not even a little to share one class with him. just one

it’s just his luck, though, when a busy weekend for all the sports teams comes along, and each sport is sectioned off to a bus. volleyball boys and girls in one bus, swimming boys and girls in one bus, etc. 

he really doesn’t expect it when you get on the bus, because what the fuck you play volleyball??? and then he really doesn’t expect it when you recognize him, gasp and grin, and wave at him, and go over to sit by him

his brain’s short-circuiting 

you immediately start conversation as you’re setting your bag down like “i didn’t know you played volleyball!”

and he laughs and nods like “i didn’t know you did either” 

it’s honestly a really cute and satisfying moment like okay maybe the stars were just taking their time aligning thank you universe 

the two of you click immediately. like annoyingly so. you have so much in common, and you spend the entire ride chatting excitedly about everything and semi’s wishing he’d just asked you to hang out way sooner, like as early as the first time you’d met at that vending machine 

the girls’ games finish a lot later than the boys, so he comes and watches you play, and is enamored by you, completely. in his head he’s just ‘this girl just keeps growing more perfect.’

he walks back with you to the bus, and sits next to you as well. when you arrive back at the school, you don’t immediately go to your dorms, and he suggests grabbing a refreshing drink from somewhere nearby

it’s incredible how you still have so much to talk about 

the time passes really quick with him

it’s while you’re having that drink with him, probably iced tea or boba or something, he tells you about his small passion for music, and you make him promise to play you something at some point. he loops his pinky with yours :)

he also confides in you about having been replaced on his last year, and how he tries not to let it affect him but he really can’t help him. from then on, after each of your practices, you invite him in your gym, and have him set to you, just so you both have an excuse to spend time with each other, and so that he gets to practice and play the way he really wants to, without any restrictions placed upon him and no one waiting to take his place

i think as a couple you’d probably really bring out the best in each other, and you’re constantly always, always there for each other. really, really reliant and supportive as partners, you know? 

you go to all his games, and whenever he’s pitched in, you scream his name the loudest and cheer him on so much. one look at your face, and he’s reminded of who he is and why he does what he does, and he’s immediately grounded aw <3

shirabu kenjirō

omg shirabu with a crush 🥺🤲🏼 i love it when characters seem so cold and standoffish but as soon as they’re around the people they care about they do a 180. that’s shirabu 100%

he really, really, really liked you. like it was embarrassing at this point. he totally denied it every time anyone even thought it, and he really tried his hardest not to be obvious around you

i like to think he saw you around school and that’s how it developed a little, but maybe you were friends with some of the vbc boys because of your shared interest in the sport, and you come to play with them sometimes after practice, he’d just never be there

but one time you walked in and he was like guess im not leaving 

he was a little starstruck at the fact that you played volleyball. he honestly wouldn’t care, but it sorta felt nice that there really was something that you two had in common

and you were good. at everything. you received semi and ushijima’s serves, and goshiki’s and ōhira’s spikes, perfectly, and reacted to tendō’s blocks so well, and hit his tosses just right. you were incredible. maybe your skills were magnified from his specific lens, but there really was no denying you were skilled 

damn this. all this. 

especially any time you’d spike his toss and give him a really wide smile and say, “nice toss!” like seriously the way his heart’s spasming cannot be healthy what the fuck 

and then he finds out the girls are sharing a bus with them, and then you walk in

and then you walk towards him

obviously, outwardly he looks unimpressed and unfazed but trust, his palms are sweaty as fuck 

before the bus moves, you stand by his seat and make small talk with him about volleyball, before you realize the bus is moving and you have to sit down, but you’re still in the middle of a conversation with him, so you just sit next to him and continue like nothing happened

he just. allows it. 

the school you’d been going to had a really big court where both the girls and boys were playing in the same gymnasium on opposite sides of the court, so when you arrived and changed and all, you were like “wanna warm up together” couple goals <3

pls semi, taichi and tendō would probably tease the fuck out of him lmfao. he’d just glare at them but he has such a big blush on his cheeks as he stretches and warms up with you that the glare is completely ineffective 

you go to sit next to him on the bus ride home, but the day’s exhaustion catches up to you, plus the bus’s movements are lulling you, so you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, and when shirabu first notices that you’d actually fallen asleep, he looks down at you with such a dreamy and awestruck face. goshiki took a picture and likes to torment him with it. shirabu has it as his lockscreen now lol 

as your boyfriend, he’s the exact same. very standoffish to everyone outwardly but to you? it’s a different story. 

nonetheless it’s not very obvious. so yes, he will have a scowl on his face as he tells you off, but his lips are slightly upturned and there’s a little pink shade on his cheeks that show just how endearing he thinks you are 

really loves to practice with you because he loves seeing you in your zone like that. also you look hot

anyways yes he’s such a cutie i will not take criticism 

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #semi x reader #semi eita x reader #semi headcanons #semi eita headcanons #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu headcanons #shirabu kenjiro headcanons