#which...fun fact...is not the same argument

And I wanna know what the fuck she means by that because I pulled up the KING JAMES VERSION on a BIBLE VERSE SITE

Carlos is a surgeon, except he puts waay too much pressure on himself for his own good. The moment he fails he sees himself as the ultimate failure (he has massive impostor syndrome). And he does fail one time, which costs him a life, which results in him spiraling into depression and self-doubt. Shortly afterward he finds a post on a forum about a wish-granting ritual, he's mentally in the worst place possible so he tries it. He wishes to not fail again, except the ritual summons a demon (luci) who is willing to grant the wish in exchange for his soul. Carlos agrees because what other option did he have? (he had a lot but he's not the sharpest tool in the shed)

THEDA !!!!!! i was not gonna do a bakugou birthday fic because everyday is his birthday here but im writing this one !

bakugou told you vehemently that he did not want a birthday party.

you mentioned it a month before, march twentieth, just a simple suggestion that it would be fun if he had one. mostly for you because pro hero party budget would include a decked out airbnb completely paid for, a hot tub at the back, a bar that’s tended to, a proper dj and catered food. also it would be cute to see your boyfriend celebrated, everyone who loves him, coming together to show him how much they cared.

bakugou didn’t have the same sentiments. in fact, he couldn’t care less.

“i wanna have the day off work, have a walk around the park with you and go back to bed,” then he sniffs, looks you up and down, “eat you out for a bit too. a happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

you roll your eyes and stuff your hand in this face to silence him. a grin slides up when he kisses your palm, licks it for good measure.

despite this, you know there’s a big chunk of your boyfriend that loves attention. he’s a show off through and through. loves when the hero talk shows boast about his stats for the month. he loves when the commission awards him a bonus for the extra work he put in for the year. he loves when you drool over the new heroes weekly issue that he’s the cover of. bakugou katsuki loves attention.

so as much as you know he’d love a quiet day in, he’d get offended if all his friends didn’t text him happy birthday. if you didn’t say the two words to him as soon as he woke up. if his mother didn’t send him a card.

he pretends he hates the fuss, new year, same shit, but the truth is bakugou katsuki survived another year.

he survived almost dying twice, getting beat down by a villain with five quirks, had to save a cruise ship full of passengers and survived teaching you how to drive. the last one being the hardest because it caused you both to get into four arguments and you to (half heartedly) threaten to break up with him if he wouldn’t stop shouting at you when you were at roundabouts. (he didn’t shout, he very softly and slowly suggested you turn left. you panicked and blamed him when you turned right.)

so all in all, despite his holier than thou attitude about having a party, you know he’d love one and most of all, needs one.

he pretended to hate when everyone popped out from underneath the table and behind the chairs of this random gorgeous airbnb you drove him to on the outskirts of town. you told him you booked something just for you two, so after your walk around the park, instead of going back to his, you can go to a hot tub surrounded by the wilderness.

instead he’s got that with you and all his bestest friends and you even managed to squeeze in a few of your friends too. he rolled his eyes but his smile never let up. he shoved his friends away when they came at him with bear hugs but gave in anyway and patted their backs. he let all the girls hug him too, circling an arm around their waists and letting them kiss his cheek.

most of all, what meant the most to you, was his proud smile when everyone told him how you planned this weeks in advance. made sure everyone had the day off and demanded they give him a present. when nobody was looking, he pushed you into a spare bedroom and smothered you in kisses. never one for pda, but knows when you need appreciating.

which now leads to bakugou katsuki, 26, full of cake, finger foods and surprisingly, alcohol. the six foot five, blonde man, rarely ever drinks. heck, he’s been drunk less times than he can count on a hand and all for the fact he hates being out of control. he wants to know what he’s doing, he likes thinking straight and not be at the whim of something that’s altering all his bodily chemicals as he’s trying to get through a sentence.

but with all of his favourite people, mentions of everything he managed to get through this year, he took every shot, every cocktail, every glass of whiskey. he threw them all back as you laughed with deku and danced with your friends.

when you plop down into the leather sofa, a little out of breath, your boyfriend is quick to follow right beside you, like he was waiting for you to take respite.

“i love you,” he slurs, music still booming in the background. kirishima and kaminari drag your friends over to play beer pong.

“ooo, someone’s been drinking,” you laugh, but it gets louder when he picks you up to sit along his lap.

you gasp like he’s acting scandalous, which he is compared to your usual level of pda. he does this at home sure, but not in public, “katsuki!”

“‘m not drunk. just a few shots,” his hand sneaks onto your bare thigh, thumb brushing along the hem of your mini skirt. then in a whisper, right into your ear, “y’just been so far from the birthday boy.”

that makes you look at him, meeting his blushed cheeks and drowsy eyes. he’s slouching deep in the sofa, pulling your body to lean against him and his hand sneaks up your side under your top. it all makes your body tremble, your heartbeat pulse between your legs.

“mhm, didn’t mean to be. wanted to dance,” you whisper because despite the noise, now you’re trapped in your little love bubble where you can only see him and him, you.

“looked sexy as hell. wanted to drag you into one of the rooms,” he runs the tip of his nose down your neck, “thanks for the party, princess.”

you giggle softly, arousal heightening. you slide your hand onto his cheek and he leans into it, “knew you’d like it, silly. you’re so dramatic.”

katsuki’s ruby eyes sparkle at you, “gimme kiss.”

despite him being the one telling you, he leans into you, presses his lips against yours. it’s drunken, it’s sloppy, it’s so familiar to you. you’ve had a drunk katsuki at home before. you’ve also had a sleepy katsuki in your arms before. you’ve had him all over you, horny and desperate.

he sneaks his hand under your skirt to grip at your ass, breathes heavy when he clutches your breast over your bra. you open your mouth and he slides his tongue in, grunting when you moan.

to you, katsuki like this is the regular.

you both are so locked into each other in your bubble, you forget it’s very much see-through. everyone can see everything.

you pushing your chest into his, elbows on his shoulders are you drag him in without a sliver of air in between. if anyone’s standing at the wrong angle, they can see his fingers sneaking under your underwear to feel your ass.

“fuck, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, “didn’t even getta taste this mornin’—,”

“oi guys!”

you pull of bakugou with a yelp, yanking his hand out from under your skirt and top. you’re immediately fixing your little top and wiping your mouth. you’re sure your lip gloss is everywhere.

bakugou, with your foundation on his nose and a little on his cheeks, blinks dumbly at the audience of his friends that has formed. all of them with eyes bulging out of their heads, a few gossiping amongst each other.

“what?” he drags his head to face them, like it’s painful to get dragged away from you and they’re very clearly interrupting him from something.

“you, err, you’ve got yn on your nose kacchan!” deku says, slowly smiling, his arm slung around your friends shoulders.

you whip over to your boyfriend, licking your thumb and rubbing his nose.

“hah?”

“got my makeup on you,” you mumble.

only you, who’s drank less than him but still tipsy, can register the situation. kaminari gapes when bakugou yanks you back into his chest.

“like i know you guys had sex ‘cause some days he’d come in happy as hell but shit!” he takes a swig of his beer.

“shut up denki,” you whine, covering your face.

“shut the hell up idiot.” katsuki blinks, not caring as much as he would if he was sober.

“no but seriously. we’ve only ever seen him peck you and he was about to finger you on the sofa!” mina pipes up and all the guys agree with nodding heads. “zero to a hundred real quick.”

“i’ll say it, it was hot,” kirishima shrugs, resuming back to play beer pong. “just find a room, birthday boy.”

kaminari throws his head back in annoyance, “fuck, i’m sharing a wall with them.”

“it’s my fuckin’ birthday,” bakugou drawls, “get out of my ass. sorry you don’t have girlfriends that love you like yn loves me.”

that makes you roll your eyes, leaving him with your foundation on his cheeks. you stand up straightening out your skirt, “that’s cute, babe.”

his friends chuckle lightheartedly with you and bakugou’s cheeks flush pink. a little pout on his lip, “‘s not.”

then you feel bad, placing your hands on the back of the sofa behind him and bakugou inches his head up to yours, “i love you. they’re just jealous.”

~Kissable Jerk~

A/n: Thank you so much! This one was so much fun to write! I LOVE angst and groveling. I hope I did this justice! A man who yearns is a man who earns. Okay, that's all, love y'all byeeee!

Summary: A lover's quarrel gone wrong. But ended so right. Lovers. Tension. Angst, but with a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be with someone, is to accept their faults. To help them through thick and thin.

"I really don't understand why you are so upset."

"Because it's obvious he likes you!"

But what is a relationship without it's quarrels?

"Michael, he is my coworker. Nothing more." She sighed, pouring her tea into a cup. She leaned against the counter, watching as Michael, her lover, continued to try and argue against her.

"You don't see the way he looks at you. It's so obvious he wants you girl." Michael said. His arms crossed, and voice stern. Obviously not backing down.

"Michael, we do not spend time together outside of work. I do not call this man, he does not call me. There is no way he would want me. He makes no effort. So nothing to worry about." She said, calmly. Taking a sip of her tea. Though she would not lie, her paitence was wearing thin.

"Yeah right. You complimented him yesterday."

She threw her hands up, "I said his shirt looked nice cause it was my favorite color!"

"And how did he know it was your favorite?"

She groaned, rubbing a hand over her face, "Michael a person's favorite color is common knowledge to know about someone. It does not mean we are interested in each other."

He sighed, jaw clenching hard. Michael couldn't help it. He was jealous of course. He finally had someone, who actually wanted him. Heart and soul. Not his money or fame.

But the fact that another man could give her something he couldn't, a normal life. That scared him. The paparazzi, the media, fans. He was afraid that it would become too much for her.

"I still don't like him. He spends so much time with you."

"You have so many female friends, some who you have actually had a thing for. Or actually dated. Yet I'm not over here complaining whenever we hang out with them."

Michael's eyes went wide, a sense of offense appearing on his face. "That is not the same thing!"

She had enough.

"Oh bullshit! Tatum, Brooke-"

"Don't bring them up." Michael groaned, rubbing his temples. Irritation growing in his attitude.

"No. You get to have friends of the opposite sex, and I can't? Do you not realize how hypocritical that is?" She raised her voice slightly. Putting her cup down on the counter, with a slam.

Michael shook his head, starting to walk away. "I'm done with this conversation. I have an event I need to get ready for." He said over his shoulder.

"Sure, go ahead! Walk away when you know I'm right!" She mumbled, not caring where he went. She was irritated now.

He left her house, slamming the door on his way out. This made her even more upset. Walking up to the front door, she opened it. Seeing he wasn't that far to his car, she couldn't help it.

"Don't slam my fucking door!" She yelled.

"Whatever!" He yelled back over his shoulder, going inside the car with Bill. The car taking off swiftly. She groaned, slamming her door as she walked back inside.

She went to her room, laying on her bed. A part of her felt bad. She hated arguing with him. But he acted like a child at times. Of course, she couldn't blame him. How was he to know how to argue in a healthy way? It wasn't often they got in arguments. But when they did, it wasn't pretty. But usually they would apologize and move on.

But she decided to wait until after the Grammys. Michael would sometimes take her to events with him. But she had already said no, due to having work that day. Even though she had gotten off early, wishing to surprise him. But after the argument, she needed to be alone.

Later that evening, she turned on her TV. Switching through channels trying to find something to watch. Eventually, she landed on the channel to which the Grammys would be shown. Although everything inside of her didn't want to watch it, she still wanted to support Michael.

After about thirty minutes, she reconized Michaels car. He stepped out, looking handsome as ever. Dressed to the nines. Of course he was. She smiled softly, loving how he looked. He always did know how to dress.

But happiness is always temporary.

Michael reached into the car. Seemingly reaching for somebody. Michael's hand wrapped around another person's, helping them out swiftly.

That person, was Brooke Shields.

"You're kidding." She whispered, feeling her heart break. She dropped the remote in shock. Not understanding why, he had brought Brooke. Was it to get back at her for the argument? Was this his way of saying they were over?

She watched for a few more moments, before she switched the channel. It popped up on some movie she had seen, but couldn't remember the name of.

Slowly laying back on the couch, she could feel the tears building up. And soon, they overflowed. Sobs escaping her mouth. Curling up on the couch. She cried and cried. How stupid was she? Of course, eventually he would've gotten tired of her. He would've found someone who actually looked good on his arm. Someone like him.

At the Grammys, Brooke sat next to Michael. Looking around, she was excited to be there.

But one thing was missing.

Leaning over, she whispered in his ear, "I really wish she was here. I miss her. She definitely would've loved all of this."

Michael felt guilty. Thankfully the sunglasses he wore helped hide his expression better. "Yeah, I miss her too. But she was tired, she needed rest after work today."

Brooke nodded, understanding that. "Well, you should go see her after this! I know I have to see her soon. Gosh, it's been forever." She sighed, truly wishing her friend was here.

Michael thought to himself. He should go see her. He realized how it probably looked if she watched the TV. Him showing up with Brooke after their argument.

How much of an idiot was he?

"Brooke, be honest with me." He said, turning over to look at her. Brooke looked over, ready to answer whatever question he had, "Yeah?"

He took a moment, before whispering, "What do you think of her? And me? Like, do you think she's someone I could be with for the rest of my life?"

Brooke smiled softly, nodding happily. "Of course! She is everything you need. Keeps you grounded. Of course, no relationship is perfect. But I can see you guys working out for the long run."

Michael felt even more guilty. He took another moment to think, before he blurted out,

"I'm gonna propose to her."

Hours had passed, she had fallen asleep on her couch. Her TV still running. Her face was stained with tears. She had cried herself to sleep.

Her sleep was soon interrupted, when the sound of a harsh knock came to her door.

She stirred in her sleep, thinking it was in her dream. But when the knocking continued, and a voice yelled out. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"Baby! Baby open up please!"

Michael?

Slowly, she sat up, walking over to the door. Her hand opened it before she could even stop herself. Opening it, Michael stood on the other side. A very regretful look in his eyes.

The two didn't say anything for a moment. Just staring at each other. Her makeup had since run, showing just how much she was crying. Her mascara had run so badly.

So she had seen him and Brooke.

"Oh...oh baby i'm so sorry." He began to say, walking up to her. But she placed a fist against him, holding her distance.

"Brooke? really?" She whispered, her eyes being kept looking down. Not wanting to look at him.

He cringed inwardly, hating the pain he caused her. He hadn't even told Brooke they were in an argument. He knew he was the reason for her tears.

"I know, i-it was stupid." He sighed, wrapping his hand around her fist. Holding it there. She could feel his heartbeat in his palm.

She didn’t say anything. Just kept her hand there. Slowly extending her fingers to feel his heartbeat better. Her palm laying flat against him.

“Please, say something.”

“What is there to say?” She uttered, keeping her eyes down.

“I’m so, so sorry. I realize how terrible that must’ve looked for you. Brooke didn’t know we argued. She asked about you all night.”

This made her look up at him, surprised, “Really?”

He nodded, a soft smile starting to appear on his face. “She asked about you. Even said how she wanted to see you soon.”

She felt better, a little. “You still hurt me.”

“I know baby, I know.” He sighed, falling on his knees. He looked up at her with pleading.

“I am so sorry I did that to you. I never should’ve done that.” He said, his voice soft. Eyes looking like a deer.

She felt her heart flutter. Seeing him on his knees sent a feeling through her she didn’t recognize. A strange sense of power. And yet, comfort that he was willing to be so vulnerable. “Michael…”

He took a small ring out of his pocket. It was big, modest. Yet, shined so beautifully. She gasped at the sight. Not believing what she was seeing.

“I will spend the rest of my life, making it up to you. Because you are my destiny. My love. The one who I want to wake up to everyday. The one who I want to hear my creations. And help me create life one day.”

She felt tears welling up again, not knowing fully what go say.

“My love, will you marry me? And make me the happiest man alive?”

She nodded, seeing he was genuine. She smiled, leaning down to kiss him. Her hands gripping his face gently. Helping him up as the kissed.

When she pulled back, she chuckled into the air.

“You’re still a jerk.”

He chuckled, kissing her lips again.

“A kissable jerk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mattheo Riddle X Reader 

Soulmate AU

Prognosis: Soulmates are a rare find. Ancient texts describe that soulmates had the ability to feel each other's pain. It wasn’t common to absentmindedly find your soulmate on the street, but what if you found yours in potions class? Given that it’s also the last person you’d expect them to be. 

YALL I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 AHHHHHHHH

imagine if white feminists saw black feminists talking about misogynoir, didnt read up on sources discussing misogynoir, decided misogynoir is just a label for misogyny thats specifically directed at black women, and coined the terms "blancsogyny" and later "whitesogyny" to describe misogyny specifically directed at white women

and when black feminists take issue with the term whitesogyny and correctly claim its a reactionary misunderstanding of misogynoir, those white feminists reply "no its definitely real. when someone accuses me of using white women tears to win an argument or makes fun of white women buying pumpkin spice lattes that's whitesogyny"

and when pressed for examples of what whitesogyny looks like as actual expressions of oppression that uniquely result from the intersection of being white and being a woman, the white feminists claiming that whitesogyny is real say things like "being denied access to abortions" or "not being taken seriously by doctors" or "having my work experience undermined by men who dont work in the same field as i do" or "not being paid as much as the men i work with", which are presented by the people claiming whitesogyny is real as if women who are not white dont experience any of those things

trans men and transmasculine people experience transphobia. they dont experience transmisandry or transandrophobia because being a man/being masculine is not an axis of oppression. being a man or being masculine can shape how you are oppressed, but that doesn't make it an axis of oppression itself

to date no examples i have ever been given as proof that transandrophobia exists have all been things experienced by cafab people who arent transmasc and/or by transfeminine people. the non-exhaustive list of things people have told me are exclusively transmasculine problems include corrective rape, denial of medical care, forced pregnancy, and murder

request: no, I'm just ovulating

Trope: married all the time, coworkers occasionally

Parings: Spencer Reid x reader

Special edition: ovulation.

Currently playing: (When you gonna) Give it up to me, Sean Paul and Keyshia Cole

Bellabear's intercom: the warning is there, I'm ovulating. But other than that, you guys are lucky I'm back like four times in one month. I've lwk dropped hella fics (two). Also I got carried away on nsfw💔

Six sfw and six nsfw!