Evan And Regulus Like To Leave Bite Marks All Over Their Partners So That Everyone Knows That They Belong

(Estoy usando un traductor, lo siento por cualquier error).

Please reblog if you vote! Por favor comparte si votas!

If translations for other languages can be added, that would be greatly appreciated! (I'm North American so I'm mostly only familiar with English and Spanish.)

🏳️‍🌈 Ruth Ellis (1899 - 2000) was the daughter of former slaves. She came out as a lesbian when she was 16-years-old to the complete acceptance of her family. In 1937, Ruth and her longtime partner moved to Detroit from their hometown of Springfield, Illinois for the promise of higher wages. There, she became the first woman in Michigan to run her own printing business. She printed fliers, posters, and stationary in the front room of her home, which also quickly became a hotspot for Black LGBTQ social life. Before long, Ruth was helping those who came around in any way she could, including by paying for college tuitions. After the Stonewall uprising, 70-year-old Ruth began giving speeches in support of gay and lesbian rights all across the country. She remained an activist for the rest of her long life and even spent her 100th birthday leading the San Francisco Dyke March. At the time of her death at 101, she was recognized as the oldest out lesbian in the US. She is the subject of the documentary "Living With Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100" and is the namesake of the Ruth Ellis Center, a shelter for homeless and at-risk LGBTQ youth in Detroit.

Celebrate Ruth Ellis.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_Ellis_(activist)

#Pride #BlackLivesMatter

2. “Give and Take”

Steve Harrington x Afab!Reader

꒰Squirting + Edging꒱ - 664

• no she/her pronouns used, mentions of sexual exploring, protected sex, Steve losing the plot

kinktober m.list

Steve was always sweet during sex. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing! At his core he was a lover boy and he’d know it from how many times you played ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ and stared at him with a knowing grin. He knew. And he thought you enjoyed it as much as him, you did! You would be lying if you said the sex was bad. With his experience and the sheer size of his dick it was never bad, just a little vanilla and recently you had expressed that to him.

Obviously he immediately launched into an hour long conversation of how to spice it up and if there was anything you’d like him to do. The two of you had settled on some things you could do, adventuring a bit. It had been going well, it always was great with Steve. Things changed, however, after one night at the bar you two had barely been able to get through the door before pulling each other's clothes off. 

Steve had been blinded by jealousy when a guy approached you. If he had listened he would have been able to understand that you had shot him down instantly, instead he had ignored the conversation and settled for edging the two of you for nearly an hour. After the first ten minutes he had lost sight of why he was jealous in the first place. The next twenty minutes he was slowly losing himself to the rhythm. And now?

Well now he was just addicted to the feeling of your soaked cunt wrapped around him. It was torture, but it felt so, so good. He didn’t have the ability to decide when to finally let go, only giving deep and slow thrusts the way he knew. It wasn’t enough though, and he knew it, your clit being swollen and neglected. “S..Steve, please.” Steve finally opened his eyes, looking down at you.

His hand cradled the back of your calf, holding it above his hip. “What is it?” Steve all but choked out, sliding all the way back in with a squelch. “Make me come.” He nodded in a daze at your request. Steve folded up the leg he held, pressing it up as he leaned over your body.

After a second he switched rhythm, pounding into you sloppily. Your arousal coated in a ring around the base of his cock, frothing on his pubes from the force of his thrusts. Steve grunted, veins in his neck straining with the effort. He was coated in sweat, hovering above you so his body wouldn’t slide over yours and cause him to lose his footing. 

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!” Steve panted. Your cries were music to his ears when he bent down, pressing his forehead to yours. Each thrust sent your body jostling up and down on his mattress. “So close!“ You sobbed, Steve huffed in response. He doubled down, wiry hair catching on your clit with the new angle. “Almost there,” he warned, hand sliding down to press firmly against your stomach.

Your teeth sunk into his shoulder causing him to groan. His hips moved forward particularly hard in response, a spray of liquid suddenly squirting out of you onto him and the sheets under you. Steve choked on a pathetic sound, spilling inside of the condom finally as you mewled under him. His hips jerked out of pure desperation as he slowed down, sucking down gulps of air to steady himself at the overwhelming pleasure.

Steve’s body swayed, head fuzzy when he slowly straightened up to steady himself. His hairy thighs shook as he slowly pulled out of your abused pussy, careful not to wait too long, staring at the wet sheen on the bed. “Jesus Christ,” Steve sighed in awe, wide eyes looking up at yours. A proud smile spread across his face and he leaned down to press kisses all over your face, chuckling at your tired laughter. “There you go honey.”

tags: @babybatlover, @starrgurl46, @wowzers-07, @nenukkjhj, @morgan0lw21, @kinokomoonshine, @slut4ddn, @adventures-of-impala

𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

smut. p in v. creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. sex with a friend. language. 18+ content minors DNI.

3.2k - masterlist

summary - reader can't sleep. remus helps out. not with warm milk, though.

i'm supposed to be working on an assignment for college. but remus lupin is taking up space in my brain. so, enjoy :)

-

The air feels stuffy, too hot against your slick skin.

You blow a breath out in frustration, a piece of hair stuck to your forehead refusing to budge and you groan. The house is silent apart from the droning on of the electronic device between your legs that does little to abate the feeling clawing at your insides and it only makes you more frustrated. The lights in your bedroom are turned off, the world outside asleep. Everyone apart from you. You’ve spent two hours tossing and turning, and a further half hour trying to cure the ache between your legs.

It’s futile. You’ve tried everything. Every speed your overly expensive vibrator has to offer, every position, you even got out the glittery pink dildo Marlene got you for Secret Santa the previous year, leaving it out to the side after coming to the heart-breaking decision that it simply wasn’t big enough.

You feel like nothing will be big enough. Nothing feels right, nothing feels good enough, nothing is even close to tipping you over the edge. You shift, further to the left, and whine again, pressing the vibrator to a higher speed. It moves as you press the button, and the feeling of closeness is gone just like that. You growl, pushing the blankets off in a fit of rage and choose to stare at the ceiling in defeat. It’s not going to happen. You should just accept that. But you’re worked up, horny, and too fucking clammy.

The flat is quiet. Remus is asleep – the only reason you’re so nonchalant about the noise of your vibrator still buzzing against the mattress next to you, taunting you. You reach to turn it off, sitting up and putting your hair into a makeshift bun. You stare with narrowed eyes at the shadowed outline of the sparkly pink atrocity of a Secret Santa gift. It was given as a joke to make you blush. Your friends like to tease you for your innocence. It’s not something you ever would have bought for yourself. You’d blushed furiously and everyone laughed. It was addictive for the first few weeks, being able to explore your own pleasure. But now. Now, it doesn’t feel enough. Doesn’t feel as good. As big. As filling.

It’s a quick thought, a fleeting thought. A memory that makes your cheeks flush and your eyes close in embarrassment. Remus, fresh out of the shower, two seconds away from closing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t locked the door. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk in on him. You’d been half asleep, bursting for a pee, and he hadn’t locked the door. Even worse, you hadn’t meant to look. But he was wide eyed and frozen, and your fight or flight had you trying to assess every part of the situation. And his nakedness was a large part of the situation.

You’re not proud of it. But you’d looked. And you liked what you saw.

And now.

Well, now, you can’t stop thinking about it. About Remus. Kind Remus who makes you tea on cold mornings, puts your pyjamas in the dryer for you when you get out of the shower, who cooks you dinner and leaves it in the oven when you work the late shift at the café down the road. He’s kind and attentive and always there to lend a helping hand. You feel silly as you clamber off your bed, knowing there’s a high likelihood that Remus will tell you you’ve taken his kindness to its boundaries.

Your feet pad quietly down the hallway of your shared flat. The under counter lights in the open plan kitchen at the end of the hall illuminate the space enough to see. Remus’ door is closed, but you twist the handle and push, wincing when it lets out an annoying squeal. Remus rouses at the sound, squinting sleepily at you as he turns. He lets out a breath, sits up on his elbow and pulls back his blanket to offer you the space beside him.

It’s not the first time you’ve climbed into bed with Remus, but you still shift nervously on your feet, biting at your lip.

“You okay, love?” Remus asks, voice deep and croaky.

It makes you flustered in your reply. Voice quiet, unsure, “Can’t sleep.”

Remus nods, reiterates pulling back the blanket to make room for you. You cross one leg over the other in front of you, fiddling with the metal daisy chain ring on your middle finger. Remus got you it when you got into university last year. It’s your favourite piece of jewellery you own, overpriced tennis bracelet from your overcompensating parents be damned. He catches your nervous tic and his eyes narrow, his head tilts, messy hair flopping sideways with the movement. There’s a slight stubble on his chin from running late this morning and skipping his daily shave and he’s sans pyjama top, having clearly also felt the heat.

He sits up fully and the blanket pools around his waist. His skin glows in the low light of the moon through the window beside his bed. He’s beautiful. This you’ve always known. Now, it’s tenfold because you’ve seen all of him. And all of him is what you want, in this moment. Your face is flames as you edge closer until you’re hovering beside his bed.

“Have you tried warm milk?” Remus asks, his voice almost teasing.

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, trying to sus you out. He knows. He must know something. You’re hardly being subtle. Remus’ lips twitch in a smile when you squeeze your legs together in front of you, again, lip between your teeth, eyes watery.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice breathy.

He wants you to say it. But you can’t. You won’t.

“Rem, please,” You whine, “I’ve tried everything.”

His hand reaches for yours, pulls you until you’re straddling him. His lips are a centimetre from yours, hot breath fanning out over your mouth. You press down hard against him, lips pouted. He doesn’t let up, just raises his eyebrows. A question. What have you tried?

“I couldn’t get the angle right with my vibrator,” You whisper, cheeks bright red and warm to the touch, where Remus’ thumb is gently rubbing back and forth, fingers cupping your wobbling jaw, “Then the thingy Marlene got me wasn’t-“ You huff.

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

He’s on you in a second. Lips and tongue and teeth, so hot and heavy it knocks the breath from you. His hands fist the thin material of your shorts, at your waist and you bend into him, hands running up his sides, over his shoulders, into the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s hard beneath the flannel of his pyjama bottoms. You can feel it against the crease of your thigh. It makes you whine into his mouth, shifting until you’re perfectly aligned over him. His grip focusses on your arse cheeks when you grind down, a bruising grip that you relish in.

His hands push you forward, you pull yourself back. His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down your neck. Your head tilts back, panting for breath, lost in the pleasure. Your stomach tightens the harder his grip gets, the harder you press down, the faster you move. You feel like a seedy teenager, dry humping yourself against him. Remus’ teeth nip at your collarbone, only to soothe over it with his tongue. You whine again, making your impatience known, but Remus doesn’t speed up.

He looks up, lips mouthing at the underside of your chin until you tilt your head back up to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes hooded, lips curved into a sinful smirk.

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

You push down harder in response. Remus grabs your hips, stills you. You pout, doe eyes watery. Remus tuts, shakes his head, “You want my help, we do it my way.”

He shifts until you’re lying beneath him, legs hiked up around his waist. He doesn’t waste time in stripping you. Your shirt, then your shorts, your panties following. He throws them across the room, and they fall into the shadows of his darkened room. You’re glad they’re gone. Your body feels like it’s burning up under his touch, featherlight as he traces the goosebumps across your skin. He presses kisses in the wake of his fingertips, to your collarbones, your chest, the tops of your breasts, your stomach, navel.

His lips are warm, wet, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. You’re high strung, keening, and needy. He comes back to face level, and you grumble, deep in your throat. So close. He was so close to where you need him. He’s smug. You’re about to protest when he slides a finger into you. Your mouth opens, head pushing back into the pillow. His fingers are long, but slender, and it’s not long before he adds another. Your back arches, eyes closing. The minute you close your eyes, Remus stops. You look up, furious, to find him smirking something evil down at you.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He whispers, nose bumping yours.

You comply. Remus resumes, fingers pumping steadily in and out. When he’s knuckle deep, he curls them and your body jerks in response. It’s too much and not enough, a dizzying euphoria of Remus’ casual confidence and his skilful fingers. His thumb brushes your clit gently, the bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. You moan his name, thighs squeezing against his hips where they’re splayed open. It urges him on, he whispers quiet encouragements – good girl, that’s it sweetheart, you’re so wet for me – and you continue to writhe beneath him.

“Rem,” You gasp, hand encircling the wrist that’s pumping in and out of you, “Need you.”

“Soon,” He promises softly, lips pressing to the swell of your breast, teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, “Want you to come on my fingers first.”

His thumb moves in tighter circles, his fingers curl deeper, move faster. He adds a third, the stretch burns but in the best way. Your jaw opens on its own accord, a string of moans emitting from your throat, and you arch into Remus. His eyes meet yours, blazing with lust.

“C’mon, baby,” He urges, voice sinfully deep, demanding. “Come for me.”

You clench around his fingers, and he groans as you gush around his hand, voice high pitched, your grip on his shoulders vice like. He’s surprised you don’t snap in two with how high your back arches. His fingers pump you through the rush in your veins, his quiet reassurances blacked out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Your head spins and you see white as the orgasm you’ve been chasing for what must be hours by now crashes over you. You babble nonsense, buck against Remus’ fingers, mouth open, eyes wide, back arched and head pushed violently into the pillow beneath you.

Remus hovers over you when your breathing evens, eye’s a little less clouded, and his usual concerned look on his face. You smile dopily up at him, eyes bright.

“Good?” He asks.

It’s a double ended question – you good? Was that good?

You nod.

“More.” You whine, attempting to pull him closer with your legs around his waist.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs lightly, head bending down to peck your smiling lips gently.

You nod in agreement, head tilted as you look up at him, “I’m blaming you.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

He shimmies his pyjamas off, kicks them off the end of the bed, and comes back to crowd your space, again. Hard, he’s much bigger than you saw from Shower-Gate. Your mouth waters as his hand wraps around his dick, pumping a few times before looking back to you. His face softens when he notices your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

“That’s,” You sigh, embarrassed, “That’s not going to fit, Rem.”

Remus laughs, the apples of his cheeks rounding out, his teeth appearing from behind his lips. His head hangs over your shoulder and you hide in his hair, mortified. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight runs softly up and down your thigh. You groan to show your mortification, heels digging into Remus’ tail bone to try kill his laughter.

“Rem,” You protest, letting a chuckle of your own slip.

Remus looks up, eyes soft, lips pressed together to stop his laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I’m not laughing at you. No one’s ever said that before, you just caught me by surprise.”

You giggle, squeezing his waist with your thighs, “They’ve definitely thought it.”

Remus shakes his head, “We don’t have to.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “I want to. I really want to.”

He smiles, leans in to kiss you. When he pulls away to pump himself again, you let out a low breath. He brushes the tip against your folds, wet and puffy, a couple times before he pushes in slowly. He groans, you moan. You’re tight, fitting around him like perfection. He goes slow until he’s buried to the hilt. You allow yourself to get used to the feeling, whimpering softly when his thumb comes to circle your clit again, working you up.

“That’s it, baby,” He speaks softly, so softly, and you moan.

He pulls back, pushes back in. Takes it slow. Allows you to adjust.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need the raw pent-up aggression you’ve seen Remus show pervs at bars when they touch you inappropriately. You need angry Remus, who threw a book at the mantle place when your parents missed another birthday. You need the Remus who tries so hard to hide the aggressive side of him but can never fully rid himself of his primal urges, of that white hot fury and determination.

“More,” You breathe, “Faster. Harder. I need more, Rem. Please.”

You’re babbling, begging. But Remus complies. He snaps his hips forward and you all but scream. He groans, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s attentive, hips attacking your pelvis. His wooden headboard slams against the wall, your hand reaching up to hold on and stop you from sliding further up the bed. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you up, closer to him. He feels deeper at the new angle, hips battering into yours. He’s relentless, hitting every spot you need.

You’re babbling nonsense, but so is Remus. Words of encouragement, words that tell you how good you’re taking all of him, how tight you are, how perfect you are. You’re meeting his every thrust, hips grinding against him, the stubble creating friction that tightens the coil in your stomach.

Remus attaches his lips to your shoulder, biting down as he pounds harder against you. You say his name like a mantra, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of him, all over, everywhere, filling, stretching, pounding.

“Rem,” You whine – so close. So, so close – “Come in me.”

Remus’ head snaps up, pupils blown, mouth hung open. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter, “What?”

“Pill. Just,” You gasp when he hits that spot, “Come in me. Please. Wanna feel it.”

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

He’s relentless, sweat dripping from his forehead, he releases your waist, hikes your thigh up over his shoulder, you scream. He urges you, tells you sweet things, details how he’s going to fill you up, bites the skin of your calf. His other hand reaches down, draws tight circles that have you seeing stars. You scream his name, loud enough for the entire street to hear, using the leverage on his shoulder to lift your lower back off the bed.

The feeling is dizzying, all consuming. It’s feverish, frantic, a wild chase to the end.

You clench, he hits the right spot, the sting of his teeth on your calf emulates up your leg, the stomach muscles holding you up clench, and he calls you baby, all at the right time. You see white. It feels like your entire body explodes, lights on fire, crashes and burns. You convulse, twitching and screaming, broken words and moans of his names, clenched vice-like around him.

You’re begging. Begging him to follow, to finish in you, even in your pleasure.

You’re still floating, but coherent enough, when Remus grows sloppy, uncoordinated, drops your leg from his shoulder, falls forward, hands at your sides to hold himself up. He jerks, groans, his head falls into your shoulder, and you whine, happily, dopily, when you feel the white-hot spurts of his come against your walls.

He’s breathing heavily, both your bodies slicked with sweat. He drops his weight onto you, and you welcome him happily. Your legs wrap around his lower back, you both wince with the movement. You can feel the slickness between you both, the way he’s dripping out of you. But you’re comfortable, lips pressed to his damp hair. You trace shapes on his back until he comes to, pushing up to press his lips to yours.

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

He gets up to leave and you whine, “Don’t go.”

Remus chuckles, “Just going to get a warm cloth. Be back.”

You allow him that, grateful he had the idea. You hear him running the tap in the bathroom and he returns with a warm cloth. He’s gentle when he wipes you clear. You wince and flinch, blushing when Remus presses gentle kisses to your thighs as he works. He whispers softly between kisses how pretty you are, how well you did.

He discards the cloth in the wash basket by his door and returns to the bed.

He groans as he settles, holding his arm out for you to fall into him. You do so, swinging a leg over his thighs. It’s then that you realise you’re both still very naked, and your shyness returns. Remus traces shapes on your arm, tucking his head over yours, lips to the crown of your head.

“I can hear your cute little brain running laps, you know.” Remus teases.

You roll your eyes, push your face further into his neck.

“I just came to you in the middle of the night for sex,” the post coital dread sets in tenfold, despite feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks, “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

You feel Remus shrug, “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“But-“

“Get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” He assures you, pulling the blanket further up your naked bodies.

You concede, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips, “Okay.”

He pulls you closer, settles in. You allow sleep to wash over you, let the relaxation in your bones pull you under. It’s a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep, wrapped in Remus’ arms.

Fictober Day 6

Prompt

"You're good to me, you know. Really good."

WandaNat

Fluff, domesticity

The two lay in bed one night, muscles sore from a long mission, Natasha's fingers grazing over Wanda's bare shoulder, face nuzzled into her hair.

“I love you, Nat.” Wanda speaks up, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, glancing up at her with a kind smile.

“I love you more, Wands.” Nat murmurs, pulling her closer, adjusting the blanket to lay over the both of them. After a few beats of silence, she speaks again.

“You're good for me, you know. Really good. You've made me the happiest I've ever been, Wanda. I love you, alot.”

Wanda smiles softly, curling into Natasha's side, arm slung over her waist and her fingers tracing the creases in the sheets. “I love you too. So, so much.”

Natasha sighs softly, letting her eyes flicker shut, pulling Wanda closer after turning the lamp off.

Once the lights are out, they both start to drift off, their hearts beating in tandem, fingers interlocking together.

“You feel like home to me.” Natasha murmurs before falling asleep, her free hand resting in Wanda's hair. Wanda falls asleep quickly after, her face nuzzled into Natasha's shoulder.

And once again, what I thought was real lead to heartbreak

Fictober Day 1

Prompt:

"Im not begging you to stay."

"Why not?"

Stucky, angst, post-endgame

Prompt from:

Tumblr

Creative Writing Prompts

Writing Prompts Sideblog by agirlnamedjana/ same on Wattpad. 68 asks in inbox. Search for "writing...

“Don't do anything stupid ‘till I get back.”

“How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky responds, giving Steve his best smile as he pushes down the feeling of abandonment.

But Steve notices. He always does.

“Buck? You alright?” Steve asks, hand on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky swallows down the lump in his throat, shaking his head as he glances away.

“Its nothin’, Steve. Go get your girl. You owe her a dance, after all.”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head.

“You're upset I'm leaving, aren't you?”

Bucky nods and shrugs his shoulders. “Like I said. Its nothin’. I'm not gonna… I'm not begging you to stay, Steve.”

“Why not?”

That question sends chills down Bucky's spine, his thoughts pausing. But he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling that maybe he should beg for him to stay.

“Why should I?” He asks defensively. “That wouldn't be fair to you, man. You deserve to have a nice life. Who am I to prevent that?”

Bucky scoffs, glancing down at the ground, hair hanging in his face.

“After all this time, you're just gonna abandon me, Steve. What happened to ‘til the end of the line’?” His voice cracks, but he keeps going, his words barely whispers.

“Is this the end of the line?”

Those words send a chill down Steve's spine. He has to take a moment, his eyes wide as he stares at Bucky, comprehending his words.

“Buck-”

Bucky cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“Don't. Don't pity me. Don't stay just because you feel bad, Steve. I'm just dead weight. Leave me behind. You don't need me. No one does or ever will. You're not the scrawny Brooklyn kid in the alleys any more, afterall.”

Steve stares at him, heart pounding. “Bucky, don't say that about yourself. I-I'm sure you'll find a nice girl, settle down. You'l find someone who needs you, I promise.”

“But thats just it, Steve.” Bucky says, looking up at him, voice broken, eyes hardened. “I need you. I love you, Steve. I don't want no nice girl. I want you. Its always been you.”

Oh. The realization hits Steve like a shock of lightning, pieces clicking together in his mind as he thinks back on the old days, when it was just him and Bucky.

The way Bucky would always look at him like he hung the moon. Or how he remembered even the simplest things about him, things no one else did. Or how his eyes lit up everytime he walked into the room. It explains it all.

“Bucky, I-”

Steve scrambles for words, heart shattering. *How could he have not known? Is it too late?*

“James. Look at me, man.” He says, fingers reaching out to cup his cheek, Bucky's eyes widening at the gesture. “I never thought… I never thought you liked me like that. I was just that scrawny kid you took care of. Plus, at that time, it wasn't exactly sociable acceptable, now was it?”

Bucky shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nah, it wasn't.”

“Exactly. So I brushed it off, Buck. I found someone I liked. I tried to ignore the feelings I had for you. That I still have for you.”

Bucky's breath hitches, eyes widening.

“I'll stay, Buck. Just promise me one thing.” Bucky nods at Steve's words, eyes on his.

“Don't keep somethin’ like this from me again.”

To celebrate Asexual Visibility Week (which Happy Asexual Visibility Week by the way omg), here is a list of characters who are now asexual because I said so:

Crowley and Aziraphale (Good Omens) I mean, this is basically canon for me already but their relationship genuinely means so much to me because it's not inherently romantic or sexual or even strictly platonic, they just have such a strong emotional bond and love each other in a way that I think could only be asexual. And being fairly new to my sexuality (not even a year yet) I really needed them in my life. Maybe I don't want an allonormative relationship - maybe I just want what they have. Idk they're just really special to me.

Belle (Beauty and the Beast) Belle being ace removes the beastiality aspect of the story so I think this is best for everyone involved. (This goes for Tiana too, actually - ace!Tiana, let's go). But she literally fell in love with the Beast because of his personality after spending a long time getting to know him (and because of a Library but ykw me too girlie). And it helps that I've had a strong attachment to Belle since forever (and I actually played her in a school production when I was 6).

Peter Pettigrew (Harry Potter) Right, so I do hate Peter and I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to, but omg he is so asexual. And definitely not saying that asexual people are going to betray and murder their best friends but I feel like not fitting in with his very allonormative group and maybe not even knowing what the term asexual means could be an interesting motivation for his actions. Peter feeling like he's broken somehow for not feeling what the others are feeling, thinking there must be something wrong with him since everyone else is falling in love, viewing himself as unloveable because platonic love isn't enough when everyone else has a brilliant romance, turning to the Dark Lord because he's been left behind but maybe this will fix him... and then losing that platonic love too and realising he didn't need fixing after all and his friends were enough, but now it's too late. So, anyway, ace!Peter makes me sad.

Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games) "There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me." This is 100% because Gale is a walking red flag but I'll take it as an aroace thing too. “Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me any time you feel like it.” The fact she didn't fall head-over-heels in love with Peeta as soon as he said this is honestly all the evidence I need. Also trying to act like you're madly in love with someone? I know it was for survival but, again, I'll take what I can get. "What I need is the dandelion in the spring... And only Peeta can give me that." This is not an allosexual relationship, I will not change my mind. Personally, I think Katniss is probably demisexual and I love her for that.

The Doctor (Doctor Who) If I had a nickel for every time David Tennant played an 'immortal' genderfluid asexual non-human who loves the stars and humanity, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. And if I had a nickel for every time I was in love with those characters, I would also have two nickels. But, yeah, the Doctor is asexual, that's just canon for me (and David Tennant said it too soooooooo).

Zoe Nightshade (Percy Jackson) The Hunters of Artemis are a sisterhood that requires you to swear off love and relations with men. Oh no, what a sacrifice! Come to think of it, she also has a connection to the stars - this is becoming a recurring thing.

Artemis, Athena, and Hestia (Greek Mythology) The fact there is a trio of asexual goddesses will never not make me so happy. In the Homeric Hymns, 5, To Aphrodite, Aphrodite is described as having "no power" over these three, which basically just confirms what everyone was already thinking. Artemis is quite literally the Maiden Goddess, who asks her father, Zeus, to forever remain a virgin and protect those who wish the same. Athena never took on any lovers (and in the Percy Jackson series, her children are conceived through her thoughts and born in the same way she was). And Hestia just wanted to be left alone with her hearth, also never marrying or having children.

Barbie (Barbie) "To do what?" Girlie literally has nothing going on down there (for the majority of the movie, idk what happened at the end) and doesn't understand why Ken wants to stay over because they're girlfriend boyfriend. The point of the Barbies is that they show women can be everything so, legally, no one can stop me saying she's an asexual icon.

Regulus Black (Harry Potter) I apologise to all the Jegulus stans out there but you can pry Regulus from my cold, dead hands. Asexual and Bi/Pan friendships are my absolute favourite (shout out to me and my bestie <3) and that is exactly what he's got with Pandora. Also, after Sirius was disowned, the responsibility of continuing the Black family line would fall to Regulus and that aroace pressure makes for some beautiful angst. And it means he's okay with sacrificing himself because at least he won't have to force a life he doesn't want. Why does the Marauders era always turn so sad so quickly?

Inej Ghafa (Six of Crows) Again with the Asexual and Bi/Pan friendships - I'm really just projecting myself and my best friend onto Inej and Nina, but who's going to stop me? I could say Ace!Kaz as well but I think his is more just a trauma response than a sexuality.

Elsa (Frozen) and Merida (Brave) Watch out, Disney; I'm coming for all of your princesses. I'm putting these two together because they could be asexual but I could also see them as lesbians - or maybe they're both.

Charlie Weasley (Harry Potter) He is the blueprint. Mum wants me to get married and settle down? Yeah, okay, but have you heard about dragons?

Newt Scamander (Fantastic Beasts) He is also the blueprint. Yeah, okay, but have you heard about every beast to ever exist ever?

I could keep going but I won't (for now). These characters mean so much to me and my asexuality and these headcanons honestly make me so happy. But honestly, we need more asexual characters in media because we're so underrepresented and it's such a serotonin boost. Like, in S4 of Sex Education, I actively gasped and had such a big smile on my face when O came out as ace (at the representation, not the being forced to come out). Anyway, Happy Asexual Visibility Week!

keefe you're badly representing gay ass white boys right now you should be ashamed. back to your corner.