#But when you feel joy I want you to know that any reason you shouldn’t is invalid

[splishfish]

Love Sick (NSFW)

Keigo Takami x AFAB Reader

Tags: PiV, a lot of emotions, Unprotected Sex, Reader and Keigo had 2 cups of wine, Intoxicated Confessions, Friends to Lovers, A lot of Fluff, Doggy Style, Missionary

WC: 4.6k

It’s love.

You weren’t sure when you started developing feelings for your best friend. All you knew is that one day, they were just there. 

Maybe it was the time he had bought you your favorite food because you were sick and at home. Maybe it was when he had memorized your order at your favorite restaurant. Or…maybe it was when he told you he felt more like himself around you than he’s ever felt in his life.

Yeah. Maybe it was then.

Or not. You really don’t know.

All you know is that you love him. Badly. It’s embarrassing, really. When he’s with you, you forget about the world around you two. You want to know more about him, even if there’s nothing left to share. Everything seems so much more simple when he’s with you, like the world suddenly seems right. It’s freeing. It’s liberating.

It’s love.

So when he calls you right after his patrol ended, you could feel your heart leap out of your chest, hands beginning to tingle as sweat formed on your palms. You picked up with an excited smile, your legs bouncing as you spoke.

“Hey! Finally off work, Kei?”

“Yeah. Hey, I’m gonna drop by that takeout place near the agency, do you want anything?”

Through the phone, you could hear the faint noises of the city. Cars and trains passing through, no doubt filled with civilians who just got off work or school. Horns and advertisements occasionally squeaking through the speaker, only barely muffled by the sound of his voice.

He really did just get off his patrol. Maybe he was leaning against the cold wall of an alleyway, head tilted up to stare at the sky. Or maybe he was sitting on a rooftop, wings stretched behind him as he relaxed from his tiring job.

“You know I don’t turn down an offer for food, Kei. Especially from you~”

Your voice was teasing, a cheeky smile on your face you hoped he could picture in his mind. You wondered if he could see you in his mind just as vividly as you could see him in yours. Just the thought alone made your heart stutter.

“Ha! You’re greedy, y’know that?”

There was a exaggeration of annoyance in his voice, which was quickly broken with a soft chuckle.

“You want the usual right? And do you want water or should I get you that tea you like?”

His question really shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. Had it been any other person who asked, you were sure you’d just nod and continue with your order, not even spare the time to realize what they asked.

But it’s not someone else. It’s Keigo. Your best friend. Your crush. And for some reason, that alone makes your heart flutter with joy. Because it’s Keigo who remembered your favorite order. It was him, the man who made your hands sweat and your leg bounce every time he spoke to you. Not your family, not your other friends or coworkers. 

But him.

“I’ll get the tea this time, Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem Princess. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

Princess. When did he start calling you that, you wonder. Maybe it was during that halloween party a few years back, where you dressed as the queen of hearts. Or was it that time when you admitted your parents spoiled you throughout your childhood?

Maybe it was then. 

But you can’t remember.

“Yeah yeah, See ya later.”

When you heard the chime of your call disconnect, you could feel your body slump over. You brought a hand up to your heart, pressing down on the surface of your chest to feel its rapid beating slowly calm down. 

It was funny. Your heart just felt like it ran a mile, but your body felt like it just got up from a deep sleep. Was this what love is supposed to feel like?

You shook those thoughts out of your head, standing up and heading towards the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower would calm your nerves.

-

By the time you got out of the shower, hair damp and baggy clothes thrown on lazily, Keigo had already made his way into your house and plated your food.

He turned his head when he heard your footsteps, a small smile on his face as he closed his eyes and spoke.

“Hey princess! You didn’t answer the door so I just came in through the balcony. Hope you don’t mind.”

You thought back to when you two weren’t as close as you were now. Years ago, when you had only just met him. He had done the same thing, entering through the balcony when you were out of the house, and scaring the living shit out of you when you came home and found him scouring your fridge.

It pissed you off back then. You remembered scolding him while he had that shit eating smirk on his face, walking towards you during your lecture and wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he told you to ‘loosen up’. 

Now it was…endearing. No. That wasn’t the right word. It felt…right…knowing that he was there waiting for you. 

You chuckled, thanking him while pulling out your chair and seating yourself. The smell of the food was as delicious as always, fresh and hot, surely due to the fact that he flew over here. How lucky, not having to deal with traffic.

You both ate at a comfortable pace, chatting away as you spoke about your days. He told you about his patrol, how he had stopped a few petty villains, and how he was swarmed by fans and reporters by the end of his shift. It was a normal occurrence, but it never failed to tire him out regardless.

And then it was your turn. You told him about your day at work, how your shifts had been uneventful as always, except for the few stories you had accumulated from your coworkers. It was funny how different both of your lives were.

It all felt so domestic. Like a couple who had just sat down for dinner, talking about everything and nothing as they ate.

A couple. You liked that idea.

Before you could continue to get lost in your thoughts, you heard him clear his throat before speaking.

”Hey, so I was thinking…”

“Well. That’s never a good sign”

“Rude! At least let me finish!”

A snort escaped your lips, waving him off as you took another bite of your food. A small huff escaped his pouty lips, before he mumbled.

“Well now I don’t wanna…”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled in response, a smile tugging on your lips as you spoke.

“Oh don’t be like that. Cmon, what were you gonna say?”

“No! I’m not telling you now!”

It was cute, the way he turned his head and crossed his arms. His lips curling into a small, teasing pout as his wings fluffed up behind him. He looked away from you, attempting to hide his face, but you could see the corner of his lips slowly twitching into an amused smile.

Your thoughts from earlier began to resurface, and you could feel your heart twist in your chest. When and why did you start to fall for him? Was it because you two shared so many interests and opinions? Was it because no matter how you were feeling, he could always make you laugh and forget all your issues?

Maybe it was because he listened to you when you spoke to him, or maybe it was because he showered you with gifts and affection. Or maybe it was because he called you beautiful, and stared at you like you were the only person that mattered in his world.

Yeah…maybe it was that.

You stared at the wine glass in your hand, the deep red liquid rippling with every minute movement of your body. Your body felt warm, the effects of the wine slowly making its way through your system. There was a movie playing in the background, some random film you had chosen for today's movie night.

Keigo’s arm was slung lazily on your shoulders, pulling you close to him with one arm, while the other was holding his wine glass. It was peaceful. It was quiet. 

You wondered if he could hear the way your heart hammered in your chest.

The flashing colors of the movie felt slow and dull in comparison to your wandering mind. His arm felt warm and heavy on your shoulder, and you could feel the way his fingers traced absentminded shapes on your skin. You wondered what was going on through his mind right now. Was he just as distracted as you were? Did he also feel the way your bodies were pressed together, almost as if wishing to meld together?

You almost didn’t feel the way his hand squeezed your shoulder, gently rousing you from your thoughts.

You turned your head to stare up at him, only to see that his golden eyes were already staring down at you. Your heart fluttered softly. How long had he been staring at you?

“Are you okay Princess?”

His voice was so soft, and he stared at you with such adoring eyes it made you wonder if he was really talking to you. His hand gave your shoulder another squeeze, once again drawing you out of your thoughts. You cleared your throat, voice mellow from the wine.

“Ah…yeah, i’m good. What's up?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes simply raking down your face, as if searching for something. It took him a few seconds to finally speak again, his expression softening to one of affection.

“Nothin’...you just looked a little…lost.”

Lost.

The word made you chuckle, a familiar sense of comfort filling your body. Maybe had he said this a few months ago, when you were first coming to terms with your feelings, you would have agreed. Back then, everything seemed so confusing, so much more difficult to navigate. It felt like you were swimming in a sea of conflicting emotions, with none of them many form of sense.

But now things were different. You weren't lost in that deep array of wild emotions, you weren’t scared to confront your feelings. No. You understood them now. To a small extent at least. You understood enough to know that these feelings weren’t here to hurt you, that they were just here to be known. To be felt.

Lost was the furthest thing you felt.

“Ah, sorry…I was just lost in thought.”

He hummed in response, shifting slightly so he could pull you closer to his chest. He put his wine down on the coffee table, bringing his arm around to embrace you in a comforting hug. You melted under his touch, sighing softly as he took the glass from your hand and placed it down as well.

You laid your head on his chest, the faint beating of his heart echoed in your ear like a soothing lullaby. This wasn’t the first time you two had embraced, no, it was far from it. But something was different. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it was the way his hand slowly began to thread through your hair, massaging your scalp in such a tender way you could have sworn only lovers did.

“...You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His voice broke through the silence that enveloped you two once again, his voice carrying through the air. You shifted slightly, lifting your head to rest your chin on his pectorals, raising a brow at his words.

“Where’s this coming from?”

You mumbled softly, your eyes searching his golden ones. He smiled down at you, ruffling your hair as he chuckled.

“What, I can’t call my best friend beautiful?”

“No. I might get the wrong idea y’know.”

He chuckled again, his hand tightening slightly against your hair. He didn’t respond for a moment, but you could feel the way he hesitated to speak, his voice laced with mock confidence as he sent you a teasing smirk.

“What if I want you to get the wrong idea?”

It wasn’t rare for him to flirt with you. No, he was always like this, even before you two became good friends. Whenever he did, he would always give you that stupid smirk of his, his voice laced with a deriding tone. Back then, you were sure he did it just to piss you off, always making a flirtatious comment he knew would make you uncomfortable.

At some point, you learned to ignore it, passing off his remarks with a roll of your eyes and a knowing smile. You don’t know when you got so used to his advancements, but eventually they became a habit. A normal occurrence in your friendship with each other, comments the both of you took as nothing more than a jest.

So why did this feel genuine?

You shook off the feeling, praying he didn’t notice the way your heart rate increased at his words. You scoffed at his words with a small smile, pinching his side playfully..

“Ha ha. Very funny Keigo.”

A sarcastic laugh left your lips, but before you could come up with a snarky comment, he interrupted you.

“I mean it.”

What?

You felt your blood turn cold, your hands prickling with sweat as you shuffled up to stare at him. His expression was something akin to fear, the usual cocky smile that graced his face seemed weak and hesitant.

You swallowed a thick glob of saliva that coated your tongue, attempting to stop your mouth from drying at his words. A strained chuckle escaped your lips, your brows furrowing as you tried to reel in your nerves.

“Oh c’mon…don’t tell me two glasses of wine already have you-”

“It’s not the wine.”

His grasp on you tightened, holding you closer to his body. The weak smile on his face shifted into a small frown, his face morphing into something earnest and soft. He opened his mouth before closing it, squeezing you slightly before he sighed.

“I…You can’t tell me there isn’t…something happening between us…right?”

Before you could even open your mouth, he began to rant.

“I mean- this, this isn’t normal. Do normal friends do…this? Hold each other in their arms late at night, drinking wine while they pretend to watch a movie? Do friends look at each other the way we look at each other?”

His eyes closed, holding you close as desperation seeped into his voice.

“Maybe…Maybe it is the wine that's making me say this…but so what? Maybe I wouldn't say these things if I wasn't intoxicated…maybe I would just let us pine over each other like stupid lovesick teenagers any other day, but I don’t want that…I don’t want that anymore…”

He buried his face into your neck, his wings slowly coming to wrap around your frame. His grasp on you tightened, afraid that you might slip away from him. 

“Please…tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me you also can’t stand…whatever this shit is…”

He finally loosened his grip on you, his hands coming up to cup your face, pulling you back enough to stare desperately into your eyes.

For a moment, you wondered if this was a dream. Were his hands really holding you? Was he really acknowledging the painful tension you two had been enduring? You had never seen him with such a desperate look in his eyes, his voice wavering and hoarse with emotion. You had never seen…this.

It took you a moment to respond, an embarrassing croak of your throat escaping you before your words did.

“I…Keigo…” “Please…” He was begging. Keigo Takami, your best friend, was begging.

“I…I can’t stand it either…Keigo, I-” You were quickly silenced, warm lips connecting with yours in a desperate kiss. Your body reacted instinctively, kissing him back as your eyes fluttered closed, hands coming up to cup his cheeks and bring him closer.

You wondered if it was the wine that made your body feel so warm.

The kiss was full of emotion, feelings from the last few months, maybe even the past year or two suddenly becoming a reality. The longing and desire from both ends quickly caused the kiss to heat up, hands wandering without any direction, body’s slowly shifting to accommodate each other.

You both break away from the kiss, breaths mixing together as you attempt to refill your lungs with much needed air. His forehead pressed against your own, noses bumping against each other in a display of affection. He smiled finally, his eyes fluttering open as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and then your lips again.

“Thank you…damn it…you have no idea how badly i’ve been wanting to do that…” A breathy chuckle escaped your lips, reaching forward once again to peck his lips, the air felt warm, filled with love and unspoken words of affection. Words that didn’t need to be said. Word’s that could be felt. Word’s that could be seen.

Word’s that they could only express through action.

“Me too…me too…” A soft laugh escaped the both of you, your thumbs gently stroking his cheeks as you both leaned back in for another kiss.

This one was different. Although there was still that longing for affection, that desire to be closer was becoming overwhelming. His lips parted slightly, taking your bottom lip and gently nipping it, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss.

As you both became more comfortable, your tongues began to gently prod at each other, soft giggles and chuckles making their way into your kiss as your emotions mixed into one. The atmosphere was comfortable, the movie in the background forgotten, filling the room with its muffled sounds.

You pulled away from Keigo, shifting in his lap to straddle him, pushing him down to lay on the couch before going back to kissing him. His tongue finally slipped through the seams of your lips, running the tip of it over your teeth and gums before finally prodding yours. It was a weird feeling, his fleshy muscle swirling with yours, saliva mixing in the heat of the kiss.

It wasn’t until you felt something twitch against your thigh, that you pulled away again, raising a brow at him as you smiled.

“Excited?”

A faint blush coated his cheek, and an embarrassed chuckle left his lips as he spoke hoarsely.

“S-Sorry…can’t help it…you’re just…”

He stopped mid sentence, staring up at you with a soft smile and hooded eyes. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his hands trailing down from your cheeks, to your neck, to your shoulders, and then to your arms, squeezing the flesh as he admired your body.

“I’m just…?” You asked with a smile, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips as his hands began to travel lower, holding your waist with gentle hands as he murmured.

“Perfect…you’re just…perfect…”

His words were filled with such earnest truth and affection, it was impossible trying to stop the rising blush on your cheeks. You smiled down at him, your hands slowly trailing down to his chest, rubbing his pectorals as you murmured.

“Flirt…” You snorted out playfully.

“Just for you, princess…”

He muttered, a teasing smile on his face as he gently squeezed your waist. His hands began to slowly trail lower, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt gently rubbing small circles on your plush skin.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, a slow heat beginning to form in your lower stomach, guiding your hips to move in a slow roll. You could feel his breath stutter, his hands gently squeezing your waist once again before gently guiding you to roll again, and again, and again, until the both of you were slowly panting from the growing friction.

His eyes were hooded and glassy as he stared up at you, a love stricken expression in his eyes as he began to gently buck his bulge against your heat. Your combined movements were slow and gentle, a mix of deep affection and desire slowly pouring out in tender motions.

You leaned back down, pressing your lips against his once again, the kiss slow and purposeful, filled with affection and now lust. You continued to roll your hips together, the kiss muffling the growing sounds of whimpers and soft groans.

This time it was Keigo who pulled away, pressing soft kisses along your cheeks, before moving down to your jaw. He gently nipped at your flesh, moving lower until he was gently biting down on the flesh of your neck licking the bite marks he left behind.

“I…We don’t have to do this…right now…”

His voice was rough, filled with restrained desire. His hands rubbed up and down your sides,  gently nipping your neck again.

You slowed the roll of your hips until they stopped completely, your hands resting on his chest as you processed his words.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered if he didn’t want this, if he was just waiting for an excuse to pull away and stop this. But you knew this wasn’t true. No, he was worried you would regret this. He was worried that you didn’t want this. But you did. You wanted him.

You wanted Keigo Takami. Your best friend. And hopefully, now, your lover.

“I want this. I want you.”

The soft plapping of skin filled your ears, drowning out the endless creaking of your bed frame. Your hands gripped the white sheets below you, face buried into one of the pillows you kept on your bed. Another pillow was under your tummy, helping you arch your back far enough so that Keigo could comfortably grasp your hips, pulling you back to fuck you on his cock.

His groans were soft and quiet, his abs flexing under each thrust as he tilted is head back, soft words of praise leaving his lips.

“You’re doin’ so good f’me baby…takin’ my cock so well…”

A whimper escaped your lips, your aching cunt squeezing his cock as his words went straight to your clit. You moved in rhythm with his thrusts, your cunny desperately trying to take more of his cock, more of him.

The fluttering of his wings was faint, but became louder as the speed of his thrusts increased. You could barely see from your position, but you could have sworn he was using the force of his wings to fuck you harder.

“Feels good, right baby? Fuck…I’ve been wanting to fuck this pretty pussy for so long…ah...been dreaming about this…”

The weight of his balls slapped against your folds, barely hitting your clit as they swung from the force of his movements. The flesh of your ass jiggled and rippled everytime it slapped against his pelvis, his eyes locked onto the way your hole greedily sucked him in. You couldn’t help the way your legs spread further, arching your back once you felt the warmth of his palm spread against the small of your back.

“K-Kei…Keigo…Hah-Mhn…wanna…wanna see you..”

His breath hitched, a small whimper escaping him as his thrusts slowed down, long shallow thrusts causing you to feel every vein and inch through your spongy walls.

“Wanna see me baby? Yeah…Yeah ok…”

He slowly pulled out, his hand immediately going to the base of his cock, pumping his slick covered penis as he watched you roll onto your back. He bit his bottom lip, shuffling closer as he slung your legs over his waist, lining up the tip of his cock to your empty hole.

“Ok…Ok, I’m-I’m putting it back in, okay?”

The small nod of your head was enough for him, and he slowly pushed back inside. First, the head of his cock slipped inside, your sloppy folds eagerly sucking him back in, desperate for more. Then, the rest of his length, each inch slowly sinking deeper and deeper into your cunny until his balls finally rested against your ass, trimmed blonde pubes mixing with your own.

Your hands slowly trailed up your body, resting on your breasts as you slowly began to tweak and pull your nipples, your body beginning to bounce with the slowly increasing pace of each jolt of his hips. His body leans forwards, resting on his forearms as he reaches that mind numbing pace again.

You could feel the tip of his cock pushing against your g-spot, rubbing it with such tenderness it makes your heart flutter. You tilt your head back, breathless moans caught short when he leans down and kisses you, tender and soft despite how rough he’s being with your cunt.

He pulls away from the kiss, littering your cheeks with small pecks of affection. He pulls you closer, the feeling of his cock so eagerly pounding into causes your pussy to slick up with arousal, the room filling with the lewd noises of your coitus.

“I-I love you…Damn it…”

He stuttered out, his hand coming up to cup your cheek stroking it with his thumb as he speaks from his heart.

“I love you so much…I-I don’t…I don’t know when it happened I…I j-just…” A low moan escaped his throat, his body shifting again, pressing down onto your body in an attempt to keep you as close as possible, craving your skin, craving your heat.

Craving you.

“I just- I just remember…fuck-seeing you, seeing you…and thinking…thinking that i’m so fucking glad that I-I have you…so glad…ah…”

A small sob escaped your lips. You couldn’t tell if you were crying, or maybe if your sweat was beginning to drip down your face, but you felt something wet fall. Broken moans mixed with grunts filled your ears, the coil in your stomach fluttering and tightening with each word that left his mouth.

“B-But there…there was something else too- oh god i’m-i’m close- There-there was that feeling, that stupid fucking feeling…of my heart fluttering…of knowing- knowing that…that I was more than just glad…”

His hips stuttered, and your legs tightened around his waist. Oh. Now you were crying. Now you could feel the way your heart ached at his words, the way you could sympathize and relate to his words.

“I-I…I was…I realized that I was in love with you, damn it…and-and it scared me…be-because I knew…I knew you liked me too…”

You could feel his cock twitch inside you, his groans becoming whimpers and his thrusts becoming shallow and rough. The movement made your cunt ache, the coil in your stomach about to snap. He was close. You were close.

“But I-I didn’t want to hurt you…Didn’t-Didn’t wanna ruin what we have- what we had…but I- fuck! fuck fuck fuck fuck! I couldn’t help it anymore! Because I love you! I love you I love you I-”

A burning hot wave of pleasure coursed through you, a sob mixed with a scream of pleasure spilled from your mouth, your orgasm ripping through you as he fucked you through it. Your legs shook, your cunt ached and pulsed, and your heart leapt out of your mouth as you screamed.

”I love you! I love you, Keigo!”

A pathetic wine of pleasure left him, his hips stuttering one last time before he quickly pulled out, lifting himself off your body to violently fist his cock, releasing his burning hot seed onto your stomach. Strings of white coated your flesh, and you could see his body tremble as he faced his own wave of pleasure.

As the final few dribbles of cum spilled from his red slit, he finally leaned back down and pressed his forehead against your own. His pants mingled with your own, his hand gently rubbing the flesh of your waist in a soothing circular motion.

As the two of you slowly came down from your highs, he pressed another kiss on your lips, smiling softly when he pulled away to murmur.

“So you wanna take a shower together?” “Later…”

“Yeah…okay…”

Did you enjoy this? Check out my Masterlist for more!

Dawg this is my longest fic T-T 4,673 words!! Holy carp! Hope you enjoyed my first, and probably longest Keigo Takami fic!

[fionacle]

IMPORTANT REMINDER

You’re allowed to be happy :)

[lowkeyremi]

YOU’RE DOING GREAT, MAMA !

pairing: ushijima x fem!reader note: this has been in my drafts foreverrrr. it’s finally seeing the world thank God. i need to write more abt toshi summary: your husband comforts you through postpartum depression. content: angst, fluff, bittersweet moments, marriage, implied pregnancy, reader doubts her ability to be a mother, etc

The three of you returned home after three days in the hospital. During those three days you haven’t really been yourself at all.

Your baby boy, Nao was born healthy and strong. He’s doing all the normal stuff a newborn should do, but for some reason when you look at his tiny face you feel dread pitted deeply in your stomach.

Shouldn’t you feel joy when you see your little baby’s face? A lump forms in your throat as you start to think of the worst outcomes. Are you… rejecting your child? There’s no way. You and your husband spent months waiting for little Nao’s arrival. You were so excited setting up his room and buying him stuff. The ultrasounds were also very amusing to look at.

None of that excitement remains right now. “You must be tired, honey. Since you’ve already nursed him I’ll put him to sleep.” Wakatoshi pulls you out of your saddening thoughts. He shoots you a look of worry, because you’re clutching your chest tight, like you’re struggling to breathe.

“O-okay. Thank you ‘Toshi.” A faux smile crosses your face just to try and reassure your husband. He walks off to Nao’s nursery with his baby carrier in hand, but you know that he knows you well enough to ask what’s wrong later.

While your husband put Nao to sleep you changed out of your clothes into some comfy pajamas and you head to the bathroom to pee, brush your teeth and wash your face.

As the minty paste foams in your mouth you start thinking about your son again and you don’t even notice that you’re crying until-

“Sweetheart, why are you crying?” His voice comes soft and he uses his big hands to wipe away your salty tears.

You spit out the toothpaste, and in a few seconds you’re rinsing your toothbrush and your mouth out.

“I’m not sure- I just- I-” you pause letting out a shuttering breath, how do you even explain something like this? “I’m not as excited about Nao as I had been before he was born…”

Wakatoshi engulfs you in a hug from behind. “I’ve noticed at the hospital how you didn’t want to hold him much.” He too pauses before continuing on, “I was reading into this a few months earlier, but many women get postpartum depression after their baby is born.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, we just brought a life into this world and I don’t even feel any excitement about it.” Wakatoshi rubs small comforting circles onto your stomach which hasn’t completely gone back to its normal size.

“‘Toshi am I a terrible mother already?” You ask looking at him through the mirror. His brows furrow at the suggestion and he shakes his head violently which almost cheers you up because it’s so out of character for him.

“Not at all. Please do not talk about yourself that way. You’re going to be an amazing mother. Just give it some time.” He’s telling the truth, Wakatoshi is nothing but brutally honest about things, so you have no choice but to believe him.

Although, everything feels like it’s not okay, you allow your husband to comfort you through these baby blues. It won’t last forever, you tell yourself, as you put your toothbrush back in the cup.

Wakatoshi kisses your temple, it’s so soft and delicate. “We’ve created a beautiful baby boy and he’s going to grow up with the most loving parents.” He means that too, Wakatoshi grew up in a divided household so it’s no wonder he wants his son to grow up in a household that’s warm and loving.

“You’re right, we’ll raise our baby boy the best we can. Thank you ‘Toshi. I really needed to hear that. I was starting to spiral.” He squeezes you in a hug again.

“It’s nothing, and if you ever feel yourself in these baby blues again, just let me know, so I can remind you that you’re a great mother.” What in the world did you do to deserve this man?

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[honeydjarin]

MOUSE IN THE KITCHEN

OPLA SANJI X SHORT!READER

Luffy isn’t the only one with a penchant for sneaking into the kitchen.

request: Hiii, if you want to I'd like to request a Sanji x short reader, where they try and help him out in the kitchen but can't reach anything. No pressure, just wondering

genre: fluff

word count: 2,000

a/n: normally I avoid any sort of specific physical features in my fics in order to make them as inclusive as possible, but as someone who must climb the shelves at the grocery store in order to reach anything, this request spoke to me. This one is a little silly and nothing but fluff. I hope you enjoy!

It’s late. The sun sank below the horizon long ago, leaving no trace of the adventures and games that took place during the daylight hours. Everyone else on the Going Merry is asleep. You really should be sleeping too, and you had been, not too long ago. 

You don’t know what it is that stirred you from your slumber. Perhaps some noise as the ship rocks on lazy waves, or a crew mate talking just a bit too loud in their sleep. It doesn’t matter, really. What does matter is the thoughts that worm their way into your mind the longer you lie awake. Thoughts of something light, something sweet, something to satiate a craving, your body convinced it’s time for breakfast despite your mind knowing dawn is hours away. It doesn’t take long for the hollow ache in your stomach to drive you from the comfort of your hammock and up towards the galley.

You know the kitchen on the ship well. You know which floorboards creak and which are safe to step on, where the chef hides traps for Luffy and how to circumvent them, where all of the ingredients to satiate your sweet tooth are hiding. 

Just thinking about the reason for your intimate knowledge of the ship’s kitchen is enough to send heat racing up your neck and settling beneath your cheeks. You press your fingers to the skin where your burning blood pools beneath the surface, taking a moment to relish in the sugar sweet feeling of a simple crush—a single name swirling through your brain is all it takes to leave you giggling quietly in the night.

Sanji, the newest member of the Straw Hat Crew. Sanji, the one who will never let another go hungry, not even a stranger. Sanji, the man with sun soaked hair and a honey dipped tongue. 

Sanji.

Sanji.

When the chef first joined the crew, you admired him. He was caring and steady, he knew what he believed in. With his handsome looks, quick wit, and open flirtations, it didn’t take long for that admiration to slip into something that felt sweetly like affection. You couldn’t help but want to spend more time with the cook, hoping to join him in the activities that bring him the most joy so that you might better understand him. It didn’t take long for you to become nearly as familiar with the galley as he is. 

You step into the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind you. You leave the lights off, not wanting to risk anyone else catching you in the galley (or getting the idea to grab a snack themselves). Instead, you stand in the dark, waiting for your eyes to adjust. Moonlight spills through the windows of the room, bright enough to see by, if you’re patient. 

It isn’t long before you’re able to move again, walking along a familiar path towards where Sanji stores all things sugary. 

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’re doing something you shouldn’t. Like if you have to sneak around then you’re in a place you don’t belong. This is Sanji’s space, cataloged and organized to best suit his needs and ensure the crew has enough supplies to last between islands. It feels strange to be in the kitchen without the sound of his laughter or the smell of something delicious cooking on the stove top. 

Sanji’s presence is the piece that makes this space feel so comfortable. Without him, it feels too large, hollow. The galley has no life without its chef. You never really thought about how the kitchen would feel without him in it, and can’t help but hope it isn’t a feeling you become used to.   

You know if you wake up the cook he will make something for you. He would rub the sleep from his eyes, only half succeeding, before asking what he could make to help satiate your craving with a smile. You would feel guilty the whole time. 

It’s better to sneak through the galley for something you can find on your own than to disturb Sanji’s sleep. 

The first thing you search for is chocolate. You crawl onto the countertop, balancing on your knees as your feet dangle over the edge, before opening the cabinet in front of you. You eye the chocolate chips, the miniature sweets sitting at a level seemingly so easy for the rest of the crew to grab. You doubt any of the others would have to climb to reach them. 

Unfortunately, the only chocolate on the shelf is unsweetened. The lack of added sugar may be perfect for baking, but they won’t be sweet enough for your taste on their own. 

You begin to drop down from the countertop, fully intending to continue your search for the perfect treat. Your feet drop to the ground quietly, and you land in an almost crouch. Perfect, the ship is silent, as it should be. You straighten up, intending to continue your search, but your knees, still tight from your recent slumber, crack as you stand. The sound rings out in the otherwise silent kitchen like a gunshot. 

Maybe your creaking joints wouldn’t be a problem in a normal kitchen, but Sanji, who has ears attuned to any slight sound coming from the Galley (thanks to Luffy’s many attempts to raid the space at odd hours for food), surely heard the pop in his sleep. You may as well have knocked down all of the pots and shattered all of the dishes. 

It isn’t long before the sound of hurried footsteps and frustrated grumbling reaches your ears. The door to the galley slams open, lights flickering on just a moment after, leaving you squinting as your eyes adjust to the room once more. 

“Luffy, I swear if you touched any of the food I’ll—oh.” Sanji’s voice carries through the kitchen, his accent thicker than normal, sleep still clinging to his words. Your name rolls off his tongue, and you think it sounds sweeter in his sleep-addled voice than any chocolate could taste. 

“Sorry, Sanji. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just a little hungry,” you confess. 

“You could have woken me up,” he says, just like you knew he would. “I’d have been happy to cook something for you.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you. You deserve to rest. Especially when you already wake up so early each morning to make breakfast.” 

Sanji hums, stepping farther into the kitchen. He looks more awake now than he did when he first arrived. His eyes don’t stray from your own as he speaks, no longer concerned about the state of the galley. 

“For you, love, it’s never a bother.” The smile he offers you sends your heart fluttering in your chest. “Anyway, I’m awake now. What would you like to eat?” 

He’s too good to you, too gentle. How could your heart ever stand a chance?

“I was just planning on eating a little chocolate, but it seems like there's only the unsweetened kind right now.” 

“Ah, of course. Only something sweet would be fitting for my sweetheart.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. His. He called you his. 

You bring your hand up to your mouth, trying to hide the growing grin that spreads on your lips as you nearly melt from his words. The warmth blossoming in your chest will surely turn you into a puddle on the floor, and then Sanji will know just how much his words affect you (if he doesn’t know already).

“Can we make something with chocolate in it?” you ask.

“We?” Sanji repeats, as if he didn’t expect you to help him in this task. His gaze softens, eyes gleaming with something like affection, before adding. “Of course we can. How do strawberry and chocolate hand pies sound? I picked up some fresh jam at the last port.”  

“It sounds perfect,” you say. It’s far more than you hoped to find during your late night search. When you got out of bed, you never would have guessed what kind of sweet you would find in the kitchen. You definitely didn’t expect to spend time baking with Sanji.

The two of you work comfortably together, only speaking when Sanji provides specific instructions or when you need clarification. The hazy fog of sleep still hovers over the both of you, even if you’re both awake enough now to function.

“Could you grab the chocolate chips for me?” Sanji asks. 

It’s a simple request, one you can easily complete. You know where he keeps the chocolate chips, the unsweetened treat seeming much more appealing now that they’re going to be baked into something.

You make your way back over to the counter, situating yourself below the cabinet where the chocolate is stored. Then, you place your hands on the cool surface, preparing to make the climb. You’re certain Sanji knew this was the path necessary for you to take to reach the ingredient too. There’s no way for you to reach the chocolate chips without being higher up. 

As you jump, using the force of your arms to help pull yourself up towards the counter just like you’ve done in other kitchens many times before, an unexpected force settles on your shoulders, pushing your feet back towards the ground.

“None of that, sweetheart. There will be no climbing on the countertops in my kitchen,” Sanji reprimands. He’s gentle in his scolding, the uptick of his lips and gleam in his eye letting you know he’s not really mad. “Sorry, I thought they were a bit lower.”

He doesn’t seem sorry. 

You open your mouth to protest against what could only be meant as a jab about your height, but only a squeak comes out. Sanji’s warmth seeps into your back as he presses close, the shape of his hand burning into your hip as it settles there. You can feel the way his body stretches as he reaches up, leaning further into you, before easily grabbing the bag that seemed so far out of your reach. Any words you might have had to tell off the man for doing something for you when you could easily do the task yourself (as long as you could climb on the counter) fizzle out. 

Sanji doesn’t look at you as he reaches for the chocolate, but the easy smile on his lips morphs into a lazy smirk. His thumb rubs slow, intentional circles where his hand remains steady on your hip, as if he was soothing a startled animal, coaxing you to stay close instead of running away, something you just might have done if he wasn’t purposefully grounding you while your thoughts soared. 

Oh no, you think. He knows.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Sanji was already aware of your feelings for him—you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve—but you had tried not to make your feelings for the chef too obvious. 

Sanji pulls the chocolate chips down, but he doesn’t step away. He still holds you close as he bends, his face lowering until it’s right beside yours. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to the curve of your cheek. 

The kiss is quick, feather-light, but you’re certain he can feel the way your blood burns just beneath the surface of your skin, his quiet mumble of so warm the only confirmation you need, even if you weren’t meant to hear. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just couldn’t help myself.” Before you can react, Sanji steps away from you, taking you in for only a moment longer before turning back to the task at hand. With how smoothly he acted, there’s no way he hadn’t planned that little stunt he pulled.  

He definitely knows.  

Sanji is already placing the hand pies in the oven by the time you’re finally able to move again, and you can’t help but feel almost frustrated that the chef didn’t give you a chance to return his affection. 

You’re left waiting impatiently as he sets the timer, the miniature pies now the last thing on your mind. Sanji doesn’t seem to understand—you’re craving something sweet, and as far as you’re concerned, the sweetest thing on this ship is him. 

a/n: thank you for reading〜♡

[tteokdoroki]

hurricane heartbreak katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’ve always thought that katsuki would follow you to the ends of the earth, until suddenly, he stops. especially when he realises that he’s better off without you. ( 2.6K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, no happy ending. characters aged up to 20s, unrequited love, friendship breakups, regular breakups, confessions, gaslighting, reader is morally flawed and a bad friend, katsuki is a hopeless romantic :(, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou - not beta read!

as usual, katsuki moves to open the door before his mind can catch up. 

he knows that he shouldn’t. if he kept the doors locked he could keep his heart safe from the ache that comes with the person on the other side. but, the bigger and weaker half of him succumbs to the longing laced in the blood that soars through the beating muscle keeping him alive. the same muscle every form of media since the dawn of time has associated with the human desire to be loved and adored. 

it’s a human code that he can’t go against, like asking a neanderthal to fight it’s basic instincts. katsuki opens the door not because he wants to, but because he has to, even if his entire body twitches against the will of his one track mind and his hand lands on the cool metal doorknob in advance of his logical train of thought. besides, it’s raining tonight, and it would be cruel to leave you outside. 

as usual, when you step past the threshold of the number two hero’s lush, bachelor pad-like home — he expects things to be different. for you to waltz in with your arms wide spread and a spark of joy in your eyes because you love seeing the blonde and because you missed him. 

“it was so horrible,” you wail to him instead, just as you had done so on the phone — except this time, the cadence to your usually bright voice is as dull and as dreary as the weather outside. “he blew up at me, said that we were done ‘n that i was too clingy. just like that,” pouting, you shrug off your rain-slicked jacket and allow your best friend to hang it up for you. before you can start quivering like a pathetic stray dog, the begrudgingly kind pro hero places a set of clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, into your hands and ushers you deeper into the space he calls home.

“fuck that guy,” he tells you, while you rant to him on the walk down the hall.

katsuki lets you you dry off and disappear into his room for spare clothes (as if you own the place), giving himself time to think and reflect. the you that katsuki knows and has bitterly come to love is hollowed and desperate — vying for any attention or affection she can get from people who just don’t care. he’s never understood it, the reasons why you go vying for the validation of others who don’t deserve a millisecond of your time, let alone your precious smile.

you know, the one that brings out the crows feet at the corners of your doe-like eyes and lifts the edges of your glossed lips ever so slightly. you illuminate a room and fill it with warmth when you’re happy and feel loved but when you’re like this… thrown out into the rain whilst being hungry for more — much like that of a stray…

…it’s bakugou’s hand that reaches out to feed you tender love and care from the pieces of his own broken soul. he does everything im his power to make you smile again, otherwise he’d shake the heavens from the sky and bring their shattered pieces back down to earth with his destructive quirk…for you.

everything is always for you.

katsuki is the one who deserves to see your radiant grin and be the one that’s always on your mind. so perhaps, he is no better than you, starved with a craving for the attention of someone whose thoughts are simply elsewhere. with someone else.

you resurface from his room wearing a discontinued all-might shirt with an iron-on design that’s cracked on the front and a pair of fluffy dynamight themed socks kept spare in katsuki’s wash for whenever you come over. by this time he’s already popped on the kettle for some herbal tea, though his back remains facing you — fingers clenched against his smooth marble countertop. “why would he say that?” 

you shrug. “i don’t know… i probably deserve it. this always happens.” 

to his right, the kettle’s whistle reaches it’s crescendo but katsuki doesn’t bother to add hot water to your tea.

the assessment you make as you pad back over to katsuki is only partly correct. he turns abruptly, prepped and ready to loosely wrap his arms around you in a familiar hug, another step in this bi-monthly routine the two of you have going. your nose presses into the middle of his molten chest, sending a pang through his heart like an arrow from Cupid whilst simultaneously riling up the butterflies in his tummy. you’re so cute, so sweet and it makes the blonde feel special to be able to witness the more vulnerable parts of you — the parts of you pieced back together by inexpensive glue after you’ve been shattered by heartbreak once more.

you, you’re too sweet to deserve this pain. the same pain that weighs down on the pro hero’s shoulders because he can’t stop chasing after you. this always happens, but you don’t deserve it. even if it’s like some sort of cathartic karma for leading bakugou on all of these years. 

nonetheless, he’s never been the best at comforting people but a selfish warmth that burns brighter than his quirk spans throughout katsuki’s body whenever you seek comfort in him. even if all it does is chip away at his soul, knowing that you’re all torn up about someone else and someone that isn’t him yet again. 

katsuki abandons the tea completely.

however, his cherry lips continue to open and close in search of words and phrases that may sedate your storm of emotions before they rain down on him — just like the world outside. they’re hard to come by, meaningful ones at least, so katsuki settles with a simple… “you deserve better.” 

“yeah? well it doesn’t seem like it. every guy i’ve ever met has hurt me some way, somehow.” you quip blandly, obliviously. “who does better even look like?

me. is what bakugou wants to say. he looks like me. but now isn’t the time or place to tell you that, it’s never been. deep down, he knows that you might never see him that way, as a someone who could treat you right, as someone deserving of your darkest desires and sweet nothings, as someone who could be the very person you deserve to grow old with. you don’t look at him the same way, to you, katsuki will always be your best friend and source of comfort.

he’ll never be a lover or a special one or a boyfriend. 

not to you. 

never to you.

and sadly, he almost feels content to stay this way — if it means he’ll be able to have you near. with the two of you tucked away in one another’s arms, swaying to the melody of harmonious wind and rain, the abrasive, corroding nature of katsuki bakugou is tamed and the world comes to a standstill that feels sort of homely. its familiar, a routine he’s so easily settled into time and time again. confessing to you would be like disrupting the natural course of your relationship and bakugou has seen what you do to guys who cross your limits or suddenly no longer entertain you. sometimes they genuinely do hurt you, other times you’re like a little girl who no longer has a desire to play with her favourite toy — easily casting them aside. the blonde would hate to be one of them, to be thrown out by the person he loves most.

“you’ll find someone,” he says gruffly, after some time. 

pulling away slightly and with a hand centre stage on katsuki’s ooey-gooey lovesick chest, you smile ever so gently. and it’s enough for him, even though it burns, it’s enough to make it worth it. all this suffering in silence, loving you from afar…that is, until he hears what you have to to say next. 

“i wish i could find someone like you, kats.”

the rain outside has hit its peak, bordering on the edge of torrential as it drowns the concrete jungle outside and the grey clouds it pours from shroud the city in a similar darkness to the veil falling over katsuki’s mind. now that, it really pisses his off. someone like him? why not him? he doesn’t understand why you actively put yourself through the ringer when what you want is right before your very eyes.

like a sudden clap of thunder or a strike of bright lightning, katsuki has a realisation. he isn’t so sure how much more of this he can stomach or take. a few weeks ago his best friend, kirishima, had scolded him long and hard for allowing you to walk all over the explosive pro hero. maybe the redhead had been right, your words seem almost purposeful and calculated — designed to hit him right where it hurts. whether or not you’re aware of the fact.

“y’can’t keep doing this.” comes the blonde’s whisper, coasting just under his breath, so low that you almost miss it underneath the howling notes of the wind.

“what?” 

“please stop doing this.” bakugou says again, but firmer, shrugging your hands from his well-built torso like they’ve given him an electric shock. a flash of hurt lines itself across your beautifully crafted features like a film of dust clinging to a marble carved sculpture belonging to an art museum. he hates it, how he can still admire you and treasure you even when you torture him with a punishment of unrequited love. “you can’t keep comin’ here every time you get your heart broken, knowing how i feel about you. it’s fucked up, you’re fucking me up.” 

people have only ever dreamed of being able to bring the great dynamight down to his knees. a man of such power and force could never be shaken, especially with everything that he’s been through to get where he is today. 

the colour in your voice pales, the glint to your eyes dulls and you nervously reach out for your best friend only to be rejected which hurts more than any shitty break up you’ve ever had. “k-katsuki…kats, what are you talking about?” 

“you know exactly what i mean. don’t try to gaslight me or some shit.” katsuki puts it simply, fighting the lump in his throat that nearly stops him from being truthful. it’s always been a difficult task to push you away, “we play pretend, you come to me expectin’ me to lick your wounds ‘n shit. fuck, i’ve been doing it for the last ten years. since todoroki first rejected you in high school, then that guy from class 1B and then shindou from that other school once we went pro.”

he rambles relentlessly and you take every word while memories of each heartbreak flash brightly before your very eyes. it’s clear to you now, standing in front of him, that bakugou has been holding this, whatever this is, inside for far too long. concealing his emotions until his fuse was at its end and it all exploded to the surface. “katsuki stop it.” you say weakly, throat dry.

“fuck no! why should i?” the brash blonde spits venomously, his upper lip curling into an ugly sneer. one you’ve only ever seen when he’s talking to villains, or better yet, talking about your exes. “because it never stopped for me. you never stopped using me.” he blabs, but he’s hardly shouting — the mere fact that he isn’t freaks you out even more. “it’s so fucked up, i’ve been waiting for a chance with you for years. i never said yes to someone fuckin’ loving me for who i am. for all the shit that i come with because i was waitin’ for you.”  for nearly a decade you’ve been offering katsuki all the riches in the world, only to pry them from his warmth fingers and leave him for cold and death.

you could apologise right then and there, make things right, tell katsuki that it was him all along and those other guys meant nothing to you. it’s what he wants so badly, it’s the only thing that could make him forget all of this drama and take you back into his arms. instead, you retreat like a hermit crab back into its shell, stepping back and away from your best friend while selfishly curling in on yourself.

“i didn’t… i didn’t ask you to wait.” 

those words are like a lightening strike to the chest. the white flashbang outside illuminates your face for katsuki to see, guilt outlines the natural slopes and continue of your face and some kind of regret floods the black ink on your eyes. bakugou’s suspicions have been proven true. you’ve never wanted him, not in the way that he’s wanted you. it must be that. must be that you kept him around knowing he’d chase shooting stars and run to the end of a rainbow if it meant the prize was you.

“you didn’t have to,” katsuki’s breathing turns ragged, mimicking the uncontrollable winds of a brewing storm, and his anxiety peaks, spilling over the edge of a glass he’d tried to keep half full for so long. he knew this, all along, he knew that you’d reject him plain and simple but why does it feel like his world is ending. “would have done it anyways ‘cause i am…was… in love with you. you didn’t need to ask me because you knew i'd always be there.” 

it hurts, the truth, it burns like acid rain dissolving through a manmade structure. you hate the taste of it in the air, as katsuki’s words ring through it — undermining the heavy rain pelting down against his roof. you don’t know what to say or tell him, but instead of the contentedness of being close to the blonde you now feel a sudden sense of impending doom. an epiphany. a realisation that you’re going to lose your best friend because you took advantage of a bleeding heart.

you’ve never been the only one whose organs were ripped out and ever-loving corpse was left for dead. each time pieces of you died at every soul-crushing rejecting you’ve ever faced — katsuki has been right behind you, falling to pieces, decomposing, breaking apart… watching you mourn a relationship with someone else. 

someone that wasn’t him. 

words and apologies tangle in your throat and form a knot that blocks their passage. what do you even say to someone who has inadvertently confessed their love for you — something in which you’re not sure you even believe in anymore? “i-i’m… i’m sorry,” slowly, you take a step forward, blindly reaching out for katsuki in his living room shrouded by darkness and only temporarily lit up my lightening crashes. but he steps back, he retreats into a person he used to be — one that was nasty and cruel despite how much he cared.

bearing his fangs, katsuki defends himself from the only person who could truly ever hurt him. you. his walls build up and he snarls again. “i don’t care.” though, his voice wobbles and his eyes are glossy under the harsh white light of the lightening by strikes outside — he remains defensive. 

“i’m sorry,” you sullenly repeat. for what? not loving him? for using him? you’re not sure. “katsuki…i’m sorry—“ 

you sound so genuine, your voice so sweet and sorrowful — it’s almost enough to make the man melt, for his walls to fall away and his heart to open back up just for you. but bakugou knows better, if gives in and steps closer and holds you once more — the cycle will repeat. you’ll know that you can come to him whenever you want, and take advantage of his pathetic yearning and devotion to you. over and over again, for as long as you want. because if you call he’ll answer, always. 

not this time though.

katsuki bakugou steels himself as though he’s facing his greatest foe, his jaw hardens, his ruby red eyes flutter shut and his head shakes and he tries so hard to resist you. when he finally looks at you again, after what feels like an eternity, you’re hopeful in thinking that maybe this can be fixed and you can keep your best friend. however, you’ve seen katsuki’s expression on a dozen other faces before.

that look people give you when they tell you it’s over, when they grow tired of you, when they leave you. 

you know it all too well, the face of someone breaking up with you. 

except this time you’re not losing a half baked love, this time you’re losing someone who adored every part of you even if it was severely flawed. 

you’re losing your best friend. your katsuki.

and all it took was the clouds parting and the heavens crying for you to realise that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[storiesfromafan]

Mr Sandman - Benny Cross x Reader

A/N: another Benny Cross one-shot to go with, I guess, I am dubbing the music series? Or something as such, as I am using song lyric's before or in the one-shot haha.

Previous: Part One, Part Two

Friday, the end of the work week for you! The joy it brought you was relief, to know two days away from this lousy grocery store. And its shitty manager, who enjoys making shifts Hell. But it was Friday, his power ends after you bundy-off for the day!

Two hours and thirty-five minutes left, not that you were counting down. But you had past the clock as you walked from the back room, and brought out a box with different candy and gum to stock at the registers. While it wasn’t busy you thought you’d get a head on replenishment. And it would – hopefully – kill more time.

The stores radio was on a not so popular station, which played mostly 50s music, and you didn’t mind it. You quite enjoyed it really. Mr Sandman by The Chordettes had started playing. And, funny enough, you moved back to your register with smooth steps, almost gliding to the music. While humming along to the catchy tune. You smiled as you turned around, your dress swishing about.

“Mr Sandman, bring me a dream

Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen

Give him two lips like roses and clover

Then tell him his lonesome nights are over

Sandman, I’m so alone-“

You had been singing, your back to the store and any customers. Though the store had been dead when you went out the back. In that time a customer had entered, moving around. They had came in for one reason, and unfortunately, that reason wasn’t in sight. Until you had come out from the back. They had taken a moment to notice how focused you were on the music playing, how you seemed to glide back to the registers. And began to sing. They found it all so amusing, and adorable.

Your singing died – and you wish you could have died on the spot – when you turned around, coming face to face with Benny Cross. You jumped, hand flying over your chest in fright, and a touch of mortification. Your cheeks heating up, eyes wide. After the diner incident a few days ago, you had been mindful to avoid Benny. But it looks like he wasn’t avoiding you.

Slowly your senses came back, and with it your brain function. “C-can I h-help you?” you stuttered, wishing to kick yourself. And moving back behind your register, trying to put distance between you as you awaited his reply.

Benny suddenly questioned why he had come in. Sure, he had noticed you working and finally wanted to talk to you. But what for? It was as if his body had acted before his brain could come up with a plan. So here he stood, before you, unsure of how to answer you. How could you help him?

His baby blues darted from you and around the register, before landing on a pack of gum. Reaching out, he grabbed a packet and placed it on the counter. “Gum" was his response. Which he cursed himself for.

Really? All you could say was gum!? He mentally chastised himself.

Slowly you nodded, hand shakily picking up the packet and running it through for him. Softly you told him what he owed, and Benny pocketed his hand in his jeans in a hurry. Fishing out the money, he placed it in your open palm. For the briefest of moments the rough pads on his finger tips touched your skin. The feel caused a chill to run down your spine, before you finished the transaction by putting the money in the register.

Benny picked up the gum, neither of you speaking. His eyes watching you, as you tried to remain calm. Which was hard to do under your crushes gaze. This was his moment, so what was happening? It was like he was a teenager again, and had trouble talking to a girl.

Benny cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologise for the guys the other day" he babbled out. “They shouldn’t have said that...”

You blinked, taking in his words. “A-ah, it’s f-fine. No real harm done...”

He nodded. “Ah...what’s ya name?”

Your eyes widened at Benny’s question. “I-I'm (Y/N)...” you replied softly.

Benny slowly nodded, a small smile on his full lips. “That’s a pretty name, it suits ya...”

You blushed, yet remained quiet. How do you reply to that? And without sounding like an idiot? You can’t, not for you anyways. You both stood there, watching the other while remaining quiet. Benny was having trouble coming up with something else to say, wanting to keep this interaction going. But he was dying, no words coming to mind. And in that moment the silence was broken, but not by either of you.

“Mr Cross" came an all too familiar stern voice, you both turned and saw an older woman you knew all too well.

“Mrs Martin” Benny stiffly greeted.

The old woman was actually a former high school teacher, which you both had encountered years prior. The old gargoyle looked to you, her gaze soft, before her stern gaze was back on Benny. She was known to be a hard ass, unless you had been a good and hard working students. Which you had been. As you can guess, Benny hadn’t been such a student. And that meant many of the teachers looked down their noses at him.

She huffed. “I hope you aren’t bothering this nice young woman" her voice was sharp, and had almost a warning to it.

Benny stood up tall, head held high. “Of course not Mrs Martin, just makin' a purchase and small talk".

Mrs Martin nod firmly, “good. Then you can move on".

Benny sighed, not wanting to cause a scene. “Yeah” – he turned to you with a lopsided grin and a wink – “see ya around (Y/N)”.

Benny then headed out, you watched him walk across the road to his bike via the window in the front of the shop. You stared at him, getting on his bike and starting it up, until you heard Mrs Martin clear her voice. Turning back to the old woman, who was giving you a pointed look, her basket sitting on the counter awaiting you. So you began to ring up her items and bag them, before taking her money and returning her change and receipt.

She collected her bags and was about to leave, before pausing. She looked to you with a concerned look. “Look (Y/N), a man like Benny Cross isn’t right for you. You’re a good girl, who deserves a good man. You understand?”

You didn’t like how she assumed Benny wasn’t a good man. Sure, he was a Vandal and they are questionable. But part of you believed there was good in the young Vandal, and saw it first hand when he stuck up for you. Benny was good in his own way. Plus, there’s good and bad in everyone.

Not trusting your tongue, you just nodded to her. And she seemed pleased, taking her leave. Yet that small interaction with your old teacher left a bad taste in your mouth. In your fantasies Benny was sweet and kind, but in reality, he wasn’t as such. You’d heard the gossip of what he gets up too or has done.

Then you realised you had spoken to Benny. He had come in to your work and spoken to you. Your face felt hot from the blush that washed over your face. No doubt your face was bright red. Placing your hands on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but smile a little. Than that voice in the back of your head came forth, putting doubt in your mind. Maybe he was just apologising and that was it. No way he would be interested in you...

[miss0atae]

Random thoughts about The On1y One (EP4)  - How to live in the present, friendship and metaphors:

I'm so glad this episode showed us how fast the relationship between Tian and Wang has changed since Wang admitted he felt lonely and Tian finally decided he would get closer to him. It's like they opened a little door, but instead of having just a small opening, it is a wide open door. It shows how just a small acknowledgment can change so much. When you're seen, you are able to do so much more. You are not lonely again. Tian is man of his word. He offered to get closer to Wang and since he said it, he has decided to stick to his word. You can also see how it affected Wang's behavior. It felt like he was coming out of his shell because he knew he had Tian, not so far away. For example, when he woke up the next day and came for breakfast, he was more at ease than before (not perfect, but he is trying at least) with Tian's mom. Before, he couldn't even stand her sight. He tried and that's already a lot.

As the viewers we know that Tian and Wang will end up together, but the characters are not yet there. As for now, it is more friendship. I'm also adding that your significant one can also be your friend. They are not mutually exclusive. I would even dare to say, it's better if it's also your friend. I believe that the foundation for any healthy relationship is friendship. Anyway, having a solid friendship is important because they make life more enjoyable and help us through the difficult times by making it more tolerable. You can see how Wang is feeling happier in some way, now that he knows Tian wants to be closer to him. It makes it easier in class to work, but also when he got in this fight with the bully, he saw Tian had his back. Tian is taking his time and energy in this friendship, but he is also gaining something from it too.

I was really touched by how he said it changed his perception of life. I admitted he used to look at the past more and so he was unable to appreciate the present or to even perceive the future. It’s not good when you’re stuck in the past. Your whole life could go by and you would feel you miss everything because you can’t appreciate what you have. It’s not easy to appreciate the present when you can’t find any joy or reason to like it. However, Tian seems to think that now he has a reason to appreciate it. It was very well-said. I tend to forget they are playing teenagers because I know the actors are older. However, it’s a feeling you can relate to at any point in your life. I may be older than the character, but it’s a lesson that I shouldn’t forget too. It’s so easy to be caught up in our daily life and then we forget the most important thing.

I believe this episode allowed us to get to know Tian better. I can't forget the moment Wang noticed all his belonging are in suitcase. It's like Tian is ready to leave at any point. When you don't unpack, it means you're not ready to settle. There is also the metaphor of a suitcase where it's kind of an extension of himself: “open your suitcase and I will tell you who you are”. There are 3 dimensions of a suitcase: it is associated with emotion (happiness, joy, fear of living or leaving, temporary or permanent departure…), it is also associated with the mixed objects we can add inside and what they tell about us and finally it is associated with the story of its owner and his family, his identity, his encounters… It felt kind of poetic, but also a representation of Tian's state of mind. I wonder if at one point, he will take his belongings out of this suitcase to put it somewhere he feels like safe enough to settle.

Of course, we also got the metaphor of the closet and it is resonated so much more when it's a queer story. That's where Wang hid with Tian and even if the romantic feelings are not here yet, they will come and how will they live with it… that's what the story will show us.

I have to say this episode was charming and I'm really getting into the story. It's a very interesting series.

[pedropascallme]

How about a fic where the reader also works at Smosh and they recently started dating but they haven't gone beyond kissing AND BAM FIRST TIME HAPPENS- really sexy, fluffy, gentle, maybe he picks her up a little bit, and they take time exploring eachother. You'd do so gooood! We truly need more Damien fic in this fandom 😭🔥

More, More, More

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “You tilted your head, scanning his face; he blinked hard once, and fixed his posture, pushing his shoulders back slightly before relaxing them. Your hand trailed up his arm, tracing his tattoos and then loosely grabbing at his bicep.”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, uhhh some Hereditary spoilers I guess? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Not super proud of this because I've been studying all week and I feel like my lack of sleep did not contribute to this in any beneficial ways but I still hope you enjoy it <3

“Are you coming with us tonight?” You fell into step with Courtney while you walked down the hall and out of the office.

“No, I don’t think so,” you looked up from your phone, “promised Damien I’d watch Hereditary, and I don’t think he’d let me bail.”

She smiled at you, walking you to your car, “It’s a good movie,” she tilted her head, “And he’s a good guy. I don’t blame you for wanting to stay in.”

“Yeah, well,” you kind of clammed up, “He’s cute and I love a good beheading, so.” You laughed with each other before saying your goodbyes.

You’d been dating him for two months. And it was really and truly delightful; he was kind, and communicative, and above all so, so pretty. It had started so naturally, harbored crushes surfacing to reveal themselves at the right time, and progressed so smoothly, and you were thrilled by it.

Still, you let the familiar fear of rejection take control at times; the anxiety that maybe you were moving too quickly and that he was only a fraction as interested in you as you were in him. So the physical affection stayed surface level—literally—in that you kissed and touched but hadn’t gone beyond second base, if you remembered the laws of high school correctly.

And that was fine, and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t put pressure on you to do anything you didn’t want—but you really did want it. You wanted to let him have you, let him take you in taboo ways and places. Maybe that made you a bit deviant, maybe even a little perverse. But it was hard to be with someone so…flawless, as far as you were concerned, and not want something like that, even when the voices in your head told you that you shouldn’t, or that you weren’t nearly as experienced as any of his past partners might have been.

Comparison meets joy, and stabs it right in the neck.

~~~

“Be honest with me,” you sat next to Damien on the couch, curling your legs beneath you and leaning over towards him, “Did you want to watch this with me just so you could hold me during the scary parts?”

“Yeah, but not for the reasons you think,” he draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, “I’m fucking terrified of it, and I need my big strong girlfriend to protect me.” He smiled, clearly amused by himself, and you blew a piece of hair out of his face.

“Wuss.” You kissed him, hand toying with his collar, before sitting back and leaning on his shoulder.

“Yeah? Remember that you said that tonight when you turn off the lights.” He shot you a dubious grin before grabbing the remote. You watched the muscle in his wrist move when he pressed the buttons, captivated by the small details of his body and the way he mouthed the titles of the movies that popped up on the TV screen while he flicked through previously watched films.

You tilted your head, scanning his face; he blinked hard once, and fixed his posture, pushing his shoulders back slightly before relaxing them. Your hand trailed up his arm, tracing his tattoos and then loosely grabbing at his bicep.

“I’ll still remember you’re a wuss when the lights are off.” You mumbled, and he looked down at you.

“You seem so sure.” He watched your hand sweep over his arm, nails barely grazing his skin.

“You think I should be contemplating something else?” You goaded him, unsure of where the sudden confidence had come from and why it had appeared only now. “Don’t you want me to think about you when the lights are off?” You continued with your double entendres. You saw him swallow, and from your position, leaning over him with your hand now on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat pick up.

God, he was nice to look at.

“No, I do,” he put down the remote, reaching over to hold your chin in his hand and guide you up to him, “but I think my proposal might be a little more…vulgar.”

You smiled against his mouth when he kissed you, the leisurely pace allowing you to take your time tasting him, feeling the shape of him near you, on you. You sat up, giving yourself room to lace your fingers in his hair and pull him even closer, and he let you; an arm wrapped around your waist to secure you against him.

“You wanna watch this movie with me or not?” You quipped when you separated from him, and he smiled, shaking his head.

“Yes—yeah. I do want to watch this with you,” he paused, before continuing, “You, uh…you wanna tell me something?” He sort of shifted in his seat, tilting his head back on the couch cushions to drink you in.

“What?”

“Where that came from?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you played dumb, heat creeping up your neck and splashing your cheeks red; you tried not to lose your new surge of confidence, reassuring yourself that his line of questioning was a result of mutual excitement. You leaned over him to grab the remote and press play before you crawled into his lap to straddle him.

“You gonna watch this way?” His hands found purchase on your hips.

“I haven’t told you about this skill?” You kept up your act.

“No, I was unaware of the eyes on the back of your head,” he squeezed your hips and you hummed at the feeling, “But it’s pretty hot. I love a woman with twenty/twenty/twenty/twenty vision.”

You heard the movie play behind you; the score and the sound of voices droning softly. “Can I be honest,” you traced a finger over his collar, “I’m not that interested in the movie right now.”

“How dare you,” Damien feigned hurt, “This is a serious breach of protocol—” his hands crawled up your back before he stood, picking you up with him, and laying you on your back, caging you under him while you laughed from the adrenaline that came with being picked up and put down so quickly. “And I absolutely will not have it,” he kissed down your neck and you grabbed at his hair. “This switch up will not go unpunished.” He brought his face back up to yours and kissed you deeply, your hand tightening in his hair when his tongue slipped past your lips.

“Tell me if it’s too much?” He urged, nose brushing against your cheek when he broke away from you.

“Keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

“Damien, I don’t think there’s a sexy way to say this: I really want to have sex with you right now.” Your hand fell from his hair and trailed over his neck, stopping between his shoulder blades, and pulling gently at his shirt.

“Sounded pretty sexy to me,” he smirked, continuing his ministrations, kissing down your neck, lips stopping just above the collar of your shirt. He reached under the hem of the fabric, warm palms brushing against your skin while he explored you. You gasped when he cupped your breast in his hand, his free arm finding its way under your body to prop you up slightly and allow him easier access to you.

You’d done this before, had him touch you like this, but it felt so much more charged in this moment; the promise of more to come made you antsy in the best way, having previously stopped here. His hands kept exploring, with your chest, your stomach, and the curve of your spine all finding relief under his hands. You slid one hand under his shirt, desperate to be as close to him as possible; your other hand continued to tug on the back of his collar, encouraging him to rid himself of the layer of fabric.

He gave in to your silent request, pulling away from you momentarily to take it off before returning his undivided attention to you and, with his hands on your waist, bunching your shirt up at your sides, offered you another heated kiss.

You felt restless, wired by his touch and eager to feel him in the ways you had spent so much time imagining. Your hips bucked gently into his, and you heard his breath catch in his throat, his chest stuttering against you when you deepened the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck and one leg draped over him. Your hands trailed over his back, drinking in his frame above you. You tugged at his hair to disconnect momentarily, panting.

“Can I…?” His hand ghosted over the hem of your shirt while you looked up at him.

“Please.” You gave him the go-ahead, and he pulled you up a bit to help you strip off your shirt. He wasted no time, licking a streak across your collar bone before dipping his head down to kiss the valley between your breasts; he left open-mouthed kisses on the soft flesh and you put a hand on the back of his neck, unsure whether to enjoy the view or allow your head to loll back to fully embrace the feeling of his mouth on your body. His thumb grazed over one of your nipples, and you gasped at the contact.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled against your chest, focused on the way the emerging goosebumps on your skin felt against his tongue and fingers, “you’re so beautiful.”

“Damien,” you tilted his chin up in your fingers, “pants.”

“Fuck—right.” He tore himself away from you, hands flying to the zipper of your jeans to undo them and peel them off your legs. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, undeniably obvious wet spot soaking through with your desire, before lowering his face to your core and licking a stripe over your clothed cunt. You whimpered, hand reaching for his shoulder and squeezing, encouraging him to continue. He repeated the action, looking up at you from between your legs to watch your eyes flutter before you let your head fall back against the armrest of the couch.

“Can I take them off?” One of his fingers softly brushed against your clit over your panties.

“You can do whatever you want,” and you were only half-joking, so trusting of him and his intentions, “Take them off.”

Damien did as he was told, pulling the fabric down your thighs. He let one of his fingers trail up your slit, letting you coat it with your slick before using it to rub tight circles on your clit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he had moved himself down the couch, propping himself up on his forearms above your core, and, using the position to his advantage, he licked into you, finally getting a proper taste. You moaned, a breathy sound that pushed all the air from your lungs, and it spurred him on: his tongue fucked into you while he used his finger to massage your clit, grinding his hips into the couch to find friction when you moaned his name.

He removed his finger from your clit, letting it trace over your hole before sinking into you; you let out a sigh of contentment, and he pumped it slowly in and out of you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking, before adding another digit. You mewled down at him, whispers of his name and begs for him to continue his movements, promises of how good you would be for him if he would just, please, let you cum. He moaned at your words, the vibrations shooting through your core, and when he sped up his movements ever so slightly, you were an absolute goner; one last swipe of his tongue over your clit in time with the push of his fingers against your walls had you crying out for him.

You gulped for air, dizzy with satisfaction, and when you looked down at him, he was already staring at you, his face painted with a dopey grin. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled, letting your head fall back on the couch. He climbed up and over you, kissing your forehead.

“You’re pretty when you cum for me,” he rubbed his nose against yours before moving to kiss your cheek, “wanna see you do it again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, lips brushing against yours and you closed the gap between them; you could taste the sweet edge of your own cum on his tongue.

“Make me.” You whispered against him, and he groaned into the kiss, pushing his hips against yours.

Hesitantly, he broke away, standing to undo his belt and undress. You watched, transfixed, eyes trailing from his collar to his legs. The background noise of the movie rose to a crescendo before falling quiet.

“Baby,” his hand fell over your face, cupping your cheek.

“Mhm.”

“We just missed the decapitation scene.” His words were laced with a faux disappointment, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Guess you’ll just have to bide your time until you can find the remote and rewind.” You pulled at his arm, and he crawled back onto the couch, positioning himself above you.

“I mean—if you insist,” he laughed, kissing your neck while he lined himself up with you. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance and the mood returned to a more serious tone. “Gonna be good for me?” His forehead rested against yours, “Gonna tell me what you need?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, squirming just enough to feel a hint more relief with his cock so close to where you needed it. “Need you, Damien.”

“Good girl.” He pushed into you slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch as he went. Mouth open and eyes squeezed shut at the feeling, he moaned softly when he bottomed out. You clawed at his arms, pulsing around him.

“More,” you pleaded under him.

“Oh my god,” he keened at your words, pushing his hips into yours even further before pulling out to repeat the motion over again; long, languid thrusts filling you up, dropping kisses on any exposed skin you could reach on each other between moans. “Tell me—tell me how it feels, baby.” Damien whispered into the skin of your cheek, his words quiet in your ear.

“It’s so good,” you whined at the drag of his cock against your walls, tip pushing against your most sensitive spots with every roll of his hips. “Want it—harder, please, Damien.”

He gave in to your cries immediately; straightening himself out above you, one arm reaching for your leg to prop it up against his shoulder, he used it as leverage to pull you into him. You yelped, well pleased by the new angle and the deep push of his hips, eyes rolling back when he brushed your cervix.

“Christ, you’re so pretty,” he grit his teeth, growling his words, “You like that, baby? Like feeling me like this?”

Your face contorted into a hazy smile, ragged moans taking the place of a coherent answer to his question. You reached out for him, raising your arms to encourage him to drop back down to your level; he pushed your leg down, and you wrapped it around his waist when he leaned forward to kiss you, engulfing you underneath him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to capture every inch of your body to bottle in this memory. You whined at the feeling of his stubble on your neck, the vague tickle making you giggle softly into his shoulder before your own moans cut your laughter short. He smiled, hips still driving into you.

“Doing so good, baby, give me one more.” He gave himself the space to snake an arm between your bodies, fingers deftly finding your clit and kneading it to pair with his thrusts. You arched your back, consumed by need, desperate to show him how good he made you feel. He sped up, movements becoming rougher the closer you both got to your highs; he rolled your clit under his finger and you gripped his bicep, nails threatening to break his skin as you came for him.

“That’s right—fuck, that’s my good girl,” He praised you while you trembled under him, cunt squeezing his cock while he drew out your orgasm. “So fucking good, that’s it.” He rambled, mouth agape once more as he hurtled towards the edge; after a few more deep thrusts, he pulled out of you, fisting his cock and spilling over your stomach with a moan of your name. His cum was warm on your skin, mixing with the sheen of sweat that had developed over you.

He slumped over you, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck while he evened out his breathing; you took deep breaths underneath him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your cheek into the crown of his head.

“That was,” he breathed against your skin, bringing his face to your level, and kissing your nose, “better than a movie.”

“That’s high praise.” You mumbled, letting him press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I know,” he smiled, a familiar playful glint in his eye, “Don’t you feel honored?”

“So much,” you laughed, “and sweaty.”

He stood up, locating his shirt near the coffee table. He turned back to you, using it to wipe down your stomach and the wet that dripped between your legs, peppering your abdomen with kisses. One of your fingers scooped a spot he had missed on your stomach, and you brought it to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Damien…” you released your finger with a pop, and he returned to his spot on the couch, pulling you up to lean against him. He looked at you, silently pressing you to continue, eyes fixed on your lips, silently hoping you might repeat the action just so he could see it again. “Can we rewind the movie?”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “If you think you can get through it without getting distracted.”

“Mm,” you grunted, pushing yourself further into him, “no promises.”

[secretaccountlol]

Smut with Peter x Reader where it’s their anniversary ( wedding or dating you choose) and they go raw for the first time and Peter is a absolute mess plus his dick is sensitive

Hiii~! Hm so. Hopefully this is to your expectations-!

So I interpreted, this as a bit of a subby/switch Peter I hope that’s alright.

this also can be read any spidey too :3

Also you didn’t use any she pronouns so I went ahead and made the reader AFAB! :3

18+ no minors <3

Cw:overstimulation, unprotected sex, teasing,switch!reader, switch! Peter.

“Peter…”

“Yeeesss?”

“Why am I blindfolded?”

“Can I not surprise my fiancé?”

Peter says ‘fiancé’ with a French accent, putting extra flavor in the ‘e’.

“You can but why do I have to be blindfolded!”

“Mm cus it makes it more exciting?”

You groan, “get on with it, Pete!”

“Ugh! Ewww ungrateful!” Peter put on a false voice, you held your laugh trying to keep the appearance of annoyance.

“I can see trying not to smile, baby. Can’t fool me” even though you can’t see him grinning, you could feel it.

“Okay, you caught me but please no more waiting I’m excited!”

“Alright.”

You felt a woosh as your eyes adjusted to the light, a gasp emits from your mouth as you feel Peter hug you from behind.

“Like it?”

“Awh, Pete you shouldn’t have.”

The living room was decked out with fairy lights, your couch was made into a fort moved from its original place to make way for big comfy blankets and pillows replaced it, with your favorite snacks and drinks in the middle and your head turned to the tv.

“Peter…” you feel a press of a kiss on your cheek as your eyes glitter with tears, an album of your best moments together plastered on the screen, some of the pictures were just of you when you weren’t looking at Peter. He liked that, taking pictures of you off guard, it was “artistic” he said.

“Do you like it?” You nod squeaking out a “yes”, it was clear you liked it but Peter always needed that extra reassurance.

You run over to the fort, you can’t contain your joy.

“Wait wait, before we sit down.” Peter puts his hands out before shooting his webs to grab a bag on the counter.

“Matching PJs.” Peter shrugs and you squeal with delight.

-

“Peter.”

“Yes, love?”

Your eyes train on Peter, biting your lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing nothing- just..I-I uhm have a ‘surprise’ b-but I feel like it’s lame compared to” you pause motioning all around the room, “This!”

“You know I don’t care about how grand it is.” Peter nuzzles his nose with yours making you giggle.

“W-well uhm. I-hh..”

Peter leans into you, eyebrows raised awaiting your answers.

“I-..started taking birth control. S-so we could ..”

“Do it without a condom?” Peter finished your sentence, his eyes glossed over, you nod you couldn’t get the words out so you’re glad he said it for you.

“I-i wanted it to be a surprise for our anniversary” you fiddle with your PJs you lift to see his eyes, his jaw was clenched as you scanned his face your eyes naturally travel down to his bulge.

The fabric strained against it you wet your lips instinctively stealing a glance at Peter’s lust-blown eyes, “I’m not gonna lie..I-i really I want to fuck you right now.”

“I mean” you pause, biting your lip, “I-I told you for a reason.”

You watch that as a glint in Peter started to form, the same glint you always see when you know he’s about to tease you.

“Tell me what you need, pretty one?” Peter’s hand's inch up your thighs, his head dipped down low to try to meet your eyes.

“Pete..”

“Come on, you can do it.” Pete’s lips graze your cheeks, his mouth near your ear now.

“We won’t get anywhere with silence, y’know? Communication is key right?”

“R-right.”

Peter holds your chin hostage forcing you to stare into his eyes, “What do you wanna do, hm?”

Your eyes wander a bit before you snap back to him via his hands gripping your chin hard, it makes you whimper.

“I guess you don’t wanna-“

“No!”

You close your eyes, breathing through your nose because opening them again, “n-no I.. I want t..to have sex with you…!” Your lips wobble after you spoke, he knew you were shy and he loved to exploit it.

“Now was that so bad?” Peter smirked as you broke out of your shy trance, you push him away

“Oh fuck you! You know I get flustered when you do that stuff!”

Peter’s hands play with the buttons on your shirt, undoing them one by one, “can’t help myself, you look so cute when your all embarrassed like that” Peter discards your pajamas top leaving your bare chest on display, you feel the urge to be modest but you know how Parker would react. His hands hooked onto your PJS bottoms, you lifted to help him slide them off you.

“God I’ll never get tired of looking at you, y’know that?” Pete traces your nipples with his tongue before undoing his shirt and pants.

You hum in agreement, “What’s with the rush, Petey?” you tease, well try to at least you leaned into his face, planting kisses gently which were returned in good favor. “Mm, when’d you learn how to tease?” Pete’s hands were soft as they cupped your face.

“You”

“Me?” he giggled as you nodded, “Nice to know I rub off on you.” His fingers creep up the sides of your body, eventually reaching your boobs giving them a squeeze then rubbing them in soft soothing circles.

“Pun intended”

“You’re so corny! we’re about to raw dog for the first time and you're making puns?” You climb into his lap, pouting to keep yourself from laughing at his antics.

“Mm, cus I know it makes you happy and cus I know you're nervous..” Petey smiles as your eyebrows arch.

“Mm? I’m not nervous bout that..” your head tilts in confusion until it hits you, he’s nervous. “Aw babe..” you shift your weight, pressing your core into his bulge.

Peter’s breath hitched, “I’m not nervous at all, I can’t wait to feel you cum in me.” Your eyelid lowered, your hands picking at his boxers, before diving into them, fishing out his cock.

Your hands glided up and down his cock, Peter's sharp breath made you grin your pace sped up in the effort for more. “Fuck-! W-who are you? W-what have you done to my fiancé?” Peter smirks in false control, only to be interrupted by a kiss from you.

“S-so soft.. I-i love your hands-“ Peter’s hands grasp your wrist, “but I don’t wanna c-cum there.” You pull your hand away, leaning back to study his face as his hands went to return to favor. Slithering into your waistband, “god, you’re so wet..I can’t wait to fuck you” Peter groans, his fingers slipping up and down your slit, probing your hole.

Your hips buck up with soft sighs, “No point in w-waiting, I’m wet e-enough..” you lift letting Peter slip off your underwear, “I wanna see your f-face when you enter me” you felt hot, you’ve never been this straightforward with him before but you could tell he relished it.

Peter nodded, breathless as you lined yourself with him. You grasp his dick, you push the tip against your clit, letting your slick cover it.

“Fuck- god! That.. that feels so good..” Peter’s words were through gritted teeth. “P-please baby put it in..” you feel a fire ignite in you, you want more.

You leaned against his chest, allowing your body to grind against his cock, letting your pussy slip up and down, “bab-baby fuck that feels so good. Please please- l-let me fuck y-you.” His voice was higher than usual, hands on the floor gripping the sheets, his hips trying but failing not to thrust into you.

“I’m sorry I was just getting payback for all the times you’ve edged me” you leave kisses on his lips, as you guide his dick to your hole, letting yourself slide onto it, agonizingly slow moaning as you adjust. Your eyes gazed at Peter, his mouth open but no words or sounds just pure bliss, his eyebrows knitted together, head thrown back.

You raise yourself, slamming back down, skin colliding on skin making a delicious smacking sound.

Peter whimpers, “fuckfuckfuck- you feel like heaven oh my god! So..sososo warm ohh.”, his hands instantly are off the floor and onto your hips. “Please d-don’t stop..! D-don’t stop pleasepleaseplease…!” Peter’s whines filled the air, his voice made your insides clench.

“Aah- fuckfuck- please do that again. Fuck! it feels so good.” His hands use your hips as handlebars, using them to push and pull you up and down his cock. “M-more more more I need more..! Nngh-“

“Oh god- Pete! Mmhn- “ your legs hug him tight, driving him deeper into hitting directly into your g spot, your head is thrown back as it hits over and over again.

Peter whines, “ooh-“ his thrust are sloppy as he fucks himself into you. “N-never been so dee-ahh…!“ Peter's hands are quickly planted on your back, laying you down, returning to hips in seconds.

A crushing grip, that will leave bruising marks to be remembered and kissed upon tomorrow. Peter’s whimpers swell in your mind as your own choked moans spill out your mouth.

Your hands travel down to your clit rubbing furious circles as you sob in pleasure. “P-peter! Mmmh- so fast..!” Your free hand pulls his head down for a kiss, his shaky breaths against your soft lips, you muffle both of your moans with a searing kiss.

Tongues and teeth clashing in a mess of lust and love, little whispers of “I love you” bounce back and forward as eyes gaze at each other through hazy vision and tears.

“Ooh..Pete-“ your eyes close as you buck up, “S-say my name again, please..” soft touches of the cheek compel you to say again and again, Parker’s fingers dig into your skin as his thrust becoming harder and harder making your body shake as your eyes pinched.

You arch as you feel yourself clenching, pressure building up more and more at your core. Peter keeps his tempo as you squirm, “g-gon-“ your hands go haywire as you let out a scream.

Your ears ring as you pant, fingers splayed out on his chest. “Oooh” Peter whines out more obscenities as he fucks you through your orgasm, “Y-y..fuck even more wet..I’m- fuck soosososo cl-“ peter sobs, hiccuping as his moans get louder.

“Fuck! Ilov- Mm! Iloveyousomuch!!” Peter's rough fingers make their way to clit, harsh and fast strokes make you whine, your body moves against your will trying to match his thrusts.

“I-I’m - shitshitshit- imcummin’!” Peter’s eyes roll back as he pumps into you, a warm pressure courses through your body as Peter's cock pulses in you, “Hhn-oh I-I can feel you in me..” you push your body against his cock, Peter throws his head back as obscenities flow out of his mouth.

“Ah-..! Y-you mm- you're practically milking me. Fuck-“ Peter presses down on your stomach you groan in delight. “I-I’m g-gunna cum again, Ah-mmhnn!” You throw back again, convulsing with pleasure.

“M-me too, fuck your- “ Peter grunts as crams more

cum into your hole, “Y-ya take it..take it”

The room was stuffy, both your heads were spinning as you breathed as you stared at each other.

“T-that was..”

“Amazing, spectacular, sensational?”

You half-hazard hit him, “You’re such a goofball!”

“Mmm, you love it though. Dontcha?” Peter winks with his head tilted, his hair stuck up and all different ways.

“Hate to admit it, but you’re right.” You ruffle his hair.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you think it's okay for me to write for TWST even though I don't play the game?

Personally, I don’t think anyone ever “needs” to play a game in order to enjoy it and create for it. Sometimes you can just observe art from a distance and appreciate it, or you like hearing about how it brings joy to people you know. Maybe you like the aesthetic of it but can’t really see yourself getting heavily involved with it. Perhaps you don’t like gacha games so you can’t be motivated to engage with the mechanics. There are many possible avenues.

In the case of a game like Twisted Wonderland, there may be accessibility reasons why you don’t play since the game is only in English and Japanese—and even then, maybe your country doesn’t have a server to host it. In fact, I know there are many people who are TWST fans yet only read translations or watch videos about it without having played the game themselves. Maybe they found the manga or the light novel first. Whenever the anime comes out, people might discover TWST through that. We have to consider these aspects and be more open-minded about what constitutes as a “fan” rather than gatekeeping the label of “fan” to only those who play tie game for no discernible reason. What defines someone as a fan or not isn’t the labels other people put on you—you are the one that decides what you want to label yourself, and whether you are a fan or not.

I believe that also extends to content creation in fandom spaces. No one’s stopping you from making fan art or writing fanfic (or whatever it may be) just because you don’t play the game, and nor should you need anyone’s thumbs-up to do so. When you think that you do, you’re only imposing an arbitrary limit and holding yourself back. You have to be confident in deciding what you want to make without worrying how others might perceive you for it.

Now, that being said 💦 I don’t mean to scold anyone for asking me questions, but I feel that I again need to stress this: I am an internet stranger. My opinion or approval/disapproval shouldn’t hold any more weight than the next person’s. You should not put too much value in the advice of an internet stranger either. You shouldn’t care whether or not I think something is okay for you to do. The only person who can give you “permission” is you!

I understand that maybe people may feel uncertain about themselves or are looking for reassurance from a third party, but I do not feel I am the right place to go to for these kinds of things. Even though I answer in earnest, questions of this nature make me feel like I’m being put on the spot and pressured to provide timely comfort.

I don’t feel comfortable continuously being asked for very personalized advice like this; asks like this push on the boundary and start getting into uncomfortable territory for me. I’m here to talk about Disney anime pretty boys. I’m not here to be a fandom counselor 😅 Does that make sense?

This isn’t the only time I’ve received asks of this nature, nor is it the only time I’ve had to give a public warning about this. Please be mindful and respect the boundaries I have set.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.6

a/n: we get a bit of backstory about our dear little reader. let's see how she handles parents weekend, shall we?

Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: light swearing Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 (Masterlist)

Parents Weekend. Most of the students at Nevermore loved it; it gave them an opportunity to show their family how they were doing, who their friends were, what they were doing with their young lives. And truthfully, it was a joyous weekend. There was more laughter and joy than any other point of the year, even the Rave’N.

Even in the past, you had enjoyed Parents Weekend. The few days Momma and Pop could come up and visit and talk and give you the family you never truly had. Filling that void and giving you the space and opportunity to just be a child. You and Nicky had never been more grateful for something you hadn’t realised was so important.

You understood why they hadn’t been able to come the past few years, truly you did. The others had plays, concerts, events, exams. They were all a little more important than a weekend away, especially when it was a full day’s train ride. They had offered to come, but you told them to stay; being one of the oldest definitely had it’s downsides.

But you enjoyed seeing everyone else’s families rolling in, all the excited chattering and hugs. Even Enid’s family had arrived. You gave them a quick wave and polite smile before running off to hide. If Mrs. Sinclair made one more comment about no one coming to visit you, you were going to scream. The concern was sweet, but there was no point in dredging that fact back up.

“Will you be heading out soon?”

Even though your heart rate accelerated at the sudden appearance of a voice, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Principle Weems knew of your plans for the day and had already given explicit permission to be out all weekend. So why you flinched at her voice, you had no idea.

Must have been nerves.

“A lot sooner now that Mrs. Sinclair saw me,” you said, sending a smile to Mr. Sinclair when they all turned to look at you. “I’m trying to avoid the attention this year.”

“I know you were planning on staying away for the weekend,” Principle Weems started, “but maybe tomorrow you and I could socialise with the other families.”

The tone in her voice, now that was a reason to be surprised. An uncertainty accentuated by the slightest shake behind her words. Without drawing any attention to you both, you looked at her out of the corner of your eye to see that yes, that forced smile of hers was real.

It would mean cutting your trip in half. These trips only happened every other Sunday and this was your one shot at a full weekend. Would it be worth it? Is it what he would want you to do? Probably, you thought with a silent sigh. As much as it felt like throwing your heart into a juicer, you knew what the best thing to do would be.

“I would love to,” you said far too softly. Hopefully Principle Weems had heard you because you weren’t sure you could say it again around the tightness in your throat.

But Principle Weems smiled. “Then we will see you tomorrow.”

She left you standing there with nothing but a dry mouth and an uneasiness in your stomach. It continued to plague you on the flight to Hanover, and reached a crescendo as you greeted Nurse Jackie at the desk and walked into the room. Only when you sat down in your chair by the bed did you feel that anxiety and fear metamorphosise into a comfort you couldn’t put into words.

“Hey bubba” you said as you started digging in your bag for the book. “You look like shit, when was the last time you shaved?”

The high pitched, headache inducing beeping of the heart monitor answered.

“We’ll clean you up before I leave,” you huffed, “I’m not kissing your scruffy cheek.”

The ventilator hissed.

“I told you about that girl I like, right?” You asked. The chair creaked underneath you as you pulled your legs up and crossed them. “The goth girl that looks like she wants to murder everyone, except it’s kinda hot?”

One spike of the heart monitor.

“I was thinking of asking her out again.”

An increase in the beeping of the heart monitor.

“No, it’s not a date." You rolled your eyes. "She doesn’t use that word.”

Another rapid increase.

“I know that’s what it is, she just doesn’t like the word.”

The heart monitor returned back to normal.

“Anyway, I need your thoughts. Would it be stupid to ask her to the Rave’N? It’s not either of our style but it’s still tradition so I just… need some brotherly advice.”

Three breaths from the ventilator before the heart monitor spiked twice.

“You were supposed to say yes,” you said with a huff. “Fine, I’ll ask. But if she turns me down, I’m blaming you.” You pointed your finger at the bed. With a smirk to yourself, you flipped the pages of the book open. “Okay, let’s see, we stopped after Gandalf and the Balrog, right?”

The heart monitor spiked once.

Your smirk turned into a smile before you started reading. Line after line, page after page. At the end of each chapter, you would look up to check on your captive audience, listening for any indication of his thoughts from the heart monitor. With each new chapter your stomach dropped all over again, some sad desperation for a response that was never going to come.

A groan escaped your lips as you shifted in the chair, stretching your legs out until they rested on the bed and you could lean back a little further. You made the mistake of looking up in the middle of the chapter. Your throat constricted, the words becoming harder to force out.

“Sorry,” you said as you cleared your throat. You picked up where you had left off.

Nicky laid there and listened as you read through the rest of the book, the uneasiness in your voice disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

—---

There was nothing in heaven or hell that was quite like love. It came in all shapes and sizes, from romantic to familial to platonic. That unbearable queasiness that settles in your stomach like a body settles at the bottom of a lake and gives a certain sort of intrigue and comfort. To know that someone would kill for you, to die for you. That was what made love so exciting.

Morticia could see it in everyone present at the Parents Weekend events. Although the day was rather dreadful - far too bright and sunny - everyone was filled with love for whoever they were with. She could see it in Enid Sinclair’s family, whom she had introduced herself to. It was present in Wednesday, although a much different expression (she knew Wednesday still loved them).

And she saw it in Larissa and the young woman accompanying her.

She had noticed Larissa immediately, as she so often did, but the young woman caught her eye. The way she would look up at Larissa as if she hung the moon in the night sky. Morticia knew Larissa had no children, and yet she looked at the young lady the same way Morticia looked at her own children.

“I’ll be right back,” Morticia told Gomez before making her way to where Larissa was standing.

“Morticia,” Larissa called out once she was near. She sounded far more joyful than usual. “Always a pleasure.”

“I see you’re enjoying the festivities for the day,” Morticia said even though her gaze fell to the young woman who was actually quite tall, now that she was up close.

“We are,” Larissa said, her smile softening as she looked at her companion. “Allow me to introduce you both, this is Morticia Addams.”

“Oh, you’re Wednesday’s mom,” the young lady exclaimed with a grin and enthusiastically reaching her hand out, “I’m Y/N.”

Ah. So that’s who you were. Morticia knew exactly who you were. Numerous times she had heard Wednesday or Enid talk about you, even just in passing, with an admiration that she rarely saw from her own daughter. Her features would soften and she would threaten you bodily harm far less often than usual. 

It had been so unusual at first to hear Wednesday talk about anyone, let alone someone that brought out a completely different side of her. They were only occasional mentions of you, but they were enough for Morticia to catch on to it. One mention of your name and Wednesday’s eyes would go wide before trailing off to the side, her train of thought completely derailed for a fraction of a second too long.

While Morticia would never proclaim to know for a fact that her daughter had feelings for you, it was easy enough to tell. And when Enid had let it slip all those weeks ago that you had taken Wednesday to perform an autopsy? Then the immediate darkening of her daughter’s cheeks and nose before changing the subject? It was all Morticia needed to know.

And now she could put a face to the name.

Across the field, Wednesday stared in abject horror as her mother shook your hand. The same horror that she assumed one would feel when witnessing something traumatic, such as a car accident. A feeling that settled deep in her stomach, clawed it’s way up her throat because as horrifying as the scene was, she just couldn’t look away.

That feeling of horror slowly morphed into one that she couldn’t explain when you smiled at her mother and your feather’s twitched at something she had said. That single twitch, the ruffle, put a weight on her heart and forced it to beat harder, so hard that she could feel the physical pain within her chest. Why were you smiling at her mother like that? What had she said to make your wings twitch in that childishly giddy way?

Oh no.

Her heart’s struggle to beat came to a full stop like a car hitting a brick wall. Her mother was leading you over to where Wednesday and her family were situated. The way you followed her, with your hands swinging at your sides, reminded Wednesday of an avenging angel; dark and foreboding and your eyes on every little thing that passed.

She wanted you to follow her around like that. Would you keep her safe from those who wished her and her family harm? Her heart told her you would, you always would, you had already done so time and time again. But as you got closer and closer to seeing her family, her entire being, her mind told her no. No, you wouldn’t keep her safe, you wouldn’t keep her family safe. You were far too innocent, far too sweet, so adverse to trouble.

But she wanted you to stay. She needed you to stay the way a gaping wound needed stitches. Craved your touch the way a an infection craved moisture. It was humiliating to think such thoughts, Wednesday knew that, but if it was the truth then it was the truth. She needed you to stay and be near even if it was as nothing more than an acquaintance.

Though she refused to ever admit it. It was a weakness she would never act upon.

Her mother finally brought you to the family and introduced you to Wednesday’s father and brother. You shook their hands, a polite smile on your face, and Wednesday felt that budding feeling in her stomach again. Your smile should have been reserved for someone more deserving than her father and brother.

You were invited to sit with them for a time, and you agreed quickly. Most would have tucked tail and ran, no one quite understanding how her family could be the way they were. But you sat down beside Pugsly - why would you not sit beside her? - and engaged in conversation far easier than most.

All Wednesday could do as you talked was stare at you. At the way you gestured your hands wildly as you talked, or how you held eye contact with everyone when they talked. You got along with Pugsly; why could you not get along with her the same way? Your conversations with him flowed as effortlessly as a river flowed into the ocean. Wednesday certainly couldn’t hold the same amount of engagement.

She noted the way your eyes flicked over to her every now and then as you talked or listened. Whenever someone would ask you a question, you would look at Wednesday first, almost as if asking permission to answer. She would give you a singular nod, and you would continue. What would cause you to look to her in such a way? Surely you knew how to answer questions on your own, did you not? And yet, she almost found herself enjoying the attention, no matter how discreet.

“I should probably get back,” you finally said once the conversation had lulled. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet all of you.”

You gave a polite wave, shook her father’s and Pugsly’s hands, kissed her mother’s knuckles, and walked back to where Weems was standing. Wednesday already felt feelings about you leaving; feelings that she didn’t know what to call since she admittedly hadn’t felt them before. She didn’t know why, but she desperately hoped her family had liked you, had seen you in the same light that she oh so often did. She-

-were you wearing her sweater?

[noforkingclue]

Hi hon, I love your work. Can I request a LokixYn fic pls. Can yn be like super clingy but hide it from Loki cause he isn’t used to it. Like it’s not a thing on Asgard. So she has never been overly affectionate/clingy with him but then something changes that maybe she gets ill or tired and Loki has to adjust.

If not no worries.

I hope you’re well and I hope spring brings you joy and happiness.

Note: requests are currently closed

The weather is being a bit strange at the moment. Last week it was almost 30oC and now it's colder and raining. Oh well, that's the UK for you!

Anyway, hope you like the fic :)

Title: Sickness

Being on Asgard was a lot different to being on Earth. Of course you were expecting that, two completely different cultures there were always bound to be differences. However, you weren’t used to things being so… stiff.

You were a naturally openly affectionate person. With your friends, family and even past partners. However, Loki wasn’t like that. He was a lot more reserved in that aspect when compared to you. You always respected this, keeping your true affectionate to yourself. Loki didn’t mind small bits of PDA in public but mainly kept it to holding hands.

When you permanently moved to Asgard even that seemed too much. You missed being as close to him as you were on Earth but still, you respected it. It made the private moments between you all the more precious even though you could see that Loki still wasn’t used to it.

“Loki,” you let out a cough and winced at the pain in your throat, “Loki?”

“I’m here.”

A cool hand pressed against your forehead and you leant into the touch. You smiled faintly and let out a pained groan. Loki gently stroked your hair and said,

“I’ll go and-”

“No,” you said quickly, “no I want you to stay.”

“Stay?”

“Yeah. I feel better near you.”

It must be your fever doing the talking for you, Loki decided. You gave him such a pitiful look that Loki sighed and sat down on the mattress. It was lucky that he couldn’t get these human illnesses. He knew that you shouldn’t have gone back for that visit. He just had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to you. You should’ve stayed up here with him where it was safe and he could properly look after you. However, what you did next surprised even him.

You tugged lightly on his sleeve and Loki sighed and rested his feet on top of the covers. Yes, he should’ve taken his shoes off but he wasn’t planning on staying for long. You needed your rest and you wouldn’t get any if you kept talking to him and insisting on staying awake.

Once Loki was in a position you were satisfied with, you rested your head on his stomach. Loki stiffened under you, unsure about how he should be acting. You smiled sleepily and wrapped your arms around him and snuggled up against him.

“Love-”

“Just let me rest,” you said, “I’m sick.”

“I can tell.”

You opened your eyes and glared up at him. He looked down at you coolly, knowing that your heart wasn’t truly in it. Eventually you smiled and rested your head on his chest. You swung one of your legs over his and pressed yourself even closer against him.

“I missed this.” you said

“Missed what?”

“Being so close to you,” you sighed and buried your head against his chest, “I enjoy being close to you.”

Yes, Loki knew that already. Part of him enjoyed having you so close. To feel you pressed up against him. A reminder that you loved him and you were his and he was yours. But on the other hand he wasn’t used to this. It was all so human of you.

Then again, in the quiet corners of his mind, he was able to admit to himself that was just one of the reasons why he loved you.

[cinnibelle]

I’m going to vent. Sit tight for an artist’s reflection on the acotar fandom!

I was going to use tumblr to strictly post art (at least on my end) and engage with the wonderful ppl here as well. Except what I’ve been seeing as of late is a lot of abuse (across platforms) and it’s very jarring. As an artist, I understand to make the most of your experience in a toxic fandom is to say nothing and do nothing that bothers those a bit **too** passionate about their opinions. I get it, I’m used to being content fodder from other fandoms. So I am not new to this.

But this fandom is *so* toxic that I immediately understood why artists choose to stay neutral or entirely avoid making art for this fandom at all. I have several art friends interested in the books but won’t touch the fandom with a ten foot pole from what they’ve seen. What I’ve personally witnessed the past few months is genuinely disgusting. The only reason I’m here after being FLAMED on twitter is because 1) I began posting BECAUSE people were so kind and encouraging and I don’t want to leave them and the possibility of befriending others 2) I was fully prepared to be dragged for the smallest offense.

I didn’t want to believe people would be downright atrocious to me for Elain, being starborn, holding the sword that reflects her (as I’ve stated when I paralleled quotes) but that’s what they were: awful. And what I got in turn was: why are you victimizing yourself this is what other artists deal with! Ok?? And!? Why is it appropriate AT ALL. Why is it fine for you to do that? I don’t care what anyone ships, why do you feel entitled to comment nastiness under someone’s art. To directly be in their mentions mocking the concept and the way it looks or how you hate the character. It brings me and others joy.. why are you being ruthless? For a fictional character??

It’s too much. And you know, this is my first fandom experience where the shipping is so extreme. I would’ve loved multi shipping as I’ve done it in other fandoms, I really don’t care for what sort of crack ships people make up (though I have my limitations, I think everyone does. “Notp”.) But you know what I DON’T DO as an adult? Ridicule artists for their work. They are providing content FOR FREE. And if they aren’t, they are gifting you with their expertise and talent. You are scaring people away.

I was afraid of joining and just stayed on the sidelines for months just enjoying arts in peace. I only gave in because I showed some friends some of my sketches and they ADORED it. And pleaded that I post. So I did, and I found many others really wanted me to continue posting. So I do. Were it not for the toxicity, I would’ve drawn all types of ships because I’m genuinely someone that does not care about the ship and if it’s canon or endgame or not, if I like the characters and the vibe- cool. Draw it. That’s the beauty of fanart.

But people are acting diabolically UNHINGED over it. And treating artists like they’re players and they’re revoking sponsorships. Fandom should not be a competition. That is exhaustive and tiring. I shouldn’t have to be fearful of the engagements on my posts. I don’t even have 500 followers yet on ANY of my platforms. And still, I am treated like filth. I need people to reflect on their behavior, recognize if they don’t like something ignore it or block it or what have you and be at peace. Stop giving into negativity and using artists as some pawn- they have feelings TOO! And you really turn them off to a character or a ship or a fandom in general with the way you act.

I have my comments off where I can keep them off because I simply don’t want 1) people arguing in my comments and 2) comments that are generally unhelpful or just shaming me for what I post. But twitter I really can’t help what happens. And tumblr too there’s some limits I can take and a filtering system I can take advantage of but even here people lack etiquette. I don’t understand where people get off acting like mean girls over things people made.

This is the most extreme, unhealthy fandom I have ever been in and I’m really not all shocked when I hear an artist quit and doesn’t want to partake. This is not a competition of who has it worse. Stop bullying artists because they don’t make content that pleases you. Just drop it. I can’t believe I am being called TOXIC for defending myself and my art. And I know who these people are, I know exactly the type of content they themselves post and it’s COMEDY to be telling ME I’m toxic for standing up for myself.

Most artists leave or go silent. That’s what you want, right? Or to antagonize them to the point they really lose patience with you. This is me losing patience: a call to being better. Be the change you seek. It’s funny I have people going at me and in their bio it says “ spread kindness not hate” Pardon??

Seriously, I would’ve liked to explore any theory and a variety of arts despite my preferences but the way people act with what I DO put out, I’m just sour. I don’t even want to expand beyond the two characters I really like because I have a headache already with the “you don’t really care about-“ takes that I’ve seen other artists get when they expand what they draw in this fandom.

It shouldn’t offend you that an artist has a preference and wants to share the things that they found intriguing or makes them happy. And if it does, cry about it in private at minimum. Stop dumping your grief onto the artists. That’s all. Maybe then you will see a resurgence of artists that do content for free (and frequently) or a return of artists who left.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

QPR Steve and Evie fic

“You dumbass,” Evie grins at him, the gap in her front teeth showing, glossy hair framing her face like a dark halo. Her skin is the same deep bronze colour as his own, but her eyes are different, glittery black and almond shaped, framed in feathery lashes. Steve’s always thought her to be a real beauty, even if half the guys in Tulsa are too dumb to see it.

“Hey!” He feigns playful offence, but she isn’t wrong. He may be a dumbass but at least he’s self aware.

She laughs at him, taking a messy bite of her burger, and he loves her desperately. He’s not in love with her- there’s only one person for him, and he’s currently sitting two tables away, listening to Sandy Okensy talk about hair products like she’s some sort of goddess- but his friendship with Evie is everything. She understands him completely, never wants him to be anything but himself and still seems to like him for it. He wonders if she even has a clue how precious she is to him, a friend who never wants anything more from him than he can give. Boys and girls aren’t really supposed to be friends in Tulsa- it’s why everyone thinks he and Evie are dating and they don’t bother correcting anyone- but she’s one of the best friend’s he’s ever had.

“You are,” she insists through a mouthful of food, “you’re supposed to at least pretend you’re having fun with me instead of looking at Sodapop like that.”

A year ago hearing her even allude to his feelings about Soda would have sent such a powerful spike of fear through him that he would have lashed out immediately, but he’s long since grown comfortable with Evie knowing. He knows she’d never tell a soul, that she gets it. Evie isn’t the same kind of different as him but she is different too, has never loved anyone the way he loves Sodapop or Soda loves Sandy, is not sure she’s even capable of it, has never been consumed by any kind of lust. She always says friendship is enough for her. Steve wished his heart worked like that. Evie's type of loving seems like a blessing, while Steve has only ever known his own to be a curse. 

“I am having fun,” he tells her, and it’s true. For all it sucks to watch Sandy get everything his defective heart desires, he always loves hanging out with Evie. Fun seems to follow her around, a dog with its master, keeping her bright eyed and teasing even when she sometimes shouldn’t be, “it’s just hard sometimes, seeing him… with her, y’know?”

“No,” Evie shrugs, giving him a grin that managed to be both pitying and mirthful, inviting him to share the joke, the secret she’d entrusted only to him, “I don’t. Looks like it sucks though.”

Steve exhales heavily, the closest approximation he can get to a laugh. He doesn’t understand how she can make him being all stupid and heartsick seem funny, but she somehow always manages to.

“Oh fuck off.”

She throws a fry at him. He catches it and stuffs it in his mouth before tossing one of his own back. It lands in her lap before she picks it up, dunking it into her milkshake, pulling it out soggy and doused in vanilla ice cream before eating it.

He glares at her, not even bothering to hide his disdain.

“That’s vile.”

“You’re vile.” Her frown doesn’t even last ten seconds before her smile is back. She’s terrible at arguing, even playfully, always has been. He’s always loved that about her. For some reason he has a weakness for people filled with so much joy when they have so many reasons to be filled with hate. 

“Nice comeback.”

“Thanks, I thought so too.” She very pointedly misinterprets his sarcasm, and maintains eye contact as she very carefully selects the biggest fry left on her plate and slowly lowers it into her milkshake.

Disgusting.

Steve looks away as she very deliberately eats her second milkshake soaked fry, making exaggerated noises of enjoyment. She’s trying to get a rise out of him and he refuses to give her the satisfaction, even if her antics are earning them a few disapproving looks from the elderly couple a few booths away. 

Whatever. He shoots a glare at the old lady with the pinched look on her face. Geez, people should mind their own business. 

When he looks back Evie is watching him with fondness written all over her face, and he can feel his cheeks heat up, unused to such simple and obvious adoration. Even with Soda, whose love he never doubts even if it’s not the kind of love he wants, affection is never shown quite this obviously. Soda will pat him on the back or sling an arm around his neck, but only Evie ever looks at him like this.

“What?”

“You got your grumpy face on.”

His scowl deepens.

“I don’t have a ‘grumpy face.’”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don't.”

“Yes you do,” she scrunches up her nose and makes an exaggerated scowl, hunching her shoulders as she does so, “see? Like this.”

He scoffs, fighting another grin. How does she do that? 

“Shut up.”

“Nah.”

He shakes his head and she beams.

“Seriously though,” she says, “you don’t gotta scowl at anyone who looks at me funny. I know I’m weird.”

She says weird like it’s a dirty word. Steve bristles. 

“You ain’t weird!” He promises himself he’ll find out whoever told her that and teach them a lesson. Evie isn’t weird. Anyone who sees her light and her joy and her quirks and decides they mean she has something to answer for- they’re the weird ones. Steve doesn't know a lot but he knows anyone who thinks there's something wrong with Evie isn’t just weird, they’re plain stupid and crazy to boot.

“I am,” She shrugs, accepting it, though he can see a glimmer of insecurity in her dark eyes and it just about kills him, “everyone says so. Hell, you were there in the third grade when everyone called me ‘batshit Bylilly’.”

He was, and he remembers the fury it had invoked in him then, the same as it does now. Evie’s grandfather had died that year, and a lot of the things people called her crazy for were simply ways her family grieved. It wasn’t fair then, just like it still isn’t fair now, hating her just because she’s different. She’s better than any of the assholes who see her as less than because her mom’s family is from the rez and never tried to fit in in Tulsa. Fat load of good it would have done them anyway. Look at Steve’s own dad, trying to pretend like he didn’t grow up in Mexico when he still barely speaks any english. Maybe mom wouldn’t have left if his dad had tried to keep her home alive in his heart and his family, the way Evie’s family did, instead of forever trying to be something he’s not and trying to force them to be too. Besides, it’s not like Tulsa liked him anymore than they liked Evie, for all he tried to fit in. Like her, he’d always be a bit of an outsider.

“You ain’t weird,” Steve argues again, and it’s a familiar argument, but one he’s determined for her to someday believe him about, “not the way they say it. Like it’s a bad thing. Ain’t nothin’ about you is bad.”

“You’re real sweet, y’know that?”

“Shut up.” No one in their right mind has ever called him sweet.

“You are.” she insists, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna tell anyone and mess up your tuff greaser rep.”

He laughs and her eyes crinkle at the corners, back to their usual twinkly light. 

He’s gonna have to marry her someday. Not necessarily because he wants to but because if he doesn’t marry her then someone else will- and no matter how kind that person may be they’re going to want something Evie can never give them, and he can’t let that happen to her. Besides, it’s not like he could marry who he wanted even if Soda loved him back. And he could do far worse than Evie. There are far worse things than marrying someone as effervescent as her.

“Looks like those two are getting ready to go.” Evie inclines her head, and Steve follows her gaze to see that she’s right, Soda is waving over the waitress, Sandy giggling and tucked into his side. With a start he realizes Evie has managed to distract him so completely he'd forgotten all about Soda and his own envious heart. “You still feeling up to going to the movies with them? I can always fake a stomach ache if you’d rather just go home. Or we could go to a drag race. I think Angela said there’s gonna be one at the rodeo grounds tonight.”

Steve thinks about it. Usually when they double date with Soda and Sandy they eat separately like they did today, but the four of them walk over to the nightly double together to watch a movie. Sandy usually sits in Soda’s lap and he usually plays with her hair, and the sight of it always leaves a pit in Steve’s stomach that his heart drops into. It’s not exactly his favourite feeling in the world. 

But…Evie usually sits beside him when they go, and she always throws popcorn at any socs she doesn’t like, and challenges him to a burping contest once they get pop, even if Sandy scolds her for it. She’ll get cold as soon as the sun goes down and bully him into giving her his sweater, but share her cigs to make up for it, and she’ll mutter stupid jokes in his ear to make him laugh whenever there’s a serious scene on. He’ll hurt watching Soda, but with Evie there he’lll still manage to have fun.

“Nah,” he decides, “I’m still down to go to the movies.”

“Good!” Evie chirps, tossing a few coins on the table before Steve can even reach for his wallet, “It’s a horror film tonight and it’s supposed to be a bad one.  I wanna see how many folks are gonna faint at all the blood.”

“You reckon Sandy will?”

“Hmm,” Evie gives the blonde girl a considering look, “I dunno. Probably not. I bet she’ll scream though.”

“Twenty cents and a pack of Kools says she faints at the first murder scene.”

“I’ll take that bet.” They shake on it, and he follows her outside, listening to her talk about nothing in particular and stupidly glad she is here, with him, that she sees him as something worth caring about.

Soda might be his best friend, the love of his life, but Evie is his person in a way no one else could never hope to touch. She knows his soul and he knows hers and they love each other anyway.

It’s not any kind of fairytale. But maybe it’s something even better.

Evie wins their bet. Steve doesn’t really mind. 

[onyourfifi]

you. | lee haechan

✰ | pairing : bestfriend!haechan x reader

✰ | genre : angst, a little bit of fluff at the end

✰ | word count : 654

You and your best friend Haechan were just walking around the halls, killing time. You guys would sometimes sit on this certain stairwell and talk for the entire lunch period. You guys would talk about anything, your classes, people, teachers, or any stupid topic you guys thought of. You two were besties, no doubt. But that was it, besties, nothing more, nothing less, right?

As you guys were talking, a new girl started to walk down the stairs. She was in your class, Lilly.

“Woah who’s that?” Haechan asks with a new look in his eye

“Oh that’s Lilly, she’s in my bio class”

Lilly had long black wavy hair that moved from side to side as she walked. She had soft doe eyes and small lips. She wasn’t too tall, not too short and had amazing style. Her make-up fit her so well and looked so pretty.

Over the next few days, Lilly picked up the habit of walking down those same stairs every time you and Haechan were together. Every time she passed by, you would catch him staring. It shouldn’t have bothered you that much, but for some reason, your heart ached. You don’t know why.

“You’ve been looking at her for a while huh?”

“Yeah I guess I have…”

“ooooo you’re in loveeee,” you giggle.

You mean that in a teasing way, as you always do, but something doesn’t feel right when you say it.

From that moment on, he was so obsessed. Haechan would talk about her outfit of the day or the different types of hairstyles she would pull off. Every time she smiled at him or waved, he would smile so widely and blush. He was head over heels.

You, on the other hand, can only smile. You knew you guys were just friends, but seeing him get so happy over another girl made you… jealous. You used to be one of the only people who could make him laugh, who he could talk to, now all eyes are on Lilly, and you hated it.

“Hey I feel like something’s off about you, are you okay?” he asks.

“No no everything’s fine don’t worry about it”

“Are you sure? Your mind looks like it’s in another world”

Yeah another world where we’re together.

“Yeah, I’m sure. How’s Lilly?”

“Oh my god you won’t believe what she did today-“

There he goes again.

At home, you find yourself lying on your bed for hours. You think about how he describes Lilly so beautifully and so highly. You look at all the pictures he’s taken with you. All your friends tell you that you guys are such couple material. You deny that with a laugh, but inside, it hurts. Why can’t that be you? Why can't he be talking about you? How much he loves and adores you. Why are you just friends? You feel cold tears run down your cheeks after hours of laying there.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Something’s different today, something’s different about him. Haechan wasn’t giggling as much, rambling about Lilly. He didn’t even react when she passed by today. Something’s wrong.

“Soooo, how’s Lilly today?”

“Oh I guess I haven’t told you yet…”

“woah what happened?”

“s-she has a boyfriend”

“Oh.”

You felt some joy in your heart as you thought you had a chance, but he looks so sad. You’ve never seen him like this before, tears are running down his cheeks. You don’t know what to say or do. All you can do is hug him. He hugs you back tightly, releasing all his sadness into you. You can feel his tears soak your shirt, but you don’t care, you want to be there for him.

“Hey, I’m here for you, don’t worry”

You can feel him start to relax and his sniffles are toning down.

“Thank you”

Haechan knew who he wanted. He knew who he was made to love. He knew it was you.

[fracturedsunsets]

Finding Comfort, Losing It: My Journey with Fandom Burnout in the Marauders Fandom

I wanted to share my experience with fandom burnout in case anyone else has felt something similar but didn’t know what to make of it.

Like many in the fandom, I crave comfort like oxygen. Feeding off these storylines, characters, headcanons, and fanfics for a long time gave me that sense of comfort. This space was my escape, and I got high off of it. Living through stories that were so carefully crafted and presented was essential for me. But now, I feel none of that. No longer exciting, heartwarming, or soothing, but rather disconnecting, distasteful, and hurtful. The way I could describe it is that it feels like I’m grieving. It sounds dramatic; trust me, I know. But why or what went wrong? I could name a few reasons. 

I got into the Marauders fandom when it started booming on Tumblr in 2015. It was exactly what I pictured it to be—wholesome, creative, and fun. I loved it. Coming back now, a lot has changed, but the sense of belonging is still there. There is something indescribable about making up stories, ships, and headcanons about characters that we continue to deepen our understanding of, and we can all relate to it. 

Most of all, though, I felt connected and understood. Sure, we all shared a silly passion, but it felt like this fandom gave me an outlet—access to be myself and to feel loved and understood through it. It sounds personal because it was. I took it personally.

The moment that did it for me was when I read a triggering fanfic that was enjoyable initially, but eventually, I felt the need to put it down. In any other circumstance, I would’ve. But there is something to be said about being in a fandom that makes me feel  “obligated” to finish it. I’m “obligated” to keep up with the latest fanfics, continuously pump out content, and keep up. Mostly, it’s about keeping up. So I didn’t put it down— I finished it and regret it heavily. 

Now, I’m left with so much dread and frustration that it got to the point where I’m hurt. The past few weeks, I had to reconcile with this new beginning—the fact that my relationship with this fandom is now tainted by this one horrible experience. As a result, I lost much joy, bringing forth a wave of sadness every time I was reminded of this fandom. 

I’m not blaming the fanfic author or the fandom in any way for the fact that I crossed my boundaries. But how this fandom is and how we interact with it is very enlightening. People take things very personally here (even though we’re arguing about dead gay fictional characters, come on), and it’s because this fandom is personal to us. We love this place. A bit too much. To the point where we’re incredibly defensive and argumentative. And frankly, I don’t want to be a part of this space if that’s all it is. I like the breeze, the chill, the ease I initially felt—none of the rest. 

I’m still navigating this journey. I know I need a break from this fandom. I know I’m still grieving the fandom I used to find so much solace in that now feels like a sharp, dull pain. I know I shouldn’t have poured my personal feelings into this space because look where that left me — hurt. 

If there’s anything to take away from this — let this be your reminder to listen to yourself. Give yourself grace. There is no need to be obligated to any aspect of the fandom. Do you. And most of all, don’t take it personally. It’s not worth it. You can still love these characters and stories, set firm boundaries, and choose how you interact with this fandom. This is supposed to be a safe space, and while it may not feel like that in its entirety, you can make it safe for yourself.