#and i have to just keep being brave and doing things that are scary

[velvetvexations]

I'm censoring this URL because the OP is eighteen. Do not seek the post out and do not harass anyone. Teens are often wrong about things. It's fine. It's radfem bullshit but it's fine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let me be clear: The idea that t4t was invented by trans women for use betwixt themselves, and that "TME" people "gentrified it," is (a) holy fucking shit racist as fuck and (b)

takes a deep breath

WRONG INCORRECT UNTRUE EASILY VERIFIABLY FALSE

The OP is eighteen. That means that we did not do anything. They were not born when It came about on Craigslist and was being used by all trans people from the very start. I don't think they know what Craigslist is and probably more than half the people reblogging it don't either.

TME people fucking gentrified it? Are you fucking kidding me? Are these people tossing that post back and forth just fully playing pretend in fucking Tarabithia, what world do they live in where this combination of syllables makes sense and doesn't cause them to wither up in shame for even having the thought, much less vocalizing it?

Ohhhh but what really gets me is the assertion this was done because being with "TME" people meant there was a high chance you could be "socially (or even physically) murdered."

No.

No, OP. If you were any kind of trans person in pretty much any time and place before the 2010s, and a relationship with a non-trans person went poorly, there was a very high chance you would be dead. There's no "or even" about it. That is what fucking happened. Your ex didn't go crying to your mutual friends telling them about how you hogged the blankets. Your non-trans ex would proceed to ACTUALLY FOR REAL MURDER you, assuming they even waited for the relationship to go sour and didn't just kill you the second you walked through the door like they were always planning to do.

That's how it was when I was growing up, denied transitioning but longing so achingly to be a girl in spite of the horror and misery that seemed to plague us. So I have a problem with the obsession with sOcIaL mUrDeR that keeps getting tossed around these days, because of how degrading it is not only to how bad things still are with death after death after death, but how it disrespects what we came out of. But to directly act like soooocial murrrrrder was the big scary thing trans women feared back then? That's heinous. That's sickening. The social consequences all trans people were deathly afraid of back then was being outed as trans and then being fucking stabbed within twenty-four hours.

Even in spite of the election and what's coming next, how good we have it would be nigh-incomprehensible to the first trans men and women and non-binary people to be brave enough to advertise themselves as t4t to strangers. Like, I need everyone to understand that. They could not have wrapped their fucking heads around it. It'd be like explaining a circuit board to a Mesopotamian. One could show them a video of the Blue's Clues episode about queer people and it'd just register to them as migraine inducing static.

We're in such a better place than we were. And this is what people do with it.

Make up bullshit reasons to be angry at their siblings and imply they also didn't get murdered for being trans on a regular basis, or that even just trans women cared about an irritating buzzword, even as cishetpatriarchal fascism is empowered and determined to drag us back to the the horrific dark age that scholars refer to as Literally All of Human History Up Until Now.

Amazing.

Why do I even try. Like, with anything. Why do I get out of bed in the morning. I could have stayed in bed all day listening to rain sounds.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on that.

[cetoddle-archive]

i'm sooo tired but i got to pick up my new sleep meds today hopefully they help me tonight zzz

[mysillycomics]

Hi everyone! This is Claire. I am writing to let you all know that we did it. We saved Bailey and Tiger Fluff, and we all live together in an apartment in Illinois, my home state. We really, really did it!!!

You can read our thanks, thoughts, and more under the read more :0)

(note: Oliver also goes by Bailey! She has two names.)

There are many important people on this journey that we would like to specifically thank.

First, all of our friends (especially Peregrine, Sophie, and Jackson) who were there on the day Bailey was evicted, who listened to me and helped me figure out what to do when I felt more lost than I’ve ever been. Without them we wouldn’t have been able to act so quickly and efficiently. Because of them, we were able to formulate a plan.

Speaking of Jackson, he and his partner Cherri need to be thanked once again. Jackson drove all the way from his home, Bailey’s motel, and back to get both her and Tiger to a place to stay while we figured out what to do next. They provided a warm, quiet, and safe place for both of them in a time when something like that was so far away. For the first time in a long time, I knew that Bailey was truly somewhere safe. For that, we will be forever grateful.

While we do not have their names, we would like to thank the staff of the airport and airline who helped make this journey objectively possible. They also made Tiger into a little celebrity on the flight, and everyone, including the pilot, went to greet her and congratulate her for being so brave. She really is the bravest little kitty we know.

Next are my very close friends Elle and Callan, who invited Bailey and Tiger to stay at their house not far from mine while we secured a place of our own. They, like Jackson and Cherri, gave both of them the space to simply be. I was able to visit a couple of times, and being with my favorite people made an extremely difficult time so much better. It made me think “this feeling is what we are fighting for”.

Finally, we’d like to thank you.

To all of you who read and shared our story, you helped us to feel seen and heard and not alone. Reading words of support in the comments, quote retweets, and tumblr tags truly made me feel like we could do this with everyone cheering us on.

To everyone who donated, your generosity this financially possible. As of writing, we received $19,381 from the GoFundMe. We are now able to use the rest of funds that have been tucked away in savings for rent, food, and bills. I cannot overstate how grateful we both are. What you did for us will never leave our hearts.

…

While Bailey and Fluffy were at Elle and Callan’s, we found an apartment. It was small, but perfect. We toured. We applied. And we got it.

And on December 9th, 2023, we moved in and started living together! Our goal, our dream, our driving force for so long was achieved. After three years of long distance, we finally made it.

Our home is small, and has some quirks as all homes do, but it’s ours. The love of my life, the best little cat in the word, and I are all together. We are safe, warm, happy, and loved. The future we fought so hard for us now the present. Forgive me for being long-winded. I just have so much to say about all of this! Sometimes I still can’t believe that we actually did it. But we did, we really did!!!

I’m going to keep the GoFundMe up for a little bit, but once things settle more I will close donations.

Thank you!!!!!!!!! 🧸💕

____

Hey everyone Bailey here, I cannot overstate just how grateful I am to every single one of you and how thankful I am that this journey has been able to come into fruition. It was very scary being in that motel not having a plan or knowing what I was gonna do next while everything was crumbling around me. If it wasn't for Claire and our incredibly kind and caring friends I don't know what I'd do. They helped me press on and get through this with Fluff and we finally did.

Finally we're in a place that brings nothing but peace and comfort, my anxiety has dropped and I'm doing things I've never thought possible and building up strengths I never knew I had, I feel whole in a way that I've never felt before and I'm just, happy.

I am so grateful to have Claire, for years she's been so supportive and comforting and has brought this dream we've had into reality and every day I am so thankful to have her, she is the love of my life and my best friend. The life that her, myself and Fluff now share will forever be together and we can finally begin living. 💚💜

Thank you everyone, thank you to our friends who let Fluff and I into their lives to be able to be safe while we get our bearings, thank you to everyone who said such kind and wonderfully compassionate words, cheering us on as we go, every day I was looking at the community post I made on YT and it was just filled with people being so supportive, and thank you everyone who donated and got us into where we are. We could not have done it without all of you. 🐟 ❤️ 🐟 ❤️

[luveline]

hiiiiiiiii jade! <3

would you be willing to write a fic about girl dad!spencer x bombshell!reader? i can only imagine what an adorable riot their daughter would be!!!

tysm!

ty for requesting!! mom!reader

Spencer always thought you were too beautiful for him. Too funny, too brave, too confident. For years he feared he’d never be anyone you could love; he was the opposite of all your best parts, he talked too much about the wrong things, he went red whenever you so much as looked at him, and he couldn’t flirt back, not for anything. 

But it’s been a very long time since he felt that way. What good is a father who doesn’t believe in being yourself? Amanda deserved to be loved from the moment she drew breath, and he shouldn’t have been any different. 

Now, though, he’s wondering if he shouldn’t be so accepting of all her whims. “I am not wearing that, daddy,” she says. 

She’s just old enough to put together sentences but young enough that the individual words sound like building blocks, chunky and clumsy on her little mouth. Her lips are yours, her smiles and frowns one hundred percent you. (Though you argue with him often that the quizzical pout she does is all his.)

“What do you mean, angel?” he asks, bent over her sock drawer looking for a matching pair. 

“This is pink, and this is purple.” She points. 

“Yes, and you like pink and purple!” 

“I like pink… and I like purple,” she says. 

“But not together?” he asks knowingly. “You want them at different times, is that it?” 

She runs for his legs, hugging them tightly. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so much like your mommy it’s scary,” he whispers playfully, leaning down to pat her small back. “Okay, angel. I’ll find you a different dress to wear. Or maybe the dungarees!”

She lifts her chin up to smile at him. “Y’okay.” 

“Spencer, Amy!” you call, voice carrying from the kitchen. “Are you guys ready? We have to go soon and you haven’t even eaten!” 

Spencer used to sit at his desk daydreaming about you. He’d drink five cups of tea a day to get to walk past you for the kitchenette, hoping you’d be making a coffee, that you’d flirt with him over corporate rewarded donuts. Now you’re making him breakfast as he persuades your daughter into jelly shoes because she wants tall shoes like mommy. They compromise —Any will wear the wrong shoes if Spencer agrees to carry her to the kitchen table. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says as he pushes open the door into the kitchen. He's trying to be the best dad he can be all the time, but he doesn’t have a knack for the mornings like you do. “We won’t be late.” 

“That depends on how agreeable my lovely girl is feeling today.” You pick up the pink plastic plate you’ve filled with eggs, toast, and a mix of washed berries. “What do you think, Amy? Looks nummy?”

“Chocolate chip?” she asks, eyes already widening. 

“It’s breakfast, honey,” you say, scooping her out of Spencer’s arm to carry her to the table. “Chocolate chips are for dinner.” 

“Please?”

“If you promise to be really super duper good at Uncle Derek’s, then yes, you can have some chocolate chips,” you say, tucking her chair in, and kissing her chubby cheek. “You want me to make you milk or juice, mm?”

Spencer spots the two plates you’ve made up for you and him on the counter and quickly brings them to the table, sliding yours in front of you with a long-pronged fork, his hand on your shoulder to keep you in your seat. “I’ll get it,” he says, ducking down to kiss you on the side of the mouth. 

You turn to Amy. “See that, sweetheart? See how nice and kind your daddy is to me? He’s soooo nice. This is why we love him so much, and we appreciate him so much.” 

Amy nods emphatically, blueberries tumbling off of her plastic fork. “So much,” she echoes, her voice like melting sugar. 

He has a weird moment by the fridge where he has to grip the handle. “You know I used to dream about making you a cup of coffee in the mornings?” he asks. 

“Spencer, come over here and kiss me again, please,” you say, sympathetic and fond.

“Me too!” Amy says through fruit. “Me first.” 

“Oh, gosh, this is one of the hardest decisions of my life,” he says, sweeping in to dot your cheeks with kisses, hers then yours, three apiece.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Sensitive! MC

Requested By: @fairwish

Summary: The brothers' reaction to an MC who is sensitive and gets upset about not having anyone who cares about them in the Devildom. The Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 3,064

This doesn't have Belphie because of the lesson it's based on! Sorry <3

Based on Lesson 6-15

You had been torn away from your life and taken to an unfamiliar place full of creatures that humans portrayed as scary and evil.

You didn’t know anyone in the Devildom. You didn’t have anyone who cared about you or that you could talk to about the trouble you were experiencing.

You were all alone, terrified, trying to figure out how exactly you ended up here.

And to top it all off, none of your new acquaintances seemed to care.

They all carried on without a worry in the world - as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a human to be in Devildom.

They didn’t do anything to try and soothe your pain of missing home or calm your fears of being surrounded by demons.

In fact, some one of them - Mammon - spurred them on by threatening to eat you if you didn’t listen to them or do as they asked.

You did your best to put on a brave face, to pretend as though their words and actions didn’t affect you as much as they did.

But it was hard to keep your composure when it was clear that not a single one of them cared about you.

-

You made your way to the Assembly Hall, your heartbeat still pounding in your chest.

You had just left the music room where you had a very intense one-on-one conversation with Lucifer after your near-death experience where you tried to save Beel and Luke.

“Hey, how about that Y/N, you’re alive!” Mammon stated as you entered the large room, a smile on his face that you weren’t sure was one-hundred percent genuine.

“Let’s see…yep, you’ve still got both arms and both legs. Your eyes are still in their sockets, and your ears are still attached. Guess you’re okay,” Beel added.

“I want to know what Lucifer did. You’ve got to give me the deets L-8-R, yo!” Levi said, a bit too excitedly. 

“Whaaat, you’re still alive? Well, that’s boring,¨ Asmo replied, a small frown on his face, as if he was disappointed

You want to scoff at their reponses. How could they be so nonchalant with everything that just happened. How could they not care at all that you almost died trying to protect their brother.

“Of course. Unless he went crazy again like last night, Lucifer wouldn’t hurt Y/N,” Satan stated, the mention of your name bringing you out of your thoughts.

“And do you know why that is, Y/N?” Satan asked you, a small smirk resting on his lips as he asked the question.

You wished it was because Lucifer liked you. Or at the very least because you were a human. But you the knew the answer.

“Because I’m an exchange student,” you replied, softly, casting your gaze away from the demons standing in front of you.

That’s all you were to them - a business transaction. A pawn that was being used to ensure Lord Diavolo’s vision came to light.

“Exactly. I see you have a good grasp of what’s going on here,” Satan replied, and you felt tears begin to sting your eyes.

“If anything were to happen to one of our exchange students, it would make Lord Diavolo look bad,” Satan continued to explain and you took a deep breath in an attempt to steady your emotions.

“Lucifer would never do anything to harm Lord Diavolo’s reputation,” Satan added and you felt the ties that had been previously holding you back snap.

“You know, I actually forgot about that. For a moment, I was starting to think that Lucifer might actually care about me. Thanks for me reminding, Satan,” you replied sharply, your angry eyes locking with his surprised ones before you left the Assembly Hall.

Satan hadn’t expect such sarcasm to come out of you - such wrath. None of them did. 

You had passed Lucifer and Lord Diavolo on your way out of the Assembly Hall and they could feel your irritation radiating off of you.

They didn't follow after you though, instead turning their attention to the five other demons inside the Assmebly Hall, silently demanding an explanation as to why you were so upset.

Lucifer thought that he had patched things over with you after your conversation in the music room.

He wasn’t the best at apologizing but he was sure that he had gotten his point across about how regretful he was over his actions.

He thought that you had accepted his apology and that things were okay, but after seeing you storm out of the Assembly Hall, we was no longer sure that was true.

After his brothers told Lucifer what happened before his arrival, he thought it would be best if he went and checked on you himself.

He found you in the courtyard, remnants of the tears you had previously shed streaking down your cheeks.

Lucifer wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. Mostly, because he wasn’t exactly sure why you were so upset.

It took a little bit of time, but when you finally opened up and told Lucifer about your troubles, he was surprised. 

He was surprisingly sympathetic to what you were going through, but he didn’t exactly let that side of himself show.

He had already apologized to you for his part in causing you discomfort in the Devildom and he was the Avatar of Pride, after all, so getting a second apology was a tall order, and an unlikely one.

But, you did notice Lucifer doing small things around RAD and the House of Lamentation.

It could be simple things that provided more comfort for your life in the Devildom or moments of appreciation that Lucifer treated as trivial but ended up meaning more to you than you thought it would.

After that conversation with Lucifer, one thing was clear - he and his brothers weren’t treating you right and they needed to make amends for that and correct their course of action.

Mammon could arguably be the most sensitive among his brothers when it came to certain things.

He had his fair share of moments where he felt like he didn’t matter to his brothers and times where he felt like there wasn’t a single person in the Devildom that cared about him.

So, he knew just how devastating those thoughts could be.

When you first arrived to the Devildom, Mammon’s concern was making sure that he made himself out to be intimidating and indifferent towards you so that he could have the power in the friendship.

He wanted to dictate when and where the two of you would go and how things were done. After all, if he was going to be your babysitter, he wanted full control of the situation.

But that didn’t really work out for him, and it didn’t take long for him to not only have to bend his knee to your will - but he wanted to.

The truth was he had fun with you and you always found a way to make him smile. Though, he refused to say anything like that. Hell, he refused to even think anything like that when he was around others.

But, when you had your outburst in the Assmebly Hall, Mammon had seen the pained look on your face. The same pained look that he had seen on himself in the mirror.

He followed after you almost immediately, not letting you get too far before he caught up and pulled you into an empty classroom.

He stood in front of you, silence filling the air as you did your best but failed to hold back your tears.

Mammon dared himself to reach up and use his thumb to brush away the tears that were rolling down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to keep it together when no one around you cares about you,” you stated, barely above a whisper as you kept your gaze on the ground.

Mammon felt his heart shatter as you spoke those words. He knew that he was at fault just as much as his brothers.

He wanted to tell you that he cared about you, but every time he opened his mouth to speak those words, they got lost.

So, instead he pulled you into his arms, hoping that his gesture would be enough to prove you wrong.

Hoping that you would see that even though he had a tendency to act aloof, on the inside he was screaming for you to show him attention and to care about him the same way he cared about you.

Levi isn’t the type of person who knows how to handle this kind of situation.

He wasn’t even planning on going in to school today. He was perfectly content with doing his studies from the comfort of his bedroom.

But, ever since he made a pact with you, he had to admit he felt some sort of desire - a very SECRET desire - to spend more time with you.

The idea that his brothers would be hanging out with you at school while he was sitting at the House of Lamentation, missing out, was enough to spark the sin that he tried so hard to control.

And now after seeing everything that had just happened, he was heavily regretting his decision to leave his room.

Because now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand, he wanted to disappear back to his otaku haven and pretend like he never saw your outburst

On the other hand…he couldn’t. He felt like he had to do something to help, and the feeling only grew when he didn’t see any of his other brothers moving to go talk to you.

His social anxiety was skyrocketing, but he couldn’t leave a fellow TSL fan in their time of need. That was the reason the told himself when questioning why he was doing this.

When he finally did find you, he once again froze in place as he tried to figure out his next move. He didn’t expect to find you crying.

He found some nearby tissues and slowly approached you with them, relaxing slightly when you gently took them from him and began wiping away your tears.

Levi managed to ask you why you were crying and when you explained it to him, everything made sense as to why you snapped at them.

Levi was almost always self-depracating. Sometimes it was easier to tell yourself that no one loved you then get your hopes up and get hurt. 

But he didn’t want you to go down that rabbit hole - because it wasn’t true.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he was going to find a way to show you how much you meant to him and his brothers.

He was going to prove how just in your small time there, you had already changed at least three of them for the better. And it wouldn't be long until the others followed suit.

Levi might not have the perfect words to say or the perfect way to cheer you up, but what he did have was a true friend.

And you may have to wait a while until he’s comfortable enough for him to tell you that. But, in the meantime, he’ll do what he could to show you that at least one person cared about you.

Satan had been the one you snapped at, so he was by far the most surprised.

For one, he wasn’t exactly sure what about his statements made you so angry.

He wasn’t trying to be rude or offensive, he was simply stating the facts about Lucifer.

For two, he didn’t think you had such rage inside. 

In a somewhat twisted sense, he dared to admit seeing you portray his sin gave him a small sense of gratification.

But, that thought was at the back of his mind. At the front, was trying to talk to you about what happened.

He took some time to properly analyze the situation. He tried to come up with every possible reason that could have caused you to lash out.

He wanted to have a response to any situation so that when he did talk to you, he wasn’t floundering for words.

He found you in the library at the House of Lamentation a little while later and he was grateful you were in a quiet and private place that he just so happened to be comfortable in.

You looked up from your book for a moment to see who had entered before returning to your fictional world. 

Satan came to sit down next to you and paused for a moment before saying, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

It was a much more sincere apology than you would expect from the Avatar of Wrath and it was enough to pull your attention away from your book.

“It’s not what you said. It’s what it reminded me of,” you replied with a small sigh.

“What did it remind you of?” Satan questioned, his eyes holding no malice but a hint of curiosity

“That I’m alone down here. That I don’t have anyone to turn to or talk to. That I don’t have anyone who cares,” you replied softly, your eyes looking away from Satan’s intense ones.

Satan had thought about this being one of the reasons, but he was stuck in a mental debate.

He was so used to being apathetic but something about the way you opened up to him melted his heart and he suddenly felt an innate desire to protect you.

“The library is a great place to go if you’re feeling lonely,” Satan stated.

It was always his comfort place, so he saw no reason why it couldn’t be yours.

Not to mention the fact, that he was typically in the library and maybe a small part of him was hoping that he could also be something you sought out when you were feeling lonely.

Asmo didn’t really understand the weight that his words carried until you were angrily walking out of the Assembly Hall.

As soon as you disappeared from sight he began questioning himself. Did he really say it was boring that you weren’t dead?

He had meant it as a joke when he first said it. It was a joke that most demons would find funny and he was so good at trying to be a people pleaser.

He was used to making those kinds of jokes because it would boost the way he looked in front of other demons and we all know how important his reputation was to him.

But your outburst made him realize how it must have sounded to you - a human who had been torn from their world and thrown into one that was vastly different. 

And a twinge of guilt poked at his heart, gradually growing in intensity until he felt like he could no longer stave off the need to apologize.

He found you in your bedroom and was thankful that the two of you would have a moment to be alone.

His apology would be so much more genuine if it was in privacy where he could drop the mask he constantly wore in public.

When you opened the door Asmo suppressed a gasp as he saw tears rolling down your cheek and the guilt only continued to eat away at him.

He had always thought that crying was such an ugly thing. But when you did it, it had a certain elegance.

You had a way of making anything you did beautiful. It was a trait that Asmo was actually quite envious of.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Asmo said, the words spilling from his lips before he had even fully registered what he said. 

You were confused by his sudden confession and as you tried to find the right words to reply with, he continued.

“I'm glad you're okay. And I'm sorry I made you cry," he added.

Asmo grabbed a nearby tissue and gently brought it to your cheek, dabbing away your tears.

You knew that what he said was probably a joke, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

You opened up to Asmo and explained why it hurt so much to hear everyone say those things and it was like a lightbulb went off in Asmo's head.

He completely understood where you were coming from and he hated that none of them even thought about how hard it would be for a human to adjust to life in the Devildom.

In an attempt to show you he cared about you, Asmo will turn up his charm 100% on you.

More compliments, more hugs, really anything he could do.

And if that wasn't enough he would take you out with him and introduce you to some of his friends.

Being lonely was one of the worst feelings and Asmo never wanted you to feel that way.

Beel felt the most guilty after seeing you so upset.

He was the one you were protecting when Lucifer tried to attack you.

You had stepped in front of him and shielded him.

He had been so thankful that Diavolo managed to reach Lucifer in time and stop him from hurting you.

And he made sure to tell you as much when you were resting up in his bedroom after the attack.

Yet, when that conversation was happening in the Assembly Hall, he said and did nothing to help you.

He could see you growing more and more upset as his brothers talked, but he continued to just stand by and listen.

As soon as you left the Assembly Hall in tears though, Beel knew he had messed up.

He immediately followed after you, genuinely worried about you.

When he finally caught up to you, Beel immediately wrapped you into his arms, pulling you closely into him.

Panic was filling every inch of his body as he tried to come up with the right words.

In the end, he told you, “My brothers were just kidding.”

You let out a small chuckle, gently pulling away from Beel and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“I know that what they were saying wasn’t completely true, but Satan was right. I don’t have anyone down here that cares about me,” you replied, and Beel’s lip turned into a frown.

He looked so sad and lost at your words that you almost felt like you needed to comfort him.

“When I asked you why you protected me and Luke, you told me it was because we were your friends and we were important to you,” Beel began, and your eyes locked with his indigo ones. 

“You’re my friend too, and you’re important to me,” Beel added with a small smile that portrayed how sincere he was being you.

His expression was enough to bring a small smile to your face and you allowed yourself to open up to Beel.

You knew that the whole experience brought the two of you closer, and you knew that Beel was someone who would always be there for you and someone you could always turn to.

[forzalando]

boo’d up

summary: a night out enjoying some haunted houses leads to a few surprises pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader (Y/N, use of she/her), implied pairings of alex x charles, rebecca x carlos, & carmen x george wc: 1.6k warnings: descriptions of a haunted house (including darkness, tight spaces, screaming), mentions of being afraid/panicking, cursing author's note: guys i had this idea (because this is based on a true story/real-life experience where i was Y/N in this exact scenario except it was not a hot guy/oscar piastri, it was a young woman and i scared the absolute shit out of her). so i took a lot of creative liberties here. anyway! this is completely un-edited and complete garbage but i couldn't get it out of my head and i haven't written in 12 years. i figured it was time. go crazy!

It was a cold October night; the wind whistling through half-barren trees caused a slight shiver to trickle down your body.  The sun had set on the drive to your destination – an old farm in the middle of nowhere, which your friends had pointed out multiple times was a recipe for disaster. You shamelessly pulled the upcoming birthday card to get them to agree to the weekend activity: a haunted house compound you’d read about online that had impeccable reviews – four different houses for $40 was a deal you couldn’t pass up.

A massive, dark, dilapidated house stood in front of you – your first haunted destination of the evening. Screams from inside pierced through the air and sent waves of uneasiness and excitement through you; you’d fallen prey to falsely advertised haunted houses in the past, so you hoped with all your might that these did not disappoint.

“I should’ve stayed home,” Carmen grumbled as she pouted behind you in line. “It’s freezing, dark, and I have a million things I could be working on.”

“Oh, come on, Carm,” you teased, lightly punching her arm. “You’re telling me this isn’t your ideal Saturday night?”

“It’s definitely mine,” Rebecca chirped. “I love Halloween – all the creepy crawlies, scary movies, witches, chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. And candy, can’t forget the candy.”

You laughed and looked around at your small group, your smile faltering a bit when your eyes landed on Alex. She’d wrapped herself up tightly in her sweater, and you could tell she was trying her hardest to put on a brave face, but you saw right through the façade.

“Alex, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you urged. “I promise you, it’s absolutely ok.”

She shook her head quickly, linking her arm through yours. “I’ll be fine – it’s all fake, right? And I’ll just hold onto you the whole time; I’m still betting that you’re going to be the most scared out of all of us, even if you disagree.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” you sang, pulling Alex forward to follow Rebecca and Carmen into the menacing-looking house.

Immediately upon entering, you were plunged into complete darkness. The hallways were just wide enough to walk through sideways – if you tried to walk straight, your shoulders scraped against the walls. People were incessantly banging on the walls beside you – screaming and shouting in your ears, your face, following you as you tried to shimmy as quickly as you could through the maze.

You could feel your heart rate kicking up, and each time someone banged on the wall and screamed near you, it began to beat even faster.

In the midst of your panic, you realized Alex’s hand was no longer in yours. You reached back blindly until you were gripping her sweater-clad forearm and started pulling, but surprisingly, pulling with very little movement.

“Alex, move faster,” you pleaded, growing more and more impatient, more panicked. It felt as if she was trying to keep you from running, trying to pull you back and keep you in that godforsaken house. Either the latter or she had suddenly gained a shit ton of muscle, preventing you from pulling her along with ease. “I’m scared, okay? You win, I’m terrified. Now, please try to keep up, I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

The horrors seemed endless – it was still pitch black, and the further you went into the house, the smaller the hallways became. As soon as you started to think you’d never get out and would be stuck in that nightmare forever, you saw streaks of moonlight ahead and burst through a black curtain into the cool, night air.

Gasping for a breath, you dropped Alex’s arm and started yelling as you spun to face her.

“Alex, what the hell – oh my god, you’re not Alex.”

Stood behind you, rubbing their wrist, was an impossibly attractive guy around your age with floppy brown hair and a look of concern on his face.

“You’ve got a hell of a grip,” he mumbled, a thick Australian accent hitting your ears. “Think you might have bruised me.”

You could hear Rebecca and Carmen snickering somewhere behind you, “Yeah, Y/N, you bruised him.”

It took everything in you, but you ignored your friends and focused your attention on the handsome stranger before you.

“I am so, so sorry; I thought you were my friend, and I was panicking just a bit, trying to get out of there as fast as I could. Plus, Alex was afraid before we even got in the house and – wait where is Alex?”

You started looking around frantically, convinced that you’d left your friend stranded in that abomination of a haunted house, only to hear her giggling and chatting with someone just a few feet away.

“It looks like Charles rescued your friend,” the handsome stranger shared. “Since you were too focused on ripping my arm out of my socket.”

“I said I was sorry – ” you started to say, but as you turned back towards him, you noticed a smirk of amusement on his face.

He put his hands in the air in surrender and laughed, “Hey, I’m just messing with you; no actual harm done. I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you whispered back, feeling a sudden wave of shyness come over you now that the initial shock was wearing off. “And I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

You froze as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Nodding in response, you held your breath as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “That was absolutely terrifying and I’m glad I had you guiding me through.”

Heat rose up your neck as he pulled away slowly, a soft smile on his face and kind eyes to match.

“Well, I’d use the word guiding very lightly,” you laughed. “More like yanking or heaving, well, trying to. I could barely move you, and I was pulling with all my might. You must eat some serious amounts of spinach.”

“Spinach?”

“You know, Popeye? The sailor man? I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach?”

He shook his head and your cheeks heated in embarrassment – Popeye? Really?

Before you could die of humiliation and make one of the houses actually haunted, he bumped his shoulder against yours and laughed.

“Must be an American thing – I’m new here.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around,” you offered, bumping his shoulder right back. “I’ve been told I’m a great tour guide.”

“I’d like that very much. Maybe you can start by taking me through the rest of these houses? You can hold my hand – just in case you get scared again.”

He spoke with all the confidence in the world, but his cheeks and nose were flushed a gorgeous pink that you could see even in the moonlight.

You slipped your hand in his and turned your attention back to your friends, who were watching with wide eyes.

“Leave it to Y/N to accidentally almost kidnap a complete stranger in a pitch-black haunted house, and they turn out to be her dream guy,” Rebecca teased. “Looks like Alex found someone too – what did we do wrong, Carmen?”

Before Carmen could answer, two voices shouted from behind and caught everyone’s attention – two more devastatingly handsome men running towards your group.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Carlos got us lost,” a British voice rang out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmen and Rebecca smile giddily and high-five each other. Before walking over to the newcomers, they winked in your direction and whispered simultaneous “thank you’s”.

You winked back and squeezed Oscar’s hand a little tighter before leading everyone towards the next house.

“I think this next one is clown-themed,” someone mused from behind, causing you to stiffen.

“Clowns?” You whispered, your steps slowing to a near stop.

Alex giggled – “See, Y/N, I told you that you’d end up being the most scared! You should’ve listened to us when we tried to change your mind about coming!”

You turned your gaze towards Oscar, his eyes already on you and that adorable pink blush still prominent on his cheeks. “You know what, I’m actually really glad we came, even if I hate the dark, hate tight spaces, hate clowns, and will probably hate whatever else comes after that.”

“I’m glad you came too,” Oscar replied, adjusting his grip to link his fingers through yours. “And don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any clowns.”

“Mate, you’re terrified of clowns,” Charles ribbed. “You literally said on the way here that if there were any clown-themed houses, you would leave.”

“Gee, thanks, Charles, you could have just kept that to yourself for the sake of my pride.”

“We can protect each other,” you offered. “Or if it’s too much, we can grab some seriously overpriced snacks and wait for everyone else to go through the rest of the houses.”

“How about we face our fear but if either of us screams at any point in the house, you let me take you on a date?”

“I mean, we’re both afraid of clowns, it’s bound to happen,” you acknowledged.

He smiled at you; a heart-stopping, full-mouthed grin, and clarified, “Exactly.”

As soon as you stepped into the haunted house, only one foot each in the door before anything or anyone had even popped out, you both let out blood-curdling shrieks.

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123 @wobblymug @ctrlyomomma @ladystardust05 @reiofsuns2001 @foreveralbon @anaviieiraaa

taglist post: here!! if you’d like to be added!

[the-gateway-to-madness]

Platonic dynamics I want to see more in the (tiny) Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fandom:

Jack being like an older brother to Hiccup and sort of seeing an older version of Jamie in him and not scoffing at how nerdy he is ("holy crap you MADE this? Man show me how it works!!")

Rapunzel post-her-movie being all gung-ho and cheery, and Merida trying to get her to stop being so na��ve, only for Rapunzel to calmly list all the ways she was betrayed and abused throughout her adventures (and you'd only have to go through the canon events of the movie and show to make this work, btw, girl's been through STUFF) and tells Merida she is upbeat and kind because she chooses to believe that most people are good, because so many people stuck with her through so much and so many people came back to her after betraying her. And Merida is like "well dang ok, wanna learn to shoot a bow"

Jack being calm, responsible, and protective of the others without becoming too angsty in the process- playing harmless little pranks to bring everyone's spirits up, that sort of thing

Merida being annoyed by Jack at first, but it's because she misses her brothers, not because she categorically dislikes the pranks. She tells Jack this and he asks her to join him doing pranks. She has much more fun after this.

Rapunzel is good at many things, but not so much inventing, as we see in TTS; her trying to assist Hiccup and him being good-natured about it but entirely accidentally outclassing her

Jack very deliberately keeping his past and loneliness to himself, and the others figuring out something's off because they never catch him sleeping, he's pensive when he's not interacting with them, he's got such wide and extensive experience, and he starts admitting bits and pieces like "I'm older than I look" etc etc

Jack never openly getting angry with the kids because they're kids and he's a Guardian, so instead when one of them is upset or trying to pick a fight with him, his staff will glow brighter or it'll get cloudier or windier or snowier- his magic responds, but Jack refuses to, making his calm all the more scary.

Jack being the first to realize Rapunzel has been through Stuff and sitting down with her when the other two are asleep "what happened to you?" entirely gently and patiently because HE'S A GOOD BIG BROTHER DANGIT I WANT THIS SIDE OF HIM TO SHOW MORE-

Hiccup worrying/getting upset/doing that I Have To Stand Alone thing and Rapunzel approaching him like "you're not the only one who grew up alone, you know. It's okay to rely on us, we won't let you down"

Hiccup doing the I Have To Stand Alone thing in general cause I don't see that a lot in crossovers or at least the arts

The others finding Jack in weird places because super-balance go brr

Jack being reluctant to touch any of the kids for any reason because he doesn't want to see the way they treat him change once they realize how cold and inhuman he really is

Merida recognizing Jack immediately as the only other obviously competent fighter by the way he moves (she was raised around all manner of warriors and guards, after all) and immediately setting about allying herself with him because Heaven knows they all need as much protection as they can get

Merida helping Hiccup to have a moment like he has in the HTTYD books where he realizes he's actually a really amazing swordfighter when he actually uses his dominant hand

Hiccup and Rapunzel asking Merida and Jack what siblings are like

Jack just treating them all like his little siblings

Jack and Merida gathering ingredients together and, depending on the region, Jack teaching Merida the safe local vegetation and herbs because he's been everywhere. Also, Jack teaching the others how to cook with local ingredients

Jack knowing a lot about herbal medicine and helping and teaching the others

After much internal deliberation, Jack choosing Hiccup to hold his staff while he takes care of two-handed tasks

Jack knowing how to style hair because of Mary, and he and Merida helping Rapunzel tame her hair

[impish-baby]

OK, I came up with this idea and I would love your take on it. How about a yandere hero and yandere villain duo for a vigilante who is newer to the game and is close to anti-hero territory?(possibly killing people)(I keep picturing the hero blaming the villain for all of the reader’s faults)

Totally fine if you don’t want to do this

-🌙

You're not as brave as you where at the start - platonic yandere villian and hero x vigilante reader - 🎭

"You bastard."

Eos seems completely unfazed by the snarled insult, inspecting their nails like the city's number one hero wasnt glaring daggers at them. It's scary, Nyx could squish your head like a grape if he wanted to but they act like he's nothing but a pest.

"Please be mindful of the child in the vicinity if you're going to use such foul language." They tut, shaking their head at the hero's uncouth behavior. "Honestly.."

Nyx sputters, glancing between you both in disbelief, it makes you wish the ground would just upon up and swallow you whole. It's bad enough you're on the radar for being a vigilante, the last thing you need is to be associated with Eos.

"Y- You're going to try to tell me off for cursing when you murdered someone in front of them?" Nyx clenches his fists, "Bullshit! You dont have any right to act all holier than thou to me."

A plethora of emotions rage through your mind, heart stopping terror at first then confusion at the accusation thrown at the villian.

Eos obviously knows by the way they shoot you a wink before regarding the hero again, "Oh, that? A silly little mistake." They place a hand over their heart in a show of remorse, "Poor dear just showed up at a bad time. Truly a pity.."

It looks like nyx is going to pop a blood vessel with how hard he's clenching his jaw, a vein bulging out in the man's forehead. You can't help but shrink behind Eos at the sight of his anger, the villain happily accepting being your shield for the present moment. Nyx looks.. almost hurt when you shy away from him, faltering in his aggressive demeanor.

"O- Oh, kid, I'm sorry. Why don't you just come here? I know they may have made it seem like they're your friend, but I promise you, they aren't." Eros frowns, scooping you into their arms so you can't go anywhere, not like you would've in the first place.

"How rude, trying to poison my own child's view of me. Not very heroic.."

The furry on Nyx's face is indescribable as he unsheathes his sword. "Excuse me?"

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining. 

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression. 

But something good did happen – you happen, of course. 

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago! 

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi. 

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses. 

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy. 

— And she wasn’t? 

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you. 

— No. 

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it. 

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay. 

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to. 

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route. 

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games. 

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military. 

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this. 

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material. 

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people. 

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine. 

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model. 

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic. 

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous. 

The problem is – he knows that he can have you. 

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after. 

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize. 

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is. 

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines. 

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir? 

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you. 

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money. 

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again. 

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay? 

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger. 

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean. 

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much! 

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert? 

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control. 

— No. Just coffee. 

— Sugar? 

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure. 

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes. 

— Ja. Thank you. 

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out. 

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half. 

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here. 

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him. 

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes. 

— Here is your coffee. Anything else? 

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle. 

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country. 

You still want to ruffle his hair. 

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his. 

— Nein, thank you. 

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right? 

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died. 

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting. 

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament. 

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not. 

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days. 

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly. 

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you. 

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it. 

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills. 

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too. 

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir. 

— Don’t wander at night again. 

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts. 

— I won’t. Promise. 

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that. 

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit. 

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go. 

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

*saunters into your inbox and hands you a small bouquet of pink roses as I tip my hat at you*

Howdidoo friend! Just wanted to drop in and hand you a little token of my thanks and appreciation for the incredible gift of writing that you so willingly share with the rest of us.

In floriography, the Victorian Language of flowers, pink roses represent gratitude and admiration as well well femininity and elegance, which I think you represent wonderfully well. You seem like a very down-to-earth individual with a good heart, so I just wanted to say thanks for being who you are and being brave with sharing your talents. I know it's scary, but you're doing remarkably, honey.

Well done 🙌🏼👏🏼🙌🏼🧡

I say that your requests were open and I'd like to give one a try if and only if you're up for it. (if not then no worries, do whatcha got to do to take care of that beautiful mind ok?)

This is gonna sound really silly, but I have these two off switches that like immediately shut me down. I found this out once ranting about a book to my friends in the library and my one friend just reached up, patted my head and then started playing with my hair. I immediately stuttered to a halt because it was like my brain short-circuited. The other off button for me, is just someone like cradling my head. I have ADHD so I'm constantly go go go. Just adding that little bit of pressure just makes me no joke zoink out, like there are no thunks in that brain whatsoever once you touch my head.

Learning this as Ive gotten older has made it so I'm quite protective of who touches my head because it can make me somewhat kind of vulnerable, so my question of the day is how would the turtles respond to accidentally finding out about somebody's “off” button like that.

You can do whatever you're comfortable with and feels easy to write as I'm not really expecting much. Once again, this is just a request, so please please take care of yourself, your mental health and social batteries please.

Just know I think you're pretty cool and I look forward to seeing what you come up with in the future 😊🧡✨

This'll be easy, because I have the EXACT same thing!

Rubbing my scalp or my face suddenly erases lifelong sleep or hyperactive issues! I melt into touches like that, knocks you out like a light. Sometimes it gets you feeling emotional, too, lol

Thank you for the sweet words, they made my day. Got me feeling seen too. Thanks again for the ask.

I hope you enjoy!

Touch-Sensitive Reader × TMNT

Mikey

-Mikey is less of a touchy guy while getting to know you.

-But he is IN YOUR SPACE.

-All the time.

-He's an EXTREMLY touchy guy.

-But he will wait for you to make the first move.

-Until then, it's all over.

-It will take very, VERY little time for him to find every. Single. Sweetspot.

-He knows where they are on himself, and he knows that everyone alive has a few.

-You had shyly crawled into his lap for the first time, him leanded all the way back on the arm while he pulled you into his chest.

-The movie had barely started by the time he noticed you had gone still. Something he rarely saw with you.

-He looked down, surprised to see your eyes close, your entire body limp in his arms.

-"Y/N?" He whispered, trying not to laugh. "Baby?"

-You didn't budge

-Didn't you tell him you were notoriously horrible at falling asleep?

-He smiled widely, glancing at his hand now hovering over your scalp.

-"Cool."

Donnie

-Nap date.

-He was on his first nap date.

-Sure, it was after a bit of a skwabble over his sleep schedule. Or lack of.

-But he finally gave into curling up in his hammock with you on top of him

-But to be honest, he had been wanting this too. All the naps he's been taking have been spent wishing you were there with him.

-Now you were!

-You had told him you'd stay here until he'd fall asleep.

-You'd asked him if you had his permission to listen to music and play on your phone, all efforts to keep you still.

-He'd agreed, just happy he'd somehow landed someone willing to touch him, let him fall asleep with them.

-His eyes had been dropping, and his fingers had begun to rhythmically comb through your hair.

-Geez, this was paradise. This was everything he ever could have hoped for. The warmth, the weight of your body, the texture of your skin- If life felt this good all the time-

-Your phone dropped from your hand onto his stomach with a soft 'clunk'.

-He hardly noticed until you didn't move to grab it.

-His eyes blinked open, squinting them hard at your head. He wasn't able to see your face, but he could now feel your deep, quiet breathing. How limp you were against him.

-He smiled, his head falling back to the support pillow.

-'Noted.' He thought.

Raph

-Raph could barely remember the times you didn't want to be touched.

-You were all over him right now, and while he didn't have energy to meet this amount of enthusiasm this late- he was defiently feeling as if he had died happy. Unbelieveing that this was his life now.

-Having a partner all over him on the bed. Kissing him everywhere mid conversation, trying to talk to him through your squirming about, trying to get comfortable.

-"C'mere." He whispered, pulling you against his torso, face to face. His right side, your left side on the bed.

-You're chattering went quiet, smiling wide while Raph ducked his face into the right of your jaw, his right hand going up to hold the weight of your head between the bedsheets.

-"Oh, hi." You said.

-"Hi." Raph closed his eyes, starting to brush his thumb gently over your left cheek, his enormous arm going around you tightly, holding you as close as you allowed him.

-He waited for you to continue with your vent- but when you didn't after a long moment- he pulled back to check on your expression.

-Your eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, your head sinking more and more into his hand.

-"Hey," Raph purred. "You like that?"

-You gurgled a noise out, making him smile.

-"Yeah?" He leaned back, lifting his right hand up to smooth over your other cheek, pressing just enough to smear the skin.

-You went completely unresponsive. The change sudden and new.

-Possessivness "You're so cute." He whispered, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

Leo

-Leo had never seen you cry before.

-Something about a confrontation with a scary coworker and HR.

-He felt awkward, too big, too dumb and useless to do anything about you sobbing into his chest.

-While you held tightly to the straps on his chest in substitute of wrapping your own around him- he fought the urge to rip someone's limbs off.

-"I'm right here." He whispered instead. "You're okay, you're okay..."

-His hands combed through your hair, his lips against your scalp, preparing to be there all night.

-It took just a moment, but Leo felt the change as if it happened in him too.

-Your sobs became deep breaths, and your desperate grip on him transformers into your weight laying limp against him.

- "You okay?" Leo asked.

-"Don't stop." You whined.

-It startled a smile out of Leo, and he resumed the petting.

- Because what works, works, right?

[pyxxiestyxx]

Nightmares

Flashes. Screams. The hiss of some kind of hatch on the ship. A name, repeated endlessly. She was...he was...it...too much...toomuch toomuchtoomuchhelpmehelpmehelpme-

"Sweetie? Petal, wake up!"

You bolt upright in a huge gasp of breath, adrenaline pumping through you like thunder through your brain. Someone immediately winds hands...no, winds vines under you, lifting you into a cradled position, your head resting on her chest. You plunge your hands into her on instinct, letting them be wrapped and squeezed and comforted while you cry.

"Shhhh....shhhh....there there, my sweet little one. It was just a bad dream, I promise."

You shook your head hard, stuttering out an anxious, "N-no! It was...it was real, it happened and it...they were all..."

"Petal, it never happened." The strength in the words caused your eyes to nearly roll back in your head.

It never happened.

It never happened.

Never.

Never.

Never.

"Petal, do you remember what we do with those bad dreams?" You nod, shakily. "Good. Then picture that mental shelf for me, sweet pea. The one with the Box on the top shelf."

You see it in your mind's eye. The shelf is already far out of reach, but the top of it is nearly out of sight. You don't even remember what all is stored up there. The vines in your head pull the box down, opening the flaps.

"Place the dream in there, pumpkin. Let Mommy take it off your hands, okay? You're too precious to hold on to something like that."

The vines pluck the dream from you, placing it into the Box. You can't see into it, somehow- it's as if the lip plunges into darkness, keeping everything in there out of sight and mind.

The Box is closed, returned to the top of the shelf. Your eyes finally open, blinking in confusion. What was...what happened?

You were being held by Mommy in your bed, and you were covered in sweat. Another bad dream, maybe? You tried to search for the memory, but it wasn't coming. That's okay, though. Mommy said it was okay to forget.

You nuzzle into her chest, sighing as she began to comb her fingers through your hair. She cooed, "That's right, just like that. When things get confusing or scary, all you have to do is remember that You've always been Mommy's special floret."

You nod instinctively, automatically. She smiles down at you as she picks you up, carrying you to the kitchen. The compiler already had a nice warm mug of chocolate milk waiting for you, and you whimper as the aroma touches your nostrils. Your body remembers what that means- you get a nice drink, and then Mommy reads you a silly little story until you fall asleep.

"I love you, Mommy." You said it to her a few dozen times a day, but one more couldn't hurt.

"I love you too, petal. Now then, let's see what Mister Duck is getting up to..." She flips open your favorite book as you slurp at the milk, letting you see the happy little duck waddle around.

The class Z's in the drink have you peacefully asleep in less than five minutes, but your Mommy reads the entire story out loud. Just like she does every time, of course. You're going to wake up tomorrow with dreams of little ducklings being brave, and have another perfect day.

[cetoddle-archive]

i'm getting emotional just ignore me tbh

[thewalkingthread]

"He's Mine" - R.G.

pairing: rick grimes x f!reader

summary: s4 ep16. Joe's group finds you in the woods. reader is the one targeted instead of Carl

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of sexual assault, blood, gore

a/n: this scene is my Roman Empire

You were tired, exhausted from the day's journey. It's been three days since the attack at the prison. Three days since you've seen most of your family. You were lucky enough to have found Rick and Carl after everything went down, even luckier when Michonne came knocking on the front door of the house you were hiding out in.

It was nighttime now, you sat in the front seat of a rundown truck while Carl laid down in the backseat. It was unlikely that you'd get much sleep being so vulnerable in the open right now but Rick and Michonne insisted that you get some rest.

Your eyes stayed on the pair as they sat on a log off the side of the road. Every so often Rick would look into the truck, his eyes locking on yours before he returned back to his conversation with Michonne.

Things with Rick has always been a bit confusing for the both of you. It was clear from the moment you met that there was something there between you. Of course, nothing ever came out of it. He was married and desperately trying to fix the brokenness in his family.

Now that Lori has passed, it's been even weirder. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move and burst the safety bubble you were in, in terms of friendship. Nonetheless, you both knew you cared for one another deeply.

Your eyes dart to the woods when you see movement. Your heart drops as you see a few men creeping in the trees, eyes directly on Rick and Michonne. You knew what was about to happen. You weighed your options. You could scream and warn them, but you had no idea how many of them there were, nor do you know their intentions.

You guys are incredibly unarmed, nothing good would come out of this.

"Carl." You mumble quietly, trying not to make it obvious that you weren't alone in the truck. You have no idea how many of them are our there, no idea how many people were looking at you right now.

Carl stirred and grumbled slightly at your call, you shush him immediately.

"Carl, I need you to very slowly and quietly lay down on the floor of the truck. Keep the blanket over you completely." You mumble. "There are people surrounding us. I need you to hide until me or your dad tell you to come out. Do you understand me?" Your heart raced as you saw the men creep out from the treeline.

Carl quietly did what you said. "Y/N? What's happening?" He was scared. Carl tries his best to keep up with his dad and be a man, but he's still just a boy. It's a scary world now.

"Everything will be okay. Stay hidden, no matter what you hear, okay? Promise me." Your breathe hitched.

"I promise."

That was the last thing he said before one of the men shoved his gun against Rick's temple. You jumped in your seat as another man smacked on the window next to you. You tried your best to avoid glancing back at Carl.

The man grinned at you through the mirror, the creepiest grin you've ever seen. You couldn't hear what the other men were saying to Rick, but eventually a few more men came into view.

The creep tapped on the window, licking his lips as he stared.

Daryl strolled up to the group, it looked like they knew each other?

"Joe!" Daryl yelled, giving a name to the mystery man. You could tell he was trying to talk down the man that held a gun to Rick's head. It looked like whatever Daryl was saying was working, the man still held his gun against Rick but it looked like he was thinking about what Daryl was saying. All hope and relief you felt when your eyes met his vanished when two men grabbed Daryl, punching and kicking him.

Your heart drops as the other man throws Michonne to the ground. The door of the truck swings open and you pray that Carl is brave enough to be silent.

The man grabs you roughly, pulling you out of the truck before patting you down and throwing your pocket knife a few feet away. You fought to wiggle out of his grip but he pushed you against the ground faster than you could blink.

"Shhh.." He says into your ear. "We're gonna have some fun, sweets."

"Leave her be!" You could hear Rick yell over all the commotion. The grunts of Daryl filled your ears as he got punched and kicked only a few feet away from you.

The man on top of you was chuckling as you tried to fight him off, clawing at him and squirming to get out from underneath him.

"Listen, it was me. It was just me." Rick grumbles to Joe.

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie." Joe chuckles. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men."

"Get off of me you sick bastard!" You shout, spitting at the man. His hands found it's way to your chest and you screamed as he touched you.

"First, we're going to beat Daryl to death. Then the girl. Then when Dan finishes having his fun with that one over there, we'll all have a turn." The smugness in his voice was deafening.

"Then I'm going to shoot you and then we'll be square." Laughter leaves Joe's body.

"Let her go." Rick says again, as your being turned onto your stomach.

You wanted to cry as Dan pressed your face into the dirt. The pain was forgotten as the sound of his belt buckle clanking rang through your ears.

"This is going to be a whole lot worse for you if you don't stop fighting." Dan grunts into your ear, pressing against your butt. Sobs begin to leave your mouth as reality of what was about to happen sets in.

There was no hope.

The man tugs at your jeans, trying to pull them down.

A gun fires. Everyone seems to pause for a moment. Dan stops for a moment and you take the opportunity to look up, praying that none of you were hit by the bullet.

You see Rick take a swing at Joe before Joe hits him right back, knocking him to the ground. Dan immediately goes back to what he was doing, trying to rip your clothes off of you. You reach for you pocket knife that was just out of reach.

Your cries filled at air when Dan pins you down once again.

"What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?"

Then a squelching sound fills the air before a body thuds to the ground. This time everyone freezes in surprise. You look back at Rick to see him completely covered in blood from his nose to his chest. He spits out blood and skin and your eyes fall onto Joe's limp body on the ground, blood gushing out of his throat.

Fuck.

Michonne doesn't waste a beat as she grabs a gun and shoots the guy holding her before taking out the ones that held Daryl.

Dan is on his feet in seconds once he realizes he's the only one left. He pulls you up, pressing against you as he holds a knife to your throat.

"I'll kill her. I'll- I'll kill her!" He shouts as Michonne points the gun at him.

"Let her go!" She demands.

Rick pulls a knife out of Joe, standing up and balancing himself. His eyes lock onto Dan, it was almost like he had tunnel vision. He pants.

"He's mine."

Rick takes a few strides towards you and you feel Dan's grip on you loosen as he's consumed with fear. He pushes you forward, staring to beg Rick for mercy.

Daryl catches you from hitting the ground as you watch Rick stab Dan over and over again. Michonne stands by you, trying to block your view of the slaughter.

"Carl." You whisper, realizing that he was still tucked inside the truck. "C-carl." You wiggle out of Daryl's grip, running to the truck and swinging the back door open.

You could see Carl's figure shaking underneath the blanket. "Carl." You say again. "Come on out, it's okay." You whisper. Slowly he peaks his head out, once his eyes meet yours, his body instantly relaxes and he's pushing himself off the ground and throwing himself into your arms.

You, Carl and Michonne stayed in the truck for the rest of the night while Daryl and Rick stayed outside. Nobody talked. Rick looked to be in his head.

Carl laid on across the back seat, his head resting on my lap. You tried to lull him to sleep but it was clear that nobody would be getting a blink of sleep after what just played out.

When the sun started to rise you asked Michonne to take your place, not wanting Carl to be alone. Daryl had gone out to scout the area.

You poured some water onto a clothe and sat down in front of Rick, settled between his legs but leaving enough space to make it appropriate.

His eyes flickered to yours as you wiped the blood off his face.

“Should’ve saved the water.” His voice was hoarse. You shook your head, trying your best to clean him.

“He shouldn’t see you like this.” You say calmly, wiping his hands clean once his face and neck were clean. Rick watched you intently.

“Are you okay?” His voice softens as he asks. You clear your throat, flashbacks of last night playing through your head. Ricks clean hand reaches up and his thumb rubs your cheek softly.

You were able to catch sight of your face in the car mirrors. Red scuff marks littered your face where you were pressed into the ground.

“I’m okay, it’s not that bad.” You shrug. Rick stared into your eyes, his hands still holding your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, really holding your gaze. Your chest tightens and you know you won’t be able to fight the tears.

Rick let’s go of your face but pulls your body into his immediately. You let the tears fall as he held you. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered in your ear. “I will never let anything happen to you. Ever.” He kept apologizing, his voice cracking every so often.

“You’re safe.” He says. “You’re safe with me.”

And you knew that he was telling the truth.

[luveline]

Jade I’ve been WAITING and HOPING for you to ask about spider verse and/or Miguel requests. He is the epitome of grumpy love interest falls for sunshine reader, would you maybe write something where he’s like in the midst of being scary and intimidating and then when reader walks in he is trying to maintain that image in front of whoever else is there but she just like totally ignores it and basically exposes how soft he is?

Obviously feel free to take or leave whatever parts of that you like I just love grumpy x sunshine

SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

thank you for your request! for you my love, grumpy (lovesick) miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader, 1.5k

Miguel spends a lot of time arguing with Peter B. Parker, or as you've so fondly nicknamed him, Sweatpants-Man. Well, Miguel spends a lot of time yelling at him. It stopped for a while; Peter B. Parker took some time away from the Spider Society, but eventually he returned with a brand new spider. A baby girl. 

You linger at the door, startled to find him in company, but pleased when he isn't yelling as loudly as he could be. He looks desperately as though he wants to shout, and is holding back through sheer force of will, his eyes widened and his hair falling in unruly waves over his forehead, strands of it curled into his eyes. 

Miguel is a worrier. It isn't his fault. He's a great man with responsibilities beyond his control, and he may not always react how he should, but he tries his best. You don't agree with everything he does, but you like him. You adore him. For all of his goodness, his bravery, and the smile he gives you when you're alone. 

He's clearly troubled by something. 

"I don't really see the harm, I won't tell him a thing," Peter B. Parker says.

"Why do you refuse to listen to me? No. End of discussion." 

"I think we should reopen the discussion," Peter B. Parker says. 

He and Miguel are friends, you think. They would have been best buddies by now if Peter could abide by Miguel's rules. Then again, you ignore the rules often and indiscriminately, and Miguel likes you.

He's scraping his hair out of his eyes now, a fierce glare fixed on Peter's face, and you have the urge to go in there and try to persuade him to give Peter whatever it is he's asking for. You're almost certain you could do it. 

Not through your sheer mastery of the persuasive arts, though you have mastered them, but because Miguel O'Hara has a soft spot for you. He tries to hide it and you refuse to let him. You haven't tried to kiss him or anything (you secretly aren't that brave) but you run circles around him for fun, only letting him boss you around every now and then to keep things loose. You could be much meaner about the whole thing: what is so humiliating as falling for your lackadaisical subordinate? But you don't hold it against him, because he likely isn't finished falling yet, and because you really do like him. 

You pull your mask off of your face and then your gloves, shoving them into a concealed pocket on your thigh. 

"Miguel," you murmur, knowing he'll hear you no matter the volume, "what's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't glance your way. 

Peter B. Parker's shoulders sag in relief at your appearance. "Thank god you're here," he says. 

You hadn't realised Peter knew who you were. "I'm here," you repeat mildly. 

"Tell Miguel that the risk involved with visiting Earth-1610 is super, duper small." 

"Well, it is negligible," you murmur, though Peter's quest isn't your prerogative. 

Miguel groans loud and unapologetically. 

You stand near Miguel and look up at him. He's ridiculously tall. You’d have to crane your neck if you stood at his feet. You maintain some distance and look him over from a gentler incline, cataloguing the dark circles under his eyes for the hundredth time. They don't look too bad today, but you wish he'd get more rest. 

He has a very fierce face, but you know how it softens when he laughs. It's hard to find his glaring intimidating when you've witnessed the white flash of sharp teeth as he smiles, the way his eyes light up and his eyebrows relax from their stern set when you bring him something to eat on late nights. It's almost always smothered as soon as it happens, but it does happen. 

"The risk involved is not super small," he says, still not looking at you, "the risk involved is actually incredibly big, and it isn't worth it." 

Peter puts his arms out just as Mayday drops from the rafters above. You huff a laugh at his coordination and Mayday starts to laugh, her knitted beanie drooping into her eyes. 

"Hi, baby," you say softly, reaching out to hold her hand. She squeezes your fingers. 

"It's worth the risk. Absolutely, it's worth the risk, and I would argue that me visiting would actually strengthen the state of the multiverse–" 

"In what scenario–" 

"–and, like, make your job easier." Peter stops Mayday from climbing up your shoulder. 

"If there's one thing you've never done, Peter, it's make my job easier. I can't believe you're asking me again," Miguel says, taking a big breath, like he's going to pop. 

You step away from Peter to catch Miguel's attention. When his eyes lock onto yours, you smile as fondly as you're able, the kind of smile you know he likes. Your eyes widen just a touch and your eyebrows rise, the corners of your mouth not quite dimpling. It's a smile that says all the same stuff you love to say aloud. Hi, handsome. What's got you so stressed today? 

"Don't be like that, Miguel," Peter says. 

You tilt your head to one side. "You don't look very well," you say. 

"I'm fine." There's a thread of gentleness there, almost indistinguishable from his serious tone. "Or I would be, if Peter would listen to me for once." 

"I'm listening, man, I just think you should see sense." 

Miguel's face flickers like he wants to correct him, but he keeps getting caught on you. Nothing specific, just that his gaze lands on your face or your shoulder or your arm before he looks at Peter, and all the steam rushes out of him. He’s trying not to smile at you.

"I see sense," Miguel insists. It's like he wants to be angrier than he has, gritting his teeth weakly. "It's not feasible right now." 

You smile at that. Right now. You're not sure he's ever said something that could lead to a compromise. You are sure that he hadn't meant to. Peter is understandably thrilled, hiding his own smile as he puts Mayday back into her carrier. 

"Alright. Well, I've gotta take her home. But I'll see you both again soon," Peter threatens, wiggling his eyebrows. "Thank you," he adds, nodding at you. 

You laugh as he leaves. Miguel is nowhere near as pleased. 

"You did that on purpose," Miguel says. 

"I did what on purpose?" 

"Coming in here." 

"Yeah, of course. I come to see you all the time on purpose. Did you think I was drifting in here on the breeze? That would be difficult, considering." You gesture to the entrance of his office, which is far from easily accessible. 

Miguel looks at you, unimpressed, with his hands on his hips. You wonder what it would take to make him put his hands on yours. 

"Don't even think about it," he says. 

"About what, handsome?" 

"You think I don't know what that look means?" He sounds fond rather than angry. It's a win. 

"I bet you know, but I'm in the dark, so if you'd… illuminate it for me, that would be greatly appreciated." 

He checks that no one's about to enter his office. You feel your heart jerk in your chest, and if his super senses are anything like the other Spider People, he can hear it. 

"You really can't come in here when I'm trying to set people straight," he says. 

"Why?" you ask. You could pout at him, but you think that might be too much. 

"You know why." Somewhere between words he drifts closer, soundless, his face inching down toward yours with a surprising swiftness. "You know why," he repeats.

You lift your chin as much as you dare, which isn't much, but enough that your giggly confirmation fans over his lips, "Yes, I do." 

He nudges you away, and it isn't without affection. His warm, big hand lingers on your shoulder, even as he says, "Go, go do something." 

"Miguel, I came to see you." 

"I know, and I have a meeting with Jess in a minute, so you can't be here. It'll undermine my authority." 

"What will?" you ask, smiling, because you already know. His fondness for you. 

"Go away. Come and see me later," he says. 

You sigh and spin away from him. "I will, but not because you told me to!" you call, leaving the office with an awful sense of victory. 

Miguel scrubs his face with his hands as you go. He's really not sure what he's going to do with you. His plan to hold you at arm’s length isn’t working anymore, and honestly? He doesn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. Thank whoever’s watching over him that you actually do as he asks for once and leave. 

Miguel was one sweet smile away from kissing you up against the wall.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch! This is kinda a scary ask to send but you’ve always seemed kind to other people asking scary questions so I feel brave enough to ask. So I’m a person with what I would say a fairly healthy and positive attitude abt sex- big fan of jacking off when the mood strikes and I’ve had a few partners. However, something that is really upsetting and scary to me are sex dreams because a lot of times I have dreams abt having sex with ppl I shouldn’t be having sex with and DONT WANT to be having sex with- notably, my father and my brother. I have strange dreams normally- anxiety related usually- but I HATE waking up from these dreams, I feel so sick and ashamed. I’m not even generally attracted to men, and these dreams make me feel like I need to second guess my identity. Additionally, my father is dead so I wake up feeling like my brain has disrespected his memory.

I’m trying to get a therapist for other unrelated reasons but a) my insurance is terrible and I’m having trouble finding someone in network and b) I would be so scared to say these things to a therapist - what if I’m secretly much more mentally ill than I knew, what if they hospitalize me, what if they put me on a sex offender registry?

Beyond “go to therapy” is there any advice you can offer me? It’s really very distressing and I’m really sick of it.

hi anon,

let's take a BIG DEEP BREATH before we start, okay?

so, first and foremost let me just say this, because it's important: nobody is going to hospitalize you or put you on a registry for something happening in your dreams. your dreams are not necessarily a reflection of anything you want or would enjoy in real life; your dreams are a pile of goo your brain spits out while its sifting information around trying to make a bunch of pieces fit together. unfortunately, I worry that you amount of stress and anxiety you feel about these dreams may be keeping them so front and center in your mind that makes them keep coming up over and over when you're asleep, creating a vicious cycle.

listen, I can't tell you how to change or feel better about your dreams. but I can tell you that people having sexual dreams that are in no way indicative of their actual desires is INCREDIBLY COMMON. none of those people are a danger to themselves or anyone else because of something their subconscious does that's entirely beyond their control, and that includes you.

having said that, it's totally understandable that you find these dreams disturbing and upsetting. for the time being, while you're managing them on your own, try to get yourself to a calm place while you're getting ready for bed - whatever works for you, whether it's mindfulness, melatonin, exercise, tea, warm bath and candles, taking time away from your phone, etc - and preparing space to be gentle with yourself and get into a good headspace when you wake up by making an extra nice breakfast, taking a long shower, going for a long walk, or anything else that will help you get out of your head and take care of yourself in the aftermath of an upsetting dream.

and if you do manage to find a reliable therapist soon, which I hope you do, I would strongly encourage you to bring this up with them if the problem is still persisting by then. anything causing you anxiety and distress is something that is worth talking over with a therapist, especially since leaving one stress factor unaddressed can also hold you back from resolving others - it's hard to focus on anything when restful sleep is off the table. once you've established a good rapport with a therapist, some conversations around this could be super helpful for you.

wishing you the best with finding some peace of mind xoxo

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER (day 7)

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader - overstimulation

summary: yelena helps you forget your fear of horror, making the night more intense than you expected

warnings: overstimulation, teasing, light smut, sexual tension, flirty banter, sensory overload

wordcount: 2k

an: i truly am desperate to have a girlfriend and enjoy this cozy season with her):

You stretch your arms out, admiring the finished decorations, from fake spider webs to carved pumpkins. Halloween wasn’t really your thing, but Yelena had insisted on getting into the spooky spirit. The apartment now looks like a haunted house met an explosion of glitter and pumpkins.

“Wow, so you really don´t celebrate it?” Yelena looks at you with a raised eyebrow, smirking slightly as she gestures to the over-the-top decorations.

You shrug, grinning. "Okay, fine... I do like all the decorating stuff and just watching horror movies, even though I’m terrified later.” You chuckle at the admission. “And the candy!”

“Oh, how could I forget about your sweet tooth, (Y/N).” She rolls her eyes playfully, but there’s that soft smile on her face you know too well.

You nudge her lightly, the two of you settling onto the couch as the spooky ambiance takes over the room. Yelena grabs the remote, scrolling through the horror movie options. You try to look brave, but she catches the nervous flicker in your eyes.

“You’re already scared,” she teases, leaning closer. “I haven’t even pressed play yet.”

“I’m fine!” you insist, although your hand grips the throw pillow a little tighter.

Yelena gives you that mischievous grin, the one that means she’s up to something. “Let’s make sure you don’t get too terrified then,” she whispers, her hand slowly making its way to your thigh, fingers ghosting over your skin in a way that immediately sends shivers up your spine.

“Yelena…” you mutter, trying to sound stern, but it comes out more like a nervous laugh. “This isn’t helping.”

“Oh, I think it will help a lot,” she quips, a glint of playful wickedness in her eyes as her fingers inch higher, teasing at first, and then more persistent. You squirm under her touch, trying to focus on the movie, but it's impossible with Yelena's attention on you.

“See, if you’re distracted, you won’t be scared at all.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but she doesn’t stop. Yelena’s touch grows more intense, playful in how she knows exactly what buttons to push. Each brush of her hand makes you shift and squirm, your breath hitching in your throat as she grins wider, clearly enjoying the effect she’s having on you.

“Yelena!” You gasp, trying to keep your voice steady, but failing miserably. The movie is long forgotten, the scary music in the background drowned out by the rapid thumping of your heart.

“See, much better than horror movies, huh?” She teases, her fingers never letting up, and you're caught between laughing and sighing, between trying to stop her and secretly wanting her to keep going.

You’ve barely been able to pay attention with Yelena’s constant teasing. Her fingers still lightly trace over your thigh, just enough to make you squirm every few minutes. You keep swatting her hand away, but it’s no use, she’s enjoying this way too much.

Suddenly, the first jump scare hits, something pops out of the shadows on screen. You practically leap a foot in the air, letting out a yelp that’s immediately followed by Yelena’s loud, amused laughter.

“Wow, scared already, huh? We’re like five minutes in, detka,” she snickers, her hand now resting firmly on your thigh, keeping you anchored. “And here I thought you said you could handle it.”

You pout, trying to regain your composure, though your heart is still racing. “I wasn’t expecting it, okay?” you huff, crossing your arms. “I bet you’d jump too if you weren’t so busy being... well, you.”

“Me? Oh no, I don’t get scared,” she says, full of sass, leaning closer until her lips brush against your ear. “Besides, you’re way more fun to watch than the movie.”

Your cheeks flush as you try to ignore the way her breath against your skin makes your pulse race even more. Another creepy scene builds on the screen, but instead of being scared, all you can think about is Yelena’s fingers slowly trailing up your thigh again. She’s smirking, fully aware of how flustered she’s making you, and loving every second of it.

Then another jump scare comes, and this time, Yelena jumps slightly, letting out a small gasp. You whip your head toward her, a huge grin spreading across your face.

“Oh, really? Not scared, huh?” you tease, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Yelena’s eyes narrow playfully, but there’s that mischievous sparkle in them. “That was… strategic. I was just trying to make you feel better,” she says, feigning seriousness. “Obviously.”

You laugh, knowing full well she got spooked for real, and it feels like a small victory. But before you can bask in your triumph, Yelena’s fingers move again, this time catching you off guard, and you gasp as her hand creeps higher.

“Oh, look who’s distracted now,” she quips, grinning wickedly as you squirm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big, scary monsters.” She leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your neck, sending a warm shiver down your spine.

“You’re the scary one!” you shoot back, your voice breathless as you try, and fail, to push her hand away again.

“Oh, detka,” Yelena purrs, her voice dripping with playful seduction, “you have no idea how scary I can be.”

You try to focus back on the movie, but Yelena’s hands are a constant distraction. Her fingers drum against your thigh, then drift upward, then back down...never quite crossing the line, but close enough to make you squirm in your seat.

“Yelena, I’m trying to watch the movie!” you protest half-heartedly, though the grin on your face betrays you. It’s impossible to be annoyed when she’s looking at you like that her beautiful eyes twinkling with mischief, a smirk pulling at her lips.

“Oh, are you now?” she purrs, completely unconvinced. Her hand slides just a little higher, fingers curling against your skin. “Because it looks to me like you’re very, very distracted.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “By a certain someone who can’t keep her hands to herself.”

“Guilty,” she grins, leaning in close. Her lips ghost over the shell of your ear, and you shiver despite yourself. “But can you really blame me? You’re just too cute when you’re all flustered.”

You can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks as Yelena chuckles against your skin, clearly enjoying every second of this. Her hand drifts up again, fingers tracing light circles just over your clothes, at a place you need her the most.

“Yelena!” you squeak, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s useless. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Yes, printsess?” she asks innocently, her hand moving back down to your knee as if she’s done nothing wrong. “I’m just helping you relax. You seemed a little… tense.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you huff, trying to sound annoyed, but you’re smiling too much for it to work. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Yelena laughs softly, her lips brushing against your neck in a way that sends a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I know you do,” she whispers, her voice low and teasing. “And lucky for you, I like you too. A lot.”

Before you can respond, there’s another jump scare, and you jolt in your seat again, letting out a startled yelp. Yelena bursts out laughing, practically cackling at your reaction.

“You’re too easy!” she giggles, her hand moving to cup your cheek, turning your face toward hers. “So scared, even though I’m right here to protect you.”

“You’re the one scaring me!” you laugh, pushing her lightly on the shoulder, though she doesn’t budge.

“Hmm, maybe,” she admits, her smirk widening. “But you love it, don’t you? Admit it.”

You groan, rolling your eyes but unable to deny the truth. “Fine, maybe I do.”

Yelena leans in closer, “that’s what I thought,” she murmurs, before closing the gap and kissing you softly, just for a moment, just enough to leave you breathless.

But before she gives you another chance to concentrate on the movie, Yelena's hand slips under your sweater, her fingers grazing the soft skin of your waist. You shiver, not from the cold, but from the unexpected warmth of her touch.

“Yelena!” you try to protest, though your voice comes out more as a moan than anything else. You look over at her.

“What? I’m cold,” she pouts dramatically, even though you can feel the heat radiating from her. Her hand presses gently against your skin, her fingers tracing playful circles along your side, slowly back to your core.

“You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, biting back another smile.

“You love it,” she teases, her voice soft but full of confidence, leaning in closer until her nose brushes against yours. Her hand finding it´s way past your panties to play with your clit. “Admit it, detka. You like when I keep you on your toes.”

You roll your eyes, trying to act unimpressed, but the way she’s touching you, like she’s daring you to deny it, makes your heart skip a beat. “Maybe I do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yelena grins, clearly pleased with herself. “See? I knew it,” she whispers, her fingers moving just a little faster,"you like this too, huh?”

“Stop it! I’m trying to watch the movie.” You moan out loud.. too loud.

“Oh, sure you are,” Yelena chuckles, "then watch and let me play." Her fingers enter you, which makes you forgot about the movie completly. You close your eyes, feeling how close you are.

Everything feels like a blur, a dizzying mix of warmth and touch that leaves you breathless. Yelena’s hands, so sure and teasing, are everywhere and nowhere all at once. "Let go, my princess."

You’re trying to keep up, to catch your breath, but the way her fingers move inside you, slow, then fast, then slow again, leaves you dizzy, spiraling into a haze where time no longer feels real. Your mind swims, too wrapped up in the way she’s unraveling you, again and again, each wave of sensation building on the last until you're not even sure where one ends and the next begins.

“So easy,” she whispers against your skin, her voice like velvet, thick with satisfaction. “You fall apart for me so easily, don’t you?”

You can only manage a nod, the heat pooling in your core making it impossible to form words. Everything is too much, too intense, yet somehow, not enough. You crave more, and Yelena knows it. She always knows exactly how to keep you on the edge, how to make every touch feel like fire, like a promise you can’t quite grasp but desperately want to.

Her lips ghost over your neck, her breath warm and teasing as she leans in closer, pressing you deeper into the cushions. “You can take more, printsess,” she murmurs softly, “I know you can.”

The world around you fades, your senses narrowing down to the feel of her, the weight of her body against yours, the way her hands guide you through each wave of pleasure with ease. Every time you think you’ve reached the peak, she pulls you back up, pushing you further, until the sensations melt together into a dizzy haze of warmth and heat, a bundle of everything all at once.

Yelena’s touch is relentless, but not in a way that feels overwhelming - just enough to remind you who’s in control. She loves this, you can tell. The way her lips curve into a knowing smile every time you shudder beneath her, the way she hums in satisfaction as she watches you unravel again and again.

“You look so pretty like this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear as her hands continue their unrelenting exploration. You can barely keep up with her, lost in the overwhelming sensation of it all, the warmth spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. “So so so pretty, just for me.”

Your mind is a blur of heat and sensation, everything blending together into one hazy, overwhelming feeling. You can feel yourself trembling, caught in the never-ending spiral of her touch, her voice, her presence. Each time you think you’ve reached the end, she pulls you back, only to push you further, until all you can do is surrender to the dizzying haze of warmth and pleasure she wraps you in.

Thank you for reading this! any feedback is really appraciated!