#for being straight. it's real and it's the muffin top. or was

[anonymusbosch]

i am so so so sad to report that the gay cafe in town has closed after 10 years. farewell sweet muffin top cafe. atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Kernel-pult

Debut: Plants vs. Zombies

Here we have my favorite plant of the original Plants vs. Zombies, the humble Kernel-pult! Out of my favorite PvZ plants, this one feels by far the most Classic. It doesn't fly, it doesn't have otherworldy abilities, and it's not a dang fungus. It's a corn cob that lobs corn kernels. Even the lobbing feels sort of mundane! Such a simple way to get a projectile somewhere else. It feels less fantastical than pods bursting and releasing seeds, and that one happens in real life! However, it is important to mention that Kernel-pult is not vegan.

Kernel-Pult typically lobs kernels that do a little bit of damage, just as much as a pea, and it attacks at half the rate of a Peashooter. It makes up for this with Butter! It has a 25% chance to lob a pat of butter instead. This is because butter is good on corn, and I guess as a result of that, the universal concepts of Corn and Butter are intertwined enough that Kernel-pult can tap into both.

Butter does twice as much damage as a kernel, but better than that, it freezes whatever zombie it hits in place for a bit! I don't know why it does that. I can't think of any reason why butter would, thematically, freeze something. But it makes Kernel-pult happy, so you'd better deal with it! Kernel-pult is thusly good as a support attacker who can slow down the approach of zombies, allowing stronger plants to damage them more. OR, you could choose Funny over Reliable, and do what I do! Nothing against Cabbage-pult, but I love Kernel-pult so much, I like to use it as my primary attacker! Good luck, me!

Butter would prove to be a very popular game mechanic, being applied to many non-corn plants in the future, purely based on wordplay. Very respectable. In PvZ2, it actually gained another ability: it will instantly defeat flying zombie birds! See, THAT makes sense. There's the realism, in Plants vs. Zombies.

Oh?

A few plants in this game have upgraded forms that can be planted on top of them, usually enhancing that plant's core concept. Kernel-pult has one, but not just ANY one. A maize so massive that you need to merge TWO Kernel-pults to form it! No mere upgrade like most of the rest, but an entire, new behemoth of a plant!

This is Cob Cannon, the most expensive, but most powerful plant in the game! Once planted, it can be used to manually fire devastating corn cob missiles wherever you please, with the power of a Cherry Bomb, but the ability to reload! And also a fun explosion animation with popcorn. The design is very different from Kernel-pult, but I'm not going to act like this is a Pokemon evolution where the evolved form stopped looking silly. This is a corn cob with eyes, on a wheeled wooden frame, whose wheels are slices of corn cob. Awesome! The second game would replace this guy entirely with a banana.

Lastly, I would like to discuss something very special to me. I would like to discuss Pult. Pult is something that delights me to no end! In PvZ1, Catapult plants exist mostly to be used on the Roof levels, since much of the roof is slanted, preventing straight projectiles from being very effective. And each of them have this little nest-looking basket on a stick that they lob their projectiles from. Evidently, this is the Pult. I love this thing! Do you think if I married Kernel-pult, I could take his last name? Here are some Pults I made during my previous Pult Phase. It truly inspires me!

Iso-pult

Sponge-pult

And lastly, I will ground us a bit more once again, with Corn Muffin-pult. My favorite Plant, now pulting my favorite form of corn! Please remember to always be silly and make silly images like these whenever you want, it is a necessary part of the human experience!

[reflectionsofacreator]

Me, making my coworker’s coffee: —real problem is that Square Enix was relying on the brand name recognition for Versus XIII as “another game by the brilliant Tetsuya Nomura” and understandably Nomura couldn’t keep up with the demands of being expected to produce multiple Triple A games, and thus the game was taken away and given to a different director and rebranded as Final Fantasy XV. This caused several problems —do you want pumpkin?

Coworker: ooh pumpkin sounds good

Me: it’s best with brown sugar cold foam, lemme give you that too. Anyways a lot of the problems stemmed with being renamed/rebranded but the underlying concepts didn’t actually change and are divorced from their base ideas. This also wasn’t helped by 1) the new director straight up saying they couldn’t make a good story and instead focused on the game, and 2) the game was then rebranded as a ~multimedia experience~ with a feature length movie, a five episode OVA, two novels, multiple DLCs, backstory for the main character that only is available as a ps4 demo,

Coworker: a fucking demo? Also can I get a blueberry muffin?

Me: a motherfucking demo, yes. Do you want it warmed up? Cool. That made it impossible to actually experience the story coherently. On top of this, Tabata’s strengths as a director/storyteller do not lie in character interactions, which is something that Nomura excelled at. I’m not saying that Nomura’s version of Versus XIII would’ve been perfect, but it would’ve delivered on the character drama that was the main reason the trailers and game were enticing to begin with. Now we just have a weird backstory for Noctis getting mortally wounded as a child for…? Extremely flimsy? Reasons? In comparison to how originally that event served as a catalyst for Noctis and Stella to have a bond of fate around them as people who had near death experiences

Coworker: god I can’t imagine going this hard into a game like this. Are you like? Okay?

Me: absolutely not :)

[torisabitgay]

Stoned (Doctor Edition)

TWs: Use of weed

You finally attend a medical conference with Amelia. Little do you know that one muffin later, you will wreak absolute havoc during a presentation.

(F/F, Amelia Shepherd x femreader, they are together but it’s not stated, straight up comedy, 2K words)

You and Amelia were at a medical conference in New York. You hadn’t attended many of these (thanks to your short attention span) but you didn’t want Amelia to leave you for a weekend so you begrudgingly decided to tag along.

There was a presentation on new and improved diagnostic techniques that you were both going to attend. You sipped your coffee, sat at a table in the massive lounging area of the building. Amelia sat next to you, sipping her coffee and finishing up her sandwich. Your stomach rumbled in response and you huffed quietly. Amused, Amelia looked up, “I did ask if you wanted to eat something.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of coffee hoping the bitter taste would quench your appetite. “I wasn’t hungry before.”

Almost on cue, a friendly looking man approached with a decorated box. Your curiosity was instantly piqued and you turned to him.

“Muffin?” He offered.

Amelia gave you a bit of a cautious look. Now, you were smart. You were a surgeon, god damn it. So what possessed you to take a muffin from a stranger, you’ll never know. Perhaps it was the hunger. Perhaps it was the need for adventure. Whatever it was, it ended with a smile and a nod. “Thank you.” Graciously, you took one and he smiled innocently enough and walked off.

Amelia looked at you, concerned. “You aren’t about to eat that, are you?”

Oh but the way the chocolate muffin glistened in the light, you could see chunks of dark, white, and milk chocolate baked into the batter. Pressing the muffin, you could tell the texture was perfectly fudgey and smooth.

You were salivating like a dog.

“[First Name], would you have taken that muffin if he was balding, overweight, with missing teeth?” Amelia said, looking at you like at a person about to jump off a bridge.

She had a point. Pretty privilege in society was a very real thing. But the man didn’t have bad VIBES, and this was a conference for doctors only, so he had to be a doctor. So according to the Hippocratic oath, he wasn’t allowed to do harm.

You shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Oh boy.

I’ll hand it to you, the muffin was delicious. And under different circumstances, it might’ve been a fun adventure. Not today though. Oh god, not today.

You threw away your empty coffee cup, before you and Amelia made your way into the presentation hall. It was a massive hall. With a lot of seats. And a lot of people. You could not imagine being the host. You and Amelia managed to find some seats in the middle of the hall, sat side by side. You still had some time before the presentation actually began, so you figured you’d get comfortable and make light conversation. “So how long is this thing anyway?”

She shrugged, as she scrolled through her phone. “Oh like 4 hours, not too bad.”

Your eyes widened in horror, shock, dread, maybe even fear. Four hours? Of sitting still? And listening? Oh. God. “You’re kidding right?”

“Yes, I’m kidding, idiot. It’s like 2 hours tops.” She rolled her eyes and looked over at you with an affectionate and playful smirk.

You never felt such relief. “Oh thank god. I would’ve actually died.”

She chuckled, and the lights dimmed to signify the start of the presentation. She whispered over to you one last time. “You’ll be fine, it’ll be interesting, just watch.”

And watch you did.

The host began talking about current diagnostic procedures and tests, sharing his take on why some of them suck and how they could be improved. Then about half an hour in, he started introducing cool new techniques that he and other doctors and researches had developed.

You gasped in fascination.

You gasped. In fascination.

You. Gasped.

A lot of people started to look around at who on earth just gasped in pure delight in the middle of a presentation. People around you turned to look at you. Amelia included. She had a look of horror mixed with a slight tinge of concern.

“Sorry.” You mouthed to the people around you, and sunk back into your seat, slumping down in a weak attempt to hide.

Okay. Weird. But whatever. Everyone moved on. Well, nearly.

Amelia leaned in to you and whispered. “What the hell was that?”

You looked over to her and shrugged. Honestly, you had no idea what that was. You were just so captivated by the talk and reacted on instinct. Maybe. God, your head felt fuzzy. Has it always felt this fuzzy? Why did the air feel fuzzy? You shook your head, trying to shake off the fuzziness. It only made it worse.

Amelia leaned back, eyeing you for a couple of moments before her gaze returned to the presentation.

So did yours. Except, focusing on the presentation was pretty difficult when your mouth felt… strangely empty. Like really empty. Like a black hole sort of emptiness. Are black holes empty? Black holes are cool. Maybe you’re in a black hole. What? What’s happening? You shook your head again and sipped your coffee.

Amelia’s head pretty much darted in your direction. You looked back over at her, a slightly fearful look on your face. Did you drink too loud? No. Surely not. You barely drank it.

“Whose coffee is that?” Amelia whispered as she pointed to the cup.

You looked down at your coffee cup.

…

“That’s not your coffee. You threw your coffee out. Whose coffee are you drinking?” Amelia whispered again.

You looked back over to her, your mouth slightly open with a confused and slightly dazed expression on your face. It took you a few moments before you replied in a whisper. “What coffee?”

Amelia’s eyebrows knitted in bewilderment, eyes widening a little. She pointed to your coffee cup. “THAT.”

You looked down at your coffee cup. What? Since when did you have a coffee cup? You didn’t even remember drinking it.

“[First Name], what the hell is going on with you?” Amelia whispered again, slightly sharper.

You. Had. No. Idea.

You looked back up at her. You should say something right? You haven’t spoken in a while. “Nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘yeah right’, before shaking her head, and looking back to the presentation, glancing over at you every so often to make sure you weren’t having a stroke or something.

You leaned back in your seat again and suddenly felt a coffee cup in your hand. What? Whose coffee was this? You looked over to the guy sat next to you and whispered. “Hey. Hey. Sorry.” He looked apprehensive. “Hi, is this your coffee?” He nodded hesitantly. “Okay, one sec.” You took another sip of the coffee to fill the void in your mouth, before holding it out to him. He politely declined and pushed the cup away. What? Why? “You don’t want it?” He shook his head. “Oh okay.” You sat back.

Amelia watched the entire exchange with a hand pressed to her face in disappointment. You noticed her expression and decided to try focus on the movie playing.

After a couple of minutes of concentration, you whispered to Amelia. “This is a really good movie.”

Her concern grew. She stared at you. “Movie? What movie? We’re… watching a presentation.” She sat up a little, body angled towards you.

A presentation? Okay that made more sense. You wondered why the movie was so 3D. You nodded. “Right, right, yeah. Presentation.”

Oh but she wasn’t letting it go so easily. Something was wrong. You were acting delusional. “[First Name], you’re scaring me.” Amelia spoke, her whisper firm.

“But this isn’t a horror movie.” You turned your attention to her.

If her eyes widened even more, you’re sure her eyelids would snap. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?” She whispered yelled.

You furrowed your brows. “Who?”

“You.” She said, starting to get frustrated.

“You?”

“No, YOU.”

“Me.”

“Yes, you.”

“… what?” At that response, she leaned back in her chair with a defeated thump. A part of her was convinced you were being annoying on purpose, while another part was concerned that something deeper was going on. “Sorry, [First Name].” You whispered to her.

She picked up her head again and looked at you. “Huh? Did you just call me [First Name]?”

“…”

Another part of her was starting to get concerned that SHE was the one having a stroke or something. “You’re [First Name]. I’m Amelia.”

You nodded. “Nice to meet you, I’m Amelia.”

Amelia very nearly threw her hands up in frustration. “NO. I’M Amelia. You’re not Amelia!”

Your eyes widened and you whispered back. “WHAT?”

“[First Name], I SWEAR TO GOD.” She raised her voice. People turned around again.

Amelia’s face instantly flushed and her gaze flicked to the ground. People whispered and gave her disapproving looks but eventually everyone turned back around. You looked apologetically over to Amelia, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. She looked up slowly. If looks could kill… it wouldn’t look great for you.

And somehow, this made you giggle more.

“[First Name].”

You were giggling as quietly as possible, with small hiccups of breath in between silent chuckles.

She shook her head and clenched her jaw, looking back at the presentation. Only an hour in, and you were already driving her insane.

You managed to collect yourself. Mostly. Maybe a sip of coffee would help you calm down?

Yeah, no.

The second your mouth filled with coffee, it was already out. All over you. All over the poor woman in front. And you were giggling uncontrollably again. This was officially the worst day of Amelia’s life (and she’s had A LOT of bad days). She stared in absolute horror. Disbelief. Outrage.

The woman in front of you turned to look at what was going on. She was not happy. Thank god she wore a black sweater to the conference. You, however, weren’t as lucky. Your fancy, new light-coloured outfit was covered in coffee.

And Amelia couldn’t take it anymore. She apologised profusely on your behalf to the woman in front, and then grabbed your arm harshly, but not painfully. Everyone stared as the two of you made your way out of the presentation hall, Amelia looking at the ground in shame as you giggled behind.

Woah, standing up made the fuzziness a lot worse. You couldn’t walk actually. You felt like you were swimming instead. And, oops…

Your leg got caught on one of the chairs and you went flying into some poor elderly man. Amelia wanted to die right then and there. She pulled you off of him, as you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes, and she dragged you out of that hall as if her life depended on it.

Once the two of you were out in the hallway, she stared at you in… concern? Anger? Fear?

“[First Name]… what the hell was that?”

You giggled as you looked over at her and spoke. “What?”

She continued to stare incredulously.

You looked at her. In this light, your dopey smile and red eyes looked… familiar.

The gears started to turn as her face dropped in realisation. “The muffin.”

You nearly barked out a laugh. “What???” You asked again.

“The muffin you ate, idiot.” She said slowly. “You’re high as a kite right now! It was laced!”

Oh. Oh yeah. Oh yeah, you were STONED. Now it made sense.

You snickered some more. She groaned. “No, [First Name], this isn’t funny, this is…” She couldn’t help but start to smirk at your intoxicated giggles. “Stop laughing. Do you know how dangerous this is?“ She said, but she started to grin herself.

Maybe because of the absurdity of the situation.

Maybe because it all made sense now.

Or maybe because you were absolutely blitzed out of your mind.

Whatever it was, it sure made for a funny story to reminisce on. Needless to say you don’t take muffins from strangers anymore.

[bitchsister]

can we maybe get curt cockwarming bucky,, but he’s just unable to sit still and is being all bratty about it since he wants to get off but bucky won’t let him 👀

This is not the one and only cockwarming ask I’ve gotten! And anon, while there is some gentle kinda cockwarming in this… there’s a lot more happening too…. Because like I’ve said before. I need a muzzle.

(I kinda just did whatever I wanted.)

Top punk baby princess Curtie in this.

Bye

This has been very sloppily edited. It’s pure smut and filth if there’s any weird errors just ignore them and love me for my flaws.

I blame @swifty-fox for a lot of what is in this. But also I blame myself for being the one to write it. 🫶🏼

Look at their beautiful art for our baby Punk Princess Curtie!!

Here’s their art tag. They spoil me daily 🩷

☣️THIS PARTICULAR DRABBLE IS LONG AS ALL FUCKIN HELL AND IS A MESS. ☣️

Because there was no specifications made, this is yet another addition to our Lucky Charms AU!

If you’re not LOCKED IN for THESE THINGS, do not read : Curt and Rosie arguments, injuries and mentions of blood, lowkey blood play, TOP CURTIS, bottom Bucky, Sub Bucky turned Dom real quick, crying, whining, spit, kinda cockwarming? I tried for the circumstances I swear, Daddy is used a few times . Oh. And Green Day.

I definitely have more cockwarming requests. So a cute and sleepy cockwarming drabble will probably happen eventually.

Bucky’s place wasn’t close to campus, but if Curt managed to catch a lift from Rosie or one of his girlfriends, then he’d manage to bribe them into dropping him off near the skate park which was only about a fifteen minute ride away from Bucky’s, if he was really putting his back into it.

He’d gone a week without seeing either of them, and while FaceTime was certainly one of the greatest modern inventions to exist, it didn’t do anyone justice — either the bar Curt was in was too loud, Bucky couldn’t figure out how to add Gale successfully to their call or Curt was balls deep in an essay about the Navier-Stokes Equations and Computational Fluid Dynamics while the other two had free time.

“I can’t go all the way to his place, Curt. I got work in like — fuck. Twenty minutes.” Rosie stared at his watch, gaze fluttering to land on Curt who stood in front of him, batting his lashes as he held his board at his hip.

“C’mon, Rosie. You’re arrangin’ bouquets all day, not protecting the government from cybersecurity attacks.” Curt stepped forward and tapped his nose. “At least not yet, Mister Digital Forensics.” His lashes fluttered again. “How ‘bout the park, then?”

When Rosie told Curt he’d gotten a job as part-time florist downtown, he’d laughed right in his face.

Ain’t no way!

Rosie stared straight at Curt, his lips tugged into a solemn line.

Wait — yo, forreal?

“I’ll — fuck — hey, Monday I’ll get you a coffee. How’s that, hm? For your troubles.” Curt made his voice sound sweet, stood before Rosie with his headphones around his neck, a loose tshirt hanging to his thighs, cutoffs revealing his scabby knees.

He blew an obnoxious bubble with his gum into Rosie’s contemplative face.

A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of resignation as he realized that continuing this argument with Curt would consume more time and energy than simply giving in. "Fine," Rosie conceded, his tone exhausted. "But you owe me a muffin, too.”

Curt flashed him a smirk once he’d plopped into the passenger seat of Rosie’s old Bronco where nothing but FM sports radio played through the muddied coaxial far older than them.

They chirped at each other for a little while about sports. None of which Curt knew a thing about besides what Bucky had told him. “Well, B says they got a good season ‘head of ‘em.” Curt popped a bubble between his teeth again, fingers fiddling with the too-loose trucks of his board to tighten them.

“You listen to everything he says?” Rosie shot a sidelong glance at Curtis, a brow risen. “It’s almost like you have no singular thoughts these days.” He continued, though he shouldn’t have. “Bucky this, Bucky that.”

The radio statics, but drones on.

That’s baseball for you folks. The Kawasaki kid has ice in his veins! One swing of the bat can change everything.

“I got plenty’a thoughts of my own.” Curt grit his teeth but forced his jaw to relax the moment he heard Gale in the back of his head, reminding him right away that his first reaction is rarely ever his best.

Relax, Curt. Take a deep breath. It’s nothing to get all bent out of shape about. Tell me a few things you can see. What do you taste? What do you smell? What can you touch?

Redbuds blooming in early spring, spent bubblegum, the leak in Rosie’s busted exhaust, the textured and worn down urethane of the wheels on his board.

“Hardly.” Rosie drummed his fingers over his steering wheel absentmindedly, reducing himself to the songs in his head since the radio in his car failed to work half the time. “You think he’s gonna keep you around when you’re graduated? Or, god forbid, you turn twenty-six and Ruthie doesn’t pay for your health insurance anymore? Officially too old for Attorney at Law, Bucky Egan.”

They hadn’t talked about Gale all that much besides the fact that he and Bucky often worked on case studies together and were usually working the same if not similar court dockets — a good friend who he certainly hadn’t dropped to his knees for.

“Fuck off with that.” Curt waved his hand at Rosie, his head shaking in disbelief and his expression one of grand theatrics. “Ain’t mine or nobody else’s fault you ain’t been laid in months. Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ downer, man,” he pulled his shirt up to tighten the shoelace threaded through his belt loops. “You been on my back about it now for a while.”

“Well, all you do is talk about ‘em.”

“And, so what!?” Curt tapped his board a few times over the dashboard to taunt him and make a big, loud fuss. “You goddamn leech! You suck the fuckin’ life outta me, Robbie!” Curt was huffing through his nose, red in his cheeks and far from remembering the things he could see, taste, smell and touch. “You know Nora calls you Rosie Raincloud?” He was being venomous now, his fangs deep in Rosie’s flesh. “‘Cause you fuckin’ smother us with it, Robert. We hardly know what to say to you these days.”

Rosie had stomped his foot over the brake in one of the picturesque neighborhoods, nestled in a dreamy suburban wasteland, so different from the city.

His chin wobbled and his gaze denied Curt the satisfaction of seeing it reduced to a puddle — that hurt, but he could only really blame himself.

It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a swing at Curtis Biddick and got hit back twice as hard.

“You don’t gotta say nothin’.” Curt swung the passenger side door open and jumped out, his head sticking into the window for one last twist of the knife in Rosie’s chest. “Coffee shop ain’t even fuckin’ open on Mondays.”

Rosie peeled off, leaving Curt to hop on his board and kick his legs as hard and fast as he possibly could, his headphones tugged back over his ears and the volume turned up as loud as it could go.

City of the dead, at the end of another lost highway.

Signs misleading to nowhere

He tried his hardest not to think about how he had acted, and the things he had said to Rosie — in truth, Curt was better equipped to handle what Rosie had been saying to him since after all it was his own opinion, which he’d reserved the right to.

Curt didn’t need to scream at him the way he did, or bring up Rosie’s sudden knack for draping a wet blanket over every conversation.

It didn’t get them anywhere.

His mind drifted so far away and his chest heaved with ragged breaths as he kicked his legs to the beat of the drum line in the song he listened to.

Angry, sloppy, reckless.

He stopped to take out some energy on the railings of concrete neighborhood staircases, finding his inability to make it down all the way in a front side a new irritant to focus on instead of the guilt he felt for hurting Rosie before his shift at the flower shop.

Until sunset he occupied his mind — or, until his exhausted body had failed him for the last time and sent his face into concrete. “I hear ya.” He mumbled at the sky, assuming it was all karmic as he reached into the grass nearby to grab his phone which had flown out of his pocket the first time the railing swiped him right between his ass cheeks and straight to his tailbone.

His body ached, his screen was cracked, there was glass in his thumb.

He hardly announced his presence anymore, fucking up the gate code a few times due to the shakiness of his fingers and dropping his keys to his feet while he attempted to unlock the front door, a wild and unabashed string of cocksuckingmotherfuckingpiecesofshit falling from his lips once he’d kicked the door closed with the back of his heel, limping into the kitchen to nose around for a snack, although he had really expected Bucky to be on his second glass of wine by then, his iPad an inch from his face as he browsed the internet for a new dinner recipe.

“Hey,” Bucky called from the garden where he lounged in his tightest swimming shorts — the ones that showed off the thick muscle of his thighs and the curve of his toned hips. “Hey!” He’d been calling to Curtis from the open French doors that lead to the pool, the sun still too bright to realize Curt was bleeding from an unknown source on his face with his headphones still blaring music into his brutalized eardrums.

Where have all the bastards gone?

The underbelly stacks up ten high.

“Dammit, Curtis.” Bucky got up from where he was laying, riddled with irritation that Curt didn’t come squealing into his lap like he always did, attacking him like a sucker fish on any bit of skin he left visible.

His footsteps weren’t detected by Curt that peeled a string cheese layer by layer, half of his body reaching into the fridge to find something else to eat. “If you’re gonna use my money for things like this, at least give me the satisfaction of -“ he’d reached to pull Curt’s headphones away from his ears which had inadvertently caused Curt to whip around, bright blue eyes starkly contrasted by the flow of crimson that stained his lips and neck.

This wasn’t the first time, nor the last.

Still, Bucky let out a sigh as Curt continued to feed himself strings of cheese, blinking up at Bucky as if nothing had been out of place — though, even John would admit, this got easier each time.

“What was it this time?”

Curt sighed, his shoulders shrugging. “Don’t even remember.”

He was so lost in his own thoughts about his fight with Rosie that he could hardly recall what he had landed and what he hadn’t — he had no notes to give himself and nothing he could set his intentions to improve on later.

He threw his body around for four hours and got nothing out of it. And, not to mention, he may have lost a friend.

Bucky shoved his face in Curt’s neck once he’d pulled him nearer, so damp with sweat and radiating heat like the surface of the sun. So bright, so warm, so absolutely gorgeous. “Need to keep all your braincells the way they are.” He murmured, drawing in the scent of him while his lips pressed kisses to the salty heat on the soft flesh of his neck.

Curt still felt sore about what he’d done to Rosie but with Bucky in front of him like this, his hands groping his sides to pull him closer, it grew more and more difficult to think about anything else. “C’mon, m’fuckin’ filthy, Bucky.” He whispered, his voice barely there.

“Oh, I know.”

The sun continued to set beneath the hedges in the garden and the breeze that blew through the open doors had cooled him down enough, but Bucky had done very little to stop his sweating — his palms splayed over the softness of Curt’s hips, the small of his back, the curve of his neck. “You need me to kiss it all better, don’t you?” Bucky could taste the metallic sting dance over his tastebuds. “Need me to lick you clean, hm?”

Curt had still felt the hot sting of anger in his belly, the annoyance with himself for getting it all wrong, the frustration of having no control over what he said, his emotions, and how he reacted to them.

He pushed himself forward, chest to Bucky’s until he was backed into the center island, his skin stained down to the neck of his tshirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” The blue of his iris had darkened like the deepest parts of the ocean — the most dangerous. “Can’t wait to have me down your throat, huh?”

Bucky could hardly suppress the expression coloring his features as a searing chill trickled over every inch of his body. “Fuck,” his palms flattened again over Curt’s sides and down to the curve of his ass where he grabbed two handfuls, pressing his body closer and closer. “Look at you.”

He looked fucked up on himself, mesmerized by his own power, his own influence — Bucky was the softest, warmest putty between his bloody fingers. “Been thinkin’,” Curt grabbed Bucky’s jaw, forcing his lips to part as his own grew inches away. “When you cut your finger. Made me think, ya know — it made your face get all screwed up, made you whine a little.”

Bucky had sliced his finger clean open on a new set of knives Gale got him for Christmas months ago, the blades still sharp as the day he brought them out of the box.

“Think you can make me whine?” Bucky’s voice had drawn itself deep into his chest, teased by Curt who leaned himself in as if he’d finally give Bucky what he wanted, a true taste of what he knew he was missing out on, just to pull away a flash him a grin with front teeth slicked with blood.

“I can do anything.” Curt chirped back.

He pressed his hand into Bucky’s chest again, the other cradling his jaw as he walked him backward and himself forward, a wall behind them eventually where Curt slotted his leg between Bucky’s thick thighs. “What’s the over under?”

Bucky liked to gamble with his work buddies on Saturdays.

Curt would sit by idly near a high stakes poker table or the screen where Bucky and his friends would bet on ponies and he’d drink boozy milkshakes and flirt with the cocktail waitresses he had no interest in for a couple complimentary vouchers for the buffet where he only used the soft serve machine or the gift shop where a collection of cute coffee mugs were sold, and he had his heart set on acquiring them all without spending a dime.

“Not a chance.” Bucky tilted his head back against the wall, his narrow gaze fixed on Curt who hooked his fingers over the waistband of Bucky’s swimming shorts. “I don’t make bets on thoroughbreds without a track record, baby.”

Curt had yet to reveal this particular side of himself.

Sure, he was tough.

He’d bust his lip, his ass or his nose and get back up giggling. He’d fall off and get right back on. He’d argue his side of the story, he’d stand firm in his beliefs.

But he’d never claimed to be dominant in the way he’s portraying now.

The fact that he could wasn’t so much a shock, it was that he chose right then to do it.

“Smart man.” Curt shoved his fingers into Bucky’s mouth, holding him still with his thumb curved beneath his jaw. “On your knees.” He hooked his fingers a little tighter and guided Bucky down to where he balanced on his haunches until his knees fell forward, forcing him to sit on his folded legs where Bucky stared up at him expectantly.

So fucking beautiful.

He already knew what to do, as he’d done it for Curt plenty — his cutoffs were shucked down to his ankles and kicked across the room, his bloody tshirt following suit. Bucky had a hard time figuring how he’d be the one whining instead of Curt until he felt the familiar sensation of tiny fingers threading through his thick brown waves, tugged a little tighter than ever before.

“Go on,” Curt whispered in a shallow breath, “Get me wet for you.”

Bucky could hardly believe his ears, the shock drawing him quickly to obey a Curtis who was typically mounting himself over Bucky right about now, spouting off about how Bucky’s cock is so big and how he can feel it in his tummy.

He worked his tongue over every curve and vein of Curt’s cock only for hips to be drawn closer to his face, his eyes brimming with a sudden surge of cock-teased tears, “Fuck,” Curt grumbled, the blood drying now over his still damp and glimmering skin. “Look so fuckin’ hot with a cock down your throat.”

Rather quickly the spot in Curt’s belly where he held his rage earlier was replaced by the butterfly feeling of having Bucky’s mouth on him — until, of course, Curt had coaxed him into position atop an expensive area rug in the living room, knelt between his thighs once he’d removed Bucky’s slutty swim shorts from his hips.

“Didn’t know how pretty ya’d look like this.” Curt took in the sight of a pink-cheeked Bucky, his thighs spread and his cock achingly hard, curved deliciously over the little trail of hair beneath his bellybutton.

He’d yet to let out a whine, but if he didn’t feel Curtis closer to him soon, he’d be waving a white flag as he went down with the ship. “Kiss me,” it came out in an almost bashful plea as his eyes scanned the lips before him, the dull dried blood brought to life again each time Curt licked his lips. “Please.”

“Ohh,” it was an almost taunting coo. “Got your manners, huh?” A dribble of spit slid past Curt’s parted lips and between Bucky’s spread thighs, his cock slicked gently past the hole that tensed at the sensation. “Relax for me.” Curt whispered, his hips grinding his length against Bucky’s which already twitched. “Show me how good you are.”

Bucky hardly knew if he was able to be good, but he’d try. “Please.” He whispered again, though he was careful not to allow his desperation to show. “Just fuckin’ kiss me.”

Curt rolled his eyes, spitting again but that time it was at Bucky’s chest, tinged pink from the blood still lingering on his tongue. “You don’t make the rules, John.” He basked again at the sight before him — glowing cheekbones, parted lips, hands reaching to spread the dampness Curt had spat onto him around his chest and into his own mouth.

“Not when I got you lookin’ like this.”

It seemed Bucky had leaned into it, his body still tense but his eyes soft as could be.

Curt rut his hips between his cheeks, a rumbled string of groans bubbling from his loins as his right hand milked a couple little pearls of precum from Bucky’s cock that throbbed beneath his grip. “Y’like this, don’t you?” He whispered softly, his usual playfulness still dripping over every word; sticky sweet.

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky gasped, still willing his gaze to focus on what was before him although he was hardly able to discern if it was real or not. “Gonna fuck me?” He felt another sting of anticipation dance over each notch of his spine.

Curt grinned deviously, little body slotted between Bucky’s thighs that could easily overpower him but wouldn’t dare. At least not yet. “Need to get you ready for me,” he reached forward, his fingers slid gently into Bucky’s mouth and over his soft, warm tongue.

It wasn’t long before Curt could hardly stave off his excitement, fingers gentle but prodding against Bucky’s hole that took a finger to the knuckle easier than he’d been expecting, a gasp following suit. “Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his hips instinctively twitching at the unfamiliar sensation. “Fuck — fuck, fuck,”

A second finger, a third.

Lube from a drawer in the coffee table slicked over Curt’s thick fingers as he worked them into Bucky whose brows furrowed, pillowy pink lips parted as gentle huffs escaped them.

“Talk to me, Daddy.” Curt whispered, knelt down between Bucky’s thighs like a predator sizing up its prey that just so happened to be twice the size of himself. “Do I make you feel good?” His fingers worked Bucky open while he pressed rough and starved kisses over his thighs that twitch every now and then.

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky sucked a breath between his teeth, his heart flipping in his chest once Curt’s fingers had found his prostate.

He held in a whine that crept up on him in the very back of his throat and Curtis could tell. “Such a good fuckin’ boy, Curtie. Fuck —“ Bucky threaded his fingers through Curt’s hair, chest heaving once his fingers found a rhythm.

Curt could hardly believe his eyes, falling in love again with a new version of Bucky he’d never met before — all soft hues of pink and deliciously tanned skin, lips glistening with spit and his gorgeous eyes half-hidden behind eyelids that fluttered. “You look so pretty like this.” He mouthed at Bucky’s balls and the base of his cock, pressing sweet kisses against his sensitive skin.

Bucky could hardly deny himself what he wanted anymore as he whispered a gentle plea, “Fuck me.”

Curt hummed between his legs, sitting up slowly to observe yet another angle once he’d carefully withdrew from Bucky altogether to line their hips up, his cock eventually replacing the fingers that gripped Bucky’s thighs instead to spread them wider. “Think you’re ready?” He leaned his chest over Bucky’s, chaste kisses pressed against his open mouth.

“Mhmmm.” Bucky mustered, their kisses hot and wet and sloppy — uncoordinated and needy. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than this. “Put that big cock to use for once.”

An interesting spot he was in to be making snide remarks, Curtis thought, and so he gave him exactly what he’d wanted.

He lined himself up nice and gentle before snapping his hips forward, pulling Bucky closer by his thighs once he’d abruptly buried himself within the tight, wet heat before him.

And there it was.

A long winded whine that started low and gentle had died out high-pitched and breathy right into Curtis’ mouth who continued to lick, kiss and nip at Bucky’s wet lips. “Oh, listen to you.” Curt drawled, allowing John to adjust before his hips had found a slow rhythm, watching as the man beneath him writhed.

“Gonna have you fuckin’ cryin’ for my cock all the time now, hm?”

Bucky choked back a whimper he couldn’t even pretend to hide, desperate and sweat slicked hands grasping onto Curt — anything to hold. “Feels s-so— fuck, baby - “ he could hardly form a coherent thought once Curt picked up his pace, hand hardly big enough to wrap around Bucky’s throat but he kept a tight grip, nonetheless.

Bucky still felt a little shy about this.

A little out of place.

Eventually, the unfamiliarity and pain had quickly tumbled and grew larger into an indescribable pleasure once Curt’s hips had little to hold back any longer, fucking into Bucky relentlessly who took it like he’d been meant to all along.

Uh-uh-uhs were forced out of him, his thighs spread wider and his eyes managing to focus again when he began to pant like he was reaching the finish line.

Curt was so far from done with him.

“Ah-ah,” he withdrew abruptly, watching Bucky writhe again and attempt to pull him back in. “I got you all worked up, don’t I?” His hands smoothed over Bucky’s damp curls, tugging gently. “Takin’ my cock so good, never knew you were such a fuckin’ —“

Bucky sucked in a deep breath and used his legs to flip Curtis onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.

“Think you’re tough now, huh?” He still looked like a fucked-out mess, his eyes half lidded and his heart pounding in his chest. “Had your cock in me and forgot how easy Daddy can have you gagging for him.”

Curt tried to push Bucky’s hands off of him, his cheeks still slathered in dried blood turning pink beneath the mess. “Had you close-“ his rebuttal was quickly snipped once Bucky had slicked his fingers in with lube and brought them between Curt’s cheeks, hooked into him and pulling him closer.

“Get the fuck off me.” Curt tried to put up a fight but his body had been betraying him as his thighs spread for Bucky, his feet lifted from the floor as he moaned at the roughness of it, a punishment it seemed for denying Bucky the pleasure he’d been so vulnerable to receive.

“Nobody takes it like my baby does,” Bucky basked in the familiarity and the tightness around his fingers that hammered into Curt until his thighs were shaking and the back of his knees dripped in sweat. “Isn’t that right?”

Big, fat tears had once again revived the dried blood that had smeared itself over his face by then, every moan that rattled out of him tumbling into a choked sob. “Fuck you.” He whined, his white flag waved with confidence as he went down with the ship Bucky had since abandoned and yet he still managed to put up a fight. “Mother fucker.”

“Oh, that’s not how good boys behave, Curtis.”

Fingers were replaced with Bucky’s cock, Curt’s features softening at the familiar sensation, the one thing he’d ask for on death row.

This is his truest Last Supper.

There was no movement by Bucky, though.

He buried his cock deep into Curtis, swearing to himself that when they were just like this, he could see the bulge of his cock in Curtis’ little belly. “You know what happens when you’re bad, don’t you?”

“I wasnt!” Curt barked, desperately trying to withdrawal from Bucky and snap his hips back again. “I wasn’t bad - I- I wasn’t-“ he was a mess of tears again, the emotions of the day crashing down on him in a heap. “You fuckin’ cocksuckin’—“

The exam he failed, his fight with Rosie, his busted face, and now this.

“Nah,” Bucky held Curt’s thighs to his chest, his cock staying right in its place, not an inch of movement. “Gonna stay just like this until you can show me how sorry you are.”

There, Bucky realized, was his place.

He had never minded being vulnerable with Curtis — in fact, vulnerability was his strong suit.

At first, he was the worst out of the two when it came to expressing his feelings, his thoughts and his emotions.

In the end it was only ever because of the judgement he feared of receiving for loving Curtis. Someone younger than himself, more reckless, with more life to live.

“I’m sorry,” Curt sniffled loudly, a puddle of old blood, tears and a runny nose that threatened to bleed again, the drip metallic and sour in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry — I - I’ll never be bad again, I promise.”

They both knew a lie when they heard one.

“I’m so good for you.” Curt arched his back, anything for a little friction against his suddenly neglected and angry looking cock. “Look at me — I’m all yours, Bucky. Every part of me — I—“ he sobbed again, reaching down to touch himself but he was abruptly denied, his wrists held above his head. “Fuck me till I can’t fuckin’ breathe.”

Bucky felt sick for being so turned on.

A whimpering, whining, crying Curtis before him with a hot and hard cock that leaked beautifully against the little trail of hair below his bellybutton. “Oh, my pretty baby.” He cooed, reaching forward to wipe his crybaby tears away and granting him just a bit of movement when he did. “I couldn’t let you forget, honey — look what I’ve done to you.”

Curt tried again to surge forward and gain an upper hand, but it was disastrously useless.

Bucky was far stronger than he, even despite being fucked open just a moment ago. “Dunno what I’m gonna do with you.” He murmured, pulling away from Curtis at once and bringing him gently to his feet, holding him against the wall where Bucky felt he’d be doing his knees and Curt’s back a favor once he lifted him up off the ground and around his waist.

It was brutal after that, and for once Curt was unsure he could handle it. “Too much! T-too much,” he whimpered, but Bucky could hardly be bothered. “It’s too much — I can’t-“

If it was truly too much, Curt knew what he needed to say.

A safe word was set in stone the first time Curt had passed out and hit the floor, his brow split open.

All he cared about when he came to was finishing, though — even with an almost-crying Bucky and Gale in his face, worried beyond reason.

“Yes, you can, baby.” Bucky groaned, knowing full well Curt’s orgasm was dependent on the completion of his own.

Didn’t matter how much Curt was fucked.

If he wasn’t full of it, he just couldn’t get off.

A rather endearing blessing, but a curse just the same.

“I can’t Bucky, I can’t.” A wreck he was — and Bucky loved reducing him to such a state. Babbling, whining, his voice strained through the tears he choked on. “S’too much.”

Luckily, it was enough to sputter Bucky’s hips forward, hips rolling into Curt to milk his orgasm while Curt’s hole fluttered around his cock, his little body pulsing as he threw his head back against the wall where he thumped a few brain cells loose.

Bucky reached up to hold the back of his head, clicking his tongue. “There you go, honey,” he whispered gently to a Curtis whose body trembled through an earth shattering orgasm, “Let it all go, baby. Look at how much you’re givin’ me.”

Curt’s body was covered in sweat, blood, tears and now a splattered mess of his devotion to Bucky — hot and wet; sticky and so fucking sweet.

Bucky plopped them both onto the couch, Curt’s body wrapping around him and refusing to give his cock back despite it growing softer by the minute. “I love you.” He hiccuped into Bucky’s neck, the emotions flooding back to him once he’d been dumped right back into his reality — the one where he failed his test and more than likely lost a friend. “So much.”

“C’mon, Curt. Y’know I love you more than anything.” Bucky smoothed his hands over Curt’s damp curls, pulling his face away from the curve of his neck to look at him. “What’s goin’ on with you?”

He couldn’t talk about it now.

Just wanted to be here, in Bucky’s lap, the warmth of their love still burning inside him. “Later.” He whispered, sniffling loudly. “I’ll tell you later.”

[palettepainter]

OKAY FIRST OF ALL HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

I was wondering what are some of your headcanons for Dr teeth, or zoot? Have a wonderful birthday! 🍰

Thanks!! I'm so fucking terrified for my bday this year, I don't know if I'll make a post about it cuz there are a lot of other reasons behind it aside from just not having any irl friends to celebrate with, but seeing some of you wish my a happy bday gives me a little smile!

And I sure do!

Zoot:

-So I like to think that even though he can sleep anywhere anytime, his sleep schedule is actually whack. Sometimes he'll sleep for like seventeen hours straight, then wake up at two thirty in the morning, make himself a sandwich and watch tv or something.

-When he was a kid everybody thought his talking shoe Jimmy was just his imaginary friend, including his many cousins. To this day some of them still believe that Jimmy is just Zoot's made up friend and they play along with it

-The only real 'sweet' thing he can handle is dark chocolate, if he has anything sweeter which is barely ever he'll have to eat it alongside something else

-As a kid he had a toy sloth called Timmy, sloths are still one of his favourite animals

-Sleep deprived Zoot is a rarity, but it does exist, the band all fear him, even Animal. He's basically Muffin from the episode Sleepover, mixed with the terror of an eldritch horror. Sleep deprived Zoot is a predator, he can smell your fear

-He's the oldest out of his cousins so far that I've designed for him, but is coincidentally the shortest

-Zoot sometimes forgets that Liv is in her early twenties (she's the same age as Scooter). She doesn't drink alcohol a lot cuz she doesn't like the flavour but when she does drink the stuff Zoot gives her a look and tells her to stop drinking it and go get an apple juice. Liv has to remind him a LOT that she's no longer twelve

Teeth:

-Inspired by a short story titled A Nightmare On Mulholland Drive, even though Teeth's parents are dentist's, and he spent a small portion of his life working at their practise, he is deathly terrified of having to have any operations with his Teeth. As a child he hated the noise of the whirring drill his Mama would use in the practise. A large reason on why his teeth are so perfect is because he didn't ever want to be in a situation where one of those drills had to be near his mouth

-Though his confidence has only improved over the years of being a musician, if you know the right things to say, Teeth can still get quite flustered if the compliments and flirts are coming from the right people

-He is so befuddled by London Cheesecake. To anyone that doesn't know London cheesecake is a pastry like dessert with icing and coconut on the top. The first time Teeth saw it he blinked hard, then asked where the biscuit base was

-When he was younger he had a nervous habit of wringing his fingers, and his noodly arms would coil up by his chest like snakes in distress

-It's not obvious thanks to him always wearing a hat but Teeth's hair is curly in parts, like his Mama's and Grammy's. Tina's hair when it's not pulled back into her signature style is a wild, frilly MESS

-When he first met baby Animal he was fascinated by his jaw strength, impressed by how something that small could have that much bite to him. Floyd was surprised, thinking Teeth would at least be a little more wary about him, but it brought him relief knowing Teeth wasn't unnerved by him

[steakout-05]

muffinsposting on main!?!?!?!??

so i'm a pretty longtime fan of the My Little Pony grimdark fanfic 'Muffins' (by an author i will not name for drama-related reasons. you can easily find it if you look it up, but i ask that you please do not discuss any drama related to them on this post), and i really like the character of Minkie Pie. in the story, she's Pinkie Pie's eldest sister, along with Inkie Pie and Blinkie Pie (maud doesn't exist rip maud). Minkie is her long lost sister who was trapped in a cellar since she was a filly and thus never developed a proper childhood. she's a very quiet and creepy mare who has a lot of passion for endgaming other ponies in the most overly violent ways possible. she has a very pretty design and i've always liked how creepy and timid she is.

she's always been a favourite of mine, but because of the fanfic's poor writing and general issues with Minkie's original character, people have been creating rewrites and redesigns and i thought i should make my own as well! i haven't gotten to properly drawing her yet, but here is a rough sketch of my Minkie redesign, 'Moonstone Pie'!!

this is Moonstone! she's a tall, slim earth pony who is very shy, timid and lacks a lot of crucial social skills. she bears a lot of religious trauma on her shoulders and has issues with properly trusting other ponies, but she's a really sweet pony once she feels like she can trust someone. she's named after a real rock of the same name, similar to how Minkie's birth name is Obsidian. i haven't gotten her special talent and stuff figured out yet since i've been mainly working on her design and backstory, but here she is :) i'm really proud of her and i'm really excited to develop her more as a character!!

her proper appearance is as follows:

Hide: a dark blue-grey sort of colour, with a white fade at her hooves. the sketch doesn't reflect it but Moonstone has peculiar black and white splotches on her fur all down her back that make her look like the night sky.

Mane: a very very dark purple that looks black in the dark. it's very long and straight, with a long fringe covering her left eye. one side of her mane and her tail are tied with thin black ribbons.

Eyes: her eyes are green, but change depending on what point of the story she's in. for example, when she was a child, her eyes were a bright Applejack-green to symbolise her innocence, but after being rescued from the cellar, they are faded and hollow.

Cutie Mark: a black key with a bow in the shape of two wings. this symbolises freedom and being able to unlock herself and fly free from her trauma.

Accessories: black ribbons that are tied to her hair and also hang loosely in it. she also wears a white dress collar.

her rough backstory is under the cut, though i'd like to give a warning that there are (albeit brief) mentions of religious trauma and parental abuse, as well as it being pretty dark. if that makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to read it and you're free to click off and go look at something nice and wholesome!! please take care of yourself :)

i don't have too much of her backstory done yet, so this is mainly a draft, but basically, Moonstone was raised in a cult that's something like The Family International and Jehovah's Witnesses put together. her parents, Cloudy Quartz and Igneous Rock, were very strict with her and would often enact bizarre punishments several incidents related to Moonstone's behaviour occurred, to which her mother, Cloudy Quartz (Pinkie's canonical mother), deemed her a devil and shunned her away into a cellar, where she would spend a majority of her life up until Cloudy "mysteriously disappears" one day.

Moonstone, having been heavily traumatised and weakened from being neglected in the cellar for so many years, is in a state of near-death and delirium. just when it seems like Moonstone is about to kick the bucket, the door opens, and she sees two figures obscured by the sunlight standing at the top of the stairs. she thinks these are angels coming to take her to salvation, but they are actually her sisters Inkie and Blinkie, who just before had literally sent Cloudy plummeting off a cliff until she went splat. Moonstone faints, and after a couple comatose weeks, is introduced into a new "family" run by Pinkie, Inkie, Blinkie and their newest victim recruit, Derpy Hooves. little does Moonstone know, however, is that she has just been dragged into another cult, one that takes ponies and turns them into baked goods in a not-so-cheery way. she basically gets indoctrinated again by ponies who are close to her and manipulate her by giving her a loving family and a stable place to stay. i want to portray Pinkie's baking group as something that's way more sinister than it's portrayed in the original Muffins because i feel like it doesn't address the mental strain it has on the bakers as much as it probably would be. the baker's cult portray themselves as a happy-go-lucky batch of bakers who love each other, but there's really a shitton of distrust and fear between the members of the cult. Moonstone and Derpy later realise this, and agree to escape together as newfound adopted sisters. this is a story about colourful horses by the way- 💀

at the end of the story, her and Derpy end up escaping, and this is when Moonstone finally gets her cutie mark; a key with a pair of wings symbolising her newfound freedom. OG Minkie's cutie mark is a lock, but i didn't really like the message that it represented and felt it didn't make that much sense for Minkie's character, and the concept of a pony getting their cutie mark late is interesting, so Moonstone gets a cutie mark that represents her destiny to finally break free and unlock her true self :)

and that's pretty much Moonstone's character! i'll probably make a proper colour palette for her in the future and i'll see how her character goes if i develop her further. this post isn't confirmation that i'm definitely doing a Muffins rewrite, but i thought giving a different twist on Minkie's character while trying to stay true to the original would be interesting and fun.

a couple other facts about Moonstone:

the ribbons in her hair change colours based on her state in the story. for example, when she was a little kid, her ribbons were white to symbolise her innocence. she later wears black when Moonstone got dragged into the baking cult to symbolise her further dwindling mental state and the horrible situation she was in, basically symbolising how she became a harbinger of death and agony. and at the end, she wears white again to symbolise her newfound freedom and a hope to regain her innocence and happiness now that she is truly free. they also become more flowy when she's wearing white, rather than the viney swirl down her hair when she wears black.

i was originally gonna have Moonstone's cutie mark be something like a wing in chains or a ball of light breaking through black chains, but they felt a little too on the nose. i do like the light breaking through chains idea though :)

thanks for reading all this way :) as mentioned before, please do not use this post to discuss any drama relating to the original author in the replies or reblogs. please also refrain from mentioning the name of the author as well as i fear it would just stir things up. i don't want my blog to become a place of drama, i just want to share my silly little ideas about creepy girl horse :P

[littlebearbigchub]

Fantasizing about a relationship where criticism of my weight is central.

We meet online where I lure him in with pics of me at my thinnest. He doesn't know that I've been struggling to get my abs back since those pictures were taken, that everytime I manage to drop a pound or two I rebound into binges that have the scale ticking up in fits and spurts. When we meet in person I've managed to lean down enough to avoid accusations of straight up catfishing, but I've been laying in on thick about how I've just been temporarily distracted lately from my fitness routine by work and my body will be back in peak condition soon. Its actually serendipitous though, because he works in the fitness industry and he's itching for a project to work on that he has complete control over. At his job as a personal trainer, all his clients fail because they don't have the self discipline he utilizes to maintain his perfect body - he can't stop them from skipping their workouts or binging on donuts. But by dating someone he's coaching he has the opportunity to completely control their diet and gym time, and he's confident he can whip me into shape in no time and start using me to promote his business.

He takes extensive photos of my "before" body. Posing me so I look even flabbier than I actually am, all with the goal of emphasizing how fit and muscular I'm going to be in comparison later. I'm particularly embarrassed the little muffin top my tight pants make so I'm desperately grateful for his help. By the time we'd met, I was getting into a dangerous place. I'd started to really flirt with the idea of just letting myself go - I'd been failing for so long to achieve the lean the body I idealized that I wondered if I shouldn't just give up and lean into my shameful impulses. The intensity of the shame of standing there before him and seeing the number on the tape measure that he slung around my waist has my eyes bugging hard enough out of my head though to shut those thoughts down though. For all I'd thought myself comfortable with my chub in private or sharing in anonymously on the internet, for all the self-work I thought I'd done unpacking internalized fatphobia - standing in real life infront of this Greek god who's not into fat feeling like a pudgy little boy in comparison has me euphoric, gulping down shame like water after a 10 mile run.

We fall in love and he pays attention to every single thing I put in my mouth. Everyday, I know he's watching, judging my choices. He's constantly exacerbated by how oblivious I seem to be about what it takes to maintain visible abs. Reminding me constantly that I have a calorie limit and macro goals to adhere too, repeatedly catching me with junk in my hands or my head in the fridge when I'm meant to be cutting. He takes candid photos of the extra pudge I can't seem to ever shed peeking out of my clothes in unflattering ways to show me why I need to be more diligent. Everything about the relationship is perfect except that we constantly fight about my weight and how I'm not supporting him and his business by being dedicated enough to his regiments for me. I cry, genuinely wishing I had the self-control to achieve the sort of body we both want for me.

But there's no help for me. His scrutiny is the only thing preventing me from blowing up into a real chub, and he secretly loves to remind me what we both know deep down, but refuse to practically acknowledge: at the end of the day, I'm nothing but a fat pig and that's never gonna change.

[fancyfearful]

Forgive me fandom, for I have sinned...

I’ve been antagonized by my own creative mind for a few days now, and have finally clawed my way out from out from the depths of Writer’s Block Hell™ to curse present y’all with a quick-fic based off of this post  from 

@itsmattibad !  

Obligatory Disclaimers: Copywritten characters belong to their respective creators, the artwork/’prompt’ belongs to @itsmattibad, and this work of fiction is NOT to be consumed by minors/anyone under the age of 18 years old! This fic isn’t explicit, but it IS suggestive, so minors be gone.

 I also have limited knowledge on MHA in general (mostly cause I watched only 1 season of it, rip) but I couldn’t break free of the chokehold this man had on me, so my bad if this is an OOC take! I also haven’t written ‘traditional fanfiction’ in like...months...years? It’s been a while >.>; Anyways, enjoy!

================================================

9:45AM. 

That was the time you were supposed to clock in for work. 9:45am, and not one minute later. It was just enough time for you to grab a small snack, a quick cup of coffee, and rest your legs for a bit.

And given how empty the coffee shop looked at this moment, it seemed like luck was on your side. You'd be in and out of the building with a few minutes to spare.

Unfortunately, the neutral expression on your face switched to a frown when you noticed who was working today. You didn't know his name, and it didn't help that you never caught him wearing a nametag either, but of all the people to be behind the register looking at their phone, it was your least favorite barista.

You recognized the combination of bright blue eyes, shiny piercings, and messy, unkept, white hair right away and it took everything you had not to let out an irritated sigh as you approached the register. He tried hitting on you a few weeks ago, and after you had turned him down, he went out of his way to make sure that your order was messed up in one way, or another, every time that he happened to be working.

And even though the other baristas fixed your orders without any problems, having to repeatedly go back to them in the first place was still annoying to begin with.

He was obnoxious, overbearing, and unnecessarily petty over being rejected by some random woman he didn't even know personally. Hell, he couldn't even pronounce your name properly the first time he tried to call it out for your order. But this was the closest coffee shop to your workplace, so as long as you showed up here early, you could afford to take an extra few minutes to correct your order on the off chance he was working.

Several seconds pass while you wait for him to finally notice you standing there, but you really don’t have the patience for something like this. So, after clearing your throat loudly to get his attention, he finally looks up from his damn phone.

He chuckles a little, and given the smug expression on his face, he recognizes you instantly.

“Well, look who it is! How’s it go-”

“I’ll have a bran muffin, and my usual drink order. Extra foam on top.” You say, quickly cutting him off. You really didn’t want to drag this out any longer than necessary, and had pulled out a few bills from your wallet to put down onto the counter before he could even give you your total.

“Is the extra change supposed to be a tip? That’s real generous of you. And here I thought you didn’t like me...” the bastard barista comments, sounding pleasantly surprised.

It takes everything you have to stop yourself from either cursing him out or straight up leave the shop entirely.

“Look, I really, really don’t have the time for this, okay? I have somewhere important to be, so if you want to keep the change, keep it.” You reply, trying your best to sound calm. Maybe he couldn’t tell that you were annoyed with his bullshit already…or maybe he did know and simply didn’t care. 

All things considered, the second option seemed more likely.

“You know, I think I could get used to this. Having you walk in here, and send a few extra coins my way is definitely a good way to start a shift.” the white-haired weirdo replies, all while punching your order into the register before swiping your money up from off of the counter.

“You’ll probably spend the money on something stupid anyway.” You grumble, hoping he doesn’t hear your snide comment.

“Does a date with you count as something stupid?”

“I’m still not interested, and if you ask me again, then I’m going to-”

“Alright, alright, there’s no need to get anyone’s boss involved, so I’ll drop it. These piercings don’t pay for themselves, so I actually have to keep this job. Here, I’ll even toss in an extra muffin.” the white-haired barista says before handing over your items.

You quickly take the bagged muffins and your drink from him without another word, but you notice something different about him in that instant. The jerk is actually wearing his nametag this time, although you could’ve sworn that he didn’t have it on when you first walked in here. You hadn’t given it much thought before, but somehow the name ‘Dabi’ seemed fitting.

After turning around, you make your way towards the nearest table and place your items down before looking down at your drink with a frustrated sigh. 

Of course he forgot the extra foam. In fact, your drink didn’t have any foam on it at all.

You roll your eyes, carrying your drink back over to the register to find the petty barista, Dabi, casually messing around with his phone again instead of doing anything productive.

“Excuse me, there’s no foam in this, and I asked for extra foam earlier.”

“Oh? My apologies, miss. Here, let me fix that for you.” Dabi replies, his tone clearly mocking you.

And that tone makes you instantly regret voicing your complaint to begin with.

But before you know it, your drink is plucked out from your hands, and carried away to be ‘fixed’. You aren’t entirely sure what Dabi has in store for your order this time, but it can’t be anything good.

“Here you go, all fixed up. I think I’ve really outdone myself this time.” He says proudly, still holding your drink as you glance over to see what he’s talking about.

The crude foam art is easy to recognize, and the moment you frown, Dabi chuckles.

It’s a drawing of a dick. And a well designed, lengthy one at that. 

You’re equal parts annoyed and impressed by his handiwork, but before you get the chance to complain, he pulls the cup far away from you again.

“Wait, I almost forgot the extra foam...”

Without breaking eye contact, he opens his mouth and lets his pierced tongue hover over your drink. A trickle of saliva slides down towards the tip of it, and you can only watch in shock as Dabi uses a strand of his own spit to add a finishing touch to his own masterpiece; a thin, but noticeable line is drawn through the foam and it makes it look like the cock in your coffee is blowing it’s load.

The sane part of your brain is telling you to look away in disgust, but truth be told, you’re so baffled by the boldness of his actions that you still can’t believe that this is actually happening. This had to be some sort of weird dream, or a really messed up prank. How the hell was this guy still employed? 

Noting your shocked expression, the white-haired barista snickers before casually giving your newly decorated drink back to you. 

“There you go, exactly what you asked for. Oh, and try not to burn yourself while taking a sip. Drinks that hot can be dangerous.” He says smugly, only to quickly turn around and make his way towards a room labeled ‘Employees Only’.

You stare at the drink in front of you, still trying to process everything that’s happened within the past 10 minutes before the sound of an opening and closing door startles you. Another customer has entered the coffee shop, looking impatient and grumpy; they probably needed something more than you did, and you didn’t want to hold up the line, or get tin their way.

Grabbing your drink, you quickly mumble an apology before making your way back to the table that you picked out earlier, and the moment you sit down, you can’t help but curiously look over the detailed foam art on your beverage again.

And by the time Dabi finally returns from the ‘Employee’s Only’ room to help the grumpy guest in line, he glances over just in time to catch you hesitantly raising the cup to your lips.

[fattestwriting]

YOU, yes YOU, the mun of this blog, with a blobby body bigger than the sun, and the hunger of a black hole, and the desire to turn everything around you into an endless ocean of your own piss, shit, and cum~

"Huh? What? This ask is absurd. Do people really not realize this stuff isn't real?"

Without a second thought, R-

"What the fuck was that!"

She turned around fervently, trying to find where the voice was coming from, only to realize-

"No, no way! I am not being narrated right now, that stuff isn't real! I must be drea-"

But Roxy's words had been cut off, as the ask took effect upon her body. She suddenly felt the pounds gaining on her body, pouring onto her like a bowl of lard. She quickly burst out of the home she had lived in, expanding rapidly.

The trans girl's body used to be small. She was 6'1", much to her shagreen, and she sported a pot belly that stuck out an inch or so from her chubby body with a muffin top that did the same around her sides. She had had small bingo arms, a blobby pelvis, chair filling thighs, a tights busting ass, chubby cheeks, and an average gock, but that was all gone, replaced with a much more cosmic version of herself.

She was now bigger than the sun, with all of her ever-churning balls, plump adipose riddled ass cheeks, and perky pear shaped tits each being the size of the gas ball. Her stomach had ballooned massively, with her blobby form being over 20 times the Suns size, without even accounting for her 10x the sun sized neck and solar system spanning cock.

"Oh FUCK me this feels so good,,,"

The lowly Tumblr writer had forgotten all about the voice in her head, about the absurdity of the situation, about anything other than her sheer size and the sexual pleasure she got from it. Her cock was harder than it had ever been, reaching light years in size, in both girth and length. Her pre soaked every galaxy she was facing before she even had a chance to think about cumming... Or her now very hungry stomach. It growled ferociously, informing her she needed to eat, now. She started with the Earth, if for no reason than sentimental value, but as she approached she felt small bumps hitting her jiggly fat.

"Aw, how cute! They've achieved world peace, by teaming together to launch every nuke at me! Not like that'll save them~"

And so, she finally beg- Hey! Hey what are you- You can't be in here! Uh, yes I can? It's my Tumblr blog. Get the fuck outta here guy, or I'll add you to the menu. Jesus, the gaul of some people. BBWWWUUUAAARRRPPP. Anyways, I finally began to eat the Earth, which consisted of a single slurp, which also happened to suck in the moon. As they continued to bombard my belly with nuclear missiles, I couldn't help but get a lil bloated! So-

*PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHBBBBBBB*

I let loose a cosmic wave of flatulence that destroyed the entire galaxy! Which sucked ass, because I was still super hungry, but was just the most arousing shit imaginable, so I came! And as the cum filled the entire universe, it eventually came to me, all of the mass in the universe being taken straight to me by my own tidal wave of cum. So, naturally, I drank all of it, putting all of my own cum and every piece of matter in the universe into my belly. Over the next couple minutes, I finished off any scraps until it was finally just me against the edge of the universe.

Literally, it was pressing up against me, with my dick stretching it out noticeably, literally warping reality around it's immensity. But all that cum and all that mass had made me really need to go to the bathroom... So I did! I began spewing shit across the wall of the universe, as remnants of the universe was sticking out of my shit. At the same time, I released a tidal wave of piss that was yellow as the sun and reeked just as bad as my shit. Within seconds, I was surrounded by nothing but the warm blanket of an infinite amount of my own shit and piss, a feeling so damn hot that I came on the spot, stopping my piss flow so I could shoot out an entire universe worth of cum, which, naturally, finally broke the universal barrier.

As soon as I was in the multi verse, I realized something... Every character I'd ever read or written breaking the barriers of a universe was here. All of them. And they were fat as ever~ And so, I did as anyone would do in my situation... I got to work eating every universe and universe puncturing character (and sometimes IRL friend), shitting out the extra as I went. By the time I was done, it was once again me pressing up against the edge of the universe surrounded by my own shit, but unlike last time, I was still full. So I pushed. I pushed and released the biggest log of shit yet, one bigger than my entire body, the one which finally broke the multiversal barrier... Only to realize. This process was infinite.

And so I ate again, shat again, and kept going. Forever. I'm reaching you from there now. I've broken through over a trillion barriers, and I can't even begin to imagine how big I am in comparison to whatever universe gets this. The characters had stopped showing up a while ago, because I truly never dreamed this big, but I did notice a blob the same size as me in the distance, also covered in their own shit... I wonder.

[snowmuttgetsweird]

3/5/23 CW: Abuse/Trauma mention kinda? ADHD stuff, anxiety stuff, "The Bluey Post."

Last couple days have been okay. I've been learning to manage the panic attacks better. I didn't actually have one today- I kinda had a smaller episode yesterday, but I put on some Bluey and it turns out to be like, magic anti-panic attack medicine. Who knew.

Some people have heard me say (seen me type?) before that after watching Zootopia, I didn't want to FUCK Clawhauser; I just wanted to be his friend. My first real furry crush was Alex the Lion from Madagascar- just a bright, bouncy, funny, silly, charming character that loved to perform and loved people- bonus points for having huge bappy manimal paws and big chompy teeth. This is going somewhere, I promise.

I feel like there's this positivity vacuum in my life that makes me a sucker for hyper-pure characters and content, like it artificially fills some kind of void that makes me wish I were a part of it in an earnest and genuine way.

Bluey has been like... The greatest expression of that feeling. I love watching Bluey never stop being bossy because she gets away with it nine times out of ten due to her shear charisma. I love watching Bingo constantly challenged to fight for attention and respect, and ultimately succeeding. I love watching the chaos that unfolds literally any time that Muffin is on-screen. I love the way Bandit genuinely loves his daughters and does everything in his power to spend time with them and indulge them, even if it's not always on his preferred terms. I love the storyboarding, the subtle hints at deeper trauma across the cast, the relatability of the characters.

I remember before ever seeing the show, I saw a clip of Jack on Twitter. Why can't you sit still? Why can't you remember anything? Why can't you just do what you're told? He stops fidgeting for a moment and really thinks about it and says, sadly:

"... I don't know."

I cried to that clip- hard- because that moment with Jack was my entire childhood and was the most I ever related to a character. It was the most I had ever seen of myself on a TV show packed into three words uttered by a cartoon jack russell terrier that couldn't remember his god damn hat.

Every day of my life, my dad yelled and screamed at me asking why I couldn't do these simple things he asked me to do and all I could say was "I don't know." Sometimes he'd scream it back at me at the top of his lungs in that condescending slurred "pretending to be special needs" tone, mocking me.

My third grade teacher tried to tell my parents "Chris is very smart but has a difficult time staying on task and participating in class- I think that Chris may be struggling with ADHD" and my mom jumped down her throat for suggesting her son could have been anything less than perfect. She didn't attend parent teacher conferences anymore after that. Where dad was hard on me, mom coddled me and kept me "under [her] wing" as dad would say.

I grew up "smart" and "gifted" but "lazy" and "unmotivated," bullshitting and last-minute-ing my way through school, flopping upwards and somehow convincing everyone I was everything they thought I was.

I'm not medicated or diagnosed and I can't afford to be, but I KNOW I'm ADHD. Seeing the way other people struggle and relating to it all- the time blindness, the hyper-focus, the terrible working memory, the difficulty managing emotions, the executive dysfunction, the rambling- yes I know I'm doing it right now, sorry- all of it and more.

At THAT moment, seeing Jack internally question why he can't do all these simple things really endeared me to the character, and I knew I wanted to watch Bluey for more than just lusting after Bandit (god help me he's still so fucking ideal). When I actually watched the show and reached that episode, I was floored by just how beautifully and subtly the show straight up teaches kids about ADHD without ever mentioning it.

Rusty involves Jack in a game that challenges every debilitating aspect of his neurodivergency, and Jack succeeds in every event based on the three motivational pillars of ADHD: Urgency, Novelty, and Personal Interest. If you think of motivation as a bridge, those three things make up the planks you step across, and if any or all of them are missing, it's MUCH harder for someone with ADHD to stay invested in the task at hand and follow through from start to finish without struggling along the way. It's a game, so there's novelty. Jack wants to make a good impression on Rusty, so there's personal interest. In the last part of the game, they need that dust off NOW, so there's your urgency. All three allow Jack to overcome his poor working memory (difficulty remembering multiple pieces of information across short periods of time), his inability to sit still, and his executive dysfunction (inability to actively prioritize what your brain decides to focus its attention on). The episode is just extremely well researched. Fun fact, did you know there's a prominent, internationally recognized authority in the field of ADHD research named Russell Barkley? Coincidence? I think not!

Obviously I got off-track and rambled a bit and now I'm mentally spent, but all I mean to say is that Bluey is a really, overwhelmingly beautiful and cozy show and I'm extremely thankful to have it in my life. It is genuinely beautiful artistically and the animators are given a lot of opportunity to flex their creativity. There's a lot to love but that first episode with Jack was the one that really sold me on it.

It's about 1:30 AM now, I've got a pot roast I've gotta get in the slow cooker in the morning, and I think I'm more prone to panic attacks when I'm sleep-deprived, so I'm gonna try to maneuver around this cat that's leaned up against my thigh and go to sleep.

I don't know if anyone is actually reading these, but I kinda like typing them either way.

Night.

[gennie123]

6 WAYS TO MAKE YOUR CAKES WITH EASY BAKE MIXES FOR VALENTINES DAY

          

Easy bake mixes are a quick and easy way to make delicious cakes in your very own kitchen. These mixes are perfect for those who want to make cakes without having to go through the hassle of measuring out ingredients and mixing them together. With easy bake mixes, all you have to do is add buttermilk, oil and you're ready to bake!

Here are 6 ways to make cakes with easy bake mixes:

1.Use Plattered Real Bean Vanilla Cake Mix (eggless) and make Tiramisu Cake

1. Make a tin greased and lined. Oven: Preheat to 180 °C. As directed on the container, combine the Real Bean Vanilla Cake Mix with the Buttermilk and Oil.

2. After transferring, bake the prepared tin for about 30 minutes, or until brown.

3. After baking, leave to cool. Mascarpone cream should be folded until smooth to prepare the filling.

4. The next layer of cake is placed on top of the first layer of cream mixture, which has been generously dusted with cocoa powder.

5. For a classic appearance, place your tiramisu cake in the refrigerator and finish with a final dusting of cocoa powder before serving.

2.Use Plattered Instant Choco Chunk Cookie Mix (eggless) and make Cookie Cups

1. Grease a muffin pans or some metal cups sparingly.

2. Oven: Preheat to 180 °C. As directed on the package, prepare the Plattered Double Choco Chunk Cookie Mix.

3. Scoop the cookie batter, flatten it into cup shapes, and bake for 12 minutes.

4. If necessary, gently reshape the cups after baking while they're still warm.

5. Melted chocolate should be brushed into each cup's inside before being chilled until firm. In your edible cup, sip your preferred milk or indulge in a generous serving of ice cream!

3.Use Plattered Whole Wheat Brownie Mix (Wholesome) and make Oreo Brownies

1. Keep oven to 180C for preheating. Line and grease a 6-inch square pan. Blend the oil, buttermilk, and Whole Wheat Brownie Mix.

2. Only combine in a bowl until there are no lumps left.

3. Put a few Oreos in the preheated pan. Pour and properly distribute the batter.

4. Add some Oreos, whole or crumbled. A toothpick inserted should come out clean after 20 to 25 minutes of baking. 15 minutes should pass before eating.

4.Use Plattered CLASSIC COMBO Vanilla & Chocolate and make Strawberry Cake with Vegan Buttercream Frosting

1. Remove everything from the Vanilla & Chocolate CLASSIC COMBO mix. In a big bowl. Oil and Buttermilk should be combined until a smooth batter is created.

2. Fill the tins evenly with batter, and bake for about 25 to 30 minutes, or until a spear inserted comes out clean.

3. Set apart for cooling. Add the Butter to a bowl and beat until it is creamy to make the buttercream frosting. Condensed milk and vanilla extract should be added, then mixed thoroughly.

4. Spread another thin layer of frosting on the top and edges before covering with the second cake layer.

5. Your buttercream should be piped in a spiral from the centre outward.

6. From the base to the top layer, pipe straight lines for the sides. Continue until all four sides are covered. Before serving, garnish with additional strawberry slices and chill for a while. Enjoy!

5. Plattered Whole Wheat Carrot Cake Mix & Brownie Mix (eggless) and make Persimmon Crunch Cake

1. Heat the oven to 180°C and prepare a 6" round cake pan by covering the edges with parchment paper.

2. Oil and Buttermilk should be combined with the carrot cake mix until there are no lumps.

3. One large Hachiya-variety persimmon should be mashed and added to the batter.

4. Add the dry fruit and nuts, then gently fold everything in.

5. Add extra chopped nuts on top and transfer to the prepared baking dish. If using a toothpick, bake for about 60 minutes or until it comes out clean. Slice and eat warm after at least 20 minutes of resting.

6. Use Plattered | Hot Chocolate Mix (Vegan Friendly) and make hot chocolate drink

1. This easy hot chocolate mix is perfect for those who want to make a delicious, hot chocolate drink.

2. The mix is vegan friendly and made with real cocoa powder, giving it a rich and decadent chocolate flavor. To make the drink, simply add milk to the mix and stir until well combined.

3. You can also add your own personal touch to the drink by adding sweeteners or spices such as cinnamon or nutmeg.

All of the above easy bake mixes are perfect for those who are short on time or who are looking for an easy and convenient way to make cakes. Each mix comes with a set of instructions, so you can be sure that your cakes will turn out perfectly every time. Additionally, all of the mixes are made with high-quality ingredients, ensuring that your cakes will taste delicious and be healthy for you.

In conclusion, easy bake mixes are a great way to make delicious cakes in your own kitchen. Whether you are looking for a vegan-friendly option, a small personal-sized cake, a wholesome cake, a classic combo, a whole wheat cake or a hot chocolate drink, there is an easy bake mix for you. With easy bake mixes, you can make cakes quickly and easily without having to go through the hassle of measuring out ingredients and mixing them together. So, next time you want to make a cake, give easy bake mixes a try and see how easy and delicious it can be.

Try out one of the easy bake mixes mentioned above and enjoy the delicious taste and ease of making a cake at home. Don't forget to add your personal touch to the mix and share your creations with us. Happy baking!

[willowfolksong]

exile

- Atsumu Miya x Reader

- SFW; Angst

The coffee is nice. Not to sweet, not to bitter either. It's also just the right temperature. Not burning your tongue is always a bonus. The little mug where it came is very pretty too, and you make a mental note to take a picture before you leave, to save it and see if you can find something similar at the store.

You look up in time to realize that you're more busy paying attention to a mug of coffee than to your date. He's joking about something— something you probably should know by now, since you've been sitting there for more than an hour. So you nod, smiling lightly— the polite amount, just enough for him not to notice that you don't actually know what he's saying— and then silently vow to pay more attention.

The bell on the door announces a new customer. You try to ignore it, to keep looking at your date's eyes— but once again you're unable to find anything there.

So you look towards the counter, and see him. Frozen, just like your hands around the mug.

Atsumu's looking straight at you.

"What's wrong with ya? Move" Osamu tells him, annoyed by Atsumu sudenly stopping.

"She's here"

Osamu doesn't needs to follow his brother's gaze to know who 'she' is.

He knows it's you.

Who else could it be? There's still a little velvet box burning a hole in one of his brother's drawers, perpetually waiting for your hand.

"Let's just go then" he says, but Atsumu shakes his head and, as if in trance, walks towards the counter, placing both of his hands on top. Osamu follows reluctantly, torn between waving at you or just ignore you too.

There's a slight tremor on his brother voice when he talks again, barely noticeable but there "What do ya want?"

"'Tsumu" Osamu calls him. Atsumu ignores him, eyes strained on the chalkboard on the wall with the offers of the day"Let's just leave. For real"

"No. We'll stay and order somethin' and maybe sit down or whatever"

"I'm not goin' to sit down on a table right next to your ex"

Atsumu tenses, swallowing what Osamu can only guess is his own anger "Don't call her that" he growls, teeth clenched.

"It's what she is" Osamu tries, eyeing the guy coming to take their order "And she's here on a date with another guy"

Atsumu glances behind him at that, eyes following the way your shaking hand takes the cup to your lips. The guy in front of you won't stop talking, but you don't say anything.

He clenches his fists "Who the hell is that?"

"Hi!" the guy from the shop chirps, coming to stand by the register "Welcome to our shop! Do you guys know what you want to order, or would you like to see the menu? We have our special offers for the day on the chalkchalkboard here!"

Osamu nods, still eyeing his brother wearily "Yeah, two black coffees to go. And ahm..." Atsumu changes his weight from one foot to another, and Osamu is suddenly scared of what he could do "What kind of muffins do ya have here?"

"Well, we have some very good chocolate ones, and also..."

"One of those, yeah. That'll be good"

The guy nods, smiling, and goes to fetch their order.

"I could kill him" Atsumu mumbles, glancing at the ground then back at you over his shoulder.

Osamu shakes his head "Yeah, no. Don't say that. That ain't good"

"But would ya help me?" Atsumu adds "If I decided to"

Osamu looks at your date for a moment, before looking at his brother again, little smile in place "Yeah, we could take him"

"It's just..." Atsumu seems at lost for words, and actually has to close his eyes for a few seconds before being able to keep talking. His voice is trembling even more then "Why would she do this? She knows I love her. How can she just do this? If he touches her while we're here I swear..."

"She's just tryin' to move forward, 'Tsumu. Just like ya should"

Atsumu punches the counter then, glaring daggers at Osamu "I don't wanna move forward"

The guy from the store comes back with their order in that moment, glancing at Atsumu's fist and then at Osamu, smile now a bit forced.

"Here you go"

Osamu has to physically drag Atsumu out of the coffee shop and even then, he looks back at the shop trought the window until it disappears from sight. Only then he tears his gaze away to look at the coffee resting on his hands.

"That's not even the coffee she likes, ya know" he says quietly, only a watery whisper.

Osamu pretends that he's talking like he always does "Really?"

"She likes fluffy stuff, with whipped cream" a pause, and Atsumu clears his throat "I remember"

You leave the coffee shop in haste after the Miya Twins are gone, apologizing to your date and making up excuses about having to finish something from work. The walk to your appartament is torture, and opening the door and coming face to face with the little frame you still haven't put away of you and Atsumu taking a selfie, it's just the cherry on top.

You go to bed that night feeling like a wreck, and when the morning comes, going to work is the hardest thing to do.

You arrive at your office with a sigh, pushing some locks of hair behind your ears and rubbing your eyes.

And then you see, sitting patiently on your desk: a cup of coffee to go.

You grab it to read the paper plastered to it, detailing the ingredients. It's your ideal whipped coffee foam iced latte, with absolutely everything you like in it.

You close your eyes. Only one person comes to your mind.

He remembers.

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[mageofseven]

Bros and undateables react to MC who bakes in the middle of the night when stressed

I read this and my brain was like "so Beel's dream MC?". Of course, doing it out of stress isn't good, but Beel would definitely enjoy midnight sweets~

Anyway, will do, Nonnie! Please enjoy 😊

Also, like always, I'm splitting this into two parts: one for Brothers and the other Undateables for space reasons.

~

Lucifer:

Was heading to the kitchen to get himself more coffee to continue his paperwork.

When he saw the kitchen light on, he expected to catch Beel raiding the fridge.

Instead, he found MC at the oven, pulling out another set of cookies to add to the already monstrous pile of them on the counter.

"MC, what are you doing?"

The human jumped at his voice then gave an awkward laugh.

"Baking..."

"Yes, I have eyes, Love." He tells them. "What I mean is, why are you baking at 1am?"

"...I dunno."

The man sighed before approaching the human and turning off the oven.

"Regardless, I believe you've made enough cookies for one night. It's time for bed."

The human didn't move however.

"Darling?"

"I can't sleep..."

MC proceeds to explain how they get bad anxiety at night and how usually they can power through it, but with some school stressors on top of it, it became overwhelming and they just needed to do something to distract themselves.

The demon frowned.

"Love, you should have just came to me if you were having issues."

"But you're busy with your work--"

"That doesn't matter if you need me though."

The firstborn smoothed down their human's hair, which was messy.

"Now follow me to my room. I'll make sure you get some rest."

"But what about the cookies?"

"I'm sure Beel will wander in and take care of them for you."

Mammon:

Just got back from a party and was heading to the kitchen to grab a snack before heading up to his room

Only to find MC awake and... icing a cake?

"Oi! Human! What's with the cake?"

"I baked it."

"Well duh. But why?"

The human finished icing it, making the cake a colorful one with all of the brothers' colors.

"Because I wanted to." The human shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Do you want a piece?"

"Uh.. sure." The demon mumbled.

He hopped onto the counter next to them as he watched them grab a plate and cut a piece for him.

MC handed the plate and a fork to him.

"It's red velvet." They said proudly.

"Yeah, yeah..." The man mumbled, taking a bite.

His eyebrows raised.

"Man, this is good!" His face went red at his words so he dialed back. "I mean, its okay... ya know."

MC gave a small smile, but it quickly fell into a heavier look.

"Hey, what's with that face??"

MC quietly hopped on the free counter next to him.

They didn't answered, just lightly kicked their feet as they stared at the floor.

"Oh c'mon, Babe, talk to me 'ere!"

MC sighed.

"I'm sorry. My anxiety is just bad tonight... I wanted to keep busy."

...oh.

The Avatar of Greed sat the plate down and put his arm around his Human.

"I don't get why you went to straight to baking..." The demon thought aloud. "But it doesn't matter. I'm home now, got that? You don't have to be anxious on your own..."

MC gave a soft smile.

"Thanks, Babe."

"Nothin' to thank me for. Now just let The Great Mammon take care of you!"

Leviathan:

This boy's sleep schedule is kinda fucked up

So it's not unusual for him to be up at 3am.

The Avatar of Envy ran out of pop in his room so he ventured out to the kitchen to get some more.

Which is how he found MC in the kitchen with like... seven cheesecakes???

"...What am I looking at?"

"Cheesecake."

"Well duh, normie." The demon rolled his eyes. "But why did you make cheesecake at like, 3am?"

Silence. Levi was suddenly worried that they hurt his Human's feelings and the look is their eyes definitely wasn't filled with the positivity that he's used to.

"Look..." He came up and hugged them close. "I just don't get it. Please don't be upset."

MC laid their head against their boyfriend's chest.

"It's fine." They mumbled. "I'm sorry... I just couldn't sleep so... I just came in to bake and this was the outcome."

"You should have just came to my room." He pulled back to look at them. "You could have been watching me play Rune Factory or something."

MC turned away from the demon, wrapping their arms around themselves.

"I'm not too clingy... right?"

"I... what?"

MC sighed.

"I didn't go to you because I was worried that you just wanted time to yourself and I'm always with you during the day..."

Levi just shook his head at every word they just said.

"Look... I always want my Henry with me." He blushed. "And yeah, I like my time away from other people, but that doesn't include you; just other normies."

"Are... are you sure?"

"I mean, yeah." He mumbled. "So... just don't worry about it, okay?"

Satan:

This man usually has a better sleep schedule but tonight he had stayed up reading just a bit too long.

He started heading to the kitchen to get some water and found MC with counter surfaces covered with cupcuakes while they looked really stressed and teary-eyed down at the one they were drawing on with icing.

"Kitten?"

MC jumped and quickly raised their hand to wipe their eyes.

Satan strode over and stopped them, looking down into their eyes.

"Kitten, what's wrong?" He wiped away a fallen tear.

They avoided their boyfriend's gaze.

"It's not working..." They mumbled.

"What are you talking about?"

"The cats aren't turning out right..." Their gaze falls to the dozen cupcakes with cat faces drawn on them in icing, but didn't meet the human's standards apparently.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. Surely they weren't in the kitchen crying over cupcakes because their designs weren't coming out well?

He sighed.

"Give me your hand." He took the human's hand with the bag of icing and brought it over a cupcake. He guided them with the design and helped them make a cleaner-looking cat.

"Thank you." MC sniffled.

Satan pressed a kiss to their forehead.

"Now what's the real issue, Little One?"

MC didn't say a word, just lightly sat the icing bag down and stared at the cupcakes.

Their boyfriend waited patiently and just rubbed circles on their hand with his thumb.

"I... I'm not gonna be sent away if I fail a class, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

MC shifted their gaze to the ground.

The blonde sighed once more and wrapped his arms around their waist.

"Talk to me, Kitten."

They sniffled.

"I'm failing my Hexes class." They mumbled. "This semester got so much harder and my grade took a nose dive... and the requirements to stay in the program say I gotta keep my grades in a certain range..."

"MC... you should have told me sooner." He tightened his embrace around them and set his chin on their shoulder.

"B-But you can't always help me--"

"Yes I can, Kitten. I'm always ready to help you when you need me."

"Satan..."

He kissed their cheek.

"And trust me when I say I would never let anyone take you away from me." He told them. "I'd fight the whole Devildom to keep you by my side."

He placed one last kiss on their temple.

"I'll help you study tomorrow. For now, let's clean up and get some rest."

Asmodeus:

Another one who just came home from a party and was heading towards his room when he heard a frustrated sigh come from the kitchen.

The demon poked his head inside and found MC staring down at... something. Whatever it was supposed to be, it just looked like charcoal now.

"Doll? What are you doing up?"

MC sighed.

"Baking." They eyed the black brick on the counter. "Or well... tried to anyway."

Asmo stepped inside and immediately went over to kiss his human.

They smiled a bit.

"Welcome home."

He smiled back and gave his Doll a big hug.

MC relaxed into the hug.

"My anxiety is just bad tonight for basically no reason." They explained, burying their face in the crook of his neck. "I was waiting for you to come home."

"Aww, Dolly." He pulled back and kissed their check. "You should have texted me! I would of been home sooner!"

"No, no, it fine." They pulled away. "Did you have fun?"

"Yep! Of course, I would have had even more fun if you came me, but I still made do~."

He gave them another kiss, this time on their nose.

"Now why don't we lay down now, hmm?"

MC smiled.

"Okay, thank you, Azzy."

Beelzebub:

Midnight kitchen raid. A usual nightly occurrence.

This time however, the Avatar of Gluttony's nose was greeted by a sweet smell as he approached the kitchen.

"Oh Beely!" The human displayed their plate full of fudge squares to him. "Please try them and tell me what you think."

Was he dreaming? The man felt like he was dreaming. Still, he didn't hesitate to accept the human's offer.

He made quick work of the fudge and smiled happily at his Muffin.

"Good?"

"Amazing." He stepped forward and hugged his human.

After a moment though, his smile fell.

"Wait...what are you doing up?"

Silence.

"Muffin?"

MC broke away and sat the now empty plate in the sink.

"I dunno. I just couldn't sleep." They explained. "I guess I just..."

The demon stared down at them, waiting patiently.

"Ugh..." MC let their face fall into his chest.

He stroked their hair quietly, brows furrowing in concern.

"I got a test on Friday and no matter how much I study for it, I can't stop stressing about it." They sighed.

"What class?"

"History..." They mumbled. "Why do we have to cover a whole century of events in one test?"

Beel patted their head and hugged their human close.

"Can I sleep with you tonight, Beely? I don't think I wanna go back to my room."

He kissed the top of their head.

"Of course, Muffin."

Belphegor:

Believe or not, its common for Sleepy Boy to be up late at night.

He sleeps so much during the day that he's usually awake starting from after his dinner nap to about 4 or 5 am.

Hence him being awake at 2am and heading towards MC's room, only to notice that their room was empty, but there was noise coming from the kitchen.

He found his Human sitting on the floor in front of the oven, staring into it.

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for the brownies to bake." They said dully, not looking away from the oven.

"Are you baked?"

MC lightly hit his arm, but broke out into a small smile.

He smirked.

"Come on, I mean, who bakes brownies at 2am and just stares at them?"

Their smile fell, as did their gaze; they stared down at their bare feet.

Belphie frowned.

"Okay, what's the problem, Butthead?"

No response. He gave a small flick to their head.

"Ow..." The human rubbed their forehead, looking to the Avatar of Sloth as he stared expectantly at them.

They sighed.

"I've been getting nightmares lately... at least I think I have been."

The demon raised an eyebrow.

"You think you've had nightmares?"

"I... can't actually remember them." They mumbled. "All I know is that I'll have them and wake up crying with my heart pounding... but I can never remember why. Like, what the dream was about..."

"How long has this been going on?"

"About... two weeks I think?"

He flicked them on the forehead again.

"Ow!" They rubbed their forehead once more.

"Dummy. You are literally dating the demon whose an expert on sleep and stuff."

Silence. He sighed.

"Come here." He pulled them in for a hug. "Come to my room. I'll keep the nightmares away, got it?"

[daynada]

JJK Characters Rate Their Petnames Given By Their S/O

(And Their Favorite Petnames to Give to Their S/O)

❥ Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

❥ Content: Headcanons

❥ Date: May. 25. 21

❥ Word Count: 758

❥ Content Warning: Suggestive themes, Humor, Fluff, grammatical errors

❥ Characters Featured/Mentioned: Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Fushiguro Megumi, Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru

❥ Notes: Wow I have a lot of time on my hands. Should I make petname hcs pt 2 for the 2nd years?

- Daynada ❧

Itadori Yuuji

❥ Ita (6/10 - it’s cute nothing too unique)

❥ Yuuyuu (8/10 - he finds it adoring, a bit embarrassed only because you easily fluster him)

❥ Togepi (bc he looks like one) (7/10 doesn’t understand why you call him that but likes Pokémon)

❥ Baby-boy (9/10 yes he is your baby boy baby him pls)

❥ Romeo (10/10 honestly tho he likes whatever you wanna call him)

❥ Tiger (9/10 he likes it! Makes him feel like he’s baddd even tho he’s still bby)

Calls You:

❥ Mrs/Mr. Itadori (Itadori (y/n))

❥ Baby

❥ Mon Chou (which means my cabbage, apparently French people say this to each other and you have no idea why he’s calling you a cabbage - edit: there are two meanings of Mon chou: 1. term of endearment/adoration and 2. meaning “my cabbage” 🥬 !)

❥ My Lovah

❥ Dove

❥ Peach blossom

❥ My everything (cuuuteeeee)

Kugisaki Nobara

❥ Your highness/your majesty (100/10 because it’s facts)

❥ Baby-girl (8/10 depending on how you say it tooo oooh she’ll be all blushy tryna play it off)

❥ Princess (7/10 it’s not the first ones but she can make do - even though you might be saying it cos she’s a spoiled brat <3)

❥ My Flower (1000/10 she's just like aww babe 🥺)

❥ Carrot Top (-2/10)

❥ Vixen (10/10 she’s like “damn straight”)

❥ International Superstar Model Kugisaki Nobara (She will marry you/10)

Calls You:

❥ Lover Girl/Lover Boy

❥ Babe

❥ Babester

❥ Toots ;)

❥ The Baddest™

❥ My Property

❥ Baby boo

Fushiguro Megumi

❥ Umi (9/10 Umi means the ocean in Japanese, you explain his eyes are deep and blue as the ocean cutecutecute)

❥ Sweet Baby Boy (10/10 emphasis on “sweet” cos this boy blushin’)

❥ Gumi-drop/Gumi-bear/Gumi-ball (6/10 won’t admit he kinda likes it only cos you say it so sweetly and doesn’t want you to say it in front of his friends)

❥ My Sweet Prince (7/10 doesn’t think he’s prince-like but it’s flattering to think you adore him as such)

❥ Angel Face (8/10 a bit embarrassing only because he melts when you say it)

❥ Zookeeper/puppeteer (😐/10 haha you got the whole squad laughing)

Calls You:

❥ Puppy (I think we can all agree 🥺)

❥ Kitten (Suggestively oooh)

❥ My Moonlight

❥ Bunny

❥ Better/Other Half (😭)

❥ My Pretty girl/Pretty Boy

❥ Angel

Bonus:

Nanami Kento

❥ Ken (first 7/10 but now 6.5/10 bc he probably hates being called after Barbie’s boyfriend lMAOOO)

❥ Nana (8/10 lowkey because when you say it makes him feel soft awh)

❥ Darling (9/10)

❥ Kenny (6/10)

❥ Boss Man (4/10 he doesn’t know where that came from - “Dub so big I had to roll down the window to see it boss man” “Sure thing boss man” - Nanami:???)

❥ Dreamboat (8/10)

❥ Light of my Life (🫀/10)

❥ Soul mate (🫀🫀🫀/10)

Calls You:

❥ Beloved

❥ Beautiful/Handsome

❥ Princess/prince (on rare occasions 😳)

❥ All Mine

❥ Honey

❥ Dearest

❥ Sweetheart

Gojo Satoru:

❥ Stud-muffin/stud (9/10 yeah he knows)

❥ Toru (9.5/10 just feels more wholesome, yeah he likes 🙂)

❥ Sugar Daddy (10/10 honestly you stopped calling him that you know it’ll intensify his ego)

❥ Zaddy (9/10 this is the closest thing to ‘Zaddy’ with a ‘d’ instead of a ‘z’ as he really wants you to say it but you’re just like “r u h0rn¥ all the time or somethin’?" 😀 Like is this even a petname?)

❥ Papi (9.5/10 again. He really likes it. But you probably said it only a couple of times. He is desperate please. “getting kinda closer tho” “no, just no.”)

❥ Stinky (7/10 Gojo likes it as he knows you’re saying it when he annoys you)

❥ One-Third of the Three Blind Mice (0/10 he's had enough he's going to snap you’ve said it for the billionth time)

Calls you

❥ Lamb

❥ Big booty Judy/Jude (Judy/Jude won’t even be your real name but he’ll call you that because he seems to really like your ass)

❥ Babycakes

❥ Gorgeous/Hottie

❥ My boo/boo thang

❥ Pooster (wtf I just know he says this to you)

❥ Doll/doll face

❥ Smalls

❥ Snookums

❥ Sugar

❥ Queen/king

❥ This guy will literally call you anything and thinks it’s endearing. Please love him lmao.