#this has been sitting in the bottom of my drafts ever since i first got back into making gifs again

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[jishyucks]

⋆.˚ Twinkle, Twinkle ˚.⋆ — lmk (Teaser)

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣  genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers

‣ current wc: 5.6k (so far), about 65% done, predicted 10k

‣ summary: The world is sick and tired of your and Mark’s inability to understand feelings. With a friendship that has lasted longer than you can count on your fingers and friends who can tell you’re both utterly in love with each other, the universe decides to make use of its different light forms to tip you both over the edge of friendship.

‣ warnings (so far): some cliches?, like one kms joke, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vomiting (cause of alcohol)

‣ an: this idea has been rotting in my drafts since like February and i finally got the motivation to write it yippeeee,,, tag list maybe? just ask!

Without light, it’d be awfully difficult to see (duh)

Mark’s bed was the 2nd most comfiest bed in the world, a close runner-up to your parents’.

His mother truly chose the perfect pillow for you to use, paired with a blanket that complimented it well. They both smelled like fresh laundry, an aroma you were familiar with because your best friend smelled exactly like this.

The clock on Mark’s nightstand reads 12:23 AM, moonlight pushing past his closed shutters to emit a bit of its light into his room. Its light does poorly, giving the glow-in-the-dark stars on Mark’s ceiling a chance to emerge through the darkness.

Your mind’s filled with thoughts of the conclusion of the movie you both had just watched—Tangled—and your younger self could not help but think…

“Mark?” you called out into the darkness, “Mark, are you awake?”

There’s shuffling in the space next to you and then you hear Mark hum, “I’m awake. Why?”

You hesitate to ask the question that’s been keeping your brain occupied ever since the credits started rolling. But knowing Mark, he wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“Do you…”

You can barely see Mark’s head lift up to look at you in the darkness, bedhead creating a jagged outline.

“Do you think I’ll ever fall in love and get married like Rapunzel did in the movie?”

Your mind replays the clips of Rapunzel and Eugene underneath the lanterns, lights creating a scene you’ll never forget for the rest of your life.

Mark hums again, something that he did when he was deep in thought. Your question wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s overheard a lot of the other girls in his class talking about crushes they’ve had on other classmates or squealing over that one idol he couldn’t remember the name of. The only difference now was that these thoughts were coming out of you.

“Do you think you won’t?” Was Mark’s reply.

At the time, you really didn’t know what you were saying, barely having the knowledge to understand the deeper meaning of it all.

Love and marriage? You weren’t aware that you had skipped practically everything before that.

“I think so.”

Mark doesn’t reply for a long while, long enough to convince you that he had fallen asleep the second you answered his question. But when you feel the bed dip, you can make out that he is now sitting up and reaching for his lamp.

Click!

You let out a quiet hiss, squeezing your eyes shut because you’re suddenly blinded.

Mark snorts, “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.”

There’s movement on his end again, the blankets softly rustling. You’re not sure what Mark was trying to do, but once you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see in the lowly-lit room are his eyes shining back at you, mouth opened slightly because he was going to say something. He’s propped up on his elbows, crushing the barrier pillow between you both.

“Why’d you have to turn the light on?” You scoot yourself up to face your best friend.

Mark shrugs as chews on his bottom lip in search of words, “I just feel like it’ll mean more if you could see me saying it.”

“Saying what?”

“You’ll find your happily ever after,” Mark says seriously. You can tell just by the way he looked at you that he was serious. Not even a hint of kidding looming behind his pupils. You forget that Mark was such an optimist.

Your brows furrow, unsure whether or not you should take this boy seriously. “And how are you so sure about that?”

Mark’s eyes reflect the light coming from his lamp and he grins. It’s almost creepy the way he does, like he has something hidden up his sleeve.

“I just am.”

[cz19y]

MERCHES !? [HCs]

Multiple × Bllk Player!GN!Reader

THEME: You start getting famous in the NEL. You have merches now! How'd they react? Would they buy a keychain? A plushy? Your jersey??

∆ Reader is part of Blue Lock, fluff, SFW, some of them will be extremely short, they have a crush on you, OOC[?], grammar & spelling errors.

[!] reference for plushie at the bottom.

NOTE: This has been sitting on my drafts for half a year now. Finally decided to finish.

∆ FT: Isagi Yoichi, Rin & Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Shidou Ryusei, Niko Ikki.

[ Starting … ]

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ISAGI YOICHI

"Cool/Cute!" First thing he thought about when he saw the plushy.

Def buying the plushy. He also looked into the jersey but dropped the idea cuz he's just shy like that.

Silly keychain hanging from his wallet.

Gets all awkward when someone teases him(Reo + CHIGIRI).

“You got [L/n]’s merches? Can I tell them??!” Bachira was so excited to tell you.

“No.”

Anyways,

Gets all awkward next time talking to you but pretends it's ok. (It's not ok)

Loves the fact that you're having somewhat of the attention you deserve for being the great player you are.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ RIN ITOSHI

You really think he's buying it? What a joke.

He is.

Just because you annoyed him to do so, of course.

Just the keychain tho. The idea of a jersey would "decrease" his ego and he thinks that the plushie is a waste of space.

Jokes, he bought the plushie.

Almost died on spot when you mentioned that you saw the plushie on his bed.

BUT he’ll kill you if you mention it to others.

Has the keychain on his keys.

When waiting for a bus or something, he fidgets with it.

Likes to start a staring contest with the plushie.

AGHhH ok but he's so cute.

Since you're “important or whatever”(his words, not mine), I'm imagining him taking good care of the plushie.

Ok but he def drowled on that plushie.

Blushes if you ever buy his merches. Like in the Sae scene after the U20; eyes shining and all.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SAE ITOSHI

Debated if it was worth it or not.

He means, how lukewarm..

But those keychains are adorable, no?

Yeah, why not.

Keychain hanging out from his phone.

Fidgets with it too.

Ignores his teammates if they ever mention it and glares at them if they push it.

Will not tolerate Shidou.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ MICHAEL KAISER

Bought the plushie to annoy you. That's one of the main reasons why he bought it.

The other reason is because he actually wanted one.

Has it sitting near the mirror.

Poses and talk to that thing like it's actually someone.

Unboxing time was def something. Smug smile with brows acherd, inspecting the mini version and humming in approval.

Ness doesn't know how to feel about this.

NOT buying the jersey. You're a good player too, his pride is gigantic and would NEVER betray himself.

He may be pinning on ya but that's different.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ALEXIS NESS

Bro's smile got even happier when he got the plushie[HE'S SUCH A CUTIE STOP].

Has a jersey somewhere in his closet.

Shy about it.

Keeps everything clean and neat.

Finds it so cute, he absolutely loves the plushie.

Keychain keychain keychain-

Inner child coming alive once more.

Unboxing with ultimate happiness.

Loves you and all but would prefer if you don't know about it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ SHIDOU RYUSEI

The moment he heard about it, you can bet he was already ordering it.

Keychain, plushy, or jersey?... huhh.. Nah, he's buying it all.

But his favorite is the jersey.

Would start wearing it as a joke, but then it becomes part of his weekly clothing.

Shidou ordered a GG size plushy and named it "[Lame Nickname]".

Ordered a small size plushy too, and named it "[Lame Nickname Jr. The II]".

Will talk to it like it's an actual conversation when bored or when he wants to get something out of his mind and there's no one around for him to pester.

Not shy about it.

Brags, even.

Makes your and his plushie kiss in front of the whole team hahaha-

Sometimes you're worried about the plushie’s safety.

Bros 100% pleading forcing you to buy his merches so you two can match.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ NIKO IKKI

Got too embarrassed when buying.

I can picture him with his neutral ass face unboxing the plushy but inside; he's jumping and giggling while he stares at the eyes of the small goofy mini version of you.

Gets quiet the next time he sees you.

Gets embarrassed when spots the plushie looking directly at him.

*Cutely goes and move its head to another direction* /j

He’s an anime fan; probably and will make a secret collection of those merches.

Plushie sitting at the top spot of his shelf among the mangas or anime merches he has.

Will delete himself if you ever mention it.

If ever hanging out at his place, expect having to wait for some minutes outside his room because he's trying to find a good spot to hide it.

Bro has pride to keep, give him some time.

Lmao. Feels bad whenever the plushie falls off his bed and pets it to make up for it(just like me fr).

[!] Plushie Ref

They're so cute.

[liliths-missing-pen]

hii!! This probably sounds weird but im gonna try making it sound better😭😭

I would like to request floyd, idia, azul, and lilia (or malleus instead of lilia) with a bitey s/o! That sounds weird but i mean- an mc who bites them, but not too hard,, almost playful, and friendly (?) I would like to clarify that theyre not a child, just a really bitey 18 y/o😭

Can be platonic or romantic! Tysm for even reading this, and writing this even tho it sounds so, so weird, and silly😓😇 (honestly not sure if ure even gonna write this but hopefully nlng,, thankyu po😇)

Floyd, Idia, and Azul with a S/O Who Likes To Bite Them!

I hope you don't mind that I made it kind of like impulsive thoughts that the mc actually goes through with. But oh my goodness I had this request sitting on the bottom of my inbox and drafts because of school... I also had no clue what to write for Lilia or Malleus so I apologize. I hope you enjoy it though!

Masterlist

Floyd Leech

Okay but like let's be honest here. Floyd is biting you back lmao.

The first time you bit him he was probably confused but probably giddy just from excitement.

I can see Floyd being a bitty child as he grew up just trying to bite anyone he could. Yes, Floyd has at least tried to bite Azul once when they were children. This would be an expression of him being happy, content or protective of a friend Floyd.

So when he realized you liked biting him, he was excited he could regain his bitty habits, much to Azul's dismay.

If you ever bite him whether it be in public or private be ready to be bitten back.

"Oh, Shrimpy wants to play today?~" Floyd stated as he gave you a toothy grin. You laughed nervously, glancing up at the 6-foot lanky eel. "So what if I do?" You joke, turning your heel to head to the VIP room which Azul had called you to previously in the day.

Floyd wasn't having it though, gaining a tight grasp on your wrist and pulling you back to see his heterochromatic eyes staring down at you. "Nuh uh uh~ Shrimpy want to play, so I want to play too!" He said gleefully as he went to nibble on your ear, making you shriek.

"Floyd we're out in public you can't do right now," you scolded him. "Big talk for a shrimp who bit me first,~" he slyly smirked at you as his grasp on your wrist loosened but as you started to walk away into the Monstro Lounge's VIP room you knew that this incident wasn't going to be dropped when you visited Floyd later.

Azul Ashengrotto

Once again I headcanon that Floyd was a biter as a child. This means that Azul has had his encounters with people who seem to not think exactly before they do something

Not saying that you were exactly like Floyd but it does give Azul flashbacks when he feels your teeth on his supple skin.

He has and will yelp if you catch him off guard. Depending on whether you're in public or not he will shoot you a glance saying "Stop, people are watching."

He's learnt how to deal with you and your... Biting tendencies and he loves you for it. He's begun to tease you for it at times as well when he's bold just to see that red hue creep up on your cheeks and that adorable embarrassed face you make.

However, he won't be as pleased if you and your impulsive thoughts bite him when he's in an important meeting for the lounge...

Ever since you and Azul got together, it became normal to see you sitting in his office, sometimes even during his meetings. In the dimly lit room chatter amongst the two parties, "Mr. McCo, I understand there's been a recent storage of chickens but that's no reason to jump the prices by 10 dollars by the pound."

"Mr. Ashengretto, that's just how it works there's been a much more scarcity of chicken that I must make this price jump."

You were just sitting beside Azul not paying too much attention to the bargaining at hand and instead the light on the ceiling. Your eyes wandered till you saw Azul's shoulder. You wondered how it would feel if you just..

CHOMP!

Well, there goes that business deal.

Idia Shroud

Congrats, you broke him.

Okay but seriously though, Idia has never really had confidence and this concept bled into his thoughts about his appearance. He has flaming hair and sharp, shark-like teeth due to his family curse. Anything related to it he despises with all of his being.

I could see the two of you petty bickering about something, probably game-related and it morphs into something else leading to his appearance. Off-handedly mentioning how he's "scary and could eat you with his sharp teeth."

You can imagine at that goes over, the two of you bursting out in laughter at the stupidity.

Then suddenly, CHOMP!

You jokingly made an attempt on his arm.

Idia yelped at the sudden movement you made on him pulling back his arm. "What- What was that for?!" He exclaimed, "There's more than one person who can bite." You snicker, and in return, Idia stares at you in horror.

"I- What the hell is wrong with you?!"

---

Yeah... Maybe don't bite Idia lol

I take commissions!

[wosoamazing]

Home

Summary: Part 3 of the McFoord Baby Series.

A/N: here is part 3, sorry it took so long, I don’t know if I necessarily like it but it has been sitting in my drafts done and I haven’t had any ideas to change it so yeah…..

After what felt like years, the car pulled into the driveway of your home, Caitlin looked over to Katie, whose body was tense as she took long deep breaths, trying to reduce the pain she felt in her lower abdomen, Caitlin quickly got out of the car and went around to Katie’s door, opening it before carefully unbuckling her seatbelt. As Katie moved her legs out of the car, a few tears left her eyes, tears that had been threatening to fall since they drove out of the hospital car park, her body fell sideways against the back of the seat, trying to cope with the overwhelming pain. Caitlin put her hand on Katie’s thigh, smiling at her softly.

“How about I get Y/N inside and you stay there, then I can help you inside. Does that sound good?” Katie slightly nodded as she bit her bottom lip, before Caitlin moved to open one of the back doors, carefully taking your capsule out of the car, trying not to jostle you too much in hopes of you staying settled, she swiftly moved inside, unbuckling you from your baby capsule and gently placing you in your bassinet in the living room, before turning on the baby monitor and checking it was paired with her phone. She gave you a kiss on your forehead before quickly rushing back out the door to go get Katie.

“I’m so glad to be home,” Katie said as Caitlin sat down next to her, you were still peacefully asleep in your bassinet.

“I’m glad we’re home too, it's been almost two weeks since I’ve had you home. Is there anything you want or need?”

A tear fell down Katie’s cheek, Caitlin’s face contorted in confusion but also with worry.

“Hey, what's wrong, does it hurt? Does-” the Australian began only to be interrupted

“No, no, you’ve, you’ve just been so good to me, and I, this isn't how I wanted to welcome our baby girl into the world and-” she let out a deep breath “I am just so happy I have you, and now we have a little family,” Katie leant forward and placed a kiss on Caitlin’s lips.

“I love you,” “I love you too,” and with that the pair drifted off to sleep, their first time sleeping as a family at home.

____

They were sitting on the couch together with you curled up on Katie’s chest, who was sleeping, Caitlin’s phone vibrated, Steph had sent a message.

“Hey Babe,” Katie’s eyes slowly opened, “mm”, “I was thinking of inviting Steph in when she brings dinner over tonight. Is that okay with you? She said she had checked and she doesn't have a temperature and not even the slightest sniffle. I think she really wants to see her, but also check that we are doing okay.”

“Sure, it would be nice to see some of the girls again soon. Could we maybe see if Beth and Viv are free to come for a visit tomorrow?”

“Yeah Sure. Around what time?”

“Maybe we organise brunch? So like ni-” The Irish woman was cut off by the door bell, both women looked at each other confused, before the Australian got up ever so hesitant to open the door. She opened the door to a gift hamper, quite a large one in fact, it was from all the Matilda’s, Mini had organised it, next to it was a small gift box.

Caitlin opened the small gift box to find a bunny, its ear embroidered with your name, a small handwritten note from Harper accompanied it, with Mini’s writing at the bottom translating it.

Caitlin held up the bunny to show Katie “It’s from Harper, well Katrina and Clara, but Harper chose it, it's cute don't you think?” Katie nodded with a large warm smile on her face, “and this is from the Matilda’s, but Mini organised it, and this here” she says as she looks at the letter “looks like Kyra added that she chose the blankets.” Katie snorted, before her face contorted in pain, “Shouldn't have done that?”

“Please don't make me laugh again,” “Sorry, but this is so cute, there are baby essentials like a thermometer and stuff, some bottles, and some blankets and clothes, and even some toys, and-”

“I love you,” Katie cut her off, “I love you too babe,” Caitlin leant down to give her a kiss, and just at that moment you began to stir, “I’ll go get her bottle she is due a feed”

____

The doorbell rang just as Caitlin was helping Katie back to the couch. “Sorry I'm just helping Katie,” she rushed out as she opened the door.

“Hey, it's all good, don’t worry.” She followed her inside, and into the kitchen, “I’m just going to check Katie is all good.” “No worries, I’ll dish it all up,” Steph said with a warm smile.

Steph walked out with the plates and handed one each to Katie and Caitlin, they all ate their dinner while chatting.

“Would you like to meet our little one?” Steph nodded eagerly, so Caitlin got up to get you from your nursery. Caitlin placed you on Steph’s chest and you looked up to her, however she did only look like a fuzzy blob. 

“She is so cute you guys, congratulations, I’m glad everything was okay in the end,”

–

“Hey, they’re not going to help you little one,” Steph said to you, as you were looking for milk.

“I think it's feeding time,” Caitlin chuckled.

“Oh,” Steph started to get up to give you to Katie, “You can feed her, if you want, we decided on pumping and bottles as that way it’s easier on Katie but also means there is no transition for when she ever has to be separated from Katie.”

“If that's okay with you,” “Go ahead, Cait can you get the other pumps while you’re at it?” Caitlin left the room, she came back and handed Steph your bottle before she headed up stairs to grab the pumps, Katie specifically asked her for those so she could ask Steph something without Caitlin hearing. 

“Could you possibly stay over tonight? I think she needs it.”

“Yeah sure, how are you feeling about tonight? You know I’m here for both of you right, not just her, you can talk to me about anything don’t forget that.”

“Thanks Steph,”

____

You were held in Beth’s arms, as she sat on the couch, talking to your Mum’s, Viv and Steph.

“How do you feel about the recovery and not being able to play? I mean it's going to be longer than nine months in the end isn't it” Viv asked Katie.

“Honestly, not being able to start returning to playing is okay, I mean it does mean it will be longer than originally planned to start playing but I guess in a way now we can spend time just as a family together, adjusting and stuff. I mean it’s going to be hard especially because I can't do anything for ages but I am looking forward to spending time with Cait and Y/N,” Your Mom said and she smiled up at your Mum who sat behind her.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny. 

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent. 

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding. 

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits. 

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.  

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth. 

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl. 

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents. 

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way. 

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work. 

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle   

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room. 

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

[m-to-z-andbackto-m]

(TLDR at the bottom)

(I FORGOT TO POST THIS AND IT'S JUST BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS COLLECTING DUST 😭)

More DreamTale ramble because it's their birthday and I still don't have their gift finished 😭

DreamTale By Joku 🫶

DREAMTALE is about BALANCE correct?

>:)

>:/

>:(

Okay, yeah I'm not too excited about this one but here we go (That's a lie, I'm hella invested):

Original:

Nightmare - Died once, is a pelvis hole, pretty sure he unalived one of Killer's cats or at least attacked it, being of hate, literally no one should be happy around him (He might KILL YOUR CAT if you are smh)

Dream - Was turned to stone once, definition of a cinnamon roll, authentic Disney princess (Reference), way too kind and hopeful for his own good, literally no one should be upset around him

Okay we got this? Nightmare? Super Uncool. Dream? Super Wholesome.

Right okay so DreamTale having this Balance shtick, I think it makes Sans (Ba Dum Tsss) that in versions where Nightmare is actually likable (DadMare), Dream is... Less likable...

Like canonically that's a load of bull shart and super unlikely to be the case, like, ever

But making one likable (In this case, Nightmare), more often than not, renders the other unlikable (Dream), I've seen it, over and over (Examples):

Rehabilitation Multiverse (I 🫶 Them) (Guys go read Little Assistant on Quotev, I beg, it's so cute, they have a blog on here too <3)

BJTBS and more of Dark's content

That one multiverse where Dream is essentially the embodiment of toxic positivity (Crazed? Dream?) and Nightmare has gotta go around fixing up mishaps (Really liked this idea, it takes the whole thing I'm talking about and multiplies it by 20)

I think Shattered Dreams should count too?

Okay actually those are the only ones I've personally looked into myself (I think DreamSwap by Kai might count too but I haven't looked into DS since... 3... years ago... yeah-) but I've seen it mentioned over and over, whether someone's ranting about a fanfic they read or doodles people make

Due to these observations, I conclude:

Common DreamTale Occurrence: To have a likable Nightmare, you need a less-than-ideal Dream. To keep your pure Dream, you gotta have a hateful Nightmare.

Exceptions:

Both Are Unlikable (Rare?)

Both are likable (but don't see eye socket to eye socket if you wanna keep that conflict, or they vibe together neutrally if you don't care for the conflict)

Redemption Variations

Most Truce Multiverses

Petty/Joke/Non Or Semi Serious Versions

Etc...

Examples of each exception except the first one because I haven't seen that yet:

Both Likable: Nightmare may be DadMare, neutral, hold his own morals that from his perspective are understandable, or secretly still cares for Dream. Dream may be angsty, close to canon, naive, or also hold his side of morals that are still valid I've also seen one where he's been manipulated by the village so any toxic (behavior isn't/beliefs aren't) his fault. (I think it was called RoseVerse, found it on YT, really cool stuff!)

Redemption Variations: This mainly revolves around Nightmare redeeming himself, or the group as a whole, possible P!Nightmare.

Truce Multiverses: Self explanatory, The Stars (Or in this case, mostly Dream) and Nightmare's Group (Again, in this case, mostly Nightmare) agree on a truce

Semi To Non Serious Multiverses: Joke comics can follow the observation but also not since they're not canon anyways, like Roxy's overprotective Nightmare (StareMare!) drawings, or The Worst Smile comic (I think... That was the name...)

Summary: DreamTale's Balance shtick and the pattern of having one Apple Brother likable rendering the other unlikable is so common, I propose it as sort of a common occurring rule(?) that has some exceptions because this fandom is limitless regardless of it's patterns

[unapologeticallytheworst]

Hi, posting for a bit of peer review of the idea.

Celebrity CEO/Scientist!Tony Stark/Flight Attendant!Peter Parker

Notes: 3k words. Peter is 18 and in the summer between high school and college. Tony is indeterminately in his 40s and some non-superhero-y but still action-movie-y version of IM1 played out about 5ish years ago. Weirdly not Pepper Potts or Liz Toomes friendly. I swear I don't dislike either of those characters, but I wanted everyone in a weird headspace.

Fair warning, this just kinda stops and is in a rough draft state. But I gotta know if anyone would want to read more of this before I devote more time to it. Like I'll probably still finish it but I'll probably finish my main wip first, ya know?

Peter finds himself fidgeting with his tie, but he can't help it. He is just so nervous. Mr. Toomes has already made it clear that if he messes this up he's out. And he gets it, this The Tony Stark's private plane. He isn't even supposed to be on this flight, but he was the one on standby. Today is the company team building/party and as the newest he gets to sit it out. He hadn't minded at the time, it sounded like a class and that was the last thing that he wanted to do with his summer off. Then the caterers arrived and decked out the meeting room. He got what kind of team building exercise it was then. Ned had fixed him a plate and assured him he would get to enjoy it next time. To enjoy getting paid to sit at the desk doing nothing but eat good food and wait for a phone that wouldn't ring.

But the phone did ring, and not just any phone at that. The line everyone calls the red phone, the one reserved for the clients that pay consistent 24/7 availability. He actually let it ring for second longer than he should have because he was in so much shock. He has never even seen it ring and now it was his responsibly to not only answer it but work whatever flight is being requested. Because everyone else was definitely already too far gone on the large amounts of champagne being passed around.

When he did pick up, it was one Happy Hogan saying that Tony Stark wanted his jet wheels up as fast as possible. Which wouldn't have been a problem except he wasn't cleared to work for Mr. Stark who has his own special designation. Only a select few are allowed to work his flights, because he's so valuable to the agency. Mr. Toomes even personally greets him whenever possible. He had immediately alerted everyone who needed to be told, including Toomes,who took fifteen minutes to figure out what he already knew. It was going to have to be him that worked this one.

Lost in the nervousness of an hour ago, Peter almost manages to forget about the current anxiety. But the nearly blinding gleam of the slick black town car as it rolls directly onto the tarmac swiftly reminds him. Toomes shifts next to him and Peter wishes he would have just stayed at the party. His boss isn't drunk precisely… just probably more than he should be to greet their most important client for what sounded like an emergency. What kind of emergency requires an immediate long haul flight to Hawaii he's not sure, but if there's one thing that this job has taught him, don't try to understand the whims of the rich and famous. It will drive him insane.

It doesn't even seem like the car has fully stopped, before Mr. Stark is out and striding toward the waiting plane. Their eyes meet for the briefest moment, as he passes at the bottom of the stairs, and Peter feels thirteen again. Watching the press conference, where even battered, bruised, and clearly exhausted, Tony Stark was suddenly the sexiest person he had ever seen.

He only doesn't manage to make a fool of himself by virtue of the fact that he freezes. Not that it matters much since Toomes seems plenty willing to be embarrassing enough for both of them, trailing after Mr. Stark in spite of the obvious brush offs. Peter recognizes Mr. Hogan purely because he's seen him in the background of enough paparazzi photos. He rushes to help him with the bags, thankfully only two small duffels. Happy hands them off with nothing more than a nod, dashing up the steps still seemingly as frantic as he had seemed on the phone.

Walking up the steps is equal parts terrifying and exciting. He's about to be stuck with his celebrity crush for eleven hours and if he messes it up he'll lose his job. No big deal. Not a problem at all.

Toomes is still hovering, babbling completely missing the unspoken cues that Mr. Stark isn't in the mood. He's already seated and buckled even, clearly signaling his desire to get a move on. Peter cuts through their line of sight to stow the bags, hoping it will shake Toomes. The last thing he needs is Mr. Stark in a bad mood, because his boss won't back off. That he had gleaned in his conversation with one of Mr. Stark's regular flight attendants. Sometimes Tony is lonely and looking for someone to vent to, but just as much he wants to be left alone. It's up to him to figure out which is which. Engage if he engages him. Well she had used different words, because she was quite drunk, but he got the gist. He's glad it's not a party, she made those sound worse. He can leave Mr. Stark alone and if he needs someone to listen to his problems that's okay. Maybe he can forget his own for a while.

His move does disrupt the conversation but not in the way Peter is expecting. Mr. Stark interrupts whatever Mr. Toomes is babbling about, to say, “He's new.” Peter busies himself with making sure the bags are secure, pretending not to be interested in the conversation.

His boss is quiet for a moment, before launching into, “Yeah I guess it was bound to happen. One day you were going to call on a day when the rookie was the one on standby. He's a little wet behind the ears, but he's good. It was actually Cathy, one of your regulars, that plucked him out of janitorial.” Mr. Stark's statement didn't really require that response, but at least they are talking about something he brought up. Toomes speaks again when he doesn't get a response, “She said he is too cute, smart, and polite to be wasting time cleaning.”

Peter is flooded with regret that he let this conversation happen and feels his face heat at the description. He stands and spins in time to catch Mr. Stark giving him a once over as he says, “Well, I think I can trust Catherine's judgment.” Peter knows he's probably blushing even worse. It wasn't even that kind of look, more just taking his measure. But enough to remind him that he would very much like for it to be that kind of look.

Peter blurts, “Are you ready to go, Mr. Stark? Or has anything changed since I spoke to Mr. Hogan?” It's a bit rude to cut into their conversation, but he's getting desperate to get Toomes off the plane. Happy is no help pacing towards the back of the plane with a phone to his ear.

There's a hint of a smirk on Mr. Stark's lips as he responds, “Nope. We're good to go…” his eyes flick down the little gold name tag dangling off his vest, “Peter.” As Mr. Stark looks at him, Peter gets the distinct impression that he is fighting the urge to laugh. And he gets it, Mr. Stark understands his predicament and finds it deeply amusing. Which is something… at least he's not mad.

“Well, we better get going so we can get in line with ATC,” Peter drags the sentence out hoping it will work, but instead Mr. Stark just makes an interested noise and he has to explain, “The only private runway big enough for your jet is closed out of an abundance of caution due to an issue with the TAWS system, sir.” Then trying to rescue the purpose of the conversation, “So we really should get moving, because the commercial lanes are always busy.”

They stand there in a brief awkward silence, as Peter begs with every fibre of his being for his boss to leave and his body stop noticing the way that Mr. Stark looks sprawled in the plush leather armchair. He's still clearly deeply amused at Peter's problem, which helps with his libido some, cooled by embarrassment.

Mr. Stark goes to speak, to help or hurt Peter is not sure, but Happy abruptly rejoins the conversation, “The house will be ready, Tony. The staff will come out with Rhodey, because you know he'll complain, but I figured you would like the peace.”

Moment forgotten, Mr. Stark turns to talk to Mr. Hogan and Peter does his best to pretend that he isn't listening as he does a final check of the galley. Toomes still stands in the middle of the walkway seemingly lost by the conversation.

“So he can make it?” “Of course he's coming. It will take a couple of days, but he's coming. Think he's going to try and get Banner and Strange to come out too.” ”So we can all braid each other's hair and eat ice cream? - Sorry, I didn't mean that. Thank you for putting this together, Hap.”

There's silence then Mr. Hogan seems to understand what the holdup is, because he starts ushering Mr. Toomes towards the door, spouting random nonsense about how they need to get moving. Peter rushes after them pulling the door closed as soon as Toomes is clear. He turns and thanks Happy, who gives him a long look before speaking, “Sure, no problem, kid. Listen, be gentle with Tony, okay? He's just had a bad break up.” Peter just nods, trying to hide his surprise. It always seemed like Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts were so stable from the outside. Happy nods and goes, presumably to take a seat.

The two soft beeps from his ear piece remind him that he still needs to do his actual job now. So he tells the cockpit that the stairs and car are out of the way, who inform him of the situation so he hurries to get everything ready. Bouncing lightly with nervous energy he takes his place at the front of the cabin and says, “ATC said they can squeeze us in real quick, because there's a traffic jam on the JFK side. So if you two are all ready, we can be airborne in five.”

Mr. Stark's lips twist and he says, “You're going to skip your little safety briefing?” Most people wouldn't complain about that, but then again Mr. Stark isn't actually complaining. He's messing with him. That much is obvious. Why he's not sure, but it's definitely what's happening.

Still not sure why, Peter finds himself playing back by pointing out, deadpan, “Either of you could legally fly this plane, sir. I think you understand the safety procedures.” He can tell that he surprises Mr. Stark with the statement, but thankfully not in a bad way.

In fact given the way that Mr. Stark lights up a little and starts eyeing him in a new way, Peter would say that it's exactly the right thing to say. Mr. Stark relaxes back into his chair in a way that accidentally shows off the long lean lines of his body, looking more rock star than celebrity ceo and scientist. And Peter has to get a grip on himself, because they're not that kind of staffing agency. He almost misses what Mr. Stark says, so lost in the fantasy, “Maybe I just wanted to see you do your thing.”

Peter replies, “You can watch me do my thing once we're airborne,” and then feels the blush explode across his face as he realizes how dirty that sounds. Desperate to regain his professionalism, he adds, “But if you would rather wait an hour, because we ended up at the back of the line…” he lets the sentence trail off with a hint of challenge, because that's what this has to be about. Mr. Stark is just trying to see if he can rattle him.

He gets the impression that Mr. Stark is laughing at him as he says, “As much fun as watching you do your thing sounds,” and Mr. Stark definitely makes it sound dirty, “how about you just bring out the bar cart when we hit cruising?”

Relieved to escape whatever game Mr. Stark is playing with him, Peter tosses out, “Sure thing, Mr. Stark,” before disappearing into the galley to let the pilots know they're good to go and buckle himself into the four point harness of his jumpseat. It almost sounded like Mr. Stark was flirting with him for a second there, but that's crazy. Plus there have never been any complaints about Mr. Stark coming on to the staff. Then he wouldn't exactly complain would he? And Mr. Stark had been in a relationship.

The jolt as they start taxiing knocks him out of his thoughts and it seems like they'll make the window so he grabs the gum out of his standby bag. Toomes would kill him if he knew about the gum, but the last thing he needs is to be half deaf because his ears didn't pop right. On impulse he slips his book on the bar cart, secured to the wall next to him.

Peter finds himself weirdly excited to do bar cart for Mr. Stark. The bartending lessons had been his best scores when he had done his training. He can't do any of the fun flipping and spinning, that would be a disaster with his clumsiness, but chemistry had prepared him for mixing things. Plus the rider made Mr. Stark's drink preferences sound easy. A little bit of over pouring, but not enough to make it a single into a double. No need for anything fancy, just very well made drinks.

The chime in his ear letting him know that they've hit cruising altitude comes at him like a surprise and brings with it some of his earlier stress. He busies himself with triple checking the cart as the captain announces their flight time and ETA. Unlocking the cart from the wall and rolling into the main cabin, Peter resolves to give Mr. Stark the best experience he can. The thought that he is hurting over his broken engagement is way better motivator than the threat to his job. Especially since he doesn't need the job anymore.

Resolutely not thinking about the letter at the bottom of his bag, Peter notices that Mr. Hogan appears to have fallen asleep during take off. He did seem very tired earlier. Mr. Stark catches him looking and speaks softly, “He's been running himself ragged for me.” Peter can see how touched Mr. Stark is by what Happy has done for him, but he seems almost mad about it.

“He's your friend, he just wants to make sure that you're okay,” slips out of Peter's mouth without him meaning for it to happen as he parks the cart close, but out of the way.

Mr. Stark gives him another long indecipherable look, before speaking again, voice still soft not to disturb sleeping man a few feet away, “He said something didn't he?” Peter feels like he is betraying Happy's trust as he nods, but it's clear that Mr. Stark already knows.

Feeling the need to defend Mr. Hogan a little, “He's just worried about you. It's just because he cares.” Mr. Stark sighs at him and actually looks every bit the guy that just had a very serious break up, whose friends are worried about him. There's an exhaustion there, not the physical kind like Happy, he doesn't need a nap. He needs a break.

Mr. Stark's soft, “I know,” almost gets lost in the gentle hum of the cabin. Then he shakes himself and goes back to being the billionaire, former playboy, philanthropist that has been staring back at Peter from the glossy pages of the checkout for years. It's jarring and he gets the sense he just saw Tony, not Tony Stark, not Mr. Stark, but Tony the person. When he speaks again it's with a joking conspiratorial tone, “What do you say you help me convince him to go take a real nap? And fix me a gin and tonic?”

Peter rolls with mood change as smoothly as he can, “Sure thing Mr. Stark. Double or single?” he begins assembling the drink on automatic, he's thankful for the familiar task in the unfamiliar situation.

Mr. Stark seems relieved he doesn't make a thing of it, so Peter counts that as a win, ”Single. Shake him for me will you?” Shaking awake a stranger is one of those things that was one of those things that had felt very strange the first time but he had gotten used to with this job. Happy startles awake under his touch apparently not having realized that he fell asleep. Peter leaves Mr. Stark to deal with him as he starts pouring. “Hap, grab your cpap and go sleep in the real bed.”

Happy starts trying to protest, about how he's fine, how he doesn't need to, and Peter knows easy points when he sees them. So he tosses out lightly, “The sheets are fresh and the pillows are fluffed, Mr. Hogan. I checked myself,” then to Mr. Stark, ”Twist of lime, sir? I forgot to ask.”

Mr. Stark's smirk suggests that his, “Yes,” is about more than limes and that Peter just scored some points in whatever game they're playing. Then with a voice like honey, that makes Peter immediately understand exactly how the man in front of him gained a reputation as a world class playboy, he says to Happy, “See you can't let the kid's hard work go to waste like that. Go take a nap at least.”

[biffhofosho]

Sneak Peek: Fill Her Up, My Fine Friend

Excerpt from an upcoming Hyungwon oneshot that's been in the works for ages but has finally come to fruition. It was honestly one of the first oneshots I drafted YEARS ago, but the muse takes me where she wants me, and for a long time, I had to follow, but there was just always something about this fic that I've loved, and soon, I'll be able to share it, too. :)

When Freya had moved to Seoul from the American Midwest, everything had felt like a tidal wave of terrifying change. The traffic, the people, the neon, the food carts—it was total sensory overload. The most exciting things to ever happen in middle-of-nowhere Pilot Mound, Iowa, were the thunderstorms across the corn fields and Mrs. Ogden’s rooster waiting to attack her ankles at the end of her driveway.

What did Freya understand about the big world since she’d never seen any of it? She hadn’t been convinced she’d succeed a world apart from everything she’d ever known, but it turned out, she was pretty good at tutoring. She’d built up a healthy side business out of her apartment in addition to the translation work she did for a local tourism firm. She had friends and adventure and a respectable income. She didn’t want for anything.

Except for the untouchable heartthrob sitting across from her.

“You should be proud,” Freya said confidently. “You have made so much progress. By the time you travel to the States, you might pass for an American.”

She wasn’t just stroking his ego either. Hyungwon really had made huge strides, even if she wished he’d pushed a little harder outside their sessions. If his end goal was impressing his girlfriend’s American parents, as he’d hinted in their first session, they would no doubt be singing his praises in a few more weeks. Of course, the realist side of Freya knew that meant he would likely propose while overseas, but at least she could take pride in knowing she’d helped make the world’s most appealing man just a touch more impressive.

“What do you say?” asked Freya. “Do you think you’re ready to graduate to the letter F?”

The stiffness in his neck was unmistakable and very familiar. In the years since she’d started her tutoring business, she’d seen it a hundred times, especially at this point in the curriculum, so she had developed a strategy for just such occasions.

Freya pushed back from the table and sagged back against the foot of the couch as she offered her brightest grin, the one that showcased her cornflower blue eyes and hayseed freckles. Back in Iowa, she was just another country bumpkin; in Seoul, she was exotic, which was perfect for diverting defenses. She skirted around the table so this time she was right in front of Hyungwon, nothing in between them. With a little wiggle and tuck to get comfortable and chaste in her dress, she looked up into the tall boy’s eyes.

They were so brown and clear and full of unexpected character, like seeing to the bottom of a stream on a sunny day. Freya wondered how often his girlfriend got lost in his eyes.

But this wasn’t why he was here…

Lips, Freya! Lips! she chastised herself but regretted it the moment her gaze fell to that freckle studding the ripe pinkness of his mouth, like a forgotten crumb begging to be eaten up…

She cleared her throat and pointed to her own lips. “You do better when you see the difference between the sounds. Let’s practice a word you use every day. Instead of ‘keo-pi,’ try saying ‘cof-fee’.”

“Keopi,” Hyungwon said immediately, and at once, he knew he’d failed. The corner of his lips wobbled down toward a frown, but Freya smiled at him.

“Just listen to the sound carefully, watch my lips, and repeat.”

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she puffed out a long f sound. A moment later, Hyungwon mirrored her, but Freya could tell right away his lips were too pursed, almost as though he were waiting for a kiss, and before she could think better of it, her hand reached toward him. She caught it at the last possible second, her thumb frozen just above his bottom lip while her hand hovered a millimeter from his cheek.

“Sorry,” she stammered. “Um, try moving your lips a different way. The p sound is all lips but the f sound uses your teeth a bit so the air can blow around them like steam from a kettle.”

Hyungwon nodded though his eyes still rested on the hand that had almost touched his mouth. He tried again, but the p sound stubbornly clung to those skilled and sculpted oral muscles.

Focus on the lesson, Freya…

This time, she had the presence of mind to think before she acted. She glanced down to his hand resting on his knee and asked, “May I?”

Hyungwon followed her gaze and nodded slowly. The moment her fingers closed around his wrist, a swarm of butterflies alighted in her stomach. Freya did her best to rip their wings off before they got the better of her, and she flattened his palm, holding it a reasonable distance from her mouth.

“Okay, so, um…” Great, now the English tutor could hear what a stumbling, unprofessional mess she was, but his skin was just so soft and warm. Thank God for his hoodie or her hand might have wandered against her will up his forearm. “Just hold this here so you can feel the difference in the sounds, and then you can try on yourself, too.”

Freya took a deep breath and then made both the p and the f sound. The first sound hit his palm like a missile of air while the second barely grazed it in a sustained hiss.

“You feel that, right?” she asked, reminding herself strenuously that she meant the sounds and not the energy zipping up her fingertips from his wrist. “One is over with quickly, and the other can last as long as you want.”

Hyungwon’s eyes widened as though he’d just unlocked some great secret, and as soon as Freya released him, he immediately tried both sounds a few times until she could finally hear that telltale flow of breath the sound required.

“You’re a fast learner,” she praised. “Now you can try it in a word like ‘coffee.’”

This time when Hyungwon tried the word, it sounded more like an h than a p, but Freya rejoiced at his progress. Over the next several minutes, they practiced words with f’s until he really familiarized himself the sound. Sentences followed, simple at first, with some building on the sounds from the previous lesson to ease him into the rhythm and reinforce his pronunciation. She would be well and truly proud if it weren’t for the grating fact that he was doing this all to impress his girlfriend’s parents.

“Find the frog fast,” Hyungwon finished for the third time.

“Wow, okay. Now, you’re really showing up all my other students,” she said.

His grin was so broad, it showcased a glint of a silver tooth way in the back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Freya could feel the pink in her cheeks, so she grabbed her lesson plan and focused on that instead. They were nearing the end of the day’s exercises, and just like she knew he would curse her for the monstrous Siri sentence she’d lobbed at him earlier, she braced for the next impact.

“Ready for the next challenge?” she asked as she handed him another note. “This one will work on both the f sound and an American idiom, which will add to your fluency.”

Hyungwon’s brow furrowed as he read the paper. When he looked back at her, his gaze was scolding, and electricity charged down Freya’s spine.

“Do you know what that means?” she asked.

There was a flare in his eyes before they tempered, and he shook his head.

“It’s something you might say to someone who works at a gas station or even at a cafe. Pretend you just finished your cup of coffee and would like a refill. Go ahead, try it. I’ll get us started. Will there be anything else, sir?”

For a long moment, Hyungwon stared at her. There was so much more to be found in eyes, so much more to misinterpret. It was easier to see things she wanted to see, and right now, Freya wanted to see desire in them.

Her breath quickened, and because it was so quiet in her apartment, she heard it.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” she repeated.

At last, Hyungwon looked back at the sheet. If she thought he would just read it like he had the last sentence, she was sorely mistaken. This time, he memorized it, and when he looked back up, it was straight into her eyes.

“Fill her up, my fine friend.”

[naranjapetrificada]

Fanfic Friday for better or worse

It's another somber Fanfic Friday for those who love the gay pirates but I'm in whatever stage of mourning that "defiance" fits in. Recs at the bottom, and have two paragraphs I badly want to keep in my AU WIP's chapter 2 but might have to get bumped to chapter 3 if this draft gets any longer:

Beyond his appreciation of a good story, Ed doesn't have all that much time for gods. But given his impending journey south, he's started developing a kind of reverence for tradition. It sits in the part of his body designated for things like faith and dogma, which until fairly recently had been pretty hollow. Whatever organ or muscle occupies that space now has got him staring at the sky a lot lately. Not as much as one of those ascetic shamans of legend – people who glared at the sun till their vision burned away or spent nights on their backs in the steppe grass, scrying the stars for divine messages – but certainly more frequently and more thoughtfully than he ever has before.

One clear night last week Ed had even sought out the north star to make a vow to the Weaver Maid as she teased the threads of fate with her clever fingers. He had felt a little silly, until he remembered that it was his grandmother who first told him the Maid’s tale of longing for her beloved herdsman until their annual reunion in the eastern sky. Ed went to bed that night tugging on a thread of his own, long and unbroken, stretching back to whoever it was that told his grandmother the story, and whoever told that person, and whoever before that.

I'm still here, you're still here, and we're still keeping these characters and their story alive, even with our weirdest and least canonical AUs. No emotionally bankrupt executive can take this from us, or from the characters we've come to love.

ps since I think (?) Fanfic Friday is actually supposed to be about making recommendations, can I suggest that if you're feeling tender about all this, you might try some fics to help you find some comfort or catharsis or things to ponder? Or possibly just something that's incredibly, blood-glucose-skyrocketingly sweet?

[sr-sam-bodypillow]

hoogh im thinking about stancat123. he’s so cute frrrrr… so behold! nsfw stan x reader headcanons since I’m simping on main. no gendered pronouns but reader is afab

[full disclosure this was first put into my drafts in fucking January. time is a myth i have adhd]

stan is overall kind of a disaster of a guy (affectionate). you would absolutely have to make the first move and flirt with him

he’s so warm…. like human hot water bottle. good for hugging.

he would absolutely ramble about topics that he likes for hours on end and it’s adorable

i don’t think he’s a good cook. like, at all. im pretty sure he managed to give himself food poisoning within a few weeks of living by himself. he goes into the kitchen and creates biohazards modern horror writers only wish they could create. but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and puppy-dog eyes, so you two spend a lot of time cooking together (he improves. eventually)

when you snuggle in bed he starts out as the little spoon but you end up waking up to his limbs tangled around you as he clings onto you like a weird lanky koala

he’s also NOT a morning person at all. he’s like a siren but instead of leading your ship into the rocks with his singing he leads you back into the warm and comfy bed in the morning when you have things to do with his cute snoring and 🥺 face. when he does get up it’s always after 10am (unless he has something to do) and he shuffles around awkwardly like a zombie for an hour until his brain properly wakes up. he has fallen asleep in his breakfast and on your shoulder whilst standing several times and you’ve got a lot of photos

it’s so easy to make him flustered, you hold his hand in public in the beginning of your relationship and he can’t make eye contact with anyone for the next two hours

you accidentally give him a hickey once and he walks into the office, screams at a such a high pitch that has some people think that a bird has gotten stuck in the room, turns around runs out and promptly falls down the stairs.

the only thing he bruises is his ego. you were the one bruising his neck ;)

he’s very submissive in bed. he likes the feeling of someone else taking control of him, telling him exactly what to do and how to do it. he doesn’t have to think for a while, and for a few hours all he will ever be is a pretty little pet, a living dildo for you to use and pleasure yourself with as you see fit, exisiting solely to make you feel good and he fucking loves it.

he’s definitely got a big dick, and his dick’s pretty thick too. this does not change how much of a bottom he is and if anything it makes it more adorable

pet play. god, he’d be so big on pet play. again, he loves being ordered around, so he happily puts on a collar and lets you put a leash on him, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he pants slightly. his mind goes fuzzy and he finds it hard to think, but he doesn’t mind since you’re doing all the thinking for him. he finds it a bit harder to control himself, so sometimes he ends up humping your thighs sloppily to get off and even though both of you know that you’re going to need to punish him later for being a bad boy and touching himself when he wasn’t allowed to, you don’t stop him because the little moans and whimpers he makes as he tries to fuck your thighs, spreading his pre everywhere as he bucks his hips against you shakily sound so damn good

he’s really fucking kinky even though it embarrasses him a bit. like you name it he’s either willing to try it or he’s already jerked off to it. hands? check. choking? absolutely! face sitting? god yes, he wants you to smother him so badly. pegging? spanking? wax play? he’s already been trying to figure out how to ask you about that. knife play? he wasn’t too sure about this but he had a dream recently where you held him at knifepoint and he woke up to realise that he’d come in his pants, so yes.

also PEGGING. holy shit he’d probably love to be pegged, love the feeling of your skin pressing up against him as you slam into him over and over again ruthlessly until he cums all over himself. spanking, too. he wants you to slap his ass till it bruises, and there’s a chance you could probably get him to finish just by slapping his ass

yknow how i mentioned that he loves to ramble about topics he likes? imagine starting to grind up against him as he talks, slipping your hands underneath his shirt and seeing just how long he can keep his composure, words starting to slur together as he gasps and groans, desperately trying to stop himself from moaning like the needy little whore you both know he is. he doesn’t last long, and soon he’s on his knees with his head in between your thighs, using his mouth for something that’s equally as productive and enjoyable for the both of you.

he probably sends you a lot of nudes. like every single image/video he sends you during the day is a Risky Click because it’s either something absolutely adorable and goofy like him showing you how many books he can stack on his head or it’s his fully erect, thick throbbing cock with precum leaking from the tip as he softly moans your name like it’s the only thing in life that matters, tears of overstimulation rolling down his cheeks, pretty brown eyes clouded with lust, one hand groping his chest and playing with his cute pink nipples, the other slowly pumping two of his fingers in and out of his perfect ass whilst he’s rambling about how he wishes you were home with him because he wants you to fuck him so badly and he just can’t wait any longer and he’s so sorry but surely you can understand that he’s too horny to not fuck himself like this

Voyeurism kink…. it’d absolutely embarrass him to admit it but he definitely gets off to the thought of people watching him, you included. he’s put on a show for you quite a few times, taking off all his clothes and slowly edging himself with a dildo or vibrator until he can’t take it anymore, the overstimulation breaking him. he just wants you to watch him be your perfect little slut <3

once you get past the initial hurdle of literally everything embarrassing him and you realise just how much of a needy pervert he actually is you both start to do a lot more somewhat public stuff. he starts wearing a collar around everywhere, hiding it beneath his clothes, starts asking you to give him more hickeys in visible spots because he loves it when people can see just who he belongs to

if he ever tops you it’s more of a service top thing with a lot of body worship. he may be on top but he’s still submissive, doing exactly what you ask of him and doing all he can to make sure that you feel good

all in all, adorable subby pervert. thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[lesbiankakyoin]

i feel that online neurodivergent circles dont talk nearly enough about the experience of being people's charity project. i call it that for lack of a better term - it happens a lot including with other disabled people, and it's that thing where NT/able-bodied people around you hang out with you out of pity, or a sense of self-importance ("look how kind-hearted i am, hanging out with someone who has a disability/is seen as a weirdo by most people!")

as an autistic person who wasn't even *called* autistic for a good few years (my parents insisted on the term aspie and not autistic, and i had a bit of a late diagnosis), i had this happen to me all the time in middle school. and these pity-fueled relationships never lasted. they're not born from friendship, they're born from a need to be charitable. "that weird kid will be happy and i'll be looked favourably at for being so brave to hang out with them! win-win!"

since nothing ever lasted for me i started, naturally, to think i was the problem. i was 12, people told me i was weird and annoying before walking out on me, i thought i was fated to be alone. (for an example, once i missed a social cue pretty badly, and it weirded one of those charitable NT girls out so much she sent me a twitter message telling me to stop hanging out, apologised, and blocked me, planning to give me no closure before i went and asked what the hell happened)

it brought me a great deal of other problems but i'm already being too oversharey. the point is: because i was stuck in this cycle of NT kid pities me cuz i'm alone -> starts to hang out with me -> realises i'm a handful -> leaves, i was thinking woah. i kinda suck, right?

but of course i didn't suck! i found that out in high school - i found an actual friend group that took me in and invited me to parties. i remember once in 11th grade, at one of these parties, i asked the "leader" of that group, of sorts, why the hell i was still kept around. like, everyone had walked out on me before, what's the deal? haven't you gotten all your brownie points from hanging out with the autist? ain't you tired of how weird i am yet?

i got a simple answer.

"i keep you around because i like you, that's it."

that was a first for me!

looking back i realise i never was invited to any parties by the people who pitied me. i wasn't *that* kind of friend. maybe i wasn't even a friend. but these guys that took me in, they actually hung out with me! we went to parties, we bought trinkets at the mall, they sent me best wishes in my graduation, the mom of one of them gave me a recipe for her gingerbread cake because i'd loved it so much! i still talk to a good amount of them even though most of us are in college now, and the closest two attended my 20th birthday party :-)

i dunno what the bottom line is here, honestly, and this whole thing has been sitting in my drafts for a while. maybe i thought it was too personal. it is, but maybe i thought i'd give some insight to whatever NT people that access this blog (i do not expect there to be many, but hi) into what building a strong relationship with ND or otherwise disabled people entails. we don't want your pity. we've gotten enough of that for a lifetime, and it's dehumanising to a point we become little toys for people who know they can just stop hanging out if we're too off-putting.

when you treat someone like a person, they're happy... who knew?

[sincerely-sofie]

The finishing of this fanfic has left me with some pretty mixed emotions. On the one hand, I dont want it to end. It's such an incredible piece of work and even though I finally committed to reading it a few weeks ago, it already feels like such a significant part of my life. On the other hand, I'm a little glad that it's over. FAR from the sense it was bad (I'll steal your liver if thats how you interpret it) but moreso in the sense that it was like a good crying session. It's something that a lot of us (or I assume a lot of us) typically want to avoid even though we know its good for us, and satisfying after the fact. It's like catharsis in a way. Endings aren't always a great feeling in the moment, but it's something that we can look back on with a fondness.

I'm so glad I found this work. I'm being completely serious when I say that this fanfic, and the other content you make, has changed my life for the better. Its helped me reconnect with that love I have for creativity after nearly a decade of not making anything even though I wanted to. It's helped pulled me out of a few ruts of depression. It's helped me realize that I'm not actually emotionally stunted (per my own conclusions) and be more willing to cry instead of burying those feelings. In the past I would just, kill these kinda thoughts before they got far because of how much I wanted to avoid crying. Much less actually writing them down, or express them to someone else. But now, I've been crying the whole time I write this, and for the first time in, I think ever, I'm okay with that. I know we don't actually know each other, but you've genuinely helped me become a better person with the things you make. Thank you so much for everything you've done Sofie. hey look! I got your name right!

But enough about me. I feel like it's getting indulgent at this point. (I've gotten dehydrated with how much ive cried writing this and from what I can tell, you cry a lot more than I do. So go drink some water first, and then) I wanna hear your thoughts. What are your thoughts and feelings about your work being finished? Do you have plans to take a break from creative endevors for a while, or are you gonna keep going? Are you going to be expanding more on this and other au's, different fanworks or move into something completely your own? Whatever the case may be, I'm excited to see what more you are going to come up with!

From the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of everyone else, Thank you for everything.

It's so surreal to have posted that final chapter. I finished the first draft almost 100 days ago exactly, and I spent a number of days after completing it kind of adrift. I'd go to my computer every morning like I had during the month prior and sit down, ready to write, only to remember that I was actually supposed to be taking a break before I made the final edits.  It didn't click in my head that I had actually done it… until a couple weeks later when it hit me like a truck that I had an entire completed manuscript sitting in my Google Docs. I think I was making myself lunch at that moment, and I had to bolt to lie down on the floor and put my legs up against the wall because I was ready to pass out at the realization. 

This feels pretty similar. For me, The Present is a Gift— the main fanfic, at least— was finished in mid-January. But the process of uploading it and agonizing over what people thought of every passing update wouldn't be formally done until about 3 months later. It still hasn't clicked in my head that I won't be posting a new update once Tuesday rolls around. 

On the subject of taking a break— I've actually been taking a break, at least partway! I've barely written anything after I finished TPiaG's first draft, and I haven't drawn much “serious” art, for lack of a better word, since I started my blog. I've still been making things, yes, but scattered oneshots and sketchy pieces without solid lineart are not my typical fare. I'm usually a lot more “exact” with what I make— words fail me here— I hope I'm not being too vague! I might take a brief break as I finish up the winter semester, but that would be less a break from creating and more of an “OH MY WORD I NEED TO FOCUS ON NOTHING BUT PASSING THESE COURSES” kinda thing. 

TPiaG (along with its derivative AUs) is still very much a living project to me— there's a lot more stories the characters have in them, even if I struggle to envision a full-on sequel. I'm absolutely going to answer the asks relating to it that I've received over the months along with any I continue to receive, and if I get any ideas for comics or oneshots here and there, I'll make them. As for what's officially next up on the Sincerely Sofie menu, I'm planning to make a visual novel that's a lot more meaty than the last one I made. I'm not sure if it will be original or based on TPiaG— but a visual novel is the medium I'm planning on! 

I'm so overwhelmed by your kindness. I truly don't have any words. This project started off as something private to help distract me from a depressive episode and to process trauma, and it's become so much more. I'm so glad it was able to help you. Catharsis was the keyword for TPiaG— I wanted it to uproot difficult emotions and help people start to heal from them, but I never dreamed it would really help anyone but myself. So to hear it was able to provide you with that is unbelievably meaningful to me. 

I gave myself the goal somewhat recently to let myself cry whenever the urge strikes me. I used to go months without crying, and whenever I did shed tears, it was alone in my room while muffling the few sounds I accidentally let slip. I'm a natural crybaby, but I had schooled myself into thinking for a number of reasons that it was bad to cry— that it was selfish, or attention-seeking, or weak— so I've been trying to reclaim my teary-eyed identity. It's been difficult, but it's so freeing to let myself feel things fully. All of this is to say: let the tears fall. I've helped more people by crying than my stoicism ever did. 

Thanks again. I can't properly word my gratitude, but know that it's overwhelming :,>

[rksses]

a pearl for your thoughts

angst/fluff ：college au , fem!reader implied , one-sided love , reader has low confidence and is really shy in the beginning

an ： i got tired in the end so this is gonna have multiple parts. this was originally written with the title amaryllis (a flower that represents one sided love I KNOW IM SUCHA GEEK) but i changed it last minute and I don’t have the energy to remove the underlying plant/flower theme

. . . 🎬 🌷 I 🌷 II 🌷 III

it was 2:09 am and there you were , sitting comfortably in your little rolly chair with a pen and paper and hundreds of unfinished and rejected drafts in your plastic trash bin.

usually at this time , you would be doing some sort of homework or writing paragraphs for school and such. tonight, you were certainly writing paragraphs. but for more.. personal reasons. you spent the past hour and a half trying to compose the perfect love letter for him. gojo satoru.

when you and satoru first met , it was the midst of summer. the humidity was probably messing with your head because at first sight , you had thought he wasn't real. i mean, he couldn't have been. he was the human embodiment of beauty. his azure gaze set on yours as your friend introduced him to you and you unintentionally confessed your “love” for him on spot. in reality , it was just your head thinking that you recognizing his beauty as instant love and just slipped out. as embarrassing as it was to have everyone hear your supposed to be inner thoughts come out of your mouth, you can't help but me grateful for that moment because that's when your friendship had begun to sprout.

summer is rough , but arguably the best part about it is that it's perfect beach weather. one of your classmates , juniper , had arranged a beach day and invited everyone in all of her classes , including you. this was one of the first ever events that you had been invited to that wasn't a family thing and you were super excited. you happily accepted this hangout invitation and went to the mall to get a new bathing suit.

bathing suit shopping was harder than you thought it would be. the stock followed the fashion trends and bikinis are totally in. the large collection of bikinis was overwhelming ( especially how revealing they were ) , but you had managed to find a modest white bikini with pink flowers printed nicely on the top and bottom.

the sun shined down upon the beautiful sandy beach and you had finally made it to the beach. you were glad you took this day to have a little beach day. you definitely needed it. you took out your towel and set it near juniper's towel , as she was really the only person you knew , even if it was just from one little interaction. "oh my gosh !!!!" a voice squealed behind you. "y/n !!! 'm so glad you could make it!!! i didn't think you'd come since you're such a loner , but i'm so glad you did." she smiled brightly. only she could be that backhanded while genuinely trying to be nice. "you need anything ? like sunscreen ... or water .. oh , and we have this new really coo-" she paused , distracted and dazed by something , or rather someone behind you. you awkwardly smiled at her ans took a glance behind you , and there he was. there stood the tall , white-haired man that you'd been dreaming about.

she dragged you over to the umbrella everyone was sharing and introduced you to her friends. "heyy !!!! guys , guys , guys! ya know that cute , quiet girl with h/c hair that i invited ?? meet y/n!" you greeted them all awkwardly with a small 'hey' or 'hi' and were returned with the same energy. you didn’t know anybody and you weren't very experienced with getting social with people so you couldn't hold a conversation very well either. however , when you went to greet another one of her friends , one specific word came to mind.

angelic.

gojo satoru was the embodiment of beauty , with charming facial features , distinctive blue eyes the color of the sky , along with a toned body , he was gorgeous. ethereal. you could already tell you would fall in love with him , hell , you already were.

but somehow , these thoughts got past your brain and instead came out of your mouth , heavily flattering the man before you .

and that was how you met your soon - to - be love of your life .

🌷 🌷 🌷

the water was perfect tempature for swimming. you dipped your foot in the water and then your leg and next thing you know , you're already shoulder deep. you're bored and everyone else was having a great time over at the umbrellas so you decided to look for shells to quell your bordem. ever since you were about 5 years old , you've always loved collecting shiny items such as keys , jewels , tin foil , coins and occasionally shells.

after a couple hundred seashells later , you find a clam and 5 seconds later , you find yourself desperately trying to pry it open , in hopes of finding a pearl.

unfortunately , due to your lack of muscle strength , the clam remained shut , unwilling to open up to the world. (sound familiar ?)

a shadow appeared above you , as well as a water droplet that fell on your nose. “y/n was it ?” a sultry voice said. you looked up at the source of the voice and low and behold it’s “gojo satoru. you can call me satoru. don’t think we’ve met before ,” he smirks. “besides you confessing your undying love for me earlier.” your cheeks turned red as you’re reminded of how you publicly embarrassed yourself in front of the whole graduating class of 2023.

“yes , you’re right , it’s y/n” you politely reply. “sorry for that , by the way. i didn’t mean to say that.” you smile awkwardly. “no reason to apologize ! and don’t worry about it , i get it all the time darling.” he cockily stated. “need a hand ?” you looked back down at your hands , still holding the clam. you had long forgotten about this calm , as you were enamored by his unique lavender scent. after all , smelling good is one of the best ways to instantly be more attractive.

“actually , yeah. i could use a hand.” you passed the shut clam to gojo and without a sweat , he opens it. inside is a pearl. a pink pearl to symbolize love.

autumn had arrrived. it was a few months into this friendship , you couldn't help but notice these small things he did for you that he didn't used to before , such as opening the door for you , playfully teasing you about small compliments and such. he had gotten more comfortable with you , and of course , so had you. he had given you support as a friend and had helped you gain some confidence and a crush from his compliments and unnecessary affection. you didn't think much of your newly developed crush yet , because although you two were good friends, you were miles away from him in social status , in beauty , in... everything , really. painful it was to have a crush on someone who could never like you back , he was still your friend and that would suffice for you. plus, you should get over this silly crush in a week or two, right ?

wrong. in the next month , your feelings seemed to grow even stronger than before. he had plucked the delicate petals of your heart just right and made you fall for him unknowingly. you were like putty in his hands , easily swayed by his flirtatious persona and handsome looks. he was the definition of beautiful and he knew it. you would never admit it to his face but , he was the most attractive person you'd ever seen. and it definitely didn’t help that people often mistook you for a couple.

you didn't even remember it yourself but today was your birthday and surprisingly enough , gojo had put on the sweetest ( figuratively and literally ) and most minimal birthday party ever, just the way you liked it. he got in by using the extra key underneath the doormat and sneakily set everything up.

when you got home , your 'best friend' was awaiting you near a bountifully filled dessert table, decorated with lavender scented candles (gojo’s signature scent) and soft pink chocolate pearls adorning the tiny cupcakes. your cheeks stain with shades of red and pink as you excitedly smile , in thought of how much effort gojo had put into trying to make your birthday a special day.

you and gojo went on to grow even closer. by september , he had become apart of your daily life at this point. every single day he showered you in love and affection and everyday, you fell twice as hard as the last. at this point , your so-called 'crush' had developed into something more and somewhere deep underneath your barricaded heart, you knew it.

first love was not something you had ever experienced until you met him. he constantly watered your starved heart and unknowingly blossomed something inside of you.

🌷 🌷 🌷

part two is in the making xx 💋 !

[morbsxadorbs]

wanna see what I’ve been up to this weekend?

I tried to crop out the rest of my messy craft space, and it’s still a work in progress, but I’ve made some test inserts for my Baron Zemo ita bag! (modeled here with Zemo figure and chibi!Zemo for scale.)

Zeems is a kind of hard guy to find merch for - almost everything you see in here but the funko (who’s a placeholder for now) I found on twitter or etsy, and I’ve been collecting basically since tfatws was still airing.

top pocket left to right:

the smug zemo w/ wine is from @tinymintywolf

the reclining zemo with more wine is from @injureddreams

and I’m also planning on swapping out the funko and adding my suitkovia est. 2023 patch from cutecidesquad on etsy when it gets here!

bottom pocket left to right:

the tsumtsum was probably one of my first commissioned plushies ever, from @bbearpops! I have a larger version of him without the mask too; this one is just meant to be a travel buddy. and now he gets to do so in style ✨

the masked zemo and sleepy kitty zemo (both the keychain and the plush outside) are from @nobledemons. the two kitties are from their Goodnight Baby collection, which has multiple mcu characters and also some other fandoms!

the dog tag (which is kind of hard to read in my desk lighting) is from Zemo’s days as a Colonel, and I picked it up at projectLUNAROCK on etsy. It’s actually a pin stuck into the insert, but it still has that little ball chain on it.

the lego Zemo I also picked up on etsy, there are a ton of shops that sell minifigures pretty cheap.

I’ll probably move things around/clean up the inserts a bit later on (I’m trying something where I cover the keychain holders bc I thought it looked cleaner, but looking at it now, idk). but I got the bag and a couple of the charms at the holidays, and I’ve only now had time to sit down and put a first draft together! 💜 if you like anything you see here, definitely give the artist’s shop a visit!! they make having a secondary character as a blorbo much more bearable lmao

too bad I probably won’t see our man in a movie any time soon to wear it to, but that’s another story… :’D

[writingismyescapefromreality]

random excerpt of a jegulus Spiderman!AU wip

This has been sitting as a draft since October. Do with it what you will. 

Quick note: James technically isn’t mentioned because Regulus doesn’t know that he is spider-man - so when Regulus says Spidey, it’s actually James. (If that wasn’t already clear)

Regulus is in a foul mood as he sits at his desk, staring at his laptop. His mother’s words are playing over and over in his head. He hates how much she affects him. Hates how Sirius can walk away from their parents’ expectations while he is stuck drowning in them.

He slams his laptop shut and drops his head into his hands. He should go to bed. He should go to sleep. But he knows as soon as he closes his eyes, every self-deprecating thought he’s ever had will become lucid.

In his anxious spiral, he almost misses the small tapping sound the echoes through his room. As looks around, he catches the familiar sight of red and blue, crouching outside his window.

Spidey.

Regulus almost smiles in surprise until he sees the gashes on his chest and the sickly blood that covers most of his front.

He rushes over to the window to open it. “What happened to you?” He asks, as he practically drags Spidey into his room.

“Oh, you know, just a little fight.” Spidey rasps, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

“Little? You’re bleeding out.”

“Hey, you should see the other guy.” The joke lands terribly, as the hero practically collapses on the floor.

“Of course, you’re trying to joke while you’re dying.” Regulus says, quite distressed and unsure of what to do.

“I’m not dying. I just need a little first aid.”

“A little first aid? Your chest has practically been ripped open! You should be in hospital.”

“No!” Spidey nearly shouts, causing Regulus to cover his mouth. The last thing he needs if for Sirius to come into his room. Spidey pushes his hand away and begins to speak much quieter, “I’m Spider-Man. I can’t exactly just walk into a hospital.”

“You can if you’re dying!” Regulus whisper-yells.

“Again, I’m not dying, just severely maimed. Do you have a first aid kit?”

Regulus studies him for a moment. It’s clear by Spidey’s words and the way he’s made himself quite comfortable on his floor, that it’s going to be up to Regulus to fix this. He sighs in defeat.

“Wait here.” He tells him.

He peaks his head out the door to make sure his brother isn’t hanging about. He can hear the soft sounds of rock coming from the room down the hall.

Good. Sirius won’t be able to hear them.

He manages to find a first-aid kit in the bottom drawer of the bathroom and thanks the universe for those first-aid classes he took a few years back.

When he makes his way back into his room, locking it behind him, he sees that Spidey has propped himself against the wall by his window, with the top half of his suit pooled at his waist.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Regulus mutters to himself, crouching down beside the hero.

“You know, I feel like you should work on your bedside manner.” Spidey jokes. “I’m not feeling very cared for.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my services aren’t up to your taste.” Regulus snaps. “Next time you can find someone else’s carpet to bleed out on.”

Spidey looks down at the blood he’s dripped onto the carpet. “Shit sorry – I will definitely clean that for you.”

Regulus rolls his eyes as he begins to pour some disinfectant on a cloth. “Don’t worry about it, Spidey. Now watch out, this is going to sting.”

Spidey hisses slightly as he begins to gently wipe his gashes with the disinfectant. “Does it make me a wimp if I feel like this hurt more than when I actually got ripped apart?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough,” Spidey laughs.

It’s silent after that. Regulus quietly wipes away the blood, his focus entirely on the task at hand. Not on the fact that he’s super close to Spidey and he can see his chest up close.

There’s a moment where Regulus realises that there’s a small gash going up Spidey’s jaw. He can’t really get to it without moving the mask out of the way. His hand gently brushes it, bringing it to Spidey’s attention.

“I-I can’t clean this one with the mask in the way.” Regulus stammers.

“Oh.” Spidey mutters, clearly unsure of how to proceed. There’s a moment where they’re staring at each other – at stalemate almost. Regulus suddenly has an idea.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers.

“Always.” Spidey whispers back.

He moves his hands to the bottom of the mask and slowly begins to lift. Spidey grabs his wrist in warning.

“I won’t.” Regulus insists.

He continues to lift the mask until it rests just above Spidey’s lips. It leaves his jaw free to treat but not enough for Regulus to see his whole face. The tension in the room is palpable and Regulus can’t get over how something so innocent in nature feels so intimate.

He pushes through the unease and goes on to treat the scratch on Spidey’s jaw. He’s so close that he catches the moment that the hero’s breath catches, and it does nothing to help the intense hammering of Regulus’ heart against his ribs.

As he leans to look closer at Spidey’s neck, he notices a small group of moles just behind his ear. Weirdly, Regulus has the urge to trace them. He shakes himself out of the thought.

“You’re probably going to need stitches,” he says, trying to fill silence while refusing to look into his eyes.

“Can you do that?” Spidey asks, breathlessly.

“Actually yeah.” Regulus laughs softly. “I had to do them on my brother once.”

“That’s quite impressive.”

“I guess.” Regulus shrugs, grabbing some iodine powder. “But don’t expect them to be amazing, I’m only capable of the basic practice.”

Regulus is gently holding his jaw when Spidey whispers, “I think you’re amazing at anything you do.”

Regulus pauses and looks at Spidey’s ‘eyes’ for the first time since he lifted his mask. This is a moment. He can feel it. He’s sure of it.

Without thinking about it, his eyes cast down to Spidey’s lips. It’s weird seeing something he’s only ever imagined in his head. His lips are somehow both nothing like and exactly like what he had been picturing in his head.

Instinctively, he begins to lean in.

This is it.

They’re so close. Regulus only needs to lean in just less than an inch more and they would be kissing.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Hey Reggie, I need to borrow your- Why is your door locked?!

The two rip away from each other.

Fucking hell Sirius!

Regulus is sure his heart is about to burst out of his chest as he rushes over to the door, opening it slightly and sticking out his head.

“What Sirius?! Why do you need to bother me now?”

“I just need to borrow your phone charger.” Sirius explains, before squinting and examining Regulus. His face feels hot so he can only imagine how red he must be. “Why are you so red? Oh god – I didn’t interrupt you like…wanking, did I?”

Sirius looks slightly horrified but it’s nothing to how Regulus feels. “No! What the fuck! No! Just-” Regulus shuts the door quickly and grabs the charger that Sirius needs. “Here, take it! And go away!”

Regulus slams the door shut but Sirius can still be heard on the other side.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about Reggie. It’s perfectly natural to have urges.” His brother cackles, taking the piss.

“Fuck off Sirius!”

“I’ll leave that to you!”

Regulus leans his head against the door, listening for the click of Sirius’ door. Once he’s in the clear, he lets out a breath and lets his body fall back against the door.

“Talk about a moment killer.”

Regulus jumps, having forgotten that Spidey was waiting for him.

“Jesus Christ.” Regulus mutters, making his way back over to Spidey, who has pulled his mask back down. He refuses to look at his face as he sorts through the kit, for some needle and thread.

“Let’s get you stitched up so you can go. We’re lucky that was my brother and not my mother. She’d kill us both if she found you here.”

He knows Spidey wants to say something, wants to talk about what just happened between them but Regulus can’t. He can’t bring himself to admit that maybe he could have something he wanted.

So, he pushes through. Disinfects the needle, threads it, and tries to remember the steps of stitching wounds.

“This is going to hurt.”

“Can’t be worse than what I’ve already felt.”

Regulus gets to work.

Spidey is silent the entire time. No smart comments or jokes to make light of the situation. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Regulus needs to concentrate but he also feels like an anxious mess, and nothing calms him quite like Spidey’s voice.

“Okay, I’m finished.” His voice is hoarse, so he clears his throat. “You’re good to go.”

Spidey looks slightly dazed as he replies, “Right, yes of course.” Regulus stands and helps him up onto his feet. He watches as Spidey zips his suit back up (although the tears in the front make it look kind of pointless).

“Um, thank you I guess.” Spidey stammers. “As much I denied it, I probably would’ve died. Or at least passed out so, thanks for, you know, stopping that.”

“You’re welcome.” Regulus replies.

They stand there for a moment, both looking around awkwardly.

“Right,” Spidery breaks the silence. “I should go. Um I’ll see you around Reg.”

He’s halfway out of the window when Regulus stops him.

“Spidey?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you come here? Surely there were other places you could go.”

Spidey pauses, clearly contemplating his next moves. He eventually climbs back into the room.

“Well, I couldn’t go home and like I said before, I couldn’t go to a hospital. I was at a bit of a loss, and, in the moment, I thought of you.” He admits. “I mean, I always think of you.”

It’s silent for a moment until, quietly, Regulus asks, “You think about me?”

“Constantly,” Spidey breathes.

Regulus feels like he’s floating. Like he’s left his body because he can’t really believe that what is happening isn’t a dream.

He on autopilot as he moves. He steps forward and begins to lift Spidey’s mask, just like he did before. Spidey doesn’t stop him this time. He leaves it halfway.

There’s a moment where they both stand there, both scared to move and break the delicate relationship between them.

Fuck it.

Regulus thinks as he moves closer and presses his lips against Spidey’s. It soft and barely there, just a press of their lips against each other. Regulus pulls away, eyes closed, too scared to see what’s in front of him.

“Fuck Reg, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Spidey crashes his lips back against his and its nothing like their first kiss. This is stronger. This is nothing like Regulus has ever experienced before. Spidey’s mouth moves in sync with his own and nothing feels real. It’s a dream that Regulus never wants to be woken up from.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not perfect. Their teeth clash and their noses push against one another in an awkward way. But it feels…right.

Spidey eventually pulls away and Regulus lets out a small whine at the sudden loss of contact between them. Their foreheads rest against one another as they catch their breath.  

“You kiss all your nurses like that, Spidey?” Regulus teases, breaking the silence.

“Only the ones I really like.” Spidey answers. “I take back what I said about your bedside manner. It’s fantastic.”

Regulus laughs, mainly because he can’t believe this is what his life has become. There is blood all over his hands and carpet, he’s performed a medical procedure, and he’s just kissed New York’s resident superhero. Nothing seems real.

It feels like they’ve been standing in each other’s arms for years when Spidey finally speaks again.

“I should go.” He whispers.

“I know.” Regulus says.

Neither of them moves.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Regulus asks because he can’t help himself. “You’re not going to disappear on me?”

“You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.” Spidey grins before giving Regulus another kiss. It’s not as long but it is just as intense as the last. “I really do have to go now though.”

“Go on then, bug-boy. You need to rest anyway; those stitches are going to hurt like hell tomorrow.”

Spidey opens the window and steps onto the ledge.

“I’ll admit I’m not looking forward to that.” He grimaces. “Although I suppose I can always come to you to kiss it better.”

Regulus flushes and rolls his eyes. “Go home Spidey.”

Spidey grins and pulls his mask back down. “See you around, Reg.”

Regulus watches as Spidey swings away, surprisingly graceful for someone who only minutes ago was close to bleeding out. Although, Regulus concedes that Spidey isn’t exactly a normal person.

He is in a stupor as he walks over to his bed and collapses. He can barely fight the grin on his face as he replays the kisses over and over in his mind.

As he closes his eyes to fall asleep, he doesn’t think about his mother and her high expectations, he doesn’t think about Sirius and his disappointment, he doesn’t think about his dying father.

Instead, he thinks about how Spidey’s lips taste like freedom.