#this reblog was an excuse for me to ramble have a good day to any who reads this

[plan-3-tmars]

I still think about this btw like GOD DAMN they're so alike

listening to the land is inhospitable and so are we is making me realise how similar kazui and arthur lester are and it's making me question my taste in characters

[itscherrylipsforme]

Paper cuts and cheek kisses: Minho tmr x Med jack!fem!reader

Summary: Minho was never one to go the med jacks' cabin often. On the contrary actually, you had to drag him into it whenever he got hurt in order to patch him up. Oh girl, but things changed when you two started dating, and now he comes up with the silliest excuses just to see your face. At least being his fave med jack means some special treatment

Warnings: None, except that Minho is madly in love and reader is slightly sarcastic (got it from her mother, aka me)

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1300

Author's rambles: As someone who had the biggest crush on Minho growing up (Who I want to fool with this? I still do) and who imagined her role in the Maze would be med jack this request was so cute to write. Hope you like it!

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Everyone needed to prove their worth in the maze, from the youngest and oldest boys to you, the only girl. And being honest, your passed that test with excellent marks. Living in a place full of the most stubborn and reckless shanks you have ever known (not that you remembered meeting anyone before them, but that was not the point) proving that you were strong enough wasn’t a choice, but a need. However, most of them shown them a new kind of strength they hadn’t seem until then. The strength you used to calm Chuck down when he was crying during his first night in the glazeThe strength which was necessary to always be the one who introduced first to new greenies, to do it with a sincere smile as saying “Yeah, this place is a clunk, but it’s our clunk. Our place”. The same one that helped you become a med-jack.

You loved your role, somehow you were really good at it as the girl you were before being trapped there had some knowledge about it. But you would be lying if you said it didn’t have its downsides, one of them being… Well, him.

“Minho, slinthead, go to the med-jack's cabin right now. That cut doesn’t look good” you demanded as soon as you saw him on the gardens talking with Newt after he came back from the maze.

“Nice to see you too, princess” That condescending pet names he used on you, you swear one day your eyes would fall from your face just because of the times you had rolled them. Since your first day you had to deal with his teasing (not flirting, as you had corrected Newt when he asked about it once) “And don’t worry, Clint and Jeff already saw it and told me it was fine as long as I cleaned today in the shower”

“Clint and Jeff only let you get away with no treating any of your wound properly because they are scared you will fight them if they said otherwise” You crossed your arms “Unfortunately for you, you don’t have the same effect on me. To the cabin, now. I will be the one who binds it”

“You are lucky I can’t say no to you, darling” He started following you towards the med-jack’s, not without smiling sheepishly first.

Sitting in the hammock, Minho looked at your face as you gently rubbed a cotton soaked in iodine. So focused on your work and yet so beautiful, he thought to himself. He was enjoying the view, but your words snapped him from his thoughts.

“Can I ask why the hell you never want us to see your injuries?”

“Pretty girl, you are smart, way more than me, but you don’t get me. It’s not that I don’t want you to do your job, I have my reasons for it” He smirked, if he wasn’t so stupid sometimes you would admit he looked handsome right now.

“Please, enlighten me” You turned around to look for the necessary equipment to patch him up.

“Do you know that before you arrived, I never protested when it came to the med-jacks? That Clint or Jeff would treat me, and I wouldn’t utter a word?”

“If that is your way of saying that I am bad at my job, you should be more careful. Do I have to remind you that I am the one here who has a scalpel nearby?”

You were so done with his shit, if you remembered right there was a phrase that said something like “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” and same way he shouldn’t annoy the person who was responsible for his health. The scalpel thing was a joke, more or less, but you were starting to rethink it.

“Not really darling” He chuckled, and you found yourself liking the sound of it “Maybe I just convinced Clint and Jeff to wait to heal this because I knew you wouldn’t want me to be injured. So, you would take me then and I would get to spend some time with my favourite med-jack”

“You are unbearable” And you were completely sure you mean what you said, but you couldn’t bring yourself not to smile at his silly plan “Please, tell me you didn’t get the cut just to see me” You asked while wrapping his strong (Were you thinking about that right now? Really?) arm with the bandage.

“You shouldn’t think too low of me, y/n” He shook his head “The injury was an accident, Newt came up with the plan when he saw it on the Garden”

“I knew that you couldn’t come up with all of that on your own” You smirked and stared at him. Had his eyes always been that deep or was the light that passed through the windows what made them look like that? “By the way, the patch up is done, just be sure you don’t drench it and come her to change it every two days until it scars. I would also recommend that you take a day off running, but you would ignore me anyway, and I won’t waste my saliva”

“You look really good when you are mad at someone, has anyone ever told you that?” He blurted out, not even thinking it twice, and he was surprised when instead of telling him to fuck off you blushed. Neither of you had expected it. You needed a few seconds to recover your mind and your ability to speak.

“Whatever, you can go now” You hadn’t realized how close you had been to him until then “Come on, what are you expecting? A good job sticker or something?”

“I have a better plan in mind” Another smirk, his hands guiding yours to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably around your waist. His face coming closer to yours, threatening to close the gasp… Woah, you had to admit that this bastard was handsome. And finally, his lips on yours. Slightly nervous at first, as he was afraid you would pull away at any given moment. Then sweet turning more and more passionate by seconds.

News always flied in the glaze, you two being “a thing” now was not. an exception. By the time the next bonfire arrived, no one, not even the greenie, wasn’t aware of it. Newt was glad, Minho had been rambling about you way too long and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Alby was a little bit angry, his rules had been broken again after all, but that was something you could deal with later. Minho was over the moon. You finally assumed that the line between annoyance and love is really thin. But there were two people who weren’t so happy about it…

“Here he comes again” Clint claimed as he saw a familiar tall and dark-haired boy entering the cabin.

“What happened this time?” Jeff asked as he placed some liquids on the shelves “Did he touch some poison ivy? Or did he catch a cold?” Being honest, they were growing tired of your Minho coming over with some stupid excuse to see you.

“A paper cut thanks to the map’s room, actually” He answered as he came closer to the desk where you were writing down the inventory before the next box arrived. “Afternoon, princess”

“Afternoon you too, my lovely clumsy bastard” You joked, placing a soft kiss on his lips

“Y/n, we will be running off band-aids if you keep putting one on your boyfriend every time he wants to see you” Clint protested as Jeff faked to be throwing up because of your small gestures of affection.

“Fine, a get-well kiss will be enough I guess” Minho accepted, and you wasted no time and kissed his cheek.

The rest of the med-jacks were more than annoyed with him, but he didn’t seem to care. After all, you were his favorite med-jack, the only one whose opinion mattered to him.

[87kelce]

—can we please get back to loving?

summary: you knew the term exclusive was never something travis would ever use when it comes to your relationship. but you seemed to be the only one he called when he wanted someone around.

warnings: angst, smut (18+ only, no minors), arguments, slow sex, riding, pussy eating, spooning

word count: 2660

notes: title taken from the song written all over your face by louis tomlinson. not proofread so if there's any mistakes i apologise. again likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

You never seemed to get a moments peace at night anymore. You knew better than to answer his calls, however the majority of the time, he was already waiting outside to be let in. But you just couldn't deny how good the sex was. He's barely doing anything and you're coming undone beneath him every time, his soft lips and wandering hands doing wonders on your body.

But then there were times he called and it wasn't for sex. He'd maybe just lost a game and he needs a pick me up, so he calls you. You talk for hours until he hears you yawning and then he thanks you for calming him down and tells you to get some rest. He also apologises for rambling on and keeping you awake for so long, but you tell him it's fine and you'd rather sit up and talk to him if it meant he was ok. You're always worried about him after a loss, he always blames himself for not doing enough and it hurts you that he feels that way.

Then you invited yourself over to his place one day, and he gladly let you in. You knew he had a game the next day so there was no chance of having sex, but at least you could help him focus on the game. He seemed to be in a good mood—he was making you laugh, you were watching TV together and you, slowly but surely, were falling for him. You were falling for the way his eyes practically disappeared when he laughed, falling for the way he always looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, falling for the way he kissed you softly and gently, falling for the way he felt so comfortable around you all the time.

But it was never exclusive, you knew he didn't want that. You were just there for a hook up and to hang out sometimes. If you didn't stop the whole ordeal, you were afraid you might get too attached and he won't reciprocate those same feelings. So you started ignoring his calls, and when he'd text you and ask what's wrong, you make up lies.

I'm too tired. I'm not feeling great. I've got friends over.

But he knew you better than that. After the third excuse he just invited himself over, making up his own excuse of I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And you knew better than to invite him in. But now he's on your couch, flicking through the channels on your TV, completely making himself at home.

"Why didn't you want to be exclusive with me?"

"Hm?"

Travis turned to face you, eyebrows raised. He clearly hadn't heard you, too focused on the TV and you just sighed.

"Why didn't you want to be exclusive with me?"

"Let's not discuss that.. I don't want to start a fight."

"Was I the only girl you were seeing?"

"Don't.."

"I want you to be honest with me."

He sighed, switching off the TV and getting up, walking to the kitchen. He opened your fridge and grabbed a water bottle, taking a sip before coming back to the couch. But he didn't say anything, just sat there in silence before he took his phone out and started scrolling through it.

"Travis.."

"I'm just.. I don't know."

"Is it me? Is it something I've done?"

"No."

You just sighed, getting up and going to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you and flopping onto your bed, crying into your pillow. He's like a completely different person now, compared to the person he was last week, laughing with you on the phone and being so sweet and kind to you. You're just waiting and hoping he knocks on your door, apologises and sweeps you off your feet again, like a knight in shining armour. But you're pretty sure he couldn't care less, and honestly, you're not even sure why he invited himself over in the first place. If he was worried about you, he could've called. You don't know why he was so adamant about being here with you, but not actually being with you.

After one of his games, he gave you an old jersey and you still kept it under your pillow, claiming it helped you sleep better. You reached under and grabbed it, bunching it up and cuddling it. Maybe if you hadn't tried to push him away, he might still be the nice Travis you knew two weeks ago. You kept blaming yourself, putting yourself at fault for everything between you and him, until a knock at your door startled you. You wiped your eyes, getting up and opening it.

"You okay? I was gonna check on you when you slammed the door but.. thought I'd give you some space."

"I'm fine, you can go home if you want."

"That movie you like is on, wanna watch it?"

"Just.. go home."

"I can't go home, not when you're like this."

"I said I'm fine."

"You're not."

He's being pushy but he needs to be, he needs to get you to admit that you're not okay. He knows you better than yourself sometimes and you just roll your eyes, pushing past him to sit on the couch, watching the movie starting. He threw his head back and sighed, but just as he tilted his head back and went to turn and follow you, he noticed the jersey. He remembers giving it to you, smiling when you immediately put it on and twirled round in it. Truthfully, although he won't admit it, that was the first moment he fell in love with you.

He walks into your room, grabbing the jersey before going back to sit with you on the couch. He just throws it down on the middle section of the couch, before sitting down and turning to look at you.

"You keep it on your bed?"

"Under my pillow.."

He just smiled, still watching you until you smiled back at him. He was almost magnetic, pulling you right back into him whenever he could. You let him in so easily and you know you shouldn't.

But then he's pulling you onto his lap, his mouth on your neck, lips soft against your skin. Your hands move up to the back of his neck, fingers scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

"Trav.."

"Shh.. feels good right?"

You just nodded, eyes closing shut.

"Then let it happen.."

As you pulled back slightly, his head tilted, lips moving to the other side of your neck. You felt like you were spinning, feeling all dizzy when he kissed you, ultimately making you forget you were mad at him in the first place. Then you remember he has practice again tomorrow, and it's important.

"We can't do this.. not tonight."

He ignores you at first, kissing along your collarbone and you have to push yourself away from him so he looks up at you.

"Listen to me.. we can't do this.."

"You still mad at me?"

"No, but you have practice again tomorrow."

He just sighs, hands fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt. It then hits you that he probably came here just to have sex, his excuse of making sure you were okay was just a lie. You push off him completely, sliding to sit next to him on the couch. But one of his hands is still on your waist, thumb circling gently on your skin.

"I need you to be genuinely honest with me, okay?"

"Okay.."

"Did you come over here for just a hookup?"

"No. You just.. kept avoiding me and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

You stood up from the couch, starting to pace around the room. Sure, he's cared about you but you just can't seem to figure out why he came over to make sure you were alright. He always just calls you, talking your ear off for hours on end and making you laugh to forget about why you were ever upset in the first place.

"I can't keep just having sex. But you don't want to be exclusive with me."

"You want the truth?"

"Please."

"I think you're so fucking cool. I get so happy when you answer my calls, those conversations we have are the one thing I look forward to on my off days. I push all these feelings down because I'm fucking terrified, my work is hectic and I.. I just don't want you to get overwhelmed by it all."

He had sat up now, head facing the ground after he spoke. You slowly sat down, one of your hands reaching for his.

"I remember giving you that jersey.. the way you got all giddy and excited when you put it on. I.."

You squeezed his hand gently and he turned his head to look at you. Then he sat back and once again, pulled you into his lap.

"Ever since then.. I can't stop thinking about you. It's just.. the travelling for away games, you wouldn't be with me for a few days and—"

"Trav.."

He looked into your eyes, feeling your hands cup his cheeks.

"I can handle a few days without you every so often.."

"Are you sure?"

You just smiled, kissing his forehead.

"I'm sure."

You let go of his face as he pulled you in against him, his forehead resting against the side of your neck. Everything felt so heavy with him before, but you didn't know that it was all on him. You had doubts that if you told him how you felt, that he wouldn't reciprocate those same feelings. There was no way you could've predicted him actually being in love with you. Especially with the sex, but now, as he moved his head back and kissed you softly on your neck, he could be sweet and gentle with you.

He moved his hands to your waist, shuffling forward on the couch before standing up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Walking you to the bedroom, you dropped your head to his shoulder, tilting your head to kiss the side of his neck. You unwrapped your legs from his waist when you felt the bed dip beneath you as he lay you down. One of his hands fumbled with your shorts as the other bunched your shirt up, his fingers brushing over your nipple, making you gasp slightly.

His head was resting against your stomach, lips leaving lingering kisses all over your skin, and you couldn't help but watch him, eyes closed and savouring every moment with you. He had managed to wiggle your shorts and underwear off, and now his mouth was kissing the inside of your thighs. You were still looking down at him when he flashed his eyes up at you, his mouth hovering over your core. He moved your left leg over his shoulder, while he pushed at the back of your thigh on your right leg, keeping it open. The hand that wasn't holding your leg open, wrapped around your other leg, trying to keep you in place while he buried his head between your legs. He could feel you squirming underneath him and almost anticipated your movements, his head moving in time with you.

You threw your head back when he delved his tongue inside, mouth still attached to your folds. Again, he flashed his eyes up at you, grinning when he saw you slightly arch your back up off the sheets. He licked through your folds a couple more times, before you reached one hand down, pushing against his forehead.

"Trav.. please.. too much.."

But he didn't stop, he just pushed his tongue deeper, licking faster, your whines and moans only egging him on further. But just as he knew you were close, he pulled away, reaching down and wiping his face with the hem of his t-shirt. He then shrugged your leg off his shoulder and stood up in between your legs.

"You close?"

"Mmph.. mmhm.."

You slowly opened your eyes, watching him walk round the bed, before sitting down and patting his thighs. You slowly turned over, crawling up the bed and swinging your leg over his thighs. When his hands found your waist, he smiled up at you, brushing your hair out your face.

"There's my girl.."

You just blushed, lowering yourself down and hiding your face in his neck.

"Does my girl wanna come?"

"Please?"

He reached behind you and pulled at his shorts, dragging them off. He returned his focus to you, realising still how sensitive you already were and started to move his hands up and down your sides, squeezing gently and almost trying to massage you. While his hands were occupied, you lifted yourself onto your knees slightly, reaching down between both your bodies and adjusting yourself onto him, sinking down and sighing into his shoulder when he was fully inside.

"Take it easy, baby.. nice and slow."

You were feeling so overwhelmed that you couldn't move much, rather just grinding against him. His hands on your waist made you move, lifting you off him slightly before pushing you back down. His lips were kissing your neck, softly and sweetly, and you could feel him smiling against your skin.

Since he had basically eaten you out to almost orgasm earlier, it didn't take long before you let go against him, mumbling out that you were close.

"Let go.. I got you.."

You sighed out in relief, legs slightly trembling around him as he shh'd and cooed at you. He gave you a few languid thrusts himself to ride you through it and over it, before you felt him grunt in your ear. He was close and although you were still sensitive and still coming down from your own high, you wanted to help him get to his. Grinding your hips down onto him, he threw his head back against the pillow, eyes screwed shut and his mouth open.

"Unless you want me to come inside you, you better get off my dick.."

You pulled off him and heard him sigh against your neck, dropping his head back to your shoulder. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tissue, cleaning himself up. You then slid off him, laying down on the bed, feeling him drag his shorts back on before laying down behind you, arm wrapping around your waist.

"I hate when we fight.."

"I know, baby.. but if we hadn't had that fight, I wouldn't have realised what a dick I was being and wouldn't have told you how I feel about you. I could've just left when you told me to leave.."

"I'm glad you didn't.."

He just smiled and kissed your shoulder, before nuzzling his forehead against it.

"Now.. you gotta sleep, you have practice tomorrow.. and I don't think Reid will let you turn up late.. again.."

He just laughed, kissing your shoulder again before resting his head into the pillow. You felt his hand play with the hem of your t-shirt for a while before he stopped and you knew he'd drifted off to sleep. You stayed awake for a while after that, unable to think about anything except Travis. Eventually your eyes fluttered closed and you drifted off to sleep, warmed by his arm around your stomach.

[westside-rot]

Kill For You

Authors note: This was intended to be my first drabble but my brain wouldn't let me stop and here we are with all these words. I'll get it right and stop rambling eventually lmao

Also, I'm dipping my toe into fanfics, having fun with ideas and seeing what sticks so please be nice. It's never that serious. This has light editing so excuse any errors.

Minors dni. I do not consent to my work being copied/reposted anywhere. Stealing is lame so don't do it. Reblogs and comments are always welcome after you hit like lol

Protective husband Toji

Mentions of violence and smut *sorry not sorry*

Choosing an outfit is never easy for you. Most days it’s more like a chore and less like a first step in having fun. The way Toji’s eyes tear away from the video game he’s playing to shamelessly appraise your body is confirmation you made the right choice. Going out tonight was a last-minute decision. With limited time to get ready you opted for a backless navy-blue halter dress that showed off plenty leg without having to worry about your ass being exposed. A modest selection for the club. There’s nothing modest about the way Toji admires your curvy frame.

You pretend not to notice as you drop your phone into your purse and inform him of your plans for the evening.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Enjoy your game. I love you.” It’s foolish to think you’d get away with a rushed explanation and a quick kiss goodbye. When Toji’s large hand catches you by the wrist you aren’t the least bit surprised to have your departure interrupted. You huff and scrunch up your nose to hide your amusement. The charade ends the moment you lock eyes. With a smirk on your face you melt into his broad defined chest and the kiss accompanying his possessive hold on your waist.

“Now let’s try this again Mrs. Fushiguro. Where do you think you’re going in this dress?”

You can’t answer right away as your husband leads you into one kiss and then another. Soon you’re in a full-blown make-out session. When he does finally let you up for air it’s a miracle you can speak. An even bigger one that your panties haven’t melted right off your ass. You explain how one of your girls is going through a bad breakup and you and the rest of the friend group have decided to get her out of the house for a night of drinks and dancing. Toji hums in what you assume to be understanding. The way his lips ghost over the creamy brown skin of your collarbone, tongue dipping between your boobs says otherwise.

“You look gorgeous my love. Maybe you should change. I don’t think I want you wearing this dress without me around.”

“Baby, I can’t. The girls will be here in five minutes. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve felt pretty in a dress.”

He knows you’re being genuine just like he knows you don’t fault him for the long work hours and long overdue date nights. Giving you his blessing is the first step in making amends. Even though he raises you to your feet and readjusts the bottom of your dress back into place you can see the conflict happening behind his dark green eyes.

“I promise to be good.” You pout and run your fingers over the clipped black hair hanging over his forehead. He growls and pulls you closer.

“Keep your phone on. Should any man dare speak to you let them know disrespect is a crime punishable by death. Your husband is the executioner.”

“Yes sir.” You purr against his lips and erupt into a fit of giggles when he sends you on your way with a firm smack to the ass that stays with you long after you join your friends in the rideshare. It requires some convincing not to fake an illness to stay at home with your husband. Nurturing your friendships is important to you. The last thing you want is to become the friend who forsakes all others for her man. A night away from him will do you both some good. And so you turn your thoughts away from him and focus on the night ahead.

Hours later you’re regretting your decision. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed yourself. After spending weeks going from work to home you loved every second of existing in your own bubble with your girls. The music had been on point and the drinks were nice and strong. That seemed like a good thing in the moment. By 1am you remember why you could only handle the club in small doses. The men had officially lost any sense of decency. While you understood wanting to end the night in good company, you were tired of having to relay Toji’s message to every man occupying your personal space. The massive ring on your finger should’ve been effective fuck boy repellent. Yet here you were on your fourth insincere apology. To their credit, they eventually cut their losses and backed away. There was always one that refused to take no for an answer. This particular jerk refuses to accept your no, going as

Deciding you’ve reached your fill on corny pick up lines, you and your girl decide to wait for the rest of your group outside. You've dealt with your fair share of thirsty men, none crazy enough to get physical and call you an uppity bitch for dismissing him. Pulling away only gives him reason to tighten his grip on your arm. Before you or your friend can respond with a swift kick to the balls a strong pair of hands pull the man off his feet and cast him aside like a rag doll. Your eyes practically fall out of your head when you realize it’s Toji. He’s too busy making good on his word to acknowledge your shock. While the dumb ass puts up an impressive defense he’s easily overpowered and pummeled to the ground. Every punch he throws is reciprocated with two more that land directly in his face until he's unrecognizable. Toji shows no sign of stopping. Even though you'd bet money you weren't the first woman this piece of shit has put his hands on, he isn't worth a prison sentence.

It's your voice pulling Toji back to his senses. One more punch and a kick to the ribs and he's snatching the man up by his collar to hold the man's bloody face in your direction.

“Apologize for putting your filthy hands on my wife. I’m only sparing you because she asked.

He complies and stammers out an apology through the stream of blood running down his nose into his mouth. You’re disgusted by how little you care about the beating he’s taken. Unlike the idiot before you, no one is going to force you to apologize for noticing how well your husband is filling out his thermal. In the hours since you last saw him his corded muscles appear larger and more defined underneath the black fabric. It looks painted on. The color has always been your kryptonite. Toji is wrapped in it, from his jeans down to his work boots. It’s the black beanie tugged down over his ears that turns you feral.

Toji’s voice cuts through your thoughts with a clear directive you can’t ignore. “Let’s go. All of you. NOW.” He leads you out of the club with your gaped mouth friends trailing closely behind, the crowd parting like water to let you pass. Some women gawk, one gave you a thumbs up, while other voices agreed with Toji’s methods. You have the urge to remind everyone he's your husband but decide against it.

Once in the car Toji instructs you to put everyone’s addresses into the GPS. After that the ride is tense and mostly silent. In the group chat your friends are remain crazy and undeterred as they unanimously decide Toji’s deserves immaculate head on everyone’s behalf.

You bite down a laugh then respond in chat, assuring them you will but you can't pinpoint Toji’s mood. He seems upset with you. Despite being grateful for his presence you’re somewhat annoyed with him for infiltrating your girl’s night out. Exactly how long had he been spying? Why hadn’t you noticed him before? Was he being protective, or did he not really trust you?

It pisses you off that while you’re stewing in emotions you shouldn’t feel Toji is being the perfect gentleman, not only driving your friend’s home but escorting them to the door to ensure they make it inside safely. Upon arriving home you decide you're going to sleep off your frustrations and be a responsible adult tomorrow.

Toji has other plans. Resisting your inner brat, you allow his firm yet pleading tone to keep you in your seat with arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry for not getting to you sooner baby. I was trying to be respectful to the hoe asking me dance and got distracted.”

The way your jaw clenches at the mention of the faceless woman proves Toji isn’t alone in his unhinged behavior. In your defense your patience runs a bit longer than his. You certainly haven’t beaten any women to a pulp for getting close. No woman had dared to touch what belonged to you either.

“Sure.”

“I got this bad feeling after you left that I couldn’t shake. Maybe it was nothing. But I rather have you upset with me than ignore my gut and something happens. You’re my entire world. I can't exist without you.”

Suddenly you’re climbing into your wonderful man’s lap to shower him with appreciation one kiss at a time across his beautiful face. You’re a brat that needs to correct her attitude. To further drive home the point you drag your tongue over his scar then back down to his chin, bearing your teeth and latching on. Toji’s lips curve into a vulgar smile but otherwise appears unfazed.

“How do you intend to make it up to me brat?”

His dick, hard and restricted against the crotch of your panties sends a message to put action to words. You comply with eager hands fumbling with his belt as you lean back on the steering wheel. “By letting you use me. You can start by fucking me right here in the driveway.”

He groans as though he’s already inside of you. What you mistake for passion on the verge of release is restraint to keep both hands firmly at your waist. He refuses to touch the intimate parts of you with soiled hands. Another reason to despise the piece of shit from earlier. But you’re too horny to argue. You practically race up the driveway, fumbling with keys to unlock the front door. The kitchen to wash your hands or a shower. You can’t decide. Toji makes the decision for you.

“Take off your panties.” Pulling them down your shapely legs, you toe the lace off to the side along with your heels. You abruptly clamp on the taunt you’ve prepared when you see him kneel before you, presenting his shoulders as a thrown he wishes you to occupy. Always mindful of safety you drape one leg across him and keep the other on the ground for leverage until he demands your trust. You comply. Your husband is a strong man. You’re reminded how much when he straightens his back, hoisting you off the ground, trapping you between the door at your back and the tongue in your pussy.

You close your eyes and surrender to weightlessness, tugging at his hair and mewling your pleasure, vocal but not too loud. You want to hear him lewdly slurp at his meal, burying his face in it like he’s eager to drown and die a satisfied man. His tongue is just as big as the rest of him. You love the way he alternates between the wavelike motions against your clit to stuffing your needy walls. It doesn’t take long to come like this. You whimper his name on its arrival, shudder then relax on his shoulders with your feet set firmly at the center of his back. When he finally sets you on the ground with a suckling kiss to each thigh you follow him on shaky legs into the kitchen.

The energy shifts from two wantons chasing pleasure to comedic and downright absurd. Toji has you pinned in front of him at the sink, his burly figure towering over you in playful competition for his share of the running water all while he struggles to penetrate you handsfree. You wish you could see how silly he looks with his jeans below his ass grinding near your entrance like some inexperienced teenager. The failed attempts have given your abs the workout you haven’t asked for. You’re the drunk one. Toji has no excuse for his antics but you’re honored he trusts you with this silly version of himself, a side the world doesn’t know exists.

"Spread your legs a little wider—push your ass up."

"Give up please." Laughter splutters from you when he notches the head between your folds, almost but not quite. The way he dips and rolls his hips as if he's sure it'll get him where he needs to be put tears in your eyes. "You’re trying to kill me." Resting your head on the counter, you give up attempting to wash your hands to fully commit to laughing. Toji joins in while taking full advantage of the water.

"Not at all gorgeous. I’m trying to fuck you." He doesn’t bother to dry off his now thoroughly washed hands as guides himself to your entrance. He reaches his target on the first try. Neither of you is laughing anymore.

The first thrust is always the sweetest. Especially when you’ve gone deprived for so long.

"There ya go. Shut that pretty fuckin mouth and let me inside." He kicks your legs apart to widen your stance and ruts into your ass. You nearly submerge your head under the water from the impact but recover quickly, stretching your soapy fingertips into the water instead and deepening the arch in your back. It gives him a full display of your ass bouncing off his pelvis and aligns him with just the right spot. He drills you for several heavenly minutes then fucks you into a standing split. Somehow you manage to cut off the water and just in time because he's snatched you off your feet, locking your knees over his elbows to fuck you midair.

There's nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. He fucks you like he's upset, like he's secretly harboring a grudge he doesn't want to speak on. You love it but feel as though you owe him another apology.

Toji isn’t giving you the chance to speak. Even as he walks you into the living room, he’s slamming you down on his dick, knocking the words right out of you. He’s relentless even in the way he places you back on your feet and jerks you around by the hair to segue right back to hard thrusts in one disorienting motion.

"I’m sorry. I’ll burn the dress—Don’t be mad." You wail over the sound of his balls colliding with your ass and frantically attempt to leverage yourself on the couch. He’s quick to restrain both arms behind your back, locking them at the elbow in a one-armed restraint. His free hand snakes your throat. There’s nowhere to run even if you want to. You don’t. He slams into you numerous times before his brain processes what you managed to say.

"What? No baby--just need to feel you and remind myself you’re mine... beautiful and all fucking mine."

"All yours. Only fucking yours." You echo the words. It earns you more sharp thrusts in powerful succession, the intensity forcing you on to the tips of your toes. You chant the words through your delirium and yield as he cranes you backwards by a makeshift ponytail to roughly kiss his way into your mouth. Not the most comfortable position but you love being treated like his personal doll. It doesn’t matter that you watched him mark his territory in the most violent way possible or how ridiculous it might seem to need the reassurance. He's a man, your man, the person you vowed to spend your life with. If he needs his ego stroked, you'll gladly stroke it. Perhaps not in the way he’s stroking your insides but close enough for him to feel cherished and irreplaceable. He deserves it after giving you some of the best orgasms of your life.

All you can do is scream your praise when the third one hits. Every nerve ending in your body feels like tiny focal point detonating at once. The pleasure overtakes you, seizing control of your limbs and coherence. You topple over the couch’s armrest to sob face first in the cushions below. Tremors ripple through your fingers down to your toes now arched and pointed at the ceiling. You fear any sudden movement will remove you from this new blissed out existence. So you don’t. You remain in your wilted position, crying and fully possessed by endless quaking yet aware enough to sense Toji kneeling at eye level. Warm hands caress your face, coaxing a gratified drunken smile to confirm you hadn’t passed out.

"Did I break you?"

“Uh-uh.”

His thumb catches your bottom lip and pries your mouth open. "I’m putting you to bed."

Instantly you muster the strength to speak. "Nooo. Just gimme a minute."

His laughter soothes your rapid pulse and puts breath back into your lungs. You think you won’t need the minute you requested. Not anymore. You only need him to find his way back home. Toji ignores your pleas with soothing kisses to your nose and lips. He guides you out of the awkward position you landed in and carries you to your bedroom.

It's a welcome change to be returned to your plush bed with your husband looming over you, gaze imbued with love you'll never get tired of seeing, removing the dress still gathered at your waist as though you'll break if he handles you poorly. He removes what remains of his attire and rejoins you on the bed. Finally you’re both gloriously naked. You pull him down on top of you, hard lines melding with soft russet contours and entangled limbs sharing a single heartbeat.

He fucks into you slow, takes his time delving to where your soul resides, whispering his devotion against your damp skin. When you reach orgasm for the last time he isn’t far behind you, filling you with his cum, marking you as his. It isn’t until he pulls out, when the urge to watch his cum leak from your spent body is too great to ignore do you realize how turned on you were watching him defend your honor. It’s toxic to wish for such things but it’s a subject you refuse to drop until you’ve talked it out with your husband. Toji will have to be the one to put a stop to your fantasy, that or replace it with something different, something better. Until then you drift back to the present, shut your eyes, and plan out your next outfit.

[youjustgotxfiled]

Hey, everybody! I've finally gotten around to starting to upload my own works on this hellsite! :D

This one's dedicated to all the Amphibia and Sashannarcy fans out there, as well as to everyone who deals with trauma, CPTSD, anxiety, depression, and other mental & emotional conditions and disorders, as well as to everyone in the LGBTQ community at large. You are ALL warriors who deserve the best out of life.

This piece was written between May and November of 2022, but is only being uploaded here now because a) I wanted to run it through beta readers to feel confident enough to post it, and b) I wanted to make sure my AO3 and DeviantArt accounts got their uploads going first.

If you like what you see here, feel free to like, reblog, and share with everyone! Any and all engagement helps me out a ton (especially the reblogs XD).

Story for Chapter 1 below the cut for those unable to access the link above.

************************************************************************

You are invited to: THE BEST FAMILY DINNER EVER!

You’d recognize that script anywhere. The kind of writing that can come from just one colleague of yours: the inimitable Marcy.

You’ve known each other for a fair bit now; ever since Marcy moved back to Los Angeles and took a job in your studio three years ago, you’ve have been quite the talk of the town as perhaps the two lone people ever to have gotten more than five words out of each other in any given conversation. Not that either of you mind too much—being both introverts and nerds helps you be that much more attuned to each other’s needs and interests, to say nothing of the ease with which each’s rapt attention to the ramblings of the other helps block out the surrounding office gawking and gossip. After all, both of you are very much used to it by this point in your lives. 

Still, this invitation comes as a surprise. For one thing, Marcy is not one to talk about her private life or after-work plans much, and neither are you. For another, one of the few things she has revealed is that she’s married to a pair of women, and not just any pair: they’re Anne and Sasha Boonchuy-Plantar, famed heroes and defenders of Earth from the attempted “Frogvasion” over ten years ago. Though you haven’t said as much to Marcy, you’re filled with all sorts of weird emotions at the mention of their names. Excitement, fear, curiosity, and longing all collide within you, TV and social-media images and sounds of that day—of THEM, at their most fierce and intimidating—bouncing around in your mind, leaving much more space than is comfortable to wonder how much of it carries over, then or now, into their private lives.

How similar it makes them to…well, them.

No, you think. Your hands are beginning to tremble, your breathing becoming tougher to do. Not them. PLEASE not them. Not right now.

You put the invitation card down on your desk, gripping your hands against the front edge to steady them and not tip off any snooping passers-by. For a long moment, you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing, hoping the serrated pattern it takes on when you get like this isn’t loud enough for anyone to hear it. After a shake of your head for good measure, you open your eyes again. 

“Heeey!”

You jump in your seat, and it’s all you can do not to scream. At least your hands have stopped trembling. You can’t say the same for your breathing, however. 

“Oh my frog, I’m SO sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Marcy says as you turn your head to see her standing next to you. Her hands are covering her mouth, and her brows are furrowed upward. Uh oh. Better make a quick cover.

“No worries, Marcy! I was, uh…just kinda tunneling on this frame, is all,” you reply. You throw in a sheepish laugh and grin for good measure, hoping to God—excuse you, FROG—that she buys it. “You know how I get with that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah! I’m the same way when I get SUPER-invested in something,” says Marcy. She flaps her hands to accentuate her words, a trait you find makes you smile. For a moment, you wonder if Anne and Sasha react the same way about it, too, though the chill coming up your spine and settling in your stomach at the mere thought of them prompt you to shove the question aside and turn your attention back to the still-chatting Marcy. 

“—so she was thinking that we should sub it out for roast beef sandwiches, but of COURSE Anne wanted something a little more special than that, so—”

“Marcy,” you say. She quiets right away, noting the tension and uncertainty you’re failing so hard to hide in your voice. “Do…” The names seem a bit too difficult for you to spit out, so you opt for the next best descriptor. “Do your wives know you’re planning all this?”

“Of course they do,” Marcy replies. She tilts her head with a confused look. “I’ve been begging for them to put this together with me for at LEAST the last two weeks. I can’t even BEGIN to tell you how many work stories of our convos I’ve shared with them just to get them to let their guard down and be a LITTLE curious about you.”

Let their guard down. Sounds…possessive. That doesn’t bode well. The icy feeling in your stomach begins to swirl. Out of sight—you hope—your grip on the edges of your desk tightens, even as you flash another smile. “Heh, yeah. Probably should have figured that. Sorry for the stupid question, Mar.”

“Oh, no! I don’t think it’s stupid at all,” says Marcy. She looks down for a second, her beautiful smile fading a bit. “Frog knows I’ve hurt them enough with trying to plan stuff behind their backs.”

It’s your turn to shoot Marcy a perplexed look. Hurt? Behind their backs? Whatever in the multiverse could she be referring to? You look down towards the ground for a moment, wheels turning at an even higher speed in your mind. You look back up at Marcy. “Are…are you okay with telling me more about that?”

Marcy emits a sad grin, shaking her head. “No. Not right now, anyway. That stuff’s…pretty private between the three of us.” She looks back up at you. “You ARE super-nice and considerate, though. Maybe one day. When I’m ready. When all three of us are ready.”

When all three of us are ready? Now that’s curious phrasing if you’ve ever heard it. Your pulse begins to quicken, as does your breathing. Your trembling hands are becoming a bit more pronounced, too. Does your possessiveness reading have legs? Maybe accepting this invitation isn’t such a good idea…

You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth. You exhale in a huff. You’re not letting this fear overtake you again. Not ever again—you let them control you enough as it was then, and you have no intention of ever letting them win. This is YOUR life to live now, dammit!

Right?

You reopen your eyes and shoot an even more exaggerated grin at Marcy than before. It’s crucial that she not see your panic right now. “Fair enough. Perhaps tonight’s dinner will be a start, then.”

Marcy’s eyes widen. She begins to jump, hands flapping a million miles a minute. “EEEEE!” She squeals, all toothy smiles. “I’m SO excited for you to come over! Oh, I can’t WAIT for you to meet the other girls! This’ll be the best guest-dinner EVER!”

************************************************************************

You arrive right on time at six o’clock, though more so because you had trouble finding the right address than out of any sense of precision or punctuality. After all, the directions are but one of several thoughts racing through your mind.

At length, you reach the bottom of the steps leading up to what appears to be a modest suburban house like most others here in Long Beach—small front porch, two stories with a couple of windows apiece, sloping up at the top where the attic might well be. 

You close your eyes, taking one more deep breath. You look down at yourself—not dressed the fanciest in the world, but presentable enough, in your opinion. Plus, you made a point to comb your hair and shower before heading out. Outside, you’re about as good as you’re going to get.

The question, of course, is inside. 

You’ve been running through several scenarios in your mind—or rather, your mind has been running them through you. It’s never been your best friend for most of your life to begin with, but you and it have been on extra bad terms with each other since they tore you to pieces all those years ago. Fear and suspicion have lived so long in your head that they now color your perception of every person who tries to touch you, and these three are no exception. 

First off, Marcy. She’s sweet and all, if a little on the airheaded side of things in spite of her clear exceptional intelligence. Despite your mutual talents for talking each other’s ears off, however, most of your convos never turn to your personal lives, in part because she seems to…well, never want to talk about it. She always tends to look down, or in directions other than your gaze. Like she’s far off from that moment and into one from the distant past. One with a lot of secrets.

Too many secrets.

What do they contain? Do you want to know? Is it something that can hurt you if you don’t? How long do you let her play this out before demanding she come clean? And are you willing to lose her as a friend because of it, like you have so many others--?

You shake your head in a violent motion. You’d better get this show on the road before you change your mind.

You pull out your phone, pulling Marcy’s contact info up. “I’m here!” you text. You add a smiley face for good measure.

A minute passes. Two. You start to wonder if maybe you’ve got the wrong house, after all.

Ding!

“Be ready in five! Just need to finish the main course lol,” Marcy replies. For a moment, you’re confused as to why they don’t just let you in and make you wait in the living room or something. Then comes the second ding! “Still trying to clear the last of the smoke from the oven. Wouldn’t want you to die from carbon-dioxide poisoning before the loves even get to meet you,” she adds, throwing in a sweating-smile emoji for punctuation.

You begin to smile and sweat at the same time, too, though not for the same reasons she is right now. Loves, she called them. And they might be possessive. Which means getting too close to any of them, too quick—but to Marcy in particular—equals a high chance of getting eaten alive by them. In any case, you need to sit down and get your thoughts a hair more together. Strategy was key for a successful night here, after all.

You take a quick glance at the porch, and notice that there’s a swinging chair hanging from the right-hand side of the eaves. Three, maybe four people wide. Perfect. You waste no time in marching up the steps and making yourself comfortable, taking care to keep your toes dug into the wood of the porch floor so that you’re not swinging all over the place. Once you’re settled, the thoughts catch up to you again.

Strategy, comes the first offering from your subconscious. A fitting word for this situation. One an ex-military leader like Sasha would appreciate.

Sasha. Right. The blonde double-sword warrior whose severing of the interdimensional demon’s cord—umbilical? medical? The public debate still raged—was now perhaps the second-most iconic news image in recent memory, of course to Anne—

A full-body shiver strikes you. Not now. Not right this second. And why are you feeling so cold as you’re sweating, anyway? Isn’t it 75 and sunny? You squeeze your eyes shut a moment, then reopen them, determined to keep them on the porch floor for now. Okay. Time to focus.

Determination, your brain titters. And focus, too. I wonder how many more appropriate words we can add to the vocabulary list of Sasha descriptors before we—

“Shut. Up,” you growl. Frog, you wish you could just grab the jokers that liked to snatch the microphone for your thoughts and crucify them against the wall, sometimes. You can dream, can’t you?

Dreams, your mind responds. You’ve been having all SORTS of dreams about Sasha, haven’t you?

Much as you hate to admit it, you have. And many of them haven’t been pleasant.

Ever since the footage of that fateful day was uploaded for all to see and meme, you’ve developed a nasty habit of rewatching it over and over along with millions of others. It’s become a bad combination with your memories of them, but Sasha’s clips, though brief compared to Anne’s, are anything but merciful in how they’ve impacted your psyche. For starters, they helped you develop a deep fear and suspicion of anyone with combat training, in particular those teenaged or older with any kind of military background. For another, one of the few things Marcy has deigned to mention about her wives is that Sasha, like them, seems to have a chronic short fuse even outside of battle, and you know all too well the various kinds of body discoloring that can result from someone with a loose emotional grip. All well and bad, to be sure. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is the dreams.

It’s enough of a struggle to get to sleep these days anyway, has been for years. But once sleep comes…the horrors are often indescribable. Them, seeming to save the day and the city from the invasion—and then continuing to kill, and kill, and kill, until you’re the last Angelino standing, begging for mercy and a second chance that will never come. Sasha and them, together, tying you up and forcing you to watch their plans for a dictatorial new world order come into fruition, with your eyes being taped open to deprive you of sleep for good measure. Sasha alone this time, in your house that you bought with your own money, stalking you, beating you with a cup, and then her fists, and then her boots, because it’s just so fun to torture you for being so weak and helpless and not wanting to learn how to fight like she does, then taking the sword from her beltline and tearing your heart out with it, with watching you lose consciousness and your life being so funny to see that she just keeps laughing and laughing and laughing and laughing and—

Ding!

“Jesus!” you shout. Your toes lose their grip on the porch floor, and you’re quite certain at least a couple of the neighbors heard you. As you wait for the swing to run its course, you look down. Your upper body is now soaked in sweat. Great. Just great. At least you can use the weather as an excuse, you hope.

The swing comes back to center position, and your breathing has returned to a manageable level. You waste no time checking out the text that startled you from your poisonous reverie.

“Gonna be another 5 before we’re ready, love! SO SO sorry to keep you waiting outside,” it reads, punctuated by a frown. “Smoke alarms going off ALL over the house now, so now we’re trying to keep the food, furniture, AND you from getting soaked. Try and enjoy the sun! Will text again when we’re all done.”

Smoke alarms? You scrunch your face. Then, you hear the faint, shrieking beeps coming from inside, the detector in the living room behind you losing its mind as you felt like you were not a few moments ago. Perhaps that was why you didn’t catch it the first time. And as for poor Marcy…well, she’s confided to you about being a walking disaster before, but this? This is another level. You wonder if these are the kinds of pratfalls Sasha and Anne have to deal with every day. And what their limits are for tolerating it.

More to the point, you wonder about Anne’s limits for tolerating it.

For tolerating you.

Unlike Sasha’s limited footage, Anne’s is so extensive that breakdowns of her fight with the mad King Andrias are plentiful on social media. What that’s meant for you is plentiful opportunities for every punch, kick, shot, and word between the two of them to be burned into your mind. Bad enough that every moment of combat itself raises their specter in your mind, and that the additional sounds of shattered windows, wrecked cars and buildings, and ear-piercing screaming churn your stomach. Even these things, however, pale in comparison to how Anne powers up—and how it all ends.

First, the power-up. By some grace of the multiverse’s cosmic forces, she had—has? —the ability to go from regular, brown-skinned Thai to a glaring, snarling, blue-haired demigod of immense power. The aura itself is intimidating enough, but the changing of her eyes from brown to icy blue is unnerving. And that voice. Oh frog, that voice—a voice at once hers and that of a power far beyond comprehension, one even angels and demons alike would tremble from in fear. Her power in this state is (was?) nothing to sneeze at, either—she could fly, summon swords, dismantle enormous missiles, knock the block off of dozens of robots, take insane physical punishment. All primo nightmare fuel for someone prone to conflating, extrapolating, and associating. But even this—even this—doesn’t stack up to the real reason you can’t sleep at night anymore.

The way the fight ends.

For all the damage and punishment the two dealt Los Angeles and each other up to this point, it was at least comprehensible thanks to its striking similarity to that of a superhero showdown in a Marvel or DC film. Even when Anne, demonic voice and all, began to tear down the leviathan about his inability to open his heart or follow his true feelings, it felt, cruel as it was, familiar enough. Precedent, after all, bred familiarity and minimized shock value, the key ingredient to creating trauma. Which made what happened next all the more insane.

There were two occasions in the fight where Anne lost her grip on her powers. The first time, she’d been clocked enough by the king’s fists and missiles to make a mini-crater in the helipad of a nearby hospital, where she appeared to be down for the count—that was, before some FBI agents on the scene had the bright idea of using enormous loudspeakers to play one of her favorite songs, a move that brought her and her powers back and is now the reason you still struggle to listen to K-Pop on the radio anymore. The second time, however, was where things began to defy description.

Alongside Anne and Sasha, there were dozens of the aforementioned FBI agents, some military, and a host of creatures—from the other dimension, it was presumed—battling all manner of robots and perverted animals on the street level. Among them was a small family of what appeared to be anthropomorphic frogs, from which the event itself would get its name. One of the more well-known images from the day was when they began a strange, hypnotic dance that would end up subduing a pair of mutated herons responsible for much of the early damage. It was one of these smaller frogs—Sprig, you seem to remember Anne calling him in the fight footage—that stepped in as a meat shield when Anne seemed to just lose her glow all at once, leaving her on the physical brink and ripe for a finishing blow from the titan. A single slingshot to the dome to get his attention. Then…the speech.

There are internet denizens who can quote the whole thing chapter and verse, but you’ve never been one of them. Something about the necessity of change, feelings repressed, and following one’s heart when the moment comes, all coming from the soul of someone once near and dear to the king long since lost to time and regret. All you know is that the letter Sprig read to Andrias appeared to have moved him to tears, to the point where he began to wail about the accruement of his sins being too high to overcome and pounding the roof of the building they were both on. And yet…Anne didn’t care.

She just. Didn’t. Care.

No matter that her enemy had seen the light, no matter that his subsequent redressing himself into the armor he’d been using the whole time looked involuntary, no matter that she seemed ready to hear him out for a second before his re-armoring appeared to be all it took to convince her otherwise.

She kept trying to power herself back up. To rear back for one last blow. A couple of snaps of the fingers. A spark. Then all blue again, circling back around, picking up speed as she—from what you remember of the footage available—aimed straight for the frog’s heart. The king himself, frozen for a moment, then waiting until the last possible second before disarming himself again, eyes closed, arms spread wide, embracing the inevitable—a gesture that even the most hardened of war veterans would give pause over, reflexes permitting.

Anne did not give pause. 

She killed him.

Oh, everyone debates whether the king died from the blow, citing deceptive camera angles and trajectories and combat philosophy. But you know.

You know better.

You can’t speak for creatures from other universes, but you know for a fact that not a single one of Earth’s would have survived a direct shot like that. And that the king, torn limb from limb, never moved much again. And that Anne, smiling and triumphant over her deed, took one last look at him, went up to the floating castle for something (someone?), and came back to drag his body up to it before the castle vanished into the portal from whence it came. 

All of this, burned into your memory. And that blow. That last blow, that image seared into the brains of everyone who lived through that day but yours in particular—THAT’S what keeps you up at night. What wakes you up, shaking, crying, sweating, hyperventilating. 

Because she could do it to you.

“GAAAAAH!” you scream, yanking yourself out of your daymare. As your feet kick out and the swing begins to go again, it turns out you are, in fact, hyperventilating, and your heart rate is an easy two-and-a-half beats per minute. You look around for something, anything that will get it under control before you pass out. 

You check your pockets. Nothing. And you didn’t bother bringing a bag with you. Dammit.

You cock your head in every direction you can, discovering that your scream somehow didn’t bring a single curious neighbor out to inspect the unholy noise. Nor did anyone from the Boonchuy-Plantar house come to check you out. Yet.

Okay. Time for a last resort.

You cup your hands together as tight as you can, then thrust them onto your nose and mouth. Out, in. Out, in. Easy now. Slow it down. Not so high and low, now.

Out, in. Out, in.

On this goes for about two minutes. The breathing stabilizes to something resembling normal, as does your pulse. You’re shaking again, but that will be easy enough to hide. So will the tears that are now intermixed with the sweat flowing from your hair. What won’t, however, is the icy feeling in the back your head, or the slowness with which your body now moves. Whatever. You can figure that out as you go tonight.

Ding!

You jump again, almost dropping your phone as you pull it back out of your pocket. Stabilizing the bottom of the phone against your chest, you see another text from Marcy.

“All done! Ready when you are! Just ring the doorbell and I’ll come let you in,” it reads. Below the message, a second one that came in just as you were reading the first: “SO sorry again about making you wait. Hopefully you didn’t get too bad of a sunburn!” A sweating-smile emoji punctuates the text.

You have to smile at that one. You, a native Angelino, getting sunburned? One might as well be worried about a Republican becoming governor of the state any time soon. Letting out a small snort, you find yourself a bit more relaxed. Good. You’re going to need your happy face on for this one.

You stand up, legs still wobbling a bit. You limp your way over to the door and use the doorframe to straighten yourself. One last exhale, and a straightening of your top. 

Then, you ring the doorbell.

[heyheydidjaknow]

Since you posted Incomprehensible I just wanna ramble for a hot minute:

I think??? That this is one of my favorite characterizations of yan!venti ever?? Considering what else I’ve seen posted for yan Venti, I loved the take that he knows that this is wrong, knows he is going against the thing he is the god of!! But he still goes through with it- and since both incomprehensible and good wine are both Venti POV, we get to see what he is thinking as he acts(and why he does certain things tbh). The way he chooses to not react much when the reader tries to jump in Good Wine despite the fact he is heartbroken that they tried that? The fact he stops himself from crying because despite the fact he knows the tears would be real, he is aware that although it could help now, it would only be used against him as a trick later? How he still tries to be caring and kind while also being completely self aware of the situation he is in? THE WAY HE IS SO CALM AND THINKING OVER EVERYTHING HE SAYS BECAUSE IT MATTERS SO MUCH IN THIS SITUATION?

Venti may be a bard but in case he is an actor performing for the sole audience of one. Both stories remind me a little about how Venti acting during his story quest at part in the statue. Like he is Barbatos the god and not a simple bard. It was a cool take to see!

You and @twosaparty are both trying to make me cry and it is not nice. Knowing people respond this thoughtfully to something I’ve written means a lot and I cannot thank you enough for the kind words.

I’m using this ask as an excuse to answer a quasi-question posed by Two in their reblog of my thing, which is generally bad form for writers but whatever.

It would take a lot. Kidnapping you is one thing. He can justify that in his head, that your time is so limited that every second counts. He can lie to himself, tell himself that what he’s doing really isn’t that bad because, at the end of the day, you’re mortal, and any suffering you may endure is going to last you, at most, less than a century. That does not apply if you are immortal. His immortality is the entire reason he let himself kidnap an innocent person in the first place. To make you experience the pain of being stagnant as the world moves on without you, to him, is a fate worse than death. What if, by some miracle, he died? He couldn’t leave you to suffer the way he did before he met you, leave you to watch the people you love die around you with nobody to help you through it. He wouldn’t forgive himself.

Having said that, I could absolutely see him try to make you immortal if he thought you were in immediate mortal danger. I could see him panic and move to do it without considering the consequences and then never being able to look at himself again because of it. If you tried to kill him for it he would honestly help you because it is what he deserves.

[bluebeads-art]

your art is so amazing !!! i adored the 3d printed stuff (as someone who has had to design myself 3d printed merch before because i don't usually have much access to the merch in my fandom lol), it's so good?? and all your coloring is beautiful <3

all this to say it might not seem like i reblog much but rest assured all the stuff i liked (or didn't) went into my queue a few times over hehehe. i LOVE your art it's amazing <3

wishing you luck with the identity and health stuff, even if it doesn't get better i hope you find happiness within it 🫡

gah this got away from me sorry for the ramble

aaaaaaa I saw this message in a notification on my phone, said "I'll read that when I actually have time to reply," then the notification got dismissed somehow and if there's no notification prompt to remind me of something, it no longer exists to me. It's been a month I'm so sorry ^^;;

Thank you so much! I wish it was easier to convert more of my stuff to be 3D printable, but my usual modeling style is not watertight in the slightest and disregards gravity entirely. 😆 3D modeling has always been really cool to me because there's so many different workflows depending on what you're trying to make. Keeps things from getting stale!

Speaking of differences, I feel like people don't tend to mention my coloring. :0 I think my line art usually steals the show, heh. I used to be a lot more conscious about color theory and shading when I was younger, but these days there's no thoughts, only vibes 😂

Ok the line, "even if it doesn't get better i hope you find happiness within it" hit me unexpectedly hard (in a good way). Any nice messages I get always means a ton to me, but while I don't seem to be able to articulate why at the moment, I think that line will stick with me for much longer than usual. Thank you so much ♥

---

Speaking more generally (this message just gave me a good excuse to talk, heh)- spoilers; the artist in my brain refuses to die. So after, like, a literal year of not touching it, I've started working again on a 3D modeling project that I started in 2021 that has been haunting me ever since. Been trying to redesign a robot OC of mine Rayner, and I'm really particular about wanting his joints to work in a physical space instead of bending the rules artistically. I'm Really bad at designing complex hard surface objects in flat 2D though. However, there's a reason artists tell you not to character design in 3D, and that's because it's slow, it's easy to lose design cohesion, and most importantly it just sucks, awful workflow. But I am Doing it. And while I was super stuck for years and almost developed a friggin phobia of the project, I am now Doing It. And it's actually working out this time. The 3D model itself is MILES from being done, but the design almost is, and while that's a boring end result for other people, it represents a huge milestone and accomplishment for me in many ways.

I've been drawing a little bit lately too! But I feel my social media hiatus has given me a healthier relationship with posting? Like I have a few doodles that I could either post now or post soon, but I don't feel the same pressure to anymore? Where even if I never post them, I think I'm fine with that. I've always thought I made art for myself, but that's not exactly true because I was also making art for the sake of sharing. And while I don't think there's anything wrong with that, I think being able to separate the two and be content with simply just creating is healthy. Also I'm still not as active on social media in general anymore which is probably healthier as well LOL.

So I'll prrrobably start posting again soon-ish now that I've broken this blog's posting silence? Not sure how to wrap this monologue up. My physical health problems are going to keep on probleming, but in terms of artistic fulfillment I've been in a much better place this past month, and that's a huge yeehaw from me 👍

[zionmantis]

I would love to hear about how the DE speaks to your experiences with psychosis!

DE seems to be an attempt to represent thinking through game/story mechanics, and I really appreciate that it doesn’t seem to just represent “normal” thought but also neurodivergent or dysfunctional thoughts. Made me feel seen, so I’d love to hear how it made you feel, if it’s something you’d want to share!

Ah, thanks for the ask! I hope my tags on your post didn't seem rude; reading back I was so worried they did <3 You made an absolutely wonderful post; I wouldn't have reblogged it if I didn't love it. I'm ADHD too, and it's so great to see a character we can relate with and to see how positive reinforcement from a person like Kim can really make a difference.

Excuse me while I ramble a bit! This is stuff I want to post about all the time but I worry people will hate it, so questions like this really make me happy because it gives me an excuse x)

One of the reasons I adore this game more than any other is that it's both breathtakingly sad as well as absolutely hysterical, and humor is how I've started approached my issues of mental illness in the past. Now, that way is not for everyone; some people don't want any sort of laughter at it, and that's completely valid and makes perfect sense, but humor is just how I've been able to adjust to memories of really bad times in my life without completely hating myself. For me, the game does a really good job of making a hard subject funny without making it seem like we're laughing AT Harry, if that makes sense, even if we think some of his antics are hilarious. I also love love love that that humor is also tackling the, mmm, less "romantic" (?I'm not sure that's the word I want to use for this...maybe "palatable"?) issues that can come with severe mental illness. Like if I remember right, there's a nonstandard ending where Harry can end up living under a bridge and throwing his own shit at people who pass by, pff.

For me it was a surprise to come into this fandom and find that not everyone sees what he's going through as being psychosis (same with ADHD; he absolutely has that, at least to me). I've seen a couple people -- I think it was on Reddit -- argue that what Harry experiences is not psychosis and is just a manifestation of his thought processes and impulsive behavior, and for me that is just...wild xD (and I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but it's fun to discuss, I think?)

But here's the deal for me: if someone sticks their thumb up their ass in public because their friend dared them to and they think it will be funny, that's impulsive behavior. If someone sticks their thumb up their ass in public because a voice in their head told them it would make them a better detective, that's a delusion.

So what does that have to do with me? Well, for me, I have a rare diagnosis of OCD with psychotic features, and (gonna put the rest of this under a cut in case it's triggering for people to read about psychotic episodes)

mine, before being involuntarily (but needed at the time) hospitalized twice and properly medicated, tended to be things like...I would think my limbs were detaching themselves from my body, or one time I wouldn't open my eyes for literally almost two days because I thought all sharp-cornered objects would cut them. Hallucinations would involve seeing what I thought was my skin being pulled as my limbs detached and occasional auditory hallucinations of crowds in my head (where I'd then think they were trying to tell me something Important and drive myself crazy sitting and listening to unreal crowd burble noises), but none of the stuff fiction likes to show because it's easier to depict (never had voices in my head telling me to do stuff or saw a super clear hallucination of a person or monster unless you count sleep paralysis. There were occasional shadows and vague faces that move in walls which I still get when I'm extra tired, but the only times I ever thought those things were real was when my brain was telling me I was receiving otherworldly messages.) There were other things, too, behavioral stuff I'd rather not talk about because it's still so shameful for me.

I thankfully respond really well to medication, which is especially good since OCD with psychosis is notoriously hard to treat since the types of drugs for OCD vs. psychosis seem to do the exact opposite things and block one another.

Anyway, back to DE. This is a bit...shallow, but it was extremely refreshing to play a game where the main character is at least as big of a disaster as me, if not worse xD;. I FEEL SO SEEN, haha, and not only that, but it's a protagonist in an extremely popular game, and fans like him anyway??? That's fantastic. I never thought I'd see the day.

Now, why does he have psychosis -- as in what diagnosis? I'm not sure, but I don't think it'd be OCD with psychotic features like me (even if he potentially has OCD, which I'll discuss in a moment.) I'd say he probably has bipolar 1 and/or (since not unusual to be comorbid), schizophrenia, though I lean more toward bipolar 1 even though the game itself says the word "schizophrenia" out loud a couple times. (To be clear, I'm not a mental health professional, but I don't think the writers of DE are, either. I would also like to say that if anyone reading this is schizophrenic and feel that Harry is as well, your opinion is way more valid than my own and I'd love to hear from you.)

I lean toward bipolar 1 because of the obvious -- he's gone through both manic and depressive stages in the past and does so in the game with a ton of delusional thinking combined with (short-lived or skin-deep) inflated sense of self (Superstar Cop, Honor Cop, etc.) It's also well known that folks with bipolar tend to self medicate. It's less well known that bipolar often has psychotic features as well.

As for an argument for schizophrenia, I'd point toward Apocalypse Cop, that paranoid delusion (??? mmaaaaybe, haha,) about the world ending (I really only know about paranoid schizophrenia; I don't know much about the other types, so it's entirely possible Harry has one of those instead,) as well as his lack of awareness about hygiene, though that could maybe be explained by his amnesia and the fact he was on a days-long bender before the game started. The reason I'm a little bit hesitant toward it is because Harry seems too aware of his own problems and the fact that he is not experiencing life the way most other people do, (he actually questions Kim at the beginning if Kim also hears voices,) and the couple people I met in the hospital that had schizophrenia were (when still adjusting to medications or had yet to find something that would work for them,) really unable to have that kind of self-awareness.

As for the OCD, I'm not as sure of that for him like I am with ADHD and either his bipolar and/or schizophrenia, but I think there's some pretty good arguments to be made. To me, Harry's constant harping on things that no one else thinks is interesting or important is a factor of his ADHD but can *feel* like OCD, but more so when he is stuck in verbal loops, which could definitely actually be OCD rather than, say, brain damage, since he seems to be aware that he's doing it. Some of the more bullying Skills also feel SO much like OCD, the ones telling him to do things that are nonsensical and that he doesn't actually seem to want to do feels like -- just for one of my many, many non-hallucinatory, fully OCD moments in my life -- when I just had to put a lit match in my mouth because if I didn't, *everyone I love would die,* pff. (Spoiler alert: it burns and it tastes weird.) Actually, I'm just now realizing why Authority may have been one of my least favorite Skills, as funny as its situations could get (ICE COP HAT FUCK SHOW?!??!?)

Anyway, I'm sorry for such a long answer to your question, @linisiane, but it made me so happy you asked! I really appreciate your question. This game is so good for making most people with any kind of neurodivergence feel good. I think it might be the most important fictional thing (for my own well-being) I've ever found. There's so much you can say about it. In fact, I know I've forgotten some stuff I wanted to talk about, but oh well! I can always add or something later if I feel like it. If anyone has any questions about this, you're very free to ask me. I'm also super excited to start talking to more people in the DE fandom; I have yet to convince any of my friends to play it for more than ten minutes.

I love y'all so much! I mean it. This fandom is great.

[thundamoo]

In response to your last reblog:

I just wanted to say I absolutely adore your books. I only wish I had discovered VM sooner, that I could have watched it develop in real-time.

I love all of the main characters (and side characters for that matter) deeply and think you have an incredible talent for eliciting understanding of varied personalities and minds. You take characters who would at best be tragic villains elsewhere and make them so much more. I love that when you make moral complexity, it is truly complex with the evil acts actually feeling deeply terrible while being totally understandable for the characters. That they are neither excused nor excessively demonised.

And you write characters with brains that remind me of my own at various points in my life. Its scary sometimes!

Also, everyone is incredibly gender all the time. I am not above saying that much as I'd be terrified I'd willfully walk into Penny's clinic for the monster transition magic.

So uh, hope this ramble was welcome! I just wanted to show appreciation for your work. It's definitely going to stick with me and inspire my own creative endeavours I think.

Aww! Thank you so much! I think it's profoundly important to look at good and evil with a clear lens and avoid excessive justification or demonization. It's easy and satisfying to look at evil, direct hate at anyone who participates in it, and call it a day. But the more you look at why people are the way they are, the more you analyze the path that took them there, the more it's easy to realize that you could have ended up on that path, and you might not have been strong enough, smart enough, wise enough, or kind enough to get off it any more than they did. Being good is a responsibility I believe we all have. But it is also, in many ways, a privilege. At many times in my life I have found myself realizing that it wasn't due to my own merit that I can consider myself kind. I could have, probably even would have, ended up a bigot or a narcissist or otherwise a very cruel person, were it not for the help of better people around me. I think we should all try to remember that, when people hurt us. Sometimes, you have to fight monsters. That is an undeniable fact of life. But wherever you can, show kindness to them instead, and you might be surprised by the person you find underneath.

[ogamagirl]

Hello! I've been thinking about getting into magical girl anime recently and I noticed you reblogging stuff from a lot of different ones, so I figured it'd make sense to come to you with this: Do you have any good starter magical girl anime recs? I'd prefer something light and fun if possible :>

OH GOODNESS I am more than happy to recommend you some magical girl anime, I LOVE magical girls, it's one of my favorite anime genres!! I hope you don't mind me answering this on my blog haha, gives me an excuse to ramble x3

My favorite magical girl franchise is Pretty Cure - most often abbreviated and refered to as Precure. It's a sprawling franchise that's been going on for the past 21 years now so it SEEMS daunting, but the cool thing about Precure is each season is its own self contained story with its own plot and cast of characters. There are two continuities with two seasons (the original Futari wa Precure and its sequel Futari wa Precure Max Heart, and Yes Precure 5 and its sequel Yes Precure 5 GoGo!), but otherwise each continuity is one season, usually between 47-50 episodes long (each season lasts one full year of broadcast time).

The best way to start with Precure imo is to look at summaries/character designs and see which one sounds most interesting to you - there's no "order" to watch them in since they're all their own stories! Precure is a children's franchise so things are generally light enough, but there are definitely some seasons that touch on/deal with heavier topics. If you'd like my personal recommendations for "light and fun" seasons of Precure, I'd recommend Smile Precure and KiraKira Precure a la Mode!

Smile Precure is about Miyuki, a girl who loves fairy tales, being tasked by the fairy Candy from Marchenland to assemble a team of 5 Precure to collect Cure Decor and revive the queen. It's bright, cheerful, and silly - I love the central cast and art style so much! A word about this season - this season was dubbed into English under the title "Glitter Force", which changed all names to English ones and cut out a handful of episodes (I believe the ones most heavily focused on Japanese culture that the dub team couldn't easily change to anything else). I personally do not recommend watching it like this! In all cases as far as Precure is concerned I recommend watching the original subtitled Japanese version.

KiraKira Precure a la Mode is about Ichika, a girl who loves sweets and dreams of becoming a patisserie. She meets Pekorin, a fairy that can detect "kirakiraru", an energy contained in sweets that represent their feelings, which evil fairies start to steal. Ichika becomes a Precure to protect the sweets and forms a team of Precure that open up their own mobile sweet shop together. One of the things that's unique about this season are the fights - one of Precure's claims to fame is the high amount of physical fighting/hand-to-hand combat it contains. KiraKira tones that element down after previous seasons were seen as "too intense", so the fights in this season are more magic/special attack based. This annoyed some people, but I personally think KiraKira's a great, fun, unique entry to the franchise! (And the fights came back next season, so it's not like they were gone forever lol).

Apart from Precure, I'd also recommend Ojamajo Doremi!

It's about Doremi Harukaze, the self proclaimed "unluckiest pretty girl in the world"; one day she stumbles upon a mysterious shop run by an old woman who looks like a witch. When Doremi calls her out, she turns into a "magic frog" - she WAS indeed a witch, and this is what happens to witches who are discovered in the human realm. The witch, Majo Rika, therefore enlists Doremi as a witch apprentice to help her turn back to normal. Ojamajo Doremi is really special - it's a more episodic series (tho there is an overarching plot each season) that really cares about its world and characters, it's so well written and wonderfully charming and funny and warm, really can't recommend it enough!

And for a final recommendation for now, I'll mention Cardcaptor Sakura!

A true classic of the genre, this is about a girl named Sakura Kinomoto who discovers a mysterious book in her father's library; upon opening it she scatters the deck of cards contained within and releases the creature that was sealing them. This creature, Cerberus (but you can call him Kero-chan), informs Sakura that she must now track down and capture these cards, called the Clow Cards, to prevent disaster from occuring. The card capturing element grants it a "monster of the week" flavor, but this is another sweet series focused on Sakura and her relationships first and foremost, and it's a real treat.

I think these are enough to get you started! If you want more recommendations definitely don't hesitate to ask - I started with these because you asked for light and happy, but I also enjoy darker magical girl anime as well so if you ever want to explore that route I'd have recommendations there too!

[coratorium]

to kind of elaborate on a tangent off my last reblog i was talking recently about An Incident that occurred a few years ago in a discord community i used to be a part of, that was primarily run by a twitch streamer. long rambling post about arguing and shit-slinging to follow.

to make a long story short there was some long-term resentment building between the streamer and some of their moderators and popular users. this eventually broke out into a large, extremely public argument that lasted multiple days (it was a server full of leftists, so... people loved to debate). the argument ultimately lead to about half the users (a couple hundred people) leaving the discord for another community.

at the time i was heavily involved in damage control. it was probably the most i ever got involved in that community, ironically- i spent a lot of hours staying up extremely late talking things out with people, trying to sort out who had said what and when, what we could learn from that, how we could make amends and move forward. i ended up giving up after the users in question all either left or got banned, and the streamer seemed too defensive to change in any meaningful way.

i think i, at least, learned something from all of that mess. there were so many accusations being slung around that basically boiled down to "you made me feel uncomfortable, and i didn't know what to do about that". i'm not trying to downplay the seriousness of that- when negative feelings like that fester with no outlet, it can have a serious effect on your life. i've spent years in a precarious living situation with people i have to appease to ensure my survival. like, i get it.

however, people really liked to take this and spin it as clinically as they could- as if it were a moral failing on the streamer's part. i saw a lot of terms being used like "emotional abuse", "toxic relationship", "abuse of power", etc, that i honestly feel were exaggerations. in fact, a lot of the people i saw making these claims went on to act the same way themselves in the future... one of the moderators who claimed the streamer was abusing their power by making unilateral decisions did the same thing to me when i was in their server, overriding their mod team to punish me directly.

i don't think they were power tripping or abusing me or anything. i think they just didn't like me, and were willing to compromise their own principles to get me to stop. sometimes that's... all there is to it, really?

it feels better if you have a "good reason" not to like someone or something, and that can drive people to come up with excuses but, at the end of the day, sometimes you just don't like a guy! that's okay! you can find someone fucking obnoxious without having to have a reason for it! you don't have to spend hours debating whether them making a joke at your expense one time was an act of abuse or not. you don't have to dig for dirt on someone to justify blocking them on twitter. you don't have to find reasons not to make an account on a website! you can just not do that! you can just not like a guy!

i think the internet would be a better place if more people had this mindset about relationships. a friend invited me to their personal discord a couple days ago and i met their friends and we talked a bit. we had a lot in common but we didn't quite click... someone picked a fight with me, i made some jokes that didn't land, people didn't really seem to like me. after a while i realized that i had started only reading the server out of a sense of obligation, at which point i questioned why i was even doing it. i barely know these people. i don't owe them shit. i can just leave! i can mute the server and never talk there again! it can just end there! and, again, i don't think any of them were bad people, or being malicious, or anything like that. i don't think they truly caused harm to me in any way. we just didn't get along. that's fine. you can break ties with people without a callout post getting involved.

hell, it would probably even have been better to get confrontational about it. air the bad feelings out before they have any time to fester. that's also an option. a lot of people are too scared to say anything when they have a problem with somebody... i know i've been there. you can just talk it out. what's the worst that happens? it escalates and now you have a real reason never to talk to each other again? seems better than pretending to not have an issue for months or years while slowly building up to a huge and very public fight.

i think people get kind of attached to this idea they have in their minds of... being able to tell their whole side of the story and have everyone support them. see all of the little ways that they have been done wrong by this other person and agree with them, tell them at last "YES you're right that's so bad! that wasn't your fault!" and then just have it all be over immediately, their antagonist fleeing into the sunset never to be seen again, humiliated at having been so thoroughly exposed for their shameless behavior.

nothing is ever that simple. most of the time, the people who are making you feel bad have no idea they did it. sometimes, YOU'RE also making THEM feel bad. but people try to stick to their narrative anyway- i'm the victim here, these are my complaints, anything i did to the other guy was justified by them being worse than me. nothing they did could possibly be justified at all. please agree with me so they'll have to leave me alone and then i'll feel better. it's sickening.

you can't carry around grievances like that. being frustrated with other people is a normal part of life and you need to find an outlet for it. find friends you trust who you can bitch to when you're having a bad time. learn to actually talk to people, or just learn to leave and move on with your life. do something besides stockpiling bad experiences to use as ammunition for your callout posts.

and yes, before i get some smarmy comment, obviously there are actual cases of people doing shit heinous enough that you need to make the general public aware of it or need help dealing with the situation. most interpersonal conflicts i see online are far pettier than this and could be easily solved with better communication. use your own judgement.

[dhaaruni]

Hi! Hope you’re having a good day - mines been pretty shit tbh so if the tone of this is dumb I’m sorry and it’s also very long and rambling so feel free to ignore but I’m just kind of shocked to see you defend being bdsm (aka being against the sexualisation of abuse and violence particularly against women)?

Like ‘what a man does in the privacy of his own home is his own business’ has always been peoples response to mens abuse. I just don’t understand how is it not incredibly fucked to get off on abuse? How is the physical damage done when strangling/beating/hurting someone in one of the millions of ways people (men) hurt each other (women) different when done consensually? If my boyfriend hits me during sex why is it a big deal if he does it during an argument if he didn’t even hit me as hard during the argument as he did in bed? What if he strangled me in bed (something that could kill me and is one of the biggest indicators that a man will kill you) then hitting me isn’t actually that bad in comparison considering the level of harm. What is the difference between ‘after care’ and bringing your girlfriend flowers after hitting her? How does it not create the same trauma bond? A lot of people into bdsm make it very clear that they are mentally unwell (not judging, I am too just different poor coping mechanisms) and I just don’t see how being a masochist different from self harm. How is bdsm not the biggest example of rape culture? How can you recognise the patriarchy’s influence on so many womens choices but not the choice to want to submit sexuality? How are teen girls supposed to cope with their boyfriends literally wanting to beat and rape them but all the adult sources around them are telling them thats totally normal and not dangerous they just need to consent? Because teenage girls are amazing at enforcing their boundaries and totally don’t give in to peer pressure or do things they don’t want to do for male approval. How are you meant to break up with a man who you know enjoys and is capable of beating and raping you?

TLDR : I’m just trying to understand your perspective because it seems very contradictory to your other views like being against rape, violence against women, anti racist, anti incest ect. just everything that bdsm sexualises and normalises

No you're all good, I don't mind answering lol. I'm not letting this be reblogged for obvious reasons though.

I completely agree with you in that societally speaking, BDSM is constantly used to excuse violence against women and it's really fucked up to get off on hurting others, and any man that says they're into BDSM on principle should likely be in jail.

That said, I also think that in the context of consensual romantic sexual relationships between adults, it's possible to enjoy certain things on occasion that aren't super vanilla on principle. And, I'm not really talking about hookups here, I'm talking long-term relationships with people you trust lol. I'm also not giving teenagers sex advice and I think "blowjobs are empowering" feminism that young millennials and Gen Z was raised on did more harm than good to our perceptions of healthy sexuality, but the rumors are true: I, an unmarried adult woman, enjoy sex with people I romantically like and trust as people lmao.

But to clarify, I'm really not a proponent of anything truly extreme, and I'm extremely intentional about setting boundaries and if anybody crosses them, they get blocked and banned for life. I'm generally cool with trying sex positions, but both parties always have veto privileges if something is painful or uncomfortable or simply not enjoyable. And personally, anything involving metal, spanking or hitting, choking, etc. are all total no-gos for me and I will never be swayed on that. A light hand on the neck is not remotely the same thing as asphyxiation, and to even get to that point, I need to trust the guy.

And, I would never trust let alone fuck a guy who can't get off without that stuff! My point is that it's okay to try things out, whether that's basic kink or weird sex positions that you fall out of and laugh at yourselves, not what you do every single time you have sex. If a guy whines about women being boring in bed or "vanilla," kick the man to the curb lmao.

All that said, I would never tell women they're bad people if they are against stuff I'm personally comfortable with. My point is just that sex isn't like a cut and dry thing, and it's really healthy to communicate and discuss what you like and don't like with your partner.

Does that make sense lol?

[duskyashe]

Not a ficlet, sorry

Okay, so today's day five of being sick, and my already tedious grip on self-care slipped today, and now I've got a dehydration headache on top of a sinus pressure headache on top of a coughing headache. It's really hard to think, and time has no meaning, so by the time I realized I should maybe try to find a prompt to write on, it was almost 10 pm and I'd only have two hours to write. Well, it's now almost 11pm, and I still haven't found one I feel I can do justice to with only an hour to work and my headache the way it is. I do have plans for prompts for the next week, so I won't have to go hunting any down, but after that, I'm hoping to be able to continue Day #8's storyline, pending the finding of the post I'm looking for (I now know for a fact it was originally from @im-totally-not-an-alien-2, so if anyone wants to go digging through their treasure trove of awesome prompts and answers for it, that'd be great!), and maybe add on to Day #2 and Day #3 if I can find another good prompt or two to draw from. If you have ideas for any of my previous ficlets, please, leave a comment, reblog the relevant ficlet, or drop me an ask with your ideas! If I like it enough, I'll use it and credit you for the prompt! It doesn't have to be a particularly fleshed out thought, either, it can just be excited ramblings.

Thank you all for your support so far, and I'm sorry I dropped the ball today (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ I'm working on getting better at taking care of myself, but sometimes life makes it difficult. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go take some pain meds and make myself some more tea...

[masterlist]

[supernaturalgirl20]

La Secretaria

Pairings: Javier Pena x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, angst, fluff, men being sexist, mutual pining.

Summary: being Javier’s secretary isn’t easy. He’s hot headed, stubborn and aggressive, but so are you. What happens when he finally meets his match.

A/N: I wanted to writ pure smut for Javier, been in my feels today so I needed this.

{Comments and reblogs really appreciated}

You’d heard the rumours, of course you had. There wasn’t one person in the DEA that didn’t know about thee Javier Pena. Hot headed, stubborn, flirt with anything in a skirt and his number one MO, visiting the local brothel. Stechner hired you to keep a close eye on Javier, or as he put it ‘tame the beast’. He’d gone through at least six secretaries since he arrived in Bogotá, which didn’t give you great odds but you were nothing if not a trier.

You arrived at the office early wanting to have everything set up before he came. At nine on the dot Javier arrived and when he opened the door to his office he was shocked to see you standing there, coffee in hand. He narrows his eyes at you before you feel his gaze roam over you. He runs a hand over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N, your new secretary Mr. Pena. I brought you you’re coffee and the file on the Rodriguez brothers. If you need anything else, I’ll be at my desk.”

He stares at you, if he was impressed, it didn’t show on his face. You walk towards the door, the one he’s standing in front of. You stop before him and look him in the eyes.

“Do you mind moving!”

His eyes lock with yours before glancing at your lips and then back to your eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just walks past you to his desk. Leaving the office you sit at your own desk and begin typing up some of his reports. The day passes quickly and as you get ready to go home, Javier pops his head out. “Where are you going? I haven’t finished for the day yet.”

“I can see that, Mr. Pena, but my schedule is 9-5, so seen as it’s 5:10 I’M finished for the day.”

You can tell he’s angry, see the thick in his jaw. “I have reports for you to type up, your schedule is whatever mine is, and I’m not done. So sit tight and type these up.”

“I will, in the morning. Goodnight Mr. Pena.”

“If you leave, your fired.” He has a sly smirk on his face, he’s waiting for you to put your things down and start working. He doesn’t know it yet, but your just as stubborn as him, so you call his bluff and leave. He quirks his eyebrow, he hadn’t expected you to disobey him.

***

The following morning Javier arrives to find you in his office again, files in one hand, coffee in the other.

“I fired you.”

“And yet here I am.” You hand him the file and coffee and walk out of his office. He’s speechless, and just stares after you. Continuing your work from the day before, your interrupted when an agent walks toward Javier’s door. Standing, blocking his way you put your hand out to stop him.

“He’s busy.”

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Pena’s secretary, and you are?”

“Agent Feistl, has he fucked you yet?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s a no then. Early days I suppose, or,” he looks you up and down, “hmm not really his type are you. He likes them skinny and pretty..”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You think I haven’t heard all this shit before, you don’t intimidate me what was it Fritsle?”

“It’s Feis..”

“I don’t care, your not getting in. You want to see him, make an appointment.”

Feistl grumbles under his breath.

“What was that?”

Before he can say it again, Javier opens his office door and stands beside you. He places a hand on your lower back, “ why don’t you head out for lunch?”

“That’s it princess, run along.”

You stare daggers at him grabbing your bag and leaving. Feistl turns to Javier who has a stern look on his face.

“What did you want, I’m busy.”

“I want to go to Cali boss.”

“No.”

“What, why not?”

“We’re not placing any agents there, not yet at least.”

“Right well if they do I’d like to go sir.”

“Mmm”

“Gotta say boss, that’s one fine piece of ass you got out there.You mind if I have a go?”

Javier can feel his blood boil, how dare he talk about you like that. Sure he has a reputation but he treated women with respect. He didn’t really know you that well but you could stand your own which he respected. Your different from the others, your intelligent, stubborn and your absolutely beautiful.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that, if you harass her again I’ll have you on the next flight home.”

“Ok, you got it boss.”

***

It’s been two months since you became his secretary and he has fired you at least fifty times. You know it’s a challenge, that he is testing you, but you don’t give up easy. He’s started being kinder with you, offering to buy lunch on occasion. Your currently sat with him in the meeting room taking notes as the ambassador rambles on. He’s berating Javier for sending Feistl and VanNess to Cali and you can tell from his shoulders that he’s angry. When the meetings over he stands abruptly and leaves. You follow behind him, staying silent, knowing he likes it like this when he’s mad. He gets into the elevator and holds it open for you before pressing the correct button for your floor.

“He’s a dick.”

Javier wasn’t expecting you to say anything, certainly not that. You think you see a hint of a smile on his face.

“I think you did the right thing sending them, fucking bullshit deal, it’s a cop out..”

You don’t get to finish what you we’re saying as Javier pushes you back against the metal wall. He’s on you like a rash. He’s kissing you passionately and you can feel the heat coming off of him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You can feel his growing erection straining against his trousers. You run your fingers through his hair pulling a low moan from him, one that shoots right to your core. You can feel the elevator come to a stop, Javier does too as he slowly pulls away from you. He whispers in your ear, “come find me later when everyone else is gone.” Then your alone.

***

Finishing up some paperwork, making sure no one is left in the office, you slowly approach Javier’s door. You raise your hand to knock when the door suddenly opens and he’s standing there looking at you with hooded eyes. He pulls you into him and once he closes the door, your back is pressed against it. His kiss is rough, hungry, like a man dying of thirst and your his only source of water.

“Wanted this for so long.”

“Really? How long?”

“Since that first day.”

He makes quick work of taking off both your clothes before moving you to the couch. He sits and pats his thighs, “come here baby, want you to ride me.” You walk towards him with sway of your hips. He grabs you by the hips, helping you straddle him. You sink down onto him slowly, savouring the feel of him stretching you. He groans at the feel of you hot and tight around him.

“So….damn tight baby.”

You start moving your hips slowly against him as he grips your hips tighter. He sucks on your hardened bud earning a moan from you.

“Javi….oh god….I’m going to…come.”

“That’s it baby come all over my cock. Wanna feel you grip me tight.”

Your body tingles all over as it erupts in ecstasy. You come hard with his name rolling off your tongue. He begins you thrust up meeting your movements as he grows impatient. Suddenly he flips you over, your back hitting the leather on the couch. He grabs one of your legs and holds it against his hip as he thrusts into you without abandon. You can feel the beginning of another orgasm,

“I’m close baby, want to feel you come on my cock one more time before I come.” He can feel you clamp down on him as your orgasm washes over you.

“So beautiful baby, who do you belong to?”

“Yours , all yours Javi.”

That’s all he needed as he releases into you. He slumps on top of you, careful as to not crush you. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs at the feeling. He pulls out of you slowly and grabs a cigarette. You sit up and fiddle with your fingers unsure of what to do now. Do you stay or get dressed and leave? You know his reputation with women, he doesn’t do relationships. Deciding it’s best to leave you get up and start dressing. He sits there watching you as he smokes his cigarette.

“If you wait we can go get something to eat?”

“I…I actually just want to go home, I’m exhausted.” You gather your things, not noticing the hurt flash in Javier’s eyes.

“Yeah, I might hit the bar.”

You say nothing else as you leave for the night.

***

Your relationship with Javi is complicated, you work together and most nights you end up fucking in one apartment or the other. You love him, you know you do, you have for a while. You also know that Javi doesn’t do commitment, honestly your afraid to even tell him how you feel. In work things remain professional, he’s your boss and no one suspects a thing. Feistl might have a hunch but that’s it. The only time he claims you in work is after a bad meeting with the ambassador or Stechner. Which brings you to your current situation, bent over his desk, him pounding into you from behind. He’s rough today, not that you mind, he pulls you towards him by the hair until your back hits his chest. He grabs your breast and gives it a tight squeeze. It’s slightly painful but it still elicits a moan from you.

“Shh baby, gotta be quiet. Don’t want the whole office to know how well you take my cock.”

“It’s….just so….good.”

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come and you can feel another one hitting you. Javi is close too, you can tell from his sloppy thrusts.

“Can I…come inside you baby?”

“Yes….yes claim me, I’m yours.”

He’s quick to pull out of you and tuck himself back into his trousers. You pull down your skirt and put on your underwear. You both didn’t notice that Feistl had entered the room, catching you both fix yourselves up.

“I fucking knew it. You too have been fucking each other. VanNess you owe me 50 bucks.”

“Jesus will you keep it down.”

“How long has this been a thing?”

You don’t know what to say. It’s not really a thing you both just fuck each other nothing else, much as you would like. Javi comes up beside you placing his hand on your lower back. He pulls you into his side wrapping an arm around your waist. You look up at him stunned by his actions, only to find him already looking at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Not that’s it’s any of your business, but it’s been almost a year now, right baby?”

“Eh…”

“Screwing the boss is the only way you’ll get anywhere darlin.”

You feel Javier’s grip on you tighten and you know he is going to blow.

“I wouldn’t get to comfortable either, he’ll kick you to curb as soon as he gets bored.”

“You need to shut the fuck up, or you’ll be out of here by the end of the day. While we’re at it, don’t ever speak about Y/N like that, she’s better than half of you idiots. Now get out of my sight.”

When’s he’s gone Javier turns you in his arms so your facing him.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, did that just happen?”

“Don’t worry about him. I’m not good with this stuff, but I… I eh…look Y/N I want to be with you. Not just for a night or her in the office, like actually be with you.” He’s fidgety and you can tell he’s not used to talking about how he feels.

“Is thee Javier Pena asking me to be his girlfriend?” Your teasing him but there’s a part of you that hopes that’s what he wants.

“Well I wouldn’t say…”

How could you have been so stupid, of course he wouldn’t want that. You pull away from him and make your way to the door. He grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.

“Where are you going?”

“Look Javi, it’s fine, we’re fine, I know what we have isn’t anything special.”

“Hey hold on, did you not hear me when I said I wanted to be with you?”

“Yeah I did, but I am with you, we fuck..”

“You didn’t let me finish. What I was trying to say is that we don’t have to use those titles, I mean we’re not teenagers.”

“What. I….we….”

He’s getting annoyed now and runs his hand over his face, “ ok if it’s not what you want that’s fine.”

“No hey I want you Javi, I want to be your girlfriend. I just didn’t think you’d want that, I mean you don’t exactly scream commitment.”

He kisses you and it’s one of those kisses that leaves you breathless. Pulling away he rests his head against yours.

“I love you. This is all new to me, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Lorraine. I’m all in, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I love you too Javi.”

Tagging:

@lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @librariantothejedi @day-off-inkyoto @asta-lily @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @dindjarinneedsahug @pascal-rascal424 @pintsizemama @seasonschange-butpeopledont @janelongxox @stevie75 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @loserrlauraa @kirsteng42 @ikinmahlen @almaeunice @jediknight122 @colorlesswhispersunknown @rosie-posie08 @alberta-sunrise @javierpinme @pascalisthepunkest

[sacredsorceress]

Honor || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: your best friend peter parker who has a secret crush on you catches your boyfriend cheating with another girl

a/n: reblogs and replies are super appreciated!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, angst, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter sat on the edge of the rooftop, kicking his feet back and forth while monitoring the street below him through a pair of binoculars. It was a slow afternoon and a chill hit him as he watched the sun begin to set over the bridge in the distance. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he should head home for the evening, get some homework done and eat when his binoculars landed on a couple sat on a street bench with their tongues practically down each other’s throats.

“Gross.” Peter grumbled, moving his binoculars on from the couple to skim the remainder of the street.

Although his sight had shifted to the other end of the street, his attention was grabbed by the sound of the girl’s voice from the couple he had just had the displeasure viewing, calling her boyfriend’s name.

At the sound of the name, Peter quickly swung his pair of binoculars to land on the couple again. He knew that plenty of people could have that name and that it was probably not even worth checking out, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Ian,” The girl laughed pulling away from the boy’s lips, but still in his arms.

Peter began to feel a knot twist in his stomach and his heart started beating rapidly. It couldn’t be him, right?

As he shifted the binoculars a bit more to land on the boy’s face he immediately recognized his face. How could he not? There was no doubt that the boy holding another girl in his arms was none other than your boyfriend, Ian.

As soon as he recognized him, Peter could feel nothing but rage. Ever since the moment that you had first mentioned him, Peter hated him. Before he had even met him he hated him because he had you. After he met him, he grew to hate him even more. Peter didn’t trust your boyfriend and had always had a bad feeling about him in his gut since the two of you had started dating a month ago which he now realized he was right. He didn’t feel good about it, however, he just felt sick looking at the sight in front of him.

How could he do that to you? He had you- Peter’s most favorite person in the world- who he would lay down his life for- and he had the audacity to cheat on you. Peter had been in love with you since he couldn’t even remember when and you still chose him- the guy he was now watching cheat on you in front of his own very eyes.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Peter swore to himself, pulling himself up off the ledge and throwing his binoculars to the side.

As he stood on the ledge, he didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to handle it without exposing himself as Ian’s girlfriend’s best friend? However, Peter’s logic was probably the last of his guiding principles at the moment as he thought about how hurt you would be when you found out.

Without much thought, Peter shot a web at the lamppost across the street, swinging himself to land right in front of the couple.

At the sound of Peters feet loudly hitting the ground, the girl jumped away from Ian’s arms with a yelp escaping her mouth.

“Hey guys!” Peter waved to the couple sitting in front of him, attempting to mask his anger.

“Spider-Man?” The girl asked, eyes wide and her hands shooting to cover her mouth. “Did we... did we do something wrong?”

At her question, Peter shook his head adamantly, moving his hand to rest under his chin as he began to pace back and forth in front of the couple.

“No, ma’am. Nope. No no no no.” He stated. “I was just wondering- are you two dating?”

When the girl answered ‘yes’ confidently, Peter stopped in his place turning towards the couple. Restraining himself from going after Ian on the spot for not only cheating on you, but dating a completely different girl behind your back, he continued.

“Huh.”

The girl shifted her gaze from Peter to Ian before landing back on Peter. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Peter shrugged, crossing his arms and beginning to pace back and forth once again. “I don’t- I don’t know, ma’am...”

Peter felt bad that he was worrying this girl, but then again she had the right to know and Peter was going to drag this out for your cheating boyfriend for as long as possible.

The girl leaned forward in her seat. “What is it?”

Peter then halted in front of the bench. “It’s probably nothing.” He shook his head.

“Please-”

“Well,” Peter began, gesturing his hand from himself to the boy in front of him. “I just thought... you know.. that I saw him here the other day with another girl, but she looked nothing like you so that can't be right. Maybe it’s just my eyes, you know, I see a lot of people, but I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey man, what the fuck!” Ian shouted at Peter.

The girl who was previously sitting beside him, stood up and walked backwards away from the bench. “Ian, is that true?” She asked.

Ian shifted his view from Spider-Man to the still unnamed girl that he had been kissing a second before. Before answering his girlfriend, however, Ian finally focused on Peter, glaring his eyes and pushing himself up from his seat on the bench.

“What the fuck’s your problem? Who do you think you are coming in here and starting shit? Don’t you have actual shit to worry about?”

When he came a little too close for Peter’s liking, Peter spoke up again. “Hey, dude, back up-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

And with that sentence, Peter had had enough. Holding himself back from kicking his ass right then and there, but still wanting him out of his face, Peter raised his hand, instead shooting a web at the boy causing him to be thrown back into his seat with a grunt, held down by Spider-Man’s webs.

Before another word could slip out of anyone’s mouth, the unnamed girl stepped forward, ripping off a bracelet that had previously adorned her wrist and threw it at Ian who was still restrained.

“Don’t call me.”

“Wait!” Ian called, watching the girl walk away with her back towards him. Despite his pleas, however, she continued without another look. “Baby, wait! I can explain.”

At the sound of him calling her baby, Peter grimaced under his mask. The sight of him struggling under the webs admittedly made Peter feel good, but the absolute rage he felt at the excuse of a boyfriend sitting in front of him remained.

When she left his point of view, Ian swapped his attention back to Spider-Man, shouting.

“Seriously, who the fuck are y-”

Without the girl there to watch him and barely anything to hold him back from his own anger, Peter stomped towards the boy, grabbing the collar of his shirt and shoved him back against the bench.

“I’m Spider-Man and you fucked up.”

As Peter watched the fear in the guy who he had hated for so long’s eyes, he felt a sense of pride for getting at least a minuscule piece of revenge on your behalf.

He shoved your boyfriend back one last time before letting go and walking in the other direction without a word. He heard Ian calling for him from behind, but he refused to acknowledge him, instead making his way towards your apartment.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to you. As much as a part of him was happy that the relationship between you and Ian would surely be over, he already knew that it would hit you hard and the last thing he enjoyed seeing was you in any form of distress.

The sun had already set by the time he reached your street. It was dark and there was barely anyone on the road, luckily enough for him so he could climb up to your window without raising any suspicion. 

With a light knock on the glass, he soon after heard shuffling around your bedroom before seeing your smiling face opening the window.

His heart sunk in his chest knowing that he was about to ruin your day and wipe the sweet smile he loved so much off of your face.

As soon as he climbed inside and sat on your bed, he pulled off his mask. Without even a word having come out of his mouth yet, you asked.

“What’s wrong?”

Peter fiddled with the mask in his hands, not meeting your eyes. He was a horrible combination of angry, sad and worried. Of course you would know something was wrong without him even opening his mouth- you could read him like a book. Although he knew he had to tell you about what had just happened, he didn’t know how and he hated the idea of hurting you.

“Peter?” You asked again, this time sitting down beside him on your bed.

Peter shook his head still refusing to meet your eyes. “Y/n...” He began.

His not answering and the somber sound of your name leaving his lips caused you to begin to worry. You rested your hands on Peter’s leg that was bouncing anxiously to calm him and let him know that it was okay.

“You’re scaring me, Parker.” You told him. “I can handle it. What is it?”

Peter knew that you could handle it. You could handle anything. The night that he told you that he was Spider-Man, you barely even flinched- just making him promise that he would be safe and that he would remember you when he was “buddy buddy” with the Avengers. He remembered laughing that he could never forget you. He never could.

He knew that you would be able to handle it and get over it- you had only dated Ian for a month- but he knew it would still hurt.

“I was... I was just patrolling and I saw... Ian.” He told you, your boyfriend’s name slipping out of his mouth in a snarl.

“Okay...”

“And um-“ He paused, scratching the back of his neck, still refusing to meet your eyes. “He was... he was with some other girl.”

“Oh.”

Peter continued on with details but you had already stopped listening by then. You knew enough of what was going on just by him saying it and you couldn’t deny how you felt sick thinking about it.

Peter ceased his rambling, finally allowing himself to look at you and when your eyes were focused on the other side of the room, and beginning to glaze over he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You knew however much he hated Ian, he meant it. You trusted Peter more than anyone, but until you were pulled into his hug, you had tried to contain your feelings. You wrapped your arms tightly around him and hid your face in his neck, similar to the way you had the first time he had taken you swinging around the city.

“Is there something wrong with me, Pete?” You asked.

He could tell even without super hearing that your voice was cracking and that you were close to crying. His heart broke hearing you, but he pulled away, holding your shoulders at arms length and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n.” He told you seriously. “Why- why would you think that? He’s the one who messed up.”

You didn’t know how to tell Peter that you weren’t necessarily upset about losing Ian, but instead how you were cheated on and disrespected in such a way. You never told Peter but the whole reason you had even started talking to Ian in the first place was because you had feelings for your best friend. You felt as though you could never tell him and even if you did, you felt that Peter would never like you back, so you kept it in, instead attempting to fill the hole with a random boy like Ian.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not worthy of love or something.” You told Peter, wiping the tears that had fallen onto your cheeks.

Peter almost felt his heart burst in his chest when you told him that you felt unworthy of love. He didn’t know how to tell you that this guy wasn’t worthy of your love, respect or your attention. He didn’t know how to tell you that he knew for a fact that you were worthy of love because he chose to love you every day despite the fact you didn’t in return.

Your best friend moved his hands and held either side of your face, holding his world in his hands.

“Y/n, listen to me.” He told you, his eyes searching yours. “That guy was a jerk. You know I hated him and I hate even more that he hurt you. You deserve all the love in the world, Y/n. I mean you’re super cool and nice and- and beautiful and funny and um... you just deserve the best. The best of the best.”

You trusted your best friend more than anyone but it also hurt to hear him saying all of that. How he could be saying all of this about you and not love you the way that you loved him?

“Why don’t you love me then?”

Your voice was almost a whisper and so light Peter almost didn’t catch it. When it slipped out of your mouth you hoped he didn’t, but he did.

You watched as a look of hurt washed over Peter’s face. “You know I love you, Y/n.”

You shook your head. “Not like that, Pete.”

You were frustrated that he didn’t understand what you meant. For God knows how long your life has felt like some cosmic joke where it granted you the most perfect boy in your life, but he would only love you as a friend and at this point you felt defeated.

You pulled Peter’s hands off of your face and pushed yourself off the bed, now standing in front of him.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

You scoffed. “Really Peter?” You crossed your arms. “When are you going to get it? Don’t get me wrong I liked Ian, but.. I’ve always.. he wasn’t...”

Peter stood up from his seat on your bed. “You’ve always what?”

“Oh my god, Peter! I’ve always loved you!”

When you realized what you had just shouted at your best friend, you went still and the room was silent. You almost couldn’t bare to look at Peter after just admitting that you were in love with him, but you did anyway. He stood still in his place with his eyes wide.

With your heart racing in your chest still, you softened your voice.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I didn’t mean to-”

“You love me?” He asked, cutting you off.

In this moment, Peter was glad that you didn't have the same abilities as him because if you did he knew all you would be able to hear was the loud thumping of his heart in his chest.

Unable to speak, you nodded.

Peter didn't even know what to do with himself. Both of you had spent all of this time and wasted so much energy, pretending to not be in love with each other and here he was now, learning that the entire time you felt the same way. He didn’t want to waste a second longer.

“Can I kiss you?”

Still unable to speak and shocked by his question, with wide eyes you nodded adamantly.

As soon as you nodded your head, Peter tossed his mask onto the bed, made his way towards you and kissed you with his hands holding either side of your face.

You knew Peter could hear your heart racing in your chest as your lips met his and wrapped your arms around his neck.

The moment he kissed you, you never wanted it to stop. You had pined after him for so long and you always assumed it would be futile- that Peter could never possibly want you as more than a friend- but as you kissed him, all that time didn’t seem wasted, but worth it because despite everything the two of you had been through he was now yours and that was all that mattered.

Pulling away, Peter leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you too.”

You smiled, pecking him one last time on the lips before pulling away entirely. Without a word, you made your way to your desk, picking up your phone.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

“I have to call Ian to tell him we’re over.” You informed him, searching for his number.

Peter, however, pulled the phone away from your hand, smirking.

“I think I have a better idea.”

Twenty minutes later you were following Peter as he led the way down the dimly lit street to find the bench he had left your cheating boyfriend on not even an hour before. When he finally stopped, the two of you stood in front of the bench and you you couldn’t help but laugh at Peter’s handy work, Ian still held to the bench by Spider-Man’s webs.

At the sound of your laugh, you watched Ian stir in his seat, meeting your eyes.

“Y/n?” He asked, opening his eyes wider in surprise when he recognized you. “Y/n! Thank God you’re here. You have to get me out of these things.”

“I don’t know, man.” Peter told your boyfriend, now stepping into his line of sight. “I feel like Spider-Man must have had a pretty good reason to leave you like that.”

At the sight of Peter, Ian scowled. “Fuck off, Parker. What the hell are you doing here?”

Before Peter could say anything, you moved to stand in front of him. “Peter saw the whole thing.” You told him and with that you swore he looked like a deer in headlights. “We’re over, Ian.”

With that, you grabbed Peter’s arm. “Let’s go, Pete.”

Peter nodded, placing his hand on your lower back, guiding you in the opposite direction of your now ex-boyfriend. When you weren’t paying attention, though, Peter turned his head, flashing your cheating ex a shit eating grin while giving him a thumbs up before resting his hand once again on your back. Your ex continued to shout profanities at you and Peter as the two of you walked away, but all that mattered to you was that you and Peter were no longer in hiding, both finally knew the truth about each other’s feelings.

“I couldn't say it before,” You told him. “but nice web work by the way.”

Peter laughed. “It dissolves in a few hours, but he deserves to stay there all night if you ask me.”

You smiled, pulling Peter to a stop. You turned to face him, gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt. “Thanks for defending my honor, Spidey.”

Peter smiled back at you and even under the dim street lights you could tell he was blushing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n. That was all Spider-Man. You have him to thank.”

You hummed in response leaning in closer to kiss him but just as you were about to meet him you pulled away.

“Oh... well why am I kissing you then? Where’s Spider-Man?”

"Okay! Okay!” Peter threw up his hands, giving in to your teasing. “You're welcome! You don’t have to thank me though. I would defend your honor any day.”

You smiled, pulling him in one last time by tugging on his sweatshirt. This time, meeting his lips, smiling.

“I know.”

[untiltheendoftime]

Summary: Staring at a stranger leaves you with an empty plate of fries and a heart filled with the slightest bit of love.

gif by @stevenrogered

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: A normal amount of swearing, other than that it's pure fluff.

Writers note: This is for @celestialbarnes "4k writing challenge"

Reblogs, likes and your thoughts are so much appreciated. Feel free to point out any errors.

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Can I steal your fries?

You had found yourself in a small diner, after another terrible date, with a large portion of fries in front you. Perhaps alcohol would've been more helpful to forget the whole day, but sadly your work schedule didn't allow you to get drunk and risk a hangover.

As soon as you sat down, you deleted the dating app off your phone, earning an amused look from the stranger in the booth in front of you when you had muttered something along the lines of "Fuck this shit." and "Might as well start referring to myself as a trash can if trash is all I attract."

You could feel the warmth of a blush rising on your cheeks when you heard the stranger chuckle and you were sure that you looked exactly like the ketchup on your fries. Why did you have to blush so easily? Fuck.

Unfortunately he was quite handsome, which didn't help your ketchup-face problem at all. His hair was rather short, though it looked like he was growing it out, and he gave off cozy vibes with the navy blue hoodie he was wearing and the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He was far more than quite handsome. It was then that you noticed that his eyes, unfairly blue like the sky on a perfect summer day, were focused on you.

He fully caught you staring at him. Damn it.

In order to hide your embarrassment, you quickly adverted your eyes to the plate in front of you. Suddenly the fries were very interesting.

The sound of footsteps appeared and just when you had thought that you creepingly staring made the stranger leave, a muscular body came in sight and you were starting to feel anxious.

Thinking that apologizing was the best way to get over with this as soon as possible, you tried to come up with an excuse "Look, I'm sorry for staring. I jus-" you started bubbling, but he quickly interrupted you.

"Wouldn't have caught you staring at me if I wasn't staring as well, would I?" he said, his voice surprisingly sweet and when you had gathered up enough courage to look up at him, you were welcomed with a breathtaking smile.

Without any hesitation, he sat down in front of you and the anxious feeling quickly washed away, being replaced with irritation instead. Sure, he didn't look bad, but he was a stranger after all.

You eyed him suspiciously and he did the same, obviously mocking you. "I don't want to sound rude but I believe your coffee wants your attention more than me" you said, actually not really bothering to sound polite.

"Does sound rude to me, doll."

He probably used the nickname a lot, however it didn't stop you from feeling flattered. Not wanting to acknowledge it, and turning red again, you decided to keep your mouth shut.

The silence was starting to feel uncomfortable and from the way his brows slightly furrowed with thought, you could tell that he didn't want the conversation to end so soon.

"You're not here for the first time and I actually wanted to talk to you for a while." he admitted, "Even tried to get your attention, but all you did was stare into your phone and yeah" a faint blush crept up on his cheeks.

It took you a solid minute to process his words. Yes, you were a frequent customer, most of the times visiting after another date went downhill and sometimes you would google dating advice and gag at all the bullshit everyone wrote. You didn't exactly hate being single, though having someone to come home to wasn't the worst thought you could think of. The more dates went wrong, the more you and your family, especially them, began to wonder what was wrong with you.

"Always love a stranger watching me" you joked and instantly grimace at how badly you had worded it. That's not what you meant.

His laughter filled your ears and it was full of warmth and so contagious, you had to laugh as well.

After the laughter had died down, he cleared his throat and extendended his right hand to you "I'm Bucky" he softly said and while shaking it, the contact sending slight shivers down your spine, you tell him your name.

"Now that we know each others names, can I steal some of your fries?" Bucky asked, not waiting for an answer as he reached for your plate.

"No" you chuckled out, playfully swatting his hand away, and he glared at you for a second before dramatically putting the hand on his chest, claiming that you've really hurt his feelings and it might take decades to mend the pain in his heart.

The conversation between the two of you flowed nicely. He told you about his visits to different countries and you would ask questions about how the people were and if the food tasted good, the latter truthfully answered with a "I usually went for cheeseburgers due to the lack of time."

You had told Bucky how much you despise going on dates now because your family would pressure you, saying that the problem has to be you since your ex shortly found a significant other after the break up.

Bucky's jaw tightened at that and he voiced out how fucking rude your family was, wondering if they don't have anything else to do than rubbing their noses in your love life. Seeing that he has was way more understanding than your own family, empathy had always been something all of them undoubtedly lacked off, made you even more fond of the handsome stranger and you felt comfortable sharing personal pieces of your life with him as hours passed by.

Midway through your story you paused to look at your plate, realizing that it was almost empty now and the only reason why he didn't stop your rambling was because it allowed him to eat your fries.

"Stop taking my fries." you muttered out, causing him to grin.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he questioned, voice heavenly charming as he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you.

Perhaps this was the most cliché thing to do, but the look he gave you when you threw a few fries at his face was something you wish you would've gotten a picture of. His eyes were still slightly widened in shock when he, not so attractively, shoved all of the fries in his mouth, making you laugh at his childish behavior.

"I got to eat the fries. Seems like I won, sweetheart." he proudly declared.

Banters and stories later, your eyes caught a glimpse of the clock on your phone and you frown when it reads two a.m

You jolted up from your seat, calling out an apology to the old waitress who seemed to be startled by the sudden change of energy. "I do enjoy talking to you, but my shift starts in six hours." you said, your voice laced with a hint of sadness.

Bucky stood up as well and reached for your phone that was still lying on the table. He handed it you, signaling for you to unlock it, and when he had access to it, he quickly typed in his number and pressed the saving button. A cheekish smile on his lips when he puts it in your grasp again and you can't help but beam at him, too.

He held his hands up in defense, "Figured you need my number after you have deleted all the datings apps."

You rolled your eyes in response and, who knows where the confidence boost came from, step closer to him. "Goodnight" you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his cheek and they instantly heat up, which made him look adorable. Maybe you had found someone who blushes just as easily as you.

Once you had entered the front door of your apartment, your phone gave off a noise, signaling that you had received a message. A quick glance at the screen told you that it was Bucky asking if you came home alright. He definitely is a gentleman. Just when you were about to answer him, another text popped up. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop you from grinning like a lovestruck teenager while reading it.

Bucky:

When will you take me out?

Sincerely, your trash

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First story on here. Hopefully it's not that bad? I would absolutely love to hear some feedback. Thank you for reading everything ♡