#to be fair I think I might be getting out of my 'too depressed to read' state that I was in but like. I still have the trouble of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skylarsblue · 2 years ago

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✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes, AGAIN AGAIN✦

Ghost: Release me, woman. Fem!Y/N: …. *hugs him tighter* :3 Ghost, scared of intimacy: UNHAND ME!- -- (Comedic Death Mention) Someone: I shot you six times hOW ARE YOU ALIVE?! Y/N: Fool! The only one that’s gonna knock me off is ME! Price: *PANICKING*

-- Gaz: What did you do? Soap: ….suckdickonaccident Gaz: What? Soap: Sucked dick on accident! Gaz: HOW THE FUCK DO YOU SU-

-- Gaz: Here. We’ll put your phone on the aux- Y/N: NO DON’T- Speakers on full volume: FUCKFUCKFUCKMEUPANDCUTCUTCU- Price: JESUS BLOODY CHRIST *shuts off radio* Soap: *scratching the inside of his ear* Steamin’ Jesus- Y/N: I tried to warn you! Gaz: Who listens to Slipknot at 0900?! Ghost: *raises hand* Gaz: That’s- okay that’s fair. Soap: I’ve gone deaf. Y/N: You’re a bomb tech, it was gonna happen eventually. Soap: *middle finger* Price: *disappointed sigh* It’s too early for this-

-- (This one’s kinda sad but I couldn't stop thinkin' bout it-) Alejandro: You used to be nice…or did you never used to be? Valeria: … Alejandro: Oh god…maybe you never used to be…

-- Not a quote but if any of you have heard that audio that’s the names of the Princes of Hell overlayed on Funky Town, please imagine Soap & Y/N dancing to the Funky Town portion while Ghost sits there menacingly. Thank you.

-- (Depression joke) Y/N: Ahaaaa I’m soooo unwell. Price: Go to the psyche- Y/N: Ya know what it never was? That serious. It was never that serious- Price: Get your ass back here- Y/N: NEVER!-

-- König: I’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day, I’ll die. Horangi: No-

-- (Valeria has no color here, I ran out) Valeria: *eye roll* I am not trying to seduce you. Y/N, bi panicking: …. Valeria, but now smug: Would you like me to seduce you? Y/N: *strained wheeze & squeaky* Already achieved ma’am- Gaz: *listening to a mic implanted on Y/N* God damnit dON’T LET YOUR MOMMY ISSUES RUIN THIS MISSION!

-- (These next two have mental health jokes in’em) Y/N, hyper cleaning the base: AHAHA, yes! I’m finally feeling bett- ah, wait. I’m manic, and I’m hyper cleaning everything, ✨as a diversion✨. Price: P s y c h e . Y/N: Jokes on you, old man. I already have meds for this! …might need to up them though they feel like they’ve stopped working. Price: When did you start to feel they weren’t working? Y/N: Like three months ago. Price: PSYCHE Y/N: ASKING THEM QUESTIONS ABOUT MEDS ARE SCAAAARRYYY Price: YOU KILL MEN ALMOST EVERYDAY Y/N: Fair point. (Take ya meds)

-- Price: I don’t understand you- Y/N: Good! Means you’re probably mentally well. Price: I- Gaz: We really need to like- specify when you’re joking and when you’re serious, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.

-- Gaz: …Hm. Price: You’ve been staring at me for the past six minutes, what is it?Gaz: I think you have a grey hair. Price: Y/N, speeding in: WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE, IT’S BARELY EVEN THERE AND EVEN IF YOU WERE GOING GREY IT’D LOOK FANTASTIC ON YOU. Price: …would it? Y/N: Absolutely! …*thumps Gaz in the back of the head* Gaz: Ow-Uh yeah! Yeah! Actually I don’t even think it’s there, just the lighting. Price: Hm…alright. Y/N: Mhm! *death glare* Gaz: *mouthing* I’msosorry-

-- (Will someone please notice that I write Ghost as "Simon" when he's with Soap and they're being soft? It's intentional-) Soap: I’m not really sure what I’d do if I lost you… Simon: I know what I’d do. Soap: What? Simon: I’d find you.

-- Soap: I got my ankles microwaved. Ghost: X-rayed. Soap: They took my blood away for science! Ghost: Cholesterol tests. Soap: Si had his sinuses…removed? Ghost: Looked at. Soap: Some guy looked at my penis, touched it. That was weird. Ghost, cleaning blood off a knife: That guy wasn’t even a doctor.

-- Medic!Y/N: You think killing is hard? Try healing something. That is hard, that requires patience. Alejandro, watching them bandage his hand: Hm… Medic!Y/N: You can break something in two seconds. *vaguely motions to Ghost, then Price, then at a necklace Alejandro wears that came from Valeria* But it can take forever to fix it. Alejandro: …aye…well said.

-- Gaz: *being annoying and singing a song for the 10,000th time* Price: KYLE! Gaz: I’m watchin’ my tone, dunana. I ain’t talkin’ back, no, why? Cause I’ma get thrown, dunana-

-- Graves: You know, Ghost, real talk bro, you never say nothin’ when you’re around us. Why is that? Ghost: Cause I don’t fucking like you guys.

-- Enemy: I’m gonna send you to God. Y/N: God? I’m insulted you think I’d end up in Heaven. I work hard for my sins, thank you very much. Ghost: We are hostages right now, can you please not-

-- Valeria: And guess who gets to be my little helper.~ Y/N: It’s me, I’m the helper… Valeria: That’s right, you sure are.~ Alejandro: Alright that’s enough! Valeria: What? You don’t believe in positive affirmation?

-- Rudy: Me gustan los perros. Alejandro: Me gustas… Rudy: ….hm. Me gusta un hombre en el ejército. Alejandro: Aye? Rudy: Mhm. Alejandro: *chuckles* Me gusta mi mejor amigo. Rudy: Me gustas.

(This was poorly translated but listen, I tried for the gays)

-- Price: You actually were telling the truth. Valeria: I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.

-- Laswell: Don’t pull any of those stunts like you did last time. Fem!Y/N: I made an offering. Laswell: You dropped a dead mouse into that poor man’s lap. Fem!Y/N: Yes! Like a cat. Laswell: You are not a cat! Fem:Y/N: No…tragically, I am a woman.

-- Ghost: Some people are simply…better than others. Graves: You really think you’re that much better than me? Ghost: Oh I think we both know the answer to that.

(Needing to fake a date for a mission) Y/N, on the phone: Laswell, I don’t need help with dating. I’ve been on loads of dates! Y/N: *turns and whispers to Gaz* I’ve literally been on one.

-- Enemy: Think you can answer questions without the usual level of sarcasm? Y/N: If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid. Enemy: Where’s your captain and why hasn’t anyone been able to contact him? Y/N: I dunno, I’ve been here, haven’t seen him in days. Enemy: Is he drinking again? Y/N: What do you mean again? He never had to stop. Enemy: But he did have to slow down, is he drinking like he used to? Y/N: Alright, how bout this? Next time I see him, I’ll give’im the field sobriety test, okay? We’ll do the alphabet, start with F & end with U.

-- Graves: And that’s why I personally, don’t agree with your opinion. Soap: Okay, counter point- Graves: Valid argument? Soap: No. Pipebomb!

-- Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Y/N: I’ma instigate. Gaz, lightly pulling them back: nnnnoooooooooo-

-- Y/N: Eeraaawr >:3 Gaz: What sound is that? Y/N: A dyianosaur Gaz: A what? Y/N: Dianoswaur. Gaz: Make the sound again. Y/N: Uurraawer Gaz: Oh you talkin’ bout them things from ✨Jerressi PerAHck✨ Y/N: AHAH! Ghost: I’m gonna lose it. Soap: Hush yer mouth, it’s cute. Lighten up ya big log.

-- Ghost: I think I’ve finally had enough. Y/N, getting his antidepressants: I think you’re full of shit.

-- Medic!Y/N: C’mon, stick with me, Ghost. Ghost: Might be time to follow my call si-OH FUCKING HELL WHY Medic!Y/N: You listen here you Fuckin’ bastard, I’m gonna love the absolute shit out of you until you never make a joke like that again. And then, if you still do it, I’ll have the team smother, smother, you in affection. And if you STILL don’t get it, THEN I’m gonna whoop your ass. Shut your perfect fucking mouth, you got that, soldier?! Ghost: ….since when did you get scary? Medic!Y/N: Adrenalin keeps people alive and sometimes we run out of epipens, had to substitute somehow.

-- Price: Now, sergent, what would you rather be? A lion or a panda? Soap: Captain, I’m me. Why would I want to be anything else? Price: I’m not sure you realize how psychologically healthy that is.

-- Ghost, pissed off: Sometimes I can’t stand you. Y/N, while walking away: Then kneel! And while you’re down there, occupy your mouth, you’d do better down there, QUIET, anyway!! Ghost: I-…… Soap: Oooooo…. Gaz: I- I-…they have no fear. None. Absolutely no survival instinct, no self preservation. None!

-- (Younger Y/N as in like…mid-late twenties. Also, this one is long. I might honestly make a lil oneshot with this one and I welcome anyone else to do the same) Y/N: John… Price: I know, I know. You love me. You’ve said it a thousand times and it should just stick, I just…can’t help but think about how you’re so… Y/N: *snort* Out of your league? Price: To put it bluntly. Y/N: Well, regardless of where I rank? I still love you. I’m going to love you for a long time, you’re stuck with me, ya sweethearted bastard. Price, fondly: Ah Dear, whatever will I do. Y/N: Yeaaaah. Besides! Even if I wasn’t completely and utterly, disgustingly, in love with you? …you are way too good of a sugar daddy to ditch. Price: Hah! Oh really? Why’s that? Y/N: Are you kidding?! Paid off house, paid off car, successful military captain, great manners, great dick, extremely attractive, good with kids, good cook, sexy voice. I could go on for awhile. Price: Oh now you’re just feedin’ my ego. Y/N: Yes, yes I am. Price: I’ll get cocky. Y/N: You’re sexy when you’re arrogant too, that doesn’t deter me. Price: *sigh* Far out of my league. Y/N: You’re a rank climber, I think you’ll keep up.

-- (NSFW but it's in a ha-ha funny way, based on a conversation I've had. Kink mentions) Soap: Look, I just...I need advice on how to spice it up in the bedroom. Y/N: Do you know how little that narrows it down? Gaz: I feel there are few options. Y/N: No there are a lot of options, it depends on your level of spice. I dunno your boundaries wit'cha man! Soap: I just need something! Y/N: THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS! Get some handcuffs, grab a vibrator, TRY ANAL, I don't fucking know! Gaz: *chokes on drink* Soap: Okay, listen- Y/N: No, you listen. Rule of thumb with kinks? It's a mountain and there are three kinds of people on it. People who don't wanna climb, people who want to climb but choose not to, and people who stay climbing. You reach a level of kinkiness and you stay there. You can't go back down the mountain. Me, personally? I have chosen to stop climbing because I know I'll get worse. I'm choosing to stay on my part of the mountain. Where you wanna climb is up to you. Soap: Where do I climb then? Y/N: The beginner's trail is fuzzy handcuffs, orgasm control, and mirror sex. Soap: This is the weirdest advice I've ever gotten. Y/N: It's my specialty.

-- (Follow it up with an asexual joke) Graves: Are you fighting the urge to make out with me right now? Y/N: Not really, I'm really into this pizza though. Soap, in the back: Aw they burnt my fuckin' cookies! Assholes. Y/N: Karma. Soap: It is not my fault I ate the last slice of cake, I didn't know it was yours- Y/N: IT WAS LABELED! Soap: I DIDN'T SEE IT!! Graves: *slowly backs away*

-- Y/N, holding up a coffee pot: Anyone want more coffee? Price: No, we've all had ours. Y/N: *takes off the lid* Cool. Gaz: What are y-NO! Y/N: *chugging from the pot* Ghost: ...This is the peak of mental illness. Price: PUT THE DAMN POT DOWN! Soap: This is the scariest thing I've ever seen them do- Y/N: *fighting to finish the coffee as Price tries to get it away from them*

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joonie-beanie · 1 year ago

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Side-Gig | [Peter B. Parker x Reader]

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter gets worried about your apparent “side-gig” and goes snooping, only to discover your side-gig is writing Spiderman smut on commission.

Contents: Fluff, Smut, Consensual Sex, Pussy Eating, Banter, Friends to Lovers???

Author’s Note: I swore off posting fics on tumblr, but since this is just a one-shot, I figured why not. I think Peter B is charming, had to write a lil smth smth for him. And by that, I mean a 7.1k wordcount fic.

You and Peter Parker are friends. Not best friends, but pretty good friends.

You like to say you’ve looked out for each other over the years. You don’t talk all the time, but it’s kind of an unspoken promise that when one of you needs someone to lean on, the other person will be there.

Which is why, when Peter and MJ separate, you make a point of inviting Peter over for meals.

At first, he turns you down every time you ask, and you know it’s because he’s wallowing—depressed about his situation. And that’s understandable. You can’t exactly say you know what he’s feeling, but if you put yourself in his shoes, you’re sure you’d be a little bit fucked up about everything too.

Therefore, you give him a little space—wait for things to settle and for Peter to come around.

Except, Peter takes it all way worse than you expect—going radio silent after your third invite in two months. Then, you really start to get worried (and also a little mad that he’s ghosting you).

So, you manage to scrounge up his new address using some internet-sleuthing skills, and show up at his door. When he opens it, he’s dressed in a greasy wife-beater, worn-out gray sweats, and white socks with a hole in the toe.

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

You spend that evening scolding Peter and letting him cry it all out—handing him tissue after tissue as he blubbers about everything on his mind. When he’s finally done, he apologizes for ignoring your last call, and thanks you for looking out for him.

With a smile, you assure him you’ll always have his back, and that now he really has to come over for dinner, because he owes you.

Laughing, Peter agrees. And luckily, he sticks to his word.

Since then, you and Peter make a point of doing dinner twice a month—typically at your place, sometimes out at a restaurant, but never at Peter’s. Not until he deep cleans his messy apartment, and you know that won’t be happening anytime soon.

Tonight, you’re at a restaurant of your choice—a local Italian joint. Peter arrives late, per normal, and you wave him over when you see him walk in the front door. He immediately spots you and hurries over, his eyes darting to the plate of bruschetta you’d ordered for the table, that now only has two pieces left.

“Aw, that’s not fair,” he says, sliding into the booth across from you. He immediately reaches for one, shoving it into his mouth. You shrug, not sorry.

“That’s what you get for always being late. And if I waited for you, I’d be hangry by now. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, picking up the menu to see what it is he wants.

“So, how have you been? I know we just saw each other two weeks ago, but—how’s work?”

You sigh at Peter’s question, resting your chin against your palm.

“Fine, I guess. Work is cutting hours since things are slow right now, so I’m gonna be pretty strapped for cash the next month or two.”

Peter blinks at your response, staring at you over the edge of the menu.

“Should we be here then? We could just get the check now and go down the street to the bodega—”

“No—no, it’s fine,” you reassure him, taking a sip from your glass. From the look of it, Peter can tell the glass is filled with rum and coke—your simple, yet timeless go-to.

“This is kind of my last hurrah, y’know? Gotta get one last plate of carbonara in before I’m eating ramen and eggs for the next few months.”

“I dunno about that,” Peter responds. “Eggs are pretty expensive now—you might have to settle for canned tuna.”

You roll your eyes at him, yet can’t help the little giggle that escapes you.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know,” he says with a smile.

The waitress wanders back over, and you and Peter put in your orders. Peter also opts to get a drink (after all, if you’re drinking, why shouldn’t he), and a few minutes later, a cosmopolitan is placed onto the table in front of him.

You watch him with a wide smile as he picks up the girly drink and takes a long sip—his pinky sticking out and everything.

“You and your love of sweet drinks,” you say, swirling around the ice in your half-empty glass. Peter hums happily.

“Listen, this is way better than beer.”

Honestly, you can’t disagree.

“So,” he continues, picking up the previous topic. “Are you gonna be okay? Money-wise?”

It’s not like he has much help to offer. Being a masked vigilante doesn’t pay very well, after all, but still.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I have a side-gig that brings in a little cash-flow, so that’ll help cushion the blow. But I think I should still be able to afford rent and some groceries. I’ll just have to budget better, y’know?”

Peter nods. “Oh, okay. Good—,” but then his brain repeats the phrase “side-gig”, and his words cut off.

“Wait, what kind of side-gig are we talking about here?”

Despite how long the two of you have known each other, Peter has never heard anything about any kind of “side-gig”. It’s a little concerning, honestly, since the two of you don’t really keep secrets from each other.

Although it’s not like you know he’s Spiderman.

“Yeah. It’s nothing illegal, I promise,” you tell him, your attitude remaining pleasant. Peter stares at you, waiting for you to say more, but your smile only grows wider.

“Not telling,” you say, laughing quietly to yourself when Peter huffs in annoyance and grabs his drink. “You’ll just have to trust me. I’d never do anything illegal—you know me.”

“I dunno,” he responds, a playful lilt in his tone. “In college I seem to remember you stealing soft drinks from the mess hall without paying—”

“Oh c’mon,” you shoot back, and Peter grins, knowing you hate when he brings that up. “We were already paying to go to classes! Why should I pay 3 dollars for a cup of watered down coke?!”

Peter laughs as you go on a mini tangent about how college is a ripoff—ordering both you and him two more drinks when your waitress stops in to check on your table.

After a short while, your food comes out, and the two of you catch up over the hot meal. Conversation flows like normal—touching on any other life updates, and also local news topics, and things of the like.

At your insistence, Peter splits a tiramisu with you to close out the evening, and by the time the dessert is gone, Peter thinks he may explode.

“Ugh, why did I let you talk me into that?” Peter groans, curling over and holding his stomach as you fetch enough cash from his wallet to cover half the bill.

“Well, if you were smart like me, you would have kept half of your entree to take home with you for later, and then you would have had enough room left for dessert. Which, by the way, is too good to waste—so don’t puke it up.”

Your waitress swings by to grab the bill, and you assure her it’s all set—passing her the small stack of money taken from both your and Peter’s wallets. She thanks you with a smile, and then scurries away, leaving the two of you alone.

You reach over the table, patting Peter’s shoulder.

“You’ll be fine. Your stomachs gotten bigger, after all.”

“Hey—,” Peter frowns, lifting his head. You’re already grabbing your purse and takeout box—sliding out of the booth. He quickly follows after you.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No,” you respond, holding the door open for him as the two of you step out into the cool New York air. “You’re actually still surprisingly in-shape for someone whose diet consists of pizza and frozen meals. But, that being said, you can’t deny you’ve put on a few pounds.”

Peter places a hand on his stomach.

“Remind me again why you’re so mean to me?”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound getting lost in the crowd around you.

“You just make it too easy,” you admit, grinning up at him. Despite himself, Peter smiles back.

Being the gentleman that he is, Peter fully intends to escort you back to the doorstep of your apartment building, but—

His spidey senses tingle, and he can tell something is off.

“Hey, um,” Peter grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before your brain can even catch up, he’s yanking you into a quick hug, and then backpedaling towards the alleyway the two of you had just passed.

“Sorry, I just remembered there’s something I have to do. It was nice seeing you! Let’s touch base soon!”

He’s gone before you can even get a word out, disappearing around the corner. You stare after him for a moment, befuddled, and then continue on your way with a sigh.

Same ‘ol Peter.

Exactly one hour later, Peter collapses in a pile of trash—his lungs heaving, and body aching. The fight itself hadn’t been that hard—just a few wannabe criminals with deadlier than normal weapons.

No, the real challenge had been not barfing up his dinner while doing acrobatics across the city.

And maybe laying in a pile of trash to take a breather isn’t exactly helping his current predicament, but fuck—he doesn’t have the energy to move right now

Spreading out his limbs, Peter stares up at the smog-coated night sky, his mind wandering. He thinks about a lot of things—all the villains he’s fought in his time as Spiderman, the people who have come in and out of his life during it all, including you. You…who apparently has a “side-gig”.

…but like, what kind of side-gig?

Peter groans, knowing he won’t be able to let this go.

You can’t just drop the knowledge that you have a secret side-gig on him and then not tell him what it is!

And if you’re insistent on keeping it a secret, it must be something bad, right? RIGHT??

“Goddammit,” he grumbles, picking himself up. He swings off into the night, his mind reeling.

Peter lasts all of 3-days before he decides he can’t be left alone with his thoughts anymore—that he just needs to confirm what exactly your side-gig is, before his theories can get any wilder.

Because so far, his top guesses are that you’re either 1. Unknowingly acting as a middle man for some illegal trafficking operation, or 2. Providing “services” to New York sleazebags to get in their wallets.

And Peter knows it’s likely neither option—you’re too smart to get roped into something stupid. Plus, you had assured him it was nothing illegal.

But if he doesn’t figure it out, he thinks he may explode.

So…he goes snooping.

It’s not his brightest moment—using the spare key you had given him “in case of emergency” to sneak into your apartment one evening. (But to be fair, to him…this might just be an emergency).

He’d used his spidey senses to scope out your apartment before coming in, so he knows you're not home. Which is good, but…he doesn’t know when you’re gonna be back either, so he has to move fast.

Softly closing the front door behind him, Peter tip-toes across your apartment, deciding to start in your bedroom. He stands in the doorway for a moment, guilt bubbling up inside of him, but he decides to push forward anyway.

He’s just making sure you’re okay, he tells himself. You’re one of his closest friends, and you won’t tell him your secret—so it’s understandable he’d be worried.

Like the true Sherlock that he is, Peter starts with you dressers. He quickly checks each drawer—gently lifting up the stacks of clothes to make sure nothing is hidden beneath them. (The only time doesn’t is when he encounters the drawer with your bras and panties. He simply stares at them with flushed cheeks, rocking awkwardly on his heels, before he quietly closes the drawer. Surely nothing would be in there anyway, right?)

The small stack of papers on your nightstand ends up being recent receipts, and a manual on how to use the white noise machine you've apparently just purchased, considering it's sitting on the floor beside your nightstand, still in the box.

Getting on his hands and knees, Peter does a quick check under your bed, and freezes when he spots a covered box. He pulls it out without thinking, tugging off the fabric lined lid—

—and immediately slams it back down.

…veiny, pink, silicon—

Peter haphazardly pushes the box back under the bed, hurrying to his feet. He bustles into the kitchen with cherry-colored ears.

All-in-all, it takes Peter about half an hour to search your apartment, and unfortunately…he comes up empty handed. It seems like you have nothing to hide (except a box of sex toys under your bed, but Peter thinks that’s pretty understandable. You don't want dumb assholes like him accidentally finding it, even though Peter had—)

Sighing, Peter takes one last glance around your apartment.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have done this,” he sighs to himself, taking a step towards the door. But—not watching where he’s going, he stubs his toe into the leg of your coffee table.

A curse leaves his lips, and your opened laptop—which had previously been dark—jolts to life. Kicking the table must have moved your wireless mouse, Peter realizes.

Having already decided to leave, Peter fully intends to continue on his way. That is…before he takes a glance at your computer screen and sees that you have it open to a Google doc titled: “Spiderman x Reader Commission #6”.

…then, he’s scrambling onto your couch and yanking your laptop towards him.

“Number six??” he hisses dramatically, his eyes scanning over the document so fast that he doesn’t actually end up reading anything.

He has to pause and go back to try again, but the second Peter reads the sentence “Spiderman’s cock strains painfully against the tight confines of his suit, his fingers twitching against your waist as he drags you in closer”, his brain effectively blue screens.

In a panic, he clicks into a different tab that’s open—landing on your email inbox, where a thread sits open. A transaction between you and an apparent “customer”. Someone who had contacted you in regards to your open “commissions”.

Hi there!

I saw you’re accepting commissions, and I really enjoyed reading the other Spiderman fics you wrote! Would you be open to writing one for me? Preferably a Reader x Spiderman, and a smut/fluff genre. Based on the rate sheet, I think I can afford it, but I’d appreciate it if we could talk more and discuss the final price based on the idea I have.

Thanks!

Holy shit, Peter realizes. Your side-gig is writing Spiderman porn on commission.

He sinks back into the couch, his mind whirling.

How long has this been going on?? Do you…are you attracted to Spiderman?? As long as Peter has known you, you’ve never really fangirled over Spiderman. If Spiderman had popped up in the news, the two of you would talk about him, but…that was it.

And now you’re writing Spiderman smut for cash? Holy hell.

Peter supposes he should be relieved that what you’re doing truly isn’t illegal. That you’re just making money in a mostly innocent way, from the safety of your home. Meaning, Peter can call it quits, and leave.

…but instead, he leans forward, clicks back onto the Google doc tab, and starts reading more.

The document is still a work-in-progress, but Peter scrolls back up to the top, wanting to see how you’ve managed to set up this scenario.

As it turns out, a villain had injected Spiderman with some sort of aphrodisiac, and the reader is a bystander, bravely offering Spiderman her services to get him out of this pickle.

While embarrassing to admit, Peter gets sucked into the story—impressed by your ability to write, and your portrayal of him—err, Spiderman. In fact, he gets so distracted by the story and the multitude of thoughts running through his head that his spidey senses don’t kick in until danger is right on his doorstep.

Or, in reality, you are on your doorstep—your key shoving into the lock on the door.

Peter’s heart nearly rockets out of his chest, his eyes darting to the window across the room. It’s closed, and even if he used his web shooter to rocket over to it, he wouldn’t be able to safely open the window and escape outside in the two seconds it’s going to take you to finish unlocking your do—

Before he can even finish the thought, your front door shoves open, and you flick on the lights—your gaze immediately finding Peter, who is still firmly planted on your couch, looking like a deer in headlights.

You stare at him in shock.

“Peter? What…? Why are you here?”

“I was…worried about you,” Peter responds, forcing himself to smile. And it’s not like it’s a lie.

“You said you were strapped for cash, and I…I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

You kick the door shut behind you, your purse and keys discarded on the small table beside your entryway.

“I thought I told you to just trust me?”

You face him with a hand posed sternly on your hip. You appreciate his concern for you, but it’s a little upsetting that he hadn’t just been able to trust your word.

“I know,” Peter responds with a sigh. He runs a hand through his graying hair, and your gaze flits to his ears, noticing how red they are. Why is he so flushed?

“And I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I should have. Trusted you, I mean. I’ll just—,” he pushes himself up, planning to excuse himself and run, but freezes half way to his feet.

He’s half hard. Fuck.

If he gets up now, it’ll be a lot harder to hide that—especially since he’s wearing sweatpants.

Making a lil noise, Peter eases himself back down onto your couch. You cock an eyebrow.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry…back spasm.”

“Well, you don’t have to rush out. You’re welcome to stay for a while if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You flash him a smile and turn towards the kitchen. Peter watches you as you open your fridge and bend down—fetching two bottles of water from the bottom shelf. His eyes glue to your ass the second you lean over, and Peter punches himself in the knee—forcing his gaze up towards the ceiling.

He’s going fucking insane. He’s not used to being this…feral feeling. Arousal is usually one of the emotions that evades him nowadays, but here he is—done in by fucking Spiderman fanfiction.

Who knew he’d get turned on reading about himself fucking some nameless woman? And who knew that arousal would make him thirst after you?

(Honestly, if he thinks about it, it’s not that surprising. The two of you have been friends for years, and he feels comfortable around you. Not to mention, you’ve always been attractive, even if you do like to push his buttons—)

“Here,” you say, snapping him out of his internal panic. You plop down onto the couch next to him, handing him one of the two bottles of water.

Peter reaches out to take it, and you notice the sweat beading on his brow. Why the hell is he—?

At that moment, you spot your laptop on the coffee table—open, and still showing the commission document you’d left open earlier on. Your first instinct is to reach over and slam your laptop shut before Peter can see—

…wait.

Peter reaches forward to take the water bottle from your grasp, but when he grips it, you don’t budge.

Confused, he looks up—only to find you intensely staring at him.

“Did you read it…?”

Peter’s face heats up, his eyes darting to the side to avoid looking at you.

Busted…

You pulse races, embarrassment blooming in your chest.

HE DID, you realize. HE READ IT. Your fucking Spiderman smut!

“Ah, shit…,” you mumble, letting go of his water bottle and crumpling in on yourself. You curl onto your side, hiding your face in the couch cushion.

Feeling horrible that he has embarrassed you—having discovered something you’d tried to keep private—Peter hurries to try and smooth over the situation.

“Okay, yes, I did read it,” he starts by saying. “But…it was…really good! You’re a good writer, and I can see why people are commissioning you! You’ll surely make some cash with the skill you have.”

If he was smart, he’d have stopped there, but no—Peter keeps going.

“A-And hey! I’d be willing to help too. Y’know, help give you some inspiration for your stories—”

His voice dies in his throat, realizing what it is he has just offered. And obviously, you realize it too—your head immediately lifting, staring at him with curious surprise.

“Did you just…offer…to fuck? To help me with my stories?”

The insinuation is so insane that you can’t help laughing. Peter coughs, straightening his shoulders out.

“I think I’d be very good inspiration for Spiderman.”

“Really?”

There’s disbelief in your voice. Peter narrows his eyes.

“You don’t think so?”

You hum, uncapping your water bottle and taking a swig. Peter mirrors you, his throat feeling dry.

“Spiderman is…suave and heroic, and you’re…dorky. Smart, but dorky.”

Peter frowns. “I can be…suave.”

You cock an eyebrow, a playful grin breaking out on your face. Your heart is racing a million miles an hour, because never did you think you’d be sitting here with Peter, the possibility of sex between the two of you suddenly laid out on the table. You’d never deny he’s an attractive male, and maybe because it’s him, and because you’ve missed the feel of another human being, you end up saying—

“Yeah? Show me then.”

You lean back, waiting to see if Peter will make a move.

Unfortunately, the realization that you’re open to whatever is happening right now causes Peter’s brain to stall, and he takes a second too long to act—just long enough to allow doubt to worm its way into your head.

You’re putting him on the spot. And he’s still probably dealing with some complicated feelings from the split—you shouldn’t have poked him.

Without saying anything, you decide to try and create some space. You push off of the couch, padding towards your bedroom. You’ll make an excuse about needing to fold your clothes, or something stupid—and hopefully Peter will take what you’ve said as a joke, and will move on. Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan—

Pausing in the doorway of your room, you force yourself to smile, and turn to face Peter—only to find that he’d snuck up on you—your gaze meeting his chest the second you turn around.

“Pe—,” you’re only able to get the first syllable of his name out, your chin tilting back as you look up at him. The feeling of his palm cupping your cheek is what makes your voice die out, his chestnut eyes boring into you.

You can see the hesitation on his face. A certain lack of confidence that you’re sure stems from his past relationship issues. But beneath that, you can see desire. A craving for intimacy he hasn’t shared in a long time.

You decide to be the one to close the gap—pressing onto your toes, your palm resting flat on his pec as you lean upward—connecting your lips with his. You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips, and you silently convince yourself that if Peter backs out, you’ll be fine with it.

Luckily, he doesn’t. His brain finally kicks into gear, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist as he kisses you back.

You make a pleasantly surprised little sound, your arms lifting to wrap around his neck—effectively deepening the kiss. A wrinkle appears between Peter’s eyebrows, his grip on your waist tightening. Your chest presses flat against his torso, and he rubs his thumb against your cheek, obsessed with the plushness of your lips and the feel of you against him.

It’s been way too long since he’s been intimate like this…that’s apparent by the blood absolutely rockets into his dick.

Although, to be fair, he’d already been half-hard before this.

“You think our local hero gets hard this quick?” you mumble against his lips with a grin, giggling when Peter makes a noise of annoyance and nips at you.

“You’d be surprised,” he responds. He slots his thigh between your knees, backing you into the doorframe. His clothed cock grinds against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, and his muscles tense.

“Adrenaline can go straight to the dick sometimes…”

(Peter has lost track of how many times, after an intense fight—especially earlier in his career—he’d swung home and immediately jerked off).

“That’s fair, I suppose.”

Your fingertips coast up the nape of his neck, tangling in the messy hair at the base of his skull. You yank him downward ever so slightly, your lips connecting with the skin of his neck. He immediately shivers, the first of many embarrassing sounds ripping from his chest as you lick and suck at his flesh.

“Think Spiderman whimpers?”

You’re teasing him. As to be expected, given the dynamic of your relationship. But Peter doesn’t intend on taking it quietly.

“Maybe,” he admits, “If you make him feel good enough. But if you wanna know what I think—”

Peter surprises you by ducking down—his arms looping around your thighs as he lifts you off the floor. Your squeal, arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him since you don’t want to fall, but Peter carries you easily enough—striding into your room and depositing you onto your bed.

He doesn’t waste any time—quickly caging you down. His knee reclaims its spot between your thighs, rubbing incessantly at the dampening fabric covering your privates, and his lips find your neck—a shiver raking up your spine as his stubble scratches against your skin.

“Peter,” you gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips ghost over your heated skin, brushing past your waist, and finding the clasp of your bra. You have to arch to give him room to work, and Peter sucks a hickey of approval into your neck. He debates telling you “good girl”, but the thought leaves him the second your bra pops open.

He needs your tits in his mouth.

“—I think Spiderman has a thing for boobs,” Peter says, finally finishing his earlier statement. This exclamation is followed with the immediate removal of your shirt and bra—Peter forcibly tugging them over your head and discarding them on the floor beside your bed.

The sight of Peter groping you and lowering his mouth to your chest is enough to have your heart skipping a beat, and you can’t help the mewl that leaves you when Peter sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Peter groans when your fingers fist in his hair, practically keeping his mouth trapped where it is, which he hardly minds considering he intends to lick and suck at your tits until you’re panting.

And, that’s exactly what he does.

He lavishes your chest with his mouth—relishing in the way your hips jump at each little nip of his teeth or roll of your nipple between his fingers. It’s embarrassing, honestly, how wet it gets you—your panties feeling quite wet as you continue grinding your pussy against Peter’s thigh.

You try and think of some smart response in regard to Peter’s opinion that Spiderman is a tit man, not an ass man, but words seem to be avoiding you. You can’t think of anything coherently when Peter is touching you like this. Especially when his face finally leaves your chest, his lips peppering kisses down the length of your torso.

You lift your head to look at him, propping up on one of your arms. Peter reaches your navel, but doesn’t stop, heading towards—

“Peter,” you pant, your face flushing hotly as you realize the path he’s carving.

Peter hums, his eyes flitting up and meeting your gaze just as he hooks his thumbs beneath the band of your pants.

“Another thing about Spiderman…,” he begins, kissing the skin of your tummy as he inches your waistband down your hips. You watch him with blown-wide eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly—excitement and nervousness mingling inside of you.

You lift your ass off the mattress to help him shuck you of your bottoms, and Peter smiles, tossing your pants on the floor beside your other clothes.

Never in your life did you imagine the sight of Peter sinking to his knees, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer to him—his gaze falling between your legs. Your panties are soaked, and the sight causes more blood to rush into his dick. He’s so hard that it honestly hurts—just a little bit—but Peter still doesn’t touch himself, because—

“...Spiderman loves eating pussy.”

“He’s a people-pleaser,” you quip breathlessly, your thighs quivering in Peter’s hold when he presses a kiss to your skin, right beside your panty line. He quietly chuckles.

“Maybe.”

Peter thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat. You hips buck in his hold, craving more, and when Peter sees the desperate look on your face, he decides to not tease you.

Peeling your panties to the side, Peter finally connects his mouth with your pussy—his tongue licking a wet, broad strip between your folds.

Oh, shit, you think to yourself, the muscles in your abdomen convulsing as you watch one of your closest friends eat you out. The whole situation is making you feel light headed, so you can’t help it when you collapse back onto the mattress, your fingers fisting in the sheets as Peter groans into your cunt.

He eats you like a man starved, his face quickly becoming covered with your arousal. His nose bumps against your clit as his tongue sinks between your walls, and you full out whimper—your hips needily grinding against his mouth.

Peter’s palm presses down on your pelvis, forcing your hips to the mattress. He doesn’t want you squirming—just wants you desperate and pliant. To see you cumming on his tongue.

His name falls from your lips again, more debauched than he’s ever heard, and Peter curses.

“Shit.”

His tone is guttural, and sexy, and—

He presses a finger inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Pete—,” his name deterorates into a moan, your brain function declining as Peter begins fucking his finger inside of you. At the same time, he focuses his mouth on your clit, his tongue urgently flicking against the bundle of nerves.

You unconsciously wriggle at the assault of stimulation, but Peter’s hand on your stomach keeps you in place.

Why is he so strong? You think to yourself, moan ripping from your chest as Peter slips in a second finger. It doesn’t take him long to locate that spongy little sweet spot inside of you. The one that causes your thighs to shake as he practically abuses it—rubbing the pads of his fingers against it repeatedly until you’re nearly sobbing.

The coil in your belly winds tight, heat searing your veins. You can feel your clit throbbing against Peter’s tongue, and the walls of your pussy tightening up around him.

“Peter,” you cry, your entire body trembling. You’re so fucking close.

“Cum,” he rasps. He needs to see you orgasm—needs to feel you unraveling on his mouth and fingers.

Hearing the gravel of his voice is the final nail in your coffin—the tension in your muscles releasing as your orgasm washes over you. Just as he wanted, you cum all over him, your cunt gushing arousal around his fingers as his tongue continues lapping at your clit, dragging out the waves of your pleasure until you’re panting and pawing at his head, trying to push him away.

After a moment, he relents—sitting back to look at you.

You’re covered in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, and an arm draped over your eyes. Your tits are peppered with an array of hickies, and Peter feels his chest (and cock) swell with pride. He’s clearly done a number on you. And yet…

You feel the mattress dip, and then the room is spinning around you. When things finally settle, you find yourself laying on top of Peter.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist, his palm resting on your ass. The other brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you lean back to look at him.

“Spiderman also loves being ridden,” he says with a grin. You place your hands on his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter as he watches you struggle to sit up.

“You think I have the energy to ride you after you just did that? And why do you keep saying Spiderman enjoys these things like they’re facts—you don’t know.”

“Just a feeling,” he responds, licking his lips. His hands find your hips, and he grinds you downwards. Your sensitive pussy rubs against his aching length, still trapped behind his sweatpants, and it’s hard to miss the way Peter harshly swallows at the feeling.

You sigh, scooting backwards.

“Fine.”

You shove his sweats and boxers down his thighs, careful to not snag them on his dick. And damn, he really must be aching—a sticky string of precum dripping from the head of his cock, and pooling on his abdomen.

He opens his mouth, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Your fingers wrap around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever Peter had been planning to say crumbles into a needy garble of non-words.

You can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Surprised you didn’t cream your pants already,” you tell him, but your tone is hardly teasing. No, seeing him beneath you like this—the muscles in his torso clenching with every stroke of your hand—it’s actually quite endearing.

“I’ll cum in your hand if you keep doing that,” he pants, glancing into your eyes. You spot nothing but lust there, any previous reservations gone.

“Is that so bad?” you ask, thumbing at the head of his cock. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens, and you hear him take a shaky breath.

“Yes.”

He wants to be inside you, that much is clear. And while it’d be so easy to draw it out and make him beg…you don’t feel like being mean to him. Not tonight, after he’d just given you the best oral of your life.

“Fine,” you relinquish. You scoot forward, planting one hand on his chest, and gripping the base of his cock with the other. Peter’s breath catches when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a heady groan following a beat later as you begin sinking down onto him.

By the time his cock is fully inside of you, your thighs are shaking. Whether from the lack of energy due to your previous orgasm, the remarkable size of Peter inside of you, or both—you’re not totally sure.

“There’s no rush,” Peter reassures you, but the needy warble of his voice betrays his words.

“My legs might give out at some point,” you respond with a breathless laugh, and Peter echos you, giving your waist a squeeze.

“That’s fine. I’ll help.”

With your palms planted firmly on his chest, you begin to ride him.

And god, you feel so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Peter bites out, watching the space between your bodies, where his cock disappears inside of you with every roll of your hips. It’s been ages since a cunt has squeezed his dick like this, and honestly, he can see himself very easily getting addicted to the feel of you.

The bounce of your tits as you ride him, the cute little sounds you make when his cock rubs against the sensitive spots inside you—he feels like he’s going crazy.

“Peter,” you whine, your pace flattering. Having his cock inside of you is incomparable to the feeling of his fingers, and very quickly, you can feel another orgasm building, but…the closer you get, the more your strength falters.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he responds, praises falling from his lips. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good.”

His words cause your walls to clench around him, and he groans—his hands sliding down to your hips as he helps rock you down onto his cock. The sloppy sound of sex fills your bedroom, and you watch Peter with half-lidded eyes, soaking up the desperation showing on his face.

His hair is slicked back with sweat, brows pinched together in concentration as he forces you to continue riding him. At least, until he starts craving more.

With his orgasm quickly approaching—despite the immense pleasure he gains seeing you bouncing on top of him—Peter’s hunger gets the best of him.

He grabs your wrists, moves your arms so they’re wrapped around his shoulders, and then secures his arms around your back. Before you can even digest the slight change in position, Peter is fucking you.

An incoherent string of noise slips past your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as his cock pistons inside of you. With his arms trapping you against his chest, you’re helpless but to take it—your orgasm rushing to the surface at the desperate yet brutal pace that Peter sets.

“Peter,” you sob into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he responds without missing a beat, his voice breathless. “I’m right there. Cum for me again, sweetheart.”

As if you could stop.

Holding onto him for dear life, you cum for the second time that night—your walls clamping down on his cock so tightly that Peter’s rhythm falters. A curse rips from his throat, and his hands find the plush of your ass—stuffing your body down onto his dick as he cums along with you—pumping you full of his seed.

The needy tension of the room melts away, and you and Peter can only lay there—a pile of sweaty yet sated flesh. It takes you both a minute to catch your breaths, and you make a quiet noise of disappointment when Peter’s cock slips out of you.

You can feel his cum running out of your pussy.

“Your balls aren’t dried up yet?”

Peter’s chest rumbles beneath you.

“I’m in my 30’s, not my 60’s.”

You glance up at him when you feel Peter’s fingers clearing the hair away from your face, and he smiles at you. Your heart jumps.

He must know how handsome he is, right? Even with that crooked nose of his.

“Don’t you ever get tired of taking cracks at me?” he wonders, using his grip on your ass to slide you farther up his chest. You giggle, cupping his cheeks as you find yourself suddenly face to face with him.

“Mmmm, no?”

He rolls his eyes, yet his smile widens. You lean down to kiss him, and he reciprocates easily enough.

“Feeling good?” you ask him, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods.

“Very. I…really missed that.”

“Same,” you agree, sitting back. You need to get to the bathroom before any cum gets on your nice sheets. You crawl off of Peter, swinging your legs over the side of your mattress. He rolls onto his side, watching you with furrowed brows as he tucks his dick back into his pants.

“Same? You haven’t—?”

“Not in a while,” you admit, pulling a fresh shirt and a pair of panties from your dresser drawers. You’re about to make a joke that the only action you’ve gotten recently is from the toys stashed under your bed, but when you turn to look at the spot where they’re hidden, you find that…the box has moved. It’s not where you had left it.

“Did you…find my sex toys? Before I came home?”

Peter’s face goes carefully blank, but the red flush of his ears betrays him.

You shoot him a glare, leaving your room with a huff.

“Dude doesn’t trust me…how fucking rude…”

“Hey now—!”

Peter’s feet pound against the floor as he chases after you, and he catches you around the waist just before you make it into your bathroom. His lips press against the crown of your head.

“Again, I’m sorry for snooping. I’m dumb.”

You sigh, wriggling around to face him.

“You are,” you agree, lightly patting his chest. “Dumb, and insistent that Spider man loves tits, eating pussy, and getting ridden. Still holding those beliefs?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter grins. “And I have other beliefs about his preferences as well.”

“Of course you do,” you laugh. You kiss his cheek, and then step out of his hold—heading into the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower,” you tell him. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

Peter nods, and the last thing you see is him heading for your fridge when you close the bathroom door.

30 minutes later, you exit your steaming bathroom in your fresh oversized t-shirt and panties, fully expecting to find Peter lounging around your apartment, eating all your food. But…to your utter disappointment, you don’t spot him anywhere.

You sigh, shoulders sagging. Had it been too much to assume he would have wanted to stay the night?

Shuffling into your kitchen, you spot an empty plate on your table. One that you know had previously been piled high with leftover chicken and potatoes.

“He eats my food and runs off…of course,” you mumble, picking up the plate to put it in the sink. However, before your annoyance can truly get the better of you, a piece of paper that had been stuck to the bottom of the plate floats to the ground.

You bend over to pick it up.

Hey!

Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to stay so long, so I left my apartment earlier without locking the door. I’m running back home to lock it, but I should be back at your place by 9!

Don’t get mad at me. I’d never run off without a word :p

-PB

PS. I have a working theory that Spiderman also has more stamina than you’d expect, even for a guy who’s been doing hero work for 20+ years, so…round two when I get back?

You can’t help but laugh.

What an idiot.

But…you like him.

#peter b parker x reader #peter b parker smut #peter b parker #i can't believe I'm posting this on tumblr #immediately going back to only posting on AO3 bc it's so much easier to format LMAO #fic #reader insert #reader x peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n

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imasoftieforbarb · 1 year ago

Note

Heeey, I can request a platonic reader? That's friends with branch, clay, Floyd and dickory. If that's a lot then just female reader x branch (still platonic) also I can be 🇪🇸 anon?

Branch, Clay and Floydwith platonic Reader

You respect his boundaries

He already likes you

You’re probably the only troll he invited to his bunker in the first movie

You also knew about his crush on Poppy

But you kept your teasing to a minimum and didn’t push it too far

I wanna say you give him advice for his relationship with Poppy

You definitely calm him down when he gets stressed out when he got Poppy for secret Santa

He’s grateful that you were there for him

Definitely secretly thinks of you as a sister

Thinks you’d get along with his brothers

Mainly Floyd

He genuinely needs you

You remind him it’s alright to let loose sometimes

He comes to you for advice on stuff he struggles to understand

You and Viva are best friends which is literally

Viva-too much energy/Clay-neutral energy/ Y/n- too much energy

You try to convince him to move to a bigger house

“It’s not serious to live in the admin house Clay- it’s depressing”

You’re both stubborn so arguments are solved with rock paper scissors

Buying gifts for eachother is easy he gets hand made rompers- you get handmade wrist bands

You like to sing his bands songs to tease him about being in a boy band

He introduces you to his brothers like:

“This is my headache”- “he means best friend!”

You’re both in the sad book club together

You’re his ride or die best friend

If he dates anyone? You’re the scary friend telling them

“You hurt him, I hurt you twice”

He comes to you for advice

Also when he gets overwhelmed from his brothers fighting occasionally

You go to him for fashion advice

He might ask you to dye his white roots pink

TRAUMA BONDING

You both like to hum his Brozone songs

Half Pop village thinks you’re dating

“Are we really best friends if someone doesn’t think we’re dating?” “Fair enough”

I’ve been super sick over the past few days so updates have been slow- there isn’t much info on dickory so I’ve decided not to write him, I’m sorry!

Thanks for all the support

Bug 🐞

#brozone #trolls band together #brozone x reader #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls branch #x platonic!reader

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scribblesofagoonerr · 7 months ago

Text

Ice cream might as well cure my depression | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, I - Ice cream might as well cure my depression

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

"There you are," Leah exhales a sigh of relief as she walks into the medical room where she found you lay on the one of the medical beds with Katie sat beside you, as one of the medical staff accessed the damage on your bloody and bruised hands. "Oh my God, what happened?!" she questions, horrified as she sets her eyes on the scene in front of her.

"Found the kiddo taking her anger out on the wall," Katie chuckles slightly and shaking her head.

"Spoiler alert, the wall won," You murmer sarcastically from where you lay on the bed, trying to inject a bit of humour into the tense atmosphere, although the pain in your voice was still evident.

"What?" Leah repeats in atonishment at the news of what happened before she crouches down to kneel in front of you. "Oh bubs, why would you do that?" she questions, her initial shock turning into concern.

"Don't know, guess I just felt angry about everything. I feel like I'm not even allowed to make my own decisions now," You admitted your true feelings about things. "I guess I just didn't think and just lashed out."

Leah exhales another sigh and lightly brushes her thumb over your broken skin, "That must hurt a fair bit, huh?" she wonders.

Trying to not flinch at the contact, you bite your bottom lip and shake your head, "Nah, it barely hurts at all," You mumble, gritting your teeth.

"Liar," Katie chimes in amusedly, moving her hand to try and poke your hand to get your reaction.

"Okay, alright. I lied, it hurts like a mother--" You start to say as you're cut off.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence the way I think you're about to do, Y/F/N!" Leah tells you in a stern tone of voice, but its' one that you're all too used to now.

"Trucker," You playfully grin at the older blonde.

The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "You really are insufferable sometimes, bubs," she mutters before she turns her attention to the medic in the room. "So, do we know what's the damage then?" she questions, her voice sounding more serious than previously.

"Well, the x-ray shows it's not broken, but just bruised instead," The medic reports to Leah. "My recommendations are ice and elevation to reduce the swelling." They add on.

"Great, now I really can't play football after all, can I?" You question, sighing in frustration but you know you only have yourself to blame for this happening now.

"Guess not, I'm afraid bubs," Leah replies sympathetically in agreement.

"Wonderful," You mumble under your breath, now you really didn't have any choice but to not be able to play football.

"I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you wanted kiddo," Katie sympathsises with you, gently resting her hand on your shoulder.

"My own fault though, weren't it?" You ask rhetorically, although you still can't help but huff in annoyance about the situation.

Leah's gaze softens, "You know we're gonna need to go back in there and speak to Jonas, Kim and the rest of the staff still, don't you?" she reminds you.

"Yeah, I sorta guessed that," You mumble, exhaling a sigh.

"And you need to apologise for running out of there, as well, please?" Leah requests gently.

"Seriously?" You raise an eyebrow and resist the urge to scoff, however, seeing the look that Leah had on her face, it made you back down. "Fine, alright, whatever. Can we still get ice cream after this though?"

The blonde rolls her eyes at the mention of food, "Just as long as you don't go back in the meeting and blow up, then yes we can still go and get ice cream" she tells you in agreement, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Relax, I won't. I'm much more calmer now," You reassure her, shrugging her shoulders carelessly.

"Really? Cos' you just take your anger out on a wall. That doesn't really scream out 'fine' to me," Katie snickers, reminding you ever so kindly about the disagreement you had with the wall.

"I had my reasons!" You defend yourself over what happened.

"Right, come on. Lets' just head back in there and see what else needs to be said," Leah steers the conversation back on track with a firm but supportive tone of voice.

"No chance to escape out the side door?" You attempt to crack a joke with the blonde.

"Nope, not a chance. Come on bubs, it'll be fine," Leah reassures you, sending you a gentle and warm smile as you both head back to the room where you previously bolted before.

"We're back, sorry about that," Leah is the first to speak up and address the room of people that are awaiting your return.

You feel awkward walking into the room, you really hadn't mean to storm out in the way that you did.

Completely forgetting that you needed to apologise, you feel a slight nudge in your ribs, "Ow. What the--" Seeing the stern look from the blonde makes you remember what needed to be said. "Oh yeah, uh... I... I uh, I'm sorry for storming out like that. It weren't right and I apologise," You muster up the courage to apologise to them all sat around the large table.

"That's okay, Y/N. We can understand it's a lot to take in so far," Jonas nods in understanding, motioning to an empty chair. "Please, take a seat and we can continue with the meeting." he states.

Kim's eyes immediately are drawn to your knuckles as she furrows her eyebrows in concern, "Kid, what happened to your knuckles?" she questions.

"Oh uh that was just a disagreement with the wall," You give your captain a wry smile as you hold up your bruised hand. "Let's just say that the wall won this round."

"Y/N, we can understand what you're going through must be difficult and we want you to have the time to step back and focus on that," Jonas speaks up with a gentle tone of voice, his concern being evident.

You wonder if Leah can sense your uneasiness about the topic of conversation as she reaches out to gently take a hold of your hand, "It's okay, bubs. I've got you." she whispers quietly to reassure you that she's still there.

"What you've been through-- What you're going through is a lot to deal with, a challange, especially at your age." Jonas continues to speak his thoughts aloud. "As a club, we want to be able to help you in way that we can. So we have brought in a therapist, someone that you will be able to talk too--"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" You hold up your hand to cut your coach off from his concerned speel of speech. "A shrink... You want me to talk to a shrink?" You stutter in disbelief.

"Y/N--" Kim attempts to speak.

You whip your head round as you stare at the unfamiliar women in the room, "Wait, is this who this woman is?" You question, looking between all of the adults in the room.

"Bubs, just calm down," Leah chimes in, sensing your upset feelings very clearly right now.

"I'm a therapist actually," The unfamiliar women cuts in the conversation. "My name is Helen, it's nice to meet you properly, Y/N." she introduces herself.

You can't help but scoff lightly and shake your head, "You can call yourself whatever you want, I'm not talking to you," You state stubbornly, a bad trait of yours but who were you to just open up your feelings to this women? You didn't even know her, and now everyone thinks they have an opinion of what to do, who you should speak too?

It's your life, why can't people just let you live it the way that you want?

"It's bad enough that I already had to go through this talking to someone bullshit when I was on my spontaneous holiday," You snap in anger, you really didn't like this one bit.

"Holiday?" Jonas questions, confusion evident in his voice.

"She means when she was detained," Leah deadpans, shooting you a look.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, I was held in a psych ward against my own will, call it whatever the hell you want!" You fling your arms around in the air, feeling yourself getting worked up and you really fight hard against the idea of bolting out the room again. "I don't care who you are, shrink or therapist, I'm not talking to you."

"Y/N, come on. Please at least try and be open with Helen," Kim tries to reason with you. "You know that we just want to help you."

"Bubs, it might be good for you to talk to her," Leah chimes in with a gentle but still firm tone of voice.

"I'm only here for you to talk too," Helen, your new therapist pipes in with her ever so cheerful voice and that's something you are definitely not a fan off.

"I guess I don't have much choice, either way, do I?" You slump your shoulders in realisation about the whole situation.

"Well..." Jonas hesitates to speak.

"Cut the bullshit, Jonas," You cut him off as the frustration begins to bubble up to the surface.

"Y/N!" Kim chides you.

"Language, Y/N!" Leah adds in.

"Geesh, calm down, Captain America," You mutter, rolling your eyes as you slump back against the chair you're sitting on.

"Y/N," Leah reprimands, shooting you a stern look.

"In order for you to return to the pitch, we as a club believe it's important that you attend these therapy sessions," Jonas continues his explanation, giving you all of his attention. "Until you have attended them, we think it might be best if you step back from training and games until you're in a better place."

"Right, so I really don't have much of a choice then after all," You mutter, the realisation hitting you clear on. "How many?"

"How many?" Kim repeats, confused.

"How many sessions of therapy do I need to partake in before I'm cleared to take part in training and games again?" You wonder, curiously.

If that's what it took to get you back on the pitch, then you'd fake a smile and spill whatever words that this so call shrink wanted to hear you tell her, if it meant getting back on the pitch then what's you would do.

"As many as it takes, Y/N. Healing has no time limit," The ever so annoying therapist in your opinion spoke up at the moment. "Once you attend the first session, we can begin to work and create a plan with set goals for your future." she explains in a irritating perky voice.

"Yep, so I really don't have much choice at all, that's wonderful," You murmer under your breath as you try and slump down further in your seat if that's at all possible.

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "Your sass is too much right now," she states.

"Haven't you missed me? I'm a delight to be around!" You cheekily grin at your captain, trying to mask your true feelings about it all.

"We get that you may not be happy with the decisions, Y/N, but as a club, we all believe this is what will help you the most," Jonas explains to you, trying to defuse the tension in the room.

"What would help me would be allowing me to play football," You remark, letting your frustration show.

"Anything apart from that," Another member of the staff chimes in, amusedly.

"I think when I preffered in I was in the pysch ward after all," You can't help but make the sarcastic comment about things, like your usual way to cope with things head on.

"Y/N!" Leah exclaims in disbelief, scowling at you.

"What? I like dark humour, sue me," Shrugging your shoulders carelessly, you turn and look at the blonde women. "So, can we go and get ice cream now? Cos' you promised after all."

Leah let's out a small laugh and shakes her head, ""Seriously, bubs? You and your obsession with ice cream." She states in amusement.

"You can't go back on a promise, Le," You remind her, having the blonde wrapped around your finger.

You were happy enough to sit in a small shop, enjoying the ice cream as promised, although your attempt to lighten the mood with a joke didn't go a miss with Leah, she noted the pain behind your eyes straight away.

The blonde frowns in concern as she sits at the table opposite you, "Bubs, I know you're trying to mask how you really feel. I can tell that you're holding back. Tell me how you really feel, please?" she asks.

You swirl your spoon around the pot of ice cream in your hand and do your best to avoid Leah's gaze for a moment before finally sighing, "I guess... I guess that I'm just frustrated, Le. The whole therapy, I hate talking to people like them, but it's like I don't even have a choice now when I can't go back on the pitch until I speak to her," You admit your feelings, exhaling another sigh. "I guess I didn't help matters either by lashing out at the wall."

"I get how you feel bubs," Leah nods sympathetically, reaching out to gently place her own hand in yours. "I know it hurts, but just remember that we're all doing this because we care about you so much-- I care about you so much, your like my own kid, you know despite the age difference, but you know, finding you like that in the way that I did, I felt scared and I thought I was going to loose you. I don't ever want to feel like that again."

Swallowing the lump that forms in your throat, you peer up slightly to try and hold off the tears from escaping, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I scared you like that," You whisper quietly, never fully realising how other people must have felt to see you that way. "I... I love you, Le. I'm glad that I have you around to take care of me."

"I love you too, bubs... So, so much!" Leah replies as she squeezes your hand reassuringly, "Even if I have to put up with your obsession with ice cream and dark humour. I know it's hard to accept the help, but you're not alone in this. I'm here with you every single step of the way, okay?" She tells you.

"Thanks, Le," You manage a small smile, feeling a bit lighter with the blondes' support and words. "I guess I can try and keep an open mind about this therapy thing." You state, shrugging your shoulders.

"That's all I ask my girl," Leah replies, smiling warmly at you. "I know it'll be hard, but you're strong enough to handle it and you're not ever going to be alone." She adds.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #heavy angst

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

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AITA for ignoring my bfs panic attack?

my(26f) bf(27m) is a sensitive person. when we are doing well, it means he can openly talk about how he's feeling, he's never been toxically masculine, and i appreciate the comfort it provides to have someone i can talk to who isn't cold and unfeeling.

when we are arguing though, it means he almost always gets really upset and cries. so even if i am bringing something up that bothers me, it somehow means i have to reassure and help HIM, even though i was the one who was originally upset.

he also tends to just get upset for almost no reason. specifically at night time. he told me that his anxiety gets worse at night, which is fair, cuz mine does too. so, at the cost of sleep, i will talk through things with him at night - but it's hard, because he is the type of person to always insist he's a terrible person, despite all my reassurance, so these night-time "issues" will last HOURS.

it's starting to become nearly every single night. i won't lie, i am becoming resentful. i'm getting maybe 3-4 hours of sleep every night. it causes me to cry in the morning and the entire day feels like shit. then i have no energy after work to do chores, so the house looks terrible. this might sound crazy but i feel like the lack of sleep is even making my depression worse. i don't have the energy to do anything fun, just make dinner, wash the dishes + do laundry, then go to bed, and repeat more night-time arguing.

last night he was crying and talking to me about his mental health, and i was totally zoned out. i know i am the asshole for that. he was upset and asked why i wouldn't help him, i need to comfort him. then he started having a panic attack. i looked at the time, it was 5:30am. i had to start work in 1 hour 30 min. i was half-asleep, and he was shaking on me. and i left the room, went to the bathroom, cried on the fuckin bathroom floor and just feel asleep there, then got up to go to work at 7am.

he refused to even look at me when he left for work (usually leaves with a kiss). i think i really messed up and now we are just going to fight more. i am ready to accept i may be the asshole here. i know it sounds cold and mean, but the lack of sleep is affecting me a lot. is this selfish? AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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butchspace · 1 year ago

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I guess I kind of just use this account for PSAs now, and this has been on my mind a lot lately.

I figured out that I have OCD a few years ago, and recently I’ve seen a lot of bad advice around dealing with intrusive thoughts and obsessions.

There’s that post that goes around occasionally about “taking pictures of your oven knobs before you leave” or other things I’ve seen that say to “make a weird face when you lock your door.” THESE ARE COMPULSIONS. If you have/suspect you have OCD or you often struggle with things like that, please do not follow this advice. Instead, try to accept your intrusive thoughts and move on, not argue with them. Over time, they will get easier and easier to deal with. Ruminating, stressing, or arguing with them just makes them worse in the long run.

If you think you might have OCD and want to seek a specialist, the IOCDF’s home page has a lot of resources under the “find help” tab, including a locator.

I’m going to put the rest under a read-more because I’m going to talk a bit more in depth about intrusive thoughts and compulsions. This mostly because good OCD info is so sparse on line, and I’ve spent many hours compulsively researching OCD lmao.

Content warning:

discussion of unreality/doubting one’s own perception

discussion of specific compulsions

I’m not going to push this point too hard or shame anyone who doesn’t want to follow it, because OCD doesn’t really just go away. It’s a constant struggle. I give in to compulsions regularly, even though I am medicated and have seen a specialist to learn actual coping skills. It’s hard to resist sometimes and you don’t always have the energy, the awareness, or the power to ignore them. You do what you have to do to get through your day. The main difference is that the right medication and the right therapist make it easier to stay out of the spiral and to leave a spiral when you’re in one. They still happen. You still kind of have to play everything by ear.

Similarly, it is super fucking hard to get help or even get diagnosed. No regular therapist actually knows what the fuck it looks like, and specialists are few and far between and often don’t take insurance. It’s not fair or easy or necessarily productive to try and do exposure response prevention on yourself. Your “good coping skills” can even turn into an obsession or compulsion, where you’re constantly worried about what is an intrusive thought and what is not, or if you’re responding to them properly.

What I want to do is try to give at least some useful advice to people who are struggling with intrusive thoughts.

The best way to respond to them is not at all. This is especially true with OCD, because the response to them is sort of the root of this disorder. Sometimes, it’s recommended that with depression or anxiety you challenge your thoughts. In OCD, it’s the opposite. Challenging them can so easily lead you down a compulsion spiral. (More about that cycle from a professional.)

Compulsions can be entirely mental, but I’ll use a common behavioral one to look at how engaging with compulsions can go:

You start by taking a picture of the your stove knobs to make sure they’re all off. That works for a few hours or days, but then you start wondering if the knob is ever-so-slightly in the “on” position. You wonder if the picture proves they’re off enough. You forget to take the picture at all, and have to go back in to check anyways. You check your phone a few times before leaving to ensure that the picture is still there. You take several pictures because you can’t tell if you actually took any at all. You start to wonder if you can even trust what you see before your very eyes. What if you’re just imagining that the knobs are set to off? What if you’re just imagining the whole picture to begin with? The picture allows you to engage with your checking compulsion throughout the day, strengthening the connection between the intrusive thought and the urgency to do something about it. That means it gets worse. That means you find new ways to doubt your perception or your memory or whatever.

It can eventually get really bad. It’s hard and awful to try and deal with this on your own, but sometimes you have to.

It’s so shit. It’s so fucking shit how long many people suffer with mental illness without even knowing what’s going on. I didn’t know that my constant, overwhelming guilt over almost everything I’d ever thought or said or done or maybe did and couldn’t remember was the result of a disorder. It was so freeing to realize there was actually something that might help me, and I could learn to just live with myself and my weird ass thoughts that don’t necessarily mean anything at all. It’s so shit that OCD-awareness is so low among therapists. I was never going to get diagnosed until I found an OCD SPECIALIST (bold, italicized, all caps. Don’t trust people on psychology today who just put OCD in the list of what they treat.) and went over the Y-BOCS with her. It’s all so shit that several therapists I came to with textbook examples of OCD either ignored me or didn’t have the tools to help. I told one of them I “didn’t feel connected to reality” and he kind just went 🤷.

I just want everyone who is in that/a similar situation to at least have this information available to them.

If you want to learn more, these blogs from Sheppard Pratt were the best discussion of OCD I found online that really described what I was going through. They’re written by licensed therapists, several (all?) of whom live with OCD. They’re very healing to read if this is something you’re struggling with, or something you think you might be struggling with, and great in general if you want to learn more about OCD.

Whatever’s going on, OCD or not, have some grace with yourself. Take a few minutes today and do something kind for yourself, even just think one nice thing about yourself. You’re doing the best you can.

#actually ocd #ocd #ocd awareness #do with this what you will but I stresses me the hell out when I see people #uncritically reblog posts suggesting new compulsions to people #because they worked on me and made my ocd worse #im sure a lot of those suggestions came from others with ocd so I’m not trying to come after anyone about this #I just feel like I don’t see a lot of discussion about this stuff in general and even in the notes on those posts

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redflagshipwriter · 3 months ago

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Halfa Cass 9 pt 2

masterpost

The office, as it were, was a dank garage that stunk of dogshit no matter how much Danny aired it out and what he cleaned. Dust motes hung sullenly in the air.

Danny blew some of them out of the way of his workbench and grimaced as he wiped it clean-ish. The dust settled on the rough concrete underfoot, because effort was nearly pointless and he should probably give up immediately. He heaved a sigh and looked around. God. It was depressing to be here with enough time to think. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a project to start up yet. His contact was supposed to show up today with a new request.

He fiddled with his tools as he waited, making sure everything was well-maintained and organized. There was a glut of scrap material for him to use. The local gang had people collect it for him. Danny spent a while sorting it, figuring out what was usable and what was genuinely trash. When that was done he thought about ducking to the corner store to get more cleaning supplies to make being in the garage less painful, but if he wasn’t available when the guy came, well.

It wouldn’t be good, that was all.

They didn’t know about Jazz. Probably. He was pretty sure that the gang had no concept that he was connected to anyone else in Gotham. He wasn’t on her lease and he didn’t have any kind of legal ID.

When they’d had to make a break for it, they hadn’t had enough money for everything. As soon as they were stable enough, Danny would ghost this gang and get a new ID. They would set up somewhere else and he could get some kind of unrelated degree so that nothing about them would ever flag as the Fenton siblings.

There was a bang from upstairs. Danny fixed his slouch a little so that whatever machismo dickbag came in wouldn’t think he was challenging them or whatever. He waited as footsteps thudded down the wrought metal staircase.

“Mechanic,” called a man that Danny didn’t know. Cocky. Light colored blue jeans, bright orange tennis shoes that were probably expensive.

“Morning.” He nodded genially as his contact came into sight. The new guy was young, weedy, and had a hungry look to his face. Not as in underfed- ambitious. He’d topped his casual look off with a black muscle shirt that showed he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He had a little mustache that looked like a mistake.

“I’m Brick.” Brick looked around the garage and sneered a little. Fair enough. It was gross. “The boss liked the bazooka. We need two more of those.”

Danny cringed internally. ‘I really hope they’re not imaginative enough to start misusing those for anything beyond theft. I don’t have enough of a money stash for Phantom to confiscate my tech back yet.’

He dodged eye contact and nodded, wiping his hands with a shop cloth just to have something to do. “Right, I can do that,” he said. “It’ll take a couple of days.”

Brick took a big step forward like he was playing a game. “What if it didn’t, though?” He stared a hole through Danny.

It took a couple of seconds to realize that Brick was trying to be intimidating.

“It’s gonna take a couple of days,” Danny repeated, trying to avoid sounding like he was mouthing off.

Technically speaking, yeah. He could bang those out today. But they didn’t know that. They were paying him by the day and he didn’t want to flood the streets with too much ecto tech.

Brick scowled at him, but let it go. “And you’re sure that shit can’t work on people?” he demanded.

Danny kept his face still, because grinning would give him away. “Very sure,” he said blandly. It was true. It might knock a human back, but ecto tech didn’t act on living matter.

As long as this dumb gang didn’t start a territory fight with a local ghost, he hadn’t really introduced anything too harmful into the local ecosystem.

Brick looked pissy about this. “I’ll be back in two days to check in, nerd.” He turned on his heel and stomped away, up the stairs.

Danny waited for him to be fully gone before he snorted. “Nerd?” he repeated under his breath. “Yeah, sure. I’m the nerd, shiny shoes.” He snickered and started to assemble what he would need. “Brick- who are you kidding, string bean?” He mocked his contact quietly as he got to work assembling a matter displacement cannon.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #red halfa cass

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goddess-of-bubblegum · 5 days ago

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Hate annons? Really hon? [Aka my opinion with new evidence] (y'all might need a snack for this)

okay, mod speaking. So. I know I said I didn't want any drama on this blog.

BUT THE MOMENT I FOUND OUT MY FRIEND WAS STILL GETTING HATE ANNONS , IM GOING FULL ON DETECTIVE MODE!

This post is about @/unhinged-waterlilly, and oooh boy am I going to be getting so much hate for this. But. I am fine with hate asks. Just don't be a coward and don't put annon on. I am a minor, and if you decide to harass me about helping a friend, here we go.

My points against her:

1 she sent, and still sends hate annons (which hurts his mental health)

2 she accused jacks bf (freddy) as being fake

So. I saw a post a while back where "lily" said things about the jack situation, and I thought it was fair. UNTIL I REACHED THE PART WHERE SHE SAID THAT JACK DIDN'T DESERVE ANYTHING HE HAS look, I know that he hurt you with the AU , it hurt me too, but going so far to say that he doesn't deserve anything he has??? That's petty and mean.

Not to mention that he was in a shit mental state at the time he made the AU. Which obviously does not excuse anything, but it atleast explains it.

also, onto evidence number 1:

HATE ANNONS;

Now, this is just one of 3 hate annons Jack got this week. Yes, Jack is aware that he has hurt people, yes he is actively striving to better, so sending these hate annons won't help Jack not being , and I quote : "a depressed little attention seeking bitch" he has owned up to his mistakes, and I've advised him to put the explanation on his blog. And since he is try I ng to be better, he is focusing on himself, his mental health, and moving on.

BECAUSE MOVING ON IS HEALTHY

Me and jacks others moots are aware that no one forgot what he did , that he hurt people. But all that you can achieve by hurting him is a short adrenaline rush, that won't be worth it coke a few days. He is actively trying to become a better person

ALSO I am aware that since this is an annon, it's hard to prove this was actually lilly. But if you were to compare this to her other posts about Jack, you'd see it is very close.

Numero 2

ACUSSING FREDDY OF BEING FAKE:

There were multiple posts accusing Freddy, jacks bf, of not being a real person. Now. All of jacks moots know he is real, due to Jack making posts about him, and him telling us about him and what happened. And honestly? It's plausible that Freddy knew how to use tumblr , because it only took me a day to figure it out

Okay, and now this:

okay, let me get this straight. What jack did was wrong. We all agree on that , including Jack. But he was in a shit mental state while doing it, and he wasn't thinking clearly. Jack is trying to improve, Jack is trying to better himself, Jack is moving on and like a few posts say we all should.

But we can't truly move on 'till Jack stops getting hate, till we apologise and understand and hear out, not necessarily forgive his actions

ALSO

From: @eligha-child-of-hades

A while ago when I recently started this account I got an ask with a link. The link led to @/unhinged-waterlily account and their intro post which had something about the MISTAKE that Jack made.

But with the ask, I didn't click it so I answered with a; ?

Bc I don't trust random links.

They sent another ask with the same link saying this exact thing; 'I suggest you read it. Better to know who you interact with.'

She says this, but she fails to inform others that she's hate bombing and hurting Jack.

Woukd you rather rp with someone whose trying to change? Or someone whi is causing someone more harm?

I'll be getting hate for this. I know I will be harassed and sent hate annons. But it will be worth it. If he can move on, but you can't, if you hold on to anger, and he doesn't.

Then aren't you also doing bad things?

@sillypuppetmeister @braydons-world @penelope-is-waiting @bast-the-best26 @reyna4ever @gaygirldoodles

#Can y'all tell I wanna be a lawyer or no?#;)#Sorry I really had to use humor for this

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maleyanderecafe · 1 year ago

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Yandere Killing!! ~When I told my obsessive childhood friend, "I love you too," she shifted to the romantic comedy route~(Manga)

Created by: Toyama Monaka/Kazuichi

Genre: Smut

The continual descent into translating yandere stuff continues. This one only has one chapter out for me to translate so far, so really the only last maybe 10 pages have any semblance of smut. Still though, the artwork for this one is very pretty and I am so happy with the way that I typefaced this one like you will not believe how clean it is compared to other ones I've translated.

The story starts out with a man named Isogi begging in front of Miyoshi to take him back after he cheated on her with another girl. Miyoshi of course bluntly rejects him, stating that the one thing he cannot forgive is cheating to which Isogi is dragged away. After that, her coworkers get worried about her and she continues her work at the coffee shop, only to meet up with another man named Ohara who asks if the two of them will be eating dinner tonight. Ohara and Miyoshi are childhood friends and have a tendency to eat together with her sister Ryoka. Outside, Isogi stalks Miyoshi until Ohara comes to "have a talk with him". At night, it seems Ohara is late and Miyoshi and Ryoka eat together instead, before Ryoka turns in for the night warning Miyoshi to be more careful when it comes to Ohara. Ohara comes over to eat and we see that Miyoshi has had a long time crush on him, however, feels that he has no interest in him because of an event that happened when she was in high school. At work, Tayaka ends up proposing to Miyoshi after she laments about her ex for a bit promising that he will be loyal, however, is interrupted by Ohara. Ohara seems pretty pissed which leads to Miyoshi feeling depressed about this fact as she still has a crush on him. Not wanting this to eat her, she tries to call Ohara so that she can confess to him, even if she feels he won't reciprocate. However, while attempting to do so, her sister ends up calling her instead, warning that Ohara is right behind her before Ohara takes her phone. Ohara is extremely jealous and starts to touch her. talking about how Isogi and Tayaka don't deserve her before basically mating pressing her at the end.

Basically I think that the plot of this smut (I mean most smuts barely have a plot, fair enough) was pretty intriguing until the very end of this chapter where everything escalates way too fast. I guess considering the title states it goes into a comedic route that might be the reason why? Hard to tell with just the first chapter though. Also because we know that the male lead is a yandere at all times, the misunderstanding of her not realizing that Ohara does have a huge crush on him is pretty like...well, the dramatic irony is not lost on me, I suppose. Still, I did think that the entire thing with Sayuki's drive to not try to get back together with someone who cheated is pretty good, although I'm not sure why she feels like that since we don't know if she's actually had problems with cheaters in the past (before Isogi) and I feel (?) like it's pretty standard for people to not get back with someone who has cheated on them if there is not reason to (like having kids or being financially dependent on them for instance). Like I said though, the ending of that is pretty confusing- how did Sayuki's sister Ryoka know that Ohara was right behind her and why did she call in the first place? I mean, I know Ryoka was pretty much the only person who knew the two liked each other, but how did she know he was coming for her? And like. I don't understand why Ohara didn't just try to confess to her in the first place if he likes her so dang much anways, especially since it did seem like the two of them were close. Again though, this is a smut so it's not like the plot is the most important part of this story, there's just a lot of things going on that don't really have an explanation now.

That being said, this artwork is very pretty and it does a good job with the yandere expressions that we did get. Hopefully as more chapters come out that I can translate we can figure out what is going on in this story.

#Yandere Killing!! ~When I told my obsessive childhood friend “I love you too” she shifted to the romantic comedy route~#male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #manga #ongoing

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illiterateaffairs · 1 year ago

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DISTRACTIONS SCENE BETWEEN | STAY LIKE THIS FOREVER

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 1,190

summary: the first time you spend the night at jamie’s place. this takes place between chapters three and four of distractions.

A/N: here is the first missing scene from distractions! sorry this is posted so late but it’s still monday for me! i plan on doing a few of these here and there, and will be posting another for ted day tomorrow. please let me know if there are any other moments, either mentioned or implied, you’d like to see from distractions! because i had a busy memorial day weekend, i haven’t had the chance to get chapter seven of distractions in a perfect place, so want to make sure you guys have some small things to hold you over. chapter seven should be out friday!

distractions masterlist

There were a lot of things that brought you to Jamie’s door that night.

One was homesickness. You had made the mistake of going on Facebook - a mistake in and of itself - and happened upon pictures of your extended family at a get-together for God knows what. It really didn’t matter. It was just a reminder of what you were missing, even before moving to another continent. You could count on one hand the number of times you got to go home to see your dads in the last few years, and lately it's been hitting you harder how much you missed them.

The second was also Facebook's fault. As you continued scrolling through the app in a depressed haze, you’d happened upon a post from Mason’s mom. God you really needed to unfriend him and his whole family. She had posted pictures of their family; Mason and Chloe included. Without even thinking, you’d clicked on Mason’s profile and saw his updated status.

In a relationship.

He and Chloe were Facebook official.

While this didn’t surprise you, it still didn’t make you feel good. It was embarrassing the hold he still had on you, even though you’ve long since realized you deserved better than him. It just wasn’t fair that he got to flaunt his perfect, new relationship even though he fucked up and cheated. Eventually, you knew you’d stop caring, but right now all you needed was to get your mind off of your ex and his new girlfriend immediately.

The third reason you came to see Jamie was a bit more complicated, and you didn’t even fully understand it. The reason being that you just really wanted to see him. You chalked it up to being lonely and horny, and didn’t dwell on the swirling feelings any longer than you should’ve.

You knocked on his door around 10PM. You were worried he might already be asleep, or out training with Roy. You felt more relieved than you should when you heard the pads of his feet approach the front door. When he opened it, his first reaction was one of surprise, before his expression became pleased. He barely had time to formulate a greeting when your lips were on his. Jamie didn’t need instructions. He immediately hoisted you into his arms and carried you to his room.

While you were used to Jamie’s generosity in bed, he was extra giving that night. You’d quickly learned it was because he’d sensed your tension. After round three or four - you couldn’t keep track - you and Jamie were laying side by side. He’d slowly turned to face you, and pulled his sheets up to cover you both. He gently thumbed your chin, coaxing you to face him as well.

“Are you alright?” he’d asked softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jamie shrugged, “You’re quieter than usual.”

You chuckled, “What? I wasn’t loud enough for you before?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked slightly, “No, I mean, you’re usually more talkative.”

“Are you saying I talk too much?”

You realized his hand was still making contact with your face when he reached down to lightly pinch your shoulder, “Stop it. I like when you talk, but you’ve barely said a word since you’ve been here. And while I definitely do not mind the surprise visit, you’ve never come to my place before. Just wondering if something happened.”

You sighed, no longer able to meet his eye. “It’s really nothing. Was just feeling off today.”

Jamie hummed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head, “Not right now.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Hmm,” you basked in his attention and the way he was playing with your hair for a second, “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“What?” Jamie let out a confused laugh.

“You know, like when you were a kid, did you always want to be a football player, or did you want to be something else?”

“Huh,” Jamie thought for a beat, “I feel like I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to be a footballer. After my mom got me into it, I never looked back.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you mused.

“What about you?” he asked after a few seconds.

“I think in kindergarten I wanted to be a ballerina because I watched Barbie Swan Lake.”

“Of course.”

“And then when I was 9 or 10 I wanted to be a meteorologist. Or no, a storm chaser!”

Jamie laughed loudly, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. I watched the Wizard of Oz and thought tornadoes were cool as hell.”

“I think that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to think.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like other girls,” you both laughed. “But then in middle school, I took my first creative writing class and I was hooked. I felt like I could write forever.”

“Is that what you did before you came here?” he questioned.

“Sort of. I wrote for an advertising agency, but I wasn’t passionate about it. What I really want to do is be an author,” you admitted quietly.

“Yeah? That’d be so cool.” Jamie whispered, still twisting your hair between his fingers.

“I think so, too,” you smiled a bit, “But I just haven’t had any inspiration lately.”

Jamie nodded, “Well I bet when you do start writing again, it’ll be great.”

“How would you know? You’ve never read my writing.”

“I just know.” After another few beats of silence, he continues even quieter, “Would you ever let me read something of yours, when you do?”

You studied him through your lashes, before giving him a tiny smile of your own. “Maybe,” you respond coyly. “You have to promise to lie to me and tell me you love it even if you hate it, though.”

Jamie huffs, “I doubt that’ll happen, but I promise.”

“Thank you.”

You and Jamie kept chatting for a few more minutes before your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off, you note how comfortable and at ease you feel with Jamie. Whether it's when you’re hooking up, or just enjoying each other’s company, you feel nice and safe. It was a new feeling, and you didn’t know what it meant, especially when you were half asleep, but you liked it.

The two of you slept soundly, wrapped up in one another, until around 4AM when you heard pounding coming from the front door. Without opening your eyes, you groan as you feel Jamie pull himself out of bed and out of your arms.

“I’m sorry, it’s Roy,” he whispered, “I’ve got to get to training.”

You let out another noise of protest and Jamie chuckled quietly.

“Next time we stay at my place where Roy can’t find us,” you mumbled tiredly.

“Sounds good to me.”

You barely registered what must have been Jamie kissing your cheek before you’re falling back asleep.

You were fully out again as Jamie quickly and quietly got ready. Before he jogged downstairs to meet Roy, he indulged himself with one last lingering look at your sleeping form.

God, you were cute.

A/N: once again, please let me know what you think!! and if there are any other missing scenes you’d like to see! <3 p.s. anyone who asked to be on the taglist today/yesterday I will make sure you’re included in my post tomorrow!

Taglist: @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife @chelseamount @k0z3me @lickitandsendit3 @miakreid @shimmeringfrenchie @meg-ro @spookysins @a-sweet-little-fangirl @optimisticsandwichgladiator @marveltg365 @ringpopdust @gcidrvsh @beardsplitter @scaramou @ibong-adarnaaa @piper570 @eviemae263782 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #distractions series #distractions scene between #missing scenes

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