#and get back to answering the anons i have waiting

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: girl bye this whole part is just screaming n crying omg be prepared

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

authors note: wanted to make a little unexpected visit at the end given his character but yk 😋 let me know if u arent on the tag list yet !! interact w me thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

long story short, the group collectively agree to postpone this dinner night because of what happened. just as you left the restroom, drew was gone and were instead met by leila who told you they were leaving to eat at the pearl some other time.

you feel terrible that they had to witness what they did, and you assume they must’ve seen you and drew talking in the hallway for them to make this decision. they know something’s wrong between you two, and you almost break on the spot. it’s like the whole plan is crashing down and you don’t know what to do, how to move forward.

you and drew travel in different cars on the way home but to end off the night, the group splits up. some dress down and head back to explore the town at night or there are others who choose to stay home, just keep a respectful distance.

you rid of your clothes and step into the shower to collect your thoughts, and it takes everything in you not to cry from frustration. the steam curls around you, the hot water beating down your back like it’s trying to wash the weight of everything away—but it doesn’t.

no amount of heat or scrubbing can erase the guilt, regret, and shame that engulf you.

when you finally step out, your skin is red from the heat, and you wipe a hand over the fogged mirror, catching a glimpse of your own tired reflection. your new clothes cling to your still-damp skin, and your hair hangs heavy and wet down your back.

when you step out of the bathroom, the cool air bites at your skin, but that’s not what makes you freeze. you see him—drew—walking toward your shared room. he’s freshly showered, his hair slightly wet, and you realize he must’ve used the bathroom across the hall that gia and roman share.

for a split second, your eyes meet, and you have to bite down on your emotions, hard, before you can speak. before you can let it all flood out.

you get to the door first, quietly letting yourself in, then leaving it open so he comes in too. the air between you feels heavy—like there are words unsaid. you can hear the faint sound of music downstairs, theo’s voice talking low, maybe to leila, but it’s distant. they must be trying to let you talk without feeling like you need to worry.

you step into the room, moving toward the dresser on your side of the room. your hand rests on top of it, gripping the edge for balance, as if the solid wood can keep you grounded. your back is to him, but you can hear him enter. he stands there for a moment, probably watching you, probably waiting for you to say something.

the silence is unbearable.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

your voice comes out quietly, almost too low for him to hear. you don’t turn around, your eyes focused on the lamp in the corner of the room, as if looking anywhere but at him will keep you from falling apart. your hand tightens on the dresser as you wait for him to answer.

you hear him shuffle behind you, his breath catching like he didn’t expect you to speak first. “i . . . i don’t know,” he says, his voice just as quiet as yours. “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

you swallow hard, blinking rapidly as the familiar burn of tears threatens again. you know he’s trying to be honest, but that answer—it’s not enough. it doesn’t fix anything.

“you didn’t want to hurt me?” your voice wavers, and you finally turn, facing him. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you like he doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made. “this wasn’t even just a few days either. this has been weeks—weeks of us talking, planning, pretending . . . and the whole time, you were lying.”

as you walk over to him, he opens his mouth to respond, but you can see the guilt weighing him down, making it impossible for him to speak right away.

“not only were you lying to them,” you gesture loosely, meaning the others, everyone, “but you were lying to me.” you point to your chest as your voice cracks, weak and filled with betrayal.

his face tilts slightly to the side, and though he’s staring at you, his eyes are glossing over. you can see the weight of what he’s done finally sinking in, and it’s tearing him apart. he swallows hard, his throat tight.

“i didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his voice trembling now. “i never wanted—”

but he stops, his words catching in his throat, and you can see the tears threatening to spill. his jaw tightens as he forces himself to keep looking at you, even though it’s breaking him inside.

“no, but you did,” you tell him. “you made this decision. you created this plan when you had mila back home, drew.”

he winces at her name. you can see it. but you don’t stop.

every day, every conversation, every moment you’ve spent together, he knew. and he said nothing.

your words slow down though, and the weight of them sinks in deeper. “i had finally gotten to a point after we broke up where i felt like i was free of us,” you say, voice quieter now, but raw. “i didn’t have to worry about things like this anymore. i was finally done with us.”

drew’s lips part like he’s about to say something, but he can’t, and you don’t give him the chance. “but here i am.” you let out a short, breathless laugh, as though even you can’t believe the mess you're in. “i mean, i didn’t think agreeing to this plan was going to work out perfectly, but—”

you stop, searching for the words, your throat tight with emotion. it takes everything in you to keep from crying. you look away from him, your voice going numb, the exhaustion seeping through. “but i didn’t think i’d end up feeling like this. like none of it ever really ended.”

you stand there for a moment, letting the weight of everything hang between you two. you wipe at the corner of your eye, then shake your head slightly, more in disbelief than anything else.

“so why?” you ask, “why didn’t you just tell me? why didn’t you say something from the beginning, when we started this whole thing?"

he looks at you, his jaw clenching, but his eyes are filled with guilt. he takes a deep breath, his face turned slightly to the side like he's trying to hold himself together.

“i fell in love with you,” he says, and you scoff. oh, he’s just now fallen in love? he realizes his mistake and gets up when you start to walk away, but he grabs you by the arms, “no, no, no, y/n please, i fell in love with this life—being with you again. i didn’t want to lose that. i’m still in love with you. i always have been. i just realized it too late.”

you can’t believe him. “but you did lose it, drew.” your voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “you lost it the moment you decided to lie. you didn’t just ruin this plan, this stupid fake relationship.”

you shrug him off of you.

“i thought,” your voice cracks, “i thought telling our friends the truth would make everything worse. i was so scared they’d feel like they had to walk on eggshells around us, like it’d be awkward if they knew what happened. but you know what? i wish i’d just told them. instead of this. instead of . . . all of this.”

“and it’s not just about mila,” you say, “even when you’re supposed to be my fake boyfriend, you’re still making decisions for me. you speak for me, like you always know better, like i can’t speak for myself.” you can feel your frustration bubbling to the surface, the heat rising in your chest as you push forward. “it’s like . . . no matter what happens, you still feel like you need to control everything.”

drew’s mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to respond, but you can’t stop now. the words tumble out, each one hitting you harder than the last.

“i mean, do you know how exhausting that is?” your voice rises, and you can feel your emotions slipping, coming out faster than you can stop them. “you made up the plan, you pulled back the moment i was getting comfortable again, even our breakup was your decision.”

his expression hardens, and you can see the conflict raging behind his eyes. “i thought we agreed there wasn’t any point in keeping up something that was barely there,” he says. “we were hardly talking or communicating, y/n. i mean, trying to keep up a relationship for us that wasn’t even really there? was it . . . do you think it would’ve been better if we didn’t break up? i mean—”

“yes! yes, it was worth it! i didn’t care if we weren’t always together!” you blink, caught off guard for just a second, but the fire inside you flares back to life. “and you said there wasn’t any point; not me. we’re busy people, drew, lives like ours don’t get spent every day how these two weeks are supposed to be. you have to know that. so i’m sorry that you felt enough was enough for us but you shouldn’t have had to decide what you thought was best for both of us and make that decision on your own without telling me!”

as you speak, you notice the way his face shifts, confusion and regret flickering in his eyes.

you exhale, shutting your eyes. “trust me, i spent nights worrying about us when we were together, replaying every moment, every doubt.” your voice lowers, becoming more vulnerable, almost a whisper. “and i told myself, ‘okay, that’s normal. that’s normal maybe. so you didn’t get a fairytale relationship; grow up.’”

“but i understood that . . . no matter what, i wouldn’t have left you because i loved you,” you cry, “i stayed because that’s what you do when you love someone.”

drew’s face crumbles at your words, and his gaze drops to the floor. you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you meet his gaze again. “look, i’m not going to say anything to anyone about mila,” you say. “but you need to figure this out, how we move on from here, and whether you’re going to tell her about this plan because i’m not gonna keep doing it if she’s not comfortable with it.”

drew nods slowly. he’s quiet, visibly processing everything. “i’ll do it,” he says, almost to himself, but you nod anyway. he takes a shuddering breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally speaks. “i didn’t mean to lose you,” he says, staring at the ground. “but i did. i know that now.”

you watch him for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you, before you turn away. your hand reaches for the door, and this time, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah, you did,” you whisper, voice broken as you open the door and hurry through, leave him standing there alone. “you did.”

drew stands there, frozen in place as the silence settles around him. he watches when you walk away until the laughter from outside fades into a distant echo, and he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, his body heavy with regret.

“—fucking—” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible. he leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs, and cradles his head in his hands while tears spill from his eyes. in that moment, he’s completely alone, engulfed by the realization that he pushed away the one person who mattered most.

“i’m gonna be back, okay?” libby tells you. you’re sitting in her bed, her and leila feeling like it’s only reasonable for her to step up, and she would’ve no matter what.

“hey,” you say before she goes, your fingers reaching her arm. she halts, looking at you again as she settles back down on the edge of the bed. “thank you for letting me sleep here tonight.”

she gives you a knowing look. “there’s no need y/n. my job is to make sure you’re comfortable and okay. your job is to get under my covers and drool on my pillows ‘til morning.”

“shut up,” you murmur and consider whacking her in the face with one of said pillows, but she leans forward to give you a hug. it’s gentle at first, and you’re relieved to feel a warmth from someone at a time like this. you feel like you can stay there forever, but she pulls away to leave the room.

there’s a knock at the door that startles you a bit, and you wait anxiously for who’s behind it. they open it quietly and peek their head in—roman?

he lets himself inside with cautious steps, and before you can speak he shushes you.

“keep it down, stupid,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows at him. he takes maybe two steps forward and then stops there. “i just wanted to say sorry for not saying anything before at the peel.”

“the pearl.” you nod, your lips pursed. “thanks.”

he deadpans at you. “i don’t do this very often so i’d appreciate more than just a thanks, you kn—” he pauses to rephrase his words, and you can see the gears shift in his head. he sighs. “i fully saw that you were upset and i didn’t do anything. part of it was because i didn’t know if i should’ve but the other was that the food was just really good—”

“roman,” you try to tell him to get out, but he persists.

“no,” he tells you. he tries to search for the right words before continuing, “i’m just sorry. i don’t want to make it seem like i don’t care or that you don’t have anybody to talk to. and i’m not gonna jump the gun or be all enthusiastic the next time this happens but . . . i just won’t be quiet anymore.”

you’re taken aback by roman’s unexpected display of concern. you can’t tell if you’re imagining this. this has to be the first time you’ve probably ever known him that he’s being like this. but you nod slowly, absorbing his words. “thank you, roman,” you say softly, appreciating the effort he’s making. “it means a lot that you care.”

he shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional territory but pressing on anyway. “good,” he replies, his voice a little firmer. “because i might not always show it, but i do care. just . . . don’t think you have to go through stuff alone, alright? we’re friends, i guess, even if i don’t always act like it.”

you smile faintly, still surprised that he’s even still standing there. “i get it. i appreciate you saying something.”

“goodnight, y/n,” he says. just as he’s about to leave, he glances back, a knowing look in his eyes. “and just so you know, i get that things are complicated with starkey, but it’s pretty obvious you two aren’t really together. you don’t have to pretend around me.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a rush of vulnerability. how much does he really know? but before you can question him further, he’s already slipping out the door.

at the same time, libby slides past him with mugs of hot cocoa, “ew, what are you doing here?” she says to roman, avoiding him like he’s her brother. “get out of here.”

she kicks the door closed behind her, and her mood switches to a smile. “what was all that about? oh my god— did he hurt you? did he infect you?” she asks, feigning concern as she plops down next to you and handing you a mug. you take the mug and just shake your head with a grin.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

[signanothername]

penny for your thoughts on dadmare and more fandom takes??

🪙

Tbh Anon you have to be a bit more specific with what fandom takes you want my opinion on cause I genuinely can’t think of any shshhshshs

But for dadmare… hmmmmmmm

It’s… I have complicated feelings about this trope

Like on one hand, I love the exploration of dadmare as a concept and would genuinely love for it to be explored in a deep meaningful way

On the other hand… the fandom never actually explores it in a deep meaningful way so everytime I come across dadmare a part of me dies inside

Like the fandom immediately settles for “tired generic dad trying to control his rowdy kids” and i’m here like :’)

Like i’d love for dadmare to actually be explored in depth, like the shift for Nightmare from being a bitch to being “dadmare” how does Nightmare deal with MTT in a dadmare way while staying true to his character

How did Nightmare develop and change and how does he feel about being “dadmare”, does he struggle to face the consequences of the abuse he put MTT through and how does he make it up to them? but like also for the love of god you can explore this trope without having MTT act like children, they’re literally +30 old men and you don’t have to infantilize them for the trope to work

Also hot take but everytime MTT call Nightmare “dad” unironically an angel loses its wings, it just ruins the vibes for me, like dadmare is a trope yet people genuinely take it too literally, which again just plays into the infantilization of adult characters

Hell, relationships aren’t one sided, how does MTT feel about Nightmare’s shift, do they trust him or do they take it as an opportunity to escape, do they hate Nightmare but warm up to him or do they not care for his change of heart

Like here’s an example, when people write dadmare, they write his ability to absorb MTT’s negativity to relieve them of their pain right? Ok cool, I LOVE THAT! What I hate tho is the fact every single person in the gang seems to “trust” Nightmare with their life and how all of them react the same way

Basically the MTT are reduced to cardboard cutouts that are literally just duplicates of each other, they all have the exact same reaction to anything Nightmare does, like you’re actually gonna sit here and tell me that Killer trusts Nightmare with his soul????? What did Nightmare do to earn that trust, and Killer isn’t a trusting person to begin with

Hell what did Nightmare do in the first place? Even when the interpretation of Nightmare is that he’s kind from the beginning and that he “saved them”, do you honestly believe that Murder would genuinely feel saved? Are you gonna tell me Horror is gonna stay and live with Nightmare by his own volition and abandon his brother where he only goes back to “visit” him? Since when has Nightmare become more important to Horror than Papyrus?

Hell since when can Murder, Killer and Horror communicate well?? Since when were they super close to each other and since when was Murder ok with Killer’s existence considering his very dangerous Determination and Chara-like nature?

Since when was Killer super emotional in stage 2 and since when was his other stages completely forgotten to fit the perfectly happy and healthy family that the fandom is trying to force onto these obviously unhealthy characters with unhealthy relationships and destructive behaviors

Like don’t get me wrong, people are obviously allowed to explore their fave characters however they like, but my point is, I can’t enjoy the trope of Dadmare even tho i want to, cause the fandom just settles for very straight forward answers to every problem, every little problem is immediately resolved with a snap of a finger

Everything is happy and rainbows and roses and any problems the MTT have they just go to dadmare and suddenly they’re no longer self destructive cause dadmare immediately saves them cause he always has the answer!!!

And i’m here still waiting for an interpretation of dadmare that actually pulls me in and actually interests me like

[thewritergremlin-rae]

Hi! If you wanted to could you write a Soulmate AU or Drunken confessions (Loki x reader) pls thanks <333

Thanks for the request anon! I have way too many soulmate AU ideas already so I went with drunken confessions ehehehe

A Casual Exchange

Pairing: Loki x Reader Rating: M Words: 763 Content: 2nd person, fluff, drunken/tipsy reader Summary: Your night winds to a close - your parting words leaving Loki stunned. AO3: HERE

Banner by cafekitsune

You hadn’t meant to get drunk. 

No. Really. 

You’d been nursing one glass, only it had never ended. You had a feeling your favourite Asgardian had something to do with it. Plopping down on the couch, your drink sloshed but you didn’t feel a splash and, looking over at Loki, none of it had spilt on him either. 

Your eyes got a little stuck on Loki, like they always did. Such a beautiful being. Skin - flawless, cheekbones - sharp enough to cut yourself on, legs - never ending. 

The sound of him clearing his throat brought your gaze back to his face but you didn’t feel any of that familiar, heavy embarrassment in your stomach. You laughed as he arched a delicate eyebrow. 

“Yes, dear?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, his gaze washing over your swaying, the slight dazed look in your eyes, and the curve of your lips as you giggled. 

The giggling was his favourite. 

“Are you having fun, Loki?” You laid your arm out over the back of the couch and flopped your head down on it as you waited for his answer. Fingers caught the end of his curls, twisting and twirling them, brain fizzing and focusing on the silky feel. 

Loki snorted softly, you having no idea you’d missed his answer. “You seem to be having far more fun.” 

You giggled again and tugged a little on the curl, watching it bounce back into place. “Yeah…  Do you use magic on these?” You flicked a curl again and his long fingers curled around your traitorous ones. 

“No, that would be pointless when I can simply use products. And I certainly would never be so strange as Midgardians as to put dangerous chemicals in my hair to change the colour.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you processed the information. “Guess you’re right. See, that’s why humans should be feared. What other race kept eating mushrooms until they found the ones that made them trip balls?”

“You also season your food with peppers that developed semi-poisonous defense mechanisms to avoid being eaten, your race deciding that that makes them taste good.” 

You laughed and grinned. “Jalapeno poppers are the best and you’re just jealous you don’t have processed sugar on your planet.”

Loki gave an elegant shrug. “I concede that chocolate is certainly one of your species’ better inventions.” He smiled, pulling a bar seemingly from nowhere as he traded it for your drink. 

Probably a good idea, you were just on the edge of sober enough to know that as you dug in and nibbled. “Thanks, Loki, you’re the best.” 

A subtle twitch in his expression caught your eye but you weren’t sharp enough to figure it out right now. Actually, Loki should have some of this chocolate too but his hands were pretty full. 

You snapped off a piece and held it to his lips, grinning when he accepted it with nothing more than a cocked eyebrow. But he soon got his own back, dragging a gasp from your soft lips when he nipped the tip of your thumb. 

You stared at your thumb as you brought it back to you. It tingled a little, still warm. 

A distant laugh had the sounds of the party around you filtering back in and you realised it’s a little loud. “Me and the chocolate are going to go to bed.” Loki seemed a little sad to lose your company but perhaps he shouldn’t have refilled your cup so much. No-one was ever thankful for a hangover. 

“A good idea. Good night.” 

“Night night, Loki. Love you.” You leaned forward with a bounce to kiss his cheek and got to your feet, leaving him stunned.

Did you just say…

You waved to him as if you didn’t just profess your love for him and disappeared inside the elevator. How could you not realise….? 

You hummed to yourself, nibbling at the chocolate. Head empty, no thoughts as you crossed to your bedroom door. 

Wait.

Did you say ‘love you’ to Loki? Your brain slowly swings back to the memory and your eyes widen when you hear the words in your own voice. 

Oh shit. You hurried back to the elevator, cut short by the appearance of a firm chest in your narrowed field of vision.

“Did we perhaps realise what we said, love?” Loki whispered, hoping he looked not the least bit flustered by your casual admission. His arms caught you and held you close before he caught your lips. 

“Loki…” you breathed and he chuckled. 

“I might be persuaded to remind you come morning.” 

Want to be tagged in future Loki fic? Go here

Check out my masterlist!

Tags: @kindadolly @ilovetaquitosmmmm @satan-ate-my-sandwitch @ravenswritingroom

[hergrandplan]

Hi, hope you're still doing this (if not, it's totally ok).

Wilmon, "we were on a break!"

Hi anon! sorry it took me so long to answer, thank you so much for this <333 this was such a fun prompt to write (i did not even attempt to stick to 5 sentences though)

“We were on a break!” Wille shouted, sprinting after Simon through the dark garden, past the fairy lights, past the stragglers outside for a smoke. For someone so short, Simon was impossibly fast.

“We were –“, Wille panted out, as he came to a stop in front of Simon, “on a break.” Sounds from the wedding reception had followed them out, the laughter and shouts and music, but it was all muffled, far away.

“I don’t care, Wilhelm,” Simon spat, trying to push past him again. Wille flinched at his – full – name coming out of Simon’s mouth; he’d never called him anything else but Wille. “Even if you were, you clearly aren’t anymore. And I have no interest in being someone’s side fling.”

“It isn’t what you think.”

“Then what is it, Wilhelm? Please, enlighten me, tell me why this is anything else than you stringing me along, making me believe we had a future only to find out that you already had a boyfriend.”

“Because he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Then why did he call you babe and have his tongue down your throat the minute he saw you?”

Wille didn’t know what to say to that.

“Just like I thought. Goodbye, Wilhelm.” And there again, that name.

“Simon, stop, wait.” Wille’s hand shot out to wrap around Simon’s wrist, holding him in place. Trying to make him stay.Simon just looked at it, before looking back up at Wille, glaring at him, but at least he didn’t try to pull away.

“This whole thing was his idea, okay? He thought that, because he was my first boyfriend and all, that I should see other people, to make sure that he was who I really wanted.

And tonight, I was going to tell him that he had been right, that I didn’t want to get back together with him because I had found someone else. I didn’t think he would kiss me.”

“You were –“

“Officially going to end things. But I promise you, Simon, I wasn’t cheating. You’re not just some … some ‘side fling’.” He was so much more.

Wille stepped a bit closer, close enough to smell Simon’s cologne, to see the slight furrow of his brow and slight flush on his golden skin, even in the dark.

“I love you, Simon Eriksson. And it’s you I want to be with – if you’ll still have me.”

Send me Wilmon + a sentence and get 5 (++) more

[heehoonies]

🎀

Just had a thought,what if Heeseung asked his nuna to peg him?

don't ask me these kinds of things 🎀 anon you're going for the killshot rn (idc if this ask is old! i have been thinking abt it for a while!)

obvious noona kink warning! lol

.

"c-can i ask you something?"

you turn to your boyfriend, eyebrows raising in response to his question. "anything, hee."

"it's kind of embarrassing..." heeseung tries to hide his face, to which you restrict his hands and force him to look at you. "what is it?" you ask gently, trying to pry the answer out of him.

"noona..." you feel the wetness already pooling in your panties as heeseung says the nickname he reserves for when he's feeling needy.

"yes, baby boy?"

you see him freeze for a moment, your baby always being so shy when he's subbed out.

"c-can... can we try something new?"

you nod in response, rubbing a reassuring thumb over the backs of his hands. "of course, my pretty boy, what do you want to try?"

"can you fuck me, noona?" the foul words slipping from your innocent heeseung's mouth has your eyes rolling back. "fuck... seungie..." you bring his hands to your mouth, peppering them with kisses. "do you know what you're asking me to do?"

heeseung nods in response, his embarrassment and shyness slowly slipping away as his comfortability with you takes over once more. "i do, noona. i wanna feel you inside me."

"you're sure, hee?" his nod in response and a small 'yes' leaving his lips is all you need to witness before you're telling him to get on all fours on your bed. you pull out a small box from beneath the bed as heeseung strips himself, diligently following your orders.

you find the small strap the two of you bought while very drunk and very horny one night, smiling at your past self for being so... all knowing.

"my baby boy, you're so good," you coo at him, wrapping the silicone cock's strap around your waist and securing it. you gaze down at his already gaping hole, the sight of his lubed up rim making your pussy clench around nothing. "you prepped yourself for your noona?"

"yes, need you so bad, noona. need you right now..."

you chuckle lightly, grabbing onto heeseung's hips before slathering some lube on your cock as well. "is this why you've been having me add more fingers when i'm in your ass? been training yourself in secret, baby?" heeseung nods shamelessly, "yes, noona, been needing you so bad but i know you wouldn't let me unless i was ready."

you slip two fingers inside, breaching his hole easily, "my baby is so cock hungry, isn't he? couldn't even wait to have noona size train him, had to prep himself because he couldn't be patient for noona's cock." heeseung whimpers as he feels you add a third finger inside his asshole, rim barely stretching from the extensive size training he had completed merely an hour before.

"no, noona, couldn't wait-" he whines out as you remove your three fingers, pressing the tip of your cock against his fluttering rim. "sure you're ready, my love? i know you usually love foreplay."

heeseung groans at your lack of movement, trying to shift his hips back to get you to press into him already. his voice is whiny as he cranes his head to look back at you, wide bambi eyes pleading into your skull, "foreplay after, noona... need you now."

you caress heeseung's asscheeks with your soft palms, spreading them apart to watch him take you in. your cock slips in with ease, watching closely as his hole sucks you inside without hesitation.

"fuck, look at you..."

"i love you so much..." he whimpers from beneath you, hands gripping the sheets, face stuffed in the pillow, gasping for air at the new, overwhelming feeling of being completely stuffed.

"i love you too, heeseung. my good boy, can't wait to stuff you full of my cum."

heeseung groans loudly when the words hit his ringing ears as you press your hips flush to his ass. "gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to walk tomorrow." you grin as your thrusts begin, his groans accentuating every harsh movement as heeseung is dragged up and down along the bed's surface. heeseung's ass jiggles with each movement and you smack one cheek lightly, watching as it bounces back easily. you groan lowly at the sight, "baby boy, you were made to be loved by me." he whines lowly at your words, pressing his hips flush to your pelvic bone, the affection shooting straight to his heart. "can't wait to make a mess of you, over and over..."

[yinyuedijun]

Answer me honestly... would you be willing to lay eggs for Dan Heng if you ever found out that you two could miraculously conceive? Like you'll carry the clutch to a certain period much like a normal pregnancy then you'd go into labor but they'll come out as eggs, hatching at a later date not too far from laying them. All the while Dan Heng would be fussing over everything, instincts driving him mad to care for you, the bedding, the clothes, the food, being protective and such. I'd sell my soul if it means I got my man like this 🙏

TBH this all came from a wild ahh afternoon nap dream and I can't get it out of my head 😭

I want you to know anon that I nearly deleted my account yesterday but reading this ask made me immediately stop and reminded me of why I am on this website. oviposition is actually a huge squick for me but ykw I would do it for danheng. I would do it for the vidyadhara race. this is the only peaceful way to continue it. I have no choice but to make that man a father by any means possible. I would lay his eggs and I would crochet little egg warmers for them too while we're waiting for them to hatch. (I don't crochet btw but I would also learn that for danheng.) then once they're big enough we could take them down to the scalegorge waterscape and sing vidyadhara lullabies to them while they get ready to hatch. danheng would probably cry once they did. I feel like this would cause a schism among the vidyadhara preceptors too and danheng would be forced back into a high elder role. but it would be worth it because he could raise his kids in their ancestral homeland. thank you for saving my account btw

[peachetteprice]

heya, can I please request hc’s of how 141 boys would react to their s/o finding out they(141) cheated on their s/o (reader) . im in need of some angst 😭

Oh, boy.

Long disclaimer: this has been in my ask box since July, and I am well aware that it's unlikely you're still in need for angst. I quickly came to the realisation after working on it for a few days that I misread the entire prompt and had written for Price and Soap with YOU being the one to cheat on THEM (141). In my perfectionist state, I abandoned the whole thing, choosing to forgo the whole prompt even if it meant denying someone who was clearly interested in my work something that they'd asked for that I could (reasonably) provide. Nobody should have to wait this long for their ask to be answered, and I'm incredibly apologetic that I was so selfish as to leave it go stale in my inbox. Anon, sweetheart, I highly recommend that you search for another writer to fulfill this, because I'm sure they would gladly dive into the idea that the 141 are cheating on YOU, and not the other way around like I misunderstood. It is entirely uncouth for me to make someone wait this long for a simple ask – don't even get me started that it isn't even in HC format – and I can only apologise that even when it is 'out', now, it is not what you asked for and is my initial interpretation of your ask. I did not do it justice. You deserve better, anon. I sincerely aplogise.

Some of the Boys with Cheating S/Os

Captain John Price

Anyone knew it wasn't easy being married to a man such as John Price, himself included. He would have traded the life he had if he could, but he couldn't, nor wouldn't, because that wasn't the man he knew himself to be. Sure, in some perverted timeline, a thousand light years away wherein he didn't feel a sense of pride, responsibility, or accountability over the people with whom he shared his country, might he have taken that job as head of accounting he would have been promised, had he gone to university, or simply devoted his life to the blues and twos of the constabulary. None of it would have been harder work that he currently undertook, but it was honest work. And that was the sort of man he was: honest, dependable, and loyal.

That being said, much like the aforementioned, neither of those exclusive three things were easy to achieve. Nor adhere to. But when he stood at that altar in his pin-striped suit, pink and red corsage on chest, and spoke his vows to love you in sickness and in health - and, Christ, he didn't take them lightly - and you returned them, he hoped that you meant it.

And that wasn't to imply that you didn't. You did. Most ardently.

But the nights were long, cold, and unbearable without John. When he was back, he was often distant for a week or two, reeling from whatever madness he saw in the field. If he did make it back into his own mind, he was unlike the man who left beforehand. In fact, he would only return a few days prior to leaving, and then the cycle spun again. And again. And again.

He never spoke about it – the field. Never took a moment to cry in front of you – you heard him, of course you did, in the shower, when he thought you were doing the laundry – and if you did press him on the matter, he simply washed it away with a dismissive hand and a non-committal 'I'm fine, love'.

That might have been when it started. The distance. When the nights become longer, colder, and so unbearable that you needed something to warm the space beside you when he was away. That was all it was ever supposed to be.

John found the men's razor in the bin in the bathroom. It was your colleague, Mark's. He'd come over one evening to comfort you when John was away. It was supposed to be a bottle of wine and a walk home for him, but he woke up in your bed, and there was no stopping what had started, then.

There was no moment of doubt in John.

He knew it immediately; you had another man by your side.

He most expected it. That might have been the most devastating part of all. That, in sickness, he knew you might have longed for the warmth of a man to the point of committing adultery, even if you professed that your heart still lay with him. Even if he knew, himself, that it still did.

You knew he knew it, too, when he sidled into the kitchen with a hand palming his beard, and he placed the razor beside the pot of bolognese you were monitoring as it bubbled away.

"Got something to say?" He asked.

For some god-forsaken reason, there was no malice in his tone. He should have been near-boiling over the thought of another man with his hands on you – the body that he had sworn to cherish and to hold until the day he died.

But, as was the case when he took his vows, he did not take them lightly.

And though you sobbed, pitifully, and asked him to be quick with the divorce papers, so that you might quit your job and move somewhere else - somewhere less suffocating from the lies and the deception – John did not give up.

He threw the razor back into the bin. He sat you at the dining room table. He asked you to explain. Everything. From the very beginning – not since Mark, not since that bloody bottle of red wine, not since the gentle hand he placed on your knee when he should have been out the door – the complete, unabashed beginning when you first lost a modicum of care for him.

When you did finish speaking, the sun had come up. It must have been seven in the morning, but your eyes were so bloated, your words had torn such a scratch into your throat that you couldn't ask what time it was, nor even be able to see the clock on your kitchen wall.

It wasn’t pretty, the things you both spoke about, of the late nights spent texting John, asking if he was doing alright – to utter radio silence on the other end – as another man lay between your legs, suckling against your sopping cunt, and dragging every droplet of cum and sinful moan your voice had to offer, of the dissolved shared affection and broken trust that lined every sentence, of the nervousness as you walked into the pharmacy to ask for a morning-after pill, just to quell the shame you felt about having another man's uncloaked cock in your cunt, even though you were up-to-date on birth control that month.

But if anything permeated throughout the entire conversation, that cemented the idea that, if he hadn't asked you to be his wife, that someone else would have surely filled the role better than you – it was that he was not going to give up on you.

He'd given those vows as a promise, not as a suggestion. In sickness and in health. Till death do you both part. And you could have – and had – moped about how terrible a wife you were, how he should leave at the soonest possible moment and never look back, but that wasn't going to happen, so long as John Price was your husband. 

Because if there was one thing he would do, in every facet of life, perverted timeline or not, it was try.

For John Price would never give up on his lawfully-wedded wife.

John "Soap" MacTavish

There's a pair of underwear in the wash that doesn't fit him. He knows because he tried them on. They're initial-ed in sharpie on the inside label. JR. They're not his initials, that’s for certain. They're not his favoured design. They're not in the shade he wears. They're a lot of things that they aren’t and shouldn't be, like in the wash at all, beside your panties, one of your special weekend bras, and old bedsheets.

James Robinson, your pilates instructor.

It takes him too long to rack his brain before he happens upon the name, arriving at it after consulting your calendar magnet-ed to the fridge, spending the rest of the time thinking with them on the kitchen counter. He nurses a glass of milk as he does. It isn't right for alcohol at the time. It's only five in the morning, though if it were five in the afternoon he would have already taken the next bus to the White Rabbit pub and burnt them in the trash out in the alleyway, just to send a message to you to never give them back to the man who took you from him, when they better suited being strapped to one of his homemade explosives and thrown through the bastard’s office window.

The cereal you munch as he stares at you that same morning tastes sour. Seems like it’s gone off, but Johnny's drinking a glass – his third that morning – so you surmise it’s just about ready to turn. His eyes won't leave you. They often never did, particularly in the mornings, but not like this. Not with such intensity that your stomach draws bile from your liver.

The boxers are in the knife drawer.

You don’t know that the boxers are in the knife drawer, and if you did, you might have even fessed up before he had the opportunity to confront you about it. You’re a coward. You know it. He knows it, too. That’s why he’s waiting for the right time.

And when it is – the right time, that is – he digs them out from between the cutlery and throws them in your lap. It’s silly, really, the thought that takes the place of confusion in your brain. It’s stupid. Naive. Idiotic. Perverted.

"What was that for?" You chuckle, holding them up. Sure, if he wants that now, you're quite ready for it–

"–They're not mine."

All prior concern is embellished with fear. A gall builds in your stomach – you’re about to throw up, and a dry heave makes it to the base of your throat, a quick gulp forcing anything bitter back down. It’s simply foolish, how easily it makes complete sense. The nervous drinking all morning, the gaze that wouldn’t leave yours, the smell of cigarette ash on his fingers when he handed you the carton of milk for your cereal. And you think, oh-so naively, that there may be a chance to refuse his insinuation.

“They're not yours? Who else could these belong to, Johnny? They fit you, don't they?"

"Really? Seriously?" He bites back a disgusted scowl, you see it in his cupid’s bow, hunched up towards his nostrils exactly how it manifests in his nightmares, the scent of rotting bodies, dirty blood, unfinished business. "J.R."

You go blank. There’s nothing at all. You’ve never thought about nothing at all before. It’s a desolate place, the emptiness of your mind. It ruminates in your soul like footprints in a field at night. Who they belong to, why they’re there, why they’re no longer. There’s nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard, nothing to be felt – the trees are too far drawn into the night to be real; tangible.

"Johnny–" it spills out suddenly.

"–Don't you go sayin' my name with those dirty fuckin' lips!” He growls.

"We can – we'll talk about it.” Some things are coming to mind. Not many. Self-preservation related, mostly. “Sit down.” You wave your hands wildly. “I can explain everything, I promise–”

"–Oh," there was almost amusement in his voice, edging on the maniacal, certainly psychotic, "You take me for a fuckin' bampot, don't ye?"

"Johnny, please!"

He nears. He’s animalistic, right now, the way he's stalking you like a tiger who can’t pounce because you haven’t yet turned your back to him, and it wouldn’t be fun until you did. You've never seen that look on him. You never want to again, if he can help it, though you’re not sure he can. It's better suited to the field, staring down an enemy from close range, just before he sets a bullet straight through his head. A sharp fear rises behind the upset. It’s cold. It lingers like a needle beneath skin. It hurts.

"Get out of my house."

"What? Johnny?"

"I said, get out of my fuckin' house!" He swells with an uncanny rage.

Only when you do leave, retreating into the hallway wearing your pyjamas only, does he heave a breath or two that turn solidly into anguished pants, choked sobs and lonely wails. It isn’t supposed to turn out like this, sitting before the lift of your apartment complex, covering the guilt with the ruse of having lost your keys if anyone stops to ask if everything is okay, though everything is most certainly not okay.

James was a nice man. Johnny was a nicer one. But the quell in your throbbing, begging cunt from months of being apart from Johnny was even nicer when James indulged, tongue lapping over your folds like a dog wishing to please its owner. You told him you enjoyed it, even left him with a kiss on his cheek, and he left as soon as it ended, though you hid from him the fact that you threw up in the toilet as soon as you locked the door, sobbing into the same sheets he had you dribble your cum, wishing you could reverse time.

Johnny will never forgive you. That much is true. No matter how much you plead at his doorstep for him to reconsider the relationship – his mind is not so weak, and he finds it endearing that you seem to be convinced otherwise. Though, he does regret one thing – not taking your things, too, along with James’, to the empty lot behind the correctional youth centre and paying the kids there to watch it burn.

BONUS: Phillip Graves

Totally not because I feel bad about letting down anon... no way...

It's three weeks after the fact of your adultery that a text pops up on your phone, unattended, that reads something to the effect of feeling guilty about your time spent with a man for the benefit of revenge, suspecting that Graves, too, has been cheating, as you delicately lament to your best friend, Emily.

Naturally, he confronts you, and you know better than to lie to a man with an arsenal of juggernauts at his disposal, so you confirm his suspicions, and explain that it was by no fault but your own that you slept with Adam.

He’s furious, ardently so – justly so – and you explain that it was undeserved on both sides, to which he seems inexplicably confused, until landing on the understanding that you thought a woman you saw at a hotel with Adam was his lover. And you realise… he wasn’t cheating on you.

And the confusion compounds in your mind, realising his naivité of your illicit relationship was fueled only by the fact that you’d been attending book club at such ridiculous times in the night. He’s pacing, gasping for air as you rightfully say;

“I can’t believe you thought I was going to book club this whole time.”

And he stills, like a lamb, crouches against the dresser, and exclaims with such anguish that you wish you’d never said anything about it at all:

“There’s no book club?!”

| Masterlist |

[shirayuricky]

heated tension | murata fuma

(dividers by @cafekitsune) (requested by anon)

- apart of shirayuricky's 100 followers event -

pairing: murata fuma x fem! reader

genre: smut

warnings: strong language, dry humping, fingering, squirting

prompts used: 27 - "already? do i really have that much of an effect on you?, 31 - "behave.", 32 - " what did you just say?"

word count: 1k

a/n: hope you like it, anon! i internally screamed while writing this.

you and fuma have been in a relationship for four years. and your relationship with him mostly consists of you teasing him and vice versa. you decided to invite fuma to your place since your parents are away for a week. you're alone and you need someone to accompany you for at least a day or two.

you just got back from grocery shopping, fuma immediately got up from the sofa and went towards the kitchen counter, wanting to help you sort the groceries. "thanks for the help, i appreciate it." you said.

"you don't usually do this?" he asked. "rarely. it's just the times like this i would at least become a bit independent." you answered. "it's a sign you should rely on yourself more." he said. "yeah, right." you said, finishing the few bits of arranging the groceries. "but honestly speaking, don't you think our relationship has to be a little serious sometimes?" you asked. there was a moment of silence between the two of you. "a little serious and a little real." he said, voice dropping down an octave.

your eyes widened in shock, "what did you just say?". "i'm saying i'm done with just teasing you. i want to show you how much i love you and how you mean to me. all these teasing just makes me want you more." he explained.

you deeply inhaled, his words sending into your mind. "you're done? with your own teasing? you just tease me and nothing else. do you really want me that badly..?" you asked.

"yes." he said. your pulse quickens,  his words sinking in your heart. "why is that so?" you asked him back. "some of your teasing crossed the line." he said, his gaze darkening, "and you know it."

as he said it, you felt the air thickening with tension. "so you have reached your breaking point." you said. "i have. and now there's nothing you can do about it." he said, pulling you closer to him. "i'll take you, right here and now. is this what you want?" he asked. you hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "yes." you said. "go on."

"good. fucking. girl." he said, pressing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. you never had such a hot kiss before, it's leaving your cheeks red. your lips moved against his in a slow, languid rhythm that he could follow.

moments later, he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your forehead. "get ready, baby." he said, unbuttoning a button of his collared shirt. he then continues to unbutton the rest of the buttons on his shirt, before taking them off.

you internally cursed at yourself when you saw his body. and you haven't even saw his cock yet. the sight of his toned body sent your sanity to outer space. you're a blushing mess. "already? do i really have that much of an effect on you?" he said, smirking.

"yeah. you really do." you nodded, trying to make the blush fade. but it gets redder. "damn it." you cursed under your breath. "sit down on the sofa." he instructed. you sat down on the sofa, waiting for him. he sat beside you and pulled you closer to him. "so, what do you want to do?" you asked him. but before you could get a response, he gently pushed you backwards, making you lay down on the sofa. he's now on top of you. "you don't realise the magnetic attraction between us, do you?" he asked, pulling your shirt up.

you continued pulling it up, eventually taking it off. "i didn't..." you admitted. "now you do realise it, right?" he asked you again. "yes, now i do." you answered. he sighs and sharply inhales, bringing his face closer to your neck.

one of his hands went to your thighs, prying your legs apart and positioned his now growing hard erection against your covered pussy. "fuma...?" a gasp left your lips. "shh, baby. just feel." he said, grinding his hips against yours.

your gasps now sound like moans, you felt a bit uncomfortable on your lower half now. fuma saw the discomfort on your eyes and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. he pulled them down along with your panties, revealing your now soaked pussy. "fuck, y/n..you're so soaked for me.." he whispered, rubbing his fingers aginst your wet folds.

he then slid his fingers into your pussy, slowly thrusting them in and out. soft moans escaped your lips when you feel the tip of his fingers rub against your sensitive spot. "ah fuck..." you cursed out.

he slowly picks up the pace, your moans now growing louder and your cheeks went red again. his pace is now fast and rough, which made you squirm.

"behave." he said, fastening the pace and intensitiy of his fingers thrusting into you, as he held you down with his other arm. you couldn't move or shy away from his touch, you are totally trapped.

"fuck, fuma! i wanna cum!" your orgasm is coming faster than you expected. "then cum for me, baby." he said, intensifying his movements. as the knots of pleasure in your stomach snap, you momentarily closed your eyes. it felt so intense.

a few seconds later, you opened your eyes and saw a clear puddle on the sofa. and that's when you realised you squirted from his fingers. "did i just...?" you asked. "you did, y/n. that was...insane. you even soaked my pants" fuma answered, shock written on his face before a shaky laugh escaped his lips.

"you're lucky the sofa is made out of leather." you said, rolling your eyes. "we'll clean the mess up later. let's get cleaned up." he said, carrying you bridal style upstairs to the bathroom.

and the denial in your heart is no more. you are truly in love with him.

[crying-fantasies]

still the same person who forgot anonymously thing..I really admire and love your angst lore it make my heart hurt (in a gud way)

Thanks for the ask, don't worry I won't show your account name anon!

SG Mayhem, well, to begin with, it should mean that SG Soundwave finally scored a date with his intended to begin with.

The Shatter Glass universe is a very awful one, as the autobots keep having the script on their favor even in this reality, there's such little time to stop and think about the glee of life itself, even for SG Soundwave, but hey, finding joy and showing it to the others is his job, among other things.

SG Soundwave finds his love for the human race even when humans are anything but bitter towards his own race, in the very few songs and recordings of the same almost lost ones, when the humans get tipsy seems to be his favorite part of the day not because they do such silly things, he loves it because it means his little friends are putting their trust in him, in the decepticons, and he loves when they all start to sing, looking at them with the same adoration a child does to the most strange creature, his weight put on his arms as his pedes kick slowly in the air, chest piece on the floor as the humans sing "The look".

His interest focused, as usual, over his human intended, the world seems to slow down as there's that carefree smile you hardly give in the dark world you live, dancing messily and with a hard body, smiling with your flat, little teeth as the lyrics fall from your lips, hair a mess as you enjoy yourself.

In the most forgotten, rotten, stressed, hardened and sad human being he found your light a beautiful shiny drop in all the bitter of situations even when you brushed him away once and then indefinitely.

SG Soundwave, like any other of his other versions, is anything but perseverant.

His perseverance gets him more than a short hello, more than a scornful glance, soon a truthful ounce of expectancy shows on your eyes when you see him, once he is sure you won't take cover to avoid his presence he finally starts courting you, back in Kaon music was so appreciated, he makes his own version of "The look" as he knows is human tradition to dedicate someone a very well know song, he gives it his own touch to make it his own to some degree, his version and yours.

Some cons and humans look the display, most humans look grossed out of their minds when you take place on his waiting servo, making him feel the most fortunate con alive, some cons looking just say "huh, finally".

And many cons can only say "fragging finally" when some find a tiny but discernable smell in you and the beginning of a pretty mark on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder almost a year later.

SG Mayhem is forged during the time the decepticons take over Kaon once again, for a moment SG Soundwave has a happy family, as he can see you smile sincerely once again holding the protoform, the little one searching for your warm body.

It's a dream come true, one that quickly creates a living nightmare.

The cassettes are with Mayhem and you, SG Soundwave is with High Command before the living quarters are attacked, non combative forces are decimated and Soundwave fears the worst when his spark pulses but he can't perceive your life in the other end, his cassettes return to him with a scared Mayhem.

SG Mayhem is maybe one of the most scarred ones.

SG Soundwave tries to raise his sparkling in the best environment he can give him, he wants to keep your memory alive, but Primus is it hard when all Mayhem does is think about how to kill the autobots better, once Mayhem is old enough he tries to kill SG Sideswipe himself once his body is matured because he was an autobot, things got so bad the youngling wanted answers from SG Megatron himself in how he could leave an autobot, who has murdered thousands, who was part of the same group that killed his carrier right in front of him, be now a decepticon.

SG Megatron, in all his wisdom, reminds the youngling that SG Sideswipe changed alliances long before Mayhem was even online, it was not his fault, as everyone has their own choices, and as hard as it is to say in front of his old friend, you made your decision of giving your life for the ones you loved most.

"Decisions, decisions, decisions. It's all about fragging decisions!"

SG Soundwave looks at the fragment of his own spark and your soul walk away, nothing on him more than a few energon cubes on his subspace, SG Frenzy and SG Rumble each holding a pede of the youngling to try to stop him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"If Megatron doesn't kill Optimus Prime, I'll do it myself"

Of course, SG Soundwave stops him, a desperate sire holding to what he has left and never wishing war to befall his precious gift, SG Buzzsaw and SG Ravage try to make him see reason as SG Laserbeak can only watch horrified and SG Ratbat cries for everyone to stop shouting, crying out loud "Your carrier would've never wanted this for you!"

SG Mayhem is full of resentment for any autobot, but is all the sadness and bitterness he seems to have inherited from you, such an endless sadness that, even when SG Soundwave tried to stop it, only gave path for an auto destructive rage, if SG Mayhem were to meet the IDW equivalent of his sire, he would hate him because, even if it was only for a short period of time, he was an autobot ally.

[ingravinoveritas]

Hello, lovely followers. I have a bunch of Anons that I’m working on answering and new ones keep coming in, so I’m going to temporarily turn off Anons until I can get these finished. Will do my absolute best to have Anons turned back on in time for Michael and David’s appearance on The One Show tomorrow. Thank you for your patience!

[definitelynotshouting]

It's 2am in the airport and im bored how's ur day been? :D

-☀️

Omg hello sun anon!!! I hope the airport is tolerable for you, gods thats early 😭😭😭😭 dont look at my hypocritical sleep schedule when i say this tho lol

Its about 9am for me rn and im about to wake up ye residents evil™ for presents, also last night i managed to write a 1.5k scarian fluff fic so if all goes well i'll be posting that tomorrow for yall >:]

A crumb of dialogue for your boredom woes, my friend:

Grian sighs; it's Scar's point, now, and they both know it. "Can we at least move closer to the fire?" he complains. "Well, I don't know, we'll have to ask Queen Jellie over there for her opinion." Scar politely directs his next question to her, projecting his voice so it curls around the chair like smoke. "Miss Jellie, can we come sit by the fire?" Jellie's tail flicks, an idle, irritated motion. After a moment, she yawns again, then tucks her head under her paws. "I think that's rather conclusive, don't you?" Scar asks Grian. "I think you're being ridiculous," Grian replies dryly, "and I'm shocked you aren't taking this opportunity to pet your cat." The gasp Scar sucks in is one of sheer, mock horror. "I do believe you're right, Grian! I can't believe that slipped my mind. I can't let my sweet baby Jellie go unpet— let's move, come on, up you go."

Other than that tho i have nothing going on, just a chill day :] my household is very relaxed abt holidays generally; our tradition is that we have a charcuterie board every xmas, so we've got a good spread of cheeses for that this year, including a bellavitano espresso that im VERY fond of. No red dragon tho, which is my favorite 😔😔😔😔 (can u tell i love cheese skdbskdnns) but we preserve<3 /silly

But yeah!! Relaxed day, chill vibes, and i hope i can send some of that your way to the airport!!! May your flight go smoothly and your travels remain easy, i hope u have a good day today and that the boredom abates!!!

[hungharrington]

maybe try treating this blog less like something you "have" to post on and instead look at it like something you "can" post on. does that make sense? like maybe just come on here to talk about your life and things happening to you instead of having this blog mainly focused on steve/writing! it's YOUR blog

you are so sweet for this message my honey 🥹 it is true that sometimes i feel i should be posting just because i’ve been quiet for a little while but straight up i feel like my libido has dropped off. and if im not horndog then this blog gets soooooo much less appealing to be on

idk it’s a whole buncha things that i want to work on so i can make this blog more fun for everyone involved but! that takes time that i don’t have and effort i can’t spare so you’re all stuck with me whinging for another couple months LMAO

[unexpectedbrickattack]

idk why but you reblogging that ask u did about Peppino performing for Brick reminded me, and I just NEEDED to share this silly idea but... Peppino gardening... just, like, garlic and tomato plants n stuff, it's cheaper than buying all the time, even if he's not exactly growing enough to make that much of a dent in his bills, it's about the PROCESS PEOPLE and just aekssf Peppino in his little garden tending to his little plants and some flowers, it started out as something to help with personal costs but now it's such a soothing activity it's his little zone and he tells no one about it and making a pizza with his own home grown tomatoes just hits different when he's in a real rough mood. just yeah peppino gardening...

WAUGH this is so cute omg…I cant see him growing TOO MUCH bc some veggies are so fucking delicate but garlic seems doable! Same with stuff like basil and thyme and oregano. Its not necessarily low maintenance but you dont need to constantly get expensive resources to maintain them. Maybe he uses SOME of it for his shop but i can definitely see him using most of it for his own cooking bc hes been doing it since he was young, way back when he was still living w his parents (and he just got the habit from them)

I hc him with a small house (that hes forced to use as collateral to keep the shop open) so like, he would definitely have the space to grow some other small veggies like spinach n tomatoes. With his shop failing miserably hes got Plenty of time to at least go out and make sure theyre not dying 😭 But i can see him making it look more lively postgame when hes got the proper funds to keep the shop open. Old man tending to his tiny little garden :) its mindless work really and it keeps his hands busy. When hes more used to Gus and Brick (and any company in general lbr) coming over to visit; Brick helps with gardening too; his hugeass Rat Hands can tear up at the soil way better than Peppino and his little trowel can. And w the shop doing well he can afford to take days off and even open later in the day so he has more time to himself to do other things (like tend to his tiny garden) (or maybe fucking sleep in for once)

[not-poignant]

Hello. Do you get frustrated by questions from readers whose answers are in the text, but the readers didn't read the story carefully?

Hi anon!

It really just depends. I would say the vast majority of the time, no! My stories are long, and it makes sense that sometimes people would want to check in about a detail. Also sometimes folks ask about worldbuilding in ways that are fun to reply to, and pretty respectful. Like, 99 times out of 100, I love getting questions about stuff in the story, even if it's stuff that's been covered in the story before.

But there are some ways I don't enjoy it? And that's when someone sends me like... 20-40 questions in back-to-back anons of which most are answered in the story multiple times. Or when they do it very 'emotionlessly' so I have no idea if they even like the story (because not everyone does, and not everyone asks questions in good faith), because I'm just getting repeated questions, no feedback, no appreciation for the time I put into answering (it can take a while to respond to asks that are about worldbuilding or writing details!).

And to be fair, a person doesn't have to appreciate it! I'm just aware that I appreciate my time, and believe it's valuable, so if I find that someone's asking me say...5 questions in a day that are all answered in the text, I should probably be just spending my time somewhere else. Maybe they're skimming the story because they're reading it really fast, or maybe they struggle to pick up subtext, but my job is to write the story, and not to be an encyclopedia for folks who just throw questions at me with nothing else as context (it can feel a bit like an interrogation!)

Thankfully this is rare, and I generally realise it's happening pretty quickly. Honestly I think the biggest issue there is simply that people forget that like, I am a...person. I have full and busy days, I have the writing as my main job that involves writing, editing, etc. I have friends and family. I have a dog to look after and a cat. I have my hobbies. And I really love answering asks, but there comes a point where it feels like someone forgets I'm a person and starts thinking I'm like a question-answering-machine with no feelings.

It's super super rare, and they might just be excited that they can go to the author of something and get actual answers, which is not actually what happens in most of media / reading. And that's exciting for me too, until I feel a bit like the other person might not even like the writing very much, certainly not enough to be paying much attention, and might even be asking questions to catch me off guard, or to trip me up.

But like I said, it's rare. It happens maybe twice a year like this, and when it does I'm mostly frustrated that it takes me so long to see the pattern and step back.

The rest of the time I love it, and don't find it frustrating at all!

[spaceless-vacuum]

Hi ^.^ same Anon who sent the willingly going with Link ask. I'm glad you liked it! I'm a bit of a sucker for the softer yanderes who try and curb their tendencies for their Darlings too lol.

Would you mind too terribly if I asked a follow up question?

Mostly curious about how Link would handle it if you (reader) quite literally are the type to not want to talk to strangers unless it can't be helped. The type who would literally fall right into all of his categories of 'safe' to not leave tied up somewhere. Only here's the catch- also a little bit manipulative with the knowledge of his yandere-ness? Like... Aware he views most people interacting with you as a threat of you possibly leaving so you do things like sit in his lap and play with his hair while talking to the other person. He's still getting attention but you're also still talking to someone whenever you actually need to talk to someone.

Link getting constant verbal praise and being told you don't plan on leaving him so he can just keep calm (and carry on lol).

Something of a sort of working together to curb those tendencies sort of deal? He tries his hardest to not be unfair since you were so willing to go with him but at the same time you know some things won't ever change really and try and accommodate/keep him calm in certain situations. You're stuck with him so you may as well make it as comfortable as you can right?

How would he handle that? Would he ever catch on that that's what you're doing? Would he approve of it or be less trusting of you after he finds out you're doing it to help keep him placated?

Sorry for bothering you by the way I just really like your version of yandere Link ^.^

Sorry for taking so long to answer this I lost the will to write for a long time. Still, I'm here now and this man still lives rent free in my head. I love the idea of both hard yanderes and soft yanderes and I think several different Links fall on different parts of the scale. I may talk about the chain and that au as a whole here soon but that's a lot for right now.

.

.

.

What to do with himself. It was the rollercoaster of emotions Link hated the most. Taking time to himself and figuring out who he was when alone wasn't the issue. The hero could deal with working on himself as a person. Rather it was the up and downs his heart sent him on. No regular person knew or talked about love like this. Even the most recent and tame feelings felt like he was at his core wrong. 

You assured him you didn't mind his actions and that he was ok but no matter how many sweet words you offered when you left to go to town this morning he had to leave the house to not be driven mad. It was a genuine struggle not to follow you out to the market. Sure hiding in the boring alleys wasn't the best way to spend his time, but it would be time spent with you. Sort of. Not really. It didn't have the same effect.

So he bit his tongue, nodded, and took a walk. Wallowing in the troubled waters of his own emotions. Taking deep breaths and listening to the sounds of nature to ground himself. You never intentionally spent so long away from him. Something just didn't feel right not having you by his side. He was bleeding from a wound he never knew he had until you walked away.

Which was the issue. You rarely left his side. Rare occurrences could be forgiven but what was he to do with the emotions? Link sighed and struggled to figure out if an honest traditional relationship was good for him or not. Monsters could kill you. Nightmares of your death plagued his mind. Even as he made his way back home he could only remind himself of your might and that the world wasn't as bad as he thought.

It felt like a curse was lifted when he opened the front door to see you standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables. He grinned from ear to ear as he watched you cut the food and add it to the pot. He moved around you and set a pot of water to boil for tea. Something to help calm his nerves. You placed a kiss on each cheek and it reminded him why he was so in love with you to begin with.

This has been the longest he's gone without acting on his impulses since he first met you. It was both rewarding and daunting. Each time his feelings came up they got harder and harder to ignore. What if you realized how strange he was and really did leave? This line of reasoning only made it harder to calm himself.

Yet that wasn't an issue when he was with you. The fear just sort of dissipated as he settled by your side as you worked the knife back and forth. Talking was never Link’s strong suit and he loved not having to talk around you. Somehow you always knew what it was that was on his mind. Like clockwork you moved over to him and placed your head on his shoulder. Releasing him of whatever weight had settled on his shoulders.

The old problem with familiarity, he couldn't go back to the way it was before. You tw knew each other too well. This was just proof that he was meant to be with you. He would stay good if only he could have a hundred more moments like these. 

Then came a voice. A small cynical thought that rocked the calm waters of his mind.

If we take them then we never have to worry. If we mark them before they have a chance to leave we never have to worry. He sighed audibly. You leaned against him. Right on cue there you were. Making him feel almost cheesy. You reacted to the stress that you saw on him, and it almost relaxed him again. A voice shook him in horror; if we seem distressed we can get more affection.

He shook his head. This was insane!

Your hand went to touch his cheek and he moved away. Checking the pot by the stove instead. Busying himself with the thought of tea. Maybe if you didn't touch him you wouldn't be stained as well.  For once his heart existed outside his body. It was amazing and terrifying. Something to be experienced with care, not to treat like a toy.

.

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a little snippet below that I wrote almost as an outline for what was above;

I can see Link being the type to both love and hate the feeling of being manipulated. It depends on your reasoning for it. It can't be helped; he plans for the worst and expects the best. Years of training tells him that he needs to be on the safe side, and his heart says you're too good to lose. The leash stays tight until he can be sure.

It isn't until you talk with him he feels bad. He knows these feelings can't be helped and it isn't his fault. You brush the worst parts of him aside and love him regardless, willingly, and without hesitation. And there he goes slipping into the idea you can't feel afraid of him. He takes your hands into his and apologizes to you. Asking if there's any way you can forgive him for being so abrasive.

Time passes and the two of you work together. it gets to the point that he doesn't mind it as much. Bit by bit he finds himself slipping. Longer walks, more time you spend is away from his eyes, and the actions taken by you all show him he’s safe. He worries but he starts to find himself worrying a little less. 

So he does nothing but express concern with his eyes and holds you close. Each word cuts close to his heart and he can't help it. You're just so… out there for him. He's never lost someone so close and not paid for it dearly. He will lose you one day, but not today. It could never be today.