#be yourself always and fuck society's boxes

[m4tthewsgf]

Period pain

Chris Sturniolo x fem reader

Summary: fluffy shit where Chris comforts his girl while she's experiencing period cramps and all that good shit

Warnings: language, blood

Author's Note: just got my period and I'm slowly dying HAHA (send me some chocolate pls). Anyway, sorry this is short lmao. Enjoy!!! You're enough!!!

---

You loved being a woman. You truly did. You loved putting together silly little outfits, wearing short skirts and crop tops and doing your makeup. It's a privilege being a girl. There's so much beauty in being one and the relationship that women have with each other is magical. There's something so special about it that no words can correctly describe it, but just the fact that we're women all together simply unites us.

However, there are a lot of things that came with being a woman that were ugly. Men who think they own anything and anyone, society's standards, sexism, patriarchy.... the list goes on. But periods? That was a goddamn curse.

You viewed women as superheroes. The fact that our bodies are able to create a whole new body with a heart and bones and brain from scratch is truly fascinating. Scary, but fascinating. That was our superpower. Yet, you and your boyfriend, Chris, were too young to start a family, even though you want to make him a father one day, and now your body is punishing you for that.

Your period pain was the worst. Your cramps felt like knives stabbing your guts, you had extreme migraines and headaches, back pain and on top of that, you were obviously bleeding out of your fucking uterus. Your mood swings were insane, to say the least, and so were your cravings.

Chris had been in a relationship with you for almost a year now so he knew what the deal was and he always tried his best to make you as comfortable as possible. You appreciated his willingness. It was adorable.

You were currently laying in your bed in a fetal position, hoping that the way you've folded your body would ease some of the pain. You have already texted your boyfriend and cancelled the plans you had made for this evening; he wanted to take you out to have a dinner date. You really wanted to go, the two of you haven't gone on a date in a while now, but you could barely breathe from the pain.

Just when you were about to put a movie on the laptop you had settled right next to you, you heard your front door open.

"Baby?" Said Chris from downstairs.

"Bedroom!" you yelled with as much energy you could. You were sure that dying would hurt less than that.

You heard your wooden stairs creak, indicating that Chris was making his way up to your room. You smiled at yourself.

"There's my angel!" He greeted you and planted a couple of kisses on your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle.

"How are you feeling baby?" he kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on the mattress and softly caressing you hair.

"Honestly if you stabbed me right now, it would hurt less" you mumbled against your pillow with half a smile.

"Well, I brought you some stuff!" Chris exclaimed before turning towards the two big bags he had placed on the floor once he entered the room.

"Obviously I got you your meds, you'll surely need em," he placed 3 boxes of Ibuprofen on your nightstand.

"Baby, I'm not downing the whole box, these will last me forever! You got 2 the previous month," you said with widened eyes.

"And? I'd rather know you have more than enough than not" he shrugged his shoulders.

"I also got you a heating pad, I read that heat helps a lot with the crumps," he pulled out a pink heating pad that was coated with a fuzzy layer of fabric.

"Then we have your favourite Yankee candles, the evergreen and caramel ones," he playfully raised his eyebrows at you, "I got a whole ass chocolate cake because I know you love that shit, some Reese's, chocolate bars..." he trailed off.

"Oh, I got some bath bombs too! Thought we'd try em out, they smell really good" he showed you two circular bath bombs, a blue and a purple one.

"And then obviously I have your pads and tampons, the Caesar's salad you go nuts about, your favourite pasta sauce...I think that's all" he finished. Even though your jaw was on the floor, it was only one of the bags he had brought with him.

"What's one the other bag?"

"Obviously some of my shirts and hoodies, jackass" he laughed at your cluelessness. You felt tears brim in your eyes. Your sensitive side came through on your period, you could cry with anything.

"Chris..." you smiled lovingly at him with a blurry vision.

"No need to cry ma, I'll take care of you m'kay?" he chuckled once more and kissed the side of your mouth.

"I love you" you softly spoke against his lips.

"I love you more baby," he kissed you again, "now, I'm gonna go run you a warm bath and then we're gonna eat whatever you want. I can get us food, whatever you're craving, or I can cook you your pasta... how does that sound?" he asked with a caring gaze.

"In n out sounds good right now if I'm being honest" you furrowed your eyebrows at him apologetically.

"Then in n out it is" Chris kissed your nose before making his way to your bathroom.

That night he didn't let you raise your hand. You needed water? He sprinted downstairs to get it. You had to use the bathroom? He escorted you, sometimes even carried you. His presence not only made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, something that always happened when he was around, but it also eased your pain. You couldn't be more thankful for him.

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings Pt. 2

College Proffesor AU! Miguel x fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, slight fluff

Hope you like c: Pt 3

It's been almost two years ever since you graduated college, two years since you last time saw Mr. O'Hara and kept in touch with him. To starters, you were pretty sure that making an advance on him after he had realigned your guts in his car and you gave him a blowjob in his classroom previous to the graduation ceremony, would only bring him trouble.

And now, a year and ten months later you had to 'integrate yourself to the proactive and laboral society' or so your parents always repeated. Thankfully enough, due your merits you had landed a not so shitty job in the branding consulting field.

The perks of your job were flexible schedules and some little luxuries like a place in a relatively good area, and finally, a car.

You often browsed through social media to check on your old class mates. Some got married, others moved from the country and others just stuck to themselves. Even though it was unlikely, you had searched Miguel, but he never showed up. Given the man's workaholic nature, it made sense for him to not have social media.

Wich kinda sucked since you had lost valuable contacts, including his. Not that you often talked though, a few how are yous here and there, and in the rare occasions, the conversations turned spicy and thigh clenching.

You went back to work.

-----

Adult life was often boring, in fact, that you were grocery shopping for the week had turned boring. The only thing sparking your interest was a new cereal brand on the top shelf, your fingers barely reaching them. You stopped however as a big hand hovered over you and grabbed the cereal like it was nothing.

"Thanks"

"Who said it was for you?"

A chill ran down your spine as you looked at none other than Miguel O'Hara cocking an eyebrow your way with a slight smirk.

"M-Mr. O'Hara! Hi. Uh... Hi."

"(Name)" He gave a brief acknowledge to you as he put some packaged-gourmet looking coffee on his cart.

"It's been a while. How do you do, sir?"

"Sir? What am I? Sixty?"

"At all, just-"

"Then fucking call me Miguel."

"It's really weird for me to say your name so casually."

He rolled his eyes and moved to get coffee filters.

"Thought you found a better chatting partner"

You stood there unable to comprehend his words right away, they weren't precisely tender, but they held a bit of a grudge. Finally your brain alighted with the idea of what he had meant.

"No, no. I was robbed actually, and lost a bunch of data, your contact included."

He stared your way, unwavering as you offered a small smile.

"Make it up, then... Unless you are seeing someone?"

"No!" You almost shouted and quieted down as some people in the back looked at your way.

"Sorry. I mean no. Im not seeing anyone. What about you?"

"Maybe you, at seven on saturday. "

Your cheeks burned at how casual he was acting. You had caged him in the teacher box for so long anything outside of it was odd, yet fascinating.

"Alright."

"Pásame tu teléfono*"

"What?"

"Give me your phone."

"Oh, right."

You handed your smartphone at him as he called his own number, registering both you and himself on each other's devices.

"I'll let you know if anything else shows up."

"Sure, I'll bring a gift."

He chuckled and shrugged

" If you want to. Not needed though. At 7 pm" ,

Nodding, you watched him leave, realizing he actually had put the cereal box in your cart.

-------

The rest of the week was torture, in every little chance you had, you checked your phone to see it was empty, you didn't even discuss where you'd meet or the dress code. You could surprise him, but the idea of being dressed inappropriately would just embarrass you.

Hi, sorry to just butt in. I wanna know though, do I need a dress code?

It took a long of 20 minutes for him to reply.

No

It was a simple yet not so mortifying reply. Even so you the urge of surprising him felt stronger. He was giving you, without realizing, the chance to make an impression on him.

-----

You went for a short, skin tight, black, thin strapped, heart shaped uppercut dress, black stilettos, natural looking makeup and a blown out hair. The stilettos made a show of your silky-feeling legs, you were all dolled up, quite literally.

Around 6:20 you got a text message from Miguel, he had shared his location to you. You had bought a good quality wine, something he might like. Or so you hoped. Giving a last look and some bit of  perfume, you went out the door and drove off to his place.

------

You couldn't help but feel a nervous wreck as you approached the apartment building. Nothing too fancy, but a good looking place in a good neighbor, you entered the elevator, earning some glances your way.

Fourth floor, apartment 5.

You had arrived right on time, so you knocked the door as you straightened any lump in your dress. His steps approached and you gulped, finally he opened the door. His behemoth of frame covering up the entrance.

"Hey" You smiled nervously as he raked you from head to toes with his eyes, subtly.

"Too much?"

He smirked at your hesitation and let you in, closing the door after you. If it wasn't for a a couple of boxes scattered around the place would look even more amazing. It was only a place you could afford if you worked for big companies.

"Got us some wine. Hope you enjoy." He took the bottle of your hands and pulled you in for a deep kiss. Your sweet perfume only added a little spark to his senses.

"Pinche morra toda preciosa*" He mumbled as he slapped your ass gently and motioned you to follow him to the kitchen, bottle in wine on hand. Obeying, you followed and he opened the seat for you.

"Thanks, Miguel."

He wore a white button shirt, rolled up to the sleeves, revealing his strong forearms. Dress pants, black shoes and a belt. The belt only accentuated his upper frame, you gulped at the sight of him, serving two plates of pasta to then sprinkle some cheese on top.

He then returned and offered you a plate. You could only stare at him, awestruck. He sat next to you and opened the bottle of your wine

"What?"

"Nothing, just..." He poured two cups of wine and removed his glasses off his face. How could you have missed them?

"Nice place, great cook, good looking." He chuckled as you sipped the wine, "Can't believe someone like you invited me over."

"Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ah never mind me. Im just rambling. Are you still teaching?"

"Not really. Just a consultant now. Teaching is good, but it pays shit. Had to go back to my old job."

"And that is?" You finally ate a forkful of pasta. Humming in approval.

"Genetic Engineering."

"Well, shit. Is there anything else I should know?"

"You surely did dress up for this. Or for me?"

"Both." You nodded softly and he followed.

"Maybe next time I should be more specific with the dress code and make sure you aren't bringing your panties with you."

"Who says I am wearing them?"

His eyes turned darker as he took your hand to kiss it softly.

"You sure you wanna play that game, princesa?"

"Isn't that what you invited me over for?"

"Maybe. Maybe Not. Who knows" he smirked and took a hold of, your chin softly, "Eat up, you'll need it."

"What if I'm actually hungry for something else?"

"As much as I'd love to just rip that dress off, I want you to enjoy first, we've got a whole night ahead."

-----

For some reason your head was barely getting a grip on it. Miguel O'Hara, retired college professor, now a genetic engineer, was being an absolute gentleman with you even though he had stated his intentions also. You didn't know if to just run away out of cowardy at someone actually giving you a good non sexual time or hope you could outlast him during the night, or at least hope to endure.

You didn't know if he actually was just lonely since he asked about you, what did you do after college, how your robbing happened and the like. But of course, it could only last for so long.

He removed your shoes and kissed your ankles, and inner thighs, but stopped before he could reach to his favorite place to dive in his head

"Come here, sweetie." He pulled you off the couch and embraced snugly your body as his hands roamed your body with need. He groaned upon touching the bare skin of your ass.

"You smell so good" He kissed you once more as he hoisted you by your legs, to wrap them around him, all with his lips still devouring yours. He had you groaning with a roll of his hips as he pressed you against the wall. His mouth leaving you to assault the tender and sensitive flesh of your neck.

His clothed erection rubbed against your moistening folds. Friction making your whole nerves to react, your toes curled, your nipples perked as they rubbed against his chest. He smelled just like you remembered, a sweet and earthy tinge of cologne and a bit musky.

His hands grope your glutes as he kept grinding his hips against yours.

"Miguel" You whimpered his name and he pulled you by the neck to kiss you. Your hips rolled against his, not wasting up a single movement to feel everything. His hands held a handful of your ass while he softly bit your neck and clawed at the plumpness of your ass. It made you squirm and gasp as he rubbed harder.

Shallow breaths, pressure rising as your legs trapped him as closely as you could. His arms held you, preventing your fall, his lips were drowning any weak and shaky moan. He then placed you on the bed, but you immediately straddled him.

"Let me return the favor"

Smirking, your hands unbuckled his belt, he just watched you struggling to tug his pants off, before pulling them down, along the boxers, releasing his girth to you.

Licking your lips, you kneeled before him, and soon, dragged your tongue from the base to the flushed tip. A low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands immediately went to hold your hair, as his other one held the base of his shaft, to slowly and surely feeding his cock to you.

Your tongue swirled before taking the whole tip inside. His body shuddered

"Just like that, mi amor." His hips bucked, pushing an inch deeper into your mouth. You began bobbing your head up and down, feeding yourself after he slapped his tip against your flattened tongue. He then used both hands to hold your hair and head in place as he slowly moved upwards, his hips inside your warm and moist plush lips.

Streaks of pre cum, dribbled down your chin as he kept slowly fucking your mouth. Your jaw muscles relaxed enough to allow him an inch more, but just as you were about to deep throat him, he pulled himself out and pulled you by the hair for a kiss. It was sloppy, but passionate.

He removed the dress, revealing your naked body underneath. Then wiped your chin carefully

"Me encantas. Puta madre, no sabes lo que me haces." He mumbled to your ear huskily

"I don't know what you're saying" you giggled as he slapped your ass once more.

He turned you around and placed you in all fours. Admiring the smoothness and dips of your curves. He removed the remaining of his clothes and draped in the curtains of his room, leaving the place dimly lit.

He placed a hand on your hip and gave a few strokes to your slit with his tongue while cooing how good you tasted for him. Slowly he pushed a finger inside you, giving gentle strokes. Your hands held his sheets tighter. Soon another finger was added and you pushed your hips to make his fingers go deeper.

"Such an eager baby" he tapped your ass and chuckled, "Relax"

He brought his slicked fingers to his lips and soon, pumped himself a couple of times to slowly fill you, as you clenched around him.

"You ok?" You sighed and nodded shakily.

"It's been a while" his hands gently caressed your hips before his pushed in softly. Gasping at the intrusion, he started off slowly as he peppered your neck and cheeks in kisses, his hands massaged and squeezed with care, your breast.

"So so beautiful." he cooed before thrusting his hips a bit harder, seeing your mouth contort in pure lust. He kissed you once more, before holding your hips in place, with a swift roll, he pushed all the way in, in one go, earning him a sweet whimper from you.

The bed creaked as he slapped his hips, slowly ascending to a rougher pace. You wailing his name, as your cunt welcomed him with a wet squelch was everything he needed. There was something about you taking him so well that made him go feral.

Your face and chest were pushed flat against the cushioned surface, ass high for him, he separated a bit further your legs before his hips began slapping your flesh, mercilessly. And god you loved it.

Your body shook with every deep thrust he did, mouth agape, moaning shamelessly. Your hair was pulled, his nails dragged down your spine before his hands slapped your ass.

The pressure began bubbling in the lowest of your pit, he could tell by how your inner walls began clenching and gripping him. He then brought you closer, your back collided against his sturdy chest, giving him a tighter and deeper angle inside you.

His arms held you in place as you scratched and dug your nails on him.

"You're such a good girl, princesa. So so good" he cooed as he cupped your pussy and toyed with your clit in slow motions

The new sensation was only added to the many you were already experiencing. Breathless, so ever tight around him, as his arms secured you in place while being pounded with such abandonment. Smirking, he trusted harder and harder, but stopped just before you were thrown in the bliss searing abyss.

You whined in frustration, as you tried to find relief on your own.

"Uh uh. Don't be bad."

"Please..." You heaved and put his hands on your body

"Please what?"

"Let me fucking cum, Miguel."

"Jesus..." He groaned and kissed your neck before resuming his rutting inside you. The pressure simmered as you were pushed in the brink of breaking once more.

His hot breath against your flushed skin, his hands holding you with such possessiveness as he whispered sweet nothings to your ear, was the perfect combination for you to snap.

Shaking and nearly convulsing at the hot white pleasure that flooded your system.

"Miguel!" you spoke his name in between gritted teeth

"There you go" he cooed and smiled. Despite your insides having a death grip around him, your pleasure was his priority. You felt so good and small, it tugged on the dark strings on his self control.

Your skin was flushed, covered by a thin layer of sweat. He turned you around and pulled you by your legs towards him. A hand was placed in your abdomen as he prodded in two fingers, plunging them deep enough to graze at that already sensitive spot.

Your toes curled in as he moved them dexterously inside your already sopping folds.

Faster, harder, faster and harder. In that order.

"Oh my god" you sobbed as the sheets crumpled under your touch, toes curling in as a new orgasm was ripped out of you with a wet gush on his hand and forearm. He groaned as you squirted.

"That's the sexiest shit I've seen you doing, preciosa."

You could only moan in return as he filled you up once more

"Hold on tight" Your legs were hoisted on his arms as he gathered you, your arms went around his neck, anchoring to his broad shoulders and he lifted you up with ease. His arms locking on your back as you bounced on his cock.

"Fuck!" you gasped at the new depth his tip reached inside, and each thrust only dug him deeper inside you, feeling completely full of him.

"Cómo me encantas" he breathed through soft growls, that were drowned by the obscene, continuous and wet slapping of flesh. Unable to mumble any coherent word. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, eyes heavy with overstimulation as the merciless slapping continued and your body bounced.

You clung to his body as if your life depended on it. Your nails scratched the top of his  back, creating red welts on his skin that only urged him to a whole new level of roughness you hadn't expected. His groans drowned your pathetic cries as your body shook with each thrust.

"Too much" you croaked in between deep pants as the pressure scrapped you raw. Eyes far too lost for him to reach, his control over you unwavering. Pleasure slowly chipped away his body, you closed your eyes as a breathless mewl announced your brewing of a next peak.

He inhaled sharply as his hips stopped for a moment, to then resume as you were propped against the wall. His muscles flexed as he fucked you in the way he knew you loved it, too pussy drunk to stop.

Your peak was shattering, almost splitting your mind in two, as you gushed all over his cock and lower abdomen, supple thighs squeezing his waist. He hissed at your clawing, as he spurted inside. Painting your walls white and hot.

"Mine" he growled. There was an acute whimper on his behalf as he tried to keep standing as his load was out inside you. He rushed to the bed and laid you on it.

His chest swelled in pride as it heaved.

"Such a good girl." He laid next to you, your head cradled closer, just like your body, he made one of your thighs to hook on his waist as he slowly entered you one more time.

You stirred and his arm snaked around your torso. He shushed you as he delivered slow strokes with his cock inside you. Your hands rested on his chest and your head on his arm, using it as a pillow.

"Toda para mí" He pushed his hips in languid, slow strokes, pulling soft mewls out your limp body. Your plush folds welcomed him with a soft suckling motion as he pushed all his seeping cum back in.

"I-I can't" you breathed as his hand pressed you closer

"Of course you can, corazón. One more."

"Miguel" you whimpered in despair. Not that you could move anyways, his lips kissed your temple as he rode you to bliss one more time.

----

You woke up in Miguel's bed, tangled up in sheets, sore and thirsty. Your phone buzzed with some texts from work. You stood and covered up in one of the sheets. The smell of food lingered in the air as your stomach grumbled in protest

"Miguel?"

"C'mon." he motioned you from the kitchen, you followed and sat on the table. He wore nothing but some sweatpants and his slippers

"Buenos días, guapa."

"Morning?" you smiled softly at your best guess of what he just said

"Sorry for... you know, uh, staying."

"It's fine. I was counting on it, anyways."

He served you a bit of a hearty looking meal. Chilaquiles with two fried eggs on top .

"Thank you."

He sat next to you and ate. You followed. Eating was quiet, but comfortable enough.

"I'll do the dishes" you stood and picked up after the both. He smiled softly, almost contemplating you from behind

"You should bring extra clothes next time."

Next time

"Might do, yeah." your cheeks flared up and you finished cleaning and went to his room, your clothes had been gathered on a chair, neatly.

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

You quickly showered and changed, Miguel just watched you from afar.

"I shall go then."

"What? No kiss goodbye? So cold." He feigned hurt and you couldn't help but laugh. Then you kissed his cheek.

"Nah. Despídete bien." He pulled you closer for a deep kiss and smirked once you were at the door.

"Thank you, for everything. It was wonderful."

"Of course it was." he slapped your butt as you went out the door.

"Mejor vete antes de que me arrepienta."

"What?"

"Bye bye, preciosa."

You pursed your lips and shook your head softly, he just chuckled and you left. Your kiss still lingering in the air.

-------

*Pinche morra toda preciosa - Such a fucking gorgeous girl.

*Me encantas. Puta madre, no sabes lo que me haces -I love it. Holy shit, you don't know what you do to me.

*Cómo me encantas - God, I love you. (Mind you, this love is not the same as love love.)

*Toda para mí - All for me.

*Buenos días, guapa - Good morning, gorgeous

*Despídete bien - Say goodbye properly

*"Mejor vete antes de que me arrepienta - You better go before I regret it.

Taglist: <3

@averagefloydlover @mouse-teagreat @4rlybm @cosmoscoffeee @wanderlustingcastaway @allysunny @noblesavagex @miggyoharaswife

[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[mixtapedoh]

How about lonely boy, lee know, and forced proximity?

@eclliipsed — i am thinking of you, specifically while writing this <3

;༊ — lonely boy

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader genre: fluff, office setting word count: ~3.6k warnings: language, situational stress, han is here stirring the pot, a startling amount of homicide jokes

olive’s notes: a unique challenge of writing lino fic that i did not before account for or even conceptualize is that when i think of said silly little stray kids cat boy, i think of him almost 99% of the time as 'lino' and like 0.9999999999% of the time as 'lee know'. lee minho? you mean the actor? it's not clicking up here, asdfghj. all that's to say, if i make a mistake and call him lino instead of minho, i'm so sorry, feel free to stone me in the square on whatever day is most convenient for you <3.

☄. *. ⋆ lee minho x forced proximity...

— society, as a collective, just loves their 9 to 5, right?

i mean, if it were actually a 9 to fucking 5, maybe you wouldn't be screaming, crying, throwing up, gnawing on the iron bars of your enclosure.

— but haha, as a general rule (collectively agreed upon at some point, or perhaps no one agreed so much as they were browbeaten into submission), more than society loves their 9 to 5, they love their workplace grindset culture.

gotta get those financial gains, amirite?

— which is all to say, you were simply enamoured, quite totally besotted with, completely captivated by and hopelessly devoted to your demanding, grueling, parasitic life-force of an office job.

and people had the gall to say you didn't have romance in your life.

clearly, they hadn't seen the zeal and devotion with which you dedicated yourself to your company issued computer, stacks of files, and white-walled cubicle.

after all, regular hours simply weren't enough for all the worship you had within you — you simply had to have both your mandatory overtime and your Implicitly Dictated and Oh-So-Reasonably Expected overtime hours as well <3 you did want to keep your job after all, and job security is such a silly little thing <3 corporate culture really is just soooo romantic in that regard <3 complete and utter devotion <3 commitment almost pious <3

until you managed to break away from the curse of Living in a Society and could live without bills, debt, responsibilities, more bills, more debt, and the desire for silly little (but financially substantial) hobbies to make this existence of yours worthwhile, your love affair with your job would simply have to stick.

— which made for the perfect little soup you were currently mired in. a thick broth of learned helplessness seasoned with intense loathing, a dash of interest in low stakes coworker drama, a sprinkling of compulsory people pleasing, a garnish of yes man energy, and an optional mix-in of untapped, constantly simmering rage.

so, of course you were best friends with han jisung.

— the universe really did do you a solid when they placed han jisung in the cubicle next to you.

perhaps the only employee that hadn't succumbed to the incessant humanity-sucking leech affectionately called a company, jisung was the only one who kept you sane when you were 56 hours deep in your work week and considering moving to a homestead on alaska where you would likely not even last a whole 72 hours — but, hey, you would at least get some sleep at the end of it when succumbing to the effects of hypothermia, so it didn't seem that bad of a gig, really (jisung always offered to cover half of the down payment cost, but at the end of the conversation, he'd just buy you a coffee and the two of you would call it even).

— and being friends with jisung was, all at once, both a blessing and a curse.

(because this is corporate living and existence is a fucking nightmare ~°~♫⭒~꘎ )

— poor excuses for jokes in your company chat box, sticky note battles during days when the mundane tasks you were assigned were mind-numbing enough to fell the strongest of corporate warriors, the constant "i owe you" back and forth when one of you went on a coffee or vending machine run and grabbed something for the other, and, of course, juicy gossip during your lunch break — all of these were the positives of being jisung's partner in captalist crime.

— but on the other hand, should either of your work be wanting in any regard... well... accountability is a word long enough to stretch between two.

— which led you to your current state of affairs.

"the next time you forget to delete your 'tongue-in-cheek' speaker notes on the powerpoint we're submitting for review from higher ups, i'm breaking your fingers so you can't type them in the first place."

but of course jisung just turns it into a joke about a hand kink.

— your punishment for 'distasteful' jokes left in the margins of official company output wasn't anything too severe — bless whatever cosmic force made it so that the generally easy going mr. ok taecyeon was the one to see jisung's fuck up, and not someone less forgiving — but it meant the next few weeks would be hell in the form of grunt work.

see, your company was expanding in the industry, and it meant that the building you were currently working in wasn't big enough to house all the ✨aspirational goals✨ it was just starting to believe in. thus, the majority of higher ups were going to move into a new office building... and for some ass-backward reason, so, too were all of the archives.

and someone had to go down there and box it all up, making sure it was properly labeled and in order.

sure, the company was just head-empty enough to have the desire to move physical archives to a new office building. but at least they wanted it all in order before they stuck it in a different dusty basement.

— the very first day you went to the basement and saw the sheer level of work the two of you had in store, you locked eyes with jisung and just knew that fucker was going to find some way to get out of it.

— on your lunch break you tried to beat him to the punch and defend your honor against the soul crushing weight of undue punishment. but alas! you had already taken vacation days in the last month (damn that kpop concert - did you really have to be that devoted to your ult group??) and han hadn't had a day off for the last 6 months.

how the hell did you end up doing the punishment work for actions that weren't even (mostly) yours?

han jisung better move to that alaskan homestead after all, nowhere else would ever be safe from your wrath... once you got out of this basement, of course.

— the most you were given was help in the form of lee minho — who would have thought that he of all people would be your saving grace?

maybe he'd help you plan jisung's murder. they were friends, true, but anyone who was around han long enough would not be opposed to plitting his demise. it was part of his elusive charm, after all. everything wonderful about him also lent itself to fodder for plotting his demise.

convenient, really, given the circumstances you were in.

— but back to lee minho. perfect performance lee minho. always last to leave the office lee minho. infuriatingly not suffering from looking chronically fatigued or daunted, overwhelmed, or simply fazed by the overzealous work culture you found yourselves in, lee minho. curt and focused but lacking of an edge that would make him unapproachable lee minho. impossible to pin down, the vitruvian man of corporate dreams, somehow the bosses favorite despite failing to do any of the sucking up some of your other coworkers engaged in almost religiously lee minho.

he didn't frustrate you; he didn't even really baffle you, but he didn't exactly occupy your brainspace in a way that could be described as indifference, y'know?

maybe this was something you could blame of jisung, too. he always talked about minho an ungodly amount, waxed poetic about how it was a shame that minho worked in a different department — how the two of you really would get along famously, but damn, if he couldn't convince either of you to spend any of your (perhaps two (2)) hours of off-duty life in the same place at the same time.

social lives, after all, were laughable, where the both of you were concerned.

— the day you walked down there and saw minho already elbow deep in a filing cabinet seemingly older than your parents (which, lamentably, was the worst organized filing cabinet you'd ever seen, and was regrettably representative of 95% of the work ahead of you), you laughed out loud and took the moment to convince minho to take a picture for you, so you could tell jisung that he was missing the Historic and Long Anticipated Meet Up, and that was the moment you realized that you were so deep in the basement, phone service was a pipe dream.

it wasn't a concern, really — you were both benefiting from the random employee benefit of free spotify premium, so your downloaded content was enough to get you through the long hours of organizing and packing, and hey! being in the basement meant no one really expected any more out of you than your required hours and whatever mandatory overtime you had left to complete.

— so really, jisung had been stupid as hell to avoid this punishment. it was effectively less work than you were used to (though tedious) and you were far enough away from your desk that the thought of the work piling up in the world above wasn't eating at you that much (at least not any more than usual; workplace anxiety and you were well acquainted, at that point <3)

— and minho! — god forbid you say anything complementary about that bastard han jisung while he left you (more than) 6 feet under, doing work that was, by many rights, his punishment — but he had been right when he said you and minho would gel.

he didn't disturb you, for the most part, but working in the same space for full work days with nothing to do but listen to podcasts and check the dates on dusty files meant that Annoying The Only Other Person In Your Vicinity became a welcome distraction from wallowing in the fact you were moving at a pace slower than desired. and he responded quite well to any question you threw his way - no matter how brain-dead, invasive, or embarrassing. in fact, he'd hit something back - put the ball in your court in a question almost more ridiculous, leaving you to question how jisung hadn't forced the two of you together sooner (but fuck jisung; all my homies are blaming this comedy of errors on jisung and are in this basement actively plotting his demise).

— and it didn't take you long to realize charming minho is almost exactly like getting a neighborhood cat to endear itself to you.

pspspsps at random (bat a stupid ass joke his way);

give him space but respond to his random bids for attention;

have a snack drawer (one of the first emptied out file cabinets furthest to the back of the archival area) and occasionally offer something sweet as a reminder that the snack drawer exists and is for joint indulging;

entertain him with logic puzzles and psychological warfare;

and, of course, shit talk your coworkers and company.

indulge the cats desire for destruction and mayhem; tell minho that whenever he was ready to put in his two-weeks, you'd be right there beside him and would run the paper shredder all night while he corrupted the files.

exist calmly and comfortable in the cat's space; work so well in tandem that you began anticipating the movements of the other.

spend quality time with the cat; both of you begining to wordlessly take your lunches at the table in the archival basement, instead of going all the way back up to the cafeteria, choosing instead to chat with each other and indulge in the other's niche interests and stupidly staunch opinions on poor pieces of media.

slow blink at the cat; catch yourself staring for a bit too long when he doesn't notice you looking, your thoughts getting all muffled and sappy as you become wholly fascinated by the slope of his nose and the softness of his big, dark eyes that look perpetually half-bored at work but sparkle with intelligence and mischief when you call out his name — lighting up with interest and disguised delight as that lazy, gummy smile makes it's way onto his features, eyebrows quirking upward, already expecting a challenge and...

— wait... what was that?

— is there absestos in the company walls, and that's why they decided to randomly move buildings? is there lead lining these filing cabinets? black mold in the ceiling? were you perhaps inhaling narcotics in this dusty ass air and hallucinating something vivid?

you were not developing a crush on someone just because you were stuck in the basement with this fool for going on two weeks now and hadn't seen another good looking coworker in quite some time. this wasn't some kind of drama where the ceo has a strange delight in forcing company employees into situations laced with ✨sexual tension✨. you weren't a main lead suffering from romantic withdrawals. remember your leech of a company. you have no time for shit like that.

— but, i mean, if you're never out of the office, perhaps finding romance in office is a solution...

shut the fuck up, you and minho weren't even in the same department. that point was moot.

— because damn, maybe asbestosis really was getting to you, and that's what was knocking the wind out of you any time minho smiled. yes, certainly the absestos in the walls was what was informing the way your heart constricted whenever the two of you brushed hands passing a file between you. maybe you should sue your company and have some hospital use you as a case study. maybe all the distracted daydreams was a new symptom of your newly contracted deadly disease.

see, that would make sense. you weren't catching a mean case of crushing on your forced proximity coworker, you were simply dying. because of the absestos.

— but even still, the day both of you piled all the boxes of (appropriately lableled) filing into a work car, and minho drove you over to the new building, the fresh air didn't seem to be a cure all. you were still a little more than distracted by his messy hair and black sunglasses... his concentration on the road... his pushed up sleeves... not to mention his hands wrapped around the steering wheel.

(but of course you'd snap out of your thoughts when you remember that joke jisung made about your supposed hand kink at the beginning of all this nonsense. shut the fuck up, memory ghost jisung. you don't know shit. you and minho had already talked about it and were coming for his broke ass the day he had the courage to step foot in the office again.)

— yeah, haha, you weren't crushing on lee minho because of a comedy of errors you had never dreamed would befall you in the first place. working alongside him hadn't woken anything in you. certainly not.

— and yeah, haha, you'd definitely be able to hide this from jisung when he came back. not a problem at all when he asks you about how sorting archives went (he had the gall to bring it up every five minutes — taunting you with the fact that he got to have 4 days off and was then reassigned to do answer all the emails that had piled up during his time out of office. yes, he had picked up some of the work originally meant to go to you, but still. a veritable traitor who deserved your absence from your usual lunch dates. and yes, it was hard to be slick when he'd bring up your casual absence from lunch — were you finding minho's company to be more than enough? — but you'd manage. like hell were you going to give the smug bastard satisfaction after he made you atone for his and also your crimes.).

— and yeah, haha, you'd would definitely be able to explain to a suspicious and put out jisung why you were canceling anime re-run night with him to instead go with minho to this hybrid cat-and-comic-book-cafe he had mentioned never being able to get a reservation for, despite living two blocks away from it. silly little things like that would be easy to wave away, right.

it's like, totally platonic for you and minho to meet up on your only day off to spend hours lounging at a cafe retreat together where you cooed at semi-sociable cats and joked about adopting and co-parenting the one who enjoyed wearing cute hats, and read comic books for hours and order food to share and have low-stakes debates about the best tropes and characters of shared beloved media.

it's not like that whole set up is incredibly date coded.

and it's not like it would become a recurring habit for minho to invite you to do things with him that would have jisung waggling his eyebrows even as you pleaded innocence and smacked him with whatever quasi-weapon you just so happened to have on your desk (mostly file folders and your favorite cat themed mini calendar).

— haha... it wasn't like you were down bad and incredibly bad at hiding your crush.

...right?

— you fool. you absolute buffoon. han jisung could smell your lies and poorly contained crush from thousands of leagues away. even if you weren't shit at hiding it, he would have known. he could have actually been on that remote homestead in alaska and still picked up on just how brain dead you were over your crush. you thought you were slick? when han jisung has a doctorate in anxious suspicion and twelve master's degrees in the art of bullshitting?

hell, he knew you were going to fall in love with minho before the two of you even met. why do you think he'd wanted to connect the two of you in the first place? because he thought you two needed a social life? please — he knew going in that putting the two of you in the same room was horrible for his self preservation; he knew it was practically undermining company goals because your joint productivity would fall 2000% and the amount of cat memes you two would send on company time would increase so exponentially, you'd both resort to making your own memes using your company paid subscription to adobe creative cloud; he knew that the two of you were almost scarily well matched and equally devoted to drinking your refusal-to-believe-i-can-be-loved-romantically juice.

he knew that you and minho would develop glaring crushes on each other and wouldn't do a damn thing about it beyond smoothly flirting for an afternoon, inviting the other out on dates-that-aren't-dates and promptly fake-gagging and denying in a manner almost theatric that you might *gasp* enjoy the other's company in a way not-so-platonic, only to do it all over again. a vicious cycle of 'stop feeding the rest of us lies and just kiss with tongue already, damnit.' and he knew all of your coworkers would be caught in the middle of it.

— which they were. for, like, a solid five months.

— now, it wasn't too bad, considering the fact that you and minho worked in different departments, but anytime there was cause for collaboration, suddenly you were clambering to be considered, no matter the intense workload or the way the task was slightly out of your wheelhouse. suddenly, it seemed you were incredibly eager to learn and prove yourself.

at first, your team leader was overjoyed. initiative? drive? a seeming zest and fire for more commitment? say less and do more! marry yourself to the dumbass collaboration with the other department! perhaps this could mean freedom for their long suffering servitude under the corporate thumb!

but then they saw you flirting with minho and making plans to spend an afternoon together at a book signing while still on the clock. and while they're not opposed to a bit of misuse of company time (vive la révolution contre les régimes capitalistes, and all that), it was a bitter and sobering pill to watch that shit happen daily while not getting any yourself, and then stomaching the fact that these clearlly love-struck fuckers won't admit their own transparency-set-to-0% feelings and put their chronically-single corporately-suffering coworkers to rest. either say you're in love and just be done with it or take the rest of us out with a shot gun. goddamn.

it's like a sitcom's mind-numbingly over-the-top valentine's day special. someone make it stop.

— and it didn't take a genius to connect the dots and realize that the employee responsible for all of this was han jisung.

after all, he's the mutual friend between them. no doubt he talked about the other constantly in glowing terms. no doubt he planted the seed they'd be a match made in heaven. no doubt he was the one to blame.

and! wasn't it his fuck up that forced you and minho to work together in the archives to begin with?

maybe killing han jisung wasn't going to make you and minho confess to each other, but it would be some kind of catharsis for the people who were stuck in this hell of Watching You Two Take Your Sweet Time With It.

— so jisung had to understandably think of some kind of plot. after all, the two of you were his best friends, but to hope that you would admit your feelings for someone to save his livelihood? don't be ridiculous. the both of you were quite happy with the flirting stage, as it currently stood.

— how to get your stubborn friends to admit their (very real and very reciprocated) feelings for each other... when there's no external or even internal pressure (on them, at least) to do so... jisung would have to think outside of the box.

or perhaps inside of it.

— which i'm sure is reason enough to explain how the both of you managed to get stuck in a closet during your company's holiday party.

and, through it all, is minho's mischievous eyes and your flair for the dramatic.

"do you think we should tell our coworkers we've been dating?"

☄. *. ⋆

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[silver-tongued-bby]

The Fall - Chapter I

Pairing: Manipulative!Dom!Loki x Sub!fem!Reader

This work is set in an AU.

Words: ~2,400

Summary: A chance encounter at the grocery store has you second guessing yourself and well, everything else.

This is work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains graphic descriptions of rough sex, manipulation, sadism, Loki who likes to see you cry, a dom/sub dynamic, a broken reader with family issues, cigarette smoking. Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.

~~~

It really was a bad fucking day. 

The exaggeratedly bad type of day that was reserved for shitty romcoms or late-night comedies, the ones that made your stomach curl. Everything that could go wrong did. 

And so here you were, feeling sorry for yourself as you vacantly stared at the neatly stacked ice cream containers behind the glass. You rubbed your eyes and caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection, flinching with a start. 

It took you a moment to recognise her - that girl. The one that showed up when you were at your lowest. That girl that looked so much like you, but without the mask. The mask that made you a functioning member of society, that got you jobs, friends, and dates. You looked at this girl, the one with tears in her eyes wrapped in a men’s coat four sizes too big for her and wondered when exactly she’d come into existence. It seemed she’d always been there, growing as her parents did their very best to do their absolute worst. 

You blinked again, sighing at your reflection before turning around, vacant stare now aimed at the boxes of crackers behind you. You weren’t hungry - not really. Your feet had just carried you to your car, so you drove yourself here, as if a 1AM visit to the grocery store would fix things. 

Blinking away the fresh tears, you grabbed a box of Cheez-Its off the shelf and turned, your bleary eyes meeting those of the stranger at the end of the aisle. 

Something in his stare stopped you, pinned you in place. His expression was neutral, but something in that blue-green told you to turn around and run, though your clever feet had seemingly retired for the evening. 

You could tell he was handsome, though you didn’t lift your gaze from his. You felt as if he’d somehow stripped you bare, easily seeing all you desperately tried to hide. 

You opened your mouth to speak, though you hadn’t the slightest idea of what to say. His eyes flickered down to the box in your hand before snapping back to your own and a second later he carried on, walking past the aisle to the next.

You stood there on uneasy legs, a frown tugging at your features. What the fuck was that? 

You shivered, your heart racing, the frown deepening when you felt heat pooling between your legs. You looked to the box of Cheez-Its, then back to where he stood. No, really. What the fuck was that?

You weren’t one to make eye contact in public, especially not when you were alone, learning young of the attention it brought. But something in the way he’d looked at you made you want it - want him to look at you again. 

You stopped yourself from following him, shaking your head as you walked to the front of the store. It was 1AM and you were alone in a deserted grocery store. What the hell are you doing? 

Your eyes cleared a little as you made your way to the checkout counter, the stranger filling your thoughts. The only clerk working was a teenage boy, who rung up your box and gave you your total in a monotone drawl. You asked for a pack of cigarettes as well, thumbing the lighter in your pocket. 

“ID?” He asked, blinking slowly at you. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled, feeling around in your pockets for your wallet. You’d left the house with a $20 bill crumpled in the top pocket of the giant fishing coat you donned. “I don’t have it on me.” 

He shrugged, looking back at you. “Manager’s really up my ass lately. Can’t give them to you without ID. Sorry,” he shrugged again, taking the crumpled bill from you as the register opened.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you did your very best not to cry in front of this poor kid. Taking the box and pocketing the change, you walked out through the sliding doors and into the night. 

Making it to your car, you pulled the keys from your pocket, the box in your other hand. You swore as the keychain slipped from your fingers, skidding against the pavement and under the only other car in the lot- parked just a spot away. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, debating on whether or not to just leave them and walk home. Sighing, you got on your hands and knees, spotting the mass of keys right between the tires. You tried to reach but felt nothing, the gravel stinging against your kneecaps. You found the tears started to fall again, the day catching back up with you. 

You sniffed, reaching under the car again, the keys still just out of your grasp. You sat up on your knees, shivering as you thought of what to do. You must’ve sat there for a solid minute or two, your knees aching as you wiped tear after tear from your heated skin. 

“Here.” You jumped at the sound of a man’s voice, looking up to see him standing above you, your keyring hooked on his finger. He wore the same expression as before, though his eyes looked darker in the low light. 

“Oh,” you sniffed again and stood, taking the keyring from him. You brushed some of the gravel off your knees, wiping another tear away with the back of your hand. “Sorry.” 

You turned to leave, embarrassed, when you felt his hand against your shoulder. You looked to him, your breath catching once more as he looked down at you, his stare more intense than before. 

“Your biscuits,” he said, the little smirk curling at the corner of his lip making you feel better and worse at the same time. You looked down, seeing the box at your feet. He withdrew his hand as you bent to pick it up. 

“Right,” you mumbled. 

“You want one?” He asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. 

You looked at his outstretched hand, the long fingers steady. Looking back to his face, the little smirk was gone. You reached out with a shaky hand, sliding a cigarette from the pack. He put one between his lips and swiftly lit it, holding out his lighter to you. 

“Thank you,” you lit the cigarette then handed him back his lighter. He took it, fingers brushing yours, though his eyes were trained on the highway across the street. You stood beside him in silence, the sound of a passing car filling the air every few seconds. 

“You’re pretty when you cry.” He’d turned to look at you as he’d said it, though you kept your eyes trained on the highway. 

“T-thanks,” you sniffed, glancing up at him, heart racing as he looked down at you with that intensity again. You swallowed. 

He held your gaze as he reached up, the tips of his fingers lightly touching your jaw as his thumb brushed away a tear. His eyes fell to your lips as you wet them, you could feel they were puffy as a result of your crying. Before your brain could catch up with his movements he’d withdrawn, pulling the cigarette from his lips to extinguish it beneath a boot. 

“I’m not always like this,” you said, his gaze lifting to meet yours. 

He quirked an eyebrow as he studied your face. 

You shifted on your feet. “I’m usually better- normal.”

He smirked, turning to open his car door. “Of course you are.” He slid inside, turning on the engine before pulling out of the empty lot, the vehicle’s acceleration loud once it hit the highway. 

You stared off in the direction he’d gone, wondering if that had really just happened. A shiver tore through you as you remembered the feel of his touch against your skin. 

You should have been outraged, or at the very least disturbed at the intimacy of the action, but all you could think of was how desperately you wanted it to happen again. 

You took one last drag off your cigarette and ducked into your front seat, peeling off the other way. 

~~~

Looking in the mirror, you adjusted your skirt before leaning forward to swipe a thumb at your eyeliner. Leaning backwards you but your lip, sticky with gloss as your heart hammered in your chest. 

You looked at your phone to check the time, letting out a shaky breath as you made for the door. 

The drive was quick, one you’d become familiar with over the past week as you visited in the dead of night. Your sick little ritual performed in the hopes of seeing him again. Pulling up to the lot, your heart leapt to your throat when you saw his car, the black expensive one, parked neatly near the front of the darkened deserted pavement. 

You parked a row back, locking your door as you walked quickly to the entrance. You shivered as the blast of air conditioning met your skin, eliciting goosebumps over your exposed arms. You bit your lip, deciding to take the long walk to the back aisle of the store. 

You stepped slowly, shoes clicking off the scuffed linoleum as you kept your gaze forward, using your peripherals to see within the aisles. You couldn’t help the little gasp that slipped from your lips when you caught sight of his lithe, dark figure. You could feel his gaze on you as you passed by, continuing on without a glance in his direction until you made it to the laundry detergent in the next aisle. Picking up a small jug, you made your way to the cash, paying for your purchase along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. 

You leant against your car, lighting up a cigarette. Taking one nervous drag after another, you finished it and pulled the carton back out, slipping a fresh one from the pack. Your eyes drifted to the sliding doors as they opened. 

You lit it up, watching him walk to his car. He glanced at you casually, opening his trunk for the bag in his hand. 

You bit your lip, pushing yourself off the cool metal before making your way to him. “Hey,” you called out, walking closer. 

He looked at you, that same gaze stripping you bare once more, making your fingers tremble around the cigarette. 

“I-I was here the other night,” you came closer, your heart pounding as you took in his handsome features. He was at least twice your age. “I wanted to say thanks,” you offered him a cigarette. “I was having a rough night.” 

He glanced at your hand before taking it from you. “I remember.” 

You nodded as he lit it up, taking a drag. 

“Is there something you want?” 

You opened your mouth, then shut it, unsure of what to say. What did you want from him?

There was that stare again. “How many times did you come to the grocery store at 1 in the morning this week?” 

Your eyes widened. 

He took a step closer. “The clerk inside told me you’d been by every night. Is that right?”

You found yourself nodding, the rest of you frozen in place. 

“And what were you looking for?” 

You swallowed. 

He waited. 

“You,” you called out, the small sound of your own voice surprising you. 

“And what is it that you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” it was a whimper - barely audible over the sound of a passing car. 

He didn’t say a word, simply pulling a phone from his back pocket. He handed it to you, opened to the new contact creator. 

You took it in your shaky hands, typing out your name and number before passing it back to him, his fingertips grazing yours. 

He put the phone back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t be hanging around here this late,” he put out his cigarette. “It isn’t safe.” 

You nodded. 

He slid into the drivers seat and pulled off, leaving you speechless and alone once again. 

~~~

It was a week before he texted you.

The first two days any notification you got made you scramble for your phone, heart pounding, only to be disappointed yet again. 

On the third day you started to lose hope, and wondered if you should go back to the grocery store. He’d told you not to - but what if that only meant he’d actually wanted you to? What if it was all a test? 

After sitting in your car in the driveway for an hour you decided to go to bed with a huff, only to do the exact same thing the night after. 

On the fifth day you did your best to push him from your mind - to stop the image of his face from popping up each time you closed your eyes. It didn’t work, so you spent the night awake, watching horror movies as you attempted to force him from your thoughts with blood and gore. 

The sixth day you drove past the grocery store at 1:03 AM, not seeing his car there as your heart sank in your chest. 

Then the seventh day came. And at eight o’clock on a Sunday you got a text, prompting you to lazily reach for your phone. You sat up straight when you saw the unknown number. 

Have you figured it out yet?

Figured out what? You responded in seconds, cursing yourself for not playing it cool. 

What you want from me.

Your heart raced as you reread the words, trying to think up a witty response. Only one thing echoed in your thoughts, and you found yourself typing it out, and staring at the words. 

I want you to pay attention to me. 

Before you could overthink it you hit send and closed your phone, throwing it to the other end of the couch. The soft ping made you reach for it, your heart in your throat. 

What are you willing to do for my attention? 

You swallowed, staring at the words. A normal person wouldn’t respond, recognising that statement for what it was. A red flag. A huge one at that. You knew what he was asking for, and yet you typed out a response, quickly hitting send. 

Anything. 

You watched the three dots at the bottom of the screen. 

Let’s get dinner.

~~~

To be continued...

~~~

Author's Note: Ok ok ok so this is very loosely based off of this one-off interaction I had at a grocery store (years ago), as well as a somewhat popular account on here that I am both fascinated and disgusted with at the same time. Reader is in for a sketchy time...

Thank you so much for checking out my latest work. A new chapter of Tear You Apart is coming soon.

And thank you to all of my followers for your continued support during my hiatus 🖤

As usual, likes, reblogs, and comments are always immensely appreciated. 🖤 🖤

[moonlit-positivity]

Lesser known effects of trauma that don't ever get acknowledged

Cw: mentions of csa, sa, despair, depression, & generally dark content that some may find hard to read. Please interact & read with care.

"bed rotting" (which I hear is gaining attention on TikTok these days) ie the process of becoming bedridden due to your body being stuck in freeze response (paralyzed w fear, too scared to move)

Needing to cut your hair bc it keeps getting matted down, because you can't shower or wash it or keep up with it anymore

Gaining weight (i gained over 200lbs in a year), losing all the clothes you once fit in, and feeling guilty when all you see everywhere all the time is fat shaming

Losing weight (and subsequently all your clothes start falling off 😭) eating disorders and struggling with body image

Existing off of God knows what at this point. Is that milk spoiled? Yeah but how many days is it spoiled? Mmm, nah, nevermind, I'll just eat air.

Losing track of time. Losing months to years of time because of extreme dissociation, fatigue, stress, and the inability to move

Brain & body "shut down" or go into sleep mode for long periods of time

Self hygiene becomes non existent. Showering? Brushing teeth? Changing clothes? Don't know her.

House cleaning becomes non existent. "If It's Not In The Vacinity, It's Not Getting Done."

Lying to everyone about what's going on because it's easier than telling the truth

Not being comfortable with having your pictures taken, go through a phase where you destroy any evidence you ever existed anywhere at all

Isolating & ghosting all ur friends periodically to make sure they're not gonna leave you (lol makes perfect sense, if you know you know)

Animal upkeep goes to shit. Litter box goes neglected for long periods of time.

Noise & light sensitivity goes haywire. Noise & light triggers get amplified especially once you start to feel any sense of "safety" and start decompressing. An alarm goes off, the stove beeps, the cat meows, anything that makes even the slightest noise in the foreground and you have a whole ass panic attack and find yourself in bed for the rest of the day

Agoraphobia. You never go outside ever again. Too much paranoia, too many eyes staring at you, too many reasons to panic and stay in bed

Life becomes so non existent that the only thing that matters is whatever you're currently doing to cope & survive. If you're addicted to something, well, it's a fucking miracle you even wake up anymore

Couch surfing and inevitable homelessness when people get tired of housing you. Having to confront the way society frames government assistance as "the lazy man's income" & hope disability goes through. Which it won't. Wait-lists out the ass, section 8 takes 5 years or more to kick in. Disability doesn't even go through bc they always deny the first time you apply. The process is littered with appeals and court dates and what the fuck, I can't even get out of bed. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Leaning into your despair because, despite what everyone on social media will shout at you about resilience and "not allowing yourself to fall into despair," they will never understand that concept that despair is there for a reason too. Youre looking at someone who was raped at 5 years old and youre telling them to "stay positive." Yeah okay.

The anger, the bitterness, the resentment at the world & everyone in it. The cold blooded urge for revenge & justice. Especially when there's nothing you can do about the fact that your abusers are still free to live and roam this world as they please.

Not being able to "talk about it." Not being able to "trust a safe space." That's bullshit. I was beat and abused my whole life, what the fuck you mean "safe space?" The absolute mind fuckery that you have to sit with and undo and learn the fact that they fucking lied to you. It is enough to kill you.

Everything you learn in therapy just pisses you off even more because why the fuck wasn't there someone there as a kid to teach you this shit???? Why the fuck do I have to learn this as an adult???? Where was this when I actually fucking needed it????

Nothing helps. Nothing soothes, because there is no soothing. There is only pain. It's like ripping your skin off.

Losing everything. Losing all your friends. Losing all your "cool status" points. Losing your reputation. Losing all the things that once brought you great joy and passion. There is nothing anymore. Pain and isolation and desolation and despair.

Learning that no one can relate. Except that's not entirely true at all. People can relate. It's just such a stigmatized topic that no one talks about it out loud, because no one else in society really gets it.

[your-mums-nuts]

The thing I love about Protective!Ted in relation to tedbecca is not the whole ‘caveman angry because someone upset his woman’ but rather, how his anger and dislike for Rupert, and the way that he handles it, signals to (a very mistrustful) Rebecca that his charm and his kindness is not some farce he shows absolutely everybody.

Over time, we learn that Rupert started out charming. He told Rebacca all he wanted was to talk to her, he made her feel special. So when Ted comes in every morning to bring her a batch of homemade biscuits and just, hang out with her. She’s understandably hesitant, because that’s how Rupert got her, and she doesn’t yet understand the difference between charming and nice.

But when Ted faces off against Rupert (eg the gala, playing darts) his responses to her being insulted, belittled and spoken down to, all reveal a level of uncontrollable, genuine care.

Rupert would’ve easily brushed off any insults towards his wife with some charm and good natured teasing, he probably even joined in, the fucking guy. Meanwhile, Ted’s reactions to Rupert insulting Rebecca are always abrupt and defensive. He loses his cool, he says something he’s not supposed to, he reveals something he’s not supposed to, he becomes a guy that even we, the audience, are not used to. But his protectiveness never comes from a place of typical, masculine possessiveness or jealousy. (Okay, maybe a little jealousy. A girl can dream)

In the charity-gala episode, Rupert causes immediate stress for Rebecca. So Ted, not even knowing the full extent of it yet, visibly dislikes this guy from the moment they meet. Even when Rupert’s charming the pants off the crowd and raising charity ‘for the children’ Ted continues to react uncomfortably in his presence, no matter how friendly he is.

Then, when he does get the extent of it, (Rebecca crying, Rupert being the one to cancel the musical guest) he lets that dislike out, openly taking Rebecca’s side. Which isn’t surprising, but is still very sweet.

In the dart episode, Rupert reveals he’s gonna be in the owners box everyday. Ted doesn’t like this at all, but he doesn’t go off his own reaction, he observes Rebecca’s reaction to gauge her feelings on the matter. Rebecca is clearly unsettled and uncomfortable, and you can kind of see Ted mentally go, ‘yeah no, she’s not cool with that, that’s not happening.’

And then even before they play darts, first and foremost, Ted checks if Rebecca would like to leave. Now, we know his character hates conflict, especially after his train-wreck marriage, so we know that he would like to leave. But when Rebecca decides to remain in a bar with her horrible ex-husband, his child-bride and a room full of people who adore him, which is a little masochist-y even for me, he doesn’t even hesitate.

Her reasoning is very English. ‘Make yourself suffer out of obligation to polite society’ type shit. But instead of making her feel silly or ridiculous or forcing her to leave, Ted goes out of his way to ease Rebecca’s suffering and make Rupert leave her alone, even if it causes him discomfort.

Now, I know that Ted is a very caring character and a lot of this can be chalked up to him being a good friend. But with the way they present Ted and Rebeca’s relationship (he calls her boss, she calls the shots, she’s more authoritative) To see him take over for her, without thought, whenever Rupert upsets her, reveals more intimacy and depth to their relationship than we previously understood. And to have her be grateful, and in some instances, downright delighted by this display of care and protectiveness, reveals something else entirely.

Anyway I read twelve protective!Ted tedbecca fics last night and this is what’s left of my brain.

[spider-brained-manthing]

Like Heaven (ftm!Miguel O’Hara x ftm!reader)

Reposting this because for some reason it wasn’t showing up in the tags last time????

Warnings: nsfw, semi-public fucking, implied switch ftm Miguel, vaguely implied switch ftm reader, praise, begging, edging, implied that Miguel has had a crush on the reader

18+, mdni

Fic under cut

Miguel O’Hara was three things: one of your closest friends in the Spider-society, incredibly attractive, and your boss. This situation was not helped by the fact that he was also one of the first other Spiders you met and who helped you when he found you in a shitty situation back in your universe. While you also loved the other Spiders you were close with, Miguel seemed to stand out to you the most, and it wasn’t just the previous things, nor was it just his tall frame, his eyes that seemed to shift between red and dark brown, his sharp fangs, or his stupidly perfect hair.

No. For some reason, he seemed as equally drawn to you as you were to him. He seemed more protective of you than he did of any of the other Spiders he especially cared for. Even Peter. Even Jess, who was in a much more vulnerable state than you, what with her being an expecting mother.

Whenever you were in HQ and Miguel had a free moment, he sought you out. If you were in the cafeteria, there he was, approaching your table silently with a tray containing food you knew he’d offer most of to you. In the gym at HQ? Miguel was there, helping you with tough exercises, or sometimes just watching you while he did his own thing.

You sometimes wondered if he knew something was about to happen.

After three, maybe four, months of this, you got up the courage to ask Miguel about what he was doing. A perfect opportunity came up when he called you to his office and you knew no one else would probably be there.

Your footsteps echoed loudly in the dark empty, alone except for yourself, the machinery, and the to-go order of empanadas you got for yourself and Miguel. Of course, you knew Miguel was probably watching you walk to his office; he always did that whenever someone went to talk to him there.

Miguel’s platform was already lowering itself towards the ground when you you get to his office. You stood maybe fifty feet away from where the platform would land, not wanting to rush the conversation too much.

You watched as the tall man hopped off of his platform and walked closer to you. As friendly offering, you lifted the to-go box with the empanadas a bit higher.

“That’s… not necessary.” Miguel’s eyes flitted to the box, but despite his words, the corners of his mouth tugged up in an almost smile.

“Here, take them. I don’t care what you do with them when I leave, but don’t make me carry them all day.” You tossed the box to Miguel with a smile, and he caught it effortlessly. He placed it on a chair on his platform.

“Thanks for coming in on such short notice.” Miguel said when he returned his gaze back to you.

“No problem.” You shifted nervously. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something anyway.”

“Oh, really? What do you need to tell me?” The other man’s eyes quickly looked you over once.

You felt yourself blush, but you went on anyway. “I was just gonna ask you something but I’m sure it’s not as important as what you called me here for.”

“You can ask now.”

“Are you sure?”

Miguel raised eyebrow. “Just go ahead and ask. The reason I called you here can wait.”

“Oh. Uh. I just… noticed, that you’ve been actively spending a lot of time with me compared to the others, and I guess I just want to know why.”

Miguel raised both eyebrows this time. “Come here, I have something to show you. Maybe this will help explain.” He beckoned you to follow him to his platform, and you obliged.

One screen showed a video of a couple who, upon closer inspection, closely resembled you and Miguel, but clearly from another universe.

“What’s this?” You asked, your voice nearly failing. You couldn’t deny that you really liked Miguel, maybe that you were attracted to him.

“This is us. Well, a version of us anyway. I found out about them just a few months ago. They’re from earth-483.”

You realized that Miguel might have started paying closer attention to you around the same tile he discovered this couple that was you and him in another universe. Without meaning to, you leaned closer to the screen.

The pair on the screen looked fancy, almost like… almost like they were getting married. You looked back at Miguel, more confused than before.

“Maybe I should explain more. On earth-483, we got married, even had a kid.” Miguel looked at you, must have seen your initial reaction before it slipped off your face. “I know, I know. Just because they’re versions of us doesn’t make them exactly like us.”

“I know.” You gave Miguel an amused smile. “But this doesn’t really explain anything.”

Miguel sighed and moved closer to you. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind, you know. When I found out about this version of us, happy and together, I knew it wasn’t just a random feeling.” You could almost feel Miguel’s body, a presence that felt warm, steady, and strong.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Miguel, do you even hear what you’re saying? They’re from the same dimension as each other, we’re not.”

“I know.” Miguel’s voice got quiet. “Trust me.”

“I trust you, but I don’t think I quite understand you.”

“Then let me explain.” Normally when he said something like this, Miguel would be annoyed or pissed, but this time, he seemed to be neither of those things. His hot breath hit the back of your breath, and suddenly everything made sense.

You were attracted to him too, but you knew you had to be careful. Miguel’s hands crept around your torso and you grabbed them. You didn’t force him away, but you didn’t know how far this would go.

Still, you felt a warm, fluttery feeling just below your stomach. Miguel’s hands slowly went lower, and you didn’t stop him. Soon, his hands found the hem of the top half of your Spider suit and immediately plunged underneath the fabric.

“Is this okay?” Miguel asked, lips ghosting against the back of your neck. You repressed a moan and nodded.

“This is okay.” You said quietly. Immediately, Miguel’s hands started moving back up your torso, but this time underneath your suit. His warm hands felt almost like Heaven against your skin.

“This would be better off.” Miguel muttered, so the two of you shimmied the top half of your suit off. Miguel had you turn around so he could see more of you. His eyes lingered on your top surgery scars for a moment but that didn’t change anything about his expression or demeanor.

“What are you doing?” You asked again. Miguel moved in even closer. He put his hands on your waist and held you firmly. You watched as the top half of his suit melted away, leaving his chest bare. You were pleasantly surprised to see the surgical scars on his chest that matched yours.

The warmth of the sudden chest to chest contact made everything Miguel did, every seemingly out of place word he uttered, make sense. Through the parts of your respective shits that remained on, you felt the heat between Miguel’s legs.

Slowly, Miguel slid one hand behind the waistband of your suit. His fingers found their way through the fabric of your underwear, and to your swollen tdick. Your hips automatically responded to the pleasure, pressing against Miguel’s fingers.

“May I remove this?” Miguel asked, his breath once again hitting your neck.

“Yes. Please.” You moaned. Miguel’s hands slowly worked your pants down your legs. You attempted to help him, but he swatted your hands away.

Miguel’s height made it so that he had to crouch to get your pants below your knees. It seemed like he kept on almost getting distracted by your glistening tdick and your warm folds, but his hands kept pushing your pants down until they reached your ankles. Miguel helped you kick your pants to the side.

The man’s warm tongue flicked against your clit the moment your feet were planted again. Your hands tangled themselves in Miguel’s perfect dark brown hair, and he clasped your thighs.

For a moment, you worried about someone hearing your needy whines, but that fear was quickly pushed down by the pleasure Miguel was giving you.

“A-ah, Miguel.” You whimpered out. The grip on your thighs tightened, as did the clasp your fingers held in Miguel’s hair.

“You’re such a good boy.” Miguel mumbled, not bothering to remove his mouth from your tdick. The heat of his breath and the vibration of his voice sent shockwaves nearly as strong as his tongue did.

One of Miguel’s hands moved from your thigh to your wet hole, which had been grinding on nothing since the other man started. You gasped when one, then two, of Miguel’s thick fingers managed their way in. You knew what was coming next but you still weren’t prepared for it.

Miguel curled his fingers and started pumping inside of you while his tongue continued to work its magic against your swollen tdick. Stars swam in your vision, clouded by immense pleasure. You started grinding against Miguel’s tongue and fingers, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Clearly, Miguel knew this too. His motions slowed, the pumping not as forceful and the flicking of his tongue not as fast. You let out a whine, which caused Miguel to chuckle.

“Do you really think I’m gonna let you finish so easily?” Miguel teased before planting a kiss and a soft bite on your inner thigh. He removed his fingers, a wet noise coming when they fully pulled out. He rose to his feet and, with his unused hand, cleared and turned off the consoles on the platform.

Miguel pulled you back closer to him and give you a warm kiss on the lips. You were so desperate with need that even the quick kiss brought you intense pleasure.

“You’re so cute like this, I almost want to just hold you forever.” Miguel smiled and gave you another kiss. You blushed deeply.

Miguel grabbed your ass with one hand and held you closer to him. You placed one of your hands on his waist, the other creeping down to his welcoming folds.

“May I?” You ask, your lips pressed against Miguel’s neck, when your hand reaches his hard tdick.

“Yes please.” Miguel purred. “Good boy.”

Your fingers plunged into his folds, spreading his slick and targeting wherever you figured might feel good. Miguel’s breathing quickened, as did yours, and he let out moans that reverberated throughout your entire body.

Without thinking, you slid two fingers inside Miguel’s hole, just as he’d done to you. The man let out a growl of pleasure, and you started targeting his g-spot. His moans sounded like heaven in your ears.

Miguel’s fingers wrapped themselves in your hair, and he held you in such a way that your face couldn’t escape his neck if you tried.

“Let’s do something more, mi vida.” Miguel whispered.

“Yes please.” You whisper back. Miguel smiled and loosened his grip on you so he could grab something from a nearby drawer.

“Normally, I’d ask what position you’d prefer, but I want to hear your pretty moans again.” Miguel said, punctuating his words with kisses to your neck.

He pulled away from you for a moment, and you saw the strap on and harness in his hands. He got it on quickly- clearly he’d had experience with this before, which made you just the slightest bit jealous- and pushed you against one of the switched off consoles. He lifted your bare legs with ease and placed them over his shoulders.

“Is this okay?” Miguel asked before he positioned the strap on for insertion. You nodded, and Miguel rubbed the rim of your needy hole with one finger to prepare you for when he put the thick strap on.

You gasped when you felt the silicon member push itself deep into your hole. Miguel chuckled and caressed your face gently.

“Are you ready, mi amor?” Miguel asked, and you nodded, desperate for him to start fucking into you.

Immediately, Miguel started thrusting. Loud whines and moans escaped from your lips, and Miguel raised one hand and placed on your chin. His thumb caressed your bottom lip.

“Taking me so well.” Miguel mumbled, his speech slurred by pleasure.

“Thank you, sir.” You whined out. Miguel smiled and kept pounding into you.

Miguel planted kisses all along your jawline and neck, each kiss bringing out another whine. He gripped your waist tight and kept you pinned against the console. Not that you’d try to get out from underneath him if you could.

There was that feeling again, the one of slowly approaching the edge. Miguel smirked and brought one hand to your tdick and started rubbing. The extra pleasure only made your noises even louder.

“Please.” You whimpered.

“Please what?” Miguel said, his hot breath and lips hitting the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Please let me finish.” You begged.

Miguel smiled against your skin and kept rubbing your swollen tdick. His thrusting picked up, harder and faster and you lost control. You let out one last loud moan, and your hole clenched against Miguel’s strap on.

Miguel finished just a moment later, his own tdick having been stimulated by the back end of the strap on. He pulled out and gave you another kiss on the lips.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, shall we?” Miguel said, grabbing your hand as the two of you helped each other back into your clothes.

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch. 6

wc: 2.8k

genre: slowburn, best friends to lovers, painful tooth rotting fluff

pairing: Audrey x Ben, eventual Ben x daughter of alice!reader

warnings: ben's deeply repressed feelings looming ominously in the distance, audrey being an absolute bitch but what's new, op fixing the lore with nail glue and packing tape, Evie is a fucking icon as always

summary: After a long day fighting your way through a mountain of paperwork, you find yourself unable to sleep. Sneaking into ben's room always does the trick. Mal can't find a love spell in her spell book, but she finds something that should work almost as well.

song recs: spring fever - sub urban

a/n: the one thing that pisses me off is that there is no canonical use of love spells in the disney universe outside of descendants. they literally don't exist. genie says no making someone fall in love with someone else. you'd think they would know their own lore /lh

anyway fangz to cici as always (i am so sorry about buggy) and also as always, an optional fit for your viewing pleasure

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

You spend the next several hours by Ben’s side as you bounce between various meetings, and of course, your etiquette lessons that you’ve been attending since you were no older than a twizzleroot blossom.  They're not really etiquette lessons, not anymore. They were when you were young, you would attend a few times a week with all the other kids your age. You’d learn how to drink tea, how to write thank you notes, and all the other things you need to know to feel comfortable in royal high society settings. By the end of middle school, most of your peers were no longer in attendance. 

You and Ben, however, used the opportunity to learn about more and more of the nuanced aspects of politics, social graces, and media training. Your parents were both glad for this, and since you seemed on track to be real politicians and not just socialites, it was a perfect fit. However, saying that you have to go to your class for advanced political studies, world history, social graces, and media training is a little too clunky for your taste. You and Ben never grew out of calling them etiquette lessons, so the name stuck to this day.

On this day in particular, you now find yourself sitting next to Ben at a large table in one of the many makeshift conference rooms on campus. You’ve been in and out of meetings and lessons and debriefings about the Isle kids’ arrival, and now you’ve finally made it nearly to the end of your to do list. Ben insisted you didn’t need to stay late with him to do all this paperwork, but you insisted equally as much that you wouldn’t dream of leaving him to do it all himself. Now as Ben skims the monotonous text, signing on lines and initialing boxes, you dig through a seemingly endless database of forms, trying to find the right one. 

You bounce increasingly obscure form titles back and forth for a few minutes. After coming up with nothing, Ben lets out an amiable laugh. He should have expected something that seems straightforward would take at least ten times as long as it should. That’s government for you, that’s what his dad would say. A knock at the door draws both your attention, and Jane pokes her head in awkwardly. She tucks a section of her dark blunt bob behind her ear, then speaks nervously. 

“Uh, hi. My mom sent me,” she says in a quiet, hesitant voice. “She said she’s going to be about half an hour late. There was a problem with some ducks in the forest, or something?” 

Ben smiles at her politely.

“Thanks, Jane.” Ben says politely. Jane nods and leaves quickly, fussing with her short hair. You let out a puff of air from between your lips.

“Even more delays…” you murmur, clicking onto page 23 out of 66 of forms to look through. “How fun.”

Ben chuckles, agreeing as he stands up to stretch his legs. He walks around for a moment, and turns on an extra lamp. It’s starting to get dark out, and the last thing either of you need right now is eye strain. Wait, it’s already getting dark out? He stops in his tracks.

“Shit.” He mutters, reaching for his phone on the table. He completely forgot about dinner with Audrey, but he has to find these forms and get them filled out tonight. You try not to look like you're listening too closely as the phone rings, but Audrey’s voice is quite hard to ignore. Before he can greet her, she’s already demanding to know where he is and why he’s late.

“No, no. I- I didn’t forget. I… well… uh, no. It’s-” Ben rambles around Audrey’s interjections. He gets up, pacing around a little, and walking across the room away from you. He doesn’t want you to have to hear this. 

“We’re just running behind. No- No! I would never intentionally… stand you up… I-” 

“Right!” Audrey snaps on the other end, forcing a smile. “Well then. Maybe we should just cancel!” 

“Wh- uh, okay. I- I’ll make it up to you. We can… uh, later this week? We’ll - before the next tourney meet? I…” 

Ben sighs and pulls his phone away, looking at the screen. Call ended. He walks back over to the table, sitting down to continue trudging through the task at hand. You wordlessly slide a teacup over toward him, the colorful porcelain filled with warm chai, perfectly sweetened. He cracks a smile, and accepts the cup. 

“Thanks, bunny.” He says quietly. You hum warmly in response. You settle back into your comfortable silence, trudging through forms and digging through documents. As you sit across from each other, the pile of completed paperwork steadily grows taller. Hours pass, and you don’t realize how late it is until you’re finally ready to call it quits for tonight. You stumble through your bedtime routine, grateful that you have your muscle memory to carry you through. As soon as your head hits your soft pillow… nothing happens. You toss and turn for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable, then let out an irritated sigh. You managed to get through such a long day and mountains of paperwork, and you still can’t sleep. 

In the opposite wing of the dorms, Ben has no trouble winding down. He’s cozy in his silky royal blue and daffodil yellow sheets, and he’s satisfied with a long day of hard, productive work. He lets out a soft breath, feeling himself teetering on the brink of sleep. Then he hears his door creak open. Soft, muffled footsteps creep across the wood floor, then grow silent as they meet the expansive carpet covering the majority of the floor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel someone crouching next to his bed. 

“...Ben?”

He cracks a smile at the sound of your voice, how quiet and tiny you sound in the lateness of the night. You smile a little too when you see him fighting a little grin. After a moment, he answers. 

“Yes bunny?”

“Are you asleep?” You ask carefully. You wait in the darkness for him to answer. 

“Yes.” 

You smile at his sarcastic response, letting out a little breathy giggle through your nose. You kick off your bunny slippers - complete with little tophats - and crawl into bed next to Ben. He’s already scooching over and lifting up the blankets for you, pulling them over your shoulders the way he knows you like. 

He doesn’t need to ask if you couldn’t sleep, he already knows you couldn’t. You’ve been doing this, sneaking in for sleepovers when insomnia gets the best of you, for as long as he can remember. Something about his presence comforts you, relaxes you through even the longest, most never ending nights. No matter how tired he is, he’s always happy to be there for you on nights like tonight, he’s always happy to keep you warm and talk you to sleep. 

And that’s just what he does. He lets you lead the conversation, rambling about whatever springs to mind, emptying out your brain so you can rest. He’d like to think he knows you pretty well by now. He knows just what to do to help you settle down, to give you the best chance of having a restful night. It’s no surprise to him that you mostly seem to be thinking about the Isle kids. 

“I mean, this is real. Our actions mean they get a chance at a better life.” You mutter drowsily. Your cheek is squished against his pillow and your words are heavy with fatigue. Ben can’t help but think it makes your Wonderland accent that much… cuter. 

“Yeah,” He agrees. He traces his hand along your back soothingly. He glances down and notices you’re wearing the white button down shirt you sometimes wear as a pajama top. He asked you about it once, and you said it made you think of him. He smiles a little as he settles back into his pillows.

“I just hope they’ll be able to assimilate well.” You say, a tone of worry now present in your words. “The only thing worse than doing nothing would be having their decisions made for them because of social pressure…” 

“We’ll keep a close eye out for that.” Ben says. His voice is husky and drowsy. It fills you with warmth, with an appreciation for him and the way he stays up with you even though you know how tired he must be. You nod a little, then find yourself rambling again. 

“I just wish there was a way to guarantee that they felt welcome and not… ostracized.” You mumble. You inch closer to him, snuggling into his warm chest and listening to his soothing heartbeat. It speeds up almost imperceptibly as you do.

“Make sure they know that we know them as people. As individuals, and not just…” You continue, cutting yourself off with a yawn. You stretch a little as you do, then curl back up. Ben looks down at you, smiling a little at how sweet you are, at how clingy you get when you’re sleepy. 

“As the children of their parents…” You finish. Ben hums in agreement. He notices how heavy your eyes are getting, how your speech is slowing, how the flow of your thoughts have gone from a fully blasting garden hose to a subtly dripping kitchen sink. You’re about to fall asleep, which means he can let himself sleep too. He couldn’t have gone to bed before now if he wanted to. If he knows you can’t sleep, he won’t be able to either. But feeling your soft breaths across his skin, feeling the way your chest rises and falls as his hand lays comfortingly on your side, knowing that you’re warm and safe here, with him… Ben feels more relaxed than he has in a long time. Probably since… the last time you couldn’t sleep. 

Sometimes when it’s just the two of you like this, all drowsy and late at night, in the moments before he falls asleep, Ben sometimes gets… weird thoughts. Weird, random, impulsive thoughts that are not at all like him. Totally out of left field stuff, like… wanting to kiss you. Like, really, really wanting to kiss you. Sometimes that turns into wanting to hold you, too. And not like this, not holding you platonically, like a best friend, but… holding you a different way. Maybe wanting to hold you tight in his arms, and lay you down in his big, silky bed, and… 

Ben squeezes his eyes shut tight for a moment before relaxing his face. He puts a manual stop to that train of thought, absolutely refusing to let it continue anymore. He won’t entertain it, he won’t let it heat up his cheeks anymore. He doesn’t like thinking things like that about anyone, and he certainly won’t let himself think anything like that about you. He sighs softly. These crazy thoughts will be gone by the morning. They always are. They have to be. 

Besides, it’s so late, he won’t even remember this by the time he wakes up. That’s what he always tells himself. The last thing he would never admit to anyone - not even to himself - surfaces right before he falls asleep. It must be the late hour, where everything vulnerable feels completely abstract and intangible, but he thinks it’s a lot easier to stop himself from thinking those things about Audrey than it is to stop thinking those things about you. 

While you and Ben drift off to sleep, safe and sound in each other’s arms, someone else is wide awake. Sitting in the dorm she shares with Evie, Mal sits on her bed, scouring her spell book exactly like she’s been doing since Ben left earlier that afternoon. After hours of hitting brick wall after brick wall, Mal is met with the back cover of the book. Again. She lets out a frustrated noise, and flips back to the beginning.

“There’s not a single love spell in this whole fucking book!” She exclaims. She looks over the first few pages, reading them more closely in hopes that she somehow missed something. Evie sits across the room in front of a lit up mirror, plucking meticulously at her eyebrows. 

“Are we…” She winces, then inspects her skin and eyebrows again. “Are we sure we need a love spell?” 

Mal rolls her eyes at the question. Yes, obviously they need a love spell. Evie is oblivious to her irritation, and continues thinking out loud around her careful use of the sharp tweezers in her hand. 

“I could… just work my charm on him. All it would take is one look into my…” Another wince. “Hypnotizing eyes, and he’d be wrapped around my finger.”

She leans back, taking a final look at her work, more satisfied with her appearance now. 

“I mean, he’s not really my type, but…” she shrugs, and looks at Mal, waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Mal doesn’t look up at Evie’s eyebrows, she just keeps digging through her book and ignoring the sound of Carlos and Jay playing videogames.

“No, we need a spell. This has to work. It has to be foolproof.” 

Evie grabs a jade roller and some hydrating gel. She still can’t believe how amazing the makeup and the skincare in Auradon is. She hasn’t seen one half wilted aloe plant, and this gel is infused with roses from Aurora’s moors, glacier water from Arendelle, and caviar fished from the Caribbean. She can’t wait to get her hands on a decent blush, and a lip liner that doesn’t double as eyeliner and an eyebrow pencil. 

Evie notices the scowl on Mal’s face as she hunches over the spell book. Normally she would scold Mal for making faces that will give her wrinkles, but now that she has her hands on retinol, hyaluronic acid, and hydrocolloid patches, she can fix any stress wrinkles Mal brings upon herself. After what feels like an eternity of searching the same pages over and over, something catches Mal’s eye, causing her to stop in her tracks. It’s more of her mothers rambling annotations and scrawled notes, this time on the topic of hypnosis. 

Hypnosis can be useful as long as you’re stealthy with it. Jafar got sloppy, he kept hypnotizing that stupid sultan over and over, not bothering to use hypnosis for it’s true purpose - a means to an end. If you’re an evil genius like I am, and you use hypnosis sparingly, no one will be the wiser. Don’t get me started on that oversized calamari - Ursula has to be the best example of what not to do when you’re hypnotizing a bonehead prince to make him think he’s in love with you. Something as easily breakable as a necklace? Please. Besides, everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. 

Her mother’s scratchy handwriting goes on for a while, some anecdote about her and Mal’s father, something she’d rather not read. Ever. She thinks back to what Evie said about wrapping Ben around her finger, and in one desperately needed moment of clarity, everything falls into place. A plan begins to form in her mind. 

“This… this could work.” She says. Those three, quietly spoken words get the attention of everyone in the room. Evie sets down her gua sha stone, and Carlos pauses their videogame. They all walk over, hesitant and eager to hear what Mal figured out. Mal lets out a laugh of disbelief. It seems so simple now, she wonders why she didn’t think of it sooner. She can just hypnotize Ben into falling in love with her. She can trick him into thinking that he loves Mal more than he’s ever loved Audrey, then - boom! Front row seats to coronation, which means front row seats to stealing the wand out from under their noses. 

While Mal silently hashes out the details so she can tell her friends, Evie inspects her cuticles. She really should push them back. She stands up, grabbing a cuticle pusher and an orange wood stick from her pencil cup before making her way back over to Mal’s bed. As the three of them wait with bated breath, Mal looks over the hypnosis spell again and again. After a few moments, she tucks a piece of paper between the pages, marking her spell to reference later. She slams the book shut, and looks up at her friends.

“Come on guys. Let’s go bake some cookies.”

[sweetbluebanisters]

Ultraviolent

'cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚.

Who Controlling!Miguel Ohara x Sweet!Reader

Warnings Contains!Smut, Violence, Abuse

Backstory A sweet bartender from the coast of California clashes with a mean man, who never doesn’t get his way. Two different personalities, don’t always work out in ways you’d wish

SPOILER ALERT

Ch. I sweet as sugar

Ch. ll Deadly Nightshade

I’ll proofread it later I’m too lazy to rn. 😭

I'm gonna post the 3rd chapter it's jus I've been packing for vacation so give me a good day or 2

Sometimes, looking down at Nuvea York was too much to you. You missed the palm trees and the smell of the salty ocean, the way your hair would look when emerging from the oceans water. The towels, the fun. Here, in Nueva York, without constantly being around Miguel and Jess, you found yourself fighting boredom.

You would go and talk to people you somewhat knew, but you couldn't talk to them like you could the people back home, when you tried expressing the way you felt to Miguel, it felt like his reaction was just a 'suck it up, buttercup'. Without permission, sometimes you would go back home. For a little nap in your pretty pink sheets, you felt like a princess in your apartment, there you just felt like a liability, don't get me wrong, people loved you and you enjoyed your time there, but a break was very much needed.

And this time was one of those times. Miguel said the same thing everyday

'cup of coffee, please'

'write down the dimensional reports, thanks.'

'do you mind getting me _____'

as much as you wished to spend more time with your boss crush, it was time you gave yourself that break. So, when lunch time came, you decided to use that time to go back home, take a nap. Maybe even watch a movie.

You lied in your cold sheets, a warm blanket hugged you as your bedroom TV shuffled, looking for the perfect show to ease your nerves and help your slumber.

Your windows in your apartment were propped open, seeping the California sun into your room, you heard trees Russell and yelling, but the sounds only promoted your sleep. You eventually found yourself talking a well deserved

6 hour fucking nap. You were so refreshed when you woke up, you even stretched from the lack of movement for so long. As peaceful as it was, you were then disturbed from your moment of bliss. Looking at you watch to see 30 missed calls from Miguel, 10 from Jen, and 15 from Lyla. How you slept through so many calls, you have no idea.

But you knew once you got back to the Spider society, you were in for a rather rude awakening.

You stood in front of the man's office your were too scared to approach, only being severely yelled out once. This time had to be worse, you sigh as Jess looks at you, she can tell you're tensed up as she rubs your shoulder. "Good luck, girl." She snickers, before turning around, and walking away. Caressing her belly in the process.

Did you forget to mention that she was pregnant? Yeah, what a surprise. But right now, you have bigger problems to worry about.. bigger.

You slowly peered through the door you opened, looking around for any surprise figure of Miguel as you walked in, cautiously strutting to the man who stood tense with anger on the platform, his fist balled, his stance laced with furry. You couldn't deny it anymore, you were terrified of this mans wrath.

Standing a good 20 feet away from the platform, you stare up as the floating platform lowered itself, very, very slowly.

"Miguel, look. I know that I probably worried you, but I promise I just needed a nap back home.. and I got caught up!" You confess, the words falling out from your mouth as Miguels platform reaches the bottom, you notice that he isn't moving from his position, the awkwardness suffocates you before you continue.

"Look, I got your favorite. Empanada-" You were then cut off by his red glow for webs catching onto the Styrofoam box filled with empanadas as he tossed them in the trash.

"Miguel! I payed for that-"

"You're so careless, so fucking careless."

His eyes meet yours before stepping off the platform, his tall, intimidating figure approaches you slowly. "Look, it was just a nap." You sigh, his ears perk up as he laughs. That was not a 'haha, so funny' laugh. That was a 'I'm about to loose my mind' laugh.

"I called you, thirty times. thirty times. How the hell could you not wake up from a blaring noise that rang thirty times!" His voice echos off his stone office walls, looking at you before raising an eyebrow. Oh, he expects an answer?

"Miguel, I'm bored! I have nothing else to commit to beside a coffee order with two pumps of French vanilla creamer and one sugar pack with blended ice."

"Do you think this job is a joke, muñeca?" His frame towers over you, your legs begin to feel weak, either you're scared or you find this somewhat hot, probably both. "Well, no of course not but it seems like all I'm good for is bringing you coffee and writing down notes. I have not fought by your side in 2 months!" You shout, only honesty escaping from your mouth as he nods, sarcastically. He grabs the closet thing to him, that wasn't myself but an office chair as he chunks it the the opposite Side of his office, making you flinch from the sudden crash.

"So you just want to be fired, am I correct?" Miguel seethes, looking down at you with his hands on his hips. His eyes hued red, and honestly you felt a little tingle from somewhere.. that you shouldn't "No! No. of course not! All I'm saying is a little more action would be nice." You explain, he sucks his teeth before pausing, standing this close to this man was a literal gift from God himself.

"How badly do you want this job, princesa?" His voice lowers an octave and you can tell your body is responding in ways it definitely shouldn't His big frame gets closer to you as he slowly, but surely backs you up into the nearest wall.

"Really bad, I swear!" your voice raises an octave, swallowing hard as his eyes level to yours, staring at your doe ones as you look in shame, he's trying to discipline you and you're getting off to it, you try to avoid his eye contact by turning your head in the opposite direction, but his right hand connects to your jaw, making you face him while squeezing your cheeks creating a small pout with your lips.

"So beg." With that tone, you know that he's being serious. Your eyes widen as he lets go of your jaw, before resting that hand to his side, standing up straight and peering now down at you. "What?" You mumble, your face laced with confusion and embarrassment.

"I don't like repeating myself, niñita." You don't know how you are still standing, at all. You look down, and keep quiet before he backs up just a little "I guess its not that important to-" He begins, but your head shifts upward as you shake your head.

"No! no. Just, please. I really want this job, Miguel." You voice weak as you look up at the man for his approval, he shakes his head in disappointment "Come on, is that really what you think begging is?" He snickers, you sigh in shame as you keep your eyes looked

"I really want this job Miguel, need it. Please, you don't know how much I want it, Miguel." Now, although that was rather weak for a beg. You're not going to be on your hands and knees begging for a job you barely get payed to do.

"You sound pathetic." The man laughs as you scoff, trying to get away from his rather scary build, he grabs your shoulder keeping you in place before speaking up "Tell me, ________. Why do you want this job so bad? You don't even get payed the desired amount." He smiles, you can tell he finds pleasure in seeing you embarrassed, pressing your buttons to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"And don't lie." His voice low, very low. His eyes are low as well, waiting patiently for your answer "I'm just bored here and its enough for rent, Miguel and-"

"You begged for your job back just because you're bored? sounds like a lie, ________." He pokes fun at you as you groan, giving him the answer that not only he wants to hear, but is also the truth

"and, because I get to be near you." you mumble, too ashamed to say out loud and to his face, he puts his hand to his ear "What was that, dear? Couldn't quiet hear-"

"and because I get to be near you." Your tone just a bit louder, but he accepts the effort, nodding with approval.

"Thought so, good job." He pats, so casually before turning around and approaching his platform. "What did you even call me thirty times for?" Your voice shoots back to the man and he answers, not turning around to look at you though.

"A coffee."

You look at his broad back side with disbelief plastered on your face, you hear a slight laugh escapes him as your fist ball "You made me beg for my job back because you wanted fucking coffee?!"

"I could tell you enjoyed it, Mrs. Pricesa."

After all of, what happened. You really did not feel like facing Miguel, at all. You weren't mad, but embarrassed, and ashamed. You decided to occupy yourself around the building, this probably would've been a more appropriate time to take a nap.

It's fairly late, you think about just sleeping in the sleeping hub in the building. But you were starving, and a nice desert really was in your taste for right now. You walk to the cafeteria, that closes in about a half an hour.

You approach the counter before looking at the desert section of the menu, you feel the cafeteria staff's eyes upon you as you figure out what your taste buds desire for tonight. "Can I get the chocolate molten lava cake, with a scoop of ice cream on top?" You asks, the lunch lady gives you a hum with a smile before writing down your order and giving it to the kitchen staff, she rings up your total to fifteen dollars as you internally sigh, giving her a 20 dollar bill in Nueva currency, she hands you 5 Nueva currency.

You found the Nueva currency rather stupid, but Miguel said since everyone here is from different dimensions with different currency it’s needed.

You patiently waited to the side, the kind lady gives you your cake as you give her a smile, taking the cake box along with a plastic spoon and napkin, eating the sweet treat while walking towards a booth, planning on enjoying this desert while you can.

You're a few bites into the chocolate goodness as your watch rings, you role you eyes seeing as its an incoming call from Miguel, which isn't rare. You tap the answer button, as his voice rings through your ears.

"_________. I need you at Earth-1610 in Queens, New York. There's a vulture in the wrong dimension." Miguel sounds almost out of breath, you groan as you respond with annoyance. "Can I at least finish my cake? Damn." You sigh, taking another bite of your cake while waiting for an answer. You hear the man scoff before adding "¿Esperabas una respuesta? Llegar aquí ahora!" Although you know absolutely no Spanish, You know when he speaks in Spanish, especially in that tone, he means bushiness. You walk up to the lady at the cafeteria, politely asking her to hold on to the leftover cake as you tap your watch, opening up the multiverse portal.

You jump through the portal, going on that unneccesary slide before reaching the opening to the dimension Earth-65, you see what seems to be the vulture Miguel ranted about as your webs interlock with the base of his body.

"_______, we don't have time for grand entrances!”Miguel yells as your figure emerges from the portal, doing two 360's before throwing the vulture against the museum's stone walls. Even though that was somewhat badass, your landing is flawed as your body is thrown towards the stone wall inches were Miguel is standing, your groan as your hands immediately reach the back of your head, where the injury occurred.

You hear Miguel snicker as you look in his direction with disbelief plastered on your face, he looks at you before trying to hide what you heard to be, a laugh.

"Are you seriously laughing right now?" Your eyebrows burrowed and mouth agape as you find yourself having to look directly up at the big man. "No- no. I'm not laughing." He coughs as your features rest, showing only a face of annoyance "Miguel, I could have a concussion and you think this shit is funny." You dead pan as he shakes the smile off his face, looking at you again before attempting to cover up a laugh "No, prissy. Im really, really worried." You could sense the tears welding in the corner of his eyes, trying to fight back the instinct to laugh at such a painful event

"Miguel, it hurt!" You groan from the pain, standing up to your feet as you wipe the stone dust off your pink suit, "I bet it did." Miguel says, wiping the tears that threatened to spill. You roll your eyes before turning to what seemed to be a Spiderwomen approaching you "I thought it was pretty badass, but it would be better if you landed." The girl in the white suit states her opinion that has Miguel pacing back in forth trying to control the laugh that's about to take over

"I do not need your guy's unwanted criticism! Do you remember that you called me-"

"Okay, okay, just... whew." Miguel pauses, you feel your hands trembling from the embarrassment that courses your veins, you also begin to notice the vulture who awoken from his rather quick sleep.

"Can we just please get back to the real problem here." The white Spiderwomen advises as you side eye Miguel, he smiles before nodding and approaching the vulture that awoke from his slumber.

All three of you guys glide in the air, trying to find the perfect time to strike, the white Spiderman connects her webs to the vultures face, before kicking the vulture in his beak. You are know running aside Miguel, basically just chasing him as you look at the Spiderwomens combat moves, that have impressed you.

"What about her?" You suggest, looking at Miguel as he gives you the quickest answer he has asked in a while "No."

"We could use the help, y'know with Jess-" You begin to speak but are cut off with another, what?

"No."

"Is it 'cause she called you Dark Garfield?" You snicker to yourself, Miguel looks at you but you couldn't tell how he was feeling with that mask on. "No! -How do you even know?"

"Do you say anything but no?" You retort, the man still looking at you with what felt to be annoyance speaks up "No-no. I mean Yes!" Your eyebrows raised in suspicion as you continue "Why not!" You bark at the angry old beast, "You know why." He seethes, keeping his eyes locked on you before he jumps on the paper vulture, you following his lead.

"Take a good look at the great fire from my backpack!" You hear the vultures voice for what seems like the first time and you ears want to pass away, he sounds ungodly old, suddenly, a random bomb that probably came from the depths of his ass is released to the top of the museum, exploding and causing a drastic crash and a open hole from the top of the art building.

You’re having trouble fitting on his body when Miguels bigger one is hogging up the space

"Miguel, scoot! I can't fit!" You shout, moving him on your own as he groans in annoyance "Scoot and go where?!"

"Is this some type of canon romance trope or-" The vulture instigates, before you could even think to respond to the vulture, Miguel answers for you "No!" like he always says, the vulture side eyes you and all you can make out is a tiny shrug to your shoulders

"Don't let him out!" He turns to you, noting the opening to the ceiling "He'll disrupt the canon!" That's all Miguel has to say before your florescent webs connect with the walls of museum, making your way up to attempt to stop the creature from leaving, but his too fast for you. As your in the air away from the museum, the building begins to glitch violently, Miguel jumps on the creature as I do trying to force its way back into the museum

"Claw at it or something!" You panic looking towards Miguel who's struggling to keep his weight on the vulture with you by his side, all of the sudden when the creature was going to claw Miguel off of him his fangs come out, his mouth open threatening to bite the beast, you can see the fear laced in not only yours, but the vultures eyes as this has never happened to you when you were around Miguel.

"Go to the ground!" You look above you to see the bright shining light of a helicopter, your eyebrows furrow in confusion as Miguel claps back in what seemed to be anger "Will you get out of here!"

"We have you surrounded!" The helicopters voice booms throughout the city and I can't help but laugh, Miguel looks at me with anger as I look back "Miguel- they think you're the villain." You aren't like Miguel, you don't try to cover up the laugh that comes from you, Miguel scoffs before looking at the big vehicle above him.

"I am a good guy!" Miguel emphasizes, you wipe the tears in the corners of your eyes. "You don't look like one." The helicopter judges, you notice in the corner of your eyes, two bombs escape the vulture as your eyes widen.

"Miguel!"

"NO!" Miguel shouts as the bombs look to be connecting with the base of the judgmental helicopter, you notice it begins to loose control and hits you and Miguel off the vulture, before taking a rather brutal fall along with the creature. You crash on the base of the floor before looking around you to see multiple people still in the museum, you get up in agony before sticking your webs to the base of the museum wall and collecting as many bystanders off the ground before throwing them out.

You rush back into the building as you notice the helicopter taking a tumble down, but you also notice Gwen making what looks to you as a net. You smile with a nod, expressing approval before jumping with all your might and latching onto the museum wall.

You notice the people still inside the helicopter as you jump through to get them, holding them with before looking eyes with Miguel and releasing them. Miguel grabs a hold on them with his red glow for webs as he holds them to his side, like he would two twin toddlers.

You notice Gwen trying to strain the helicopters movement as you run along Miguels side before jumping and finishing the webbed net as quickly as you possibly could and tugging at the web, trying to make it as strong and durable as possible.

You stand on the ledge of the museum's second floors as your feet begin to strain, and slide. You position yourself to a point where you could pull harder as the uncontrollable helicopter comes in comes in contact with the net, You stare down at the floor to look at all the idiot who still stand there. You internally scoff, but to your luckiness the helicopter web net actually worked. You sigh in relief as you connect your web to the ledge of the second floor before jumping away and towards Miguel, who picks up the vulture in his webs and looking at you.

"That's what I was going to do."

You roll your eyes before looking at the exhausted girl who stepped down from where she was standing before taking a fall into rubble with a groan. Miguel and you make your way, with no rush to her aid. Before hearing what seemed to be a cop.

"Hands in the air!" Is all you could make out, you try to approach the situation, but Miguel grabs ahold of your hand, pulling you back just incase he intends on arresting you two as well.

You stand there, silently. Hand to hand as you listen to the cops conversation. You notice your hands begin to tremble from the mans hold as he looks down at you, skeptical. "Don't tell me you're nervous right now, _________." He leans down to whisper in your ear. Maybe you were! Well, you were but you definitely aren't going to tell him.

"No, I am not. Is it really neccesary to hold my hand right now?" You mumble, he turns to you and shrugs before pulling his hand away, and thank God himself you have at least 2 braincells because a part of you wanted to beg for his hand back against yours.

"Get down on the ground!" The cops voice sounds fierce, you look at Miguel skeptical as you whisper to him "Maybe we should help her, Miguel." He shakes his head, no. You sigh through your nose as you listen to their faint conversation before a gun shot erupts through you and Miguel's eardrums, your eyes go wide as you try to run towards where the spider women is, attempting to make sure she's alright.

Miguel, now grips your arm. You look down at the way his hand envelopes your arm before peering up at him. "You seriously don't expect me to sit and watch when a gunshot was just heard!" You whisper yell at Miguel as his figure bores into yours.

"Im not asking you, I'm telling you." His town is low and deep as he pulls you against him, this time your figure is before him and he's behind you. Grabbing ahold of your shoulder like you are a child.

"I don't need your permission, Miguel." You sigh, you begin to sense his eyes perching your figure as you begin to feel hot, and nervous. "Last time I checked, you begged for your job, right? Don't loose it, muñeca." His tone warns as you groan. In the crevice of rubble, you see her figure, with her mask off.

Through the next three minute conversation the cop and the spider women had, all you knew is that that cop is her dad, and she apparently murdered a man named Peter.

"Dad are you really this afraid of me!?" Her voice booms across the shattered building, you can feel the tears threatening to fall as her voice quivers, Miguel notices, too.

He begins to walk, his hands still rest on your shoulders as you get closer to the conversation, the only thing hiding you and Miguel from the cops eye of vision is a stone wall fragment.

Your breath hitches as you see the girls full face and body, the only thing you could describe as hurt.

"-against the court of law, you have the right to an attorney." The cop begins to list her rights, as you would usually do during an arrest. His gun is pointed low as he pierces his eyes towards the girl known as his daughter.

"No, stop!" She yells as she tries to approach the man she considers her dad, his voice booms across the museum as she stops in her tracks

"Don't get any closer!" The dad points his gun towards his daughter, and right then and there Miguel removes his grasp from your shoulders before his webs reach out to take the gun. He jumps forward before sliding an electronic field towards the mans feet. Keeping him Locked inside the red diamond shape border.

You leap your way towards the Spider women, as she tries to approach her dad who is struggling to get out.

"Hey, no. Just breath." You advise, you know it's not helping but that's all the words your mouth can form.

"We got you, right Miguel?" You question as your body enveloped the girls before you, she sobs as you hold her, like a motherly figure. All Miguel does is sigh as he grabs ahold of the trapped vulture while opening the portal.

"Lyla, scan this mess." Miguel mumbles, Lyla does as she was advised before responding to the big man "No further anomalies, canon remains intact." She Informs, Miguel nods before standing up with the vulture in is grasp, you approach Miguel with guilt in your eyes as you take off your mask, your hair flowing down to its respected place.

"We can't just leave her here, Miguel. She's doing this on her own." Your voice is filled with remorse you look back as she stares at her dad with the most heart breaking face you've seen in a while, Miguel looks back at the scene as well. Studying their features before finally speaking up. "Yeah, you're right." He utters as your eyebrows raise. You've never, ever heard that fraise escape his mouth. Internally, you are cheering. But externally, your face just has a smile plastered to it.

"Well, join the club." Miguel replies, passing her the Spider Society travel watch as he peers back at you, you nod in approval as he throws the vulture back into the portal and strides in himself. You follow close behind him as you still keep eyes on the girl.

The Spiderwomen observes the watch and her dad for what felt like hours before running towards the portal and following you back to what you call home.

All you can think now is what you once called a trio, is now a group.

[suengmi]

✧ the mirror doesn't lie ✧ 3k, m

this wasn't about chan's validation to your body. it's about your own. it was about how you felt, not how someone else did. it didn't matter than chan loved your body. it mattered that you did.

pairing: chan x fem!reader (plus size/curvy reader with tattoos) genre: angst/hurt, romance, nonidol!au, chan/reader are graphic designers warnings: please be aware this fic is on the topic of certain health/eating disorders and body issues etc. warnings are under the cut! pls be safe!! lapslock and mostly proof read (this is kind of like a love letter to all you thicc baddies, fuck everyone else.) ♡please reblog if you liked! it rly helps and i love to hear your feedback♡

!!warnings!!

mentions/implications of sex, eating disorders, descriptions of food, negative implied weight discussions, fatphobia, mentions of purging/vomiting (no acts done in fic) of any of this triggers you please don't read! ❤️

-

you were never uncomfortable in your body. if anything, you celebrated all of your curves and slopes. it was a blessing to to have this beautiful figure, large chest and hips matching with your full pouty lips.

the mirror doesn't lie, but sometimes the lighting does. when you glance in the mirror, just leaning over the sink, you notice the softness of your neck, the way it gently sits on the slant of your jaw bone. you run your finger along the side of your cheek, the plush flesh sinking in with your touch.

a sigh leaves you, knowing the weight of the words your co-workers rang in your ears. 'we're trying to help you, you'll feel better,' they said, 'if you lost a few kilos, your jaw line would would be stunning if it showed.'

they coated it by saying they'd be able to see your face more, your 'beauty'. as if you weren't already stunning.

in other words, you were ugly. you were not the ideal. gentle gaslighting in their words, laced with fucked up ideas of singular ways of beauty and fatphobia.

you weren't stupid, you knew this was all rooted in the capitalist ideals of beauty culture, fucked up ways to make women into barbie dolls and control them. it was tempting, just to see what it was like to be viewed in the way society wants you, validation pouring into your cup until it runs over.

you hang your head, maybe i should try it.

maybe. just to see what it's like.

-

tiredness was in your eyes, dark circles barely covered by concealer and setting powder. you were a shell, hunger making you irritated the more the days went on. some days you'd just sleep, body overtaken by lack of energy. other days you'd fill yourself up with fizzy drink, laying on the couch scrolling through your phone mindlessly.

your co-worker chan sits across from you, eyeing the coke zero and apple sitting in front of you untouched.

"not hungry?" he asks, slurping a mouth full of noodles as he draws with one hand on the mouse.

chan is somewhere in between some design sketches, half concentrating on you and half on the monitor. one of your favourite things about chan was his smile, the cute way his cheeks lifted and how they pushed up his glasses. he'd always complain about the way they sat but never did anything about it. sometimes, his tongue would stick out just a little bit to the side when he was in the zone. it was your favourite thing.

you shake your head, mind failing to muster up the energy to concentrate on anything. "nah, had a big brekky."

that was a lie.

chan says nothing, eyes glancing up you. he pulls his lips in, mouth curling at the side.

-

a few mornings after, you arrive at your work desk. there's a small tupperware container, sitting just at the front of your keyboard. there's no writing, just a small little heart on the front of the paper. you plop down to your chair, legs running on nothing but an iced latte.

it's food. the one thing you've been avoiding. but who's it from?

you open the box a large sandwich cut into a love heart. it's absolutely adorable, you almost don't want to think about eating it.

"hey chaaaan..." you begin, moving the sandwich around to admire it. it's cute. "did you see anyone leave this at my desk?"

chan shrugs, looking up at you from his adjacent desk just in front of yours, sipping on his orange juice. "i dunno, haven't seen anyone."

"weird." you say curiously, placing it back down.

-

it's been a week, every morning you're met with something new. yesterday was a hearty salad, with salsa dressing. the day before a stir fry, a small note with a heart every time. it has you confused, maybe someone had noticed you weren't eating. is it that obvious?

but this one morning, you decided to go in early to begin on a a large project your company was beginning on. you were actually thrilled about the current work, loving the fact that you were in charge of it this time. unfortunately, your lack of energy had you so damn tired. it had been three weeks since you started this so called diet, you weren't sure you could do it much longer.

when you arrive to the office there's no one there, but some of the lights are on. maybe someone had the same idea. you make your way to the bathroom, dizziness swarming inside your body.

the mirror is the enemy you say to yourself, sighing as you lean on the counter. your company had never been formal, so you were happy to be able to wear whatever you pleased. your tee, now less tight across your chest, and black shorts not as snug as they once were on your waist. two more belt sizes down and you'd need a new one.

it was working... but at what cost?

the sound of feet shuffling enters your ears, your body automatically creeping over to inspect the noise. you lean around the corner of the bathroom, holding onto the door frame for balance.

it's chan, but he has something in his hands.

curiously, you inch forwards, not wanting to disturb him. here he is, placing a small box down in front of your computer. it's a small purple container, a banana placed down next to it. chan steps back, nodding to himself as he goes around to his desk. he looks kind of sad, like he's mourning something.

you don't want to make it obvious, so you rustle as you make your way to your desk, acting as if you didn't just see the man placing food on your keyboard.

"oh shit, hi." chan says, eyes wide with surprise. he clears his throat, eyes darting around. "when did you get here?"

"hmm a while ago, was just in the bathroom." you say standing to your desk. you look down at the package, your heart suddenly swelling.

chan knew, he knew this whole time. he noticed it when no one else did.

a few of your co-workers had mentioned your weight loss but you just insisted it wasn't anything new you were doing. knowing full well it was lies escaping your throat with every syllable. chan had always frowned, exiting the conversation quietly.

"did you... see someone?" you say gesturing to the item on your desk.

"hm? me? nope, nah." he shrugs, lips pouting. "i just got here."

that was a lie, he had been here for a while. the iced tea on his table nearly finished told it all, a few rings of water along the front of his desk.

you nod slowly, taking a seat. your head spins for a moment, neck giving out as you hang your head low.

"i, uh," chan begins, clearing his throat, "have a some tim tam cake, if you want it?"

you hadn't eaten in thirty hours, only thing your body running on was coffee and desperation. a small snack wouldn't hurt, your body needed something. anything. you didn't care if it was sweets. your mouth watered at the thought.

"who eats cake in the morning?"

"me." chan smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides. "c'mon, have some."

"alright then, i'll try." you say, leaning forwards.

chan scoops the cake with his spoon and holds his hand forwards, other underneath to catch any fallout. you take the spoon in your mouth, letting the food slide in. it tastes like heaven. you missed this so much, body practically jolting at the sugar rush.

chan smiles widely, eyes lighting up as you enjoy your food, your eyes closing for a moment to savour it. before you know it he has another spoon full sitting at your mouth, hands gesturing for you to take one more bite. he says nothing as he continues to feed you, his smile gentle and warm.

the sudden carb rush has you feeling weird, your body adjusting to the foreign intake.

"it's so good, who made it?" you speak with your mouth full, chocolate on the sides of your mouth.

"i did." he smiles without his teeth, handing you the last piece. you look down at the plate, realising you've eaten the whole slice. shit.

"i ate the whole thing, oh my god i'm sorry."

"dont be sorry, i have plenty more."

you smile, chocolate on your teeth. chan just laughs, pointing to your face. "you look cute with chocolate on your teeth."

you gasp, hand covering you mouth. "chan! stop."

the heavy weight of food in your stomach fills you, your body rushing with energy the more time goes on. it feels amazing, you forgot what this was like. the last few weeks without proper food having you appreciating every taste.

-

it's around lunch when chan asks you go to go to the cafe around the corner. you need some energy, a coffee will do. you've eaten enough for today.

"sure." you smile, grabbing your bag. you've got to avoid food this time, it's too much.

when you arrive at the cafe, chan spots a seat, slinging his tote bag on the back of the chair. "they've got this amazing ham and cheese croissant, i'll get you one."

"but-" you begin, but he's already off to wait in line.

anxiety jolts in your tummy. how would you avoid this? maybe say you just feel sick, that the chocolate cake has your stomach feeling funny. anything. chan sits across from you, a few minutes later with a coffee and some other drink in his had.

"i'm not that hungry." you say, fingers scrolling through something in your phone.

"you are." he says, tone a little serious.

you look up at him, his eyes trained on your own. he stares at you, lips curling to the side. "i know you're not eating."

"ah, yes i have." you gest, eyebrows raised. "of course i have, i have."

"you wouldn't be over justifying it if you had been."

the words sound harsh. it's almost like a feeling of bitterness, a throbbing stings in your skull.

"i was just like, watching what i was eating. that's all." you shrug, taking a sip of your iced latte.

"not eating is not watching what you eat."

you've never seen him this serious, but there still a softness in his voice. you're thankful it's coming from him, otherwise you'd probably be crying by now.

"why are you being so... mean? it's not your business." you scorn, emotions feeling high from your mood swings.

"i'm not being mean... i just want you to eat."

the words are gentle, forlorn expression on his face. his bluntness surprises you.

you sit in silence, eyes avoiding his. the waiter brings over your food a couple of minutes later, you're thankful for the intrusion, but now you have to eat. it's like you've forgotten.

chan digs in, not waiting a second to eat. his eyes are looking at your food, then back at you.

"eat." he says, almost commanding, mouth full of food.

fuck it. you think, grabbing the knife and fork beside the plate.

before you know it you've finished the whole plate. the fullness of your stomach just a little bit too much, but you love the feeling. it feels amazing, your body rushing with dopamine. the more you eat the more he smiles, happy you finally have something in your stomach. what he doesn't know is the sick urge you have to release it all when you get back to the office.

-

you're hunched over the toilet, hair pulled back by your fist as you attempt to empty your stomach. something tells you to stop, you just can't do it. your body isn't allowing it.

in defeat, you flush the toilet. your legs are cold from the bathroom tiles, lines dented into your knees. you leave the stall, wiping the side your mouth with the back of your hand.

a figure startles you, your eyes widen at the intrusion.

"chan! shit, you scared me." you half laugh, walking to the sink to wash your hands. the man says nothing as he steps behind you. you look at him through the mirror, his eyes searching your body up and down.

"you know what i think?" he questions quietly, manoeuvring himself to stand behind you. his hands raise to your hips, resting gently on the curve.

the touch confuses you, your mind fuzzy from the retching. the feeling of his fingers running across your skin tingles, hands making their way just underneath your shirt.

"do you?" he asks again, chin resting on your shoulder. he's not too much taller than you, but enough to tower the slightest bit.

"no..." you say, voice slightly shaking.

"look." he says to you, nodding towards the mirror. "do you know how sexy you are?"

a red hue appears across your cheeks, ears tingling with embrassment. you go to move but chan holds you in place.

"hm?" he hums, pressing a small kiss on your neck. "tell me."

you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

"you wanna know else what i think?" he chuckles, hold on your firmer.

"yeah." you breathe, hot flushes running through your body.

"i think you look so fucking hot when you walk, your hips are mesmerising. especially in these black mini shorts. even now, your eyes puffy and red, you look so cute."

"chan, we're at work." you mumble, hands covering your mouth. you feel him move closer, hands snaking their way around your waist to press into the plush flesh.

"fuck everyone else." he says, kissing your neck once more.

before he leaves you in your daze he leans to your ear, speaking ever so softly. "the thought of my cock between your lush full thighs sits in my mind, my hands on your chest, lips on yours.. it's all i think about."

-

it's not as if you and chan hadn't talked about it. you were always against work relationships, saying it would eventually end in a mess. he had asked you out a few times, but every time, you had turned him down. it was mutual, of course, a few staff parties you had snuck off to make out, all giggles and kisses, drunken talks about how much you wanted each other. you put it down to just the alcohol and nothing else.

one thing you noticed was how chan had always commented on how nice you looked, how he loved the vine of your tattoos peeping out from your tees. he enjoyed the black and grey tartan pants you would wear a lot, fitting perfectly on your ass and hips. pants that sat on your smaller waist and larger hips were so hard to find. they're probably a bit over worn at this point.

when you think about it, maybe he was right. the worm of this fucked up beauty standard culture wriggling it's way in. actually, you knew he was right. this wasn't about chans validation to your body. it's about your own. it was about how you felt, not how someone else did. it didn't matter than chan loved your body. it mattered that you did.

this was ridiculous, the idea that you needed to fit into something smaller.

clothes are made to fit you, not to fit them.

-

the light of the morning sun through the clouds hits your eyes as you enter the office. it's nice, warm on your skin. today, you decided to wear a purple crop top, black shorts with buckles down the side showing off your swerves, your arms and beautifully designed tattoos on display, if you paid so much money for them, you should show them off.

when you sit at your desk, there's, of course, another box.

you pick up the note on top, it reads: do it for yourself♡

what chan had said yesterday; you can't help but love the validation of your body, you're human after all.

but, last night you hit a turning point. slightly ashamed of how you let yourself succumb to the beauty standards when you of all people were self aware and smart enough to know it's all about profit and control. it's not worth it, the consistent struggle. why on earth were you being hard on yourself when society already is? it's hard, living in a world where control is the norm. there is already so much pressure on you, on everything you do. you start to feel sorry for your co-workers, how stupid they must be to fall for it.

fuck everyone else.

it rings in your mind, chan's right.

fuck everyone else.

chan approaches his desk, hands on the back of his chair.

"i dunno who that came from." he says, pointing to the box. "gotta be a cutie though."

you let out a pretend shock, hand on your chest. "oh absolutely, and he cooks well. damn, a catch."

"oh yeah." chan says, tapping his mouth in thought. "seems like a good to date kinda person, very dateable."

"if only i could be persuaded to date someone at work, if only." you say as you lean back, sighing dramatically.

chan stands up straight, realising this is his moment. "should i quit? i'll quit."

you laugh, his expression is cute, eyes wide and brows raised higher than you've ever seen, he really wanted this. so you give in, allowing him to do a little dance of excitement when you say yes to the question he never asked.

"but!" you pause, "only if you make more tim tam cake."

he stands to attention, hand flat on his head like he's saluting. "will do."

the journey to self love isn't finite, nor is a linear. it doesn't matter that you slipped, it's okay to feel like that sometimes. but with chan by your side, you know it'll be easier.

-

a/n: sorry this took so long (as always) but at one point i'm sure we've all struggled with body issues. if this triggered you, please seek help or feel free to message me! i'm not a psychologist by any means but i do understand the struggle, helps to not feel so alone. remember that all beauty standards are built in structures to control people, especially afab women. so yah this is kind of a love letter to all my plus/fat/curvy babes, you're all so fucking HOT and ur tummys are a BLESSING, remember that pls <3

in the wise words of a'keria davenport:

[chezzabellesworld]

Heroin addiction hello,

this is me my name is heroin, I am more expensive than gold, but you will pay more for me. I’m like a diamond you want me you you wanna wear me you wanna wear me all over your body you wanna be me you wanna be inside my body, you want me to take the pain away like a hug like a hug used to do like a kiss like being in love used to, my name is Cherry and I’m a heroin addict I’m not some 12 stepper I kind of wish I was so I kind of wish I didn’t get the vibe that it was a cult , but maybe it is but who said all Colts are bad well this person right here was see. I’m also autistic I have a strong time of the past, I’ll tell you what this addiction has taken everything away from me. Let’s go back and let’s go back to 10 years ago. Roughly let’s go to the 3rd of December 2012 when I met this man who to this day, I can’t get out of my head see this man🕰️ introduced me to this awful awful thing, but at the same time he kept me away distance control. Yes I get it on the first night I met this man me off my feet. I was telling him about my situation ship and he was very compassionate. He was very understanding and it sort of Started there and went on the next five years, I was hooked line and sinker .

So the first night I met this man he was with my friend I met with, and I can still tell you everything about it that night it had to be one of the best nights of my life as I sit here now with tears in my eyes, five years later, I remembering things when I write, I wanted to be writer when I write I want to I remember And I started my life story again I’ve been with him for awhile see you inspired me be a bad person being with me and made me wanna be better and we had this little secret but let’s go back to the question because I’m very good at track no drugs happened it was just drinking Maybe smoking weed because I did back then but I was just talking it was like talking to someone I’d know my whole life and when you’re autistic this doesn’t happen often I hadn’t been diagnosed then but he had both bonded over the fact that we both had personality disorders and that we didn’t fit into society boxes, but now as I see it, I see it. I do but This man had a complete control over me. He had literally just had a baby with somebody who he’d been with for 10 years. He told me it was over, but yet they just had a baby a month prior premature, I didn’t want to take this woman’s man I didn’t want to take away this father, so I said don’t chase me, so on the days that he saw his child up at the hospital still, he would come back really quickly like he hadn’t even been there at all. I know that he had a premature baby. Yes I do I don’t know the whole truth of it I never will Until years though, when I spoke to his ex and I still don’t know the whole truth and why the fuck should she have to tell me anyway but all night he painted her is a villain same as I did with my ex yes as a personality disorder, everyone else is a bad guy You never the bad guy until it all comes tumbling down and you hate yourself and you wanna cut yourself or burn yourself so I trigger on this post but I have to say this I have to be honest with myself I must’ve liked it the fact that my family my family was born into because I don’t have kids that’s another sad part of this story is, I can’t Maybe it’s sick but there you go. They treat this man as an outcast just as much as I treated me as an outcast. I feel he wasn’t allowed to my sisters birthday party even though my sister was married to a literal word rapist still in prison for it now, and all the other sick things he did And my ex or right through this, of course I’ve noticed can also see crazy people who are crazy can always see crazy and others. Neurotypical are very selfish people. The first time I met him. He didn’t use her when he told me about it. apparently he told me about it and anyway I told him not to choose me over his child. Anyway he did we were texting all the time I was texting him. He was writing me love i never had this in my entire life. He literally swept me off my feet and the good thing that happened at the beginning of our relationship was that I went away for a week two days after we met Which made me want him more and vice versa now he probably did stuff I’ve heard he might of he’s married now to this girl. He slagged off for years and shagged. The sister who is 17 when we were together together what we broke up we didn’t properly broke up, but we broke up This is where the comes in we’re living in accommodated living for people who are not very well addicts mentally ill and so on. Anyway, many of the nights I would sneak into his room through the window or he sneak into mine and would lie bad faith, even if there was cameras. Oh he hasn’t asked your random stuff like this and I’ll be like it has. I’ve gone to bed, and obviously it was the most exciting time of my life. I was 23 years 22 years old and absolutely in love. Yes I know they got married at the age of 17 but it wasn’t part. Of course it was in my res autistic and everything was always more dramatic. The next time I’m bigger and better also I thought crazy so we end up getting kicked out of this facility I live there for a year I hadn’t really stayed there. I’d stayed in my mum, still even though she di

So things got out of hand that I’ve got made homeless I’m looking back now I thought it was so unfair and at the time I thought it was unfair. People who got made homeless shouldn’t have got made home as really people who this is all they had and the man I’m with now With living in the shed house with my ex there is four of the houses two of them staffed two of them not! so my partner was in a house without staff and then got put into the room next to me in the staff house which I was in me and my partner and I said maybe it was a distraction from my ex and his past, I will never know the full extent of.

So heroin heroin you ask how did it come into it well slowly that’s what I’ll say slowly he came back one day in a really really bad mood. This is before we got kicked out and started smoking on the bed. I’ve never been a situation I’ve been around hard before and it made me very uncomfortable, especially because I hadn’t touched them so I felt embarrassed and obliged this time I didn’t. I felt safe I felt safe with him. I just did so here it goes we move out and by this point before I go with him I will say I was addicted to sleeping pills on and off and opiates pill, but only pills so I sort of being there, but I wasn’t in the world of dealers drug addicts, horrible people debt, losing friends, and emotionally and because of the addiction. No nothing was that bad yet was destined for this maybe probably who knows I don’t I don’t even know so I will never forget the day I did it because it made life, so like it made sense for the first time in my life. It just made sense everything fit into place. Everything was like this is what it’s meant to be and this is how I should feel it wasn’t overwhelming how I thought it was meant to be, and this is how it traps you guys so don’t do it, it just felt like I had found the key to a door that had been locked 22 years and I had found that key. Obviously not a drug use. very narcissistic you really don’t think it’s gonna be you you just don’t you don’t think it’s going to be you in 1 million years even when you told me all these things via my ex when he told me this is what it’s like. I’m depressed now I can’t feel without it sex drive it fuck it fuck the way you connect with people you lose that connection and when you’re autistic anyway that is hard to have by the beginning it makes that all possible it makes you have emotion it makes you connect it makes you feel like you are invincible, and I always thought the word heroine became from the hero within, it kind of makes sense, wouldn’t it.

So the first time I used it, I smoked it we were living in one of his friends house in the spare bedroom that was freezing cold and the guy was addicted to it. The wife wasn’t they had two children. They had three children but the two children were in the room next to the dad, who is addicted really bad day and ill And this was the first place I used it they thought I was just normal. They didn’t think I touched so when I asked to try it one time when I got kicked off Valium which as you know it’s not very good I’ve got put on after a bad experience. Grape grape by my ex, and it was a short term thing, but I felt awful and I was hallucinating and I was in a really weird way and I also still appealed from my other exes house which led me to be really drooling and off my head and not remembering things in this house anyway, so that’s where I first tried it and for that year when we were living from house to house of people and Sophie spare rooms whatever, was the most exciting time of my life. It was an adventure that I’ve never been in. It was some kind of life experience that I needed for that time, but it led to this really scary time that I live in now so would I take it back? I’m not too sure i’ll lose all these memories, but then I won’t be attached to it so much either. Yeah I’d probably take it because the people I know now I really don’t wanna know I’m telling you something, there’s a lot of really dodgy men in this world who will try and proposition you for sex for money or they will try and do things to you the amount of times I’ve had men do things to me that dodgy sexually, I can’t even fathom it’s very sad, no one should have to go through that. made me feel so protected from the heroin all of it the relationship with that felt amazing, We lived from moment to moment we bonded so deeply our moon 🌙 signs very compatible. we shared everything let’s say so in the five years 2 1/2 of them are good 2 1/2 of them really bad but let’s say this was really severe case of grooming two that felt good though it felt really good because it came with the drugs and it came with the reward system that your brain creates of Doberman, but after a while your break your brain needs a pleasure and reward centre to survive. It’s like breathing it felt amazing. I felt so good every time I felt so good he he controlled my habits so I didn’t get too bad so I would get high probably off. Let’s say £10 worthb or £20 worth a day, maybe less let’s say less.

Eventually, my family obviously found out because I’m a very honest person and I like why did you say that I’ve noticed addicts are very dishonest people, scum of the Earth and I can’t stand them and they can’t stand me either. They do not like me and I think my ex knew this about them that they wouldn’t like me because he did all the messaging and calls to these people I didn’t know these people were so uptight about a text message, but they are absolutely ridiculous, I wasn’t used to this level of paranoia unless it was in your mind none of these people give a shit about you. I’m talking as 33-year-old me now and not 22-year-old man. It’s been over 10 years can you believe it because I can I mean it could be another lifetime ago and it could be yesterday 22-year-old didn’t know about this. Didn’t know this rule it’s uptight don’t do that and I honestly I hate these people honestly I’m miserable it’s not good for me I’m constantly sad,😔 yeah I mean the end of last year I going to join this astrology course and I have a teacher now at this woman I listen to for years on YouTube who I love I love her way of teaching listening to her on YouTube she was so good at going into it all. I looked up with Darkside zodiac and I found her but anyway I’m gonna tell her I lost friends in my opinion, so basically when I was younger, I was a bit of a goody-goody so that transition into hard-core addict who thought she was Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain with her boyfriend was obviously a massive shock to my friends and family I’m guessing constantly asking for money this day,

They didn’t realise this world opened up, a whole box of things that made me feel better, but a whole shit load of a basement full of crap that came with it. They won’t so yeah, I was a goody goody I didn’t really drink. I didn’t do this I didn’t do that, but I was fun. I was a happy shy girl And I would join in and have a laugh with my friends we would get the stone high part when I used to bring school in into school my sister’s part into my friend and he smoked I didn’t even smoke. Then I didn’t even feel the pressure to smoke. So yeah this was a massive personality change I guess so I always went from group group I was always a bit of a drifter.! point of sticking a needle in my arm, I wasn’t bad in fact I was the opposite of a bad arse you could say but as he has went on things happened and you meet people, my best friend who I be my best friend from the age of 10 made her be my best friend until she agreed. She was my best friend from me from me, her being sick of me, trying to ask it probably so I made my first love through her years later 18 years old and he was just schizophrenic and I even got warned off him which was probably the right idea cause this is where my first mental break happened a few years after that so this is why is slowly threatened to do law, and my personality was really changing, and I guess it was very scary for the people around me, so I’d have relationships with people friends whatever, but it always felt forced with this man. It never felt forced. It felt natural, and he would convince me that these people wanted to hurt me, or they weren’t good enough for me or they for I wasn’t good enough for them. He was very clever very very very clever he had me believing all of this shit and so it still this day is in and I can’t get rid of and I think anyone who’s been in a abusive relationship will feel this.

I have put a lot of pressure on my family. I feel like I am loving girl but I don’t have a family like the rest of them all my sisters have children. My brother is happy in a relationship. He is with someone for 11 years and he was very very happy even though he’s my older brother he sometimes feels like my younger brother because he’s so more innocent and I was innocent like he was too Very similar. In fact he was more of a rebel than I was saying I think I wanted to rebel so badly because I never had the opportunity. I mean the first guy I slept with gave me herpes if you want to talk about bad luck, but I thought it was a bad ass then because I was going out of a guy from Bangladesh who was a Muslim who had a restaurant well he didn’t have the restaurant who I was fucking in his restaurant And I thought I was cool. I was getting free curries and then I went to the next shop up the road and it was a Turkish guy who had a gorgeous green eyes. I was obsessed with being in love and not with English man. I thought English men were trash they never fancied me in school. I never had boyfriends, and I lost my virginity at 16.

 so my friends now anyway, who I lost I’ve tried to bring back into my life but they’re not perfect either. I’m not saying they’re perfect but they weren’t drug Alex and we weren’t into people like that. They don’t know anything about people like that when I tell them about the things that have been degraded too, I’m in the last three years I didn’t leave my house because of a sexual assault kind of thing again And it’s very very scary so they couldn’t understand it or comprehend. They didn’t know why I was agitated. They didn’t know why I couldn’t meet up with them till sad times. They didn’t know why I didn’t pick up my phone they didn’t know why I called them at weird hours they didn’t understand it they didn’t understand why I wanted money they didn’t understand why I didn’t have this. They didn’t understand the people that knew I get it. I wish I didn’t even guys They see it though they see what happened, but then I did have one very abusive friend who is a Gemini and she would send me essays with you sometimes and this was before I got with Matt! she could still be very nasty I mean when I got her, she was like really rude about that and telling people I mean what kind of friend does that anyway so she comes and stay with me after a few years of me being with him and we have a nice time. Kind of have a good time, I’m still happy because I’m with him well I think I am anyway she comes down with fake note she was like can you use it cause she knew the olive. It was a bit backwards compared London I was like yeah probably be fine anyway one day we walked into town and I call her from upstairs from my exes flat and she looks horrified on that. Oh God here we go and she looked up annoyed anyway she’s there and a few days later, she’s all happy happy all on her phone and a good mood God. I wish I felt like her with making weed and I was being very paranoid and that’s when I stopped because I’d started smoking crack at this point because my ex couldn’t do heroin any more fuck from injecting and I hated cocaine. I just did it because he did it and he wanted me to owe him money. A lot of these drug addicts Connell is too so you owe the money I offend this. Well I’m too good for it and I know I’m so good for it and I wanna meet the other people who are not like this who are not con artists ! so she is high and she’s like don’t you feel so amazing I didn’t but I pretended yeah for great anyway she doodled all over this night and then she goes he go you can have it as she left to go home. I was like cheers can’t use it for shit now but thanks 🧑‍🎨.

Chapter 1

[sl33paholics]

Right Beside You, Always

Yan!Kakyoin x Black!fem reader

Warning(s): Fluff (at the beginning lol), yandere tendencies, manipulation, gaslighting, voyeurism, misuse of stands, mentions masturbation and sex

A/N: You know I was writing a smut Jotaro one this morning but I got bored so it's staying in the drafts until I get motivated to finish it.

Noriaki remembered the first time he encountered you. Watching you play in the box of sand by yourself as the other kids in the playground avoided being around you. It was obvious, because of your skin tone. They've never seen anything like it, not to mention your features. Hair that looked like it was on the rougher side, bigger eyes and nose, you just didn't resemble the type of people in their society. He remembered the exact words his mother told him "See? That girl is all playing alone, why not give her some company, Nori? You two could be friends." The young red-haired kid went over and sat next to you, and asked "Want to play together? Mother said both of us could be friends!" He was nervous since he wasn't the best at being social but was surprised to see your frown turn into a smile. "Okay!!" from that day on forward, the two of you were like two peas in a pot.

You played together, walked around the neighborhood together, colored together, had many sleepovers together, played video games together, and did everything together that you could think of doing together. He was the only kid in your neighborhood who saw you as an equal. You even transferred to his school to be close to him. Even though you couldn't see his other invisible friend, having your eyes on only him was enough to bring him enjoyment was more than happy to have someone that understood him. You became his best friend, his only other best friend in his childhood.

Fast forward, the two of you are now 17 years of age. Noriaki had gotten a firm, but strong figure over the years and for you on the other hand, he couldn't characterize how gorgeous you've gotten since you guys were kids. Wavy hair, curvy waist, firm breasts, and oh lord your ass. He'd catch himself staring at you for a long period you'd thought he was dying, not only that, your personalities are now complete opposites from back in the day. Noriaki stayed true to his introverted nature but you have grown to become a social butterfly, words can't describe how much he fucking loathes it. He felt like he was losing you to your now cool hip group of friends you now have, you were being invited to parties, and events, and you weren't spending enough time with your best— no, childhood friend!!

Don't get started about the boys at your school. Hell, don't even comment on any of them around the two. It always ticked him off how much enthusiasm these incels have to just walk up and talk to you as if he wasn't there?! Disrespectful little dicks! The horrendous comments they would make about your body while he sat quietly in his seat waiting for you to arrive at your classroom. "Those thighs are so beautiful, have you seen the way her stockings just squeeze them?" The first boy said. "Those boobs she has, I can only guess what color her bra is." the short-haired one chuckled, "You think she has a boyfriend? We can invite her to the party this weekend and give her some fun~" The third boy with slick back hair licked his lips. He vividly remembers snapping his pencil in half from all of the sickening comments, if he could, Noriaki wouldn't waste any time using Hierophant Green on these fools and most likely would, if there weren't too many witnesses.

"What do you mean it's not today, Nori?" a confused look appeared on your face as you watched him hand you the flyer "It said next Friday, not this Friday. Those fools you call friends can't even get good grades and mixed up the dates." you let out a disappointed sigh and put the flyer down before picking up your book bag and heading towards your locker. "Whatever. Let's go home, Nori." You said. Noriaki couldn't help but feel sorrow to see your depressed expression but the other half of him felt satisfaction, he was beginning to ruin your plans with the people he didn't want you to be around. Focus on him. He hates being alone, you know that (Y/N).

"Are you sure you were invited there?" Noriaki gave you a stern look, his hand on his hip while checking you out. "Yeah! I think," you responded "You think but you're not sure. If I remember correctly, you didn't attend the last few parties because they were either canceled or they set it on the wrong date. What makes you think they finally got it right this time?" Noriaki turned away from you, clearly showing his bitterness and disappointment. You stood there looking down at the ground, he was right after all. Oh, how silly you felt looking all fancy and cute for an event that wasn't even today! Silly (Y/N)! Little did you know, the wide smirk the red hair male had on his face after purposefully sabotaging your plans just for you to be with him for the day? Another win for Noriaki Kakyoin.

What other activity does this gamer do besides playing video games all day or even painting his favorite picture he took? Window Peeping, of course! This man wants to have his eye on you 24/7 and especially when you're home alone. It just so happens that your parents were away celebrating their anniversary and left you in charge of the house. Finally, some alone time in the house, right? Right? He wouldn't be there physically watching you through your window, oh no no no, you guys have neighbors! One wrong move then boom, he's in handcuffs.

That's when Hierophant Green comes into play. Noriaki knows the time you head into the showers and is prepared to meet you there. Hierophant was his eyes. The camera was rolling, and you turned on the shower before taking off your shirt and skirt along with everything else. The camera quickly got a better view of your chest and the rest of you. You were perfect, you were flawless! You had curves he won't stop admiring was enamored by how smooth your legs looked, and the rest of you were just...perfect. He wanted to touch you, taste you, and fuck you. He wanted to be inside you, he wanted to be the one making love to you. He wanted to be the one providing you pleasure. He wanted to be the one making you scream his name. He wanted to be the one making you cum.

By now you were in the shower, the water hitting your skin and your once-dried hair now wet, the jiggly motion your thighs and ass would do as you were scrubbing yourself was out of this world! Noriaki couldn't help but get hard every time he did this, patting his harden boner through his boxers the small but visible print of pre-cum now coming out. It had been 2 hours since that video was taken, and many pictures of your naked figure were scattered across the bed. He'd never forget the image of your bare ass, your soft breasts with the tiniest droplets of water dripping off of them, how perfectly curved your ass was, or that tiny trail of moisture slowly trailing down your pussy, leading to that dark hole at the center of your entrance.

And the cycle continues. Kakyoin is always by your side whether you know it or not, he just couldn't wait to say I love you or surprise you with a romantic picnic in the park to confess his feelings for you. But for now, he lingers in the shadows with his secretive activities and possible hidden bodies buried in his yard. Best friend, childhood friend, just wait until he becomes permanently yours, (Y/N).

[hanyjar]

the magnum opus and the muse.

yaguchi yatora x reader

notes: [818 words.] geidai yatora makes me question everything fr ): anyways pls give blue period the love it deserves!! i am literally scraping the floor for crumbs

disclaimers: university au! yaguchi, mentions of smoking & drinking (they discourage it tho), brief mention of underage drinking, reader & yaguchi are probs depressed, friends pining for each other, questioning the future & reminiscing abt the past!!

masterlist.

“How does it feel to hate the things you love?”

A puff of smoke escapes his chapped lips, eyes glistening with a sense of mirth from your question.

Yatora Yaguchi has always been an enigma. From the moment he dyed his hair and pierced his ears, to when his love for art blossomed into an almost self destructive endeavour.

You wonder why he did it. Why would he go through such lengths for it all? For his definition of love.

Even more so now, as he stood in front of you. Yatora looks different now, you thought. Clad in nothing but an all black hoodie and weathered jeans gifted to him during his high-school days, one would think he looks the same as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But you know better. He knows better.

His usually bleached hair is showing his natural roots. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot; Yatora walks with a sense of lethargy instead of self-assured confidence, a feeling you know all too well.

He, too, is hit with the feeling of sullen dreams.

“It fucking sucks. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.” Yatora brings up a hand to his face, covering the bags that rimmed his eyes. “Pass me another smoke, would you?”

A reluctant grimace finds its way onto your face, hand reaching into your pocket for the box of poison anyways. “You’re killing your lungs that way, y’know.”

“And you’re killing your liver. You’re one to talk.”

Downing the liquor you would once steal from your parent’s cabinets, and were now legal to buy it with your own money, you reminisced.

Back to your youth. Back to when Yatora was encapsulating a blue Shibuya - not living amongst the colour. Back to when you and he didn’t lay in shards of crushed hopes that pierce through the very cores of your beings.

“It would be easier,” you turn to him, watching how the evening glow of Shibuya painted his face with warmth. “If you lived without passion. Like me.”

A beat of silence passes through the air. “No thanks,” he interjects.

“Hey! Why?” You punch his shoulder half-heartedly, “I’m serious. I almost died trying to create a so-called ‘magnum opus’, and now you might too. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

Another cloud of smoke enriches the air around you. And with the smile he gives you, one with the brilliance of a thousand stars, Yatora makes you realise. Within this ghost city, so devoid of life, there was still hope. Hope that came in the form of an ex-delinquent boy, now a Geidai student.

“Because, you said it yourself back in our second year of junior high. That’s the worst way of living. And eventually, you’ll lose sense of yourself, right?” His hand reaches to readjust the scarf he placed around you, delicately. Like he always was, with you. “I believe you still live with passion. You just refuse to believe it.”

Yes, you thought to yourself. Yatora’s right when he says you do live with passion.

But it’s not what he may think.

It’s not in the form of art, not in the tangible, literal sense anyways. Not in the way society thinks of what art is.

It’s in the form of love.

In the form of him.

Yatora is your magnum opus. And you hope to see him bloom into something magnificent.

So, you partly know the answer to your own question. To feel hatred for the things you love? It is to feel hatred towards the man you dedicated yourself wholly to, for he is the one who is slowly leading himself into turmoil.

But, just as before, you will wait. Forever, and evermore. The words lingering on the tip of your tongue will remain unspoken until he, too, sees you in a similar light.

You sigh. That’s enough thinking; you’ve drunk too much again.

A slight tug to your hands snaps you back to reality. “C’mon, daydreamer. My mum has been wanting to see you again. How does spending a night at my house sound?”

The slight desperate tone in his voice makes you realise that maybe, just maybe, Yatora is clinging to the past too.

Little do you know, he views you as something incomprehensible too. Why does he always search for a glimpse of you in the Geidai halls? Attending class would be the last thing you do. It is all unknown to him.

Yatora’s love burns. He is able to paint even through tears; he never feels as if too much is enough. And maybe that’s why he refuses to let you go. He can never get enough of you.

He can never get enough of the person that historians would dictate as his muse.

And maybe that's why he refuses to say the words which cling onto the deep crevices of his heart so very deeply.

[hippolotamus]

top 9 books 📚

tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz (who I constantly pest to write a book and will add to this list if they ever do 😘) @thewolvesof1998 @cowboy-buddie @your-catfish-friend @spotsandsocks Thank you loves 💖

I can say right now that these are in the moment picks. Books are far too special to narrow down to just 9.

Anthem by Ayn Rand

A short read about a society where people have careers and partners chosen for them. Everyone is addressed in collective terms and the word I is never used. It's been a long ass time, but I legit cried the first time I read it.

1984 by George Orwell

Another one that has fascinated me since the first time I read it, way back in the dark ages of high school. Dystopian society where Big Brother is always watching. The main character is lured into going against the grain only to ultimately be punished. That's a terrible excuse for a summary but here we are.

The Santaland Diaries by David Sedaris

Some satire and humor as the author details his time working as an elf during the Christmas season. If you don't wheeze and piss yourself laughing I really don't know what to tell you.

Psycho by Onley James

Book 2 of a MM series about 7 psychopath brothers. I love the series but August is my favorite.

Moth by Lily Mayne

Book 5 of a human/monster romance series. Moth is my very special baby. Look at him wrong and I'll maim you.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

jfc how do I even summarize this? IDEK... battles, romance, platonic love, soulmates. Just go read it and have yourself a good cry.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Dear gods what a fucking fabulous book. Chronicles the life of the (fictional) mysterious hollywood actress, Evelyn Hugo, with an absolutely insane twist at the end.

The Christmas Box Collection by Richard Paul Evans

Technically a trilogy but I can't separate them. This begins by telling the story of a young family who move in with an elderly widow. It then moves on to the details of who the widow was before, starting at the very beginning with how she met her husband, and the reason for the large marble angel statue on the property.

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

One of my favorites from my youth. All about friendship and imagination and what happens when that gets ripped away. Again, a shit summary, but it's a fantastic read. I have absolutely considered an au about this one.

Bonus: When the Summer's Over by Anna Pollock

A m/f romance that's cute AF, written by one of my besties @walnuts-and-berries, with cover art by my beloved wife @lizzie-bennetdarcy. Minnesota farm gal meets city boy and is instantly disgusted. gasp can they overcome their differences and make it work?

no pressure tagging @stereopticons @blackandwhiteandrose @buddierights @apothecarose @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @jesuisici33 @lizzie-bennetdarcy and anyone else I normally tag (or don't) who wants to play 🥰

[wildmelon]

crsentfairy is an ableist with her talking mad shit about people with bpd and other cluster b disorders.

first of all anon: if you ever find yourself copying and pasting a message like this into the ask box of multiple blogs, you're probably being weird and not trying to spread awareness in good faith. look inwards.

most importantly: the people i love with cluster b disorders are some of the funniest, smartest, kindest, most insightful people i've ever met. their empathy is hard-won, whether because it doesn't come naturally to them or because they earned it at the cost of experiencing a system and society utterly fail them. they put so much effort into self-work and their relationships. they're often exhausted. they're shamed, misunderstood, blamed, and have to fight just to get through some days. my heart breaks for them and my life wouldn't be complete without them. to my mutuals and followers in this category: i see you and i'm with you, whether you're crying on the floor or creating beautiful art or numb inside or lighting up the dash with jokes.

i've learned the hard way that speaking from a place of trauma, hurt, and anger is always a mistake. you inevitably end up doing harm. what cricket said was disturbing, dehumanizing, and callous. it's unacceptable to mischaracterize a marginalized group based on the actions of some and she should have known better. her statements were fucked.

i personally don't think she has adequately addressed the way her followup posts caused further harm. i'm referring to the assumption that a hateful anon was cluster b & the implication that receiving a hateful anon somehow backed up her position. i also think the lighthearted and casual responses and posts when people were sincerely hurt were uncalled for. i'm distancing myself. but she said she's listening to the people she hurt and reading what people on her dash are saying, and i hope that's true and she heals.