#year but also it’s so cool watching different girls do the same parts and also i actually watched the matrix which made is so much cooler

[urmomsfavelesbian]

babe are you okay you’ve been watching werq the world youtube videos for an hour

[cevansbrat0007]

What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process. 

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen. 

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room. 

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal. 

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.”  You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.  

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any. 

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions. 

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand. 

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.” 

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away. 

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!” 

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.” 

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.” 

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink. 

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit. 

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.” 

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.      

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy. 

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera. 

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it. 

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond. 

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice. 

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh. 

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it. 

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest. 

God, he always smelled so good.  

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?” 

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?” 

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running. 

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience. 

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!” 

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose. 

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.  

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief. 

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal. 

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.  

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.   

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies. 

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up. 

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

[thetriumphantpanda]

two is better than one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Frustrated that whatever you're trying to do still isn't working, you decide to give it one more try with Joel before cooling off for a while. Tommy is back to keep an eye on the both of you this time, but what happens when he starts to feel a little left out, watching his brother bring his girl over the edge more times than he cares to count?

Warnings | I swear I always start this the same way so here we go: Tommy getting cucked but also getting involved this time 👀, Joel being a fucking menace, dirty talk, oral sex (F&M receiving), face sitting, breeding kink, unprotected PiV sex, talk of infertility, no use of Y/N

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Whew. When I tell you this little threesome has been rotting my brain, I'm not lying. This is the only thing I can focus on, hence them being updated so fast! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the continued love you're giving this series - it honestly blows my mind every time that it's something you guys enjoy, that my writing reaches so many people and that they lap that shit up. I'm so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to comment, send me asks, reblogs and those who have slid into my DMs with all the love. I see you, I hear you, and I love you all - thank you. I hope you enjoy this next part just as much as the rest - it's a doozy. You know the drill, if you did like it, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending the love to my ask box, it's what keeps me going. And if you'd like to leave me a tip (of course no pressure!), then here's my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Another month and another fucking negative pregnancy test. You knew it was irrational, but you were starting to think that maybe you were also part of the problem now. You’d been doing everything right, following all the advice in the books you’d bought almost a year ago when Tommy and you had first started trying for a baby. You’d been exercising, eating as healthily as possible, tried to keep yourself a stress-free as possible. You’d been keeping a close eye on your cycle and still, nothing to show for it. 

When you clambered down the stairs, test in hand and flung it in Tommy’s direction, he already knew. He could see the heavy set of your shoulders, the quiet sniffling of you trying to hide the fact you were crying. Tommy had settled you on the couch, covered you in a blanket and made you some tea. Then he’d made your favourite meal for dinner, even driven to the store and picked up Diet Coke, emptied a can into a glass filled with ice and lime juice like you loved, but none of it really helped to soothe how upset you were. 

The TV was on low, and he had your head in his lap, slowly stroking the strands of your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that even the most fertile of couples needed to try for months sometimes before they had their first baby. It was stupid to think you’d be any different. 

“You’re thinkin’ way too loud, sugar.” Tommy muses, letting his hand run up and down your arm instead. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Just thought it would be easier.” 

“I know,” He coos, “We can take a break for a while, if you want.” 

You turn so you’re led on your back, looking right up at him, “I just want a baby.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek to pool near your ear. 

Tommy uses his thumb to brush away the tears that have started to fall, bobbing his leg up and down gently to try and soothe you, “It’s still fresh,” He speaks softly, “Let’s give it a couple of days and see what you want to do, okay?” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the beginnings of a headache pooling behind your eyes. You push yourself up into a sitting position and turn around to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m gonna go to bed,” You announce, “Headache.” 

He lets you go, it’s still early and you know there’s the game highlights he wanted to watch. In bed, you can do nothing but toss and turn for a few hours. Every time you’d try to close your eyes, all you could see was vision of you and Joel, in all the different positions he’d put you in so far, and all for what? When the bedside clock hit 10:30, you head out to use the bathroom. As you near the door at the top of the stairs you can hear Tommy talking to someone, through the phone because his is the only voice you can hear. 

“I know, brother, she’s just really beat up about it,” You hear him say, “I don’t know how to make it better.” 

You lean against the closed bathroom door, wondering if perhaps you should leave Tommy to talk to Joel. There’s a pause where you can hear Tommy humming along to whatever Joel is saying on the other end of the phone. 

“I dunno man,” Tommy sighs, “You managed to knock Sarah’s mom up on a one-night stand, guess I thought it would be easier for you.” 

There’s another pause, then he’s speaking again. 

“No Joel, all of her tests came back perfect,” Another sigh, “I was always the problem.”

You’re about to push down the handle to go to the bathroom when Tommy speaks again, “I don’t know, maybe we should just cool it for a while, we’re all gonna work ourselves up otherwise.” 

You decide you don’t really want to hear the rest of the conversation. You sit on the toilet and let your face drop to your hands in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why couldn’t you have been a nice, normal couple, having a baby in the most natural way possible? Why did this have to come along and fucking complicate everything? And why did Joel have to be so fucking good to you every time? 

You wash your hands under the tap, water as scalding as it could go, just in order to feel something that wasn’t frustration before you head to bed. There’s no longer the sound of voices as you pad back across the hall and get back into bed, shutting off the lights and curling onto one side, knees as close to your chest as you can manage to get them. It’s not long before you can hear Tommy shuffling around upstairs. He pushes open the bedroom door quietly, obviously thinking you’re already asleep. You can hear him undressing before he's slipping onto his side of the bed, pulling your body close to his under the covers as he spoons you. 

You let your own arm cover his over your waist as you lean back into the comfort of his chest, letting his breath fan across the skin of your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your skin. 

“I wanna try again,” You speak softly into the dark, feeling Tommy’s arm’s squeeze you tighter, “Once more and then we cool it for a while.” 

“You sure?” He asks into your ear, lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind your ear. 

“I’m sure.” You respond, turning around in his arms to capture his lips in yours. 

When the time comes to try again, it’s you who greets Joel at the door when he knocks. Tommy already upstairs and situated in the chair he had taken the first time you’d done this as a three. Joel leans down, lips just millimeters from your own, but instead of kissing your mouth, he places a soft kiss to your cheek instead. 

“Hello, darlin’.” 

You step up onto your tiptoes to press your own kiss to his face, just shy of the corner of his mouth – the kisses from last time still a secret between the two of you. 

“Evening handsome,” You smile, pulling away from him to close the door as he steps inside, “You ready?” 

“To give you what you want?” He smirks, “Always, pretty girl.” 

You feel that telltale heat flush across your cheeks as Joel pulls you into his side, hand dipping down to squeeze your ass over the fabric of the robe you’d thrown on moments ago. God, why did he have to be so fucking intoxicating around you?

You take hold of his hand in yours, leading him up the stairs behind you. Tommy was reading a book as you entered the room, folding the corner of the page before setting it down on the nightstand closest to the chair. You can’t help but snigger as you watch him and Joel give each other the typical male greeting of a curt nod of the head. 

You drag Joel by the arm to the foot of the bed, pushing his shoulders down so he sits on the edge. Then you take a step back and tug on the belt of your robe, letting it fall open and off your body to leave you completely naked in front of him. You watch his face as he trails those beautiful brown eyes over your body, letting out a low whistle of approval. 

“Beautiful as ever, darlin’,” He compliments, reaching out a hand for you to take, “But you’re worked up, ain’t ya? And not in the good way.” 

Your eyes flit to Tommy in the corner of the room, who has that smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face. You’d been itching for Tommy to arrange this since that ovulation test said you were in the zone, but Joel had been working away for the past two days, and now you were worried that if you didn’t hurry the fuck up, you’d miss your chance. 

Joel reaches out and puts his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you into him, he’s looking up at you, pressing hot kisses to the skin of your tummy, “Gotta relax babygirl,” He moans, “I’m tryin’ my damned hardest, but you just gotta let nature take its course.” 

“Just frustrating.” You mumble. 

“I know baby, I know,” He’s got his hands palming your tits now, “Long as I need to, I’ll keep fillin’ you up, y’hear me?” 

Your breath catches in your throat and all you can do is nod as he moves himself back on the bed. 

Joel leans back on the bed, his head just shy of the pillows, “Sit on my face, pretty girl.” 

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you scramble yourself onto the bed, moving up to straddle his hips – even Tommy is chuckling from his chair. 

“Can’t get enough of Joel’s mouth on your pussy, can you, sugar?” He speaks in a low voice. 

Joel has his hands on your ass, guiding your naked body to hover over his face before his hands are slipping up to your hips to pull your cunt to his mouth. He wastes no time in getting straight to business, wide tongue licking stripes from your entrance, where he laps up your slick like a cat would cream, to those deliciously tight flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit. You can hear him groaning into your pussy, your hand coming down to anchor itself into his hair to hold him still as you start grinding against his face. 

You can hear the obscene slurps that he’s making underneath you, it’s half the reason you think it takes you no time at all to reach the edge, because he fucking enjoys this just as much as you do, he loves tasting you, loves making you feel good and you can feel that, can feel it on his mouth. 

As you throw your head back as Joel’s tongue swipes perfectly across your clit, you catch Tommy in the corner of the room. He’s palming himself through his jeans as he watches you, your body writhing as his brother’s mouth brings you closer and closer to the edge. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? You think, if you asked if he wanted you to help him out. 

“You feeling left out baby?” You coo, reaching your hand out for Tommy to take, “Joel gets my pussy tonight,” You punctuate with a grind of your pussy down onto his mouth, “But I can help you, if you want.” 

He’s standing at the edge of the bed in minutes, his hand pressing into the back of your neck, not unlike how he tries to work the knots from there when you watch TV together. It’s soft and it’s loving and a complete juxtaposition to the vice grip that Joel’s fingers currently have on your hips. 

Your lips are impossibly close to Tommy’s, you could easily lean forward and kiss him, instead, you have a demand, “Take off your pants.” 

Tommy’s hands start to undo the belt holding his jeans up, so you turn your attention back to Joel between your thighs. He is expertly holding you right on the edge, you’re mewling and whining as he tongue works you to the edge, and then pulls away, moving down to gather more of your slick on his tongue. 

You drop your head and catch his eyes looking up at you, “You gonna tease me all night, Miller?” You ask, voice cracking as he makes a point to suckle on your clit, making you cry out, “Fuck, make me come, please Joel.” 

All of a sudden, Tommy’s hand is on your face, pulling your mouth to his own in a searing kiss as he guides your hand to his cock. You’re moaning, a combination of the fact that any second, Joel’s mouth is going to have you screaming and the fact that it’s Tommy kissing you, his cock you’re currently pumping through your fist. It’s delicious and it’s filthy and it should feel all shades of wrong, but it fucking doesn’t. 

You feel it in your legs first, the way they begin to shake and pulse and your thighs clamp around Joel’s face. Then you feel it in your abdomen, like a knot unfurling all at once as pleasure bursts over every inch of your skin. Your mouth detaching from Tommy’s, so you can cry out his brother’s name as you feel yourself almost collapse onto him. 

“Such a good girl,” Tommy breathes into your ear, your hand still firmly held around his cock, “So good when you come for us like that.” 

You feel Joel’s hands tapping at the cheeks of your ass, telling you to lift yourself off his face which you do, dragging yourself down enough so that you’re sat across his chest, not caring that your leaking pussy is dragging slick all over him. His face is covered, covered in you. He’s grinning up at you like the devil, tongue circling his mouth to clean your taste from wherever he can reach. 

“I gotta be inside you, pretty girl.” You can hear his gruff voice speak. 

Tommy immediately moves back from you so you can settle yourself down on the bed. You start on your back, but Joel moves you to lie on your side. He’s still fully clothed behind you, but when he presses himself up against you, you can feel his thick cock straining in his jeans. 

“Take your clothes off.” Is all you can manage to whine as Tommy settles on his knees on the space in front of you, taking the back of your head in the palm of his hand to bring your mouth to his cock. 

Joel shuffles away from you and you feel the mattress lighten as he gets off the bed to shed his clothes. You almost wish you could watch, there’s something about the way Joel reveals his body to you that drives you wild. The way he drags his shirt off to reveal his broad frame, chest peppered with hair, or the way his cock bounces when he finally pulls off his underwear. But right now, you’re focused on making your man feel good. 

You’re making sure that you’re doing it exactly as Tommy likes, almost telling him through the ministrations of your mouth how grateful you are for him, for this being his idea, for loving you enough and trusting you enough to let someone else give you what he cannot. You’re giving all the attention of your tongue to the head of Tommy’s weeping cock, tasting the salt and musk of his pre-cum, using one had to pump the base of his cock. 

You can feel Joel settle back behind you, pressing his entire body against your own, hard cock slipping through the slick folds of your cunt as he settles himself in the right position, then, he’s taking hold of your leg, hand in the crux of your knee to pull it up, baring his prize. He slowly inches his cock inside your tight heat and suddenly it’s all a little overwhelming. 

You’re giving the love of your life the kind of head you’ve only ever seen in porn, Tommy taking most of the control to thrust in and out of your mouth. You’re pretty sure the tears falling from your eyes are a mixture of his length hitting the back of your throat and the overwhelming emotion, love, and admiration you feel for both the men who are crowding your body, owning it, taking what they both want, one of them hopefully leaving you with what you want. 

You pull your face away from Tommy’s cock for a moment, still giving his length the attention it needs, but you let yourself lean into Joel behind you, his cock still moving languidly inside you. He’s got one of his arms snaked under your neck, your head leant against his arm like a pillow, his other hand holding your leg up so that every time his cock brushes inside you, it’s hitting that damn spot that makes you want to cry. 

“Look at you, lucky girl,” Joel growls into your ear as his lifts your leg up higher, pushing it almost to lie flat aagainst your side, “One cock in that pretty little pussy, another in your mouth,” You let a moan, muffled by the fact that Tommy is currently doing a slap-up job of fucking your throat, “He’s a lucky man,” Joel speaks again, “Bet that mouth feels divine.” 

“You ask nicely, she might oblige you, brother.” 

You feel him puff air through his nose in a chuckle, “I’m quite happy right where I am,” He speaks, pumping his cock so deep inside you that you actually think you can see stars, “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch gettin’ this for the rest of your life.” 

“She’s special, I’ll give you that.” 

It’s like you have to prove him right now. You can feel the walls of your pussy clenching around Joel as he picks up his pace. You can feel his balls slapping into your skin with every thrust, the power behind them causing your mouth to take Tommy cock deeper into your mouth every time. 

“Sugar, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” You hear him speak from above you. 

You pull off him, again letting your hand work him as you look up at his through your lashes, “You want me to swallow for you, baby?” You asked, wondering what you must look like when he looks down at you, fucked out from his brother, begging for him to come down your throat. 

“There’s an offer I cannot refuse,” Tommy grins, letting your mouth take him back inside the warmth, “Such a good girl.” 

He only lasts a few more seconds, cum hitting your tongue and seeping down your throat. You swallow down every drop, grinning up at Tommy. He leans down and plants a kiss to your lips, and now your focus is on Joel, thick and solid, pumping his cock in and out of you. 

“You focus on Joel now, sugar,” He croons, “I’m gonna sit back and watch you have fun.” 

As soon as Tommy has moved away from you, Joel is pulling his cock from your pussy, turning you onto your back before he’s crowding his frame over you, settling between your thighs. You’re pliant and you move easily when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you back as he slips his cock back inside you. 

You’re gripping his arms as he fucks into you in earnest now, tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust, you know he’ll have half-moon shaped marks on his arms come the morning, they’ll match the bruises he always leaves on your hips, the shape of his fingertips indented into your skin. 

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Joel groan, head falling to the column of your throat to graze teeth and lips over your delicate skin, “Gonna come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy it won’t have a choice but to take, you hear me, pretty girl?” 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as he shifts just enough to change the angle that his cock is spearing into you, “Joel please.” 

“Please what?” He teases, “What do you want, babygirl?” 

“Inside,” You breath out, “Want you inside.” 

“Yeah, want me to make you a mama?” You can feel tears pooling in your eyes, “No need to cry, pretty girl,” He leans down, folding you in half even more, almost uncomfortable, to kiss away the tears, “Gonna give you what you need.” 

He thankfully moves back a little, stopping your bones from screaming at you for being folded so inhumanely, then his thumb is on your clit, “Only gonna make you a mama if you come with me,” Joel smirks, “Deal?” 

“Oh god – fuck – whatever you want,” You cry, “Please, give me what I want.” 

His thumb is relentless on your already sensitive clit, those tight circles have you clenching around him and when you look into his eyes you know he’s just as close as you are, “That’s it baby, you keep those big, beautiful eyes on me,” Joel’s hips are snapping into your with a force you didn’t know you could feel, it’s entirely too much and entirely too little all at the same time, “Can feel that tight little pussy suckin’ me in,” You cry out as his thumb falters and drags across your clit in a way that has that not threatening to unfurl yet again, “It’s alright baby, if you come, I’ll follow, yeah?” 

That’s exactly what happens. His thumb traces wet circles over your clit and you do exactly as he says. You keep your eyes wide open, staring directly into his own, as your mouth falls open with a screech as your vision clouds. Whatever happens, Joel is right behind you, his cock pounds into at most, twice more, before he’s growling your name through his teeth, cum painting every inch of your pussy. He drops your legs from his shoulders, and falls forward, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck as you both fight to catch your breath.

You wrap your arms around him but it’s all too soon before he’s pulling himself out of you, a kiss to your cheek as he does so. You’re spent and you’re aching and if you’re honest, a little overwhelmed. Joel dresses quickly, and you wish you could ask him to stay, wish he didn’t feel the need to run away, but you know it’s for the best. Tommy tells you he’ll see him out and come to bed, so you roll over and pull yourself under the sheets, trying to warm yourself from the cool air that’s spattering across the sweat of your skin. 

Tommy is back within minutes having seen Joel off. He shed his clothes and moves right up behind you, gathering you into his arms. He takes some time to press kisses into your neck and across your shoulders and for some reason, it sets your belly on fire. How have you been fucked so thoroughly by another man, this man’s own brother, and now you’re aching for this man behind you. 

“I love you so much, Tommy,” You whisper into the dark, clutching at his arms wrapped around you, “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too baby,” He whispers into your ear, stilling your hips as they grind back into him, “Enough of that, I’ll give you what you want tomorrow.” 

[eilishalways]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

all you wanna do is kiss me

summary: billie eilish runs into her crush at the grammys 😻

warnings: a LOTTTT of blushing LMAO

a/n: so billie came out???!!!?? also - part two is out!!

billie was nervous. very nervous. not because she was at the grammy awards, but because you were gonna there. billie had a massive crush on you. since 6 months ago. it was all because of one cheeky insta post you had made. billie remembers freaking out when she saw it, and that’s when she knew. you two had talked to eachother at events before but weren’t actually friends or anything like that. billie was really hoping that something would change tonight.

as she took her seat beside finneas at the table, she half hoped you’d be on the other side of the hall, and half hoped you’d be sat beside her. the second part of her was happy. as you sat down, billie tried to suppress her giddy smile. she quickly noticed though, your perfume. musky and wet - you were wearing eilish no 2. billie freaked out in her head knowing that YOU were wearing HER perfume.

“hey billie!” you said. billie said hello back, and you greeted the rest of the table. “how are you?” you asked billie, a smile forming on your face. billie blushed slightly and replied, “i’m good - kinda nervous though. how about you?” “i’m nervous too. i really hope i win something tonight.” you laughed. last year’s grammys had been a bad one for you - you didn’t win anything. “i’m sure you’re gonna sweep it tonight,” billie reassured you, “your album was fucking amazing. i was listening on repeat for a week after it released.” she laughed, before regretting the oversharing she had done. you seemed eased though, and thanked billie for her support.

a waiter came round with flutes of champagne. you reached one, and billie did the same. you both reached for the same one, before billie removed her hand from your hand and grabbed a different one. you both laughed but you were both left blushing. billie didn’t notice this though.

“i like your dress.” billie said to you, trying to keep the conversation going. you smiled at her and replied “thank you!! i wasn’t sure if i liked it too much, but my stylist insisted. i’m so glad you like it.” billie blushed again at your comment, and became hyper aware of how red she must be at that point. you two continued to talk about your outfits, hair & makeup until a photographer came up to your table looking for photos. everyone at the table smiled for the group photos before the man moved on to taking photos of pairs. he waited to get a picture of you and billie until he was done, and billie tried not to all out scream when you pushed yourself into her arm to get in frame. the man went on to the next table, but you remained on her arm for a few seconds, saying to her “you look really good, by the way.”

billie was about to lose her cool at that point, so she was excused herself to the bathroom. she came back just in time for the awards to start being presented. she hasn’t put anything out that year, so she wasn’t nominated for anything, but she watched as the winners received their awards and made their speeches. the night was nearly finished and the final, biggest award of the night had its nominees announced - album of the year. you were among one of the nominees, alongside some very big names. you didn’t think you had any chance at all, but billie reassured you that everything would be fine.

“and the winner is… y/n l/n - (album name)!” the woman announcing the award said. you screamed in delight, and hugged billie. you slowly made your way up to the stage, accepted the award, and started your speech. you thanked your team, family, friends - all the usual stuff. but then, you thanked billie. you said into the mic “and i wanna say thank you to billie eilish. girl, you’re one of my biggest inspirations. i love you. i wear your perfumes every day! and thank you for being my hype girl tonight!!”, and then you walked off stage and back to your seat. you winked at billie before she blurted out “can i have your number?”

[revasserium]

butterfly lovers opla zoro screaming crying throwing up

butterfly lovers

opla!zoro; 7,106 words; fluff, kind of childhood friends to lovers, slowburn af, nsfw, pron with TOO MUCH plot, opla!canon divergence, ships doctor!reader, fem!reader, riding, "good girl", emotional sex

summary: yours and zoro's story, from two different perspectives.

a/n: @halfvalid this is ur fault. take responsibility pls. also the smut is literally just one part of a larger story, but it does actually get explicit so. do with that info what u will u__u.

false start.

most good stories, scholars and storytellers would both agree, have a beginning, a middle, and an end. though, famously, not necessarily in that order. and this particular story — well, it has several places one might call the beginning. and one of them is here — in shimotsuki village, in a patch of rich green forest that always smelled of cedar and moss and earth.

it would be a lie to say that the story begins here, at a doujou where eight year old boys and nine year old girls swing wooden swords hundreds of thousands of times each day. where you’d seen zoro for the very first time.

the story could have started here, but alas, it did not.

because you see, you’d never been great, or even particularly good at swordsmanship. and zoro — zoro was one of the best. even from the beginning, his raw, unfettered talent was a force to be reckoned with. but the reckoning came in the form of the doujou sensei’s blue-haired daughter, and you were no more part of zoro’s story then than a drop of ink in a midnight ocean — lost to the tumultuous waves of childhood tedium, of sword practice and sparring, of warm up laps and cool down stretches.

but you’d known him then, watched him as he grew, as he got better and better and better. bigger, stronger, quicker, sharper. and beside him was kuina, steady as the shifting tides, relentless in her efficacy, tireless in her craft. he was good, but she was better.

until one day, when very suddenly, she wasn’t.

the story, as it is, does not start here, because you’d made the solemn walk to kuina’s funeral altar with the rest of the students at the doujou in complete silence, had knelt there in equal silence and watched as sensei had bestowed the wadou ichimonji upon zoro, watched as he had gripped the sword with both hands, his knuckles going white as the sword’s moon-washed sheath, and bowed his head in acceptance.

it does not start here because later, instead of following the same, silent procession of kids back to the doujou’s main compound, you’d slipped away, silent as a shadow, and sprinted through the wide, cedar forest to a secret, open patch of grass where the sun bled from a stretch of endless sky blue enough to sting, and tiny little white-petaled flowers had sprung from the still-damp earth, turning their faces towards the coming spring.

you’d run, screaming through the field till you’d run out of breath to scream with, and collapsed among the tiny white flowers, panting and staring up at the endless blue sky, feeling the helplessness pulse through your veins. because even though kuina hadn’t been your friend — you’d exchanged perhaps a handful of words in all the years you’d spent here — she’d been a constant presence in your life. and now, she was gone. and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you laid there for longer than you can remember, and then, as the sun finally dipped beyond the far horizon and the darkness grew longer than the sea was wide, you got up and trudged towards the clearing’s edge. only to find a small creature huddled against the trunk of a thin sapling tree — it looked like nothing more than a bundle of white-spotted fur, and it took you a long moment to realize that it was a fawn, curled into a pile of gnarled roots, shivering, eye wet and wide and terrified.

you blinked, staring at it for a few seconds before you’d noticed the gash on it’s hind leg, jutting out at an uncomfortable angle. your heart had stuttered inside your chest, and you’d dropped down to your hands and knees, cooing softly as you slowly approached the creature, trying to look as unmenacing as possible.

“hey there… are you hurt?” you’d said, crawling towards it, trying very hard to make your movements as slow and smooth as possible.

the fawn shivered as it stares at you, apparently caught between sheer terror and curiosity. you tried to smile, before digging into your pockets and pulling out a handful of peanuts, offering them to the fawn on an open palm.

“c’mon, i’m not gonna hurt you… i just wanna take a look… at that leg of yours, can i do that?” you’d asked, inching in closer and closer until the fawn’s warm, wet nose dug into your palm, it’s smooth-edged teeth grazing your skin as it crunched through the peanuts. you took the chance to glance down at it’s injured leg — it wasn’t a deep wound, but judging by the angle, it was a bit dislocated and would need to be set back right if the fawn was ever going to walk again.

slowly, you reached out a free hand to gently stroke at the fawns haunches, feeling it’s muscles tense up beneath you, even as it continues to snuffle against your palm, eager for any remnants of the peanut shells. you ran your hand along it’s leg and quick as a flash, you pressed against the odd jutting of bone, even as it snapped back into place with a satisfying crack.

the fawn made a shrill, screeching noise, jerking to its feet, but a moment later, it seemed to realize that it’s leg was no longer hurting. you held up both your hands in what you hoped was a calming gesture before tugging out a few more peanuts holding it out as an offering.

the fawn blinks it’s dark, watery eyes at you a few times before limping forward to dig its nose once more into your palm. you allowed yourself a smile then, and a soft relieved laugh as the fawn limped forward a few more steps, testing the weight of it’s body on its newly repaired leg. it looked more confident now, seemingly realizing that the wound was somewhat fixed, and it gave you one last, lingering look before it bounded off back into the sunset forest, leaving you with nothing more than a handful of peanut shells and a tightness in your chest you can’t quite seem to put your finger on.

you’d snuck back into the doujou that evening, smelling of mud and moss and cedar, and you’d lain in your futon, staring up at the high slatted ceilings, streaked with moonlight, wondering where on earth you truly belonged.

the next morning, everyone woke to neatly a folded futon and a wooden training katana, the hilt carved with your name, laid across your pillow.

so you see, the story could have started here. but it didn’t. and perhaps we should be thankful for that.

the cost of ambition.

the story, as we know it, starts then at the baratie, on the morning after a meal was eaten and not properly paid for, after an ill-fated duel between a boy with a mouthful of ambitions and a man who’d forgotten what it felt like to be truly surprised. well, he was surprised that morning, watching the boy fall back with a gash the size of the world spurting blood across the docks.

“grow strong,” he’d said, “and come find me.”

and it starts, when a pirate in a straw hat comes crashing into the baratie’s kitchen, shouting about a dying friend.

“help! help! zoro… zoro needs a doctor!”

“whoa, whoa, slow down, chore boy — i can’t understand a word you’re saying,” zeff holds up a hand to stem luffy’s panicked rambling.

“my friend is dying…”

“the nearest doctor’s on the conomi islands —”

“wait, no —” sanji frowns, cutting zeff off, “lemme look at the reservations from last night —” he hurries off to the front desk and returns with a thick leather bound volume, flipping it open to scan through the seating chart for the night before.

“i knew it!” he says, pointing at a name written in deep, ocean blue ink, “there — her! i’ve heard of her — she’s the best ship’s doctor in the east blue, and if i’m not much mistaken, her ride’s not due to leave till this afternoon.”

“great! c’mon — we haven’t got time to lose!” luffy says as he rushes out of the kitchens, leaving sanji and zeff to exchange an exasperated look before following after.

they find you on the loading docks, your nose buried in a notebook, your hand flying across the page, ink smudging your unrolling sleeve.

“please! we need a doctor! my friend — zoro — he’s dying!”

you jerk up from your notes, the name ringing in your ears like an alarm bell, rocking through your body like the base boom of a signal flare. zoro? here?

you look around even as luffy makes his way to you, pressing in too close, a hand on top of his head to keep his hat from flying away, the other curling around your upper arm.

“w-wait — what’s going on? did you say someone was dying?”

“yes! my friend! he got into a fight with this warlord guy and now he’s bleeding from everywhere —”

“show me,” you say, lurching to your feet and shouldering your leather knapsack, pursing your lips as your vision threatens to tunnel ahead of you. zoro. it’s been such a long time since you’d heard that name. sure, you’d heard of his exploits in the east blue. how could you not have?

demon, bounty, pirate hunter. hunter, hunter, hunter —

you take a deep breath as luffy leads you onto the deck of the going merry and ducks below, motioning for you to follow.

when you step into the room, you don’t notice the orange-haired girl or the long-nosed boy, instead, your eyes are drawn to the body on the kitchen table as a magnet would a compass rose. his shirt torn into barely more than ribbons, a large red gash oozing blood, bisecting his torso like some unbridgeable canyon in miniature, his skin paler than you’d ever remembered it being, sweat beading his flickering brow —

oh, zoro…

you resist the urge to press your hand to your mouth. so instead, you swallow back your heart and try to assess the damage. massive blood loss, possible head trauma, and who knows what else?

“you said a warlord with a giant sword did this?” you ask, hurrying to the table and frowning down at the gaping wound.

“y-yeah — he — he had a big hat with a white feather on it —” luffy starts.

“mihawk. his name was dracule mihawk,” the orange-haired girl cuts in, her voice sharp and a bit too forced to be steady, “he told zoro to get stronger, and that… it wasn’t his time to die yet.”

you grimace, chewing on your bottom lip as you dump your supplies unceremoniously onto the countertop next to him, digging out the necessities.

“well, he wasn’t lying — the cut’s clean and judging by the size… he could’ve cut much deeper. but he didn’t,” you sigh, absently rolling up your sleeves as you pull out a hooked suture needle and a length of thread.

they watch you work in silence, first cleaning the wound, and then slowly, painstakingly pinching and stitching him back together. by the end of it, you’re nearly dizzy with exhaustion, and the sky outside has already turned a deep, bruising purple.

you sigh, wiping down your hands.

“can someone go and ask the waiter for a fish? any fish’ll do, but the fresher, the better. oh, and a bottle of scotch.”

“got it!” the boy with the long nose bolts up and is gone in a flash.

you slump down into a nearby chair and let your head loll back. a moment later, you feel someone pressing a glass into your hand and open your eyes to find the orange-haired girl holding a glass of water.

“here… you looked like you could use it.”

“thanks,” you say, taking a grateful gulp.

“i’m nami, by the way… thanks for —” she waves at the shape of zoro still on the kitchen table, “and that one over there is luffy. the guy that just left is usopp and —” her breath catches as her eyes fall back onto zoro’s form.

“i know who he is,” you say, your voice quiet as you look down at the glass clutched in your hands.

“you know zoro?” luffy’s voice is loud, but not unpleasantly so.

you glance up and feel the truth pulsing against the back of your throat like a heartbeat. then, you shake your head with a soft smile.

“i mean, he’s got quite the reputation.”

luffy lets out a laugh, “yeah! he sure does — he’s a great fighter! probably one of the best i’ve ever seen!”

you nod, staring at the sloshing liquid in the bottom of your glass.

a few moments later, usopp returns with sanji in tow, holding a bottle of scotch in one hand and a dead fish in the other.

“you’d better have a good reason for this,” he says, his expression grim, “zeff’s not gonna be happy when he finds these gone.”

you force a smile, “well, i can promise that at least one of those things’ll be put to good use — can you just skin the fish for me, please?”

sanji frowns, “and the scotch?”

you glance around before shrugging, “i don’t know about you guys but… i think we could all use a drink.”

the cliche of the morning after.

when zoro wakes up the first time, it’s to a world-muffling quiet. he coughs, uncertain of where he is, his head throbbing, his chest feeling too light and too heavy all at once.

“oh! you’re awake — here… have some water. you’ll need it.”

he hears the voice, both familiar and foreign, and then, he feels the cool press of a glass against his lips.

he gulps down the water greedily before pain rockets through him and he lets out a loud groan.

“i… i had a dream…” he says, his head spinning, the words slurring from him, and for a second, he wonders if he’d just been fed alcohol instead of water, but the pain seizes him again and he can’t stop talking.

“yeah? what did you dream about?” the familiar, foreign voice asks, soothing, as a cold palm presses against his forehead.

“shimotsuki village… i — i made a promise. i told her — i’d be the greatest… swordsman…”

his voice is fading, and the world is fading with it.

“yeah… you did, huh? and i’m sure you’ll fulfill it, one day…”

zoro sighs, sinking gratefully into the warm, welcoming arms of darkness once more.

“but not today,” you say, reaching out to wipe the sweat from zoro’s brow, your voice so soft that you’re sure no one else can hear, “today… you just need to keep on living. and that’s the greatest promise you could ever make to me.”

smooth sailing.

when he wakes up proper, you aren’t there to greet him. but he doesn’t miss the shape of you as they all pile onto the merry to go looking for nami. he doesn’t miss sanji’s too-wide grin or the unpleasant, burning itch that shoots through his healing wound as he watches the cook ask you about your favorite foods.

he keeps quiet for the most part, but you find him still, and you ask him how he’s doing with a ship’s doctor’s professionalism and efficiency.

“how’re you healing?”

“fine.”

“any tenderness?” you ask, your brows knitting as he tugs open his shirt and lets you peel the bandages away.

“not really,” he lies, because the the tenderness is not skin deep. he feels it in the labyrinthine galleys of his soul and he can’t quite figure out why you, of all people, might make him feel this way.

you run a surgical hand along the stretch of puckered skin and he sucks in a long breath, feeling his cheeks flood with inexplicable heat.

you smell of cedar and moss and freshly turned earth and for the life of him, he can’t remember why it makes his entire body go soft with memory. it reminds him of… something.

something, something, something.

“i hear you, y’know,” you say, and he jerks back to the present, with you absently rolling up your shirtsleeves before tugging at a fresh piece of gauze to wrap him back up.

“don’t know what you mean.” he looks away, willing himself to stay still as you daub a pungent cream against his chest before applying the layers of bandage. he lifts his arm to give you more room even as you shoot him a disbelieving look.

“sword practice, in the middle of the night. i told you that you need to rest — you’ll only prolong your own healing if you keep on pushing yourself like this. rest is it’s own brand of practice.”

zoro narrows his eyes. because he’d heard that from someone, somewhere before.

“your bodies need time to repair,” his sensei used to say as they all gathered after dinner at the doujou for evening meditation, “and a disciplined mind leads to a disciplined body. don’t forget that rest is it’s own brand of practice.”

zoro had never been good at it, but over the years, he’d managed to endure.

“there. all done.”

you lean back to admire your handiwork, unaware of zoro’s eyes as they scan over the shape of you, taking in the length of your hair, the bright of your eyes, the limber, spider-quick thinness of your hands and fingers.

“thanks,” he says, slipping off the kitchen table, pausing as he notices how still you’ve gone, your eyes wide as you blink at the planes of his chest, inches from your nose. a second later, you stumble back, clearing your throat, a sweet dawning pink dusts the high of your cheeks as he cocks his head to watch you, fascinated by your reaction.

he almost grins, letting his stomach flex as he takes his time in doing up the buttons of his shirt, before grabbing his swords and slipping from the room, leaving you to clean up your medical supplies, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

zoro wonders, just briefly, how it might feel to catch your lips between his own teeth instead.

ink, skin, and bullets.

it’s you who bandages nami’s self-inflicted wounds, you who spends four meticulous hours tattooing over the sawfish curl with a pinwheel spiral that curves into a tangerine’s plumpness. you, who soothes eucalyptus balm over nami’s arm before wrapping it up in a fresh roll of gauze, waving away her hiccupped thanks.

and it’s you, who gets a shotgun pressed into your palms by a stony-faced nojiko as you all prepare to march on arlong park.

“if i can’t go with you… then at least, i can give you the tools,” nojiko says as she wraps your fingers around the butt of the gun.

zoro narrows his eyes as he watches the way your fingers shake as you weigh the shotgun in your palms.

“i don’t like it,” he says.

“yeah, you shouldn’t come with us — we’ll need you to patch us up after,” sanji agrees with a wink, much to zoro’s displeasure.

but you shake your head, a steely light in your eyes as you clutch the shotgun to your chest, “no, i — i want to come. i mean — like luffy said… it’s our fight, after all.”

arlong park.

the flurry of battle is as it always has been. you use the shotgun more as a blunt instrument than as a projectile carrier, but it seems to work just as well. you’re small, and quick, and your knowledge of anatomy (yes, even fishman anatomy) allows you to maneuver the head of the shotgun into the softest, most venerable places on a fishman’s body as you all fight your way through arlong park.

but zoro is never far off, keeping close to you as he fends off the worst of the snarling fishmen, his sword flashing like fish scales in the midday sun.

there comes a moment when he slices an oncoming fishman right through the jugular that you let out a long breath, wincing as the fishman’s body hits the ground with a dull thud, and zoro sighs, turning towards you. but a second later, he freezes as you grab the hilt of his sword and shove it backwards.

he feels it resting against thick, bullet-proof flesh and he hears the loud panting of something next to his ear as he sees in the reflection of your eyes — a fishman standing behind him, frozen against the tip of his blade, the hilt clutched in your shaking, shivering hands.

“d-don’t — i’ll kill you —” you say, your voice a forceful, fractured thing.

zoro searches your eyes before clasping his hands over yours and slowly tugging the sword from your gasp.

“hey…” he says, deliberately drawing your gaze away from the fishman before he jerks his sword back and feels, with a satisfying shink, the weight of the blade sinking into unforgiving flesh. he feels your fingers trembling beneath his as he pulls the sword away, and the fishman behind him sinks to his knees before falling sideways with the dull thunk of a no longer animate body.

you try to tug away, but zoro holds you steady, running his thumb in soothing circles along the backs of your hands.

“s-sorry — i — i couldn’t —”

zoro shakes his head, pulling you up by your elbow.

“it’s okay — don’t apologize.” he whips his swords around and catches another fishman in the stomach, dropping him with a flicker of silver and a splash of red.

“you never have to apologize…” he says, as he reaches for your hands and curls them in the warmth of his own, callused palms.

finding neverland.

you kiss for the first time after a brutal battle. after the deck has been washed of blood and the railings have been hung with the remnants of the tattered sails.

repairs are much needed, but zoro had saved you yet again. you pull him to you in the darkness of the midnight deck, the crow’s nest empty because, well, he’s supposed to be up there, keeping watch. but you’d caught him instead, curling your fingers into the soft linen of his shirt, your mouth seeking out his in the relative dark.

“mnph —”

he grunts as his hands find purchase against your shoulders, pressing you back and back and back, till you’re pushed flush against the thick totem of the main mast, and your panting breaths are all he can taste against his desperate lips.

“s-sorry…” you let out a helpless laugh as he pushes forward, his teeth clacking against yours.

“quit that,” he says, his voice nothing more than a panting breath on the open sea air.

“hm?” you blink, lashes fluttering in the moonless night, your lips kiss-swollen and delectable even as zoro forces himself to pull back, studying you with an accusatory eye.

“you’re always saying sorry,” he says as he brushes a strand of hair from your cheek. above you, the main sail whoomps, catching an evening wind.

“i’m not… i don’t…” you look away, embarrassed to be caught. zoro reaches down to grab your chin, forcing your head back towards him.

“yeah, you do,” he says, his voice gentle, even as he cups your cheek.

“you don’t ever, ever, have to apologize for just... being you. got it?” and there’s a burning ember in the spark of his voice as he twists your face up towards him, his lips hot and hungry as he brands you with this promise, and you’re powerless to do else but accept it.

you find your fingers in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, his breath cascading over your lips even as you press in close, close, closer. a helpless whine twists its way up the back of your throat as zoro hoists you up, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.

“z-zoro… please,” there’s something broken in the tenor of your voice that breaks him more completely than he has the words to describe, so he settles for holding you tighter over his hips and carrying you to his room. it takes a bit of finagling to get you comfortably situated in his hanging bed, but once he does, he can’t help the soft sigh that escapes him as he looks over the length of your body.

from your pink-flushed cheeks to the loose, crumpled material of your button up shirt, all the way down to the hem of your skirt as it brushes up along the skin of your thighs. he leans own to press an indulgent kiss into the dip of your collarbone.

“'please' though… i like a little bit more,” he says, reaching down to pop the top button of your shirt, to revel in the way you hiccup as he teases a line down your chest, his lips following his fingers as he undoes your buttons one by one.

“i — ah —” your fingers curl into the soft moss of his hair and he groans, long and lush into the creamy expanse of skin above the waist of your miniskirt.

“again…” zoro says, whispering the word against you, tugging on the elastic of your skirt, pulling them down the length of your legs.

“z-zoro, please!”

your head tips back as you feel his tongue flick over the hot button of your clit, his fingers digging into your hips, the pads of his forefingers tracing gentle circles around your hip bones as he holds you to his mouth and moans.

there’s a fumbling of fingers and a clashing of teeth as he wrenches himself up from between your legs to mouth at your lips. you taste yourself on his tongue and shiver at the indecency. still, the coals of desire burn in the pit of your stomach as his fingers press into your spit-slicked folds and you feel your whole body arch up in response.

he has always been quiet, but none more so than when he’s working three digits into your fluttering core, his eyes dark and fixed as they watch his own fingers pull out of you and push back in, slick and shiny with the evidence of your arousal.

“fuck…” he whispers the word like a prayer, slipping passed his lips like some holy thing. you can hear the near reverence in his voice as he slowly removes his hand and presses them to his lips for a taste. the lewdness of it makes the hot coil in the pit of your stomach twist all the tighter. and this time, when he drags himself up the length of your body to kiss you, you whine against his mouth, tasting your own tang on the heat of his tongue.

“ngh — fuck —!” you echo, as he flips onto his back and tugs you over his hips in one, fluid moment, his palms helping you grind your sodden folds over the length of his cock, the friction all-consuming and dizzying. a thin string of arousal connecting the tip of his cock to the seam of your cunt and zoro is helpless to do much else but moan thickly at the sight.

“shit.”

you whimper softly as he teases at your entrance, your palms splayed against his chest for support, your thighs shaking on either side of his hips as he eases you down inch by slow, excruciating inch, ontohis thick, throbbing cock. you toss your head back as he pushes into you, the fit of him fiery-tight and stretching you in ways you’d never thought was possible.

you feel him pulsing against your walls, and you wish briefly that you could’ve tasted him as he’d tasted you, before he sheathed himself inside you. how would he taste, you wondered, and you feel your mouth water at the thought of his heavy, salty weight on your tongue.

“n-ngh!” your voice cracks as he rocks his hips experimentally against yours, the drag of him inside you driving you to near incoherence.

“good girl,” he whispers, the words falling from him like second nature. you keen beneath his praise, bracing yourself as he plants his feet on the bed and jack hammers up into you, his stomach tensing in deep breaths of tight, sinewy muscle, his arms flexing as he helps you rock down above him.

“pretty… fucking… girl…” he intersperses his heavy groans of pleasure with soft exclamations, fucking you now to the light, rhythmic rocking of the ship, even though there’s nothing light about the way his cock bullies it’s way into your cunt again and again, forcing you to clamp down around him on each and every thrust.

there’s nothing gentle about the way he digs his nails into the flushed skin of your hips, how he leans up to latch his greedy mouth onto one of your pert nipples, moaning as he savors in the way you arch against him, pushing your chest more fully into his mouth.

“r-right — right there —”

“yeah?” he asks, half-smirking as he looks up at you, his warm gaze betraying the hard, teasing edge behind his voice, “where do you want me?”

you keen, whining as you drag your hands down your own body to press against your stomach, grabbing his hand to push it against you as well, his palm hot and flat as it lays along your tummy.

“r-right here —”

“fuck — that’s right —” he jerks up into you, burying his face in your chest with a clipped moan as he quickens his pace, his one hand pressing against your stomach as you feel him pushing up farther into you than you’d ever imagined possible.

the pleasure is intense, an other-worldly feeling as he finally pushes you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he feels you clench around him, your arms winding around his torso, to act as both tether and tide as he holds you to him, grounding you to this feeling while simultaneously casting you against the rough edges of this most selfless and selfish pleasure.

“h-holy… fuck me…” you breathe out, clutching at zoro’s back, digging ruddy red grooves into his shoulder blades as he rolls over to fucks down into you, relentless in his chase of his own climax, groaning deep and throaty as he finally spills into you.

you hiss as you feel the heat of him pooling inside. and it’s not till a few minutes later that he picks his head up from where his face had been buried in your neck to shoot you a wide, lopsided grin.

“yeah, pretty sure that’s what i just did,” he says, rolling onto his side and letting out a deep, soul-steadying breath.

you roll your eyes before turning to look at him, only to find him watching you with a gentle, anchoring softness. and like this, it’s hard to see him as the battle-hardened warrior. like this, it’s hard to imagine that he’d ever made such a promise as to become the greatest swordsman in the whole, entire world.

like this, he just looks like a lovestruck boy, forced to grow up much too soon, searching for any remnants of pleasure he might have left to hold on to.

an irony of hands.

it’s never easy, the night after enemy raids, the deck pooling with bodies and blood, the sea the color of a scabbing wound, flotsam and jetsam like bloated body parts floating on the dark, inky waves.

you’re helping usopp push some of the dead bodies overboard, but then you find one man with three deep gashes on his torso and blood bubbling on his lips.

“… gonna… gonna report — never… escape…”

you nearly yell as you see the tiny den den mushi in his hands, his fingers quivering as he tries to dial the emergency line. you smack it from his hand and press your tiny, surgeon’s scalpel to his throat. it’s sweet, polished silver gleams wicked beneath the moonless night.

“don’t you fucking dare,” you say, even though your voice shakes, and there are perhaps a million other ways of taking care of him more easily. but you know that if you throw him overboard now, he’d bob, half-drowning and helpless, for a few hours, or maybe even days before he’d finally succumb to the terrible, patient drag of the ocean (and most likely, dehydration).

“no,” a voice says, steady and firm, as a long, rough-fingered hands enter your vision and carefully tug your hands way from the man’s throat.

you look up to find zoro, his hand still clutched around yours, an unspoken sweetness flickering behind his eyes.

“i — if we toss him over — he'll just —” you swallow thickly, tearing your gaze away from zoro’s face as his expression shifts into something of the unreadable and soft. you hate to let him see you like this, so hesitant, so incompetent.

“let me do it,” zoro says, giving your hands a light shove before, with one swift arc of his blade, he severs the man’s carotid, leaving him slumped and bleeding on the blood-stained deck.

“oh… oh god…” you press your shaking fingers to your lips, the silver scalpel falling with a loud clatter.

“c’mere,” zoro says, tugging you up and leading you down to the hallway below decks. he slows as the pair of you enter the darkest part of the hallway, and he turns to hold you at arms length, his fingers tight on your arms as you feel his eyes scanning you over, and over, and over.

“you’re not hurt?” he asks, voice quiet and clipped.

“no,” you shake your head.

“not even a little?”

you shake your head again, pursing your lips this time to keep the sob from pouring through.

still, he sees it, and he pulls you to him, cradling your head in his large, warm palm, the other arm wrapping around your middle.

“stupid girl,” he murmurs, light, into your cheek even as you let out a bitten off sob against his chest.

you hiccup, curling your fingers into the material of his shirt, "i — i couldn’t do it,” you say, squeezing your eyes as he holds you to him and lets you cry.

“i — i couldn’t kill him.”

zoro sighs, pulling back to smooth a hand over your hair, bringing it down to cup your now tear-stained cheek.

“yeah, i know. but that’s not what your hands are made for,” he says, letting his own hands trail down and down and down, till he’s got both of your palms cupped in his like a wishbone.

“don’t you get it?” he asks, staring down at your palms, upturned against his, “these hands were never made for taking lives…” he looks up, his eyes too bright in this borrowed darkness. and then, he smiles.

“they were made for saving lives instead.”

confessions, part i.

you stare at him for a full ten seconds before letting your body fall laxed into a soft, bubbling fit of champagne-colored laughter.

“i love you,” you say, the words tumbling from you, more truth than any story or poem or legend or myth either of you have ever heard.

“i love you, zoro,” you say again, tasting the words on your tongue like fireworks, like pop-rock candies, like the first, stinging breath of autumn after the hazy veil of summer has finally lifted. and slowly, in the clarity and truth of your declaration, you think you can see his lips as they lift up in an open-heart smile, as he too tastes the words you’ve just so recently mustered the courage to say.

confessions, part ii.

zoro stares back, and or a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. then, for too long. and you think you’d made a mistake, telling him how you feel. but then, he smiles — a true smile, a smile that lights up his face and erases all the grooves and lines that should’ve been worn there by the weathers and weights of hardship.

and still, listening to your words, he smiles — a smile that makes him nothing short of incandescent.

he nods, squeezing your hands in his.

“i love you too.”

false start (redux).

every story as a beginning, a middle, and an end. though not necessarily in that order. and, looking back, roronoa zoro knows that if he had to pick, his story probably begins here — at the ripe age of eight, in a doujou nestled next to a forest that always smelled of cedar and moss and freshly turned earth.

it probably starts with an endless parade of sword practice and sparring, of warm up laps and cool down stretches.

its true — it could be said that his story starts with kuina, the doujou sensei’s blue-haired daughter, who was better at swordcraft than zoro thought he ever might be. and to some, this is a good enough kind of beginning to latch on to.

but no, zoro knows, because he knows himself now, and he knows that stories, just like swordsmanship, is an art that requires a certain amount of tempering. a certain degree of trimming and tailoring. a certain kind of articulation.

so he’s certain that it starts here, when he’d seen you for the very first time. and it’s true, you’d seemed like nothing special then, just another quiet little girl who’d been forced into the doujou by some faceless set of rigid, expectant parents, and you’d worked just as hard as you could have, given your natural inclination for anything but sword play.

he’d known that you’d never be great shakes at swordsmanship, but still, he’d found himself drawn by and to you, as a magnet would a compass rose, as one might find their destiny, or their soulmate. he had found his eyes tracking you whenever you weren’t looking, found himself watching as you’d patter around after sparring practice to ask everyone how they were feeling, to dig your tiny fingers (strong and dexterous as they already were) into a knot here, an aching muscle there, a pinched nerve that might’ve been really bad if not found here, and left to fester in that vast, horrible elsewhere.

but he’d been a shy, quiet, kind of boy, absorbed by his sport. and kuina’s skill was more than enough for one growing, teenage boy to contend with without worrying about the strange attraction he had towards perhaps the least “swordsy” person in the entire class. and so, he’d never plucked up the courage to talk to you, never questioned when you’d kept away from his side of the classroom after sparring practice, when all the other girls would flutter around him like a flock of unwelcome pigeons, asking if he wanted to be their stretching partner.

then, the morning came when shimotsuki-sensei had informed him in not so many words that kuina was gone. and the funeral had slipped by in a hazy blur of bodies and incense, and the next thing he knew, he was holding the wadou ichimonji, and sensei was saying something about keeping kuina’s dream alive.

he’d seen you flit from the funeral march of black-clad children, shadow-dark and raven-quick, right off into the thicket of trees. and he’d followed you, because he couldn’t think of a place he’d like to be less than back in that suffocating practice room with all his fellow classmates, half of them casting him curious looks, the other half avoiding his gaze like the literal plague.

he’d followed you to the clearing, and watched as you’d sprinted, screaming around the field of tiny, white-petaled flowers until you slumped down, panting with your face upturned to a sea-breeze sky. he caught himself before he could burst out laughing (or crying, he wasn’t quite sure which he wanted to do more at that moment), and he’d forced himself to sit still behind the trunk of a large tree and watch as you pushed yourself up. the light of the dying sun washed your figure in a great, dream-like ream of orange and gold.

then, just as it seemed like you were going to head back, he spotted you spot the injured fawn, curled into the gnarled roots of a sapling cypress tree. and he’d watched still as you slowly approached the creature with a handful of peanuts before distracting it and crack — he’d heard it clear across the clearing — the sound of a bone being set back into place.

the fawn had screeched and bolted to it’s feet.

but you were just as fearless as you always were, holding out your palm with more peanuts, and zoro had watched, with a mounting fascination coiling in the base of his stomach, as the fawn dug its nose into the palm of your hand.

he’d seen the brilliance behind your eyes, heard the bell-toll sound of your soft, everlasting laughter.

and he vowed, then and there, to become the greatest swordsman he could be, the greatest swordsman in the world, if only to protect you from those who might hurt you. from those who might threaten to take away the light — the life — that thrummed, ever present, in the palms of your very own hands.

a/n: i know, i know, there was an authors note before. but i feel like i can explain this better now that you've read the fic -- to me, the story of "butterfly lovers" is and always has been as story of someone pretending to be someone they're not, right? so in that sense, you/reader was just trying to fit into a mold that wasn't quite made for her before discovering her true calling as a doctor. and the fluff and romance was that, unbeknownst to her, zoro's known that this entire fucking time. u__u anyways. i hope you enjoyed. bless up and simp zoro, fam.

opla!zoro requests are open!

[joelsmochi]

Joel Miller — There You Go

Part 2 here.

warnings: post-apocalypse, pre-ellie, age change + gap (joel is 53, reader is 33), smut (minors dni), unprotected piv sex + creampie, outdoor/public sex, reader has a thing for joel’s hands, joel has a thing for reader being a pillow princess, joel also has a thing for praising reader, joel loves spoiling reader what more can i say, definitely ooc joel, pet names (baby, pretty girl, doll, etc.), dirty talk, vanilla sex (? should this even count as a warning LMFAO), possessive!joel (only a little it's kinda cute), fluffy!joel, probably an over-usage of the word “pretty”, i always lazy proofread so there may be some typos <3

wc: 4k

a/n: there are so many mean!joel or rough!joel smuts (don’t get me wrong i be eating that shit up!) so i thought i’d do something a lil different & give y’all a sweet and endearing joel smut <3 this is lowkey inspired by the scene from jason’s lyric + inspired by a comment i saw where someone said pedro/joel would definitely talk you through it .-.

“The sun feels so good,” I think aloud. “Come lie down! You should try it!” I glance over at Joel who is cleaning the pot that we just ate dinner out of.

“You’re gonna get sunburnt,” is all he says. I don’t respond, enjoying the warm blanket the sun is providing. A few minutes later I hear him sit next to me which makes him block the sun from my face so I open my eyes and smile up at him.

He and I aren’t that close, but it never hurt to try and grow closer with him—sometimes he’d give in and laugh with me, but most of the time it was like talking to a brick wall that occasionally grunted at you or rolled its eyes. I understand though. I’m sure he lost someone he loved so deeply and that kind of shit changes you. I’ve lost more people than I can count and no matter how much you try to prepare for it, you’re just never ready. That’s why I always try to get him to smile, I want him to know that someone still cares about him even if he doesn’t care for anyone anymore.

But I know he does. I know for a fact that he cares about me. He never let’s me hold him when we’re trying to sleep but the second I hear his breaths deepen I always wrap my arms around him and he shuffles his back deeper into my body. I loved the way he was too emotionally calloused to warm up to me because it makes me want to fight harder for him which reinforces the fact that I care about him.

“Thank you for dinner, you sure know how to whip up some twenty-year-old ravioli,” I joke.

He just nods and looks at the trees in front of us.

“How old were you when this all started? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-three,” he corrects.

“Hmm, same age I am now.”

“Ain’t that a bitch?” He huffs, clearly exhausted from our hike. I sit up in front of him and grab his hands; he tries to pull back while giving me a dirty look so I just grip him harder. “What are ya doing?” He asks.

“Holding your hands,” I say with a cheeky tone and a grin.

“Why?”

“Because I think about touching ‘em all the time,” I tease.

He takes a few breaths, watching to see if I break my smile. “You think… About my hands?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, “I think about your fingers.” I hold one of his hands up to my face and analyze his digits, memorizing the cuts and bruises and wrinkles along them. Even though my words are true, I still played as if I were joking endearingly, but the more I looked at his fingers the more complicated it got. I feel my nipples perk up underneath my tank top from the cool breeze and… Well, from being horny. “I think you’re a cool guy,” I say after looking at him and dropping his hand.

“Why?”

Shrugging, I say, “Because you take care of me. You teach me a lot.”

His eyebrows rise and force wrinkles onto his forehead. “I teach you a lot?”

I hum again, nodding slowly and blinking even slower not able to hide my true intentions anymore. “Yeah, you… Taught me how to use a gun safely… You taught me how to get past an infected… You taught me how to hunt a buck.”

“Shit your parents shoulda taught ya when your were a kid,” he retorts, letting me know he doesn’t see my desperation.

“Maybe,” I whisper. I carefully move onto my hands and knees, slowly crawling closer to him. “Maybe I was just meant to have you as my teacher.” The look in his cold eyes shifted yet he continues to leave me confused. I may be overstepping here, but his lack of resistance only urges me to push further and further. I bat my eyelashes at him and reach my nose just in front of his. “You could even teach me how to fuck.”

His eyes bat shut and he exhales as if he were committing the worst of sins. His eyes reopen after a few quiet seconds and they flicked between both of my own eyes. His cold irises were now warm with dilated pupils and his pulse is beating so strong I could see it pump against the skin along his collarbones. I glance at his lips more than once and press one of my hands to his thigh.

“Is this okay?” It comes out shakier than I intended it to as my breathing feels much heavier than before. Joel makes me feel so small but in the best way possible. It’s as if he were my sworn protector and I could always count on him to be there for me. Like a lovestruck twenty-year-old, I cling to him in my most desperate of times even though he pretends to hate it. I could tell he likes having someone to take care of, and I love that he takes care of me.

Hesitating, he nods and carefully reaches for my forearms.

“You sure?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he whispers sounding more desperate than me.

I can’t help but simper at both his confirmation and touch, finally touching my nose to his. A knot twists deeply into my stomach, and my chest fills with waves of nervousness. “I’ve only done it a couple times,” I whisper.

“That’s okay,” he hums against my lips, his chest rumbling at the low vibrations from his voice. “I’ll teach you.”

I snicker and giggle at his words earning the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen on him in the time I’ve known him, then he presses his lips to mine so softly I thought I was imagining it. The smack of his warm mouth dazes me momentarily and I grasp onto his shoulders before completely falling into his touch. He lies back onto the blanket and encapsulates my body with his thick legs and firm arms. He whines into my mouth and holds onto my waist as if I would fall apart if he let go.

I pull away after a while to look down at him, wondering how we should start. It’s been well over a decade since my last time and I don’t want to disappoint Joel.

“Lie down,” he instructs while admiring my flustered look.

I do as he says and allow him to take my shoes off, which he does so carefully. I always pegged Joel to be a bit rougher, and eager for it, especially after a long time of waiting.

His fingertips nuzzle the hairs along my calves and thighs up until they reach the hems of my shorts and this is where my expectations become true; he wraps his fingers into the folds and tugs gently, probably trying to pace himself, but the rise and fall of my chest catch his attention and his patience runs out. He yanks my button undone and doesn’t even bother taking my shorts off, he just slips his hand inside to feel around. I prop myself up with my elbows to get a better view of everything. He strokes the stubble along my pelvis, then around my clit, dipping down to my entrance and slightly parting my lips to see how ready I am.

I inhale at the feeling of his warm finger coming into contact with my cool precum, locking eyes with him to watch the subtleties in his face change at every new feeling he notices. He just barely whispers, “Fuck,” when he rises his finger to my clit. He gives it a gentle stroke and watches me breathe slowly for him. “You’re doing so good, staying still like that for me,” he praises. I bite my lip and confidently smile at him. He starts to rub soft circles onto my skin, eliciting a gentle coo from me. The space between my eyebrows tightens at the relief and my eyes close softly. “Fuck, look at’ya… So eager for me already, huh?” I look at him and nod. “Tell me how bad you want it, doll.”

“Do you remember the night we first met?” I ask between moans. “And I had that cut on my arm that you had to clean and wrap? All I could do was stare at your fingers and—and imagine how good they would feel rubbing my clit the way you’re doing right now. It was the first night I had touched myself in almost a year.”

He squints at me sharing this information and rewarding me with more pressure from his fingers. “And how often do you touch yourself now?”

“In the past two years I’ve known you?” I sheepishly ask; he nods and halts his moving fingers. Desperately wanting him to keep going, I shout, “Almost anytime I get left alone for longer than ten minutes.”

“Since we’re being honest…” He leans down to my ears to whisper, “…Sometimes I leave you alone to touch myself as well.” He takes his hand out of my shorts to slide them off of me.

He looks around the trees, and I do the same to make sure no one living or infected is around; once we’re sure it’s clear he sits to remove his boots which I laugh when it starts to take a long time. I reach for his shirt buttons, undoing them carefully as a few were hanging literally by a thread. I push his flannel shirt off of his arms while he finally kicks his boots off, then he hovers his head over mine and just barely pushes his pants down to reveal his swollen cock. I reach for it despite my intimidation at the girth but he stops me, guiding me to lie down again.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?” He asks against the skin above my collarbone whilst placing lovely kisses all over my neck.

“It’s really big,” I say tensely, laughing at myself.

He gives me a juicy kiss and shares a winsome look with me. “I’ll be gentle if you want,” he promises. I barely smile, not realizing how harshly my nails are digging into his arm. I give him a slight nod and spread my legs slowly for him. “I promise I’ll be real nice to your pretty pussy.”

I lift my head up to kiss him again and he shifts to rest his body weight on top of me with his hand reaching between our bodies to line his tip up with my entrance. His tongue folds over my lips and into my mouth restlessly and I feel his hips push forward against me. I prepare myself for the discomfort, squeezing my eyes tightly and pulling away from the kiss to brace myself.

It’s difficult to breathe with my ribcage pushing against him and I feel him leave a trail of kisses along my jawline in an attempt to soothe me. I constantly squeeze around his thick cock, trying to ignore the slight burning and get used to the pain faster. He notices how long I remain tense and anxious, so he taps my cheek gently with his fingers and I open my eyes to look at him which relaxes almost every nerve in my body.

“Just relax, honey, okay? Can you do that for me?” My eyes roll to the back of my head as his raspy voice continues to beg me to relax. “Hmm? Can you relax for me, baby girl?” He pulls back a little and begins to slowly pump himself in and out of me, chuckling as he watches my body actively relaxing around and beneath him. “There you go… There you go… Here.” He adjusts his knees to be flush against the back of my thighs and moves my arms and legs to wrap around his back. “How’s this?”

I wait for him to start moving again, noticing the difference in closeness. “Yes!” I hiss. I feel his hand pop my boobs out of the top of my tank top and I look to his fingers to watch them rub against the sewn-in rose in the middle of the shirt, but soon enough his hand cups my boob and gives it a delicate squeeze. I notice my pussy get wetter at the steady pace he is going at, feeling the curve of his cock hit the deeper parts of me.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes, Joel,” I moan. I slide the straps of my shirt off of my arms to get a better grip on him making him smile at the now bunched-up fabric around my waist. All I can do is moan and roll my eyes back and forth at his cock filling me up repeatedly. With my thighs trembling around his hips, my nails digging into his back, and my back arching deeper into the ground, he lifts his upper half off of me more than likely to see me—all of me.

He drives his hips faster, not fully entering inside of me but using the curve of his shaft to his advantage. As my hands flail around either gripping the sheet or his arms, I accidentally dig my knees into his stomach, and I can tell it’s hurting him but he doesn’t stop.

“Come on, baby,” he grunts, somehow managing to go even faster, “cum for me, pretty girl, I can feel it—oh, look at’cha!”

I whine at the ticklish feeling of his tip rubbing against my g-spot, feeling sudden shocks in my nerves from my stomach to my feet. I feel my muscles stop squeezing around him and start pushing against him as my orgasm creeps up. Joel hunches over to pop one of my nipples into his mouth adding waves of electricity to swim through the rest of my body.

“Joel, I—“

“Shh, shh shh shh,” he mumbles against my breast. “Look at me, darlin’. Hold onto me.” My fingers wrap into his curls and I watch his eyes trail over my face. I feel myself fall over the edge and into my orgasm, and his words seem to only exist to intensify this burst of energy. “God, look at you cumming for me—oh, my God, I can feel it," he repeats. "I can feel you cumming, it feels so fucking good."

“Yeah?” I whimper. “Fuck, please don’t stop!” He grunts and gets a bit more sloppy with his thrusts which help ride out the rest of my orgasm. I release his hair and drop my legs down next to his, feeling soreness spreading throughout my thighs from them being stretched. “Do you want to switch?” I ask after seeing how tired he is.

He pretty much pouts and shakes his head, cupping my face in one of his hands. “No, baby. I wanna take care of you,” he says. “You look so pretty in the sun.”

I blush to thank him, then take his scruffy face into my hands and give him a few kisses until they turn into our tongues dancing together. I moan at the taste of his skin, pushing my hips down to get his shaft deeper inside of me.

He listens to my body and instead of thrusting he rocks his hips after resting some of his weight on me again. I feel the layers of sweat from both of us stick his skin to mine but we just ignore it. All I care to focus on are his groans and the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of me.

“I was made just for you,” I moan, reaching out to run my hands along the hair on his chest.

He shoves one of my legs up on his shoulder, bending forward to somehow fuck me even deeper. “You were made just for me?” He asks, kissing the inside of my knee.

I mewl out, cursing at how smoothly his hips continue to roll in between my thighs. “Yes, Joel!” I shout when he shoves his dick all the way inside of me, stopping once he presses against my depths. “My pussy was made just for you!”

I watch his pretty eyes roll under his twitching eyelids, and he whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers. I gasp at his shaft throbbing inside of me and cradle the back of his head.

He lifts himself to his knees again, forces my legs to spread apart, and pulls out. “Fuck, baby,” he groans with furrowed eyebrows. “You keep talking like that you’re gonna make me cum too fast.”

Grinning wide, I sit up and turn around to my hands and knees like earlier. I figured a change in position could help excite things a bit more, plus my ass is starting to hurt. I moan and giggle while I tauntingly wave my ass for him to grab. Instead, he yanks my knees back knocking me down to my stomach which admittedly hurt a little bit, but I didn’t care. I finally got to have Joel and that was all I needed.

He pushes my legs apart with his chest pressing against my back. I shudder at his warm breath on my sweat-covered cheek and ear, flinching when he nibbles on my lobe—not from pain, but surprise. He moves down to bite my shoulder, then my spine before I feel his hand push his thick cock back inside of me.

I kick my limp legs up to meet his wide thighs and lay my face against the ground. He fucks me like he’s desperate for me to know how strong he is, how weak he can get me. I arch my neck up for my lips to meet his chin; listening to his little whimpers has my entire body weak for him. I didn’t want the noises to stop, I don’t want him to stop.

“Oh, baby,” he whimpers some more, “you feel so good. S-oh good.” His breath is shaky as are his words.

“I want you to cum inside of me, Joel,” I beg before pecking his chin. I relax the arch in my neck to instead bury the back of my head into his shoulder. He stops for a few seconds to absorb my words, using this time to wrap his arms below and around my stomach. “I love the way you fuck me,” I whisper against his jaw. “You make me feel so good, baby.”

“That’s my job, honey,” he tells me, thrusting a couple of times. “Oh sh—oh my God,” he mewls. He bites my cheek which makes me giggle and turn my head to kiss him. He starts to drill in and out of me while our lips fold over each other, our moans and begs and whimpers falling out occasionally. I feel that bubble growing inside of me again just itching to be popped, and I completely crumble when he says, “You take my cock so good, princess, I know you got another one in ya.”

I can’t even speak whilst he wraps his strong hand around my neck to hold my head up rather than to choke me. I cry out his name shallowly and squeeze around him so tight I’m sure his cock started to ache. He curses into my neck, not letting up on my pussy one bit. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.

“You look so fucking pretty when I fuck you. Look at how helpless you are, fuck. You’re mine, pretty girl.”

“I love the way you fuck me, Joel,” I say breathlessly as my orgasm doesn’t let up.

“My sweet girl,” he coos in my ear. “Keep talking to me, mmm, I love hearing you beg for it.”

By this point, I am suffering from the pain of overstimulation, which I never thought could hurt so bad but feel so damn good at the same time. “You’re so good to me, Joel,” I tell him doubtlessly. “I want you to cum for me, please.” His body jerks a few times and it instills confidence in my tone. “I want you to use me… Use me to cum, please…”

“You want me to cum in that pretty pussy a’yours? Hmm?” He cuddles his face into my shoulder blade, striving to reach even deeper inside of me. “Turn around. I wanna see you,” he whispers; I turn around and he lifts me onto his lap, still standing on his knees. His burly forearms manage to hold me up enough for him to keep doing all of the work, but by this point, I was thankful for it with how much he’s worn me out. “You take my cock s’good. Look at your pretty face, your pretty little helpless face.”

I watch as he takes his lip between his teeth into his weeping mouth, breathless gasps leaving my own. He looks so majestic with how the sun casts subtle shadows along his face; his vulnerability coats the look in his eyes as his face begins to relax which tells ms he is close. His nails dig into my spine and he looks to me for reassurance.

I run my fingertips over Joel’s broad shoulders and blink slowly, drawing my tongue out to lick his lips briefly. “Can you cum for me, baby?” I ask softly.

“Yes,” he says, heavily nodding his head. “Anything for you, honey.” He kisses me swiftly, smiling at me and stroking my thumb over his cheekbone. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

We both moan out little praises against each other's faces and lips and sometimes kiss roughly. My chin burns from his stubble but I don’t pull away from him. I don’t want to. I just want to feel all of him.

He tells me he’s going to cum once more and I say, “Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum.”

I hold his head still in my hands and rock my hips against his, but he stops me by pushing my hips into him and holding me there. I whine but allow it, cockily grinning at him when I feel his warm cum paint my walls. He is a whimpering mess, cowering his face to my chest. His body twitches underneath my legs and his hands fall to my ass, squeezing it enough to lift my hips up and back down a couple of times. Grunting when he finishes, he peels his face from my skin to smile down at me after lying me down carefully. He looks around for a moment before pulling out and laying next to me.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” he says, still out of breath.

I look over at him and twist to my side. “It’s okay. I know you like taking care of me.”

“Do I now?”

I nod and hum. “You’ll never say it, but I know you do.”

Joel also turns onto his side to stare at me. “I like taking care of you,” he admits with a hoarse voice. He reaches to pull my shirt straps back over my arms before covering my boobs, then grabs my panties to slide them up my legs but stops when he gets to my vulva just to place a kiss on it. He half-dresses himself before pulling my warm legs onto his lap; I sit up to get more comfortable and stare at his hands massaging my legs. “Your face is sunburnt,” he tells me.

I touch my cheekbone and flinch when I feel it is indeed sunburnt. “Dammit.”

“Doll, I want ya to know that this doesn’t mean nothing to me. It isn’t nothing, I mean… It’s something… If you want it to be.”

“Something?” I question with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah…” He shrugs, looking back down at my legs. “If you want.”

I crawl into his lap, responding to him with a loving kiss. “I want you. Not something.”

“Oh, pretty girl…” He moves some hair from my face and bashfully smiles at me. “You already got me.”

[marvelwitchergilmore]

I'm In Love (With My Best Friend)

Summary: Peter Parker x Fe!Reader -> You and Peter have been best friends since middle school. But when feelings get involved, it can lead to a lot of pining and incredibly romantic kisses inside a Stark lab.

Disclaimer: FLUFF, a little angst, a LOT of pining. Kissing. Jealousy. Happy Ending. Not proof-read. No use of Y/N.

You first met him when you were in middle school. You had been the new transfer student and you had zero friends. The first week of your new school you spent getting lost in the hallways, avoiding the random questions that the people who you assumed were the popular crowd were asking you and trying to concentrate on the work you were being given. 

But, half-way through your second week, you met a boy. 

You had been sitting on your own in the back of the cafeteria, trying to solve your science homework. 

Usually, you were okay with science but every time you entered your numbers, you knew the answer was wrong. 

He’d introduced himself as Peter Parker. 

You recognised the name. 

He was supposed to be in your English, Math and Physical Ed classes though he hadn’t been in due to being ill. 

At first, he sat with you because there was nowhere else to sit. At least, that’s what you thought. Then he asked about your homework. 

“Yeah, Mrs Jackson always sets difficult questions. Do you want some help?”

You accepted his offer and he moved over two seats so he was directly in front of you and for the next 20 minutes, he sat with you and you both figured out the homework together. 

In return, you offered to help him with his English report. 

You couldn’t quite remember when it was after that that the pair of you became inseparable. But, after that, the both of you were never seen without one another. 

Even in High School, you remained the best of friends. Thursday night homework hours were completed together and Friday night movie nights were completed with the same laughter, frustration and smiles. 

And, despite attending different colleges, it was like no time or space had passed between you both. 

You were the first Peter came to when he was ready to tell people about his alter-ego Spider-Man. You were also the first person Peter came to when he had his first crush and date in High School. 

Maybe that was when you had your first heart-break. 

Though you were friends with Peter first, it was a couple years into High School that you realised your feelings towards Peter had grown to be more than friendship. 

But you knew he didn’t feel the same. And knew he probably never would. 

But, at the same time, it didn’t not sting when he dated other girls. 

Either way, you swallowed the pain and your feelings for him and remained determined to keep your friendship with Peter despite them. 

So, you dated other guys. 

And, they were kind. 

Some of them became long term - others, not so much. But despite how much you cared for them, something always seemed to be missing. Though you tried your best to ignore that fact. 

You both had graduated college a few years ago and ever since, Peter had been working for Stark Industries whilst, despite the job offer Tony had given you personally and said he would keep on ice, you had a job helping engineer different plates and surgical equipment that helped towards surgery for animals who’s back legs had stopped moving or had been born without one of the paws etc. 

Still, you met Peter every day in his lab at the compound at 7 since you got off work at 6. 

“Peter? You here?”

“In here. I’m almost ready, I’ve just got to-”

“No worries.”

Whilst Peter ran about the place, finding different parts for some old web-shooters he had in his hand, you sat at one of the tables and tinkered away. 

It was usually like this. 

You’d go and meet him, he’d still be working and you’d sit with him for 40 minutes to an hour before you both left to get food and watch a movie. 

“You know, it’s so cool you work for Tony Stark.”

Peter smiled as he continued to tinker away and you tried to avoid your gaze dropping to check him out despite his outfit consisting of black cargo trousers and a black t-shirt. 

So, he’d been in training today.

“Yeah. You know, you could too if you wanted.” Peter looked up to you for a moment. “He has a job lined up and ready for you whenever you want it.”

You smiled and nodded. “I know. But I like my job.”

“Offer is always there.”

“Hey, did you hear back from Lucy?”

Peter faltered for a moment, though you barely noticed. “Oh, uh, yeah. We’re…we’re going out again, tomorrow, I think.”

You ignored the sad feeling in your chest, despite the fact you had been the one to set them up (technically). 

Lucy worked in the office at your job. Peter came in one day to pick you up and she mistook you both for a couple despite the fact she’d just been flirting with him thirty seconds ago. 

You just opened your mouth and shut the whole thing down. “Oh, no. Hahaha, no. We’re- we’re just friends. Good friends. But friends.”

Sitting up a little straighter, you smiled. “That’s good.”

“What about you? What happened to Frank?”

“Mark,” you corrected. “And it-it wasn’t right. Besides, we only talked, like, twice. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway. He said he hated Disney movies and would rather gouge out his eyes than watch another one.”

“Seriously?”

You raised your eyebrows with a puff from your chest, still annoyed at the comment. “Yeah.”

“Well, at least you never have to talk to him again.”

“True.”

At that moment, the door to Peter’s lab slid open and Sam walked in with a pile of plans, presumably for a new set of wings. 

“Steve told me to give you these.”

“Thanks, Sam. Just leave them there. I’ll look over them.”

“Hey, Sam.”

Sam called your name and ran over and hugged you. “How are you doing, kid?”

“Good. Just waiting for this one to finish up. How was Alaska?”

“Cold. Bucky got his arm frozen to a lamp-post. I’ll send you pictures.”

You smiled. “You want them framed?”

“Oh, please.” Sam smiled. 

“Did I ever show you the pictures when Peter froze his webs to the roof? He was still attached to them two hours later.”

Peter, looking between the pair of you, laughing at the photos, shook his head. “Sometimes I regret introducing you two.”

“Too late.” Sam smiled. “Anyway, you both should head out before traffic gets too bad.”

“It’s New York. Traffic is always bad.”

“Even better.”

“And our movie starts in an hour.” you added. 

“Alright, I’m done.”

Sam winked at you and you mouthed a “Thank you” to him before he said goodbye and left. 

Yourself and Peter managed to get to the cinema and find your seats just before the trailers finished and for the next two hours, you spent most of the time trying not to have a heart-attack as the actors jumped from building to building, hanged themselves over the edge of a cliff and nearly died about thirty times before finally succeeding. 

Despite the amount of times you watched movies like that, it didn’t stop your heart from racing and trying not to watch. Horror, sure. You could handle that. But suspense and action - nope. 

“How you feeling?”

You put your hand to your head and covered your eyes for a moment. “I’m still spinning, I think. Please, never do anything like that.”

Peter laughed as you sat down on the bench outside the movie house. “You have my word.”

Slowly, he knelt down in front of you before pushing your chin up. 

“Look at me for a moment.”

You did so and tried to slow your heart down that was beating faster for a separate reason. 

“Stopped spinning?”

It took you a moment to focus. “Y-Yeah. All stopped now.”

“Good.”

Peter stood up again and you mentally slapped yourself as you checked him out again. He’s just a friend. A FRIEND. 

Thankfully, he didn’t notice since he was too busy looking down the street before he gave you his hand. 

“Come on. Let’s head back.”

You took his hand as he helped you up before letting it go, too afraid of what your own feelings might feel if you held his hand any longer. 

Months later, not much had changed. 

You’d still kept your feelings from Peter and dated a couple of people. Peter dated Lucy for a month before breaking it off - though he never told you why. 

But one evening, as you were sitting home alone - your roommate out on another date - you got the craving for Pizza and since there was none in the freezer, you grabbed your bag and coat before heading out to the nearest pizza place. 

You needed to get out of the house. 

Despite there being no change between you and Peter, part of you called out for it. You either needed to tell him how you felt or you needed to move on. And since you weren't going to do the first…ever, that only left you with the second. 

And, oddly enough, that night you met Colton. 

He was standing in line waiting for his pizza and since the chef got an emergency call from his wife saying she was in labour, he mistakenly made half a pepperoni, half margarita. 

Despite the awkwardness, you both decided to share it. 

You sat outside together on a park bench, watching the ducks float down the water, simply talking. 

“So, what brings you to a pizza place at 9 at night on a Tuesday?”

“Hunger, mostly.”

Before you knew it, he was walking you home, you had exchanged numbers and met him for a date that Saturday. From there, you continued talking and soon enough, months had passed by. 

It was late in the afternoon when you were at SI and, whilst talking to some old friends in the hallway since you’d just come from a shared meeting between both companies, Colton turned up. 

“Hey, what-” you kissed him quickly. “What are you doing here?”

“You left your notebook at my house,” he passed you the hardback notebook that contained most of your random thoughts and problems that were either to do with work or could be to do with work, one day. 

“Oh, thank you.”

“And, since I’m here, I was hoping maybe we could get lunch together?”

You smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

Then someone called your name.

Looking behind you, the four people you’d been talking to seemed to split up and gave you a clear view of who had called your name - though you didn’t need to view to know who it was. 

“Peter,” you said, slightly shocked. 

This was the first time, despite him knowing about Colton, Peter was about to meet him. 

“Hey, I was just- who’s this?”

“Oh, I, uh, this-this is Colton.”

Colton stuck out his hand and Peter shook it after a quick moment. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Whether it was real or not, it was like a massive tension cloud was above the whole situation. 

“Uhh…Colton, this is Peter. My-”

“Best friend since middle school.” Peter finished. 

“Cool. Well, we were just about to get lunch so I guess we’ll see you later?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Can you- Let me just grab my coat.”

“Course, babe.”

Then Colton kissed you for what felt like the longest time - and oddly, it didn’t feel like the others. It felt…forced. 

Either way, when he pulled away you stepped back a little before heading down the hall and towards the cloak room. And in the time it took you between getting your coat and walking back, that cloud of tension only seemed to feel darker and bigger. 

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go babe.”

You nodded, saying goodbye to everyone else but something in the bottom of your stomach felt guilty - especially when you saw the split-second change in emotions on Peter’s face before he went back to how he usually looked at you. 

Once you left the building with Colton and had driven away, Natasha smacked the back of Peter’s head. 

“Ow, what was that for?”

“I don’t know. For whatever the hell that was, for being jealous, for not telling her sooner.”

“Jealous? I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

Natasha just laughed. “Oh, you look just like Steve when Grant from level three flirted with me. Oh, you’ve got it bad.”

“Nat-” Peter rolled his eyes and tried to walk away but she just pulled him back. 

“You can admit you like her. I mean, we’ve all seen this coming for years.”

“I don’t- you have?”

Natasha shrugged. “What? She’s pretty and you’re both close friends. I’m just surprised it took you this long. I thought you were smarter than those idiots.”

“Those idiots are still standing here.” 

“Peter, how long have you liked her?” Laura asked him. 

“I,” Peter shook his head. 

“Oh, boy.” Laura laughed. 

Peter stood there, slightly dumbfounded, as the others walked away. 

Despite how much he denied it, and how much he convinced himself he didn’t feel that way towards you, he did. Ever since Junior year of College. At least, that was when he’d been getting that simmering feeling in the pit of his stomach every time you looked at him, or even when you didn’t. And that simmer seemed to boil every time he saw you with somebody else. 

But he decided never to tell you. 

He figured, since you had never said anything about extra feelings; ones that surpassed a simple friendship bond, then you wouldn’t ever feel the same. 

And when you made the comment of Just Friends to Lucy, he knew you definitely would never feel the same. So, he guessed he had to get used to the feeling of…something towards you. 

Yet seeing you with Colton - his arm around you, his lips on yours - something seemed to start cracking inside of him. 

Either that, or completely being blown to smithereens. 

Nat was completely right. 

He was jealous. 

He has been jealous. Ever since he first saw you get ready for that date you had with Hank, or Hodge or whatever the guy’s name was - he felt that simmer in his stomach and that small voice in the back of his head for a split second let him think he was watching you get ready to go out on a date with him. 

It had confused him, at first. 

You were his best friend and he was suddenly having these thoughts about dating you and…opening the car door for you (despite already doing that, anyway). But it would have been different. 

He would be yours, in more ways than just friendship. 

“You really love her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, she’s my best friend.”

Peter looked towards the door where Clint was leaning against the door frame like a dad getting ready to talk to his son. 

Although, despite the comfort Clint provided, Peter faltered for a moment. He had been alone since Colton came and swept you away to lunch - over three hours ago. He’d been tinkering away and letting his mind wander. 

“Relax, kid. It’s written all over your face.”

“Clint, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough.” Clint pulled out a seat across the lab desk where Peter was standing. “Laura has already told me what happened and most likely, Tasha’ will do the same later tonight. You might as well talk, Kid.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Admitting you love her, to yourself, is a start.”

“But do I?”

Even as he questioned it outloud, he knew it wasn’t a question. It hadn’t been a question for the longest time. 

“Pete, according to Laura, you looked like you were about ready to punch his lights out when he kissed her.”

“Well he was just standing there, trying to force himself down her throat. Even I know she doesn’t like PDA like that. And, he was talking about taking her to some kind of salad bar across town when she usually goes and gets her grilled sub from the cafeteria - or I do. And then take it to her. It’s the only thing she ever likes to eat during the day.”

Clint watched as a light, reminiscent smile came across Peter’s face. 

“It’s been the same thing ever since high school. Even if it goes a little cold, it’s still crispy and just as tasty. Plus, the smell doesn’t remind her of the girls' bathroom stalls. There was a leak in the summer before we started. Busted the sewer line that ran under the girls bathroom. The whole corridor would smell but she said it was worse in the bathroom.”

Clint nodded and just let Peter ramble. Though he did get a little worried that the screwdriver he was holding would fly out of his hand at some point. 

Peter’s face grimaced. “I bet he listens to, like, just indie bands and says it’s the best thing in the world and that any other style of music is too…modern because it contains too many lyrics that make sense. She hates that, you know. She had a roommate in college that only ever listened to this…clapping music. Literally, just people clapping along to songs. After that, she moved into one of the sorority dorms. He was probably some douche frat guy, too. Couldn’t get a sorority “chick” then so thinks he can get one now. Not that she’s a “chick” by any means.”

“What is she, then?”

Peter took a short moment to think. “Amazing. Wonderful. Beautiful. Way out of his league. Way out of mine, too. But…”

“But you’re in love with her anyway?” Clint asked. 

“Of course I am but-”

Peter, once again, faltered. 

Had he really just admitted that out loud? 

It felt good. 

“I am. I am in love with her.”

“Then you should tell her. Pete, coming from me, I’d say don’t wait too long. And from Steve, he waited over seventy years - granted, he found Nat. But still. Don’t let her find someone else, especially when you’re already here.”

“But what if she doesn’t-”

Clint already started laughing. He almost doubled over. 

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, Pete. You really are an oblivious idiot. Kid, that woman has been head over heels for you ever since we first met her. And probably for a long time before that. Trust me, if you tell her, you’ll hear the same thing back.”

Peter stood baffled for a moment before looking at his watch. You should be home by now. You never really liked going out after 6 unless it was for a period run or food.

“I’ve got to go.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

The only thing was…as Peter got to your street, he was stopped in his tracks half-way there. 

You stood on the front steps with Colton. You were laughing and leaning into him and he whispered things to you and then you kissed him. 

You kissed him.

If he went over there…he could ruin the happiness you had with him. He might not like Colton, but you did. And that was what mattered to him. And, even if Clint was right and you did love him back, what was to say you’d say yes to being with him? And, even if you did, what if you couldn’t be friends? Then you’d lose one another. Forever.

He couldn’t risk that. 

So, for the next two months, he watched you flirt and fall for Colton all the while his heart started breaking. 

And then, for about three weeks, he didn’t see you. 

And it was the longest three weeks of his life. 

You had gone on a business trip - and Colton joined you. And, from overhearing Laura and Clint talk, you were going to visit Colton’s family since they lived in the area. 

Part of him wondered if you’d come back engaged. 

You’d only been with Colton under a year but he saw how you looked at him, and how he looked at you - despite not liking either fact. 

But, one late evening as he was working on a couple new designs, he’d gone to the Cafeteria to get some food - he could hear you in his head, cursing him for not having a proper meal in the day. 

When he came back, it was the first time he’d actually had a jump scare. 

You were in his lab. 

You hadn’t even called. 

Friday hadn’t even told him you were in the building. 

You were still you. Not that he expected much to change. 

Your hair half down though the top was thrown into a haphazard messy bun. Your contacts must have dried out in the day since you were wearing your glasses. 

You used to wear them all the time in middle school and high school but they got annoying after a while since they’d slip down your face and get dirty - despite having wiped them thirty seconds ago. Since you wanted to be an engineer and your hands were always full, you changed to contacts. 

It was much easier to focus on the task at hand than the task and the potential of your glasses slipping from your face and landing either in a tank of oil or being crushed under heavy machinery. 

You were wearing a pair of simple jeans that already had oil stains. 

So, you’d been at work today. 

And you were wearing his t-shirt. 

His t-shirt. 

Not Colton’s (unless he owned the same one, though he highly doubted it.). 

His. 

“You’re back!”

“I’m back!” you smiled. 

Silence. 

Peter was still stunned at the t-shirt. 

He’d seen you in his t-shirt, maybe once in college, when the washing machine had broken and you had to hand-wash your clothes in his sink since your sink was broken. 

“It’s nice to see you,” you tried to imitate his voice. “It’s nice to see you, too Peter. Yes, I did have a good time on my trip. I’m so glad you’ve come to see me.”

“Sorry,” Peter laughed a little. “It is good to see you.”

Peter came over and hugged you tightly before stepping back awkwardly and, if you didn’t know any better, you would have guessed he wanted distance between you both. 

“How was your trip?”

“Good. I, uh, I secured the deal with the manufacturer. Everything goes to mass production next month.”

“It does? That’s amazing.”

“I know.”

Short silence and then, Peter asked a question he needed to despite not wanting to. 

“Why are you not with Colton? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”

“Maybe.” you agreed. “But, uh, we- actually, I. I, uh, well…I broke up with him.”

Peter tried to calm himself. 

“You did?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“He was a great guy and all and I cared for him and his family were amazing but, uh, he…he just wasn’t…”

You - that was what you wanted to say. He wasn’t Peter.

“He just wasn’t the right fit. He…he wanted too much too soon and, I don’t know, I guess…I wasn’t ready.”

A pang of guilt played in your stomach. 

You were ready. You were ready for all what Colton offered you; love, a family, a promise of the future. But you weren't ready to have it with him. 

Despite all the shutting down of emotions, you still wanted it to be Peter.  

“Oh, well…that’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah. So, I guess…that was it.”

“Oh, okay.”

Neither of you really knew what to do. Peter’s mind was screaming at him to tell you the truth. And your’s was banging on the wide open door in your heart trying to get your attention. 

But neither of you moved. 

Until Peter did. 

“I-I, uh, I left something in the other- lab. I should probably finish-”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course. I should probably head back home anyway.”

Peter began to exit the room but half-way out of the door, he stopped though you were too busy trying to keep your focus on the side desk in front of you to spot it. 

“I’m done wasting time.”

Peter didn’t fully know what made him do what he did next, but no matter the outcome, he would never regret it in his life. Or, maybe he would, but in the long term, he might not. 

Turning back, he hurried towards you and for a moment, you looked back up and he caught your gaze. 

If you were going to kill him afterwards, he wanted his death to be worthwhile. 

He kissed you. 

Cupping your cheeks in his hand, he kissed you - deeply and passionately. Though he didn’t force it. 

It was just as he dreamed and better. 

Your head was spinning. 

All the feelings you had ever felt for Peter all rose to the surface and once your brain registered the kiss was real, you kissed him back just as much. 

Your hands that had been gripping the side of the desk to support yourself came to his wrists and then to his chest where you gripped him by the collar, pulling him closer. 

His own hands raked through your hair, holding the back of your head to be closer to you and eventually, when you both had to break apart due to the lack of air, his head remained against yours. 

Both of you were out of breath and holding one another as close as possible. 

“Sorry, I just-”

“Don’t apologise.”

You pushed yourself to stand a little straighter, keeping him close to you before you opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Don’t apologise. I was just a little…” you couldn’t find the words. 

“Shocked?”

You laughed a little. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“I don’t want to scare you,” Peter told you. “But I need to tell you something and if you never want to speak to me again then so be it but if I don’t tell you soon I think I might combust.”

“I’m in love with you.”

You beat him to it. 

“Sorry. I just…I am. That probably terrifies you. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t-” Peter let out a small laugh. “Don’t be sorry. Because I was going to say the same thing.”

“You were?”

Peter nodded and hummed. “I was. But you beat me to it.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m in love with you, too.” Peter told you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know I should have but I just thought-”

“I wouldn’t like you back?”

Peter nodded. 

“What a pair we make, eh?” you laughed. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to move too fast but-”

“Peter, I only said that because…because I wasn’t ready for him.”

“What?”

“I broke it off because he wasn’t you. Colton was great and all but, that thing that didn’t fit? It was because he wasn’t you.”

“Then will you go on a date with me?”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Great. I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.”

Without a moment to spare, Peter kissed you again and you kissed him back and it was as if your first kiss hadn’t ever stopped. You turned a little as Peter held you closer and you felt yourself leaning against the desk. Before you knew it, you were sitting on the desktop, pulling Peter as close to you as physics would allow it. 

The next day, you both went on your first date as a couple. A week later, you were official and Nat made it everyone’s business that yourself and Peter had finally become a couple.

The morning after your first night together had been special. Despite Peter having to get up earlier than either of you wanted him to, for work, you stood in the kitchen ready to wash the dishes from the night before he left through the front door. 

Less than ten seconds later, he came back in through the door. 

“Did you forget somethin-”

He cut you off with a kiss. 

“That,” he smiled. “I forgot that.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“See you at lunch?” Peter asked, still holding you. 

“See you at lunch.” you confirmed before he kissed you again, and again, and again.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Be careful.” 

Six months later, you both moved in together before finalising the house you both wished to buy. 

Two years later, you and Peter had made a home for yourselves, together and were planning a winter wedding.

[junk-story]

Interview: Interview Archive 1, 12.1993 - Ongaku to Hito Special Edition

BUCK-TICK is an exceedingly rare sort of band. Although the Band Boom has ended up vanishing as if it never happened at all, in an area totally unrelated to the Boom, where no one else is drawing a crowd, is a group with a unique stance who have continued following their own path of “individuality”. Their stylish visuals have the lingering scent of decadence. Their lyrics, like “I just want to go mad”, are laden with the aesthetics of self-deprecation. And, with “strange” sounds that have absolutely no roots in Western rock, and truly catchy melodies – from any angle, they are a “Japan Original”. Furthermore, although these “nonconformists” have also continued to be a great success commercially, they are still breaking new ground. Although their eerie ambiance is often misunderstood by ordinary people, this unique sensation is something that anyone can have a share of. Sakurai Atsushi reigns with a “negative charisma”, but his absolute desire to escape and narcissism in the sense of “being lenient with oneself” can happen to anyone. I support the weakness of humanity.*

Ichikawa: How do you think BUCK-TICK are seen by ordinary people?

Sakurai: …Maybe...I suppose people who aren’t interested just aren’t interested at all. Because no matter how many times something that doesn’t interest me shows up on TV, that’s where it ends for me.

Ichikawa: Despite your CD sales, you’re passive about this.

Sakurai: Yeah, because there are people who don’t listen to music, so even if I stood face-to-face with such a person and said, “It’s me”, they’ll just be like, “And who are you?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: Conversely, what kind of people do you think listen to BUCK-TICK?

Sakurai: Hmmm...I think a lot of them are daydreamers. (laughs) Even watching the same movies, like Alain Delon1 rather than Jurassic Park. (laughs) When I read the letters I’ve received, that’s the feeling I get.

Ichikawa: What kind of letters do you get most?

Sakurai: In my case, I get everything from the heavy stuff to the light stuff. (laughs)

Ichikawa: What sort of content is in the light letters?

Sakurai: “Your stage outfit was so cool this time”. (laughs)

Ichikawa: And what about the heavy letters?

Sakurai: The heavy ones are incredible, really – like a 21 year old girl who got divorced even though she has a child, or things about their family members, or about how they’re sick. Also, there are many people who write emotional content.

Ichikawa: It’s become Kitaro’s Yokai postal service2, hasn’t it?

Sakurai: Hahaha. But, there’s nothing I’m able to give them...you know.

Ichikawa: Although this idol-like reaction is understandable, is there no “added hidden value” appearing more and more?

Sakurai: Hmmm, I wonder...although I’m making music...music isn’t necessary to living, and you won’t die without it. So I think people who aren’t interested don’t listen to music that deeply, and naturally, they don’t synchronize their listening to the situations I find myself in and my reality. So the band is getting more media exposure, which is supposed to give us more opportunities to be heard, but I wonder…

Ichikawa: But on the other hand, the Yokai Post Box has letters arriving to it frequently, right? Obviously, that’s different from just a popular song and supporting some harmless rock music.

Sakurai: But I expect that the people who are watching idols are definitely greater in number. Because they’re all the same.

Ichikawa: But BUCK-TICK are already big names, and you’ve been reigning on the front lines for 6 years. Naturally, you should be different from them. And hey, if you were part of SMAP3, that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?

Sakurai: Yeah, that would be an issue. (laughs)

Ichikawa: So for example, what do you think people come to see Sakurai Atsushi for at concerts?

Sakurai: I really don’t know...for example, I receive letters saying like, “I want to see more of your humanity4 during the MC sections”, and I think it might be better if I expressed my humanity more. Also, I think the songs I want to sing and the songs people want to hear may be different...I’m always confused.

Ichikawa: You still haven’t gotten a grip on what your stage persona is.

Sakurai: No, if I think about understanding it, it’s easy, but I think hard about it and then it confuses me. I suppose there won’t be any problem if I do everything like an entertainer with a strong sense of providing a service, but.

Ichikawa: Like, “I’m Sakuraiiiiii!”

Sakurai: Wahahahaha.

Ichikawa: What’s an example of a song people are expecting?

Sakurai: Songs like “Speed”, “Jupiter”, or “JUST ONE MORE KISS”, don’t you think?

Ichikawa: And the song you think they’ll dislike?

Sakurai: Taiyou ni Korosareta. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aah, Sakurai’s song about the thing at the core, the “aesthetics of self-deprecation.” Well, it certainly seems like a song that was written sitting on a hill of despair.

Sakurai: Oh? (laughs) But lately, I’ve received letters saying that Taiyou ni Korosareta was good, so I’ve thought that maybe I’m not as misunderstood as I thought I was.

Ichikawa: So you ought to have more self-confidence, Sakurai.

Sakurai: I should, right. More...not to flatter myself, but I hope I can cross the line to becoming an entertainer.

Ichikawa: Well, I think it’s enough that you’re performing as this “dark entertainer”. What do you think is lacking?

Sakurai: It’s not that something’s lacking...it’s that it’s incomplete.

Ichikawa: Well, then where is something lacking?

Sakurai: Mmm...in my own head. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Oi, come on now.

Sakurai: (laughs) I think it could be anything, but, for example, when I go out in front of 2,000 people, I just don’t get that same high anymore.

Ichikawa: So even though you have this stately and dark look – you don’t even think things like, “These 2,000 people have gathered to come see me!”?

Sakurai: No, I don’t. There can be people who are looking at something else even if they’re directly in front of me. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Aren’t you being narrow-minded about this?

Sakurai: It’s caught my attention. So I stare at a single point and act like an idiot who doesn’t see that sort of reaction to me.

Ichikawa: Wow. First of all, haven’t you ever thought, “I’m popular”?

Sakurai: When they’re screaming, “kyaaaaa!” (laughs)

Ichikawa: A live venue is really a melting pot of those “kyaaa” screams; does that make you feel anxious?

Sakurai: I don’t think it’s anxiety, but...I’m always agonizing5 over if I should take myself less seriously. It’s not only people who are listening to the music and enjoying it; there are also many people enjoying another part of the performance, so I think I should do what I want, but...I’m insecure.

Ichikawa: Have you ever thought about the influence you have?

Sakurai: I have. For example, it’s easy to tell when there are kids wearing the same fashion as I am. Also...I don’t know if this is my influence or not, but...the people who like the same world that I do. They give me these detailed, maniacal (laughs) opinions on things, like, “that musical is really good”, “have you read this novel?”, “you like this type of aesthetic, right?”, “this thing you said in an interview really spoke to me”, like that.

Ichikawa: Fundamentally, is it that the recipients of your work can’t accept Sakurai Atsushi as a real person? With your charisma, it’s like you’re magnified up 5 or 10 times bigger in their minds. And those voices, their expectations are like, “Well, if it’s Sakurai-san, naturally he’ll understand my aesthetic sense.” I think it would be natural to gain some self-confidence from those voiced expectations and support.

Sakurai: It would be better not to betray that sentiment, but when it comes to my own conviction...I think if I can put out more that says, “this is how my world is”, I’ll be able to clearly have that conviction.

Ichikawa: Even with Sakurai having this internal conflict, you’re being seen by ordinary people, other than your fans6, as a so-called “rockstar” now – in your case, you must be feeling the difference of that.

Sakurai: I do. Even people who don’t know music have said, “Ah, it’s that guy” – although I had just come there to have a meal. (laughs) I’m human just the same as a salaryman that’s the same age from that area, so..while I think that about myself, I guess they’re in a position where they can’t see it.

Ichikawa: Even if you don’t want to be considered special, in the first place, rock really must be thought of as “exceptional”. Moreover, being exceptional is the biggest characteristic of BUCK-TICK. Do you not have any awareness that this means you are exceptional?

Sakurai: I’m also very aware of that. It’s both extremes. There are also times where I want to say, “Leave me alone!”, turn my nose up and walk away, but (laughs) that’s also tiring, so there’s the converse argument to be made, too, like, “I’m a human just like you, so leave me alone.”

Ichikawa: Do you think things like, for example, that you could be as self-absorbed with how exceptional you are as Ei-chan7?

Sakurai: …I really do, without everyday life.

Ichikawa: What I’m asking is, can’t you become that way?

Sakurai: I can’t~. I don’t like being interfered with, and I switch Sakurai Atsushi off in those moments. (laughs)

Ichikawa: But there’s David Bowie, who isn’t doing fan service around the clock, but at work...(laughs) As a charismatic person, you can behave as you see fit, right? Although I think you could do it if you tried, you’d always agonize between those two selves.

Sakurai: I wonder why...because I’m afraid of being caught off guard?

Ichikawa: Don’t you think you’re cool?

Sakurai: there are times when I think, “I am super cool”, but there are also times where I think, “What am I doing?!” (laughs) I’m hard on myself, maybe.

Ichikawa: But, it’s simpler8 to think of yourself as cool, isn’t it?

Sakurai, Yes, much simpler. But in order for me to think so, I have to aim for being an entertainer, and I’m no good.

Ichikawa: This orientation you have toward being an entertainer is also being taken too far, actually – it’s like chloroform you breathe in every day until you lose consciousness.

Sakurai: Wahahahaha. That’s harsh!

Ichikawa: Don’t you want to become more arrogant and charismatic?

Sakurai: I really just want to shine within music, if it’s something I’m able to do. Aah...I see...maybe...I’m rebelling against it, aren’t I. Everyone views me as a rockstar, so I wonder if maybe I simply want to betray that notion and rebel against it.

Ichikawa: Does the so-called narcissistic state, where you can think of yourself as cool, not last long? It seems like only the high of not caring what the people around you think lasts, but. (laughs)

Sakurai: It doesn’t really last, no. It’s like...I end up able to see reality. That I’m someone who can go as far as narcissism, but can’t sustain it, I can see that.

Ichikawa: But without narcissism, the fantasy of rock won’t flourish, right? You’re a man who can’t be proactive, aren’t you?

Sakurai: Yeah...but that’s quite kind, because it makes people’s dreams of it expand more and more. I don’t really seem very kind, talking selfishly about my own needs while also saying, “I won’t show you the important parts.”

Ichikawa: If you said more, would it be like, “It’s your fault for coming to love me without my permission”?

Sakurai: (laughs) I wouldn’t say their fault...more like, it’s a waste. If I could be understood even if I didn’t say anything, I’d be extremely happy, because I hate the regret I feel after babbling out an explanation. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Then, explaining yourself to an ordinary person who thinks of you as a rocker must also be miserable.

Sakurai: That’s right. But...lately, my way of thinking about it changes all the time. Sometimes I think, “I’m gonna make that guy who doesn’t know me take another look!”, and other times I think, “It’s no good! I’m tired.” (laughs)

Ichikawa: So then, as I thought, you do think you’re cool, don’t you? If you were to call out to the women on the roadside over there9, you have confidence they’d quickly follow you here, right?

Sakurai: If I wanted to do it. (laughs) But using the energy is more trouble than it’s worth. I think maybe I’m unkind in that way.

Ichikawa: Well, calling out to them isn’t really nice either. (laughs)

Sakurai: Oh. (laughs) But, I’m thinking I want to become less sentimental, colder.

Ichikawa: What’s the reason behind that?

Sakurai: Because I have a heart. Wahahahahaha.

Ichikawa: Well, regardless of some minor occurrences of it, (laughs) Sakurai Atsushi doesn’t have any arrogance, really, in the bigger picture of things.

Sakurai: But I’ve also come to understand that I could be just a bit easier on myself, too. I think I could become cooler if I did.

Ichikawa: As Sakurai, and as BUCK-TICK, too, even though you’re this deeply self-centered person who doesn’t care about the existence of other people at all10, I think gradually it becomes necessary to see yourself objectively. And you have to become aware of the influence you have.

Sakurai: Lately, I’ve been chatting with people who have the same tastes as me, and it’s interesting to see how I can come to see myself when I see those people. While I was drinking in Osaka, a person came and sat down who said, “I can see ghosts” – why, I wonder, is it always that sort of person who comes to me? (laughs) But, it turned to conversation about our newest song, “die”, and they said, “You’re definitely a narcissist”, and I was like, “Ah, right, right, I’d forgotten that, now that you mention it.” The person I show other people is a narcissist; I felt like I’d forgotten.

Ichikawa: In the end, those types of people are the ones who come together under Sakurai with peace of mind, don’t you think?

Sakurai: That’s true. I think the people who are thinking about me must be seeing me with some amazing eyes.11

Ichikawa: Give those “amazing eyes” a response, a spectacular one.

Sakurai: I think it will change during our current tour. (laughs)

Ichikawa: (laughs) With that – BUCK-TICK is a band where the members take walking alone endlessly to the extreme, right? The most of any in Japan.

Sakurai: That’s out of my control. There’s nothing I can do about that.

Ichikawa: And that’s also why you feel like you can’t effectively exert your influence, I imagine.

Sakurai: Hmmm...so, I expect that I’m afraid of cheapening what I do. I just did what I wanted to do, so. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Are you being careful with your words?

Sakurai: You could call it being careful; you could call it cowardice.

Ichikawa: Certainly, in the early years – you may have been perceived as cheap during the pop era of your music where your hair was straight up, but since then, I think conversely, you’re perceived as a luxury good.

Sakurai: Yeah, I think we aren’t perceived as cheap, but I certainly have fear of being thought of that way.

Ichikawa: That’s like an ordinary girl thinking, “Don’t become friends with that person” about a yankii in their same class.

Sakurai: (laughs) Is that so?

Ichikawa: This yankii is stubborn, but in reality, he’s facing the dilemma of wanting to be friends with anyone at all.

Sakurai: Exactly. (laughs) But, I’ve been thinking that from now on, we should harden up more, get colder, and that I hope that those who don’t care about our music don’t bother with it. I hope that those who do care it experience it whenever they get the chance, and that those who don’t, never experience it again.

Ichikawa: Well, but, you’re so cool, so wouldn’t it be better to be more free-spirited?

Sakurai: Hahaha. I’m always overthinking things like that.

Ichikawa: I wonder if that overworrying is part of your personality.

Sakurai: Hmmm...I don’t know. But I’m always thinking about how I want others to enjoy and be happy.

Ichikawa: Even so, there are a lot of ups and downs in everyday life. (laughs)

Sakurai: Hahaha. I may not be handling them so well.

Ichikawa: Well, in the end, trouble always ends up coming about.

Sakurai: And that’s why all you can do is stand your ground, right...or I’m going to act out that pretense. (laughs)

Ichikawa: Have you been acting pretentious lately?

Sakurai: Quite pretentious.

Ichikawa: Anyway, you’ve got a good face for it.

Sakurai: Yeah.

Ichikawa: Oh, an easy agreement on that from this guy.

Sakurai: Fufufufufufu.

Ichikawa: So, if you acted like you owned the place, you could powerfully establish your own world – and moreover, externally, Sakurai is already waiting for it. All that’s left is you feeling like doing it.

Sakurai: ...it’s troublesome, you know.

Ichikawa: You sure are BUCK-TICK’S frontman.

Sakurai: (laughs) I want to have an effective presence that has a detailed edge to it. More than feeling like a big, enveloping presence.

Ichikawa: Aren’t you seeking a long life full of detail?

Sakurai: No way! (laughs) But, lately I’ve realized this. Because I’m using energy on this tour. (laughs) How can I say this...it’s like more...pushing forward the next day while feeling like, “I’m losing it, aren’t I?” (laughs)

Ichikawa: You’re a man predestined to being a paradox.

Sakurai: ...Has this ended up being an unspectacular interview? (laughs)

Ichikawa: Well, even if we sang “Shimauta”12 at karaoke, we didn’t sing “die”, so. (laughs) It’s considered special, you know, definitely.

Sakurai: Even if we’re doing something special, like – I end up feeling like everything is lumped together. I feel like the people who listen to music have become cowards, too. Like the provocation is frightening to them.

Ichikawa: Even though the propagation of provocation is the theme of this band.

Sakurai: Right. And moreover, we’re trying to even out the high and low points of unevenness, and there’s a feeling of something unseen moving.

Ichikawa: When it’s that way, you can only go back to the basics and put your hair straight up again!

Sakurai: Right? Although I wasn’t aware of it during the time my hair was up, that “We are special” thing.

Ichikawa: But I think if you put it up now, you might be able to do it having that awareness.

Sakurai: Imai currently has a mohawk while having that awareness.

Ichikawa: Well then, next will it be Sakurai Atsushi with his hair up?!

Sakurai: When should I put it up...people might say, “It’s uncool!” (laughs) I really don’t want to use my energy on that sort of thing. (laughs)

~~~~~ Footnotes: * This makes more sense as you read the interview - basically, I think he's saying that he argues Sakurai ought to be more lenient with himself. 1 A French movie star. 2 A reference to a manga. Kitaro is a “sullen ghost boy” who “protects others from malicious spirits”. 3 The biggest name in Johnny’s of that time, and still one of their biggest ever. 4 Human-ness? I don’t know a better word for this in English. They want him to emote, talk more, things like that. 5 Very dramatic word choice here – literally “suffering until you faint”. 6 Who are not ordinary people, obviously, lol. 7 Eikichi Yazawa, a big Showa-era rockstar. 8 Simpler in the sense of more comfortable; less work. 9 I wonder if he was actually gesturing to someone, or if this was hypothetical. 10 I think he’s ribbing him here – calling him out on his bullshit. Sakurai is repeatedly trying to say this about himself and then contradicting it. 11 In other words, they are seeing a version of him that he doesn’t believe actually exists. 12 A 1992 song by the band “The Boom”.

~~~~~ Some final translation notes:

I don't know who put the LibreOffice suggestion on my dash, but I used that to type this up this time instead of Google docs, and it seems to have preserved the footnotes (at least on desktop.) I'll try and test this on mobile too but hopefully it's a better experience!

Also, just a basic note on "cool" in Japanese - kakkoii. It's commonly translated as "cool" but really encompasses things like being attractive, sexy, etc. in ways I think the word in English doesn't. I think its usage packs more punch when you think of it that way, as like "heart eyes, motherfucker" cool.

[gennyanydots]

Do you want a skittle, Mommy?

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x f!reader

Part of the 'Spitfire' Universe

Can be read as a standalone but makes more sense if you've read some of the other stories.

Potty training started the moment your son Eli was even slightly interested in the potty. You definitely didn’t encourage Jake to convince him that peeing in the potty was the coolest thing ever and you definitely didn’t have the rest of the dagger squad tell him the same thing every time they saw him. So the moment Eli was interested you were throwing the family headfirst into potty training. He was two. It was time. And with a new baby on the way? Yeah you needed him out of diapers. Buying one size of diapers is enough. 

Potty training was easy at home. Being a stay at home mom was extremely helpful for potty training even with you being 7 months pregnant. A couple child size potties around the house and you were golden. You’re pretty sure Jake was a little jealous of his son’s toilet that sat right in front of the TV. You shut that down before Jake even thought to ask if he could also pee while watching football. 

Going out while potty training wasn’t really hard either, especially if you were out with your husband’s co-workers since there was always someone willing to run Eli to the bathroom. 

Your only potty training hiccup was when you had gone down to Texas for Thanksgiving this year…

Now you love Jake’s dad. Love him to pieces. He’s amazing. After all these years he’s been more your father than your actual father ever was. You couldn’t ask for a better grandfather for your son. He’s a wonderful Pop Pop to Eli and dotes on him every chance he has. Eli thinks he’s the best grandfather in the world(as long as Grandpa Mavvie isn’t in the room, then it’s a toss up to who at that exact moment is bribing him with the best stuff). You know living on a ranch in Texas is a different lifestyle than your own back in California, you just wish Pop Pop would have thought of that before teaching your son your least favorite new habit. 

“Mommy! I go potty!” you hear Eli call from the living room after the song playing on the tv was paused. 

You stop rinsing dishes and wipe your hands on the towel hanging from the oven door then head into the living room, “Okay buddy, let’s go potty. Maybe we could use the bathroom this time?” 

“Outside!” Eli yells while racing to the back door with your dog, Radar, chasing after his little legs. 

Ugh. Outside. Your son’s favorite bathroom. 

Potty training had been in full swing when you last went down to Texas for Thanksgiving. Jake’s parents were both on board to help potty training while you visited. Pop Pop had taken Eli for a walk around the ranch one afternoon while you were there  and showed your son how he can pee outside and since then outside has been your son’s favorite potty. Eli especially thinks it’s super cool that he and Radar now share a “bathroom”.

You’re very proud of Eli getting better and being able to hold it until he’s outside but you just wish with everything you are that he’d pee in a bathroom. A real bathroom. An inside bathroom. With a toilet. 

You sigh as you walk to the backdoor and push the door open enough for your son and dog to both race outside to pee. Thank goodness you bought a house with a privacy fence. You watch your son as he strips off his shorts to go pee then you turn and gently bang your head on the door frame. You have no idea how you’re supposed to stop this. Maybe you should get him one of those fake grass patches for dogs who are inside all day. 

“Sure hope you’re not hurting my best girl,” a voice from behind you says, causing you to jump and actually bump your forehead on the frame. 

You groan and rub your forehead, “I wasn’t until you scared me.” 

Jake fakes a pout as he walks over to you and from behind he wraps his arms under your baby bump and kisses your head then maneuvers you both so you’re facing outside, “I’m sorry, darlin’. I thought you heard me come into the house.” 

You shook your head, “Sure didn’t. You’d think someone as tall as you would make more noise.”

Jake chuckled, “I’m not Rooster but if you want me to lumber about I’ll sure try my hardest for you. Anything for you, darlin’.” 

You roll your eyes at your husband’s words, not that he can see, then close them reveling in your husband’s arms practically moaning as he lifted up on your belly to lift some of the pressure off your stomach. 

“That sounds more pornographic than when we…” 

You then hear a small voice call from your backyard cutting off his daddy’s sentence, “Daddy! Look! I’m peeing! Outside! Daddy! Look!” 

“I see you, Eli. Thanks for the update. I’m sure the neighbors all wanted to hear about your bathroom habits, son,” your husband calls back to your son who grins at his father as if this is his greatest accomplishment. Jake groans against your hair murmuring about how he hopes Mr. Andrews next door isn’t watering his garden right now.

“That’s your dad’s fault you know,” you say to Jake as you point at your son who is now chasing after your dog without putting his shorts back on, completely uncaring about the slight chill in the air. 

He grumbles, “Yeah, yeah, I know. And I’m trying to fix the damage he’s done. I've been asking around if anyone has any ideas on what to do.” 

“Any good ideas? I mean actually good ideas. I can only imagine the things that might come out of their mouths.”

Jake snickered then shrugged, “Phoenix suggested having him decorate his bathroom so maybe he would be excited to pee in there. Maybe go online and see if there's some Bluey bathroom items or something.”

You consider it for a moment, “Not a terrible idea. Grass can’t be hard to beat. And we all do love Bluey.” 

“No, I hope grass isn’t more exciting than Bluey. It’s Bluey!,” Jake says while softly swaying the two of you from side to side as you watch your two hooligans run around the backyard chasing after each other. “Payback said that his sister gave her daughter a treat every time she used the potty.”

“What kind of a treat?”

“Like a sticker, a skittle or an M&M something small like that,” Jake said as he continued to sway. 

“Bribing our son to use the bathroom? He would probably like that,” you reply. You don’t tend to give Eli candy often. Well you and Jake try not to. The rest of your extended family including the Dagger squad however don’t share those same ideas. You’ve caught Payback sneaking Eli gummy bears more than once saying he couldn’t resist those green puppy dog eyes of his. 

Jake nodded, “I figured. Picked up a giant bag of skittles on the way home from work. Thought we might as well try it.”

And so you did. Eli was excited to get a skittle every time he went to the bathroom. He loved getting to pick out all the fun new things for his Bluey/Spiderman/Plane bathroom. Jake loved to show off the bathroom retheme to his buddies which pleased Eli to no end because clearly if Wooster loved his new bathroom then it had to be the best bathroom in the world. 

You finally felt like you had a handle on this potty training thing until you went to today’s preschool story time at your local library. Eli loved going to the library so you tried to make it to every story time. 

You were a little apprehensive about this week’s story time already due to the word your son picked up from Fanboy recently when Fanboy made his feelings about Santa Claus known to everyone and said, “Fuck Santa!” due to not getting a toy he wanted. Last Christmas. When he was very much an adult. So now any time Santa is mentioned near Eli he announces to everyone listening, “Fuck Santa!” 

You may have mentioned this to the librarian last week and she made sure to pick out a Hanukkah book. Thank goodness. 

Afterwards, because you know not to tempt fate, you made sure to hit up the bathroom since the baby in your belly loved to play footsy with your bladder. 

After your son peed you made sure to give him his well deserved skittle and then after you used the bathroom, in his adorable little voice he asked you, “Do you want a skittle, mommy? You went potty all by yourself like me!”

You chuckled and got yourself one too. 

When you both stepped out of the stall a mom you didn’t know was washing her hands with her daughter.

She turned to you as you approached, “You know I didn’t have to bribe my daughter to be potty trained. Maybe your son just wasn’t ready. My daughter was potty trained in no time at all.”

You stood there for a second, flabbergasted. Who in their right mind would care that much to comment about another person’s child? 

You shook it off and made sure to smile at her, “You know I might give my son a skittle for using the bathroom because he clearly earned it but at least I’m never going to have to worry about my son being nasty to someone he doesn’t know.” 

From beside you came a little, “Yeah! If you jealous I got a skittle you can have one too. It’s nice to share.” 

The mom scoffed at you and picked up her daughter who whined at her mom for wanting a skittle as they walked out. 

You gave your son a giant kiss on the cheek for that before you helped him wash his hands. 

Later that evening when you told Jake he laughed and told you he wouldn’t be so lazy all of the time and wait to go to the bathroom if he got a skittle every time he went which Eli made sure to let his daddy know that if Jake wanted a skittle every time he went potty then he would be more than happy to share his skittles with him. Yeah, no doubt in your mind that your son isn’t going to be anything but the nicest boy in town forever.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

[swallowtail-ageha]

Scrolling through your asoiaf tag and you have such good and correct opinions like how can anyone love just Dany or just Sansa or just Arya like how can anyone not see the parallels between Dany and Sansa it makes me feel so crazy like why are there so few people who love all the girlies?? I genuinely love every single female POV character and can’t imagine hating any of them. I mean sure yeah Cersei is a villain but you’re telling me her tragedy doesn’t touch your heart? Watching this woman desperately try to avoid her prophecy as it unfolds before you doesn’t have you in a death grip? Or like are you unmoved by Sansa telling an annoying snotty little boy how brave he is because she wants him to feel better? Dany comforting Missandei when her brother dies? Arya getting to the house of the black and white and immediately thinning to being a man a cup of water (or at least what she thought was water)? How about Sansa telling Joffrey she hopes Robb cuts his head off? Dany sassing the man who wants to open the fighting pits? Arya telling Jaquen to kill himself? Like please come on. All three girls are obviously different but they share so many very endearing traits. I am fiercely holding tight to my delusion that Dany and Sansa will bond over stories and songs and Arya will teach Dany about all the flowers in Westeros and then Sansa will show them how to make flower crowns and embroider little emblems on Arya’s clothes

First of all tysm!!!!

The whole arya vs sansa vs dany fandom fight frustrates me to no end, mainly because all parties involved seem to have little to no empathy to the characters whose stans they oppose. It's all maliciously extrapolating some parts of the text to make them see worse than what they are (ex: daenerys' "if i look back i am lost" getting twisted from "dany knows that dwelling on what ifs and turning your back after you have taken a commitment will only damage you in the long term" in "dany doesn't want to reflect on her past mistakes and will go mad and get stabbed to death" or sansa getting frustrated at sweetrobin being a sign of her being ableist and classist while it's. Just a normal reaction of a stressed and traumatized 13 yo who is otherwise very sweet to her cousin)

For loving the female characters same! Even those who commit outwardly villainous acts do get lots of humanizing moments, Cersei, as awful as she is, is simply a product of the hyper misogynistic society she lives in plus years of parental and spousal abuse (and the doomed by prophecy vibes) and. I genuinely don't get how people can look at the walk of shame and say it's a fitting punishment to her crimes

Overall all the hate for female characters that are more complex or more driven or more morally ambiguous than what most female characters are presented as in other media in a fandom who (supposedly) prides itself in liking morally ambiguous characters is.. frustrating, really. I blame both fandom misogyny but also the GoT series, as it's outright changes in female character's actions and stories to make them look better or worse than what they originally were skewered the visions of almost everyone in the fandom (arya is an egregious victim of this. Scenes such as her caring for Weasel or her befriending sex workers in braavos don't exist and they added that "all girls are idiot" scene that i hate and they removed all her plan to free the northmen from harrenal and she got turned from traumatized child to hashtag no one super cool assassin and her character got straight up murdered in the tv series.)

Oh and also for kickstarting the whole jonsa vs jonerys thing which i'm pretty sure is the origin of the stupid dany vs sansa wars

And yes!! Dany Sansa and Arya should get to meet and reunite! While i do think that there will be some slight tensions between Sansa and Arya because they left on Not So Well terms, they have also matured a lot, so i do think they would have an heartfelt reunion. Meanwhile Dany and Arya could bond because of both their connection to Braavos and Arya's admiration for those who free slaves, and Dany would empathize (and feel a common ground) with Sansa for her being a child who had all her family die and got married extremely young while beeing creeped on by older men, while Sansa, who is shown to admire women like Margaery or Myranda, who are shown to be very keen regarding politics or social issues, something that Dany is

In the end, i genuinely hope that all three of these traumatized little girls get their happy ending and none of them dies, they all are interesting and complex characters that share parallels with each other, and it sucks that because of stupid ship wars or discussions on who would get the throne they get pitted against each other. THEY WOULD BE FRIENDS Y'ALL

[aris-ink]

May we get a part 2 of need a friend?? IT WAS SO GOOD UGH like how can hobi be yan but also respectful gosh i love him

YES ilysm

tagging @sxtaep as promised 💖

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: brief mentions of reader's boss being inappropriate, mentions of blood/death and violence (not towards the reader), oral sex, rough sex, daddy kink, praise kink, marking, l o n g i n g, lots of kisses, creampie

The next morning lingered on his eyelids, sunlit and sweet, just like the taste of you on his tongue. It was as though the universe wrapped around him with its silky, starry frame, no longer a stranger nor a foe, but an old friend that would always be there to welcome him home. Everything shifted the moment he entered a completely new door with you.

The only thing he wasn't sure of was just where that door was leading. But it seemed like waiting for the answer to unfurl naturally was not such a bad option, because your hand was warm in his grasp as he walked you to work, your fingers fitting so perfectly in between his. Your kisses tasted faintly of the coffee you've shared on the way, and he wished he could make you his primary source of hydration, drinking you in, tasting different flavors off your tongue for the rest of his life.

Still shy, or perhaps too embarrassed for public displays of affection, you pulled away from him, the tip of your nose cold as it brushed his.

"Need to go in," you murmured.

Hoseok fixed up your scarf, deciding not to tease you, and left a parting kiss on your forehead.

"Okay. Stay warm."

You smiled up at him, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat.

"I got a message earlier saying my that boss isn't in," you sighed. "For the first time in a year. Must be some special occasion."

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. Truly, what an unexpected turn of events indeed.

"Oh yeah? Well, good for you, right?"

You nodded, biting down on your lip.

"You have no idea. He's such a mean creep."

Your choice of wording had Hoseok's shoulders stiffening. Oblivious, you continued your rant, shaking your head.

"All the girls know. It's so exhausting dealing with his arm around you all the time. Or touching the small of your back to pass through," you huffed, clearly resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "He never does it to any of the men, though."

Met with silence, you looked up at Hoseok. The odd, stoic look on his face didn't match his eyes. Because from miles off anyone who knew him could see that he was pissed.

You placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Was he okay? The cool morning air suddenly seemed suffocating. He felt hot under his coat, so hot he didn't think he could stand still for another second.

"You..." He sighed heavily, making great effort not to sound strained. "You should report him."

You shrugged.

"He's not doing anything illegal, so I can't. He's just annoying."

You stood up on your toes, pressing a warm kiss into his cheek.

"I really gotta go. I'll see you later."

Hoseok sighed again. The little gesture only added fuel to the fire.

"Have a good day."

He watched you go in with a smile that faded as soon as you disappeared from his sight. He reached into the pocket of his coat and took out his phone, dialing the same number he had messaged last night in a hurry.

"Are you on your way?" The voice on the other side whined.

"I am. Is he still alive?"

Jimin hesitated. "I think so. Can you hurry up? I wanna take care of this and go home."

"Keep him alive," Hoseok snapped, completely ignoring the rest of the sentence.

Jimin scoffed.

"What the fuck? Do I look like a nurse to you?"

"Unless you have a book on necromancy, keep him fucking alive. I mean it."

"For god's sake," Jimin gritted. "Whatever. Just hurry up."

Hoseok really wished he could have spent the day closer to you instead, but it looked like he had too much work cut out for him in the garage. Sometimes death was a mercy, a soft kiss goodnight that marked the departure of the soul. Stained white from the grim reaper's cold, bony lips.

Not everyone deserved a peaceful departure. Hoseok had his own scythe, and his kiss was stained red.

*

It was after five pm when you arrived at his place, the sky already darkening, as typical in autumn. The spare key to his place hung around your neck for the past year, and you've grown used to using it casually, just as Hoseok had always dreamed. He left the kitchen when he heard the familiar turn of the lock, greeting you with a hug. His arms were tight around your waist, pressing you close to his body. You responded immediately, tucking your head under his chin, letting him breathe you in.

"You okay?" You asked, closing your eyes as he held you.

"Yeah," Hoseok whispered. "Just missed you."

Just want you. Just need you.

The longer he stood there, the more like himself he felt again, all the anger flowing off of him, just like the blood did in the shower. You were his peace. He wanted to lay his head down and find rest within your body and soul. There was no end to the laments of his heart when you were involved, and there was no point in holding back anymore either.

You lifted your head, looking up at him, pretty eyes and pretty lips opening to ask a question.

"Do you want to-"

You were cut off by his lips pressing into yours hard, like he wanted to imprint himself on you. Leave you tainted with red too, although a completely different shade, with all the love that dripped and dripped from his aching heart. You stilled in surprise, only for a moment, before opening your mouth to the warmth of his tongue, your feet moving backwards as his moved forward - until your back came into contact with the wall.

"Missed you," he repeated in a mumble, veiny hands sliding down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

The soft moan you let out made him throb, his cock pressing into the outlines of his jeans.

"Missed-" you gasped, leaning your head back as he proceeded to leave kisses along your neck. "Missed you, too-"

"Not as much as I missed you, baby," he hummed, already working on your unbuttoning your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your breasts.

"Wait," you pushed at his chest, making him pause, his eyes searching yours. His stomach twisted. Did you change your mind? Did you want to go back to the way things were before? The panic made his heart clench like a fist in his chest.

And then you pressed your lips to his jaw, your hands dropping to his zipper.

"Let me help you, daddy."

Hoseok groaned, leaning one arm against the wall as you knelt down before him, not trusting his knees not to buckle. If going to hell was the price for this, for having you, and keeping you safe from the shadows, he would greet the devil with a firm handshake.

He panted softly as you unzipped his jeans, like the heat of the flames of hell was already enveloping him. He didn't care. All he cared about was your hand dipping inside his briefs, the touch making his cock twitch.

His urgency must have seeped into you through his kiss, or maybe that was what ignited it in the first place. The same kind of hunger that has been biting at him for what seemed like years.

He watched you wrap your hand around his shaft, flushed and aching for attention. His free hand landed on top of your head, stroking your hair.

"God," he breathed. "Such a good girl. Who's my good girl?"

He could feel the heat of your breath fan over the tip of his cock, the most beautiful moan sneaking past your lips. You glowed under the praise, your tongue sticking out to lick a drop of precum off him.

Hoseok shivered.

"So good..."

He wasn't sure if he was referring to you or how you made him feel. Maybe both.

You licked him from the balls to the tip, his knees weakening at the sensation. You didn't tease further, taking his cock into your wet, warm mouth and sucking. The next groan that left him was guttural.

His hands tangled in your hair, tugging lightly.

"Good girl, oh fuck."

You were so captivating. No matter how much he wanted to close his eyes, he couldn't stop staring. The sight of you on your knees, mouth full of him and teary eyes made his balls clench. And the feeling of it? Of the wet, hot tightness swallowing him up? He had to tug on your hair harder to get you to stop, because coming this quickly again would have been somewhat embarrassing. And he needed you so much.

"Baby, get the fuck up here," he urged breathlessly, his hands already wrapping around yours to pull you up. You threw your arms around his neck, your breath knocked out of your lungs too with the force of his next kiss. The muffled, questioning noise of surprise was quickly swept away by his tongue, his hand securing the back of your head as he pushed you back up against the wall.

"Daddy's had a really-" he huffed in between the kisses, dragging your panties down your legs, "long fucking day."

He lifted you by your thighs, gritting his teeth when he felt your hand wrap around his cock again, guiding it to your entrance.

You were so wet.

He moaned, hooded eyes stuck on yours as he pushed his hips forward, sinking inside you inch by inch.

This was his home. His place of rest. He was nothing but a wanderer before the first time he found himself in your arms.

He bottomed out with a small shudder, setting a hard, but unhurried pace right away. He needed you so much. Needed an outlet for all this tenderness swelling in his heart, filling his head with violent thoughts at the very possibility of your smile fading for any reason. His cock throbbed with every deep stroke, his lips restless on yours, low, throaty moans slipping past them.

"You're so tight, baby. Wanna-" he paused, once again battling with his own thoughts. He tightened his fingers around your thighs, putting all his trust in you and trying to let go, just as you had done for him yesterday. "W-wanna- shit- come inside you every night."

"Yes! Please, daddy," you breathed, your cunt tightening around him.

He wondered if you knew just how much he meant his words. That this wasn't just dirty talk. He groaned either way, your begging making his stomach jump.

"Such a good fucking girl. So beautiful," he rasped, his pace suddenly increasing. He fucked you faster, filling your cunt to its limits, and watching you take it so well.

"Shit. Daddy's perfect girl."

You whined into ear.

"Harder, please."

Hoseok attached his swollen lips to your collarbone, immediately complying with your request - how could he not? His cock pounded into you as he sucked on your neck, desperate to leave behind a mark, both inside and out.

"Thank you, daddy," you moaned, "love you."

If not for the pleasure that gripped his stomach at the words, shock would have made him still inside you. But instead he ended up tumbling towards what felt like a cliff, and all he wanted was to fall off it.

So he continued to fuck you, quick to react instead of over thinking for once, his head snapping up.

It occurred to him that you may have just been fucked out, but your glassy eyes were on him, unflinching, eyelashes fluttering so prettily.

He was gonna come.

He groaned, kissing you more, fueled further by your eager response.

"Oh, love you more, fuck, daddy loves you so much more."

He could feel you squeezing his cock with your tight walls, the little cries leaving your throat urging him on.

"Fuck yeah, come with me," his breath trembled, his lips endlessly distracted, dropping kisses wherever they could reach - your neck, your cheeks, your shoulders. "Come for daddy, lemme fill you up."

His hips almost stuttered when you arched, your cunt pulsing and leaking around his dick. He grunted, not able to hold off, his balls clenching and releasing all the cum he was so desperate to fill you with. He groaned louder, his fingers digging hard into your thighs.

"Oh shit, yes, good girl."

Something akin to a whimper left him when his orgasm passed, his entire body feeling fuzzy. He registered your lips pressing into his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat.

You made him feel fragile and invincible all at once. How was it possible?

He sighed, carefully setting you down, his hands caressing your waist. He pulled you into a tight hug, no words left in him to describe how much this meant to him - how much you meant to him. He wished he could dip a feather in the night sky and write you a letter in starlit ink. He wished he could stay with you every second of every day until you grew old, and still lie entwined with you when six feet under the ground, 'till his bones turned to dust. But all he could do for the moment was hold you, and somehow despite everything, it was enough. More than enough.

[happilychee]

The aromantic Levy headcannons anon here!

Levy is in a qpr with Jet & Droy. Gajeel ofc becomes a part of it once he joins Fairy Tail. So does Lily

She did feel like she was a bit of an outcast since the girl's and some guys would talk about romance and she didn't understand it. Same as Lucy, Levy enjoyed reading about it, but the love parts just to her, weird and confusing

Jet & Droy helped her figure herself out and finding out she was aromantic made her smile.

Levy had to contain her excitement when Lucy approached her, talking the way she used to about romance. She was happy that she wasn't the only aro girl in the guild.

Gajeel surprisingly was the easiest to tell that she was aromantic. "...I'm aromantic" "Cool" "Wow. That was easy" Natsu on the other hand, was the hardest. He just stood there with a confused look on his face so she had to explain it in a different way. "I prefer friendship over romance, Natsu" "So calling you my best friend is okay?" " Yes you dummy"

it's not a lot but I hope you like them

sending hugs and a nice warm bowl of soup your way, anon; I love these mwah <2

writing this post just in time for aromantic spectrum awareness week!!

aromantic fairy tail headcanons

♡ yes to everything above. levy adores jet and droy, then gajeel and lily. she gets such a sense of fulfillment and joy when she's with them.

♡ levy wears green on valentine's day. yes, it's a statement, and she'll patiently spend the day explaining aromanticism to anyone who asks. she also binges on discount chocolates with lucy that night as they watch shitty romcom movies. the two can and do coexist.

♡ another qpr/qpp pairing is juvia and lisanna. they're not only close emotionally; lisanna is by nature a physically affectionate person, and juvia is severely touch starved. the only person she could theoretically be comfortable with touching her is gajeel, but he's not one for soft affection (she's been thrown into too many brotherly headlocks over the years.) so when lisanna casually grabs onto juvia's arm when they're out and about, a switch flips in her head. juvia is very touchy with lisanna, and only lisanna. this leads to most of the guild thinking they're dating.

♡ the words "we're just friends" leave a bad taste in lisanna's mouth. juvia wrinkles her nose when she hears people say "oh, so you're not more than friends." both consider each other one of the most important people in their lives. them being friends doesn't somehow diminish that. juvia lets the worry slip when she's shopping with lucy, who brings her to levy. the three have a long and thoughtful discussion, but honestly, it leaves juvia feeling confused. she's never been one for close relationships with anyone, given her childhood, and all these labels make her head hurt. levy and lucy say that's fine, the only person she really needs to make sure is on the same page is lisanna.

♡ lisanna is very much on the same page of "idk what we are but I like where we are." they decide to just... keep doing what they're doing. when there's new developments (juvia gets a nosebleed when she sees lisanna in a swimsuit, to her own horror), they talk it out and set boundaries for what they want and don't want to do (juvia very, very shyly asks if she could give lisanna a kiss on the cheek.)

♡ also, at some point, juvia and lisanna move out of fairy hills and get an apartment together. mira objects to this only on the grounds that she won't be able to prevent them from starting kitchen fires with their baking attempts. she ends up over more often than not, and lisanna feels her chest swell with warmth at seeing her big sister and her best friend get along so well.

♡ also big aro vibes... gray, cana, and loke. the three of them are so chill about everything. the guild suspects they're in a relationship, but then they also see cana going out with lucy and get confused. gray just shrugs and says it's a girls' night. completely unbothered king. besides, he's got a board game score to settle with loke and natsu.

♡ erza, I think, is a big romantic at heart, but the thing is she does that to everyone. she gets a lot of money from s-class jobs, and there's only so much she can spend on herself or new sets of armor. eventually, team natsu starts finding beautiful bouquets of flowers on their doorsteps. someone dares to tell erza that men don't like flowers, and suddenly every man in fairy tail is getting a monthly bouquet of roses.

♡ erza also misses a lot of "romantic" cues. she wouldn't be able to tell if someone was flirting with her if her life depended on it. gray and natsu, the little shits, take full advantage of this to mess with the poor suitor. I also think erza is demi, so she really has to have a strong emotional bond with someone before she considers having sex with them. she likes to take care and be taken care of, so she wants it to be with someone who knows her inside and out.

♡ natsu honestly has huge aspec vibes, mostly because he completely bulldozes over any societal conventions, labels, and definitions. if natsu feels a certain way, he's going to let the person know. if he wants to be cuddly with them and they're okay with it, he will be cuddly. doesn't matter who they are; even laxus gets the occasional natsu cuddle. levy and lucy almost lose their minds because they're so busy having deep discussions about the intricacies of aromanticism, and then natsu comes in like a breath of fresh air because he genuinely does not care. not in a bad way, he loves to listen to lucy's passionate rants (she's cute when she's excited) but. it's just something that never bothered him. personally, I do think out of everyone, he's closest to lucy in the "romantic" sense, but even then, it's just a different type of relationship to him. there's no way in hell he would specifically choose just lucy over everyone else in the guild. they're all his family!

♡ in conclusion, fairy tail is aromantic and aspec as fuck.

[formulaorange]

2024 Spring Anime

Kaiju No. 8 This series started the same time as SpyxFamily and I've been waiting years for it to be animated. It's a series I was instantly hooked on. The animations in the teasers were incredibly sus but I'm glad to see it's pulled together. This is a must watch for this season. Noteworthy On-going Shows: Delicious in Dungeon - Episodes 13-24 A Character based comedic fantasy that honestly has me hooked. New Seasons:

Demon Slayer - Hashira Training Arc I can't believe we're already here. I think this will be one of the last 2 or 3 seasons of the show. This is one I'm not sure what to expect in terms of story but I'm looking forward to it regardless.

That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime - Season 3 One of the Og's is back baby. This is one of my all time favourite shows, one of the original fantasy/isekai series. This series gets better and better and I'm so hooked to each character. 100% biased opinion but if you haven't seen this, go check it out.

My Hero Academia - Season 7 This is one that I haven't caught up on the anime for so I'm not 100% where we are but I'm pretty sure it's about to get real dark. I think lots of people have put this show on the backburner or have dropped it entirely. But I really have to say we're starting to head into some of the peak of the series. It gets much darker and more serious and starts to shift from the original shonen high school style.

Additional New Seasons: Mushoku Tensei - Season 2 Cour 2 I won't lie, this arc honestly doesn't look very appealing to me. That said, I have faith in the writers and will be watching and updating if it picks up. Both of these shows from 2008 coming back were not on my bucket list but here we are: Spice and Wolf - Looks to be a re-make of the original series Black Butler - Public School Arc - New continuation of the og series Also: The Misfit of Demon King Academy II - Part 2 The Irregular at Magic High School - Season 3 Laid-Back Camp - Season 3 New Noteworthy Shows:

Wind Breaker A new series about a delinquent who moves to a school where it's all about being the strongest and beating each other up. Honestly it reminds me a little of Food wars but if it was actually about fighting instead of food lol. The animations look stellar, I'm actually pretty excited to check this one out. ( I'd also say it looks completely different to Tokyo Revengers so I wouldn't compare the two.)

Mission:Yozakura Family A newer shonen jump series about a kid who tries to integrate with a mismatched family of spies. Looks like a lot of fun and has a similar vibe to some old school SJ series.

Go! Go! Loser Ranger Why does this look so good. This series genuinely looks so cool, the animation look out of this world and the story looks killer. From what I can gather it's a guy who always plays the villain and is sick of his role. The story shows the heroes as villains and gives me a bit of Invincible vibes. (This is a Disney+ exclusive) The Fable I've heard that this is one of the most legendary comedies. I know there's a few live actions for it on Netflix but I haven't had a chance to check it out. I feel like the trailers don't seem to get anything across so this'll be one I'll follow up on.

Going through the extra shows is now the bane of my existence. I want to go back to before all the isekai light novels were being animated. After doing this I feel defeated that some of these look half-decent. Whisper Me a Love Song Wholesome girl's love series about figuring out what kind of love they feel for each other: 3 Episodes The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio 2 girls who's offline personalities are total opposites, their rivalry in a brutal industry. Looks like it could be a fun slice of life series: 3 Episodes Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night Looks like a really well done series about a group of girls forming an anonymous idol group: 3 Episodes

I Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince so I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magical Ability The animations actually look amazing from the trailer and this series could be cute: 1 Episode An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride I think this might be a guilty pleasure show. I like the idea of the awkward romance between these two. Likely wouldn't reccommend this for a normal watcher: 1 Episode Grandpa and Grandma Turn Young Again Animations and concept look fun: 1 Episode Notable OVA's: Code Geass: Roze of the Recapture A prequel to the original series. The animation looks just like the OG and I'm so stoked that this is coming out.

[drama--universe]

Intrigued

Requested by anonymous: Hi!! If you're taking request, can I ask if you can write a one shot of Chishiya x female reader, wherein she has a dreadful personality like Wednesday Addams? Her personality is what caught his attention. And they like, met in a spades game (Cause it's my favorite specialty) probably 9 of spades, where him Kuina, and powerful executives like Ann, Aguni, and Niragi was there too? And when Chishiya saw her, she looked calmer and bored that made him too curious about her? Oh and the girl knows how to fight like Kuina, only difference is that reader is emotionless while fighting. It's okay if you don't though, I just want the idea of having a reader that's not too emotional. Thank you in advance 💕

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k words

Warnings: cursing

A/N To be clear, I don't really know if this is "Wednesday Addams". To me, it was more just emotionless reader, I hope that is okay :) Also, this is not really romantically so sorry if you wanted that... If you want that, I will make a part 2, but it will have to wait for a couple of weeks.

"Defeat the other team." The phone chimed loudly before colors showed up on the screen. Chishiya held his up and sighed when he saw that the others from the Beach had the same color. Aguni, Ann, Kuina were okay but Niragi..? He looked around again, finding the other three people who were supposed to be on their team since the whole group was with 16. Two men and a girl, although the boys seemed glad to be on Niragi's team while the girl just stared ahead without any emotion. The phone chimed again, telling them to move to their locations and everyone moved. Chishiya looked your way again, trying to figure out why you were not reacting at all.

"Let's just kill those motherfuckers." Niragi spoke, letting his gun rest on his shoulders as he looked at Aguni for some kind of approval.

"That's the point of the game, yes." You replied and suddenly all eyes were on you, but your gaze didn't change. Not even when Niragi's gun was pushed towards your face nor when the shot rang from the gun, the bullet lodging into the wall beside you.

"Hit the people later, not the walls." You said before walking off as the sound rang, making your way to the center of the arena and trying to find the other team. Chishiya followed, wanting to see how you would fight. Kuina followed too, her knife in hand to protect herself. One person showed up, a man of 40 years old or so, and he lunged at you. Chishiya watched you grab the man's back, turning him around before wrapping your arms around the man's neck. You pulled before twisting it sideways, ignoring the loud snap before letting the man go. He fell down with a thud and you sighed before turning around to face the two people behind you.

"Are you staying there?" You asked and Chishiya turned to Kuina, clearly confused and so was the woman. Both turned back to you and Kuina shook her head before walking closer.

"That was cool! Where did you learn to do that?" Kuina asked, smiling at you and you shrugged at her.

"A few different styles, I don't really think about it." You answered, your voice monotone and yet full of emotion in a way. Chishiya was confused.

"Game cleared!" A loud voice boomed through the arena and you looked up before turning to the pair behind you. Giving them a short nod, you walked off and left the arena. Kuina turned the Chishiya with a surprised face.

"She's weird like you..." She commented and Chishiya scoffed, pushing his hands in his pockets before walking off. Kuina was quick to catch up with the shorter male.

"Isn't that..?" Kuina paused, pointing her finger at a figure in the distance. Chishiya had noticed you minutes ago, eyes trained on what you were doing. He didn't think you were at the Beach, but you were quickly looked over due to the fact that you never seemed to react to anything. He nodded at Kuina, forcing her hand down with the comment that it was rude to point at someone. Kuina just rolled her eyes in response. She didn't waste any time as she sprinted your way, greeting you with a bright smile. You didn't return it, seemingly not caring much for the conversation you were having with the girl. Chishiya could see that you were attentively listening, however, your eyes focused on Kuina even though you didn't smile. So he joint the conversation, listening as Kuina asked the question that he had been wondering about for awhile.

"Do I see emotionless? Well, I guess if you look at it in some perspective. I find emotions quite a bother, honestly. Especially in a world like this, were it is be killed or kill. Crying and guilting yourself in who you've killed will just slow us down. It is better to not care at all." You explained it and Chishiya couldn't agree more. You were alike, you and him. Only difference is that he cared to some extent, but you clearly didn't.

"Kuina!" A voice called out and Kuina excused herself, happily joining her other friends for a small drink and such, while Chishiya remained by your side.

"Chishiya Shuntaro, right?" You asked and Chishiya nodded, leaning against the railing as he let his eyes wander over the pool party.

"What's your specialty?" Chishiya asked and you seemed to pause, thinking about it for a bit before replying with Hearts and Diamonds, but Spades were also fine for you.

"No club games?" "Co-operation with people isn't my thing, people are too emotional during such games and I don't like to depend on others." You explained and Chishiya seemed to agree, nodding before turning around and watching the games in the distant.

"Isn't that why you manipulate others? Like Arisu?" You suddenly spoke and Chishiya looked to you, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"I wouldn't call it manipulating... More like guiding in a certain direction." "That's called manipulation." You replied, somehow your voice seemed to be teasing him instead of the usual boring tone you had. Your face didn't change, however, so Chishiya assumed that it was just a figment of his imagination.

Fire engulfed the whole building, smoke rising up to the ceiling and covered everything in a dark cloud. You couldn't help but cough loudly, trying to not inhale the smoke as you made your way through the halls. The gun in your hand had been emptied, the bullets were buried deep in the bodies of the militants that you came across of.

"You!" A voice called out, a man ran your way with a knife in hand. Sighing loudly, you got ready to fight.

The man lunged at you, knife aimed at your neck and more particularly at your arteries. You quickly stepped backwards, grabbing his wrist and pulling him harshly. The man stumbled and you took the opportunity to knee him in the guts, making the man drop the knife. You caught it mid-air and turned it in your hand before forcefully pressing it into his chest, right in between his ribs and into his heart and lung. You heard the man gasp for air before groaning loudly in pain as he tried to get away from you, unsuccessfully of course. With a final push, he went down with a thud and you looked at the body for a few seconds.

When you looked up, Chishiya stood at the end of the hall with Kuina behind him. His eyes moved to the blood on your hand before going to the man at your feet, clearly impressed.

"Come on." You didn't let him speak as you started walking, passing by them and following exit lights to find the exit. The other followed and Kuina was the one to push the door open, exiting the building and you followed quickly. Chishiya stayed inside, however, and you looked back in a bit of confusion (although you didn't show it).

"What are you doing?" "I have something to do." Chishiya commented before walking off, leaving you and Kuina behind.

"Is he always that stubborn?" You turned to Kuina and she just gave you a look of annoyance.

"Trust me, this is nothing..."

[unfortunately-obsessed]

Saying that I hate Nolan's Batman in a room full of man just to feel something

But here's a random list of my rating of different Batman that nobody asked because I love giving my opinion

The Dark Knight Trilogy: Solid Batman, hate the Bruce Wayne. Brucie, the public persona, is supposed to be a bimbo that cares for the city, not a rude arrogant prick that sinks the Wayne name. It completely butchered his relationship with Harvey too for... *checks notes* Rachel? Nahhh 2/10, a male fantasy movie but it gets one point for showing his training years and another for some cool one-liners

The Batman (2022) – I love the movie and that's top Batman to me, especially the last scene. Batman is a symbol of hope, compassion. I had the same problem as the Nolan's one for the larger portion of the movie: instead of using the Wayne Inc. to do good, he doesn't care about his parent's heirloom and drowns into being Batman. HOWEVER, it's pretty clear how raw and wounded he still is, and after the whole Riddler deal, I can see him turning this around and doing good as Bruce Wayne too. My fav live action movie but it gets a 8.5/10 on characterization

The Long Halloween, Comic – classic Batman, I like his personality and how he lets Batman and Bruce work together to do better to the city. A inspiration for the 2022 movie too. 9/10

The Long Halloween, Tomorrowverse – butchered the storyline and I shit you not Bruce says "I never thought I would need to do detective work to be Batman". Made him all muscle and no brain. Cool art but it doesn't even get a point for it, couldn't bring myself to watch more than 20 minutes of the part two. I kinda liked how he acts with Selina though. Yet, keeps it at -10/0

The Arkham Games – I watched the Arkham Knight gameplay like it was a movie and then watched scenes from other games on yt. That's the ideal way Batman operates to me. Thing dreams are made of. Also balanced on his public facade. 9/10

Batman The Animated Series, Timmverse – can't ask for better. Always offering rehabilitation to villains? Showing empathy for freeze and ivy and Harley!? and his friendship with Harvey? 10/10

Justice League: Unlimited – The timmverse gets him right and I love to notice how he progressed as a character. Love how they write Bruce's friendship with Clark and true partnership with other Leaguers. Also love his relationship with Diana, wonderbat forever. 10/10

Batman, Tv animation (2004) – The story is tailored to be palatable to kids so they changed some elements. It's fun to watch tho, 7/10

Batman Vs. Superman – guilt-ridden, PTSD older Batman? Pretty solid on the premise and I could see any Batman acting that way with enough groundwork. I just don't like the whole marking criminal and sending them to prison to die. Bruce wouldn't, doesn't matter how grief stricken he is. 8.8/10

Gotham (Tv Series) – Eh. Young chaotic Bruce. The focus of the series is on the villains and I didn't even pay too much attention to him tbh. I love a disaster teenager Bruce tho, 7.6/10

Young Justice – Gets points for bonding with Dick earlier in the series and for later showing him operating with a larger Batfam. Also accurate on the way Batman operates. He would leave the League because he's not about being part of a society or the status that come with it. The League had a purpose, which was facilitating saving people. Than he couldn't save people with it? He left. 9/10

Superhero Girls – exploring him being Kardashian-level celebrity?? Hilarious. But I don't like the other implications the show makes about him as Batman. 3/10

The Killing Joke, animated movie – something about how he acts throws me off. Older Batman but done badly. I think they don't work enough to drive him to murder. Should have left him kill Joker when Jason died. 2/10

Ninja Batman – The writers had LSD to write it. Insane. Hilarious. Didn't like that he was "oooh I don't have tech what will I do? :(" Batman is a survivalist so be for real. 4/10

Year Zero (comic) – hate that buzz cut. He wouldn't. Otherwise solid. Also another inspo to 2022 movie. 6/10

Year One (comic) – classic backstory, can't ask for anything else on personality matter. The fact he hallucinated a bat while he was concussed and thus made himself Batman because he thought it was rad? Peak characterization. 10/10

Harleen (comic) – He's not the focus of the story but I do love when they show how much sheer power the Wayne name carries. He has a steady hand over Gotham, a background influence constant and unwavering. Also that dialogue on the end where he's blaming himself for everything that happened even though it's not his fault? Yeah, it tracks. 9/10

Turning Points (comic) – the way he acts... He's such a theater kid. Also accurate on how Robin happened and I love he doesn't try to fight Gordon but humbly accepts Jim is going to hunt him if something happens to Robin. 9/10

There's a black and white one shot comic that Dan Mora made that I can't rember the name but?? Bruce adopting Jason, Dick and Tim in one go?? Can't go wrong for me. I am also not immune to how Mr. Mora draws Bruce. 100/10

The goal of this year is to watch more timmverse and read more comics with the batkids