Am I The Only One Wondering

You say that like I care if they hear. You’re mine. Mine. That means I will tell you when, where, and how hard I’ll fuck you. And you better not argue, just get ready for me.

Franky x Robin

I

fell

in

love

with

you,

because

you

loved

me

when

I

couldn’t 

love

myself.

haikyuu boys + "you're such a bottom" text

pairings: bokuto x reader, tsukishima x reader, akaashi x reader, atsumu x reader

warning: a lil suggestive?

A/N: i still do texts au lolz, i don't really want post this as it is kinda suck but whatever. you can still send a number from my ask tho.

kōtarō bokuto

kei tsukishima

keiji akaashi

atsumu miya

spending a lot of time in the kitchen, baking bread with herbs, reading old kitchen book and trying new recipe, growing my own vegetables and fruits, having diners with neighbours and friends, and relaxing while taking the bath after the long day

What is Imbolc?

Imbolc is a holiday that takes place on February 1st. I celebrates the beginning of spring and growth. It is a time of renewal, fresh beginnings, and hope towards the future. It is the perfect time to make life decisions, try new things, and attempt to move forward from anything that might be holding you back in your past. 

How Can I Celebrate?

Try out a new hobby

Plant something

Cook something

Really anything that involves you creating something

Volunteer at a nature clean-up event 

Clean your house physically

Cleanse your house magickally

Start a journal

Apply for jobs

Have that risky conversation that you’ve been wanting to have but dreading

Wear that outfit that makes you nervous that people will think it looks stupid. OWN IT

Re-decorate your altar

If you are planning on having a baby, this will be a good day to… uh.. start trying. 

Register for a class

Feel free to add on your own celebrations!

and i let go, | k. bakugo / reader

This was really meant to be something small I was going to write to vent but then it kinda turned into almost 3k words and I even made a banner for it and everything. And you know me and how obsessed I am with friends to lovers pussy whipped bakugo...

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki/ reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of reader going through a bad relationship, comfort sex, cheating (not on reader)

Word count: 2.8k

Bakugo is a very good friend. You can rant to him endlessly, go on and on about your problems with your relationship to him and when you expect him to be timid and explosive he's comforting and sweet.

He understands the hardship of going through a really bad time in a relationship -even when he's never been in one himself. You turn to him for everything. Crying about how dragging your situation feels, how low your spirits are, trusting him with secrets like the fact that you fake your orgasms in bed, pouring details about yourself -intimate and whatnot- to him.

And he helps out the best way he can. Taking you out for food in between his shifts, doing his best to put a smile on your face as he's emerging his meat in the hot broth in front of him, or stuffing his face with sushi in an all you can eat you two visit, hugging you, pulling you to him all the time. He's set on giving you love and devotion when you most need it, along with all of his support.

But it's killing him.

Slowly.

Day by day.

The more sorrowful you get the worse his feelings for you threaten to burst.

He doesn't want them to nevertheless, thinking it's so cliche -he's so cliche- falling for his best friend, one look at you across his couch could make him cry the red out of his eyes and he knows you could never notice. Not the longing that lingers behind his every gaze, not how his hand brushes over yours when tears start falling down your face.

Begging to spend the night at his place means you're feeling shittier than usual and his gut churns when you burst through the door, face dropping to the floor in sorrow. He knows what it means. The talk you tried to have with your boyfriend didn't pay off, he's not going to change and you don't want to admit it, but he secretly wants to take matters into his own hands, talk to your boyfriend himself, force him to change for you or even break up for you; it all depends on what you want. Whatever it is he'll do it for you.

He hates having to do this. Hide you in his arms in his apartment, watch your face drop even lower as you type out a text to your boyfriend 'I'm spending the night at... ' going back and forth in writing and erasing names, knowing he hates your friends, knowing that stating the truth is out of the question, he tucks his chin in your neck and roams his eyes onto your cell phone screen without thinking that privacy is a concept between the two of you.

"Just tell him you're at Jirou's" He eventually says, his hair rubbing over yours, ears tapping against each other.

"I hate lying" You sigh and fall deeper into his arms, completely engulfed in the way his hands feel wrapped around your torso.

"I know"

And he knows your boyfriend hates him more than anyone else. Maybe justifiably so, he supposes it's obvious he has a thing for you by the way he's in your phone every second of the day, sending you memes, photos, good morning texts. He doesn't act like that with anyone else, but he doesn't care. He'd rather be in your life like this, holding you -so oblivious- to his chest while you let him absorb your sadness away, like the hero he is.

He has great control of himself, resisting the way you feel when you're presses against him, or how hot your skin is, how good your neck smells, like soap and your favorite shampoo. He doesn't even move at all when he puts on your favorite show on Netflix, trapping you on your spot when he grabs onto a pillow and hugs it over your lap to keep you warm.

Lunch dates keep going, over hot pot, miso soup and noodles, pizza and burittos, burgers and falafel, anything you want, and he's bold enough to ask about your sex life, your plans -have you found the strength to break up? - but he's met with silence every time. And subconsciously this plants roots inside him; a need to take care of you and take his time to make you feel good.

When it happens, you're sitting across from him on his couch, eyes never leaving his. It's one of those moments he's lives a thousand times with you, an exchange of gazes that talk in dim lighting, wordlessly. In times like this he convinces himself you want him to.

So your lips taste like heaven on earth when they brush against his. He may not be the most experienced but for you he puts all of his will in the kiss. Your hands cup his face before he gets to do it first, pulling him in and you smell so good, you feel so much warmer than any other time and he knows he should stop. Not take advantage of you in a situation like this, step on another line and shatter another boundary between platonic and romantic. He doesn't want to ruin any potential luck he'd have with you when you'd be officially on your own, but you whisper a small "I need you" paired with a "i think, I think I'm in love with you- I've wanted to do this for so long, I'm tired of feeling horrible about my feelings"

And you're right. He is too.

That's how he closes his arms around your torso and lays down, sighing as he gets you comfortable on top of him, his fingers running in your hair, the back of his fingers brushing against your cheek when he looks you in the eye, his heart clenching as he's going for another kiss.

"How long" He asks, mouth dry when he parts from your lips, it feels like he won't last long away from the well of crystal water that lies across your lips. "How long have you known"

Whatever you reply doesn't matter. A year, a week, a day. If you feel the same way he feels about you nothing else really matters. He won't make you doubt yourself. He'll put in effort for you, give you flowers, cook food with you and not leave you spend hours in a kitchen on your own so him and his friends can blaze their heads off and then eat all of the food that you've made. He's always going to make you feel good, wanted, loved.

Because you keep coming back to him. For comfort, for love, when you think the world is against you.

When clothes fly and pile across the room in random shapes and colors, he tells you you don't have to fake it with him. Your bra, decorates the glass on his coffee stand, muffling the sound of it swaying and weathering in circular motions.

You choke on your spit when the tip of your tongue grazes his, softly, skillfully, like there's no need to put in unnecessary effort into anything. His touch is soft on where your skin is naked, despite you trying to hide yourself away. Suddenly realizing that this is Katsuki, your best friend, seeing you like this, touching you like this.

He's kindly accepting of your embarrassment, telling himself he doesn't need to pry your hands away from your chest, instead he hugs you closer to him, the soft skin of his biceps engulfing you like a fuzzy blanket. He's praying you can't feel the blood pump in his veins. But with your palm pressing onto his chest for leverage he's sure you're aware of his speeding heart.

And fuck, your lips are too sweet.

With a smirk and a tug of his teeth on your lips, he observes how you look at him, timidly, adorning. He flips you on your back and tells himself this is about him taking his time with you, kissing your neck, your chest, fingers rubbing against your clit until you start glistening; it's okay if you're not confident enough to fully open your legs for him. He won't ask for something you can't give him. His middle finger does find its way into your entrance, thick and rough as it penetrates you, you whine.

"I don't like fingering, it hurts" You state, and earn a kiss on your belly when Ruby eyes scan you with worry.

"Not if it's done right" Katsuki says, lips curling around your soft, plush skin again "am I hurting you right now?" He asks, finger completely still inside you, save for the tip that's comfortably pressed close to that spongy spot you love.

Just a little further and you'll admit this stretch is delicious.

His other hand pushes your stomach down softly, his palm warm like a hot water bottle; it makes you relax -so much that there's nothing uncomfortable about the feeling of his finger inside you anymore. In fact, it makes you moan as his thumb taps over your clit, his middle finger rocking once, twice inside of you, ever so slightly, so softly, never twisting nor turning, and he hisses slightly, at the sight of what's between your legs.

"You're doing so good" He says, kissing your navel "I'll make you feel good, I promise"

If only he wasn't sweating himself out in trying his best to make you feel good he'd actually believe himself. Your whines and moans inflate his ego though, casting a grin on his face, confirmation that he's doing good. You sound delicious when he rubs your clit slowly, frothing about that's just how you like it. It's enough to make him feral, angry at how his hunger pushes even more blood to his cock.

"Just like that, fuck- just like that"

He knows you don't talk during sex -the privilege of being a best friend is sacred and holy in moments like these- that you've only ever faked moans here and there, clenched your feet and called it a day, saying you came while ignoring the pain in your walls, wanting to get it over with. You're used to sex feeling moderate, painful, not enough. And that's fine. He is too.

So when you start panting, rocking your hips into his hands, throwing your head back and writhing, when your legs start nervously shaking he knows your orgasm is real, that you've felt good. He's made you feel good. Put effort in to be pleasured. Taken care of. Of course you shiver when he licks his fingers, looking at you intensely, then wipes what's left of his saliva and you're sleek across his naked chest. The sight is sensual and raw, and the way there's a glistening trail in between his pics makes your clothes throb

He was right. He was right when he told you -over face stuffed with omurice while watching some Netflix series a month ago- sex wasn't supposed to feel painful. And you get it now. Sex wasn't supposed to make you want to cry, you weren't supposed to want to get it over with. But now, his face is so far removed from the angry mask he had on that day. It's angelic, it's round and sharp at the same time. You think- you think this is the best decision you've ever made, even if your heart is shaking. Even if there's a tiny hint of guilt in you.

He pulls you over him again, his cock throbbing in his boxers as his crotch gets wet and wetter by your leaking heat. His lips trap yours, your chest collides with his and he pushes his boxers down so he can free his cock. You know it's free when it makes a small noise with a slap on your ass. Precum leaks from your ass to your thigh and he pulls back from the kiss to grab your face and look at you with pleading eyes.

"You okay" He asks, panting, his other hand leaving your face too, to give a pump on his cock.

"Yeah"

"'S'all good, come 'ere" He whispers and you lean in closer again, morning at the way his lips touch your forehead tenderly.

He notices you shiver.

He doesn't want to make you feel worse. To make you feel like this is something to feel bad about. Like this is sex and not love making, like there's something that could linger to take you away from him.

"Do you feel the same?" You ask before he gets the chance to speak, leaving him stunned, just a tiny little bit, but your heart is hammering in your chest and he can feel it against his.

"Course I do" He grunts, lips kissing you again

"I want this. With you, now. I've wanted it for so long. But I can't hurt you, or us-"

He shuts you up with another kiss. On your lips. Your cheeks. Your nose. Your eyelids. Tired of the stalling that panic ensues. Whether this is right or wrong is not up to him to decide. Not up to you either. You've been treated so badly, it breaks his heart to think that there's a voice in your head trying to sabotage something that you want over something you should want.

"You loving me will never hurt. Even if you say you want us to forget about this the second we stop I won't ever mention it again. I'll take it to my fucking grave. Hear me?"

You nod with your lips pressed in a thin line. The feeling of his tip squeezing your ass is subtle, but prominent enough to make you lift your hips slightly, to accommodate his cock under and in between your thighs. He groans at the friction and your stomach bursts into tiny little explosions, a sheer coat of sweat is glistening on your face, his face and you nod in reply to his words.

"It won't happen again if I can't have you all to fucking myself though"

"Okay" You pant in between kisses "please I need you"

You moan when his hand cups your breast from the sides, his thumb coming to swipe across your nipple. It feels so good for such a little touch and you voice it in sounds, bucking your hips over his cock a few times, until he groans as well. You're so hungry when you guide him in, just like him, your gazes mirror each other. This is definitely your best decision ever. You don't want to let him go.

The stretch of his cock is a feeling you'll never be sober of. Your body won't move as you want it to and you're embarrassed, but even if your hips don't buck onto him as you want them to, his own take the lead, drilling himself into you.

You wiggle a hand behind you, to stroke his balls while he's fucking into you, slowly and roughly, then fast altogether, changing through paces and he yelps when you cup him, softly rubbing your fingers over his skin. Careful not to hurt him. His response to how you're trying to drive him crazy is to press his thumb on your clit, separate it from his pubes as he goes to rub lazy circles on it.

Your lips don't leave his. Not even for a second

Soon the sounds of both of you fill the room to a brim, and if any of you could think you'd be sorry for the neighbors all around his apartment, the stinging sound of the couch scratching the floor as it loves according to your movements is even louder.

You come to your highs together, buried in each other's necks and you bite the skin over his collarbone when he crushes you impossibly tight into his chest. The euphoria of your orgasm won't go away and neither do you want it to be over. This is the first time you've felt good in such a long time and you feel yourself melt into his arms, like a candle lit on fire.

It's been so long since you've felt this loved, since you've been so tenderly touched and embraced. Since you've accepted an embrace like this.

And there's nothing you can't accept from Katsuki.

He lifts you up and brushes strands of hair that have stuck on your skin and hoists you on his lap, kissing your temples and your neck when he reaches for the fluffy blanket he keeps on the couch, draping it over you, cocooning you in it, before he gets up.

"I'm gonna get something to clean you up and we can talk if you want" He kisses you again and your face heats up, suddenly used -and addicted- to all of this affection "Or not. Anything you want. I just want you to know I'm here, kay?"

You nod, eyes closed as you feel your body grow achingly tired -you notice, Katsuki's feet wobble the tiniest bit when he gets up. It makes you smile as you breathe out. You can't wait to see how it feels to sleep curled up on him. This is so much more than you think you'd ever deserve.

...I want to be known as "the witch who owns that farm" like right now!!

Cottagecore aesthetic 🍄🌿

The way Aleks says bitch gives me life 

Ugly sobbing!! This is so beautiful full credit to the artist and this amazing piece!!

Here’s the full 24 hour comic I drew yesterday, called “The Fish Wife”.  Thank you to everybody who followed along on twitter and cheered me on <3

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