Sometimes I Wonder To Myself Why People Have To Be Mean. Like Really. It Takes Nothing To Wake Up One

sometimes i wonder to myself why people have to be mean. like really. it takes nothing to wake up one day and be hateful, the same goes for being kind too. it won't take anything, literally anything, out of you to just be nice on the internet.

I recently commented on a post i saw on Facebook about the movie X. They were commending Jenna's Performance in the movie even though it had an explicit plot. I commented something like..

"istg, her performance in the movie was so lovely. i wish she would get more recognition for her role in X."

and some "guy" put a laughing emoji. someone may feel like i may have been overacting but it really hurt my feelings.

i didn't watch Wednesday, But i watched X and i loved Jenna Ortega's Performance. She acted the role so well. In fact, When i found out she was getting popular for Wednesday i was like "Have you guys seen X..." I connected so much to her character in X...Like...So much. Why most i be laughed at for that 😔

Happy Lunar New Year/ Year of the Tiger! 🧧🐯🙌🏼

do yk what i would give to have mike slender fingers wheeler finger me?? i would give my life. like i will hand it over to whoever to make it possible because it’s not even a want at this point it is a need.

no bc nonnie you get me. all i think about are his fingers…and how’d they fill you up so good ;((

mike is 18! + vaginal fingering, semi-public (at work), a messy stream of consciousness that i started writing out half asleep

not to go on a tangent but i hc that mike would’ve hated them growing up. i mean, it’s no secret that he was bullied, and we all know one of the things that the bullies made fun of him for was how freakishly pale and bony he was. it isn’t until the summer before college, when he starts to think differently of them.

he’d taken up a job to help save money for school, and who does he end up working alongside? none other than you, the former queen bee of hawkin’s high.

the two of you didn’t really talk in high school, something about cliques and hanging out with the opposite crowds…or something like that—but you knew of each other—well, he knew of you. and while he’d never spoken to you directly, he had heard enough stories from the nerds and outcasts about how…mean you could be.

and that’s how he came to the presumption that summer was gonna be absolute hell with you. endless bickering. endless insults thrown back and forth, followed by mean scowls and scolds…but there was none of that, surprisingly.

to his dismay, you were all smiles, and sunshine. a giggly thing that liked to talk, and crack jokes, and throw out random compliments. it was unnerving, weird. because here he was, with this made up version of you in his head, this mean-spirited, bitchy, bratty version of you that…didn’t even exist! it was just hatred fueled by word of mouth, and years of watching you from the sidelines but never talking to you. he thinks he’s the biggest idiot, and rightfully so.

the first thing you said to him on the job was how pretty his hands were. it was a simple comment, just something said in passing as he stocked the shelves, but it stuck with him. and at first he was confused because…they’d always been something he’d hated about himself? he thinks they’re just hands, just bony, pale things, but you were insistent—adamant, and everyday you’d never fail to let him know how much you liked them whenever you were in his presence.

and after some time of knowing you, somehow it’d gone from ‘your hands are so pretty’ to ‘i want them inside of me’ and he can’t fucking believe it, the poor boy doesn’t know what to do or how to respond.

but he let’s you use him. let’s you guide his hands to your pretty little cunt and fuck yourself with ‘em. and god, are you a sight to see. the faces you’re making? the things you’re babbling to him as you thrust his fingers in and out of your folds? are quite literally wilder than anything he’s ever made up in that head of his.

“been dreamin’ about this for so—shit—long, mikey,” your voice is breathy and straggled, words spilling from your lips like smooth honey. “always liked your fingers, think they’re so pretty.” your honest confession sends a flood of warmth straight to his cheeks, and he prays to a higher power that you’re so busied with his fingers, that you don’t notice.

“yeah?” his voice is soft, uncertain, like he can’t believe a girl like you would ever dream of wanting a guy like him. you were from different worlds, different universes. it didn’t make sense. but then again, none of this did. here you were—the two of you—in the inventory room, with his hands stuffed down your panties and, fuck, he was so hard.

he wanted so badly to touch himself, wanted to assuage the dull ache that he was feeling in his balls and his throbbing cock, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you—couldn’t take his hands off of you. self-restraint was something foreign to mike. he’d always been one to take what he wanted, do what he wanted, and say what he wanted, but right now? right now he’d just watch, and if that meant creaming his pants, then so be it.

“mhm, ‘m always thinking about you,” you start, “had my eye on you since sophomore year but you paid me no mind. did everything i could to get your—your attention.”

“really? but you were popular, i didn’t think you noticed me,” he unconsciously syncopates the last word with a thrust, and this makes you preen, all short and breathy.

for a second his brain stops functioning, and he has to literally force the gears in his head to start turning, to move so he can find the words to speak. he wants to hear that sound again, and again, and—

“mmm, feels s’good. do that again, mikey,” you ask him with those pretty puppy-dog eyes, but he doesn’t exactly know what he did because he didn’t mean to do it. he indulges you anyway, though, even if his approach is hesitated and inexperienced.

“i mean…’m nothing special,” he begins to move, “so what did it for you, what made you fall for the loser?”

“d-don’t be stupid, i tell you everyday. you’re so—shit, pretty.”

his obsidians are trained on your own, fingers moving in and out tantalizingly slowly as he processes this information. sure, you may have made it known on multiple occasions that he had pretty hands or whatever, but he thought you were just fucking around with him? because that’s just the type of dynamic the two of you had established—friends, acquaintances, fuck, amiable associates that joked around to pass time at work?

“you say my hands are pretty, though. never heard you say i’m pretty. do you really think that?” it takes all of your strength to not slap him silly, so instead, you shut him up with a kiss. it’s slow and soft, and the two of you groan into it—he groans because your cunt’s squeezing his fingers, and you groan because you’ve been waiting to do that for so long.

“god, mikey…your fingers are stuffed inside of me and you have the nerve to ask if i think you’re pretty?” you pull away from his face, hands still tugging on his uniform shirt. “let’s make a deal. if you make me cum before our manager gets back, i’ll tell you all the times i tried to get your attention in high school. deal?”

the brunet studies you before answering, “deal.”

wish this anime would get more hype and recognition

David and Lucy

Source: Artist By 曇陌

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 ; perv!m. wheeler x best friend!reader

summary : friends play games with each other all the time, right? no harm in a bit of fun. especially when your best friend is as hot as mike.

warnings : slight nsfw, making out, mike asks reader to suck him off, short but very hot

it was a game, that's what he said. lips feverishly devouring yours as you straddle him, teeth tugging desperately at your bottom lip.

"friends do stuff like this all the time," he'd told you, cupping your face in his hands. "it's just a game, right? you put on some lip gloss and i guess the flavour."

he'd guessed a total of four times; strawberry, grapefruit, bubblegum and cotton candy. he was dead wrong every time, but he didn't mind.

it just meant he got to kiss you for longer.

mike often found his eyes would wander to your lips, glistening with whatever flavoured lip gloss you were obsessed with at the time. 

he loved watching you talk, seeing you pout those perfect lips as you complained about whatever went on in that pretty little mind of yours.

he fucking loved the feeling of his tongue dancing with yours.

you detach your lips from his, but your faces stay close. "mikey," you whined. "this isn't fun anymore." you look down at him with those gorgeous doe eyes of yours, and it makes his dick jump. 

"no? why's it not fun anymore, princess?" you squirm in his lap, but he quickly wraps his arms around you to prevent you from moving. "what's wrong?"

his eyes briefly flit to your chest, tits pushed up due to your folded arms. there's a frustrated glint in your eyes, lips pursed as you furrow your brows in annoyance. "you can't even guess right. it's not fun if you're not gonna play properly."

mike pecks your lips quickly, before pausing and pretending to think. "cherry," he says finally, but your frown doesn't waver.

"i don't wanna play anymore. s'not fun and there's no point. you're not even taking the game seriously." 

mike just smiles, pulling you in. "how 'bout instead of complaining, we put that mouth to better use huh?" he strokes your cheek gently, biting his lip when you lean into his touch. "you ever sucked dick before, princess?"

you shake your head, and mike can't help the chuckle that slips passed his lips. "there's a first time for everything. consider this friends helping out friends. wanna get on your knees sweetheart?"

I’m strong but I cry quickly.