#and just go ‘YOU! NEED! TO! LET! GO! OF! PEOPLE! SOMETIMES!!!!!!’

[shisurus]

okay i don't have anything smart to add i just genuinely love that these seemingly trivial jokes are actually an important part of his character. we see it throughout the entire manga, how he pushes aside his own frustration and discomfort to accommodate everyone else's and avoid needless confrontation- another example off the top of my head would be the barometz chapter in which he slowly gets frustrated with izutsumi but still tries his best to talk some sense into her calmly and soundly.

and in contrast, there are very few times he expresses his anger and hurt towards others, and it usually takes a lot for him to finally lose his patience and control.

i mean, even with kabru he tried to be polite despite the circumstances until the guy said the one thing that triggers an immense sense of shame, hurt and rage in laios. and you know, the manga does say it quite clearly early on. when we are introduced to namari and then to shuro, laios acts all friendly and shows his respect and trust in them despite how things ended between them, and everyone else gets frustrated with him for acting so strange- why are you the one who tries so hard to pacify the rest when you should be the angriest?

and they don't understand him. they don't know him well enough to be able to understand, but we as readers get to see during the manga that they aren't wrong to question him- he does, in fact, feel all those ugly emotions. and it's when the winged lion finally confronts him that we see to what extent these feelings he buried so deep go, and suddenly all those funny little moments where he sometimes pretends to be mr nice guy speak volumes about his character. honestly, ryoko kui is a master at using jokes in order to define important character traits and this one doesn't fail to amaze me.

and laios's hatred and rage and deep scars he can't get over aren't shown explicitly during most of these moments i mentioned before, but now you realize there are 26 years of emotional baggage to all of them and they sting. he is angry but he can't say shit, what difference would it make? it won't make his friends choose him instead of themselves when he needed them most, and it won't help his party get any farther. of course, this logic doesn't apply to them- they are absolutely allowed to get angry and it's fine to get mad at him, he can take that.

so after finishing the series it's so clear that he tries his best to avoid clashing with others not just due to the current circumstances and him needing to be a reliable leader but also because he knows that people don't even like him when he tries to show his good sides and hide all the rest, so who the hell would tolerate his rage and despair? who would stay after realizing that he is so deeply flawed he doesn't even like his own being?

but he does get mad. he can't help it, and sometimes it gets out of control and now everyone knows. and it's funny, isn't it? that most of those moments ended up bringing him closer to others. shuro admitting he is envy of him and actually becoming the friend laios thought he was all along, fighting for his sake and waiting for him to come back- believing in him even after he turned into a monster and searching for him the way he couldn't bring himself to do for falin when he learned of what became of her- or kabru being pushed to just let it all out because he couldn't bluff his way out of this one and get to laios any other way, so now they are even. they are both horribly honest with each other and they both choose to stay. a weird way of getting to know each other, but it is what it is.

it's simply... the more laios let himself just be, the deeper his relationships grew. and there's intimacy in being your ugly, weak and furious self around someone and them not leaving you. feeling safe enough to let it be known you are hurt and angry. and he knows that now, too.

#he still has a lot of growth to do but at least he has people he can grow with 😭 #dungeon meshi #laios touden

[dante-mightdie]

Omg Ive got another idea about the cult!au:

So simon now has this cute dumb wife who just won’t shut up about how weird stuff around her seem to be lately and she just keeps talking about wanting to see what would happen if they went out without price knowing, just out of pure curiosity yk? She constantly talks about hearing people outside, on the hills surrounding the little village they have, what could they possibly be? Maybe they’re monsters and not humans? But they seem so small and fragile just like the people in their own community 

And every time she mentions anything related to the topic simon is DEVASTATED, not because of his wife, but because of john. he knows that if his wife mentions anything like the stuff she blurts out when they’re alone price would straight up kill her and leave no proof of her ever existing before that, he’s seen it happen a few times with his own eyes

And when he remembers the terrified looks people had on their faces before being buried alive, just makes him nauseous cause he can’t imagine his wife’s beautiful face that scared.

But no matter what he does, she just won’t listen! If it was anyone else simon wouldn’t even hesitate to kill them with his own hands to show price his devotion, but it’s not anyone else, it’s his wife

So he decides to take matters into his into his own hands, he’s the one that has the keys to the gates after all

So he tells his precious little wife that he’s going to let her see the plains surrounding the village for an hour and if she liked it, they can just leave together :)

And the way his wife’s eyes just filled with excitement melted his heart, little did she know simon was going to make her want to stay

So maybe she sees something scary outside, and she runs as fast as she possibly can ,and just hugs simon with tears running down her eyes, saying that she was so stupid to think anywhere other than the warm community and her loving husband’s embrace would be safe for her

Maybe with a sprinkle of smut…? Just maybe! Just a silly little thought yk!!!

please grace us with your amazing writing, cause this cult!au is living in my mind rent free 😢🙏🙏🙏

hope you guys like the cult!au because it’s all you’re gonna be hearing for at least a few days. gonna call this version of simon ‘gatekeeper!ghost’

c/w: dark content, cult!au, gatekeeper!ghost, murder, manipulative tactics, implied mentions of pregnancy and children

your husband worries that you’re a little too oblivious sometimes. not truly understanding how the things you say and do could end in serious repercussions. perhaps you’re certain that if it truly came down to it, simon would defend you over anyone else. and to an extent, you’re right. however, that only applies when he’s actually there to protect you and if you think that price wouldn’t account for your guard dog husband when exacting out his revenge, you’re dead wrong

so he decides that he needs to help you see that. perhaps if you see with your own too eyes that the outside world is really just a pit of wolves waiting to feast on the soft flesh of his naive trusting wife, you’ll stop all this nonsense about the outside. so he decides to kill two birds with one stone by using a member of the community, who price had asked simon to get rid of anyway, to give you a fright

the man had been sowing discontent into the community for a while anyways. not pulling his weight with the mandatory community chores which everyone contributes too, apparently harbouring some resentful opinions towards key members of the community including himself and simon. it wasn’t long before price had enough of the disrespect and ordered simon to dispose of him and dump his body in the incinerato

simon decided to take a little detour with him first, though. leading him out past the gates before swiftly ending his life. he spends some time setting up a scene for you to stumble upon, making it appear as though this man was another member of the community who got too curious about the outside and had been mauled by some creature. whether you assume that creature is just a wild animal or something more sinister is irrelevant to simon, you won’t be seeing it anyway once he gets you back behind the gates. poor thing’ll be too frightened to ever wonder about the outside world again

your husband comes to collect you after hours once everyone in the community is asleep. you step out the gates with caution, as though the ground may not be walkable nor the air breathable. you soon relax once you realise the scenery and nature is not all that different to the community you were raised in your whole life. he hands you a map, one he edited to ensure you’d follow all the right paths to find the body and be back at the gates all in under 10 minutes

“back ‘ere. one hour. ‘m trusting you here, sweethear’, yeah?” your husband grumbles, zipping up your coat to protect you from the cold of the night but not before slipping a tracking device in lining. you look up at him, nodding along to every word he tells you about the paths, how to find your way back if you get lost, how if you’re not back in one hour to find somewhere safe and he will come and find you

gives you a firm kiss on the forehead before letting you go on your way, watching your form until it quickly disappears into the dark. the only thing visible of you is the slight glint of the torch he gave you. he looks down at his watch, he told you an hour but if you’re not back in 10 minutes then he knows you’ve strayed from the path he told you to go down

he counts down the minutes, softly whistling to himself as he leans on his rifle. 6 minutes was all it took for him to hear your bloodcurdling scream echo throughout the trees. he sets off, running until he eventually meets you halfway on the walk back. he feels guilty, don’t get it twisted but he’s doing it for your own good. doesn’t stop his heart breaking at the sight of you running towards him, hands reaching for him with tears streaming down your face

you throw yourself into him, sobbing into his chest as you struggle to get the words out about what you saw. as he predicted this outcome, his arms instinctively scoop you up after he slings his rifle round to rest against his back. let’s you cry to him about the awful thing you just saw whilst he carries you back towards the compound gates, cooing that you’re safe now and he’ll get you both home and safe

your home isn’t far from the gates which means your home after a short walk. you refuse to let simon leave your side, whining that you’re scared whatever got that man is gonna come and get you

“don’t be silly, lovie. they’d ’ave to get through me first.” he says, planting a kiss on top of your head whilst he strips you both down for bed. you just look up at him with a pouty lip, “I think you’re just getting too bored at home, aren’t ya, sweets? not much to keep ya busy when i’m not around. maybe some little troublemakers running about the ‘ouse will keep ya busy, yeah?”

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #cult!au #gatekeeper!ghost

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan —Roan’s having a hard time adapting to the new babysitter. stepmom!reader, 1.4k

Eddie’s car is parked poorly on the driveway, but it’s there, and it’s nice to see after a long day. You park snugly behind him, pull your purse onto your shoulder, and rush out of your car, up the steps to the house. 

You open the heavy front door.

“Roan?” you ask, greeted by the smell of Eddie’s tomato pasta and fresh bleach. “Eddie, did you mop?” 

“Sasha mopped,” Eddie corrects from the top of the stairs. “She’s up here.” 

“Sasha?” 

“Roan.” He smiles at you. “Sasha is long gone home, baby. And if I were you I wouldn’t say her name. It hasn’t got me super far.” 

You wince, hanging your purse and coat over the bannister and shucking off your shoes, aching feet a little less painful on the carpet of the stairs. Eddie waits for you on the landing, and he kisses you when you’re close enough, to your fear. 

“I’m gonna fall.” 

“No,” he says, encouraging you against him with a forearm to the small of your back. “Like I’d let you.” 

“Is it really bad?” 

“She went into a full blown nuclear meltdown. I don’t think Sasha will be back any time soon, she looked shell-shocked,” Eddie says. 

His eyes flare wide and his lips pucker, but he looks less worried and more entertained. He knows Roan is gonna be fine eventually. She has a case of the crankies because nobody will let her have her way (but you would if you could).

“She definitely wants to see me?” 

“I think you’re the only person she wants to see. She kept pushing me off of the bed.” 

“Oh.” You kiss his cheek. He smiles like he did the very first time you kissed him, surprised and elated to be liked, which is a tad silly —you love him. “Hello. Dinner smells nice.” 

“It does, doesn’t it? I’m gonna go make some garlic bread if you don’t need me.”

You hold his arm. It’s strange to be in love sometimes. You coparent his occasionally angry child. He makes you dinner every single night. There’s barely time to say hello, but you say it because saying hi to him is always, always fun. 

Eddie gives you a quick hug. “I’m downstairs if you want me,” he promises. 

You ease around one another. He goes down the stairs too quickly, you knock gently against ‘Princess Roan’s’ door. The placard is missing a few gems, but it’s still sparkly. 

There’s no answer.

“Hello?” you ask, knocking the door again. “Baby, I’m coming in to see you.” 

“…Okay.” 

You smile at the sound of her voice. You’ve missed her, even though it hasn’t been that long. It’s better to see her, opening her door, finding her all curled up on her bed. She’s mostly guilty, you’d say, but still annoyed at the situation. 

“Hey, angel,” you say, pausing against her doorway. 

“Hi, mom.” 

You grin. “Dad told me what happened.” She tenses, expecting a telling off, but Eddie has that covered. She can’t treat people the way she did, pushing poor Sasha and screaming at her to go away isn’t fair, but she had her reasons. Neither you nor Eddie plan to ignore them. “You okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“What can I do to make you feel better than fine?” you ask. 

“Let me come to work with you.” 

“I told you already, Ro. You can only come with me for emergencies. They’re very grumpy at work.” 

She glares and curls tighter into her ball. She’s small, less than a third your size but with feelings that would threaten to tip you over. Her dress is creased to death and her face is covered in tears. 

“Wanna get dressed for bed?” you ask. 

Roan sighs tiredly. “No.” 

“Just let me wash your face then, princess. Tears make your eyes sore after a while.” 

“Can you hug me?” Roan asks shyly. 

You cross the room. She slides across her bed to make more room for you than you need, but you love how big she seems to think you are, in a way. Like she sees you as much older, maybe more protective, or that’s what you’d like to think. You lay down in her bed, and you move your arm from your side to let her know the hug factor is ready for business. 

She lays her head on your shoulder. 

“It’s hard missing you,” you say. 

It’s hard missing both of them. You feel like a lot of your life is totally wasted at work when you could be talking yourself hoarse with Eddie, Roan between you both or on someone’s lap. You’d rest your face on his arm and watch his lips make each word. You could do it forever, but the world doesn’t let you. His stories and jokes have to wait until the weekend.

“It is?” Roan asks quietly.

“It’s so hard. I miss you all the time.”

“I miss you too,” Roan says. 

“I know.” Her bed is crazy comfortable. You stretch out and turn your face down to hers, back twinging, content to stay her with her forever. “Can I give you a little kiss?” 

She laughs and turns her cheek to you for kissing. 

“It’s been a long time since I asked you that, huh?” you say, pressing three light kisses in the same place. 

“You aks me sometimes.” 

“You never ask me!” you tease in a shouting-whisper. “You just plant them on me!” 

“You like kisses.” 

“I love ‘em. You and dad give the best kisses I ever had.” 

She smiles, but it slowly turns into a frown. “I don’t like being home with Sasha.” 

“It’s summertime, bug. Me and dad have to work, Wayne has to work. We can’t find any other way.” 

“Sasha doesn’t… She’s not… Ugh.” Roan rubs her sad face into your chest. 

“Sasha’s still a stranger, baby, that’s all it is. I know she seems a bit weird right now, but that’s, like, how meeting new people goes!” You hug her to you loosely. “You remember when you met me?” 

“You liked me on the first day,” Roan says. 

“Of course I did.” 

“Sasha doesn’t like me.” 

“Sasha thinks you’re awesome. But when I first met you, Ro, you were littler, and you liked to cuddle more. It was easier for me and you. Plus, I think things for me and you are much more special.” 

“She doesn’t like me anymore.” 

You coo sympathetically. “No way. I think if you say sorry, and maybe me and dad can explain, Sasha won’t mind.” 

“I just wanted you,” she says. 

“I know. It’s okay if we miss each other, because we always get to see each other before dinner.” 

“Is dad still mad at me?” 

You sit up to look down at her, stroking the dark baby curls away from her face, smiling as they spring back into place. “Nah. But maybe he deserves an apology like Sasha. He said you gave him a couple of pushes too.” 

“He was trying to give me a hug and I was still mad,” she complains. 

“That’s okay. I guess dad’s not the kind to hold a grudge anyways.” 

Eddie absolutely holds grudges. He has one-sided beef with half the town and mutual beef with the other half, but he doesn’t hold one with Roan. You wipe the tear stains from her cheeks with a warm cloth and get her changed into clean pyjamas, holding her hand the whole time at her insistence, which makes doing her buttons up hard. 

“Why can’t uncle Steve have me?” Roan asks as you carry her downstairs. 

“Because he has a job, too.” You put her down at the bottom of the stairs. “Most grown ups do.” 

“And you can’t have summer vacation?” 

“I wish, baby. I wish.” 

Roan walks ahead of you into the kitchen, where Eddie’s setting the table, pasta and garlic bread and a big tossed salad waiting. Roan’s place has been set especially for her, with her glass of water, her glass of juice, her favourite fork, and the big purple cushion on her seat. 

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks her, bending at the waist when she holds up her arms. 

He gives her a soft hug, patting her back between lazy up and downs. 

“Sorry, daddy.” 

“That’s okay,” he says genuinely, “I know summer is hard. Maybe I can get some more days off soon.” 

That sounds like a good idea. 

“Please,” Roan says. 

Eddie coils one of her curls around his finger. “I’ll see what I can do. And you’re going to be nicer to Sasha?” 

“Yes. Sorry.” 

Eddie tips her head back to kiss her nose. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I just want you to be kind.” 

“‘Cos kind is the new cool,” Roan says. 

“Yes!” He drags her up his chest to squeeze her tightly. “And we’re the coolest cats in town.” 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[mammonsrockstargf]

Can I ask for headcanons where Diavolo, Barbato, Solomon, and Simeon being clingy towards their gn s/o? - cutie patootie anon

Diavolo wants you where he can see you constantly. He’ll change your schedule so you have the same classes, and if he has some duty thing he’ll just pretend he needs you to be there as well. If anyone dares to question it, he’ll go on a rant about how “the human needs to learn how demon politics go” or “in order for the human to integrate properly, they need to see how this works.” He's not even being slick about it, he’ll blatantly smile and send you a wink in front of whoever asks why you need to be there. He's the demon prince, no one dares argue any further.

He won’t move you out of HOL, he knows that’s your home, but he’ll constantly ask to come visit you, and if you’re too tired, he’ll come to you. I imagine it’ll be borderline comical to see him lying in your bed because he barely fits, but he doesn’t mind because that just means that you’ll have to cuddle if you want to lie there too. (Wow, what an evil mastermind.)

In terms of physical affection, I think Diavolo is very big on just having his hands on you. When you’re walking beside him, his hand will find your back, and he’ll practically guide you through the halls of RAD or the castle. When you’re sitting down, he’ll put a hand on your thigh. When you’re eating at a table he’ll put his hand on top of yours.

At night, Diavolo needs to cuddle, and I imagine his body temperature runs hot, so good luck to you. He definitely likes spooning, because that way you can’t disappear from him.

If Diavolo for some reason can’t be near you, say he has to entertain some nobleman (nobleman? nobledemon?) while at a party he’s sending you looks. He thinks he’s being sneaky about it, but it’s not very sneaky when he looks over his shoulder and sticks his tongue out at you, now is it? Who knew the demon prince could be so scandalous! (We did. We know.)

Barbatos isn’t very clingy in public, but once you’re behind closed doors, he gets quite handsy. Look at the guy, he practically screams touch starved. He used to barely have any free time, but you've managed to convince him to take some more time off. It wasn't very hard, because he soon realised that he really liked spending time with you. When you're together, he really just wants to relax. I mean, he'll do whatever you want, but he enjoys the times when you spend it inside and he can pull you really close and just enjoy the peace you bring him the most.

I'm 100% certain someone has said this before, but I'm just gonna say it again. Barbatos' tail. It's practically subconscious at this point, but if you're near, it's wrapped around you. If his hands are full, it's wrapped around your wrist, if you hug him, it's around your waist, when you're cuddling, it's around your leg. Sometimes, when you have to part ways, you'll have to remind him that it's still wrapped around you, and he'll have the audacity to act surprised. Then he'll apologise and smile at you, and it's impossible to be annoyed with him for long.

Solomon uses the excuse that he needs to take care of his apprentice. Can you blame him? He needs to see how your magic is developing, how you control your demons. (Both literally and figuratively.) Would he be a good teacher if he didn't?

I cop Solomon as a hand holder. It reassures him, lets him know you’re still there. He's a paranoid old man, what can I say? We addressed this in my clammy hands post, but he knows some fancy spell that makes sure your hands aren't sweaty, and then you'll have no excuse to not hold his hand! (Aaaah, we have another evil mastermind on our hands.)

If you’re talking to someone else and Solomon wants your attention, he’ll come up behind you and press tiny, small kisses to the back of your neck. No shame in this man, he does not care who sees. Actually, the more people who see, the better, in his opinion. If he can make both you and the person you're talking to flustered, then he considers his mission accomplished.

Solomon does the hand in the back pocket thing. If you're wearing jeans, shorts, or just some kind of bottom with a back pocket, he's sticking his hand into it while you're walking. He thinks he's so fucking cute about it too. He'll smile at you really satisfied with himself. Look at him, being all hip with the youngsters. We're so proud of him.

Simeon also tries to keep his composure, but he fails pretty quickly. He’s not as upfront about it as Dia or Sol, but it’s the subtle things.

Simeon will do his best to help you however he can. He’ll ask to walk you home or to walk you to class, and if you say yes, he’ll try to hide it, but he’s ecstatic. He's just always there, nearby, enjoying your company. I feel like he's really big on acts of service, so him being clingy is more just doing a bunch of stuff for you. When he's around, he's always holding your things or offering you your favourite snacks.

I think eventually Simeon stops hiding how whipped he is and just sticks around all of the time. However, he's only touchy behind closed doors. He's not exactly shy, he just likes having you to himself. Intimacy (even when it's not sexual) is sacred! He wants to hold you close without all kinds of curious eyes on him!

When you're watching a movie, Simeon likes having you between his legs or in his lap, with your back resting against his chest. He also likes rubbing your shoulders or your back. Really big on giving you kisses on top of your head, your forehead, your nape.

But most of all, Simeon likes just looking at you. Creepy guy. I hate him. (Affectionately.)

perse's note: hiiiii cutie, sorry for the wait, thank you for the requesttttttt!! <3 also, i tried to make them somewhat equal length, but dia's ran off with me, what can i say. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

did something new with the names?? do we like it?? i think i like it. ☝🏼🤓

thank you for reading! <3 find my masterlist here.

divider by @/cafekitsune

#headcanons #requests #inbox #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me swd #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me datables #obey me solomon x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me simeon x reader

[pickingupmymercedes]

Boy from Stevenage - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none, tooth rooting fluff, Lewis being vulnerable

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Felt like fluff was due, so totally self-indulgent nonsense I wrote after hearing bits of his speach for his GQ Awards.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

You leaned against the doorway as Lewis moved restlessly across the room, his brow furrowed with concentration. A braid kept falling into his face, and he kept tucking it behind his ear. He muttered to the reflection in the mirror, his expression serious as he practiced his speech for the GQ Awards ceremony, rehearsing it with the same intensity he would study race tracks.

A smile tugged at your lips. It was endearing, this nervous energy that usually only manifested before a race, and that so few got to see, filling the master bathroom of his NYC apartment. Tonight, however, the only race was against his stubborn desire to perfectly deliver his message.

When he finally sighed in frustration, you decided to fully enter the room. He caught your reflection in the mirror, and his face softened, the tension momentarily lessened.

"Hey," you tilted your head, offering a small smile.

He straightened, taking a deep breath. "Hi. How long have you been there?"

You shrugged, reaching for the fingers that gripped the marble. "A minute or two. Just… watching the master at work."

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "More like a nervous wreck."

He gestured vaguely to the crumpled paper clutched in his hand. "Do you think it's alright? I don't want to sound… pompous."

You reached out for him, turning his face to look him in the eye, your fingers smoothing the worry lines on his brow with your thumb. "Lewis," you started, your voice soft. "Nobody's going to think you're pompous. They're going to be captivated."

His eyes, the warm brown that stole your breath every time, met yours with a glint of nervousness. "You really think so?"

A soft smile and chuckle spread through your features. It was a challenge, putting your admiration for him into words. You weren’t one for grand gestures or over-the-top declarations. It was in the quiet moments, the shared understanding, the unspoken language that existed only between the two of you that you showed him how much he meant to you.

"They'll all be in love with you," you finally said, a loving spark in your eyes. "Just like I am."

He chuckled, a hint of relief washing over him. "Smooth, (Y/N)."

You took his hand, gently pulling him away from the mirror. "Come on," you said, urging him towards the plush armchair in the bedroom nestled by the window. "Let's forget about speeches for a while."

He followed willingly, sinking into the chair with a sigh as he dragged you down with him. You settled on his lap, pulling your legs comfortably on top of his on the stool. The city lights became a shimmering backdrop to your comfortable silence.

"I’m really proud of you," your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers danced on his chest and he looked out the window.

His hand automatically sought yours. You squeezed gently. "More than you can imagine," you admitted.

"Sometimes it all feels a bit overwhelming," he confessed, his voice raw. "The platform, the attention, the expectation to be a voice for everything."

"You don't have to be a voice for everything, though," you countered, your voice firm as he locked his gaze on your intertwined fingers. "But what you do choose to speak up about… that's what makes me so proud."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face. "Even the stuff that makes some people uncomfortable?"

You let out a proud smile and a knowing giggle. "Especially those. You use your platform to speak when others won’t."

He squeezed your hand, gratitude evident in his tone and his eyes. "Maybe you should be writing the speeches after all."

You laughed, a soft sound that filled the room. "You just need to be reminded that you're Lewis Hamilton, not a nervous rookie on his first podium."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, his arms embracing you as he turned his head, placing a soft kiss on your temple. "Thank you, love. But we really need to get going," he whispered, just before he picked you up and put you back down on the armchair, heading back to the bathroom.

As Lewis got in the shower, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the crumpled speech in his hand. You knew he wasn't one to brag about his achievements, but a part of you yearned to understand the weight of the words he was struggling with.

Carefully, you reached out and picked up the paper. It was filled with Lewis's handwriting, edits scrawled across some lines. You scanned the opening, your heart swelling. It wasn't about self-praise or glorifying his victories. It was a heartfelt dedication to the countless individuals who had supported him on his journey, from his early days karting in Stevenage until now.

He spoke of his family, the unwavering pillar behind him, their sacrifices paving the way for his dreams. He mentioned his mentors and heroes, those who had nurtured his talent and those who had inspired him to push to be his best. He even acknowledged his rivals, the competitors that had honed his skills and fueled his relentless pursuit of excellence.

But then, there was a section that was heavily underlined, a paragraph riddled with question marks and crossed-out phrases. It was about the kids that he hoped to have inspired.

He wrote about the grounding effect they had on his own path. He spoke of how he, too, was an impressionable young boy, wishing for something greater.

You knew sometimes Lewis struggled to express his emotions openly, yet here he was, trying to articulate the depth of what it meant to him to be put on the same pedestal as his heroes.

It was the written proof of how much this award, how much this entire platform, meant to him – a chance to not just be Lewis Hamilton, the champion, but Lewis, the boy who had aimed for the stars and received the moon as a gift.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. You pictured the faces in the opulent ballroom, expecting a typical self-congratulatory speech from the motorsport legend. The surprise on their faces when Lewis poured his heart out, his voice thick with a vulnerability they wouldn't have anticipated, would be priceless.

He may be a titan on the racetrack, but here, in the quiet intimacy of the apartment, he was simply Lewis, the man who might fumble with expressing his emotions but whose actions spoke volumes.

As you two rode in the backseat towards the gala, the city lights morphing into a mesmerizing dance of colors, you snuggled closer to Lewis, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm.

"Hey," you whispered, tracing a finger across the back of his hand.

He jolted out of his thoughts, his eyes looking for yours. "Hmm?"

"You know," you began, searching for the right words, "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

[writingroom21]

I Dare You

Pairing: Bestfriend!Rafe x fem!reader

Summary: A game of truth or dare shouldn't be an issue right? Definitely not when it's with you hot best friend. It's all fun and games right?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, cockwarming, cream pie, slight chocking and slapping, teasing, let me know if I miss any

Wc: 3.2K

“Let’s play a game or something?” Rafe suggests next to you. You’ve been hanging out for the past few hours. It’s kinda a tradition at this point. Every week the two of you will hang out at either Tanny Hill or your house. The two of you would spend the time watching movies and binge eating pizza or whatever food you decide.

Tonight was the same thing. You had ordered pizza and wings before Rafe got to your house. Giving him the perfect timed entrance with the food since he ran into the delivery boy. That was at least four hours ago and the food is long gone. The movies you watched are just rolled credits. 

“I think I have Monopoly in the closet. We also have the switch that we can play on.” You rack your brain trying to think of what games that you have. “OOO! We can play just dance.” Rafe groans at the thought of the game. All throughout middle school you were obsessed.

Everyday you would go home from school, do your homework and play for hours. It was a great way of letting out energy while also giving you a workout. Your love for the game was then forced onto Rafe. You made him go home with you one day after school and play. Rafe has always been athletic, even as a child he loved sports. But that game took something out of him.

Every move was always red, never getting the motion correctly. Don’t get him started on the burn he would feel the day after. All the jumping around and the squating tore his muscles til they were strands. He hated that damn game but for some reason he would go back to your house the following day to do it over again. Now even thinking about the game hurts him.

“I would rather get back together with Christine then play that game.” He’s being over dramatic. The game isn’t even that bad. To say he would rather get back with the ex that stole from him, tried to sleep with his dad, and reported him to the cops is crazy. The stare you are giving him tells him you aren’t convinced. “Okay I wouldn’t but seriously I am not playing that death game.” Typical Rafe, drama queen. “Fine then what do you want to play? We can just put on another movie if you’re that bored.”

You took the bait without even thinking too much about it. “Why don’t we play truth or dare?” He suggests. His eyes are staring at the phone in his hands but he keeps an eye on you. Watching the perplexed look you give him. “Truth or dare? What are we twelve?” Teasing him will never get old. He just has a habit of saying the dumbest or weirdest things when he’s comfortable around people. Teasing him is a part of the friendship.

Rafe throws his phone on your bed as he moves around to look at you better. “Weren’t you watching that dumb kids tv show the other day? Gluey or something.” “Bluey.” You correct him. “That doesn’t matter. It’s good for your brain to help relax, you clearly need it.” Your foot nudges his thigh as you poke fun at him. He catches it and yanks you closer to him, your legs resting on his lap now.

You get a little more comfortable, fluffing the pillow behind you as you lay back. “It does matter. You watch something made for toddlers but you can’t play truth or dare. Come on indulge me.” He whines, his hand squeezing your calf. The feeling of his hands on you is not something new. You are one of the only people that he is comfortable enough to physically touch. The only thing is that sometimes the touch lingers, filling you with a fluttering feeling. 

Clearing your throat to distract from your emotions, you answer. “Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” You giggle as you think of something. “I dare you to try on one of my dresses.” His face drops and your giggles become full laughs. “Fuck you. I’m not doing that shit, think of something else.” His nails graze along your skin, reaching your knee then going down. “Nope, gotta follow the rules.” You know he would never put on a dress in his life. You also know that he has a hard time saying no to you. 

This is more of a test to see how far he would really go. “Too fucking bad. I’m not going to wear one of your dresses.” You pull your legs back to your body. Rafe tries to stop you from leaving but you had already turned away from him. “Baby come back.” There it is. That little moment he gives you butterflies. He’s been calling you that recently.

Baby

Like some freudian slip, a moment where he truly reveals how he feels. You ignore him as you open your closet grabbing a crop top instead. A dress was a long shot but you could pull this off. You walk back over to the bed, shirt in hand as you climb up. “What are you doing?” He’s watching as you crawl over to him. He can’t help but to have to adjust his pants. The action doesn’t go unnoticed.

“If you put the shirt on I’ll be happy. Then we can continue.” Rafe stares at the shirt then you. “Plus guys in crop tops are kinda hot.” You shrug your shoulders, looking down at the fabric and playing with it. Fanning innocence in your words to hide your true intentions. His eyes perk up hearing you say that. “You think guys look hot in that?”

His voice somehow got a little lower. You are itching to squeeze your thighs to sedate the ache you feel. But you won’t let him see that this is affecting you. It’s harder for him to hide and your eyes keep glancing down to get a peak. “Yeah. I like when you can see how tight the shirt is over their muscles.” Your eyes follow along his chest, imagine the shirt clinging to life on his chest. Your fingers are dying to touch him.

“Give me the damn shirt.” Rafe rips his shirt off, taking yours and puts it on. You mindlessly stare at him. You were right, the shirt is clinging to him. His muscles are stretching it out but his biceps are the main show. They are bulging out, the fabric barely holding together. He could choke you with his arms and you would be happy.

“Happy?” Your eyes flicker up to his. “Very.” Rafe shifts back to relax, his arm resting by your folded legs. His fingers extend out to brush against your exposed skin. “Truth or dare?” You think about it and take a long pause. “Truth.” His eyes squint at you, expressing his irritation that you took the easy way out. “Why did you and Evan break up?” 

He knows why you two broke up, it was him. Evan made it known he never liked rafe and your friendship with him. It definitely didn’t help when Rafe and him got into a fight. Rafe may have implied that you would leave him in an instant if he asked you to. That really set him off and escalated from there. The next day you told Rafe that you and Evan had broken up. He was relieved to know he had once again chased off another guy.

“We had a huge fight after the party. He accused me of sleeping with you and wouldn’t stop yelling. In the end he told me I had to choose, you or him. I chose you.” His hand sandwich between your calf and thigh. Tightening as his mind processes what you said. “Why?” “That’s not the game. My turn.” He tries to protest and you won’t let him. You can’t admit that a part of you does want him. Evan was right to be concerned, not that you would cheat but that you have feelings for Rafe.

“Dare.” You wish you had fought harder to not play this game. You suck at coming out with things to say. “Are you always going to say dare?” “Yes.” You huf a bit. “I dare you to take a thirst trap photo and send it to the group chat.” He groans, already picturing the texts he’s about to get. Reluctantly he gets up positioning himself in front of your full length mirror. He takes the picture and sends it to the chat.

Automatically Top and Kelce start blowing up the group chat. He ignores them and walks back over. “Truth or dare.” You don’t even think. “Dare.” He crawls on the bed like you did earlier, forcing you to lay back. His body is hovering above you, hand playing with the hair that frames your face. “I dare you to show me what you got earlier at Victoria Secret.” He saw the package when he got through the door. His curiosity was eating at him. Smirking, you run your hand around his chest, teasing where the shirt ends only to push him off you.

You grab the box that was sitting on your dresser and open it up. Slowly you take off your sleep shorts and shirt. Your fingers wrap around the thin piece of fabric you call underwear. Pulling them down inch by inch teasing him further by throwing them at him. You don’t know where your confidence came from. Before today you would never strip naked in front of Rafe, you just can’t help yourself.

You take out a red lace teddy, the lace only covers part of your sides and your breasts. It was held together by thin straps, leaving your front fully exposed. Rafe’s hand starts to palm himself over his sweatpants, the pain in his dick becoming unbearable. “Fuck you look good.” You giggle and give him a twirl shaking your ass in the process. “Yeah? You like it, pretty boy.”  Your hands are roaming your body, pausing to play with your breast.

Rafe can’t help but stare. “Come here.” You do without question, not wanting to let go of the game you ask him again. “Truth or dare.” Rafe reaches for your sides as soon as you get close. Playing with the lace between his fingers. “Can we both just stick to dare? It’s more fun that way.” Smiling you lean in, closing the gap slightly. “I dare you to take off your pants.” Like a good boy he does.

His boxer does nothing to hide the impressive dick he has. Your mouth water just thinking about it. Without really thinking your hand lands on his thigh, making its way up and retracting as soon as you get close to his dick. “Don’t be shy, baby. You can touch me.” Your eyes look at him through your eyelashes. He could probably cum just from watching you. Bingo

“I dare you to touch yourself.” A gasp leaves your lips at his dare. You know what he means, he wants you to pleasure yourself in front of him. But instead of listening you start to touch your thighs, then arms, and chest. “You know what I meant. Don’t you go start being a brat right now.” Giggling you move his thighs, slotting yourself in between them. Leaning back you expose yourself to him. The open crotch leaves you fully bare to him.

“Fuck.” He grunts as your fingers play with your clit, collecting the wetness by your entrance to help your movements. You almost get lost in the feeling, forgetting about the game, almost. “I dare you to take those boxers off and show me how you take care of yourself.” Rafe’s dick twitches when the cool air of your room hits him. His hand rapidly wrapping around himself and tugging. 

The two of you kinda stay there in a lull. Both of you watch the other as they play with themselves, waiting the other out till they crack. Rafe had envisioned this differently, he thought he would be the one having you begging for him. Now he doesn’t even know if he can go another minute without touching you. Without feeling you stretch out on him. He knows this is only going to torture himself more but he can’t help it. “I dare you to come sit on my lap.”

You may have been confident before but this is going further then you thought. Before you can psych yourself out you do it. Throwing your legs over his, your folds parting as you sit down on him, his dick laying perfectly on your pussy. His hands find your hips as your arms wrap his neck. Holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes. “Like this?” Your voice convey’s innocence, so do your eyes. Melting him even further into your spell. “Just like that baby.” 

His hands start to rock you back and forth, his dick sliding between your folds. The tip brushing against your clit. You let out a moan from the feeling, grinding harder to please him too. Your efforts were rewarded with a chocked moan leaving his perfect lips. Wanting to test how far he’s willing to go, your head leans forward. He's moving in trying to taste your lips, only stopping when he sees that you did. “I dare you to kiss me.” The words whispered on his lips.

Rafe brings a hand up to the back of your neck, dragging you in for a kiss. His lips devour yours as if you were his last meal. With the way that your soaking cunt is drenching him, it might actually be. He feels like he’s in heaven right now, he never wants this feeling to stop. But he knows it could be better. “I dare you to put it in.” Your hips stop, lips following along. There’s saliva connecting your lips as you detach yourself. You look apprehensive, not really sure if you want to ruin the friendship. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Your fingers graze his scalp, missing when he had hair. The feeling of it weaving through your fingers can be felt lightly. “I miss your hair.” Rafe grins at you, pecking your lips. “I’ll grow it out again if you sit on my dick.” You clench around nothing, itching to feel him inside you. “Plus we’re best friends. We should be able to do everything together.” He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your check, thumb grazing your bottom lip. Blue eyes following the movement, flickering up to catch yours.

In your mind you know he’s trying to manipulate you with the best friend card. The truth is you don’t care, you would have pulled the same trick. Rafe isn’t the only one desperate to have him in me. “Okay. Promise this won’t change anything.” you lift your pinky up to him, he latches his to yours. “Promise, Just…just sit on it. That’s all you have to do.” He needs you now, he’ll say or do anything to get it. You lift yourself a little, getting a hold of him to line him up to your entrance.

Slowly you tease your hole with his tip. Slightly putting it in and then going up to then swirl his head around. Rafe is getting frustrated, groans of displeasure leaving his mouth. “Please.” He whines out, hands death gripping your hips. You lightly tap his cheek so he can open his eyes. With a smile you sink down, moaning at the feeling of his big dick stretching you. When you bottom out you lean your forehead on his. Hips flushed to one another.

Your eyes are locked in, watching as you both stew in the pleasure of feeling each other. Your walls are fluttering around him so nicely. He doesn’t know how much of this he could handle. Honestly he’s glad he suggested you cockwarm him. If he was fucking you right now he would have already finished. You are so tight and warm he wouldn’t have lasted a minute. Plus it gives you a chance to get used to him, he doesn’t plan on being gentle next him. His hands explore your back, nails raking down and slapping your ass. You let out a loud moan, your walls contract making him let one out as well. 

The minutes pass by as you two explore each other. Sharing kisses on lips or exposed skin, hands touching every inch they can reach. You can feel him throbbing inside you, pulsating every few seconds. Pulling away, your hands lay flat on his chest to keep him still. “I dare you to touch me.” Tilting your head you mock him. “Let’s see if you can make me cum.” A hand flies to your clit rubbing calculated circles, the other gripping your neck. “Dangerous game you’re playing there, baby.”

Rafe’s back to attacking your lips, moving his assault to your jaw nipping at the skin. His fingers move faster on your clit, hurdling you closer to your orgasim. “Tighter.” You plead, your own hand laying over his to get what you want. He tightens his hold, chuckling at your open mouth expression. “Fucking dirty girl. Here I thought you were my little angel, turns out you're a little devil.” Words don't seem to be forming in your brain.

Everything is blank, the only thing in your head is forcing you to focus on how good his fingers feel. How every twitch of his dick brushes your g-spot only adding to your pleasure. He can feel how close you are, your walls are strangling him. Ironic since it's the same thing he’s doing to you. The fuzziness of your mind snaps the band in your stomach, all the stimulation too much for you to handle. “Rafe please.” Your moans mix with his, they echo in your room bouncing off the walls. 

Rafe continues his motions to help you ride out your orgasim. His hands give up once you relax again. He’s on the verge of cumming, mustering up all his strength he holds back. You sense his hands on your hips ready to pull you up. You slap his hands away, cementing yourself to his lap. He gives you a panic look, knowing he won’t be able to hold off for long. “I dare you to cum in me. We should be able to do everything together right?” The moan he let out was pornographic at best. His body is shaking from how intense his orgasim is.

You moan as you watch him enjoying the view of his face and the feeling of him filling you up. He pulls you to his chest, keeping you close as he comes down. This is better than any drug he has ever taken. Slowly and carefully he moves you around, laying you on your back and pulling out. He stares at his dripping cum slides out of you. “God baby you’re amazing.” He kisses your stomach, chest, chin, then lips.

He holds you there, lips molding with yours. He gets up after a minute, getting a wet rag to clean you up. You lay in bed motionless when Rafe comes back after disposing of the dirty rag. “That was fucking amazing.” You say to your ceiling. Laughing, he lays down next to you. You look at him with a smile. “If you think that was good just wait till I actually fuck you.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #drew starkey smut #outer banks smut #rafe x you #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #best friend rafe #rafe cameron x reader

[classypauli]

𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹’𝑺 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

part 1 • part 2 • part 3

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Tara’s desperation of seeing you led her to your workplace. Finally after such a long time of building the feelings you both feel completed.

tags: dumb in love, jealous and needy Tara, you are smart ass, doc y/n, mistakes, curse words /wc 2.7k

A couple of days passed and Tara couldn´t be happier. Well, she could be even more if she was with you.

Since you got her number you and her have been texting since that morning. At first, Tara felt a little embarrassed. Mindy didn´t tell her everything she did at the party, or more like she said, but Tara knew it wasn´t something she would be proud of.

She didn´t want to be seen as that type of girl in front of you, she acted awful with her drunk ass but did you blame her? She has been having her eye on you for the longest time.

Next week passed and she was looking for ways to see you in person. You talked every day when you or she had a chance, some nights you even called and talked about your day. Tara loved the sound of your voice or your laugh. It felt so relaxing and calm.

Unfortunately, you and her had a lot of work to do, Tara had school every day so she needed to study for projects and exams and you had attestations in the hospital as well as other duties, so it was hard for you to meet and go out. The girl didn´t want to bother you, you had a lot of more important stuff to do.

But that wouldn´t be Tara if she didn´t decide to do something. She was just too desperate to see you and talk to you, see your smile, hear your voice. See you looking at her and paying her attention. So she was on her way to your workplace. She didn´t tell you about it, she just wanted to surprise you.

The girl knew that you might not have time but she decided to wait for you and she will give you as much time as you need.

„Hello, I´m looking for a doctor Y/L/N.“ Damn, it felt good to say that. Tara didn´t know why, she felt somehow proud of your title.

The receptionist looked up at her. „You have an appointment?“ She asked as she kept scanning the young girl.

„Well uhm not really- I just brought her something and wanted to give it to her.“ Tara told her as she lifted her bag a little for the woman behind the tall desk to see it.

„Okay, I can make a call and ask if she doesn´t have any patients at the moment.“ The woman turned to the phone beside her and pressed some buttons. After a couple of seconds, she looked at the brunette again. „She will be here in a minute.“

Tara gave her a thankful smile. „Thank you.“ She turned around and started scanning the wall of the hospital. Today was there a lot of people and a lot of young doctors as well. You told Tara that you still study medicine and have not much left to be a full doctor. On some schedules, you worked with other doctors and sometimes was just by yourself.

Tara needed to say this profession suited you. You were friendly and soft-spoken. You got others to trust easily and everyone liked you. Your smile and how you pay close attention to every person you meet is something you win people over.

„Hey.“ Tara jumped a little and turned around to see you. „Oh! I´m so sorry.“ You laughed and took her by her shoulders. „Are you okay?“you still laughed at her reaction.

„I almost got a heart attack.“ Tara pressed her hand over her heart took a deep breath a couple of times and then looked up at you. „Please don´t do that again.“

You closed your eyes and let out a little laugh at her words. „Don´t worry, I don´t want to see you on a hospital bed anymore either.“

You were wearing the same clothes as when she saw you for the first time. All white looking professional. It doesn´t matter how many times she sees you like this, her heart jumps every time.

„I´m so happy I see you, what are you doing here?“ you said as you took her by her hand and started to walk into your room. You step inside and let her sit on the chair, helping her.

„I felt like I wanted to see you. I missed you.“ The young Carpenter said with her soft voice as if she was embarrassed. You smiled gently at her and took her slowly into your arms.

„I missed you too, so much.“ Tara´s heart jumped up and down in her chest. Your hug was so gentle yet she felt protected and warm. She put her head right under your chin to smell your perfume and feel your skin. Tara took a small step back and looked up at you.

Tara wanted to say to you everything, how much she likes you and wants you. How she thinks about you from the moment she wakes up to the moment she falls asleep. Even in her sleep, you won´t leave her mind. She dreams about you and about things you two could do together. How much Tara wants it to be real.

„I wanted to invite you to today´s dinner, well- if you have time. I mean it´s really fast and I could say it earlier but I was- I don´t know, I didn´t know what would you-“You pressed your finger at her lips to shut her.

„I will come.“ You whispered and smiled right into her eyes. Tara smiled even wider and waited for your next move. Suddenly the door opened and the blond girl walked in. She was wearing exactly what you were wearing so Tara knew she must be your colleague. You gently pull away from her to look at the girl who just walked in.

„Y/N I wanted- Oh, I see you have a visit.“ She said as she kept scanning Tara. The brunette got a weird feeling from her. She doesn´t feel as trustworthy as you did when you met.

„It´s fine Belle, what did you need?“

„I wanted to ask you about this one patient, can you come to my office real quick?“ Tara knew that look. She knew it very well, she saw this look when she walked around some of the girls in the school, she saw this look when she said hi to her friend and then noticed his girl was shooting her daggers. She saw this look when she used to look at one of her ex-friends.

„Is it important? I have here something going on and-“

„It is.“

She was jealous because she has a feelings for you and Tara didn´t even have to know her for long. It was how her eyes changed from when she looked at you and back at Tara. She definitely won’t let this someone have you. You, who she wanted for such a long time and chased since day one.

You sighed and looked back at Tara. You smiled softly at her and brought her back to the hug. „Text me the time.“

Tara needed to use her woman´s weapons, now was her time to show that Belle who you belonged to.

As you started to pull away Tara kissed your cheek, really close to your lips. „I will.“ She smiled. „Have a great rest of the day babe. See you later.“ And then Tara turned around and walked away without looking at the blonde girl.

You stood there still as if you were scalded by dead water. What did she say? Did she just call you babe? It took you way too long to come back to reality with your red face and non-stopping beating heart. You smirked a little.

She was jealous.

-

Tara was running around her apartment preparing everything to be ready for you. The girl was excited and the same time nervous. She was afraid that she crossed the line in the hospital and she embarrassed herself. What if you didn´t even like her like she does?

Sam is at work today but she knows that Tara has invited you over. The younger Carpenter talked to her at first about it, if it was a good idea, and if she didn´t have a problem with that. Sam was a little sceptical about it at first, she saw you two times but she heard about you a thousand times.

Her older sister knew she liked you, a lot. When Tara was upset or tired from school Sam just had to ask something about you like if you talked today and Tara was instantly smiling.

So she agreed to it. Danny was right there if anything happened and she always had her phone by her side. Maybe this was finally some progress, even Sam knew it wasn´t healthy how much careful they were. Tara barely used to have some new friends because her sister refused to let her talk to anyone or go to parties and socialize.

Tara´s worries were cut off by the knocking on the door. You came right on time. The brunette took a glance at the kitchen and the living room if was everything clean. Then she ran into the hallway and looked at herself in the mirror.

She was wearing s simple dress and her hair was down. She didn´t know if she should put on some makeup or not, she didn´t want it to look like she was trying so hard to impress you. Tara wanted to impress you but not by force.

After a deep breath, she opened the door and was met with you. Tara scanned your body with her eyes shamelessly looking at every part of it. You stood there with a simple white button-up shirt and black pants. She could see that your hair was also done. Your hair looked always beautiful but today even it was even more.

You smiled at her gently with your adorable eyes. One of your hands was behind your back hiding something from the girl. „Hey.“ You whispered to her.

„Hi.“ She was stuck still looking at you. That was the problem most of the time when she was with you. Her brain just couldn´t work at all, like it was stuck and couldn´t think properly.

„Uhm you look really beautiful.“ You said and took a glance at her body still standing in the hallway in front of the apartment, nervously stepping from one leg to another.

„Thank you- oh! C-Come in!“ she opened the door wider for you, mentally slapping herself for being so stupid.

„This is for you.“ You brought the hand from behind your back to her. You were holding a bouquet of big red roses. Tara´s eyes widen at the scene. This was the first time someone gave her flowers, she wasn´t counting the times in the hospital. Not on her birthday, graduation from high school, or any time. She softly took them from your hand with a gentle brush on her hand across yours.

„Thank you so much Y/N.“ she smiled and bore her face tightly into your chest with one of her arms around you, the other holding flowers.

After that, you both went to eat in the kitchen. You asked about Sam and how she was as well as Tara´s friends. The both of you had a great time with each other, always smiling and laughing. You must admin Tara is great in the kitchen, the meal she prepared was amazing. It made you wonder if there was something she wasn´t great at. You were sitting opposite each other between your lighted candles.

The vibe of the room was cozy. The only lights were from the candle on the table and a couple of soft lights around you. The soft instrumental music was playing in the distance.

„I love your wallpaper by the way.“ You said with a teasing smile. Tara put her head into her hands trying to hide her red face. Of course, you brought that up. „You know I hate that photo? At least you could pick some nicer.“ You continued as you picked another piece of meat on the fork.

Tara didn´t know how to answer, it was too embarrassing and it was all Mindy to blame. She was the one who put that photo cropped it and put it as wallpaper. Well, okay Tara could change it... but she didn´t want to.

„To be clear, Mindy was the one that put it there.“ Tara picked up her hands in a swearing motion. You lifted your eyebrows at that.

„How did Mindy find me? We met at the party.“ You smiled at her again waiting for her answer.

You were pulling Tara´s strings and you were good. „Okay okay, can we change the topic please?“ you threw your head back with a laugh and closed your eyes. How Tara loved this habit of yours.

„When did you know you wanted to take this path in your life? I mean the medicine stuff.“ Tara asked with curious eyes before she continued to eat.

„Well, my grandpa´s a neurologist and it interested me from my childhood I guess. Even if I didn´t understand that the clean and white work always fascinated me.“ Tara nodded at your answer, paying close attention to every word that left your lips.

 „At first I didn´t know if I had it in me but as I was growing and learning and working on myself I got accepted into university and after some time here I am.“

„What do you wanna do?“ Tara asked again looking at you with a glass of red vine in her hand.

„Uhm I think I want to be a neurologist also. I still have some time left to change it but I guess this has been with me since day one.“ you shrugged your shoulders and sent her a tight-lipped smile.

Tara leaned a little closer to you over the table, looking into your eyes. „I just want you to know that whatever path you choose I´m sure you´re gonna be amazing in it.“

You felt like someone just spilled the hot water inside of your chest. Tara´s words took you by the heart. You smiled back and thanked her. After dinner and wine, you went to the living room to watch something and just talk. Not after a long time it was already so late. You both even forgot to look at the time when you were together, you loved to spend time with each other.

„I think I should go, it´s late.“ You stood up from the couch, Tara was now looking up at you. She didn´t want you to go but would it be okay if she asked you to stay over? Wouldn´t it be weird? Fuck it, besides Tara felt like she still missed something from this night.

„You can stay over?“ she stood up and took you by your hands, they were warm after the red vine. The girl saw as you wanted to shake your head at her idea but before you could make the move she tightened her grip on your hands. „Please.“

You sighed and nodded with your head a little. The girl in front of you smiled widely and put her arms around your neck. „Thank you.“ You looked down at her big brown eyes. She kept looking as if she was waiting for you to move.

Your chest started to rise faster and the air was harder to take into your lungs. You put your hands around her waist and her smile got only wider. This was Tara Carpenter´s effect. You kept looking around, her nose, her freckles, her eyebrows, hair that was resting on her forehead, eyes, and lastly lips. Was this the right moment? Is this it?

You took a deep breath as you felt Tara´s hands gently bringing you down to her face. You then pressed your lips into her own. It was like a puzzle, like two missing pieces. You felt like your chest was about to explode but at the same time… you felt peace.

Tara pushed herself back a little looked into your eyes and pressed her lips against yours again. Her hands were now around your face, by your ears, playing with your hair. Your arms only tightened around her waist and grabbed her a little more. At that moment, the girl opened her mouth a little with surprise. On which you took a chance and brought your tongue into her mouth.

In slow motion, you picked Tara and put her on the couch with you on top of her. Your breaths were fast and your chests were rising against one another. Tara´s hand was now on your collar trying to undo your buttons. Just then you realized what was going on.

„Tara-“ you tried to say but her mouth was now on your neck, nibbling the soft skin. You could barely form the words from the passion you both built. And you completely understand, the both of you were so drunk from the feeling for each other, you aren´t stupid. You saw the way Tara was looking at you, her eyes were so expressionate and unique. Her smile when you held eye contact or her electric touch when she brushed her soft skin against yours. It was mutual.

You collected all of the scenes inside of you and softly took her hands from your collar into your own. You looked down at her into her eyes slowly kissing her palms. Before you could bring the one with the scar on to your lips she made a soft fist out of her hand. You shook your head at her action and softly opened her fingers to kiss her scar.

„Don´t hide it please.“ You whispered. You then pushed yourself up from your position to sit on your knees above her. Tara was right under your body with her legs around your hips, her hair was all around the place and one of the straps of her dress fell. She looked mesmerizing like this. The girl smiled at you and pulled her arms around your neck to kiss you.

That kiss was not as aggressive and needy as before. This was soft and enjoyable. She slowly pushed away with your noses still touching. „Fucking finally.“ You just laughed at her words and kissed her cheek three times.

After that, you went into her room and got changed. You were up for a long time not feeling like going to sleep. You were giggling, hugging and cuddling then kissing and it went like a carousel.

„You were jealous today.“ You said as you were running your fingers through her long dark hair. She was quiet for a moment, ignoring your question. „Hm?“

„No.“

„No? So you don´t wanna know what Belle wanted from me?“

She looked up at you from your chest squinting her eyes at you. „What did Belle want?“ she said with a little change of voice at her name. You threw your head back with a laugh. „Stop. Laughing.“ She punched your chest slightly after each word. „This isn´t funny. What did she want?“

„Nothing actually, just what she said. About one of our patients.“ Tara kept looking into your eyes trying to find out if you were telling the truth. „I swear!“

„M´kay... but I still don´t believe her.“ The brunette laid her head back down.

„Why?“ you were confused by it. She just met her today for the first time. What was it about your colleague that she didn´t like?

Tara mumbed gently into your chest. „She likes you. I can see it.“

„Tara, even if it was true I wouldn´t like her back.“ She looked up again and supported her chin on your sternum. „So please, don´t think something else about it, okay?“ you said before you kissed her forehead.

„I just want you.“ Tara´s face broke into a smile as she kissed your lips. Just how much she dreamed about this. Finally.

a/n: Hello! I really want to apologize for the long waiting for this chapter. I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this part but I’m happy that I’ll at least have heart on the correct side now. Those who were patient with me: big thank you <3 hahaha I hope you had a good time reading! See you next time love ya

#jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #fanfic #fem reader #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #tara x female reader #jenna ortega x female reader #jenna ortega x gender neutral reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna x fem reader #jenna x g!p reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader

[i-yap]

Batboys x quiet! reader(who is not quiet in private)

( some of the reasons for the quietness is a bit traumatic so uhh warning)

Dick grayson -

opposites attract is possibly my favorite trope ever. And that is exactly what you guys are . Not exactly golden retriever x black cat though people who didn't know you guys well assumed such .

Dick would get exhausted spending forever being charming and charismatic for even the most extroverted of people get tired when they had to manage multiple superhero teams, a detective squad and the whole batfamily.

You were silence, peace serenity almost..until you weren't. Grayson was worried about this relationship in the start, after all you guys were really different. He was afraid you were going to be annoyed by his sunshine self, and that when he isn't feeling like talking, the conversations would go silent.

But you really are so different when comfortable with someone, and its tough not to trust and drop your shield with grayson.

It took him by surprise slowly seeing you open up and show your weird side. It somehow made him cherish it more and even want to show sides of him that only you got to see.

When he asked you why you weren't like this with everyone you said " My parents had a habit of talking over me, sometimes outrightly not hearing me speak at all. No matter how loud I spoke..i wondered if they couldn't hear me...if anyone even wanted to you" "why me then?" asked dick , "you're nothing like my parents, I know you care" and he does..he really does. He won't ever let you feel like that every again. He will make sure everything you want said is heard, and if not he will burn it into the skyline

Jason todd

he appreciated it, a quiet person in public. He hated being in public, he hated the buzz the noise the push the touch of humans around him. He felt strange

till he feels you hold his knowing you felt just as strange as him. Leave the gala and walk around the library , one earphone in each ear listening to whatever you wished to play.

Pulling you close in crowded areas- was it for you or for him? Glaring at anyone who dared tease you about your quietness. A single glare usually does the job but don't worry ...other ways exist too.

He loves that when you two are alone, you are a completely different person. It makes him feel special, like he is the only one who understands you. Because you're the only one who understands him.

When he asks " well I guess I never felt like people liked what came out of my mouth.. my humour too dark, my words too dumb and I didn't make sense. So I stopped trying" don't worry about being cringe..he understands you completely

Tim drake

he is intruiged. How do you pull such a perfect facade. How does one look so poised and collected with those rich assholes and so wild and untamed with him?

He could never really perfect the act the way you did. He's seen you grow up, but somehow its like you were born with two people living in your brain.

If you're this mysterious to your childhood lover, how does anyone in the world even think that they could know you, both versions of you.

Dont get me wrong, he loved it, A mystery he never could solve, not even with your help.

" Teach me your ways master" "I remember you wanting me to call you that last night..oh no wait it was si-" "shut upp" "fine ill tell you timmy boy, I just believe those rich stick up their ass puppets don't deserve to see all ..this.." "what about school kids, friends , teemates-" "I don't need anyone to get me as long as you do"

He will never get it, even if someone engraved it into his skin he wont understand everything about you , you'll always be the case he couldn't solve.

AND WE ARE BACK BICHES , send in requests and stuff, inbox open again blah blah I'm feeling much better now but I might push angst stuff more

#• #Tim Drake x Reader #Tim Drake x You #Tim Drake x Y/N #Tim Drake Fluff #Tim Drake Angst #Tim Drake Comfort #Tim Drake Headcanons #Tim Drake Imagines #Red Robin x Reader #Red Robin x You #Red Robin x Y/N #Batfamily #Batfamily x Reader #Batfamily Fluff #Batfamily x You #Batfamily x Y/N #Batfamily Headcanons #Batfamily Imagines #Batboys #Batboys x Reader #Batboys Fluff #Batboys Headcanons #Batboys Imagines #Jason Todd + Red Hood #Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x You #Jason Todd x Y/N #Jason Todd Fluff #Jason Todd Angst

[dduane]

Is there an alphabet or lexicon of the human version of The Speech? And if so, where can I find it?

No, there's not.

(And as I've been asked about this before, I'm just going to paste the answer in here—since though the original post is buried in the depths of Tumblr somewhere, I do have my saved draft.)

Per these, which came in very close to each other:

@melbetweenstars

This is something I’ve always wondered but never realized I could actually ask about until I read through that long meta response. (go me.) How much of the Speech do you have fleshed out? Do you create it as you go on more of a need-to-know basis, or do you have vocabulary and grammar structures ready to go? Basically I’d be really interested to hear any Speech-related meta if you have the chance because fictional languages are hella cool!

and:

@sansa–clegane

I just read your post on dark wizards and field terminologies, and am totally loving the Speech translations you provided! Now I’m wondering, though, how much of the language you actually have mapped out or established? I’m very curious as to what, for example, the standard “I - you - he/she/it/etc. - we - you plural - they” conjugation endings would be– or if there even are any in a language as complex as the Speech. I’M JUST REALLY INTERESTED IN FANTASY LINGUISTICS AAAHH

Linguistics is a big deal for me too, as people who read my stuff will have guessed. And needless to say, the Speech is on my mind a lot (along with other “magical languages” and their history/histories).

So let’s take a moment to first to make it clear what the Speech is not. It’s not what’s sometimes referred to as an Adamic language  (whether you take the meaning that God used it to talk to Adam, or that Adam invented it to name things.) It’s also nothing whatsoever to do with Enochian. It’s not an occultic language, or anything invented by human beings.

The basic concept is that the Speech is the language, or the very large body of descriptors, used to create the universe (and very likely others, but let’s leave that to one side for the moment). Such words are also assumed, having been used in the building of the universe, to be able to control the bits they’ve built. Every word, therefore, when used ought ideally to sound as if it contains some tremendous power. 

Writing something like that every time the Speech is used, even for a much better writer than I am, would be very, very hard.

(We need a cut here. Under the cut: Ursula Le Guin, C. S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, J. K. Rowling, and others. ...Also a fair number of beetles. And a bear.)

It’s worth mentioning as a matter of information that I met the concept of secret / divine magical languages in Le Guin’s Earthsea long before I ran into it in C. S. Lewis. (I came pretty late to Lewis’s non-Narnian work.) Yet here Lewis, as more than occasionally before, is my master, having been over this ground right back in the mid-1940s.

There’s a point in the final novel of the so-called “Planetary Trilogy”, that big fat (now endlessly problematic but still fun-in-the-right-moods) book That Hideous Strength, where Elwin Ransom—philologist, unwilling visitor to Mars and Venus, unnerved conscript into the wars in Heaven, and Lewis’s take on both the Pendragon and the wounded Fisher King—is instructing his friend and co-linguistics scholar Dimble on how to behave in a meeting with the newly awakened, and potentially quite dangerous, Merlin Ambrosius. (The POV in this passage is that of a lady named Jane who's just recently fallen into company with the group supporting Ransom.)

“You understand, Dimble? Your revolver in your hand, a prayer on your lips, your mind fixed on Maleldil [just think “Christ” for the moment: surprise surprise, that’s the parellel Lewis is using here]. Then, if he stands, conjure him.” “What shall I say in the Great Tongue?” “Say that you come in the name of God and all angels and in the power of the planets from one who sits today in the seat of the Pendragon, and command him to come with you. Say it now.” And Dimble, who had been sitting with his face drawn, and rather white, between the white faces of the two women, and his eyes on the table, raised his head, and great syllables of words that sounded like castles came out of his mouth. Jane felt her heart leap and quiver at them. Everything else in the room, seemed to have become intensely quiet: even the bird, and the bear***, and the cat, were still, staring at the speaker. The voice did not sound like Dimble’s own: it was as if the words spoke themselves through him from some strong place at a distance—or as if they were not words at all but present operations of God, the planets, and the Pendragon. For this was the language spoken before the Fall and beyond the Moon, and the meanings were not given to the syllables by chance, or skill, or long tradition, but truly inherent in them as the shape of the great Sun is inherent in the little waterdrop. This was Language herself, as she first sprang at Maleldil’s bidding out of the molten quicksilver of the star called Mercury on Earth, but Viritrilbia in Deep Heaven.

Now if that’s not like being hit over the head with a hammer, I don’t know what is.* That moment has been before the eyes-of-my-mind for a long time as I’ve worked with the Speech.

Note, however, that Lewis does a very wise thing here. He doesn’t actually spell out any of the words out for you. Because in the reader’s mind, there’s always the six-year-old saying, “Go on, say the word: see how it sounds, see what happens…!” And when you recite the magic spell, it doesn’t work. The words come out sounding, well, like any others. And maybe not your interior six-year-old, but your interior twelve- or fifteen-year-old—the ego-state that’s about keeping you from getting hurt or looking stupid in front of other people who aren’t privy to or supportive of your dreams—says, “See, it was just another word, just a bunch of nonsense. You got fooled. Dummy!” No wise writer, I think, willingly sets their readership up for such easy and constant disappointment. It's tough enough to weave, and hold in place, the spell that is prose. Handing the audience a potential spellbreaker, over and over again, is folly. 

And by rights the Speech ought to be like Lewis’s example above. If in reality you were to hear the words used to restructure matter or undo gravity, they ought to shake the air in your chest like a Saturn V launch, they should raise the hair on the back of your neck to hear them used; they should freak you out. But a long string of invented syllables isn’t going to do that. I’m stuck with using English to produce even the echo of such a result.

Which means I have to go Lewis’s route… mostly. Here and there I’ll add in a Speech-sourced word or phrase when it supports the narrative or makes it easier for characters to talk about what’s going on—as, when working with wizardry, you do sometimes have to call in precisionist-level language for words that have no casual English cognates: just as you would if you were working in particle physics or organic chemistry at the molecular level. But that’s all I’m going to do… because if you do too much linguistic work in this regard, you constantly run the risk of your readers being distracted from the real business at hand, which is the interactions between/among the characters.

The tech inherent to a work of fantastic fiction is always an issue in this regard. Ideally L. Sprague de Camp’s very useful definition of science fiction, tweaked here for fantasy, ought to be a guideline: “A fantasy story is a human story with a human problem and a human solution that could never have happened without its fantastic content.” Yet inside the definition, there’s still a lot of ways to go wrong. Too much merely human stuff, and a work of fantasy turns into a soap with some casual magical gimmickry—all too often these days labeled as “magic realism”, when it’s not publisher code for “We’d call this fantasy if we had the nerve and we didn’t think it was going to tag us as ‘genre’ and keep us off the best-seller lists”. Too little human-problem-and-human-solution, and it turns into a modern version of what James Blish (God rest him), when writing as the gently merciless science fiction critic William Atheling Jr., used to call “The 'Greater New York and New Jersey Municipal Zeppelin Gas Works’ school of speculative fiction”, where you tour your readership through the Wonderfulness Of Your Tech (magical or otherwise) until they expire of boredom while waiting for someone to fucking do something.

You have to find a centerline between the extremes—indeed pretty much a tightrope—and walk it with some care. I’d guess that J. K. Rowling ran into the need for this balancing act; while never having read the Potter books, I nonetheless get a sense that you get the occasional Wingardium leviosa without also being burdened with long strings of magical Latin. (Though I confess that the answer to the question “Where does the magic come from? And what’s it for?” as it applies to her universe could be of some interest. I have no idea whether this ever gets explicitly handled.**) 

Anyway, it’d be way too easy for the YW books to become long discourses on the Speech and its use. This aspect of the “tech”, I think, gets more than enough time onstage. Having once established that words are a tool, indeed the tool for a wizard, the ur-Tool, making every spell they build a resonance between what they do and the initial/ongoing work of Creation—my business is to stay focused on the challenge of driving plot forward by interactions between human beings (and all kinds of others) who have conflicting agendas.

…So much for the tl;dr. I do have some very basic grammatical structures tucked away, but they’re not in any fit state for other people to look at. The Speech, I think, is really best treated as an ongoing mystery that unfolds a little at a time, as required, and leaves everybody wanting more.

HTH!

*It also leads into one of numerous affectionate nods in this book toward Tolkien, as philologist, fellow novelist, and Lewis’s good friend. It's no accident that when Ransom meets up with Merlin himself, a little later in the narrative, the question of this language—the proper name of the Great Tongue is “Old Solar"—comes up again. When discussing what language they’ll speak with each other during their upcoming negotiations [they apparently start out in a rather beat-up and denatured medieval Latin], Ransom says to Merlin about the language he’d prefer to be working in, "It has been long since it was heard. Not even in Numinor was it heard in the streets.”

The Stranger gave no start … but he spoke with a new interest. “Your masters let you play with dangerous toys,” he said. “Tell me, slave, what is Numinor?” “The true West,” said Ransom. “Well,” said the other.

Yeah, “well.” Better scholars than I have dealt with the relationship between these two, as scholars and writers and friends, so enough of that for the moment. But it’s very sweet to see Lewis do something in his books that I’ve done with mine.

**It’s always possible, of course, that in the HP universe this issue is a surd: like asking “where physics comes from”. (Well, not a surd precisely, if your spiritual life tends a certain way. Mine tends toward “Whoever or whatever made the universe, that’s who made physics. And they must really like it, because they made a metric shit ton of it!” (This answer also works for beetles, though that's a slightly different issue.) :)

But if there’s a most-fundamental difference between my wizardly universe and Rowling’s, it might be best revealed in the third question that came up for me directly after “What if there was a user’s manual for human beings/the world/the universe?” and “If there was, where would it have come from?”: specifically, “And why?”

***There's a bear in the Pendragon's kitchen. Thoth only knows what initially brought that on for Lewis, but it's a character insertion that pays off later, so (shrug) wtf.

#Young Wizards meta #Young Wizards #Ursula Le Guin #C. S. Lewis #J. R. R. Tolkien #the Speech #wizardry #errantry

[aeliuss]

kiss me or hate me (kiss me)

when god made you, he built you all wrong. sown your heart on three times too large and your lungs three times too small, and you knew it was so because although you knew he was bad news, you couldn’t quite catch your breath around him. he is something holy, you swear he is. when he carves his hips into yours, when his lips linger on the soft flesh of your throat—he could tear you open.

you would let him. let him love you the way a vulture loves a carcass, neck dipped low in worship as it feasts.

your parents hate the way you’ve stopped going to church to be with him. hate that your even with him, but what do they know of love? you try to explain it to them, but the words get tangled in your throat, coming out wrong. they see only rebellion where you see revelation, only sin where you see sanctity.

you spend your nights wrapped in his arms, your days lost in thoughts of him. the world narrows to the beat of his heart against your ear, the whisper of his breath against your skin. his presence is a prayer you never learned, a hymn that rises unbidden in your throat. you abandon the familiar pews and hymns for the unknown verses of his touch, and every kiss is a communion, every whispered word a confession.

you start to think that maybe love is its own kind of faith. you wonder if god made him just for you, a test of your devotion, a challenge to your beliefs. you wonder if redemption could be found in the curve of his smile, if salvation could be written in the lines of his hands.

“I don’t love you,” he is sitting up on the bed, back to you, hips still tangled in the white sheets as he smokes a vape. “you know that, right?”

you know. you tell him so from where you lay on the bed, a foot away from him. naked, if not for the duvet. you swear you can make out a halo from the curls of smoke around his head.

he exhales sharply, shoulders shaking with laughter, twisting to face you. “god, you’re fun.” he murmurs against your lips. “did you know that? how fun you are?”

you don’t answer. don’t get the chance to, because he is pressing against you, and your blur into him once more. you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

“do you believe in redemption?” you ask him one day, your voice barely a whisper.

he snorts, a short, sharp sound that cuts through the silence. “redemption is for people who think they need to be saved,” he says, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “do you think you need to be saved?”

“do you?”

“do I look like I need to be saved?” his touch is not unlike a feather against your hip. it makes it difficult to focus. “I don’t know,” you murmur, cupping his jaw. “sometimes, you look very sad.”

you’ve never caught him off guard before. but that night you swore you saw the glitter of tears in his eyes, though you don’t feel them when he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“maybe we can save each other,” he mumbles after a while.

you hum softly, considering his words, the weight of them sinking into the silence between you. maybe it's true, maybe you can save each other. the idea flickers like a candle in the dark. fragile.

but as the days pass, you realize that love alone cannot mend all wounds, cannot erase all sins. he is still the same flawed, broken boy you fell for, and you are still the same church girl with a heart too big and a faith too fragile. you cannot save him, no matter how desperately you try.

yet you try. because god has sown your heart on three times too big and his three times too small and when you are together, you are clashes of teeth and elbows, of long limbs and wandering fingers, of sanctity and sin.

because he is your religion and you, a dutiful worshipper. because it was always meant to end this way. his teeth on your throat. a vulture feeding on a corpse.

#lee know #straykids #skz #straykids fanfic #lee minho #Lino #lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know stray kids #Lee know smut #minho x reader #minho #minho smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz smut #skz drabbles #stray kids angst #angst #smut #lee know angst #minho angst

[pinkflower2003]

My Honey

Words: 2k - Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist - Ask Berry🍓

The day started like any other. The sun was shining brightly over the Silverstone Circuit, the air filled with the familiar hum of engines and the buzz of excitement that only race day could bring. As Fernando Alonso's assistant, you were used to the hectic pace of the Formula 1 world. Your role was demanding, but you loved every minute of it. From managing his schedule to ensuring he had everything he needed, your job was to make sure Fernando could focus solely on racing.

Fernando was a legend in the sport, and working for him was a dream come true. Over time, your relationship with him had grown beyond that of a typical employer and employee. You had become close friends, sharing inside jokes and quiet moments of camaraderie. Fernando often treated you to expensive gifts and flowers, gestures you always assumed were his way of showing appreciation for your hard work. His light kisses on your cheek or the side of your lips had become a routine, or on your bare shoulder, a sweet habit you found endearing. The other drivers on the grid had even started referring to you both as the "mum and dad" of the F1 circuit, a nickname that always made you laugh.

You had now been working for Fernando for years, and whilst you didn't have the biggest age gap, your innocent personality made it easy for people to come close to you. You were the human epitome of sunshine, and whilst Fernando would have described himself as your rain, you would giggle and tell him he was the moon to your sun, he had seen some dark but he still shined even through the darkness.

No one questioned yours and Nandos relationship, whether you were dating or not, it didn't matter because Fernando would never let anyone say anything, when you hugged, when you would be sitting in the garage working on your phone, Fernando would be right next to you, his head tucked in your neck, trying to close his eyes and drift off for a moment. Sometimes there would be whispered, but you never noticed, brushing your fingers through your bosses hair, giving him a little kiss on the forehead, eyes not moving from your phone. Any eyes watching you would judgingly would move their eyes away the moment Fernando glared at them.

Today, as you bustled around the paddock, making sure everything was ready for the race, you noticed Fernando watching you from a distance, a fond smile playing on his lips. You waved at him, and he walked over, grinning at you. "Princesa, you look beautiful today." He said, giving you a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist. His head dipped down onto your shoulder as you returned the hug, wrapping your arms around his neck. Fernando turned his head, peppering light kisses on your bare neck that was made available by the fact you were wearing a summer dress today, one that Fernando had always loved seeing you in, and he only made that clearer by the way he tickled you in light pecks.

Being called by one of the Aston Martin team memembers, asking to talk to Fernando before a race, he groaned into your shoulder as you laughed, pushing his off of you. "Fernando, you need to go, stop clinging onto me like a baby."

"If anyone here is the baby, YN, it's you. You're my baby." He winked at you, as you rolled your eyes, pushing him in the direction of the person calling him over.

In the meantime, you found yourself still in the garage, chatting with one of the engineers. He was new to the team, charming and a bit flirty. You thought nothing of it, laughing at his jokes and enjoying the light-hearted banter. It was nice to make new friends, especially in the high-pressure environment of Formula 1.

Unbeknownst to you, Fernando had returned from his meeting and saw the exchange. His smile faded, replaced by a tight-lipped frown. He turned away, the pang of jealousy gnawing at him. He didn't understand why he felt this way—after all, you were just his assistant, right? But the sight of you laughing with someone else, someone who clearly had more than friendly intentions, stirred something deep within him.

Throughout the day, Fernando's mood grew darker. He barely spoke to you, his usual warmth replaced by a cold, distant demeanor. You tried to brush it off, but as the hours passed, you couldn't help but feel hurt. What had you done to upset him? His hugs, sweet whisperings, laughter and cheeky comments were gone and you didn't quite know what to do with yourself.

As the day wore on, Fernando's attitude didn't improve. You tried several times to approach him, offering a smile, a kind word, a small kiss to the cheek, but each attempt was met with a curt response or a stony silence. Your heart ached at the sudden shift in his behavior. He had always been so attentive, so caring. This new, cold version of him was hard to bear.

You found solace in your routine tasks, burying yourself in work to avoid thinking about the rift that had formed between you and Fernando. The other team members noticed the tension, casting worried glances in your direction but saying nothing. The dynamic in the garage was off, and it was affecting everyone. Your chest felt heavy everytime you looked at him, almost the feeling of separation anxiety, almost like your best friend being ripped away from you.

Before each race, Fernando would run up to you, begging you for a kiss on the cheek for good luck. This time, he walked straight past you.

The race didn't go well. Fernando struggled with his car, unable to find his rhythm. Every mistake, every missed opportunity seemed to fuel his frustration. When the checkered flag finally fell, he finished far lower than he had hoped. It was a devastating blow to his championship aspirations.

Back in the garage, you approached him cautiously, a comforting smile on your face. "Fernando, it's okay, honey. There will be other races. You'll bounce back, I know you will." You said, trying to almost go in for a hug, but he pushed past you.

But instead of the reassuring words you expected, Fernando lashed out. "Just leave me alone! You don't understand. You never do!" His words cut deep, tears welling up in your eyes. Without another word, you turned and fled, unable to bear the pain of his outburst.

As you walked away, the other drivers noticed your distress. Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris, two of the younger drivers who had always been protective of you, exchanged worried glances. They followed you to the hospitality suite, where you sat onto a sofa, sobbing quietly.

Charles sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Hey, what happened?"

Through your tears, you nodded. "He was so angry… I don't know what I did wrong."

Knowing who you meant, Lando knelt in front of you, his expression serious. "You didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes, Fernando can be a bit… intense. But he cares about you, more than you realise."

"He wouldn't even give me a hug, he always gives me a hug, not matter what the result."

The drivers consoled you, their kindness a balm to your wounded heart. They knew Fernando better than most and understood his temper was often a mask for deeper emotions. As they comforted you, an idea began to form in their minds. They needed to talk to Fernando, to make him see the mistake he had made.

The hours passed slowly. You couldn't focus on anything, your mind replaying the harsh words Fernando had hurled at you. The sting of his rejection was fresh, and the sadness was overwhelming. You decided to call it a day and headed home early, your heart heavy.

That night, the other drivers held an impromptu meeting. They discussed Fernando's behavior and its impact on you. They all agreed something needed to be done. They couldn't stand to see you hurting, and they knew Fernando needed to understand the consequences of his actions.

Later that evening, Charles and Lando found Fernando brooding in his motorhome. He looked up as they entered, his expression a mix of anger and regret.

"You're a dick, you know that right."

Fernando's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Lando stepped forward, his voice firm. "YN, you hurt her today, really hurt her. She went home in tears because of you. That beautiful, lovely girl, all she wanted was to give you a hug and you treated her like shit. After everything she does for you, how you treat each other, how she looks at you and that's how you treat her? Why?"

Fernando's face paled. "She was crying?"

Charles nodded. "Yes, and it's not just about today. We see the way you look at her, the way you treat her. It's obvious to everyone but her how much she means to you. You're going to loose her if you keep acting this way. Her heart can't take the way you acted today."

Fernando ran a hand through his hair, guilt gnawing at him. He had been blind to his own feelings, pushing them aside instead of acknowledging the truth. He cared for you deeply, more than he had allowed himself to admit.

The drivers laid out their plan. Fernando would apologise, but not just with words. He needed to show you how much he cared, how sorry he was for his outburst. It had to be special, something that would make you see how much you meant to him.

The next morning, you woke to a knock on your door. Opening it, you found a bouquet of 100 red roses and a note. "Meet me at the paddock. Your Honey."

With a mix of trepidation and hope, you made your way to the paddock. As you entered, you saw Fernando standing there, a nervous smile on his face. He had set up a small table with breakfast, flowers and drinks, a gesture so sweet it brought tears to your eyes.

"My love," he said softly, stepping towards you. "I wanted to apologise for yesterday. I was so out of line, and I hurt you. I'm so sorry." He cupped your face, "Will you ever forgive me, Princesa."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there. "Fernando, I don't understand. Why were you so angry? What did I do?"

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Because I was jealous. Seeing you with that engineer… it made me realise how much I care about you. More than just an assistant, more than just a friend. I was scared, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair." He said, pressing kisses to your cheeks as a few tears rolled down them.

"I didn't mean to make you jealous, Nando, we were just talking." You said quietly, looking at your feet, not understanding why you felt guilty, it wasn't as though you were in a relationship, but he was still your boss and you didn't want to upset him.

He put his finger under your chin, lifting your head up. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I was being stupid because I was scared that I was going to loose you before I had the chance to tell you that I wanted to be the one to sweep you off your feet, I wanted to be the one to ask you on a date, not him."

"You want to ask me on a date?" You asked, eyes widening slightly as he nodded.

"I want everything with you, if you'll have me?" He said, as you nodded, not quite being able to get your words out.

He leaned in, he had seemed to feel easy about kissing you everywhere, the head, nose, cheek, neck, shoulder. But this time, he was going to kiss your lips, something you had dreamed of him doing, but now was about to come true. You leaned in further, connecting your lips for a long, deep kiss, unaware of the eyes watching you both.

At that moment, the other drivers appeared, cheering and clapping. "Mum and dad are back together!" Lando shouted, making everyone laugh.

You blushed, but couldn't help but smile. Fernando wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "Looks like we've got the whole grid rooting for us," he murmured as you both laughed, foreheads pressed against one anothers.

#formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #ask berry🍓 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 11: POISON ROOT

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a fiending addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, threesome, oral sex, cumplay, phone sex, mentions of depression, angst, descriptions of mild gore

ੈ✩ wc: 7k

ੈ✩ a/n: here's a nice and fat chapter for you before we enter The Dark Ages <3

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

“Sorry, what?”

Yaga scowls at you and you’re unfazed. Mostly, you’re exasperated.

“I’ve repeated myself twice already,” he says calmly. More so brusquely, but you didn’t care enough to gauge his reaction. You’re too busy processing his words.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “But why me? Shoko’s technique is way stronger than mine.”

“Shoko’s technique is not your technique. And unlike her, you actually engage in combat.”

“Because the boys forced me—”

He brings a hand to your shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. You freeze.

“Your technique is remarkable. Stronger than you think,” Yaga sighs, almost in resignation. He doesn’t seem particularly enthused about what he’s proposing to you, but you consider that you’d probably worn him down over the past half hour.

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face. Mouth parted like an animal struck with fear. 

“But—”

“There hasn’t been anyone with a technique like yours in over ten years. I remember it. I had a family friend as a teacher here first—she talked about a boy that could regenerate cells. Practiced on plants and small animals as a child until he was able to resurrect bigger ones at your age.”

“That boy isn’t me,” you protest, your brows furrowing.

“He isn’t,” Yaga snaps back. “He died, and his death could’ve been prevented. This is why I want you to do this. I want you to be strong enough so that the same thing doesn’t happen to you.”

You swallow and look down, pretending to be interested in your thumbs. Your hands are delicate compared to anyone else’s. You had always admired people who could make something out of nothing, people who sculpted, crafted. Sometimes, you often wonder if what you do could be considered the same.

You haven’t told anyone, but it’s easy to destroy things with your hands. Much easier than it is to build anything up, to heal. 

You’d tried it during long walks through the forest. On your way back from solo missions, you’d take routes that were less traveled, needing to clear your head. Once or twice, you remember finding animals that were victims of hunting. Broken limbs, bleeding out too much for you to save. You’d practice the darker parts of your technique, letting quick rot take away their misery.

“For how long?”

“Just two months. July and August.”

You take a deep breath. You could be alone in Kyoto for two months. The boys would survive. At least, you think Suguru would.

When you tell Satoru the next day, it’s a disaster.

“You’re what?”

“Satoru,” you warn, crossing your arms. 

Dealing with him is arduous. You knew he would react this way. He looks at you with irritation, nipping at your bare thigh just to see you pout. You were in the middle of reading when he had barged in, craving the scent of your moisturizer on your inner thighs. Needed the whipped softness of your flesh squeezed in between his hands after some heated sparring with Suguru.

“You can’t.”

“That’s not your decision—”

“You can’t. What did that old man say? Some other guy had your technique and died?”

“I’m not going to die!” you huff, rolling your eyes. 

Satoru frowns, his blue eyes glowing. He was free of missions for the past week, treating you to dates whenever he could. It seems that you’ve ruined his bliss. That ugly thought in his head festered in his mind again — the need to possess you. Trap you in a glass cage to stay alive forever like you were his enchanted rose.

“Like hell you won’t,” he mutters. “Which is why you’re staying.”

“I want to get stronger, Satoru.”

“You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in the first place! And now you’re desperate to train with your little cell regeneration? Are you gonna dabble in necromancy?”

You frown at his condescending tone. He isn’t taking you seriously. He never does. Satoru has always had his way of belittling others, but he’d sworn to never do that to you given your history. You take a deep breath.

“It’s just… an independent study, alright? This could help me in the future. I could go to medical school with Shoko or something, you know? If you’re so scared of me dying because of combat, then I could just focus on the regeneration part and—”

“And what about the other part? How you make things rot and disintegrate?” he asks you incredulously, nearly snarling.

“That’s another thing I can learn to control.”

“But–”

“I didn’t have private lessons like you! I’m not a prodigy like you. Can I just have this one thing?” you plead with exhaustion. You can see the way his eyes flicker with a quiet rage, his mouth turned down into a pout. Petulant even at his big age.

Satoru sighs heavily. He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing the heartline. You almost feel proud of yourself for not giving into him before the conversation began. He’d come into your room wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves messily cut off, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Just a gaze had ripped away your autonomy, brain dumb at the sight of him. 

You wanted to lick him clean before he opened his damn mouth.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” he says in defeat.

“Thanks.”

You sit with him for a while, staring at the ceiling, hair strewn around your pillow. Silence fills the air save for the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he curls into you, nose into your bare shoulder as he mumbles unintelligible things. His mouth in the shape of I’ll miss you.

“I know,” you murmur. “I will, too.”

__

Suguru copes by getting buzzed in the daytime. He liked the hope on your face, how the light hit your eyes in a certain way. It meant something more. He knew that you were worth more.

Lately, Suguru feels like less.

Not particularly less than anyone else, though he knows that he’s certainly less than Satoru just by default. He remembers the mission all too clearly—it’s the only thing that haunts his nightmares. The blankness on Satoru’s face, his willingness to kill a group of people just for the sake of it.

He thought he’d lost Satoru forever, that he’d fucked up the mission by letting a bullet go through Riko’s head. But then, of course, Satoru survived. Of course Satoru found a way to bring himself back to life. Everything should be fine, because Satoru came out alive, and so did he. So did you.

It didn’t feel like enough. The taste of curses started to get worse, if that was even possible. Suguru has been starting to believe that he didn’t deserve anything palatable. That the universe was working against him maybe, because his depressive spirals last longer now.

And you’re fucking leaving.

He knows he can have you whenever he wants, but he likes to lick the taste of you out of Satoru’s mouth. 

He bites Satoru’s lip and it makes the boy yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” Satoru pouts. Suguru only grins wolfishly. 

“Thought you wanted me to make you feel better. You don’t like it rough?”

“Of course I like it rough,” Satoru grunts. “But you know I hate teeth.”

“On your dick.”

Satoru pauses, rolling his eyes, then sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck instead. 

“You smell like a dive bar. It’s fucking 3 pm.”

“Day off, bitch,” Suguru mutters.

Satoru pushes Suguru against the mattress and spoons him, rutting against his ass. It’s always a little violent with them. You used to joke about it—something about dogs and masculinity. Satoru kept wanting to fuck like it was a cage match. Bull-headed, annoying. For Suguru, intimacy always felt like a car crash no matter who it was with.

“You’re not fucking my ass,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru whines childishly, of course.

“Ran out of lube.”

“Spit?” Satoru begs, his eyes comically large.

“Fuck you, dude,” Suguru scoffs.

“I’m trying!”

Suguru turns to fall onto the bed facing Satoru, then shoves his head downward. He feels numb despite his throbbing cock. He knows Satoru’s mouth is probably watering for him.

“C’mon,” Suguru slurs, unzipping his shorts. “You need to work on giving head.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault she does it better than you.”

Satoru huffs but leans over the end of the bed anyway, his limbs too long to crouch on the bed. He spits on Suguru’s cock and pumps agonizingly slowly, coaxing out guttural sounds vibrating out of the boy’s throat.

For once, Suguru feels a little powerful when the Jujutsu world’s boy-god chokes over his dick. He looks down and pushes his head down, reveling in the sound of him gagging, throat slack. Not as good as you, but getting better. The drool makes him look pretty. It matched the glazed look in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru nearly finishes right then and there, the barbed wire inside of his body starting to untangle until there’s a knock on his door. Of course you knock—the polite girl you are.

“S’unlocked,” he calls after you. Satoru makes a noise. Something in between a moan and a sound of protest.

Suguru likes your wide eyes. You’re out of your school uniform, dressed in a white number with embroidered flowers at the hem that hits halfway above your knees.

“Oh… I—”

“C’mere, baby,” Suguru rasps, his hand reaching out for you. He’s so close, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair before pulling at his snowy mop.

Satoru coughs, his throat raw. It makes Suguru laugh. You watch like you’re outside of your own body, eyes wide. It was easy for them to get you under a spell. 

It doesn’t take long for their hands to grope you, have your dress pooling at your waist so that your bare ass is on display. Heathens. Being with them was always like throwing yourself to the wolves.

“So wet,” Suguru groans, circling a finger in the heat hiding behind your underwear. “Wanted a proper send-off, angel? Gonna miss us all the way in Kyoto, aren’t you?”

You can’t respond when your head is already so dizzy with Satoru’s teeth on your collarbone.

“Don’t talk about that, I’ll lose my boner,” Satoru huffs. 

“What a baby.”

“Stop arguing,” you roll your eyes. 

Suguru decides to be selfish, his dick already out and pulsing from the tease of Satoru’s tongue. He slides it along your folds, wetness pooling right underneath him. It makes him groan, his insides white-hot. He’d been craving this since he’d woken up this morning. The heat was making his moodiness deliquesce into desperation burning like acid in his stomach. He needed you and Satoru like a bullet begging to be lodged, piercing out of a bannister.

“Not fair,” Satoru grumbles, his knees bent as he gropes you. Rutting against the mattress pathetically as he whines, his desperation puppy-like. 

His mouth is salty, leftover from Suguru’s precum. His hair smelled like Suguru’s too—he must’ve been copying his hair routine for the hell of it. It was enough to keep him close without asking to sew himself into the boy’s skin. 

Suguru looks down at you and your blissed-out face, vulnerable before he’s even entered you. Your mouth is wet from Satoru’s kisses, spit drooling out of the corner of your pink mouth. Suguru smears it around and already imagines himself pulling out of you to finish there instead, just to see it on your lips. He’d like to see you cry again one last time.

You hum when you’re filled with him. Stuttering hips hitting slack thighs. Soft despite the violence inside him, the little voice in his head taunting him to wreck you. 

He likes you like this, first. Daisy-soft, his fingers in your mouth until you gag. Yelping in time with Satoru’s stupid whines. 

“Twigs,” Satoru breathes, his hot breath fanning your jaw. “Can I put it in your ass?”

You groan, shaking your head as Suguru howls with laughter. 

__

July, 2010

Gakuganji has you on a leash. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already gone on two missions, each that ended with you covered in blood, but luckily unscathed. Satoru would have a fit if he knew. The ghost of him hovers on your shoulder at your weakest moments — taunting you, challenging you. You know he wouldn’t be as cruel if he was with you physically, but your psyche conjures him in a way that feels like punishment. 

You can’t escape him, either. He’s needier than you expect — visiting you during off times during your weekends, treating them like serendipitous encounters. You don’t believe him, and you shouldn’t. 

(He warps to you when he gets in fights with Suguru. When he gets too horny to find someone at a bar, because if it’s not Suguru, it’s you. But he could never tell you that.)

You like to keep yourself busy in Kyoto. Whether it’s immersing yourself in your studies or practicing your technique, you can occupy yourself easily, even if you’re bombarded by images of veiny hands, long black hair, pink mouths. Blue eyes that are too bright, even in your dreams. 

You spend most of your time by yourself, anyway. It’s what you need. If not that, then you’re at the local bars with Utahime-senpai, who transferred to Kyoto months before. 

“Are you their little plaything?” she teases. You’re loosened up after a few beers, all on her tab, but the mention of the boys sobers you up immediately. You scowl.

“What?” She holds her hands up in surrender. “Everybody knows… Shoko kind of already told me.”

“Of course she did,” you snort.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. They’re insatiable. And never in their right mind. I could advocate for Geto-kun, but I’m sure Gojo’s already corrupted him.”

Corrupted. It’s a funny notion. You wonder if you’ve been corrupted by both of them. Satoru as your first didn’t bother you. To have Suguru as your second only complicated things. You haven’t known anything else but them. You aren’t sure if this should concern you until Utahime talks about it.

“They’re kind of the same in that way,” you mumble.

“Are they both your boyfriends?” Utahime giggles.

“N-No…”

“So it’s not serious? I know I’m not much older than you, but I still went through a few flings. You shouldn’t let them keep you on a chain.”

“They’re not–”

“Are you sure?” she laughs. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. It’s like they brainwashed you.”

“Hime,” you frown.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “There are lots of men around here staring at you.”

“No, there aren’t.”

“Someone is staring at you right now. Behind you. Blonde. Tacky if he wasn’t like, a little hot like he is.”

“Shut up.”

She gives you a pointed look that causes you to look over your shoulder. Lo and behold, there is a man of that description making glances at you with a cocky smirk. It reminds you of the way Satoru looks at you. It makes your stomach flip.

“See?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble.

You move past the crowd to the single stall, plastered in posters from vintage porn magazines and graffiti. Your phone’s about to die, but the group chat with you and the boys has unread messages. It’s mostly Satoru complaining, arguing with Suguru about things that you couldn’t care less about. There are separate messages from them, too. Satoru’s suggestive selfies and Suguru’s words of affirmation. You scoff at the difference between them.

When you return, Utahime grins at you like she’s plotting.

“What did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“He came over here! I knew it. He was interested in you,” she beams.

“What?”

“Relax. He’s a sorcerer. And I gave him your number.”

“Hime!” You shove her arm lightly, groaning when she laughs.

“You need to get laid by someone who isn’t an idiot.”

You roll your eyes. The many beers are making your head swim too much for you to actually be angry. If anything, your cheeks feel warm at the prospect of someone else being interested in you. It’s not something you’ve experienced in your youth, or now for that matter, since Satoru had sunken his teeth in you so quickly.

Images of him talking to other girls at parties flash in your mind, making you grimace. Maybe Utahime was doing you a favor.

The bachelor in question is nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not getting a good look at him. A pit forms in your stomach at the idea of him texting you – a handsome stranger who watched you babble drunkenly to Utahime. It occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered yourself something desirable in a context that wasn’t bound to Satoru or Suguru.

On the walk home, the thought consumes you. You aren’t sure if you even know yourself without them. During most of your life, you’ve only known obedience. Intimacy with Satoru was no different, you realize. You were wrapped around his finger since you were children – it didn’t matter that you were apart for years. It would always be him.

You aren’t sure if this bothers you or not. You try to push the thought away, shaking your head slightly as if daydreams of him would fall out of your head. It doesn’t work, not really. You’re drunk. Naturally, you think of his pink mouth. The veins on his hands.

You unlock the door of your room. When you enter, darkness envelops you, which you’re used to, if not for the bright blue eyes that stare back at you. 

“Jesus!” you mutter, cursing to yourself once you can get the nearest lamp on. 

“What? Not happy to see me?” he slurs, flashing you a sloppy smile. 

“Can you at least give me a heads-up before you show up randomly?”

“That ruins the surprise, baby,” he purrs, walking over to you to set his hands on your hips.   Trapping you gently. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Hm?”

“You’re. Drunk. Why are you here?” 

“Had a mission nearby. Then I went to a bar to relax. And then, I thought, warping to Tokyo would take too much for a drunk. Why not stay here?”

“I’m not a motel.”

“C’mon, baby,” he pouts. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

You scoff, moving past him to sit on your bed and take off your shoes.

Satoru chuckles, taking a seat right next to you, thigh touching yours. “You’re drunk, too. I can smell it.”

“I haven’t even been here for a full month and this is like, the third time you’ve surprised me. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Can’t miss my lover?”

He says lover like it’s an inside joke. He never says girlfriend. Never partner.

“You’re so needy.”

“You like me that way,” Satoru says, his voice velvety. He’s not in his uniform, but a light blue button-down and slacks. You wonder if he’s planned this or if he dressed up for someone else, running to you as the safest option because you’re always there. Always willing.

You’d been ready to sink into your shitty mattress and dream of him. You hadn’t been anticipating the real thing in front of you. It was stupid, how he took your breath away, as if he was still something new to you. As if he hadn’t been in the back of your mind since you were a little kid, always.

“I’m tired, Satoru,” you sigh.

“You sure?” he grins. “You smell like beer. Still trying to have some fun tonight?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. He comes closer, pinching the meat of your thigh right under the hem of your skirt, chuckling when you swat his hand away.

“So short. Who’s this for, huh?” he taunts.

You swallow back an insult the moment you look down at the way his large hands play with a loose thread of your skirt. How large they are compared to your thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers running circles in your skin.

“No one,” you breathe.

“You cheating on me, Twigs?”

“Yeah, with Utahime,” you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Sounds hot, to be honest.”

Your cursed energy flares. You hate when he belittles you, but you could never do anything about it. You could only fall into his trap, giving into him the way he knows you will. You don’t even notice that he’s caged you within his arms, his hands settling on your hips as his body backs you into your bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress.

His breath smells sweet. It usually does, but it’s something sour this time. Something citrusy, along with the smell of something much too alcoholic. One of those whiskey sours, you guessed. You don’t realize how drunk he is until you look him in the eyes, his blue irises unfocused despite the desperation in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he grins, leaning in to inhale your scent. “You’d never. My sweet girl. My best girl, right?”

“You say that like I’m one of many,” you scoff.

“Are you jealous?” he rumbles, laughing. “As if there’s anyone else I like as much as you…”

He says girl and you think of Suguru. An exception, just barely. You realize how much you miss him, too.

Your eyes flutter closed as Satoru backs you into your bed, teeth grazing your earlobe. You aren’t sure if it’s him or the drunkenness of your brain. You don’t even notice his fingers massaging your thighs, trailing up to hook your underwear to the side to tease your dripping core. It’s his teasing laughter that snaps you awake.

“So wet… did you know I was coming, baby? Or were you expecting someone else?”

You don’t answer. Your breath hitches at the contact of his eager fingers prodding you, pushing upwards into your pulsating cunt before you can protest. The wounded noise you make only spurs him on further.

“You went to a bar, right? Were you thinking about me when you were there? Got yourself all wound up?”

You don’t reply. He’s too busy pushing his fingers to the very edge, stimulating the spot that makes your knees buckle before you can even form a thought.

You gasp, your mouth parting. Slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as you get closer to the edge before he’s even inside you. It could be pathetic if you cared, but Satoru always made everything around you melt, like you weren’t in your own mind anymore. You accepted being a body that belonged to him, nothing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw. “You’re so quiet.”

“Satoru,” you sigh. His other hand rubs the small of your back, touching the bare skin underneath your thin shirt.

He digs his fingers in further, knuckle-deep until he hears you make a pained noise. He grins at your broken moan like he’d just won a prize. He doesn’t stop, either — he wanted to hear more of those sounds out of your mouth. It was proof that you were still his, wrapped around his finger. 

You try to catch your breath as you lay back on your bed, his strong arms hoisting you up to the wall. You hiss at the feeling of his teeth on your thighs, biting desperately. Satoru was already sweating despite only coaxing bliss from you once. 

He claws at you, pulling at the buttons of your blouse and tugging your skirt down until you’re left bare for him. He groans at the sight of your silky skin, the way your chest heaves in anticipation. Everything about you is ripe, ready to break underneath his hands.

He’s less vocal this time when he takes you, pushing into you before you can say anything. He doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he does this, considering every sense of his was numb until he entered you, igniting his synapses on fire. 

You whimper from the abruptness, aching between your legs. You think that you would’ve bled if you weren’t so in love with him, but you knew better. Anything from him made your entire body warm and pliant, wet beyond your comprehension. You hated it, sometimes.

But you couldn’t hate anything about it now. You were doused in bliss.

“My girl,” he slurs. “So fucking perfect. Say it.”

You mutter nonsense under your breath.

He bends you in half, your calves resting on his broad shoulders. He chuckles at your pathetic whines.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck — I – I’m your girl,” you sob.

“My perfect girl,” he mutters, correcting you. He groans when he looks down at you, his hips stuttering. His thrusts are harder than usual on purpose — he’d rather die than tell you that he’d only warped to you because he was having a panic attack in his room alone. 

He thought he could get his mind off of you, off of Suguru, who he’d assumed was angry with him all day. There were only dry texts from the both of you. No woman at the bar could compete, even if he managed to get a decent handjob in the bathroom. He could only think of you. 

Satoru knew you’d hate him for it. He was disgusted with himself. He feels it now, aching inside the cavern of his chest when you moan his name, knowing he doesn’t deserve a praising word out of your mouth.

He whines, on the verge of tears as he rides out his orgasm in your cunt. 

“Shit,” he hisses into the skin of your neck.

You can barely reply before he kisses down your stomach, licking himself out of you with his nails digging into your thighs.

“Satoru, what are you—oh, fuck—”

“Cum for me,” he slurs, lapping at your clit as he pushes his fingers into you. He pauses, mesmerized at the way his cum drips out of you, only for his fingers to push it back into the hilt, up to his knuckles.

You sob in protest, your thighs shaking as he plays with you. He doesn’t stop for a second. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize you’re there, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the way your pussy swallows his fingers.

“S’too much,” you whine, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t hear him. Your body convulses as he continues to play you like an instrument. He only stops when he looks up to see tears pricking your eyes.

“S-Satoru…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He finally retracts, licking his fingers as he looks at you intensely. “Mine… you’re all mine.”

The glassy look in his eyes is from the alcohol, you assume, but there’s something tantalizingly too real about the expression on his face. Raw with something he only buries inside his gut. He snaps out of it like it’s not something you’re supposed to see. 

He grunts when he lays his head on your lap, his fingers digging into your skin possessively as you tremble. You prop your head up on your pillow, trying to catch your breath as you stroke his hair.

“Why’d you get so drunk?” you ask quietly. “Were you alone?”

“Of course I was,” he scoffs, almost defensive. But he smells a sweetness on his skin that isn’t from you, and he knows you’ve already picked up on it. 

“You could’ve texted or called me instead of breaking into my dorm.”

“You just hate fun,” Satoru mumbles. 

Despite his attitude, he rubs his cheek against your thigh like he’s a pet. He thinks about taking you again, just to shut you up — enough to have both of you sweating, the musk of your sex drowning out any remnants from the bitch that Satoru had tried to use hours before.

Nothing could replace you and he had to live with that. 

He nips at your thigh, his mouth getting dangerously close to your core. You whine as you pull him back by his scalp, like the scruff of a dog. Satoru is always insatiable when he’s drunk, which is saying something considering what he’s like sober. His cravings for you are always intense. When he’s not in his right mind, you’re more considered prey than a craving.

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. His warmth satiates you for now as he locks his arms around your bare waist. The light breathing fanning your stomach calms you.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found, but there’s a small floral arrangement on your desk. White orchids and blue hyacinths.

___

August, 2010 

You hate bringing anything back to life as much as you hate desecration.

It’s unnatural — though you know that nothing about the Jujutsu world is natural. Everything to you is a myth you have to deal with. After knowing Satoru for so long and seeing what nasty curses humanity could birth, you shouldn’t be stunted.

It makes you feel a bit ill when you realize how much power your hands wield. As ordinary as you’ve always been, these days you often wish that you were the true epitome of it. Only human, unable to see the horrors of the world. Left in the dark when it came to sorcery. Perhaps you aren’t cut out for this, despite how much you tried to convince Satoru you were.

His voice echoes in your mind. His pleading. The ways he wanted to protect you. He’d belittled your technique for a reason, maybe. You aren’t sure you’re cut out for this shit.

Necromancy is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s the reanimation of body parts that freaks you out. It doesn’t matter that it’s the revival of small birds and rodents on a lab table. You feel like you’re playing God and not even doing a decent job of it.

It catches up to you in your dreams. The image of you getting held down, leaving you to resort to your technique. Rotting flesh. Even in your unconscious, the smell is somehow striking, as if you’re really there. Other times, you find horror in the reanimation of corpses under your hand. Split limbs coming together. Limbs that belong to people you love.

Tonight, you’re shaken by the image of Suguru mauled beyond belief. Sacrilegious violence that makes your stomach turn. 

When you wake up in a sweat, gasping, the alarm clock on your bedside table reads 1:12 am. You dial his number before you can even come to your senses.

“Twigs.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

You hear Suguru chuckle, deep and sweet like teeth sunken into cake. You’re filled with warmth almost immediately. 

“What’s up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he breathes.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you sigh. 

“Fine. What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” you mumble.

There’s silence on the other end. Despite this, you can still hear his grin. You can see his little smirk perfectly in your head. 

“Yeah?” his voice lowers. “What about me?”

“Y-your hands,” you mumble. “You make me feel safe.”

“Is that right?”

You make a small noise that shows your agreement, but it’s noncommittal. You hum at the thought of him. You’re sleep-dazed, partially wishing for this moment that he was more like Satoru. Able to talk your ear off without any effort from your end.

Suguru had always known you differently. He had you memorized as much as Satoru did, but uniquely, given the similarities between your personalities. He knew how you worked and he never held it against you.

Satoru would probably try to pry it out of you. Suguru would already know.

And at this moment, he knows. It’d be infuriating if you didn’t see it coming.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says.

“No.”

“You are. Or you’re pent up, which is also like being upset. Need some catharsis?”

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Tell me what’s wrong, then. Or tell me about your nightmare.”

“No.”

He laughs. 

“Stubborn as always,” he purrs.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” you whisper.

“You want to hear me be mean to you. You like not being in control. That’s what makes you feel safe, isn’t it, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, baby,” he laughs. “Give me something to work with.”

Your eyes nearly glaze over as you watch the flickering lights outside of your dorm. A broken street lamp flashes on and off, shadowing your room in darkness only to illuminate seconds later, back and forth. Unpredictably so. You aren’t sure what else you should look at while you’re still so drunk on Suguru’s voice. You think maybe you’d handle this phone call better if you were far from sober.

“I fucked someone else yesterday.”

The line goes silent. Your heartbeat picks up.

After almost an eternity, you hear Suguru’s voice again. It’s soft, almost cooing. It feels awfully dangerous despite this.

“Yeah? Who?”

You swallow thickly. 

“This guy who got my number last month. Like, I didn’t give it to him — Utahime did,” you ramble. “But then we started texting and stuff and he’s… funny. He, uh, came over yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

You imagine your throat closes up. Part of you wishes it would, that you’d just pass out immediately for no reason just so you didn’t have to have this conversation. You curse yourself for even bringing it up.

“Y-Yes.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles.

“I am…”

“You don’t have to be so scared, baby. I know that Satortu took away your virginity, but he’s not some kind of god watching over you.”

“I know,” you huff.

“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Like you’re betraying him?” he teases.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it. You notice how he talks about Satoru and not himself.

“Do you care?”

“I know how you feel about me.” His answer is simple. Blunt. It almost sounds sarcastic, but Suguru often talks like he’s cock-sure about everything. Even if he isn’t, he’s always held a certain confidence that was different from what Satoru exuded. 

Satoru was a bad liar, to you, at least.

“Tell me about your boy. What’s his name?”

“He’s not–” you gruff. “Naoya. His name is Naoya.”

“That Zenin brat?”

“Huh?”

“He’s in the Zenin clan. A right bastard, I’ve heard.”

“He seems fine,” you mumble.

“Someone’s defensive,” he teases.

You pause, staring at the darkness of your ceiling. You fix your shorts, your fingers grazing the wetness of your core. You didn’t even realize you were aroused.

“I should go back to sleep,” you whisper.

“I thought you couldn’t. That’s why you called me, right? You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” you scoff. “I just… I had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you.”

Suguru smiles. He knows you can’t see it, but he’s beaming in the darkness of his room. He’d been restless for the past few days after some disagreements with Satoru. He tried to blame the heat on physical altercations — the sun burning down to rev up the irritation in their shared systems like they were still boys. Always wanting to pin each other to the ground.

They didn’t have you to mediate, so they’d come out of arguments with bruises. Marks from skin tugged too harshly. The ghost of teeth biting down on flesh. 

“I wish you were here, babygirl,” he sighs, his tone desperate. You almost cringe at it — you always assume he’s playing with you.

“Yeah?” you snort.

“Mhm. It’s funny. You didn’t even wake me up when you called. I was already awake, thinking of you.”

“Were you, now?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums.  “I just kept thinking about your thighs. How small your leg is compared to my hand.”

Your breath hitches and he almost laughs when he hears it.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks. “Want you to touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

You gulp. Your fingers prod at the hem of your athletic shorts, the nylon riding up as you squirm in your bed. Your index and middle fingers prod at the center of your core experimentally. You’re fucking dripping and it makes your breath hitch.

Suguru calls your name.

“I”m…” you stammer. “I’m wet. Why?”

“Poor thing. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, no?”

“I-I’m fine… I just—”

“You should play with your clit. Since I can’t be there to do it for you,” he breathes.

“What?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can tell my favorite girl just needs to relax. That’s why you called me, right?”

You whimper. It was maybe half-true. Suguru had stopped answering his texts as frequently as he usually did, and you missed the sound of his voice. The odd ache in your chest wasn’t something that you felt like exposing to anyone else, not even Satoru.

The silk of Suguru’s voice brings you back. You wanted to breathe him in, but he hadn’t visited like he said he would. Didn’t have the warping feature that Satoru had, which to this day, still startled you whenever it happened. Ocean eyes whipping your senses from thin air, like a lightning strike. 

Despite your recent gripes about him, you needed the both of them like you needed air. At least to make it all more bearable. It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a finding addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

You needed Suguru’s musk, his hair in between your fingers as he rocked into you. Your hands were too small compared to his. 

He has you panting, sweating through Kyoto’s mugginess. The dorms were in even worse shape here than on the main Tokyo campus, probably why Gakuganji was such a vapid old man. Everything was too hot and falling off the bone.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. It’s like I can smell you through the phone,” Suguru murmurs, his voice like a mirage. You’d laugh if you weren’t so deep in your cunt, fingers pruning and pushed to the knuckles. 

Suguru knew you would do anything for him, so he made you torture yourself because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Your groans are muffled from you smothering your face in the sheets, knees pressing down and ass up. Willing to humiliate yourself without him even being there.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he chides.

“I’m not,” you whine.

“How many times have you cum?”

“None.”

He laughs. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what.” 

You’re close to tears by the time he lets you cum. The sound of his voice hitting you deep in your core, insides permeated with the thought of him. Sweeter than smoked sugar.

It was the sound of his grunt that tipped you over, imagining him with black strands sticking to his high cheekbones with sweat. The apples of his face candy-pink. Where Satoru looked cherubic, Suguru looked like a girl’s first wet dream. 

“Were you touching yourself?” you pant, coming down from your high. You don’t bother putting on your underwear again.

“Obviously,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice made the speaker blow off-kilter like the audio of a shitty VHS. “Came all over myself.”

You could fall asleep to the sound of his static hums. The chaos in your gut is settled by the time your alarm clock strikes devil’s hour.

“How are things?” you ask sleepily.

“With me?” Suguru asks. “Fine. Same as always.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s three in the morning, sweetheart,” he chuckles dryly.

“Mm. My phone bill’s gonna be so high.”

“Get Satoru to pay for it.”

The bastard probably would, if you asked.

You don’t get much out of Suguru for the remainder you’re awake. His answers are deflective and clipped. He hangs up by the time he hears you breathing, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He sighs in his room, rummaging for his pills. If nightmares didn’t keep him up, then the sheer unwillingness of his brain’s tranquility was often enough for him to run a graveyard shift. Stumbling in the dark, half-dead. He’d gotten productive in finishing the video games he’d started with Satoru by himself. Not much else.

His throat feels dry. He couldn’t differentiate the tastes of anything anymore. It all tasted like curses.

___

You keep having dreams about Suguru.

Tonight, there’s two of him.

One is the image you’re used to – hair swept up in a bun. Broad chest in his Jujutsu Tech uniform. Eyes crinkling into half moons.

The other seems to be an alter ego. A cursed version, one with eyes to kill and blood on his hands. Hands that are trying to tear you apart.

When you grip his wrist, you can see the imprint of your hand on his skin. Flesh falling away, much too easily. The air around you splinters like you’re in a glitched matrix. The Suguru you know and love falters beside you, his skin suddenly sallow. Pale as bile.

When you scream, nothing comes out.

Pseudo-Suguru smiles as your Suguru fades away into ash. You stare into his cat-like gaze, the familiar of his mouth. 

“Come with me,” he says. 

It’s the last thing you hear before your body wakes you up in a sweat. You gasp as you jolt awake, fingers curling your damp bedsheets. You’re further startled by the crack of thunder as a torrential downpour occurs without warning — unusual for late August, considering the rainy season had died down weeks prior. 

You sit up and reach for your phone almost automatically, your hands shaking as you go through your contacts. Your fingers hover over two names as you swallow thickly.

A few beeps follow the push of the call button.

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

[yuwuta]

you need to write more for yuuji i’m begging you you do him SO SO well like the characterisation is perfect and he’s so underrated and hot and you just know how to show it<3 it could be smth as simple as a makeout session or anything you want i love your writing

every time someone tells me they like my characterization i sob real grown woman tears and also have the intense urge to smooch you all 🫶💓 he’s actually so hot it’s crazy…. i don’t know how to describe it other than he’s such a Boy… he’s so boyish… he’s fun and he’s silly and he’s flirty but it’s sweet and sometimes not that innocent but still genuine, kinda cocky but also incredibly naive to how much better he is at somethings than other people, unmatched raw strength and adaptability and yet still crazy work ethic… handles anything you don’t want to deal with and makes it look easy even if he struggled with it, ride or die, effortlessly sexy and he literally doesn’t even know it i will bite steel oh my god

making out with him… god… the thing he’s so… he’s so intense but he always has these moments where he pulls away from you just to smile and giggle a little because he remembered he has a crush on you, and he’s kissing his crush and that’s pretty cool. and then the next second his lips are back on yours and his tongue and sliding across yours and it’s a complete 180 but it’s also not because it’s yuuji and it feels natural yk. you always know when he’s going to pull back because you can feel him smiling when you’re kissing him—though, he’s always smiling a little bit, he’s always happy to kissing you, or always trying to be sneaky and think of the next thing to do—but sometimes he smiles too wide for you to keep kissing him, so you’re reduced to pecks on his smile, and eventually he pulls back and you can see his whole smile, and he just sighs, “hi,” and chuckles and kisses your nose, and goes right back to making out… he’s perfect

perfect hand placement, too, it feels natural for him to hold you. if he’s greeting your or just feeling kiss-happy, his hands mostly stay on your lower back or your hips, occasionally roam around or he uses them to pull you closer to him or lift you up and move your around, but when he’s really into it, when he’s making out with you for the sole purpose of making you (or himself) dizzy with kisses, or as foreplay, or mid-sex, his hands always on your face, cupping your jaw. he squeezes your face with a bit of pressure sometimes, depends on how out of it he is, but he has to hold on to your face, has to use the leverage to crane your neck so he can bully his tongue into your mouth, so he can lick at every crevice, so can he breath your breaths. it feels like he’s trying to consume you sometimes (his cute-aggression is insatiable most days, too), but even that wouldn’t be enough for yuuji, he wants to be apart of you sometimes and never let you go

#anonymous #yuuji.............. beloved...................... #he's the Boy of all time if you ask me.... perfect... he's perfect #he's actually hot... crazy #and he doesn't even KNOW it (head in hands) like i think he thinks hes cute and he knows he handsome #but someone calls him hot and hes like oh really? haha me? thanks! 😇 like god. i will eat u . WHOLE #i could spread him on a cracker... #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader

[novabl]

Yashiro And Doumeki: Chapter 58

With this chapter, I think a lot of us are feeling very bad for Yashiro. He seems so hurt by what Doumeki is doing. Typically, I make posts trying to defend Doumeki or look at things from his pov but I wanted to try to take into account both of their feelings and thought processes for this chapter because honestly I think they’re both feeling terrible about this whole fuckbuddy situation. Side note: I know some people don’t like the word fuckbuddy for their situation but Idk how else to refer to it. They’re not together but I know they’re in love and my use of the word fuckbuddy isn’t intended to diminish their relationship in any way.

I’ll start with my thoughts on Doumeki. There is a reason I make sure to emphasize that a lot of our analysis on Doumeki is based on interpretation and not necessarily how he really feels. If you have the opinion that Doumeki is planning and making moves with the endgoal of being with Yashiro, this whole situation where he has sex with Yashiro and leaves makes him look like a real asshole. I think it is easier to think that Doumeki is doing okay because he doesn’t really express that he is not. Compared to Yashiro, he seems better adjusted and since we don’t see his thoughts it is easier to assume he is less affected by all of this than Yashiro is. But I think we need to recall what Yashiro used to tell Doumeki. He used to say that he doesn’t think he can have romantic relationships and that he is only interested in sex. Doumeki seems to have taken that to heart as well as the fact that he doesn’t know that Yashiro has moved on from Kage and is no longer in love with him. Doumeki seems to think that Yashiro didn’t value the moments they had outside of sex because honestly that hasn’t been shown to him. I think we can sometimes underestimate the amount of pain he went through when Yashiro kicked him out. I think Doumeki is having sex with Yashiro because he wants to have some kind of a relationship with him and he is also HOPING that having sex with him will keep Yashiro from seeking out sex with others partly due to jealousy and partly to keep Yashiro safe since sex is a self destructive behavior for him. I emphasize hoping because he is not forcing Yashiro to be with him nor is he constantly hovering around to make sure that he doesn’t go to Inami or anyone else. He is giving Yashiro space while trying to satisfy something Yashiro claims he needs. The emphasis has always been on Yashiro’s pleasure because Doumeki still has his own issues on sex. Doumeki doesn’t want just sex but he feels that he has no other option. He also seems to be repeating the behavior of leaving because that is what he seems to think Yashiro wants based on volume 5.

As for Yashiro, we can see that he is deeply affected and saddened by this change in their dynamic. But when looking at the conversation of Yashiro’s flashback, I think he feels betrayed as well. The last page is amazingly done with the rain almost symbolizing his tears but his mouth seemed both angry and sad to me. I shared the page of Doumeki answering Yashiro and letting him know that Yashiro was different from others because it stands out to me more in comparison to the moment where Yashiro rips off the bandaid. Doumeki told him he was special but then seemingly is with Izumi and treating Yashiro like everyone else does? Doumeki’s words must feel like a lie. I think this feels different from Kage’s rejection not just because he loves Doumeki more but because Doumeki made him feel special only for him to act like he didn’t mean any of it. It isn’t very rational of Yashiro considering everything but both get blinded by emotion. At the end of the day, they’re both very hurt and acting in ways they think the other wants but it is important to keep in mind that both agreed to this kind of relationship. I feel that Yashiro will end up giving in but I also think he has a separate journey to go through before he can be truly with Doumeki that I may write about in a separate post.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru

[writers-potion]

How do you write an unhealthy relationship? Like one where a person is a bit possessive and controlling?

I won’t delve into the details of what makes up an unhealthy relationship, but focus more on how you’d want to present the characters to the reader depending on what you intend. 

Redeem the Controlling Character vs. No Redemption

In a possessive/controlling relationship, there will be a difference in how you present the controlling character depending on whether you aim to redeem them or not. 

Not all people who controlling tendencies are “bad” - the pattern in which we form attachment is highly 

No Redemption

Step into the controlling character’s head to show: (1) their unhealthy desire to make someone submissie to them (2) how they use their partner to fulfil their twisted fantasies (3) they just love the sense of “being in power” (4) it eventually spirals into violence. 

Often, the reason why serial killers keep murdering random people is because they enjoy the feeling of being entirely in control of someone else. They take delight - and are even aroused - when they’re toying with someone else’s life. 

Show how the “controlled” character tries to put boundaries, but the controlling character goes on ignoring them. 

You may give them a backstory, but don’t present them as justifying or sympathizable reasons. Yes, they may be hurt, but that doesn’t mean they can be horrible. 

The controlling character has no will to repent. 

Redemption Arc

Show how the controlling character say things they don’t really mean/ regrets being possessive.

Build a backstory of how the “controlling” character experienced similar situations with their parents/past lovers. 

The reason why they’re controlling would be: (1) to alleviate their own insecurities (2) that’s the only kind of “love” they received in the past (3) they have a misunderstanding/prejudice towards how the “controlled” character acts, which can be improved. 

Show how they struggle to form boundaries. They may try to stop themselves (promising they won’t call, assuring themselves that they don’t need to be insecure in the other’s absence, etc.) but fail to overcome this inner obstacle. 

They need to realize and show genuine regret for what they’ve done - make them work tooth and nail to undo the damage. This is where the other character would show forgiveness. 

Eventually, the controlling character will come to resolve their insecurity/break their initial beliefs and habits to overcome their problem. 

Making Both Characters Low-Key Toxic 

Unhealthy relationships can go both ways. It is possible that the controlling character became that way because their partner keeps their relationship unstable (due to mood swings or just on a whim), or has a history of doing whatever they like and letting the controlling character clean up after them. 

Present the relationship as a tug-of-war between someone who wants stability and someone who cannot stick to a single rule. 

Establish a backstory of how the “controlled” character cares only about themselves and is not willing to listen or adjust into the relationship. 

Show how the “controlled” character purposefully induces the “controlling” character to make such comments by doing what pushes their buttons, then flipping the “controlling” character’s guilt afterwards to get what they want. 

Signs of a Controlling Partner

You may sprinkle some hints throughout the story, then pick 2-3 huge “breakouts” where the controlling character’s true nature surfaces. 

A controlling person isn't always overtly threatening or aggressive. Sometimes they are emotionally manipulative and acting out of insecurity.

Isolating you from friends and family.

Chronic criticism—even for small things like dressing, eating, or the color of flower decor. 

Veiled or overt threats, against you or them: cutting off “previlleges” (e.g. no kissing for the day, cancelling dates, etc.)

Making acceptance/caring/attraction conditional - "I love you so much more when you're making those sales at work."

An overactive scorecard: a healthy relationship will be naturally reciprocation, not bean-counting every favor. 

Using guilt as a tool.

Creating a debt you're beholden to: giving extravagant gifts in the beginning of the relationship or doing huge favors that might seem romantic at first, but actually acts as points of leverage. 

Spying, snooping, or requiring constant disclosure.

Overactive jealousy, accusations, or paranoia.

Making you "earn" trust or other good treatment.

Presuming you're guilty until proven innocent.

Getting you so tired of arguing that you'll relent.

Making you feel belittled for long-held beliefs

Making you feel you don't "measure up" or are unworthy of them.

Teasing or ridicule that has an uncomfortable undercurrent.

Sexual interactions that feel upsetting afterwards: things as simple as not asking can be uncomfortable, even though they aren’t particularly violent.

Inability or unwillingness to ever hear your point of view.

Not respecting your need for time alone.

Pressuring you toward unhealthy behaviors, like substance abuse.

Thwarting your professional or educational goals by making you doubt yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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[naamahdarling]

I do want to say, because I know I am extremely and probably sometimes unfairly unforgiving of everything to do with the medical profession, that I had a really good experience last week with a team that was very empathetic and trauma-informed. The area of medicine is deeply triggering and I truly didn't know if I would even be able to talk or not. They were very understanding and respectful and I didn't feel like an inconvenience or a difficult patient, or like someone who was making a big deal out of nothing.

I know and they pointed out that I'm not the only person with this issue. This is actually common. It is utterly baffling to me that so many providers aren't able to cope with PTSD in their patients, especially patients whose trauma is medical in nature. These people treated me like a normal person who had experienced some very not-normal things.

Anyway, I had an unexpectedly hard time afterwards -- I figured the hardest part would be the appointment, and it super was not -- and have had a hard time off and on since. It has not been fun. It's been frustrating and confusing and upsetting and scary. But for once, none of that was the fault of the people I saw. I went in unsure I'd even be able to talk about it and nearly completely certain I wouldn't be able to move forward with the things I need to do. I figured I would probably have to white-knuckle it through a panic attack. I came out having held a productive conversation that left me scared, yes, but also hopeful and optimistic that I can move forward. And I didn't have a panic attack. It was a radical and unexpected change.

I worked hard for this. Any trauma is an awful thing to live with. The work of remaking yourself around the holes it punches in you is hard and confusing. The healing is often slow. In my case it comes with very few immediate rewards (it will actually make my life more difficult for a while because I'll have to deal with more medical interference, hooray). But it was time for me to do this and I have come far enough and worked hard enough to have the resilience to try, and I did it.

All we did was talk, but that would not have been possible a year ago. It was all I could do to ask for a referral because even naming the specialty was upsetting. I couldn't make the phone call to set up an appointment and when they called to try to do it, I hung up. Six or eight months ago I managed to dial the number and then hung up the instant someone answered. Last week I walked into the building and said out loud multiple words that make me feel like I have worms under my skin and which I can barely look at, let alone type. I didn't lose speech. This was a big win for me, and I'm thankful it went well, and I actually am proud of myself. I didn't even use any of my antianxiety meds that day, because I didn't think I would need them.

I don't feel grateful to the staff, I feel like someone finally did the bare fucking minimum, but I am very grateful, because I am not only what I feel. I am also what I know and what I do, and I am finally sort of getting those three things to match up in a way that they patch the holes in one another a little, and maybe someday I can stop slipping through the cracks.

I'm scared they will fuck up when I go to get some issues addressed, and they will betray me or harm me. I really am. Because hey, that's what my experiences have prepared me for, so that's a very natural way for me to feel. Rational, even.

I'm scared that I will look back at this appointment and feel stupid for having experienced any hope at all.

But even if it goes to shit, I still went in there and tried. I still did my best. And my best was okay. I was able to separate my fear from what needed to be done just a little bit. That means something. Because I didn't think I could do it at all.

#rambling again