#((making you even more afraid of being bad because you don't want to be at the receiving end of the hatred and so on and so forth))

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | four

prologue | one | two | three | four

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)

Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...

It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.

She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.

Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.

She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.

She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.

His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.

"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."

Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."

Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.

So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.

But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.

"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."

Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"

And then silence fell.

Why had she helped them?

She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.

Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.

"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."

My father.

When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?

Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.

"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”

"Well, don't tell me."

Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?

Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.

But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?

And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"

There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.

"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."

"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.

"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."

"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."

Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.

"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."

Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.

With that mask she had learned to wear.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.

They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.

"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"

"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."

And they fell silent again.

The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.

She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.

"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."

"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."

"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"

“Elain and Nesta.”

"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."

Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.

"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."

And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.

Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.

He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.

"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."

Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.

"I didn't ask for this, princess."

Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.

"Great, neither did I."

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #cassian #rhysand

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Hey Love your stuff! The Vs being protective of Retro, preventing them remembering anything bad or near murder that they do, is actually cute considering what Retro's dark side.

So here is a thought I had after reading Valentino covering up his near murder that Retro saw. What if Retro, most likely in the tower as i can't picture them ever doing this in public, was to try and flirt with Vox and Val?

I don't expect anything more than Retro maybe trying on a risky outfit, maybe getting nervous, and getting caught of course.

I just wonder how they would react as Retro making that kinda move seems outta character for your wonderfully created Hidden Serious killer 'house wife' Sea Bunny.

Sorry if my suggestion made you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it.

Anon, you are amazing. Don’t worry about it at all! I actually have a really adorable idea because of this, and I hope you like it! (Slight spice warning? I guess. It’s just a picture of the outfit in question, nothing really happens)

Something New!

“Vel, babe,” I said, with a nervous smile. “I have a teensy tiny favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?” Velvette asked, over the phone. She motioned for her models to shut up. “And what would that be?”

“Just- please come to my room when you can,” I said quietly. I was already blushing, and I hadn’t even told her what this was about.

“Of course! I’ll be over before you know it,” she said with a grin. I never asked for favors, much less from her. She knew that whatever this was, it would be good. “Love ya sweetheart, see you soon!”

“Love you too,” I said, a small smile on my face.

She hung up and dropped everything. “Everyone! Leave! Now!” She said, pointing towards the door. “I’ve got an emergency to cover.” She made another call on her phone. “Yeah, hey, Vox? Shut off the cameras.”

“What- why?” He asked, sounding suspicious. He was watching me fidget nervously in my bedroom- he was in his office, watching from the cameras- as I awaited Velvettes arrival. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all! If my hunch is correct, this could be great,” Velvette said, sounding excited. “I just need you to turn off your stalker cameras for a bit- at least the ones near and around Retro. If you’re watching, they might bail.”

“Bail on what?” Vox asked, sitting up straighter. “Vel, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” she said in a sing song voice, already headed to my room. “Nothing you need to worry about, at least. This will be fun, trust me.”

“Fine.”

“Yes!”

“But you only get two hours,” Vox said sternly. “Then the cameras are on and I get an explanation, understand?”

“You got it, babes,” Velvette said with a grin. She hung up and knocked on my door. “Retro? I’m here, love. May I come in?”

“Hm?” I looked at the door, surprised. She’d gotten here quick. I opened the door and stepped aside, letting her in my room. “Uh, yeah, definitely.” I closed the door behind her. “Uh. Don’t you- I thought you had work?”

“Hm? Oh yes, it was a slow day,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Now, what was that favor you needed?”

“Oh! Right,” I said, my face heating up already. I looked away and sat on my bed, fidgeting again. “I, uh… I was wondering….”

“You were wondering,” Velvette repeated, sitting down besides me. My reaction was practically confirmation of her guess, but she wanted to hear it from me. “What is it, love? You know I can’t help unless you tell me.”

“Can you- could you help me find a good outfit to wear?” I blurted. God, I was so tense and nervous. It was silly, really. This wouldn’t be my first time wearing something risky, but I was still anxious about it. I loved them, and I was afraid I’d screw it up. I was having second thoughts already. “Something for Vox and Valentino. Something they’d like.”

“Oh!” Velvette said. She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. She thought it was something of this nature, but to have me actually say it? Me admitting it? Damn. The way I was acting made it adorable to her. “You want something… suggestive? Or just showy?”

“W-what?” I asked, looking at her. Now I was confused. “Wait, there’s a difference? What?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “I have so much to teach you.”

For what seemed like forever, Velvette showed me an outfit and I said no. She was showing me lingerie, bondage gear, and the like. She quickly realized I was not used to this sort of thing (and I didn’t want to do anything, I just wanted to tease the boys), and toned it down. Eventually, we settled on a top and some normal pants.

(Left if you don’t have tits, right if you do. Or you could wear something else, I don’t care. I just don’t know how to describe this lol)

So, I got changed and hesitantly walked out from behind my dressing screen to show Velvette the outfit.

“So, uh… what do you think?” I asked, doing a little twirl for her. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

“Oh. My. God.” She gasped and walked over, admiring how I looked, and her handiwork. “Babes, you have got to do this more often! You look stunning. Here, let me get a picture.”

“No! No,” I said immediately pulling away. I was blushing furiously. “Please don’t. Oh my god, I should’ve known this was a bad idea. God, I feel so stupid…”

Velvette frowned, looking disappointed. She felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant to make me feel that way, she just wanted something to remember the occasion. She reached out to explain, but before she could, the door opened. Vox and Valentino walked in, looking serious.

“Alright, times up,” Vox said sternly. “I turned off the cameras, now I expect an-” he cut himself off when he saw me.

“Oh,” Valentino said with a grin. “This. I like this.”

“Fuck! Fuck, no, shit- you aren’t supposed to- oh my god,” I panicked, ducking behind my dressing screen. My face was as red as a tomato. I was so embarrassed. “Please leave!”

“Wait, what?” Vox asked, looking to Velvette. He was confused by my reaction. Was he not supposed to see me like this? Hadn’t I just spent the past two hours preparing for this? Why was I reacting this way? He wondered if he did something wrong. “Did I…?”

“No, it’s not you,” Velvette said quickly. She stood and walked over to the two, looking guilty. “They’re just… a bit shy. They aren’t used to this, you know? I kind of startled them, by accident, just before you came in.”

“Oh,” Vox said. He was still processing. And overheating slightly.

“Honey bunny,” Val said softly, approaching the dressing screen slowly. “It’s okay. We didn’t- we don’t-” he sighed. He had no idea what to say. “Sweetheart..”

“It was a silly idea,” I said quietly, on the other side of the screen. I was sitting on the floor, my knees tucked to my chest. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he said. “May I…? Please?”

I didn’t respond but I didn’t stop him, either. I was conflicted. I wanted them to see, I was just afraid. I was afraid of a negative reaction. “I… I guess.”

He pushed the dressing screen aside and folded it up, then sat down next to me. “Come here, mi amor, it’s okay,” he said gently. He reached out to touch me, but didn’t, awaiting my permission. He was being so considerate, it was unlike him. I leaned towards him, allowing him to touch me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. “You look beautiful,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. He pulled me up against him.

“Thank you,” I said, with a small smile.

I looked over at Vox, who seemed on the verge of a system crash. His screen was flickering and he was clearly overheating just at the sight of me. Velvette was trying to help. She was not very successful. I laughed a little to myself and smiled wider- more genuine.

“He likes it too, you know,” Val said, nudging me playfully.

“I can tell,” I said, my expression softening. I was less tense now, more relaxed. “I’m glad.”

“So… will you be doing this again?” He asked with a grin.

“We’ll see,” I said with a small laugh. “I’m not sure Vox could handle it.”

“He’ll just have to get used to it! I won’t let him stop me from seeing you all dolled up and gorgeous like this,” Valentino said with a playful huff. He gently ran his fingers along my bare skin. “You look wonderful, mi cariño.”

“I agree!” Vox said, apparently having snapped out of his little spiral. His screen had a pink tinge to it- I imagined that was his way of blushing- but he had a smile on his face. He walked over and sat with us, Velvette following close behind. “I’d love to see you like this more, if you’re comfortable with it. You look stunning, either way, my dear.”

“Thank you,” I said, blushing again. He chuckled and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“Not a problem, darling,” he said softly. He gave me a kiss on the top of my head and smiled wider. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I love them more than you!” Velvette declared.

“Hey!”

“I love them most!”

“HEY!”

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #reader insert #valentino x reader x vox #vox x reader x valentino #vox x valentino x reader #vox x valentino #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #the vees #the vees x reader #thanks anon!

[flowerandblood]

"With all due respect" − beautiful words. They are even more beautiful when the one who uses them understands their meaning.

Thank you for contacting me so that I could block you. I don't want anything to do with people who think they can write to anyone like this, so you did me a favor.

I understand you are referring to this post.

Expressing your opinion with respect and sensitivity and being a boorish, arrogant jerk are two different things, and unfortunately you present option number two.

What we say speaks volumes about us, and what you wrote does not reflect well on you. Where does so much frustration and hatred come from?

I ruined your day because I told people like you to take responsibility for their words? Maybe you can't do it, but I can.

I write publicly on my blog, you hide behind an anon.

People like you are destroying this fandom, killing the joy of creating, making new authors afraid to show their works and write. If defending them makes me look like a bad person here, then I'll gladly be one.

PS. I don't think anyone is afraid of me. Unlike you, I don't send gibberish anons to anyone.

PS2. I never had Tik-Tok and I don't care if it gets banned or not, lol.

#come to my inbox so I can block you all once and for all #i do not wish to people like you to interact with me #sorry i have no warm words for you #it's actually embarrasing for me

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

Hello! If you don't mind, this is half a vent and half an ask both to you and to your followers who have had some experience?

I feel like I want certain aspects of a romantic relationship, the idea of having someone "special" is very appealing. Especially since I find myself falling in the trap of romance tropes, and I really do feel that I want to find that one person who I'd feel safe being physically close with, and not just because I turn my brain off to suffer through it but to actually enjoy it.

I know that I'm rather attracted to men, in theory at least, but whenever there's even remotely a thought in my brain that a polite conversation may turn into something more I get nervous, kinda in a bad way. I feel like I want to put a barrier in and I'm afraid they'll be reading into my behaviour too much. It makes me feel as if I like to play pretend in my head but I'm too much of a coward when real life gets involved.

I've been identifying as ace for years now, and I just turned 24. No experience in the dating department, I've been slowly making my way to accepting being at least arospec as well, possibly just aro, but for some reason it's been so much harder for me. Asexuality just clicked. This I think I may be fighting because the idea of a relationship seems too nice to give up and I've already had a bad experience with an extremely undernegotiated QPR (ended quickly but left a bitter taste nevertheless).

I just wish I could not think about it? But I also feel like the societal expectations of romantic attraction are much more pressing than sexual one. I don't want to lead anyone on, and I don't want to feel this little bit of dread whenever I have a conversation with a guy who I know doesn't have a girlfriend. That's another sign of being aro, right? Being able to be comfortable only when the possibility of the other party wanting you romantically is non-existent.

Sorry for this being so long. Thank you for listening, either way.

Romance definitely has a hard to explain quality to it, and I think that can make it questioning if you're aro especially tricky. It is possible that anxiety you're feeling when a situation could turn romantic is a form of repulsion. It's not uncommon for romance repulsion to feel more like anxiety or nervousness, and for people feel like wanting to go and hide. Alloromantic people can be nervous too sometimes, but it usually comes with a feeling of anticipation and still being drawn to the other person. Or they will usually have either trouble with anxiety in other areas, or issues with romance (romance related trauma for example). Sometimes it can be tricky to know exactly what it is, but if the stuff below doesn't sound like you at all, than repulsion is a likely explanation.

The other thing I would point is that fully alloromantic people often have people in real life they are experience a romantic pull towards, who they really want to be in a romantic relationship with. And if you're not experiencing that, that could also be a strong sign of being aromantic.

Being aromantic, and even romance repulsed, if you are, does not mean you can't have a very important person in your life. I know you mentioned a QPR that didn't go well, and it's up to you if that's something you ever want to try again, but even if you don't. remember that deep bonds can come in all forms of relationships. All types of relationships, including friendships, familial relationships, etc. have the potential to be very special of very deep if you end up connecting to someone in the right way. So whatever path you choose to take, don't feel like this isn't possible.

I'll throw this out followers too if anyone wants to share their own thoughts or advice.

All the best, Anon! Good luck!

#vent post

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

y'all need to get a grip. you blab all day about how much you hate bigots and hateful people and how evil it is to dehumanize anyone and then you turn around and say "kys" and "i think [x] should all just kill themselves" and other disgusting, violent and childish trash

so many people on here are just full of hatred and vitriol and turn into frenzied sharks anytime the target 'deserves it' and they think they can get away with it and not be called bad people. then they whine about how sad it is that we can't all just get along and if only all the evil people in the world would stop doing evil things wouldn't that be nicer

you're just as vicious, hypocritical and fanatically puritanical as the caricature you have made in your minds of the people you think you have nothing in common with. if you've ever told someone, ANYONE to kill themselves you're not advocates of justice, you're not artisans of peace, and you certainly don't have any moral high ground that would allow you to pass judgment on others

#i'm tired #you're so terrified of being bad people that you convince yourselves you could *never* be bad #and then any expression of hatred towards others (the “bad people”) gets reframed as proof of your own moral character #((making you even more afraid of being bad because you don't want to be at the receiving end of the hatred and so on and so forth)) #you can say whatever you want about religious people and esp christians but 1) you're as religious as they are but at least they know it #and 2) most of the christians i've met are magnitudes more forgiving of others than this website's self-righteous preachers #(this isn't about anything people have said to me btw it's about what i see reading blogs from all across the social/political spectrum) #this about the radfem-hating liberals and the pro-life-hating radfems and the liberal-hating pro-lifers. Round and round we go #it’s about the people who put rabid antisemitism on my dash and whose only socio-political analysis is to call EVERYTHING bad #“Just like nazism” #Yapping about how much more moral and enlightened they are than ppl who introduce nuance into complex topics while they parrot slogans #I hate slogans so bad

[jestiamy]

??? how in the world does anyone come out of jekyll and hyde with this

#“good doctor attempts to rid humanity of evil and ACCIDENTALLY makes an entirely separate person who's evil and kills people!!!” #animated features HATE morally questionably protagonists crushed under their own hubris #jekyll wasn't even the protagonist actually. where's that boring guy I forgot the name of that jekyll gave all his money too ?? #I know that adaptions are not 1-1 with the source material and may make creative choices to better suit the medium #but this feels. kind of like it's drastically missing the point??? maybe even going against it almost?? #jekyll made hyde because he wanted to act on bad impulses without social punishment occuring #the whole point of the book was that the more you indulge in bad actions the worse it gets. cautionary tale style. #jekyll stops transforming into hyde for MONTHS and the moment he goes back he beats an old man to death #because jekyll repressed his general 'bad desires' so much over the next few months the moment 'hyde' was out again- #-he did something super bad. like super super bad. #and hyde was freaked out because people saw him do it and now hyde was unable to blend into crowds and do morally questionable acts #not because he felt bad about killing a senior citizen. #hyde is not some secret evil demon jekyll summoned. hyde is just jekyll if he was less accommodating of other people. #there isn't even a reason to believe the potion caused this mindset. for all we know this is a purely psychological phenomenon. #either way hyde is ALL jekyll. he is not some monster. he is jekyll if jekyll was not afraid of his status being affected by his actions #at the end he didn't talk about using the potion to transform INTO hyde #he wanted to use it to transform into JEKYLL. #“that's because he kept turning into hyde without the-” yeah that's the point!!!!! that's. literally the point. #saying stuff #I like jekyll and hyde. they're pretty cool. I just don't like the way people act like what happened wasn't mostly jekyll's fault #like ??? it's not like hyde ruined jekyll's life. jekyll is in control of his actions as hyde. this is their faults equally. #actually maybe I'm kind of a hyde apologist. ignore that a little bit (I am aware he's literally just jekyll but. I feel bad for him.) #the frakenstein's monster issue of. yeah frakenstein's monster (hyde) sucked but frakenstein (jekyll) was worse right #tired tumblr posts #do I have a nerd tag. #I don't think so actually #I think thoughts #I think. #yeah that works #I apologize for the very skewed tags to post ratio except I don't really feel that bad about it. twitter is an awful place.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

.

#warning this is just dark depressing shit i have on my mind and i need to just scream it somewhere #i genuinely need help. i need someone professional to help unravel the shit that's running through my brain right now #it is not good that i keep imagining harming myself just to get into a fucking hospital to get things addressed #it isn't serious yet but it's getting more frequent and im really scared of what i will pick when it gets worse #im barely functioning as a human and i don't currently have the resources to help me develop better habits #i don't have a support system irl. when you drop the religion your family raised you in- #-and your friends all live 1000s of miles away it's real fucking lonely #the list of things to address with a doctor is so fucking long and i cannot afford that visit #i only work one part time job and im too stressed to do more than that how the fuck will i ever afford anything #things are so fucked rn im constantly in pain and i keep not eating enough and then my food goes bad and it's such a waste #trying to plan anything scares the shit out of me. genuinely don't know why i make plans anymore #i can't even create or keep promises about the things i said i would create and it feels so purposeless #it's like the only kind of happiness i can get is all just diving into fandom and acting like im so funny #like yeah im hilarious huh for enjoying this shit and being so loud on the on site i ever use #and then i fucking hide from the real world because i can't take an ounce of negativity or i will have a nervous breakdown #i want to be known and loved but god at what cost i do not have the sanity to open up like that #i want to be held and have someone check on ME for once. have someone be kind to me for once. #instead of swallowing everything because im so afraid of being hated instead #i shouldn't even be afraid of being hated but damn if my trauma didn't rear its ugly head #and remind me that the people who should have cared the most didn't give enough of a shit to try #and make me wanna die about it #i need to get out of this fucking room but god it's so hard to make my body move #when it's so easy to just lie here watch reruns of whatever proves im not worth a damn #my room is a mess and i was gonna do laundry and i was going to run errands today #but no apparently any time i have off work is dedicated to either distracting myself with blorbos #or wallowing in my miserable shit #and you bet it feels fucking pathetic. like i should know better. i should be better. im not. #im no good honestly. i can't even let myself scream or cry loud enough so that the roommate i don't talk to will be concerned. #why bug him when we've established being chill and knowing nothing whatsoever about each other #i can't be someone else's burden again. being a burden is what fucking kills me.

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

#writeblr #warm up #to be clear let me state again: i think you should id however you fucking want if it helps you seek peace #but there is a HUGE difference between being like '.... im undiagnosed but i think i might be X' #and a person who is like ''omg my intrusive thoughts made me buy a birkin!!!'' #babe mine made me throw up bc they disgusted me so much <3 #mine made me hurt myself evenly. even when i wanted to stop. i have had to put my hand on the stove MULTIPLE TIMES #and again i'd rather have 10000 people get help for something they don't need help for #than have 1 kid NOT get help #but there has GOTTTTT to be a middle ground here #bc at this point it isn't ''raising awareness'' #it's . fucking misinformation. and ''what this picture says about you!!!!!'' #& yes! im mostly talkin about ppl who are actually disgusted and offended by signs of mental illness #but use it to defend THEIR actions #like babe you hate when kids start yelling in the walmart? but you YOuRSELF can yell? #you are depressed so it's fine you were cruel to your spouse? #but if your spouse spends too much time in bed she's a lazy fuck? #your partner needs to do everything for you bc of your history in trauma? but when SHE has needs she's being clingy and gross? #HUGE difference here between whom i think most of my followers are btw. like #all it takes is fucking anyyyy empathy or kindness . like. #anyway it's hard to explain im hoping we all know the person im talking about lol

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

#Door Prize #Alt S4 #pre steddie #when is it not lmao #Holiday fic #well this is more of a warm up but it has another part #Ive just given up the WIPS are running my life #this is brought to you by a local high schools massive holiday bazaar I went too that had cute band kids running around #could not play music though bless them #I did FINALLY get re employed so things are slowing down but Im hoping to post one more chapter of SOMETHING before the end of dec #and probably the other half of this warm up shes short #steven harrington #eddie munson #baking #special appearance by Adopt a Jocks Tiff #Robin pops up in this in the other half #Dustin Henderson #and his scheming #Steve can bake #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steddie

[mirohlayo]

MY INTROVERT GIRL | LN4

( being an introvert, you became insecure about it because lando seems to prefer his extrovert friend girl. )

warning : some angst, insecurity, jealousy, fluff and fluff, lando having a soft spot for you 🥹

note : as an introvert, this one is for my others introvert girlies 🫶

word count : 4.9k

!! english not my first language !!

your feet crawl on the floor. you make your way through the crowd, trying to get into the mclaren garage. a wide smile is glued on your lips as you get closer to the place you want to be there.

some mclaren engineers greet you. you smile at them, throwing some "hello" or "how you guys doing ?" and keep walking towards the garage. they all know you as the good and close friend of lando, but what you don't know is that they secretly see you as lando's biggest crush.

because it is actually the truth. of course you are not aware of this, but lando is really in love in with you. and not just a little. the mclaren members are not blind, even the others agree with them : lando is so fucking head over heels for you.

it's just so obvious. the way he always stutters on his words whenever you're talking to him, the way he blushes when you'd look at him, the way he looks at you with just pure affection and adoration.

he truly has a soft spot for you. when you two are together, it's like there is only you in the world. everyone can feel your deep connection and that there is more than friendship in the air. when you both interact together, it just looks like two soulmates who love each other sincerely.

but it seems you and lando are the only one who don't notice it. for you, he was just being friendly. and for him, he was sure you would never love him because you were too perfect to be his girlfriend.

and this really gets on everyone's nerves. like for god damn, when this little game will finally end ? all of your friends want you to be together already, but it seems like you guys are just brats. and it annoys even your families.

the engineers give you playful smiles as you approach the garage. you keep walking and once you're here your eyes immediately laid on your favorite boy out there.

lando.

oh god. he's so perfect. how much you love him is crazy. his cute smile, his blue green eyes, his soft curly hair. you love everything about him and even more his personality. you wish he was yours.

but unfortunately, he's not. and it pains your heart a little more every day. it feels like you will never be his girlfriend. why ? because he acts friendly with you. because he won't get into a relationship with a common girl like you. and mostly, because of the one girl standing right next to him.

your eyes shift on the blonde girl who is laughing with lando. ohh. how you wish you were her. she's truly beautiful and well, perfect. typically lando's type of girl.

ava. it's her name. she's gorgeous, kind, sweet and funny. and plus she gets along with everybody. she's an extrovert person. and you know how lando likes extrovert people. he gets more comfortable with them and he's just more himself around them.

and that's why you became insecure about you. not for your physical appearance, no. but for your introvert side. you are a pure introvert. you don't get along quickly with others like would do ava.

you're shy and timid. you're uncomfortable around crowd and people you don't know. you're kind of bad at socializing and it takes time for you to open yourself to people. you're awkward when someone would bring you into a conversation.

but ava is so the opposite of you. she's not a bit shy. she makes people feel comfortable and she loves socializing. she also likes when people would talk about her. she's not afraid, she's just the moment. and you felt like lando loves that. that lando just loves her.

you keep looking at them. lando is laughing at one of her jokes, and the sparkles in his eyes when he looks at her tighten your poor heart. she pushes him gently, hiding a smile while he imitates a hurt expression.

seeing them like that, you don't even want to say hi to lando. you sigh and take a step back. "jealous much huh ?"

you turn around and meet oscar, his eyes scanning your face. "not even a bit" you reply and try to keep a straight face. "yeah, if only you know that he also feels the same way about you right now" he whispers softly, you almost miss it.

you frown and confusion fills your eyes. "what ?" you try to get an answer. he shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest, a dumb smile playing over his lips. "nothing. just forget what i said". you can't help but laugh at him. "oh okay. mister wants to play the mysterious" you say and he starts to laugh with you.

you and oscar are good friends. he is like your confident. he knows about your feelings for his teammate driver. you always talk about it only with him because you trust him. but he also knows that lando does have the same feelings for you. and for him it's just funny, the way you're always bringing him back in your conversations while lando is also doing the same with you.

and like that, you start talking with oscar. you also found comfort in him, kind of a safe place, because he's like you. an introvert buddy. he's shy and timid just like you. so you two understand each other well, and you get along perfectly.

that's why when lando sees you laughing tears with oscar in the garage, his heart stopped. and his brain too. he stops listening to the blonde girl next to him, who don't even notice it.

his poor heart pang. his poor heart twists. he's feeling very jealous now. how he looks at you with anger. how he is so annoyed. his favorite girl, his precious crush having fun with his teammate. he don't like that at all.

he knows getting jealous over oscar is not good, because first of all he has lily. but still, he knows how much comfort you find in him. because oscar reminds you of yourself. you're both introvert, you're both acting the same with people.

and he feels like you just prefer oscar's introvert personality than him, with his extrovert one. he knows he can be a very outgoing guy and he also knows how extrovert people sometimes makes you uncomfortable. but he thought it wasn't the same with him.

from the way you were acting like an extrovert girl only with him. the way he was the only one you would talk about anything for hours. the fact you always found him in a very crowded place and would never leave him, sticking to his hand.

yeah, he just thought he was the only extrovert person you liked. but it seems oscar was your number one boy.

you don't know that since you appeared in the garage, all he wanted was to look at you. to leave ava and instead talk to you, keeping all of you just for him. to be sure he's the only boy you would be comfortable with. to make sure you're the only introvert he needs and loves.

a soft touch on his arm come him back to the reality. he knows looking at you and oscar like he's going to kill him is not good at all, so he shifts his gaze because it also hurts him. the blonde girl plunges into his arms and he almost let her fall down.

"are you still listening ?" she says softly with puppy eyes. he sighs and take a step back, letting his arms rest next to his body. "yeah sorry, i was thinking about the race" "oh, it's okay lan".

lan. how he loves this surname, but only when y/n would say it. he don't like hearing it from ava. it doesn't mean he don't like her. of course she's kind, funny and sweet. but that's all. she's not as kind as y/n when she would put others before herself, she's not as adorable as y/n when she would show her shiny smile. she's just not y/n. nobody is like her.

and when ava would call him like that, it's friendly. it's just a common surname for him. but when you would call lando as "lan", oh god. he's getting weak on the knees. the way it perfectly rolls over your tongue, the way you use a soft tone to pronounce it. it makes lando feel lighter, his heart beating way faster. he just loves when you call him like that.

yeah, nobody can deny it. it blinds everyone. and lando knows it damn well. he has a soft spot for you. and only for you.

-

it's almost time. your heart pounds faster and you start to think if it's a good idea or not. your hands sweat as you grab your dress.

you need to prepare yourself. for what ? a party. yeah, a damn party. you genuinely didn't want to attend it, because first of all it's not in your habits. you're not used to stay awake all night and stay with strangers in a room. plus with loud music, even though you play music out loud when you're alone in your house.

but there it's different. your shy introvert side tells you to stay at your house and don't go to that fucking party. but still, a part of you tells you to attend it, because why not ? and plus there will be someone special, someone you actually crave to see.

lando norris of course.

and for nothing in the world you would miss seeing him. so you gather all of your courage and decided to join him and your friends there. it is a party planed by pietra for her birthday.

being close friends with lando, you were able to meet his others friends like his best friend max. you started hanging out with them, and like that you became also friend with max's girlfriend, pietra. she's now one of your best friend. you just literally loves this girl and so does she. so of course just for that, you had to show yourself to her party.

you adjust your white dress and take a look in the mirror. it fits you perfectly, like literally perfectly. you were gorgeous. you're not really the type to wear dresses, top and pants are your way go to. it's pretty rare to catch you in a dress. but when you would wear one, oh god. you're the most beautiful woman to walk on earth.

and white suits you even more. it contrasts well with your skin tone and embellish your hair. it makes your face bright, shining even more than usual. but you are not very sure of your choice. yes, you look very pretty but you need to be sure of that.

you grab your phone and call pietra. only she can tell you if it's okay or not. she picks up the phone and you don't wait a second to put on your camera. "how do i look ? tell me the truth" you ask stressed. she looks shocked. but kind in a good way. really good way. she smiles brightly and let a scream out. "girl you're literally a goddess on earth !! fuck you're too pretty for us"

you laugh and blush a little, relieved you look good. "thanks pietra" she gives you an implicit look and grins at you. "you're going to make someone loose his mind. if you see who i'm talking abo-" "oh please stop girl" you cut her midway and she just laughs, her perfect smile crossing the phone screen. "anyway i need to get things done, see you soon babe"

you wave your hand and give her your best smile before hang up. you look at your reflection. yeah, it is true, you definitely look incredibly beautiful. you just finish quickly to prepare yourself, getting your hair and natural makeup done. and now you're ready to leave your house. to go to the party.

you're still not really in the mood to show up there. yes maybe it will be fun, but the idea of just cancel it and instead stay underneath your warm blanket watching some netflix movies sounds good to you. but no, you can't do that to pietra. you need to go. and you also need to see him.

so after the drive, you thanks the chauffeur and walk towards pietra's villa she rented for tonight. loud music escapes from the place, and you already regret coming here. but it's too late now, you need to go.

you walk inside the living room. a lot of people are already drinking and dancing. even a dj is here doing the show. you find a lot of new faces, but thanks there is still some people you recognize.

you walk further inside and luckily you find pietra talking with some friends. there are lando, max and some quadrant members around her too. your heart skip a beat at the sight of lando.

his slightly unbottoned shirt which contrasts with his tan skin, his chain around his neck and his veiny arms. you can easily run out of air. and his smile. oh he really makes you lose your mind.

you carefully approach the group. "hello guys" you shyly say and everyone shift to look at you. a bunch of pairs of eyes scan you, and you can feel yourself burn under their gazes. but especially from lando's one.

the man he's sure he forgot how to breath and think correctly. he has never been this speechless. your hairstyle, your pretty makeup, your white dress which highlights your perfect body. it's maybe the first time he sees you in a dress, and he can't take enough of it.

he can't take his eyes off you. you're such a beautiful girl to admire. and even more now. he truly wants to keep staring at you all night, but it would make you uncomfortable. so he struggles to not stare. but it seems like he failed at it.

"looks like lando is having too much from the dressed girl" pietra tease him, giving him an implicit smile. you blush, because you actually notice how lando was looking at you. with an intense gaze. the driver don't reply back, instead he acts like he didn't hear anything but still gives you a shy smile.

"it's rare to see you in dresses y/n. but you look very pretty" ria gives you a wink. "thank you" you simply answer, too shy to say anything else. a blonde head suddenly shows up inside the group. she let appears her bright smile that everyone loves and finally stuck her gaze on you.

"huh yeah, she looks good." ava says, a doubted look crossing her eyes. she gives you a fake smile and move to be next to lando.

you know ava don't like you. maybe hate you even. because you're also close with lando. she wants the driver for herself, but it seems the man prefer y/n. and for you it's the opposite. you think lando prefers the extrovert girl.

that's why you distance yourself from lando. or actually it is ava's fault. since some weeks now, she's getting closer with the mclaren driver. always going outside together, always showing up to the races. she's always clung to him.

and because of that you became distant with lando. it's been a while since you have not been alone with him, or talk to him for a bit. you miss those moments. and lando craves them too.

the blonde girl keep searching for lando's attention, but it seems like he was still stuck on y/n. "i'm going to get a drink" you say because you didn't want to stay here anymore. "let me accompany you then" lando quickly reply to you.

he takes his chance. he wants to be alone with you again, to talk to you like weeks before.

you smile and he follows you to the bar. you order a juice, you're not a great fan of alcoholic drinks. soon the barman lends you the glass and you thanks him. "hum... i-i just wanted to say y-you're really really gorgeous" he stutters very hard over his words.

"oh thank you lan. you too, you look very pretty" you reply with burned cheeks. he can't help but blush back too, his heart beating so fast now. oh and you called him lan. he's in heaven now. the way you said it with an affectionate tone, it soften his tiny heart. it grows up even more his soft spot for you.

"i-i thought you weren't going to come" he stutters once again. and you notice it of course. lando always stammers when he'd talk to you. you don't know why. that's the reason you think it's because of being an introvert.

with his others extrovert friends, just like ava, he would talk so easily. he never stammer and he looks always comfortable. but with you it's different. maybe he's awkward around introvert people.

it makes you feel even more insecure. because you also noticed how he would do funny things only with his extrovert friends, especially ava rather than you. like he's having more fun with her and he neglects and refrains from doing certain things with you, that of course he does with the blonde woman. yeah, it makes you feel very insecure.

you almost started to hate yourself, to hate your introvert self.

"yeah, i genuinely didn't want to show up. but it's pietra's birthday, i wasn't going to miss that" you shrug and he simply nods. "actually, i missed talking to you y/n. it's great to see you again" he confesses.

your heart meltdowns. he's literally so caring. "me too lando. i'm glad to spend time with you" you reveal to the boy and you swear you saw him giggles.

"okay everyone listen, we're going to play some games outside so come if you want to take part of it" max's voice in the microphone alerts the crowd.

some people start to walk outside the villa, making their way to the garden. you want to say something to lando, that you don't really want to go outside and prefer to stay inside. but before you could a hand drag lando's one. "lan come with me, let's play a game"

ava. always ava. and before lando can reply back something, she's already bringing him outside. he gives you a sorry look, pain flooding in his eyes, and you just show him a small smile, murmuring a "that's okay go".

you sigh, watching him fade away with the girl you wish you could be.

you drink an another sip. now all you want is to leave the party. it's not great for pietra but you know she'll forgive you. everything is boring now. even the music, you beg for it to stop. a desperate and sad feeling flows through your body.

"come with me outside then". you move your head and cross oscar's eyes. you feel relieved a bit, your confident being here next to you is a very good support now. "for what ? seeing him enjoy his time with her ? no thanks". the driver sigh and put his hand over yours. "please y/n. at least take part of the party, not for him but for your friend pietra. don't let them know you're sad."

you don't know what to reply. you stay silent for a while. and that is when oscar lost it. "okay it's enough. let's have fun together. i don't like seeing you unhappy because of this dumb bratty man"

he drags you outside in the garden. you couldn't do nothing but follow him. you know arguing back wouldn't help either. so you keep staying to his sides.

you see lando and ava together, laughing loudly like there are only them here. like it's just the two of them. you roll your eyes, annoyed. "oh yeah what a great idea oscar" "oh please stop looking at them and instead give me your goddamn attention" he replies back and you know he is a bit angry at you. "okay ´m sorry" you whisper.

and, suddenly, he approaches you. and he starts tickling you. "w-wait oscar what are you doi-" you can't even finish your sentence that you burst into laughter. oscar knows you're very ticklish and he takes advantage of it.

you try to tickle him back, and once you reach his sides he also starts to laugh loudly. "you're gonna regret what you have just done" he says and starts to pursue you.

you run as fast as you can, dodging his attacks. you can't help but laugh like a child, feeling so happy right now. oscar genuinely knows how to cheep you up.

but that of course drives lando's attention on you two. he stops playing his game, leaving ava playing alone now with max and the others. he keeps staring at the both of you, having way more fun than him with the blonde woman.

and jealousy starts to run again in his blood. fuck. how he wants to be oscar right now, how he wants to laugh childishly with you like that. he hates being stuck on ava's side now. he wants to join you. to keep you. maybe to run out of the party and instead spend the night with you like on a date.

he truly wants you.

so he gives up the game and the blonde girl who is calling him back. but he doesn't care. he walk fast towards you. he sees red. once he's at your level he quickly grabs your hand.

"come play games with me y/n" he kind of order you. you frown and let your hand out of his grip, which twist his heart. "no why ? you're having fun with ava" you reply coldly. "yeah but join us. don't look childish by running everywhere with him and inste-" "what did you say ??" you cut him midway.

oscar breathes and sigh. he knows something will happen, but it's for the best. "okay I'll leave the two of you together" he quickly says and in a second he's already left.

"i-i'm sorry, that's not what i meant". lando didn't mean to say that. he was just so jealous of you and oscar that he didn't think about his words. if only you know how bad he wanted to look childish with you, running everywhere in the garden. "oh yeah, don't search for any excuse lando. i was feeling much better when you were playing with ava and abandoning me for her". you coldly throw that at him.

his heart cries of pain. "but i would enjoy much my time with you instead of her" he reveals, and he beg you'd trust him because it is all the truth. but ava shout his name back, and his head automatically turns to look at her. you roll your eyes and start to walk back. "that's what i can see".

you walk inside the villa and guide yourself to the villa's entryway. lando is following you back, trying to grab your hand. "don't go y/n please". he begs you. "no, i'm leaving the party lan".

he sighs and keep following your steps. "okay but then let me drive you back to your house". he proposes this offer to you, and you don't reply. so he takes your silence as a yes.

you find his car and he opens the door for you. he's still a gentleman even in this situation and it makes you feel strangely better. you sit in the car and lando joins you. he puts the contact on and he starts to drive.

the ride is silent. very silent. no one want to talk. or at least nobody knows what to say. you scroll your phone, and lando keep stealing glances at you. he doesn't like when you ignore him. soon the ride is over and you're finally in front of your door house.

you quickly get out of the car and run towards your door, but before locking you up behind lando gently grab your wrist. "for one last time please y/n. listen to me".

you sigh and meet his eyes. you can see him pleading you by just looking at you. his arms suddenly wraps your waist, and he pulls you closer. his hands gently stroke your sides. you feel his breath on your head. "look at me y/n" he softly say.

you lift up your head and oh - you were not expecting seeing the abundant affection flooding in his eyes. "i'm sorry for what i've said earlier. you have to believe me, i really didn't intend to say it". he starts.

"but then why would you stop me from having fun with oscar while ava was there ?" you desperately ask.

"because i wanted to have fun with you too" he says back to back. "but i thought you prefer ava's company" you frown. "not when i can have yours" he smiles.

you look at him confused. what was he trying to say ? you're not getting it. "i don't understand lando. why ? you love ava right ?" you ask, even though you already know his answer. you don't even want to hear it, but it's too late.

"arghh for god damn no !! it's you. i love you. you're the one i fell in love hard with. i fucking love you y/n" he almost shouts it, getting angrier because you didn't get what he was trying to say.

you blink. what ?? does lando truly love you ? or are you dreaming ?

"y-you love me ?" you ask again. "yes, i love you. i'm so head over heels for you and i can't stop myself from loving you". he says with loving eyes.

a shy smile spreads over your face. so you're your crush crush ? you can't believe it. it can't be real. the one you thought you won't have a chance with just confessed his feelings for you.

"but i really thought you loved ava. you were always having fun with her and you got along with her." you murmur softly.

"yes of course i'm good friend with her. but she's not the one that i want. it's you. i want you. and i need you baby" he replies , a shy smile dancing on his lips.

"but why you were doing certain things with only her and not me ? i always felt like that you couldn't love me because i'm an introvert and it seemed like you prefer extrovert girls". you finally reveal what you feel, what you're insecure about.

it pains lando. because you don't value yourself enough while he would do anything to have you as his girlfriend. why would he prefer his extrovert friend girl when you're here, the most perfect and beautiful introvert girl on earth ?

"it's not like that baby. i genuinely know you're introvert and that sometimes there are things that makes you uncomfortable. and i didn't want to make you feel that way. that's why i neglected doing activities with you, because i didn't want to rush and hurry things, i wanted to take time with you and to make sure you're comfortable with me"

your eyes soften as you listen to him. god he's just so perfect, you thought.

"also sometimes i don't know how to react or what to do because i don't want to hurt you. you're so precious to me and i wouldn't forgive me if i ever hurt you". he continues and his hands move to your cheeks, rubbing them gently.

"you know i almost hated myself from being an introvert just because of that" you whisper.

"and i'm so fucking sorry for that, love. i love you the way you are. i fell in love with you because you are an introvert, truly. like it's just the cutest thing ever. i love that side of you and i hope you'll never change it. i don't care about ava and others extrovert girls. because now i have you, my love"

"but i thought you we-"

"can you please stop adding things and instead let me kiss you girl ?" he rolls his eyes ans wait for an answer, a silly smile over his lips.

"yeah you can kiss me" you shyly answer.

he smiles brightly and without thinking he leans in. he presses his lips against yours and delights in the feeling. your lips are so soft, he don't want to stop kissing them. you wrap your arms around him too and pull him closer.

he struggles to pull back, already missing your lips against his. he bumps your noses and let a small laugh out of his mouth. "my introvert girl"

you softly slap him on the arm and he laughs at you. "i love you my shy girl" he says jokingly. you roll your eyes and kiss him on the cheek. "i love you too lando. so so much".

now the mclaren driver is the happiest man alive. and he knows for sure he will take care of his introvert girl, the most perfect woman for him.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #ln4 fic

[hoshigray]

hey!! I love you works=) Can I request a fem!chubby(optional)reader x gojo,where gojo is her mean roommate and after a night when he had fun with a random girl and reader couldn't sleep because of it she confront him and he shows her how much he loves-hates her (NSWF if you can,when I say love-hate I mean he loves her,but she is not afraid to attack his ego so he finds this quite annoying) I truly understand if you don't want to write and I respect your decision =) I just say to try my luck and see if you like the idea

lol well, I'm lucky to have time to indulge in this idea, so why not? hope i did this right...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x roommate! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader can be read as chubby or not - implied mutual feelings/pining - kissing/making out - teasing - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and licking) - doggy style + missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - Gojo being a bit whipped for you - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - implied usage of alcohol - mention of saliva/drool. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“God, you can be such a fucking dumbass…Who told you to drink so much?”

“Listen–hic–I was just being the life of the party. Plus, gotta impress the ladies~”

“Oh, for God’s sake, just eat your damn mocha bread.”

Lying on the living room couch with you sitting on your knees on the carpet, tending to his drunken state, was not something Satoru Gojo had planned. It was supposed to be a chill night at the club with the guys – Geto, Nanami, and Haibara – yet he somehow found his way to the dance floor and danced like a rock star, drinking like a fish from taking up all the shots bought by all the women infatuated by him. What can he say; he could never refuse the ladies, even if he doesn’t like alcohol.

However, he’ll admit he might have overdone it and puked in the club bathroom for a solid 20 minutes before his friends decided it was time to go. You opened your apartment door to your roommate being carried by Haibara and Geto, the dark-haired men apologizing for the inconvenience at the late hour after dropping their friend on the couch and leaving you to deal with the tipsy fool. 

Although, with him dealing with the raging headache and horrid acid from the vomit earlier ruining his tastebuds, Gojo would say this wasn’t all too bad. Why? Well, now he has his cute roommate to look after him like they always do.

Although he feels a bit bad that you were up to see him at this ungodly hour, watching you sitting beside him and feeding him his favorite snack to ease his subsiding intoxication made him feel warm. The little pout on your face as you break apart pieces of the mocha bread to feed into his mouth, your gorgeous eyes examining him to see if he’s okay, and your cute pajamas comprised of an oversized shirt and some shorts. If it meant being treated by you like this, the snow-haired man figured he ought to get drunk more often.

The only problem was you nagging at him like he was a child, grabbing for his hand to hold the glass of water on his own. “Drink; I don’t want you puking on my carpet.” Yup, you were his roommate, all right.

He rolled his eyes while taking a sip. “You’re supposed to be talking all sweet and slow to me here because my head’s going at sixty miles an hour. Aren’t you supposed to be sympathetic to the weak?”

You scoffed. “Oh please, you are not weak; you’re just dumb enough to drink whatever thing some pretty girl gives you.” 

“Hmph,” He puffs at you, evoking your eye to twitch. “Well, maybe I should just go back to the venue and find that pretty lady who was dancing with me all night!” He takes a bite of some more mocha bread. “I’m sure she’d be nice enough to minister to my drunk self.”

That was a lie. There was a lady he was dancing with, the same lady who hung out with the guys at the club and had a good time with them. The woman was a wild and entertaining girl, Gojo will admit. But in all aspects, she was just there; she was nothing. If anything, Gojo wished that you were there instead of her. You were busy with work, opting to sit this out and maybe go with the guys the next time. 

And although he didn’t try to argue (outside of pestering you in giving in and coming along), he couldn’t get his mind off you while he was away. You were all he could think about, wondering if you were okay or if you remembered to eat dinner. Or just imagining you being with him, wearing something nice and letting loose around his friends – around him. Fuck, just visioning him and you dancing together would’ve been such a treat and probably saved his poor liver and stomach from all the alcohol. 

Instead, he’s spending the last moments of his late-night high with you, who should be sleeping. You say to him, “Would you?”

He draws his brows upwards. “Hmm?”

“Would you go back?” he now notices the look on your face, as if you’re going back and forth with something internally. “I mean, probably not because I’m sure whoever has to deal with you can’t feed you your favorite bread.” 

He hums, taking note of your expression and your fingers playing with the edge of his plate. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Nanami called me earlier when you were getting a little too wild, like, five shots in,” The number throws the man in a whirlwind; damn, I had more than five? “And he told me you were so tipsy and touchy that you couldn’t stop asking about me. Like, ‘Where’s Y/n’ or ‘Man, I wish Y/n was here; they love this song.’” 

Did I say that? “I said that?” A curt nod is given to Gojo, and he presses his lips to a thin line. Ah, shit. 

“All I’m saying is,” you continue with a pout. “It would be pretty scummy of you to say you’d wanna hang with another woman and then turn around and worry about me, for whatever reason.” 

Sky-blue eyes observe yours downcasted to the plate with the sweet bread. He couldn’t ignore how cute you avoided his gaze — it’s what prompted him to say this: “…There is a reason.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t worry about you for nothing,” you watch the white-haired man bring his upper body up from the couch with his elbows. His face is now a foot away from yours, close enough for you to see the earnest glint in his eyes under the soft, warm glow of the ceiling lighting. “Nothing is for ‘whatever’ reason if it’s with you.”

Your brows furrowed together, eyes avoiding Gojo’s gaze. “What could that reason be, I wonder. You’re just saying that so I can stop being up taking care of—“You couldn’t finish that sentence; how could you when Gojo brought a hand to your chin and prompted you to look back at him? Azure eyes pierced right into yours; it made your heart skip, and your body dare not to move.

“You want me to prove you wrong?” He asks with a neutral expression, hard for you to gauge what’s on his mind. You know him; he likes to poke fun or try to get you riled up. So, this shouldn’t be any different (aside from him holding your chin).

You huff, “Go ahead.”

And it was there where you should’ve chosen your words carefully.

“Khaaa! Ohhh! G–Gojo, stop…! Y’r fingerss—Ahhaaa!”

“Aht, aht, don’t do that, angel. Open those legs up for me…Fuck, you’re so cute…Mmm”

It took you aback when Gojo stood up from the couch, took your hand, and walked you from the living room to his room. Confusion on your part turned into immediate shock when he brought you into a kiss. With wide eyes and thoughts going at a million miles per hour, you instinctively tried to brush him off you. But one kiss turned into two, and two kisses turned into three. And before you know it, you sink into the feel of his pillowy lips, a leg situating between yours while your hands come around his neck.

And the surprises don’t stop there; Gojo then hoists you up — yes, picks you up! — and brings you to his bed to continue laying his lips on you. Your shaky moans resulted from his kisses trailing from your chin to your collarbone, the humps of his lower half chafing the groin of your shorts. The twitch of your chasm happens involuntarily — how embarrassing! Especially when he distracts you by claiming your lips again so he can pull down your bottoms and panties.

And that’s how we end up here, you crying out for him as he kisses and nibbles on your ear while his fingers play with your wet folds. “—Ahahhnn!! G–Gojo, no..! Not there…Hnnfff…!”

“You say that, but you’re not letting my fingers go, huh.” He chortles before kissing your cheek, stuffing his middle finger to aid his forefinger in scraping your inner walls. The wails that escaped your lips were so unlike the stern persona he’d usually deal with; they provoked him into wanting to hear more. “Damn, didn’t know my little cute roomie could make such cute sounds. Let me hear more, ‘kay?” 

Cute!? The adjective had your cheeks increase in heat with the twitch of your southern walls clamping onto Gojo’s digits. “Hoooh! Q–Quit playing with me, Gojo; just stop going so fa—Aaahhhh!!” 

From your protest, his fingers go even faster. And worse, he sneaks his thumb to your clitoris, where he shocks your body with swipes and grinds to the delicate pearl. Too fast for you to chew on your lip to shield the creams, “Hey now, I said call me by my name.” He looks at you with flushed cheeks and soft, hooded eyes — way too late to blame the alcohol for such effects. But you can see the passion that’s burning inside those blue orbs of his. “Don’t be stubborn on me, pretty girl. What’s my name, Y/n?”

God, first cutie, now pretty girl; how many names was he gonna call you to drag you deep into your pool of embarrassment? “Haahhh, Satoru, please,” your body jerks to the jabs of his fingers hitting inside you. 

“Heh, good girl. My little angel…” Gojo kisses you again, sucking on your tongue with a teasing vigor before lifting your shirt to display your body to him in its whole form. Your breasts spill open for him to claim a nipple into his mouth for a quick suck. He then travels down your abdomen, playfully nibbling on your soft skin and flesh for you to jerk. His hands massage your inner thighs after spreading them further. 

His face then comes down to your bare cunt, blowing on it to make you squirm. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to look at you for so long. You made such a gorgeous mess for me.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Gojo,” you peer down at him, only for him to beam with a mischievous smile. Damn, you cursed his dimples for making him look like a childish bastard!

“No thanks, I’m more interested in fucking this cute thing.” He snickers to himself before descending further in between your legs and having you gasp sharply at the feel of his lips on your slit. His tongue swishes between your folds and sucks in your leaking substances for him to savor, the wet muscle teasing its entrance of your vagina before inserting inside.

You almost choke on your spit, crying out for him to stop and trying to close your legs. But that proves worthless, Gojo’s hands holding them to your chest for him to feast on you properly. You’re forced to accept the laps of his tongue, and it has your ears ringing with the obscene sounds coming from the commotion.

“—Ohoo!! Satoru, stop!!” You bring a hand to his head to grab a tuff of his snow-white hair. It does nothing, only making him eat you out even more unsteadily.  His nose occasionally bumps into your clit, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Stooop it, I’m gonna cummm, if you keep….!”

“Go ahead, baby,” he withdraws his mouth, slipping his fingers back inside you to massage euphorically. Your eyes roll up when he licks on your clitoris. “Let’s see my pretty angel be messy for me.” 

You couldn’t prevent yourself from following his command even if you wanted to, the fingers and his wet muscle all doing their part in making sure you give in. And so you do, releasing the reins to let your orgasm overcome you, clamping onto his fingers as it pass through your body through the shocks and your erotic howls. 

And Gojo eats you up through your sensitive nerves and all, his hands not letting you writhe out of this as he stuffs his face into your cunt. Your body jolts with every passing shock until it relaxes. And even then, Gojo still carries a naughty grin when lifting his face and licking his digits. “Look at that, princess. Making my fingers all pretty.”

The display made your ears hot. “Don’t play with it like that!”

“Why, I’m gonna play with you a whole lot more, anyway,” he says while kissing your thighs. He surprises you with a bite, making you huff in surprise. “Gonna play and mark you all mine all night long.”

And he was not lying. Everything happened so fast; one moment, you’re lying on Gojo’s bed with him, eating you out until you come from his mouth two times. The next moment, your pajamas are stripped off you and thrown to the floor along with his. 

“—Noohhh!! Ohhh, fuuuck, ahh, ‘Toruuu, yer goin’ too fast…! Slow down!!”

“Hnngh! Ahhhh, easy for you to say with you gripping on me like crazy…Holy shiiiit, you feel so good…”

Now, you two in the nude are fucking like animals. The hour is way past late for noises to disrupt your neighbors, yet here you are on Gojo’s bed with your face down to the sheets and your ass propped up for him to drill his length deep inside you. He’s caged you beneath him, his strong arms on either side of you while his hips thrust into your plump ass and thighs. The sounds of the action were so raunchy to the ears, something straight from a porno.

The two of you have been going at it for about two previous rounds; your body is already sensitive and sweaty from this. You want to be tired – your mind is trying to tell you you’re exhausted. However, it’s impossible to think of anything else with Gojo hammering his dick into you like no tomorrow. Excessive come leaks from your cunt down your thighs, a white ring forming around the base of his shaft — evidence of your sexes union. 

“Ohhh Jesus, this ’s too much…Nnnphh!” The clap of your ass smacking onto Gojo’s pelvis made you sheepish, sinking your face further into the sheets to try and conceal your cries. But that’s not working when the tip of his cock grazes your velvety walls in such a precise motion that you almost choke on a sob, drool coming down your mouth. “Oh God, right there, ‘Toruuu…”

The white-haired man observes from above, examining your round ass and body jerk from his movements. Fuck, you looked so fucking sexy like this under him, wailing out from him being able to make you feel so good. It strokes his ego so badly, but that’s what happens when he’s finally proving to you how much he’s wanted your body like this. Your erotic body, your adorable mewls, and your amazingly tight cunt clenching on him as if you don’t want to let him go — it all makes his head pound, and his strokes smack on your harsher.

“Shiiiit, I’m so close…” He moans with a cold sweat that rolls down to his chin and hits the skin of your trapezius. Gojo then decides to switch things up before his evident release comes knocking. “Hey, sweetie. Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

You were already maneuvered to face him before he could finish that sentence, your front forced to be seen in his gaze. Your half-lidded orbs locked in with Gojo’s as he bucks his hips to you during missionary. Oh, what an intimate position! 

“Hic—Don’t look!” You say while putting your hands up to his face – accidentally hitting the bottom of his chin, taking him by surprise – not wanting him to see your disheveled and messy self under his observant eyes. 

But that didn’t fly by with him, immediately grabbing your wrists and pinning them down. “Oh, none of that, princess,” his face descends to brush his nose against yours. “I told you I’d prove you wrong. So, how am I supposed to do that with you hiding from me like that?”

You gulp to give him a snarky answer, “Mmmph—You’ve proven that enough!”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles lightly; fuck, he sounds so hot. “With you, there’s never enough.” He takes your lips with him before you can say more, grinding his hips onto your squelching chasm to scrape your sensitive spots to evoke your screams to be taken from his mouth. 

Gojo then snaps his hips into you at an unsteady tempo, the rhythm too fast to comprehend and catch yourself. The rough hits of his dick so harsh and sporadic, and your mewls are muffled by his kisses. Your hands go to his back, preparing yourself for the climax that rushes back to you for the fifth time that night. 

Oh, fuck, oh my fucking God! And it hits you like a slap to the face; your exhausted body trembles for yet another crescendo to crash over you. Your legs come around to Gojo’s waist to hold on. And Gojo’s not too far from orgasming on his own; the fluttering contractions of your cunt force him to give in and spill into you once again, groaning into your wet and puffy lips. 

The two of you embrace the jolts of your bodies in union, your lips glued to his as he kisses you through it all. And he drops his sweaty body on yours, the heat between you two sticking to your skins from the contact. A hand comes to the top of your head, caressing and massaging your scalp to further your relaxed state.

Gojo breaks the kiss with a soft sound, and a string of saliva sticks to you two until it’s broken apart from his ascent. He chortles, using a thumb to wipe your mouth from spit. “Well, did I make my point?”

You send him a tired glare, sighing heavily while your finger traces his back. “More than enough, Satoru.”

He beams, the dimples returning to blind you. “Good! Because I was thinking of going for another round—“

Your lips quiver with dread at the words, grabbing for a pillow and instantly hitting him in the head with it, not caring about him exclaiming in pain from the impact.

“Hurry up and get off me, you drunk, horny bastard!!”

But one thing was definite; it wasn’t the alcohol that Gojo was drunk on — it was you.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – dividers from @/benkeibear.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fics #anime smut

[aphroditesmoon]

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years. 

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves. 

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue. 

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other. 

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,  

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess. 

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however,  marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt. 

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you. 

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy. 

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered. 

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying. 

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out. 

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were. 

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.' 

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat." 

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?" 

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything. 

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. " 

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time. 

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.” 

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd? 

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have. 

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are.  “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response. 

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation,  she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder.  "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #dior goodjohn #wlw

[psychoticallytrans]

There's this idea, fairly common in society, that mental illness is for teens and up. Children are happy little creatures, generally, right? Sometimes they're abused and the trauma can make them mentally ill, but that's not common.

There are two fundamental problems with this attitude. One, it's incorrect to assume that trauma is the only reason a young kid can be mentally ill. Two, trauma is more common than people think. I'll be covering the first problem in this post through the lens of my particular experience.

Where I live, you can be diagnosed with bipolar disorder at 18 years old. You cannot be diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a minor. This poses a problem because my age of onset was in first grade, roughly six years old. Because of the fact that I was very young and new to the world, this was also the age of my first suicide attempt. Thinking I wouldn't be able to pass a spelling test genuinely felt like something worth trying to die over. So, I ate some hemlock, since I'd read about Socrates being killed with it. Luckily, I ate western hemlock, an unrelated species, and just felt kind of sick.

I'm not recounting that for fun or pity. I'm recounting it because children with mental illness are in genuine danger because they have little to no experience with managing their emotions, have little to no concept of the idea that their life can change and improve, and are dismissed by adults. I told a teacher that the test made me want to die, though not that I'd attempted to, and it was brushed off as little kid hyperbole. If I had used a method that was effective rather than one I thought would be, I would have been dead at six years old.

I would not receive medication that worked even a bit for another two years. I would not receive treatment for bipolar disorder specifically for ten years, and that required my PCP fudging the reason for the medication because she was afraid I would die if she didn't, and diagnosis was still two years off at minimum. I received a formal diagnosis at age 19, thirteen years after onset.

But surely that's uncommon, right? This story is a huge edge case, right? I actually have no idea, because age of onset and age of diagnosis are massively conflated for most disabilities. Policies like the one in my area that restricted bipolar diagnoses by age can artificially raise the age of "onset", in my case by thirteen years. The general idea that children are somehow immune to mental illness can also delay diagnosis by several years, perpetuating the idea that young children can't be mentally ill. The data on when people start experiencing mental illness is inherently skewed upwards, and I frankly don't have a good estimate on how bad that skew is. If anyone does have that data, please chime in.

Listen to children. If they're saying they're sad all the time, that they don't care about anything, that they don't see a future for themselves, those are signs of depressive symptoms. If they say that tests make them feel sick, that they can't do anything because they're scared, that they can't breathe and freeze up, those are signs of anxious symptoms. Many children talk about imaginary things, and that's just fine, but slip in a question or two about them to make sure that the kid is just playing, and not experiencing psychosis.

Children are new to the world and vulnerable, and they don't know what's normal and what isn't. They need people who are more experienced watching out for problems they might be having, and listening when they talk about having problems. If you can, try to be the person who perceives them, and tells them that things can be better.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Escape the Friendzone 2/4 (Word count 5.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Massive arms go about her as she's pulled against a lean chest. It's an awkward, tense hug. He smells of open air and coppice, with a whiff of acrid sweat on top as she lays her head somewhere between the bumps of muscle of a warm chest.

Not even the body heat makes him appear more human: his heart is not pounding as fast as she thought it would after making it clear he would score some tonight.

She fears she's dealing with a sociopath. Might even be a psychopath.

"Are you still afraid?"

"I don't know." Her breaths are everything but steady as she inhales the intoxicating scent of a madman.

"Don't be scared. I will only hurt those who wish to hurt you."

His pledge renders her weak; it makes her legs shake. She gets far more than she bargained for when pulling him in to give her a little late-night comfort.

Friends with benefits is a situation bad enough, but this is not okay. The guy's fixation seems boundless, and if she tries to wriggle out of this… relationship and starts seeing someone else, it might end up in König scrubbing the potential future love interest's guts off his shoes.

And something in the idea isn't even wholly appalling.

Good God…

"I don't want you to hurt anyone," she whispers like it isn't his day-to-day job – to hurt and kill people. She is on the verge of collapsing to the floor and stays upright only because he holds her in authoritarian embrace.

"Little angel, it's what I do." He releases her only enough to bow his head and look into her eyes. His stare betrays slight distaste. Those eyes are calm mirrors of how can someone be so naive.

"You come to me if someone is mean to you," he orders in a stern voice that makes her feel faint.

"Alright," she breathes a fluent little lie. He's satisfied with her answer, however, and presses her head back against him with effortless control.

She imagines him knifing someone with a listless stare from sparing a glance her way; she fantasizes him strangling some chauvinistic moron in the darkness after they have been "mean" to her. Quickening breaths betray her sick thoughts to him because he pulls her even closer. She can feel the enormous cock pressing against her body with a promise of violence.

"Angel… I wish you would stop teasing me."

"Yeah?" Her laugh is restrained, and her heart is racing inside her chest – like it's some kind of a good idea to have a heart attack while a murderous psycho turning into a boyfriend is in the same room with her. "Where's the fun in that…?"

"Do you always tease men like this?"

"No," she swallows a mouthful of woodland and musk. "Just you."

"Hm."

"König… Can I see your face?"

The man finally seems to find his reserve again. He detaches from her, and she can hear the audible gulp inside the hood.

"Maybe later."

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he usually does when he's a bit nervous. Probably to ease the discomfort from still being forced into those pants with such an astoundingly large, swelling erection, too.

She can't come up with anything that might explain why the man is so uncomfortable with showing his face. From the small glimpse she saw in the showers, everything looked completely normal. There is some other reason why he wants to wear the mask, most likely some mental block, and she would simply have to wait until he's ready and willing to take it off.

"How about a kiss?"

He doesn't shake his head or escape her as she hesitantly steps toward him and raises a hand to the hem of his hood.

"If I just…"

He does nothing as she starts to raise the mask. The look in his eyes is somewhat haunted, though.

She lifts it just enough to reveal a clean-shaven chin and a pair of thin, tightly shut lips. She briefly notices that there's a scar on his jaw before his mouth opens to call her in. They're polar opposites of each other: she feels breathless and limp when their lips meet while he's a statue of rigid power. Even his mouth is tense as she catches his bottom lip between hers and tries to soften that immortal stiffness. Distant notes of hops catch her tongue just before he pulls her back into a crushing hug.

The guy is not the most perfect kisser. He's very avid, though. In fact, his eagerness is what makes it a scary experience, what makes the kiss clumsy. He smashes his lips on hers with force, then opens his mouth so wide she fears he will devour half her face.

The ungloved hands slide down her back and cup her ass. He's gentle, but she still feels like she's levitating, half an inch above the ground from his groping. He moans like they are already having sex, but before she can disconnect herself from the violent kiss, he does it for her.

"I want to fuck you," he pants across her lips, eyes half-lidded and drunk. "Can I fuck you?"

The man has no conception of how to dance these dances. He simply declares his wish to shove his junk inside her and kill those who might do her harm. She feels dizzy in his arms, like dew that will evaporate under too much heat.

"Yeah, yes," she tries to sound sane, although there's nothing sane about this.

So much for being just friends or being nothing at all…

Her heart is beating faster and faster; it wants to rend itself out of her chest. She feels ample sweat between her thighs, then realizes it's only her own wetness that has broken through the cotton of her underwear. The dress is so tight in the middle that she can't simply try and throw it over her head, and the buttons at the front seem to have suddenly become too big to slip through the holes.

He doesn't take any of his clothes off while watching her undress. The instant she opens her whimsical veil of blooms, he moves close and shoves the fabric down her shoulders so that it drops sadly on the floor. Then he flicks a knife out.

Shit… Shit what the fuck–

"No–Don't–!"

The blade is forced with a flat surface under the middle of her bra. He pulls the fabric away, turns the blade - it's a miracle she's not bleeding by the time he cuts through the center front like it's butter. Her breasts fall free, and the destroyed lingerie hangs cheaply on the side before it gets dragged away too. She looks at his work, her exposed tits and the crude, fat knife he swiftly returns to its sheath.

"That was my favorite br–ah…"

The man is terrifying, even when he sinks to his knees. He dives for her breasts, licks the undersides and sucks her nipples like he's famished. Her head rolls back, and she feels fainter still as he gropes her like she's his toy, chews a nipple until she shudders and cries in pain. Then he goes down, down, panting hot breaths on her skin as he goes, the hood grazing and tickling her skin.

His hands shake slightly as he tears down the last piece of covering fabric from between her legs. She can't even step out of the briefs before a blazing tongue is pushed to her clit, all but delicately.

Perhaps he's not a virgin, but he's not a veteran, either – still, it draws a filthy moan out of her.

She has to take support from his head to prevent herself from falling when the tongue simply forces its way between her legs. It curls to meet her folds, slick with her wet. She knows she's practically leaking at this point, and hears how he licks his lips.

"Of course the angel tastes like heaven too," he rasps in her mound, sounding rather… bitter. Almost annoyed.

She thinks it's only the beginning, but he suddenly rises like a Kraken from the sea, like a Godzilla about to destroy an entire city.

"Get on the bed. All fours."

She chokes the whimper that tries to escape her, then turns and crawls onto the bed as if they are running out of time. His urgency is hers now, and she presents herself to him, waiting for the man to thrust in without remorse, but it's his mouth she feels first.

"Uh–Oh my god…"

He licks her with a flat tongue, torturously slow while she's on display. They're long, profound sweeps, as if he wants to sample her rather than give her pleasure. Although he does give her an immense amount of it.

She falls on her elbows, face down on the bed, exposing more of herself to him in the process. Her pussy has been neglected for so long that the feel of his hot tongue on her is absolutely breathtaking, thigh-shaking. She pushes herself back a little, lets him taste his own medicine for once.

And of course it only makes him more unhinged.

"You're wet like a…" he laughs a short, dry laugh straight into her folds, and she finally whimpers at the sound. "You want it so bad?"

"Yes…?"

It's a sad little confession but more than enough for him. He freezes behind her, and something in the way the air shifts tells her he has risen and is now standing high above her as she's in this crudely vulnerable position.

"I've made you wet this whole time?"

She snivels, opens her eyes, closes them…

"Yes," she sobs in the bed, nearly topples, but he grabs her ass and keeps her in place.

"Ach du lieber Himmel…"

She pants and cries in the sheets, but the sobering silence lasts only for so long.

The sound of a belt being opened shoots her skin full of goosebumps. Only a few seconds later, the fat tip of his cock is swept across her folds: it probes for a second, then slides in.

"A-ah–"

"Scheiße… So tight…"

He hisses and goes all the way in – the journey is long and torturous as he stretches her wide. The thickness only grows at the base, his balls are already tight as they arrive to press against her.

And mercy is not at the top of his list as he realizes she has denied her need and therefore, his. He starts to sail inside her, back and forth, in and out, like it's his job, too. It's total torture. She might just pass out before this is over.

"You little tease…" He seizes control of her hips while using her as his own personal fleshlight. The noise of wet, slick fucking is deafening. The pace is upped soon, and he has to use strength to hold her in place while ramming her from standing while she tries to hold on for her dear life and hold onto the sheets.

"Not so fast, König," she whimpers into her pillow, but he won't listen. The pace is frantic, and his thrusts are deep; he fucks her with despair, with anguish-driven, starved thrusts born from greed.

Nothing has ever felt so good, nothing.

"Just friends, eh?"

She has a hard time deciphering whether he is happy or mad. His voice is pitchy, and she knows, she just knows that he sounds equally as unglued on his missions. Perhaps that's why people rarely talk to him.

"Don't–don't be angry…"

"No? Say that you want me," he commands somewhere behind her, desperation coating the air with pungent sweat and musky arousal. "Say it–say it–"

"I want you," she finally cries, and it feels like an absolution. An amnesty. Remission of sin.

There's panting and frantic sound of slaps of flesh against flesh behind her. The air all around is pure electricity. It makes her quiver and throb and squeeze: him, the sheets, anything and everything.

"I will bring you flowers every morning and fuck you every night. Ja?"

His length is the only thing she can focus on; all else dissolves into a hazy mist. The cock glides in her like he's oiling a gun part, and he could ask her to kill someone and she would only say–

"Yes, yes."

He slides in and out with less and less control, moans and grunts with every thrust now. She's already past the point of no return, even though the orgasm keeps hovering right beyond her reach. She only needs a few more minutes. Or maybe just one...

"König… Not...so–fast…"

He answers something in German, an annoyed string of words she has no clue what they mean. He's probably just swearing profoundly.

"Get...what you deserve..."

That's the only thing she can flesh out from the English that follows. He finally finds some mercy with a choked groan and tries to slow down a little. It's even worse when he does that. He pulls almost completely out, then sinks back in, agonizingly lazy, and that does it: the full length of his giant cock slipping inside her without effort makes her walls clench.

"Oh God…" Her back is arching, her toes are curling, a tight cry disappears somewhere in the pillow, and he won't stop with the – "Oh–fuck–!"

"Yeah," he cheers her on as she screams, cries in the sheets while his cock swims in her. His hands dig into her hips, and she barely has brains left to think it might leave bruises. The orgasm comes in waves, shakes, and he won't let go even when she's only a heap of throbbing, soaking flesh and rapture.

And it's not the end; quite the contrary. He continues to fuck her with abandon: balls slap against her with every jab; they must be covered in her juice at this point, making the sound of sloppy thrusts utterly obscene. She's able to stay in a face-down, ass-up position only because he's holding her there for his cock.

The grunts turn into a wide, thick groan as he approaches the edge as well. The pace slows down almost to a halt before he comes.

"Jetzt…kommt–" he groans through gritted teeth, voice all taut while he grinds through his release. It's a multitude of deep, oddly paced thrusts, a sad attempt to get everything he can, and she's still like a wet gulf sucking him in.

The last throes are sluggish, the madness starts to pass, and she feels like every bone has left her body. There is nothing solid left when the man slowly relents and settles somewhere deep inside her. She can hear how he pants with his mouth open, and it sounds painful, wet, almost drooly. Then he swallows with a breathless gulp, slips out, and lets her go.

She immediately falls forward - topples, crashes, crawls on the bed, tries to rearrange what's left.

Just friends...

Yep.

He crashes somewhere beside her, spent and out of breath. The front of his shirt is covered in sweat; the air is filled with the stale scent of musk and saline sweat and pure, mad sex. She can barely catch a glimpse of the slick, glistening length of him. It feels like a miracle that this thing has been inside her. It’s not that it’s monstrously thick: it’s simply long, curving a little to the side, lean and aggressive even when growing soft.

"You play with fire, Engel. Why did you make me wait so long?"

The masked killer beside her is panting but satisfied for now, and turns his head to look at her. She has to muster all her courage to look back.

"I'm…a bit shy."

"You're perfect," he declares while watching her in her sex daze and ruin. So, at least he's not angry. He finally looks… normal, even with that absurd hood still on, with that intoxicated, admiring stare in his eyes. The ice in his blues has turned into melting snow.

"I noticed you the minute I arrived here."

She can't prevent a hand from reaching out at that, from splaying fingers over his chest.

"I noticed you too," she whispers back before moving closer to snuggle him. His heart is finally thumping in his chest, right under her cheek – from the late exercise or their closeness, she can't tell. A heavy arm goes around her, pressing her further into the nook of his armpit.

"You remind me of one of my knives," he says while holding her close.

Oh good God…

"You are a butterfly knife girl."

"Oh?"

"Ja. Small and cute and a lot of fun. And I can't get enough of you."

So much for getting rid of the man after getting some d. God, what was wrong with her? Any other woman would have put up some boundaries, perhaps gotten a restraining order by now.

"Is it… a good knife?" Her voice comes out as an annoying squeal, and he pulls her closer, ever closer.

"I mainly use it for playing."

She wets her lips in an attempt to calm herself, to comfort herself. She’s just another plaything for a murderer whose hunger seems endless, even if he’s more civil now. Still, she fears this man is only after sex and violence. Her little dresses and petite lingerie won't stand a chance against such brutality.

"What knife are you…?"

"Classic Glock field knife. Tall and ugly."

Behind the thin veil of indifference, there's pride. It borders on arrogance. She catches a dash of bitterness, too: field knives don't pair well with butterflies, perhaps.

"König, you're not ugly," she breaks their odd cuddle to look at him. "This sounds like a trustworthy knife to me."

He looks back at her with an even warmer tinge to the glacier of his eyes.

"It is. You cannot hope for a more loyal blade."

Her gaze drops somewhere in the darkness of his shirt. He's pledging himself for the second time to her, and it causes another storm inside her head. There's warmth on her cheeks, too.

"You are cute when you blush," he observes with pleased tranquility.

Perhaps... Perhaps he doesn't want to hurt things he finds cute.

Perhaps he will take care of them, like he takes care of his knives.

It still takes some getting used to that he allows his hood to be lifted just enough to push his tongue inside her mouth or pussy but taking it off to show his face is too much. She is lying there with him in an odd post-coital dream, thoroughly naked while he's still fully dressed. But she doesn't feel cold, not when pressed against his blazing form like this.

"Did you nick my underwear?" She asks out of the blue, and the hand stroking her waist stops in the middle of an idle caress.

"I might have," he admits without a single ounce of remorse in his voice.

"König… That's not cool," she says, knowing he can hear the lack of scolding in her voice.

"You want them back?"

"I… Gosh. Yes, that would be nice."

What a pervert.

"Or... Nevermind. Keep them," she sighs, trying to brush off the fact that the underwear in question wasn't even clean. "Do you steal women's underwear often?"

"No. Just yours."

A laugh meant to convey her shock is far too laced with joy to make it clear that she finds his deeds preposterous. She simply fails at every turn in trying to express that she's a decent woman. He knows it now, probably saw it long ago; that she's the perfect cheval glass to his perversions.

The hand on her hips moves to caress her thigh, and the drowsy stare observes her with growing mischief.

"Ready to go again?"

"Whuh–Again…?"

He takes her hand and moves it right over his cock. It's lean and demanding, and pulses under her palm.

Tall and ugly, she thinks while her walls dare to throb with hunger.

"You make me hard," he says, almost as a whisper, "all the time."

Jesus… There was definitely no rulebook when it came to this guy.

She gets to watch from the bed how he gives her a show as the man finally decides it's time to take his clothes off. The shirt is the first one to go: it flies somewhere on the floor while he holds on to his hood. The sculpted muscle looks even bigger up close, and the plates are covered with thin hair. It runs thicker below the navel, and his thighs are pure power: they surround the sleek length of his cock like trunks of strength when he finally gets himself out of those pants.

The v-shape of his upper body is something she will never get over. Broad shoulders shrink and curve into narrow hips which in turn swell into powerful thighs, and while perhaps this guy wouldn't win the gold medal at a fitness competition – judged by the way he's lean and athletic but not low fat ripped – he certainly is the most beautiful man she has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. He's a demigod with his herculean strength, a titan who's too big for the world of mortals. A tormented Samson who will never be tamed with treachery or tricks.

The bed sags as he crawls back to her like the gentlest predator. Her legs open wide to receive him – a classic missionary feels like the most intimate choice after the faceless pounding she received earlier. He gathers her legs as he proceeds: forces them up, up, almost next to her arms until he's hovering over her exposed pussy.

She should've known that some boring missionary wouldn't satisfy this man at all.

Her eyes drop to her legs and what's between them: she's in no position to do much of anything, but as the tip of his cock – smooth, pristine velvet – slides across her wet folds once more, she rather helplessly tries to drive her hips up to meet him.

It's like she's drunk or in a dream. The scene is wild and filthy: she's plump and spread open, ready for the taking, thighs almost in her ears as he draws his hips back and finds her opening.

"Please be gentle," she begs with a whisper. He halts for a while to lock gazes with her rabbit stare.

"You are pretty when you beg, little one. But I would never hurt you."

She swallows, and her lips part – his gaze instantly falls on her mouth, then raises back to her eyes, gentle and painstakingly ardent. He's close, so terribly close – and not just physically. Her thighs quiver with anticipation as the thick velvet slides in.

Holy fuck–

She savors the spread, and he's gentle, like he promised. The groan that erupts from inside the hood above makes her walls ache. He's so merciful this time, and she wishes to lift the black veil that still keeps them apart, to see his face as he takes her, to see that scar on his jaw and how his mouth hangs open with hunger, just like hers…

His cock comes out all wet – she can hear it – before plunging right back in, and it makes her mewl.

"Oh God…" Her eyes shut tight from the sensation of being so filled. She's even more starved than she thought. It's scary, far scarier than the mass murderer above and inside her.

"You like that?"

He's breathing heavy, and she knows he's looking at her, the distorting face of pleasure, the way she's biting her lip. Tears try to force themselves out from the passionate, featherbrained proximity, from being so tightly knitted together, like a bunch of happy, overstimulated nerves.

"Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes like they're under his command and not hers.

"You like it like this?"

She nods with tears in her eyes, and he won't stop looking at her like she's his most prized possession.

"Gut. I will make you scream again."

The man's dreamy stare follows every twitch of a lip, every bat of an eyelash. She looks down briefly to escape that love – the sight of the long thickness disappearing in her while she is so crudely open for him makes her feel dizzy, even when she's lying down.

Some pillow princess…

"Sehr schön," he comments while watching her face which must look like that of a dumb, anesthetized doll. His cock has that effect, and now that he's hovering over her, staring into her soul while filling her, it makes everything even more painful because it's sweet. She's under lazy waves, and decent men seem the most boring thing on earth right now.

"You like my knives?"

"Ah–what…?"

"You stared when I played with my knife."

She knows he has caught her staring more than once and bites her lip again not to blurt out how she had stared when he had played with... other things as well.

"Mh, yeah… It was beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The sudden waves of intimacy leave her fragile and weak. His stare is nothing short of a caress. She is open and helpless for him to pound to his heart's content, but he's gentle, bordering on loving...

"I can teach you how to play with them."

Jesus Christ, this dude is just crazy.

"Uh-huh," she agrees to it with her mouth hanging open from the overload of sensation. The lewd sound of his cum pushing out of her with every thrust is an obscene background music for this – or any – conversation.

"I have a collection."

Why the hell would he be talking about his knife collection in the middle of–

"I own at least fifty knives. I can show you all of them if you come to my room."

His gaze is at least as piercing as his cock, and she realizes how serious this is: knives are his life. He finds them beautiful too, he collects them and cares for them. They're a profession, but they're also the most important thing in his world.

Knives are his essence.

And he had likened her to a butterfly knife...

"S-sure."

The sound from where they are joined rises to a sluggish crescendo: drowsy, filthy claps of flesh on soaked flesh. He makes her sick and well at the same time: he drags her to hell and raises her to heaven. He's the remedy and the curse. He plays with her like he plays with his knives: ravenous, entranced, obsessed.

She tries to concentrate on too many things at once: that intoxicating voice, the memory of him playing with death, the cock plunging inside her over and over again, making warmth pool below. She imagines him killing people with his collection, picking his tool for the day. He's not the only lunatic here because even the very thought makes her tight around him.

"You are close?"

"König… Just–" she whispers on the cusp of a deeper, soul-rending orgasm.

"You like it when I talk about knives?"

She breathes laboriously and tries to hang onto the last bits of her sanity, but he knows her, knows her already. He weighs down on her until her thighs come to rest right next to her breasts. He's plowing her in a crude angle, indecent and deep. It's vulgar, and she loves it; loves the way he stares at her, all helpless under him.

"Please, I'm gonna–"

"I can show you my guns too."

Ohmygod–

"I'm gonn–ah–!"

She shatters, her walls clench; her pussy sucks him like he's hard candy.

“Sieh dir das an… You were made for me.”

"Nh– Please…"

Her head tosses on the pillow as if in a dream. She's fathomless, and going to pass out, the cock inside her makes her eyes roll back in her head until she sees white, the color of saints.

"Shy girl… Beg for it."

The voice that answers his command is not that of a shy girl; it's not hers at all. She hears it from underwater, and her reality consists solely of the man filling her, spreading her, transforming her from an angel into something deliciously wicked.

Please, just–

It's not her voice, and yet it does sound everything like her. It begs, mewls a plea after the other in a string of helpless little whimpers.

Don't stop, please pleaseplease…

"Besser als jedes Messer…" he rasps, more darkly now. "You drive me crazy, Engel."

A chant arises in her head: she has sinned and there's no turning back. He feels far better than any promise of heaven. She could never have guessed that being cast out would feel so good.

His release comes with a tight rip, he goes taut like in that shower, only ten times more desperate. The hiss under the hood turns into a pained, strained roar of a grunt. The first time was foreplay, a quick one: this is true release. She almost hopes she would faint as the whole body of the Austrian titan goes hard as a rock. She couldn't be more spent and used, and still, her pussy answers his godly essence by clenching around him, pulling him in like he's the best man there is.

The man of her dreams, the man from her worst nightmares...

His eyes are liquid, the waterline twitches. She sees behind the walls, a millisecond's worth of fragility before his head drops, and the muscles are released from the violent trance. Broad shoulders cage her in like she's suddenly deep inside a mountain pass. Spent and dead and gone, there's no hurry any longer: he is buried deep inside and throbs whatever leftovers he has to give her.

She's filled to the brim, crushed under his weight, banished: and it's only delicious, the feeling of her body disappearing somewhere in the depths of the bed he has plowed her into. She waits dutifully as the man gathers himself, even gets brave enough to touch him. The masked face is buried somewhere in her neck, and his stomach ripples with a few shivers as her hand runs down his spine.

"I want to do this every day," he declares softly while panting through the thick fabric of his self-made shield. She feels pure horror and thrill in her chest.

To do this every day… She will eventually break, like a toy that has been used too much. She's not made of steel like those butterfly knives used mainly for playing.

"König, this is crazy… We're crazy," she tries to put into words the unholy mess raging inside her. He snorts before releasing her from the absurd position. The weight of him leaves her empty as he pulls out, then drags his way beside her to gather her back into his arms.

"Don't be ashamed, little one," he coos through the mask. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Two rounds of intense sex have liberated him, the manic terror has turned into a strange compassion. The look in his eyes is magnanimous and tender, almost droopy. She feels weightless and timid, an angel once more.

"We belong together, you and I," he states with conviction that sends sweet dread inside her heart. "Don't worry. You will never be lonely again."

Her fate is sealed, and she fears a big, fat knife will cut her heartstrings too if she tries to escape his protection. Her jaw trembles at the prospect of him returning to her every day to fuck her bare after an adrenaline high on the field. She sees a future of tears and sweat and cum, a beast lulled into sleep amidst a withering sea of flowers and torn lace.

She tries to find the right words, hopes he will be swift and merciful in his execution.

König, please…

It's not the hood, it's–

"Everyone fears me," he sighs beside her. "I'm glad you don't."

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig x reader #könig mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine

[lovelybrooke]

Yandere Gojo and Getou x reader headcanons

I haven't completely finished the manga, very far behind in fact (Chapter 93), so please no spoilers. But I wanted to write something about these two because they are so yandere coded its insane (also because I wanted to see something involving them that wasn't smut). I'm letting you guys decide if this is platonic/romantic.

Masterlist

Gojo and Getou believe they are better than everyone else, they're stronger than everyone, smarter than everyone. It was a well-known fact that both of them thought this way. So, it's why so many of their peers thought it was weird their best friend wasn't a sorcerer.

You were a pretty normal person. You went to a normal school, had a normal part time job, even had a pretty normal family. In truth, neither of the two could remember how they met you. It's almost like they blocked out their life before all of you were together. Maybe it was when you were their server at a cafe they loved to frequent after missions. Or when you bumped into them while trying to get to school on time. Or when they were hanging around your neighborhood for what they said was "work." Either way, what's obvious is the two can't get enough of you.

When you officially become their friends, they both make the decision not to tell you about their lives as sorcerers. They know you'll probably resent them for it in the future, but it's the best way to ensure your safety. They couldn't risk you getting mingled in with any potential curses that would want to get at them. Even if anything tried to kill you, they'd obliterate them without a second though.

You sometimes question how they both know so much about you, and they honestly think it's the cutest thing ever. Neither of them tries to hide their less savory tendencies, why would they? You're their best friend, of course they'd want to share clothes with you, and go to school events that they weren't invited to with you, and bad talk your other friends right in front of your face. It's what comes with being friends with them, you should expect it by now.

While both of them are similar in many ways, there are aspects that each of them has that are purely their own. Gojo is mysterious in a lot of ways, acting dumb about a lot of things only for his demeanor to instantly change if you or Geto are threatened. You don't know if you should be afraid of him or not, but something about Gojo says it doesn't really matter.

Getou, on the other hand, is sometimes less scary than Gojo. He teases you less, doesn't agree with Gojo's ridiculous ideas as often, and, at least for a while, is more emotionally available than Gojo. It's not that Gojo doesn't care about you, but he isn't as good at dealing with emotions when compared to Geto. However, it sometimes feels as though Geto sees right though you, right into your soul. Even when you try your best to hide something from him, he knows what you are really feeling, sometimes a little too well.

Gojo and Getou don't always see eye to eye about you. Sometimes, especially after though missions, arguments spark up about you. The more obsessed he grows, the more Gojo wants to tell you about curses and Jujutsu sorcerers as a whole. Getou doesn't think this is safe however, believing that it instantly put you at risk. Gojo says they can protect you, while Getou reminds him you're weak, and they you'll always be at risk if you know the truth. Their arguments never lead everywhere, it only leads them back to you.

After the situation with Riko, you notice a large shift in your relationship with the two. You no longer see them as much, but when you do, they're rarely together. In a way, it's like their personalities swapped. Gojo became more reserved as Getou became more hateful. He suddenly started talking about people like they were a disease, not even trying to hide it from you. It put a huge strain on your relationship, even when he'd hug to tight and swear to you that you were different from them, you were better.

Getou disappears soon after that. Gojo becomes closer with you, often to the point of feeling suffocating. You've always had a feeling that Gojo knew what happened to his dear friend, and chose to keep it from you, for whatever reason. But regardless, you both feel the strain caused by Getou's absence, and it damages the last bit of a friendship you had with Gojo. After graduating, you left, needing to leave, needing a break. Gojo tried to convince you to stay, but you had your mind set.

Today, you were much older, both of you were much older. You don't remember much from your time with Gojo, but oh boy, did he remember you. He often when though his favorite moments with you in his head, whenever he needed a moment of peace. He regrets letting you leave. So, when he hears you're moving back home, he couldn't be happier. He won't let you leave him this time, he stronger now, he can protect you better.

When you do move back home years later, you meet up with Gojo. It's fun, he's happy and boisterous, and you don't think you've laughed as much as you did when you first back up with him. Though, you couldn't help but feel like someone, or something, was watching you. It was familiar, but terrifying at the same time.

---

A/n: Sorry that the ending sucked I didn't know how to end this. I would love asks for jjk but just keep in mind that I'm not that far in (chapter 93)

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #platonic yandere jujutsu kaisen #platonic yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

#this is very obviously about my battle with #ptsd #but i think it's also like a pretty apt metaphor for a lot of things like setting boundaries or going to therapy or choosing recovery #i was thinking about the 'comes back wrong' trope and i was like. oh no i have feelings about this bc i have mental illness #and once i stopped masking - i was WRONG. i was different #here's the good news: i am now INNUNDATED with love. fucking swimming in it. excelling at it. the people who stayed #learned my new self. my new different body and how i am different but i am trying. they have held me so tightly #and my life no longer feels quiet. it is not based in my suffering. it feels like i have been growing a tree in my chest #and now it is flowering. #it is so lovely to be surrounded by people who have said - oh! you cut off so many branches i was worried you weren't the same. but now... #... this is just a new you. and i love you. and i love that you're different and happy. #(but yeah also im nb so i was absolutely influenced by Trans things)