#But at least it made me post this before the event ended | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chuluoyi · 4 months

Text

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

6K notes · View notes

rusmii · 2 months

Text

🎧₊ FUCK HIM, I'LL BE YO' BABY DADDY INSTEAD

homewrecker!chuuya, dazai, kunikida, fukuzawa, sigma, fyodor, nikolai x fem!reader who's in a toxic relationship

tags. hardcore smut, sfw hcs (not rlly sfw hcs), nsfw scenarios, toxic (ex) bf, ur favs fuck you so good🤞, cheating, fingering, g-spot hitting, stalking, manipulation, gaslighting, dubcon i think?, stalking, porn videos/photos, p->v, lying, no used protection, cuckholding, inviting third person, cowgirl, mating, doggy, cuffed and gagged, bondage gear, clit stimulation, praise/degration, spanking, revenge sex, sex ed lessons, oral (f/m), blowjobs, cunnilingous, nikolai eating readers pussy while carrying her on the wall, g-spot hitting, mentioned nikolai murdering your ex 💀, NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL, BANNERS/DIVIDERS MADE BY ME.

ps. I HATE THIS POST SM. IM NEVER WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAINNN😭😭 !!!! as u can see i removed ango and tecchou..

i'm currently hosting a nsfw event for my 400+ followers that'll end when i hit 500 and im currently at 460+ already.. if u wanna join before it ends pls do so! I'll be posting all event reqs after the event closes <3

don't steal anything from @rusmii, including the contents of this post.

rules (for m.list) | taglist: @luvan1 @bfdazai @asqmi @squigglewigglewoo @liviash @doonifox @ishqani @xxcandlelightxx @iheartpieck @ezelium @saelique @little-miss-chaoss

00.1 #𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀

CONFUSED ASF.

honestly brought up the topic abt calling the police multiple times.

is so sosososo confused on why you don't want him to help you and take care of the man :(

you're his best friend, so why don't you ask him for help??

well... he gets his answer one day when your urgently call him to come over.

The door swung opened. There, Kunikida saw you dressed in your skimpy lingerie with a small smirk on your face. "Kuni~ So glad to have you join us for tonight's punishment!" Confused, Kunikida raised his brow. "Is there something wrong?" He asks, allowing himself into the coze of your home — shutting the door lock. You shook your head, "No, just needed you and my boyfriend for something today." Your boyfriend. Concealing his snarl, Kunikida clears his throat and asks you to lead the way.

When you open the door down the hall, Kunikida is met by a man handcuffed and gagged in a chair as well as... bondage gear..? "[Name], what is this?" Kunikida questions, anxious about what you were going to say next. You say nothing and drag him inside the room, locking the door shut before having him sit on the bed. You bend your knees, now eye level to Kunikida's crotch, and what you say next surprises the fuck out of him. "Let's cuck my ex?"

Least to say, Kunikida couldn't deny your request — with how wonderfully beautiful you are, bouncing on his cock. He groans, your insides felt absolutely amazing. "[Name]~ Just like that, rotate your hips just like that - Ghnn~" He places his hands on your hips. You turn back to look at him, a lewd expression hidden by your composed structure. "Oh fuck! Mhm~ Kunii~ Your cock is so biiiigg!" You moan — Kunikida, as an ideal man, never thought that he'd let his best friend cowgirl him in front of her boyfriend. But yet again, you did say that he was your ex right before he started.

So he doesn't need to feel guilty because of his morals, right? That set aside, Kunikida glances at your ex, his face full of snot and tears. He grits his teeth, suddenly feeling hard as hell when he realizes that you were close. Your pussy clamps hard on his dick, the pressure causing him to thrust upwards. "OH!~ Fuck!~ Kunikida!!!~" You mewl, loving this sudden surprise. "Shut it - you whores are always so damn loud," he finally let loose, thrusting up roughly every chance he got.

You squeal, legs shaking and head thrown back. You could hear the muffle yells of your ex, but you didn't care. You didn't want to fuck his pussy soaked wrinkled dick from other girls. So as a last farewell, you spread open your legs — wide. "Kuni!~ Kuni!~ Gonna cum!~" You warn a second before you came — your juices spraying everywhere in front of you. Seconds after, Kunikida came deep inside your pussy — breeding you right in front of your ex boyfriend.

00.2 #𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀

not much to say abt him since I didn't study up on his chara😞🙏

BUUT. fukuzawa would totally def be the type to let you come into his office at any given moment for his comfort :(

honestly wanted to murder the dude but remembered his principles and how he left behind that past, so he refrains from prying too deep into your business.

always there to lend a helping hand at tending to your bruises if you got any

even rubbing your clit to make you feel better on d-day of your break up:(

An audible groan came from you. Your legs spread wide open as you sat on Fukuzawa's lap. His fingers treading towards the depths of your lower half. "Fuku.." You whisper, turning your head to kiss him. He engulfs your lips without hesitation, his fingers finding your clit and circling around it slowly.

"There, there my lovely - he does not deserve you 'nor your love, my dear," he says softly into your ear. His raspy voice doing wonders to rile up your arousal. "It feels good~" A faint moan escapes from you as your fist clutches the fabric of his black haori — his green yukata wrapped around your naked body. "Does it? Then does this feel good as well?" He asks, his other hand on your breast, stimulating your nipple.

The soft tease of your privates sent waves of faint pleasure down your spine. "Hn~ Fuku~.. T-that - hic! Uh-huhh..~" You nod your head, unable to talk through your sobs. "Alright," he chuckles, fingers gliding back to your waist to bring your slipping body back up on his lap. "No need to cry, darling. That man does not know what he is losing." He wipes your tears.

Fukuzawa's hands grope at your breasts, softly and gently. "Break up with him today - you deserve better," he whispers into your ear, his fingers trailing down your breasts to your pelvic area. You hiccuped, feeling disarrayed. "But - Ghn!~" Cutting out any doubts you have left in your system, Fukuzawa flicks at your labia — his fingers making its way to your clit once again.

"You can. Don't let that man scare you." He starts rubbing at a rhythm he knows that's sure to get you squealing in his lap. "Fukufukufuku!~ - zawaannn!!" A long moan strides from your throat — his deep grumble faint. Fukuzawa uses his other to grab your cell, and the first looks for is your boyfriend's. As your high approaches it's max, you hear the sound of a phone ringing.

"As you cum, you're going to break up with your him," Fukuzawa whispers into your ear right before you heard your boyfriends agitated voice — never mind that. You feel his slender fingers slipping in and out of your cunt. The feeling excited you. "I - uh.. - 'M brea - Eehn!~ Breaking up with youuu!!~" You squeal, Fukuzawa's fingers being forced out with the pressure of your orgasm.

Fukuzawa hung up as soon as you announced it, rubbing circles on your stomach. "Good girl, you did so wonderful [Name]. See? There was nothing to fear."

00.3 #𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀

this most likely happened at his casino

like say one day he sees you and goes "ooo pretty girl - nvm she got a husband'

but he sort of js watches you through his screens or subtly follows u around??? man can blend in but bit perfectly

so imagine his reaction one day when he catches your husband cheating on u with another girl in ur bedroom while u were in the shower?

yes he saw through the cams

easy! do the same while he's in the shower ;))

after sigma showed you all the evidence of your husband's affair, you were more than willing to get fucked the same way. "Fuck!~ Sir!~" You moan his name, yelping when a hand collides with your ass. "Shut it. Or do you want to get caught?" Sigma tuts, more motivated than ever when he hears your lewd mewls. But in truth, Sigma was nervous — what if you hadn't reacted the way you did? What then?

Your pussy clenches tight around his dick, bringing him back from stress hell. "Fuuck~ [Name], your - female reproductive system feels soo goood~" He moans from behind you, a hand smacking your ass. "Ah~ Th-the fuck - Gnh!~ Did you just say?" — "I said your pussy feels good! Now shut the fuck up before your cheating scum of a husband comes out and sees how much of a slut his wife is," he threatens — a sharp thrust ripping a moan out of you.

"A - yes sir! Mhmm~" A hand shoves your head down into the pillow. You hear Sigma mutter something, but you didn't bother to pay attention to it — having such good dick drill your pussy was mind numbing. "Ahn!~ Heen!!~" — "Shut up!" Sigma hisses, his thrusts speeding up. "Did you hear that? The tap turned off - your husband is coming out soon. And you better cream my dick before he does."

You mewl from his roughness, starting to feel that long awaited build up tip over. "Si-gmaa!!~ 'M cummin!!! Please! I'm gunna! - " The door is slammed open amidst your very loud moaning. You hear a gasp, and an angry shout come from the man behind you guys. "Shitshit - Mrs. [Surname] - your pussy feels sooo good," Sigma groans, pushing his dick inside your pussy as far as he can.

"[NAME]! What the fuck?!" — "Quiet. Your wife is a busy woman," Sigma shuts him up, pointing to your convulsing pussy wrapped around his dick.

00.4 #𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑

is honestly not surprised by how toxic your relationship is

he knows that you're a person who's easily manipulated by those you care about

an absolute doormat you were

fyodor understands the emotions; fear and sadness — but what he doesn't do is sympathize for those who has it

when you came crying to him about how your boyfriend wouldn't have sex with such an inexperienced woman, he knew now that this was the perfect opportunity to teach you the sex ed you didn't know

Fyodor's nimble fingers dangle down your jawline, your face clutched in his palm. "Open your jaw, Angel." Though what intended to sound like a gentle reminder, served as a command by the male above you. Opening your mouth without complaint, you let him guide your lips to the tip if his dick.

"Now remember," his soft voice echoes through the room. "Tongue first, swirl it. Then suck the tip." Doing as he says, you start off slow — the hand softly petting your head encouraging you pick up your pace. "Mhm~ Very good," Fyodor groans, watching as almost half his dick gets slobbered up by you. He smirks, the advice he was teaching you was to specifically pleasure him, and only him. But of course, you didn't need to know that. Not when you were following his instructions so good.

"Angel~ Such a good girl~" He moans when you start engulfing his cock whole. "Ghic - Mhm - Fwyo," you gurgle, choking on his dick. Despite that, Fyodor understood everything you were trying to convey. "Don't worry, darling. 'M close, you can breathe till then." A hand picks at the root of your hairs, massaging your scalp as praise.

You whimper, your oxygen level starting to get low. Attempting to get him off quicker, you use your hands to jack off the remaining visible skin. Fyodor hisses, an audible moan leaves his mouth when his dick twitches. "Angel - just like that~ Keep doing that, good girl - fuck - Ангел!" As his lips part, he slips in a foreign word to you — a jaw dropping grip held tightly on your scalp as he came.

Because of the tight space between your head and his hands, you were forced to stay where you were, taking everything his dick had to offer. After a minute or two, Fyodor leveled his breathing and peered down. Your etched tongue and wide-eyed expression made him tingle a bit — "God - [Name]..." he heaves breathlessly, caressing your hair. Oh ‐ Fyodor was going to teach you well all right — your boyfriend is surely going to love your newly learned techniques once he's done with you.

00.5 #𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈

BRO. THIS GUY.

being dismissive of your situation is not like him at ALL.

so yk what he does??? straight up murders the man and dumps him into the river to free you

then what do he do after that??

go to your place, relax, make you laugh, and get you to feel better abt yourself! — I mean, not like you weren't already feeling good, your ex of a bitch is finally gone from your life

and nikolai does give you the best night treatment of all time too;D (totally not my make up for the lack of nikolai)

"Fuck! Nikolai!~" You cursed, burning pleasure filling your veins as you were slammed onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around Nikolai's head as he ate you out, using his surprisingly muscular strength to carry you with ease. His tongue danced around your labia and into your folds, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. "Niko..~ Do something!" You whine, pushing his head further down in an attempt to feel more than the teasing tingling bits of pleasure.

He pulls away, a toothy grin staring right up at you. "Nu-uh," was all he said before planting a kiss on your thigh. " 'M gonna eat this pussy out like hub star~" — "Then hurry the fuck u-p-oghnn!!~" Your back arches off the wall, his tongue digging straight into your cunt. "Niko-Nikoniko!~ Th-at..~ Don't stop!" You plead as you moan. The white-haired man smiles against your pussy, his tongue roughly fucking into your sopping cunt.

"Ehn!!~ Fuck! Right there~" Grinding your crotch on his absolutely slobbered face, you release a long train of squeals. Nikolai curled his tongue, trying to find your g-spot. It took a few tries, but he knew he got it when you flinched and started squirming in his arms. "Fwucking sluut~" Nikolai's giggles were muffled by your cunt — but that didn't stop him from giving you teasing comments.

" 'M not!!!- Oghhh!~" He smiles, knowing that you're close. " 'Yer gunna cum on my tongue 'n nothing else!" He says happily, slurping up all your juices before shoving his tongue back inside with full force. Curling with such vigor, that tiny piece of flesh was hitting all the right spots in your pussy. "Nikolai!!!~ Nikolai!~ 'M - 'M -- Cu - !!!"

Without warning, a blast of your juices spraying onto Nikolai's face, blinding him for just a moment. He shuts his eyes, eager to keep going until you're whimpering in overstimulation — "Was I a better muncher than that stupid boy toy of yours?~" He asks, through his lopsided and arousal slobbered smile. But before you could answer, you felt yourself being pulled off the wall and thrown onto the bed. Oh man, tonight was gonna be a long night of relaxation.

00.6 #𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈

give him credit, dazai is trying his best not to shoot him on site — fingers itching the trigger on the gun in his back pocket.

he literally stalks him and takes photo/video evidence of everything your boyfriend does — threatening to show the world about his infidelity to the world.

sure, people in Japan wouldn't care as much as people from the west but at least women know who to look out for.

so that's what he ends up doing — exposing him to the world and tagging his company, his hookups, his family, everyone that dazai could get his information on.

you, on the other hand, came crying to dazai's doorstep when you were blamed for everything.

perfect — he thinks. now that you were here, he'd show you how much of a douche your boyfriend actually was.

"[Name]~ Come on, I know you can do it," Dazai purrs into the nape of your neck, his hot breath fanning your ear. "I - 'M trying! Hn~" You moan uncomfortably. Being shoved face down into the sheets wasn't the idle position for you, but who were you to complain when you were getting dicked down so good.

Dazai thrusts inside your cunt slowly, forcing you to feel every vien and crook his dick had to offer. Your body shook, his dick plunging straight into your core — almost hitting your cervix. "Mhm~ Darlin', you feel so good," He praises. "Dazai..~" You mewl his name, your body responding to him well. Dazai's hand presses your back, forcing your face to dig deeper into the pillow. "Your boyfriend won't mind if I fuck my children into his girlfriends womb, hm?~"

"Heii!~ Y-yes he wouldhnn!!~" You grit your teeth, pleasure racking up your body as he rotates his hips slowly. Dazai made an annoyed grunt, "What?" He makes a sharp thrust. "That's not what he told me the other day." He says, shocking you. "Huh? - What does..nn~ That mean..?" You ask — questions full of doubt starting to take over. Did your boyfriend not care about you anymore?

Dazai chuckles, another calculated thrust sliding over your g-spot. Like he could he read your thoughts, he pats your ass softly. "Aw~ 'M, so sorry, dear... Has he not been telling you of all his bitches he's been fucking behind your back?" And right on cue, you start to thrash in his grip. "Shut up! No, he didn't! Osamu - I swear to god -" — "Then what's this?" Cutting you off, Dazai shoves his phone in front of your face and starts swiping on the multiple photos of girls being dicked by your boyfriend.

You froze, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Was he really doing these things behind your back?... "Poor [Name], so naive.." Dazai thrusts slowly behind you. You sniffle, "He.. - How long?" — "A week after you two started going out," he says, dragging a thrust. Dazai then swipes onto a video of your boyfriend and a girl in the same position as you and him — pressing play, he sets the pace and rhythm to match your boyfriends.

"See that? How he thrusts inside his bitch like you never existed?" His words stung, the moans of your boyfriends stung, everything stung. "If he's fucking her like that then..." A powerful, deep thrust came from him. "Then he wouldn't mind this, now would he?" You sigh, pleasure starting to consume your senses again. "Yeah.." You moan.

Closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the pillow. Dazai smirks, playing the video louder — thrusting faster to have your moans drown out the video. He could feel your cunt squeeze his dick — a painful groan escaped his lips. "Fuck - [Name] keep squeezing like that." His thrusts now shallow and fast. "Hiinnn!!~ Osamu!!~ Osamu!~ I - Can't -" — "Hold it," he orders, his sloppy thrusts becoming vigorous.

"Ha~ Mhm!~ 'Sam-'samu!!~" You squeal, legs giving up as you came — your pussy squeezing him so tight he only had a second to bracr himself for his orgasm. "Fuuuck~..." He groans next to your ear, dutifully creaming your insides. "Haa~ normally.. I'd call you a bad girl and - hgn~ Punish you, but..." He pulls out, flipping you over on your back and spreading your legs. He watches as his cum oozes out your pussy, and grabs his phone.

He angles the phone to capture his still hard dick along with your pussy and fucked out face. "This seems like a fitting punishment enough for another person." He laughs. Going to your boyfriends number and sending him the picture, captioned; 'Be prepared to raise my children;)’

00.7 #𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 (fic bonus!)

anger. anger was all he felt every time he opened his door to see your swollen eyes and packed backpack whenever you and your boyfriend had a fight.

"shit - you okay?" he would ask as he settles you in, bringing you a cup of hot chocolate to sip while he runs you a bath.

and when you tell him you're fine, he calls bullshit but doesn't pry you further, wanting to get you as comfortable as possible at the moment.

"why don't you leave him? you're friends with the fucking mafia for fucks sake." he groans next to you, a cozy blanket. a bit too intimate for friends but it didn't matter if you two were close friends.

"it takes time. besides, i love him too much to leave him like that." you would reply back, leaning your head on his shoulder. the action not helping him stay in his lane.

it starts with small and subtle actions. things your boyfriend would refuse to do, chuuya did with/for you.

it made your heart swell every time, and just when chuuya thinks he's finally got you in his grasp — you go and happily announce your ex's fake ass apology.

this irks chuuya to the fucking core. what the hell does that serial cheat have that he doesn't? he's got money, looks, hell — the goddamn loyalty your ex lacks.

but every failed opportunity eventually combines into a one in a life time chance, right?

You sniffle, the alcohol intoxicating your system was finally reaching its peak. you glance at chuuya, his red face from the intensity of the situation and the wine from moments earlier made you fell swell inside. "Chuuya," you tug on his sleeve, making him look at you. "What? Wanna talk shit 'bout that dick more? -" — "- I think I love you."

Chuuya froze — was he hearing things right? Or was it just the alcohol buzzing his brain? "What?" He asks, still unsure of what he heard. "Thank you," you corrected your mistake, turning away when he attempts to lean closer to you. "No - I heard what you said. You said you loved me," he insists, taking you by the arm when you try to get up. You shook your head, invulnerability starting to wall up. "No, I didn't."

"You did." He repeats, dragging you back down into his lap. Though you couldn't see him, you could feel him burying his head into the back of your neck. "You love me," he whispers again — like it was some sort of affirmative confirmation. You stayed silent, afraid of what you might say next.

But what happens next is a blur. One thing happened that led to another, and another, and another — A groan falls next to your ear. His lips pursed, giving your ear a soft kiss before moving down to where your neck was. A line of hickies was the aftermath of the marking attack. "Chuuya," you say.

"I know," he says back. Stripping you of your clothes while trying to unbuckle his belt at the same time. You took pity on his struggle and took off your own shirt, unlacing his belt for him with a few twists. He stood on his knees, drunkenly watching with only one goal in mind — to take care of you.

"Lay down for me," he commands — your nimble fingers pressing against his chest as he circles up your waist, unclipping your bra and tossing it aside. Listening without a complaint, you lay still — the humming buzz from the wine, making you feel light-headed and impulsive. Chuuya's fingers make it to the waistband of your underwear, pulling on the elastic to stretch it — dragging the piece of cloth down your legs.

The cold air presses your labia — a foreign feeling from the lack of sexual activity between you and your boyfriend. And Chuuya knew that all too well. So when his fingers approach your lips, he's careful to gently touch it. You whine, the feathery feeling of his fingers rubbing your folds wasn't giving you enough stimulation to feel pleasure.

Chuuya swats away your hand from your clit, tsking as he does so. " 'M the one taking care of you - trust me, m'kay?" He soothes you, placing your hand back down to the side before readjusting his position. Chuuya was now hovering over your body — his already lubricated fingers pushing in one at a time. Your breath hitched, toes curled, and lashes futtered. "Ch-chuuya~..." You moan his name, the foreign feeling being washed away by a new sense of tingling pleasure. "Don't moan my name just yet - we haven't even got to the fun part," he says, his lone finger curling over your sensitive spot.

"O-okay - Hc!~" Another finger entered you. This time, the burning stretch was more noticeable. Chuuya notices your slightly scrunched face and bends down to give you a chaste kiss. "It's 'kay," he mumbles on the corner of your lips. " 'Tis only gonna hurt for a little bit - I know pain like this will soon turn into ecstasy for my girl when I do this." He curls his fingers, both brushing over your g-spot while he does. "Ghn ~ Hic -" Your eyes roll up slightly, the sudden bundle of pleasure hitting you like a boulder.

"Fuck - Fuck~" You drunkenly moan, the back hairs of your nape zizzing up from the chill. "Mhm, keep doing that," you command, letting out another loud moan when Chuuya rolls over your g-spot again. "Clit stim?" He asks, already rubbing your nub with another finger — but really, there was no point in him asking if he was just going to go ahead and do it. "Sh-it ~" A moan came from you, your head tilted back.

After a few more curls of his fingers, you felt that pressure in your abdomen that you craved for so long. "Chu-Chu- 'M gonna - Cu - Hnn~" His fingers picked up the pace when he heard your little warning. "Cummin'?" He chuckles, his fingers rubbing your spot. "Chuuya!~" You moan his name, feeling your approaching high climbing the coaster faster. "Fuck - can't believe I get to experience this. So fucking pretty - 'yer so damn beautiful." He praises. A combo that never ended well with holding out on your orgasms.

Your back arches, feet kicking the sheets as your hands desperately grasp for anything it can. "Cu-Please~ 'M - " — "Cum for me," Chuuya orders, his final swirl causing you to spiral. The peak of the coaster now falling down. "Shiiit - pretty girl." Chuuya spoke as he watches you drench his fingers. Once you were done with your high, you look up at Chuuya — his face glaring with glea. "Hi."

"Hi. How was it?" He asks you, rubbing soothing circles on the side of your leg. You laid there, reflecting on what you just done. Letting your best friend finger the fuck out of you even though you had a boyfriend. Oh fucking — what a damn predicament you were in. "I -.. I don't know." You admit, the awkward feeling of post orgasm hitting you. In a way, you felt guilty. Cheating on your boyfriend like that — but at the same time you felt giddy. The pleasure of sex finally being given to you by your best friend.

"Don't think too hard 'bout it," he picks up your hand and kisses your knuckle. "I'll be a better baby daddy then that fucker ever was." He winks with a smile, bringing your hand down to his twitching cock.

"I'll be a better baby daddy then that fucker ever was." Was the last rational thing you heard before you started stroking his cock. His breath hitched — a sigh of pleasure escapes his lips. "Fuck - you really know how to stroke a cock," he chuckles, watching as you smear his precum around his dick. "Hm~ Maybe you just never had a good stroke before," you tease his tip, a bubbly smirk donning your face.

He grins, stopping you from doing anymore and pushing you down on the bed. "Maybe - how 'bout you show me how good pussy feels next," he challenges, pushing inside your already stretched cunt. "Oh fuck! - Chuuya~" You moan, his dick curving perfectly inside your walls. "Hnn..." He grunts above, throwing your legs over his shoulders. "Finger fucked the shit outta' you earlier. Now my dick is gonna do the same," he pulls out just to the tip and gives you a harsh, first thrust.

Angling his thrust perfectly on the first try, Chuuya groans when he feels your walls clamp tighter. "Shiiit - baby you feel so fuckin' good." You moan at his praise, the feeling of his dick so snug inside was making you tear up. "Mhm!~ Chu - Hic - Good! Soo guuudd~" You slur on your words — Chuuya dicking you down better then any man that has even touched you.

He smirks, rotating his hips, watching as your eyes water even more due to the slight intoxication from the wine earlier. "Hnn~ Wait - 'Tis not enough." You whine, your head drooping to side. Chuuya curses. In normal circumstances, he'd tell you to ease up and love you slowly — but now? well, now the alcohol wants him to go to pound town on your pussy. And he was going to do exactly that.

Chuuya pulls out to the tip again, slamming his hips against yours as he thrusts inside. This time, instead of getting you adjusted to his cock, Chuuya fucks you with vigor. "Fuck!~" You moan, back arching off the bed a little. "Bitch wanna get fucked like the little cheating whore you are? Shit - I'll give ya' the same fuckin' treatment as porno hires." Threat or not, it was fucking hot. You loved the dirty talk and rough treatment Chuuya was giving you.

Folding you over, Chuuya picks up his pace — his dick now ghosting out of your entrance as it fills up your cunt every millisecond. "Chuuyya~ Chuuya!~ Chuuyaahnn!!~" He hears you sputter his name — drool dripping down from the corner of your mouth. Chuuya sees and sticks his fingers inside your mouth, moaning at the sudden clench of your cunt. "T-Toooo muuuchh!!!~" You gag on his fingers, tongue webbing around them.

"Nah - you said you needed this," he lied, putting words into your mouth. "So don't go fucking wailing like a damn hurt dog - remember, you were the one who pounced on me like a cheating little slut." He exaggerates on the last three words like it was his bragging rights. "C-can't!" You twist your body, the overwhelming pleasure building too much on your abdomen. Chuuya cooed, mockingly. "Yes, you can, sweetheart. Don't let my dick get in the way of your creamin'."

A loud moan escapes Chuuya's mouth as your pussy latches onto his dick — dragging its velvety walls so nicely. "Fuuuckiinn---ggg shiiiiit - [Namenamename] - making me feel so - Ghn~ Fuck! Good~" — Hiinnnn!!~ Chuuyyaaaa!!!~" You both spew nonsense at the same time, the wine finally taking its toll on your conscious control.

"Fuuckfuckkfuckfuckkk~ 'M cummin - Shit I'm -" Chuuya whines, the pleasure overtaking him, his rhythm stuttering and his dick twitching uncontrollably inside your pussy. You couldn't even speak anymore — all sorts of voiced thoughts were replaced by moans. "Shit - you cummin'? Can feel you squeezing the shit outta' my dick..." He grunts.

After a couple more thrusts and Chuuya's fuse fucking blew. He was cumming so hard his eyes rolled back and he had to clutch you to keep himself grounded. Once he opened his eyes, he was met to the sight of your fucked out, twitching body — and a lovely creampie! Hopefully, your boyfriend doesn't mind the fact that you two didn't use protection.

hi. I hate this post.

2K notes · View notes

illnessfaker · 2 months

Text

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

#op #rest in power #black trans lives matter #death -#black death -#trans death -#didn't add a tw to the top of this post at first. sorry everyone.

1K notes · View notes

physalian · 1 month

Text

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #organizing your book #outlining #shut up and write the book #google sheets #google docs

845 notes · View notes

benkeibear · 9 months

Text

⋆꙳✧༄ Dad!Suguru

❖ Character: Geto

❖ Reader: female

❖ Summary: shortly after the events with the star plasma vessel Geto finds out you're pregnant. Will this change his life to the better?

❖ WARNINGS: mentions of pregnancy

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | Thank you to @littleoanh for letting me ramble and for putting fuel to the fire 🫶

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who asks you to repeat yourself when you break the news, dropping the cup of tea he was currently carrying over to you. He just couldn't stop shaking after, frozen to the spot as the carpet at his feet slowly soaked up the hot tea.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who will hold you tight - but not too tight once his brain processed your words, eyes tearing up out of happiness. He just can't believe that you two created something this beautiful - that you're carrying his child now.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who refuses to leave your side, additionally having curses around you all the time, not wanting to risk any harm coming your way. Losing Riko right before his eyes left a scar and he's terrified that he can't protect you properly as well.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who can barely sleep, preferring to watch over you all day to the point where exhaustion shows physical effects. You get his best friend Satoru to watch over you for a few nights a week so Suguru can at least sleep a little bit. Satoru Gojo is the only one he trusts to watch over you

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who can't believe how lucky he got when he found out you're expecting a little girl. Thinking of all the beautiful names because his daughter will for sure grow up to be a beautiful and strong woman and deserves to be respected by her name alone.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who talks to the little bump when he thinks you're asleep, promising his little girl the entire world and more. Always having a hand on your belly and smiling wide when he feels his precious girl kick or punch against the warmth of his hand.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who not only gives forehead kisses but also belly kisses now, spoiling you rotten to a point where you won't have to lift a single finger - promising to treat his daughter just as gentle.

ꕤ Dad!Suguruwho lets his daughter sleep on his chest all the time, thinking it's adorable how she always holds onto his long hair with her tiny hands.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who was a little bit concerned to let his curses out around her, not wanting to scare her but the way her tiny little hands reached out for the rainbow dragon with the sweetest giggles made his heart melt, knowing she's coming after him. He lets some of his curses out so she can play with them or cuddle them while they watch over her in her tiny crib.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who's constantly scolding Godfather Satoru for making his girl cry by teasing her or for being reckless with or around her. Gojo spends a lot of his days apologizing to you and making sure his little sunshine is smiling again, oftentimes ending up asleep on the couch, the little girl holding onto him tightly.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who looks at you and your daughter like you put the stars in the sky just for him. There's not a single day where he doesn't stop what he's doing just to look at the both of you in awe, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

ꕤ Dad!Suguru who one day disappears without a trace, feeling like a failure for leaving his family behind but the path he chose to follow is one he has to walk alone, knowing Satoru will take good care of you two.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez @planetonet

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #JJK angst #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto angst #geto suguru #suguru x reader #suguru fluff #suguru angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou fluff #getou angst

2K notes · View notes

ezdotjpg · 2 months

Note

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

#long post #askdotjpg #bonuslinksdotjpg #bonus links #bonuslinks #bonus loft #bonus wolf #bonus slate

414 notes · View notes

caeunot · 4 months

Text

johnnie guilbert x reader

johnnie writing zombie about you

idea by @beansnsoup !

➷ you and johnnie have known each other for almost two years now, you two hang out at least once a week, normally to do a video since everytime you two collab the video gets at least 100k more views.. but also because you guys get along so well. everytime your together you both laugh so hard there are tears and unlike jake you keep your space clean so videos don't need a whole cleaning crew to sort out the mess afterwards. either way you two have become pretty close, and when johnnie told you he was working on a new song you were so excited. you love all his music and you always try to watch every cover post he does on tiktok.

you showed up to jake and johnnies place to sleep over since you live an hour away and you are free both today and tomorrow so you might as well stay longer. you normally sleep in johnnies bed and johnnie sleeps on the couch since they don't have a spare room, you are fine sleeping on couch but johnnie insists everytime that you get his room.

the moment you came in the house something felt a little off, like as if there was an unusual energy in the air or that there's a secret between them that your not let into. you don't let it get to you since you were about to go on jake's live.

"jake no offence but why do you always make me eat the most unhealthy shit ever", you say as the live was ending. " okay y/n that's just mean, this is my diet your talking about ", " next time I'm on your live and you like faint from too much sugar ill refuse to drive you to the hospital, I'll just leave you there and take your room so johnnie doesn't have to sleep on the couch when I stay over" jake rolls his eyes. "so basically what your saying is that you want me dead so you could be roommates with johnnie instead.. I see how it is..." you shove him slightly and he screams dramatically and grabs his arm in fake pain. you laugh and the both of you say goodbye to chat.

"that was great, I think that was our best yet!" jake says cleaning up the mess he made. "I think so too! I wish johnnie could have joined though". you noticed how jake immediately got a massive smile on his face, " hey what's that smile for" you say giggling. "oh nothing" jake says winking before starting to drive you both back to the house.

a few minutes after coming back johnnie comes up to you, wanting to show you something. he leads you to his room and sits down on his bed. he starts petting the spot next to him, letting you know you can sit. as you sat he leaned behind and pulled out his guitar. "oh yay are you going to show me your new song!" you say doing a small clap. "yup! it's the one I've been talking about the past few weeks!" he says, you notice his voice is a little shakey but you figure it's normal when singing to a person alone. he cleared his throat and began singing.

Blood red sheets are my favorite

I could be your greatest weakness

'Cause she's got me so damn nervous

I'm a zombie, baby, what's my purpose?

you were enjoying the song so much you were barely taking note of the lyrics, at the end you gave him a massive hug. "johnnie that was great! I think this is my new favorite song of yours, you better be putting it on Spotify".

he blushed slightly, "I'm glad you like it! but I wana ask like.. what do you think of it". you tilt your head to the side a bit confused, "wait what do you mean?". " it's, uh, never mind don't worry" johnnie says putting his guitar away giving you a weak smile.

the energy was really weird now, the feeling you had before was 10x worse and you had no idea why.

a few hours later you said goodnight to the boys and got into bed, you had sat on your phone for a bit when the events of the day really started to sink in and you hated that there was unresolved issues, so you texted johnnie asking if he's awake. as you sent the text you saw a light flash on the bed. you check and it's johnnies phone

y/n 🧟‍♂️ ♥️:

heyy, i don't want to wake you just incase your asleep but if you aren't can we talk?

you laughed at the fact he put a zombie by your contact name, but as you were about to get out of bed to give him his phone it struck you. johnnies song is literally called zombie, maybe that has something to do with the emoji by your contact name. you immediately tried to recall the lyrics of his song,

I want your heart

I want your brain and that body

'Cause you got me going too insane

You can't control mе

I want your heart

I want your brain and that body

'Cause you got me acting likе a fucking zombie

y/n you absolute dumbass, johnnie wasn't just playing a song for you! he was singing his feelings. it all makes sense now, you know for a fact that johnnie gets really anxious when talking about his feelings and if he ever did want to ask you out he probably would be to shy to say it outright, jake probably knew and that's why the energy was so awkward today!

you immediately jump out of bed and go to the living room, you see johnnie typing something on his laptop but when he notices you he smiles closing his it, "you okay? it's pretty late" he asks as you sit down next to him. "johnnie can I ask you something?" you say biting your lip. "sure what's up".

"who was the person you wrote zombie about?" you said, ripping off the bandaid. at first he opened his mouth but then shut it again looking away, even in the dark you are noticing how he is getting flushed. "johnnie?", he didn't answer and instead put his arms under yours and held you for a soft hug, " it's you y/n, I wrote it about you" the hug lingered for awhile just like the silence in the air.

"johnnie I feel the same" you say after the hug finishes. "wait, really?", you take his hands in your own, "yes, really". he says nothing but then leans in for a soft kiss that you reciprocate, his hands gently fall onto your waist, as your kiss started turning more intense johnnie pulls away taking you off guard, "wait, before we carry on its my turn to ask a question" you make a confused face. "can I call you my girlfriend?" you let out a little laugh, "yes, yes yes yes!!" you say as you leaned in again, and this time you can feel his smile through each and every kiss.

❣

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert fluff #x reader #fluff

643 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 3 months

Text

Uhtceare

Yandere Ayato x Reader - "Failed escape attempt" series

(I still cannot publish posts that have people tagged. I don't know why, it just gives me an error popup saying it couldn't be processed. Apologies to those in my taglist.)

Warning: DARK CONTENT, noncon/dubcon, implications of forced/coerced marriage, masturbation voyeurism that’s also kinda forced, manipulative use of mental health and problematic way of addressing it, gaslighting and psychological manipulation, implied future forced drugging, there’s just a lot of my man being awful here

------------

“Ah, there you are.”

Of course. He would be right there at the entrance waiting, wouldn’t he.

You were hoping to get a few more seconds to put off the inevitable, but the reality of your situation was not so kind as to grant you that. It was all far too fast — the full events of the night before, the journey of being dragged back here — flanked on all sides by doushin all the while — all went by in a blur, leading up to this very dreaded moment.

You kept your gaze turned to the ground, unable to bring yourself to make eye contact. Your fingers curled, digging into the fabric around your thighs.

Nonetheless, without even hesitating nor willing it, you found your feet moving on their own. Perhaps it was instinct, to get away from the unfamiliar men that made you so uncomfortable and uneasy, and into the arms that, despite everything, were at least familiar, and thereby a comfort at the end of your long trial of distress and misery. Maybe you knew it was expected, and feared some consequence for not acting as you knew you should. Or maybe some of both.

Regardless, your feet shuffled forward, any thoughts muted in favor of instinct as you bounded over towards your husband — as much as you hated to acknowledge it, your one source of comfort. As you grew close, he reached an arm out, hand firmly planting itself on your back and pulling you in. Perhaps out of that same sense of fear at the thought of disobeying expectations, perhaps out of pure exhaustion, you allowed it without struggle coming to stand directly by his side, grasping at his clothes, burying your head against him and squeezing your eyes shut as if it would obscure the others’ view of you.

“I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how worried I was about her,” he spoke to the arrangement of men now standing a ways away, moving his hand on to rest atop your head. “I apologize for the inconvenience. The poor thing gets a bit irrational from time to time. You know how it is.”

The other men only gave a brief, curt sound of acknowledgement. One, the own standing closest to the two of you based on how close the voice sounded, seemed to deem it appropriate to give at least some response. “Of course, sir.”

Not that that actually made any sense, that such a bizarre thing to say could ever warrant an ‘of course’ as a reply. But they weren’t there to be sensible, to assess the situation and act according to any supposed principles. To help. They were there only to follow through with an assigned task, one that they had not even tried to conceal in their expressions and tones towards you was an unwanted inconvenience, and to turn a blind eye to any conclusions they might draw.

Maybe that too was intentional — the estate lord could have easily sent his private forces to be the ones to escort you back to the estate, yet he chose to allow the public law enforcement to return you. Perhaps he knew you’d grown to resent the family’s private forces, and thereby had no issue inconveniencing them, whereas he knew you’d feel more embarrassment and guilt having strangers be forced to bring you all the way back… yes, the more you thought about it, that certainly seemed like that was his intent.

“I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Ah, I see, that’s good to hear.”

Your hands balled into fists.

The whole show made of it all was utterly humiliating — that too no doubt the intention — but you had no choice but to stand there. Doing something rash like running off to hide yourself from the embarrassment would only meet a worse consequence later.

The burning, bitter anger only made said embarrassment that much worse. It was consuming, maddening. Everything — this place, these people, their words and their attitudes, their dismissal of you as if you were a child or an animal — it made you so damn mad, and yet, you could do nothing but endure.

Your eyes burned. You blinked a few times in rapid succession. You couldn’t forgive yourself if you actually cried in front of these strangers. The back-and-forth between the two parties continued, but you did your best to tune out the words, knowing that listening would only hurt you further.

It wasn’t until there was movement that you returned your attention to them, pulling your head away from him to look — now they were turning, walking away.

Leaving you alone with him.

You then dared not avert your eyes from the ground, watching the men from your peripheral vision as they made their way down the path, growing smaller and smaller and they moved further away, until their footsteps were no longer audible.

All that remained was a heavy, palpable tension.

Avoidance was the easiest path — a foolish choice, of course, which you knew full well. It wasn't as if you could avoid the present reality forever, but nonetheless, you found yourself clinging to each precious second that ticked by, body growing stiffer as you braced yourself for the inevitable. Perhaps you could trick yourself into believing that if you just kept your gaze turned to the ground, nothing would happen.

But sure enough, you clenched your jaw as his hand moved upwards, and came to rest on your shoulder.

“Come on now. You're certainly tired. Let’s get you to rest for a while.”

His voice only made your stomach twist further. It was calm and gentle, not explosive or infuriated. It would have felt more assuring that way, if your fear could just be easily confirmed, rather than a calculated calm that felt far more dreadful and foreboding than any rage.

His hand moved from your shoulder, coming down to grasp your wrist. It wasn’t a sudden, harsh motion, nor was the grip itself strong enough as to be painful — but it was noticeably firm.

And then, he pulled. A soft tug, pulling you in the direction of the doors.

Your resistance was not a conscious choice, not something you thought about nor had any time to do so; it was only a reflex. Instinctively, your body stiffened, your feet dug into the ground, and thus his pull was met not with the meek obedience that was expected of you, with footsteps that followed where you were guided, but instead a firm resistance.

Your own realization of that resistance, what you’d just done, sent a sharp rush of fear through your veins.

And thus, for the first time since arriving, your gaze tilted upward, and your wide, frightened eyes met his.

His expression shifted. The amiable, pleasant smile half-faded, still present, but only barely.

“…Don't be difficult. Come on.”

Likewise, his voice dropped far lower, a dark and foreboding tone far removed from the one he’d spoken with just moments ago to the other men.

Your mouth opened, instinctively wanting to reply, but you couldn't summon a coherent thought. You were afraid, you were angry, you were so, so embittered and ashamed and wanted nothing more than to run to your room, close your eyes and burrow into the bed.

And for a moment, you considered the compliant option. If you just lowered your head and followed along, apologized and insisted you were just being petty or immature or whatever he would call it this time, and took whatever consequence was handed out, then you could do just that, confine yourself to your bed and try to forget it all.

But the shame only fueled the fury, like gasoline to a fire. It was his fault. As scared of punishment as you were, your pride could not stand for simply bowing your head, and as your mind raced, the sheer fury you’d been stewing in all throughout the night before, all the angry words you’d monologued in your head and vowed to spew at him when you saw him again, all came rushing back.

You swallowed, fingers curling even harder around the fabric around your thighs. Now that it was just the two of you, although you still fought it as best as you could, you couldn’t help that your eyes watered, burning as your vision blurred out of pure frustration and misery.

“I… I know you did all of this on purpose! I only got all the way out there because you let me, a-and…”

The words came out in a trembling, wavering voice, far weaker than intended.

He exhaled a heavy sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. His voice was still characteristically gentle, but you could hear his patience waning. “We can discuss this inside.”

“But I—”

“Inside.”

You stiffened, freezing in place. That was not a tone you heard often in your married life, more firm than normal.

You swallowed, gaze darting to the ground again, unable to summon a reply and not wanting to make eye contact again. With another heavy exhale, he pulled at your arm with a gentle tug, and this time, you followed, feet quickly shuffling behind his.

You didn’t say a word, though, through the full minute or so of walking across the courtyard, through the front doors, down the hall, only dimly lit today due to curtains hanging over the windows lining the walls. It occurred to you with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you were headed straight for your shared bedroom, rather than one of the estate’s many drawing rooms and lounges, which meant the anticipated conversation to come would be one you’d both want kept in privacy. Your stomach felt as if it were turning in knots, your chest compressed by an unseen force, each breath feeling strenuous and weighted.

And then, finally, you both came to a halt as you reached the last room at the end of the hall. You felt helpless, unable to do anything as you watched the handle of the door turn, stumbling in as you were guided forward by the hand that came to gently press on your lower back.

Likewise, equally pitifully, you could do nothing but stand there and wait as you listened for the door to close behind you, clenching your jaw at the trepidation in your chest from the footsteps on the floor behind you, but made sure to not let your fear swallow your fury.

“Now,” he began slowly as he moved around you to the other side of the room, voice now back to its usual tone, but still firm nonetheless, “I can tell you have a great deal you want to get off your chest, but you’ll have to forgive me for a moment… your well-being is my primary concern.” He looked you up and down, and his voice took on a note of concern that admittedly sounded sincere. “You aren’t hurt in any way, are you, dear?”

You bit your lip at the affectionate term, and more importantly, at how unbothered he came across. Granted, you now knew just how much of the past twelve hours or so had been entirely within his control, so it made sense that he was never genuinely distressed, but admittedly, it was also disappointing. Part of you wanted him to have been panicked and worried, to get the satisfaction of knowing you’d successfully gotten under his skin.

Still, you shook your head, keeping your gaze to the ground as you gave a curt, frustrated reply. “No.”

“Good,” his eyes closed for a moment, taking a heavy breath of pause. “Well, in that case…” He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. “I believe this would be the best time to give you a moment to explain yourself.”

You couldn’t miss the obvious foreboding in his voice, nor the way it made your body stiffen.

But you had already prepared for that — you knew it would be intimidating, that it would be awkward and shameful, but you had spent the previous few hours trying to preemptively harden your resolve against that. Besides, after it was interrupted earlier, you now had the chance to get back to what was essentially the pre-written script you’d memorized in your head of exactly every little thing you wanted to say to him.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, the you that was standing there in front of him was significantly less brave than the ‘you’ in the scenes you’d played out in your head on the journey home.

Still, you clenched your hands into fists, thinking you had to at least force him to acknowledge the one point you’d deemed most important.

“You let me leave.”

In your mind, you’d spoken with a bold voice and looked him directly in the eye… and while the same words came out of your mouth, they were instead said with a weak, shrill attempt at an accusatory tone, pathetically looking to the wall as you found yourself unable to summon the gall to look up, once more lacking the firm accusation and self-assuredness your imaginative self had had.

He tilted his head. “That’s not a very accurate way to put it. I never granted you any such permission… I was simply aware of your intent to run off, and didn’t stop you.”

For a moment, you contemplated asking how he knew — but you had a feeling the answer would only make you more upset. His voice was laden with a faux sincerity, a sort of disingenuousness that made your blood boil, enough to embolden you further as you continued.

“And you… you had people following me the whole time, I know you did!” Your voice began to get louder as you grew bolder, bitter anger strengthening you against any trepidation. “They didn't even do a good job! I started noticing them towards the end of it!”

"Well, that would be because they were specifically told that concealment was not necessary.” He kept up the dry manner of speech, seemingly unbothered by your fury. “They deserve a break from high effort jobs every now and then, surely you understand. Besides, they didn’t directly interfere with your little outing, yes?”

He was so calm in contrast to your visible irritation, no doubt at least in part deliberate. It only served to make you even more mad.

“They told the local doushin to — no, you told them to tell them! There’s no other way that could have happened! I-I, I got," in sheer frustration, you jerked your fists in a sharp downward motion, "arrested!"

“I’m very well aware.”

“They put me in jail!”

“I do believe that is the standard process for an arrest, yes.”

“I was all by myself for hours!”

“Naturally. I couldn’t allow you to be placed with any dangerous persons, that’s why you were put in a solitary space.”

You clenched your fists so hard they trembled. “You, y-you let me get that far in the first place, and, and…” A lump formed in your throat again, which you did your best to suppress. “…Just to make me go through all that… I was there for hours before they came for me…” Your face scrunched up as you fought the urge to cry.

You hung your head, shoulders falling as you let your body relax, the fuse of anger burning out as it turned to a quiet bitterness swelling in your stomach. What was even the point? You knew better than to think your emotions would be given any weight, treated as anything beyond trivial.

A few moments of quiet passed, perhaps to see if you would say anything more, or perhaps just to force you to wait in uncomfortable uncertainty. After a moment, he shifted his posture slightly before unfolding one arm, holding out his hand in a standard gesture of speech.

“And what have we learned?”

You never would have thought one question could send such a spark of fury through your body in a single moment. Everything, from the wording to the timing to his tone, felt utterly mocking, infantilizing in a way that made you seethe.

You swallowed, practically trembling. “That you’ll go to any lengths to humiliate me?”

He returned the extended arm to its former position, exhaling heavily, straightening his stance. “It's rather unfair to assume I had such malicious intent. Stopping you early on in the past has clearly not worked in the long term, so further measures were necessary.” He tilted his head to meet your averted gaze, reflexively turning your attention back to him, eyes connecting with yours. “My only intention was that you would have some time to reflect on your series of decisions… and hopefully return with a change of heart. These episodes of yours are worrisome.” He gave a brief pause before finishing, “claiming I had cruel intent when you know in your heart that I only arranged this because I care for you… that's rather harsh, isn't it?”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to acknowledge the notion that the words were genuine. Admittedly having fallen for the words die a moment, you mentally shook off the momentary feeling of guilt.

These situations always went the same way, you'd be driven to apologize and feel bad about your choices. You had never met anyone else in your life with such a mastery of speech-craft as to be able to control your emotions and actions with words as easily as if it were pushing buttons on a machine. The first few times, you'd actually fallen for it, found yourself completely malleable, psyche bending and shifting to another's whims. At least with time, you'd become more resilient, had learned to notice and recognize the attempts… so you believed.

You opted to avoid answering the quesiton. Instead of acknowledging his own words, you turned to another matter that had come to mind during your escapade.

“Aren’t you abusing your authority? How are you even allowed to do this to begin with?!”

He took another deep breath, as if it were a trivial matter, or one that shouldn’t necessitate explanation.

“It’s… complicated, but the law does fully permit estates to employ local forces to locate any missing property belonging to the estate… people employed or bound to it are a sort of grey area in that regard.” After a moment of pause, he added, “besides, I also made it very clear that you were not in your right mind at the time, so your wellbeing was of immediate concern, and they were happy to help.”

“What?” The anger in your tone only rose. “I was perfectly in my right mind, you, you… a-and I’m not…”

A few moments passed as you trailed off, having to pause to collect yourself, blink away frustrated tears.

He opened his mouth as if to respond, but seemed to decide against whatever he'd considered saying, closing his eyes and taking a breath before finally replying in a more exasperated tone.

“You're making yourself upset needlessly. I can only do so much… in the end, I only wanted to keep you safe. You have to be the one to accept the grace you're given. Wouldn't that be easier for you?”

There was still unease to his tone, but the way he said it was nonetheless indicative of a sort of tiredness, as if not wanting to carry on about the matter anymore. It almost sounded like he was saying that you “accepting” his “grace” was all that was required to bury the matter entirely.

You spoke slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not… mad?”

“…I never said that.” He shifted away from leaning against the wall, standing upright. ”Of course, I can’t allow this to go entirely unacknowledged.”

He took a few steps towards you, and you fought the urge to step back, keeping your arms rigidly straight at your side as he continued.

“Normally, a proper form of consequence would be in order… however, after consideration, I realized that this was in large part my own fault, and I owe it to you to take responsibility for that.”

The words took you by surprise. The idea that he was in any way acknowledging that he had any responsibility for what you did was baffling, all things considered. He had never once even acknowledged that refusing to let you leave the estate was essentially holding you prisoner, and usually insisted that everything he did was what was best for you, even if, as he seemed to believe was the case, you did not understand that.

You hesitated before replying. “What… what do you mean?”

He flashed you an amiable smile. “A lesser person would only act on their momentary frustrations, but I’m not the sort of person who acts without understanding the situation. Luckily, I do understand you.” He looked off to the side, holding a hand up to his chin in a pensive pose, before adding in a quieter voice, “I made the mistake of getting too caught up in my work recently. Acting out over feelings of neglect is entirely different from misbehavior out of sheer petulance.”

He turned his head back towards you again before finishing,

“It would be cruel to respond to a cry for attention as if it were ordinary disobedience.”

The words took you aback, and you hesitated in your response, but as it fully registered in your mind, the momentary surprise was replaced with shameful fury. You held your arms firmly at your side, hands balled into fists as you replied.

“What?! I didn't— I didn’t do it for attention!”

You felt foolish for thinking for even a second that he might actually empathize with you, might finally come to enough humility to realize that much of your perceived disobedience was due to the sheer degree of meticulous, total control he held over everything you did. But no, instead, your attempt to run away was being treated as attention-seeking. It felt belittling, degrading.

He took a short breath, as if about to say something, but as his gaze fell upon you again, he simply exhaled, an amused smile forming on his face, replacing the former exasperation — and only infuriating you further, realizing even your anger wouldn't be taken seriously.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He made no effort to hide the dismissive amusement in his voice, either, but cleared his throat before returning to a more neutral tone before you could give any retort. “Regardless, you've been through a lot already. If you can be mature and calm down, make some acknowledgement of the trouble you’ve caused and show some remorse, then, I'm willing to somewhat overlook this.” Making direct contact between your eyes and his, he finished, “Won’t that be easier on us both?”

The obvious dismissal of your statement and implications of what he thought made your face feel hot. The embarrassment that had already been weighing down on you now became suffocating, and the utter arrogance of the presumption of your willingness to comply made you so upset it felt nauseating.

“What does ‘somewhat’ mean?” You tried to suppress the irritation in your voice.

He gave another heavy sigh. “Should you really be asking for specifics? It’s your best course of action regardless.”

You opened your mouth and inhaled as if to speak, holding your closed fists up to your chest, ready to spew every ounce of vitriol you’d been building up, and then, you fell silent as your eyes met.

His expression grew dark, eyes half-lidded and features blank — not contorted with anger nor curiosity, but merely waiting, watching, warning. Anticipating your defiance, prepared to react accordingly.

You looked down, hesitating.

Was it really worth it…? A few moments of lashing out, at what cost? ‘Consequences’ hurt, in one sense or another, they always did, no matter what form that word took.

You swallowed. He was right — one path before you was wiser.

You hung your head.

“…I’m sorry…”

Even with your gaze turned downward, you could see his eyes widen just a bit in your peripheral vision, not having expected such quick compliance — understandably so, based on your past incidents. But after a moment, his expression softened. He took another step, closing the gap between you, cupping your face in his hands and forcing you to lift your head back up.

“Mm. I’m glad you understand. You know, you've matured quite a bit recently.”

You almost, almost found yourself feeling happy at the praise, but then pushed that feeling away. It was part of the way he did things, part of the process, so you'd slowly come to recognize, putting the pieces together over and over until you became aware of how he managed to bring you down to submission each time. You refused to be swayed by that. You were only giving it up and apologizing because it was the was the easier, less painful choice… so you reminded yourself. Now, at least, you'd be done with this, could move on and quietly begin plotting again.

But then, as you felt his hand move down to your shoulder, then to your waist, you remembered the ‘somewhat.’

Yes, of course it couldn’t be left at that, wouldn’t be so simple as forcing you into humility just once.

You knew that full well. These checks of obedience after an act of disobedience never came solitary, and the desire for that subservience to be affirmed was not easily satiated. It would only grow deeper, an increasing hunger for your subservience. Pushing your pride further and further down, carving into your personhood and whittling away anything deemed unfitting. It would only go further, debasing you in increasingly violating ways.

You felt a gnawing in your stomach. You hadn’t thought of that part, in the moment, but the realization now made your heartrate begin to accelerate once more.

His eyes drifted downward.

“…Ah, right. The clothes you’re wearing, we need to have a servant wash them for you. Just set them by the door for now.”

You looked down. You hadn’t even bothered to think about it until now, having been so preoccupied with other thoughts, but indeed, the oh-so-nice and expensive clothing you’d been so lovingly lavished with, was now fully coated in grime and dirt.

At the same time, your immediate instinct was to protest the idea, knowing the intent. He wasn’t going to get you a replacement — which he himself would need to do, seeing as all of your clothing was, no doubt deliberately, kept outside the bedroom itself, and it had been established early on that you were to rely on him or servants to fetch whatever he would have you wear that day for you. Was the command too, then, intentional?

The very moment you even asked yourself the question, though, came the immediate answer, making you feel foolish for even questioning it. Of course it was intentional, planned — what wasn’t, anymore, in your life? You remembered looking back, on the day you were brought here, thinking over the past with borderline horror at the realization of how intricately detailed and precise every detail had been in his effort — what you now were certain was a premeditated plan — to get your family to call off the years-long betrothal you’d already been in, and marry you off to him instead. That realization of it all had kept you rightfully afraid of him, knowing he was always one step ahead of whatever you might attempt.

The corners of your mouth pulled taut with embarrassment, and you pulled your hands in towards your chest again, elbows pressed firmly to your sides. “That’s…”

He caught a glimpse of your face, and in turn smiled, an amused sort of expression. “Come on now,” he took a step towards you, reaching out and grasping at your hands, pulling them out of their defensive position, “even now, you’re still so shy over this?”

“I— no, I’m not—” you cut off, teeth clacking together as you snapped your mouth shut when his hands released yours, instead moving around to the binding ties of your outfit, pulling the knot apart.

You held your hands up to the level of your shoulders, bent at the elbow, fingers curled as if preparing to reach forward, to grasp at his hands, to do something.

But you didn’t.

The exchange was itself a means of conversation, communicating something not fully articulable by word alone. Violating your comfort and dignity, baring you to him, those things themselves were an assertion, a statement. To interrupt would be to challenge that assertion, to deny him. And perhaps it was, in part, also a test, a question of whether or not you would dare to deny the unspoken statement.

As the silk strands came undone, the first layer gave way to the second, and pulling apart that knot caused the fabric bound by it to slide apart, exposing your bare skin to the cool air.

An unspoken reminder that your body was not your own, that any right to autonomy and privacy you might have beyond this room, no longer existed within it. Access to you was not a privilege granted by your permission, but an inherent right, provided by the very contract that legally bound you to him.

The casual, unhesitating manner with which you were stripped down only emphasized that that very reality itself was not something to be regarded as of any great significance, but a fact accepted as readily as any other. Exposing you, touching you, exercising that unconditional access to your body was given no greater thought than utilizing any of one’s possessions.

There was nothing he could ever say to you, nor adequate words to even exist, to fully encapsulate the degree to which you were owned — but with that gesture, you understood all the same.

And even though the humiliation of the reminder made your eyes burn, made you bite your lip, you lowered your hands to your side. An admission of defeat, surrender.

It did not go unnoticed. He smiled.

“Very good. You’re behaving much better today than I anticipated.”

Another moment of praise. He was genuinely pleased. You could see it and hear it through his face and voice.

Were it on any other matter, you might have felt proud to be praised in such a sweet, charming voice. If the praise were on something you actually wanted to achieve.

And then, his eyes trailed downward, running over your body, taking in each detail. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze settled on one particular spot.

“You really shouldn't lie to me,” he spoke in a quiet, low voice.

At first, you felt a momentary panic, not quite sure what he even meant, thinking you had somehow made a unintentional transgression. It wasn't until you looked down that you saw the scrape just below your collarbones from your, admittedly unsightly, vigorous resistance upon initial confrontation with the doushin the night prior, having essentially had to have been wrestled down to the concrete street. In hindsight, you were even surprised with yourself for putting up such a fight, but at the time it had just been the instinctive reflex, fueled by desperation.

It all felt distant now, as if further back in time than it was, the memory all blurring together. It was only a very small mark, and had now scabbed up as part of the natural healing process, but as his fingers brushed over the spot, you still tensed at the slight lingering sting.

“It doesn't really hurt,” you replied nonetheless. “It's fine…”

He only straightened back upright, closing his eyes momentarily.

“I suppose I shouldn't have expected common doushin to be able to follow instructions… just so you know, I did specifically say to ensure you weren't hurt in any way.” He turned his gaze downward, hand held to his chin as he added in a low mutter, “I'll be sure to only use private hands in the future, should I need something like this again.”

You shrugged, turning your eyes downward to the floor once more. Really, you wanted to not have to think about the incident any further, the mere memory stirring up embarrassment, which did not combine well with your already vulnerable state. “It's fine. It's not a big deal,” you grumbled. After a moment of hesitation, feeling another urge of spite, you added, “it wouldn't have happened if you didn't… do all that.”

He huffed in exasperation, but was quiet for the moment, seemingly composing his thoughts before replying.

“Don’t be disagreeable. We've discussed this. I care for you dearly, but that does not mean that you are exempt from expectations to behave.”

He always gave you that line — that a behavioral matter of yours had been previously ‘discussed,’ which merely meant he'd told you not to do something, or behave a certain way. That was the end-all-be-all — whatever you were told was set in stone the moment it left his mouth, and transgressing against the standard that was set was often treated as if you’d forgotten, as if it slipped your mind, the idea of intentional and deliberate disobedience being something unthinkable to such a degree that simply having done so by accident were more believable to him — and perhaps you ought be grateful for that.

You clamped your jaw shut, turning your head downward.

His gaze turned back to your body.

“…Your nerves are unsettled.” His hand slid it's way down your side, the feeling of touch lingering in a trail behind as his palm brushed over the curvature of your waist. “See, that's what causes these irrational episodes of yours. Stress, overexcitement. It just… builds naturally for you, over time.” After a moment, taking in your expression, he added, “it's nothing to feel bad about, dear. I don't mind helping you with it at all… I'm glad I can do so, really. I worry about how you'd manage without having me to help.”

You hesitated before giving a response. “What… what do you mean? I'm not… irrational…”

It was as if your words went in one ear and out the other, continuing on without responding to your objection. “But again, I failed to keep it in check this time, so this was ultimately my own fault… I'll have to make a note to be more thorough.”

His hand grasped at your waist, pulling you close. His other hand reached up, cupping your breast. He looked over towards your shared bed.

“Come on. Let's get you in bed.”

“Huh? But—”

His grip tightened. “Don't be difficult.”

Your stomach began to churn. You were still angry. The last thing you wanted was to go through what was essentially a humiliation ritual. There was something about the act itself — at least, between the two of you — that made you feel embarrassed and ashamed. The inherent vulnerability, for one, but moreover, because you knew the intent, you knew the way he viewed it in his mind, could practically feel the sentiment. An act of claiming, an exchange of power in which your loss of dignity became his gain of pride and control. Carving into your very personhood, marking you as something belonging to him.

Your opened your mouth, but whatever you intended to say was cut off by your small noise of surprise as you were pulled forward, in a manner that was somehow so gentle in touch, yet forceful enough to move your whole body towards his. His arm wrapped around your frame, the other positioning itself underneath your thighs before lifting you up and moving down to sit.

You fidgeted, tried to pull away — but his grip tightened, as much to secure you as it was a warning, telling you to hold still.

“It's for your sake. This will help you… you may not realize that yet, but you’ll thank me, I promise.”

His hands moved to your hips and turned you so that your back rested against his chest.

“As I was saying, you simply… build stress and neurosis, naturally. It's not your fault, really. You're just sensitive to changes, stressors... Every individual has at least some… defects in their nature.”

His hands retracted, and there was a brief rustling sound before they returned to your skin, now ungloved, flesh on flesh. The contact sent sparks through your nerves.

“That's why people pair with those they are compatible with. They fill each other's needs, compliment each other’s natures… I’m obligated to take those defects and resolve them.”

He gave you a smile — you couldn't see it, but could feel it as his lips pressed softly against your neck. Warm, full of sincerity and adoration.

“I wouldn’t do that if it weren’t out of care… and you in turn provide me with something that needs care and guidance. I enjoy having that.”

For all his attempts at soothing words and the gentleness of the touch, you knew in your heart that there was no doubt that that was part of the intent — to humble you, to tame you and make you docile, to make you submit. Forcing you to such a vulnerable state and inflicting reactions of pleasure was itself an act of exerting power and control.

It was, in a way, remarkable, that the human spirit could not only be broken by both brutal cruelty, but equally — or, perhaps even more effectively — eroded away with a gentle voice and touch, humiliation so deeply intertwined with affection that they became impossible to distinguish from each other, forming a unique sentiment that was both one and the other.

You were endearing to him, but that affection for you was like a venom that ran through your veins — an affection that diminished you, reduced you to some inhuman possession, a toy to be manipulated in any way he desired.

It made you feel sick. It made you feel angry, it tormented your psyche—

Your thoughts were turned to a haze as his fingers rolled your nipple between them. You inhaled a sharp gasp, back arching forward.

Processing your own reaction, embarrassment took place of the momentary pleasure, and your face felt hot. You reached an arm up instinctively to cover your breasts, pulling away from the touch.

“…We've had this conversation before, haven't we?” He reached up, grasping your jaw with a grip just firm enough to communicate a warning.

You swallowed and, albeit not without just a moment of hesitation, lowered your arm. You looked down, breasts now exposed fully. “I'm… sorry…”

He gave you a hum of approval, returning to the former fondling, fingers playing with the sensitive flesh. You bit your lip, breathing growing labored.

After a few minutes, his hands wandered downward, slowly, softly, down to your thighs, then back up over your hips, where they finally settled.

“Touch yourself.”

The command caught you off-guard. Your eyes widened. “…What?”

“Before I help you,” he murmured, “I want to see what you will do for me. That's only fair, don't you think?” He squeezed at your waist.

“Prove to me…” he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear, “that you know your place. Do as I say.”

You swallowed.

It was in your best interest to obey.

You reached down slowly, shivering as your fingers brushed over your clit. You pressed down, beginning to rub your outstretched fingers back and forth. With your other hand, you reached up, tweaking your nipple just enough to send pleasure through your nerves.

“There you go.” He pulled you a bit closer to him, so your bodies were firmly pressed together. He craned his neck, no doubt catching your abashed, embarrassed expression.

Not that he would give you any words of comfort on that matter, tell you not to feel embarrassed. He only smiled, grasping your hair and forcing your head to turn, pressing your mouth to his. It was only a short contact, parting with the softest of sounds.

His grip on your hip tightened, and you realized why he’d pulled back when he spoke.

“Don’t stop.”

You hadn’t realized you had, too focused on the slight surprise to being kissed. You took a shuddering breath, and resumed the motion. Your eyes closed, heightening your senses — the sensation of each touch and the shockwaves it sent through your core to every nerve in your body.

Your breathing quickly became labored. Even if you were inducing the sensation itself, it was good. You bit your lip as a soft, weak little sound came out of your throat, unable to refrain from vocalizing at the intensity of the feeling.

“Not just like that.” One of his hands reached down to your thigh, hand wrapping around the underside of it and pulling it to the side, spreading you open further. “Go on.”

“Mm…” You couldn’t summon any particular words, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations — the heat to your face and knot in your stomach at the shameless way your body was so exposed, at the feeling of being watched as if the act were a performance, and the haze of arousal that rapidly began to cloud your judgement, obscuring the feeling of discomfiture, drowning your inhibition.

Even without the pleasure compromising your hesitation, you didn’t want to think about the alternatives if you refused to obey — this was thus far, comparatively, far from the worst consequences you’d ever received for acting out.

You reached down further, pushing two of your fingers past the slick coating your flesh and inside your body, curling them into the spot that made you tense, made your muscles spasm, over and over, each movement sparking a rush that surged throughout your body.

Each breath was a deep gasp. Your toes curled, your muscles went taut and your insides clenched around your own fingers.

But something was missing.

It was pleasurable, but there just wasn’t enough to push you over the edge. The sensations were too weak.

Your body had been conditioned something more, and this was not comparable.

Sweat began to accumulate on your skin as you kept curling your fingers, desperately chasing a high. His arm moved from your hip to wrap around your waist, pressing another kiss to your neck.

You tried. Frustration began to build. Your eyes watered as you curled your fingers as hard as you could, pressed as far in as they would go, down to the knuckle.

It wasn’t deep enough.

It wasn't what you were used to. Your fingers were too short, just short of reaching that one perfect spot that made you lose yourself in pleasure, melting to a mewling mess.

You shuddered. You couldn’t reach a climax, no matter how hard you tried to focus. Even without orgasm, though, your exertion reached a peak you couldn’t carry on further from, and your fingers stopped moving as you went limp, trying to catch your breath, frustration and desperation nearly enough to make you cry. Your head fell back, eyes closed as you panted.

You could feel the corners of his mouth upturn against the flesh of your neck.

“…Is something wrong?”

Your jaw clenched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

That was the other goal of it, besides proving yourself to him — it was also to prove something to you. Something you didn’t want to admit out loud, something that made your chest swell with bitterness just to admit to yourself, much more so to do so aloud.

“I can’t… I can't do it.”

“Mm.” He pulled you further back against him. “Then, what do you need?”

The tingling sensation, the desperate need, the remnant frustration of lost pleasure, was too much to bear. You swallowed your pride, closing your eyes as you forced the words out.

“…I need you to do it…”

You were expecting him to say something in return, but for a moment, he was only quiet. He began to drum his fingers back and forth against your waist.

“Is that so?”

You nodded again, which seemed to be to his displeasure—

“Use your words.”

“Yes…” You swallowed.

You waited, but no touch came.

“Hm. How odd.” His voice was low and quiet, but unmistakably derisive. “You seemed to think you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself, running off like you did.”

Your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head back and forth, unable to bring yourself to speak.

“No?” His hand trailed downward until it ghosted over your sex, the lightest of touches, borderline torment. “Then, you can't do this for yourself?”

“…No…”

He moved his face even closer, speaking directly into your ear.

“Then what do you say? Tell me exactly what you need. Show me.”

You swallowed. The burning of humiliation in your chest was almost too much to bear. Had your insides not still been alight with the wavering, tight feeling of need, your pride would have outweighed your desire. But in that moment, it did not.

You spread your still-quivering legs wide apart.

“…Please touch me.”

“Mm. And what do you want from that? For how long?”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I want to cum.”

Finally — finally — his fingers pressed down against your clit, enough pressure to send waves of pleasure up your spine.

“There, see…” He pressed another kiss to your face. “Aren't things so much easier when you just choose to be honest?”

You nodded. “Yes. I… I’m sorry…”

He gave a low hum of acknowledgement. “This stubbornness is just your nature.” His fingers slid back and forth, gracing the bundle of nerves with friction. “But that can be fixed.”

You bit your lip. “I… I’m not— ah—”

One motion of his hand was particularly firm, the sensation it sent through your nerves so intense it was almost painful. Your hands shot forward, grasping at his wrist.

It was only when the motion stopped that you realized you’d erred — it was a habit of reflexively grabbing at his hands when a sensation was too intense, trying to pry them off — something he very much did not like you doing.

Sure enough, he sighed, frustration blatantly evident. You jerked your hands away, but it was already too late to take back the first offense.

“…Now,” he started, “Can you refrain from doing that again, or do I need to bind them?”

“I…” you paused, realizing you genuinely needed to think it through. You weren’t certain if you could abstain.

You felt him shift back, leaning away from your body.

“Well, that’s enough of an answer itself.”

You heard the rustling of clothes, felt movement behind you, and you turned your head over your shoulder just in time to see as he pulled off first the top layer, then the undershirt over his head and off his body. You made a soft sound as he then pushed down on your back with a firm touch, forcing you to lean forward, grasping at your hands and pulling them behind your back — firmly, enough to be a clear message to not try to dissuade him, but your pride, weak as it was, still couldn't let it happen with no objection at all.

“Wait, wait, I can do it, I don't need—”

“This is for your sake. Hold still.”

“But I—”

“Be still.” He spoke firmly, but softened his voice as he continued, “It’s not your fault for having that reflex… but you have to train yourself against it. You want to be good, don't you?”

You shut your mouth, nodding as you sounded an answer. “Mm-hm…”

Cloth wrapped tightly around your wrists, using one sleeve to bind them together. Not enough of a bind that you couldn’t break out with some effort, but just enough to keep you from reflexively trying to interfere.

“Now where were we…”

You were pulled back once more, perhaps even closer. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

And his hand quickly moved back down, and the bliss of shockwaves of pleasures overcame you once more. You whimpered, biting your lip.

His fingers pressed more firmly, rubbing circles into the nub, and for a moment, your wrists jerked against the bind as the reflex kicked in. It was too much at once, but now, you were prevented from doing anything about it. As he began to rub in circular motions, your body shuddered, and an involuntary moan came out of your throat — a wanton, shameful sound, laced with pleasure and lust.

“There you go.” You could feel him speak, shuddering at the vibration of his chest against your back and the warm breath against your ear. His other hand rolled your nipple between a finger and thumb. “Give into it.”

Your body trembled against his touch, and jolted as his own fingers pressed inside of you. His were longer, and the touches firmer, and the result was a degree of pleasure you were simply incapable of replicating on your own.

As much as you hated it — hated to think it, hated to acknowledge it, hated to try and not acknowledge it as the reality prodded at the back of your mind — he made you feel better than anything you had ever experienced, better than anything you could ever make yourself feel.

You whimpered, toes and fingers curling. Your hips moved, a rolling motion to meet each pressing movement.

A singular motion, and singular sound, both of which you near-immediately caught yourself doing, having been too lost in the feeling to think clearly. You cut off your voice and went still, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t.” He didn’t stop moving his fingers as he spoke, instead pressing down with harsh force, essentially pulling you back closer to him with the hand partially inside you. “Holding yourself back like that is another form of dishonesty.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, but unable to form a response before he continued.

“And you wouldn’t want,” the fingers that had been gently tweaking at your breast pinched down hard, a momentary spark of pain and the lowering of his voice making you go tense, “to make this unpleasant because you couldn’t be good for me, would you?”

You shook your head back and forth with vigor. There were many punishments in your domestic repertoire that were unpleasant, and the thought of any of them made your heart skip a beat. “No, no, I don’t… want that…”

“Then you’re going to be honest, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise…”

“Mm.”

He kept rubbing his thumb against your clit, even in perfectly synched timing to each motion his fingers curled inward inside of you.

It was so pleasurable, so intense, it made you angry. Mad that he was capable of it, mad that his control over your body was greater than your own, and most of all, mad that he did it with such ease, effortless, that making you come undone entirely was something he mastered without ever being taught.

That pleasure began to build and build. You squirmed and whimpered, muscles throughout your body tensing and relaxing over and over. Your hips rolled into his hand. Each movement built the pressure in your body higher and higher, rapidly reaching a peak.

The edge that climax made you quiver, body and legs trembling.

“There it is…” his voice was so soft and gentle, soothing in a way it had no right to be.

The noise that came out of your mouth was nearly animal-like, a whimpering cry as you threw your head back, quivering and spasming. The waves of sensation pulsated throughout your body, reaching a peak and then beginning to ebb away.

You went limp, bodyweight falling back against his chest, heaving with heavy breaths. Your head felt as if it were spinning, and you stared forward in a dull stupor, body trembling with aftershock.

You twitched at the feeling of his fingers sliding out of you, with a wet squelching sound that made you shiver.

“Look at that…”

He spread his fingers apart, clear fluid forming a trail between them. You bit your lip, tilting your head downward in a futile attempt of avoidance of what you knew well came next — but that effort was quickly negated as he grabbed your jaw, turning your head back up and squeezing your face.

“Open.”

The force of the grip as he squeezed down more or less forced your jaw apart anyway. You didn't even get to take a breath before he pushed his fingers into your mouth, salty taste spreading over your tongue.

“Clean them off.”

Maybe it was a way of forcing you to acknowledge your own bodily reaction, even if you tried to deny it to yourself. Maybe it was much simpler than that — just another way to degrade you, or something simply arousing for him because it just was.

You complied nonetheless. Your tongue swirled around each finger, sucking and swallowing the taste of yourself. Even as he pulled his fingers back out, a string of saliva connected them to your tongue.

And then, after wiping his fingers off on the fabric around his thigh, he returned the arm to your waist, pulling you close, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“See… so much more at ease now, aren't you?”

That was one way to put it. You couldn't even bring words to your mind. Even processing what he said felt like a significant effort. Everything felt far away, your mind like a blank slate, numb and empty. Your body was even more exhausted, totally lax aside from involuntary twitches.

You made a soft sound as he turned your body to the side, just enough to look you face-to-face. Looking down at your watery eyes as they met his, the stupor in your expression, even as your brain began to clear, as if a machine turning back on after a few moments of darkness.

And he smiled. It was soft, full of endearment. And belittling. It was not made any better by the small chuckle he gave, patting the top of your head.

It burned in your chest, down into your stomach.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lower lip quivered, an admittedly petulant pout. Shame formed a knot in your stomach. Disappointment in yourself, ending up like this again after swearing so many times over that this one would be the last, the last time you'd come apart so easily, the last time you'd find yourself spent and susceptible to the touch that seemed as if it were designed for your body.

And he laughed. An amused chuckle, patting your head.

“Mm. I had a feeling that wouldn't be quite enough.”

He leaned in, firmly grasping at your arms as you tried to squirm, bringing his mouth so close to yours, forehead resting against yours.

“But, that does admittedly work out for my sake.”

You grunted in surprise as he hooked his arm under your legs again, this time only lifting you just enough to set you down onto the padding of your bed, gently pushing on your shoulders until you were flat on your back, arched over your hands bound behind you.

“A-ah, I…” You swallowed, grasping at the sheets to the best of your ability. It was nothing you weren't anticipating, but the vulnerability made you tense.

It didn't help that he paused any motion, eyes trailing over your body, before reaching down and running his hands over your flesh, one moving to grip at your waist, the other your opposite hip. You couldn’t reach to cover yourself, forced to lay bare and vulnerable. Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, but firm hands grabbed at the undersides, pushing them apart and positioning himself between them so you couldn’t close them again.

The former act was not enough. Putting you through the ordeal of being made to wait in jail like a child in time-out was not enough, exposing your body was not enough, toying with your body and forcing an acknowledgement of his own control was not enough.

Your lip trembled.

But anger still pervaded through your negative emotions. It compelled your courage, you felt defiance surging up. You had to look him in the eye, tell him exactly what you felt, tell him you knew what he was doing and push him off, then, maybe then you'd have the satisfaction of some sense of control.

You could do it. You had to.

“You… you're just doing the same thing as before!” Your eyebrows furrowed. “You’re trying to, to—”

“Again with this?” He tilted his head. “I really wish you wouldn’t assume such ill intent. This is how people love each other… you know that.”

You bit your lip. You almost, for just a second, fell for it, almost felt guilty. You shook your head forcefully, clearing your mind of the thought.

“No, I won't let you—”

And with that, there was a rapid shift in expression. His eyes narrowed in a piercing, foreboding look. You went silent.

Your shoulders stiffened. The words came out on impulse, resolve of defiance broken as quickly as it had formed. “I'm— I'm sorry—”

Dammit.

For once, the dark expression did not shift back to pleasant as soon as you apologized — an indicator of having gone too far. His hand slowly reached up, this time not in a loving caress or gentle-but-firm grip, but outright harsh grip on your jaw.

“You…”

He tilted his head forward to more directly look you in the eye. His voice was low and cold, making your heart race further.

“Do not ‘let’ anyone do anything.”

His fingertips pressed into your flesh, squeezing your face between them.

“I know you understand your place. Don’t behave as if you don’t.” Finally, his voice softened as he finished, “I can’t help you if you keep fighting me every step of the way. So… you’ll control yourself, won’t you?”

You swallowed, nodding your head, twitching as the motion made his fingernails dig into your cheeks.

“You know I don’t like being so harsh with you, don’t you?”

You nodded again.

“Good.” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Only for a short, chaste moment, but a slow, sensual motion nonetheless. You closed your eyes, tuning out the rustling clothes, heavily breathing with anticipation.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this. This whole ordeal has been stressful for me as well.”

You didn’t get time to ask what he meant — he rammed himself into you all at once, completely stuffing your body in one rough, forceful motion.

You cried out, back arching and body stiffening. You felt your insides clamp down, pulsating against the intrusion.

His hands tightened their grip on your waist, holding you still as the momentary sting ebbed away.

“There you go… calm down.”

You felt him slide out, then push back in, the latter movement sending sparks of sensation running up your spine, causing you to go tense all over again.

Your breathing became ragged, legs twitching and spasming at the sensation. You tried, without thinking, to snap them shut, but it only resulted in effectively squeezing his waist with you thighs.

The intensity of the sensation naturally induced a reflex of strain and exertion to your muscles, a need to channel the feeling through your body, causing your toes to curl, your thighs clamping down harder, quivering at the bare touch of flesh to flesh. You closed your eyes, but couldn't drown out the sound of skin making contact to yours, the sound itself increasingly accompanied by a wet squelching as skin met fluid with each passing second, leaking out of your body.

“You're so much more honest like this.” You could hear just the slightest strain in his voice, otherwise so very composed to perfection. “So meek… it's lovely. Once that resistance in you is fixed… you'll be perfect.”

You could see the corners of his mouth upturn into a look of amusement.

“You should see yourself.”

Your body stiffened, but all you could do was whimper. The words felt like a cold knife to the stomach — and you knew he knew that. Knew that that moment was you at your must vulnerable, the peak of awareness of your own helplessness, the moment you felt the most degraded, and yet, it still wasn't enough.

He leaned in close, speaking directly into your ear, so close you could feel the warmth as he spoke, never ceasing to move all the while.

“Whimpering and drooling like that,” he murmured. “You're trembling… and that expression on your face is so adorable. Like you can't even think straight.” He leaned back up, enough to look you in the eye — now welling with tears.

And again, he only smiled.

“How precious.”

His hands ran down your body, grabbed at your hips, and began to pull you, jerking your body back and forth to meet his own movements.

It was too much. Even with the knot of emotion in your stomach, you felt a hot, tingling pressure build in your body. Your legs quivered, the wanton little sounds from your throat higher and higher.

You didn't want that. It was the final part of this ritual that so demeaned you, one more confirmation of his control of you. You pressed your hands into the mat, trying to push yourself back — but it was only met with a harsh pull, forcing your body back until you practically slammed against his hips.

“Don't fight.”

It was the last thing you heard. You threw your head back as the sensation became overwhelming, back arching and eyes rolling back as the feeling reached a peak. You could only faintly register the high-pitched sound that sounded as if it couldn't be you, a voice you didn't recognize.

And then it began to ebb away. A hazy stupor filled the void as the pleasure dissipated, a feeling of exhaustion. Your weight went limp.

You made a soft sound as he grasped your jaw again, turning your head just enough to place another kiss to your lips.

“There you go. Look at you now… all that stress and in you, totally gone. You can see it in your eyes, even.”

He paused before adding,

“Well, gone for now. I'll have to start monitoring for it more closely.”

You shuddered at the sensation as he slid out of you, fluid spilling out onto the sheets.

You felt him reach behind you, untying your wrists — you brought your arms to the front of your body, but the forearms only laid useless, having fallen asleep from your weight.

He came to rest beside you, upper body slightly propped up on his elbow, head resting in his hand, looking down at you with adoration and endearment.

And you were so, so weak. So much weaker than you wished you were, body, mind and spirit alike. So weak that, in the rush of emotions that followed, you found yourself slowly crawling forward, burying your face against his chest with a pathetic little noise.

“Poor thing. Maybe that was a bit too much for you…”

His arm reached behind your back and pulled you close, and the comfort you felt seemed to melt your mind into nothingness.

“You should rest for a while,” he continued, “then we'll get you cleaned off. We have a few hours before you'll need to be ready.”

After a moment to process the words, you tilted your head up with the softest of inquisitive noises. The cold, creeping dread began to spread through your stomach once more.

He seemed to realize, then, that you didn’t understand.

“Ah, right, you wouldn't have known.” He reached out with the hand he wasn’t leaning on, brushing his fingers over your scalp. “While you were gone, I sent someone to arrange a house visit with a psychiatrist… a private one that works for families such as ours.”

His words certainly didn’t help soothe your nerves. Your mouth felt dry. Your voice came out weak, hesitant, part of you not wanting to ask, lest you learn an unpleasant answer.

“…Why?”

He tilted his head in just the slightest, loose strands of hair shifting and waving with the motion. “Well, keeping your needs in check does help with your condition, but I’ve realized it would do you good to have a secondary means to treat your hysteric tendencies as well.”

“My…” You swallowed. “My what?” The words slowly pieced together in your mind, hitting you with a sense of dread and confusion. You squirmed backwards, shifting just a bit away from him. “There's… nothing wrong with me…”

“Of course, of course, there’s nothing wrong, that’s…” He spoke in a reassuring sort of tone, as if to comfort you. “…A harsh choice of phrasing. You just need some help, is all.” After a moment of pause, he added, “don't worry, it's perfectly normal that you aren't self-aware of it. That's usually how these illnesses work.”

His arm reached out further, pulling you back towards him, pressing your bodies together before he continued.

“He’s just required to see you in-person for a little while before giving you anything. Regulations and all. We’re just going to get you something to make you a little more… docile.”

His arm wrapped around your body, and he pulled his head back just a bit to look you in the eye, smiling with endearment.

“Ah, I can tell by your face that you’re nervous. Don’t worry, I'll be there throughout the whole thing… I'll answer any questions, you just sit there quietly, alright?” He pulled you a bit closer, planting an affectionate, short kiss to the top of your head. “I know that sort of thing is a lot on your nerves.”

If your trembling could be felt, he didn’t say anything about it, only carrying on with his gently-spoken words.

“We won’t have to worry about you having these… irrational escapades anymore. And you’ll be so much happier, too.”

You felt his hand on your back, firmly in place — you were pressed so close together that there was no need to pull you any closer, but perhaps he wanted to be sure you couldn’t pull away.

“So… rest for now, alright?”

Mind and heart alike racing, in your stupor, you let the pause linger for too long. The hand on your back began to close in on itself, fingernails brushing against your skin just enough to send the faintest of pains up your spine.

You had no strength left in you to give anything other than the correct answer.

“Okay...”

He only gave you a hum of acknowledgement, and began to stroke your back up and down, a pattern that should have been comforting and soothing, yet was anything but. Exhaustion wore on your body, but even as you forced yourself to close your eyes, true rest was nowhere to be found.

#awful men portraying themselves as selfless/benevolent >>>>>#genshin smut #.ay

562 notes · View notes

iamnotokaythx · 11 months

Text

hello! first post on this blog. how lovely! i’m not normal about miguel o’hara. specifically yandere miguel. i wrote some hcs. theres also what i believe is called a drabble down there.

warning: not proofread, lowercase, kidnapping (twice), mentions of miguels past, hcs in no particular order, sfw surprisingly, descriptive + gory threats directed at a random person, miguel is paranoid, reader is gender neutral but masculine, i haven’t watched the movie yet, i used that spanishdict.com website but i am not a native speaker so help is appreciated, lmk if i missed anything

—

i respect everyone’s headcanons very much but imo: y’all got yandere miguel SO terribly wrong. he is a stoic, violent asshole, yes, but think logically!!! would this man, who watched his wife and kid die, ever hurt the object of his love? /lh

i think he’d probably treat you like glass no matter how much you insist that you’re capable of autonomy and he’d try to have the patience of a saint, but it can run thin.

if he gets severely pissed off, expect furniture to be thrown and screaming to ensue—but one look at your fearful eyes, all watery as he backs you into a corner, it makes him melt and cradle you in his arms. he cares for you so, so much and would never want to scare you.

miguel is kidnapping you. absolutely no doubt about it. he can’t trust you to be in other dimensions where so many things could go wrong, where it could collapse or you could be caught in the crossfire of a canon event or—no. no, you have to stay with him, where he can watch out for you at all times. i think if you retaliated, all he’d do is restrain you in an inescapable hug and sink his fangs into your neck, putting just enough venom to make you sleep for a little. he apologizes profusely once you come to… but he doesn’t mean it. he’s sorry to hurt you, sure, but he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe. with him.

miguel has no qualms about hurting anyone else, though! barista seems just a little too gregarious? miguel’s talons spring from the pads of his fingers as he taps his fingers on the table. he smiles at you. it’s a warning. ‘i could kill them, you know.’ he says with his eyes. ‘right now, if i wanted to, i could rake my claws across their throat. i could pick you up and run out before anyone else caught me. before they’d even get a chance to fall to the ground dead.’ his gaze flickers to the door. he runs his tongue across his fangs. ‘or i could bite them. shoot venom all inside their bloodstream. they wouldn’t pass out like when i did it to you, they’d die. they’d die painfully and slowly, their body shutting off as the pain made them wish it happened faster. all because they were smiling at you just a little too long.’ his eyes shine with mirth. he thinks it’s all a joke. you decide to put and end to his cruel mocking by standing up abruptly, grabbing his hand, and dragging him towards a different table far away from the poor barista.

at home, he’s affectionate. so saccharinely affectionate. he doesn’t—won’t respond to his name, you have to call him some nickname or pet name or something. “miggy.” “guel.” those are accepted, but he cracks a genuine smile whenever you call him by something corny and sweet like “baby” or “love.” he’s more likely to comply to a request if you call him a pet name, but he allows you some freedoms at the least. internet: heavily monitored, only when he’s with you. tv and video games are fine, as long as they’re only local co-op or singleplayer. you’re only allowed a phone so you can text him if you need him.

he nearly always finds time for you. as soon as he’s home, he’s attached to you like a lifeline. his touch never leave your body—he’s always holding your hand or waist or kissing you from behind and murmuring words into your ear. “mi cariño, i missed you at work. i’m tired, hermoso, please can we go lay down for a little?” he’ll ask. you’ll comply, if you want, and subject yourself to being smothered in his arms for 1-3 hours while he cuddles up with you and sleeps, but if not then he’ll whine until you let him lay his head down on your lap as you watch tv and ignore him. he so desperately craves the domestic affection he once had with his family.

speaking of ignoring him, please don’t. he’ll go insane. before the first day’s up, he’ll beg you for as much as a glance towards him, even if it’s a scornful glare it means you’re functional. he’ll become more and more desperate, clinging to you and your every word, movement, and nonverbal communication. after a long time—maybe a week, if he can stand it, he’ll cry into your chest until you explain what it is you want. at that point, he’d be willing to do almost anything just for that never to happen again.

…almost anything.

(okay i’m gonna be real. i don’t know the difference between a fic or a drabble. i assume what follows is a drabble)

he wouldn’t let you leave, it’s too dangerous. you somehow managed to escape, and he tracked you down in a panic-induced frenzy. as soon as he wrapped you back in his arms, you realize you’ve seriously fucked up. he’s silent on the way back home and even silent until the next day. you wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon and you find him in the kitchen. he acts like nothing happened at all, but begins a rather unsettling spiel as you eat.

“i did some thinking. i realized… it’s just not safe for you here!” he says slowly, circling you as you stared at the sizzling food in front of you. you don’t know if you should eat or not. his hands snake up to your shoulders, giving you a gentle back rub. “so i’ve decided we need to move. somewhere where you’re safe, you know?” miguel evidently noticed you hesitation to eat. “something wrong with the food, amor? i made it just for you. at least try some.”

you decide not to eat. you make a lame excuse about not being hungry. his hands tighten around your shoulders and then just as abruptly leave your skin. “you mind telling me why you won’t eat?” he whispers in your ear. you insist that you’re just not hungry. he growls in his throat, but suddenly switches into a smile. “of course. i’ll put it in the fridge for when you want it.” miguel says gently. he wraps the plate in saran wrap and set it in the fridge. “i took a day off. looks like we’re going to be together all today now.” he says. he leads you to the couch and assumes the regular position, laying with his head on your lap.

“i love you, y/n. i really, really fucking love you. you believe me, right? you know, right? you know how much i need you? to eat, to sleep, to breathe? i need you.” he says as you watch whatever show was on. “i… i don’t feel… well, i’ll explain later. how about you lay down this time? i know you like getting massaged.” he offers. you lay down, expecting to feel his hands press the knots out from your back, but instead you feel him grab your hand. “i’m sorry. i can’t imagine this is pleasant.” he apologizes, pressing one hand to your back so that you can’t move. his other hand brings your wrist to his lips and he kisses your forearm before sinking his fangs in. within seconds, you feel more and more drowsy.

—

woohoo go me! i did it

anyways i’m super tired i wrote this all in one sitting

part 2

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x male reader #miguel o’hara x reader #yandere miguel o’hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #tw yandere #yandere x male reader #m no im not actually ever gonna stfu about him. he’s so babygirl.#yandere miguel x reader #male reader #x dom male reader #dom reader

1K notes · View notes

strawberrysturniolo · 2 months

Text

never grow up part four

summary: after not speaking for a week, chris finds himself trying to confess his feelings to sunny, while she’s trying to move on from him

part three

part five

It’s been a week since I last talked to Chris. Since he walked out on me.

It’s safe to say I was a complete wreck that night. I bawled my eyes out. I couldn’t imagine being in that state of stress and frustration with the only person who seems to understand me above others. It’s like that connection between us has been broken with such ease, not a care in the world from his end. He’s made that quite obvious.

I’ve been so embarrassed for wanting to push for something between us, until I remember how he made me think he wanted that too. It’s not embarrassing for me to be convinced of something else by someone I trusted, but I guess I learned my lesson for the future.

It was one thing for him to not say goodbye when he left my apartment, rather than him just getting up and leaving angrily. But what makes it worse is he went back to LA without a word, without a real goodbye.

It’s for that reason that I don’t bother telling him I miss him. He clearly didn’t care enough to say goodbye before he flew back to the other side of the country.

What makes it all worse is that I didn’t even find out from him or someone in his family.

I found out from a fucking Instagram story that Nick posted with Chris and Matt at an event. So who the fuck even knows when they actually got back there. They seem to be settled in again pretty fucking nicely.

I’ve tried to occupy myself with work and school to keep my mind off how I’m feeling. Somehow along the way, I managed to agree to go on a date.

I usually don’t care to randomly date people. Maybe that’s why I felt so safe and confident in Chris. I’ve known him forever, and I trusted that he would take care of me and we would work.

We didn’t even get the chance to try before he turned into a stranger again.

There’s nothing wrong with the guy in front of me. I just don’t think this is the right kind of guy for me. He’s very proper, clearly coming from a rich family that taught him about fine dining and expensive jewelry since he was born. He bought me a fancy glass of wine though, so I can’t complain too much. At least I can get a little tipsy tonight. I know better than to drink too much on a first date in case this guy turns out to be a creep and I’m too drunk to notice.

“So,” he starts to say, then he takes a sip of his wine, raising a hand to the waiter and silently requesting another. That pisses me off. “Who’s your best friend?”

Not the 20 questions type ass question.

Well, fuck. That one hurt.

“Um– He– They don’t live here anymore,” I finally say. “I met them when I was a toddler. I don’t even remember it, I just know from family stories. I think they were the first friend I ever made. I don’t remember ever not having them in my life. They were always there.”

I continue to refer to Chris as they rather than he. I don’t know this guy well enough yet, and something tells me if I say my best friend was a boy, he’d start asking more questions about him that I don’t want to answer.

“They were always there,” I continue. “By biggest supporter, best friend, number one defender. We started to share families. I was always welcome unannounced– actually, they liked it when I came over without mentioning it first. It made them feel even more loved, is what they said.”

I need more wine.

I was 16 when I went on my very first date. Chris was with a girl that night. She came over to their house, and had a double date sort of thing with Matt and his girlfriend. While I was at the movie theater on my date, he started to get weird. He was suddenly touching my legs, and trying to kiss me. I ran to the bathroom and called Chris, and even though I knew he couldn’t drive, I knew he would try to rescue me.

“Hey–”

“Chris. I’m at the movies with Ryan.”

My words came out in a rush, desperation clear in my tone.

I could hear him leave the room, practically running to where he could be alone and hear me clearly. “I know. What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath. “He’s being weird.”

There’s a pause.

“How weird?”

“I’m in the bathroom to get away from him. That kind of weird,” I clarified. “I’m sorry. I know you’re with people, but can you please–”

“We’ll be there soon. I’ll text you when I’m outside,” he agreed without a second thought.

Once him and Matt arrived, Matt dropped us off at a McDonald’s near their house before going back to his own girlfriend. I never really asked what happened with the girl Chris was with. I guess I assumed they took her home while they were on their way to get me.

To cheer me up, Chris treated our shitty McDonald’s dinner as a friendly date. He made me laugh, made me feel safe again, and then we went home and watched a movie in his bed.

He was always ready to rescue me, no matter what he was doing.

Suddenly, my phone rings on the table, violently vibrating and disrupting our conversation.

I apologize as I pick up my phone, trying to mute it, until I see the caller ID.

Without hesitating, I get up from the table. “I have to take this.”

I practically run outside so I’m alone when I take the call, trying to get there before he hangs up. I press the phone to my ear, and my heart sinks when I finally hear his voice again.

“Hey,” he says.

My voice is delicate when I respond. “Hi.”

“I just wanted to–” he starts to say, getting right to the point. A car horn blares as someone in front of me swerves near another car. He stops his original point and asks, “Where are you right now?”

“Outside of a restaurant. I got up when you called.”

“Oh. Who are you with?”

“Just– Um– I’m not–” I stutter. “It’s just someone I know.”

He must have been laying on his bed, because I hear him shift. There’s a slight rumble like he was moving around, the sound of his bed sheets against his body as he sits up. “Is it a guy?”

I don’t know what to say. I could lie and say that I’m with family, or that it’s a networking dinner, but my silence doesn’t help my case. Not to mention that I panicked and settled on ‘someone I know.’

“You’re on a fucking date?!” he shouts.

“Why are you yelling at me!”

“I’m calling to tell you that I want to be with you and you’re on a fucking date?!”

He wants to be with me.

I don’t even get to be happy about that before I’m trying to defend myself. He’s so fast to get angry with me, not giving me a chance to think about anything other than the fact that he’s being incredibly unfair.

“How was I supposed to know that’s why you were calling?” I ask. I start pacing in front of the restaurant, weaving through people walking around me. “We haven’t spoken in a week!”

“Yeah,” he says, responding in a tone that is so dry, it makes me worried for what’s to come next. “A week ago you were all over me saying that you love me and you want a relationship and you’re already on a date with someone else?”

My voice goes soft. “What were you trying to achieve? Do you want a relationship with me?”

“Well, no but–”

“Oh!” I jump in. “So you want me, but not enough to be in a relationship with me, but enough to where if I go out with someone else who wants to be with me, I’m the bad person because then you’d get to call that cheating even though you and I don’t want the same thing. You just want me to be available if and when you decide you want the same thing as me.”

He doesn’t want me. He just wants me to be there in case that changes. With how indecisive and low commitment Chris is, I don’t want to wait around for someone that isn’t sure of me. Especially me, when we’ve had so much love for each other for our whole lives.

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” he scoffs. “I hope your date can handle it.”

“So fucking what if I’m on a date!” I fight back. “It shouldn’t mean anything to you!”

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. So I’ll do you one better.” I take a breath, holding it. I’m terrified for what he’ll say next. “I fucked someone last night.”

I feel my heart stop beating. Then it drops into my stomach.

My chest feels empty. It’s like I’m just a shell of a human being, but nothing inside it functions anymore. That about killed me.

Tears well in my eyes, and I know if he saw me right now, he would hate that he made me cry. He was always the person to wipe my tears, and now he’s the cause of it.

I want to scream. I want to hate him. But I never could. No matter how much I try.

“So you decided to fuck someone else. Then you called me to confess the love you think I want from you, then you get mad that I don’t want to wait around for someone who isn’t sure about me and I went on a date, all of which you were going to pursue without telling me that you fucked someone last night!” I don’t bother concealing my volume or my vocabulary even though I’m standing around plenty of people. They can all hear me fighting with Chris. “And you’re going to get mad over a date, when you fucked someone?!”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. I have to actually check that the call is still ongoing and I didn’t lose him somehow, or that he didn’t hang up on me after calling him out.

“You know what?” he snaps. “You’re right. This was a waste of time. Enjoy your date,” he forces himself to say. I know he wants nothing more than for my date to go badly. I don’t tell him that it already was before he called.

“Yeah, I will. And guess what Chris?”

“What?”

“You can go fuck yourself, but knowing you, you’ll probably get someone else to handle that for you.”

The line goes dead when he hangs up on me.

I’m left standing outside in shock.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in one place, burning tears dripping slowly down my cheeks. I finally snap out of it when I feel raindrops on my skin. Seconds later, the rain starts coming down harder.

Pretty ironic that he called me Sunshine because when he was down it always got sunnier, and now I’m standing in a downpour.

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilolo @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld @sturniolovoid @aerunn @sturniolosmind @oliviasturniolo21 @carolsturns1 @scarssturniolo @stuniolobbg @sturniolowhore @christurniolomyman

#Spotify #strawberrysturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

341 notes · View notes

thesamoanqueen · 5 months

Text

Owner

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, jealousy, my bad english as always.

A/N: It should have been my gift to @harmshake for her day but I didn’t made it in time and here Im, posting it anyway *delusional smile*

He was getting a headache, a bad one because Y/N was unbeatable at driving him crazy. He always tried to control himself, freaking out during arguments didn’t fit him well and he could successfully have done it, at least until she got involved or decided to press that button, the one she had claimed from the first second Roman laid eyes on her. Thank God she wasn't the kind of woman who liked drama or kicking her feet, but if she decided to go down that road...

Roman could count their arguments on one hand, exceptions, extraordinary events, but every time it happened from one moment to the next, escalating in a few seconds and for reasons that weren't even real reasons. And it had been like that that time too. The night before Y/N had gone out with the girls, they had gone to have fun, there was nothing wrong and he had even been fine with it, because now that his schedule was no longer so oppressive they spent more time together, both didn't have to work hard as before. The next morning she got up and he had left himself speak, a comment about alcohol that she had clearly drunk, not about her, not even trying to scold her, but from there to chaos it was a short step.

Standing in the kitchen for who knows how long, he lowered his head in exasperation, exhausted, the idea of getting something to drink to go and relax, perhaps with her now only a memory, while Y/N marched through the living room, taking random stuff and dissecting that story as only she was capable of doing.

- I can do whatever I wanna do ‘cause you my daddy when I say you're, not every moment of ma life – she crashed into him at the other end of the huge room and Roman raised his head as if someone had slapped him.

She could do what? He wasn't what?!

- What did you just say?! – he snapped, not at all intending to let that time pass.

He had never tried to stop her from doing anything, he knew well who he had decided to be close to as a partner and it had never crossed his mind to treat her otherwise. He had made a comment, a comment because he cared about her, he was always worried, even if they were together and she came up with that story? He was a man, he didn't need to control her to feed his little ego.

- Thought it was me tired, but now the one who cannot hear me is you? - she insisted stubbornly, refusing to let go and Roman gave her a warning look, his gaze dark.

- Y/N stop running that mouth

- Well if you don't like my attitude anymore, go find someone else and I'll do the same – she pointed at him and Roman knew that she was throwing everything on the table by now, but she had to slow down because he had enough now.

He wouldn't have gone anywhere, above all she wouldn't have found anyone else. She could put it out of her head to play those games with him and above all to turn around and leave him there as she was trying to do. He quickly crossed the living room, before Y/N could even disappear and grabbed her by the waist, hearing her let go with a thud all the stuff she had in her arms, struggling.

- What-Get your hands off me, lemme go-

- You better calm down- don't kick! - he warned her, taking blow with a grimace as he dragged her with him across the room - don't… no… babygirl-

- Roman put me down, ain't joking! And don't call me that! – she struck again, convincing him to put her down on the coach, to grit his teeth, irritation growing.

- No more babygirl, ain't your daddy, you can do whatever, what's going on huh?!

Frozen, Y/N stared back at him. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, legs curled up on the couch where she still had tried to escape him at first, even though he was literally towering over her. He had raised his voice, he never did it, except when they got to that point, but every time it happened he ended up regretting it the same instant just by looking at her. He couldn't stand those moments, because they didn't belong to either of them and for sure wasn't what he wanted for their relationship.

- You don't own me – Y/N said, refusing to lower her head and Roman ran a hand over his dark beard, inspiring, before looking back at her deadly serious.

- I own you

He knew what was going on in that head of her, because Y/N thought and thought even late at night when she should have been sleeping, she was dangerous. And that argument had been the reason she had struggled to have relationships in the past, the same one that had led them to chase each other for a year before giving a name to what was between them. It had been a stupid comment, said with a completely different intention, they both knew it, and yet she had snap.

-I do – he repeated, seeing her physically stiffen when he crouched down in front of her – as you own me – he admitted without shame.

He knew what he wanted from his life and he knew what he was willing to risk, he had never been the kind of person who liked to be led, but since she had entered his life, his vision had changed. It was like this from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to bed, it was his law, it was what he chose and what Roman committed to. He wasn't a kid, he could make sacrifices and he wanted to bear them.

-That's how things work – he explained, eyes running over her figure without forgetting a single piece, while hers studied him.

They were doing this together and there was no "whatever" for it to work. They had each other's backs, they belonged to each other and there was no one else who could replace either of them in that mission. No plan B, no alternatives, it was all or nothing, she was the one who told him first and Roman stuck to that. He could keep his mouth shut, ignore if he wanted, he had no problems, but what they were had to be clear, for better or for worse, during arguments or not.

Y/N insisted on not moving, legs still bent on the coach, shoulders still tense and her gaze fixed on him who hadn't moved an inch too, ready to take yet another blow that never came. She only needed a few words, if the right ones, to send those moments away and Roman knew he had said them to her or she wouldn't have given up. An arrogant and slightly softened grin was struggling to show itself, but he just frowned, tilting his head a little to look at her inch by inch again.

-May I touch you now? – he asked, his voice now low, soft.

- What if I say no? – he heard her ask immediately, stubborn and without mercy.

Firm in his purpose, Roman did not give up, completely unimpressed by that attitude which had single-handedly eliminated any competition long before him.

- Please – he begged hoarsely and Y/N once again didn't move.

She didn't even answer, but her dark chocolate eyes did it for her, wavering for a moment at that plea and he reached out with both hands, slowly pulling her legs off the couch by ankles. He slid one on the carpet, placing the other on top of his knees, caressing the caramel-colored skin, soft calf, her eyes pointing at him in religious silence as he went up higher, touching behind the knee to spread his hand on her gorgeous soft thigh. He felt her body vibrate imperceptibly, responding to that contact and Y/N immediately push her foot against his chest, stopping him from going any further.

-Babygirl...- he called her back, looking up again.

Still no response and Roman took the opportunity to slide her leg over his shoulder, making his way between her. His hands began to caress her again without waiting any longer, going up, taking the opportunity to take care of the other leg in the same way and in the same way, even with the other, Y/N stopped him. Roman looked at her in silence this time, he placed a kiss on her skin, pinching it with his beard, breathing in the scent of coconut and vanilla lotion, receiving a new push in return. He waited a second, just one, to collect himself, before also pulling the other leg over his shoulders and bending her on the couch, without asking or negotiate anymore, crashing his mouth onto her to get a moan.

Y/N under him struggled, trying to push him away, refusing to let him win that fight as useless as the argument they had was. He stopped her from the wrists, bracing them with a little force against the couch backrest, pressing them with some of his weight, heat rising quickly and her complaints, muffled, slowly turning into hot moans. Roman knew that she was ready to not make his life easy and repay him in some way, but he was fine with that.

He liked challenges and if she was the prize, he could take more than a couple of pushes.

Slow and unstoppable, he made his way over her. Feeling her mouth slowly indulge him, her hands stop shaking and her legs squeeze him to have his body closer, to have him where he belonged. He still refused to let go, keeping her pinned beneath him, sliding only one large hand, first around her throat and then further down, under her oversize shirt, over her breast free from any constriction. His thumb automatically went to play with her nipple and Y/N mewled into his mouth, panting hotly when Roman finally abandoned her to move down, licking her ear and jugular before biting and sucking that soft skin with the only purpose to leave his mark.

- Mmh! – a moan, strangled, still a little freaky, teeth closing on her swollen lip to stop it.

Annoyed, he looked up at her, studying her focused, breathless, cute expression. He pushed a little on her wrists, feeling her body soften and pulled her white shirt up a little more, to go down to kiss her between her round breasts, inhaling her scent, dipping his face there to devour her hungrily. Her shivers, her heartbeat dangerously close, even the sound of her swallowing while trying to catch her breath, had quickly turned that exchange into something more and bossy Roman rubbed himself against her, his cock now hard inside his gray jumpsuit. He watched Y/N bite her lip again, try to hold back, belly tense and eyes finally searching for him as he began to suck and bite on one of her dark salty buttons.

Her back always curved into a delightful arch when he paid her that kind of attention. An almost unnatural, desperate and needy arch, which Roman get never tired of holding in his hands and admiring, often asking for more, demanding everything.

He watched her throw her head back, almost hiding between cushions and his arm slid behind her back, pulling her against him, grabbing her hip so her center was in place. Y/N struggled again, breathing short, her gaze liquid with excitement and Roman tightened his grip on her wrists, freeing her breasts shiny from his saliva and quickly place a kiss on both her legs that were resting onto his shoulders. Quickly, he fumbled with his clothes, pulling them down with his only free hand, immediately feeling his erection jump to attention and Y/N gasp in anticipation.

- What do you say sweetheart huh? – he asked hoarsely, pressing it against her perfect ass, while also freeing her too – do you want me to ask nicely or not?

-Lemme-e go- he heard her repeat, but this time he knew that her intention was not to run away.

- Please babygirl? – he chanted into her ear, almost crushing her beneath him.

- Please… daddy – a meow more like a moan and Roman released his grip on her wrists.

Her hands grabbed his face instantly, forcing him into a kiss he would never refuse and then wrapping around his torso, scratching his solid neck with demand, as he thrust into her without waiting any longer. Her folds were soft, welcoming and every single time he ended up searching for the bottom, that exact point that made her tighten around him in a vice from which Roman always hoped not to escape. His body was shot through with every sigh of Y/N, every single moan and prey to an uncontrolled reaction his hips moved reflexively, thrusting and pinning her down.

They hadn't fucked like this for a long time now, since they were nothing and their encounters seemed more like a desperate attempt to leave their mark on each other so that no one else could get in the way or hope to. Now those thoughts, those doubts were far away, but Roman still felt in the bottom of his chest the urge to claim her, to give her everything and because of that, he took advantage of his strength to turn her onto her side, leaving one of her legs down. From that position he could push at another angle, holding her round buttock, straightening his back.

- Like tha-aht, yes-

-Yeah, let's strech my pussy good…-he growled hungrily, giving her an appreciative slap on the ass and the moan that Y/N let out was accompanied by her throbbing walls.

- There-yes there!

Quick, rough, he knew that neither of them would last long, but he put a hand on her belly anyway, touching his bulge, hitting that spot and observing, satisfied, the whitish ring that had already formed around his cock. He saw it spread across his entire length, back and forth, again, while Y/N tried to hold him between her folds, inside her sweet cave. He licked his lips, savoring her moods from a distance, pressing with his fingers where her mound welcomed him, feeling his own hardness, his thumb sliding further down to play with her swollen button.

A couple of thrusts and Y/N exploded beneath him in a succession of gasps, hands gripping the coach cover, eyes closed tightly and that wonderful arc that Roman moved again, to take her from behind, pushing himself onto his knees to have her into a press. Frantic, he let his head loll, pounding frenetic through his orgasm, refusing to give in until Y/N slapped her hand against one of his arms and he pulled out quickly, missing her warmth instantly.

A growl left him, but just as he had felt that unpleasant absence, he welcomed Y/N who had sat up to take him into her soft mouth, licking both of their juices with a moan of appreciation. With one arm resting on the coach backrest and the other hand holding the back of her head, he watched Y/N wrap her lips around the tip, suck until she tore the soul out of his lungs and then swallow him almost in his entire length to allow him to empty himself inside her.

- F-Fuck, open wide, so warr-rm-

He held her in place, moving on impulse, feeling the heat of his own body mix in Y/N's throat, her tongue pampering him until the last drop dirtied her mouth and his long fingers extricated themselves from the curls that he had pulled away from Y/N’s bun, stroking it affectionately, feeling the pop of that dangerous mouth that released him after having swallowed and cleaned up the mess of both of them. Breathing heavily he let himself fall down, pulling her against him as messy as he was, realizing only after long, infinite minutes of silence that at the end they had both managed to relax there together even if how, they had gotten to that point, had not been what he imagined.

He tilted his head, seeing her clinging to him with that tired look that he was responsible for this time and he couldn't help himself, leaving a kiss on her forehead that made her lift her chin to look up.

- We made it again – he noticed, seeing that adorable pout that she reserved only for him.

She who would have eaten alive anyone out there without a second thought, with him instead every now and then she gave into the temptation to behave like a little one and as long as it was her, Roman could handle anything. She owned that right and privilege.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @usosthetics @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x you #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic

570 notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 7 months

Note

i really liked OJST in the mid-2010s but i didn’t stop reading cause of the cuck comic - wasn’t there also a comic erika moen wrote about (functionally) harassing lesbians with her now-husband?

In the mid 2010s closet-keys criticized one of Erika Moen's early diary comics and described Erika Moen as "Reassuring a cishet partner that it’s totally okay to use hate speech towards wlw at Pride" and condoning the harassment and fetishization of lesbians because of a 2007 comic that she had made as part of a webcomic she had written about gender and her interactions with her queerness.

The hate speech in question is the partner asking "are you sure you want to hold my hand with all these dykes around?" while they are pretty clearly at a Dyke Day event during pride, and the reassurance that 'it's totally okay to use hate speech toward wlw' is Erika responding "sweetie, I'm proud to be with you."

The comic is still up with a disclaimer that it was written at a different time, and I know that's probably not going to fly with a lot of people but if you were a bi woman in the early to mid 2000s it was pretty common to use statements like "lol yeah i'm into women my boyfriend is fine with it as long as I take pictures" to diffuse the biphobia from straight people AND to say shit like "I'm not a party bi, I actually love pussy, thanks" to diffuse the biphobia from queer people. (if you were a bi guy in the early to mid 2000s i'm sorry and I'm sorry now because we got LUG but that mostly went away and you *still* have to deal with the "gay in waiting" bullshit).

That comic ends with Erika and her partner looking at a woman and saying "I'd totally do her" while the woman thinks "pigs" and if you think that means that they literally sat on the street and vocally commented about lesbians passing by them or that they condone harassing lesbians (in, I cannot stress this enough, a diary comic written by someone in their early twenties who is realizing they are occasionally interested in some men some of the time after identifying as a lesbian their whole life), then I'm gonna go ahead and recommend signing up for some variety or other of literary analysis class. Do we think that Erika is seriously implying that she is going to make her boyfriend gay if she fucks him in this comic from a year later?

If this comic bothers you and you see it as a straight-passing couple giving the go-ahead to harass lesbians, you do you, I'm not saying you have to read the comic or enjoy Erika Moen.

I am saying it's a bit of a stretch, though, and certainly the least charitable explanation possible, and that we should probably give people some space to say awkward things about their sexuality and to make missteps when discussing it in their early twenties and not call them lesbophobic fifteen years after the fact for a college comic.

Moen also gets called transphobic because she has described trans men as adorable/cute in a way that could be read as patronizing in one comic and because she made a comic about wearing a packer for fun and for sexual gratification with her cis male partner as a cis woman.

Appropriately, all of these things feel very "late twenty teens tumblr callout post."

If it bugs you, you don't have to read the comics but I've talked about Moen before and I've gotten the anons in my inbox calling me lesbophobic for recommending her comic when in 2007 she made a comic about catcalling lesbians and condoning street harassment.

Which is frustrating because Erika Moen writes a comic about sex toys that has incredible body and gender diversity and is interested in making sure that people of all sexualities are having safe, enjoyable sex and talking openly about it. This is Rebecca Sugar condones war crimes level discourse over a creator who makes a genuinely good comic and gets dismissed as cringe by people who hate open discussions of sex and gets dismissed as a bigot (in ways that I think are incredibly unfair given the vast majority of her work) among people who *claim* to love open discussions of sex but who *actually* love witch hunts.

565 notes · View notes

bby-deerling · 6 months

Note

I’m so glad you will write for Sanji!!

Can i please request a Sanji x reader in the whole cake arc where before that Sanji and reader would flirt and have this connection making reader think their relationship would go further but suddenly Sanji decides to ignore them making reader sad and one day he just say goodbye to the strawhats because he will marry pudding breaking reader’s heart (like tons of angst)

Thankfully luffy didn’t believe Sanji and forms a plan to rescue Sanji, so when Sanji and reader are together Sanji confess to reader that he did it to protect them and he was scared this would become his life instead of staying forever with reader?

Sorry if its too much and too especifica dear amazing writer, its okay if you don’t want to write it. I just need a Sanji angst to fluff

I’m also happy the message made you happy, it’s true! The way you write its amazing! Glad you decided to write, post it here and for my tumblr to put you in my page!

Have a nice day!

thank you so much for the request! <3 i made a few lil tweaks, but i hope you still enjoy it!

crazy (sanji x reader) angst w/a happy ending, hurt/comfort, wci spoilers. wc 1.2k

He was back.

He was back, and to everyone else it was like nothing had even happened—even Nami had forgiven him with relative ease. The whole crew was acting as if the events of the last week and some change were a complete dream, and he never left.

As if he hadn’t been about to marry someone else.

You were a complete fool, thinking you could capture the heart of a man who constantly flitted from one woman to the next. No stranger to the art of seduction, he threw himself at almost any woman that crossed his path, and on rare occasions, had gotten lucky when the occasional girl on an island would throw him a bone, but he had done so much to try to assure you his affections for you were genuine.

Neither of you had confessed your true feelings for each other outright other than Sanji's dramatic professions that you would be a fool to take seriously; prior to his departure, you had been trapped in a delicate dance back and forth with each other that had slowly bloomed into something that felt more serious—at least it did to you. It seemed so silly looking back on it—despite the way that he had toned down his flirtations with other women in order to convince you to fall for him, you should have known it was a matter of time until he went back to his natural habits. The teasing touches, comfortable silence while doing dishes, and long, emotional talks over a late-night cigarette could only have kept him captivated for so long before moving along to someone else.

Despite the massive headache and heartache the cook was causing, you couldn’t even call him on it right now; after him having been through so much with his biological family, it would be nothing short of cruel to attack him over his wandering eye. Still, you couldn’t help but hurt tremendously as he served drinks to you and Nami, mask of a smile on his face, without so much as a conversation with you about what had transpired, much less where the two of you stood with each other. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding you, slipping into the kitchen if he saw you flagging him down on the deck, and contrived some reason to leave if you entered his workspace.

As you suck on your straw deep in thought, refreshing taste of pineapple juice running down your throat, you decide to follow him back into the kitchen. You could stand him losing interest, but him avoiding anything but basic pleasantries with you was too much for you to handle.

“Ah, hello there, dear!” he says when you enter the kitchen, refusing to meet your eyes and instead feigning interest in a recipe book on the counter. “I was just about to check on Chopper and Luffy, did you need something?”

Another thinly veiled excuse. He steals a glance at you, and tenses when he sees you’re not buying it.

“Sanji, you’ve been avoiding me.” you say, voice wavering. You had intended it to come out far firmer, but your emotions were already getting the best of you before the conversation had even started.

He swallows hard, and turns to look at you. The silence pounds in your ears at he carefully chooses his words.

“I think we should have this conversation somewhere more private.” he says, sending chills down your spine. Unable to respond verbally, you nod and follow him to the aquarium bar, which was thankfully empty. He closes and locks the door, and stands behind the bar across from you; the tabletop separating you felt wider than the ocean you were sailing on. Despite him being the one to pull you away to talk, he finds it difficult to speak.

“So. I’ve been avoiding you.” he says, cringing with guilt at vocalizing his intentions. You remain silent, waiting to hear him out, and the pain in your stare breaks his heart.

“I’ve been avoiding you because I’m no good for you.” he says, staring downward and unable to bear your gaze any longer. You still don’t speak, forcing him to keep spilling his heart out, an activity that had felt effortless before, and like knives on his tongue now.

“What kind of man leaves the woman he loves to marry someone else?” he asks, hands shaking.

“The kind that wants to protect his friends.” you say, gingerly reaching out to lay your palm on top of his. He instinctively laces his fingers with yours, and the familiar touch pulls at his heartstrings.

“I did do it to protect you all, you know that, right dear?” he says, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that his betrayal was worth all of the pain it had caused.

“I know, Sanji.” you say, trying in vain to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “And you were brave for doing it.”

“Not when I’ve hurt you like this—” he insists, tears pricking in his visible eye and grip on your hand tightening.

“Sanji, what’s hurting me is you avoiding me.” you say, interrupting him, and with a firmness to your voice that makes him twitch. “What’s hurting me is you refusing to even talk to me and acting like everything we had was a dream and leaving me wondering if you ever truly cared about me at all.” Even though it needed to be said, you immediately feel guilt for saying it as his head falls into his arm and chokes back sobs.

“Of course I care, darling,” he chokes out, “I’m trying to let you go because I care. I don’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve you then, and I don’t deserve you now.” he insists, words muffled by his sleeve. You run your thumb across his hand in an attempt to comfort him, but it only seems to make him more distressed. His reaction finally gets you to break, and now both of you were sobbing messes.

“Sanji, please don’t let me go.” you plead between gasps for air. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. I should have come to you sooner to comfort you instead of letting you try to distance yourself from me. I should have known better.”

Your gazes meet, red and watery from tears. Desperately, you search his face for any sign of what his next words will be, but he stays as silent as you had been minutes before. Just as he had done, you take a shaky breath and decide to continue.

“I love you, Sanji. I love you with the constancy of the sun rising and the moon falling. I love you unconditionally. All I ask is that if you feel the same way, you stay by my side.”

Something changes in the glint of his eye as he’s suddenly stirred to life. Normally he is the one for poetic, drawn out confessions of love, but you’ve rendered him speechless as he lets go of your hand and slides over the top of the bar—in any moment less dramatic than this you would have laughed—and stands in front of you, spinning you around in your stool to face him.

“I love you, dear. On this day and every day, and all the days to come, I love you.” he whispers, softly caressing your face before leaning in to seal his confession with a kiss. It starts out chaste, but quickly turns into something messy, emotional, and passionate.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was? That I would never get to see your radiant face again and tell you how I felt?” he rasps.

“So was I, Sanji,” you whisper back, “but I’m so glad I told you now.

#one piece x reader #x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece scenario #one piece fanfiction #poor little meow meow boy #at least he got a happy ending here hehe #crazy like the patsy cline song get it get it

466 notes · View notes

mythicalviper-fr · 9 months

Text

FR Skin Contests and You (and Me)

Let’s talk about festival skin contests.

This post will be 1) about win conditions 2) my breakdown on my wins/losses. Before we start, please know a lot of this is guesswork, and based on my own perspective. Still, I hope this will be useful for some people ^^

***August/888 and I (but August mostly as it’s his idea) will be hosting an event encouraging new artists to join festival contests on 8/8. It will have a lot of tips and references to help get you started, so please keep an eye out!

When it comes to skin contests, people generally enter for one of three reasons: 1) for fun 2) because it’s seen as a milestone of skinmaking, or 3) out of a desire to push yourself to the limit knowing you’ll regret it like a Sunday hangover– but I hope that’s just me.

In my two years of participating in skin contests, I’ve seen a lot of artists join with a lot of excitement, only to give up or drop out because they aren’t winning. Some blame it on skill, others blame it on the staff, and some blame it on fellow competitors.

Here’s what I will say: like any contest, winning the festival skin contest is based on a combination of luck, knowledge, and skill. Just like any contest, there is a strategy to it and there are win conditions that you have to fulfill if you want a chance at winning. Some artists find these win conditions quickly and are able to adapt and cultivate the skill needed to pull off a win. Some are aware of these win conditions but do not yet have the skill to pull off a win. And some aren’t aware at all. A loss is usually (but not always) a result of not fulfilling those win conditions, or not fulfilling them as much as another artist.

So, let’s talk about these win conditions.

The Biggest Win Condition: Breed Variety

In my opinion, the biggest factor that makes or breaks an entry is breed variety. Over the past ten years, there's been a consistent trend of staff picking one winner per breed/pose, though there are occasional outliers (most recently, two Aether M for Brightshine, but previously also Undertide M and Spiral M). This means whenever you submit a skin, you’re competing against artists that also submitted the same breed/pose.

For those who aren’t aware, breed variety has been dropping in contests, along with the number of submissions. The result is that there are very few submissions for less popular breeds. Take a look at Brightshine 2023 - the majority of the submissions were Aethers. But even if there ended up being three Aether wins, that meant none of the other Aether skins made it in.

I want to explain this with numbers. Say Aethers (M&F) made up 60% of the Brightshine 2023 submissions but could only make it into 2 or 3/16 of the winning slots. That’s 60% of the submissions eliminated from making it into the remaining 13/16 slots. Where would the other 13/16 skins come from, if staff were to stick to their trend of 1 breed/pose skin per festival? The flight breeds - Imp and PC might take up 4 more slots. But that’s still 9/16 slots that need winners and only 30% of the submissions to pick from. Additionally, ancients will generally make up at least 40% of the winning submissions, if not 50%. That’s why having 100 submissions might mean there aren’t a lot of winners the staff could pick, and why there weren’t any Fae skins for Starfall 2022 or Spiral M skins for Mistral 2023.

I tested this theory with F Ridgeback submissions. I mainly focused on three breed/poses that I saw as the least submitted - F Noc, F Bog, and F Ridgeback. I went with Ridgeback because it was the base I liked the most. The result? Out of the 22 contests I’ve entered, I won 5 with F Ridgeback. That’s a 25% win rate with one breed/pose alone. If we factor in wins I’ve had with these three poses combined, that’s 8 wins or a 36% win rate.

Drawing on an unpopular breed/pose is a good way to make sure you don’t have too many competitors (and also show some of the more unpopular breeds some love). This is particularly true if you’re a newer artist like I was. I started doing art in June 2021, so I knew there was no chance I could outcompete better artists on the same breed/pose.

Of course, choosing the right breed will not always net you a win - you still need good skin composition and skills to catch the staff’s attention, which is what we’re going to talk about next.

Statutory Win Conditions: Flight Themes & Colors

When it comes to making a skin for a festival contest, I always recommend people look at the apparel, lore, and familiars for that flight, because these items are usually the closest to what’s canonically considered a flight’s aesthetic. A lot of the entries I’ve seen win are based off of the fest fams or match a fest apparel.

There are exceptions. The game aspect of the Lightning Flight isn’t canon, but we’ve had hivemind and gaming skins win. Why? Maybe that contest only had a total of 12-15 breed/poses submitted, maybe it was just the best executed skin for that breed/pose, maybe a staff member just really liked it. However, generally winners will match the flight’s canon aesthetic.

The trend of skin contest winners also suggest a favoring of elements that are placed on the dragon’s wings and head (leaves, vines, fairy/insect wings, gears), or accent/tattoo-like effects that involve gradient, sparkles, or abstract smoke (see 888’s 2023 brightshine win). Skin compositions that are balanced (elements throughout the body, as opposed to just one part of the body) see a higher win rate. Skins that have lower accent coverage tend to see higher win rates when they’re gradients/accents (linings on the dragon, runic/circuit effects) or when they’re concentrated on an easily noticeable/central part of the body (like the wings, or the dragon’s back).

In the end, knowing what to draw really comes down to research and knowledge. Before each contest I would review all the past winning entries and try to glean what staff did or didn’t pick. I noticed that staff didn’t tend to pick whiteout or body morph skins, and they tend to pick skins with higher coverage. I also checked past festival winners to see the color theme for each contest. There are some contests during which colors that aren’t necessarily the flight’s colors are still picked, and there are contests that haven’t seen a festival skin which didn’t match the flight’s colors. Like any contest, there’s always going to be a small bit of luck involved.

Ultimately, while I can’t speak for the staff, I do think there are win conditions that need to be fulfilled. You need to have a basic level of art skill. You need knowledge on skin composition and colors. Then, of course, you need to know which breed/pose to choose.

I hope my analysis helps a little when you’re entering your next contest, or that it made for an interesting read. If you just came here for general tips and tricks, that’s all I have for you - you can also scroll all the way down to see my final thoughts on contests. But generally, just keep trying different things, doing your research, and making sure you’re sticking to the flight theme.

For people who want it, here’s my breakdown on each series of contests that I’ve entered, and reasons why I think I won or lost.

Personal Analysis - Brightshine 2021-Brightshine 2023

I’m a very competitive person and more importantly, I love to compete. So the moment I found myself capable of making skins, festivals were on my radar. I studied what previous artists did, what techniques and designs seem to win the most. What skills did I need and what skins caught the judges' eyes? More importantly, what bases did I feel confident with and could perform the best on? As soon as I felt like I understood the contest, I entered Brightshine 2021 with about 2 weeks’ worth of art experience.

Then I proceeded to lose four contests in a row.

So, what happened?

Brightshine 2021 (loss)

Sometimes unearthing your old art is like watching an old video of yourself in your cringey teenager phase. But knowing why you lost is important in understanding how you can win (and what to absolutely not do again).

For Brightshine 2021, I submitted a Guard F design with two recolors. At the time I only had the skill to draw lanterns and filigree, so I went “that’s Light enough” and did exactly that. Although I would say my theme was (kind of) on point, it was my execution that was lacking:

Issue No. 1: Colors. In review of previous Light winners there’s a umber/gold palette or gold/sunlight palette that appears to be the meta. There have also been cases of red or purple winning even though they aren’t used in official Light items, and some rainbow entries. While one of my recolors followed this scheme, it fell short because–

Issue No. 2: Composition. Skin composition is the balance of elements and how well each element pulls their weight in a piece of art. In my Brightshine 2021 entry, most of the base was left bare. Artists like August are really good at skin comp where their entire piece looks tied together; mine was far from that.

Issue No. 3: Quality. If you compare my Brightshine 2021 submission to my 2023 one, you’ll see what I mean. My art style relies on rendering, or applying lighting and shadows, to bring out each element. Basically I need rendering in order to win. This isn’t necessarily a requirement for you; some artists do lineless, others do painterly, and others don’t render at all, but overall the art style should have a specific level of quality that rendering brought out in my art.

In short: wrong colors, bad lineart, skill issue, no skin comp - overall it was a piece of art not even its creator could love. (I tossed the psd in the recycling bin and hit delete. Except looking in the database now apparently I printed it, so now I have to live with the shame of its existence.)

There is one takeaway that I got. By the time the contest ended there were no other Guard F entries. I realized then that had my art been better, with the breed/pose’s lack of competition, I could’ve had a shot at winning the contest.

Thundercrack 2021 (loss)

Alright, 2021 Myth thinks, I’ve learned my lesson from Brightshine. The skin composition was not good. That means I should put more stuff on the base and I’m sure to win!

Have you ever just looked in the mirror and realized you, yes you, are the most punchable thing in the world?

In all fairness, the skin comp of my TCC entry did improve. Like Brightshine, I did a single design with two recolors on an unpopular breed. Improvements I made: additional elements to the skin aside from the one big element on the wing, and a color palette that matched the flight. Of course, I wished my theme of hivemind/code also matched the flight aesthetic, but just like my love life, the only thing my submission matched with was loss and disappointment.

Issue No. 1: Design. Upon reviewing past winners, very few featured fake apparel or clothing. As mentioned previously, staff do not appear to favor whiteout or body morph skins, and prefer elements that adhere to the dragon (like wings) or add to the dragon (like bones/feathers).

Issue No 2: Technology. For my entry, the circuit patterning on the wings did not take resizing well. I drew this on a 750x750 canvas and the resizing blended the many circuit lines into a single line. This isn’t a program issue. It was a lack of understanding of how resizing works.

Issue No 3: And we’re still here with my biggest problem: skill issue. Art is not a skill you learn in two months. I did learn to render, but not well enough. I wasn’t good enough. Yet.

Starfall 2021 (loss)

So… fun fact! During all of this I was writing my thesis. As in, I was writing my thesis after not writing my thesis for a year. It was stressful. I don’t have much to say about this contest because I did this skin as a meme for the sole reason that somewhere in my 3 am sleep deprived brain I thought “Emergency Portal-col” was hilarious.

I did not expect to win and I didn’t. Still, I did notice more and more that certain breeds just weren’t submitted for contests. Ridgeback F, I noticed, had anywhere from 0 to 1 submission for each contest while M pose generally had 0. Same for Nocturnes.

Riot of Rot 2021 (loss)

By this time, 2021 Myth had given up on the “one big element + some other accessories” idea. It hadn’t worked for Light or Lightning and it wasn’t going to work. So I thought, what if I just went for the accessory elements? My ROR skin featured the spider lily, smoke, and sparkles. I also started experimenting with dark gradients on the limbs of the dragon, which I’d noticed in winning fest entries.

Gradients and sparkles help with skin composition. Especially if you’re a newer artist who can’t pull off more complicated effects. Oftentimes a skin looks empty in certain parts, but adding elements to those parts would make things look messier. That’s where gradients/sparkles come in. However, I lost because:

Issue No 1: Composition again. While my elements tied together well, I had no main attraction other than the empty void that was the center of the Ridgeback wing. I essentially did a background scene and didn’t add a main character for it. This made me think that maybe my “one big element” skin comp idea was still worth a shot, but I needed a different take.

Issue No 2: Aaaand skill issue again.I was still bad at rendering, and sometimes skill is just why you lose. Not because you don’t have good ideas or because your execution was bad, but because you do not yet have the skills to defeat your competitors. You can do a really good looking skin, but if someone else in the contest did an even better looking skin on the breed/pose, then you’re not going to win.

Gala 2021 (win)

Losing four times in a row was pretty discouraging. But here’s another important element to skin contests: consistency. The frequency of your submissions should result in a win so long as you fulfill all of the other win conditions such as good composition, understanding of the theme, and the basic level of art skill required to win.

For the Gala, I realized that wings would be the best big element to put on a base while tying in all of the other elements. This is probably the most complicated skin I’d worked on at that time. But because I’d learned minimal rendering, because my skin composition was actually good, and there was no competition for Ridgeback F, I won. For the very first time.

Trickmurk 2021 - Starfall 2022 (6 wins 2 losses - 12 skin designs submitted total)

Here, I’d found my strategy. As long as I kept to the theme and made sure my skin comp and rendering was good, I would win. Especially because I had no competition. Again, breed variety is a huge issue in skin contests, because people - particularly the really skilled artists - are more likely to go for a breed that they like or is popular. As a newer artist, I was well aware that there was a 100% chance I’d lose if I tried to fight anyone for the same breed/pose. (And part of knowing the win conditions is also knowing artists you definitely are not winning against.)

3/6 of my wins during this time was F Ridgeback. The others were: F Coatl, which had no competition during Trickmurk, and F Nocturne, which had no competition during Wind and Arcane’s fests (but competed against my will to live because this is a terrible base to work on).

But relying on unpopular breed advantage was about as reliable as internet connection in a college dorm. 3/6 of my wins were ridgeback but that meant all of my losses were also ridgeback. On top of that, the number of Ridgeback submissions peaked at one point to 5-6. I was still winning, because I had the skill to beat my competitors. But I had to up my game. My skins had to be more elaborate, closer to the theme. I began submitting two designs per competition, which was… going to be a problem for me later.

The idea behind submitting two designs per competition is simple. Instead of just relying on one unpopular breed/pose to net you the win, now you have two shots at winning.

My goal that I’d made during this time was to either win 11 in a row or to win once for each holiday. This was to keep my motivation. Keep in mind I was also writing my thesis, so I really needed a goal to go towards, especially when I committed to doing two designs per contest.

(I defended my thesis successfully in May 2022 and graduated with high honors!)

ROR 2022 - Brightshine 2023 (7 wins 1 loss - 16 skin designs submitted total)

Here’s where I found another niche in the skin contests. Flight-breeds. These are breeds that belong to each element and surprisingly - they don’t actually get that many submissions. Seeing Starfall 2022’s skin turnout as an Arcanite was tough. When it came to reviewing Starfall 2022, anyone would’ve won as long as they submitted a good quality Fae skin that didn’t break the rules or stray too far from the theme and had a skin composition that the staff liked.

I decided to put my theory to the test with Earth, Ice, Wind, Water, and Nature. Are you surprised there were only three Snap F submissions for Earth, one Tun M for Ice, two SDM for Wind, and something like two Undertide F entries for Water? I was. Especially with Undertides because the breed had been released only five months ago. By noticing the flight-breed meta, and having the time, skill, and experience to make skins for those breeds that fit the criteria, I was able to win.

At this time I started straying away from my “one big element + smaller accessories” composition. My art had gotten better so I was able to expand my designs. Wavecrest 2023 was the biggest show of that, and I’m really proud of my entries for that contest. It was essentially a turning point in my art style… but it did take a lot more time and effort. From that point on, my skins were hitting 90+ layers and taking me at least two weeks to draw.

The last skin contest I entered with that art style was Brightshine 2023. By the time the contest ended, I was pretty sure winning would take a miracle or a relationship with god that I did not have. The competition for Imp M was difficult, and I was pitting my submission against artists who had far more experience and skill. I had some hope for my Ridge F entry, but again, relying on unpopular breed advantage is, well. Not reliable.

I lost. It was crushing, because not only did that mean I lost Brightshine three years in a row, Brightshine was the last contest I needed to win to fulfill either one of my goals: winning 11 in a row or win once for each elemental holiday. However, losses happen and it sucks, but it’s not the end of the world. I simply lost to a much better artist, and I am okay with that.

Final Thoughts

Heart-to-heart time.

I know some people become discouraged because they don’t think they have the skill, or they compare themselves to other artists. I felt discouraged for the same reason. After losing so many contests in 2021, I thought I would never improve. I would never be as good as artists that started long before me, or even some that started after me but learned so much faster.

I still think that’s true. I have a long way to go and I may never catch up to these other artists. But here’s the thing about art: it’s a skill that constantly evolves and you cannot see that evolution unless you keep trying. And you need to keep trying if you want to win, because you aren’t going to without reaching the right skill level.

The hardest truth about competitions is that you can’t expect to win just because you tried. If everyone could win just by participating – that contest isn’t worth winning. There are no stakes so there is no value. But when you put in a lot of effort and time, and you win? That win is something that will stay with you. That is a worthwhile win - because it was hard and because you lost so many times.

Sure, the staff could let everyone who enters win. Maybe winners should be judged solely on participation. Maybe that would make more people happy. But would you really be happy to win, knowing there’s no chance of losing? At that point, would being a festival contest winner mean anything?

In the end, a contest is supposed to be fun. Throw everything I’ve said out the window if that’s made contests un-fun for you. Most, MOST importantly, you should join the competition because you enjoy it. If you’re joining just to win, and you take losses very hard, and participation becomes a chore - then that is never going to be worth the toll on your mental health.

Take it from someone who took it too seriously. Drawing two skin designs monthly was taxing (remember it was taking me at least 2 weeks per design), and by Nature 2023 I had severe burnout. When Brightshine rolled around, I sat down for 11 hours to finish my Imp entry, because I knew I wouldn’t have time for art later. By the time I finished, I was running on about five hours of sleep and a very unhealthy attachment to caffeine.

Then, three days before Brightshine, I was diagnosed with tendonitis.

I started feeling discomfort in my arms/wrist since March, hence why I stopped releasing public skins. But this is effectively the worst arm related injury I’ve had, and while drawing is not the main cause, doing so for 11 hours straight didn’t help. My left arm has minor pain. My right arm is swollen and in a brace. This could’ve been avoided by taking breaks and doing exercises. But the lack of proper precaution led to injury. (And yes, I drew my Bogsneak TCC 2023 entry with a mouse for this reason. I could not use my tablet pen so… circle and line tool it was. But I had fun ^^)

I hope my analysis of the contests will be of some use to you. But please do not hurt yourself, mentally or physically, in competing. UMA artists make around 3kg per run of skin, so if you are entering contests for the prize, that’s not the best use of your time and energy. When it comes down to it, you are going to be doing free art for the site, and that is never worth injuring yourself for.

As a final note, thank you to the FR staff for allowing artists to participate in the site. My art experience is purely derived from skins and contests have encouraged me to improve myself. Thank you also to my friends who cheered me on along the way, the many wonderful artists who gave me tips on line weight, coloring, and rendering. And of course, many thanks to August for being the best cheerleader I could have. I would not have made it to Brightshine without him as a competitor and fellow artist.

(However nothing you do will make me like Gaolers and that is a hill I will die on.)

Happy almost-Flameforger’s everyone! Here’s to the next fest cycle.

#flightrising #flight rising #flight rising skins #fr skins and accents #fr fest #skins and accents

733 notes · View notes