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tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

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heyyyyy!! just wanted to start by saying i legit love ur writing so much ur one of my fav TH authors and i legit love seeing and reading ur stories. THEY R SO DAMN GOOD :)

anyways here the request if ur comfy lol IVE HAD THIS IDEA FOR SO LONG AND I NEED SOMEONE TO DO IT PLS QUEEN

soooo basically like 2017 soft dom tom and like we r in a car driving and like reader is rlly horny and hes teasing her LIKE CRAZYYYYY and resting his hand on her thigh and stuff and whispering dirty stuff to her giving her small neck kisses and pecks and like other teasing stuff (LOL IDK WHATEVER U WANT JUST SHIT TONE OF TEASING) and then when they get home he completely ignores reader and acts like it never happened and just acts normal and goes to watch tv on couch but then reader gets RLLY CLINGY and comes over and THEN STARTS TEASING TOM ON COUCH and like reader whispers stuff to him and neck kisses and the tom gets rlly nervous and then he gives up and like eats her out till shes BEGGING HIM TO STOP (so like some overstim) and then they fuck and yeah just smut smut smut. and tom and reader with praise kink and lots of dirty talk pretty pls. <3

HAH SORRY THAT WAS KINDA LONG AND DETAILED BUT YEAH ITS LEGIT MY DREAM STORY. pls only write if ur comfortable but yeah u can add whatever u want that would fit with the story and YEAH PLS MAKE IT GOOD!!! (u will ur amazing) yeah thankyouuuuuuuuu <3 :)

DESPERATE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you can’t contain yourself, basically throwing yourself at tom. he knows it, but wants to make you wait as long as he can, and it drives you crazy. but, he makes you realise that you should be careful what you wish for.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon i’m glad u love my work, and i hope this lives up to ur expectations. also never written for older tom before so thanks for being my first req to write him🙏

he saw the glances i sent his way, the way my legs squeezed together, palms becoming a little sweaty. he noticed my breathing becoming a little erratic, teeth sinking into my bottom lip, feet tapping impatiently against the floor. he knew exactly what i wanted. but, even when i leaned over, running my hands across his inner thighs, closer and closer to his clothed dick, he kept his eyes on the road, knowing that he was driving me crazy, and he liked it.

“thinking of ordering pizza for dinner. you down?” he asks, completely ignoring my hands which are now directly over his crotch, and my eyes on him, filled with desire. he knows exactly what is doing, the slight smirk tugging on his lips telling me that, and i know that he won’t give up his little game yet. i am in for a long night, my eyes set on feeling him inside of me, willing to do literally anything to get that satisfaction, completely aware that he isn’t going to make it easy for me.

but, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease me either.

“mmm, i’d rather have you instead.” i mutter, knowing that he heard me.

we stop at a red light and he turns to me, his eyes dark, a familiar look of lust present within them. that same smirk is still on his face as he slowly leans over, planting a slow kiss just below my ear, his breath tickling the skin as he whispers into it. “who says you can’t have both?”

my eyes widen, the heat between my thighs only increasing, his words quickly causing me to become flustered, my cheeks flushing a light shade of crimson. he sees this, a small laugh escaping his lips as he plants soft kisses at my neck, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the harsh metal of his lip ring as it dances around the skin of my neck, my head tilting to the side to give him better access. his actions are abruptly cut off by the sound of a horn behind us, tom’s head shooting upwards, the traffic lights already having turned green.

he quickly adjusts himself, flashing me a quick wink before pulling his head out of my neck and beginning to drive away. my eyes focus on his hand on the gearstick, the way his veins flex, fingers tightly holding onto it, wanting nothing more for them to be moving inside of me. as if he had read my mind, he removes his hand, placing it onto my thigh, letting it travel further upwards, moving closer and closer to the place i need him most, his head still facing the road as he looks blankly at it as if he isn’t teasing me to the point that i could scream.

he moves his hand flat against me, and my body jerks in shock, his fingers slowly rubbing my clothed clit, he sees the reaction he gets out of me by doing this, smiling to himself before abruptly moving his hand away, returning it to its previous position on the gearstick as i whine in frustration.

“baby why’d you stop?” i sigh, placing my hand over his and trying to move it back over my heat, but he refuses, keeping it set on the gearstick.

“stop acting so impatient, liebe, or you know you won’t get anything. be good for me and maybe i’ll give you what you want, you just gotta wait till we get home, mhm?” he taunts, watching the way i quickly nod my head, smiling at my obedience, placing his hand back on my thigh, torturing me as his thumb begins slow movements over it.

so i stayed put, trying to distract myself literally however i could, the drive home seeming like hours as each second wasted time, time that could be spent with him inside of me. the teasing never stopped, tom kissing my ear, neck, collarbone, cheek, anywhere his lips could access whenever we stopped at a red light, promising that he’d give me what i so desperately needed once we got home. so i held on, restricting myself, his words keeping me going, acting as motivation as the reward of holding back was completely worth it.

a sigh of relief escapes my parted lips once he turns onto our driveway, my hands scrambling to undo the seatbelt, literally unable to contain myself at this point. tom however, takes his time, not stepping out of the car until i have reached the front door, unable to get in as he pulls the key from his pocket, slowly unlocking the door. i expect him to move onto me the second we walk in, pushing me against the wall, attacking me with kisses, showing me that he meant his promise, but he does the opposite.

he slowly kicks his shoes off, walking into the kitchen as i stand there, pissed off and feeling completely let down. i join him in the kitchen as he stands on his phone, leaning against the counter, a smile forming on his lips once he sees me walk in.

“what pizza do you want babe? i’m feeling like pepperoni.” he utters those words so nonchalantly, as if the things he had said to me, the way he had touched me in the car were all figments of my imagination. i mumble a small ‘get me anything, i don’t care’, before trudging to the living room, sexually frustrated, completely done with his teasing.

he joins me soon after, patting my thigh gently as he sits beside me, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the channels as if i wasn’t sat next to him, bored and desperate. i had reached my breaking point.

“tom…” i trail off, leaning towards him, my lips pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck, taking note of the way his breathing begins to quicken, knowing that i am slowly getting to him. but he doesn’t show it yet, his expression still blank, eyes still set on the tv in front of him.

“baby…” i mutter against his skin, my hand reaching for his crotch, palming him as a low groan emits from his now parted lips. he shuffles in his seat a little, adjusting himself and clearing his throat. still nothing. i reach underneath his t-shirt, my fingers tracing his abs, feeling every muscle, lips still attached to his neck. he doesn’t give in, keeping me waiting, which only frustrates him even more, but i can feel him slowly giving in, only motivating me more.

“please, i promise i’ll be good…” i slowly say, looking upwards at him before climbing onto his lap, straddling him as he has no choice but to look into my eyes. “i’ll be so good…”

i repeat my words, dipping my head so that it is underneath his chin, kissing his neck once again, sucking gently on the skin as i try to leave marks. but i am not finished yet. i slowly begin to grind against his clothed dick, moving back and forth at a teasingly slow pace. it doesn’t take long for his hands to grip at my hips, completely stopping my movements. bingo.

“so fucking impatient.” he mumbles, switching us around in one swift motion as he lays me on the couch, moving on top of me and messily colliding his lips with mine. “couldn’t wait at all could you, hm?”

i say nothing, too busy focusing on the way his lips move against mine. he clearly isn’t wasting anytime as i feel his hands move to my leggings, hooking his fingers around the hem, tugging them and my panties down, raking them down my legs and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. my own hands scramble for his t-shirt, taking it off of him and letting it find the pile of clothes on the floor, my own t-shirt and his pants following, only his boxers between us.

he reconnects our lips as a quiet ‘please’ escapes from my mouth, wanting more than just a kiss, having waited all night for this.

“please what? you know you have to use your words schatz.” he teases, his forehead against mine, waiting for me to speak.

“need you to touch me.” i whine, my hands finding his neck as i play with the loose strands of hair, watching the way he nods his head, seeming satisfied with my answer.

he crawls downwards, kissing each part of my body as he does so, nipping gently at the skin, enjoying the way my breathing is fast and heavy, low whines escaping my mouth. he reaches my inner thighs, still planting small kisses, one hand on each leg as he forces them both apart, letting his head rest in-between them, stopping his motions and looking upwards at me, his eyes meeting mine.

“you sure?” he asks, knowing full well what my answer is, using his breath to ask such a pointless question, knowing that it will only get me more riled up.

“yes tom just- fuck! touch me, ple-.” i sigh out, my pleading soon cut off when i feel his tongue delve into me, my mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as i my hands find their way into his hair, pushing him further into me.

“oh my god!” i cry, feeling his tongue hit all the right spots inside of me, knowing that it won’t take long for the familiar knot to form in my stomach, his teasing meaning that the smallest of touches had the biggest effect on me. he groans against me, the bass in his throat sending a vibration through me, yet another moan spilling from my lips, his name never being said this many times before.

his pointer finger finds its way to my clit, rubbing slow circles whilst his tongue continues to drill inside of me, my release building up inside of me.

“getting close. don’t stop, oh my god please don’t stop!” i beg, my hands lost within the thick strands of brunette hair, the previous tidy bun messy thanks to me, but he didn’t seem to mind, only focused on feeling me get to my end.

his tongue touches my g-spot, a high pitch moan unlike no other i had uttered coming from the back of my throat. he picks up on this, directly hitting that spot over and over, my vision clouding, eyes rolling to the back of my head, way too lost in pleasure to process the fact that the knot in my stomach had released, tom swallowing all of my juices. i expect him to stop, my chest heaving up and down, coming down from my high, every part of me sensitive, but he keeps going at a fast pace - if not quicker than before.

“too much! can’t take it.” i breathe out, my thighs squeezing against his head, careful not to apply too much pressure, but he only smiles against me, completely ignoring my pleas.

“you wanted me to touch you.” he mutters into me, replacing his mouth with his fingers so he can speak more clearly. “so that’s what i’m gonna do schatz.”

and he sticks to his words, his tongue moving back inside me, the overstimulation quickly taking over, my entire body jolting when he hits the sensitive spots inside of me, unable to take the pleasure.

“please…i can’t…too much…”

my words are incoherent, not able to form full sentences as i feel another release building up.

“not stopping until you say the word baby.” he mumbles against me, referring to our safe word that i have only had to use once. he knows that i won’t say it, secretly enjoying the pleasure despite the pain that comes with it, taking all of it in. “you can give me one more, doing so well.”

i take in every single word of praise he gives me, using it to work through the pain, focusing on the pleasure, using it to guide me to my release, my eyes squeezing shut, head falling backwards as it takes over, my back arching off of the couch, this one much more powerful than the last. he swallows everything, planting a few kisses on my lips as i wince, completely spent. my body lays limp on the couch, his moving upwards so that he is hovering above me. he kisses me softly, his thumb reaching upwards and wiping a few tears that i hadn’t even realised had fallen.

he sits up, taking his boxers off, stopping them at his knees, not even bothering to fully remove him. he lifts my body, sitting me on top of him so i am straddling him.

“you did so well baby. you think you can handle just one more, for me?” he asks, running his hands up and down my hips, watching as i tiredly nod my head, a small smile spreading across his face.

i position myself onto him, slowly sliding downwards as he fills me up.

“fuckkkk.” he drags out, his head falling backwards and resting on the top of the couch, his hands tightly holding my hips, fingers digging into the flesh.

i stop about halfway, feeling completely full, not sure how i will be able to take all of him. he sees that i am struggling, kissing my cheeks gently , moving down to my collarbone.

“you feel so good baby, keep going, you’re almost there. shit- so fucking good.”

low groans escape his mouth as i nod my head, continuing to sink onto him until i am fully sat on him, my mouth dropping open, wincing a little at the pain, his fingers nothing compared to the size of him. i place my hands on his chest, trying to steady myself as i begin bouncing up and down, tom moaning loudly, his hands never leaving my hips, watching me move on him.

“so fucking tight, oh my god…” he sighs out, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as i speed up my movements, whining as he hits a totally new angle, never feeling so good, so full before.

his forehead glistens with sweat, muscles flexing every time he squeezes my hips, his fingers leaving marks into my skin, but i don’t complain, the feeling only increasing my stamina. my walls clench around him unconsciously, tom groaning whenever i do it, the feeling only bringing him closer to the edge.

“just like that.” he groans, his voice deep. “yeah, shit baby- feels so good.”

after my two orgasms, it doesn’t take me long to become tired, my movements slow and sloppy. my body collapses onto his chest, frustrated as i am getting close, unable to get there myself. he notices this quickly, beginning to thrust upwards into me, loud moans echoing throughout the room as i try my best to meet his movements, rotating my hips a little, feeling him deeper inside me than i ever have before.

“i’m close. don’t stop.” i manage to say, messily colliding his lips with mine, his tongue exploring my mouth whilst his strokes remain strong and deep, hitting all the right spots.

“me too baby.” he mutters between kisses. “almost there, you’re doing so so well.”

his dick twitches inside of me as he thrusts in and out a few more times, before his cum shoots into me. his head quickly falls backwards, eyebrows furrowing, mouth falling open as a long groan falls from it, his release triggering my own as i clench around him for the last time. he thrusts a few more times, riding out our highs, our heavy breathing and skin slapping together the only thing sounding throughout the quiet room.

he kisses my lips once more, pulling apart as his forehead leans against mine, arms holding me within his embrace, skin pressed together.

“you did so good meine liebe. took me so well.” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath as i am unable to respond, totally worn out, my body weak as it rests in his for support.

his lips gently kiss my forehead, one hand running through my hair whilst the other gently strokes my back, his breathing calming down as he utters sweet nothings in my ear until i fall asleep within his embrace, completely exhausted.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz smut #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz

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nerd-at-sea5 · 4 months

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i keep seeing sm anti percabeth (idk how i am very pro percabeth tumblr what are you doing) and like. i feel like a large amount of people forget that they are both massively traumatized kids/teenagers who are in their first and only relationship.

they’re gonna fuck up, they’re gonna be a little toxic, but overall they’re is so much communication and time and like. life that we DONT see.

percy is also an unreliable narrator (no hate but he is), he’s sarcastic and sometimes people don’t pick up on his sarcasm. he insults himself a lot and he really does see some things with rose colored glasses

annabeth and him were also friends first, so a lot of how they behave is very friend-like. the teasing of being smart (god knows my friend and i tease each other religiously for being smart or not smart). honestly the judo flip as well (can’t tell you how many times my friends and i have thrown punches at one another and before you say ‘yes well he’s an abuse victim! so it’s different!!’ yeah, so are some of my friend and so am i. we’ve talked about it, and don’t step out of line) communication is important kids!! (so is consent!!!! had to throw that in there)

we didn’t see them talk about it! they 100% did, why else would annabeth be comfortable enough doing it?

anyway i know this is a long ass rant, i’m just mildly annoyed that people think these traumatized kids with absolutely no therapy experience whatsoever are going to be 110% perfect 24/7, like yeah they’re a great relationship but hey, they’ve still fucked up. we all have

* also ik i didn’t go into every single minor detail. i am not that focused. i’ve got adhd and it’s vacation so fuck that. i also haven’t reread in a while (rlly into fantasy right now) so…..sue me 🤷

#pjo #hoo #toa #percabeth #percy x annabeth #annabeth x percy #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo disney+#pjo discourse #rick riordan #riordanverse

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junosmindpalace · 10 months

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may i request a gojo x reader one shot where y/n is gojo's former student, after she graduated she went out of the country then after 5 yrs she comes back to work at tokyo jujutsu high as a teacher like gojo. y/n used to have a crush on gojo back then (maybe she still does 😋) and now that y/n's back after a long time gojo kinda missed her so they often spend time together. y/n keeps convincing herself it's just some kind of friendly reunion, nothing more but one day during the sister school goodwill event she gets jealous when she sees gojo teasing utahime and interacting with her. gojo wonders what got y/n into a pissy mood and y/n is like "why do you even care? just go back to your flirting session" then that's where gojo finds out she's just jealous. he'll tease her and idk maybe a confession between them will follow? i'm rlly sorry i suck at explaining things but i hope you get most of it and this gets accepted 😭 thanks! 💓

UNKNOWN / NTH

hi anon! thank you for your request and patience! i changed a couple of details in this request and it turned out soo weirdly angst but the main idea is still there! i hope that’s alright!

3.2k words. a little all over the place.

“call me every single day, you hear me? you can’t leave me all alone with this guy.”

shoko doesn’t even look over her shoulder as she jabs her thumb toward the white haired teen standing behind her shoulder, who drops his mouth open in disbelief at her insulting tone. the tension in your chest eased up as you laughed.

“of course.”

leaving your friends so soon after graduating was hard to wrap your head around, even with a car waiting to take you to the airport outside the gates of the jujutsu tech building and the occasion bump into your suitcase as you shifted your weight between your legs.

with the assassination of the star plasma vessel and the suguru incident that made your worlds turn upside down, it seemed reasonable that you’d want to stay; immerse yourself in something familiar. but staying at jujutsu tech--in japan all together--was overwhelming. you needed time to figure and sort yourself out; cope without having to relive painful memories every time you passed where the incidents took place.

leaving the two people who helped you cope during the ordeal with suguru was difficult, but though they too were pained to part from their friend, they also understood the importance of your leave. they weren’t too stressed, though. you’d stay in touch. you promised.

shoko stepped forward to give you one final departing gift, wrapping her arms around your neck as you immediately reciprocated, and in shoko’s arms did you mull over whether this was the right choice for you for the nth time.

a couple moments pass before the two of you pull apart, with shoko whispering a threatening “you better call.” one final time, jabbing an accusing finger at you as if you had already broken your promise, before stepping off to the side to allow satoru to get his own affairs in order. he stepped toward you with a roll of his eyes.

satoru gojo has been an insufferable ass ever since you met him in your first year. to you, he once came off inconsiderate and ill-mannered, and to satoru, you once came off stuck up and uptight. yet somehow the mutual distaste you two had for each other upon first meeting turned into a friendship filled with teasing.

it felt weird leaving satoru behind especially, because somehow along the bumpy road the two of you took to get to where you were now, something yet again shifted in the way you viewed him, a shift you were still unfamiliar with. it felt strange leaving without it figured out. but you’d get a chance to, you hoped. like with everything else in your bizarre life.

your usual banter insued as satoru took hold of the handle on your suitcase, swinging it back and forth before loading it into the open trunk. you threatened satoru to look out for himself and not be too much of a nuisance while you were away as he did so. he clicked his tongue as he brought the trunk down with a thud! and waved off your false threats.

”don't miss me too much, y/n.” he smirked over his shoulder, tinted glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he stepped back up on the sidewalk. cerulean eyes shone under the morning sunlight, fixed on you with an intense gaze in contrast to his easy smile. you looked over your shoulder as you opened the rear car door, mimicking his expression.

”won't be a problem.”

the first couple of months went strong. you upheld your promise of calling shoko frequently, and satoru would often squeeze himself into the frame of shoko’s camera to tease or hurl an insult toward you. she’d shoo him off or laugh along, because she too missed the playful banter you all once immersed yourselves in. and though you were far from the paths you once trekked with your friends, only ghosts of those moments lingering on them now, at least there was no trace of your dying friendship.

more time passed and contact became less frequent. life went on, and keeping in touch as regularly as you once did became increasingly difficult. only on occasion were you able to organize a chat, so much yet so little to be said. each new life event shared left you to ponder over even hours after you had hung up the phone.

and soon enough, a decade had passed. ten years you thought you’d spend in agony over being away from the people and places you considered home flew by considerably fast, and the thought nauseated you slightly as you reminisced on memories from your youth.

the nostalgia of your teenage years lingered like a light fog in your mind, always finding some way to trace even the most mundane of things back to your old friends, especially satoru gojo. even after ten long, busy years, you still found that annoying white haired friend of yours lingering in the back of your mind.

though so much time had passed, you hadn’t gone cold turkey with your communication from your friends; only infrequent. you knew of the important things: the promising new students at jujutsu tech, satoru becoming a teacher, the curse that was rika, the night parade of a hundred demons, toji’s son that satoru was now looking over—suguru’s death. all things recollected to you from your texts with shoko and gojo. though neither of them were quite big on details.

ten years has definitely granted you time to think, to organize, to consider and try new things. you worked through complicated feelings, you met new people, you saw and experienced new things, and certainly had all those things teach you a couple of important lessons.

and ultimately, after over a decade, you made the decision to return to japan as a teacher at jujutsu tech.

around this time, you felt a consistent nagging as if there was still a missing, unsorted piece of your life. you believed that perhaps the decision to return home was spurred by the growing intensity of it. it built up slowly over your less frequent phone calls and text conversations with your old friends and the ever growing amount of changing of their lives back home. though perhaps suguru’s death compelled you to return as well.

you returned the following year after the night parade of a hundred demons. you convinced yourself it would just be a friendly reunion like with the rest of your old friends, but the second you were standing face to face with satoru, your heart said otherwise.

it wasn’t unusual to feel anxious when reuniting with someone, but the painstakingly long pause that followed upon being reunited after so many years made you suppress a shudder. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the troublemaker you used to go to school with. It was hard to believe he was even real.

you used the silence to get a good look at him, just to make sure it was truly him (and you think satoru was doing the same, regardless of his six eyes.) he had gotten even taller, and he now wore his messy locks of snow white hair up. his uniform was still fitted as it used to be, always just a bit baggier than his tall frame.

but the most prominent difference was his new defining feature, and so you decided to comment on it first. satoru was still in a sort of trance (of shock you guessed; your only indicator were his slightly parted lips) when you broke the ice with a smirk and the words he had parted with you over a decade ago.

"hope you didn’t miss me too much, satoru. what's with the tacky blindfold?”

and the grin that followed on his lips stretched from ear to ear.

satoru your coworker wasn't all that different from satoru your classmate. he was still as childish as ever, irritated by the higher ups and an irritation to all those around him. you found that out rather quickly when reuniting with yaga and nanami. you made a dramatic fuss over how much they both had changed, nanami shyly looking down with a slight frown reminiscent of the signature one he wore when he was younger. you didn’t feel it was appropriate to bring up haibara or suguru at any point.

but your relationship with satoru your coworker was off from your relationship with satoru your classmate. It had been years, and you’ve fallen into your normal rhythm with satoru pretty quickly and easily on the surface. but the passage of time was still evident in your conversations as it was with the changes in your appearances. time matured him (or most likely his ordeals with suguru). even his manner of speaking was so serious sometimes that it caught you off guard. it felt even worse than having him hate you, treating you as if you were a stranger hurting that much more.

so much yet so little had changed. you were taken aback by the amount of maturity in his reasoning for wanting to become a teacher, even if it was so out of place for him, over a catch up brunch. it almost made you feel as if he were a stranger, with a new sense of maturity coupled with his new, more distant look and behaviour.

he’d tease you like he always did, but it didn't have as much bite. he'd show you around tokyo, treating you to desserts and jokingly gifting you funny souvenirs; but because satoru had become so unfamiliar, it didn’t feel as comforting as you thought it would.

and that nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite put your finger on arose again.

you reunited with mei mei and utahime during the sister school goodwill event, with the latter enveloping you in a large hug reminiscent of the ones you received when you left them over a decade ago. they had all stayed relatively close, with utahime becoming a teacher like satoru at the sister school in kyoto.

you were good friends with her, always defending her from satoru’s insults and indulging in her (in your case, faux) hatred toward satoru. you two had also stayed in close contact, appreciating all the emotional support she provided and her updates on the events in her life and the jujutsu world (with complaints about satoru tossed in here and there).

which is why your jealousy was irrational, you thought to yourself as you watched satoru and utahime in the monitoring room. you knew satoru and utahime being the last two people in the world wouldn’t make them fall in love. even if they were, your jealousy was still out of place. if anything, you should feel happy for your two old friends.

but perhaps it had more to do with the distance and familiarity satoru and utahime were able to maintain, even if it was their regular quarreling and distaste for one another. perhaps the way they were able to slip into the routine they’ve kept up for so many years, no matter how ruthless it was, ate at you, reminded you of how different things were between you and satoru. you weren’t two teenagers who’d sometimes catch each other’s stares from across a room. you weren’t attending school together and going on missions.

and the distance was bound to strain your relationship. but you figured that if there was anyone you’d be able to break back into routine with, it was the troublemaker you had known since the two of you were fresh faced students like the ones he now mentors.

it was all those little things stacked atop each other, that casual and distant demeanor satoru treated you with as if you were a stranger, time staring back at you in the mature way he, shoko and utahime carried themselves, and satoru slipping into a routine that you were sure you and him would be able to maintain with someone else, made that whole tower of unease fall apart with that final crack.

he had walked off after you after you had excused yourself from the room, feeling sick the more you thought about the large gap in memories, in time, in knowledge, between you and the others.

“jealous?” he smirked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst (and deeply curious, since it was so out of character for you).

“not a chance.”

not in the way he was suggesting, at least. you waved him off. “go back to your flirting session.”

and Satoru stopped in his tracks, recoiling in disgust over the mere implication. because even he knew that you would never think such a thing of his relationship with utahime, even if he were to one day tell you that something was going on.

perhaps it was the distance, satoru thought to himself sadly. because while to you satoru didn’t seem to be all that affected by your return, he still saw in you that old classmate of his that made his face burn with simply the strength they exhibited, with only a short meeting of gazes from across a room as a teenager, and his heart ached at emotional distance. there was no way that classmate that knew which treats to bribe him with and what games were his favorite would ever assume such a thing about him.

getting through to one another was never easy, both of you equally stubborn in your resolve. and when you throw this terrible distance, these horrible feelings of insecurity and confusion, it made the miscommunication between the two of you that much worse.

but satoru remembers the day you left as if no time had passed at all. he remembers the rising lump in his throat as he watched you say your goodbyes with shoko. he remembers the wave of fear that washed over him as he watched you turn your back from him, reminiscent of the event that took place when his best friend left him for good. he remembers the confession on the tip of his tongue as he looked down at you and into your sharp gleaming eyes, words he’s debated with himself for years over whether or not he was a coward or a hero in not saying.

and right now, as he stares at your confused and hurt expression, your back turned to him yet again, all those feelings wash over him and he feels as if it may be the former, because now he’s let his insecurity hurt you. but he also knows that whether he was a coward or hero then doesn’t matter now. he wouldn’t allow a repeat of what happened all those years ago. he wouldn't let himself hesitate.

he reached to grab your wrist, and you harshly recoiled, shooting him an angry glare from across your shoulder. “what the- hell, satoru? would you just-”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“whatever. I don’t-”

suguru knew him better than anyone. shoko knows him better than anyone. you know him better than anyone.

“utahime? really? i would think that you know me better than that.”

the pout on his face seeped into his voice, and you further struggled in his grip. “things change with time, satoru. you can’t expect me-”

the distance was fine. satoru could do distance. but it was this misunderstanding that made his stomach churn uncomfortably. it was the fact that he seemed so unknown to you. that you seemed so unknown to him. who knew that such a minor misunderstanding would carry so much emotional baggage, invoke such strong reactions from the two of you?

“can’t use that excuse if i’ve always been in love with you.”

you immediately stopped fidgeting, staring at satoru’s serious expression with wide eyes. his pout settled into a deep frown, and you’re absolutely despising the fact that you can’t see his eyes with that stupid new blindfold. stupid time. stupid change.

“i’m in love with you,” he said again with a shrug. “and that never changed.”

silence. all you could do is continue to stare at him as he held your wrist. but then you inhaled sharply and satoru released his grip. you took another deep breath, and then…

“how the hell am I supposed to know something like that? it’s been over ten years, satoru gojo. everything feels different- you look different!- and you expect me to know you’ve been in love with me for how long?”

you ranted all your anger toward him as you jabbed a finger into his chest, while he continued to stare down at you with a frown and his hands now buried in his pockets. his lack of a reaction only added to your frustration, and you still felt as if you were staring at a stranger.

“take off that damn blindfold.”

his mouth drops into a small o for a moment, before he brings a hand to his face. it feels as if an agonizing amount of time passes as satoru slips the blindfold down from his eyes to hang over his neck. his hair falls into that familiar disheveled heap, and you’re immediately met with a familiar rush of anxiety rushing through your veins as you make eye contact with his blue ones.

big and bright, and staring down at you with so much longing. his hand stays on his blindfold, and the frown stays etched into his face, but you can finally see those eyes. the ones that sent a wave of warmth over you when they connected with yours. the ones you found yourself gazing at as you leaned your head against a desk, admiring them from a sideways angle as they glistened in a ray of sunlight. one’s you knew you could rely on, not because they belonged to the strongest or because of the power they held, but because they belonged to your best friend, to the boy that made your heart stutter.

and you’re too emotional finally seeing your satoru gojo to care about the fact that you were now sobbing into satoru’s chest in relief over something familiar, and you cried even harder when his arms wrapped around your frame, head resting sideways into your hair. and you felt stupid for breaking down over something so childish, so minor.

but maybe some things didn’t change and maybe some change was for the better. because you’ve had over ten years to figure yourself out and so did satoru, and with your decision to return home was your decision to return to satoru synonymous with it.

and you felt satoru finally smile a genuine and childish and familiar sort of smile, into your hair, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about how stupid you felt in that moment.

and that final unsorted piece of your life finally stopped nagging at you, as if satoru had exorcised a curse that lingered on your back these past ten years. those confusing and unidentifiable feelings you felt for satoru way back when. together, you’d be able to rebuild your relationship with satoru into the way it used to be all those years ago, not a single detail unknown, so you could put all those insecurities and fear to rest.

#juno answers!#in honour of jjk s2!#title is a hozier reference but not based entirely on the song </3 #ive edited this a thousand times and im STILL not satisfied. will revisit when i have a clearer mind #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo headcanons #satoru gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #gojo angst #gojo fluff

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leclerced · 5 months

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OK OK ORR (not rlly a req bc idk how you’d write this?) but innocent reader being best friends with Oscar and telling him u fingered urself for the first time/came for the first time and he’s trying to stay calm & supportive like he’s not the hardest person ever rn😭 hed be fighting for his life trying to keep his tone composed fnfnfnf hoping she doesn’t look down at his bulge

oh my GOD! i got an idea an ran with it i hope u like it babes

she’s never had a real orgasm before even though she’s had sex a few times w dif boyfriends, but they couldn’t get her off and she just didn’t really know how to do it herself, she could never push herself over the edge. so one day she stumbles upon a sex shop and gets a little bullet on a whim, goes back to the hotel and has her first ever orgasm. she’s super excited about it the next day and he notices her good mood and asks about it and she says “it’s nothin! just had a really good nights sleep, comfy bed.”

he slept horribly the night before, so he jokes, “mind if i sleep in your bed tonight? mines shit” for some reason, the teasing tone makes her flush and she blinks at him stupidly for a second, mind drifting to how she’d planned on trying to make herself cum again. “sorry, i didn’t mean-“

he tries to take it back but she cuts him off, “no it’s fine- uh, that’s- we can have a movie night.” he nods and grins, trying to figure out why she’s acting different today but forgets about it when he gets busy with work until he’s back in her hotel room later that night. she’d just gotten out of the shower when he arrived and she was in cute matching pajama shorts and a long sleeve henley when she opens the door to his knock.

like they have dozens of times, they crawl into bed together and he wraps his arms around her. despite being more comfortable laying in this bed, it’s because she’s in it and he’s not alone. his back is aching from last night and he’d actually hoped he’d gotten stuck with an old mattress and that her’s would be newer and softer, but both were firm and he didn’t sink into it like he wanted. “your bed feels like a rock, no way you got any good sleep on it last night.” he teasingly complains.

she sighs and after a moment she confesses, “yeah, thats not why i had a good nights rest.” it feels safe laying in bed like this with him, like she can say whatever without fear of judgement or being overheard.

his eyebrows raise and he hums, “what’s that? have you been smoking again?” he huffs, “that’s not fair, i can’t do it.”

she giggles, “you know i only do that at home. no i uh- god, this is embarrassing. i’ve never had an orgasm- well before last night.”

oscar’s breath hitches and she feels his fingers twitch against her stomach where his hand slipped under her shirt. “really? how? i didn’t know that.” clearly he didn’t know that, but he’d assumed.

she huffs, “kinda thought i couldn’t, some women can’t. but i got a vibrator yesterday and i- sorry, i don’t know why i’m giving you all the details- but i slept well because of it.” she ends it with an awkward giggle, thankful she can’t see the look on his face and he can’t see the flush on hers. he’s thankful for another reason, happy that she’d gotten herself off, happy that no one else had done it. his eyes have gone dark and all he’s thinking about is the fact that she’s had one orgasm in her entire life and it was the night before, in this very bed. he’s thinking about the sounds she made, how she looked, how good it felt after years of disappointment.

he clears his throat but his voice still comes out thick, “you don’t have to apologize, can tell me anything. i wouldn’t make fun of you.” he tries to push back the thoughts, but his cock is already half hard from his wandering mind and he’s praying she can’t feel it pressed against her.

she lets out a little laugh, her body shifting against his and his hand twitches against her skin again, fingers pressing into her stomach as she says, “i know that, but you don’t care about my lack of orgasms. not like it would’ve mattered anyways.”

oscar’s mind spins and he can’t help but say, “could’ve just made you cum if you told me sooner.” he can’t take it back, doesn’t want to take it back even though she goes silent and still in his arms. he starts to regret it just before she’s turning in his arms and pressing her lips to his before he even registers they’re face to face

he’d make her cum in every way he can think of to make up for lost time, for every guy she’d fucked that hadn’t made her cum. and even though they’d sleep really well for about two hours before he has to go to the track, they’d both be exhausted all day.

#ask #anon #oscar piastri smut #op81 blurb #op81 smut #op81

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feluka · 5 days

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Hi, I don’t rlly know how to explain this but I’ll try haha.

I recently found out I have Egyptian and specifically Coptic ancestry, through family tree making, matching with cousins, gedmatch, dna testing, etc and now personal confirmation from family/ancestors.

The problem is idrk who was the Coptic ones in my family as my dad died when I was four and I’ve had no contact with his family at all since. I know it came from his mother, but I can’t even give you her name let alone where she was from, or anything. Although I want to learn more and reconnect and eventually find out who they were exactly. It’s just hard because my dad’s living family has no contact w us and since he’s dead, it’s been hard to get records as well.

I would like to learn more about Coptic culture and Egypt in general but I am worried about people considering me a ‘culture thief’ since I only recently. found this out a few months ago but didn’t really have 100% confirmation until like 2 weeks ago. And even though I can prove genetically I have ancestry Coptic I can’t really say who my ancestors were which would probably make some skeptical.

Especially because I am African American and there already exists a rift between Egyptians and AAs bc of hoteps who claim Egyptian culture/claim Egyptians are just Arabs who ‘stole’ Egyptian culture. I want to be respectful but I’m unsure how to navigate this.

I guess I’m asking if you have any idea how I should move forward, or if you know of any resources to learn more? I want to be respectful, but I would also love to start to reconnect even if I don’t know where my ancestors were exactly from other than ‘Egypt’.

Hello! First of all, this is both a very respectful and a very personal ask, so I want to thank you for trusting me with that. I hope my answer can help you find peace with the matter a little.

Instead of trying to figure out if the overall sentiment of trying to reconnect is harmful or not, because there's really no answer to that in and of itself, and instead stop at every individual action taken to reconnect and asking: could this be harming anybody?

For example, if you'd like to pick up Coptic language lessons, could this action possibly be harmful to anyone? Not really. Is reading about Coptic culture and engaging with what survived of it in modern day harmful? I don't think so.

The only possible thing that I can think of that might be harmful is, I have awful experiences with certain diaspora Copts who have never really engaged with the community nor know much of it, who suddenly butt in conversations about Coptic politics in Egypt like they're an expert on it despite never having been or known anything about it themselves, but from the way you've written this ask I doubt you're the kind of person to do that anyway, seeing as you're being very respectful and that you recognize that there's some dissonance in your experience (which there's no shame in, but the self awareness is helpful as a guide of when to participate and when not to!)

I don't know if I said this before on this blog but, to my knowledge, the matter of the hotep subculture entails far more than just questioning the Egyptian identity, and seeing as I'm neither African American nor Black at all, I don't think it's my place to comment on it. I invite any of my Black followers to contribue to intra-community discussion in the reblogs/comments for you to read, though!

All I can promise you is that even if the notion that the population of Egypt was displaced rather than converted during the Arab conquest of Egypt is false, there still are Black Egyptians and there always have been. Sadly I'm sure there will always be people who try to make you feel like a pretender, but that is true of so many things and regardless of what you do, so always remember thay Black people have always been part of Egypt's history, and that nobody is entitled to know your personal details or family history and you don't need to disclose anything you're not comfortable with to prove anything to them.

As for resources, there's always a lot on Egyptology in general, so the specific topics that would be helpful to be aware of are: modern history of Copts (or Copts post the Arab Conquest of Egypt), the persecution of Copts, the decline of the Coptic language and the efforts to revive the language. The last two are especially pertinent nowadays.

Lastly you can always ask other Copts! I may not have all the answers but I'm sure between me and my followers we can find something helpful for you if you're trying to find a specific resource of have more questions. (The scarcity of resources is something we *all* have to deal with, even us here in Egypt, I'm afraid, but it's not a lost cause! You'd be surprised how much is out there on internet archives.)

I hope you have a lovely day. ♥️

#asks

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kindaasrikal · 2 months

Text

“This, is a soul stone.”

“A…soul stone?”

“Yes. Once a soul leaves its physical form they create a soul stone to keep their…ghost-like form intact. This soul stone is surrounded by the actual projection of ourselves, similar to how a heart is encased inside the body. It cannot be taken out easily. In fact, the only ones who can remove anyones soul stone from their physical projection is the First spinjitzu master, Sensei Wu, Sensei Garmadon, and the consciousnesses of the two realms of the dead. Other then them, not even the person whose soul stone it is can remove it from it’s home, and its no easy task for the ones who can either.”

“…If all of that is true, then how are we both looking at your soul stone?”

“….Unfortunately, my soul stone had faced extreme abuse years ago, leaving it fractured and….weak.”

“Is that why it has pieces floating around it? It looks almost like a planet, surrounded by its moons…”

“An interesting comparison.”

“Ahm…that’s besides the point. Why are you showing me this? If its so delicate that it can almost never be removed from its home, then why would it help us in our mission?”

“…the merge, has shown to create unique consequences over the years. One of such, being the slow return of the Preeminent.”

“What.”

“I can’t explain in too much depth to what had happened, we don’t nearly have that much time and I need to use it sparingly.”

“What are you talking about?!-”

“A soul stone is indeed delicate, Lloyd. So delicate, so precious, that the very existence of a soul relies on it.”

“The..what?..”

“If my soul stone gets into the wrong hands, if it faces too much harm, I will no longer be able to keep it connected and in ‘one piece’ as I have so far. I will be erased from existence, and so will all the knowledge I have so painstakingly collected.”

“…Where are you planning to go, Morro?”

“…A place I should’ve visited years ago.”

——————

Will there be a fanfic of this? Probably not, since i can’t stick to finishing stories.

Anyways, take Morro from an AU i created in my head, theres no other content of it other then half completed stories in my notes/word documents and this post.

If anyone rlly wants me to, i can go more into depth of this AU and give it a name. But for now, all you need to know is that its mainly canon compliant, just with a few changes to the story of Morro and then the actual canon divergence starts during the merge. Some things before that will also be changed to fit ideas i have and things i like, such as the issue with Lloyds age.

Oh, alsooo! Morro in this drawing is still a ghost, but in this AU to differentiate departed ghosts from cursed, cursed ghosts look like how they did in the show and Morro’s og design, but departed ghosts tend to look more like how they did when they were alive (with some differences and yknow, being see- through)

So Morro in this looks like how his Departed ghost form would in this AU

I also realised that the gi itself looks a lot like Cole’s because of the black and orange. Pretend the orange is grey/green/yellow, pls and thank you.

AND MY FAVOURITE LITTLE DETAIL. Look at Morro’s gi and how its folded, see what i did there??

I had fun drawing this with another newly acquired art style, this is also one of my first few times drawing Morro and being happy with it. Turns out i am very picky when drawing characters i like over literally anything else.

#morro ninjago #lego ninjago #morro wu #lego emo #green #ninjago morro #lloyd ninjago #ninjago fanart #green ninja #ninjago au

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ventiswampwater · 1 year

Text

@pretty-possum cynth, ur mind. ur fuckin MIND. thank u for sending me this electric idea bc it rlly had me spooning out my brain!! here’s some filthnasty for u in which he has way too much fun and it’s ickyweird

catching flies with honey (if the killing’s what you like, make it sweet)

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

wordcount: 4.8k

Reader POV. You keep telling him how much you hate him. You little spitfire! It's real cute. Anyway, he’s got something special to show you. He’s sure you’ll love it.

Also posted on AO3 here.

⚠️ Canon typical violence and fuckery. We’re in Bo’s hell basement for the first bit of this, so that means many references to past noncon. When we get to the wax museum nasty, it's dubcon under EXTREME duress. Reader dislikes Bo immensely and makes this clear to him multiple times. Bo finds this endlessly entertaining and adapts his approach to make her even more miserable. He's on his brat-taming shit. Sugary sweet, full of bullshit compliments, contrived as hell. He’s very smug and manipulative and slimy in this fic. HEAVY praise kink. Deviating from my other Bo fics, he doesn’t call you any awful names! Whoa! But he might as well! Because this really isn’t any better! Praise kink as degradation. A wax sculpture is destroyed, and the resulting viscera and nastiness is described in vivid detail. Some suspension of disbelief is necessary for the decomposition described, but that’s basically a warning for the original movie lmao. Mind break elements. He talks you through it (unfortunately). Multiple orgasms with a heavy focus on overstimulation. ⚠️

He’s red on the inside, same as you. It’s about time that somebody reminded him.

“I’m gettin’ sloppy.” Bo clicks his tongue. “Ain’t your fault, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me that.” You spit out, tugging at the restraints on the chair.

“What? You don’t like me bein’ sweet to you?”

He hums a tune as he clips your fingernails. You expect a sting of pain—want one, even—each time he lifts another finger. It never comes. He’s uncharacteristically gentle, pinching his tongue between his teeth and tilting his head as he studies your hands.

“Ain’t been takin’ care of you like I should, baby.” He murmurs.

Your lip trembles with indignation. You wear enough marks on your skin to know that his version of care isn’t something you want. Your eyes dart back to the scratch on his neck. You wish you could’ve done more, cut deeper—but you’ll take this small victory. It’s a reminder that he’s nothing more than human, shackled by the same mortality you are. You can see that in the pinpricks of blood blooming on his neck.

He bleeds like you and he can die just the same.

“I hope it scars.” You mutter.

Leveling his gaze to meet yours, Bo tips his head towards your bound wrists.

“Hope yours do to.” He chuckles. “You keep yankin’ on those things and we’re ‘bout to have a matchin’ set.”

The smile he gives you is warm and soft, crinkling at the corners of his eyes. It’s as counterfeit as the rest of his persona and just as paper-thin. You wonder who he stole that expression from. He only seems to have things that he’s taken from others.

You count the days with scratches on his Polaroids.

He keeps your nails short now, so you can’t dig into them like you used to. Despite that, you try your best, pressing a crescent moon of a cut into the glossy surface. He’s got enough of them hanging up that you doubt he’ll notice. If you know one thing for certain, it’s that he seems to have a remarkably one-track mind.

He comes down here for you. Everything else is as consequential as the dirt and rust that line the shelves. A product of years of neglect, just another piece of the background. When you think about it, even you are one of those incidental things. The previous occupants of this room watch you from the wall, a constant reminder that this has all happened before. Down here, you are not an anomaly. The technicalities of your self are really just that, technicalities.

It’s necessary to give him things (your body, your time, all that rust) because that’s how you stay alive. You can’t feel bad for that. It’s a hunger like anything else and you swallow it down like any of the other tasteless meals he brings you. It slides down your gullet and with every mouthful, the pang lessens. When the hunger is gone, all you’re left with is the way he sits in your stomach.

You have to be careful. If you’re not, there’ll come a point where there won’t be anything more to pry away. You have to stay awake.

You’re screaming. Bo’s yawning.

“Figured ya’ woulda gotten that outta your system by now.”

You ignore him.

“Want me to try and holler with ya’? Might help that sound carry.”

“Where’s everybody else?” You wheel around to face him, hands balled into tight fists. He’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning back on his elbows.

“Dunno.” Scrunching his face up in thought, he purses his lips. “Haven’t seen nobody ‘round here in a minute. Just you.”

“Just me?” You chew on your bottom lip, searching his face. “You’re not a good liar.”

“I’m not lyin’.” He smirks at you.

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” Your voice warbles a bit around the question, but you manage to steady your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He does.

“Look darlin’, I know you’re real worried ‘bout those friends of yours.” He frowns at you, brow creased in a poor attempt at sympathy. “And I don’t wanna scare ya’ baby. I really don’t. But you gotta know. My brother…he ain’t right. If he got to ‘em first…can’t tell ya’ what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s got this, uh—this compulsion.” He shakes his head slowly, letting out a low whistle. “Bad stuff. Gotta keep ya’ away from him.”

“Why?”

“Oh, ‘cuz you’re somethin’ special.” He drags the last word out, letting it pop in his mouth. “But you know that, don’tcha, baby?”

His praise might as well have been spat into your face with a wad of saliva.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he glances over his shoulder. He stands there for a beat too long, eying the Polaroids. Leaning over, he tugs one off the wall. You haven’t exactly been subtle with your date-keeping. He scans over the damage, his lips curling into a sneer.

“I’m gonna say this once.” His face twists into a scowl. “All this? It’s real cute—until it ain’t.”

There’s an eagerness to your breath as you watch him, your eyes darting from the ruined picture back to his face. It’s an odd, confusing thing, but part of you prefers him like this. The cruelty makes him predictable. You’re so sick of the platitudes, the sugary pet names. You know what he wants to call you, what he really thinks of you as. He may as well have branded those words deep into your skin.

You used to make him so angry. It almost felt like your encounters were equal parts punishment doled out to both of you, wrapped up around the callous bite of his voice. This recent change in demeanor frustrates you, it feels like it was born out of something you did. Nothing bothers you more than that. When you were a slut, or a whore, or a nasty little bitch, that was all him.

You ready yourself for what’s coming, knowing that it’ll hurt, but pleased to know that you managed to break his composure. Unable to hide behind thinly veiled niceties, he can’t pretend to be kind.

To your dismay, his face relaxes.

“Reckon it ain’t nice to tease ya’ with pictures when ya’ want the real thing.” He sighs, crumpling the picture in his hand. Your shoulders sag. “I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

You start your count back up on a new Polaroid. It feels less satisfying, but that’s routine for you.

You’re six notches deep into your new calender when Bo comes downstairs jangling his keys.

“Got somethin’ to show ya’ today.”

“…What is it?”

“Don’t wanna spoil the surprise.” He shrugs, shooting you a smile. “Can’t bring it here, so…how ya’ feel ‘bout takin’ a walk, darlin’?”

Outside the gas station, you shield your eyes from the sun.

Rustling in his pocket, Bo pulls out a crumpled box of cigarettes. You peer around as he flicks his lighter open, your heart stuttering in your chest. You’re not bound. There’s nothing preventing you from taking off down the street. But this is his test, and you know that.

The limits of the town are further than you’d thought. Even if you could make it to the mouth of the town without him at your heels, that’s only part of it. The momentum you’d need to sustain to get down the road means nothing if you lose it there, face-down in the gravel.

Bo’s taking a drag of his cigarette when you glance back at him, a smirk playing at the ends of his lips. He looks at you like he can tell what you’re thinking, as if he’s run through the same scenario a thousand times in his mind. He’s come out the winner every time. You’re sure he’d love for you to prove him right.

“You want one?” He gestures toward the cigarette.

In place of an answer, you glare at him.

“Suit yourself, sweetness.” He grins.

“Waste of money.” You murmur.

“You might be right. But I never buy any of ‘em.” There’s an edge of manic glee in his voice. “Not once.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you press your lips together. You can tell he wants you to ask what he means by that. He’s all but bouncing on his heels, eyes twinkling. He hasn’t fucked you in days, has barely seemed to have time to touch you. It felt like a reprieve at the time, but this barely-contained excitement worries you.

You don’t respond.

He finishes his cigarette, flicking it away.

“C’mon.”

Bo leads you up the hill to the wax museum. Reaching out, he closes his hand around the door handle. It opens with a creak.

“Go on. Ladies first.”

Inside, it’s quiet, but there’s no peace.

Sun reflects out through green panes, bathing everything in unnatural light. It feels wrong to stand here in the gloom, surrounded by an assortment of shadowy wax figures, their faces frozen in placid contentment. Nervousness gnaws at your chest, leaving your palms clammy.

“What are we doing here?” Your throat feels tight.

He doesn’t answer, just leads you deeper into the room. Your eyes land on a mirror against the far wall. In its dusty cloudiness, you both are shadowy blobs of shapes, completely insubstantial.

“Keep goin’. ‘S in the other room.”

He beckons you through an open doorway and dust tickles your nose. Following his gaze, your eyes land on another group of wax sculptures. Their clothes are just as dated as the others, all crushed velvet and strings of pearls. Despite this, they look newer, no tendrils of dust hanging off of their outstretched arms.

There’s something familiar about them, but it’s hard to tell in this light. You take a step closer, narrowing your eyes.

“Ya’ know, my brother likes projects.” You hear Bo say. “Guess that’s somethin’ we got in common.”

You blink in confusion, your mouth falling open. Of course they look familiar—you’d recognize those faces anywhere. Standing in front of you are wax replicas of your friends, leering at you with painted-on smiles.

“What is this?” Your hands are shaking. “Where are they?”

“Right in front of you, darlin’.” Bo exclaims. “Now, don’t they look good? I think they clean up real nice, don’t you?”

It’s nothing more than a cruel joke.

The anger that grips you is sudden, thoughtless. You reel around, your hand clenching into a fist. The punch you throw at him is a pitiful thing. He avoids it easily, catching your wrist in his hand and shoving you away. You back up frantically as he closes in on you, your heart skipping in your chest. Losing your footing, you smack into one of the figures.

“What, you ain’t thankful for the reunion? Thought you’d appreciate it.”

The sculpture totters behind you. You flail wildly as you try to steady yourself, but it’s no use—your feet slip out from under you. As you fall, it falls with you, hitting the floor with a shatter that sprays chips of paint and wax over the ground.

“Hate to say it, but I’m a bit disappointed in ya’, sweet thing.”

Wrenching your head back to look at the damage, your mouth falls open. The impact of the fall bisected the sculpture’s face, cracking it wide open. A scream bubbles up in your throat as you realize that it isn’t hollow. There’s something bloated and dead inside it, staring back at you with milky eyes.

You’d know that face anywhere.

“Dunno how I’m gonna explain this to Vincent, baby. He spent a lot of time on that one.”

You scramble to your feet with a shriek, backpedaling wildly until you run into him. His hands are quick to close around you, pinning your arms behind your back. You try your best to twist out of his grip, but he holds you still, pulling you against his chest.

“Figure he’ll need a replacement.” Bo leans down to murmur in your ear, his tone sickly and apologetic. “I’m gonna have a hell of a time tryin’ to convince him that it ain’t gonna be you.”

Your eyes dart between the figures, hardly registering his words. It’s impossible to make sense of what’s in front of you. Everything seems doused in unreality, tilted on its side. Your friends stand frozen, lips peeled away from their teeth in twisted imitations of smiles. It’s been so long that you can hardly remember what their voices sound like. You won’t hear them again. The people they used to be live on only in your head, spiraling into a mass of memory. The realization has your throat tightening, your eyes blurring with tears.

You feel his lips against your hair and a broken wail tips out of your mouth. You’ve walked straight into the gaping maw of an open grave. They’re here and they’re rotting and there’s nothing to be done because you’re too late. This is no museum—it’s a mausoleum, and you paid your respects through a splattering of viscera on the floor.

“It ain’t that bad. We’ll set somethin’ up real nice for ya’, sweetness. Right by the door.”

You shudder, yanking against his hands.

“Whatcha wanna wear, darlin’? I’ll getcha whatever ya’ want.”

“Don’t tell him!” Your voice comes out shrill, rushing out of you in a high-pitched whine. “Don’t, please, don’t—”

“Well, I gotta tell him, baby.” He sighs.

“No, no, no. Please—”

“You want me to lie to him?” He tugs at your ear with his teeth. “Dunno. Thought I wasn’t a good liar.”

“You can’t, you—” Your breath escapes you in shallow gulps.

Abruptly, he lets go of your arms, shoving you off him. You pitch forward onto the ground, blinking away tears. He pounces on you with a laugh, flipping you onto your back. His hands paw at your breasts, sliding down your stomach. He moves closer, positioning himself between your thighs to force your knees up, yanking your legs open. Your dress rides up, bunching around your hips.

“This ain’t somethin’ I take lightly.” He shakes his head, sighing. “I’d miss ya’.”

“Fuck you.” You squirm underneath him.

“There’s that mouth.” He grins down at you, wrapping a hand around your throat. “That’s my girl.”

You scrabble at his grip, twisting underneath him. Bo’s hand doesn’t budge, his fingers closing tighter around your neck.

“Fuck. You.” You wheeze, unable to muster the venom you intend.

If you’re going to die, you want him to bruise you, to mark you up in such a way that the person responsible for the macabre mannequins in the other room would notice. You want the signs of a fight clear upon your skin. Anything to make them rethink dressing you up in satin and costume jewelry; kept on display to be gawked at, locked in someone’s imagined view of you.

Leave that one to rot on the side of the road, she’s sick of being looked at.

“Well, since you’re askin’ so nicely…” He grins down at you, his eyes glinting. “How you want it?”

His fingers brush between your legs, cupping your pussy through the cotton. You let out a sputtered yelp as he pulls your panties to the side. His thumb begins to rub at your clit and you buck your hips up, making a desperate move to wrench yourself away from him.

“Right there, baby?”

His grip on your throat is rhythmic, tightening and loosening and tightening again. Helpless darkness grips you as your throat constricts, only to be met with the shuddering relief of air filling your lungs. Head spinning, you oscillate wildly between the two unyielding extremes. You gasp when he pushes his finger into you, horrified to find yourself wet enough that it slides in easily. Your pussy clenches around the intrusion involuntarily, making you squeal.

"Guess all that death don't bother you. You're a trooper, baby." He pumps a second finger in, stretching you open. Your thighs shake and you can’t help the desperate little mewl that escapes your mouth.

“Got yourself an audience and now you’re purrin’ like a kitten.” He smirks, amusement plain in his voice. “That’s all ya’ needed, huh?”

“No.” You hiss out.

“Mmm-hmm. I hear ya’, darlin’.” His voice drips with honey, warm and throaty above you. “Don’tchu worry.”

You twist your head to the side, forcing your eyes to focus on the unnatural poses held by the corpses of your friends. Maybe it would be better to be like they were, immobile in their grotesque funeral clothes. They wouldn’t know what it felt like to lose all this, to die while you still breathed. Your eyes fall on the shattered carnage that covers the floor a few feet away. The hopelessness numbs you, making it easier to ignore the distracting warmth between your thighs. You’ll look at all that death and he won’t be able to make you feel anything.

“Eyes up here, beautiful.” He forces your head back. “Don’t like you lookin’ at ‘em when I’m touchin’ you. Makes me jealous.”

The room is warm and you’re warmer still, uglier than you’ve ever felt, sweat beading on your brow and dripping down the side of your face. He works another finger into you, humming under his breath. You gasp around the added pressure, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

“Just like that, baby.” He readjusts his grip on your throat, stroking a finger up the thundering beat of your pulse. “Make yourself feel good. You need it.”

You realize with a whimper that you’re doing just that, rocking down on his fingers. Your body is traitorous and so is that hunger, demanding to be full, to take in as much as it could. Like a whore, your mind offers up bitterly. Just like a whore. You bite back a moan, twisting under him. You wish that he’d call you that, that his hand was digging harder into your skin. You need this to hurt so you can focus on the poison that drips off his words. If you could manage that, you’d make it out of here.

This is about survival. That’s what you’re trying to do.

He shifts the angle of his hand slightly and you tense up, unable to muffle the moan that spills out of your mouth. Your orgasm is a shivery, unexpected thing, clambering up your spine and washing over you in a traitorous burst. It tastes like betrayal, shuddering its way through you with a shock, stealing the words from your tongue and leaving you gasping for air. Your eyes are watering when he finally lets go of your throat, tugging your underwear off.

"You got over that fast. Nothin’ brings you down, huh?” You hear the jingle of his belt as he undoes it. With a grunt, he nudges your legs wider apart with his knee, pulling you towards him. “You're a wonder, baby."

You jolt away with a gasp when you feel the head of his cock rub against your clit, your mouth falling open. He flashes a smile down at you, dragging his length through your folds.

“How’s that, baby?”

“It’s too much, it’s—” You take a ragged gasp as he presses against your entrance, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“’S okay.” He murmurs, rocking the head of his cock slowly into your pussy with shallow thrusts. You grit your teeth together, hissing a shaky breath through your nose.

When he eases into you, you let out a watery sob. Pressing into you slow, you’re acutely aware of every inch of him. He’s usually too impatient to let you feel this gradual stretch, the way your walls clench helplessly around his cock.

“Feels good, huh?” He sinks deeper into you, and you tremble. “You like it?”

You shake your head sharply. You wiggle your hips down, anxious for him to fill you completely. You need it done so you can forget the way that this feels. There are things you shouldn’t see and things you shouldn’t feel, and today has been full of both.

“C’mon now, baby.” His tone is sugary sweet and patronizing. Each word plods out slow, as if he’s talking to a child. “If it feels good, you gotta like it.”

You feel a flicker of embarrassment, but it’s not enough to push past the fog of euphoria that’s coiling low in your belly. Your breath stutters out of you in uneven bursts, almost as if his hand is still around your throat. That’s how this pleasure feels—it’s a choking, inescapable thing, pinning you against the ground.

“You’re takin’ me so well, baby. You wanna know how good that feels ‘round my dick?”

He rocks into you, slow and deep, dragging a pitiful moan from your lips.

“Be careful, angel.” Bo lets out a breathless laugh. “You’re gonna wake up ya’ friends.”

A sharp bolt of revulsion thrums through you, tugging you out from under the throb of sensation. The shame twists in your stomach, rotten and sickly. Before it can stick, he reaches down and slips his hands under your waist. With hardly any effort, he lifts you off the floor, tilting your pelvis up to meet him. Your mouth is pooling with saliva, tears pricking at your eyes. At this angle, he’s so deep that it’s as if you can feel him everywhere, pushing at the back of your throat. You let out a desperate whine, locking your legs around his waist. Without his hands to hold you up, you feel like you’d melt away into the floor.

He rolls his hips and you stutter out a sob, tremors of desperate pleasure wracking your body. You’re shaking, hands reaching up to tremble uselessly at your chest.

“What am I doin’, baby?”

“You’re—” You slur out, panting. “You’re fucking me.”

“Uh-huh. Ya’ like it?”

You keen out an unintelligible reply, nodding up at him desperately. He rewards your answer with a brush to your clit and your mouth falls open.

“Good, baby. Gettin’ a little hard to talk, yeah?” His words are coated in self-congratulatory smugness that can’t manage to hide behind sweetness. It taunts you, clawing under your skin and tearing through you in a way that only serves to make you wetter. “You ain’t gotta care ‘bout nothin’ other than how that feels.”

He fucks down into you, his cock kissing something deep in you that has you gaping up at him, stuttering out a moan. He’s pushing deep, impossibly so, then pulling out to press back in. Here, in this desperate haze of feeling that has you arching your back on the ground, it all feels so unavoidable.

Distantly, you can hear him murmuring above you. You’re so good, aren’t you? Say yes, sweetheart, but only if you want to. Only if it feels right. A distant part of your brain reminds you that the last thing you want to be is good. Trying desperately to catch onto that thought only has it fading away into that all-consuming pressure building up between your legs.

“Whose girl are you?”

“Yours.” You hiccup out. You’re disloyal and fickle and weak—and you aren’t lying, you can’t lie.

“That’s right.”

It feels like you’re losing something, your thoughts unspooling and picking up momentum as they roll away, getting further and further from you with every thrust of his hips.

Everything you give him is nothing he deserves.

“You wanna show me what a good girl you are and cum?”

No.

“Nn—”

The pleasure is a knife in your gut, splitting you open from the base of your belly all the way up to the shuddering flesh of your throat. It feels like honey, like his voice above you—eviscerating, cruel because it isn’t cruel. Hurting because it doesn’t, because all you wanted was him and he gave it to you. You arch up desperately, chasing after more of that sensation.

“Oh, angel. That’s perfect.”

He holds you suspended in the rolling thrum of your orgasm, thrusting deeper into you. Your orgasm burns at the back of your eyes, a blinding thing, gouging you open with white-hot light. Unlike the first, this one seems to wash over you with no end. You cry out, thrashing under the unrelenting waves, his cock pulsing inside you. His breathing is labored as he works his hips, sweat plastering his hair to his brow.

You look up at him and you don’t hate him—and that’s the worst thing, dragging another woozy ripple of pleasure out of your core. Your heart hammers away in your chest, pounding hot and loud in your ears. He spills inside you with a groan, his hands digging tightly into your thighs. Your body seems to throb with warmth, rolling waves of it leaving your limbs numb and useless.

With an embarrassingly wet squelch, he pulls out of you. You close your eyes and the world spins inside your head, making your eyelids heavy. Dimly, you can hear him zipping up the fly of his pants, refastening his belt. He clears his throat, huffing out a tired laugh.

“Like I told ya’, baby. You’re somethin’ special.”

He says something else and you nod. You’re not sure what he might have asked you—but he likes agreement. You’ve never cared much for what he liked, never had a desire to give whatever that was to him. But it’s easier to say yes. You can’t pin down what part of you has decided that’s true, but it’s pulsing between your legs and sitting on your tongue like it belongs there.

“Think I’d let him get his hands on you? That’s crazy talk, girl.”

Your thighs spasm a bit and you gulp. He lowers himself over you, sinking onto his elbows to press a kiss onto your trembling mouth. You can feel his spend leaking out of you, running down between your legs and puddling underneath you. The ache is coming, you can feel it, throbbing deep in your cunt.

When you were little, you couldn’t swallow pills. You needed them ground up and mixed in with sugar, served up on a spoon for you to swallow. Even then, you knew it was there, felt like you could taste it. But it made it easier, didn’t it? You couldn’t tell then and you can’t tell now. You whimper and he smiles against your lips, teasing your mouth open with his tongue.

Seems like you can take anything if it’s hidden under sugar.

As the haze of pleasure begins to lift, the room starts to come back into focus. You’re remembering that you can’t be here, that death is familiar and close. You have to leave, you have to run. With a shaky sob, you feel the fear begin to hitch up in your throat again, crawling out of the pocket of your insides that it’s been hiding in.

You yelp as you feel him circle around your clit again. Thrashing underneath him, you shake your head wildly.

“Nice and sensitive now, yeah? Look at that.”

You whimper helplessly, the words forming on your tongue only to disappear a moment later. Your clit feels swollen between your legs, delivering a snap of electricity to your core with every unrelenting stroke of his fingers. You teeter on the razor-edge of pain and pleasure—ratcheted too high, past the point of enjoyment. There’s nowhere left for the feeling to go. You’ll need to claw your way out of your skin to alleviate it, you’ll need him to take you apart.

“Sto—” The word’s swallowed up by a series of high-pitched vocalizations, spilling from your lips, one tripping over the other. Your grasp on language feels as sloppy as your cunt. Slippery, needy things. What good were they now?

“Ya’ know what I think?” He murmurs. “I think this pussy’s got one more.”

Dizzily, you think about the cigarette he’d offered you earlier. You could use it now.

“I can’t, I can’t—”

“Pretty girl.” He reaches up with his free hand to wipe away the tears spilling down the side of your face. “It’s hard, I know.”

If you had any energy, you’d bite him, you’d take out as many chunks as you could. Are you sure? That version of you feels far away now. He sinks his fingers back into your pussy and you whine. There’s no resistance to be found inside you, just a quivering hole fucked wide, greedily squeezing around his fingers.

“You wanna know somethin’, baby? I’ve always been selfish. Got told that a lot, and I reckon they were right.” His voice is as soft as his hands, rumbling into your head. “Can’t help it.”

“Bo, please—” You’re wound too tight to cum again, each touch a shivery spike of feeling that leaves you wanting to vacate your body. You need to tell him that, you need to—

“Name sounds real good in that mouth.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Say it again, would ya’?”

“Bo. Bo.” You let out a broken sob, a fresh wave of tears glazing over your eyes. “Bo…”

“Hush now, angel. Third times the charm.”

#using that gif to represent this fic bc he is v smug and ehehehehehe throughout this whole thing #he regrettably. has a great time #I do not know who (me) keeps letting him get away with this? who are they???? (it's me again)#house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher fandom #x reader #my fics

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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*crashes onto couch* wassup bestie this is an injustice ask

here my thoughts can you imagine yan bruce and clark tryna convince reader to join their side. like maybe reader just,,, somehow missed an entire huge-ass conflict between them, then they come back to like the JL building only to see the world (iirc? im forgettin details) in shambles then ask wtf happened. imo i think clark would feel more anger towards bruce than betrayal towards reader should reader join bruce's side. contrarily, bein who bruce is i rlly think he would feel some ounce of betrayal to reader if they join clark's, but the betrayed feelin is overshadowed by furious anger to clark.

then again i wnna imagine the complete headassery of two grown, buff fucking men doin debates with each other everytime they coincide meeting with reader that alwys ends with a fistfight as the whole Injustice shit is goin on. the desperation (to varying degrees) of them both trying to convince reader if reader was like,,, neutral or just did not want to get involved. chaos (stupidly) everywhere.

I love the thought of the darling have gone in a vacation or something, having left everything normal and as it was, only to come back and everything’s gone to shit. I have the image of the darling walking into the airport with their bags and both Bruce and Clark are standing there waiting for them, both ready to plead their case and convince the darling to take their side. Meanwhile, the darling is completely jet lagged and confused as all hell as to what’s gone down since they’ve been away and is now being childishly bombarded by two huge and muscular men who are more than ready to kill each other.

In regards to their reactions, Clark would be absolutely furious with Bruce if the darling were to take his side. Clark wholeheartedly can’t even pretend to be mad at the darling cause obviously Bruce has been lying to them to get them to join him. He’d be delusional enough to believe that Bruce has warped the darling’s mind against him. Clark knows that he’s want the darling needs, not Bruce. Bruce doesn’t have wants best for them in mind, he won’t make them a priority. But Clark will.

Bruce would feel a little betrayed by the darling if they were to choose Clark over him, but he would excuse their choice as them having been thoroughly manipulated and lied to by Clark. He wouldn’t put it pass Clark to scare/intimidate the darling to joining him and for that, Bruce couldn’t be more furious. Whether that’s what happened or not that’s what Bruce believes. Of course he wouldn’t want to think about the darling willingly joining Clark, especially when it comes to what he’s doing. No matter what though, he can’t hold it against the darling.

Now if the darling were to not join either, instead deciding to go on the low-down and stay far away from Bruce and Clark and their entire feud, then that’s when the incessant arguing and tug of war really happens. Whether the darling wants to help or not doesn’t matter to Clark, he’ll take them kicking and screaming just so Bruce can’t get them. And as much as Bruce wants the darling on his side he doesn’t really want to force them into anything, not until push comes to shove at least. Then he’ll have to be more forceful.

#anxious answers #yandere clark kent #yandere bruce wayne #yandere superman #yandere batman #yandere injustice #yandere dc #yandere injustice concept #yandere dc concept #yandere concept

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sexybread-png · 7 months

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henlo mickey ! i’m a big fan and i wanted to ask you if you want to share:

how do you draw your faces? or any tips you can give? you nail the accuracy of the characters you draw so well!

can’t wait to see more of your art

thank u sm!! im glad u think so.

i think the trick of drawing a character accurately is firstly to stare at that characters face really hard and notice the shapes that make it a recognizable face (shape of the head, shape of the eyes, shape of the nose, the lips... anything that jumps at you and says yes this is the character) and secondly its a vibe? like it doesnt have to perfectly look like them but if it *feels* like them then u nailed it yk!

tried to do a little face study of carmilla (natasha negovanlis<3) bc im rlly into the series rn and that could maybe help u?

after u notice the shapes its just a matter of how stylized u want ur art to be! u can fuck around and exaggerate different features too if u want a really stylized drawing to see which features to accentuate to make the character feel most like themselves (exemple if i rlly wanted to stylize cartoonishly carmilla, her nose would probably b the feature i focus on)

hope this helps!! if u join my kofi, i can make a more detailed tutorial+ answer any questions u might have:)

#answered asks #thanks for the ask!#ask me anything #ask me stuff #asks open #fanart #carmilla karnstein #natasha negovanlis #carmilla the series #face study #tutorial

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vintagepresley · 3 months

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imma be honest the priscilla movie didn’t help at all with the hate for elvis. (i think) priscilla’s intention was to clear things up, but idk about sofia. it seemed like she had an agenda and that was successful lol. but anyways…. the way social media has become a pile on elvis and call him a “monster” “groomer” “pedo” whatever breaks my heart. if he was such a monster, why were him and priscilla practically best friends after the divorce? if she was his victim, why does she defend his name and call him the love of her life? he was by no means perfect but he was such a good person that was just complex (like all of us) and it makes me mad seeing how his impact in the music industry isn’t rlly the focus, but the women that were in his life are. it makes me mad knowing that he was such a private person yet all his “dirty laundry” was exposed by those close to him and now it’s used against him. even his like for white panties is used to make him seem gross when there’s definitely “weirder” bedroom/sexual preferences…. also like why did we even need to know that? lol … he felt like he couldn’t rest while he was alive and now he’s constantly shitted on even though he’s been dead for over 40 years . it’s not fair.

I agree. The Priscilla movie didn’t help at all with the way the haters see Elvis because it obviously just fueled their hate for him. I like to think and have an open mind that she did have good intentions with wanting to clear things up and wanting to put out another movie because she didn’t like the other one from the 80’s. But as you said Sofia had clear intentions of what she wanted to do with that film and it was obvious from interviews with her and Priscilla and how different they described the movie and how they saw it. To the point that I’m like is this the same movie? It was clearer with who she even casted to play Elvis. This super talk guy who’s known for playing an asshole with this super tiny girl making her look even more like a child just to cater to the haters. It’s annoying.

I agree if he as such a monster to her as people claim or that she’s been groomed or whatever else they say why were they holding hands while getting divorced? Why were they still so close? It’s one thing to make things work for your child and you can do so without being as close as they still were to the point that he’s having late night conversations with her. Atp no matter what she says to stop people from hating him they will still be like “she’s been groomed so she can’t see he’s a monster” lol

I also agree that people tend to focus more on his relationships with women who’ve been in his life than they do him and his career and the incredible impact he’s made. Like yes these relationships may be a little important but they aren’t everything. He was more than just the women he dated or had flings with. It is messed up that almost every person in his life has shared such imitate or private details about his life that I’m sure he wouldn’t want anyone to know. Underwear thing definitely is not that weird and idk why people are acting like there aren’t weirder things out there lol

But yeah, it’s wild that no matter what people are just going to hate him and make fun of him and call him racist and a pedophile because they don’t want to do the actual research themselves about things.

Cause I swear the next person I hear call him a racist or he stole music IM READY TO SLAP. It’s called cover songs people. It’s still a thing today. He just did it better, lol. 😭

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poppy-metal · 2 years

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this steve (omg i love that outfit SO MUCH) gives brother’s best friend!steve or best friend’s brother!steve and im such a slut for those tropes. and imagine seeing him in the family dinners or every day after school, always so sweet and respectful with everyone, so atentive with the little details around him. so when your innocent flirting with each other starts growing into something more, he notices. notice the way you start wearing those short skirts more, pressing your body against his when your past through the hallways or in the kitchen or in the couch.

one day you’re over for dinner (or viceversa idk) and you slide your foot up his leg, you see the way his holding the cup or how tense his jaw looks while you make your way up.. up.. until you reach his bulge. when your foot is slowly massaging, his eyes meet yours and while he’s making chat with someone, and you can read the warning in them. you don’t care, of course not, so when he grabs your ankle and slowly push it away, you think all of your plan was thrown out the window.

then maybe you get fucked against the door of the bathroom, with your tits out and the skirt up your waist, a hand against your mouth while steve is whispering in your ear “keep quiet sweetheart, they can’t know im fucking you here, can they? mhm no, this gonna be our dirty little secret”

no because.......I'm gonna combust.

i don't know why but the thought of teasing steve with your foot....think hes into feet i rlly do....

and when he gets you in the bathroom he's got you folded like a pretzel against that door. stupid polo and jeans still on, while ur naked, just his cock through the slit in his jeans, pushing inside your little weeping pussy. so you can feel his belt buckle against your ass with every thurst that smacks you back.

your socks are still on, toes around his shoulders as he grips you under your ass. "told you not to push me, little girl." he grunts, slamming you onto his cock, "happy now, huh? with some dick in you."

#ask #WHINES #brothers best friend steve.. oh lord #stevie #steve harrington smut

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nonexistent-introvert · 11 months

Text

Confessions

Pairing: Stephen Strange x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Content: Confessions, angst, idk rlly, fluff

A/N: Another one from drafts. I remember this was inspired right after I finished watching the k drama "start-up" so you may spot a few familiar lines from the show

You changed your breathing, your movements were swift and quick. The trainee panicked, fighting defensively when you swept your leg, knocking him clean off the floor. You let out a smile as you held out a hand for the trainee to take. The man thanked you before quickly leaving for his next training.

“Hey!” You wiped the sweat off your forehead as you turned to the source of your name being called. “I told you, she came back just a few days ago and she’s been training. Why would I lie?” Wong’s voice sounded throughout the field. Your eyes drifted to the taller man with blue robes and his signature cloak over his broad shoulders. You felt your heart pace, he was the reason you left Kamar Taj after all. With panic overwhelming you, you opened a portal, waving to them hysterically as you tried to casually enter the portal and disappear from both their sights

It happened a few more times after that. You almost suspected Stephen spent more time around Kamar Taj these days but you dismissed that thought that he was there for you before you could get your hopes up. You had already gone through the pain of that when you had let yourself hope. One time, you were entering the library when you spotted his back and immediately shut the door again when he was supposed to be your training partner but you went to practice different spells instead lastly when he had sat next to you for lunch, you stuffed so much food into your mouth, you couldn’t even talk to him and then scurried off.

You let out a sigh, your hand covering your eyes as you lay on the bed. It had been years since that incident, for all you knew, Stephen already forgot about it, the day he had brought you to Christine’s wedding.

You remembered feeling out of place. You weren’t even one to dress up and now you were stuck in a stifling outfit with people you didn’t even know. Stephen was by your side, but it was obvious that man had another person in his mind, his eyes followed her, a longing inside him. The whispers about Stephen bringing a fake date, someone that wasn’t even in his league and the pitiful looks that accompanied you were evident no matter where you went. The worst part of it all was the fact that they were right, you definitely weren’t in his league. You hated crowds, you closed your eyes trying to calm yourself down in a corner. You hated how you were trained to listen to every small detail that day, even if this same skill had saved you on multiple occasions. Because of this skill, you heard the conversation between Stephen and Christine. One that sparked you to leave without him.

“Are you ok? If you wanted to leave you could have told me. I would have left with you.” He started when he had found her in the kitchen of the sanctum in the late night. You drank your water, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “You didn’t need to. You should enjoy it.”You replied. He scoffed a little, “ And enjoy the boring questions about my new occupation?” You forced a smile, then smiled bigger to crinkle your eyes, hiding the glistening in your eyes when his worried look scanned you. “It was just overwhelming. Big crowds and all. I’m fine.” You assured with a shrug. Stephen nodded, “Talk to me next time ok? Don’t just leave me.” You pursed your lips, trying to walk past him when he stood in your way. “You’re crying.” He realised, You looked away from him. “You’re seeing things.” Your voice broke near the end. He let the silence hang in the air while he stood in your way, waiting for you to open up.

“I can’t Stephen. I can’t talk to you about this.”

“You can.” He insisted

You met his eyes. “We can’t be friends anymore Stephen.” Stephen stumbled over his words, shock overcoming him at your sudden words. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry-” He immediately apologised, trying to find out the problem. You shook your head, “I can’t see you as a friend anymore Stephen. I have feelings for you, for a long time. I thought it would go away but it didn’t. I’m sorry- “

“I-” Stephen started. You inhaled a shaky breath, cutting Stephen off.

“You only had eyes for Christine all this time, but I still wanted to stay by your side even just as a friend. Because I thought that maybe you’d look at me the same way one day. That you might notice how much I like you and start seeing me for who I am. I really thought that and I’m now realising foolish I was.”

Stephen was at a loss. He knew there was nothing he could do to help his best friend. So he had to just let her go, let her leave. The last time he saw her was when she smiled at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and announced to Wong and him that she was leaving to ‘do what she always wanted to’

You were deep in your thoughts. Your eyebrows furrowed as you buried your nose in a book.

“Shit, Sorry.” You apologised when you bumped into someone just as you were leaving the library. However your nose remained buried in the book as you tried to find the text that provided you with the information needed. The man you bumped into cleared his throat and that’s when the scent radiating off him registered in your mind.

You scrunched your face, closing your eyes while you cursed internally at yourself . Thinking of ways to be able to brush him off without coming off as weird.

Instead of just letting her past, Stephen leaned forward which caused you to back into the library again. Upon entering the library, he closed the door behind him and you silently contemplated climbing out the window which was 3 levels above ground. Maybe breaking a few bones was better than having an awkward conversation with Stephen. You doubt neither you or Stephen were good at talking about these type of things anyways.

He stood before you, his hands planted at his hips.

“You’re avoiding me.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and snap back at him with a “no shit Sherlock.” All kinds of emotions whirled past you and maybe you stayed silent for abit too long. You awkwardly shifted your hands around, not knowing where to put your hands.

“I- it’s been years you don’t need to give me an answer. I sort of know- I mean- it’s okay I don’t need your answer-“ You rambled on, the last time you had a conversation with him was before you left.. Stephen stood closer to you, scoffing slightly, “you’re avoiding me because you’re scared of my reaction to your confession?” You winced, that proved the fact that he still remembered. “I mean it was pretty memorable although I do have photographic memory so most things are-“ he stopped when he saw the smile tugging at her lips. “Show off” You muttered, his grin grew wider at the familiar nickname.

“Why do you not want my honest answer?.”

You flinched slightly, “because I know what you’ll say.”

“What would I say?” He questioned.

You swallowed, “Like I said that day Stephen, you have no space in your heart for me.” You laughed coldly, tears welling in her eyes. “I always thought I could act cool in these situations. Laugh it off with a joke and tell you that I’m fine with your decision but it turns out I’m just another lovesick loser after all and I’m not okay. But if I felt okay now, that would mean I didn’t actually like you that much.” Your lips quivered, you bit on your lips but a sob soon escaped you nevertheless.. Claspong your hand over your mouth you turned around away from him.

“I just thought it wouldn’t hurt so much. But it hurts- it hurts so much even after these years.” You clutched your chest where your heart is. The voices inside you screaming at the pain. Stephen stood rooted to the spot, his heart breaking for you, feeling his own tears when he realised that he was the reason for her pain. He wiped his glassy eyes and with a determined stride, he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to give you a response.but I want to correct you.”he pulled away from you, placing a palm on your cheek while keeping his other hand on your back. “You’re Right, i didnt have space to love you in my heart. But now, my heart is filled with you and you only. I love you and I’m sorry it took losing you for me to realise how my love for you runs deep in my veins.” You glanced up at him, pulling away fully. Chuckling, “This is what I always wanted to hear Stephen.” He grinned at her but he could hear the ‘but’ coming.

“But I-I’m a mess. I can’t give you an answer now. I want to do this, with a smile on my face.”

“I’ll wait for your answer, no matter how long you take because my heart will always be yours.” Stephen replied in a beat, You laughed. “You sound like a fictional romance character.” “You do like those don’t you?” He raised his eyebrows.you grinned, “ a man after my own heart.”

“For you? Always.”

#dr stephen strange #stephen strange angst #dr strange x reader #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #benedict cumberbatch x reader #stephen strange x you

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