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miss-hyoko · 11 months

Note

your "Privileged One" fic is so cute!! i can't help but think though, what if the childhood friend is physically affectionate? 🤔 (would they blush, LOL)

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Let Me Hug You!

Character(s): Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus

Summary: His childhood friend is physically affectionate person

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, pure fluff, platonic but can be read as romantic, reader is NOT Yuu, childhood friends, cute relationship between childhood friends, a hint of him having a crush on you if you squint

Note: Yay~ another childhood friends trope to deliver. Thank you for the amazing request, anon. I hope you like this. If there are any typos or grammar errors, please don't hesitate to let me know.

1. Riddle Rosehearts

The first time you tried to be physically affectionate with Riddle when you both were kids, he was very startled to the point he straight-out jumped away from you like a scared cat. With eyes wide open, it took little Riddle at least a minute to process what had just happened. And when everything finally clicked, a deep blush crept up his cheeks, tinting them a vibrant shade of red. Then, just like a defenseless maiden on the verge of being violated, Riddle screamed loudly while accusing you of being rude.

Although his words sounded harsh, we all know Riddle didn't mean any of it. He just didn't know how to respond because this whole affection thing is quite new to him. Theoretically, he knows what affection is. But practically? He had never experienced it. At least, until you entered his life. It was kind of awkward at first, but over time, Riddle would eventually get used to being on the receiving end of your affection.

After the two of you were successfully accepted into NRC, away from Riddle's mother's strict tutelage, you became even more open with your affection towards Riddle. And although Riddle often scolded you about how you should behave appropriately as a student of NRC, he was secretly pleased by the fact that now he could finally relish himself in your affections without needing to worry about his mother's opinion.

However, no matter how much he liked being showered by your attention, Riddle was still a bit against you being affectionate with him in public. Though, as long as it wasn't too intimate to the point of attracting people's attention, he didn't mind a little act of affection, such as: holding hands, hugging, and a quick kiss on the cheek. If later anyone was stupid enough to mention how red his face was, then Riddle would directly get their head beheaded with zero hesitation.

Among the many gestures of affection you gave him, Riddle liked your temple massage the best. The way your hands move gently on his tight muscles while applying the right pressure never fails to make him relax both his body and mind, releasing the pent-up tension from his body. Enjoying your touch, Riddle sometimes unconsciously falls asleep during the massage session, showing how comfortable he could be with you around him.

2. Leona Kingscholar

Ever since he was little, Leona never liked the idea of having any form of contact with other people, especially ones that included direct touch. So, whenever you try to be affectionate with him, an annoyed frown will make its way to his forehead as he continuously moves to avoid your hug attack with incredible agility. Only after you're too tired to move would Leona finally stop avoiding you and tell you to stop acting affectionately with him since it greatly disgusts him.

Despite saying that, Leona ultimately caved in and allowed you to do whatever you wanted because his heart had a soft spot for you. He told himself many times that he only tolerated your touchy-feely behavior because you're his childhood friend. However, he later became overly accustomed to it to the point he would find it strange if you didn't come to give him affection annoy him, even if only for a day.

In school, many NRC students often saw you hanging out with Leona. No one knows whether you're sticking to him or he's sticking to you, but one thing's for sure; Leona didn't like being disturbed when he was together with you. Those who dared to approach would surely be treated like an enemy by him. With eyes glaring daggers at them, he silently mouthed the words 'fuck off' as a warning to not take another step forward.

Leona never gave a fuck about other people's opinions of him; thus, he doesn't really mind if you're being affectionate with him in public. And even if he did complain, you don't need to take it seriously since it was probably just him being his usual cranky self. Another possible reason may be because Leona's aware of the numerous pairs of eyes focusing on you two, and he doesn't want you to be the subject of negative gossip. Well, even if there are indeed some bad rumors about you, you don't have to worry since he'll take care of it for you. Such a good friend he is, eh?

It's already common knowledge around the school that Leona often used his childhood friend as his personal pillow, so it's not really a surprise to know that his favorite form of affection is cuddling with you while sleeping. The warmth emanating from your body seeps into Leona's skin, reassuring him that you're still by his side. All the while, your steady heartbeat continues to be a constant reminder of your presence.

3. Azul Ashengrotto

The moment you first attempted to express your affection towards Azul with a hug during your childhood, he instantly froze in his place; mouth hung agape and his face flushed a deep shade of red. Worriedly, you tried to touch him to bring him back to reality, but he let out a sudden scream and swiftly swam away to hide in his octopus pot.

Azul is not a stranger to affection, all thanks to his mother who likes to pamper him with kisses. Even so, receiving it from someone outside the family was a brand-new experience for him. Initially, he won't stop fidgeting whenever you try to give him affection. But soon enough, he learned to relax and even reciprocate it, albeit awkwardly. Azul may not openly show it, but he loves the affection you give him and he looks forward to it every day.

Upon enrolling at NRC, Azul, with a heavy heart, had to reduce the frequency of being affectionate with you since he had a professional image to maintain, much to both your and his dismay. He had grown accustomed to being showered with your affection, and now he must stop receiving it? Azul bawled his eyes out in his heart.

Fortunately for him, you still continue to give him your affections every day like usual. Although not as often as before, because you also considered the persona he had worked so hard to create, Azul is still happy to have his daily dose of affection. If other people were nearby, Azul's cheeks would be heating up from embarrassment and he lightly reprimanded you to compose yourself. But who will take his words seriously when he makes little to no effort to push you away.

Surprisingly, Azul's favorite form of affection was when you touch his cheek; smoothing it, pinching it gently, or squeezing it. He loved the way your hand felt against his skin—warm and reassuring. It made him feel special, like he was the only one in your world. And to top it off, you always cooed sweet nothings whenever you did it, which could make Azul feel a bit bashful. But… as long as it's you, Azul won't fight back.

4. Kalim Al Asim

Ever since you were little, you had a unique habit of tackle hugging Kalim every time you two met each other. At first, Kalim was taken by surprise, but then he would quickly reciprocate the hug with an even tighter embrace while bursting into hearty laughter. If it weren't for someone eventually intervening and separating the two of you, there's no doubt that you and Kalim won't end the hug anytime soon.

Being a naturally affectionate person himself, Kalim always welcomed your displays of affection with open arms. In fact, he wholeheartedly encouraged you to express your affection as frequently as you pleased because he's more than ready to receive it with arms open wide.Growing up, the intimacy between the two of you has not diminished even a bit. Instead, it increased to the point that people often misunderstood the relationship between you and Kalim. Kalim himself doesn't find anything unusual about his interactions with you. After all, you and he are best friends, so isn't it natural for you to love each other?

Whenever and wherever, Kalim had no reservations about displaying his affection for you in public. If you happen to pass each other in the hallway and countless eyes are watching, Kalim will still rush to give you a warna hug and a quick peck on the cheek. With a gleam in his eyes, he would then present his cheek to you, hoping you would reciprocate the gesture.

Out of the many affections you have given him, the one Kalim loves the most is your embrace. No matter how often you hug him, Kalim will never get tired of it. Wrapping his two arms around your body, Kalim basks himself in the warmth and comfort of your embrace. For him, there existed no greater place than the sanctuary of your loving arms.

5. Vil Schoenheit

Besides the rosy hues that grace his cheeks, little Vil doesn't show any excessive reactions whenever you're physically affectionate with him. He simply reprimanded you for startling him and then telling you to let him know in advance so he won't be caught off guard next time. All in all, he doesn't mind if you want to be physically affectionate with him.

When he was younger, Vil adorned himself with only the lightest touch of makeup, so he had no problem with you touching or even kissing his face. If it were anyone else, Vil would surely not grant them such privilege. But because you're his childhood friend, you're the only exception.

As he grew older and began to wear makeup more often, Vil started prohibiting you from casually touching him like before. Hugging and holding hands is still tolerable, but touching or kissing his face is only allowed when he's not wearing makeup. Don't misunderstand; Vil still cherishes all the affection you give him, yet his job as a public figure demands him to appear perfect at all times. But don't worry, he's still your Vil Schoenheit in private.

Being both a model and an actor means that Vil's every move is watched by the media and the public eye. Therefore, he strongly forbids you from being affectionate with him in public. He doesn't care if there are negative rumors that may tarnish his reputation; instead, he's more concerned about your life being disturbed by his fans.

When the day is almost over, Vil usually allows you to play with his hair for a while before he starts his nightly routine. He likes feeling your fingers running through his locks, gently caressing them with utmost care. Vil wants to let you know that he's not that fragile, but at the end of the day, he chooses to remain silent and enjoy the affection you give him with a faint smile.

6. Idia Shroud

Whenever you try to get physically affectionate with little Idia, there are always four possible reactions he can give: he might let out a loud shriek, reflexively dodge you, become a stuttering mess, or even do all three in succession.

Let's be real; Idia wasn't a big fan of physical contact with other people. But since it's you, someone he holds dear along with Ortho, he's willing to make a little exception. It took him a while to get used to your touch, but now, when you try to be affectionate with him, he will only get slightly startled with a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

During your time at NRC, you can't be all touchy-feely with Idia as often as before because he rarely shows up in person, opting to send his tablet to fulfill his stead. That's why, every time school is over, you head straight to his room and cling to him like a koala. Although a little flustered, Idia doesn't shy away from your touch; he just asks you to move a bit so he can continue playing his game.

Idia strongly dislikes being affectionate in front of many people and being the center of attention. He'd much rather enjoy your company and affection in the privacy of his room. Plus, being stared at by many people while receiving your affection would distract him from fully savoring the moment.

Idia often tells himself that he's not the biggest fan of physical affection and that he's just getting used to you being touchy-feely. But when you lean against his side, resting your head on his shoulder, Idia will unconsciously lean back on you, savoring the warmth of your presence. At that moment, time seems to slow down as he feels the gentle rhythm of your breath and the comforting weight of your head against him. A small, genuine smile forms on his lips, as if your touch has unlocked his hidden vulnerability and he finds solace in your presence.

7. Malleus Draconia

When you first give little Malleus a physical affection in the form of a hug, he is taken aback for a few seconds before a small smile adorns his slightly blushing face. Without hesitating, Malleus would take your hand into his and ask you to repeat what you just did earlier, eyes sparkling with excitement as he waited for you to hug him again.

Being the crown prince of the Briar Valley, Malleus was both respected and feared, causing others to maintain a cautious distance from him. In the big palace he called home, Malleus always felt lonely all by himself. So when you entered his gloomy life and gave him the affection he had always craved, Malleus couldn't help but become attached to you. As a young fae, he was quite clingy back then, often asking you to hold his hand, hug him, and occasionally requesting a kiss on his cheek.

The NRC students, no matter how frequently they witnessed it, forever found themselves astounded when they caught sight of you randomly giving the legendary Malleus Draconia a surprise hug from behind. What made it even more remarkable was that Malleus himself didn't display any sign of displeasure. On the contrary, a gentle smile graced his lips as he playfully pinched your nose, revealing his enjoyment of your endearing acts. It was evident that he welcomed your playful gestures and had no intention of putting an end to them.

If you choose to shower Malleus with affection in the presence of others, rest assured that he will not harbor any anger or annoyance. Instead, a light chuckle would escape his lips as he let you do as you please. By demonstrating your affection for one another, Malleus believes it lets people know that you and him have a very good relationship that was built on a strong foundation of trust and affection.

It's not wrong to say that Malleus enjoys holding hands with you wherever you both go, but if he had to choose, Malleus prefers it more when you play with his hands. Whether it's comparing the size of your hands, tracing the lines on his palm, or simply interlocking your fingers together. Through these seemingly simple gestures, Malleus discovers an unparalleled sense of happiness. Each touch, each moment of connection, carries a profound significance for him, serving as a testament to the depth of your bond together.

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strangersteddierthings · 8 months

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ooo can i suggest prompt six? "Did you lie to me?" hehe

Thanks for sending a prompt, Nonny! It's my daily ficlet for today!

Daily Ficlet 6

Steve's never been a secret before. He's too likeable (or hateable) for that. He's never had to hide a relationship before because what girl wouldn't want to be with him? All his friendships are well known, or were, back when he was in high school. There weren't even secret rivalries!

So, it's an adjustment, keeping this thing with Eddie a secret. But he's trying. Even though all he wants to do is hold his hand every hour of every day he refrains because. Because?

Well, he's not really full on those details. He knows it's partially because Eddie isn't out to anyone in the group except Steve. He's not even out to Robin, and Steve thought for sure they'd figure each other out and bond over it but that hasn't happened yet. Eddie's also said something about keeping it to themselves so they can just be themselves, together, without other people. When Eddie had whispered that it had sounded so sweet and romantic. But that was, like, two months ago and it's.... it's still romantic, but Steve wants to ramble about how beautiful Eddie is to Robin.

Also! This secret keeping is causing Robin to worry! He can't keep secrets from Robin, he never has. He told Robin he thought he might like guys exactly 0.4 seconds after he'd realized it! In fact, he's so bad at secret keeping that he's told her he has a boyfriend. Won't say who, and Robin won't push. All he had to say was his boyfriend wasn't ready to come out and that was that.

He's out to the Party, too. Mostly as an accidental outing he didn't back down from even when Will offered him an out with his quick thinking. Jonathan knows, too. That was an on-purpose telling after Will came out to Steve when they were finally alone, and Steve learned Jonathan knew about Will.

Anyway. Steve's never been a secret before. He doesn't want to continue being one. He just wants Eddie's permission to tell Robin. He'll be fine with waiting even if Eddie says he's not ready for Robin to know, of course, but he just. He wants Robin to know who the amazing person he rants about is.

So, imagine his surprise when, halfway down the stairs to the basement at Eddie and Wayne's new house to talk to Eddie about telling Robin, he hears his name.

"-because it's Steve Harrington, y'know?" Gareth's voice floats up the stairs to Steve and he freezes. Is Gareth a goddman psychic!? How did he know Steve was here?

"That's your reasoning? Because it's Steve?" Eddie asks, and oh. They don't know he's here. They're talking about him. Steve should make himself known. He shouldn't just stand here and listen. But. Well, if Eddie's finally telling his friends about them, he kinda wants to hear it. Want to hear Eddie spill the secret so they can quit being so secretive.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who's always saying people don't change. Did you lie to me? To us? Has Steve changed?" That's Jeff's voice, and his questions make Steve gut twist. But Eddie's not Nancy. He's not- they aren't bullshit. Eddie knows that. He'll defend Steve. He'll tell them the truth. There's silence, though. Eddie doesn't defend him.

"What's with the silence?" Frankie asks, when Eddie's been quiet too long. Funny, Steve wanted to ask the same thing.

"I'm trying to not snap at you all," Eddie says, and he sounds angry. "I get that you guys might still be hesitant or whatever, but you don't get to come here and throw accusations when you haven't even tried to be friends with him! This is why I don't invite him to come hang out with us! 'Cause you can be a bunch of dicks sometimes!"

Steve feels a warmth bloom inside him. He knew Eddie would defend him, he did. It's just hard to believe sometimes, and he's not going to make that Eddie's problem. But hearing it. Hearing that Eddie does defend him even when he doesn't know Steve's around to hear it. Fuck, it makes him want to kiss Eddie so bad.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry," Jeff says, "you're right. We are being dicks, and pretty standoffish with Steve. We aren't giving him a fair chance."

"You're not!" Eddie agrees aggressively. "Even if he wasn't my b- my friend, he's still the reason I'm even fucking alive. So, respect that at least."

Steve stands at the midpoint of the stairs until the conversation turns to a different topic before he tiptoes back to the top of the steps to turn around and thunder down the stairs loudly, giving everyone in the basement a warning to his arrival.

He'll tell a lie, that he was driving around because he was bored and thought to stop and see what Eddie was up to, and get invited to stay and hang out. Eddie's friends are more open with him than they usually are and Steve doesn't waste the opportunity to try and really engage with them, get to know them.

He can be a secret just a little longer, he supposes, when he looks away from Jeff and catches Eddie staring at him with the same adoration he sees on Eddie's face when they're alone. And judging by the almost slip up earlier, Eddie might be getting closer to not being a secret, too.

#anonymous #ask #my fic #steddie #daily ficlet #i still plan to write for the original prompt but this ask called to me first #and i dont wanna burnout trying to write too many fics #HA! best you thought this was going to be angst! But it's not!

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save-the-villainous-cat · 12 days

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Hello!! I would like to request a part 2 (or not? more like another POV) to the protective younger sibling!sidekick snippet if you’re okay with it ^^

This time it’s hero asking henchman to meet up and henchman just panics like “omg do they know who i am?? bro im going to get my ass beat and die 😭💀” and decides to spill everything from their real identity to their bar escapades with sidekick

but in reality hero was just really glad that their younger sibling finally got a special someone so they just wanted to get to know them more and all about their relationship😭 also ofc they knew who henchman was all along, duh (their villain lover tells them literally everything)

pt. 1

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to spy on them or anything like that — at first I didn’t even know it was them and I think they still don’t know it’s me. I just kind of met them a couple of times coincidentally and I don’t know, I like them a lot, I really do. They’re so smart and like, I don’t know, so quick? Like they can keep up with my mind and I wasn’t really trying anything at first, I didn’t even think they’d like me and I was just kind of—”

“Woah, I didn’t even get to accuse you of anything.” The hero played with their pen out of habit and studied the henchman. They were certainly panicking and the hero was not going to let something this small turn into this giant thing. “I wish all my interrogations would go that way. Would make my job certainly easier…”

“Please don’t kill me,” the henchman whispered.

“Jeez. Relax. I’m not gonna kill you for dating my sibling.” The hero rolled their eyes. What exactly was their lover telling the henchman about them? That they were some sort of monster?

They definitely needed to talk to the villain. They’d danced around this subject for a while now. When the hero had found out a few weeks ago, they had wanted to talk to the henchman immediately but the villain had urged them not to rush into anything.

And they supposed the villain was right about that.

Getting into other people’s business didn’t always turn out great for the hero.

And they simply really wanted to see their lover.

“Technically, we’re not dating…”

“Well, whatever you want to call it, I can’t tell you what to do and what not to do. You’re great, so I have nothing to fear. I just wanted to get to know you a little better.” The hero worried their lip between their teeth. Maybe they had enough time to visit the villain during lunch? They let the pen spin in their hand.

“Wait…really?”

“Yeah, you’re old enough, I reckon. You can decide these things for yourself.” The hero took in a deep breath. Maybe they should review some cases first? For whatever reason, their mind kept jumping from one topic to another and they weren’t really sure if it was the coffee or them being a little more nervous than they wanted to admit.

This was their sibling’s first (potential) relationship. Clearly, they were old enough and the henchman was a great choice but the hero wondered if their sibling wanted to distance themselves now that they were older.

Whatever choice they’d make, the hero was going to support them, even if that meant they were the annoying older sibling. Maybe the villain had some advice for them.

They closed their eyes and took in a deep breath. Speculating wouldn’t get them far.

“I’m not really used to…responsibility, I guess?” The henchman stared at the hero’s desk as if they were trying to control it with their mind. Their nervousness had shifted to embarrassment and the hero didn’t want that in their office either.

“How so?”

The henchman thought about their words carefully, as if the hero was still an enemy they needed to be cautious around.

That was smart. But the hero doubted they still saw them as a threat. If they really wanted to date the hero’s sibling, they’d try everything to end up on the hero’s good side.

God, their mind was racing. They really needed to see the villain. They always managed to calm them down.

“…sometimes I feel more like a burden to the villain. They barely take me out on missions or let me help them,” they eventually said and the hero couldn’t believe how far off the henchman was with an assumption like that.

Them? A burden to the villain who protected them, shielded them as if they were their own child?

“They’re terrified of losing you,” the hero said.

“I can take care of myself. I’m not dumb.”

“They don’t think you are.” The hero clicked their pen a couple of times and doodled some hearts onto paper. The henchman seemed to be a usually quiet person but right now, a lot of frustration was set free.

It wasn’t exactly anger; it was disappointment.

“Still, I would appreciate a little more trust. I am more than capable to help them. I don’t want to do just research. One time, they nearly died because they didn’t tell me they were injured.”

“They do trust you. They’re just trying to shield you from the bad things. Believe me, I’ve tried doing that and I’ve failed,” the hero said.

“Then what am I doing wrong? I’m not a child anymore. I know how to fight.”

The hero was quiet for a moment. Apparently those doubts had manifested throughout time. The henchman felt quite worthless and couldn’t really see how much the villain actually cared about them.

How the villain made sure they were eating and drinking enough. How they called them several times a day to make sure they were okay. How they researched schools and workplaces for them all the time.

“You’re an orphan, aren’t you?” they asked as gentle as possible.

The henchman nodded. “I barely talk about it.”

“Well, the villain is an orphan as well and they were robbed of their childhood. They don’t want you to grow up as quick as they had to. That’s why they let you do…well, office work instead of getting your hands dirty. It’s more of an excuse. They want you to study people instead of fighting them.”

“…but they need me. They’re a total idiot sometimes. Last week they were clearly outnumbered and almost got themselves killed. Again.”

“Well, thank God I am here now to help them. More or less.” The hero leaned back. Most of the time, they disagreed with the villain when it came to work. But they’d obviously break a few rules to save their lover every now and then. “You need them just as much as they need you, don’t you?”

The henchman didn’t meet their eyes, so the hero continued.

“You think they don’t care and you think they’re pushing you away but that’s not true. Truth is, this isn’t all fun and games. Seeing someone you love collapse is the worst thing in the world. Losing someone close to you is an indescribable grief. Let me do the saving and the nasty work. You can guide them. Do the research and make plans. Fight my sibling occasionally…”

Suddenly, the henchman blushed.

“Oh, I…uh…”

“You’re right. You aren’t a child anymore and you can decide what you want to do with your future. But there are people who care about you and they will try to shield you from danger, no matter how old you are.” The hero stretched their limbs and suppressed a yawn. They stared at the doodles they had drawn on a few sticky notes.

They had subconsciously written the first letter of the villain’s name into the hearts.

Now, they really wanted to see their villain. They knew their lover was calculated and smart and capable but the hero needed to see that stupid smirk more than anything. All this talk about danger and death…

“Don’t worry, okay?” they asked and the henchman nodded. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

The hero stared at the doodles and smiled softly.

“Don’t you have a date to go on? Or is that tomorrow?” they asked.

“Tomorrow—” The henchman was still blushing when they stood up. “I should, uh, probably go. Again, you really helped me. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It was safe to say that the hero and the villain had lunch together.

#wanted to do a second part anyway so your ask is perfect timing #see what I did there #protectiveness vs freedom #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #cont'd

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rallentando1011 · 3 months

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Hello! I hope your doing okay❤️❤️

I’d like to request a Reader with a accent ( I’m native and I kinda realized how differently I sound compared to other people). How would the Rottmnt boys react? Like maybe sometimes they don’t know what the reader is saying??? Or have a hard time understanding?? Or maybe the reader says things differently? It’s fine if you don’t wanna do it, just thought I’d request. Thank you and have a nice day!! ❤️❤️❤️👽

ROTTMNT Boys W/ a Reader With an Accent

Thank you very much for this super sweet request! I may have projected on some parts of this, but don’t we all? Anyway, hope you’re having a great day, take care of yourselves, and enjoy!

(Also, I promise I am working through my requests and appreciate every one! Request guidelines are HERE)

Word Count: 855

Donnie:

Donnie loves ranting to you and listening to you in return, no matter what topic you guys talk about

Sometimes as you’re speaking you’ll use a word or phrase and see him have a genuine physical reaction to it

Head askew, eyebrow lifted, lips pressed together

When he feels confused, his expression says it more quickly than his words

Any time you mispronounce a word, he genuinely needs to butt in and correct you

Call it semantics or pedantics or whatever you want, he can not and will not let it go

If you’re fumbling over words or can’t think of the specific one you want to say, he’ll try to help by throwing out suggestions

Most of the time, he’s right on the money, almost impossibly so

You’ve jokingly accused him of using his tech to read your mind, but he hasn’t… probably

He’s just an intuitive fellow who loves his context clues

Hand gestures while you’re talking help him figure out what you mean

You two could go back and forth in a conversation of mostly hand gesticulations

He keeps a list of any regional or culturally specific words you use, partially so he has them for future reference, partially because he finds them endearing

If you ever find it, though, he will insist that it is strictly for the former

Nope, no sentimental value to it at all

Mikey:

Mikey is a highly empathetic person, so whenever he doesn’t know what you’re saying or you don’t know what you’re trying to say, he’s understanding about it

He sits patiently and calmly as you work through your words

Likewise, he waits until after you finish speaking your sentiments to ask for clarification

Now, Mikey may be a compassionate little guy, but he can also be a menace (still to be determined if he is intentionally or incidentally that way)

Instead of specifying what he doesn’t get, he endlessly repeats

“Huh?... Huh?”

He does this until you physically shake him back to reality

In general, he is extravagantly generous with his compliments

Whether it be about appearance or personality traits, he absolutely loves showering people in praise

The same goes for you and your voice

Even when your accent occasionally confuses your conversation, he still loves your pronunciation of the words

And you can trust that he’s vocal about it

He might ask you to repeat a word just so he can hear you say it again

He just loves y̶o̶u̶ your voice that much

Leo:

Leo is a giggler

No matter the situation, serious or silly, he’s always quick to crack a joke or pun or just laugh

When Leo doesn’t understand something you said, you’ll know

You can always tell by the purely mischievous grin that commandeers his features

You’ll be talking normally when all of a sudden you have to pause because that man will not stop smirking

When you ask him what the issue is, he slowly repeats whatever you mispronounced, hints of lighthearted condescension hiding in his tone

Somehow he asks you to repeat yourself in the most puzzling ways possible

“Run that back real quick?”

“Run what back?”

Leo may lightly tease you for saying something wrong, but he usually knows how far he can push and still be lighthearted

Although, if he ever oversteps with his teasing, he will apologize profusely, insisting that he finds it sweet

If you ever feel insecure about your accent or the unorthodox words you use, he picks up on it, immediately drops his teasing, and talks with you about how awesome you and your characteristics are

Even though he chuckles at any odd words you say, it’s never out of malice

He just finds it endearing

Raph:

Out of all of the brothers, Raph has the most experience interacting with people who come from all kinds of backgrounds with all kinds of voices

He’s always the one to go on patrols

Or talk with business owners when him and his brothers are at a restaurant

Or sneak into Times Square disguised in a hippopotamus costume to buy his father a robe

Either way, he’s been exposed to a multitude of accents

He even has one himself

With all that being said, it is abundantly clear that he is highly understanding of your odd pronunciations, even when he can’t understand you

He always waits until you finish your sentence or thought before incredibly bashfully correcting your pronunciation or asking for you to repeat yourself

Just to repeat it for emphasis, he is extremely shy while doing this

Shuffling his feet, clearing his throat, twiddling his thumbs

He just doesn’t want to frustrate you

However, he knows that he would want to be corrected if he made an error, so he finds it only decent to extend that same liberty to you

Raph occasionally giggles when your accent muddles your meaning

He doesn’t mean to, and does try to conceal his laughter, but sometimes he can’t help himself

It’s adorable- er, he means hilarious

He always specifies afterward that he was laughing at the situation, never at you and your wonderful traits

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russellsppttemplates · 5 months

Text

From the start, it was you (George Russell)

The heart doesn't seem to choose by team colours

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first driver!reader I've ever written, so I hope I've done a good job. Also, I did not plan to post this piece specifically now, but seems fitting with the whole shitshow that has been going on the past couple of days. Also, this is a plot I've seen written a lot, so I know there are many other pieces that are way better, and hopefully my take on it isn't too bad!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: race collision, medical exams, curse words, gender inequality comments

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Your purple race suit made you stand out amongst all of the other kids as you walked back from the podium, proudly smiling at your trophy, "Y/N! We're here!", you heard your father as he waved so you'd know where they stood, "congratulations, darling! That was an impressive overtake you did there in the last lap!", he praised, scratching your head before placing a kiss there, "I was trying to get first, but I couldn't get it", you admitted it, looking sideways at the boy who you couldn't take the first place from.

George Russell was a tall boy, same age as you, so you often raced against eachother. While you had become friends with some of the other kids, Russell wasn't one of them. It began when you tried to congratulate him for his P3 a few years ago, stretching your hand out politely, a smile on your face as he turned his back to you, mumbling something as he walked towards his parents. So, you weren't the best of friends if anyone asked.

"Y/N, darling, go stand next to the boys so I can take a picture of you! It will be such a good memory for when you're older!", your mother said excitedly, making you, George and the boy that finished his race behind you on each of your sides, smiling at the camera and hoping it would be as quick as possible, not wanting to stand next to him for a second longer than you should.

"I have your media day schedules here", Mary said as she handed you and Oscar your respective schedules, "Y/N, you're going to get interviewed with Charles, Yuki, George and Fernando", she stated as she then moved on to Oscar, explaing a few things to him since he was going first.

"And Y/N, while you're in there, try not to kill George, even with your eyes, okay?", she advised, tapping your shoulder softly as you looked at her sideways, "last time you were both in the same panel, you managed to be out of qualifying", she nodded, "only because our car wasn't that reliable, and we all know how theirs is", you pointed out, smiling sweetly and hoping to get on her side, "you're lucky you don't annoy me too much, Y/N", she smiled back.

The team had made many improvements to the car, granting you and Oscar the possibility to aim for higher places on the grid, and since you were a nerd about all things engineering, too, you loved when you were asked about the topic. But lately, the questions about the car seemed to get asked to your teammate Oscar, leaving the excuse that "the journalists already have the information they need", and because they didn't want to be accused of not asking you questions like it had happened before, it seemed to divert to other topics.

"Y/N, here", one of the journalists waved, grabbing your attention, "With the recent events and new propositions from the F1 Academy, do you think the sport is going to suffer from having a bigger opportunity that's being given to women in motorsport?", your heard him say, making your blood boil.

Despite the constant raised awareness for gender discrimination and discrimination in motorsport, especially in the last couple of years, some people still had it pretty engraved in their system, and while sometimes it came out looking a little bit more subtle, this one didn't even bother to soften the edges.

You'd be lying if you said this was the first time you heard these comments directed at you, or that you thought it would be the last, no matter how much you wished some sort of disciplinary measure was taken, "I woul-", you began before you heard a loud clash on the floor and felt water on your legs. The trousers you were wearing were soaked around your thighs and knees as George got up to grab the bottle that belonged to him, "I'm so sorry, Y/N", he apoligised as he put the lid back on, "I think it's best if we call it a day, hm? The next group needs to have this cleaned before they come in here", the Mercedes driver said as everyone seemed to agree and get up, bidding goodbye as Charles and George stayed until the end.

"Careful, don't slip", the monegasque driver said, making sure you wouldn't fall and walking out of the room with you, "figures the guy wouldn't even be here to check if everything's fine", you muttered as Charles chuckled, "you two really are like the cat and the mouse".

"He's not even here! He just flew off to his fancy room to delight in the joy of making fun of me", you grumbled, bidding goodbye to Charles as you found yourself by the entrance of Ferrari.

Walking the distance to meet your team, Mary was the first to get you, "I'm sorry they asked that", she said, "it's a good thing Russell spilled his drink", she teased, knowing you wouldn't want to dwell on the comments for long. It hardly solved the problem and you'd look into it in the team meeting when the time called for it, "promise you won't take him out in the race?".

Laughingly at her assumption and the fact that she had managed to pull you out of your misery as you walked to you driver's room, "don't worry, and tell the guys downstairs to now worry either, they're not going to have to build me a new car either", you flashed a smile before closing the door, changing into another pair of trousers you had brought with you.

"You're starting P4, Y/N", your race engineer said over the radio, "we are going to give it our all to support you and help you".

"And I'm going to drive the beat I can for you guys. Today, we get orange flying around and its going to be because of the Papaya team", you smiled under your helmet, "Oscar is P6, so I think we can even aim for a Podium, depends on how things go", you said.

As soon as the lights went out, you reacted quickly and passed the car that had been sitting next to yours, your race engineer confirming your third place and giving you a run down of all the grid changes.

"Do us proud, you're doing well, good pace", you heard on your speakers. You were enjoying the drive, analysing the data without team and looking for the right opportunity to overtake Charles, "go after the next turn, Y/N. Charles' tyres are not looking so good, so we think you have the upper hand there. George's car seems to be having some issues, too, he won't go after you", the pit wall channeled in your radio.

You looked in your mirrors as you were about to make the overtake, having patiently waited to reach the specific turn and going with it, confident that you would be able to overtake the red car.

A fraction of a second, you would always say, was game changing in Formula One. A decision to overtake or stay back, to accept the call to the pits or a new strategy, sometimes all it took was less than a second. And it also took less than a second for your car to start spinning, making you remove your hands from your steering wheel and brace yourself for the collision that would soon enough happen.

The impact wasn't as hard as you had expected, having felt most of it in your hips and shoulders. Groaning, you opened your eyes to see the damage, hearing "Y/N, can you tell us if you are okay?" over the radio.

Pressing the button, you heard the equipment's buzz, "I'm okay. I'm sorry about the car, guys", you gulped, adjusting yourself, "another car tapped me, right? Are they okay?", you asked, "George's fine from what we've heard".

After the marshalls confirmed you were free to go with the medical car to get checked over, you were back in the hospitality as the race continued, "doctor said I'll have some bruises, nothing too bad though", you gave them the report as you apoligised and thanked everyone on your side of the garage.

"Turns out they'll have to build you a new car after all", Mary offered as she hugged you, "if Russell had been more careful, this could've ended differently", you groaned.

"From what I've heard, he was trying a risky move and the car had an issue and locked up. He lost control of it and his front wing tapped your rear wheels just about enough to cause the crash", she explained, "it's not like he purposefully wanted to take you out", she reasoned.

"I know, it's just not ideal", you sighed, "we could both be in there". On the screen, Oscar was sitting P2, having successfully overtaken Charles a few laps in after the race resumed.

Even though George was far from your friend, you still wanted to check if he was okay, specially after seeing the impact the crash had on his car, too.

Walking to the Mercedes hospitality, a few people stopped you on your tracks briefly to express their relief on seeing you up and about and wishing you well before you found yourself by the glass doors.

"Is George here? I'd like to see if he's doing alright, but only if that's okay, I'm sure you're busy", you asked one of the media girls, Holly, recognising her from previous encounters.

"He's in his driver's room, yes, let me walk you there", she smiled, walking with you and knocking on the door, "George, may I come in?", she asked before he gave a positive answer, "Y/N is here, she wanted to talk to you", she stated, backing up so you could be seen, "yes, that's alright", the tall man said as Holly held out her arm, gesturing you to walk inside the room as she closed the door behind her, most likely going back to work on the race content.

"Hey", you waved awkwardly, "I don't have any other way to contact you, and asking your team how you were didn't seem... right? So, yeah, I came here", you gulped, suddenly feeling a weird pressure to act properly, whatever that meant.

"I'm good, barely got a scratch since I was able to stop the car before it hit the barriers", George explained, "and you? It looked pretty bad", he checked.

"I have some bruises, I think the adrenaline is slowing down now, so it's a bit painful, but nothing major", you clarified.

"The car had some issue and there was not way to control it, I just let it go because there wasn't anything I could do. I'm very glad you're okay", he half smiled as he looked at you.

In all the years you've known him and interacted with him, there had never been a time where he was this relaxed and smiley around you, not even when he had overtaken you in the last lap of the race. And while it was new, it was also comfortable.

"Me too, it looked scarier than it felt, though", you offered as he grabbed his water bottle to take a sip from it, "Oh, close the lid properly on that one", you chuckled playfully, not imagining the backlash and reaction it would have.

The new and comfortable mood turned back to the old and expecting one.

"Do you really think I'm that clumsy to drop a bottle like that? I wanted to get us out of there, to get you out of there because they were asking sexist questions", he stated, "and I didn't do it because I thought you couldn't defend yourself, because you sure know how to stop your foot and put it down, but because they don't deserve your time like that. Hell, I wish you spent that little time with me instead!", George yelled out, not missing your shocked expression, "maybe there was a time that I didn't like how you just showed up and got things done, but in the end, it's not because it's you, or because you're a woman. I wanted to be the one to show up and get things done, because I admire you so much", he gulped.

"So you're saying it's my fault that I've been labelled a bad sport because we constantly fight out there? That's why you've hated me?", your defensive side turned up, not dwelling on his kind words.

"I'm not saying it is either of our fault! I'm just trying to explain to you that I don't hate you like you think I do", he put his hands on his hips, walking around his room, "you might hate me, and that's fine, you know? I'm not going to be the one to tell you how you should feel, that's not how it works, but I have never hate you.

"I might've said I hated you when we were little, but that's because you probably stole my place on the podium, and even that was probably well deserved. I never thought I'd feel like this about you", he concluded.

"And what is it that you feel about me? Because I would like a warning should you want to beat me up to deal with all it is that you're feeling...?", you gestured to his stance. Was he saying he didn't hate you? Did he have other feelings that were actually in the happiness section of the emotion wheel and not near the anger section?

Chuckling, he approached you, "I have had feelings for you since we started driving in F2. At first I thought it was just the thrill of the competition and of having someone to challenge me, and when you got the Mclaren seat, I was so happy that you'd be racing against me", he further offered, "I don't know when it came out that we hated eachother, and when you didn't seem to feel otherwise, I tried to hate you, or at least dislike you, and it wasn't working, so I just let it go however it went, and it's led me here. And I'm being honest with you, so laugh all you want, or deal with it however you want to", he raised his hands as he excused himself.

"George, I nerve said anything because I can't afford to say those things. How many rivalries have you seen in motorsport? So many, and many more that are not written in books and shown off in videos. And none of them have apoligies to offer, or rather, the very few that have done it, turned out okay. But if I was the one to talk about it? A female driver talking about how she cares that her colleagues and her have a good relation and that they don't hate eachother like the press wants people to believe?", you scoffed, "That's not on my books, that's not something I can consider.

"And I don't hate you, George. For Goodness' sake, I came here to see of you were alright. Any other person would've yelled that you ruined their race, but I understand that there are things we can't control and shit like this happens. It sucks, but that's how it is. Like Charles says all the time, 'sometimes it's like this'", you giggled, "I actually think you're a pretty decent guy", you blushed.

Over the years, the bickering had only spurred you on even more, and maybe it wasn't just the thrill of seeing him so on edge that made you continue to do so.

"So you're saying you've never hated me?",

George said as he offered you his chair to sit down as he prepared tea for both of you, "Maybe I didn't like you so much when we did karting, but that was just because you were really tall and actually gave me fair competition", you winked.

#george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #george russell fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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ryukatters · 5 months

Note

def gojo, but also toji and maybe y’all are like competing assassins who run into eachother sometimes

⟡ word count: ~700

⟡ a/n: your brain is so big

⟡ Based on this ask

Your target is right ahead of you.

Just a few more feet, the two of you will be away from any wandering eyes and security cameras— and you’ll be in the clear to take him out with a single blow.

It’s an older gentleman— a local politician, you’ve been told, with connections to the black market. Made a few people working underground unhappy with some new laws passed. So you’ve been ordered to execute him.

You get jobs like this all the time. You don’t necessarily like what you do, but you don’t necessarily hate it either. It’s something that brings food to the table, allows you a roof over your head. Despite your unconventional career, it’s actually pretty stable, given your high success rate and gracious recommendations from satisfied clients.

Stable, as long as you’re the one actually doing the killing.

You blink once and suddenly your politician has a bullet going straight through his skull.

“You’ve gotta be faster than that, sweetheart.”

The politician’s body hits the floor with a dull thud. You hardly pay attention because all you hear is the rush of blood in your eardrums and all you can see is that annoying smirk on that stupid face of his.

Damn him.

You stomp towards Toji angrily, pointing an accusing finger into his (well-built) chest, “That was my target, you freak!”

“Was it? Well that’s too bad. Looks like you’ll have to pick up another job elsewhere,” he sneers. “Think you could make a pretty penny with those tits of yours.” He stares down at them pointedly. You feel your cheeks burn from humiliation.

“Oh fuck off, Fushiguro.”

“I’d much rather fuck you.”

Toji Fushiguro: a quick, money hungry, infamous assassin. Or, as you often call him— a pain in the ass. Your ass specifically, since he seems to have a tendency to sabotage all of your missions.

He’d argue that he simply has a penchant for pretty things, and you’re a high he has yet to come down from.

“You’re deplorable,” you spit, arms crossing over your chest. “A waste of space. Are you really so broke that you feel the need to steal someone else’s kill? Maybe you’re the one that needs to pick up a gig at the local strip club.”

Your words do nothing— they bounce off him as if he were a wall of solid steel. He might as well be. Nothing could ever penetrate Toji, physically and emotionally.

“So everyone can see the scratches you leave on my back?” He sneers, taking a step closer. He smells like sweat and cheap cologne. It’s intoxicating. “Dunno why you’re pretendin’ to hate me s’much with the way you’re creamin’ on my cock all the time.”

“Maybe because that’s the only redeeming quality you have,” you bite back. Toji merely chuckles, as if the venom spewing from your lips lacks virulence. And maybe it does.

“You’re pretty spunky today, baby. You know how much it turns me on when you put up a fight.”

You let out a growl, swinging your arm to punch him, but he’s gone from your sight before you even get the chance to land a blow. That’s the second time you’ve missed tonight.

He appears behind you before you can react.

Toji presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, relishing in the way you suppress a shiver as he leans down to his whisper in your ear, “Gotta be faster than that, sweetheart.”

You hate him. You remind yourself that every single time you see him.

“Bring that attitude with you tonight and see where that gets you,” he murmurs, allowing himself a rough nip at your jugular— a little taste of the inevitable. “You know where to find me.”

The words ring in your mind, each syllable being burned into your hippocampus with every passing second. You make quick work of delivering the corpse to your handler before you’re off to find a certain assassin.

Toji Fushiguro would ruin your life. Yet for some reason, you can’t find it in you to push him away when he calls.

#I have such a hard time characterizing toji for some reason but here you go #kat answers #kat’s writing #kat’s demon time #toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n

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animeyanderelover · 17 days

Text

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, stalking, abduction, manipulation, threats, intimidation

Tags: @leveyani @kanaosprotector

This is fine

Kamado Nezuko

💕Nezuko's clinginess and atalking tendencies aside, I think the biggest problem you are going to face is her protective brother who, whilst smelling that you have no bad intentions, is still showing a tad bit of caution. Whilst Nezuko is able to tell that her darling is uncomfortable and that her questionable actions play part in it, she is genuinely not able to grasp the full extent of the situation which is why you get more often comforting head pats as if that will help you to calm down. It isn't like Nezuko is very frightening but she is still someone who goes where you go and who even stalks you, even when you are asleep. Admittedly, she is partially quite protective in doing this too. When you do grow more comfortable around her, she senses that and whilst she may not be able to detect what exactly happened to solve the problem of your feelings, she is happy now that you are feeling happy too and finally stops fussing over you now that there is nothing she feels like she has to worry about.

Kocho Shinobu

🦋Shinobu of course knows about her obsession but she has done well to hide it behind her sweet facade so far, although eventually all secrets have to be exposed in the face of danger. She is such a little menace with her sweet smile but her threatening aura to the point where you are scared of the woman who knows the one or other thing about poisoning someone. There is always something fake about Shinobu in the way she presents herself which keeps you on your toes. I reckon it is probably when she has the heart to open up to you that your perspective slowly changes as you see a vulnerable and genuine side she hasn't shown you before. Shinobu, as witty and quick-minded as ever, recognises how your feelings start changing and feels happy about it. Yes, she is using that a tiny bit to her advantage but at the same time she starts giving you trust she hasn't given you before. A part of her is still fully committed to poisoning you if you were to try to escape her though.

Rengoku Kyojuro

🔥It is not common for a man to choose another man as a romantic partner but Kyojuro brushes off all possible criticism with a fierce enthusiasm that scares the people who had to give their comment in the first place. It is that enthusiasm and his sheer determination that is your problem though as Kyojuro has his beliefs that do not waver. He is convinced that your relationship will work, he is determined that he has to protect you as his lover no matter your own status and sometimes all of this can be downright oppressing. It is just exhausting to argue with him because he will never listen to the words that go against his own determination and conviction. So instead of arguing you at one point just embrace the flames of his feelings as you are too tired to fight against him and that is how you start getting used to him and his behavior. Kyojuro himself is highly pleased as he sees that you start seeing his point of view, as optimistic as ever and more loving now that all tension is gone.

Daki

🌺How can you not love her?! As someone who has been spoiled by her brother and who has always been praised as a beautiful woman, Daki is very entitled as she genuinely believes that you have to love her simply because. The wariness you present her with though is not what she expects and she makes her upset feelings quite clear to you as she insults you, screams at you and throws her temper tantrums where you even get hurt as you are the first man who has not kneeled before her beauty. Accusations and wrong ideas that you do not find her beautiful are in her head and she cries to her brother that she has never been insulted like that before in her life. Honestly, there is no way that the isolation doesn't play a part in your change of heart around Daki. You would do yourself a favor by having that change of heart quick though and in return Daki will do a real 180 as her pride is restored and she feels validated that she can win ever men's heart which then allows her to spoil you and praise you for your adoration.

Kibutsuji Muzan

🩸What gender you are honestly doesn't matter because Muzan will still discriminate against you simply for being a human. He doesn't tolerate anything but obedience and fear in everyone he faces so of course you have to displease him straight away. Human, know your place. He is cruel and terrible but he believes that he has the right to do so due to his own god complex so you get little to no mercy whenever you anger him in any way and as you find out pretty soon, he has a terrible temper. I call Stockholm Syndrome because with the way he treats you, there is no way you would fall willingly in love. Muzan has disciplined and trained you to behave properly after all because your previous behavior was intolerable in his eyes. I'm not saying that he treats you good after his training but he treats you somewhat better for as long as you show him the respect he believes he deserves. Then you may get some praise from his side and more affection as you now know how to behave in his presence.

#yandere demon slayer #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere nezuko #yandere kamado nezuko #yandere shinobu #yandere kocho shinobu #yandere kyojuro #yandere rengoku kyojuro #yandere daki #yandere muzan #yandere kibutsuji muzan

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 11 months

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Flowers

You guys have all been so lovely with all your kind words and wonderful comments. It's not that I haven't wanted to write - more that life has unhelpfully been getting in the way!

This is a little on the short side, but let's calling it easing back in gently!

~*~

“What did you do?”

The words are thrown at you the moment you walk into the kitchen. “Bought you flowers?” you answer, not quite sure what you’re being accused of. Putting it down to a rough day, you move to fetch a vase from under the sink, arranging the bouquet before setting them on the table with a smile.

You try to help as she finishes making dinner, but Melissa all but shoves you out of the kitchen, turning down any offers to assist her with sharp words. Settling for setting the table, you try not to be too hurt. You know her kitchen it her happy place, but she had been letting you in, sharing the space as well as her recipes and passion with you.

She brightens up a little through dinner itself, unable not to smile as you compliment her food and tell her about your day, but when she asks again what you did when you’re washing up together afterwards, you can’t help but sigh.

You don’t want to fight. You won’t. “I’ve done nothing but be patient, Melissa. But I’ll tell you what I’m going to do now. I’m going to go home.”

You dry your hands before leaving the kitchen, collecting your phone, bag and jacket on the way out.

Melissa is left standing next to the sink, her heart pounding, fear clutching at her chest. She turns, her eyes falling on the flowers still on her kitchen table. She stares at them for a full sixty seconds before rushing through the house in your wake, uncaring of the soap suds that fly from her hands. She yanks the door open, running out onto the street. “Wait!”

You turn to find a frantic looking Melissa standing only a few steps away in her socks.

“I’m sorry!” she says, wiping her wet hands on her sweater as she approaches you. “I’m just not used to things like this.”

“People being nice to you?” you ask. You hoped she was at least used to it from you by now. You try to at least look slightly annoyed, though the look is hampered severely by the fact you find it adorable that she didn’t even pause to put shoes on. That the socks she is currently sporting are yours and are covered in unicorns doesn’t help either.

Her cheeks flush and she dips her head, embarrassed. “Joe only used to buy me flowers when he’d done something bad.”

You reach out, gently cupping her face in your hands. “I’m not him.”

“I know,” she breathes, stepping close enough that she can rest her forehead on yours. “I do. I do know that. I just…need you to be patient with me sometimes?” Her own hands come up to cover yours, keeping you in place, as though she’s scared you still might just walk away. “Come back inside?”

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to her lips. “I didn’t really want to go in the first place,” you tell her. “But I also didn’t want to argue with you over nothing. Come on, before your feet freeze,” you smile, letting her link your hands and lead you back inside. She walks slightly ahead, a bashful smile on her face.

Closing the door behind you both, she’s quick to take your coat, hanging it up and placing your bag with it before leading you deeper into the house.

“I’ll get the wine while you get some fresh socks?” you suggest. You watch her go, the flush of her embarrassment still high on her cheeks as she heads for the bedroom.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” she offers as she returns, taking the wine glass you hold out to her. “They really are beautiful,” she adds, looking at the flowers on the table.

“Now you know why they reminded me of you.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary

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nikomedes · 26 days

Text

ive seen some great bingo sheets going around for malevolent s5 but i would ask you to go further. lets invent some new 13th century miseries for our failsons arthur and john

EDIT: people in the notes have mentioned they don’t know what some of these are, so i jotted down some quick and dirty explanations below the cut.

the bubonic plague or black death is pretty well known, a horrific illness mostly transmitted by fleas and rats that was responsible for mass death in europe.

marginalia are funky little drawings made in the margins of illuminated manuscripts, largely by bored monks and scriveners. my favorite is the penis beast.

a medieval lord’s military might wasnt made up mostly of knights, who were typically low in number and expensive to field. they largely relied on levies, groups of able-bodied men raised from their land holdings and basically given a pike (a long spear), the bare minimum of equipment/livery, and a slap on the ass, and sent to fight one of the many english civil wars.

leprosy was another greatest hit of medieval diseases that fucked your whole life up.

catholic heresies are super fun! christianity has existed in a sort of perpetual state of “fuck around and find out,” but the medieval period saw a supreme amount of fucking around. here’s a great post rating many of these heresies. check out marcionism for some great Demiurge Discourse

middle english was the form english took at this time. it can be very musical, but its, uh, yknow. difficult to parse these days.

crusades were basically the greatest pastime of medieval rulers. not sure what to do with a heap of gold and all your vassal lords getting antsy and potentially fomenting ANOTHER civil war? ship them off to the middle east to fight a holy war on any pretext you can think of, including “because i can.”

tunic malfunction is mostly a goof, but between hose, sumptuary laws governing specific colors and items different races/religions/classes could wear, tunic length discourse, and how expensive making clothes could be, well. it could be a hurdle

legal proceedings weren’t just for people back in the day. sometimes animals would be dragged to the stand and accused of crimes. pigs in particular were often accused of eating limbs, children, and promoting sin.

13th century well water is your one stop shop for some all-time hit fatal diseases, such as cholera and dysentery! also, even if it didnt kill you, frequent contamination means it usually smelt or looked bad. poisoning wells was a common warfare tactic as well.

#john gets really good at lefthanded longbow unfortunately did not make the cut bc its 14c #malevolent #malevolent podcast #john malevolent #arthur lester #poll #jarthur #private eyes

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chocolatestrawberrymilk · 5 months

Note

could i have alhaitham w/ chemist s/o?

A/N: Hi!!! I love chemistry and science in general so this was such a fun request!

Characters: Alhaitham

Warnings: None I think? pls tell me if there are, I'm very new to this!

Alhaitham:

Ok first of all this man is a linguist.

Yes he is smart. Yes he is a very quick learner.

But... he is not a scientist. At least not in the traditional definition of one.

So, I feel like he might get a little competitive with you sometimes!

If you're both still going to the Akademiya, he'd probably ask to see your class schedule so that he could take some of the same classes as you and you could study together.

Again, since linguistics and chemistry are so different, YOU might actually might end up having to help HIM!

Isn't too interested in helping you perform experiments, he'd rather just know the results, but he will definately sit in there with a book or something to keep you company.

If you're handling anything dangerous he'd kinda hover around you...

Like, he wouldn't outright stop you - he is a firm believer in the importance of the pursuit of knowledge - but he's still worried. So he stands around whatever you're doing to make sure you're safe (and if you're the reckless type, keep you in check.)

VERY down for study dates in the library. They're one of his favourite things to do with you.

If you're more into biochemistry/medical chemistry, he has a list of people he can and will volunteer to be your test subjects.

If there's an experiment that's not working for whatever reason, and he thinks he knows what's going on, he can be a bit condescending when he tells you. He isn't doing it on purpose, but it can feel a little hurtful.

He does like to bring you ancient papers or stones and get you to work on them, maybe to clean them safely, or to use a substance that will make the ink stand out, or maybe to test what ink it's using.

Alhaitham is not an easy person to get close to, so if he does, that means he trusts you completely. And that includes trusting your results. If you ever get accused of academic fraud or plagiarism he can use his status as the Scribe to easily clear the situation up.

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n

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boop-le-snoot · 2 years

Text

🔹masterlist🔹

dazed & confused

wanted a woman, never bargained for you // lotsa people talking, few of them know // soul of a woman was created below (i like it)

sorry this took so long, i got horny multiple times while writing this & had to seek jesus (couldn't find him)

most smut fics are love letters, this? this is hate mail. to stephen strange, specifically. consider this my honest attempt at enemies to lovers. pushing my three favourite agendas: doctor stephen strange, pasta and led zeppelin.

spotify link to the recommended record to play.

warnings: enemies to lovers, trust issues, overthinking/insecure!reader, 18+: face-sitting/riding, dirty talk, stephen's whore mouth, pet names, hitting it from the back sorcerer style, some light bondage, creampie, just filth, okay? softdom!stephen that knows you can be a good girl if you put a little effort into it. brat taming, maybe? word count 8.5k

"Open up. Open wide," Stephen's stern voice instructed, rolling over you in a wave of exasperation.

You hummed to convey your indignation but relented, parting your lips until the bones of your jaw creaked and the muscles in your cheeks grew taut. Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, tickling it, as you concentrated on not swallowing. Some of it spilled into the corners of your mouth; any other time, you would be mortified as droplets of it slid down your cheek, with Dr. Strange so close to your face that subtle whiffs of his cologne were beginning to reach your nose.

It twitched. So did Stephen's lips.

You could sense the snarky remark bubbling up to the surface of his throat before he even made a sound.

"Be. Still."

I AM TRYING! You attempted to convey, humming angrily and rolling your eyes.

Stephen kept eyeing the runes burnt into the sides of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth all the while his hands kept up a rapid pace, their glow casting a theatre of shadows on his angular face. His cheekbones popped. The treacherous, red curve of his mouth was tense, chapped lips pursed, silver hairs gleaming in his beard that adorns his Cupid's bow.

As your eyes adapted focus, you noticed the large amount of discoloration. It was like Stephen glittered in the golden shine of his spellwork; as it exploded into trillions of little sparks, they set his entire face alight. Like the sun itself had split into opaque gemstones to adorn him.

You forced your eyes to focus on a crack in the ceiling, letting your breath slowly, shakily exit through your nose.

Stephen Strange was a beautiful bastard.

You've told him so - patronisingly, of course, as part of the frequent verbal stand-offs you two had. It was a tale as old as the world: he'd play the superior card, you'd quietly roll your eyes and continue to do your thing - Stephen would annoy you until you were forced to acknowledge him; you, being no blushing maiden, spared him not from the sharpness of your tongue and your wit.

Still, you were glad he wasn't reckless enough for his ego to get in the way of saving people's lives. Most of the time, at least. If you were forced to pair up, there was a reasonable truce until the immediate threat was removed from this universe. The banter during clean-up, you could deal with. It was fun sometimes, even, Stephen's short fuse making him an easy target to unload some pent up frustration onto.

Worstie, a word of the slang variety, snuck into your head as you contemplated the sickly-beige paint on the ceiling. A quick amused chuff escaped you, causing Stephen's focused face to turn down.

"Are you seriously laughing right now? Most of your mucosa is covered in second degree burns."

It was the accusative amusement that had you reeling, internally of course. You briefly set your eyes back on his, making sure he knew your spirits remained as high as ever.

Strange offered a noise of his own. The corners of his mouth upturned again.

"You know, I find you more agreeable this way. Finally, some peace and quiet around here," he remarked conversationally, placing a large, cool, glowing palm over you throat that immediately soothed any lingering discomfort from the enemy's spell. "You could even pass as cute when you're not talking." Evidently, he was enjoying your temporary shift in dynamics.

Temporary, it's only temporary, you told yourself, keeping your breathing even as Stephen obviously tried to make his best of the situation and get a rise out of you. The realization of him being able to win, proverbially speaking, only when you were incapacitated, filled you with no small joy.

"... but that's the good news," he picked up. "The bad news is that I can fix this, but it is going to hurt. A lot."

"Zo it," you rasped, feeling your mucous membranes crack and bleed simply from uttering two garbled syllables.

The sorcerer's pointed look lingered on your face, uncomfortably close and soundlessly loud. His fingers twitched along your jawline.

"Alright," he nodded, to himself, and withdrew to perform a set of complicated hand gestures over your prone form.

It burned, worse than the wretched curse itself. The skin was peeling off you, quite literally this time, taking the runic markings with it, cleansing your vessel with fresh blood. The urge to gag was overwhelming as iron and copper flooded your mouth, dribbling crimson down the corners of your mouth. Your hands clutched at the sides of the chair until your knuckles lost all color; round, fat teardrops slid down your cheeks as your chest heaved.

Stephen observed you with a clinical eye, blinking rapidly as the spell lit up for the final time before dissolving in on itself and taking most of the pain with it. You could breathe again, even if the cool air in the room felt like ice directly over the burns. Sharp and stinging.

"Fanks," you rasped, testing out your vocal capabilities and pain levels, both of which you found bearable.

"Alas, peace never lasts long," the corners of Stephen's mouth returned to their usual, condescending position.

His hands found their frivolous way back to your face, holding it in place as sharp eyes examined the tender inside of your mouth. A long, slender finger reached out for the corner of your eye, wiping a stray tear away from your fluttering lashes, followed by his thumb diligently flicking off the blood at the crest of your lips.

If you wouldn't know any better, you'd think the touch was caring. Tender, even, as the sorcerer's oh so earnest stormy blues traced the fine lines of your face. But you did - know better. It was humiliating, being treated for your boo-boos like a moody child.

You closed your mouth, hands immediately flying to massage the sore, tense muscles of your jaw.

Stephen withdrew his fingers rapidly, clasping them over his stomach.

"Wong took care of the stragglers?" You murmured, carefully enunciating your words. Chit-chatting was going to be out of the question for the next couple of days.

"As always," Stephen's reply was curt, his eyes cast on the wall.

"I guess I'll go sleep it off then," you conceded, spying the clock, its arms showing a little past midnight. Why couldn't the bad guys pick a better time of the day to execute their nefarious, stupid plans?

"That would be best," the sorcerer shuffled in place before clearing his throat. "Doctor's orders."

The tongue-in-cheek remark had you obstinately emit a scratchy laugh. Insufferable, as always, no stress or tragedy could put this man out of his saucy commentary.

You voiced your thoughts on the topic. "Cheeky bastard!"

With a shake of your head, you conjured up a portal directly to your bedroom, stepping into it and lifting up an arm to say goodbye as it closed up behind you, totally missing the long, tired sigh coming from the tall man.

Your apartment greeted you cold; a beeline for the shower and clothes thrown carelessly onto the ground, the smell of French vanilla and sandalwood from your favourite candles - their flames danced, casting moving shadows over the walls. As you paused to remove the last layers of sweat-soaked fabric, the angular obscurities caught your eye, freezing you in your tracks.

Some sorcerers found shadows jarring - it was the reason for the Sanctum's skyrocketing electricity bills - the moving, dancing spots reminded the dimension wanderers of places better left unseen. And you jumped, too, at first, but then a brief memory crossed your mind.

Stephen's sharp features. The way that light, any light, drew immediate attention to his sculpted bone structure and straight, regal nose. When he had leaned over you, as close to share a breath, you traced the smile lines on his skin, the odd scar over his lip. He was sharp, as in mind, so in body. Even the hair he so meticulously styled (must've taken all morning) was divaricate in it's curve.

Under the hot, soothing spray of water, in the privacy of your shower, you allowed yourself to entertain thoughts that usually were kept at bay. Images of Stephen shirtless, dripping with the blood of your shared enemies; chest heaving and strong, defined muscles of his back tense. The way clear sweat rolled down the groves along his spine just to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants that slouched low on his hips.

"Fuck," you muttered, sticking your flaming face right beneath the spray. The droplets bounced off it as you held your breath.

An arduous pull, deep and low in your belly, the kind that rode on the tailwind of an adrenaline rush, had quickly blossomed into a heaviness that sat like a two-tonne blunder, immovable and annoying. Only pure spite and the rumbling of your stomach gave you the willpower to push the knob, turn the water off and throw on some sweatpants to depart for your kitchen.

Briefly flicking through a take-out app, you abandoned the idea of ordering food at this ungodly hour, deciding to throw together some ingredients for a quick and delicious pasta.

Thoughts of Stephen still lingered on your mind, stubborn as the man himself. You didn't want to give into the feelings, completely unwilling to admit the man had somehow found a way under your skin. He still had regular coffee dates with his ex, for fuck's sake! You deserved better than someone's leftovers.

As you felt yourself begin to think in circles, your hands groped for your phone again, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker and turning it up to highest acceptable volume in the dead of the night. Sultry guitar, intermingled with god-tier vocals, was exactly what you needed to silence your inner turmoil.

Hand busy with cutting and chopping, your legs swayed your tired body to the rhythm as it partook in the mindless task.

One song blended into another as your peace was suddenly disturbed by the sound of your doorbell ringing. Startled, you waited for the shrill noise to repeat itself; it did, more insistent the second time.

Ashamed, you turned down the music somewhat, hastily rushing to the door with a polite smile glued to your face and apologies ready to go. As quietly as you could, you cracked the door open.

"Hi," Stephen was leaning on the wall next to your door, forearm raised. "Took you a while."

"Don't tell me there's another emergency," the smile slid off your face to be replaced by surprise at the choice of his attire.

The ever-present Cloak of Levitation was draped over a baby blue hoodie with a Columbia logo on it. Stephen's sweatpants looked soft and worn and the brand name tennis shoes screamed "upper class middle-aged man". You've seen him in jeans in cardigans, sure, but like this? He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Sort of," he looked over your shoulder, eyes darting over the items in your apartment. "Wong forgot to renew protective wards. The Sanctum is snowed in. I've got some apprentices rounding up the penguins as we speak," at least he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Penguins?" You wondered, lips twitching at the funny way he was saying that word. "And what does that have to do with me? I'm on sick leave," your eyebrow rose.

"I thought I could bum on your couch?"

No please, no thank you. Both of your eyebrows now rose, appalled at his audacity. You contemplated telling him to book a hotel room, but hesitated, remembering the quick and efficient way he dealt with your wounds a few hours ago. With a sigh, you opened your door, leading him into your apartment.

"Leave your shoes in the corridor and lock the door," you walked back into the kitchen, eyeing the unfinished pasta. A quick survey of the items, you deduced it would be enough for both of you with some to spare. After all, you weren't raised in a barn.

Unlike some people.

Stephen ogled the various knick-knacks scattered around your kitchen and living room without reservation, coming up as far as to pick up and study every photo you had on display. To mask your annoyance, you turned the music back up, pointedly ignoring the creeping feeling of impending doom.

"Is that you as a baby?" Stephen could not hold back his curiosity anymore. He held up a framed photo of a grinning, chubby toddler.

"That's my cousin," your voice dripped with irritation. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to snoop?"

"It was on display," he retorted without missing a beat, but nonetheless put the frame down and approached you, eyeing the chopped onions with suspicion. "Should I worry about getting poisoned?"

"Yes," the deadpan response made him bark a laugh. "But I have one bathroom, so I'll save it for the morning."

"Who said I won't spend the day?" Stephen crossed his arms, staring you down from where he leaned against the counter. "Squatter's rights."

"My neighbours love death metal," the garlic plopped next to the onions and went into the pan, rich aroma immediately filling up the kitchen space. "Especially at eight in the morning. Teenagers, right?"

You could hear the smile creep into Stephen's voice even though his face didn't change one bit. A cherry tomato was quickly snatched from under your knife and plopped into his mouth without as much as a warning.

"Nothing wrong with death metal," his baritone dropped. "I prefer classic rock, but to each their own."

As you prepared to fire off a few choice words about his delinquent thieving tendencies, Stephen pointed at the Bluetooth speaker:

"Led Zeppelin, Dazed & Confused, playing live in Los Angeles in 1972. With bits and pieces of Walter’s Walk and The Crunge," he rattled off, looking, for once, exceedingly proud of himself.

"Huh," the knife froze in your hand as you processed the influx of information. Not knowing what to add, you settled for a flat, "good song. Now stop eating the ingredients."

Stephen laughed once more, no trace of the usual snark and condescension audible in his voice.

"Robert Plant was only 23 when this was recorded."

The water had come to a boil; you dumped the pasta in, stirring the sauce with your other hand. It smelled heavenly; you prayed the music was loud enough and Stephen couldn't hear the chorus of growls coming from your stomach.

"Nerd," you accused him, for a lack of better things to say.

His presence behind you was felt, not seen. With his larger frame inches away, you could smell his aftershave and the leftover crisp of snow he must've brought from the Sanctum. It made your shoulders tense: for the second time today, Stephen was so close, your body involuntary flooded with molten led, warmth spreading from all the small places where you two almost touched.

You felt your knuckles begin to creak with how tightly you had been holding onto the spatula; it took a criminal amount of care to place it on the side of the pan without causing a flurry of noise.

An arm wrapped itself around your waist, letting your back connect with Stephen's chest. The shock froze your limbs and you let yourself be swayed along to the music, electricity sparking up your spine, a slow current running through your heart, your stomach and your hips.

"Everybody's been talking and I swear they been talkin' trash..." Voice low and quiet, the singing coming from the man was more of a hum.

It was still enough for you to strain your hearing, for the rich baritone to add more fuel to the fire of sudden craving.

"The way you push me, I can't take too much of that," another hand, large and warm, took hold of your own that hung limply by your side, bringing it up.

C'mon, c'mon, show me the way! I want to make love to you, little girl, twenty-five hours a day!

You felt true to the song title: dazed by the sudden display of affection and confused by Stephen's unbothered, easygoing attitude. He shelved his vitriol the moment his working hours were over, it seemed. It put you on edge.

Somehow, you thought, that if you'd respond with your usual snark, he'd double down on this strange amicability. And you weren't sure you'd be able to take that. Had he finally realized that the best way to get under your skin would be to play nice? To be friendly right up until you let your guard down and strike right then and there?

"Do I really repulse you that much?" His words startled you out of your negative spiral.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself and at him.

"You infuriate me," honesty was better than an obvious lie in this case, you decided. Rationed honesty. You weren't about to tell him of the thoughts you entertained in your solitude.

Stephen let go of your waist but kept your hand in his. Without any effort, he spun you, once, slowly, for you to see a wicked smile plastered on his face.

"The feeling's mutual."

You stayed in position, looking up at his face for the longest moment. His neutral-positive expression had you walking a high wire over the abyss of his stormy blue eyes: if you allowed yourself to be distracted, you'd lose all sense of balance and fall, fall, fall...

The sauce was begging for attention at this point and you turned to tend to it, using the few moments of your face being hidden to realign yourself from the bastard's attempts to throw you off-kilter. Who knew it would be sudden tenderness to be the one to put sticks in your wheels? You had done a great job of keeping unnecessary crushes in check before he came along.

The silence became pregnant and you hated it.

"If I had the chance to time-travel, you best believe I wouldn't go kill baby Hitler and shit. I'd go and see these guys live, it would be by far more emotionally satisfying," you offered the first thing that popped into your mind, eager to aid the awkward moment.

"Isn't that right?" He sounded a little too jovial to be surprised. "A wise choice, considering you've studied the effects of time. Intervention in the flow of it would be unwise. You'd look great in flared pants."

"Nerd," you repeated yourself, this time without any heat, choosing to disregard the odd compliment. "Some things are just about enjoyment, for the kick of it. Without any second thoughts. Do you not have hobbies you enjoy?"

"Protecting your reality is a full-time job that demands an unfair amount of overtime," the sorcerer deadpanned, coming up and taking the pot of pasta to drain it without being asked.

"No wonder you enjoy making my life difficult if that's the only thing you do," your mumbling got lost in the sounds of pouring water. Or so you thought.

"And you don't?" As he set the pasta next to the saucpan, his expectant eyes turned to your face, scanning it with rapt attention.

A sigh, one of many when it came to him, left your mouth. You dumped the pasta directly into the sauce, giving it a good stir, before taking the pan off the heat and putting a lid on the food. Mimicking his defensive stance, you leaned against the opposite counter, crossing your arms.

"I'm not the one to yield."

Stephen advanced, trapping your body between it and himself by resting his palms on the counter and lowering himself to your eye-level, an annoying little smirk curving his mouth and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"As a matter of fact, there is something I enjoy," the sorcerer spoke, his breath fanned over your face, landing directly onto your lips.

Your tongue darted out in response, wetting them, as your mouth had suddenly gone dry and heartbeat rose upward in your chest, sitting uncomfortably close to your esophagus.

Seemingly unbothered, Stephen continued, "and that is you. The way you scrunch your nose when you're mad..." His eyes briefly slid down to it, "adorable."

You could only blink, mouth parted and chin lowered. The more you stayed quiet, the wider his smirk grew.

"Your idea of flirting is pelting someone with insults?" Not being one to back down so quickly, you voiced your bafflement.

"And yours isn't?"

No, you wanted to say, but that would have been a lie. Your standoffs, for that they were annoying, definitely had done the job and brought you two together. Closer than ever, in fact. Stephen was barely three inches away from you, lips inviting and face earnest. In his own way.

To back down right now would be to lose.

Eyes squeezed shut, you tasted the offered fruit of Stephen's lips by slotting your mouth over his, surpassing any attempt at finesse. Months of pent-up frustration and a sense of determination stronger than your fear of rejection pushed you to break your number one personal rule of not getting attached to things that could be bad to you.

And Stephen was bad. In the split second it took for your lips to connect, one of his hands flew up to cradle the side of your face, holding you in place as his mouth sinfully devoured yours. It seemed like he had gotten used to holding back, too, evidenced by the sheer hunger that twisted his tongue around yours in a dance of lust and longing.

Blood rushed to your head as the realization set in. Stephen had been pining, maybe even helplessly clutched at the tiles in the privacy of his shower, chasing the hunger pangs for your body with fleeting moments spent together, straining to see things he thought weren't there.

Those sinful images of his bare back flooded your head: skin like caramel, clear droplets sliding down the hills and valleys of strong muscle littered with freckles and moles; like melted sugar or molasses, you craved to collect every sweet drop with your mouth. A low moan rose from your throat, immediately absorbed into the kiss.

Stephen withdrew, panting and flushed, lips glistening with spit.

"Your mouth, does it hurt?"

Aside from the pounding in your temples and the inferno raging in your abdomen, you could feel absolutely nothing. He'd consumed you completely. Not trusting your mouth, you shook your head negative, blinking as it swam and black dots appeared in the field of your vision.

"Good," a curt nod and his hands were back on your hips, figure looming over you and piercing blue eyes staring you down with an expression of exasperated longing.

Before you got cold feet, you decided it best to take matters into your own hands. His stomach tensed under your palms as you placed them, pushing on his body until he took a step back. And then another, this time seasoned with a small noise of confusion.

"Bedroom's that way," you waved your head in the direction of the door, biting your lip at the eager way he immediately turned and, for the lack of a better word, towed you towards it.

Candlelight still danced in the twilight of your bedroom, the space warm and smelling divine. You reached for his hoodie, pulling it upward before the back of his knees hit the bed; blue fabric dropped at your feet the second Stephen landed on your mattress, hands flying up to your waist to steady himself. The simple white tee did nothing to hide his toned physique.

Your hands brushed the immaculately groomed beard, traversing his strong jawline before setting down at the juncture of his neck. You leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips, mesmerized by his face in the candlelight. Stephen was just like the sun, for staring at him for too long was dangerous.

"You beautiful bastard," you whispered against his lips, met with a resonating chuckle. Your fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's a new one," in retaliation, he bit down on your bottom lip, soothing the sting immediately afterwards by sucking the skin into his mouth and pulling you head-on into another passionate kiss.

Stephen abandoned the curve of your waist in favour of sliding his hands up, mapping the broad of your back and tracing his fingertips down the knobs of your spine. The t-shirt you wore did very little to shield your skin from the electric sparks that his touch brought to your skin. Rows and rows of goosebumps followed in it's wake.

You swore your brain short-circuited when he reached under your shirt. No amount of fantasy could have prepared you for the response of you body when Stephen traced the outline of your breasts, clever fingers immediately finding your nipples pebbled and standing at attention, begging for it as you were driven to push up and into his touch.

Lips migrated from your mouth to your neck.

"Someone's eager," the hot whisper tickled the shell of your ear before Stephen's teeth scratched the tender skin of your neck.

Defiantly, you pressed your knees further into his lap, coming to something unmistakably hard between his legs. The breath he was holding got stuck somewhere between his nose and his throat, erection twitching in his sweats.

"Yeah," your voice was scratchy, snark bleeding into a noise of approval as he squeezed one of your breasts, pinching the other's nipple just shy of painful.

Unclutching your hands from his shoulders was difficult, when you felt like you had to fight to remain in this plane of existence least your arousal shut down all your senses except for the ones needed to experience the torture of his touch. You could spend an eternity like this, in his arms, like a musical instrument in the hands of a prodigy, being expertly, effortlessly brought to a steady crescendo.

"Greedy, greedy girl," Stephen rasped as your hands slid down his chest, fingers and nails mercilessly raking down it and messing up his shirt. He used momentum to rid you of your own top, surfacing bleary-eyed and with toussled hair. "Gonna fuck all that attitude out of you. Isn't that what you need, huh?"

With an impish grin, he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, applying blissful suction.

Your hands roamed his chest, squeezed the tightly knit muscles of his shoulders almost vengefully. You caught his moan in your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet.

"I can name five better things for your mouth to do rather than talk smack." The impatience, the need you felt demanded a way out. You winced at how needy it made you sound.

Stephen scratched you nipple with his teeth, hiding a momentary grin between your breasts to surface flushed and smirking. His hands found your hips, pushing down your pants with ease, lifting your leg one after the other.

The moment his knuckles touched the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you shuffled in place - he was so close, almost at the apex, where moisture had left a wet spot on your underwear.

It didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Aww, you're already spreading your legs? Darling, I just touched the inside of your thigh and you're already presenting for me, huh?" Stephen mocked your wide-eyed wonder. His fingertips traced the outer seam of your panties, causing fine hairs to stand up all over your body. Finding you mum and defiant, holding your breath, he reached out a thumb to swipe right at the rapidly growing wet spot. "Showing off for me?"

Your full-bodied shuddering didn't escape the rapt attention of the doctor, either: his hawk's eyes watched you, documenting the conflicting microexpressions, your consideration to just giving in and your inherently stubborn nature.

"Stephen," you warned, threatening not sure what.

The man rubbed a few circles over your clit, delighting in your soft trembling, before placing a chaste kiss on your tummy. The energy between the two of you was electric; like the stand-still air before a storm.

You stumbled when he suddenly grabbed hold of your ass, pressing you into him ass he used his mouth, lips and teeth to mark the expanse of your stomach.

"You were saying, darling?"

You grabbed his hair, pulling it in retaliation. It was not fair how quickly he turned you into a mindless puddle of lust.

"You're an ass."

Stephen chuckled, using his larger form to pull you into him even further, forcing you to crawl onto your bed, only coming to a rest when his head hit the middle of your mattress and you were kneeling between his spread legs.

The outline of his cock in the dark grey sweats immediately drew your attention; it looked thick and long. You audibly swallowed the saliva that gathered in your mouth at the sight.

"None of that," he caught on sternly, pushing you higher up his body, until you were straddling his midsection. And higher, placing your core almost over his face. Your noise of confusion was met with a smug smirk. "You want to shut me up. Do your worst, baby."

There was little more to do that blink; in a second Stephen pressed his nose directly into the soaked gusset of your panties, taking an obscenely loud and indecently long breath. The sculpted appendage brushed your clit, sending little sparks deep into your pussy.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily sinking down, seeking more friction as you became hyperaware of the throbbing in your cunt.

"Nu-uh, keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby," his voice hoarse and slightly muffled, Stephen gripped the meat of your ass to grind you against his face, using his teeth to move your panties to the side. "Make a mess."

Fuck me up, was what you really heard. As soon as your bare skin came in contact with the roughness of his chapped lips and his beard, what thoughts remained quickly took the exit. Experimentally, you ground down, wincing, hearing the slick noises coming from your body.

"Fuck," you groaned through gritted teeth, gripping the man's shoulders for support. Having gotten a sample taste of him, you couldn't stop.

Stephen stuck out his tongue, eagerly lapping up what slick you produced, not caring about it dripping down his chin and glistening his cheeks. The increase in speed and desperation coming from you only egged him on.

"That's a good girl," the sorcerer honest-to-god moaned in between strokes. "You love it like this, don't you?"

"Yes," you rasped, chasing your fill of pleasure. His nose was positioned just right, catching onto your clit with every upstroke and brushing over your labia as you desperately fucked your sloppy hole onto his tongue. "So good."

The grin made an appearance once more; he held your eye, watching with rapt attention as your own vision drifted in and out of focus, swayed on the waves of pleasure.

You were sure his fingers on your ass were going to leave marks for days.

He was holding onto you as fiercely as you rode his face, blue eyes shamelessly documenting every bit of desire on your open face.

The tip of his tongue flicked around your cunt, dipping into the hole to collect the moisture and immediately diving back, over and over. You'd never been devoured so completely and it turned your legs to jelly. Your thighs shook, breasts heaved in rhythm with your hips.

Stephen winked, dragging your pretty much useless form over his face, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You eyes flew shut. The direct assault on your pulsating, sensitive clit was too much; you couldn't take it, torn between pulling away and putting more weight to allow yourself to finally get what you had been craving ever since stepping foot in the shower.

"Stephen, I want to come," you demanded, movements growing sloppier with each passing second.

"What's stopping you?" His innocent inquiry was overshadowed by more and more wet, slippery noises and satisfied groaning.

"It's-" a whine escaped you, thought process interrupted die to his wet beard dragging along your engorged labia majora, "I need more!"

As your bottom lip disappeared behind your front teeth, you could only blink in a lust-induced stupor as golden ropes entwined parts of your body. Suddenly, you found yourself staring up at Stephen, the familiar, soft fabric of your comforter under your back.

Lips shaking and face completely drenched, the sorcerer tore the magic binds, grinning dangerously at your prone form.

You swallowed, legs twitching around his waist. The rapid change in position gave you slight vertigo as blood rushed from your cunt back to your head.

"My, my, what do we have here?"

Stephen used a single finger to move stray hairs, that had been stuck to your clammy cheek, out of your face. The sorcerer's grin only grew as his eyes darted to your flexing throat.

"Aww, baby, I know you need to be filled up to come," he cooed, watching your lips part to take in a shuddering breath, "that little hole is practically begging for me to put something in it. Will you be good for me?" Eyes round and voice soft, Stephen had your full attention. "I know you want to be good for me."

You could do little more than blink, having been pushed further and further into mindless lust by the doctor's honeyed, filthy words. His eloquent speech patterns, wrapped in that deep, velvet baritone, had permanently elevated your standards for dirty talk in just two sentences. You dripped from his voice alone.

The thick, hard flesh of his cock slapped against your tummy, immediately forming a wet, sticky spot under the round, leaking tip.

You arched into him. "I'll be good," you mumbled, swallowing the last remnants of your pride.

"What's that?" He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, kicking off his pants completely, covering you with himself, trying to touch as much of you as physically possible. "Didn't hear you, baby."

"I'll be good for you," you looked up at him through your lashes.

The change in him was instantaneous. The angles of his face grew sharper than ever, lips pursed into a firm smirk. The glint in his eye was positively demonic as he leaned down to pepper your face with more light, airy kisses.

"If I had known before, that all it takes for you to be sweet is putting my mouth on your cute little pussy," he began to grind his hips slowly, angling his cock to hit the spot between your pubic bone and your thigh. "I woulda pulled up one of those patterned skirts you wear right in the Sanctum's kitchen and bent you over the the counter until your word vomit ceased completely."

Despite the cruel-sounding words and the attitude, you sensed no malice coming from the man above you. Your arms had wound around his neck, your hips clumsily attempted to match the pace of his rutting.

Stephen nuzzled into your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweat and smearing your own arousal all over. "You taste divine."

His confession had you take in a shuddering breath, mewling, as his cock slid right over your pussy, giving a touch of barely-there pressure over your engorged clit. Your hips had a mind of their own, chasing after him, fevered and yearning, core hungry and hollow.

"Stephen," your voice cracked with the force of need pulling you taut like a string.

He wasn't done talking yet, but the pace and force of his hips increased, now applying more and more friction to the outer parts of your cunt.

"I know, baby," he soothed, taking hold of your hand and placing his palms over them, leaning on his forearms next to your head. "I'll make it all better, all you have to do is ask. Beg, pretty girl, beg me and I'll give it to you."

Figures. It would be exactly like Stephen, to demand the impossible. You exhaled a slow breath through your nose, mustering up a miligram of dignity to stare the smug doctor down. You sure as hell didn't beg!

It was obvious he had expected some kind of pushback. His grin turned sadistic as his cock slid lower, brushing over your sopping entrance: he froze in place, keeping you at the tip of his cock, heat pouring off him in waves, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

In a split second decision, you attempted to wiggle your hips to get as much of him, as quickly possible.

"Nu-uh," he pulled away from the immediate wiggle zone. "You promised you'll be good," he reminded you, rubbing his damp facial hair, tickling you in the process. "Only good girls get to come on my cock. And you can be so, so good darlin'..." He trailed off, carefully pushing himself back into your space.

You evaluated your options, quickly and painfully coming to a realisation there was no other choice but to swallow the lump of pride and put some work into your own release.

"Please," you mumbled, cheeks ablaze. The words rolled off stiff and clumsy off your tongue, quiet in their novelty. "Please, fuck me."

"We're getting somewhere," his powerful thighs opened you up to him, cool air spreading over your heated sex, "you're being so good for me," another kiss landed over your parted lips, more breathless than the last, "now one more time, show me you mean it."

"Please, fuck me, Stephen," the force of your desire seeped into your words, finally breaking through the dam of embarrassment and trepidation. You mewled again, a high, soft noise, as the fat head of his cock sunk in an inch into your wet cunt.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted through gritted teeth as his eyes squeezed shut. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Slowly, Stephen slid another generous two or three inches in; about halfway through.

The muscles of your sex spasmed, accepting the intrusion and eagerly flexing around his cock, attempting to suck him in for all his worth. You felt every ridge and vein on his girthy, heavy cock, his face blurry in front of your eyes.

"Oh God," you uttered, sensing the gargantuan amount of restraint it took him to not just slide in: Stephen's arms trembled, tummy taut and tense.

As your body accepted the intrusion, he wasted no time in slamming his hips into yours, bottoming out with a single, powerful thrust. Stephen pulled back almost completely and forced his way inside again, allowing himself to enjoy the hot, snug grip of your cunt.

"My sweet girl," his voice little more than an unintelligible growl, his head dropped in a search for your lips. "I got you baby, I got you," sensing you teetering on the brink of overstimulation, he captured your mouth and shoved his tongue down your throat, uncaring about the guttural noises clawing their way out of it.

Stephen fucked you with languid, powerful thrusts that shook your bedframe and slid your body upwards as his cock nosed at the deepest parts of your cunt, a wet, sloppy noise echoing in the room every time he pulled away from you. Your lust flowed freely, soaking your thighs and his, causing your bodies to stick together.

He shifted his hips one way and another, groaning into the kiss with every noise you made, humming as they grew in volume.

And then your world briefly stilled. Your tummy clenched and pussy gushed as Stephen's cock touched a spot that had been often left neglected by your past partners; the scratch of Stephen's trimmed pubic hair brushing against your clit amplified the sensation tenfold, your pussy flexing around his cock.

"There we go," Stephen chuckled breathlessly, and shoved his cock right up against that spot again.

And again, and again, and again...

All you could do was keep your mouth open for the most needed oxygen to get to your lungs; quite literally, the man had stolen your breath away. Noises of intermediate volume left you on the exhales, but you paid them no mind, the sensation having had demanded your full attention. Eyes wide open, they stayed firmly on Stephen's flushed, kind face.

"You look so beautiful when you're about to come," the corner of his mouth lifted into a sheepish grin as he kept up the same even, brutal pace with his hips.

Shit, you realised. You really were about to come.

"S-Step-phen," you voiced your surprise with slurred syllables. "Doc, whas'.."

"Shh, baby," his smile grew. "Don't force it. Just let it happen. You'll feel so good, I promise," he punctuated the softness of his words with a kiss to the slack corner of your mouth.

You obeyed. Despite the aching, pulling desire, you choose to obey his words, letting go of the tension in your abs and hips. The relaxed state of your body allowed Stephen to settle in even deeper between your legs as they fell open, ravishing you; the good doctor had just the perfect cure for the tension you carried around all day, every day.

"That's my girl, you're doing so well for me, so precious, so sweet," the sweet nothings whispered into your ear was like taking small sips of nectar on a hot summer's day.

"Fuck-" you whisper-shouted, body immediately responding to the hold Stephen's words had on your mind.

It seized as your orgasm began: waves that rocked your entire being, starting as small contractions in the bottom of your cunt and spreading throughout your stomach, wave after wave of bliss, until it reached your toes and made them curl in utterly sweet agony. The tide was strong and high, sweeping you under the water and carrying you through the afterglow all with the help of Stephen's gentle, passionate words.

His hips has slowed down somewhat, the motion becoming more fluid in nature; thump-thump-thump of his heart pressed against your chest. He was everywhere, savouring your release just as much as you had enjoyed the supernovae of his skillful touch.

Words didn't come easy to you, but you tried nonetheless. "Stephen, please," you weren't sure what you were begging for. On one side, your sensitive cunt still throbbed and gushed; on the other, you longed to feel the man lose himself in you like you'd lost you mind in his arms just moments ago.

"That's my girl," he chuckled weakly, delicately gripping your hands and giving them a light squeeze. His cock slid out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing.

"Mmm," you protested weakly, limbs heavy as you attempted to reach out to him.

"I'm right here," Stephen tapped the top of your pubic bone frivolously, sitting back on his heels. The majestic curve of his cock glistened with your juices; it attracted your attention immediately and Stephen chuckled. "Staring is rude. Now come on, hands and knees."

Your eyes shot up to his face for a second before you looked away, willing your tired body to just cooperate. Lifting your arms and legs seemed like an impossible feat after the earth-shattering orgasm that Stephen had talked you through. One leg after the other, you slid down, rolling into your tummy and squirming at the wet spot right under it. It was all you: reduced to a mere leaky faucet in the sorcerer's presence.

Calloused hands gingerly pressed on your calves, raising your ass in the air.

You squirmed again, wide open for him to see, cold air hitting your sore, abused cunt and causing it to twitch.

A loud, shameless smooch was placed right on it by the man, followed by a long tongue sliding up and down your slit.

You whined, embarrassed and sensitive, shifting you weight away from his mouth as your back arched. It felt almost too much but the memories of that wide, nimble tongue still remained fresh and left you aching for more.

"I'm right here," Stephen patted your bottom. "I'm not gonna hurt you baby, okay? Tell me if it hurts."

His cock was nosing at your entrance once more; as you pushed back onto it, Stephen slammed his hips into yours, fingertips digging into your ass cheeks as he pulled them apart. You didn't need a mirror to know his eyes were trained on your cunt, the place were it hungrily swallowed the throbbing meat of his cock.

Eyes shut, you let your thoughts wander, examining the image in your mind's eye. The way his brow furrowed when he focused on something, smile lines more prominent than ever. Did Stephen bite his lip when he encountered something unexpected?

The bed shook with the force of his thrusts and you with it. Each one aimed well, deep and powerful, it made small, quiet noises leave your lips as his balls slapped harshly against your swollen clit.

"Ahh," your cunt spasmed as he found that spot again. You're were beginning to get sore, but it was a welcoming sort of pain.

"Shh, baby," Stephen panted, voice low and rugged. "I'm almost done. Just a little more, I know you can be good for me. So, so good..." He trailed off, topping it off with a low moan as he bottomed out inside your swollen cunt once again.

You swore your eyes rolled back in your head on their own accord. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your chest, hands gripping the bedsheets desperately and uselessly. Your mind was sluggish, barely comprehending the fact Stephen was using your cunt to get off: the idea felt so, so wrong, but you'd be a rotten liar if it didn't ignite another small storm in the pit of your belly.

"Arms behind your back," Stephen barked suddenly and you winced at how quickly you obeyed. Magic wound around your body once more, securing them into a position that allowed the sorcerer to tug you up: your knees firmly planted on the bed and your top half suspended at his mercy. "Just making sure you don't get lost in that pretty little head of yours," the amount of control this man had was unfair.

His cock kept up pace inside of you; you swore you felt it swell even the moment you mindlessly obeyed his command. The angle let him touch even more of you, both inside and out. You tasted the sweet, hot sweat of your coupling.

The string of magic tied to you was a lead in one of his hands. He eagerly dragged you onto his cock, over and over, the golden binds wrapped around your arms and chest like a straitjacket. A sexy straitjacket.

There wasn't much room for thought when all you could feel, sense and hear was Stephen: his sinful groaning, panting, the obscene sounds of your flesh slapping together. You thighs shook, spit collected in the slack corners of your mouth: you panted out, tongue stiff and uncooperative.

You wanted to feel him come, to fill you up completely, until you burst.

His movements turned sloppier and sloppier until his cock was disappearing into you at a rapid, disorganized pace, the bulbous tip sliding deep inside.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" the groan he emitted was so close to your ear, you felt it in your cunt.

Starts burst behind your eyelids for the second time as he throbbed inside your spasming cunt, your combined contractions echoing back and forth until the pit of your belly felt warm and full. Some of his cum leaked out immediately, dripped down your labia and down your leg.

Noisily, he let go of the binds and your combined bodies gracelessly crashed onto the bed.

You weren't sure how long you laid like this, warm and safe, full inside and out. Minutes went by lazily, stretching into what felt like eons. You floated above time, above space, lulled by gentle, low murmurs in your ear.

Trembling hands gently parted your legs as cotton brushed over your raw cunt. Noises of protest died on your lips as Stephen shushed you.

"Take it easy," he placed a kiss on your tailbone, doing his best to clean up the biggest part of the mess.

You haven't even noticed him pull out. "Wha?"

The bed dipped next to you, his red, grinning face slowly coming into focus. "You're thinking so loudly."

You weren't? Having thoughts wasn't anywhere on your to-do list in the nearest future. For once, your brain had ceased it's usual violent tapdancing and you could breathe freely, the burden of anxiety removed.

"You did so good for me, baby," Stephen looked so proud and happy, crow's feet around his eyes deep and hair sticking in odd directions, silver strands mixed with dark browns and chestnuts, dying candlelight adding golds and ambers into the view.

Even like this, he looked sinful. Like a fallen angel.

"You're so pretty," was what your brain came up with. You wanted to fall through the face of the earth as soon as the words left your mouth.

Stephen chuckled, placing a kiss on your nose, then one more on each cheek and a final smooch on your forehead. "Says you."

Embarrassed, you hurried to nod your head to hide in the crook of his neck.

"None of that," promptly, you were returned to be displayed to his clever eyes. "Stop overthinking."

"But-" you argued weakly.

"No," his finger, scarred and shaky, poked your nose in what only could be described as petty defiance. "You're not this dense. I know you can do better."

The angles of his face acutely on display, you weighed your options. It wasn't looking good for you: come morning, he'll be gone, odd display of affection pushed aside, and you'd return to work to once more be greeted by the stoic, sarcastic man who's hobby included insulting you for sport.

And as much as you hated admitting it, he was better than you in most things: sorcery, looks, accomplishments. Some people just had it going for them.

"You can do better," you frowned. "You're you, doctor Stephen Strange, surgeon extraordinaire and sorce-"

His lips landed on yours, chapped and puffy, swallowing any protests that your brain could come up with on the spot, leaving you no option but to surrender to the sweet torture of the kiss.

"No," his eyes caught yours, firm and fiery. "And if you don't know what's good for you, well, I'm going to have to show you. You did so good today, after all, and it would be a shame to waste all that potential." His grin turned wolfish.

Shame and arousal flooded your senses as you closed your eyes mutely, finally, finally convinced yourself that sometimes, giving in might be the better option.

Stephen Strange taglist:

@mikariell95 @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton @biiskuitx @heyarely16 @bdffkierenwalker @rosequartzwriting @auroralush @heart_charming @pshychadelichues @dilftallica @starkiller-queen @inas_thing @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lalaooopsie @brwn-sgr @altriestowrite @devilslilbabysblog @pervhotch @treegobonk @agathaharknesslut @persephonewritessometimes @endlessthxxghts @milena-xoxo @popeheywardssecretgf @inas-thing @fuckingarsonistbitch @pathetic-simp @sparrows-corner @turkisherlockian @srapalestina @sourlemonsandlimes @emlynblack @meeksmusic83 @chaoticevilbakugo @vane28282 @saturdaynightzemo @luminevans @danzalladaggers @viva-asgardia @sobeautifullyobsessed

#bun writes #dr strange smut #stephen strange smut #doctor strange smut #marvel smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #female reader #dr strange x you #doctor strange x you #stephen strange #i like his hoodie okay #im very into middle-aged dads

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makerofmadness · 10 months

Text

I don't see people talk about it as much as other kinds of intrusive thoughts and I know i really could've benefited from knowing about this sooner than just a day or two ago when I saw confirmation from others that it was a thing so let me say here:

yes, bigoted intrusive thoughts with OCD (racism, queerphobia, sexism, antisemitism, etc.) ARE a thing and you are NOT any of those things for having these thoughts forced upon you by your brain.

This stuff is absolutely fxcking awful to have (especially if you also experience thought broadcasting [a paranoid delusion that often accompanies OCD from what I've read, and that I know I have personally, that your thoughts can in some way be heard or seen by others. This can manifest in multiple ways, and I know it has done such for me. I mainly experience it as feeling that people in my general vicinity can hear/see what I'm thinking. I've also had it latch onto specific people before, even when those people aren't near me physically. Another way you may experience it is that your thoughts are being literally broadcasted in some way, like via a screen or radio. And yes, I've had this too), particularly in a world where cancel culture is so prevalent and where people are sometimes a bit too quick to accuse someone of this being these awful things... often for groups they aren't even a part of themselves and would not have the right to speak for.

I have felt incredibly embarrassed by having to experience these thoughts, sometimes even concerning groups that I am literally a part of. I've had these thoughts even against my own ethnicity from time to time. More often I have misogynistic thoughts despite being a girl. You can experience these thoughts even about groups you are a part of.

Though even if they're for groups you aren't a part of: no, having these thoughts does not mean you actually think these things. You are not a monster and if people were to try to cancel you for this then they'd be incredibly ableist since these are outside of your control. and they're outside of my control too.

I've decided it'd be good to provide a source about these so that others who have or think they may have this kind of OCD can read up on it (the only things I've found so far on them have been specifically about racist intrusive thoughts though, not much about other bigotry, if anyone can find stuff on those feel free to add):

(I'd add more but when I tried to add a second link it didn't display the way the first one did)

And for a final note, particularly for people without OCD:

I had my thoughts worsen a lot after someone pretty much accused me of being racist over something that in hindsight was kinda stupid (and that I would later realize due to another incident that it wasn't race-related at all to begin with). Please be careful with when you insinuate or accuse someone of being racist, don't throw those things around, you can severely harm someone mentally. If you're not part of the group it concerns, maybe ask someone of that group first before you speak on them.

#ocd #actually ocd #intrusive thoughts #mental health

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transgamerthoughts · 17 days

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a night at poe's masquerade

Last night I made a quick tweet about how I think Persona games (particular from Persona 3 onwards) tend to be fundamentally conservative games. In worlds filled with magic powers, shadow selves, and literal gods there's an understanding that many of the most villainous people you can know are folks in positions of social/political power who weaponize their status in order to prey on those beneath them. This is a particular focus of Persona 5 but it extends even back to back to a game like Persona 2 and characters like Tatsuzou Sudou. Although these games acknowledge the social structures that lead to particularly vicious kinds of abuse, there is tendency for our protagonist to then fold themselves into those power structures. In games that focus less on real-life political allegory, there's still pattern of protagonists eventually accepting the societal roles that they're initial chafing against. It's a very common occurrence in the series. clockwork!

Persona 4 is the chief culprit here. Yukiko struggles with the idea that her presumed inheritance of the Amagi Inn is an imposition on her life but makes peace with that fact and eventually prepares herself for that role. Chie confronts Adachi, shocked that anyone who chose to be a police officer would do so for selfish reasons or betray the ideal image she holds of that job. Though confronted with the ways in which the system enabled Adachi's murders, she ultimately decided that she wants to become a police officer. Just as some examples. there's more. it's a fraught game in many ways

(I'm not gonna talk about Naoto. That's a minefield. as a trans critic people ask what I think about Naoto quite often. my answer is I like Naoto quite a bit and while I appreciate the queer read I don't need her story to be actually about transness. my tongue in cheek deep position here is that I think she's the damn coolest thing in the Dancing All Night opening movie. absolute fire!)

Persona fans are totally reasonable human beings. by which I mean that they might be the most electric and fuckin' absurd fandom I've ever encountered. While some people agreed with my read of the series, many others swarmed in. Which is fine enough. That's just what happens when you're visible on Twitter. I don't really have an interest in outlining the series in gross detail although, contrary to many accusations, I have played all the mainline games. One thing that can never be hurled my way is a suggestion that I don't play videos games. This criticism doesn't arise out of nowhere though I admit I didn't exactly expect it to become a trending topic floating in the "For You" tab. I was tweeting before bed.

Lesson learned! this fandom is wild! So it goes!

I've been thinking about people's responses and I want to venture into fraught territory to talk about a particularly bad habit I see from many fans. Which I think can be extended to things like ongoing debates about localization as much as they can apply to this little tempest in a teapot. Which is that I've grown somewhat concerned with he ways in which RPG fans (intentionally or not) exoticize Japan as a means to defend their favorite games from critique. It's kinda bad!

and I'm gonna risk a ramble exploring the topic… and I wonder how tumblr in 2024 will compare in reaction to hellscape of twitter

Something you often encounter in these discussions is an implication (sometimes a direct suggestion) that it is impossible to really engage with Japanese media as a westerner. That there's too many layers of nuance and too many centuries of ingrained tradition for anyone who has not engaged in lengthy study on the topic to penetrate. Often, this is framed as a desire to simply put things in cultural contexts. respect it and give due seriousness! Which is fine. I absolutely think if you wanna talk about something like the portrayal of the Japanese justice system in Judgement, it probably helps to… y'know… know details about the Japanese justice system. If you want to talk about how a game approaches gender, an understanding of certain social mores is important. No one debates this; it's important to understand art as arising from specific material conditions and places.

This is not really the approach people take however. Instead there is an insistence that the cultural difference between Japan and western nations is essentially insurmountable. Which has some bad implications. I think people are well meaning when they're like "hey, you gotta watch this YouTuber talk about Shintoism and JRPG boss fights for over an hour" but it comes at the cost of painting the culture as something of a puzzle to solve. and make no mistake: I'm glad anyone is doing the work but there's a bit of strangeness at play when folks are like "well you're American" and then tell me to watch criticism also made by Americans. especially since I do have a educational background that includes the study of world religions. i've studied plenty of this! and it's not impossible for me to have grasped.

the world is beautiful and nuanced and specific and full of vibrancies. but these things are not so singular that we can't connect with them or come to know them. and those nuances and specifics and vibrances don't create a protective ward around works. if anything, they're invitations to explore something new. if I walk away from Persona with a position that you don't agree with I promise that it's not something that's happened in haste. It used to be my job to think about games. and I've thought about Persona a lot! it's not inaccesible.

When we start to paint a culture as being particularly foreign we inherently exoticize it. We drape a degree of mystery over it which implies there is no universal connections found in art. Of course the concept of "police" is different in Japan to some extent as is the expectations that go into inheriting a family business. yes, the social nuances of a classroom differ. But Japan is not so alien to the western critic that we can't look at popular fiction and spot patterns. I certain don't need a 17 anime consumer to write me an essay on honne and tatemae or whatever in order to understand what's going on in the Midnight Channel. It's an easily observable truth that Persona often identifies issues within Japan society while also (particularly in Persona 5's case) concluding that these problems are not a consequence of specific power structures but rather moral failings of certain bad individuals. That's the text. Even when it wants to suggest otherwise.

Here's a little snippet from Persona 5. On face value, it seems to contradict what I'm saying. "Harper, how can you say that it only cares about individuals when it outright says that society itself needs to be addressed!?" DO YOU EVEN PLAY THESE GAMES YOU BITCH?! The answer is that the game does not have a model or idea of what it means to change society except vaguely to inspire people to more individual action. be nicer. stand up for yourself, speak your truth, do things for your own reasons. which has a radical element to it in the context to be sure but we've spent a huge portion of the game seeing how the abuse of power, particularly power placed in certain positions and social strata

a change of mindset is good but… is that sufficient? I'm not entirely convinced. not if this game want to truly deliver on everything it has explored. (side note, a lot of folks were like "why are you focusing on p5 so much here?" and the answer is that it's recent, representative of the series' values from the last decade or so, and because I'm a tired adult in their 30s who has stuff to do and isn't obligated to make a 300 tweet long thread breaking down multiple scripts. if you want me to do that labor, you better pay me for my time. otherwise I don't care to appease fan who have no plans of truly entertaining what I'd do anyway. no breakdown I do could please them)

but you fight Yaldabaoth Harper! You kill the collective gestalt representative of the status quo!. okay sure but the metaphorical battle falters as the game ultimately imagines many of our heroes (for instance Makoto, who also decides to become a cop even after her sister leaves the profession to become a defense attorney) are content to slide into the power structures as they exist. they've simply become "good apples" in the same basket that held the bad ones What does it matter if you kill the metaphor when you don't carry through elsewhere? It's not simply some vague human desire to be exploited that created the various monstrous villains we face throughout the game. There's real material circumstances, systems and long-held powers that gave them the carte blanche that enabled their abuses! Be they financial, political, or even sexual.

We might layer nuances on top of this of course. Notions of reticence to change or valuing of tradition, attitudes towards elders. But when we do so it's important be careful. When fans imply impenetrabilities in the works by virtue of cultural difference, there's a risk of veering into a kind of Orientalism. One which mystifies the culture and turns it into a kind of "other." Distant, strange. This sometimes comes paired with a kind of infantilization of creators but that's a different though similarly fraught topic that I think is particularly best left in the hands of the creators themselves. I'm not the person to talk about that!

Nevertheless, a frustrating part of the response to my tweet today has been a rush to say "This work functions that makes it necessarily elide your ability to critique it."

I'll be an ass and generalize. It's mostly people with Persona avatars making this suggest. That Persona, as a Japanese work, is imbued with an ineffable quality that magically allows it to side-step what's ultimately a pretty timid conclusion. Many of these folks are younger players, self-identified as such in profiles, who clearly have a deep connection to the series. It means something to them. But I'd rather they simply say "hey, I found this thing particularly moving at an important moment in my life" rather than conjure an impassable ocean between myself (or really anyone) and the work in the event they find flaws.

Otherwise, you just get this:

Stories are not merely about what happens on the journey. The destination does matter. It means something when the king grabs his shining sword and fights off the orc invaders or whatever. A value system is suggested Similarly, it does means something when Chie becomes a cop. (This is just a shorthand example mind you! But you hopefully get the idea!)

I don't think games or any work of art need us to defend them. The trap of fandom is that you often turn to any possible means to justify what you love. For Persona, a series which does have the decency to explore cultural issues, that same cultural specificity is often weaponize by fans (largely western fans even!) to deflect certain problems. This process inadvertently portrays that culture as a mystery, a shrouded thing that we cannot ever criticize. It's one thing to dig into some of those contextual specifics but it's another all-together to imply these specifics provide a mean to abrogate certain analyses. and I think navigating the line between due deference and something deeper and stranger seems to be something many of the fans reacting to me... have not managed. I had a peer talk to me about this situation and their feeling was that the animated members of the fandom that were coming at me, many of whom are self-identified as young and western, were kinda treating Japan like it was a land of elves. which it's not! it is a place on Earth and yes we need to take strides to understand and respect certain specificities... but we can't mystify an entire people. especially if the purpose is to turn those people and their culture into a shield. a means to justify and validate the specialness you see in a franchise.

I call Persona conservative because it cannot imagine a world in any other shape that what we have right now. God dies but nothing actually changes. I don't think it's enough to say "well, they defeated the god! and they needed the collective strength of society to do it! people did change because without that change of heart, the heroes wouldn't have the magical juice to fight the Kabbalah monster!" to toss Makoto's words back at the series: victory against a single god is meaningless if the true enemy is society.

If you can't show me what that grand spiritual change means for society, then I think you've kinda failed. you've certainly failed if the conclusion is that the world after that change is functionally the same and it doesn't really matter to me if "they talk about this in Strikers or whatever" because you can't offload your thematic snarls to side games. if the main stories you tell can't resolve this tension, that's a problem. these are often very beautiful games. they certainly have amazing structure and systems. but I don't think it's controversial to say they often hedge their bets at the end. and there's no impenetrable cultural wall surrounding the games that leaves the criticism off the table.

that's just What Happens. and it's fine for us to acknowledge flaws in even in things that contain beauty or meant something to us

really. it's fine.

#persona #casual game crit #fandom

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