#that I have no idea how to follow through

[lis-likes-fics]

Perfection

Pairings: Spencer Reid x bau!adhd!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words Warnings: Mentions of rape, mentions of murder, dead body, crime scene, descriptions of gore, typical Criminals Minds stuff, character with ADHD, mentions of medication... A/N: This is a little more self-indulgent than I meant for it to be, but I do want to point out that this is some of my experience with ADHD, so I'm not just writing random stuff. It is slightly exaggerated, but I also say that about everything I do and it is pointed out that this is based off an off day.

The long alleyway makes for a nice crime scene, specifically because, despite the busy streets of this city, it's secluded and easy to overlook. It's not too small that the police team cannot fit, but it's small enough that you couldn't cram a really small building into the space. You don’t know how that’s relevant, but somehow it is.

The scene is relatively fresh, the latest of three that brought the BAU to the case. The police handling the scene had it cleared off for you, Spencer, and Derek to examine, via Hotch’s orders.

Spencer's watching you because he loves watching you, and because you're a little off today. There's something about the way you shuffle on your feet or the way you chew on the dead skin of your lip that he finds peculiar. To be fair, you're like this a lot, but today your symptoms are more obvious than usual.

Your eyes scan over the scene with a million different thoughts rushing through your head, less than fifty percent of them actually coherent and fit for conversation.

The three of you spitball ideas back and forth as you look at the man laying cold on the concrete. He's white, lean with light hair and a relatively thin frame. He's nothing like the other two victims, who's physical profiles were all over the place. The only thing they have in common with one another is a single occupation—male prostitution. While this and the first worked on the streets, the second’s job actually took place within a gay strip club a few blocks away from here.

He's got a starting blow to the back of the head, like the other two, and a number of bad bruising and heavy brutality to the rest with overkill to the chest, hands, and genitals. The message feels clear, but there's something a little off.

“Judging by the position of the body,” you speak, your hands restless, “and the way the weapon is discarded, I think our unsub snuck up on our victim in a blitz attack, hit him with the lead pipe, and ran that way.”

You don't point in any particular direction. Spencer glances up from his spot crouched next to the body. Your eyes are stuck on the bloody pipe several feet away from the body toward the secluded area around the back of the building that leads to more secluded walkways through more alleyways.

There is a long pause where they wait for you to explain, but you never do. Spencer thinks you look far off as he examines your face. Derek looks at you, his brow furrowed as he glances around. “Which way?”

“What?” you hum, looking up at him.

Derek elaborates, “Which way did the unsub go?”

It’s your turn to furrow your brow, turning the thin ring on your middle finger. “Did I say something about the unsub?”

Spencer stands, moving over to your side without spending too much time looking at your face. He doesn't want you to feel dumb or awkward, because he loves you and you're just a little forgetful sometimes.

“Yes,” he says in no particular way. “You said the unsub blitzed the victim and ran. Which way did he run?”

He achieves his goal, because you seem to make an “Oh, duh!” face before pointing in the direction of the street. “That way.”

He follows your finger, his brows knitting together. “That way toward the street?” He looks at the pipe, sitting in the exact opposite direction, like they ran and dropped it. “The pipe looks like he'd run the other way to avoid the street. Why do you think he ran toward?” It's a genuine question.

“To throw us off,” you shrug. “It's riskier to go toward the street, but it's also less suspicious than walking alone in the opposite direction where someone could see you and the victim and assume fault.”

He hums. You add on, speaking as quickly as Spencer usually does, “It also means he looks normal enough that he blends in with the crowd. Someone would see a strange figure coming out of a dark alley, no one would really notice a passerby turning a corner. And if this is a popular spot, it's too loud to hear anything going on all the way back here anyway, or no one thinks much of grunting noises when they do hear it.”

You trail off at the end, tight brows staring at the corpse. Derek shrugs, “But what was our victim doing all the way over here in the first pla–”

“There's something in his mouth,” you interrupt accidentally.

“What?”

You kneel down, taking the offered gloves from Spencer and putting them on. You open his mouth just a slight, spotting the white sticking out from under his tongue. Upon seeing it, both of the boys furrow their brows and tilt their heads. Spencer hands you some tweezers he'd borrowed from forensics for this reason.

Carefully, without disturbing the body as much as possible, you remove the strange object from under the tongue. It's a tiny slip of paper, folded up very small and still a little damp from saliva and any other bodily fluids it may have come in contact with. You unfold it.

“‘Unclean’,” Spencer reads from over your shoulder.

“That makes sense for the victimology mixed with the profile. He's a male prostitute,” Derek points out.

“Which explains the locale,” you say, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“What?”

“The locale,” you look up. “You asked why he was here. He must have been working, lured down here by the unsub, who waited for him to turn his back before he struck.”

Spencer agrees, taking a picture of the slip to send to Hotch. “He was killed at night. The streets are crowded, easy to slip into and not be seen. It's more risky to stray by yourself. What you said makes sense.”

You look up at him, standing to your full height again. “What did I say?” There you go again.

Morgan speaks up, “What you said about him runnin’ toward the street.”

Confusion passes your mind momentarily. “He ran toward the street.” You don't say it like a question, you say it like you're trying to back yourself up on it.

“That's what you said,” he insists.

You remember thinking that, but you don't remember saying that out loud.

Spencer swoops in like your hero, brushing his knuckles against the side of your arm. “Remember? You said,” he licks his lips, “ ‘it's riskier to go toward the street, but it's also less suspicious than walking alone in the opposite direction where someone could see you and the victim and assume fault.’ ”

You nod, remembering his word-by-word recitation as you watch him. “Yeah. I did say that.” You flag down one of the forensics workers to bag the evidence. She does so, taking your contaminated gloves with her as she leaves. You squirt a hefty amount of hand sanitizer on your hands from its place on your belt loop. “This is the first victim who's been left behind with a note, right?”

“Yes, autopsy results found nothing like this on the other victims.”

“If the victim was working when he was attacked, it’s possible that, paired with the brutality of the assault and the note left behind, our unsub may be experiencing some kind of internalized homophobia.” You trail off at the end.

Derek shrugs, looking down at the body. “There’s no evidence of sexual assault. Not on the other victims, at least.”

“How old do you think this building is?”

Spencer looks at you, your eyes scanning the wall of one of the buildings you’re between. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth, picking at the dead skin again. He thinks you’re cute.

“Focus, honeybun,” Derek reminds you, pulling your attention again.

“Sorry.”

“Judging by the faded color and uneven edges of the brick, and the decay in the mortar,” Spencer says, “I’d say this building is at least 50 years old. Well kept at one point and then let go not long after its production.”

You nod along slowly, taking in the information with a hum. “That’s cool…” Now that that’s out of your mind, you think for a moment. What were you saying again? Spencer watches your eyes light up. “Oh!” You turn to Derek. “He’s obviously confrontational, but he may still be very insecure in his ability and, thus, have to make up for his pent up energy with an excess of violence. Homophobia would explain the obliteration of the chest, hands, and especially the genitalia.”

Derek raises a brow. “What?”

“You asked about sexual assault,” you shrug. “If he continues to escalate above the note, we may see these words carved into the skin as a substitute for sexual violence, or even just blatant rape activity.”

Derek thinks about that, considering your analysis with a nodding head. He sighs and hums, “Alright, I’ll talk to Hotch.” He begins to turn away, grabbing his phone.

Spencer thinks you may have gotten distracted again because you ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

Derek looks back at you, shaking his head and flashing you one of his charming smiles. “No, honeybun, you’re perfect.”

“Oh.”

He leaves to take that call. You start to walk after him and Spencer gently takes your hand. You turn to face him, confused at first but giving him a sweet smile only a second later. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his voice soft.

You tilt your head, “What do you mean?”

Spencer shrugs, taking your other hand just to rub his thumbs over your knuckles. “You’re hyper today, a little more distracted.”

As if proving his point, you begin shifting back and forth on your feet, shrugging and then shaking your head at the same time. “I’m okay,” you assure him, squeezing his hands gently. “I haven’t taken my medication in a couple days.”

He furrows his brow, suddenly a little worried. “Why not?”

“Didn’t feel like it. Also, I forgot it.” That makes sense. Spencer makes a mental note to remind you to take them as soon as you get back home. “But I’m okay, prommy.”

He smiles. “Prommy?”

“Promise,” you clarify, letting both your hands down so you can swing his from side to side. He lets you.

“I know what you mean,” he says. Though he knows he should probably be more professional because you’re both in public and leaving a crime scene (and Hotch might reprimand the both of you for it if he saw) he raises a hand to cradle your cheek because he doesn’t care. He just wants you to feel safe and loved. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod definitely. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” The way he says it is soft, as soft as a kiss to your forehead or a brush of his knuckles on your skin. “You know, I love you, right?”

You nod, smiling at him like he’s the world—because he is. “Yeah. I love you, too, honey.” You kiss his cheek quickly and pat it. You probably shouldn’t have done it right then, but you did, and you don’t regret it for even a moment.

Spencer’s just happy you know he loves you. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go before Morgan leaves us.” He takes your hand as you both begin walking. He swings your joined hands, just as he knows you like it.

“He wouldn’t leave me,” you shake your head. “He likes me too much.”

Spencer chuckles. “Everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone.”

He looks at you, furrowing his brow. “Who doesn’t like you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. And then immediately after, “Why does the sun look yellow? Isn’t it supposed to be white or something? I heard that somewhere.”

Spencer is happy to answer your questions as he opens the car door for you. Derek is already sitting in the front, his hands on the wheel. The passenger’s seat is empty, but Spencer sits in the back with you. You both speak gently so you’re not disturbing Derek. “The Earth’s atmosphere scatters blue light more efficiently than red light, so the slight deficit in blue light means the eye perceives the color of the sun as yellow. But, yes, the sun is actually white.”

“That’s cool,” you mumble. “I think sharks would look cool as hell with piercings. Do you?”

“I do,” Spencer chuckles. In the front seat, Derek shakes his head and smiles to himself, amused by your conversation.

“Did you know that sharks don’t have bones, so when they die, the saltwater dissolves their bodies so the only thing that’s left is their teeth?” You begin ranting, absent-mindedly picking at dirty under your nails. “And also, their bodies are primarily made of cartilage and connective tissue. It’s lighter than bone and keeps them flamboyant. Also, their skin has a similar feel to sandpaper.”

When you ramble, you sound like Spencer. You spend so much time with him and endorse his info dumps so much that you take on his speech style when you go on info dumps of your own. Spencer loves this because he knows that people tend to mimic the people they love as a sign of affection, and you mimic him a lot more than you think.

He also knew about all your shark facts, but he’s happy to listen. He smiles, “Is that what you were doing up late last night?”

You smile a little, turning away from him. “I got distracted.”

“What’s your thought process behind getting from the sun to sharks?” he wonders. “I’m curious.”

You shrug. “Well, you said your thing and I said it was cool. And then I remembered a post I saw that sharks would be cool with piercings. Then I remembered my shark things.” You glance down at your fingers, bringing them to your lips as you notice a tiny part at the very edge of the nail where it would probably tear off. “I just think sharks are cool,” you mumble around your finger.

“They are cool,” he says. He doesn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself so he adds on, “Will you hold my hand? It’s a little cold.”

You look down at them, “Yeah.” With a nod, you take his hand between both of yours and let them warm his back up. They’re a bit chilly but they don’t feel that cold to you. You hold them anyway, because you love holding his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his and then cover what’s left.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says. He thinks for a moment. “Did you eat today?”

You nod, still watching his hand as you turn it to look at his palm. You gently trace the lines of it, forgetting for the moment that he’d wanted you to warm his hand up for him. But, as usual, he doesn’t mind. “I had a cereal bar this morning. One of those Coco Puff ones. They’re like Rice Krispy Treats.” He doesn’t think that’s sustainable. “And, before you ask, I did have water.”

He smiles. “I know. I told you to drink some before we left. You hungry?”

You shake your head, “Not really.”

“You want a snack?” he compromises, hoping—and knowing—you’ll say yes.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay,” he hums. “We’ll grab one on the way back.” Derek nods gently, remembering to do just that. It will only take a moment.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Spencer says, his voice lowering to a whisper. He knows Derek can still hear him, but he always just wants to whisper to you.

You look up at him, “For what?”

“Being so perfect.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately smiling at the warmth in your chest. “You’re so cheesy, Spencer Reid.”

He’ll gladly be cheesy for you.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

[noimnotmae]

𝐌𝐈𝐗-𝐔𝐏 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏 — Lando Norris⁴

summary: After landing in Miami for his race, Lando carelessly places his bag next to an identical one as he rushes to the bathroom. And in a hurry, you mistakenly grab his bag, thinking it's yours. And during the next five days in Miami, everything took an unexpected turn, escalating into something far bigger than either of you had anticipated.

˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ lando norris x female! reader 🔸

Ｐａｒｔ ３

Ｐｒｅｖｉｏｕｓ Ｐａｒｔ

[IRL]

— As you walked around the Paddock Club with your two friends, you tried to take it all in. "I can't believe how expensive it is to get into this place," Lhea said, browsing the internet for the prices of the passes hanging around your necks. "Yeah, honestly, I have no idea how my brother and his friends managed to afford these," added Liv. While the two continued their conversation, your eyes caught a familiar figure. It was Lando, the guy from the airport.

"YN, isn't that– ow!" Lhea exclaimed as you elbowed her side, causing her to glare at you. You offered an apologetic smile, and she brushed it off, rubbing her side. "Let's just keep walking and get to wherever," you suggested. They nodded and followed closely behind you.

You didn't dare to look in his direction, pretending you hadn't noticed him. Unsure if he had seen you, you let your thoughts drift. Suddenly, one of your friends pulled you back. "Look, merch!" Lhea pointed out. "Let's go, I need to buy something for my brother," Liv added. You nodded, hoping this distraction would help take your mind off Lando.

[TEXTS]

[INSTAGRAM]

viewed by livduh, lhea_theitgirl and 53 others

ynusername

liked by lhea_theitgirl, livduh and 375 others

ynusername Woke up and decided to hyper fixate. Slowly becoming a Ferrari girlie 😅😍 . . . more

View all comments

lhea_theitgirl Charles is soo 😍

ynusername so true

livduh the cars are so 😍

ynusername facts

user1 Forza Ferrari

user2 only watching f1 for the drivers 🙄

user3 fav team?

ynusername rn? it's Ferrari

user3 😬

user4 your story says otherwise

ynusername how embarrassing it would be to be in the mclaren paddock club with a Ferrari cap?

user4 well, when you put it that way...

[TEXTS]

[IRL]

You rushed back to the hotel, eager to have a proper hangout with your friends. One of your drinks still in hand, you sipped while scrolling through your phone. As you reached the hotel, you paused to put your phone away, ensuring it was secure inside your jacket before continuing. Just as you were about to take another sip of your drink, you accidentally bumped into someone, spilling half of it.

Looking down at your clothes, you cursed under your breath, seeing your white top stained. That’s when you noticed the person in front of you. As you looked up to apologize, your mouth went dry and your eyes widened. It was him— Lando Norris, with the same curls and a small bandage over the bridge of his nose. Fuck. "Fuck," you muttered.

Snapping out of your daze, you apologized frantically, setting what was left of your drink aside to prevent further spills. You took in the sight of Lando's shirt, realizing it was much more soaked than yours. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and I didn't see you," you stuttered, eyes darting around for something to wipe the stain that was beginning to dry on Lando's shirt. The embarrassment kept you from meeting his gaze.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando was watching your flustered state with an amused smile. All doubts about you vanished from his mind, you didn't seem like a bad person, just a very awkward one. He observed you removing your slightly stained jacket causing his eyes to widen slightly as you offered it to him, seeing you in just your top.

"Um, I don't have a handkerchief or a towel with me, so you can use this to wipe the stain off. Again, I'm really sorry," you said, still avoiding eye contact. Lando raised a brow, thinking you looked kinda cute in your flustered state, arm outstretched with the jacket.

Just as you were about to pull your arm back, assuming he wouldn't take it, he gently accepted the jacket. "Thanks," he said. You couldn't decipher his tone and dared not look at his face, fearing he might be angry. With a slight bow, you grabbed your drink and quickly headed for the elevator, heart racing.

You opened the door to your hotel room, huffing and running a hand through your hair as you tried to shake off the embarrassment from earlier. Lhea stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes widening at the sight of you in such a messy state—your white top stained, hair slightly disheveled, and on the brink of tears. "Oh my god. Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, rushing to you and gently placing her hands on your shoulders to check if you were hurt."No!" you exclaimed, gently shoving past your friend towards the bathroom. You stripped out of your stained top, leaving you in your bra, and splashed water on your face. "God, I've made a fool of myself!"

"Okay, slow down. What happened?" Lhea asked, leaning against the bathroom door. "I spilled my drink," you began, sitting at the edge of the bathtub. "And?" Lhea urged you to continue. "I spilled it on Lando," you said, covering your face in shame, your voice muffled.

"Oh shit," Lhea cursed. She left for a moment and returned with one of your tops, handing it to you. "Here, get changed and I'll pack your bikini. Let's head to the beach. I'm sure that'll cheer you up," she said with a reassuring smile, which you reciprocated. "You're officially the best," you said as you took the top from her.Lhea blew you a kiss. "Don't tell Liv you said that, though," she laughed. "Yeah, yeah" you responded with a grin.

[TWITTER]

Ｐａｒｔ ４ — Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

A/N : Accidentally posted this earlier while I was editing it 😭 No one saw that and if you did, nuh uh you didn't. I am loving the silly and awkward meeting they both keep having.

taglist @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @barcelonaloverf1life @tangointhequango @bbl3ssy @mxdi0 @d3kstar @multifandomdiva @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @laneyspaulding19 @ilove-tswizzle @lillysbigwilly @lemon-lav

If you want to be added to the taglist, just comment and I'll add you :)

#fanfics #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 x reader #social media au #lando norris social media au #f1 social media au #f1 smau #smau #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader #taglist

[mysticcrownwolf]

So your girl finally had a autistic meltdown and finally asked her mum about her childhood and got some mixed results but long story short I am finally getting an official autism and adhd diagnosis because in my mums words “Everyone deserves things that make their life easier to live”. Not gonna lie guys I did cried about this but it also came up that they did tried to get me diagnosed before (I don’t remember this at all) but were told I just had very high levels of hyperactivity so to make sure this type of bullshit doesn’t happen again I am making a list of all my weird or quirky traits and having the neurodivergents of Tumblr peer review them so I can finally get a diagnosis after 19 years of struggling.

1) I didn’t ever in my life made or had friends that stick around.

2) I was actually alienated a lot by most people in my life for being the umbrella term they all coined as ‘weird’ what this weird means varies from person to person.

3) I have actually been told by other girls that they gave me a chance to keep them company even after many people told them I was too weird and they should stay away from me. These same people later called me slurs, were self absorbed or just plain abusive towards me.

4) Through out my whole life I have sat alone on a double bench because no one wanted to sit with me in class.

5) I have a problem with properly spelling certain words like I write weird as ‘wierd’ or video as ‘vedio’.

6) People constantly doubt I have any sense of knowledge and act like any good idea I give is a surprise even when I was on the top of the class the phrases like “ That’s the first good idea you ever had” weren’t uncommon.

7) I walk a lot and I mean a lot enough that hyperactivity has still been a part of my diagnostic because I walked so much they had no choice but to put that in. I actually come to the school 30 minutes early then walked the whole time, I would just up and leave classes to walk in corridors because I couldn’t sit still long enough, my walking is such a huge part of me my old teachers still tell their classes about me as the girl that walked too much.

8) People in my college nicknamed me the headphone girl because I walked around our whole campus( I would pace a lot around the parameters) with my only noticeable feature being my headphones.

9) I was the only kid in my school not scared of bugs which lead to some notable incidents

I once picked a small green caterpillar and showed it off to my class of 10 year olds they started crying and teacher made me throw the bug even though I wanted to keep it as a pet

Our teacher once asked us to bring butterflies to class so I captured around 30 butterflies put them in a breathable Tupperware and took those to class me being the only person who did this freaked out all the other children with my butterflies , we later released them all in recess it was very pretty

I not only volunteered but gleefully presented live earthworms on my palm to various groups of parents in our school science fare much to the horrified looks of many parents and children about how a little girl like me wasn’t screaming from handling earthworms.

I scared our class mean girl by capturing a butterfly and then turning my hand holding the butterfly in her direction she and a few other girls screamed when I tried to tell them that the little critter was harmless and even offered to let them hold her (I was very confused why they didn’t like this).

10) I was friends with a lot of my teachers as well as higher class teachers especially the Science, Social studies and English teachers. I would often spend my recess in the biology lab chatting with the biology teacher about the different specimens in the lab and how much I enjoyed biology in general. I am half sure I would have loved to study biology/medicine if not for the fact it was a minimum investment of 7 years though I am still an avid reader of new biological discoveries and follow many niche youtube channels that focus on flora and fauna.

11) I was actually friends with all 3 principles in my school and would go to them after my last class to chat about my school day. This was so bizarre to others but I actually enjoyed how much these adults would listen to my info dump even if my own peers won’t.

12) Every single time my report card came I would usually top the class in most subjects except maths in which I usually underperformed ( don’t worry guys I figured out later I just need to know every basic concept to get the deep understanding of mathematical principles which my teachers were very bad at build but I later learned how to do it myself) but it would always have in big bold letters that “I talked to much and have weird questions and am disruptive in class ” which my bad I thought I could get details about what your are teaching and develop great interest but nah we just need to complete the syllabus as fast as we can. Salt on the wound I would only ask questions and discuss topics in class with the teacher since I don’t have friends I could talk to in class. They deadass never ever punished a single student from disrupting in class except me the girl who asked silly questions about what we were studying maybe they thought my questions were weird so I was asking them to disrupt they flow of the class rather than genuine curiosity who knows

13) I had very bad anger issues stemming from how the system as well as authority figures treated me ( I have since been to therapy and gotten help for it ) but a lot of time I verbally and physically attacked an authority figures usually when they punished me for something I didn’t do or when they tried to empty out their frustration on me or tried to bully me in anyway. I never took bullying face down from anybody be it younger or older than me my flight or fight response was always on fight

14) People did tried to bully me physically or verbally but I always returned it in kind with interest so it never really stuck like the isolation did. My most memorable experience with bullying was when I bitch slapped our school mean girl so hard the whole ground heard it , I don’t think I ever got any punishment for it and she later burned every friendship she had by throwing her whole group under the bus for some vandalism they did.

15) I unfortunately never had friends so when they school told me telling an authority figure I am being teased, harassed or even that someone is breaking the rules is what’s morally right I ran with the rules set for me rather than knowing the social norms that this would mark me as the school snitch without the teachers ever doing anything about the issues. Unfortunately I learned the hard way through trial and error that once you are labelled as a snitch their is nothing you can do to get that tag off and it comes with the added benefit of making people never talk to each other near me or even just leave the places I visit alone so yay more loneliness for me

16) I actively volunteered for every single activity and program my school office this sounds great but I picked and got selected for all 7 different fairs (English, Hindi, Maths, Science, Social science, Music, Art) but rather than pick out one or two I helped out with all 7 of them. They later added a 3 groups per person limit.

17) I am actually trained in both classical instrumental and singing but couldn’t complete my singing degree before the program closed down and it’s been 6 years since I played a Casio that I don’t think that even matters anymore. Anyway I added this because at first I did both of these at the same time along with volunteering for all the other activities before they added a 1 course per year limit which is a shame since it cost me my vocal degree.

18) I love reading that just the fact I found reading in my school library when I was 8 haven’t let it go since by my librarian’s estimate I read almost 3000 books (mostly children books) from my school library. I also have a mini collection of about 300 books that I have passed down to both of siblings. These days I read mostly on ao3 or the occasional paperback I bought at the airport but reading is still something I do almost daily.

19) See one thing about me is I was one of the first student at my school so much so my identification number was 35 so me being such an old student my school has actually legends about my quirky ( neurodivergent ) behaviour which has made me understand where most legends actually come from

I walked out of classes so many times teachers to this day still tell stories of the weird girl that likes to walk

My whole school knew who I was mostly because I would be the first and only person that likes to answer philosophical questions asked by our principal in the assembly, I was also great with improvising assembly conductions, thought of the days, assembly quizzes, full speeches on topics told to me 2 minutes ago, even improvised song recitations (can you guys pick up I have social anxiety now).

As I told you my lovelies I love reading so if I was immersed in a book and the class started I would just hide the book to read in class once I got caught so I got termed the girl who like to read books in class( is it stupid yes did it still happened certainly). I later learned to zone out to the stories in my mind during class which was very helpful.

As I told you guys I was actually on pretty friendly terms with my principal and teachers so guess who became the teachers pet for the next 8 years even though most teachers care jack shit about my interest and was further alienated because of this me ofcourse.

I actually once locked myself in the school bathroom for like 4 hours because I hadn’t completed the homework a teacher had given me and she was quite physically abusive towards me. I got suspended for a week because of this funnily enough nobody in my school actually remember this and most are really surprised to know I was suspended.

I am actually really famous or infamous by the way you look at it for physically assaulting a teacher funnily enough the name of the teacher, why I am attacked them and even how I hit them changes from person to person I have actually heard 10-15 different variations from different people( I am not even sure if I actually ever hit a teacher most I remember is I lunged at one teacher but she stepped back so I didn’t even touch her).

20) I was depressed from age 14 to 17 which caused me to chronic pain which later caused me to meet my current psychologist who helped me a lot but is vehemently against me getting any sort of neurodivergent diagnosis most she say is I have borderline adhd tendencies and that I think to much and should focus on calming down my mind which honestly is quite invalidating.

21) I can’t wear any sort of itchy or frilly materials when I was younger ( the texture was soo bad) but my sister could which made my mother think I was being a drama queen.

22) When I was younger I use toilet paper after using a bidet because the feeling of wet pants would over stem me so bad it’s not a problem for me anymore except from sometimes during winters.

23) I didn’t know Chewelry existed when I was younger so I chewed on my nails/skin,my lips, squishy parts of remotes, plastic toys, legos, scarfs, hoody strings, hot glue gun glue, chalk, cement, sand, mud etc. (Yes I know about the microplastics now no I don’t care).

24) I am highly sensitive to sounds so if my fan have a weird creak sound I won’t be able too sleep I also can’t sleep if I hear a clock ticking or any other repetitive sounds ( my mum still doesn’t understand why I can’t just force myself to sleep).

25) I also can’t sleep in continuous silence I need background noise to fall asleep.

26) It took me a whole year of forcing myself to wear bra and panties for my body to finally get used to me wearing them. It was a stimulation nightmare but I think it was worth it I enjoy wearing bras and panties now.

27) I can’t eat apples like I physically cringe even thinking of the sensation of biting into an apple. I have tried cutting an apple into every single why I could I still can’t swallow or even properly chew an apple the texture is such a sensory nightmare for me. Cabbage used to be the same for me but though constant reintroduction I can usually for myself to eat it with a glass of water

28) I have had many foods be absolutely sensory nightmare for me throughout my childhood. I was a very picky eater think bread, soup, lentils and noodles(packet noodles without vegetables). I couldn’t eat any kinds of fruits(except banana), vegetables, pizza , burgers (still don’t eat this), dumplings, wraps, pasta,etc. Heck I was a vegetarian for majority of my life before I learned chicken is actually a great textured food for me though I still don’t eat any form of red meat or sea foods and my food list is still very limited I have constantly reintroduced many foods for myself over the years which I can now usually bear to eat. I also learned that I can usually consume fruit and vegetables better if they are liquids so fruits juices, smoothies and soups were also great help.

29) I was and still am an absolutely clean freak and organiser. Like my bag use to have books organised in this specific order English, Hindi, Maths, Science and then Social studies and it needs to been in this order or I would get anxious. Fortunately no one else in my house ever wanted to organise anything so I would organise everything with way I would want it to be while also being neat.

30) One of my biggest sources of stress came from how dirty my siblings made our room. I would deep clean everything and then organise our books , toys and clothes and then clean and organise our bed they would just bulldozers through and ruin all my hard work in a day or two. Unfortunately I had this sense of cleanliness and order since I was a child and my siblings who were even younger then me weren’t slobs(ok maybe my brother was but anyway) they just weren’t wired to like cleanliness and order like I did and being children anything I told them about how we can keep our room clean went over their heads because I was always their to do it for them.

31) I actually had many special interests growing up though I didn’t have trains as an interest except for the cool toy train set I got as a gift or the maglev trains who are objectively very cool. My biggest special interest were rocks, space and animals especially all the books Nat geography and scholastic puts out on animals. I actually had a rock collection mostly made up of sedimentary rock and a piece of lime stone which my mother later kept in the shed where it got lost during home construction. I also have a modest collection of books and another collection of small childhood trinkets that I still have (I recently bought a clay bird that mimics actual bird call when filled with a little water to add to my collection).

32) I forget I need to eat and drink it’s always been like this I don’t have that internal clock that says you are thirsty go drink water or you are hungry go eat food . I need to remind myself it’s been 12 hrs I probably need water it’s been 32 hrs you should probably get some food or at least have a protein shake it’s like my body has no sense of hunger or thirst but I am getting better at eating and drinking at least the drinking water part anyway.

33) I am tired it’s not recent but in the last few years since I became an adult I feel so tired I use to be the topper of my class the gifted children that participated in everything now I am in college and just getting an 80% feels draining everyone has so much hope for me that I could and should do better but I am just tired. I walk and trekk sometimes but I don’t participate in any events and I see others I see my roommate who participates in like 5 different events and still gets a 95% if she can do it why can’t I. I use to be able to do so much and now I don’t have the drive to do much of anything anymore it’s so painful to realise that I should do better but what does better looks like for someone who is as tired as I am.

I did took some online test as well just to see if I even had a chance and the results were mostly the same I have many Adhd/Autistic tendencies and should probably get a professional diagnosis. I would be very thankful if my fellow autistic and adhd people would help me add more targeted experiences so I can finally get a diagnosis

@my-autism-adhd-blog you inspired me write all of this down and it would be very helpful if you could guide me to get a better diagnosis because of your experience. Also I greatly enjoy the contents of your blog so thank you for that

#autistic things #autism #autism spectrum #neurodivergent #neurodivergent experience #neurodivergence #actually neurodivergent #neurodivergent things #actually autistic #actually adhd #attention deficit hyperactivity disorder #adhd

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid? 

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it. 

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream. 

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased. 

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea. 

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion. 

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side. 

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out). 

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you. 

There was no way. 

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure. 

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan. 

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention. 

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger. 

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak. 

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.” 

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?” 

Stupid reddit post. 

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ” 

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity. 

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him? 

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.” 

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend. 

He was doomed. 

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.” 

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent. 

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.” 

“Oh.” 

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip. 

Lando looked stuck. 

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out. 

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.” 

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted. 

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume. 

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.” 

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.” 

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming. 

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable. 

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.” 

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled. 

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.” 

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles. 

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun. 

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?” 

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no. 

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.” 

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo. 

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?” 

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job. 

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando. 

Low-and-behold, you did. 

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants. 

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.” 

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit. 

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along. 

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up. 

But you didn’t.  

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way. 

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray. 

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts. 

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.” 

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest. 

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?” 

Oh, so you knew how to play. 

Luckily for Lando, so did he. 

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink. 

You were internally freaking out. 

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. 

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area. 

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same. 

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.” 

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.” 

There was a lingering silence before you broke it. 

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend. 

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again. 

“Y/n! Wait!” 

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out. 

“Can I have your number?” 

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end. 

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back. 

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away. 

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after. 

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you. 

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could. 

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!” 

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber. 

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡” 

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory. 

The giant-ass “4.” 

“Shit.” 

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

#lando norris x reader #Lando Norris #Lando Norris imagine #Lando Norris x fem!reader #Lando Norris x fan!reader #reverse trope #amnesia #but it's fake #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 smau #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #formula one smau #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction

[candycandy00]

Character: Sukuna

Theme: Pirate Ship

Spice: NSFW (I wanna SMELL the smut)

Mood: Dark with flickers of ligt

Kinks: Beautiful shy virgin reader, size difference, a bit of pain, bondage, a bit of spanking, a sprinkle of non-con

Please and Thank you

The Maiden’s Voyage - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a Pirate Captain. Noncon/Rape! Very rough sex! Bondage. Violence. Blood. Mentions of suicide. Sukuna is a cruel, sadistic monster here! You’ve been warned! 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! There will be two (possibly three) parts because I got really attached to this idea and it was getting too long. Any feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. will make my day sunny and bright! 💖 Dividers by @benkeibear!

Relentless cannon fire from above leaves your ears ringing as you cower below deck with the other passengers. This was supposed to be an uneventful trip to the island, where you intended to take a job as a maid for a rich noble. The voyage should have lasted four days, but two days in, this happens. 

This being a pirate attack. The crew of the ship you’re on commanded all the passengers to hide below deck while they tried to outrun the pirate ship that was rapidly approaching, last you saw. In the dark of night, the pitch black sails of the massive ship were terrifying in the flashes of light from the cannons. 

Now you can only tremble as you and the others cling to each other, listening to the sounds of men shouting and cursing above. Cannon fire gives way to rifle and pistol fire, and that can only mean one thing: the pirates have boarded. 

A fight breaks out. You can hear bodies falling, people screaming. The woman beside you is crying. “It’ll be alright,” you tell her, trying to force a smile onto your face. “They might just take our money and belongings and leave.” It certainly isn’t unheard of. 

She gives you a pitying stare. “They’ll kill us all. Well, maybe not you, with your looks. But you’ll probably wish you were dead.”

You’re not stupid. You know how this will most likely play out. But you were trying to comfort her, to give her a little bit of hope. You wish she’d done the same for you. Maybe then your hands would stop shaking. 

The door leading up to the deck is suddenly ripped open, making several passengers scream in alarm. Two unfamiliar men with guns climb down.

“All of you, get up there,” one of them says, waving his rifle around and pointing toward the deck. 

Like lambs marching off to be slaughtered, you and the other passengers grimly climb the rickety wooden steps to reach the deck. What you find is a nightmare come to life. 

Bodies litter the whole ship. Blood has splattered everywhere. The captain of your vessel is being held by two brawny pirates, their swords at his throat. He’s covered in bloody gashes and has a black eye, his regal looking coat ripped and dirty. 

Many of the pirates are holding torches, so many that the deck is well lit. You look around in stunned silence, your eyes shifting from one horror show to the next until you and the rest of the passengers are all lined up single file. Then several pirates step behind the line and begin tying everyone’s wrists behind their backs. The man tying yours gropes your ass through your dress, making you squirm. 

Once everyone is tied up, one of the pirates yells out, “All ready for you, Capn’!” 

Another man, standing close to the passengers, says, “Look lively! Captain Sukuna’s boarding the ship!”

At the sound of the captain’s name, you feel your heart sink down your body, settling somewhere in your feet. Some of your fellow passengers cry out in despair. One woman, in a panic, breaks the line. She runs straight to the side of the ship and throws herself overboard. You understand why she did it. 

Captain Ryomen Sukuna is notorious for his cruelty, for his complete lack of mercy when it comes to women, whom he treats just as (if not more) brutally as he does men. You’re still haunted by stories you’ve heard about the bodies found on ships he’s plundered. Women and men alike stripped and skewered, cut into chunks, ripped apart. There were even rumors that he ate some of his victims! 

Naturally, you’ve never seen him before. His wanted posters only have his name and a vague description: a tall, muscular man with black tattoos all over his body. That could describe a lot of pirates. 

But now, you’re about to get a crystal clear image of him. You hear heavy footsteps walking across the deck from behind you, and then he finally steps around the line of passengers and comes into view. 

The words “tall” and “muscular” do not do him justice. He’s huge, with broad shoulders and a chiseled torso visible beneath the white shirt unbuttoned to his waist. You can also see the lines of black tattoos, on his face and chest, drawing your eye toward his toned abdomen. He has pink hair, slicked back away from his face, and intense red eyes. 

Something about his appearance captivates you, makes it impossible for you to tear your eyes away. He’s objectively handsome, in a rugged, masculine way. But he’s also terrifying. You can almost feel the bloodlust radiating off him. 

He begins walking down the line, stopping in front of a pretty young woman to look her over. “This one,” he says, and another pirate pulls her out of the line, dragging her off to the side to wait. Sukuna continues, occasionally pausing to regard a woman. “This one,” he says again, and another lady is dragged over to stand beside the first one. 

When he reaches you, he stops and faces you, his eyes roaming up and down your form. Your heart is racing, your breaths coming fast and shallow. There’s a hunger in his expression as his gaze burns into you, lingering on your heaving chest. “This one,” he says, red eyes glinting in the light of the torches, a grin on his face. 

A pirate pulls you from the line and shoves you over to stand with the other two women as Sukuna continues his walk. In the end, you and six other women are chosen. You all huddle together, still bound, while Sukuna turns to his crew. “Take care of the rest!”

At those words, a frenzy of violence begins. You can only watch in horror as the rest of the passengers are stripped of all clothing and belongings, the women screaming at the indignity, and then systematically murdered by the pirates. Most are stabbed with swords or daggers, some have their throats slit, and a few are simply thrown overboard. 

The woman you spoke to below deck cries out as a pirate stabs her repeatedly in the stomach. You close your eyes, no longer able to bear the sight of so much spilled blood. 

It’s almost as if you’re in a daze as you and the other six women are taken over to Sukuna’s ship. There’s no fight in you, no hope. Your arms are tied behind you and you’re totally surrounded by large, armed pirates. There’s no chance of escape. You can guess why you seven were chosen, and you’re starting to wonder if you should throw yourself overboard like the desperate woman you saw earlier. Death by drowning would be preferable to the fate that awaits you. 

Sukuna walks over to the group of terrified women and points directly at you. “Take her to my quarters. You men can share the others.”

The men cheer and the women scream. You look over at Sukuna, and your eyes meet his. Again, he gives you a grin, and the look on his face says it all: this man is going to enjoy destroying you. 

You’re dragged down a small set of stairs and through a heavy wooden door. You find yourself in a lavish cabin, full of rich furnishings like a glossy wooden dresser and deep red velvet blankets on a huge bed. There are lanterns lit all around the room, giving it an opulent atmosphere. It smells of fresh wood and sea breeze and some sort of incense. 

You only have a few minutes alone before the door swings open and the captain walks in. He closes the door behind him, sealing your fate, then shrugs off his long black coat. He’s left in black leather pants that fit him a little too well and the thin white shirt that’s mostly unbuttoned. You’ve never seen a man with such a well built body before, and it almost distracts you from the terror you feel at being alone in a room with this monster. 

He looks at you, eyes freely drinking in your entire body. “I’m sure you know what’s going to happen to you,” he says, standing a few feet away, “but just in case you’re stupid, I’ll make it clear. We’ve got a two week voyage ahead of us, and you’re going to be my entertainment. If you don’t please me, I’ll toss you to the crew to be passed around until you die.”

You shiver, tears welling up in your eyes. How are you supposed to keep him pleased? You’ve never even touched a man in a sexual way before. 

He steps closer, and you step further back, shying away from him. He looks slightly annoyed. “Did you understand what I said, woman?”

You sniffle, trying to hold back your tears. With your hands behind your back, you can’t even wipe your eyes. You’ve truly never been so helpless. “I… I understand,” you finally say, afraid of angering him. “It’s just… I’ve never…”

His eyes seem to glow with excitement. “Oh? An innocent maiden? In my quarters? You’re like a baby lamb that’s been thrown to the wolves.” He laughs and moves closer. You’re frozen to the spot, remembering his annoyed expression when you stepped back before. When he’s right in front of you, you’re again struck by just how tall he is. He completely dwarfs you. This close, you can feel his body heat, can smell the heady mix of blood and sea water on his skin. 

You’re terrified. You want nothing more than to flee, even though you have no idea where you could possibly flee to. But your eyes keep being drawn to those tattoos trailing down his torso, disappearing below his belt. “Please,” you say in a small quivering voice, “if only the first time… please don’t hurt me.”

That frightening grin spreads over his mouth again as one large hand moves up to touch your teary face. “My poor little maiden, I’m going to hurt you. And I’m going to enjoy hurting you.”

You draw in quick shuddering breaths as tears streak your face, drizzling over his fingers, your eyes large and glassy as you stare up at him. 

His hand moves down to your neck as his other hand rests on your shoulder. “I’m going to thoroughly break you, split you in two on my cock, make you scream until your throat is raw and bloody. Well, more than just your throat will be raw and bloody.”

Your body is shaking with held back sobs. How could he be so cruel? But you don’t have time to think more on it, because his hands are suddenly on the front of your dress. In one savage motion, he rips it completely open with his bare hands, totally exposing you down to your waist. 

******************

Sukuna laughs as the sweet little maiden shrieks and draws back away from him, trying to turn her body to hide her nakedness. With her arms bound, she can’t even try to cover herself. He grabs her shoulder and forces her to face him, drinking in the sight of her bare, heaving breasts. It’s been a while since he’s had a woman so shapely, so perfectly formed to his taste. He can’t wait to see the rest of her. 

Wasting no time, he tears the rest of her dress off, as well as her thin undergarments. She’s left cowering before him, trembling, trying to clamp her legs shut. How adorable. 

Ah, such a lovely, delicate little flower, just ripe enough for him to pluck. But he doesn’t just want to pluck her. He wants to take this beautiful, tender blossom and grind it into powder. 

With one hand he grips her chin and lifts her face up, forcing her to look at him. Nothing arouses him more than a pretty face wet with tears, terrified eyes peering up at him, quivering lips unable to even form words. 

The thought of destroying this pure, innocent creature has him rock hard. 

His hand moves to the side of her face, his thumb tracing over her plump lips. Her eyes shift down, and he realizes this has happened multiple times since he entered the room. What does she keep looking at? What could be so distracting in a moment like this? He follows her gaze, and it leads to his chest, the tattoos clearly visible beneath his unbuttoned shirt. 

Is she… staring at his body? A virgin that’s about to be violated is distracted by his tattoos? Oh, this is delicious! 

He releases his hold on her and steps back, then pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside. As he suspected, her eyes widen as they roam over the black ink lining his torso. Her lips part and the fear on her face gradually shifts to something else. 

“See something that interests you?” he asks, smirking at her. 

She shakes her head, looking embarrassed. “N-no!”

His hands move to his belt, and she watches as he unbuckles it, then opens his pants. He hears her breath hitch slightly when she sees that the tattoos continue down, and when he pulls his fully erect cock out, she lets out a small scream. 

Sukuna grins to himself. He’s certainly used to women screaming when they see it for the first time. He’s very aware of the fact that his cock is unusually large. To her virgin eyes, it probably looks like a beast ready to attack her. 

The fear has returned to her face, and it makes him want to ravage her immediately. He looks at her lovely mouth, at her lips as soft as rose petals, and pushes her down to her knees in front of him. 

********************

You’re so scared you can’t even speak as Captain Sukuna forces you to your knees, his monstrously huge rod right in front of your face. It terrifies you, but even it has two black lines tattooed around the base of it, demanding your attention. 

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you hesitantly obey. 

The tip of his meaty cock touches your tongue. “If you bite,” he says, staring down into your eyes, “I’ll rip every tooth out of your head and then fill your bloody mouth with my cum. Do you understand?”

You’re afraid to nod your head, afraid to move at all, so you murmur out, “Mmhmm.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he shoves himself into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you gag and choke. He pulls out slightly, then shoves in again, going partially down your now sore throat. He repeats this, in and out, mercilessly fucking your mouth as tears flood your eyes. You barely get a chance to breathe when he pulls back, and at some point he grips your hair, holding your head steady.

“You’re not trying to please me at all,” he says, frowning down at you. “Use your tongue, your lips, your whole mouth. I’m not stopping until you make me cum.”

Fresh tears sting your eyes. This torment will keep going? You look up at him pleadingly, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. He has to know you’ve never done this before. But he just keeps thrusting ruthlessly into your throat. 

When he pulls back again, you press your lips tightly around his shaft, slowing his motion. This gives you the chance to lap at his tip with your tongue. You taste a salty, sticky fluid, and feel it smear around the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens, and you whimper around his cock as he continues thrusting, just a little slower so that he can rub your tongue with his leaking tip. 

Your jaw is aching, your throat raw, but you keep your tongue moving, trying your best to please him. It feels like it goes on forever before he finally pulls out most of the way, leaving only the tip inside. Then he shoots his hot, gooey load onto your tongue, filling your mouth. Your first instinct is to spit it out, you’re already gagging after all. But you know that would anger him, so you force it down, letting the thick gobs slide down your throat. 

When done, he finally removes his cock from your mouth, leaving you panting for air, your lips bruised and trembling. You look up to find him grinning down at you. “So?” He asks, his tone mocking. “Ready for me to shove this into that little virgin pussy of yours?”

“No, please! You’ll break me!” you cry, trying to scurry away from him.

He grabs one of your bound arms and jerks you to your feet, not caring how much he hurts you. He pulls you to him, forcing your bare body against his. He’s so very firm, so rock solid. His appearance is so alluring to you, his self assured attitude so attractive, if you had met him under different circumstances, you would have slept with him willingly. 

“I’m going to shatter you,” he says, crimson eyes shimmering, “tear you apart, crush you into dust. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you alive until I’ve had my fill of you.”

You shudder in his arms, your eyes still full of tears. He steps toward his bed, dragging you with him by the arm. He throws you onto it, on your back. With your hands still tied behind you, the position is highly uncomfortable. He pulls off his pants, kicking them aside and standing beside the bed for a moment, giving you a clear view of how the black lines circle his muscular thighs. Once again, they almost distract you from your terror. 

But it returns full force when he climbs onto the bed and shoves your quivering legs apart. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, feeling your whole body heat up with embarrassment. No man has looked upon you this way before. 

“It’s no fun fucking sandpaper,” he tells you. “So let’s get this pussy wet.”

Your eyes snap open in alarm when you feel his large, warm hands on your spread open inner thighs, rubbing upward. His thumbs reach your soft folds and part your flesh, the cool air of the room hitting your most private place. You hear him chuckle, and you glance at his face. He’s smiling so smugly. “Are you sure you’re a virgin? You’re already dripping.”

You feel shame immediately fall over you. In a panic, you try to rise up. “What? No! I’m not! I-“

Suddenly his thumb rubs over your clit, and you forget how to form words. You inhale a sharp breath, trying vainly to scoot away from his touch. He keeps rubbing, and you can feel your own wetness smearing around. Your body has betrayed you.  

Humiliated, you close your eyes again, wishing you could at least wipe your tears. The motion of his thumb intensifies, his nail scraping over your delicate nub, and your body jerks. You’ve never felt this way before, never felt such electric pleasure. 

You hear his smooth voice. “Already a whore for me before I even make you my woman.”

A pitiful sob escapes you. Reflexively, your legs try to close, but he’s between them, holding them far apart. The shameful pleasure builds and builds, your body shaking, and just when it feels like something is about to break loose, he suddenly stops. 

You lie there panting, not knowing if you’re thankful or disappointed that he moved his hand away.  But then his hands slide under your hips, and pull your lower body into his lap. You can feel the weight of his heavy cock on your pussy, can feel its heat. 

He moves it so that it’s pointing directly at your entrance. You rise up as best you can to look him in the eyes. “Please… don’t!”

But he grins again, enjoying your fear, your desperation. You were foolish to think this monster has any mercy within him. He doesn’t give you a chance to prepare, even to take a deep breath, before he ruthlessly shoves his entire cock inside you. 

You scream, the pain blinding as he tears into you, slamming into your cervix on the first thrust. It feels like he’s ripping you apart. You feel something warm and wet coming out of you, and realize it must be blood. At that moment, you genuinely fear he’s going to kill you. 

He quickly begins moving, thrusting in and out, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise them. You look at his face, at the pleasure evident in his eyes, and it horrifies you. Turning your face to the side, you try to block it all out, his cock invading your body, his hands upon you, his toned, tattooed body hovering over yours. 

All you can do is whimper and cry as he takes you, trying your best to hold back your sobs so that he doesn’t enjoy this even more. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you’re completely helpless to stop him. 

“Hey,” you hear him say, his fingers squeezing your hip harshly, “don’t fade out. Stay focused. You’re under me right now, my cock is inside you.”

This cruel beast won’t even allow you the luxury of blocking this all out! He’s keeping you in the moment, making sure you’re aware of everything that’s happening. 

One of his hands moves down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. Your body spasms with pleasure as he rubs circles into it, bringing you back to the edge you were on earlier. 

You shake your head. “No, please… stop!”

He ignores your pleas, rubbing relentlessly, making your breath hitch and your legs tremble. You look down, your eyes drawn to the way his muscles flex and move beneath his skin, the way his strong hands hold you, and you can’t resist any longer. 

The pleasure explodes within you, spreading from your core out to the ends of your limbs, leaving you gasping. Above you, Sukuna laughs. 

“A virgin cumming while being raped? I made an excellent choice tonight!”

You try to ignore his cruel taunts, just feeling the pleasure of your orgasm. It’s the only thing dulling the pain. Because Sukuna keeps fucking you, hard and rough, until your pleasure fades and you finally feel him stiffen inside you. He presses in deep enough to make you see stars, and then you feel his hot cum filling your womb. 

****************

Sukuna eventually pulls out of the maiden, leaving her sprawled out in his bed, too exhausted and sore to even close her legs. She pants, her lovely breasts heaving, as blood and cum leak out of her. She’s crying softly, turning her face away from him. 

She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, like a rare jewel. So soft and fragile, it only makes him want to defile her even more, to ruin her even more. 

Fortunately for her, that was the best fuck he’s had in years. The way her pussy clenched his cock when she came, the way her body trembled against him… it was exquisite.  He’ll definitely keep her alive for a while longer. 

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader #candys2kevent #sukuna x you

[lvndosnorris]

sex with lando while he wears his racing helmet. ive been DYING for someone to do this!

"no— keep it on," your voice trailed off, fingers digging into lando's wrists as he went to tug off the helmet that was still covering his head. all you could see were his eyes narrowed in confusion, your imagination left to assemble what expression he was definitely pulling as you rocked a little further onto his lap, "i've wanted you to fuck me with this on for as long as i can remember."

of course that was the truth — always finding yourself chewing on the inside of your cheek as you waited in the paddock after his races, squeezing your thighs together in a discreet manner as you let your mind run wild. you'd stumbled over your words before, coming so close to pleading for him to slip it on in the bedroom. but your mouth would open and close, dumbfounded as you pushed the thought to the back of your mind and found yourself dumbly peeling off your clothes.

"is this what you've always wanted, hm?" lando's teases surged straight through your body, fingers tripping over themselves as you partly undid his racing suit. glimpses of his chest trickled through your hazed vision, his prominent erection creating a mound beneath your clothed cunt as you whined impatiently. time was not on your side, the idea of being walked into when you were both in your most vulnerable states making your chest heave — "you need some help with that baby? does my girl need some help?"

his question oozed smugness as he lifted his hips, only slightly from the padded chair of the backroom you'd dragged him to, helping you thumb over the waistband of his boxers before tracing over his clothed length. there was a part of you that wanted to rip the helmet from him so you could taste him, the urge for his mouth against yours quickly fizzling out as he grazed his hands over yours, almost following your every move in case you dizzily failed.

your dress was already hiked up your hips, the material bunching over the expanse of your stomach as you groaned at how he simply slipped your underwear to the side. there was no need to get you ready, bottom lip drew between your teeth as you positioned yourself blindly above him — the stinging sensation of him stretching you out earning a guttural whine from you, the exact noise that lando often found himself dreaming about. it was dirty, pornographic even. but he loved it.

there was nothing you wanted more than to watch his face twist in pleasure, how his mouth would hang open as he panted. his eyes creased as they screw shut until he was seeing stars. but this was even better; his visor open, noises concealed by his helmet as you grasped his shoulders for support. each rock of your hip pushed him further inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix with little to no warning, stomach tense as you cursed at how good he felt, how big he felt.

his words were slurred as he gripped your shoulders for dear life, helping you rise and slip down on him, his cock twitching uncontrollably as he studied how different you reacted to him. it was obvious that this was a fantasy you'd been swallowing back for months, your nails etching into the padded material of his race suit as you trembled. praises of how much of a good girl you were became accompanied by whimpers, his lap bucking up to meet you halfway as he noticed how you struggled to keep a rhythmic pace.

you didn't realise you were orgasming until is crashed over you, your limbs alight with pleasure as his name fell from your lips. it was harsh, sudden, every part of you shuddering against him as he continued to fuck up into you. he could have sworn he saw heaven right there and then — your cunt squeezing him tightly, the warmth of your juices coating his shaft and your inner thighs. words failed you, cries of oversensitivity filling his ears as he stilled inside of you, soothing down your back as you stifled a worn-out giggle, "we need to do this more often."

#lando smut #lando norris x reader #lando x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando x you #lando drabble #lando fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 smut #f1 drabble #f1 oneshot #lando norris x you #lando norris x oc #lando norris x y/n #lando norris oneshot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #f1 blurb

[ysrjune]

Forgive Me?

(ai images of hayden are not mine)

summary ✦ Anakin forgets to show up to a date he planned for you but makes it up (you also find out who spiderman is..)

‘No fucking way.’ You angrily thought to yourself when the clock hit 8:30 pm. Anakin was an hour late to the date he planned out for you a couple of nights ago, and it was weird enough that he wasn’t there waiting at the table for you. This is the 3rd time he’s missed/been late to something he said he’d be on time for.

You drove all the way back to your house and got un-ready, changing into comfy pjs but leaving your hair and makeup done. With a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth and the rest of the small tub in your lap, you watch whatever was on the TV, thinking about how mad you were at Anakin.

He knew he fucked up. Anakin knows he’s in for another scolding when he shows up to your house, but he can’t not save the city.. he’s spider-man, and it he doesn’t show up to save the citizens in danger, they’ll get hurt, and everyone would blame him the next day. Anakin always hated how he was basically forced to choose the city over you sometimes.. it broke him because you had no idea what he was doing instead of seeing you.

He was so worried at the thought of you thinking he was out cheating and partying with other people instead of being faithful to you. In his younger years, when you two were only friends, he was kind of a play-boy, but he promised you he wasn’t like that anymore when he asked you out for the first time. He was so worried you were thinking he went back (or never even left) to his old ways.

Later on in the night, you heard a tapping at your window. Your eyes shift to it, your heart feeling like it had stopped beating. Who the hell would tap your window? You didn’t want to go over there.. what if it was some freak who’d kidnap you or something?! But it happened again after you had tried to focus back on the TV.

With the courage finally built up, you walked over to your window and opened it, looking left and right. There was.. no one? It had only been a couple of seconds since the tapping stopped, so whoever was doing it couldn’t have run away that fast.

“M’ sorry.” A voice from above spoke, making you flinch and tilt your head up only to reveal the one and only spider-man. You gasped and felt like you could literally faint. Why is spider-man at your house?!

“What? I—sorry for what? You don’t even know me!” You reply, still in shock.. and looking up. Then it hit Anakin. You didn’t know he was spider-man. But maybe today was finally the day.

“Yeah, I do.” He slipped into the room with you following him. “Excuse me? Is this some kind of joke?!” But then he hushed you. “It’s me, n/n. It's Anakin.” He says and takes his mask off, revealing his messy hair and face that was slightly dirty and bruised.

No fucking way.

Your mind thought of so many things at the same time. It didn't feel real. “I’m hallucinating”, “I’m dreaming”, “Maybe he’s just trying to be funny.” and so much more.. there was no way your Anakin was spider-man. The guy who goes around saving people with fucking web.

“You’re—is this? Anakin, stop being stupid. You’re not funny!” You scoff, making him chuckle and shake his head. “Trust me, babe. I wish this was all just a big joke, but it's not.” He placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “I should've told you sooner—maybe then you'd like.. I don't know? Understand why I bail on things sometimes.”

He looks right at you, taking in the mad but also shocked expression plastered on your pretty face that he loved so much. “Babe, I'm sorry. Please understand where I'm comin’ from, pretty girl.” He opened his arms, hoping you'd give into a hug.. which you did.

You were able to feel his muscles better than you ever could through that suit he wore. He also somehow seemed taller than he usually was, but maybe you were just tripping out. “Ani, why did you hide this from me..”

“We've only been together a couple of months, and I didn't wanna scare you off.” He replied, running his hands up and down the small of your back. “Theres no girl out there like you. None of them could replace you.” He rests his head atop your shoulder.

“I couldn't ever love any other girl like I love you.” That was the first time he ever admitted to loving you. This moment was never expected to be happening like this.. finding out your Anakin is spider-man.

“And I can't love any other man like I love you.” Hearing those words coming out if your mouth made you cringe and feel a little corny, but it was genuinely how you felt no matter how stupid and cliché it sounded. It made Anakin smile, too, so it was worth it.

“So do you accept my apology?” He asked calmly in a soft spoken tone. “Not entirely. You still owe me a date or two.” You replied to which he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.. about that..” He shot web out the window, and all of a sudden, there was a boquet of flowers and a box of chocolate. “I stopped by to get these to really change your mind.” He gave you his gifts.

“You swear you're off the hook just because you're being a sweetheart.” You giggled and placed both items on the top of your drawer that was decorated with pictures and various perfumes you owned. “Did it work at least just a little bit?” He asked.

“Taking off that suit would do it.” Anakin smirked and pulled you into a kiss. “Mad at me one second, then saying stuff like that the other.. I think I might be into that.” He mumbled against your lips. “You drive me crazy.”

That night, he smothered you with kisses.. and webbed you to the bed so that you'd stop squirming around while he fucked you slow and sweet. Whispering praises and letting out low groans. He was even still apologizing for standing you up.

“Im so sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you. Gonna let you cum all over my cock and use me.” He grabbed one of your breasts in his large hand, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “M’ gonna cum baby, please let me cum in you.” He sounded so pathetic, it was so cute.

He let you cum before he did. Anakin didn't end up finishing in you because you'd end up pregnant, which you two weren't ready for yet.

Dinner was skipped that night, but you were definitely gonna make him take you out for breakfast.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

tag list ✦ @heartsforanakin @anakinstwinklebunny @sockiess @erosmutt @rottencandyblood @radiantvader 🎀

please let me know if you wanna be added/removed from my tag list <3

#anakin skywalker #spider!anakin #anakin spiderman au #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin smut #star wars anakin #anakin x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine

[matchaverse]

Light in my eyes | OP81

pairing: greekgod oscar piastri x fem!worshiper!reader

summary: when the greek god you have worshiped your whole life finally makes an appearance in your life

oscar’s is basically the greek god apollo in this story and this is just a short story. if people would like I could pair different driver to a Greek god/goddess and make a short story for them too.

for your whole life you have worshipped one god, one god stuck with you from the beginning of your life and that god was oscar piastri. oscar was the god of prophecy, healing, poetry, the sun and much more.

being born on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year, the number seven representing oscar. you just felt very connected to the god.

yellow has been the color you’ve fallen in love with, everything you own is basically yellow. you always have some sort of yellow color on your person no matter what.

your family loves your devotion to the god but they think you’re too devoted to the god. they believe worshipping oscar has become your whole personality.

“y/n…what’s all this?” your mother asks as she stands in the doorway of your room, looking at all the candles you have recently bought.

“just more candles for my alter” you reply without taking your attention away from cleaning the small alter in the corner of your room for the god.

your mother sighs. “i see that but darling, you have enough”.

you shake your head, turning to look at your mother. “these candles smell like hyacinths, and oscar really likes them”.

“darling, we love how devoted you are to your faith but lord oscar doesn’t talk to you. you aren’t nothing special to him” your mother says.

“you don’t understand, he does talk to me. in my dreams. he says i’m one of his most loyal followers” you protest, not wanting your mother to speak ill of the god.

“whatever you say honey” she says before closing your door and heading back downstairs. you let out a deep sigh, turning back to the alter to make sure it looks perfect.

“she doesn’t understand..i know you’re here for me” you say softly to the statue of young god sitting in front of you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“who are you looking at?” logan asks as he walks up to oscar while the young god stands in front of the mirror that shows the mortal realm.

oscar’s eyes doesn’t leave the young woman as he sighs deeply.

“one of my devoted followers..y/n..she have been my follower since birth basically”

logan looks through the mirror of the young woman placing candles on the altar.

“she’s very beautiful” logan says.

“very..” oscar replies softly.

an idea pops into logan’s mind, his grip on his trident looses, almost falling from his grasp.

“why not make an appearance? other gods have done the same thing”

oscar’s eyes widens from the idea, thoughts of meeting his follower does intrigue him.

“i think i should..i have talked to her in her dreams but should i show up in the dreams this time?” oscar asks logan, finally turning to face the young ocean god.

“nah mate, just show up in her room..wait that sounded bad, you know what i mean”

a soft chuckle leaves oscar’s lips. “yeah..i’ll do it.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

later that evening, you finished your nighttime routine. you sit on your bed in your pajamas, the only light source in the room coming from the candles you bought earlier that day.

the candles make the room smell delightful, the scent is soothing and calming. you see why the god loves this scent.

as you shift in your bed to get comfortable, you hear a crack and a beam of light shines in the room, it is almost blinding.

your heart stops, you have no idea what that just was, you slowly turn your head to the noise and your eyes widen. in the middle of your room by the altar you see him, the young god you've been devoted to for years, Oscar Piastri standing in your room in just his long white toga.

"y-your...my lord..." you whisper, sitting up on your knees in the bed.

"hi y/n" oscar says with a soft smile, his voice sounding sweet like honey in your ears.

"you know my name?"

the young god chuckles, sitting on the edge of your bed. "yes i know your name, i know almost everything about you".

you sit there, in awe of the young deity, not saying a word as you just stare at him.

"I must say, you are my most loyal follower and for that, I am forever grateful to you. your loyalty and praise is what keeps my power strong" oscar says.

"of course lord oscar" you reply, still in shock that oscar is truly in your room speaking to you right now.

oscar moves his hand to cup your cheek, moving his thumb over your cheekbone softly.

"please, just call me oscar..."

tags: @warrensluvr @paintedbypoetry @samantha-chicago @ferrarisfailedstrats @ilivbullyingjeongin @golden-hoax @nikfigueiredo @jiggly-puff-12

#f1 smau #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula one #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #greek gods #apollo #greek mythology #ancient greek

[familyvideostevie]

alright, hear me out. i looked through the prompts list and can we give roommate!steve a little airtime beCAUSE—

trying to not hit anything or each other, when there is a power outage and it’s way too dark

— is SO steve coded. i wanna see this man during a power outage. please and thank you. i love you.

hi baby. here you go. sorry it took so long. it is the first thing i have written in about 6 weeks so apologies for it's roughness. i adore you. thank you for helping me give steve Harrington his triumphant return. | fluff, 1.3k, roommates!au

Summer storms in the Midwest always take you by surprise. The never-ending expanse of blue sky becomes crowded with swirling grey clouds without warning and everything stills, like the very fabric of time is holding its breath. Until the dam bursts and rain pounds on your windows, the roof, the pavement with wild abandon. Deep, rumbling thunder follows bright flashes of lightning.

You find it relaxing. A steady, reliable chaos into which you settle without complaint.

Well, usually. Your roommate, Robin -- a talkative and whip-smart girl who makes you laugh-- enjoys storms just as much as you do. It's one of the only times she settles, so you often read side-by-side in companionable silence. Sometimes, if you're feeling bold, you'll both dance in the rain.

But Robin is on some six-month trip for brilliant people and she's left you with a subletter.

"My best friend Steve," she'd said. "Come on, I talk about him all the time. You basically know him."

It's true. Robin is full of stories and this Steve is in most of them. A funny, brave, well-intentioned guy who is a bit of an idiot and has a great head of hair.

And now he's living in the other bedroom. And he's hot. And he always does his dishes and remembers to put the seat down after you scolded him once for doing otherwise and you have a crush on him.

It's annoying. He's been here for like, three weeks and keeps asking you where the spoons are and you like him.

But Steve? You are learning that Steve does not like summer storms.

In the few you've had since he arrived you've noticed that he paces, or sits in the living room with the television turned up high, or something noisy. You've never asked him about it because honestly, he could be much worse as far as roommates go.

You can hear his radio through the wall and it's making it hard to focus on your book. You should really go to sleep but this chapter is really good and does he have to be so loud? Maybe you should get up and ask him to keep it down --

A flash of lightning makes it seem like daylight in your room for a brief moment and then everything is dark. Everything.

"Fuck," you say. The power must have gone out. A clap of thunder so loud it feels like your building shakes startles you. You hear a shout from the other side of the wall.

It's not as hard as you'd expect to feel your way to your bedroom door in the dark. You manage to do so without injury apart from bumping your hip on your dresser.

But when you open your door you smack into a solid wall of warmth. Your fingers grasp for purchase and find none -- only bare skin.

"Jesus Christ --" Steve says. He manages to prevent you both from falling over and holds you at arm's length in the dark. "What are you doing?" His voice is tight and he squeezes your shoulders once before releasing you.

"Uh," you say. You're certain that he's not wearing a shirt. You can feel that he's not wearing a shirt. "The power went out."

He huffs. "Wow, thank you. I had no idea."

You wish it wasn't dark so you could see his face. Three weeks hasn't been enough time to learn all of his expressions. "Were you sleeping?"

It feels like a dumb question considering how loud his music was.

"Yeah," he says. "Obviously I was sleeping. It's like, 1 am."

"Just go back to sleep. If you can, under the volume of your radio."

You imagine him wincing. "Sorry," he says. "I don't, uh. Sleep well during --"

Lighting illuminates the hall and you see him for one brilliant second, messy hair, bare chest rising and falling, boxers slung low. Boxers with...are those...bananas? Then: darkness, thunder. You sense his flinch.

"That," he says flatly.

A smile creeps its way onto your face and you allow it because he can't see. The fact that this guy, your temporary roommate, your sort-of crush, is afraid of thunderstorms fills your chest with warmth. It's endearing. It's adorable. It makes you like him so much more.

You ease past him and into the dark of the rest of the apartment.

"Woah, woah," Steve says. "Where are you going?" You hear him follow you and immediately run into something. He curses. You keep your hands out to avoid the same fate.

"You okay?" you call back.

"Why do we have so much furniture?" he grumbles. "Fuck, that hurt."

You don't correct him that we actually means you and Robin.

"Watch where you're going," you say lightly.

"Oh, ha, ha."

Careful steps take you closer to your destination. "Go look for candles in the kitchen," you tell him. "They're in the drawer by the trash."

"Uh, okay," Steve says. He bumps into things with quiet curses on his way as you look for the matches that should be in the closet. "Why? You could just go back to bed. I'm fine."

You chew on your lip. He's right. But you want to hang out with him. The dark makes you honest. "The thunder is loud," you say. "I won't be able to sleep. We might as well hang out."

He laughs, the first genuine one all night. "Oh, you want to hang out? In the dark? You know what this sounds like, right?"

Ah, the famous Harrington charm Robin has told you about. It makes your cheeks feel hot and you can't hide a smile. Steve ruins the moment by running into something again.

"Fuck! Jesus --"

"Steve, be careful."

"I can't see anything!"

You sigh and finally find the matches. Box in hand, you carefully make your way to the kitchen, your eyes adjusting just a little and making it easier.

Steve is looking in the wrong drawer. You should just tell him so, but instead you reach for him, fingers circling his wrist and dragging it to the right one. His skin is warm under yours, the back of his hand softer than you'd thought it would be. You open the drawer together and hear the candles roll around inside.

His face is a dark outline but you focus on the dark and think you see his eyes. You wish you could see him.

"Found them," he says. You're much closer than you realized, so close you feel his breath on your cheek. Steve leans in -- or maybe it's you, you have no idea, and your noses brush. He puts a hand on your hip, fingers sliding under the hem of your sleep shirt and burning you like a brand.

Your eyes slide close and you miss the flash but not the boom that follows, sending you both about a foot in the air and away from each other.

"Shit," you gasp. Steve laughs and you join in, giggling in the dark like teenagers.

Maybe this is a one-night thing, the darkness making you both a little lonelier and a little braver. But you've got months more of him and the idea of spending that time being something more than just roommates? It's appealing, to say the least.

You reach for Steve in the dark and he must have been doing the same because your fingers tangle without much effort.

"Come on," you say. "Let's light the candles and sit on the couch. I'm sure the power will come back on eventually."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. "Okay," he says, a smile in his voice. "Don't let me run into anything."

You grin at him in the dark and hope that come morning he'll be familiar with it in the light, as well. "Don't worry, Steve," you tell him. "I've got you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#emmas5kgarden #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harringotn fluff #stranger things fanfic

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 17

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. check out her writing if you haven't already! she's amazing.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Lee Know was right—your least favorite string of words in the English language. Hyunjin will be going to Korea for winter break and now your only option is to see what Chan has planned. You knock on the door to his room before entering. He’s sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. He turns to face you as you enter. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips when he sees you and you immediately feel your face flush. 

“Hey,” you say meekly. 

Lately with just one look from him you’re overcome with flashbacks of being handcuffed to his bed. And he knows it. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable in the days that followed, but he certainly was finding a lot of joy in catching your eye from across the room and winking or smirking. He always got a kick out of your reaction. 

“Hey,” he replies smoothly.

You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, facing him.

“I wanted to ask about your plan for winter break,” you cut straight to the chase. “Are you going to visit your family?”

“Maybe. Why?” he asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Got a more tempting suggestion?”

Of course, he must already have some idea why you’re here. Lee Know or Hyunjin could have mentioned it. But he wants to hear you ask anyways.

“I want to use the trip I won around that time and Hyunjin is going home, so…”

“So…I’m your backup?”

“N-No,” you stutter. Though you can’t deny how it must come off from his point of view. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, not taking his eyes off you. “Where you planning to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm, like Miami. I’ve never been.”

“And you actually want me to go with you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “You could take one of the other members.” 

Is he suggesting that you should choose someone else? That he doesn’t want to go with you? He does so damn well at playing serious when he’s messing with you, you can never tell.

“I’d prefer to spend it with you…”

“Since Hyunjin isn’t available?”

“Chan.” you sigh. 

He chuckles at your exasperation and gives up. 

“I’ll go.”

You wish you had something nearby on the bed to hit him with. Internally you’re jumping for joy. 

The next day, you’re in the kitchen with plastic gloves on your hands. Hyunjin’s long body is laying on the marble countertop, feet hanging off the edge, head over the sink with a folded towel under his neck for support. He has hands clasped in the center of his chest. A bottle of black hair dye sits next to the faucet as you work your fingers through his newly darkened locs to rinse it out.

You keep turning your head to the side as you work, trying to fully picture him with dark hair as you’ve only ever seen him as a bleached blonde. The darker strands definitely look more natural on him and enhance his features.

It’s finals week and you’ve decided to take a break from reading to help Hyunjin out. The house has been relatively calm lately as everyone cracks down on studying. Some go at it alone, others pair up to quiz each other. 

“Would your parents really lose their shit if you came home with blonde hair?” you ask, turning the water off when the black dye has finally stopped dripping.

“Yeah ,” he replies. “And that’s an understatement. My dad would behead me, then drag my headless body around before letting me show up at company events like that. It’s ‘unprofessional’,” he says, using air quotes.

He jokes about it so casually, but it makes you wonder what their parents are like. It’s so different to the supportive upbringing you had. Well, it is supportive in a way—their parents are doing what they believe is best for their child’s future. It just seems like it doesn’t leave room for them to be themselves once they return home.

You know, from talking to Han, the general idea of what’s expected of them after graduation. You previously assumed, though, that just meant a continued sexual relationship was off the table. After what Lee Know said, you now understand that you are forbidden to have contact with them at all.

As you’ve grown more curious about it, Hyunjin has been rather receptive of your prying questions. When you asked why he was so open, he mentioned the NDA in that cursed contract you skim read through in desperation all those weeks ago.

“So do you immediately start working after you graduate?” you ask, taking off the plastic gloves and setting them aside.

“Not straight away. There will be a few months spent doing whatever I want…traveling, probably. Then I’ll work directly under my father. Essentially until he’s ready to retire or trusts that I won’t fuck up the family business.”

This feels like such a heavy topic, but Hyunjin grazes over it with ease. Like it’s not a big deal. From his perspective, maybe it isn’t. He’s known the path his life would take since he was very young. They all do. There isn’t much to guess or worry about like most of us. Hell, it doesn’t seem like they get to choose much of anything for themselves. Your thoughts drift to Chan for a second as you wring the water out from Hyunjin’s hair. 

You take the towel from under his head and guide him to sit up so you can dry it.

“And when it comes to love and marriage and children and all that…what sort of freedom do you have?”

Hyunjin makes a face like he’s going to throw up at your words. You roll your eyes and throw one end of the towel at him, so it covers his dramatic face.

“Come upstairs,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen.

When you’re both back in his room, after he stopped to grab his blow dryer, you have him sit in his desk chair. You stand behind him, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So…marriage, love? What’s that look like for you guys?” you ask again.

“At some point I’ll be encouraged to date, then marry. Exclusively from a list of women vetted by my parents,” he tells you.

You chew on your bottom lip; thankful he’s not looking directly at you. From your perspective, it all sounds concerning the more you learn, but you know it’s not your place to speak on it. What is there for you to even say? They’ve probably all already come to terms with it. Would your opinion even matter? In the grand scheme of things, you living with them this year is just a blip on their radar.

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“Kinda,” he says nonchalantly. “I will have some say in it, though.”

You turn on the blow dryer, using it as a distraction to sort through the thoughts arising from the information he provided.

Hyunjin previously mentioned the main function of the SKZ house was to provide them the ability to focus on their studies without allowing love and romance to distract them. Having a dedicated girl each year to meet their needs…to take care of them in more ways than one. It’s almost like this is a trial run for their futures. Though, from the sounds of it, the women vetted by their parents will probably also come from wealthy families and possess the feminine qualities they desire in a daughter-in-law. Certainly no one like you.

You grew up fairly well–your mom and dad played active roles in your upbringing. They were able to dote on you as an only child and you don’t recall ever wanting for much. You weren’t poor, but nowhere near the level of wealth their families have amassed. They supported you with all they had and there was never much fuss or drama. You’ve always been a good kid with your head on straight–focused on your own dreams and goals.

Having gotten to know Hyunjin the past couple of months, you know one day he will make an amazing husband. He’s gentle when needed, thoughtful, caring and extremely empathetic, while still maintaining his masculinity. Which makes him even more attractive. Chan, on the other hand…

You feel a sharp pain in your chest–maybe Chan is holding back with you because he’s saving himself or really only willing to open up to his future wife. That hurts to think about. 

You turn the blow dryer off and sit it on the desk. Hyunjin reaches out for your hand and pulls you around the front of the chair. You sit on his lap, straddling him and cupping his face with your hands.

You take in his new appearance. His blow-dried hair looks full and fluffy, and it’s grown a lot in length, reaching beneath his collar bones. The dark hair looks good on him—it gives meaning to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope.

“What happens if you don’t like anyone on the list?”

“They’ll compile another one,” he shrugs.

“That seems unfair,” you reply. “What if you meet someone organically and fall in love?”

“I could date them,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “But nothing would come of it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He considers the question for a beat.

“Not in the way you might think,” he replies.

“Well, I think anyone would be right to be bothered at having so little say in the outcome of their life…”

“I don’t mind that aspect of it. Being on this path ensures I will live a good life,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s your take on it, then?” you ask, making note that he said good life and not happy.

“I’ve never been fond of the ‘forever partner’ idea.”

You lean back a little, sliding your hands down to his shoulders. You’re a little surprised at his words. The kind, caring and doting Hyunjin? Does not believe in soulmates? 

“I have no problem being committed and dedicated to one woman at a time, but…forever?” he asks rhetorically. “I think we’re meant to connect on a deep level with a lot of people at different times in our lives. Do you know how many people there are on this planet? And I’m supposed to find a lifelong match from a list? To meet all my needs, even as they change over time?”

You can completely understand, and have experienced, his commitment and loyalty in the way he immediately opened up to you and was there for you. But maybe this experience has made him grow accustomed to having a new woman in his life every year. 

“New people make things exciting and fresh,” he continues as he slips his thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles against your skin, “…how you meet, learning about them, being intimate with them.”

You had never taken him for the playboy type. Though the way he’s explaining it doesn’t sound like he will be running around trying to fuck anything that walks. Just that he’d prefer to entertain the idea of a woman without any real commitment for certain stretches of time, for the rest of his life. 

“So you worry you’ll become bored?” you ask. 

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, as always. “I don’t doubt my ability to remain faithful—to be a good dad and husband when the time comes. But I do want to take my time getting there. I’m in no rush. Maybe in 30 years or so.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“I cannot with you,” you say, reaching your hands up to run them through his newly darkened locs. You tug on the strands, and he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes. 

His hands fall from your hips to cup your ass. In one swift move he stands, holding you to him as he walks towards the bed. You rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle his nose.

“Well. I certainly can with you.” He gives your lips a peck with his before tossing you onto the bed. 

You squeal as you land, then start moving backwards on the bed. You can’t help but smile and giggle as he crawls towards you. His dark, fluffy hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks so fucking sexy as he looks down at you.

“Where you going, jagiya?” He asks, straightening his back but still on his knees. He reaches for your leg. “Two weeks without you? We have to make up for the time we’re losing.”

You let out another squeal as he grabs your leg and pulls you towards him. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, in the best way possible. You hook your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you. 

After finals are done, it feels like there’s less tension in the house. Everyone’s interacting again versus being huddled up in a corner studying. The house steadily becomes empty as those who are going away for break take their leave. You drop Hyunjin at the airport and try not to think of what it will be like when you have to say goodbye to him for good.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to get dropped off at the airport. Jeongin and Charlotte wave goodbye to you and Chan. They’ll both have the house alone until Jeongin leaves for Korea and you can only imagine what they’ll get up to. You make a mental note to sanitize every communal surface when you get back. 

In the airport, you and Chan barely speak. He has his headphones on and keeps a blank expression plastered to his face. The last couple days his mood seemed to turn sour, and you have no idea what caused it. You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach–this is exactly how you did not want to spend the trip.

You busy yourself with checking the destination on your ticket multiple times. With Lee Know in charge of organizing this trip, you couldn’t be sure enough that he hadn’t booked you a flight to Miami, Oklahoma instead of Miami, Florida. 

A few hours later, you and Chan are settled into your business class seats. A few minutes after takeoff, you finally release his hand you’d been clutching for dear life. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, watching him stretch his fingers out. 

He reclines his seat a bit and shifts around to get comfortable. He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. You lift the window shade and look out at the clouds as you fly through them, trying your best to tame your annoyance. 

You don’t know how long passes, but being an overthinker you’ve gone through several scenarios and outcomes about how this trip could crash and burn if you don’t say something now. You can’t just let his silence go unchecked. You refuse to spend your vacation, that he agreed to come on, this way. You reach over to move his headphones from his right ear. 

“Chan,” you begin, “I haven’t had a real vacation, alone and not with my parents, in almost two years so I’m really looking forward to this, but…”

He’s absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he listens. 

“You’ve been in a shitty mood the last couple days. I want this to be a good trip, I want us to have fun…if you were planning to be miserable, you really didn’t have to come.”

“Planning to be miserable?” He repeats. 

“Your sudden change in attitude?” You shrug. “I would have rather rescheduled the trip, if you were going to be like this. And don’t say like what—you know how you’re treating me.” 

He becomes quiet at your words. You feel proud of yourself for getting them out. There’s no way he doesn’t realize when he’s shutting you out. You look away from him, seeing the stewardess start coming down the aisle with her cart. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wanna take this trip with you, y/n, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You always say that,” you shake your head. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he replies. 

You let out a soft sigh. 

“Well, isn’t that what vacations are for?” you ask. “You can travel somewhere far away and leave all the bullshit behind. Forget about school…the future,” you look away from him at that, “you can be someone entirely different when you get to your destination. For a little while, anyway.”

He mulls your words over. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” He pulls his headphones down, so they hang around his neck. 

It certainly hadn’t been your intention, but you spot the sudden playful glint in his eyes and nod your head. You want to smack him. Or yourself. You cannot figure out if it’s him and his bad mood that causes the tension, or you allowing him to sulk in it instead of confronting him about it. 

“And who are we pretending to be?” 

You shrug, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The stewardess stops next to him with her cart, smiling as she opens the cabinet and produces two champagne flutes. She then fills them up with wine. She hasn’t even asked your drink choice, so you assume she’s preparing it for the pair across the aisle. When she politely reaches over Chan to pull out your tray and sits the drink down, you throw a confused look at him. 

Maybe it’s complimentary…but still, wouldn’t she ask if you wanted it?

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “We didn’t ordered this…could I just get a Sprite?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, but still proceeds to pull out Chan’s tray and sits a drink in front of him too. “These drinks are free to you, on behalf of the flight crew. Congratulations on your engagement–future Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

You stare and blink, dumbfounded. 

Chan clicks his tongue and mutters something in Korean under his breath. 

“Thank you,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. 

“My pleasure,” she replies. “What else can I get you, sir?”

“Water, please,” he tells her. 

She provides you both a cup filled with ice, and your requested Sprite and water before turning to assist the pair on the other side of the aisle. 

“I’m gonna fucking strangle Lee Know,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, he’s the first call I’m making when we land,” he concurs. 

The man can’t even be trusted to book flight tickets without some kind of shenanigans attached to it. 

Chan picks up his wine glass and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I guess we have our roles,” he says, tilting the rim of his glass towards you. 

You grab your own, but don’t cheers his yet. 

“I don’t know…I was thinking more along the lines of coworkers on a business trip or annoying vloggers or something like that,” you tell him. 

“So you wanna call off the engagement already?” He asks, feigning a hurt look. 

It never ceases to baffle you–how quickly he can go from cold and distant to warm and teasing you. And vice versa. 

“You’re okay with pretending to be my fiancé?” 

He shrugs, “It could be fun. It’ll help take my mind off some things.”

“Really?”

“I’m a committed actor. Very convincing…don’t you remember?”

Of course you remember his stint as Professor Bang. You wouldn’t mind taking a class with him again. But this? Chan pretending to be your fiancé? After your talk with Hyunjin, you know you won’t ever know what it’s like to actually even date him. Let alone fathom marrying him. 

“Okay,” you reply, choosing to indulge. You tap your glass against his before taking a drink. 

You’re so happy that the dark cloud looming over him seems to have dissipated, that it doesn’t even cross your mind how much you might regret this later. Having a sample of this version of Chan? It’s like you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. But you’ll keep telling yourself you’re strong enough to remember it’s not real. That when the time comes to say goodbye to this man, you won’t think about these moments and what could have been. You’ll keep lying to yourself this entire trip.

a/n: the chan we've been dying to experience is almost here. thank you all so much for your continued support. your feedback, comments, asks, reblogs, etc., ALL your interactions fill my heart with happiness. it encourages me to write more because i don't want to leave you all hanging for too long lol but seriously, tysm!

taglist: i have no idea why it's not letting me tag everyone. i know there's a limit of tags per post but even if i type less than the limit, it's not working :( tagging on hiatus til I can figure it out, i'm sorry.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids #bang chan #the skz house #bang chan imagines #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #bang chan fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #skz smut

[darksigns-exe]

Together: Noah Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader Warning: Swearing, mutual masturbation (fingering (f recieving), handsjobs (m recieving) Word Count: 2.2k Note: Welcome to part 2 of this little series with @malice-ov-mercy @deathblacksmoke and @circle-with-me <3

Read the rest here: Folio Ruffilo Jolly

Summer has really settled in as skin sticks to skin, and you swear that you’ve never felt warmer in your life. It’s been blazing hot for most of the week, and thankfully you’ve been able to spent most of that time with your feet dangling in the pleasantly warm water of a pool. One of the many upsides that comes with having a decently famous rock star of a boyfriend. 

You’re in the fortunate position that you can do most of your work from home, meaning that you’ve been answering emails from your lounge chair. Noah has been in and out of the house, frantically preparing for their next release. You know that he’s been hard at work with it, pouring most of his hours into it, just so everything is perfect. You admire his work ethic, but you can tell that he’s starting to wear thin. The boy needs a break, but he hardly listens to you when it comes to that. 

He knows his limits, you tell yourself. 

All in the hopes that he actually does. 

Your attention is caught by the sound of his voice in the living room behind you. A quick look over your shoulder tells you that he’s in the middle of a phone call. He looks awfully bored with it and when he finds you look at him an idea pops into your head. 

You place your laptop down behind yourself, before you assemble a quick plan. Noah is, at his core, still a guy, and a predictable one at that. It doesn't take a lot to get his attention. He’ll be easy prey with how bored he looks pacing around your living room.

With your plan assembled, you get up from your lounge chair. The oversized t-shirt that you’d plucked from your closet that morning barely reaches the top of your thigh, and really that makes it perfect for what you have in mind. You slip through the opening in the sliding door without him noticing. His back is still turned towards you when you close it as quietly as you can. 

Noah flashes you a quick smile when he finally notices you. You wave your fingers at him, head cocked to the side as you watch him. His reply to the person on the other end of the line rushes past your head as you trace your fingers up the tops of your thighs. His eyes follow the ascent of your fingers. You can tell that Noah has long stopped listening to whoever is on the other end of the line. 

Your fingers rise even higher, grazing across your tummy and the waist line of your bikini bottoms. His eyes flicker between yours and the skin your fingers dance across. His replies come slower, less focused. 

You decide that now is the right time to slip off the shirt. You wait until his focus is on your face before your fingers curl around the bottom hem. His breath catches in his throat when you begin to lift it as slowly as you can manage. He watches intently as your hand drifts up your now exposed tummy. 

You sigh when your fingers skim over a sensitive spot. Across from you, Noah mutters an answer, clearly distracted by what you’re doing in front of him. 

Finally, you pull the shirt over your head. The fabric drops to the ground next to you, and it feels as if a brick drops and shatters the tile beneath your feet. For a brief second, you feel insecure, but then the weight of his gaze settles on your mostly bare body and the feeling quickly fades away again. Seeing how you affect him always makes your confidence soar. 

“What? Sorry, I didn’t hear that.” you hear him rush out. 

His struggle brings a smile to your face. You feel awfully wicked teasing him like this, but you know that he’d easily play you in the same way if he’d have the chance. 

You trail your fingers across your chest, making a conscious effort to let them pass over your nipple. You reach behind your back, finding the tie of your bikini top. His chest rises and falls with laboured breaths and when you let your eyes drift lower your thought is confirmed. His shorts are already visibly tented, and that gives you the last bit of confidence you needed to let the top fall, too. 

“Fucking – hell.” Noah mutters below his breath. 

His hand presses against his crotch in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. Feeling fuelled by that, you pull the tie of your bottoms loose as well. Noah draws in a deep breath. His eyes darken, narrowing as he tries to keep his focus on the call. 

His focus wavers for a moment when you dip your fingers between your thighs. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. The touch of your finger pulls a sigh from your lips. You take your time with it, drawing slow circles across your clit. 

It feels a little forbidden to touch yourself while he is speaking to what you assume is a representative of the label. You know that he would have long ended the call if it wouldn’t be important. Noah slumps down the side of the sofa that is closest to him. You follow, sitting across from him, just out of his reach. It’s a little diabolical. 

You pull one leg up onto the cushions, giving him a perfect view of your body. He goes quiet when you trace a single finger across your slit. His hand returns to the tent in his shorts. This time it stays for longer. To amp up the stakes, you dip a finger between your lips, before bringing them back to your already soaked pussy. You don’t try to silence yourself, not when your little game is just starting to become fun. 

The slow, teasing circles around your clit make your skin heat up. It’s all so precarious, if he lets out one wrong noise, the person on the other end of the line will know what you’re up to. You know he won’t, you know that he can keep his composure if he has to. One hand comes up to cup your breast, fingers teasing across your nipple. The fingers of your other hand tip into your hole, and you have to fight against your instinct to close your eyes. You need to see everything. You need to see how you affect him. 

Noah’s hand gives a firm squeeze to his cock. The poor boy is suffering, but he’s nowhere near desperate enough for your taste yet. You watch as his hand dips behind the waist band of his shorts. He sighs, but quickly catches himself with a startled cough. 

“No– no, I’m fine.” he rushes out, “Wrong pipe.” 

 His obvious struggle makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a glare in response. You’re not as easy to affect as he is, though. This is your game, he’s just a pawn in it. 

A second finger joins the first, and you moan, entirely unashamed, at the stretch. The hand that is stuffed inside his shorts flexes as he returns his focus to the call for a moment. 

“Listen, I’m sorry something just came up. I’m going to have to call you back.” he struggles to keep an even, unaffected tone. It’s endearing. 

You’re sure that he ends the call before the other person has a chance to say goodbye. His cell drops to the cushion as he lets out a groan. 

“You’re evil.” he sighs, “The devil.” 

He remains still for a moment, before he begins to get up. You click your tongue at him, shaking your head. 

“Stay there.” 

Noah’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing with the realisation of what you have in mind for him. 

“Go on, you’re awfully overdressed.” 

You’re not entirely sure where this confidence comes from, but you’re glad that it’s here nevertheless. His shirt comes off before you’ve had the chance to register it. A moment later, he’s struggling out of his shorts and underwear, quiet swears breaking from his lips as the garments refuse to cooperate. 

His eyes fall shut as his hand closes around his aching cock. You can only imagine how good it must feel for him to finally get a little relief without having to hold back. 

“Touch yourself, honey.” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Despite the distance, you’ve rarely felt closer to him. It feels a little like the times you’ve gotten yourself off while on the phone, except that now you actually get to see what he looks like. This is a rare treat. 

Noah takes another deep breath, before his hand begins to move. It’s slow, and you can tell that he has a tight grip on himself. And with his eyes focused so intently on where your fingers curl inside your pussy, you like to think that he’s imagining himself buried there instead. His free hand grips into one of the cushions.  

You find yourself aching for more. But as much as you want to give in to the need and crawl over to him, you stay strong. Instead, you work a third finger into yourself. 

“That feel good?” he asks. 

His voice is so rough with it already, and his breath hitches when you nod. 

You have to slow yourself a little. A soft little noise breaks from you when your fingers find that spot. 

“So good.” you reply in a moan. 

His hand stops just below the head of his cock. It’s a tight clutch, and you know that he’s trying to keep his end at bay. 

Noah’s eyes find yours. God, he looks so worn down already. His brow is in a constant furrow, cheeks tinged pink as he bites down harshly on his bottom lip. 

You readjust your position, pushing yourself forward just a little more so that he can see even more of you. The noise that falls from him is not far from a whimper. 

“Baby please.” he sighs, “Can I — let me touch you?” 

He sounds so awfully desperate for you that you almost want to give in. Almost. He’s been so good for you up until now.

You stretch your leg to nudge your foot against is knee in an attempt to get him to shift. Noah understands what you want and moves his thighs just a little bit further apart. He thrusts up into his hand, the movement eased by the slick of the precum leaking from his tip. You can tell that he’s close. Another whine falls from him, a needy little sound that makes you want to call him over to you. You know that he’ll be between your thighs immediately if you’d ask him. He’d fall to his knees in front of you, face buried in your heat. 

The thought spurs you on, fingers moving faster now, pressing against your walls more intently. 

He keens, whines around the prayer of your name. The coil in your belly feels almost too tight now. Seeing him so close to falling apart sends your mind into overdrive. Your thumb presses against your clit and your walls tighten in response. 

“I’m – I’m not gonna last.” he whines, “Please, baby.” 

You need a moment to keep yourself together. 

“What do you need?” you choke the words out, barely able to keep up this cool façade.

His hips buck up into his fist, thighs shaking. He’s right on the edge now. 

“Need you closer. You’re so far away.” 

You can’t deny him that, not when you’re so desperate to feel his skin against yours. In the blink of an eye, you’re kneeling on the cushion next to him. You grip into his bare shoulder with one hand, trying to keep yourself upright as you return your fingers to where they had been before. You can’t stop the moan that falls from your lips when your fingers settle inside of you. Noah’s hand finds your waist in an almost too tight grip. 

It won’t take either of you long now. You try your best to match his tempo. It’s a slow grind, barely moving with the overwhelming sensation of it all. His hand quickly migrates from your waist up to the side of your face so that he can pull you in for a kiss. He whines against your lips. The hand behind your head keeps you close against him. His breath catches, body freezing up entirely. You don’t have to check to know that he’s spilling across his hand and belly. 

Your own release hits you a moment later. Your body collapses against his as you both work yourselves through your orgasms. Your fingers curl against yourself until it suddenly becomes too much. 

Noah lets out a deep breath, before he kisses you again. 

You’re silent for a long moment, the only sound that fills your living room is the laboured breathing that falls from both of you. You shift, finding a slightly more comfortable position against Noah’s side. His body is so warm. He’s slicked with sweat, and you swear that he’s never been more beautiful. 

“Good?” you finally ask. 

He huffs out a laugh, “More than good.” 

“Shower?” 

He pulls away a little, so that he can look at you properly, “We’re not finished here yet, baby. I still want to get between those pretty thighs.” 

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x f!reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fic

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him | Satoru Gojo [ch.02]

short series

Summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

Tags of the series: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, masturbation, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n

Words chapter: 4,4k

Notes: I can’t believe the amount of support the first chapter got, it’s truly unbelievable. The series will most likely be 4 chapters and a epilogue. And to be honest the name of the fic is nothing like the song (well a bit yes) but in Taylor’s song she says that her father loves him but here he doesn’t, they hate Satoru.

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

Two days had passed since the party where Duke Gojo had asked for your hand in marriage and since then he had established himself in your house. Your parents had hated the idea and had let you know as soon as the party ended. You had to wear long-sleeved dresses to hide the bruises that had appeared on your arms. And you had barely left your room in those two days due to the intense pain in your legs caused by the blows that night.

At first the idea of ​​marrying Duke Gojo had seemed extremely frightening and crazy to you, but now you believed that it was the only escape you could have.

You haven’t seen Duke Gojo in those two days, but you knew he was in the house, because Rose has told you about the handsome Duke that was staying there.

You heard some knocks on your door and left the book you had in your hands.

“Come in.” You said walking away from the window.

You were expecting to see Rose or any other of the maids, what you were not expecting was to see Duke Gojo entering your room. A flush waved through your body as you realized you were just wearing a light dress that barely covered your body. I didn't expect the duke to come visit you, the only visits you expected were from your maids. That was why you had put on that light dress.

“Angel.” He said with a smirk crossing his face. “Were you waiting for me?” He said, closing the door behind his back and resting himself on it.

“Duke… I wasn’t expecting you to come to my room.” Your voice sounded almost as a whispered.

He chuckled and moved himself around the room. “I thought I was going to be able to see my future wife more if I stayed here but it seemed it was not the case.” He sat down on the sofa you had in your bedroom.

“I was sick.” You lied, you could not tell him what your parents did to you or else the family’s reputation would decline. “And I could not…”

“Show them to me, angel.” He stood up and with a few steps, he positioned himself in front of you.

“Duke what are you…?” Your words were left hanging in the air when the Duke held your wrist making you wince due to the bruises you still had.

“Was it them?” He muttered in a cold and angry tone. You denied, you couldn't tell the truth or then the punishment would be worse. “Angel, look me in the eyes.” Hesitating you looked at him and curiously you felt protection. “I will ask you again… was it them?”

Feeling your heart beating faster, you murmured. “Yes…” You saw something in him flicking and his eyes turning darker. “Duke please, don’t do anything.” You held to him, reading his intentions.

You didn’t know that man and you didn’t know what he was able to do, but seeing his gaze you could read he was capable of doing terrible things.

“Angel, you want me to let it be?” He held your gaze.

“Yes, please.” You whispered the last part. “If… if I get marry to you, I will be able to leave this place and not see them again.”

He chuckled and tilted your head. “So you are going to use me as your getaway?”

It sounded bad, but he was your best option and maybe your only option. “Yes.”

“I’m hurt. But alright angel.” He sat back down. “But you know they are against this marriage and besides, didn’t you tell me you wanted to marry someone out of love, and as far as I know you don’t love me, right?”

“No.” You looked down. “But maybe…”

“I will change that.” He took your hand and he pulled it, causing you to sit on his lap.

An extreme embarrassment took hold in you as you realized the position you were both in and as your dress had risen to your knees, the Duke placed his hands on your hips and squeezed them lightly. Your legs tensed and the heat you had felt in your lower abdomen resurfaced.

“Duke, this is not…” You tried to free yourself.

“It’s embarrassing for you angel?” He got closer to you. “You know once we are married, we will be doing a lot of things together right?” He whispered close to your mouth.

You swallowed harshly and looked away from his gaze. “But I don't think it's appropriate…”

“Don’t worry angel, we won’t be doing anything yet.” He said touching your leg up and down.

The inner heat began to grow in you and the way he looked at you was almost addictive. You wanted to get off her lap, but at the same time you wanted him to continue giving you the caresses he was giving you.

The duke smiled and buried his face in your neck. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you duke.” You whispered surprised for the sudden comment.

“Call me Satoru.” He said.

He looked up to you and you felt how your body reacted to his gaze, for a moment you swore you felt butterflies dancing around, almost as if you were reading one of your romantic novels. But a knock on your door made you stand up faster than anything.

“Yes?” You tried to sound as normal as possible, although your body was shaken.

“My lady, it’s me.” Rose spoke on the other side. “Your parents want you to have lunch with them and Duke Gojo, so you can discuss some matters.”

“Alright, I will be ready soon.” You looked at the duke, who was peacefully sat on the couch.

“If you need anything my lady, please call me.”

“Don’t worry.” You heard her leave and walked to the duke. “Duke I think you should leave, if someone sees you here they might think wrongly.”

“I was just here visiting my future wife.” He kissed your hand. “But I will leave, to let you change. Although I would love to see you change in front of me.”

The heat was all over you once again, making you feel weak. If the duke was able to get you like that with simple words, What would happen once you consummated the marriage. Red took over your face and with clumsy steps you walked away from him. After a few seconds you heard how the door to your room opened and closed, you had been left alone again but this time with a whirlwind of emotions sailing inside you.

After a few minutes Rose entered your room and started helping you dress properly. The words you wanted to speak to Rose were stuck in your throat, you knew Rose was married to her love childhood and probably had experienced intimacy, she was also older than you. She was your closest to and the person you trusted the most.

“Rose…” You whispered while she was stroking your hair.

“Yes my lady?” You saw her smile in the mirror.

“How is it to be intimate…” You held your hands nervously. “I mean… now that I might get married to the duke I will have to be ready and…”

Rose slightly laughed at your comment. “Haven’t you read enough erotic books to know about it?”

You blushed. “They… are romantic… not erotic.” You defended yourself.

“My lady, you probably know enough, you don’t have to worry so much.”

“But what if… if he thinks I’m bad at it?”

“Not everyone is born learning, we learn with the time. Once the moment comes you will learn and be better at it.” She brushed your hair.

“But… he probably has more experience than I do.” You said. “God he even sat me on his lap this morning and he didn’t flinch.” You said that without realizing you were supposed to hide the fact the duke came.

“The duke came here?” She said with a surprise look on her face.

Rose's penetrating gaze looked at you waiting for a response. “He did… Please don’t tell my parents.” You turned to look better at her. “They will scold me and who knows what else they will do if they find out the duke has come to my room.”

Rose shook her head and warmly smiled at you. “I won’t say a single word to them, don’t worry. Now smile, you look absolutely beautiful my lady.”

You turned back up and looked at yourself in the mirror, you indeed looked beautiful. With a shy smile appearing on your lips, you thanked Rose and exited your room. With your head tilted up, you walked straight to the room where you were going to have a meal with your parents and the duke.

Your heart raised once again, at the mere thought of his presence and remembering his sense embracing your body. That sensation on your chest and body began to take over you. But you shook those feelings away when you stood in front of the door.

Touching the necklace you were wearing, you took a deep breath and tried to calm your whole self. With shaking hands you open the door, seeing your parents already there and the duke sat next to them.

“Sorry for being late.” You bowed the head.

“This kid…” You heard your mother whispering under her breath.

“It’s okay my lady.” The duke stood up and walked towards you, standing right in front of you. “You look beautiful today.” He said holding your hand and placing a wet kiss on it.

A blush painted your cheeks as you looked at him and especially at those intense blue eyes.

“Duke Gojo!” Your father spoke. “Let’s begin this meal please.”

The duke nodded and you sat next to your mother. You could feel your mother's angry look on you.

Your father cleared his throat and began to speak. “So duke Gojo, why do you want to marry our daughter?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry your daughter sir?” He grinned.

“Our poor daughter has a poor health and you sir leave far away from here, I don’t think it’s…” Your mother began her speech but soon enough was cut by the duke.

“I heard that you wanted her to marry Mr. Harrison and before that Sir. Lucas, who lives far away near the mountains.” He said, taking the cup of wine in his hands. “I don’t think you care about your daughter’s health but rather about your own safety. Am I wrong?”

You looked at your parents who looked at each other, scared at the duke’s words. “How dare you?!”

“Father please.” You begged, looking how your father stood up from his place.

“Shut up!” Your father screamed back at you, making you flinch.

“We let you stay in our house and even make a whole show about marrying our daughter and you say those things to us?” Your father approached the duke.

“Sir, I'm just stating what I have seen and what I think.” He smirked still firm on his seat.

“This meal is over.” He walked to the door, he turned to you and with fierce eyes he spoke. “Come with me now.”

You nodded and gave one last glance at the duke as you exited the room. You followed your father and your mother, you knew what it was about to happen and you were scared to death.

Your parents' steps were quick and you could feel the tense atmosphere building with each stride. When you entered your father's office you felt your skin turn cold and your breathing hitch. Your father sat in his seat and slammed the wooden table.

"You realize the mess you've gotten us into." Her voice was high and she penetrated you like daggers.

You wet your mouth, which had been dry to speak but your mother spoke first. “You probably went and seduced him, right?” You looked at her, surprised by her words. “In that meeting you had, you spread your legs for the duke, right?”

“No! Mother, father, I would never do that.” You held your breath.

“Shut up!” You closed your eyes, scared. “You know in what you got us into?” Your father spoke. “Your marriage to Mr. Harrison was already ready, but now… now we have to deal with that duke.” He sighed in his seat. “He will ruin our family, our honor.”

“Mr. Harrison is double my age…” You murmured wrinkling your white dress.

“Excuse me?” Your mother said. “That doesn’t matter, Mr. Harrison is the perfect choice for you.”

“Why?” You replied, you had never replied back, you had always stayed quiet. But now…

Before asking another question you feel your cheek burn, your mother had slapped you. You could taste blood in your mouth, she had hit you with one of the gold rings she was wearing. Holding your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

"Don't you dare talk back to us like that again, do you understand?" Your mother yelled at you. You just nodded, feeling yourself shrink with each exhale you released.

“You better make the duke feel disgusted with you and break up that stupid marriage proposal. You understand?” Your father said from the table, you nodded. “Now out of my sight.”

You left the room with your heart racing and feeling tears running down your face. Crossing the backyard, you walked along the path that you knew so well and liked to walk so much to get to the beach. When you got to the beach you let yourself fall face down on the ground, causing some pebbles to get stuck in your knees. But they didn't hurt, they didn't hurt like your soul hurt at that moment.

Muffled by the sound of the waves crashing against the nearby cliff, you let your sobs wash over you and consume you. You loved that place, not because of your family, no. You loved it for the tranquility and peace it gave you, but now you wanted to run away, you even wanted to run towards the sea and turn into bubbles, like that story of the mermaid and the sailor that you had once read. You wanted to disappear.

“Angel…” You heard his voice muttering your nickname.

“Go away!” You screamed not looking at him and hiding your tears.

“Angel, let me see your face. Please.” For the tone of his voice you could tell he was worried.

“Why?” You murmured against your skin. “Why do you care about me?”

He sighed and you felt how he sat next to you on the sand. “You want me to be honest with you angel?” You stayed silent but carefully listening to him. “The truth is that I might be a bit bad after all.” Your body tensed up hearing him. “But not to you… I could never hurt such a beautiful flower like you.” He whispered.

“How are you bad?” You whispered.

“Because I do want to ruin your family.” You tightened your grip around yourself at those words and trembled slightly. “But don’t get me wrong my angel.” He continued. “Not gonna lie, at first I wanted to ruin you too, but after seeing you on this beach, so beautifully, so ethereally reading a book, something on me shifted.” He explained. “I didn’t want to ruin you and when I saw what your parents did to you, I knew that I only wanted to ruin them and not you.”

Sniffling, you looked up at him, your eyes red with tears. “Why do you want to ruin them?” You whispered.

He looked at you and swallowed, you saw how his throat moved. His cold fingers touched your cheeks, causing you to close your eyes against the sensation or the pain, you no longer knew. “Was it them?” He whispered to you, trying not to hurt you.

You looked away and breathed. "It's not the first time." Looking at the horizon you tried to calm your agitated heart. “But please answer me.” Your voice came out like a plea, you needed to know the truth.

He sighed and dropped his hand to the side. “I was ten when my brother became to new duke after both of my parents die. At first everyone thought it was a failure of the carriage and that was why they had fallen down the ravine. My father died instantly, but my mother lay dying for hours until she died. “My brother was 17 when he inherited the title, but he always believed there was something strange about his accident.” She ruffled her hair. “As the years went by she began to investigate and little by little she discovered loose ends that had never fit together.”

You turned your face to look at him as he continued speaking. “My parents, well my family has always been very close to the royal family and they had always supported the king, so much so that my father was his right-hand man for years. But 20 years ago a group of nobles opposed the king's reforms since it would take away wealth from the nobles.” You had heard about it. “My father and the king repressed and punished them for it, it was considered a betrayal.”

“My family was part of them…” You whispered.

“Yes.” He sentenced. “My brother also found letters with your father’s signature talking about sabotaging my family.” You felt how you turned pale and the blood ran cold in your veins. “Before he died, he had collected enough evidence to frame your family and three other noble families.” He whispered, clenching her fists.

“Duke…” You whispered, his eyes were thirsty for revenge and that caused you to tremble in your place.

When the duke heard your voice, his shoulders and gaze relaxed and he looked at you with serenity. “Angel… I don't plan to hurt you, you are not to blame for what your parents have done and you have also suffered because of them.” He whispered, bringing your foreheads together and letting them connect.

You felt the warmth of his body transfer to yours, and that fear you had felt disappeared from you, to be replaced by a feeling of calm and protection.

“Duke…” You whispered.

“Call me Satoru, when it’s just the two of us, angel.” He whispered.

You nodded at his request. “I… I want to leave this household.” You closed your eyes. “I’m scared but… aside from Rose you are the only person who has stood for me Duke…”

“Angel… Call me Satoru and whatever you tell me to do I will.” He firmly said.

“I want you…” You took a deep breath. “I want you to take my first time. I know that once my parents find about that they won’t care if I marry you because they will despise me.”

“Angel, are you sure about what you are asking me?”

“I’m sure du- Satoru.” You looked at him.

You saw how the duke stood up and walked slowly from one side to the other, then kneel before you.

“I really thought you would ask me to do something crazy like murder them.” He laughed. “But this angel? You really drive me crazy and I would love to make love to you on this same beach. Admire you and make you gasp with pleasure right now."

His words caused an intense fire in you, so much so that you had to squeeze your legs before the new sensation that had been established in your intimate area.

Satoru approached you and cupped your face with both hands. “I'm going to kiss you my angel.” And before you could reproach or say anything, his warm, wet lips were on yours.

That was your first kiss, you had never kissed anyone before, always behaving too well and too into your books, where love stories gave you butterflies in your stomach so you could live your own love story. Satoru deepened the kiss, leaving you lying on the sand and him on top of you. With each passing moment you felt like you were getting hotter and hotter.

When you were both short of breath, Satoru pulled away from you, biting your lower lip, causing you to let out a small whimper.

“I will see you tonight, angel.”

He got up from the sand and with one last kiss on the forehead he disappeared from your sight. With your chest rising and falling agitatedly you tried to compose yourself, your entire being was an accumulation of emotions that were mostly new to you and you needed time to process them.

You turned your head to look at the place where Satoru had left and thought about what would happen that night.

☆*:.｡.☆ .｡.:*☆

You hugged yourself, feeling the cold of the night hit your exposed skin. You were barely wearing a thin cloth that covered your most intimate parts. The duke had said that he would visit you once the sun had set and the moon was shining brightly in the sky.

Your heart was beating strongly in your chest and a warmth had established itself in your chest. You could hear the hands of the clock moving, indicating the passing of time. And with every minute that passed, your uncertainty and your nervousness only believed a little more.

Two touches on the window of your balcony brought you out of the momentary trance in which you had established yourself. Turning on your heels you could see the large figure of the duke on your balcony.

With a light step you approached the balcony door and opened it. “How did you get up here?” You inquired.

“I have my secrets, angel.” He whispered to your ear. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Thank… thank you.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks turning red.

“You know we can still wait until we are…” He started talking.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to, I have always followed my parents orders and I’m tired.” You looked down. “I love this place but… I want to leave and I want my parents to know that I will never follow their orders, that I’m tired of their abuses and their treatment.”

The duke held your face back up and smiled down at you. “That’s my angel.” He said before kissing you.

That was your second kiss and just like the one at the beach, your knees trembled and you felt weak under his soft lips. You felt how your hand left your face and began to go down your body, tracing each of your curves. An intense heat settled on you when his hand reached your thigh and with a quick movement he raised it, causing you to be even closer to each other.

You gasped against his mouth as you felt him stick so close to you and you swore he smiled against your lips as you heard that lewd sound come out of you.

Separating himself from you, he began to leave kisses on your neck, causing you to tilt your head back to give him more space. You felt ecstatic, you could feel how your entire body vibrated with every kiss, every bite that the duke was leaving on you.

“Duke…” You whispered when you felt it go down to the area of ​​your breasts, which were only covered by a thin layer of silk.

“Angel, I told you to call me Satoru when it’s just you and me.” He whispered against your skin causing the already growing heat inside you to grow even more. “Shall we go to the bed my angel?” He whispered in your ear biting the lobe.

Nodding, the duke or rather Satoru grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed where he sat down and with his strong arms he sat you on top of him. Causing once again a small gasp to escape your lips as you felt that hardness collide against your intimacy.

Your dress was completely hiked up, exposing your thighs, and the straps had been lowered causing your breasts to be about to be exposed to the man who had turned your world upside down.

“I will gentle with you.” He whispered grabbing one of the straps and pulling it down, exposing yourself to him. “If you want to stop, say so.” He brought her hand up and trapped your chest with it, causing you to thrash on top of him. "Alright." He said before beginning to caress your nipple.

You closed your eyes tightly against the new sensations that a simple touch on your nipple was causing in you. You had read about this but you had never thought that it could feel like this.

Your back arched even more when you felt his mouth rest on your nipple and begin to suck. With one hand you held onto him to avoid falling and with the other you covered your hand to prevent those moans that were building up in your throat from escaping.

You felt embarrassed by everything your body was feeling at that moment, but it felt really good and you wanted more of him. Unconsciously you moved your hips rubbing against Satoru's erection.

“Oh angel, don’t do that I won’t be able to hold back.” He whispered looking up at you.

“I am sorry…”

“It’s okay, I know you are anxious but me too.” He took you from the waist and supports you on the bed, leaving him on top of you.

He dressed him as he got rid of his jacket and then his white shirt, exposing his body. You felt that familiar warmth inside you again. Satoru grabbed your leg, causing your underwear to show, leaving you even more exposed. With your leg in his hands, he began to leave kisses on it, while he went higher and higher.

“Angel…” He whispered to you. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You shook your head, you had never done it, you had read about it, but you had never done it, since you felt that it was something too vulgar.

“Alright angel.” He took your hands and pulled you, sitting you on the bed, both of you chest to chest. “I'm going to stand behind you and teach you how to touch yourself.” He whispered close to your ear. "Do you think it's okay?"

You nodded and Satoru with great agility positioned himself behind you, your back against his chest. You could even feel his heartbeat pounding against your back.

“I will guide you okay?” He took your hand in his and started to descend.

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @satoracyxys @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop

#gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru smut #jjk smut #fanfic jjk #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru x you

[naeverse]

Tangled in his Webs

Art generated by: Niji • Journey Request from: @migueloharacumslut Ask: And I have a request I forgot rather I submitted or not. Mad scientist Miguel x therapist reader Miguel gets put in a psych ward because he got caught experimenting on people and himself trying to turned them in to spider people. He’s been in the psych ward for five years and he needs to be cleared to go back in the world. That’s where the reader comes in to clear him only he manipulates her into thinking he is sane. During their session Miguel becomes obsessed with the reader and little does he know she is obsessed with him too. At night she touched herself to the thought of him. When Miguel get out he finds her. Make the sex nastyyy, hard and rough little choking wouldn’t hurt either. Please and thank you ! 😊 A/N: I really loved this idea and enjoyed writing Scientist Miguel so much. Might write him more lol, but thank you @migueloharacumslut for the idea. Also this is the first part and a second one will be following this one, hope you enjoy!

💉staring: Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Therapist Reader

      🩵preview:  “I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” 

🔬summary:  As an evaluation therapist at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing, you are assigned a new patient—one who is complex, captivating, and dangerously drawing you in more than you ever expected.

⚗️tw/cw (Just for this part): Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Fingering, Masturbation, Psychopathy, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Restraints

🔭Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear)

     🩵Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥼Word Count: 7.7k 

**This fanfiction is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life individuals or events is purely coincidental. It does not intend to diagnose or represent any real mental health conditions. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning. You felt a dull ache and soreness in your throat, accompanied by a pervasive feeling of weakness throughout your body. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead and adjusting to the suffocating sterile scent of antiseptic, you noticed that you were lying on your back against a hard, cold surface.

With furrowed eyebrows, you attempted to sit up, only to be thwarted back by the metal restraints tightly bound around your wrists and ankles.

‘What the heck!?’ 

You thought, panic and fear beginning to grip you. Your eyes darted down to discover yourself clad only in your undergarments—a delicate white, laced satin set—leaving you exposed to the chilling breeze that consistently swept through the well-lit space.

You couldn't remember how you got here; your groggy mind unable to piece together the events that led to your presence upon the metal table. The faint hum of machinery echoed from far away, punctuated by distant murmurs that made your heart drop.

With dazed eyes, you looked around your surroundings to be met with the overbearing shade of a bright white that covered the walls of what looked to be a lab of some sorts. Countertops were lined with an array of perfectly arranged scientific instruments, machines, and beakers.

Shelves held neatly labeled containers, each housing an assortment of chemicals and biological specimens. Despite being well-lit, there were little to no windows present, intensifying the feeling of isolation within the controlled environment. 

The place seemed devoid of humanity, replaced by a location where experimentation and analysis were handled freely without compassion or warmth.

But one thing about the lab really stood out to you: two jars sitting upon the shelves—one full of bloody red eyes and the other with abnormally sharp canines.

The sight almost made you vomit, hastily turning to look away. Your heart and breath were picking up, fear clawing at your being. Although how morbid the otherworldly body parts were, they triggered something in your head.

The more you thought upon it, awareness seeped in like an unwelcome guest; slowly, you began to remember.

The mental facility...

Red eyes...

The flowers...

Sharp canines...

Black glasses...

His release...

Him.

The wine...

Then darkness...

The memories came rushing back so quickly that you weren’t able to keep up, until it all came back to...

Him...

A wave of regret and stupidity overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you felt so worthless.

You should have known...

You should have fucking known...

‘He wasn’t well. He wasn’t fine. You were wrong, so wrong-’

“Good… You are awake.”

The bone-chilling voice of your captor filled the room, sending a familiar chill down your back. With trembling lips, you turned your head to see the backside of a massive male entering the room. His coffee-brown locks styled neatly upon his head, a white lab coat adorning his huge build along with black dress pants and oxfords.

The scientist wore clean attire, perfect for working in the lab, but his outfit was beyond your concern. 

You knew who he was, but you didn’t want to believe it.

You gulped, watching him slap on a pair of white latex gloves upon his large, calloused palms before beginning to inspect the scientific tools that sat upon the nearby counter.

"And here I thought you would have been excited to see me again..." he said in a husky voice, responding to your silence—his Latino accent unmistakable, along with a hint of amusement found in his tone. You felt like an idiot for falling for him, for becoming so fascinated with a madman like him...

But you were still in denial.

You weren’t going to believe it was him until you saw his face...

“T-T-Turn around…” You said hoarsely, the pain in your throat distant underneath the layers of fear and anxiety coursing through your body. At your demand, the large scientist laughed. “Turn around?” He asked slowly, silence following his inquiry, making your body run cold.

Suddenly, he spun around, slamming his palms onto the metal table you laid upon. The abruptness and loud noise made you jump, and a gasp erupted from your lips. His eyes stared directly into yours, holding the same madness that you believed he had cured when you initially met him. But, like before, it wasn’t the insanity in his gaze that made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach...

It was his eyes... 

His teeth...

The scientist’s crimson eyes looked down at you, taking in your discolored skin and half-lidded eyes that were still under a drowsy spell. “I turned around now, are you happy?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Do you recognize me now, dear?” 

“Do I need to give you any more proof that it is I?”

Your eyes widened, the look upon your face enough to show the mad scientist that you did, in fact, remember who he was— but you were too speechless to respond, causing the male to chuckle.

His snickering seemed to reverberate off the walls of your mind as the fluorescent lights of his lab bounced off his razor sharp canines.

With trembling lips and dilated pupils, you looked over his face, your heart breaking more and more because…

It was, indeed, him...

The mad scientist... 

The sexy patient... 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara…

The man you fell for…

White, close-toed wedges clicked upon the mental facility's aged linoleum tiles, the floor's once-bright patterns now a faded, discolored mosaic covered with scuff marks and indistinct stains that revealed the struggles of all who shuffled through the dimly lit corridor. The mental facility, unintentionally, gave off an eerie atmosphere with walls clad in faded, peeling paint and ceilings with bright, flickering fluorescent lights that cast irregular shadows along the cold institutional floor, further giving anyone who traversed the halls the creeps.

You, a therapist meant to evaluate patients for release, were given a new challenge—a patient that held a sadistic background coupled with a remarkable intellect that made many wonders how he found himself inside 'Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing.'

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was your new patient's name, an intelligent scientist who became a little twisted after his discovery of gene splicing. In his pursuit of advancing the human race, he became obsessed with the idea and creation of spider-human hybrids. After many experimentations of creating what is referred to as mutates, he was unsuccessful. Before he could continue with his study, he was arrested and sentenced to seven years here at the institution where it seems he’d made progress.

Whilst you walked towards his cell, taking the seemingly endless halls of the asylum, you looked over his file. Inside were documents containing his personal information, such as full name, date of birth, emergency contact, and next of kin. In the brown folder were also his medical history, psychiatric assessment, diagnostic evaluations, and much more information collected during his time at the institution; however, there were four pieces of his folder that piqued your interest:

Observation logs, Treatment plan, Risk assessment, and lastly, incident reports.

You studied each of the documents to discover the important details that needed to be surveyed before seeing the scientist in person.

_____________________________________ 

Miguel O’Hara - Mental Health File

Patient Information:

Full name: Miguel O’Hara

Date of Birth: 10/13/2070

Appointed into: Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing

Admission Date: 11/10/2099

Emergency Contact: N/A

Next Of Kin: N/A

**The patient has explicitly communicated a desire for their next of kin not to be associated with their mental health treatment, and no detailed information about family members was recorded to respect the patient’s privacy.**

Diagnosis:

Primary Diagnosis: Psychopathy

Secondary Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

Treatment Team:

Primary Therapist: Dr. Jessica Owens, Licensed Clinical Psychologist

Psychiatrist: Dr. Peter B. Parker, MD

Nursing Staff: Nurse Mary Jane Watson, RN

_____________________________________ 

Treatment Plan: 

Medications 

Fluoxetine (Prozac) 

Dosage: 20 mg daily

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is prescribed Fluoxetine to address symptoms of irritability that derives from his disorder of Antisocial Personality. 

Lorazepam (Ativan)

Dosage: 0.5 mg as needed (PRN) for anxiety

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is given Lorazepam on an as-needed basis to manage anxiety-related symptoms or impulsivity.

**Its used closely monitored due to the risk of misuse**

Lamotrigine (Lamictal) 

Dosage: Gradual titration starting at 25 mg, with adjustments based on response. 

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara’s treatment plan included Lamotrigine to help stabilize mood swings or emotional dysregulation. 

_____________________________________ 

Incident reports 

Date: 2/3/2100

Incident: Verbal altercation with another patient during group therapy 

Action Taken: Immediate de-escalation and one-on-one session with Dr. Peter B. Parker. 

Date: 6/21/2100

Incident: Refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education 

Date: 10/3/2100

Incident: Refused to attend scheduled group therapy and became verbally aggressive towards staff members

Action Taken: Security staff was called to ensure the safety of other patients and staff. Miguel was later engaged in a one-on-one session to explore the reasons behind his resistance to group participation. 

Date: 1/4/2101

Incident: 2nd occurence of refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education and therapeutic engagement by Dr. Jessica Owens to address any fears or misconceptions related to his prescribed medications. 

Date: 4/18/2101

Incident: Observed by Nurse Mary Jane Watson of the patient hoarding various items in his room, including non-permissible objects. 

Action taken: Staff conducted a room check, confiscated unauthorized items, and discussed appropriate belongings with Miguel. A follow-up session with his therapist, Dr. Jessica Owens was scheduled to explore any underlying concern. 

Date: 3/21/2102

Incident:  Engaged in a physical altercation with another patient during a recreational activity 

Action taken: Immediate intervention by staff to separate the individuals involved. Both parties were assessed for injuries, and a report was filed. Increased monitoring and a review of Miguel’s treatment plan were conducted to address potential triggers for aggressive behavior

_____________________________________

Risk Assessments: 

Current Risk level: Moderate 

Factors: History of aggression, resistance to treatment, potential for manipulative behavior 

Interventions: Increased monitoring, ongoing assessment for potential triggers 

_____________________________________

Observation Logs: 

Date/Time: 8/16/2102, 2:30 PM

Observation: Miguel exhibited signs of increased irritability during the group mindfulness session. Requested to leave the session prematurely. 

Staff comments: Noted Miguel’s discomfort during mindfulness exercises. Alternative relaxation techniques were explored for future sessions. 

Date/Time: 12/2/2103, 10:00 AM

Observation: Miguel was observed engaging in a one-on-one conversation with staff during morning indoor activities. Discussed personal interests and aspirations. 

Staff comments: Encouraged Miguel’s open communication. Noted his ability to articulate personal interest, fostering a sense of connection with staff. 

Date/Time: 2/15/2104, 6:45 PM 

Observations: Spends most of his time in the facility’s library, engrossed in reading.

Staff Comments: Positive use of leisure time observed. Reading contributed to a sense of routine and engagement. 

Date/Time: 6/23/2104, 8:30 PM 

Observations: Attended the evening group therapy, contributing to discussions on coping strategies. Demonstrated empathy towards a fellow patient sharing personal challenges.

Staff Comments: Noted Miguel’s willingness to engage in group discussions and support peers. Positive progress in developing empathy and interpersonal skills. 

**Miguel O’Hara has exhibited excellent improvement and staff believes he can be released in 2105, instead of 2107.**

_____________________________________

You closed his folder, taking a look at the photo that decorated the front. Like many patients at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing (NYS-MH), Miguel O’Hara didn’t look like a dangerous individual; he was actually quite handsome—with dark, wavy locks that framed his olive, chiseled face and amber eyes shielded by a pair of black eyeglasses; Dr. O’Hara wasn’t a bad-looking guy.

To ponder upon the atrocities, he could have committed for the sake of science was baffling as you gazed at the photo. The more you inspected the image, the happier you became at the fact he was doing better - better enough to be released back into society.

It was why you were here, anyway…

You tucked the folder under your arm and continued your walk towards his room, passing steel doors that lined the corridor, each secured with heavy bolts and reinforced locks to keep the patients contained and prevent them from harming themselves or others. Occasionally, muffled echoes of distant cries and disjointed whispers seeped through the cracks, adding to the unsettling symphony of the troubled minds that dwelled within.

You've walked these halls many times, but there was something about today that really made your skin crawl. So, it was relieving when you finally found Miguel O’Hara’s room, number 209.

Two guards stood on either side of his door, present only for emergencies. With a deep breath and slight adjustments to the white top, black blazer, and bodycon skirt that covered you, you gave each of them a nod and unlocked his door with a key, entering Miguel’s room…

Upon stepping inside, you instantly took notice of the soft, muted tones of blues and greens dominating the color palette, bringing a sense of serenity to the room. The patient's sleeping area contained the normal necessities—a comfortable bed with crisp, clean linens and a modest seating area. The furniture was arranged in an open and uncluttered manner, with personal touches here and there by the patient himself or for safety precautions. 

For his adoration for reading and science, a small shelf was placed inside his room, displaying a few books and a potted plant, offering familiarity to the scientist.

Your eyes shifted to the large, muscular male who sat upon his bed, dressed in a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and slip-on shoes. His massive backside faced you as it seemed he was engrossed in writing, his huge hand moving gracefully upon the page he was working on.

You cast a glance at the camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling in his room, placed there for monitoring and to ensure the patient, and others remain safe. After making sure the camera blinks red twice, showing its activity, you approach him with light steps.

"Miguel O’Hara?" you called out to him in a soft voice, not wishing to disrupt him. All of his movements came to a halt, his body rigid as his large hand placed the pen he was using into the open journal before slowly closing it. You watched him set the book down beside him on the bed, wondering if the handsome male you saw on the photo would be the same seated before you.

It seemed you were watching with batted breath for him to turn around and when he did, the sight of him shocked you and made your heart skip a beat.

You knew from his photo, the male would be gorgeous—so attractive that if he weren't your patient, you'd probably gush over him from afar. But it wasn't his attractiveness that made your breath hitch.

He looked completely different.

He looked…

Otherworldly.

With a cold expression, you stared back at a pair of crimson eyes covered with black eyeglasses, a small smile spreading across his tanned lips, revealing a set of sharp canines. “You must be the therapist that is to evaluate me. Right, Querida?” He inquired with a hum, his deep voice holding a Latino accent. 

You gulped at the intensity of his abnormal scarlet orbs, subconsciously clenching his brown folder in your hands and giving him a nod. “Y-Yes, I am,” you replied, stepping back to give the large male room to stand, and when he did…

He was like a giant…

The bed creaked at his ascent as his massive being towered over you, your head tilting up to maintain eye contact. Choking back how intimidated you were, you gestured over to the small seating area of two white cushioned chairs and a table in the corner of his room. “L-Let’s sit over here to talk,” you proposed, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing down at you like a mere ant before his tight-lipped smile returned.

With an approving grunt, he stepped in front of you; with his powerful, long legs, it took him little to no time to reach the comfort area and settle down into the white chair, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. You followed behind him, moving to sit across from your new patient and shifting into a comfortable position.

When your eyes met the male's, his crimson eyes were already staring at you, lingering upon your body in a way that made you feel like a microbe under a telescope. You gave him a polite smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling that always rose within you when speaking with the patients. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. My name is Dr. Y/LN, and as you’ve been informed, I am the therapist here to evaluate you for your release.” You explained sweetly, watching every part of the patient, who remained completely motionless, simply continuing to stare back at you with an expression devoid of all emotion.

“It’s nice to see a new face, doctor. It can get rather boring here,” he uttered, using his middle finger to push his black eyeglasses up the bridge of his broad nose.

You placed his folder down upon the table, turning it to not reveal his photo on the front; you've learned from past experiences that the sight tended to worry them. Bringing your legs to cross over each other, you clasped your hands, placing them on your lap. “Boring?” you asked with furrowed brows. “Why don’t we speak about your time here first, Dr. O’Hara? Is that okay with you?” The inquiry left your lips in a soothing tone, one that calmed most patients upon hearing it; but with this patient, you couldn’t quite tell—he hid his emotions too well.

“Well, maybe not boring…repetitive is a better word,” he corrected himself. “But, dear, I’m fine with speaking of my time here.” He replied with a smile, placing his hands upon the armrests and widening his stance. Your eyes drifted to run along his inviting toned thighs adorned by a pair of gray sweatpants that did little to conceal the curves of the muscles underneath. 

You also took notice of his posture; taking a mental note of openness from the patient before you asked your question, “Well then, may I ask how you are doing during morning activities? It's stated that you prefer Creative Arts Therapy in the mornings, correct?”

He nodded, his sharp canines peeking out from between his lips as he spoke. “Indeed, mostly during Creative Arts Therapy, I write,” he explained in a deep voice. “I’ve grown to learn that to better settle my thoughts is to put them on paper.”

“And that is an excellent form of therapy that you’ve discovered for yourself, Dr. O’Hara. May I ask, what exactly do you write?” You asked, trying to ignore the faint sight of madness in his crimson orbs. “I write down my thoughts, ideas, and aspirations,” he simply said. 

You hummed, giving him a smile. “How about future plans? Do you write about those?” At your question, he snickered, giving you a wry, dismissive head shake. “I…don’t write much on that,” he replied. “I’ll hate to get my hopes up,” he added in an amused, yet somewhat disheartened tone.

“Get your hopes up?” you inquired, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “May you elaborate, Dr. O’Hara?” The male nodded, his large fingers stroking the armrest of his chair in a deep caress. “I do not wish to anticipate that I will be released early,” his caresses of the chair never ceasing, and his eyes trained on his moving fingers.

You studied him, taking in his deflated voice and how he spoke in a slow manner. Your gaze shifted to take in the intricate motion his fingers moved upon the armrest as there were multiple reasons a patient would do such a thing.

He could be nervous, frustrated, impatient, or simply doing it to comfort himself. Recalling his mannerisms from previously, you could cross out your thought of him being nervous; the way the scientist carried himself was in a way of confidence that couldn’t be faked, so it left you with the last three—frustration, impatience, or comfort.

Without further observation, you couldn’t pinpoint his reasoning for his odd gesture, instead giving him a soft grin and replying to his previous words of anticipation. “I understand your concerns about getting your hopes up, especially considering that you were rewarded with an early release date based on your wonderful behavior as of late,” you sympathized, “So it’s completely normal to feel cautious about expectations,” you said, taking in the abnormally muscular male before you. 

“But let’s explore these feelings, shall we? Let’s say you are released in the next two weeks; what would your life look like, Dr. O’Hara?” you asked, deeply intrigued by his answer.

A moment of silence filled the room after your inquiry, the doctor continuing to make intricate patterns upon the armrest with his finger before his red eyes returned back to you. A nervous chuckle rumbled from his chest—the sound restoring life back into the room. “Ahh, I always get stumped on that question. It's another reason I haven’t written much about it in my journal.”

You nodded, placing your hands upon your legs. “Well, let’s start small,” you proposed with a grin. “You seem to have taken a liking to the hobby of writing while staying here at NYS-MH. Would you like to expand on that?” Miguel gave you a thoughtful hum, his pointer finger continuing to glide against the armrest of his chair. 

“I’ve…always wanted to write a book.” Your eyes snapped from his fingers to rest upon his chiseled face, surprise and amazement present upon your facial features at his desire. “Oh really? And what would that book be about?”

“Genetics, of course.” He chuckled, the mention of his past interest that caused his descent into madness making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes narrowed, the amazement fading from your being. You leaned back into your chair, keeping your composure.

“Are you still interested in Genetics, Dr. O’Hara?” Your inquiry being met with a nod from the patient, one that he didn’t hesitate on responding with. “I’ve worked in the field for almost my entire life and I’m exceptionally good at it.” He explained with a voice of knowledge in a low, deep whisper. “So why would I abandon my hard-earned skills and education?” 

His reasoning on his maintained attachment to the field was an excellent one, but like many things, it could be a trigger; causing the once cured doctor to revert back to his old ways of sadism and horrendous acts for the sake of science. This potential trigger would not only bring harm to everyone once more but erase the hard work that Miguel had achieved at the mental institution to fix. 

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I…understand your desire to write a book about Genetics. It’s an intriguing subject.” You said, preparing yourself to ask a question that would surely strike the doctor. “But considering the circumstance of your past experiments and the impact they had, how do you plan to approach the topic responsibly?” You asked, watching his reaction closely in anticipation. 

After your question it seemed as if everything stopped—froze even… 

You gazed at Miguel taking in his tanned face that stared back at you. His crimson eyes were empty behind his black frames and his posture was completely still in his seat. 

You’ll think he was a statue…

“Dr. O’Hara?” You called out to him which seemed to snap him from his thoughts. His red eyes slowly shifted to you, his tanned lips pulling into a small smile. 

“Responsibility, my dear therapist, is such a heavy word…” He said with a smirk. “But I wish to ask, what compelled you to work with the mental? It’s a challenging profession for those with weaker minds.” Miguel said, casting an odd aura upon the room with his every word. “I should know…many say they are for the discovery of science and when the time presents itself, they get cold feet.” He stated, his finger ceasing its movement upon the armrest. 

It wasn't unusual for a patient to desire to ask you a question, but the way he gazed at you with his intense eyes and how his gravelly voice caused a shiver to run down your spine made you hesitant, which the patient seemed to have noticed. “I only ask since you handle your job so beautifully.” He complimented, his eyes taking in your seated position. “I only wish to know what led you here before me.” The words left the patient’s lips in an ominous manner, however, upon saying such a thing his olive face held a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

His fanged grin, oddly, sent a wave of warmth through your being and caused you to forget your reply to his question. You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your composure and recall your departed answer. “W-well, I…umm… entered this field by the simple fact of being interested in psychology a-and the way the mind works.” You replied once you found the words, unable to hide the stammering of your voice due to how unnerving everything was becoming. Miguel nodded slowly, running his tongue along the tip of his fang, the action drawing your attention. 

“Your interest in the subject of the mind is rather…fascinating.” Abruptly, he leaned up in his seat, resting his elbows upon his knees and invading your personal space. Your heart skipped a beat at his suddenness and at being able to see just how abnormal and captivating his scarlet eyes and sharp fangs were; it caused goosebumps to rise upon your skin at the mere sight. 

“I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” He grinned, the fluorescent lights of his room bouncing off his sharp fangs as his eyes were filled with a hint of amusement, though it was impossible to ignore how it seemed he was toying with you. 

“I…see individuals, like you, as people who have become lost in the darkness and just need assistance in finding the light once more.” You stated, his eyebrow raising and a chuckle escaping him at your answer. “A bold claim…” He said, his eyes tracing your figure and lingering upon how tightly you were now grasping your skirt.  

“For a little thing like you…” 

Miguel muttered imperceptibly that you almost didn't hear him. “E-Excuse me?” You asked in shock and with furrowed eyebrows causing the patient to snicker, shaking his head. “Just that your view is a unique way of thinking and a…intriguing one, in fact.” He said, leaning back in his chair and adopting a relaxed position once more. 

“It’s really fascinating how intellectual you are, doctor.” He grinned. “Few possess the ability to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts of the mental. I applaud you on that.” Miguel praised, returning back to running his palm along the white armrest whilst giving you his undivided attention. 

In your gut, you knew his recalling of the statement said previously was false, you were certain he said something that was out of the norm. 

But could you have mistaken? 

You took in his face, taking note of how he gazed at you. The scientist was attractive, and normally during your job you were able to ignore that appealing quality and complete the task at hand, but right now, it seems impossible. 

The way his red eyes ran along your body like he was undressing you, made you blush. You couldn’t explain it, but you were stuck between your desires and your sense of reason. 

You were aware of Miguel’s sadistic mannerisms and how there could be a chance he wasn’t fully well as he lets on, it was why you were here, but the longer you spoke with him, the more the task at hand was leaving you. 

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he gave you at times. 

“M-May I ask how have you been feeling lately? Any changes?” You asked, changing the topic and settling your eyes upon Miguel once more to see him smirking. “It’s all been the same, doctor.” He began. “We have group therapies on Wednesday, daily morning activities and indoor activities…” He said, wetting his lips with the swipe of his tongue, the sight causing the tips of your ears to burn red. 

Sometime while he was speaking, you shamefully zoned out to taking in how sexy he looked. 

His white shirt tightly hugged his body, giving one a view of his hardened nipples, defined pecs, and washboard abs. Every curve of muscle was accentuated under the white fabric that teased anyone who saw. The muscles of his legs pressed against his gray sweatpants, and your eyes widened slightly at being able to make out the enormity that rested against his thigh.  The sight causing you to bite your lip…

“Querida?” 

The sexy patient called out to you, snapping you from your trance. “Y-Yes!?” You inquired, clearing your throat and taking a more assertive and relaxed position to try and dismiss your previous lack of professionalism. Miguel snickered. “It seemed you were off somewhere else…and here I thought that was my job.” He joked, causing you to chuckle nervously. 

“M-My apologies. You may continue.” You replied, wishing to proceed as if none of that happened. Miguel smirked, his crimson eyes roaming along your body before his finger began to tap upon the armrest.

“In my leisure, I write in my journal, read, or tend to my plant.” He finished, keeping it short and gesturing to the bookshelf in the room that held a pot of beautiful flowers. You smiled seeing how the black flowers bloomed upon the shelf. 

“May I ask, what is it that you write in your journal?” You asked, looking back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ethical if I asked what you write in your diary, would it, doctor?” He inquired, causing you to instantly become regretful of your words. You casted him an apologetic look. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“No…it’s fine. Your fascination is interesting…” He trailed off, a tap of his finger following your words. You glanced back over at his plant once more, the flower really captivating you. “The plant is family to the Calla Lilies.” Miguel answered before you could even ask, looking over at you as you continued to inspect the plant from your seat. “Hmm…I’ve never seen a plant like this.” 

“Because this plant, in particular, is very rare.” He explained. “Native to South Africa, Escape, is a very rare find.” Miguel said with a fanged grin. “It’s why I made it mandatory that it was brought with me when I was assigned at NYS-MH.” 

You stared in awe at the abnormally black flower. This was your first time seeing a plant of pitch blackness that hadn’t already withered away, but Miguel’s next words grabbed your attention. 

“But one day while tending to my flowers, I hit an…epiphany of sorts.”  Miguel told you, causing you to cock your head in puzzlement. 

His words intrigued you…

“May I ask what epiphany you reached, Dr. O’Hara?” At your question, Miguel gave you a look of appreciation and sincerity. “I understand that upon my arrival, I wasn’t…in the best state of mind.” He said with a sigh. “But after being here, I feel like I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” You asked, bringing a small smile to his lips. “I…believe I’m ready to see the world again.” He answered, giving you a genuine look of certainty. 

His realization filled you with gratification. You reached for his brown folder, believing he had, indeed, improved. The first major step for the patient was seeing that they were initially unwell, which the patient had achieved. 

“I’m greatly pleased with your recognition of this epiphany of yours, Dr. O’Hara.” You said, holding his folder in your hands. “But I believe you are ready to answer some more serious questions.” You said, glancing up at him. “Are you ready?” You asked, seeking permission of his state of mind before proceeding. 

With a nod from Miguel, you opened his folder, pulling out a few of his documents to begin asking more serious questions regarding them. “I’ve noticed in your next of kin that you asked for them to not be aware of your mental treatment.” You began, looking up at Miguel to see him already gazing back at you, his crimson orbs trained on you. The sight made your heart flutter. “M-May I ask how you would cope on the outside without your familial relations knowing of t-the treatments and necessary tools you've learned whilst being here?” At your inquiry, Miguel’s face hardened, his crimson eyes darkening.

“Well, you see, my dear therapist, family can be a bit…overwhelming.” He uttered, tapping his finger against the armrest once more like a metronome; his eye contact never breaking. “I’ve decided to take a more independent route for now.” He explained in a deep, slow voice. “But friends, colleagues—people who don't burden me with unnecessary questions about the past are who I seek.” He said, his voice holding a hint of coldness as his jaw clenched. 

“Because, it’s important to focus on the present and the future, rather than the past, don’t you think…

Doctor?” 

You gulped, his words seeming to have you in a vice. It was as if he had some kind of control over you, all of the rules and regulations you learned whilst being an evaluation therapist at NYS-MH faded from your mind. You couldn’t figure out what you found so enticing about him. 

Was it the way he looked or behaved? How he seemed to speak with such intellect in a tone of voice that could lull one to sleep?   

You were puzzled…

But you were certain something was happening, and it was greatly affecting you and your ability to think clearly. 

You hesitantly nodded, clenching his folder and feeling your cheeks redden once again.  “T-That is correct.” You agreed, not believing what you were saying. “I would understand your desire to look past your previous mistakes and move forward.” You uttered, trying to keep your attention on the patient. 

“Indeed…Mistakes.” He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips, his finger seeming to tap against the armchair after your words. Your eyes looked from his hand and to his face, studying how his coffee-brown locks blowned gently in the breeze from the vent overhead, and to his defined cheekbones and broad nose that made him even more captivating… 

 “Have any more questions for me, doctor?” 

You jumped at his inqury, noticing you were just staring at him. 

What the hell was wrong with you?!

A little disheveled, you fumbled through the folder for the next pages of information you sought, picking up his documents on his treatment plan of medications and his incident reports. “Umm…I-I wanted to ask about your medications.” You began, wetting your lips and holding the papers up to hide behind them. “T-There were two occurrences where you refused to take your medication. M-may I ask why you refused?” You asked, peeking around the paper to see the patient adjust his black eyeglasses upon his face along with the repeated thudding of his finger upon the chair. 

“I must ask, how would you feel if someone took away your identity?” 

“W-what?!” You asked in surprise, lowering the pages hastily. A laugh rumbled from his broad chest, giving you a clear view of his otherworldly fangs that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. “You heard me, doctor.” He stated in a manner that was to be amusing but only made one disturbed. 

“What if someone was trying to force you to be someone else? Someone you are not?” He asked, causing you to chew your inner cheek and ponder his question. “I…I guess I wouldn’t like that.” 

“Indeed…” He replied. “Any creature would despise the fact of forced transformation of oneself. It’s the reason you cannot simply change a savage tiger to being a tamed kitten in your home.” The dark-haired male explained. “It’s because a tiger would always cling to its savage ways, it's what keeps them alive—it’s what they enjoy.”  

Thinking back, you wished at that moment you listened deeply to his analogy. Took in each word he uttered…but like an lovesick high-schooler, you bypassed it and fell hard for his wit. 

“That’s…a great analogy, Dr. O’Hara.” 

“Why thank you, dear.” Miguel replied with a smirk before his old expression shifted to hold furrowed eyebrows and a frown—a set of facial features that instantly tugged at your heart. “But…the true reason I refused my medication was because…” He heaved a deep sigh, biting his lip. “The depressants make me sleepy and tired all the time, and…the idea of having to depend on medicine to stabilize my irritability and emotions is rather disheartening to me.” He said in a sorrowful voice. “I refused them because I believe I can be better without them.” 

You listened closely to his words, taking note of his concerns and feeling rather empathetic. “In all honesty, how would you explain your current mental health condition?” You asked, placing your compassionate eyes upon him. 

He gave you a heartfelt smile, one that made your heart soar. “Like I said previously, I feel better, Doctor.” Miguel said in genuinely. “I’ve seen the errors in my ways and am deeply disgusted by what I’ve done to innocent individuals…t-too myself.” He said, looking away at the ground in shame. 

“I wish to return back into society and start anew.” He replied. “Be the man that I’ve wanted to be—not some madman who allowed his idea to get too out of hand that led to the deaths of innocence.” Miguel professed to you with an emotional and hearty voice. 

You nodded slowly as you noticed his scarlet eyes flicker down to your hands that held the brown folder. “Doctor…

May I?” 

Dr. O’Hara asked, extending his large, calloused hand to you, seeking your palm. Your eyes widened, thickly gulping and looking back up to meet his red orbs that seemed to suck you in—enticing you to take it. 

Physical connection with patients were strictly forbidden, but the sadden look of desperation upon his face led you to take his hand. You placed the brown folder upon the table before resting your hand in his large palm, and instantly yours looked to have shrunken in size. With a fluttering heart and belly, you met his eyes and instantly melted under his crimson eyes. 

“Please, Cariño. I assure you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”  

The patient affirmed, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze, following his heartfelt promise. Your breath caught in your throat at his genuine gaze and words. 

From his evaluation, you couldn’t help but agree that he was ready…

He didn’t utter a word of sadism or show signs of insanity, revealing his first diagnosis of Psychopathy was treated or can be suppressed. He exhibited signs of sympathy for his victims, and also didn’t become angry at triggering questions, displaying that his second diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder was also cured or treated. 

Like he said…

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was ready. 

You gave him a small smile, placing your free hand atop of his as Miguel’s eyes shifted down to your kind gesture and back onto your face. “Okay…I believe you.” You said, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’ll be sure to send in your evaluation report that you are good to go.” You told him, but as an evaluation therapist you weren’t supposed to say, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. 

Giving him a departed smile, you released his hands and collected your things. His touch still burned into your skin and left you yearning for more of him. 

You felt his abnormal eyes on you as you went to the door. Suddenly, upon putting your hand on the doorknob, a cold shiver ran down your back—one that instantly made you come to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unsettling sensation, causing you to bite your lip in nervousness.

“And Miguel…” You called out to him, using his name and looking over your shoulder at the dark-haired male. His tanned, chiseled face held an expression of hidden joy and interest as he turned towards you, his attention captured by your call whilst he remained seated in his chair

You clenched the folder tightly, hastily shifting your gaze to meet his scarlet eyes—the previous feeling of discomfort and unease vanishing.

“I-I hope you keep your word.” You said in a voice full of reverence. Miguel returned your words with a reassuring smirk, his sharp canines poking from over his bottom lip. 

“You have my word, Doctor.  I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

After turning in Dr. Miguel O'Hara’s evaluation report and going home, the scientist was still on your mind.

The way the doctor looked at you with his beautiful red eyes from behind his black spectacles, with a gaze of interest, to the fanged smiles and smirks he gave you—merely thinking about it made your cheeks redden.

You bit your lip, feeling a need to cure this desire for him, but you decided to push it away. You couldn’t feel this way about him…

You couldn’t…

…

..

But you did…

Extremely…

You lay under the blankets of your bed, tossing and turning as every time you closed your eyes to sleep, he would fill your mind. 

Especially the glimpse you got of his package. 

How his massive member was accentuated underneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, revealing how thick and long he was. 

The remembrance made you drool… 

It had been forever since you’d touched yourself. Being a therapist at a mental facility was a rather time-consuming job, and you weren’t really interested in the many men who tried to get your attention.

Until him… 

Why did it have to be him of all people? 

It was a guilty pleasure, that was for sure—to have fallen so hard for this doctor, your patient who had many wounds that still needed healing.

But oddly, his wounds only pulled you in even more…

You bit your lip, allowing your hands to begin roaming along your body, imagining they were his calloused ones—remembering how his large hands practically engulfed yours when holding his hand, and how rough they felt.

Oh, how good it would feel if they were the ones touching you. 

Giving your clothed breasts a squeeze through your shirt, you moaned softly. Despite his past of being sadistic and cruel to others, you imagined him being gentle with you—caressing your body and touching you in a way that stole your breath every time. You arched your back as your thumb barely flicked over your pebbled nipples, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Your panties were heavily drenched in your juices due to your core's insistent pleas for stimulation and touch. Finally satisfying yourself, with a sharp tug, you pulled your panties down, freeing your pulsating pussy. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, hastily getting into a comfortable position on your back and allowing your legs to fall apart. With closed eyes, you allowed thoughts of Dr. O'Hara to guide your movements. 

His massive hand ran along your abdomen, teasing you with his skilled fingertips and trailing lower. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers brushed softly along your throbbing bud and soppy folds, spreading your juices along the sensitive area.

You imagined Dr. O'Hara above you, his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smirked down at you, pressing his large middle finger into your entrance. You moaned, feeling his finger filling your tight walls. 

Whimpers escaped your lips at how good his finger felt inside of you, your back arching in desire for more of him. His smirk broadened at your eagerness, as he slowly drew his finger out to the tip before pushing back in, quickly finding a rhythm and keeping at it with each thrust.

Your toes curled, burying your face in your inner elbow as you continued to finger your wet pussy, wishing Dr. O'Hara was here, but imagining would have to do. It wasnt long before a heat began to pool in your lower belly, your breathing picking up. 

"Taking my fingers so well, dear," Dr. O'Hara whispered into your ear, gently nipping along your lobe and throat, his fangs grazing your skin. You whined into your arm, his fingers picking up speed and hooking just right inside your pussy, bringing you to your blissful end. 

With a loud cry, your thighs trembled horribly as your juices spilled in hot spurts, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath. 

Your eyes fluttered close, trying to overcome the buzz that overwhelmed your body after your release. It took a moment, but when you caught your breath and your vision settled, you withdrew your fingers from your pussy, casting your eyes upon them to see that they, not Dr. O'Hara's, were covered in your juices. You exhaled in disappointment. 

Despite how good it felt imagining it was him, you couldn't help wanting Dr. O'Hara in the physical…

"I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?" 

As you lay there, still tinglinh from your pleasurable moment, his words filled your head, leaving you to ponder his question once more. 

Did you believe him to be a puzzle that only you could solve? In the moment, you said no, but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to thoroughly fix him.

Like many patients upon being released, they still faced numerous challenges, including reentering society, finding a job, and avoiding triggers, after departing from NYS-MH.

He was going to need help, and with all your heart, you wanted to be there for him. 

And you were going to. 

No matter what…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of 'Tangled in his Webs.' 😆I really enjoyed writing Miguel in this persona as it was different and honestly fun, especially with him being a darker character. It was rather new for me writing in this manner, despite some challenges here and there, I'm overall proud of the outcome and I hope you are too!

@migueloharacumslut, thanks so much for the request, and I hope you are even more happier that it's to be more than one part, lol. But once again, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 💙💙

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharasfilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy

**If you are part of the taglist and didn't receive a notification, please check your settings and ensure that the tag notification button is turned on.**

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara #the blue panther #miguel smut #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel #miguel x fem!reader #miguel 2099 #miguel atsv #astv miguel #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut

[misc-obeyme]

Spear Lessons

I had an idea, so I wrote it. A huge shout out to this guy's youtube where I watched his videos on how to use a spear multiple times in order to write this. Also I'd like to say that there are a lot of suggestive words when it comes to spears, but I swear this is entirely sfw.

GN!MC x Raphael

Warnings: none, it's fluff

You hefted your bag onto your shoulder more snugly as you made your way down the front stairs at RAD. You were finally done with classes and after school meetings. It was time to make your way back to the House of Lamentation.

You were thinking about what you would do when you got there as you walked through campus. You stayed on the path, following it as it wound through the grounds. Your thoughts were disturbed when something bright caught your eye.

You turned your head in that direction only to stop dead in your tracks.

It was Raphael and the glint from the gold of the diamonds in his hair had been what you had seen.

There was nothing unusual about seeing Raphael around campus, but you were entranced by what he was doing.

In his hands, Raphael held one of his infamous spears. It was no simple wood and iron spear, either. It looked like it was made of gold and steel, bright as the eternal Celestial Realm sun.

He was moving through a specific set of moves, holding the spear firmly, thrusting and lunging at imaginary opponents.

Your heart raced as you watched him. His footwork was precise but complicated, making him look like a deadly dancer. His face was as serious as it always was, composed and full of concentration.

Raphael turned in his routine and his eyes focused on your face. He stopped moving, looking at you over the shining tip of the spear.

You were wondering if you should say something when Raphael pulled the spear back, holding it at his side and standing straight out of his fighting stance.

"MC," he said. He didn't sound upset that you were watching him. He sounded just as he always did.

You were flustered, though, at having been caught. "I'm sorry," you said. "I didn't mean to stare at you or to interrupt. I was just curious." You couldn't exactly say that you were a little entranced by him, too.

Raphael cocked his head a little. "Are you interested in learning to use the spear, MC? I can show you the basics."

You blinked. You hadn't really thought about it, but now that he had suggested it…

"I would like that," you replied.

Raphael nodded. "We can start now, if you like."

You immediately shrugged off your book bag and left it in the grass. "Okay," you said.

Raphael gestured for you to stand in front of him. Then he handed you his spear. You took it reverently, especially because you felt like you were handling something holy.

"It isn't fragile," Raphael said, seemingly picking up on your sense of uncertainty. "Grip it firmly."

"Like this?" you asked, attempting to emulate how you had seen him holding it earlier.

"Your grip depends on how you intend to use it," Raphael said. "Let's start with the basic thrust move. For that you'll want your dominant hand closer to the base of the spear. It will be the one directing your thrusts."

You rearranged your hold a bit, to be closer to what you thought was correct.

Raphael studied your hold for a moment. "Now thrust the spear forward with both hands, without changing their position, and lunge forward with your front foot. Make sure to keep your stance a bit low to the ground."

You did as he instructed and then froze in place with the spear extended. The tip didn't quite reach Raphael, but it was inches away from his chest. He seemed unperturbed.

"That's good, MC," he said. "But your power is lacking. You need to put your dominant hand a little further back."

You readjusted your hand and tried again.

After several repetitions of the move where Raphael simply watched you, he held up a hand.

You stopped, still in a fighting stance, and waited.

Raphael circled around behind you. You figured he was looking at all the ways in which you were standing incorrectly.

And then you felt his hands on yours. And you realized he was standing close enough to put his arms around you and hold the spear with you.

"You need to hold it more on an angle, like this." Raphael's voice was right next to your ear and you tried not to think about the goosebumps that rose on your skin. He adjusted the angle of the spear.

"When you thrust, simply go straight forward. Be careful not to do this." He demonstrated by thrusting the spear, his chest pressing against your back as he did. It was clear that he was telling you not to let the spear go out from your body before it went forward toward your opponent.

"Keep it steady," Raphael said. "And step into the forward movement."

Raphael let go of you and stepped back. "Try it again," he said.

You were grateful he was behind you now, hoping it meant he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks. You had to take a breath before attempting the move again.

After your next attempt, you couldn't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at him, for confirmation on whether or not you had improved.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw the gentle smile on his face. He nodded in approval.

You spent another solid hour practicing this basic move with Raphael's spear. It started to feel like second nature, as if that beautiful shining weapon somehow belonged in your very own human hands.

When you realized you needed to get back to the House of Lamentation, you carefully handed Raphael back his spear.

He stood it upright beside him, smiling at you again. Your heart shuddered at the sight - he looked absolutely angelic when he smiled at you like that.

"You did well, MC," he said. "I think you have potential with the spear, if you'd like to continue training."

You shrugged at the praise. "I just had a really good teacher, that's all."

Raphael sighed and shook his head a little. "I think I was a bit too distracting for you. But you managed to improve despite that. You truly are remarkable, MC."

You blushed because it was pretty clear from this statement that he had been aware of the reactions you had attempted to hide.

To your complete astonishment, Raphael reached out and put his hand on your cheek. "This is what I mean," he said.

You fought to stop yourself from blushing even more, but it was a losing battle. "Um, I should get back…"

Raphael stepped away from you, then smiled and said, "If you keep practicing, you'll be able to put those brothers in their place in no time."

You laughed. It was such a hilarious image, you couldn't help it. "I can't wait to see the looks on their faces," you said.

You thanked Raphael and made a plan to continue your training at a later time. As you grabbed your bag, you stopped for a moment to watch as he fell into an elaborate routine once again. You wouldn't soon forget the feeling of his hands on yours or the sound of his voice, low in your ear. You rushed home with the golden glint of his spear still prominent in your mind.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#I would've made his name yellow #but I'm too lazy to go into the html to do it asldkfjsdfk #I'm sorry #anyway I just really like this idea #already thinking about part two where MC gets good enough to beat him in a sparring match #then they make out lol #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfic #obey me raphael #obey me raphael x mc #obey me raphael x reader #om raphael #om raphael x mc #om raphael x reader #x reader #misc writes

[thechekhov]

Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

#chekhov answers

[stevestark]

Eddie only gets told snippets of everyone else's Upside Down experiences after Vecna, like, the sanitized version. The story told by each person but omitting the most personally traumatizing parts. Which means he doesn't know much about Steve and Robin Versus The Russians. Not in its full, gory detail.

So he doesn't think anything of it when Steve has a day off and wants to hang out, just asks if he minds coming with him to Indianapolis. Steve says yes immediately because he just doesn't want to spend another day alone in his big empty house, even if it means several hours in Eddie's deathtrap of a vehicle.

But then they get there and Eddie is parking outside a tattoo parlor and saying he got a last minute booking with his favorite artist and that he's so excited to cover some of the scars he has from the bats and Steve can barely hear him over the fuzziness that seems to be filling his entire brain.

He lets Eddie guide him into the shop, watches Eddie and the tattooist make small talk, follows Eddie to the table, sits on the stool next to him, and tries to look anywhere but at the tattoo gun.

Eddie doesn't notice at first, too jazzed about the idea he and the artist have come up with, blabbering about how he can finally take his shirt off at the lake again. It's not until the line work is done that he realizes Steve's breathing has gone shallow.

He asks the artist if they can take a smoke break before filling the tattoo in with color, and he gently takes Steve's hand and pulls him out back to ask what's wrong. Steve's too deep into a panic attack to answer, so Eddie just puts Steve on the side opposite his new work and pulls him in close, squeezing him as tight as he can and just gently shushing him, running his hand through Steve's hair.

After a few minutes, Steve's breathing easier, and Eddie asks him again if he's okay.

"I'm fine, I just... I hate needles. Ever since the Russians drugged me and Robin. Can't be around them."

Eddie frowns, realizing this must be one of the parts of the story he knows they were keeping from him. "Why did Russians drug you?"

Steve sighs, pulls out of Eddie's grasp, and sits on the ground against the back wall of the tattoo shop. "Dustin picked up a Russian transmission, summer of '85. We translated it, found their secret base under the mall, and realized they were opening the Gate back up. But then we were seen, and to buy time, Robin and I let ourselves get caught so Erica and Dustin could escape and get help."

Eddie sits next to Steve, their knees bumping. "Erica Sinclair? God, that kid really is the most badass of all of us."

"Yeah," Steve laughs. "Anyway, the Russians beat the shit out of me, asking who do you work for and shit like that. Didn't believe me when I said Scoops Ahoy. So they brought in this Doctor and he drugged me and Robin to get us to talk. Just straight up jammed a big ass needle full of mystery drugs into my neck. Ever since then, needles freak me the fuck out. They had to strap me down in the hospital just to get an IV in me when Robin insisted I get the bat bites checked out."

Eddie runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Steve. I never would've brought you here with me if I knew."

"I know," Steve says quietly. "'S'not your fault. I'm trying to get better at being open about things like this but it's just..."

"Hard. Yeah. I wake up screaming most nights, and I can tell Wayne feels bad because he doesn't know what to do. Because he doesn't know what's causing it."

"Yeah," Steve sighs.

They sit quietly out there for another ten minutes before the tattooist comes back out to see if Eddie wants to keep going, and he glances at Steve, sees the way he's gone pale and rigid, and shakes his head. "Sorry, man, think we're gonna have to pick this up another time."

Eddie stands, grabs Steve's hand and hauls him to his feet, and walks inside, never once letting go of Steve. He sets an appointment for a few weeks from now, on a day he knows Steve is working, and they leave the shop.

The second they're in the car, Eddie sees the color returning to Steve's face, and he drives aimlessly through the city, finally stopping at a combination bookstore/cafe.

"Come on then, big boy," he says with a teasing grin. "I do believe I promised to teach you about Hobbits."

#steddie fic #drabble #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #just a passing thought I had whilst watching Steve and Robin get drugged