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cultpastorkevin · 5 months

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Dependent Personality Disorder, Kevin Day, & the Edgar Allan Ravens

brought to you by an ex cult pastor w/ crippling mental issues

well let’s just jump right into it ngl (also if I miss anything or forget something give me a pass I have amnesia and a one track mind so I definitely missed stuff)

Okay so the whole Ravens always have a partner, never go anywhere alone, if one fails you both pay, etc. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks and I don’t see it broken down and discussed at length enough, so imma try to do that from a mixed personal experience & psychology perspective

The fact Jean, Neil and Kevin have all stated in books and in the extra content that not having that presence next to them was devastating (much less so for Neil okay he didn’t spend fucking years there); Nora has also talked about how Ravens are basically unable to function if left alone; you can’t send them to the store alone or leave them places or expect them to be capable of completing tasks without their other half; TSC reeks of Jean having to learn how to function without a double and it’s gonna be a trainwreck for Jeremy bc how the fuck can Jean be this old and not feel able to have a room on his own anyways—

What is Dependent Personality Disorder?

The DSM-5 refers to DPD as a pervasive and excessive need to be taken care of, which leads to submissive and clinging behavior and fears of separation. It is characterized by excessive fear and anxiety. DPD begins by early adulthood, is present in a variety of contexts, and is associated with inadequate functioning. Symptoms can include anything from extreme passivity, devastation, or helplessness when relationships end; avoidance of responsibilities; and severe submission.

According to the DSM-5, the disorder is indicated by at least five of the following factors:

has difficulty making everyday decisions without an excessive amount of advice and reassurance from others.

needs others to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life.

has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval.

has difficulty initiating projects or doing things on their own (because of a lack of self-confidence in judgment or abilities rather than a lack of motivation or energy).

goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from others, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant.

feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves.

urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends.

is unrealistically preoccupied with fears of being left to take care of themselves.

Since I only need 5, and I don’t want to bore everyone to death, I’ll just do 5.

needs others to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life

Kevin spent well, basically his entire life having everything picked out for him by others. Exy was chosen for him. Where he lived, when he slept, what he ate and when was chosen. Riko and Tetsuji dictated his every fucking step up until he left. Kevin didn’t learn anything he wasn’t supposed to learn and therefore automatically expected others to do it for him because that’s what he was taught to do. Kevin’s only skill in life is Exy, which means he doesn’t have any other skills (well he does, he just doesn’t think they’re useful or important). Ravens are taught to be dependent on each other because without each other, they’re not whole or a person; they’re dehumanized until they begin to assign responsibility to someone they think is more equipped for it, is better for it, which is usually an authority figure (in this case, those figures are Riko and Tetsuji). Tetsuji knew exactly what he was doing by creating the psychological mindfuck of an inter-dependent group that is the Ravens. He took a bunch of young adults, gave them a god, and then helped that god beat them into numb dissociation until they couldn’t think for themselves and were even afraid to.

has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval

Reminder that DPD is prevalent in people who have been excessively abused and it’s also characterized by extreme anxiety. For people like Kevin and the Ravens, expressing anything other than what Riko and Tetsuji wanted could get them killed; it wasn’t just about being terrified of disapproval or protection, it was because losing anything from the group meant you were gonna get hurt (usually badly). Jean was literally waterboarded for shits and giggles, you think Riko is gonna take someone saying no very well (Neil Josten drove him insane I can tell u that much)? Ravens have a hive mind mentality because a hive mind keeps them alive and safe. Kevin had a hive mind when he was with Riko, and I’d argue he still had the remnants of one when he was with the Foxes. Riko breaking his hand was the only thing that broke him out of it, and even then, it barely did. Kevin only started mouthing off to Riko when Neil (bless his scrungly ass) started shaking Riko’s brain like a maraca. He had someone he could depend on in those situations because, again, Ravens always do things together. Kevin wouldn’t fucking dream of shitting on Riko at Kathy’s show by himself. Kevin spent 10+ years at Evermore with his sanity hanging on the hook of a batshit adoptive brother whose approval or disapproval would dictate if he was allowed to sleep. So yeah, I’d say Kevin had a violent need to always express agreement and do everything Riko wanted whether he liked it or not because the anxiety and terror of not doing so outweighed any sense of self preservation he could have. That ties in w the next one.

goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from others, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant

Riko utilized abuse in a lot of ways; Nora put in her extra content that he had other Ravens rape Jean; imo, those Ravens most likely didn’t fucking want to, but going to excessive lengths to stay within his approval and be safe? Yeah, they were gonna do it. Tetsuji and Riko also make the Ravens never miss practice or any other shit they want them to do, regardless of the state they’re in. Which means you’re going to practice when you’ve been raped the night before; it means you’re going to practice after getting butchered all night by your other half, etc. Anyways; when Kevin works with the Foxes, he repeatedly does the opposite and basically throws a fit if someone steps on court that isn’t in shape to. This begs the eye raiser that he didn’t want those things happening at Evermore, but he did them anyways because his need for approval and the anxiety of not doing so, outweighed the fact he hated doing it. He was so dependent on Riko and staying close that he was pretty willing to toss anyone and everyone under the bus to meet expectations even if they left a nauseating pit in his stomach. Doing unpleasant things for the person you’re attached to is hard, but their praise and approval after the actions erase all previous anxieties, which then fuels a broken cycle of seeking out that approval and continuing to engage in unpleasant actions out of fear of not recieving that pending approval afterwards. It’s hard to explain succinctly the mindfuck DPD causes your thoughts to be like when you have it.

urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends

Kevin lost Riko. You know what he gets next? Fucking Andrew. I don’t even know if I need to explain this one because Kevin’s dependency on Andrew is so prevalent and excruciatingly obvious throughout the whole series lmao. Kevin ain’t gonna admit it but he relies on Andrew like a starving man relies on garbage (no offense Andrew). Kevin’s duo dependency with Riko was shattered to its core and guess what idiot he latches onto to fill the void? Andrew ofc. I think out of everyone, Andrew is probably the healthiest until Neil comes along (still think it should’ve been a polycule but I digress).

Riko’s obsessiveness and possessiveness with Kevin was crippling to Kevin and left him without the ability to exist without a buffer. Andrew’s apathetic ass and explicit understanding of consent is needed to balance out Riko’s emotional instability and disregard for Kevin’s autonomy. I would go so far as to say it was dependency that forced Kevin to become more independent because Andrew wasn’t going to sit on his ass and wait for Kevin to figure it out or heal. Kevin only struggled into some form of functionality out of what I personally see as a crippling people pleasing need to be useful and that came from being dependent on those around him. He became semi functional (I use this so vaguely bc that man would not be functional in the real world) out of necessity and obligation to those around him, not because he actually healed or processed his shit.

Ignoring your own issues to meet expectations of the one(s) you’re dependent on is stereotypical avoidance and signs of people pleasing and also it’s a trauma response. Kevin quite literally just went “yeah well I have some problems but I’m going to push those aside bc nothing else matters besides Exy” and then proceeded for the entire series to use Exy, Neil, and Andrew as ways to try to avoid his trauma history. He’s kinda insane for that but also I get it, because placing your trauma lower than something else and then in turn obsessing over something or someone helps you compartmentalize and pseudo-function until you eventually snap and have a massive meltdown. Another thing is that when you’re living in an abusive environment you can’t afford those meltdowns. I like think that after all the shit happened in AFTG, Kevin just lost his shit for a period of time because it’s a very reasonable trauma response in victims for once you’re finally safe, you just shatter from all the pressure you’ve been avoiding in yourself. It’s only after you shatter that you can heal, and you can’t do that unless you’re in a space that you’re allowed to. And Tetsuji kept his Ravens in a headspace where they couldn’t.

feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves

Ngl I’ve kinda already covered aspects of this but I just wanna reiterate what Nora said abt this specifically in her extra content that “Kevin is the one who warns Jeremy he (Jean) cannot go anywhere alone, “we Ravens don’t know how” and “Being able to go to class or the grocery store or the gym without any of his teammates in attendance is just—unfathomable” in regards to Jean Moreau’s transition into the Trojans. This is just kinda, explanatory. We’re talking about college age athletes who have been hazed and abused so much that the idea of going to a class alone isn’t even a concept to them; Kevin explicitly tells Jeremy that Ravens don’t know how to do things. They’re dependent on each other. Kevin is not only speaking to help Jean, but when he says “us Ravens” he’s including himself in that statement because he can’t either and he knows how hard it is to try to acclimate to suddenly being thrust into individuality when you haven’t had it in years. Unlike most of the Ravens, Kevin and Riko (and eventually Jean as well) grew up having that inter dependency made into a core personality trait. They hate each other and they love each other, their failures and wins depend on each other, one can’t breathe without the other suffering for it. At what point does trained and conditioned, and ultimately encouraged, dependent behavior turn into brainwashing and dehumanization until there’s nothing left of you but the one you’re dependent on?

Finally

I’m not saying Kevin Day or all of the Ravens have DPD; but what I am saying is that they have extreme traits at the least of it and it is entirely fucking reasonable to me that at least a few of them ended up with DPD or similar disorders because of the shit that happened to them in the Nest. People forget that trauma and adverse circumstances (especially from young ages like Kevin and Riko and Jean) can cause you to develop disorders or even mimic symptoms of disorders because those traumatic events caused reactions that are disordered behaviors. I feel if anything is to be nitpicked, it’s Kevin’s absolute bitchiness, because god he can be an asshole, and someone somewhere could argue because he has that antagonistic streak, DPD is entirely out of the question.

Unfortunately, the dichotomy exists of knowing when you can be bitchy and maintain submissiveness. Kevin probably learned where and when and to what extent he could tow that line when he lived in the Nest, whether it was taking out his anger and his anguish on other Ravens, on the court, or on the Foxes when he moved over. In my experience, my own explosive anger issues had to be portioned out, I had to know who I could do that to, be like that with. When and where was the correct time to lash out and when I was gonna get hit for it. Kevin isn’t stupid, he knew what Riko and Tetsuji were like. He also knew he had the upper hand in the power dynamic over the Raven’s on court. If he went for blood out of anger during practice, triggered by if Riko hurt him too much or took too much from him, other Ravens just had to take it, or worse, probably were encouraged to encourage the brutality.

All in all, I think Tetsuji created an absolute fucking labyrinth of a psychological warzone that both forced submission and rewarded dominance; it left lasting behavioral traits and triggered disorders that crippled Ravens, some for their entire lives. I wanna bet probably no former Raven went to therapy; the ones that got divvied up after the Nest closed probably were required to by their new teams, and they probably are the only generation that maybe were able to heal from it. In the extra content, Thea decided because Kevin could play again, “no harm no foul” on Riko’s end. If that’s not hivemind, culty, worshipper behavior, idk what is. That’s not a normal reaction, but it is a conditioned one.

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mymegumi · 4 months

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GROWING PAINS ෆ GOJO SATORU

⠀ word count: 7.2k ⠀ summary: meeting up with the local college’s notorious ⠀ player, gojo satoru, for a group project, you’re shocked to ⠀ discover he’s actually a virgin and has never slept with ⠀ single soul that says they have. now, you find him endearing ⠀ and even offer to solve that pesky virginity problem for him. ⠀ warnings: afab!reader, college au, virgin!gojo, strangers to ⠀ more, corruption kink, top-esque!reader, porn w plot, ⠀ mommy kink, pet names (used by both parties ; baby), ⠀ gojo is whiney in bed, praise kink, oral (m rec), ⠀ unprotected sex, creampie, gojo is taller than reader

this project is gonna burn in flames, and you’re determined to set the match. you don’t even know how you’re going to get anything done, since your only partner is gojo satoru—if you at least had one other partner, you think there might’ve been a sliver of hope, but no, you got unluckily stuck in the class’s only group of two. the academic gods were frowning down upon you and you don't know what you could've done to have incited such wrath.

you're sitting in the library, waiting for gojo to show up for the first meeting that you'd both scheduled and he was currently nowhere to be found. you'd been waiting almost, like, a half an hour past your scheduled time and you were beginning to feel as if you were just going to give up on this. maybe you'd just work on the project yourself and email your professor what had happened, not to throw gojo under the bus, but also for him to not take credit for your hard work.

"you're kidding." there's been a commotion happening from the front of the room, but you’ve been playing your music up a notch from where it normally was to drown out the chatter. “oh em gee, there’s no way you actually know him!”

a laugh rings out across the front of the library—all of the private and quiet study rooms on the second floor had been occupied, so you’d been forced to make-do on the first floor—and the familiarity of it makes your blood boil. turning your head infinitesimally slowly, as if the slower you move the longer you can prolonge the inevitable, you find yourself face to face with your group project partner.

gojo satoru is as he normally is—carefree and unknowing to the situation he puts his peers in when he is, assumedly, knowingly late. he stands taller than you, though by a few inches or half a foot, you’re not sure. you try not to get close enough to him to tell, honestly. his eyes are a piercing blue and whenever he has a presentation at the front of the class, you feel as if you have to look away or divert your own gaze from his. as if holding his gaze was taboo, or made you feel shy. when his hair was on the longer side, it curled around his neck in soft, subtle waves before he would crop it close to his scalp again, leaving just the top parts of his hair wispy and natural. his skin was on the paler side, too, and sometimes you had to imagine he was truly an angel put on this earth to torture you.

you didn’t necessarily not get along with him. he was, on the rare occasion the two of you needed to speak to one another, kind and courteous of you. his humor was a bit similar to yours, and he always held the door for you after class if he was in front of you, but gojo wasn’t entirely out-of-his-way nice to you. again, but neither were you towards him. you didn’t mean to actively avoid him. sometimes, if you saw him walking towards you, though, you might think to make a quick detour you wouldn’t have before.

gojo satoru had a bit of a reputation. a reputation that you’d like to avoid at all costs because it was, for lack of a better word, messy. from all of the rumors on campus, gojo liked to sleep around a little bit. more power to him, but you’d also watched guys do that in your hometown, and watched them break your best friend’s hearts. you didn’t need a guy like that to be your friend or in your life at all.

this group project, in all honesty, would be the first time you and gojo would spend more than fifteen minutes together. hopefully, just working on the project and nothing more—no talk of pussy, dick, boobs, or ass allowed. just the economic turmoil faced by the lower classes and how the corporate world dictated everything. simple and easy.

“it’s true, i swear.” gojo’s smile is bright, illuminating his face as he adjusted the bookbag on his shoulder uncomfortably—his eyes darting around the library as if looking for something. when they lock onto your figure, clad in a college sweatshirt and jeans hunched over your books, is when you realize he’s looking for you. “i’d love to tell you more about him, but i have to go work on a project. so sorry about that.”

there’s the sound of a few girls pouting because, as if it wasn’t bad enough he was causing a commotion, he was causing a commotion while surrounded by about three or four girls. gojo peels himself away, waving goodbye with a toothy smile as he walks towards you. his stride is long—stupid long legs—and he reaches you in mere seconds, towering over you as he sets his bags and laptop on the empty space in front of you.

“thank god i found you.” his voice is low, but the emotion on his face doesn’t change, continually cheerful as his words differ. “they wouldn’t stop following me when i left the coffee shop. i was on time to meet you and they couldn’t take a hint, no matter how many times i walked around center square.”

“and here i thought you just wanted to skip our study session.” it’s deadpan, the tone you normally reserve for people you find annoying and gojo satoru. somehow you’re just now realizing the two categories are the same.

“no way am i missing our study date.” he slides into his seat now, hands a flurry of pulling out papers and typing his password into his laptop and getting pens out and organizing them. it makes your head spin a little just watching him. “i had to suffer through thirty minutes of ‘geto? geto suguru? omg you know him, how do you know him?’ and i need a reward.”

now that is a lot to unpack. “gojo satoru, this is not a date.” you feel as if this is the first thing that needs to be clarified, as you don’t think you want it to be going around that you consider this a date, or even want to consider this a date. the next part you don’t want to consider is the fact that gojo, in his mind, finds hanging out with you in any sort of capacity more rewarding than being fawned over. even if it’s just for girls to say they want to get to know his best friend.

“date, shmate.” he waves a hand around, lips pursed as he turns his head away. “we’re hanging out and getting to know each other. friend date.”

“‘friend date’?” you ask incredulously, eyebrows high on your forehead as you let your mouth hang open. it’s not the idea of it that makes you feel as if he’s playing with you, but the fact he’s being so openly relaxed about it. you thought gojo satoru didn’t date, that he was only fucking people and that was it. “do you even date people?”

“if it’s the right person.” he says it with a smile, eyes shining as he lets his lashes droop a little to look at you. “i’d date anyone if i knew they were going to be just as good to me as i would to them.”

it’s in this moment, inexplicably, that you begin to realize that for all gojo satoru is cocky and undeniably charming, he has the looks to back it up. sure, you’ve looked at him before and noticed he is very attractive and can be objectively considered handsome but you’re looking at him now, really looking at him, and you can feel your heart fluttering softly. it feels like a betrayal on an instinctual level—your own body chemistry reacting positively towards gojo.

he’s tall. taller than you even sitting down, and he’s looking down at you somehow even though you’re average height and will continue to insist on being of average height until the day you die. his skin is, of course, impeccably flawless but upon closer inspection, has very few blemishes and minor scars that could be anything from cat scratches to scrapes from trees or a clumsy personality. gojo’s eyes are some of the palest blue you’ve ever seen, and under their direct scrutiny, they seem to make you feel hot under your collar. you’re not used to having his undivided attention on you, but you think you could get used to it.

“the working class mentality stems from a distinct lack of motivation to do anything other than work.” you start, eyes casting downwards as you realize you’ve just been staring at him without saying anything. your leg begins to bounce under the table with the left over anxiety you can’t manage to bottle away. “if this statement is true, why is it that the work culture is toxic then?”

“what do you mean by toxic?” the two of you flawlessly switch from teasing to seriously working and it makes you breathe a bit easier. gojo leans down a bit, left hand disappearing under the table and a second later, you can feel his hand resting a few fingers on your knee gently. it provides a sort of grounding feeling and it stills the anxious leg’s shaking. “some of the sources i was reading the other day tried to explain it, but i couldn’t quite grasp what they meant.”

and you let the academia of it all lull you into a sense of security. eventually, gojo’s hand drifts from your leg but you feel it there even after it’s withdrawn, warm and sort of calming. you know that he’s much smarter than you’ve ever given him any sort of credit for—he keeps up with you and for every challenging question you give him to work on, he gives you a mental block that you have to work on, too. it’s nice, really. nice enough that you give him your number in case he has any questions on the work the two of you had mutually agreed to work on separately.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ is this that old lady w the candy?? im standing outside the ⠀ abandoned old house at the edge of the woods but i don’t ⠀ see a light on (・・;)ゞ

you laugh a little bit, eyes roving over the text gojo has sent you. when you had given him your phone to put a contact in, you hadn’t expected him to put ‘gojo (o˘◡˘o)’ as his contact name, but it bubbles a laugh out of you every time you see his notification slide onto your screen. you’re also unsurprised to know he texts with an absurd amount of emoticons—they’re oddly fitting for his personality.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀ oh yeah, i forgot to pay the electricity bill this month, so just come on in. don’t worry about the skeletons on ur way ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀in, they’re just for decoration

you are surprised at how easy it is to talk to gojo. even just when you were sitting at the library desk talking about the project and about random odds and ends, the conversation flowed easily. there were no lulls in the conversation where you worried about what you had to say next, or awkward silences when you thought you had something wrong. it just kept snowballing until it had been at least a few hours since the two of you had started working. you had separated with a light feeling in your chest, proven wrong about your first assessment of his character.

gojo satoru seemed to be a good man, his out of class proclivities forgotten. for now, at least.

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ do u rmbr that movie we were talking abt today?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bruh no fckin way ur tryna talk abt alien v pred again

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ITS A GOOD MOVIE I SWEAR

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ how good of a movie can it be man

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ my roommate n i r (illegally) streaming it soon tnight if u ⠀ wanna come watch. jus smth chill (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ is it gojo satoru chill or actually chill?

⠀ from: gojo (o˘◡˘o) ⠀ wtf does gojo satoru chill mean ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭

there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s rude of you to be so blasé about his sex life, making jokes every other minute and saying them to his face, and then he makes comments like this—seemingly oblivious to his reputation and what people are saying about him. specifically what people are saying about things they do with him. you’ve heard more about gojo’s cock than you’d care to admit, but maybe the reason you agree to go over is because you’re curious. not about his cock, but about whether the rumors are true, about gojo in general.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ from: you ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ nvm. i’m down. addy?

so now, you’re at gojo and geto’s door at their dorm building, popcorn and a six pack of coca cola’s in your hand as you wait for him to open the door for you. it was an impulsive choice, since you had half a mind to just go to bed and watch anime for the rest of the night. but there’s something about his energy that made you want to hang out with him more, even if in the company of his magnanimous and heavily sought after roommate.

“yo, satoru!” you hear shouting from within, and you’re positive you can hear something falling over. “stop running. walk like a normal person.”

“don’t open the door!” it’s muffled, but you’re positive that’s what gojo’s response is. shortly after, you watch the door fling open with a breathless gojo behind it, eyes bright and smile wide. “welcome to our humble abode!”

“emphasis on humble.” geto mutters, thoroughly kicked to the side now.

the dorm apartment is nice, a simple layout of just a large living space with an open kitchen attached. there are a few doors that you can only assume lead to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the lights are all dimmed so you can’t tell bathrooms from bedroom. the living area has a couch and an arm chair surrounding a small, partially broken coffee table and entertainment center with a particularly out-of-place fancy television. there’s various odds and ends on shelves scattered around the apartment, as well as a few viney plants toppling over each shelf. a cat feeder and bowl is in the living room and you can see the tail of a sweet looking white cat every few seconds, though you never see the cat itself from where you’re standing.

you nod your head, holding out the housewarming gifts you’d brought with you. “i brought a whole box ‘cause i didn’t know if it’d be just us or more people.”

you had been expecting something of a small party, considering that geto and gojo had a reputation of being something of party animals. from your short view of the entryway, though, it seems as if it’s just the two boys and yourself.

“as if i’d invite anyone else for alien versus predator.” gojo scoffs, taking the box and ripping it open, throwing a single package of popcorn into the microwave. “you think any of the pleebs we go to school with understand the nuances and underlying themes of that masterpiece the way we would?”

“i’m still not even sure you can call alien versus predator a masterpiece, let alone say it has nuances.” you shake your head, shedding your outer layer until you’re left in your sweater and leggings. “but i’m more than happy to play devil’s advocate.”

“when was the last time i even watched alien versus predator.” geto mumbles from the arm chair in the living room, a ratty old green thing that’s covered in claw marks and has dangling strings from every angle on it. “i was probably high when i saw it, man.”

“as is the only way to see it the first time.” gojo concludes, nodding sagely as the sound of soft pops plays as background noise. “but you’re also probably bailing halfway through, aren’t you?”

the aforementioned male nods his head, bangs drooping into and then away from his face as he leans his head back onto the armchair’s back to look at his roommate. “yeah, got a study session with that hot chick from economics.”

“fuck yes, study session with that hot chick from economics!” gojo cheers, arms going up to ‘raise the roof’ and doing little spins in his spot as the microwave announces the popcorn is done. “we’ll be here, meriting the debate of alien or predator. don’t miss us too much.”

“i absolutely never miss you.”

“oh you big liar, i know it’s hard to express your feelings in front of people other than me, so i’ll excuse it for now.” the white-haired male shakes his head and pulls the popcorn out, shaking it and pulling on two corners to open the buttery goodness. “but, our guest, please feel free to sit wherever you like, except for the fire escape because it’s definitely not up to code and i can’t go to jail yet.”

“yet?” you parrot, making your way into the apartment without your shoes on and just a pair of socks, sliding slightly on the laminate flooring. “you’re leaving during alien predator? that has to be some sort of blasphemy.” you direct your last question towards geto now, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs underneath each other.

“i’m considered a heretic now.” he says, leaning over conspiratorially and cupping a hand over his mouth so gojo can’t hear it. “but he likes me too much to disown me, yet.”

“i’ve disowned you at least four times in the last week alone.” gojo says now, coming in between where you and geto had been conspiring and sits on the empty spot of the couch. he’s closer now, obviously, but gojo satoru is in your space and it gives you a second to recollect your breathing. “start the movie so you can at least watch someone die before you leave.”

gojo’s sitting close enough to you that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you now. it might be because of the cold weather outside, but you swear he’s like a radiator. geto is fiddling with the laptop connected to the television with an hdmi cord, so gojo turns to you and all of a sudden, it feels as if it’s only the two of you in the room.

“come here often?” he says while throwing popcorn in his mouth and chewing lazily. he’s got an easy going grin on his face and he leans towards you, arm resting on the back of the couch, but it feels as if he’s resting it around your shoulders.

you shrug, leaning your head back to knock against his arm gently and he tugs on a strand of your hair. it’s oddly intimate and it makes your legs tighten. “only for guys obsessed with alien versus predator, i guess.”

"thank god there's only one of those on campus." geto says it under his breath, avoiding eye contact with gojo as he wipes fake sweat from his brow. "sorry for you that it's gojo satoru."

"if i were any girl on campus, i'd be floored to know gojo likes alien versus predator." you snort, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. you remember at the last second that it's rude to eat with your mouth open, so you swallow before you finish your thought. "half the campus wants to sleep with him, the other half seems to have already done it."

while it was at gojo's expense, you had imagined your joke would have merited a laugh or at least a pity chuckle, but instead, gojo and geto share a look. the charged energy that passes between the two of them isn't lost on you, but you don't know what it is that it could mean. you're worried that it means that maybe you were right on your first overall assessment of him and your avoidance of him wasn't untoward—maybe gojo satoru is just a playboy that can't take a joke.

geto shakes his head, leaning forward and pressing his palms into his thighs as he gets up, as if he were leaving a family function that's definitely gone on for too long and finally wants to go home. "well, i have to go meet up with that hot chick from econ, and maybe even learn her name. so i'm going to leave you two here to enjoy aliens and predators. i will be gone all night, do with that what you will."

the feeling of dread begins to sink into your skin. you thought gojo had invited you here tonight because the two of you had made some sort of connection that went above him wanting to sleep with you. geto's crude and offhanded remark makes it seem as if gojo had intended for you to sleep with him, and while you would've when you first came, the thought that the only reason he invited you over was to sleep with you makes you rescind the idea immediately.

you were stupid to think that maybe you could ‘figure him out’, to think that maybe things could be different than what you’d heard about.

geto's out of the door and it's shutting soundly when you turn to gojo, clear disbelief in your eyes if the apologetic hands in front of him are to mean anything.

"this isn't what you think it is." gojo says.

you seethe under your skin. "and what, pray tell, do you think i think it is?"

he gives you an awkward, fucking endearing, smile. "that i invited you over with the excuse to watch a movie but i really only wanted to fuck?"

bingo.

"is that why you invited me tonight?" your eyebrows furrow together as you begin to scooch as far into the couch arm as you can, granted it isn't very far away from gojo.

he sighs. "no, i just wanted to watch aliens versus predator with you."

"okay, so why did your roommate have to mention that he was going to be gone all night. feels a bit weird if all we're doing is watching a movie, doesn't it?" you tighten your lips into a line, raising your eyebrow and punctuating the end of your interrogation with a sharp tilt of your head.

gojo drops his gaze from yours, looking at the television where someone is getting gored by the alien. you image it's gojo in your head unapologetically. "i didn't anticipate us sleeping together, no. i might have mentioned to geto, though, that i wouldn't hate the idea of it."

"'wouldn't hate the idea of it'?" you echo, hands coming up to put air quotes around his statement. " that's fucking rich considering you fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes to sleeping with me, you would just tolerate it."

you move to get off the couch, legs unfurling from under you and your hands pressing into the soft cushiony feeling when you feel gojo's hand wrap around your bicep. "wait! that's not what i meant, i wouldn't just tolerate sleeping with you!"

"okay, so what the fuck do you mean, gojo, 'cause from where i'm standing, all i'm seeing is you being an inconsiderate asshole." you want to pull your arm from his grasp but he's got a firm hold on you—not tight enough to hurt or bruise you, but strong enough to keep you in place. if it weren't to keep you from bolting from his apartment for bruising your ego, you'd think it send fireworks in your belly.

"you don't understand." he says, looking up at you now and seeing that he's battling with what he's saying and what he really means.

you sigh, deeply, because you have an inkling of feelings for him and you want to know if what he truly meant was just to hurt you, or if there's something else to what he said. "so help me understand."

gojo stands, hands twisting and turning with each other and he begins to pace around the small space in front of the couch and the television. "so, i know that i have a reputation for being, like, this douche who just sleeps with anything with a pulse, and honestly it never really bothered me before."

you're silent, letting him continue with what he's saying and hoping he won't lose his nerve before he finishes.

"what geto was saying was some stupid joke because i had said something earlier about how you were really pretty and i thought i might actually have a chance to take you on a date sometime because i thought that we were vibing really well." he rambles, shaking his head at himself. "but he said it in a stupid way, and i didn't just invite you over to sleep with me, because i've never ever done that before! i've never invited anyone over before to watch a movie and hoping that they’ll just spontaneously wanna fuck."

"you've never netflix and chill'd someone before?" you say it incredulously because even as you say it outloud, it feels like something you've lied about. "never?"

he says your name softly, kneeling in front of you with your hands in his as he gives you a grim face. "i've never even fucked anyone before."

this revelation feels like a very bold-faced lie. a preposterous, almost presumptuous lie that only the likes of gojo satoru himself could try and pass off. you scoff, hands pulling away from his as you lean back into the couch, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“wait!” he cries softly, hands falling to the couch as you pull your body away from him, attempting to go around him but freezing at his outburst. “i mean it, i’m still a virgin.”

“what the fuck?” spills from your mouth before you can think to filter yourself, but you’re just flabbergasted at this point. your brows have never been more furrowed but you’re rubbing at your head as you shake it. “you do realize half the campus has said they’ve slept with you, right?”

one of his shoulders comes up in a defeated half-shrug. “yeah, it started when i was a freshman. one girl got mad i didn’t sleep with her, but she said i had anyways. from there, it just snowballed.”

“why didn’t you deny it?”

he collapses now, falling from his kneeling position to sit on his ass, hands holding up his weight behind him. “what’s the point? either people believe me and then i’m weird for not sleeping with someone, or people don’t believe me and i’m called a liar.”

“don’t you want to get back at that girl for lying?” you tilt your head to the side, mouth still open slightly in disbelief. “i mean, it doesn’t bother you at all that she’s the reason people call you a whore?”

“whoa now,” his lips go from slack to an easygoing half smile, “i don’t know about whore but no, it doesn’t bother me. usually just means at parties i have to decline a lot of advances, but then again, i’d rather just avoid parties at that point.”

“so, like,” you pause, thinking of the words you’re trying to say and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of gojo, who’s just watching you quietly and waiting for you to gather yourself, “you’ve never… pee pee in vagina?”

his laugh sounds like little angels and you shift uncomfortably, realizing there’s a part of you that likes that he’s a virgin. that he hasn’t ever slept with anyone before, that there are parts of him that a single soul hasn’t ever seen. “that’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“do you want to change that?” the question is out of your mouth before you can think twice—an impulse that you hadn’t expected to need to curb, but when it’s out in the open, you realize that it’s exactly what you want to do.

you wanna take his virginity.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen gojo speechless before, because he was always talking—to geto, to some random girl, to you lately. he’s perpetually avoiding silence like it scared him, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually at a loss for words. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “wh-what? i though you got mad at me for inviting you over to fuck.”

you shrug. “i got mad ‘cause i thought you were being presumptuous by inviting me over for something ‘chill’ just to want to fuck.”

“shouldn’t i be offended that you found out i’m a virgin and now you want to fuck?” he raises an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth is lifting.

“intensely offended.” you nod, watching him as he crawls back towards the couch, hand winding around your calf carefully. “are you? offended, i mean.”

gojo leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to your knee and it’s your turn to swallow thickly, mouth dry all of a sudden. “very. need you to make it up to me.”

you groan softly, leaning down to press your hand to his and your forehead knocks against his lightly. looking at him, his incredibly incandescent blue eyes that seem to see straight through all the fronts and walls you try to put up and nudge your nose against his. the position makes your neck ache but you can’t force yourself to move, too gravitated towards gojo. you can feel his breath fan across your mouth hotly and you can see his eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, though you’re grounded by the feeling of his hand’s warmth through your pants. “how?”

you can feel the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your leg, can feel the way your muscles are spasming gently as he runs his hand up your leg, just barely touching you. his grip becomes firm again against the outside of your thigh, tilting his head up until your lips are millimeters away, practically breathing in each other's air.

"kiss me."

your lips crash against his with a fervor you hadn't realized you had in you. his lips are slightly dry, and the position is making your neck feel almost like it's about to fall off, but you couldn't think of a better kiss with him.

his hand flies from your thigh to cup the side of your face, the other one coming to rest on your waist as he pushes onto his knees, kneeling now between your legs. with you sitting on the couch and him kneeling, he's at the perfect height to ease the pain in your neck and to wrap your arms around his neck comfortably.

gojo pulls away from the kiss, but there's not even enough time to feel disappointed because he's already pressing your lips together again, this time with a bit of a slight opening. you take this as your chance to slide your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for permission to press deeper. you want to suck on his tongue, to feel him get hard from your kisses, to know gojo in a way that no one ever has before.

you've fucked before, and you've definitely had your fair share of disappointing experiences, so you want to make sure gojo's first time is better than—if not the best experience you could give him.

“bedroom?” he mutters against your mouth, moaning softly at the feeling of your tongue sweeping across his mouth again and you make a soft noise when he nips it gently with his teeth. “or couch?”

“do you want me to blow you on the couch or on the bed?” you ask back, hands roaming across his back and rucking up the ends of his shirt to feel his skin, smooth and warm. “‘cause i’m okay with either. want you to be comfortable.”

you can feel him shifting his weight around, and with a simple nudge of his hand on your thigh, you’re winding your legs around his waist. you’re not sure how he manages to stand from the position he’s in, but one minute you’re sitting on the couch, the next minute you’re in the air as gojo carries you towards his bedroom. your lips never leave his, and while he presses you against his bedroom door, hand fumbling with the knob, you bite his lip.

“oh god,” he whispers, eyes reverently roaming your face as he gets the door open, “i want you so bad, baby.”

opening the door, he walks you in the room and does a little bit of a spin, sitting down on the bed with you straddling his lap. he leans back on the bed, just looking at you. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you feel almost shy under his gaze, unused to the undivided attention.

“i want to kiss you.” he mumbles, cheeks all of a sudden getting rosy red and the sight of it makes your chest tighten—he’s so pretty. “but i also really want… you to blow me.”

“s’okay.” you respond, hands sliding down from his shoulders, across his chest and to his belt. you get up and maneuver yourself off of the bed, kneeling at the edge with your knees pressing into the plush carpet. “help me with the buckle, baby?”

“yes, mommy.” he breathes, hands immediately flying to his buckle and wiggling out of his jeans as fast as you think a person could get out of pants. the moniker he calls you sends a chill down your spine, unused to the term but not disliking it in any way. “is it— is it okay that i called you that?”

you nod, distracted by the bulge in gojo’s black underwear—large, twitching every so often, and you think you can see a dark spot right at his tip. it’s long, longer than you had been expecting, and it’s just girthy enough for you to wrap your whole hand around it. he bucks his hips into your hand, as if it was an impulse he couldn’t control, his own hand coming up to bite back the moan he can’t help but let out.

your eyes flicker to his, watching the way his rosy cheeks begin to spread, trailing to his chin and down his neck. his chest is heaving, as if every breath is a labor, and you can hear soft whimpers leaving his mouth every time you press your fingers firmly, or during the slow, agonizing strokes you’re giving his shaft.

you’re watching him unravel, and you’re practically salivating at the thought of his sounds when you finally wrap your mouth around him, much less when he’s finally inside of you.

freeing his cock from his boxers, you let the fabric pool at his ankles as you slot yourself between his legs further, watching him lean back and support his weight with a hand bunched in his comforter. "oh fuck."

stroking his shaft without the boxers in the way makes gojo's eyes roll to the back of his head, your skin smooth against his skin and your thumb rubbing gentle little circles on his tip. his cock has little veins running along the shaft and the tip is red, as if straining for something. "feels so fucking good."

there's a whine that's in the back of his throat that makes your arousal pool in your panties, and you begin to move your hips side to side, as if trying to get any sort of friction to relieve yourself. you want to finger yourself, press your fingers to your clit and get rid of this aching need in your pussy, but your hands are busy with gojo's cock, holding it steady as you flatten your tongue.

pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, you relish the sound of desperation, of need, that gojo makes. it sounds halfway between a whimper and a moan, and it makes you swirl your tongue around his tip just to see if you can get another sound out of him.

"holy shit."

his hand is in your hair now, pushing the strands that had fallen into your face and moving them out of your way. he holds your hair loosely at the base of your neck and when you meet his gaze, he's biting his lip and groaning softly. his eyes are lidded, drowsy with lust and need, and it looks as if he's shaking, as if from the tension it takes to hold back from bucking his cock all the way into your mouth.

hallowing your cheeks, you push yourself up to sit on your heels and take as much of gojo's lengthy cock into your mouth, relaxing as much as you can to take him even further until he's hitting the back of your throat and then some. there are tears now, streaming down your face and gojo looks almost as if he's enjoying the sight of them, of his cock down your throat and tears pooling in your eyes.

pulling back until just the tip of his dick is in your mouth, you let your hand rub the parts of him that your mouth couldn't reach. gojo lets his head fall back, neck exposed to the ceiling as he moans wantonly. his grip tightens on your hair, making your pull back just a bit further and scrape your teeth against him by accident. he flinches, but then lets go of your hair to pull you off his cock fully.

"holy fuck, i think i was about to come." he mutters, breathless and chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you, hair disheveled and messed up. "i didn't wanna come before i got to fuck you."

in no time, you're both shedding your clothes and making out on the bed again, this time he's hovering over you while you wind your arms around his neck. you're nipping gently at his lips, relishing the nervous and tentative way he's touching you—as if, if he touches you wrong, you'll disappear from underneath him.

his hands are shaking, cupping your breasts and thumbing your nipples. pushing your chest into his hand, you moan and nod fervently when he gives you a look for approval.

"d'you wanna fuck me, gojo?" you whisper, pressing your lips wetly against his neck.

he whines, hand fisting the sheets until his knuckles turn white and he rubs his cock against the wetness of your cunt, slippery with your arousal. "call me by my first name."

you blink, surprised by his need for intimacy, but you're not one to deny him what he wants right now, the need for his cock too deeply ingrained in your brain at t his moment in time. his cock glides across your pussy again, rubbing against your clit and your moans come out breathless. "satoru, please, please fuck me."

and you're smart, you should've asked him to put a condom on to protect yourself just in case anything happens, but he's a virgin. he's never fucked anyone in his life, so there's no way he's got an std or anything, and you've been on the pill since you were young, so the thought of pregnant doesn't cross your mind. the only thing that crosses your mind is that you're about to have gojo satoru's cock in you and you want to relish every sound he makes when he finally, finally fucks you.

holding his shaft, he lines up his reddening tip to your cunt, hips stuttering as he begins to push himself into you. his face is twisted in what seems to be both pleasure and agony, but you're pretty sure it's because he's holding himself back for you, not wanting to rush his first time.

"you're so fucking—" his voice is coming out high, almost to the point of a whine as he groans at the feeling of his cock disappearing inside of you, and if you weren't so focused on leaving crescent indents in his skin, you think you'd be on the same page as him. "you're so fucking soft, a-and tight, mommy."

with every whimper, every soft reverent murmur of your name, you tighten your thighs, clenching around his cock as he fucks you. there’s not a rhythm to his thrusts, nothing to focus on and meet his hips with, since he’s a man reborn. now that he’s found what his salvation feels like, he’s just chasing his high. he tries to lean back his head, as if wanting to watch his cock slide in and out of your pussy. gojo’s hips hit yours with every thrust, the sharp angle of his hip bone leaving a grounding sort of pain on your thigh.

there’s a moment when you swear you can see stars and all you can think is ‘this man was a virgin thirty minutes ago’ because he’s got you desperately close to your climax.

“s-sator-ru!”

his name on your lips as you come, tightening your pussy around his dick and clawing at his back as he throttles you off of the edge, seems to set him over the edge, too. his hips stutter, body shaking as he comes in you—so much for not rushing his first time.

he falls now, letting his arms stop holding up his weight as he lets himself relax fully on your body and heaving in your ear. it’s not exactly romantic, but you enjoy running your hands along his sides to watch him twitch back and forth. his cock is twitching inside of you, fully spending itself of its first orgasm inside another person and you’re satisfied at his soft moan when you tighten your pussy one last time.

“i tried..” he whispers, mouth turning towards your neck and tickling you with every word he forms, “holding out, but i had to come. felt too good not to.”

“s’okay,” you whisper back, afraid to break the spell of closeness by speaking at a normal volume, “you’ll last longer next time.”

there’s an unspoken ‘with someone else’ that you can’t bear to say, knowing that perhaps this is just a one and done thing. something you’d done on a whim and perhaps, he had, too. perhaps this was just the easiest way for him to get laid, and you were more than happy to provide.

“gimme a minute.” he kisses your neck sloppily—too gentle. “i’ll clean up in a minute. need to catch my breath.”

you roll your eyes. hooking your legs around his ass, you turn your head to press a kiss to his temple—too intimate. “take all the time you need.”

he hums, eyelashes fluttering shut as his breathing begins to even—too pretty. you’re worried this might be the last time you see him so peacefully, and instead of worrying about later—later tonight, later tomorrow—you let your eyes close, too.

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intromortal · 15 days

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hola~ just started following you today, and i really wanna know if you could write a lil smth for sub jungwon being desperate? (you can ignore this if it's too much)

a/n: first ever attampt at dom!reader (sorta kinda), annonie i hope this is good enough <3 tysm for submitting this

virgin sub!y.jw x f!reader

cw: smut, no plot all filth, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation (m!receiving), no protection, creampie, cum eating... it's a sticky mess again guys im sorreyy

okay, but group project partner virgin!jungwon asking you to teach him how to pleasure someone since he’s sooo inexperienced but wants to impress the girl he’s seeing… except it’s you he ends up wanting aurrrr guys..

He’s been lapping at your cunt for what feels like hours, and while he said that he has never eaten pussy before, you learn that Yang Jungwon is indeed a very fast learner.

You almost feel bad truly, the way he’s trying to get himself off so badly, desperately humping the bed under him but still not uttering a single complaint as you roughly guide his movements with your hand in his hair.

You already came once but he insisted it took too long for his liking, how is he supposed to impress the girl he’s talking to if he can’t get you off quickly? You insisted it was completely normal and even getting you off at all the first time was praise-worthy anyway, but he wouldn’t hear any of it and who were you to deny getting eaten out by one of the finest men you’ve ever met? You simply happen to enjoy the finer things in life.

So that’s how you end up with his fingers shoved knuckle deep in you curling to hit exactly where you need them to, just like you taught him, while his mouth sucks around your clit.

“Fuck, could stay here all day��, he moans, letting your clit out of his mouth with a pop before flattening his tongue against it, switching to kitten licks. You’re actually impressed when you feel your orgasm build up much, much faster than the one before.

You remove your hand from his hair and bring it next to you, gripping the pillow under your head as your other hand sneaks down to your breast and you start rolling one of your nipples between your fingers.

“Jun- fuck, baby I’m so close”, and you might be imagining things but from the way he’s now moaning in your cunt and his hips are stilled, you think he might’ve just come from hearing you say that and the thought alone brings you to your own high.

Your mind is still hazy as he’s helping you ride it down with his fingers, you look down to find his head resting on your thigh and his eyes glued to yours.

“Please, please let me put my dick inside you”, his voice breaks as he starts begging with his eyebrows furrowed, “just for a little bit, I’ll do anything, even just the tip”.

His eyes are teary now and you can’t help but coo at his state as you sit down and take his face in your hands, gently wiping the small tears that started spilling.

“Of course I’ll let you baby”, you whisper and place a kiss on his forehead, hands undoing his pants and finding a mess in his underwear.

And his cock is hard again already.

Just how many times has he come from humping the sheets?

“Sorry, it was too much to handle”, it’s so endearing how bashful he gets, cheeks reddening as he avoids your surprised eyes.

His gaze is focused and he’s biting his lip as he positions his member to your entrance with your help, he enters you slowly and closes his eyes shut as little whines start to spill out of him.

Jungwon thinks he might become obsessed with the way you wrap around his already sensitive and overstimulated cock, and as he starts shallowly moving, he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. He thinks about anything that can help him not cum in you just a few strokes in but you notice right away.

“Just let go baby, it’s alright”, you say after bringing his face close to yours. And he does exactly that, filling you up with a drawn-out moan of your name. He tries to move away but you wrap your legs around his torso, keeping him inside you.

“Keep moving”, you order and he immediately starts thrusting into you again, little sobs leaving his lips, so compliant for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck, it hurts.”

“I know baby, but I promise it’s gonna be worth it, wanna stop?”, you gently caress his hair with one of your hands, giving his neck small kisses. He ignores your question, too preoccupied with how overstimulated he is at that moment. You tighten your legs around him again, one foot pushing into the small of his back to keep him still.

“I’m gonna need an answer to my question, angel face.”

“No no no, wanna continue please I’m so close again”, he’s grinding into you as much as he can with the little space he has, and you think it's adorable.

So you keep him exactly where he is, letting him hump into you desperately.

Soon he’s shooting his cum inside of you again, you loosen the grip your legs have on him and he’s tumbling back right away, cock still twitching as it spurts out whatever’s left on your mound and thighs.

You giggle at him as he flops back on your bed with his eyes closed, a sweaty and sobbing mess.

God, he’s so cute.

You’re surprised when instead of falling asleep right away he’s getting comfortable with his face between your legs again.

“I didn’t make you cum from that”, he replies before you can question him, sensing your surprise.

“You made me cum earlier, it’s okay. Plus, I already taught you how to make a girl cum with your mouth.”

He nuzzles his head on your thigh again, holding your gaze, “yes, now I wanna learn how to make you cum harder”, he whispers as he pushes his tongue into your hole, taking the mix of both of your juices in his mouth.

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inbarfink · 7 months

Text

Thinking about the kinda blurry lines between Simon Petrikov and the Ice King’s identities again. Because I feel like the Winter King really is a fascinating case study of just how complex the situation can be.

Because the Winter King is a Simon/Ice King who found a way to get rid of the Madness and Sadness of the Crown by forcing it into someone else while keeping all the Magic to himself. And by doing so he regained some sense of his old Simon Petrikov identity - but at the same time he became an irrevocably different person.

Because the Madness and Sadness of the Magic Crown don’t work, like, totally separate from Simon’s brain, I think. Like, the whispers of the secrets of the ice and snow are probably entirely from the Crown. But then there’s the most iconic expression of Ice King’s Madness - the Princess Kidnappings.

Simon might’ve described the Candy Queen as having the Crown’s Madness projected into her. But romantic obsession and kidnappings have been established as a mad reflection of Simon’s psyche ever since the episode that first established Simon's existence.

So it’s not just the Magic Crown’s Madness projected into Peebles. Candy Queen’s behavior is probably not indicative of, like, how PB would act if she put on the Crown herself. It’s specifically Simon Petrikov’s brand of Madness and Sadness that has been shoved into her head.

And losing Betty will always make Simon very Sad and maybe a little bit Mad, the thing the Crown did was exaggerate and twist these emotions until he’s kidnapping sapient blobs of slime in hope they’ll marry him. You can’t fully separate Ice King’s mad obsession with princesses from Simon’s love for Betty. So it’s no wonder that when the Winter King artificially rid himself of one, he also lost the other.

And in general, so much of Ice King's Madness and Sadness was fueled by Simon's loves and his regrets - and so when they are truly wiped away, we are left with a very happy and very sane Simon who is utterly callous, cruel and selfish. One who has lost so much of what made him Simon Petrikov in the first place, maybe even more than he ever did as Ice King.

The Magic Crown drove Simon crazy, that’s true. But the particular way he turned crazy was based on his specific psyche and personality. And so Ice King always had that little hint of Simon hidden in him and now, no matter how ‘normal’ and ‘sane’ he is - Simon will always have a bit of Ice King in it. And without it… well, he won’t be much of the Simon we know and love.

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sunkendreams · 4 months

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Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

#the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #tlb dwayne x reader #dwayne tlb x reader #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #the lost boys 1987

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kadextra · 26 days

Text

I’m still so emotions about the serverside admins who arranged missions for bad the past 3 days leading up to this, the dev admins who made fluffycreature and skeppyjr models, the build admins who surprised him with a whole event area, and seeing several egg admins who decided to hold on get to appear for a little bit and play some games together just like the old days….

they didn’t need to do this but they did. all these admins who stayed with the project appreciate and miss him a lot- as much he does them, he’s always been incredibly kind with them for the past year. this was made with so much love in return. the sweet letters they wrote to him might’ve put tears in my eyes :’) it’s all about love after all <33333

#it gives me hope #qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp admins

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hp-hcs · 5 months

Note

Could I request some Yan poly Theo and Mattheo x male reader please?

Where he is an animagus that can turn into a cat just like McGonagal.

Where he goes to them in his cat form for cuddles and scratches and stuff because he’s touch starved, but what the reader doesn’t know is that they know who he is and that he’s not a normal cat, and the reason everyone’s been avoiding him both in his cat form and human form is because they’ve made everyone besides him know that he’s theirs and threaten them. Just the usual possessive Yan behaviour from the duo. Maybe they buy him a collar or something in his cat form and he gets all embarrassed because he doesn’t know that they know he’s a human and just has to wear it when he’s a cat-??

I’m so sorry if it’s too detailed

um, obsessed???

also i tweaked the ending you asked for just a little bit cause i never know how to end fics 🫠

i genuinely despise this. fully anticipate me just deleting this and starting over.

also please never apologize for too much detail it literally makes writing these so much easier and faster

requests? 🥺🤲

“He is, most of all, l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.” — Yandere! Theodore Nott x Animagus! Sirius’ son! Reader x Yandere! Mattheo Riddle

warnings: very mild—mostly implied—yandere possessive/violent stuff

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ah, Mr. Black. Lovely for you to join us.”

You cringed, hastily smoothing down your hair in an attempt to look like you hadn’t just woken up.

Snape gave you a stern look. “Very well. Now that you’ve elected to make your presence, perhaps Mr. Black can tell us what asphodel is?”

You flushed at the way your professor put you on the spot; the way all of your classmate's eyes were on you.

“U-uh, it’s a flower. It’s supposed to grow in the Elysian fields in the Greek underworld…?” You trailed off uncertainly.

Snape’s lips thinned, a sign that you were correct. “We have a new seating chart—a fact you might’ve known if you’d shown up on time. Over there. Quickly.”

You scurried over to the table he indicated, sitting down in the empty chair between two Slytherin boys.

The boy on your right gave you a sympathetic look, waiting until Snape turned to continue writing on the board before leaning over and whispering to you.

“We’re doing a project in pairs, but me an’ my friend Theo here said we’d add you in ours to make a group of three. Snape wanted you to work with Longbottom.”

The boy on your left—Theo, you presumed—leaned in to whisper, “Yeah, we wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. ‘specially not a pretty thing like you.”

You blushed at the flattering name, whispering back, “Longbottom? Merlin- thank you.”

He grinned brightly, seemingly pleased at your willingness to hold a conversation with him, if the gentle flush of his cheeks was any indication.

The boy on your right tugged at your sleeve with a charming smile. “That’s Theodore Nott, by the way. And I’m Mattheo Riddle, darlin’.”

~~~

“Well, I think we’re just about finished,” Theodore mused, sitting up from where he’d been leaning over your group’s poster board. “Think we used enough glitter?”

“No such thing as enough glitter.”

You laughed at the two boys’ antics as the three of you sat on the floor of their dorm room. They had a good rapport with each other, one that you fit easily into. There was no real awkwardness as you all joked with each other. You actually felt like you belonged, like you’d been a part of their pair for years.

It was a nice thought.

“Well, if we’re finished, then I desperately need to go to the library,” you sighed. “Flitwick assigned twenty inches on the difference between the Conservo and the Protego charms.”

The two groaned in sympathy.

“Good luck,” Mattheo shook his head, resting his hand on your knee.

You’d noticed that both boys were extremely touchy. They always seemed to be accidentally brushing hands with you, peering over your shoulder to look at the poster, and finding any excuse to rest their hands somewhere on your body.

You nodded your thanks, putting away your personal reading book, your glitter quills, and your googly eye stickers that you as a group had had far too much fun with.

“See you guys around!”

~~~

“Woah- Here, kitty kitty kitty!”

You blinked sleepily, annoyed at whomever was disrupting your nap by the warm common room fireplace.

Two blurry, vaguely boy-shaped blobs plopped down on the floor by you, one of the blobs’ bags spilling out its contents all over the floor. You swatted lazily at a feather quill that rolled to a stop beside you on the rug, quickly losing interest and yawning.

“Whose cat is this?” The shorter one—the one whose bag had dumped parchment and jellybeans all over the floor—asked, suddenly scratching the top of your head.

You froze, an unfamiliar rumble rising from your throat at the odd sensation.

You were purring.

If you were human right now, you were sure your skin would be prickling from the stranger’s gentle touch.

Gentle touch had always been uncommon for you. Your family was odd and disjointed. You grew up without a father, raised only by grumpy paintings and a sour house elf.

And once he returned, on a the back of a winged marvel, with stories of rats and traitors and time, his overjoyed smile had faltered when he learned you wore green and not red. His now ever-present pinched look of poorly hidden disappointment whenever he looked at you, paired with your god-cousin’s short and stiff hugs and forced smiles, you felt like an outsider in your own home.

“Virgil!”

The strangers startled you out of your reverie. Your ears flattened back, but the taller one just pet your head softly. The short one crossed its arms, shaking its head vehemently.

“No, dude. Why the fuck would you name our cat that?”

“Cause of the book? Dante’s Inferno?” The taller one pointed at one of your abandoned books lying on the rug, most of the stack on Charms subjects, except for that one. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading it, and changed into a cat at some point during your nap.

“Nerd.”

“Just because you don’t ever read, Riddle-”

You perked up at the familiar name. Blinking away sleep, the two blobs- boys come into better focus.

They’re your fucking group mates.

Fucking Circe.

Theo goes back to petting your head, his steady pets prompting you to instinctively push your head up against his palm to demand more.

“Oh- hi Vee,” he laughed, moving his hand further down to stroke along your spine.

“Wh- We’re not calling it that.”

~~~

They ended up calling you that.

They visited the library after school every day now, where sure enough, you’d always be sitting by the fire or sprawled out on the couch.

Some days, they brought extra friends. On those days, you’d always squawk and wind between your boys’ ankles to get their attention when they got too engrossed in a conversation, like an adorable, jealous tripping hazard.

And after you’d turned in your project, you had also remained friends with them as a human. You now lit up every time you saw them in the halls or the common room, and they always grinned whenever they saw you.

It was nice.

~~~ “Hel- oh.”

You watched as your History of Magic table mate, a usually kind and friendly Hufflepuff girl, scrambled out of her seat to sit elsewhere as soon as you set your bag down. You stared after her in shock.

What had you done to warrant that?

As you stared after her, you finally became aware that your classmates around you were staring at you with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Everyone avoided the seat next to you like the plague.

You sat alone that class.

~~~

You set your textbook down on your desk, sitting down heavily in your chair.

Today had been awful. Nobody dared come near you in any of your classes, like you were a leper or something. You ate lunch alone, walked to class alone… you just hoped Potions, as your last class of the day, would pass quickly.

“Hello, lovely,” Mattheo greeted warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he sat down beside you—the first person to do so all day. “How are you this fine afternoon?”

You rolled your eyes grumpily, steadfastly ignoring him as you doodled on your parchment.

You suddenly felt fingers underneath your chin, lifting your head up until your eyes met Mattheo’s.

“He asked you a question, doll,” Theodore breathed into your ear from behind you. “Answer.”

You shivered at his tone and firm behavior, blushing despite yourself. “‘m- ‘m fine.”

“Good boy,” Mattheo sighed, patting your cheek patronizingly. “Was that really so hard?”

Your cheeks flush immediately at the name, as you remain a bit confused as to their sudden changes in personality.

Where were the lovably awkward pair of dorks that you usually hung out with, both as a human and as a cat? (Although, you supposed, they didn’t know about the latter.)

Maybe you were wrong about them?

~~~

You weren’t wrong about them.

You leaned against the side of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, watching interesting passerby on the street as you waited for your god-cousin, Harry, to return back outside.

You were so focused on people-watching, imagining backstories for everyone, (especially the creepy Gryffindor who liked to hit on you no matter how many times you said no: Cormac McLaggen. The boy had practically sprinted away as soon as he caught sight of you leaning against the wall. Odd that he also had a black eye and a busted nose) that you were completely startled by arms wrapping around you from behind.

You jumped, but relaxed a bit when they put their chin on your shoulder and whispered into your ear, “It’s Mattheo, doll. Calm down.”

“You just scared the shit outta me. Tellin’ me to calm down,” you roll your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

“M-me. And Theo. Both. Yeah?”

“Wow. Smooth, dude. Real master of words, aren’t you?” A new voice chimed in sarcastically.

You spun around at the arrival of a second person, relaxing when you saw that it was just Theo.

“What Matty is trying to ask is, will you go out with us?”

You gape at them.

“Both of you?”

“Ideally, yes.”

You blink at them, eyes wide.

Mattheo shifts nervously.

“Sure.”

Theodore blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Sure? Like- like yes you will?”

“Yeah.”

The two boys exchange a rather disbelieving, giddy look.

“Uh, how does the Three Broomsticks at seven tonight sound?”

“Works for me,” you shrug, a pleased smile slowly creeping onto your face.

“Oh! Here. We- we got this for you. In case you said yes,” Mattheo digs through his pockets, pulling out a small, rectangular box, like the kind that watches come in. “But, you have to promise you’ll wait to get back to your dorm room before you open it.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Okay, sure. I promise.”

Theo narrows his eyes at you before sticking out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

You laugh again at the way his serious look contrasts with his childish request, obliging and wrapping your pinky around his. “Pinky promise.”

~~~

You shut your dorm door behind you, dropping your bag on the floor and collapsing onto your bed. You, true to your word, waited to open the box, pulling it out of your pocket only just now.

It was small, simple gift box, with a scrap of folded parchment taped to the top.

Y/N –

Thought you might like this. We’d love to see you wear it on our date.

– MR & TN

You raise your eyebrows, setting the note aside and lifting the lid, unsure of what to expect.

You were not expecting there to be a blue cat collar inside, the dangling metal tag reading:

Virgil

If lost, return to either

Theo Nott or Mattheo Riddle

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheoxreader

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thewulf · 6 months

Text

Adorably Clueless || Steve Harrington

Summary: Request - So everyone rags on Steve for being stupid right so here’s the idea the reader who is pretty smart acts clueless about a lot of things and asks Steve for help because they don’t like the way the others jokingly call him stupid all the time... Read Rest Here

A/N: We’re pretending Robin and Steve are friends their senior year of high school, everything is moved up a year. Dustin and co are in eighth grade and reader/Steve/Robin/Nancy are seniors. K thanks <3Thank you for the request @loving-and-dreaming

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Y/N

Word Count: 3.5k +

“Can I have a ride to school?” Dustin asked as you slid into the seat next to him running a bit behind this morning. You’d taken a little extra time to make sure you looked a little bit nicer than normal. Steve was around. He was always around. And you’d be lying if you didn’t say you had a little crush on him. You and every girl in Hawkins that was.

You quirked your eyes up to him while pouring the remaining orange juice into your glass, “No Harrington this morning?” Asking inquisitively. Steve had been picking Dustin up early the last few days throwing you out of your normal rhythm with the middle schooler.

He shook his head quickly, “No, we finished that project.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rolling your eyes, you put the bacon and eggs your mom had made up onto your plate in a hurry, “Yeah, sure. Not like I have to go anywhere else.” You snickered knowing Dustin had to walk down the hill to the middle school, you couldn’t be bothered to drop him off then park.

Your mom sighed gathering the attention of both you and your brother, “I’m glad you’re driving him again, Y/N.” She smiled at you giving your hand a pat.

You frowned almost immediately at that comment, “Why? Steve’s perfectly fine at driving him.”

She gave you a tight-lipped smile knowing how you were. You weren’t going to back down from a fight, you never did, “Well, you know what they say.” She chuckled looking at Dustin who simply gave her the same look of confusion.

Shaking your head quickly you deadpanned at her, “I actually don’t mom. Enlighten me, will you?” You snapped back feeling all the irritation bubbling to the surface. Of course, you knew what they said about Steve. He was dumb. He was irresponsible. He would never get out of Hawkins. Blah blah blah. You might’ve believed that in the past but no longer was that the case. After you saw how he treated your younger brother you saw him in an entirely new light. Steve was kind. Steve was sweet. Steve was beyond thoughtful. You were crushing hard on the boy. And you’d done a pretty damn good job at hiding it. Right up until now. You were definitely giving it away now. Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of your head told you so.

She gave another quick, nervous laugh before clearing Dustin’s plate, “He’s just trouble sweetheart.”

“Typical.” You grumbled feeling annoyed as hell by your mother’s dismissal of the sweet man you’d observed over the last few months.

Dustin looked over at you giving you a curious look. You were usually mouthy with your parents but never pushed it too far. This was pushing it beyond what he was used to. And for Steve? He thought that was odd. Especially for you. He’d learned almost everything from you. You were analytical. Smart. Only spoke up when you knew you were right. Why were you defending Steve Harrington so boldly?

“What’s that honey?” She asked turning back to the two of you.

“You of all people shouldn’t believe the gossip. Thought you told us not to judge a book by its cover mother?” Refusing to look at either of them you decided on staring at the plate in front of you.

Her nervous smile gave it all away, “Sure. Now, off you go. Don’t want to be late to school now do we kids?”

You frowned annoyed as hell by the utter dismissal of the conversation. Oh, so typical. Rolling your eyes, you stood not even attempting to clear your plate, “Come on Dusty. We’ve got some learning to do.” You didn’t wait before grabbing your backpack and keys and walking out the front door without so much as a goodbye. Dustin followed quickly yelling a goodbye leaving a very quiet house for a very mouthy woman to deal with.

When Dustin jumped into the passenger seat of your old sedan you looked over at him. He was giving you the weirdest look. Studying you, “What?” You asked deciding to do your seatbelt instead of looking at him. You couldn’t look at him. No, that’d actually give you away.

“What was that about?” He asked not deciding to hold it back.

“What was what about?” You played dumb. It was so much easier. So, so much easier than explaining a stupid little crush that’d go absolutely nowhere.

He shook his head leaning back into the seat, “Steve? You’ve never mentioned his name before. Now you’re yelling at mom over breakfast about him? Thanks for that by the way.” He smiled knowing you’d always have his back.

You shrugged while backing out of the driveway, “I don’t know… You like him. He fills a gap I can’t fill. So why shouldn’t I defend him?” Trying to play it off you were thankful you had a reason to keep your eyes forward and on the road.

He nodded his head not fully believing you as his eyes narrowed in on you, observing you, “Sure, Y/N. That’s all.”

You nod quickly not daring to look over at your overly observant brother. Weren’t boys supposed to be clueless? Why was every single one of them clueless except Dustin? Of course, your brother wasn’t defective like a majority of the male population, “Yup. That’s all Dustin.”

The rest of the ride was nearly silent as Dustin sat there staring at you. He wasn’t going to give it up and neither were you. So, silence it was. When you parked the car in the lot you turned to him, “Not a word is mentioned of this morning to him. Do you need a ride home?”

Dustin smirked. The little fucker smirked. He unbuckled his seat belt and gave you the biggest grin, “Can’t guarantee that and nope. Steve is driving me home. We’re doing some investigating after school.”

You shook your head, “For once. Keep your big mouth shut. What are you even investigating? It’s Hawkins.” Giving him a curious glance, you stepped out of the worn-down vehicle trying not to be too late to class.

He jumped out of the car mimicking your actions, “Again, can’t guarantee that dear sister. And exactly. It’s Hawkins, there’s lots to investigate.” He grabbed his backpack before turning off to head down towards the middle school, “I’ll be back late, let mom know.” He waved knowing it was best to not give you the last word. Whatever. You’d cover for him like you always did. Steve was good for him. Just like Mike, Lucas and Will. It was never lost on you how you were always a touch jealous of your younger brothers ability to make true friendships. You’d only had one true friend. Thankfully, she was in most of your classes. You’d have gone insane have to deal with this whole high school thing alone.

As Steve got to know Dustin more you got to know him a little better too. It got under your skin how everybody so casually called him dumb or stupid. He was neither. He just played a part. A part you were easily able to see behind. He was his true authentic self around your brother, at your house. You’d caught him talking nerdy with your brother and asking questions somebody dumb would never. Steve was a master at his craft. An illusionist who needed to be the center of attention. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure that part of him out. For that you’d have to have a real-life conversation. One you often shied away from. Little did you know Steve was determined to get that conversation out of you, Dustin’s far too shy older sister. The girl he’d been crushing on since his split with Nancy.

He knew he was a goner the first time he really saw the real you. You were arguing with your mom, something he’d learned was commonplace in your household. He was amazed by your ability to express your words. You so flawlessly got your point across in a way he’d never seen. You were in his classes, but he’d never really seen you before. You were beautiful. Especially once your younger brother talked you up without even realizing it. He’d started to fall for you without even having a proper conversation. He wasn’t going to give up though. He wasn’t planning on going to Dustin, but he was starting to run through all his options. Every time he tried to dive in a little bit deeper you gave him that deer in headlights look. A look of knowing he was pushing the boundaries a little too hard. He’d back off. But then he got absolutely nowhere with you. Until you started coming to him for little things. You’d ask him a math question, one you’d obviously know the answer too, but one you knew he knew the answer to as well. Something to boost his confidence. For even you knew he heard the snide remarks about his intelligence. He was human too.

In English you’d ask him a silly grammar rule. In Phys Ed you asked him how to correctly shoot the basketball even though you’d been taught a thousand times over by Dustin and his know-it-all friends. In Spanish you’d ask him a simple question, beaming with pride when he answered back correctly. Little by little you tried to help him in the smallest of ways.

He was doomed, doomed from your sweetness. You’d taken his heart without the simplest of clues to doing so. He was trying to give you all the signs, the signs that showed he was incredibly interested in everything you had to offer. But you were clueless. Absolutely clueless to it all. For as smart as you are you were oblivious to him right in front of you. If he couldn’t figure it out soon he’d have to go to Dustin to get to you. He’d gotten the sense that only Dustin could talk some reason into you.

You’d been a pro at avoiding Steve at school that day. He hadn’t a clue as to why you were being so elusive. You were far too aware of your feelings to even try and approach a semi-normal conversation with the man. Avoiding him was your best option.

“You’re acting weird Y/N.” Kelly, your best friend, said as she spotted your eyes darting the cafeteria at lunch, “Been acting weird all day.”

“No, I haven’t Kel.” Speaking back in an instant you turned your full attention back to her.

A smirk that was eerily similar to Dustin’s danced on her lips as she watched you. Everybody seemed keen on your actions today, “In fact, you’ve been acting a little off ever since a certain Harrington has become friends with your very own brother. Peculiar.”

You rolled your eyes rather dramatically at your friend, “Look at you, jumping to conclusions.”

“You’ve been avoiding him all day Y/N.” She said matter of factly.

Shaking your head, “No…”

“You literally made Mandy trade seats with you in Chemistry today. I don’t want to hear it.” She cut you off.

“You’re annoying.” You sighed.

“And you’re being avoidant. The usual hey?” She grinned knowing she had you there. This was totally your style.

“Whatever Kelly.” Looking away your eyes went wide seeing Steve and his very own best friend, Robin, walking your way, “Gotta go talk to Mrs. Pace about my grade. I’ll see you later?” You stood quickly and ran off before she could even reply. When you turned back you saw the three of them conversing, talking about who knows what. You. They were talking about you.

When you heard the front door open and close you’d assumed Dustin was alone. Your parents were out for a dinner date with another couple they’d been friends for years with. Being miserably bored you were thrilled when you’d heard him come home. Having somebody to annoy made you far too giddy.

“There you are!” Yelling from the top of the stairs you skidded to a complete stop seeing not only your brother but his much taller and much more handsome friend standing in the kitchen with him.

All too pleased with himself he gave you a head nod, “Y/N. Steve’s going to stay for dinner.” He didn’t ask, he stated.

“Sure, I’ll just be up in my room…”

He cut you off grabbing at your arm, “No, I know you haven’t eaten. Sit.” He sounded weirdly like your father.

“I already…” You tried but again he cut you off.

“No, you haven’t. The plate is untouched. Your water is still at the table. Sit.” He pointed to your usual chair. He had you there. He was too damn observant. Only Dustin.

You glared at him but sat down next to Steve who looked all too happy to be sitting there with the two of you. Not even you could lie, he was damn adorable sitting there kicking his feet watching the two siblings bicker back and forth.

Dustin set down two plates in front of you and Steve, “I just remembered. I was supposed to call Mike at 7! We’re supposed to be doing Mr. Ryan’s homework.” He rambled before running off upstairs.

“Dustin?” You called feeling a growing irritation for your meddling younger brother. The little shit just left you to fend for yourself with Steve fucking Harrington? What the fuck?

“Kids a trip.” Steve smiled over at you hoping it’d calm your nerves a bit. He knew you were nervous for some reason. He was anything but intimidating, or so he thought.

Your face broke into a grin knowing his motives. He was a trip, that one was for sure, “You could say that again.” Defeated, you grabbed at your fork knowing you couldn’t really just leave him sitting in your kitchen. Dustin would quite literally kick your ass if you did that.

He nodded his head in agreement, “Your brother is pretty great too. Never thought I’d enjoy spending so much time with a literal kid.” He snickered knowing the optics of the situation were less than stellar.

Finally, you looked at him. And Jesus, was he stunning. It wasn’t fair. He was so damn attractive and then he was so damn kind? Dustin was setting you up, “He get it from somewhere.” You agreed with him while nodding your head.

Steve’s smile grew even wider as he let out a hearty laugh, “He told me you were funny.”

Eyebrows raised you replied, “He did?”

“Yup.” He scooted a tad closer to you. All too thrilled you were finally entertaining a conversation with him, “He says a lot of good things about you.”

Without even realizing it you bit your lip slightly. A little habit Steve had noticed in school as he watched you a bit closer this year. It happened when you were thinking. When your mind was reeling, “Dusty’s the sweetest younger brother. I’m lucky.”

“Well, he’s got a pretty great older sister he watches all the time.” Steve said so casually you weren’t positive if you were hearing

Your eyes snapped back over to his suddenly very aware of why you avoided these conversations. Your cheeks were absolutely ablaze feeling like you could cook an egg off your face it was so hot, “

He smirked, “What? No comeback? He says your infamous for those. And I’d tend to agree. You schooled Mr. Clark the other day.”

Biting back a smile you rolled your eyes, “Dustin has a lot of opinions about me, hmm?”

He leaned forward feeling brazen, “You’re right. Enough about him. More about you.” His chair scooted just a bit closer. He was bold, you gave him that.

“Me?” Your face had to be as red as a tomato now.

“You heard me.”

Trying to be just a bit brave you continued, “Well, what about me?”

His chair inched ever so much closer. Your heart was racing at an uncomfortable pace as he opened his mouth, “Tell me something about you sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Damn, that made your already racing heart explode, “What do you wanna know?” It was a whisper. God, you were pathetic. He made you pathetic. A pathetic bumbling mess, “I hate chicken nuggets. I think they’re disgusting.” You said the first thing that came to your thoughtless mind.

He didn’t give you any time to be embarrassed though. He let out a snort before full on laughing, “Chicken nuggets? Really?”

You nodded quickly defending yourself, “I just… I just don’t think chicken should come that way. Not natural.”

He snickered shaking his head but moving his chair even closer. He was almost on top of you now. Surly, he could hear your racing heart, “You’re a trip too, Henderson.”

“Hopefully you mean that in a good way.”

His smile should’ve given you the hint. But you were clueless. Absolutely clueless, “In the best way.”

The two of you were so into the moment you didn’t hear the younger version of you walk down the stairs. To be fair, it had been twenty minutes. He’d just been sitting in his room bored to death and couldn’t take it anymore. So, he walked down the steps. When he walked into the kitchen he’d expected to find the two of you bickering. Just like he and Steve did. But he found the opposite. The two of you… enamored with each other?

He couldn’t hide the small smile creeping up on his lips. He’d all but gotten a confession out of Steve that he liked you. And he wasn’t dumb, you liked him. So, this was meant to happen, right? Plus, if the two of you were together then Steve would be over all the time. A win, win.

But he was bored, your love could blossom another time, “What’d I miss?” He spoke up. You nearly jumped from your seat. Steve scooted away in a hurry.

“Dustin!” You whisper shouted, startled by his sudden presence.

“Son of a…” Steve muttered while glaring at the younger boy.

Dustin gave him a devious smirk, “What was that Steve?”

“He likes you; you know.” Robin set her bag down next to yours on the ground. She plopped down in the seat next to you in the wide-open library.

You looked up from the homework you were working on, “Hmm?”

“Steve. He likes you. Hard.”

Shaking your head, you decided on giving her your full attention, “No, no he doesn’t. I think I’d notice if he liked me.”

She snorted lightly, “You’re adorable. Adorably clueless. He likes you Henderson.”

“Then he’ll tell me himself.” You said so assuredly you weren’t expecting her reply.

“You’re right. He will.” And before you could reply Robin was off as soon as she had sat down.

Before you could focus back on your homework and ignore the weird interaction with the girl you’d come to adore from afar somebody else was in the seat she had just occupied.

When you looked up and spotted him your weak little heart started racing once more, “Steve, what’re you doing here?”

“Here to tell you something.” He smiled leaning back in the chair.

Robin? Robin was written all over this. He couldn’t actually like you. It was more of a thing to say to get her to shut the hell up. But now… now Steve might actually admit something.

“What’s that?”

He kept quiet until you looked up at him. He smiled gently at you. Trying his darndest not to freak you out, “That I like you.”

“You like me?” You asked back so quickly he was sure you hadn’t really processed it.

“Yes,” He nodded quickly, “I like you. A lot.”

“Me?”

He grabbed at your hand, “You.”

“You’re sure?” You couldn’t believe him. No. Not until he confirmed it at least twenty times.

“Positive.” He gave your hand a squeeze trying his best to keep you grounded in reality. Not stuck in that pretty little head of yours.

“Oh.” You’d finally processed his words. He liked you. Damn, he liked you?

“Hopefully that’s a good, oh.” He mirrored your words from earlier on in the week.

A small smile came to your lips, “Yeah, it is… but…” You paused not sure how to ask the question that was itching at the back of your head.

“But?”

“But you’ve never seemed interested.”

He let out a quiet laugh, “Robin was right, you are adorably clueless.”

You gave him a fake pout, “Hey now.”

He shook his head, “I didn’t say it wasn’t cute. It’s adorable. You’re adorable sweetheart.” He grabbed at your other hand, holding both of your much smaller hands in his.

“Hey Steve?” You said after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“I like you too. I like you a lot.” You bobbed your head up and down.

“Tell me then, what do you say? We’ve got a problem and I’ve got a solution. I’m taking you out Friday evening. On a proper date.” Steve proposed looking all too hopefully at you.

You grinned, “I think that sounds like a great plan.”

He let out a small sigh of relief, “Finally, it’s a date my dear.”

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

Text

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 20

I literally got second-hand anxiety hearing, “How many numbers do you think you’ll have by tomorrow?”. I was like. TOMORROW? They are Not ready. The only reason the rooftop works out is because they’re the fucking Beatles. No one else would pull that out of their butts so well.

If only John could’ve listened to Glyn about Klein. smh

Classic Paul. Starts out saying “us” ends up just talking about John. “The best bit of us always has been, and always will be, is when we’re backs against the wall and we’ve been rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. And he knows it’s a take on the dub. And he does it great.” It’s okay, Paul. We all know you like to get him up against a wall. No but seriously, Paul is not okay about John.

Takes every opportunity to flirt, doesn’t he?

“I can’t wait to work here, you know . . . I mean, here in our life, it’s like home.” It’s the gentleness, yeah. But it’s the focus, too. Most people (I know I would) would be so done with him and his anxiety spirals and his neuroses and over-thinking on and on and on by this point. John probably is, but he shows no sign of that fatigue at all. He is zeroed in on working him through this. He’s done it a million times before, and he’s ready to do it as many more times as Paul needs. Ugh, they make me into such a sap!

“Yeah, well that’s why I’m talking to John, not you.” If Paul can talk like that to George Martin, one of the most respected men in his life, when he’s in the middle of a thing with John, imagine how he must’ve bullied other people that tried to worm their way in.

That smile he gives George though! That’s how he got away with all his shit, isn’t it? So fucking cute.

“I agree with you, I think it’s disappointing, but all right, we only got to seven. Let’s do seven.” The tone of voice, man. So. Fucking. Gentle. No wonder Paul can't stand the projected "acerbic, tough Lennon" shit. If that was how someone treated you and took care of you? And then everyone acts like that part of them just didn't exist, and emphasizes the parts of them that they themselves hated and actively worked against? Yeah I'd be pretty pissed too.

Glyn reassuring Paul that there’s no reason they can’t come back and do a TV show later. Yeah, fifty years later.

John’s eyes constantly flicking back to Paul as George is talking . . .

George really does take so much better care of himself than the other three at this time. Pictured here, silently begging viewers like you to chip in just ninety-eight cents toward his freedom.

I actually think, though, that if Ringo had said he didn’t want to go on the roof either at that moment, that they wouldn’t have done it. I think they look to him for common sense in their decision-making, and Ringo saying he didn’t want to do it really might’ve broken the whole thing.

George’s reaction to Ringo voting for the roof VS John. It’s giving tragic heroine VS villain origin story

Honestly heartbroken at the “I love you, blue”. How many times did John just straight up say those words to Paul only for Paul to be completely unresponsive? That genuinely hurt to watch.

The tiny little looks they give each other. “Okay. We got this.”

“Fuck all that. I’m just gonna do me for a bit.” Good for you, baby.

“I had a good dream last night, you’re black or you’re white, you want equal rights.” I know some people say it’s hypocritical or preachy or whatever, but I ADORE this John. Look how fucking happy he’s making Billy right now and then talk to me about how John’s political side is meaningless. I think it’s beautiful.

I think it’s actually too embarrassing for them at this point to sing Two of Us without being insane.

“We’re all sleeping at Georgie’s tonight. Get in the mood.” Oh how I wish they actually had. I mean, maybe they did. Someone write the fic!

Oh, the “who knows, Yoko,” moment. It’s so embarrassing. The fact that there was just no response whatsoever. Yeesh.

So many nerves when I saw the camera zooming into that circled date with “Rooftop Concert” written on it. What is wrong with me?

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back #only the rooftop concert left guys!#this was so fun thank you all so much for supporting my obsession and melodrama #all the comments in the tags that I don't respond to because they're tags I just want you to know I appreciated all of them #You all have made some excellent points #And I want to make a post of the tags after this I think #Thank you thank you everyone

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bunnywabigheart · 4 months

Note

HASAN NSFW HEADCANNON PLS ANYTHING WORKS!!

ask and you SHALL receive

I’ve been a longtime hasanabi fan (established in 2021 🫡) and I’ve heard WAYYY too much into about this man’s sex life you’ve picked the right person lol

NSFW HASANABI HCS!!! ��︎₊ ⊹

- you’ve known Hasan since 2020 but you two only started OFFICIALLY AND PUBLICLY dating in like march/april/may 2023

- and if you had KNOWN the dick would be THAT GOOD you DEFINITELY would’ve confessed ur feelings earlier

- you’ll be seeing sex through a WHOLE NEW LENSE

- from dating for maybe like three weeks you already know what makes Hasan “break”

- anytime yall are out with friends? teasing. IRL stream he can’t end abruptly just to fuck you? teasing. halloween? forget it you might as well just wear a bikini because we all know that costumes being ripped APART

- your lowkey obsessed with his hands oh mannn

- and bestie…if ur into cosplay better start running (I remember one time he might’ve said something abt being like addicted to roleplay??? BUT DON’T QUOTE ME ON IT)

- he is going to want to fuck u IN cosplay

- literally thinks you’re the most beautiful thing ever to exist

- tbh you blow all his ex’s AWAYYY (am I projecting…? okay fine I am a little bit lol)

- but fr you really do he looks at you like you created the universe

- and I’m not saying you’ll be “addicted” to his dick bc “addicted” is a strong word but idk

- during his streams you’ll be bursting in and being like “heyyy whatcha doing?”

- trying to watch and engage in whatever he’s watching, trying your best to tease him without getting a TOS violation or banned, etc., etc.

- him trying to shoo you away with a stunlock but then coming to see you during a “pee break”

- y’all spend at least ten minutes going at it

- chat going like “bro is taking a long ass piss 💀”

- comes back sweaty af, hair messy…yeah we all know what happened buddy you can’t fool us

A/N: I’m so sorry I couldn’t get more requests out I’ve been so busy with school and shit and haven’t been on tumblr or even watching many of Hasan’s streams lately :’( but here’s my present to u ily all see you soon!

xoxo,

bunny!

#hasanabi #twitch streamer fanfic #hasan piker x reader #hasan x reader #hasanabi x reader #fanfic

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 2 months

Note

NGL I’m disappointed that the scene between Husk and Angel in Episode 6 was just Husk yelling and indirectly shaming Angel Dust for relapsing. Out of all the characters who can relate and empathize with Angel on addiction, it’s him. They could have had a genuine heart to heart conversation about relapsing and addiction where Husk allow himself to be vulnerable with Angel, recounting all the memories where his addiction ruined his life. At the Husk tell Angel while relapsing is normal, it isn’t healthy, he needs to start finding alternatives so he doesn’t resort to drugs first, and if he need someone to talk to, he is alway here for him as he doesn’t want Angel to become just like him.

His dialogue sounded like it came from a character who is ignorant about addiction, like Charlie or Vicky, not Husk. Husk would never say, ”Look, you want to fuck up all your progress? Be my guest! I just thought you were better than this.” Because he would know from being an alcoholic, how terrible and invaliding those words are.

YES! I am very upset about this as well. While it certainly isn’t the most aggressive reprimand for relapsing I’ve seen it definitely wasn’t great either. I think a “Are you really sure you want to be doing that?” would’ve been better or even just Husk giving him a stern look.

[Brief intermission of me opening up the episode again for review]

Okay. I have words.

So. The way Husk says the line you mentioned to Angel, I can see where he’s coming from, but considering the fact Angel just complained about having a genuinely dangerous day at work, I think Husk giving a look like I mentioned would be the best course of action. That or like “Just try not to.” Now real quick as someone thats struggled with addiction, words like that really don’t/didn’t have much of an impact on me but—as cheesy as it is—the thought counts. I suppose I can understand maybe Husk said that because he might’ve been projecting or something?? I don’t know really, but it just like. Angel doesn’t seem too bothered by it but you can tell Husk’s words don’t exactly help much.

I think your idea of a heart to heart would’ve been really great actually. A scene of Husk pulling Angel aside for a talk would give some reason as to why Angel starts behaving so randomly nice in the rest of the episode. I wouldn’t mind Husk being a little aggressive about it as long as it didn’t end with him shaming Angel for it. Like maybe he gets a bit heated and then apologises and they talk things out civilly.

Im also a bit confused on the direction of the relapsing in question because we can see that Husk is clearly against Angel doing drugs, but with shots he doesn’t seem to care at all and even downs two at the same time himself so I guess maybe that can be attributed to Husk not seeing alcohol as an issue, but again I dunno. It’s really strange how they portray everything in this episode.

End of the line, this is more of Vivzie being confused about her own story it seems.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #angel dust hazbin #angel hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husk hazbin hotel #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #huskerdust #do I tag this huskerdust??? this isnt a ship post but I mean its the two of them so I guess #raimble

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hauntedcollection · 5 months

Text

WARNING: CONTAINS IMPLIED SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/IDEATION. DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

[Life is always better with you in it. I promise it’ll get better.]

Summary:

You and Simon had a good progress on your relationship… until he decided to break up and ghost you. Now he’s returned hoping to reconcile.

I might’ve been crying the entire time writing the dialogue… needless to say my eyes were puffy the following day…

Hot showers always seemed to be the best way to melt the day’s struggles away. Especially with being under stress from work, struggling to get a restful night’s sleep, and still recovering from the abrupt breakup with your boyfriend. He really lived up to his callsign because after his brief speech of ending the relationship, Simon “Ghost” Riley had simply vanished from your life. Granted, the two of you were taking things extremely slow. From when you met him, you sensed he’s lived a life that wasn’t kind at all. Being so patient with him had rewarded you with learning a new layer of Simon’s personality and little life details. But you persevered with him because you saw his worth in your future. Well… at least you did.

Shutting off the water and drying yourself off with a towel before dressing yourself in sweats and a jumper to contain the warmth of the shower you absorbed, you stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The stark contrast of the cold floor against you feet had you rushing to the bedroom, but before you could enter you felt a slight draft. You paused in your steps and listened to the quiet night. Did you leave the window open? You knew it was opened earlier to not keep in the scent of the meal you cooked. Heading to the living room to slide it shut and hurry to kick on the heat, you missed the dark figure sitting in the corner of the room hidden by the shadows.

“You took a while to finish up.” The rumbling voice that sent pleasant butterflies through you only caused terror to strike through your chest.

“Oh, for fucks sake!… Simon?… are you trying to give me a heart attack?… wait… what are you doing here? How’d you get in?!” still feeling your heart trying to calm itself after a fright, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling of seeing Simon again even if he did break your heart and ghosted you.

“… went on an op… I did quite a bit of thinking… I missed you…” his words only struck annoyance in you,

“… right… I totally believe you. Listen, I’m not up for it to go back and forth with you… just… just leave me alone.” You couldn’t believe that after this man had left you for weeks, basically months, and now returned just because ‘he missed you’.

“Oh, come now Lovie. Let’s talk for a bit now.” Despite Simon dressed in his civvies, he still fashions himself as a shadow. His stature rising from the chair and slowly approaching you, reaching a hand to caress your cheek, “please let me explain.”

“No Simon… did you seriously think I’d welcome you back with open arms after you ended things, disappeared to fuck knows where, and popped right back expecting me to go along with you?… Simon, it really hurt… and I can’t let you in again…” gently maneuvering his hand away from your face only gave him the opportunity to grab your arm,

“Then explain to me all those calls. All those messages and voicemails you left me. Begging for an explanation. Pleading for me to reconsider… I thought you cared… or is it that you’ve become so ‘cold-hearted’ and had someone else?” Simon’s tone had a hint of anger and betrayal, but you couldn’t help but feel blinding heat for what he insinuated.

“You don’t get to pin this on me, Simon… I did care for you… but just out of the blue ending things… and not even explaining why… if anything, you are the reason why I’m so ‘cold-hearted’ because it felt like I died… you think I had time or energy to put myself out like that? Do you really think of me so low? No, I was being delusional the whole time hoping it was a nightmare…” at the sound of your true annoyance and being cross at him, Simon’s eyes widened just a fraction. His mind scrambling to try remedy the situation not only from hearing how upset you are but also hearing how your voice began to waver.

“Listen… darling… I messed up. I know I did. Even now I’m messing up… I’m sorry… I’m sorry for ending things how I did… I just… I wanted you to have a reason to hate me… to be with someone else… someone better.” Simon had taken to rub the wrist he had in his grasp, smoothing over your skin with the rough pad of his thumb, “… I was only trying to protect you from me… I really care for you…” his remorseful admission had brought out the frustration you thought you buried.

“No… no Simon… that’s not protecting me at all… I… I couldn’t eat… I couldn’t sleep. I still can’t… do you know how much I’ve gone mad thinking of any possible thing that I could’ve done for you to leave me?” The heat you felt earlier had now travelled to your face, concentrating on your cheeks and in your eyes, distorting your vision of Simon’s face staring at you intensely. You could only swallow a lump before continuing, “… I’ve always told myself it was stupid for people to give up on life when a partner leaves… but I was so close to ending it, Simon… I was so convinced that no one would ever love me…” despite the tears escaping and your voice warbling, you still look at Simon. Watching his reaction, his realization of what transpired in his absence, what could’ve happened. Simon’s stomach twisting in the familiar way when a mission takes an unexpected turn. Taking both of his hands to caress your face, attempting to wipe away the continuous flow of tears.

“Lovie… no, Lovie, no… don’t say that. Don’t say such things… I’d never let that happen… you know I wouldn’t let you hurt yourself… I’m so sorry, Lovie… I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, I really am…” Simon’s internal panic has caused his heart to drop, “ I can’t imagine my life without you, Lovie… please, please Love… give me another chance. It won’t happen again. I promise.” Now your admission and reflection of what you’ve experienced had caused quiet sobs and hiccups to interrupt your breathing.

“… but it’s true!… I seriously thought I did something wrong!… or that something was wrong with me!… I was so alone!… I can’t- I can’t do this… I can’t trust you again!…” Simon releases your face in favor of wrapping his arms around you, to bring you in to him in an effort to hold you closer to his heart. Listening to the hurt in your voice that he caused. Simon rubbed his hands up and down your back, rocking the both of you back and forth, all the while listening to the muffled sounds of you being in pain.

“I’m so sorry, darling… I’m so so sorry.” He pulls away just enough to once again try to wipe away the tears from your warm cheeks, pressing kisses from your forehead across your eyes and all over your cheeks in an effort to stop the tears, “Please… please, you have to believe me. I love you with everything I am. I always have… Lovie, please don’t leave me…” Simon once again brought you into his embrace, holding onto you tightly as if you’ll break into pieces.

“… I can’t… I can’t… I can’t… because what if it happens again?…it hurt… I don’t wanna be hurt again…”

“Lovie, please don’t cry anymore… I won’t ever let you hurt again. I’ll take care of you. We promised we’d marry one day… don’t let this break us apart… I don’t want to live without you.” His words felt so sincere, the way he held you was so desperate. Seeing you being this hurt over him was another type of pain he was not familiar with. “I’m willing to do anything for you… all I ask is your forgiveness. Please Love… forgive me…”

“… yeah… that was what we promised… but you went ahead and left me anyways… I was the one abandoned, wondering what went wrong… I want to believe you… I really do… but I’d be a fool to trust you again…” eyes now red and puffy, yet still producing a steady stream of tears for Simon to continue wiping away.

“Darling… I understand… I know why you can’t believe me right now… but please… let me make it up to you…” with Simon now fully cradling you face in his hands, staring into you with a determination and resolve, “I’ll treat you better… I’ll treat you like royalty, like the most precious gem in the world… I’ll buy whatever you want, buy the most expensive jewelry… please, give me another chance, Love… call me ‘your Simon’ again…”

“… I don’t want to be treated like royalty… I don’t want the most expensive jewelry… all I wanted was you… that’s all I was happy with… I was perfectly happy knowing I had you…” those words truly broke Simon within. Knowing that he had ruined what was the best thing in his life. All because of his cowardice, he had caused pain to someone he loved. Listening to you cry because of him, because of what he’d done, he was willing to do anything to make you happy.

“Alright darling… I’ll give you what you want… you’re all I ever needed, so this is breaking me… if you won’t give me a chance as your lover… can I at least stay in your life as a friend?… I want you to be happy… and even if it means without me… I’ll do it.” Simon now grasped both of your hands and held it close to his heart, you could feel the strong beat of his heart within his chest. And as you looked at him through your wet lashes, you could see he was being sincere. That he meant what he said. That he was truthful in promising to do better, and that even if you didn’t want him in your life anymore that he would respect it. As much as you were trying to send him off, reject his appeals… you couldn’t help but feel hopeful for another try.

“… Simon… Simon… I forgive you… please, don’t leave me… I forgive you… but please don’t hurt me again… I won’t survive it… it hurt so much… so please don’t leave me again… if you don’t love me, just tell me… but don’t abandon me like that again…” you wrapped your arms around Simon’s neck, burying your face into the crook of it and tightening your hold on him. The sobs came once more, but as you felt Simon’s arms slide against you for an embrace, you felt a sense of calm.

“Shh… alright darling… shh… I won’t abandon you… never again, Lovie… I’m so sorry… I swear it won’t happen again… I love you so much…” Simon resumes rocking you back and forth while pulling away between words to press kisses over your face, “From now on, nothing will separate us… I’ll always be with you… I promise to keep you happy forever…” squeezing you tightly against him, Simon couldn’t help but to breathe in your scent. He heard your cries subsiding and all that remained were the sounds of your sniffles,

“… this better not happen again… I seriously couldn’t take it…” even pressed against him with your words muffled, Simon heard it loud and clear.

“It won’t happen again, darling… I love you… I love you so much… as long as I’m breathing, you’ll never cry over me… do you understand?” Simon pulls away to hold your face gentle within his hands, the face he dreams of and longs to kiss when he’s away, “My Lovie, may I kiss you?” And only when he asks that do you attempt to wipe away the mess of your face, carefully dabbing at your eyes and wiping away any nose drippings with your sleeve. Yet it’s still a sight that Simon loves, he hates that he’s made you cry like this but it’s brought a warmth to know that someone loves him this dearly.

“… I’m all covered in tears and snot, Simon…” your face warms as you feel the embarrassment of breaking down in front of Simon like that, yet you glance at him through your wet lashes only to find that he was staring the entire time. You felt his warm hands caress your face and noticed him bringing your foreheads together whilst letting out a quiet chuckle,

“Regardless, my love, you are still so beautiful and precious to me.” Not a single moment was wasted before you were pulled into a passionate kiss.

#tw sui implied #tw sui ideation #gender neutral reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod mwii x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon riley angst

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goldsainz · 2 years

Text

masterlist.

a/n: this was going to be longer, but i just couldn’t get myself to do such a long piece. honestly, there’s not a lot of harry mentioning, but it’s still a fun piece, i’m just giving you crumbs. this isn’t the peak of my writing, especially since this is my first time doing second person POV, tumblr is making me try things id never thought i’d do!!

word count: 3,4k

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Y/N Y/LN Keeps A Straight Face While Eating Spicy Wings | Hot Ones

The interview begins with you sat across Sean Evans, the line up of sauces making your heart beat a little faster, not sure how much spice you were actually able to bear.

“Hey everybody! Today we are joined by Y/N Y/L/N, who you may recognise from too many movies and shows to name! She is an Oscar nominated actress, Emmy Award Winner, and an overall talented person. Her most recent project, Don’t Worry Darling which comes out this September 23rd, is coming in no time, so don’t forget to buy your tickets.” Sean introduces you, a stifled laugh leaving your lips. “Y/N welcome to the show!”

“Thank you very much! I’m quite nervous right now, my manager said this could get spicy really quick, but I’m not sure what she meant by that.” You grinned, that signature, award winning smile plastered on your face.

“That depends on how good you are with spicy food, do you have a high tolerance?”

“I think so? It’s not something that scares me while ordering food, but I’m not actively seeking it. But seeing all of these hot sauces is making me sweat just a tad bit much right now.”

━━━━━━

“I’ve actually watched a couple of the Hot Ones interviews.” You confess, making Sean look impressed that you watched that sort of content.

“Now I have to know more, this is one of the best compliments I’ll get in a lifetime.” He then mutters something you didn’t quite get, but it seemed like a praise towards you.

“Well yeah, I sometimes scroll through Youtube, see it pop up, and someone I like is on the cover and I just click it. I used to go ‘Wow, thank god my manager would never make me go on that, don’t think my spice tolerance is that good’, but now I’m here so it seems like the tables have turned for me!”

“I guess I don’t have to tell you how this works, or which sauces go first then.”

“I’ve taken some work off your hands!” You say with a laugh.

“Let’s take a bite then, shall we?” Sean asks, while you nod your head and grab the first wing.

You take a bite, realising it wasn’t all that bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all, there was a hint of spice but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Okay so how are we feeling with wing number one?”

“Pretty good, my confidence level is on a solid 8 for now.” You just knew you would take your words back a couple of wings later, but maybe if you lied to yourself a little it wouldn’t be that hard.

“You said in an interview a while back that you enjoyed cooking, especially spicy food because it was funny seeing how some people crumbled when eating certain dishes. Who would you say had the funniest reaction?”

“I once cooked for Taylor Swift, she’s a good friend of mine who I’ve learnt doesn’t take spice as well as she says she does.” You admit, and if anyone wasn’t watching the interview and just hearing it, they’d almost be able to hear your smile. “I made a dish, I might’ve messed up the amount of chillies I put on it, and I didn’t realise it was that bad until she had tears in her eyes, I felt horrible about it!”

“Did she tell you it was too spicy?”

“She was trying to be nice about it, she was full on coughing, and her words were of comfort because she didn’t want me to feel bad!” Everyone in the room lets out a laugh at your words, nobody was really surprised to know that Taylor was just that sweet.

“Would you say Taylor is one of your closest friends in the industry?” It was a tough question, because being a close friend was such a different question for someone like you, someone who did what you did.

“She’s been through a lot with me, I’ve been through a lot with her. Sometimes we don’t talk as often as we would like, but when we do it’s like we had talked everyday.”

“You met all the way back in 2014, right?”

“At the Met Gala, it was my first one, it wasn’t hers though. We sat at the same table, we talked all throughout it, and the rest is history.”

━━━━━━

The second wing had proven to still be bearable. You weren’t quite sure when you would get hit with all the heat, but you were enjoying your time so far.

“Don’t Worry Darling was a process that took a while to make because of Covid. In fact, filming had to stop because a crew member tested positive, making you have to go through a quarantining process. What was it like filming with such heavy health regulations?”

“It was hard, nothing was really like it used to be. Filming was still fun, but there were many things I hadn’t actually taken notice of until Covid started.” Your brows furrowed, a crease on your forehead present. “Kissing scenes were different, probably the ones we had to be the most precise while filming. They had us take a disinfectant mouthwash, which was very minty, at least it ensured your partner wouldn’t have bad breath!” You joked, lightening the mood of a heavy question.

“Was there a limit for the amount of times you could film such scenes?”

“For sure, we tried to make them work each time, there really wasn’t a lot of goofing around because it was a health risk just to film them. You couldn’t just improvise a kiss, you would have to consult with your partner if they were comfortable with the possibility of you doing that. Harry was always very respectful of boundaries, he never tried to do anything that crossed a line or could just be awkward in general.”

“Would you say that there had to be a lot of trust involved, more than the usual amount?”

“Of course! Before Covid if you didn’t really like your partner you’d just film the scenes, talk with your intimacy coordinator about what crossed a boundary, what didn’t, and then you would just go on with your day. Now, you need to build a certain trust, like the one you’d have with a friend just to make the experience of filming a good one, and not have to shoot a million times because you can’t get the right look of love, or whatever you’re supposed to convey.”

“That seems like a very exhausting process.” Sean says, and you just nod at his words, knowing that it was exhausting but also made you get to know the love of your life a lot sooner in the process.

“I’m eyeing the third wing very hard right now, I didn’t eat a lot today so this is kind of my lunch.”

“Let’s dig in then!” And that you do.

“Oh! This one hits you instantly, I wasn't really expecting it.” He laughs at your comment, but mostly at the straight face you had while eating your wing.

“It just keeps on hitting from now on!” You just throw your head back with a laugh, a groan slipping from your lips.

━━━━━━

“I’m gonna ask you a question, is that okay?” Many interviewers didn’t take it very well when you asked them questions, they felt as though you were taking up their job. So you had learnt it was better to ask and be turned down, than asking right away and having someone be mad backstage.

“Go for it!”

“If at some point I drink some milk, is that a sign of me starting to give up?”

“No, definitely not. Most people drink milk to cleanse their palate, we are not gonna shame you on how well you are doing based on if you drink something or not.”

“Alright, I’m not gonna drink anything yet, but good to know.”

“If you don’t drink anything, then I won’t either.” He decided, making you laugh in response, you probably hadn’t laughed so much in an interview in a very long time.

“You are a very private person, do you find it difficult to manage your public life, your work life, from the private one?”

“I’ve gotten better over the years, when I didn’t have the exposure I had now, I didn’t worry about paparazzi catching moments I wanted to keep for myself.”

“Are relationships the hardest part?” There it was, the relationship question, at least it wasn’t a speculation over who it was. That much was appreciated.

“Maybe? If your partner is famous then it probably is, you don’t only have to balance the image you give for yourself but theirs too. If they’re not famous, then people will start spreading rumours over who they are, what they are doing with someone famous, it can become overwhelming very quickly.”

“But you don’t hide your relationships like some do, you just keep them private, is that correct?”

“Yeah, being someone’s secret isn’t nice. I keep the first months private just because you’re still getting to know each other, and having those moments ruined by the public is not what I want.”

“I’m sure that what you do want is this fourth wing!” You were grateful for Sean’s ability to make his guests comfortable, to make the awkwardness not so overbearing.

“I sure do, Sean!”

You both take a bite, the flavours are good and you remain with a straight face, even when the heat does creep up.

“I’m loving the composure you’re maintaining.” You giggle at his words, making him laugh along with you.

“I’ve done years of acting, some things I’ve taken with me.”

━━━━━━

“Are your eyes glossy?” Sean asks, his voice holding a shocked tone.

“What? No!” You respond, your hand over your mouth as you still had food in it.

“Just wondering if the heat is catching up to you, that’s all.”

“I promise, the fifth wing has not gotten to me.”

“You are known to never take things personally, even when asked rude questions you are never rude in return. Does it get tiring to maintain your composure at times?”

“There definitely have been times in which I want to snap at someone, mainly because they’re being rude, but I feel that if you don’t give them the attention they seek they won’t continue their behavior. I mean, most of them catch the hint, some of them are persistent though.”

“That’s a very interesting thought process, is there someone who taught you to do that?”

“Nope! That’s just been me learning over the years, the industry will make you learn things you never thought you’d need to know.” You say with a sigh, looking at the backstage of the set, not at anyone in particular.

“Talking of the industry, what has been the best piece of advice a celebrity has given you?”

“Do not search your name on social media unless your manager says so.” You confess, the tightness in your voice evident.

“Wow, that’s powerful, can you tell us why?”

“Because people are mean, and I know that they say with fame comes hate, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I sometimes have the urge to go on twitter, see what people are saying about me at the moment, yet you never know what you might see.”

“I can understand that. I can definitely say I’ve looked up my own name, not much has come up as I’d imagine it would for someone with your influence.” Sean praises, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“You never know what to expect from the internet. After I did the reading thirst tweets interview, I for sure won’t look up my name.” An uncomfortable laugh is let out, and he just joins in.

━━━━━━

You were just two wings away from finishing the interview. Your cheeks were definitely a redder than they were at the start, sweat was evident on the top of your brows, but you were still taking the challenge like a champ. Or as best as you could, the heat definitely wasn’t really helping with your perception of things.

“You said your confidence level was 8 at the start, what are you at now?”

“Maybe five, five’s good, I feel like sipping some milk but I can still do this.” You say with slight raspiness to your voice.

“You always say fashion is your passion, and with your collaborations over the years with different brands, what was your overall favourite outfit in ‘Don’t Worry Darling’?”

“Tough question, there are many answers, but I’d have to say the fuchsia dress was one of my favourites. It was so beautiful I wanted to take it home with me, but I couldn’t!”

“They wouldn’t let Y/N Y/L/N take a dress?”

“No, they didn’t! Genuinely can’t be mad though, they take time to make, so I completely understand not wanting to ruin a piece someone could’ve spent weeks working on.”

“Did you ever take anything from the set at any point?”

“You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you?” You tease him, which just makes him laugh while shaking his head, “I did take something, yes. Can’t really confess what, but there is one person who knows what it was, and it’s just because they were my partner in crime.”

“So that secret is going right to the grave of two people?”

“That it will!”

“You only have two wings left, so let’s make it one!”

“This sounds so rude, but I cannot wait for this to be over. I’m loving everything about this, but the spice? Fuck no.”

You grab your wing and make a cheering motion, and just take a bite out of it. Maybe you should’ve gone a bit softer on the bite, because the heat kicks you instantly. It feels like a volcano eruption, which makes you feel uneasy about how the last wing will truly be.

“It’s kicking in, isn’t it?” Sean asks

“It is! I don’t know why you’re eating this so willingly, you do this every other day, mate! You don’t have to prove anything to me, I promise.”

“I know I don’t, this is just my job at this point, eating hot wings for a living!”

“You could not pay me enough to do that. Mad respect, truly, if anyone needs a pat in the back, it’s you!” Your voice is nasally, and you’re sure you have a somewhat runny nose by now.

“You seem like a very sweet person, being respectful to those around you is something not all celebrities engage in. Is that something that can become hard to leave behind when filming scenes for characters which aren’t nice at all?”

“It can get hard sometimes. I don’t particularly engage with the whole ‘Method Acting’ thing many people seem to do, I find it to be unnecessary, and it doesn’t look like a fun experience.” You were trying your hardest to not start any drama with your words, but you could just see the headlines twisting your words.

“So you’d say that filming should be fun?”

“Maybe not so much the filming, but the portraying a character. I’ve seen it firsthand when an actor loses who they are because they went too far with the creative process of being a character. We’re all free to do what we please, but if it harms you or others? I draw the line there.”

“Has there ever been a moment where being a character took a toll on you?��

“There have been quite a few, it’s not the nicest experience to be honest. I couldn’t go to work because I just couldn’t bear being called my character’s name. I obviously got over it fairly quickly because there’s not much time for tears when you’re more than halfway into a project.” You gulp, your eyes become glossy all of a sudden, evidently not because of any wing. “This got very emotional quickly, don’t know how that happened.”

This time when you looked backstage, there was a certain someone with his thumbs up looking right at you. A small smile, a fond one, formed right on your lips.

“It’s okay, heavy questions have heavy answers.”

“Something that’s looking quite heavy is this last wing.” Sean laughs at your comment, making the small smile overtake your face in a split second.

“Now you don’t have to do this, but I sometimes add more sauce on the last wing to end it with a bang. Are you willing to join in?”

“I’m gonna regret saying yes, but why not, can’t let you do it alone now.”

The moment you say that he opens the bottle in front of him, and pours some sauce on it. You eye your bottle skeptically, the overwhelming smell of it hitting your nostrils in a split second. You don’t drench your wing like he does, just place a drop of it.

“Cheers!”

You are more cautious with your bite this time, you don't jump in for such a big bite. You're sure it looks like a bird is biting the wing, but you're not about to risk your tongue being burnt off.

Your face is still stoic, and honestly, youre just doing it so your pride is not as hurt when your friends and family watch the interview. You’re sure Harry will be the first one to tease you about something, yet you can’t wait to hear everything he says, especially since he’s getting every single bit of it.

“Your face is not saying much, so how are you?” You can only respond with a cough, which makes Sean laugh.

“Not good over here! I think I’m gonna have to cave in, and drink some milk.” You’re not quite sure why your voice is so hoarse, but it’s a little funny to hear.

“Go for it!”

You gulp the glass of coconut milk, grateful that it’s not cow milk. You never liked the taste of cow milk by itself.

“Fuck’s sake, that’s lovely, best feeling ever!” You breathe out through a quiet laugh, the slightest drops of milk dripping down your face. Someone off-camera gives you a couple of tissues, and you thank them.

“Everything better now?”

“I’m not sure!”

“The good thing is this is over!”

“No more wings?”

“No more wings.”

“I genuinely can’t believe I made it through this, especially after the 8th wing.” You say with a shudder, remembering how it burnt

━━━━━━

“We are finally done!” Sean says, making you know that there’s practically only the credits left.

“Woo!” You cheer, pumping your fists in their air.

“Y/N Y/L/N you’ve conquered this challenge! Anything left you have to say?”

“But your tickets for ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ because it’s a great movie, and I’m so excited for all of you to see it!”

“That’s it for today, thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having me.” You say, blowing some kisses to the cameras around you.

The interview ends with a couple of claps, and one of the biggest smiles on your face as you try to hide your face to dissolve the attention from you.

━━━━━━

Comments 31K

username1: she’s my fave celebrity, if anyone asks why, i’m sending them this video

👍 76K

username2: she kept looking at someone behind the scenes, i have the biggest feeling it’s harry

👍 24K

82 REPLIES

username3: SAME

username2: especially since they’ve both been spotted a lot together recently…

username4: props to her for being able to conceal her emotions so well, i could never tbh

👍 19K

username5: the way sean didn’t even have to introduce her as much because she’s such a big household name

👍 59K

username6: Her outfit looks so good, Rebecca is definitely one of the best stylist’s she’s ever had

👍 16K

37 REPLIES

username7: literally so true

username8: top 3 hot ones interviews for sure

👍 9K

username9: whoever she was looking at, is lucky fr, she looked at them like they were holding the entire world in their hands

👍 12K

username10: her and taylor’s friendship is everything to me rn

👍 5K

2K notes · View notes

kurimiaki · 9 months

Text

Jamil Viper — Pansy, chestnut, & hydrangea

The flower prompt list is courtesy of ddarker-dreams!

Content warning: dark content, implied forced physical affection

Pansy - What was it that ultimately sparked their obsession?

He first pays you mind when you’re partnered in a group project together. Some fickle, ambiguously posed essay prompt assigned by Trein. Jamil, as expected, pulls his weight. So as not to drag him down, you follow suit. It’s no question that he’s regarded as something of a jack-of-all-trades by his peers, a badge of versatility and all-encompassing talent he’s forcibly brandished with— so, under the assumption that this is true, you work hard not to impede your respective success, his above all.

But this particular assignment is to be completed in pairs of three. Jamil’s other work partner does not show for library meetings, does not reply to your texts, calls, or the inquiries you pose outside of their dorm. Jamil isn’t unaccustomed to the flaky vagrants that litter NRC’s student body, but this ordeal irks him regardless; this paper determines the bulk of his cumulative grade for the quarter, and he’s not too keen on being bogged down past the handicaps he’s already posed upon his academic success for Kalim’s sake.

Jamil’s grateful for you, though.

Trein assigned the lofty project on a particularly tedious week for Jamil, who had been wrought with exhaustion and chronic annoyance, with notably prominent eye bags, patience dwindling from sturdy kevlar rope to delicate snapping silk threads. He’d scarcely caught sleep, with only a few, fleeting hours to spare for himself (which were now dedicated to his essay portion). Kalim developed a daily taste for an incredibly complicated dish. Floyd misplaced Jamil’s practice sneakers atop the rafters for kicks. He forgot to clarify that his exam flash-cards were not for his dormleader to keep. He sliced his ring finger while dicing an onion. One night, he only got two hours of sleep, and woke up feeling like he’d been shot, waterboarded, and then shot again during the night.

He’d been especially cursed that week, and you’d done your share throughly and without complaint. Compromising and avid in your participation, you were almost eager to please him. You showed up early to meetings, and went insofar as to finish his study prep (even if it wasn’t to his standards) for another class when Jamil, quite startlingly, fell asleep atop of his reference materials, and did not wake for another half-hour. It wouldn’t usually have, but the considerate act genuinely warmed him. It threw him a bit off kilter. He even woke up relieved to find the finished paper, the smiley-faced sticky note that wished him ‘good luck!’ on his upcoming exam. It makes Jamil simultaneously unnerved and flustered, a combination that has his stomach turn uncomfortably. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it.

It was a small kindness, and might’ve been what kindled his initial interest in you, but it’s a kindness must be repeated for Jamil to acknowledge his interest in you. Even if he understands that the warmth in his chest is his mind and body’s positive reciprocal reaction to the minute sweetness you show him, he will not fully accept that what he is feeling is romantic interest, feeling quite put-out with how little it took to evoke such vulnerable intrigue.

Methodically planned or not, if you repeatedly display a semblance of care for Jamil, and act on it— helping him with cooking, pitching in and offering your services when Kalim saddles him with a seemingly insurmountable task, waving at him in the halls, smiling when he enters the room, demonstrating a baseline interest in his company alone; he’s quickly ensnared. You just have to hack away at him first. Jamil wants to feel wanted.

Chestnut - Would this yandere care about their darling’s past romantic relationships? If not, then why is that?

Disregarding the stabbing feeling he gets in his chest when you casually bring up a past fling of yours (even if the individual was nothing more than a middle school puppy-crush), no, Jamil swears he is not bothered by your past romantic ventures. No, he did not bristle when you spoke their name, and his face did not twist up when you giggled through a funny anecdote of a past failed date. He tells you to drop it, should you inquire further into his subtle bursts of jealousy, even if you’re just harmlessly teasing him for it. He won’t entertain it.

But if you were able to, if you could peel back his ribs and peer into his heart, you could observe how awfully is squeezes when presented with the reality that of course, he’s not your first and only love. Jamil, despite his efforts at concealing it, is incredibly possessive of you, jealous beyond what can reasonably be accepted as healthy and normal. Jealously seizes him, and, unfortunately, is provoked by both your past and present relationships, be they romantic or platonic. That he could not be there from the very beginning to monopolize you in your entirety, is a very irrational regret of his, one he’s almost ashamed to feel. His jealousy spirals into something fanatical and uncontrollable, and he loathes to feel it.

Jamil will persistently try to ignore it, to snip the dangerous buds of envy at the root, but it’s like some everlasting weed that’s even managed to creep into his love life, never abating. Always growing back, and somehow stronger than before. For as long as your attention is left open to the world, to anyone other than himself, it’s a weed that will fester and encompass him.

Hydrangea - How would this yandere react if their darling gave them affection? What is their internal thought process like?

Ultimately, Jamil isn’t expecting much physical affection from you. It’s not something he really craved in a relationship, nor does he ever long for it; he always believed himself a true independent, disregarding the ludicrous notion that an individual could truly grow starved from a lack of skin-on-skin contact. Jamil steadily maintains this belief— until you take the initiative. He’s always been one to take the first steps, to maneuver your relationship along the path he’s set for it; but he failed to take into account the obvious possibility of your genuine romantic reciprocation. Jamil doesn’t fluster too severely when you first shyly take his hand, not keen on displaying a modicum of softness to the prying eyes of his peers, namely Kalim. To publicly and positively reciprocate to your touch in front of Scarabia’s housewarden, to Jamil’s ward, would open a floodgate of issues for him. The flimsy barrier he’d built to negate Kalim’s already-immovable waves of physical affection would all but collapse, and his harassment would increase tenfold.

PDA is something Jamil kindly asks you to refrain from. He won’t completely discourage you from touching him, merely asking that it be on his own terms: acts of kissing and hugging and hand-holding are as privatized as he can manage. Especially within Kalim’s general vicinity.

In private, however, he does all he can to positively reinforce your affectionate behavior, for as long as you will willingly give it. If his coldness and general lack of reciprocation on campus ever has you fear for your relationship, he’ll work hard to make up for it behind closed doors. He ploys you into accepting his advances— in the privacy only his dorm room provides, he’ll add, barring you from lounging about Scarabia’s main social hub, its atrium. Jamil has you lie with him on his bed, pressed to his chest, urging you to doze off with a few choice words if you’re not already weathered from your day. Any light, intentional brushes of your hand to his will prompt him to cup yours, to intertwine your fingers, perhaps gripping them with too much pressure. Your shy pecks to Jamil’s cheek after a study-session will imminently lead to his tongue down your throat, a rapid progression that very faintly comes off as concerning. As too much, almost needy; but at the very least, you won’t be able to claim that he’s not paying attention to you.

#yandere tw #my writing #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #i want to post.this is not as good as i wanted it 2be because he is not mean enough but i am also tired of looking at it! here!#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #jamil viper #yandere jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #yandere jamil x reader

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laylajeffany · 2 months

Note

hello, me again.

I finished Chaos for the Fly yesterday and I’m still recovering. It was absolutely incredible. I already know watching season 2 of Wednesday will be weird because I’ll be expecting to see all your amazing OCs.

In the sequel, are we going to see more of Wednesday exploring her mimic abilities?

Thank you again for writing such an incredible story!

Thank you so much :3 It is the first time I’ve managed to finish a million word plus story, and I’m so glad I posted this one, otherwise I would have probably stopped writing back in about September of last year and it would have been one of my many abandoned, epic-length WIPs in my Cloud. I’m pretty proud of this story. I learned so much about myself writing (and finishing) it; I’ll forever be grateful I spent a year pouring all of my free time into a silly little fanfic project for what I got out of it.

If you loved OC Dr. Holly Gallor, check out Lovely Thorns for the love story of her and Larissa. There’s an update to that one coming this week! I also have a prompted Emiliana one-shot that will be here coming in the next week as well.

SPOILERS and a TINY sneak peak for the Chaos sequel, Karma in Glorious Splendor, below the cut ;)

Spoilers: We will absolutely be exploring Wednesday’s Mimic abilities in the sequel. In fact, it’s a point of contention. Within the first 10k or so of Chapter 1 we see they’re not always as simple (or consequence-free) as simply copying someone else’s power as she might’ve thought and anticipated in the first installment. We’re going to dive into more of the Raven lore as well.

There will also be a more heavy focus on the ‘homespun magic.’ Writing parts of the Frump family history made me fall in love with the idea of witchcraft again - reclaiming what’s been appropriated and sold to a mass market and making it all about intentions and what has meaning to the user…it’s certainly gotten me more in touch with my own sense of spirituality over the last year and I’ve appreciated it. I intend on having at least the same amount of time with Morticia as I did in Chaos. She doesn’t always understand what Wednesday’s experiencing, but just like Wednesday learned about intentions - it’s what you make of something that can change the outcome.

I think just by the nature of how Wednesday is growing, the Wenclair pairing will absolutely be more of a focal point in the sequel. Enid was critical to her journey, but she had to learn a lot of skills and history from others to be on the ride at all. Moving forward, she gets to pick her own path a little bit more, and with roadblocks in every single direction - she will be turning to Enid for what to do about it, rather than so many of the adults around her.

There will still be heavy themes of Wednesday’s idea of justice differing from what the reality of living in a system and the real world. An era of reconstruction is that - it doesn’t happen overnight, and we’re going to have to see Wednesday mature to make it through the slow-moving wheel of bureaucracy (even in the Outcast world). That ‘gift of time’ that she received for her birthday at the end is as much a curse as it is a blessing.

Her relationship with Larissa Weems has also changed so much. It isn’t the driving force behind any of Wednesday’s motivations in the sequel, and it’s going to take her remembering what they went through to keep stability between them.

As for OCs, Josie/Dr. Zypher will for sure have more of a backseat role in Karma - but Emiliana is going to be going through it, in terms of her Raven abilities and other struggles, even by the first 30k of chapter one that I’ve written so far. I have no intention of creating any more aside from any who are needed for the Werewolf Council.

Speaking of, we’ll be seeing tremendous growth from Enid through Wednesday’s POV as she faces her future and makes peace with her past. So much so, that it might just be a point of angst and contention for the girls as it seems like she’s moving so much farther ahead of Wednesday, who feels traps by a myriad of forces against her will.

Does this sound enticing? I hope so ;) I’ve enjoyed getting back into it - I’ve got very strict rules about when I’m allowed to work on writing it and I’ve been following them very well as not to let this one take over my life.

SNEAK PEAK (1,300 words) Featuring Morticia, Wednesday in the ether - bumping into Goody Addams Morticia obviously sensed that Wednesday was stewing in thoughts that day as she suggested, “A detaching meditation, to help you focus more on the present and less up here.” She tapped her own head and Wednesday scowled but didn’t disagree. “The midsummer solstice is just a few days away – so I am grateful you are dwelling on things that require extensive thought. However, it is possible the earth isn’t quite balanced enough and ready for you to explore them so deeply without the shift in the cosmos that the season will bring.”

Not sure entirely how much she subscribed to that, Wednesday also recognized that it wasn’t safe to spend so much time in her head, and agreed to a unique meditation with her mother. Morticia tried not to look too eager as she brought Wednesday out to the back porch closest to her study; the evening sun still had plenty of time to bathe her in the brightness that her nature tried to defy.

Morticia tucked a black string of beads over Wednesday’s shoulders, and she lifted a sunflower charm at the middle to examine it. “Holly says that Larissa is like a Sunflower.”

That made her mother give a knowing smile. “Tall, radiant, and always looking towards the sun, the light. I suppose that’s an accurate simile. Sunflowers are an old symbol for our solstice, as you know – though the perennials here won’t be in bloom for us until late July. Still, as we recognize the light of the season, I believe the symbol is appropriate.” She tucked herself beside Wednesday, her hands in her lap, her shoulders back – posture always immaculate. Wednesday tried to mimic her, shaking her head as she even thought about that word. “You spoke a powerful piece during supper, darling. But I know that’s not all that is on your mind. Would you like to release it, before you attempt to clear it?”

Wednesday moved the sunflower around on the string of beads, refusing to let out the heave of a sigh that threatened her. She really didn’t want to discuss physical intimacy with her mother on the back porch of their family home on a warm night in June…or, really – ever, if she could avoid it. There had surely been a few necessary conversations that had been had after her traumatic visions that past year regarding the topic, but that was a little bit different. She knew that Morticia would do her best not to gross her out with personal anecdotes – she’d gotten so much better at figuring out how to talk to her daughter…

“No,” She finally decided, seeing just the faintest twinge of disappointment in her mother’s still-gentle, mostly understanding smile. “I’m grateful you recognize what I need. I’m simply not ready to vocalize it. But – if I want to enjoy the next few days and try not to give into melancholy after the inevitable loss of time with Enid, I do need to let these thoughts go.” She let out the breath, finally, squaring her shoulders a little more to match the Dove beside her. “Teach me how?”

Morticia reached into a prepared basket, pulling out a small bundle of wildflowers. She placed three, five-sided thimbleweed plants in front of her, explaining, “Thimbleweeds are long since said to ward off negative energy. You are going to follow your usual light seeking breath work. Just before you slip into formal meditation to enter the ether, you are going to pluck each petal, and release your thoughts as you do so – three times. After you achieve peace in the ether, bring me your petals. We will steep them overnight, and then pour that negative energy down the drain in the morning.”

Wednesday wanted to merely accept what she’d said – but her always looming desire to be ornery won out as she corrected, “Sure, but – thimbleweed plants don’t have petals, they’re technically sepals.”

At that, her mother let out a throaty laugh that ended with a half a groan and a kiss to the top of Wednesday’s head as she stood up, squeezing her shoulders in a hug. “Release yourself of the burden of overthinking, my darling girl.”

Agreeing, Wednesday began her usual sequence of deep breathing, her eyes closed, doing nothing but counting, holding in air and letting it go. It was nearly ten minutes before she was almost at the point of visualizing her light and entering the ether. With enough pluck, mentally and physically, she tugged each of the sepals off the thimbleweeds, letting them fall into her lap as she thought to herself: release the hesitation of physical intimacy, release the fear of Enid being alone, release the sensation of inadequacy.

Repeating it as directed, Wednesday disassembled the final plant before picturing a sunflower, searching out the sun, finding herself tumbling pleasantly into a field full of them.

She stood up, feeling small as she wove through rows, trying to discern meaning from being there – why the universe brought her to such a place alone –

Except as she turned a corner, Wednesday crossed her arms, recognizing she wasn’t alone.

“I didn’t anticipate running into you outside of Jericho, particularly, in the light end of the ether,” She spoke with a little bit more cockiness than probably necessary.

Goody Addams looked her up and down with a bit of the same attitude. “I might not have much concept of time here, but even I feel a pull when it is nearly a solstice in your realm.” She ran her fingers over a fuzzy stem. “You shall soon be welcoming back the darkening days after the longest time of sun.”

Giving a dumb nod, Wednesday stared hard, wanting to be combative. She hadn’t sensed Goody in Jericho after putting up her monument, and certainly hadn’t tried seeking her out. It was their first interaction since she’d released the remnants of Quinton’s evil into the nether. Taking her in, she noticed. “You still have the Beanie Baby,” She said with the faintest twitch of her lips up, as Caw the blackbird stuck out of Goody’s apron pocket.

Her ancestor lifted it out, holding it in both hands, like it was as precious and fragile as a newborn baby. “I confess, this seemingly innocuous tchotchke has become meaningful to me,” She said in a confession that Wednesday didn’t anticipate. “I have not been able to access a place like this in what I assume to be hundreds of years. Yet, since our last interaction, since you gave me this children’s toy of comfort – I have found myself able to once again visualize places that have been long cutoff from my former psyche.”

“I suppose that’s encouraging,” Wednesday chided. “I told you it was not as silly as you wanted to think it was. Being comforted by someone or something we love is a very powerful magic. I am sorry that opportunity was taken away from you.”

Goody lifted her shoulders, stroking the yellow-orange beak of the bird. “If I was allowed to give into light without hiding it in the dark, you would not be here, Wednesday Addams.”

“I guess that’s something I share with my mentor, then,” Wednesday muttered, thinking about Imogen and Josie for a moment. She shook her head. “I recognize the privileges I have. But that doesn’t mean my life is easy simply because I’m not at risk of being burned at a literal stake every time I leave the house. Believe me, there are plenty of modern problems we face that I have yet to find solutions for.”

Goody tucked Caw to her chest with one hand, the other resuming the journey of feeling the different sunflower stems. “Yet – that was not what troubled you to bring you here.” Wednesday glared, wondering how she knew that. “Your face may be blank, but I can read you easily. You are troubled by personal demons, not societal ones.”

#layla answers fic questions #chaos for the fly #sneak peak!#I'm so excited but I'm not allowed to work on this today it's against the rules lol #Seriously a big thanks to everyone who's been giving this story all the love it's entirely kind and I very much appreciate it #I'm trying to reach out more I'm just super Wednesday coded and that's not like me haha

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dojunie · 1 year

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MESSENGER; HRJ [PT 4: COFFEE VS TEA]

➥ PART 4 OF MESSENGER; a small smau about a stranger, a whole lot of animal pics, and a relationship you would never have expected to come from texting a random number written on a public bathroom mirror.

➥ WC: 1.7K

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a/n: first written bit! lets see if i like this formatting in an hour and if not pretend you dont see me changing shit around 💪

current tl: @matchahyuck @theboyz-jacob @hoeshi17 @neoteez01 @hibernatinghamster @luvvsnae @shwizhies @skynightgalaxy @ihrtnyu @kunvibing @liliansun @txpxwxk @is4b3ll3s @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @she-is-dreaming

THE LINE RINGS FOR ABOUT TWO ENTIRE SECONDS BEFORE EVERYTHING GOES VERY, VERY QUIET— And it’s only within that silence that you seem to realize that you might’ve just done something… weird.

Thoughtlessness was what had you pressing that call button (or maybe there was thought behind it; just the type that tired, sleep deprived, stupid people would have). Regret hits you like a brick when all your brain's neurons finally seem to reconnect. What the hell are you doing? You don’t know this guy! You don’t even know his name— not to mention that he doesn’t know yours! And somehow, before common sense caught up to you, you thought it was the logical next step to call him?

You’re stood in front of your desk with your headphones in your ears probably looking crazy as you stare at the screen, thoughts in sudden overdrive trying to figure out how to ‘Oops, butt dial!' your way out this— when it stops ringing.

Now connecting, Duck Boy.

“…Hello?”

Oh.

Your spine stiffens nearly upright at the sound of his voice. His... voice. Him. Duck Boy. Who once only existed in your mind as a selfie and a few bossy-yet-endearing texts, and now you’ve got a selfie, some texts, and a voice.

Christ, why is your mind spinning like you’ve just unearthed some sort of incredible clue? It’s not like there’s anything stopping you from just asking him to meet up or something since this stupid mystery game is really only being perpetuated by you— but still, you find yourself overanalyzing the single word, the surprisingly low drawl of his tone (his voice is much, much deeper than you thought it would be), even the clarity of his speech and diction.

However. Again—and you can’t even blame the exhaustion for this because you feel wide awake now— you do something weird.

Too busy marveling over how he sounds, you completely forget to respond.

“Mystery girl…?” Duck Boy says again, startling you. “If you’re doing this to keep me awake, I’ve got to say— still kind of falling asleep over here.”

“M’was— Headphones,” you blurt. A lie. Your headphones have been in your ears for about two hours now as you worked on your architecture project, but he did not need to know that. “Was putting in my headphones. Hi.”

“…Hi.”

A shuffling on the line, like he's sitting up or shifting or something, and then he laughs a little bit in the ensuing silence. “You called me and broke your coveted mystique just to tell me hi?”

“No. I’m distracted. I'm... making tea. You don’t appreciate my hello?”

God. Three more lies. At least it’s not for long because this, plus the slight embarrassment washing under your skin, jumpstarts you into turning on your heel and darting into the kitchen.

“I didn’t say that,” he hums. “You sure like putting words in my mouth. I meant, because you called me all gung-ho like, I was expecting a little more than a greeting. A quiz, or something. A game plan.”

“I have a plan.”

Holy shit, in the span of fifteen seconds you’ve turned into the biggest liar in the world. What plan? You hadn’t even fully recognized you were calling him until he picked up! “It’s twenty questions. The ultimate stay-awake game. I’ll ask such thoughtful questions that your brain will start to steam in that airport.”

This seems to catch him off guard; He snorts a laugh, a loud, pretty sound that you assume is immediately muffled because he’s in public. You’d been in the middle of setting a kettle on the stove when you heard it, and couldn’t help but smile a little widely in triumph. You made him laugh. Cool.

“Is that so?” he snickers.

Slightly loosened up now, you shrug. “Of course. Let’s open it up with something easy. Coffee— or tea? There is a right answer.”

“How is there a right answer if you’re asking me what I like?”

“Between coffee and tea, of course there’s a right answer. One is good, crafted from nature and angels and all that is pure; a perfectly warm drink that soothes illness and brings joy to those young and old. And the other one is bitter and evil and rhymes with moffy.”

He laughs again. Shit. Should you consider becoming a comedian? Is this weird giddiness how they all feel when they get people to laugh?

“I’m sure you’ve probably just never had good coffee,” he tries, “It’s not all bitter—“

“Are you putting forth your vote? Coffee? The devil’s choice of beverage?”

“No! You’re annoying. I like both.”

“That’s not the question I asked you, Duck Boy.”

You don’t even realize you’ve called him the name you refer to him as in your head. It slips out easily, a product of ease and amusement and familiarity— which is surprising to say when you’ve only been talking to this guy for a few minutes— but he doesn’t even seem to phase himself, only groaning as you badger him for an answer.

“Is it illegal to like both?” he asks finally, feigning hastiness. “Different occasions. Coffee to wake me up, tea to cool me down. Next question.”

“Don’t get too hasty, because the next question is in the same vein. What do you eat with your tea or coffee? Snack wise?”

“I would say I like bread with both,” he says confidently. “Like croissants? I really like croissants.”

“Something must be wrong with you.”

“What—“ You almost hear how he sits up, immediately affronted. “Hey!”

“Bread? Like just… straight bread? Yeast and egg and flour? With something as bitter as coffee, you’re not even going to have a donut or something? Lord, not even a muffin?”

“I don’t care for sweets! What do you like then, since you’re apparently the chooser of everything good?”

You lean against the counter, absentmindedly watching your kettle as you sigh theatrically, stretching like someone would before they run a marathon or swim a thousand meters. “You’re asking the wrong person this question,” you warn. “I could spend the next hour talking about snack combinations. Chamomile tea and banana nut muffins, a slice of frosted lemon cake with a taaaaall mug of double-steeped Earl Gray. I’m something of a savant in my field, you know. I might have to make you sign an NDA to protect my trade secrets.”

Duck Boy scoffs but you’re pleased to hear what sounds like a hidden smile— maybe even a grin.

“Consider it signed,” he says. There’s another shift, a sound like fabric rustling, and then he sighs as if he’s just made himself comfortable; which, in an airport terminal seat, must be a fruitless effort. “I have nothing but time, Mystery Girl.”

Your tea was pretty great, all things considered. A London Fog with two teabags instead of one, a capful of vanilla essence to sweeten, milk and sugar— the perfect wind-down drink. It was no wonder then, when you returned to your room and found yourself heading for your bed instead of returning to the desk to continue your insidious diorama floor plan project, that your eyelids started to get a little heavy about fifteen minutes into twirling your finger around the headphone wire while talking with Duck Boy. You have been up for the last day after all, class and practice and studying, and tea at this hour always ends up knocking you on your ass after about half an hour.

The sudden onset tiredness isn’t helped by the fact that talking to him is so easy, either.

It’s effortless. Who would have thought that the guy who routinely scolds you through text, periods and capitals and perfect grammar everywhere, could actually crack a few good jokes? It’s his dry humor that gets you, a deadpan delivery that had nearly made you spill hot tea on yourself three times; but you made him bark a laugh so loud at one point that he got the evil-eye from an airline attendant, so the scoreboard’s still in your favor.

Whether or not he can hear the sleepy lull in your voice through the phone, you’re not sure. He does seem to take the reins on question-asking though. Little things like your favorite color, musical genre, if you’re a homebody or the type to always be out and about. It’s a lot of good information (more than you ever thought you’d learn about some guy you dialed on a whim three weeks ago) which is why you’re a little salty that you had to go and fall asleep in the middle of all of it.

The last question you remembered had been after a small quiet, a breath of time where your eyes had been closed and he’d been humming, contemplating what to ask next.

Your tea was finished. Your laptop had timed out a long time ago which meant your room was only being lit by the kitchen light outside, a small sliver of warm white light.

“Do you— Do you do any extracurriculars? On campus?”

“Mystery breach,” you’d mumbled belatedly, attempting and failing to blink the bleariness from your eyes. “Look at you, trying to sneak that question in there. You already got to see me first. Now you want to know where to find me on campus, too?”

Immediately he flustered, stumbling for a response like you’d somehow managed to hit the nail on the head, but in your state you didn’t think to look further into it. “I’m kidding. At this point I’d probably give you my SSN if you asked for it. I play volleyball for the school, if that counts? I was on debate club in freshman year but I got kicked out for agreeing with my opponents too much.”

A beat, like he was mulling over this information, and then, “You? Agree with someone? That’s interesting, considering how much it seems you like to argue with me...”

“You’re different,” you yawned. “Very different. Being forced to debate with people I barely know on topics I don’t care about kind of sucks. But I actually like talking to you.”

“Oh,” he said. “…Is that so?”

"Right," you laughed and closed your eyes one last time. “I would never lie to my dickpic buddy.”

[A LITTLE WHILE LATER]

a/n: pls leave a like if you enjoyed! it motivates me to work on this every time i see a notification about it LOL

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