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justaneedle · 1 day

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The Demigod Diaries

The Diariy of Luke Castellan

Here I go...

So... Thalia was kind of subverse manic pixie dream girl for Luke back then?..

Well, literally a girl with an awl in her ass who drags him somewhere, does something and he’s like: “well, okay”?

Okay, question. Where do the demigods even get nectar and ambrosia? Or weapons made of Celestial bronze? No, really.

Now I’ve faced some scary stuff before — fire-breathing dogs, pit scorpions, dragons — not to mention a set of oily black man-eating draperies. But something about those voices echoing all around me, those glowing eyes advancing from either direction, and the weird clacking noises made me feel like a deer surrounded by wolves.

All in all, I'm increasingly doubting that Luke did really try to kill Percy at the end of TLT...

“Y-you’d better explain,” I stammered. “Why—how—what…?”

As you can tell, I’m good with words.

Okay, it's funny considering Luke IS actually good with words and persuasive. But right now he's just a scared kid, which... makes me weirdly angry (at the gods, of course, duh).

I'm wanna cry... Luke angry with Hal, but understand his lack of hope, 'cause he's not the one who blamed... And after so many books, just dare to say that he was wrong.

Still, she fixed me with those intense blue eyes, and I knew this was another time Thalia would get her way.

I sighed. “You’re going to ask me to open it, aren’t you?”

“Can you?”

I chewed my lip. Maybe next time I teamed up with someone, I should choose someone I didn’t like so much. I just couldn’t say no to Thalia.

Can you NOT break my heart? No? Amazing.

I turned to the old man. “You could maybe hide in the bathtub. Put some wet towels over your face. It might protect you.”

Luke so cute baby, I can't.

Hal exhaled.

Thalia kissed me on the cheek, which she probably shouldn’t have done while I was holding a tube of deadly poison.

“You are so good,” she said.

Did that make the risk worth it? Yeah, pretty much.

Stoooop! Stop doing that with me, Rick! I'm not even into thaluke, damn you!

I feel incredibly sorry for Hal, but...

Hal typed: I can’t look. It’s too dangerous. You can see what happened to me last time I tried to use my powers.

“Sure,” I grumbled. “Don’t take the risk. You might mess up this nice life you’ve got here.”

I knew that was mean. But the old man’s cowardice annoyed me. He’d let the gods use him as a punching bag for too long. It was time he fought back, preferably before Thalia and I became the leucrotae’s next meal.

See, see, see? Luke just desperately wants to do something and for others to do something too, 'cause sitting idly by like the obedient little dogs of the gods is a bad idea!

Thalia clenched her fists. She started to speak, then paced the room. Finally she slammed her palm against the bookshelves. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’ll sacrifice myself, but I’ll live. Changing, sleeping? You call that a future? I—I don’t even have a family. Just my mom, and there’s no way I’m going back to her.”

Hal pursed his lips. He typed, I’m sorry. I don’t control what I see. But I didn’t mean your mother.

Thalia almost backed up into the drapes. She caught herself just in time, but she looked dizzy, as if she’d just stepped off a roller coaster.

“Thalia?” I asked, as gently as I could. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

She gave me a cornered look. I didn’t understand why she seemed so rattled. I knew she didn’t like to talk about her life back in L.A., but she’d told me she was an only child, and she’d never mentioned any relatives beside her mom.

And then this family will die! For the damn gods! RICK!!!

He avoided my eyes. Reluctantly he typed, Hard to be sure. Luke, I also saw a sacrifice in your future. A choice. But also a betrayal.

I waited. Hal didn’t elaborate.

“A betrayal,” Thalia said. Her tone was dangerous. “You mean someone betrays Luke? Because Luke would never betray anyone.”

Hal typed, His path is hard to see. But if he survives today, he will betray—

Thalia grabbed the keyboard. “Enough! You lure demigods here, then you take away their hope with your horrible predictions? No wonder the others gave up — just like you gave up. You’re pathetic!”

Anger kindled in Hal’s eyes. I didn’t think the old man had it in him, but he rose to his feet. For a moment, I thought he might lunge at Thalia.

“Go ahead,” Thalia growled. “Take a swing, old man. You have any fire left?”

“Stop it!” I ordered. Hal Green immediately backed down. I could swear the old man was terrified of me now, but I didn’t want to know what he saw in his visions. Whatever nightmares were in my future, I had to survive today first.

Sorry, but I'll say it again. Who actually betrayed whom is a damn controversial question, and most of the fandom won't agree with me. But I'll die on this hill.

In general, if Luke had been at Hogwarts, he would have been good at flying, Potions, a separate course in Alchemy, which is an additional class towards the end of studies... and wouldn't have come even one step closer to Divination.

Tell me that either of you would interpret Hal's words differently than Luke. I bet you not.

We crept toward the loading bay until we stood over the pile of metal. Thalia readied her spear. I gestured for her to hold back. I reached for the piece of corrugated metal and mouthed, One, two, three!

As soon as I lifted the sheet of tin, something flew at me — a blur of flannel and blond hair. A hammer hurtled straight at my face.

Things could’ve gone very wrong. Fortunately my reflexes were good from years of fighting.

I shouted, “Whoa!” and dodged the hammer, then grabbed the little girl’s wrist. The hammer went skidding across the pavement.

The little girl struggled. She couldn’t have been more than seven years old.

“No more monsters!” she screamed, kicking me in the legs. “Go away!”

“It’s okay!” I tried my best to hold her, but it was like holding a wildcat. Thalia looked too stunned to move. She still had her spear and shield ready.

“Thalia,” I said, “put your shield away! You’re scaring her!”

Thalia unfroze. She touched the shield and it shrank back into a bracelet. She dropped her spear.

“Hey, little girl,” she said, sounding more gentle than I’d ever heard. “It’s all right. We’re not going to hurt you. I’m Thalia. This is Luke.”

“Monsters!” she wailed.

“No,” I promised. The poor thing wasn’t fighting as hard, but she was shivering like crazy, terrified of us. “But we know about monsters,” I said. “We fight them too.”

I held her, more to comfort than restrain now. Eventually she stopped kicking. She felt cold. Her ribs were bony under her flannel pajamas. I wondered how long this little girl had gone without eating. She was even younger than I had been when I ran away.

Despite her fear, she looked at me with large eyes. They were startlingly gray, beautiful and intelligent. A demigod — no doubt about it. I got the feeling she was powerful — or she would be, if she survived.

“You’re like me?” she asked, still suspicious, but she sounded a little hopeful, too.

“Yeah,” I promised. “We’re…” I hesitated, not sure if she understood what she was, or if she’d ever heard the word demigod. I didn’t want to scare her even worse. “Well, it’s hard to explain, but we’re monster fighters. Where’s your family?”

The little girl’s expression turned hard and angry. Her chin trembled. “My family hates me. They don’t want me. I ran away.”

My heart felt like it was cracking into pieces. She had such pain in her voice — familiar pain. I looked at Thalia, and we made a silent decision right there. We would take care of this kid. After what had happened with Halcyon Green… well, it seemed like fate. We’d watched one demigod die for us. Now we’d found this little girl. It was almost like a second chance.

Thalia knelt next to me. She put her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Annabeth.”

I couldn’t help smiling. I’d never heard that name before, but it was pretty, and it seemed to fit her. “Nice name,” I told her. “I tell you what, Annabeth. You’re pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you.”

Her eyes widened. “You could?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said earnestly. Then a sudden thought struck me. I reached for Hal’s dagger and pulled it from my belt. It will protect its owner, Hal had said. He had gotten it from the little girl he had saved. Now fate had given us the chance to save another little girl.

“How’d you like a real monster-slaying weapon?” I asked her. “This is Celestial bronze. Works a lot better than a hammer.”

Annabeth took the dagger and studied it in awe. I know… she was seven years old at most. What was I thinking giving her a weapon? But she was a demigod. We have to defend ourselves. Hercules was only a baby when he strangled two snakes in his cradle. By the time I was nine, I’d fought for my life a dozen times. Annabeth could use a weapon.

“Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters,” I told her. My voice caught as I remembered Hal Green, and how he’d died to save us. “They don’t have the reach or power of a sword, but they’re easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy’s armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you’re pretty clever.”

Annabeth beamed at me, and for that instant, all my problems seemed to melt. I felt as if I’d done one thing right. I swore to myself I would never let this girl come to harm.

“I am clever!” she said.

Thalia laughed and tousled Annabeth’s hair. Just like that — we had a new companion.

“We’d better get going, Annabeth,” Thalia said. “We have a safe house on the James River. We’ll get you some clothes and food.”

Annabeth’s smile wavered. For a moment, she got that wild look in her eyes again. “You’re… you’re not going to take me back to my family? Promise?”

I swallowed the lump out of my throat. Annabeth was so young, but she’d learned a hard lesson, just like Thalia and I had. Our parents had failed us. The gods were harsh and cruel and aloof. Demigods had only each other.

I put my hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “You’re part of our family now. And I promise I’m not going to fail you like our families did us. Deal?”

“Deal!” she said happily, clutching her new dagger.

Thalia picked up her spear. She smiled at me with approval. “Now, come on. We can’t stay put for long!”

I'm not crying, YOU crying!

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fangerine · 7 months

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e5s2 of loki really went "what if we made everyone feel like they were watching the end of infinity war for the first time" and i am nOT OKAY

#that was fucked up #feige i know you approved that with a smile on your face #which i can't blame you cause it was well done #BUT JESUS #I WAS TEARING UP AND SO SCARED ALL OVER AGAIN #uGH #WTF IS GONNA HAPPEN IN THE FINALE #loki #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #loki s2 #loki season 2 spoilers #loki s2 spoilers #marvel #mcu

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medicinemane · 1 month

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#I get tired of people trying to explain what lens I should view the world through; what way I could think that would make everything better #forgive me but I don't care; I do what I do and I do what I can and you don't see the work I do under the hood #I don't want advice on self validation or whatever; I want... I want someone to hold a mirror up so I can actually see myself #by which I mean I want input on how I'm doing; if it's good enough; if it's worth anything; if anything I make is good #everyone things I'm nice; everyone has always thought I'm nice #but given nice leaves me profoundly isolated I don't think I care #not to mention in my opinion what nice in this instance means is that I'm capable of listening #it's mostly that I have manners rather than some quality about me #I'm well behaved and polite and can listen; and that's perceived as nice or even sweet #and it's not like I'm offended by people seeing me that way; but maybe you can get why... I can't do anything with that information #but if I'm doing enough... if I provide any value to the world... I might have heard that less times in my life than years I've lived #that's where I'm totally blind #people don't tend to offer any input; and also people don't tend to let me know what they're thinking #and I in fact am not a mind reader; I can often accurately infer things; but no of that means a thing till it's confirmed #and... well... hopefully no one reads the stupid shit I say and especially not the tags so this is safe and hidden #but truthfully people just like to hear that stuff they're doing is wanted and matters #and I do not #I don't know... gotta go do more cleaning cause I need to #and I have no idea if... I've got a reason for fighting so hard to clean; but I get very little input so... I expect... well...#and thankfully I don't think they read my tags so I can say this #but I really expect they won't take me up on my offer to come out here and get away from their parents; so there will be no pay off #not that I blame them in the slightest... it's just the only possible pay off for this cleaning would be helping someone I like out #and a scrap of company #but then again... in many ways anyone coming out to live with me is the worst thing they could probably do #sorry... I have a rather bleak outlook on many things surrounding myself purely cause of what I infer from the past #there is never pay off; only more shit I need to get done #I will never be loved; I will never be wanted; I will always just kinda be an afterthought that's occasionally worth venting to #no one will ever be particularly interested in anything I'm interested while I'll chase their interests or at least try to #certainly let them talk about them when they want #...though I take that over my normal total isolation... better to at least be permitted to follow in someone's shadow than have nothing

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them.

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them.

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them.

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on.

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man.

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out.

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.”

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.”

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you.

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.”

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door.

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.”

“We?”

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over.

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side.

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.”

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.”

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.”

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him.

“And why are the two of you here?”

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall.

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone.

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him.

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.”

Lando leaned his head back and groaned.

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.”

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.”

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!”

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando.

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.”

All he got was a glare back.

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.”

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?”

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.”

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped.

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.”

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.”

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy.

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027.

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out.

“But George.”

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged.

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.”

The group of four winced at the memory.

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away.

Lewis looked a bit pale.

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.”

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?”

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”

Lando ran a hand down his face.

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?”

George cocked his head.

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.”

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!”

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.”

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.”

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories.

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?”

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him.

“Yes! Do you?”

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early.

“No.”

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder.

“Why would you do that!”

Now Lewis was the one whining.

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.”

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour.

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.”

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.”

All eyes landed on Oscar.

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?”

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”

An audible gulp was heard.

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost.

“Aha!”

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis.

“What!”

He held his phone up with a contact showing.

“We call Seb.”

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.”

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans.

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better.

A sigh was heard through the speaker.

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.”

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.”

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.”

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.”

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away.

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone.

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?”

Their silence had answered for them.

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand.

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!”

“Hey!”

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton.

“Guys, we can’t ask them.”

“What!” Pierre yelled.

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.”

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said.

“Ask them what?”

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day.

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio.

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

He took a sip of his Red Bull.

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?”

“Hey!”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.”

“Thank you Charles.”

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped.

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.”

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner.

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits.

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.”

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them.

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them.

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.”

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought.

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him.

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head.

“Thank you schatje.”

This time, a whine came from you.

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms.

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips.

“WHAT?”

You turned back to the group.

“Are you all fine?”

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.”

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out.

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.”

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?”

Max rolled his eyes. “No.”

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched.

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.”

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.”

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up.

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?”

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie.

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.”

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders.

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.”

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.”

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group.

“You won’t tell anyone right?”

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were.

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.”

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match.

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?”

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.”

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio.

“Then . . . who knows?”

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count.

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.”

You pulled out his fingers and counted.

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.”

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out.

Max smirked.

“Oh, and Seb.”

There was silence amongst the group.

“Oh he is so dead.”

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!”

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!”

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.”

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?”

“I am not giving you his number Lando.”

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.”

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone.

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?”

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it.

“Nah.”

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satorusluver · 7 months

Text

Wanna Bet?

Satosugu x female reader

Minors DNI

Tags/Warnings: smut, threesome sort of, slight breast play, alcohol mention (they're sober tho), princess as a nickname because it's my weakness lol

Word count: 800 ish

A/N: Idek what this is, it was just a scene in my head that's been sitting in my drafts so *throws it at you and runs*

You stare down at the panting mess of your friend Satoru under you. He's sprawled out on the bed, white hair blending in with the pillowcase. His hands are gripping your thighs and his fingertips lightly dig into the soft flesh as you grind back and forth on him, the outer lips of your pussy sliding up and down the length of his hard dick. You've been doing this for a couple of minutes now, never working up the courage to actually put it in. It's clearly getting to Satoru, who looks like he'd be about ready to start begging if his pride would let him, which it won't. But now he's chewing on his lower lip almost hard enough to break the skin, and his icy blue eyes keep rolling back as he gently grinds up against you. The stimulation feels good, but never quite enough.

"I don't know what you're so afraid of, it's not like you're a virgin." You hear the deep voice of Suguru from behind you and feel his large hands ghost over the curve of your waist.

"I-I know...but look at him, he's huge," you stammer, looking to where the fat head of Satoru's cock is peeking out from between your pussy lips.

"He's no bigger than me," Suguru replies smugly, his hands still trailing up your waist until he cups your breasts, and although you can't see his face, you can hear the grin in his voice. "Don't tell me you're too much of a baby to sit on a dick?"

"If you keep talking shit, I'm not gonna let you fuck me after him," you hiss, your hips still slowly moving back and forth on Satoru's length, the friction against your clit causing you to stifle a moan as you try to sound firm.

"You're the one who got drunk the other night and admitted you've always wanted to know what both of our dicks felt like." As he speaks, the pads of Suguru's thumbs tease your nipples until they stiffen under his touch.

God, that was embarrassing of you. But really, who could blame you when you had two of the most attractive men you'd ever seen as your closest friends? It's honestly a miracle it took so many years for you to let your attraction to them slip.

"Well, you guys are the ones who said you wanted to actually let me do it!"

"We did. So why don't you go ahead and actually put it in?" Satoru finally speaks, bucking his hips impatiently. He's trying to keep his cool, but a hint of desperation is creeping into his usually cocky voice.

"He's right, haven't you tortured poor Toru enough? Come on, lift your hips a little. I'll help you since you apparently need it..."

You do as Suguru says, lifting your hips up, and you watch as his hand curls around the base of Satoru's dick so casually you're a little thrown off by it. The lack of any and all hesitation has you silently wondering if he'd done it before, but you don't have much time to think about it before Suguru is lining up the head of Satoru's cock with your entrance, gently moving it back and forth against your slit to get it wet enough to go in with ease.

"Go on then, princess. Or do you need me to hold your hand, too?" Suguru's making fun of you, but he actually does interlace the fingers of his free hand with yours, and his lips brush against your own affectionately.

You groan into Suguru's mouth the moment you finally sink down onto Satoru's cock, and you can feel his lips turn up in a smirk at the sound you make. You take in a sharp breath at the stinging feeling the stretch causes once you feel him bottom out. For a moment, you're silently cursing yourself for ever admitting you wanted to try this, but then your walls begin to adjust to his size and the pain begins to melt away until all that's left is the feeling of being deliciously and utterly full in a way you've never felt before.

"Fuck," Satoru curses, "she's so fuckin' tight."

"Yeahhh?" Suguru drawls, his voice somehow sounding even lower than usual. "You look like you're trying not to blow your load already," he chuckles. Well, at least you're not the only one he's poking fun at.

"I'll last longer than you," Satoru insists, although his teeth are gritted slightly as though he's already struggling with his self-control.

"You wanna bet? We got all night after all, don't we, princess?" You feel Suguru's hot breath just below your ear before he playfully nips at the sensitive skin there, and you brace yourself for what is about to be a very long night.

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mydearzero · 10 months

Text

Lisztomania | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Years after joining the BAU, you thought you'd gotten past your little celebrity-like infatuation with Spencer, the whole reason you applied for the BAU. A case involving the murder of several groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band is bound to prove you wrong.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

4.7K words

It wasn't an everyday occurrence that Spencer would be the one to deliver the profile to the public. He looked a lot more stoic on TV than in real life. You never failed to be amazed by how he could still surprise you over the years. He looked confident, and it was a good look on him.

"-The man we're looking for is between the ages of 25 and 40. He is of an average build. He's likely socially inept and doesn't mingle well with his peers. Please be on the lookout for anybody who fits this description and contact the FBI through the local Police Department. Thank you."

"Someone's gawking." Emily's words startled you out of your Spencer-induced trance. You crossed your arms and grumbled.

"No, I wasn't..." You bit the inside of your cheek as Emily pat your shoulder and scoffed a laugh.

"Sure, you weren't. I gotta give it to you. TV does Boy Wonder well." Emily said as she watched the head of the local Police Department take over the press conference as Spencer left the screen.

"I guess I'm just amazed at how different he looks while doing press. Compared to how he usually carries himself, I mean." You shrugged. Emily turned to look at you, no longer interested in the TV screen.

"Guess that's the profiler in all of us. You can't help but compare. But you're right. Reid does have a certain je ne sais quoi about him, I suppose."

_________

That was several months ago. It wasn't until you saw Spencer in front of a classroom that a familiar, uneasy feeling returned to your stomach. Emily was right. He did 'have a certain je ne sais quoi about him'. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"-Which is why it's crucial we always discuss the details of the COD with the coroner's office. COD being the Cause of Death, of course." Spencer spoke with an air of juvenile enthusiasm. You were glad he still had that part in him, despite everything that happened previous to his teaching.

He finished the class and was about to walk over to where you were leaning against the wall, waiting for him to finish. But when he was nearly done packing his satchel, a small group of college girls formed around his desk. The soft smile he'd directed at you was quickly cut short.

You stared in amazement at the girls' shameless flirting. Spencer had turned this group of brilliant and educated girls into giddy schoolgirls, all by just being himself. They all wanted a piece of him, and you started to have peace with the fact that you didn't blame them. You were in the same boat.

_________

The final straw was during a case concerning a string of murders involving groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band.

"I mean, I get the urge to throw your panties on stage at an attractive man. I do. Even I would've taken the bait with Nick Carter, given the chance. But to follow a random stranger down a dark alley in the hopes of meeting your idol? That seems a bit far-fetched. Girls this age are smarter than that, especially with the media frenzy." JJ flipped through the details described in the case file.

"There's been several cases of fangirls going to great lengths to get what they want from their idol. The earliest case would probably be with Hungarian composer Franz Liszt in 1841.

The term 'Lisztomania' came about in 1844, describing an intense level of hysteria demonstrated by fans, a bit like the treatment of celebrity musicians today – but in a time not known for such musical excitement.

A more recent example would be Beatlemania, or even the so-called 'Bieber Fever' or 'One Direction Infection'. There have been several studies that explain this behaviour, but I won't get into that." Spencer trailed off.

"I know someone else who had a case of that. But I think that was just called a hard-on." JJ joked, jabbing at Spencer's short-lived fling with Lila Archer over ten years ago. Spencer grumbled something along the lines of "Can we please let that go," but it fell on deaf ears.

"It's still strange they would follow someone down the alley unless the person they're following has been established in the girls' minds as someone with authority, like a crew member connected to the band," Rossi mentioned.

"Garcia, look into all the current members of the band's crew along with the people working at the venues. We're going to need you at the scene, too. There's a lot of social media involved. Thank you. Wheels up in 30." Hotch stood up, signalling the meeting was finished.

You walked with Emily back to the bullpen, Spencer following close behind.

"You know, I get it. There's something attractive about a man with a platform, even if you put him on that pedestal yourself, to begin with." Emily said as you leaned against her desk.

"Yeah, for sure. It doesn't have to be a pop star or actor. A celebrity, even. Could be anybody under the right circumstances." You agreed. You could see the appeal in having an unrelenting devotion to someone like that.

You put Spencer on a pedestal like that, in a way. You watched as he gathered his things into his go-bag. You knew he was a flawed person, like anybody. Yet, in your eyes, all his problems could be explained or ignored. You didn't notice the curious glance Emily sent your way.

While on the jet, you contemplated the case. Would you have fallen for the ruse? Maybe if you had been a bit younger? You'd had your own little celebrity obsessions. You wouldn't have ruled it out if free tickets and a meet & greet were in the picture.

It was a quick but convoluted catch once the profile was made. Thank you, Penelope. The UnSub was most likely one of the band's crew members who used to date the bassist. They'd broken up due to an increasing number of groupies getting in the way of their relationship. Go figure she'd go and murder them.

The catch happened right in time with the start of the show, the bustling crowd missing all of the mayhem that had gone down backstage due to the support act. How the gigs hadn't been cancelled yet was beyond you.

"You can stay and watch the show from the VIP area if you want. It's the least we can do, really. Though, maybe ditch the FBI gear." The lead singer had a charming smile. You could see how the crowd waiting for him could be captivated by his energy.

After Hotch checked with the hotel and pilot, the team decided to take the band up on their invitation. After a quick shower and change at the hotel, you drove back to the venue in groups.

You were escorted to a barricaded area near the front of the stage. The energy of the crowd was exhilarating. An electric tension hung in the air as the 30-minute change-over between the support was filled with soft music from a playlist.

JJ and Rossi came bearing gifts, both carrying several drinks to hand out to the team. You thanked them as you took one, taking a sip of the ice-cold drink. You deserved to relax and enjoy a night like this after the gruelling case.

You watched unabashedly at Spencer, red overhead lights casting down on his face. You'd like to see how he'd do on the stage, perhaps in an alternate universe, and with a different wardrobe. He was undoubtedly eclectic enough to pull off the whole rock star gig.

He felt your gaze and made eye contact, working his way past a wildly gesturing Emily as she told a story. He lightly grabbed your upper arm when he reached you.

"Hey." You saw his mouth move, but his words got lost under the chattering crowd. You smiled and leaned closer.

"Hi! Fancy seeing you here!" You shouted. Spencer winced as he laughed. You'd obviously overestimated the volume of the crowd. You mouthed a quick apology before taking another drink.

You nearly choked when Spencer leaned even closer, invading your personal bubble (that was already narrow), to talk directly in your ear.

"Did you know that typical movement behaviour at large events like these increases the risk of spreading infectious diseases?" You bit your lip as you stopped yourself from laughing. Leave it up to Spencer to break the tension like that.

"It makes sense, I guess. Lots of people, lots of bodily fluids. Kinda gross, now that I think about it," you replied.

Just as he was about to speak again, the lights dimmed, and screams filled the stadium. You gave him a small smile, which he returned, afterwards turning to look at the show. He stood behind you for the majority of the show, and while you would've loved to admire him in the gorgeous lighting a little longer, you couldn't have asked for a better person to have rubbed up against you for an hour and a half.

After the show, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ decided to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest ahead of their early flight the following day. The rest headed out to a bar just around the corner of the venue. You walked quickly, the cold of the outside being a jarring change from the heat at the concert.

You were a few drinks in when Penelope brought up a subject you'd somehow managed to avoid all these years.

"If I hadn't joined the FBI, I would've liked to be some sort of celebrity," She mentioned, taking another sip through her straw.

"Considering the type of psychos we encounter on a daily basis, I'd rather be less known, not more." Emily shuddered. You were quick to agree. Although fame was attractive on some level, you wouldn't want to risk situations like those you'd witnessed these last few days in exchange.

"What made you want to become an agent in the first place?" Penelope turned to you before continuing. "I didn't have much of a choice, to be honest. It was jail or the FBI, and I'm not jail material. I mean, look at me!" She gestured wildly to herself.

You chuckled and decided to pick an opt-out answer. "I just saw it as the right thing to do, you know? Make the world a better place, even if it's only little by little." You shrugged.

Spencer squinted as he ran his eyes over your face. "Bullshit." He determined. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his callout.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You questioned genuinely. Sure, you hadn't been entirely honest, but it wasn't a lie.

"You're lying, I can tell. You do that thing with your face. Besides, that's the most basic answer ever. Surely a person with as much integrity as you do would have a better reason than a moral superiority complex." Spencer stated matter-of-factly. You gaped at his accusation.

"He's right, though. You have no connection to the Bureau. Reid is a wunderkind, Garcia is basically an ex-con, and I'm a child of nepotism. What made you apply? And for the BAU of all places?" Emily wondered out loud.

You recoiled as you realised there was no getting out of this. If you were going to dance around the subject, Penelope would get too curious, anyways. She'd have your application and its details pulled up in no time. That, along with cross-referencing the BAU with your college, it wouldn't take a mastermind to figure out what happened.

"I actually followed a lecture on sexual sadism and the Mill Creek Killer back in college that made me wonder if I'd be cut out for it." You admitted, omitting some key details.

The one secret you'd sworn to take to your grave was that Spencer was the sole reason you were with the FBI in the first place, having followed one of his guest lectures a few years back.

He hadn't even left the room before you'd turned in your online application to the Academy.

"Why not mention that in the first place? God, no need to be so secretive about it." Penelope whined. You didn't answer as you tentatively sipped your drink, feeling busted for no reason.

You glanced up to look at an overly smug and amused Spencer. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you realised you were most definitely caught.

"You know, when Hotch first introduced us to you, I thought I recognised you from somewhere. But the memory I have of that lecture is actually overshadowed by this kid who was also there, Nathan Harris. He ended up killing some prostitutes. But now that you mention it, you did go to Georgetown, didn't you?" Spencer knew he was right. He just wanted to see how you were going to talk yourself out of this one.

"Oh, you gave that lecture? I never realised..." It was a pathetic lie, and there was no hiding it. Emily snorted out loud. She'd clocked your little 'thing' for Spencer long ago, you knew that much.

"Aww, you looked up to Spencer? That's so cute!" Penelope gushed. That sure was one way to put it. You made a face that must've said as much.

"What, you didn't look up to me? I'm offended. Here I thought I was your favourite professor." Spencer joked. He excused himself as he walked to the bathroom. Great timing, as it gave you time to rid your cheeks of the flush you were sporting.

"Be honest with me. And don't bother lying because we've all seen the heart eyes you throw at Pretty Boy. Were you genuinely interested in joining because of the subject matter? Or..." Emily encouraged you to answer.

You sighed as you brought a hand to your face. "Honestly? I wasn't sure if I wanted to be him or be with him. But at least I signed up for the class out of genuine interest! There were plenty of girls there that were there purely for the hour-long eye candy!" You defended yourself.

"And you applied for the Academy after the lecture? At least it must've been interesting." Penelope wondered out loud.

"Actually..." You winced. "He'd hardly even been done with his introduction before I'd filled in the online application. But I was very single, okay? And he'd already built up this celebrity status on campus." It felt nice to admit to it after years of harbouring it.

"Oh! You naughty little fangirl!" Penelope exclaimed.

"I'm not a fangirl! It's been years!" You groaned. You took it back. It didn't feel nice. You should've kept it to yourself.

"Who are you a fangirl of?" Spencer asked, putting a new glass in front of Emily and sitting back down by your side.

"You! She's a total groupie." Penelope betrayed you. You shot her a nasty look, but it went ignored by her drunken, self-satisfied glee.

"Is that so?" Spencer turned to you with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh yeah, total Reidiac. You should give her an autograph." Emily winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head at their antics.

The conversation moved on, but you felt the dynamic between Spencer and you had changed, even when unspoken. When Penelope and Emily were caught up discussing cats, Spencer leaned against your side, whispering in your ear once more. Unlike last time, he didn't break the tension, even when telling another fact.

"Garcia called you my groupie earlier. Do you know the textbook definition of the term 'groupie'?" His voice was huskier than usual, coated with the alcohol and late hour. You shook your head timidly, urging him to continue.

"A groupie is typically explained as a young woman who regularly follows a celebrity, especially in the hope of having a sexual relationship with them." His lip brushed against your ear as he whispered the words. A cold chill went down your spine at his insinuation.

"You're no celebrity, Spence." You answered apprehensively. He didn't move, still leaning into your side, out of sight. You couldn't gauge his expression.

"Maybe not in the classic sense of the word. But I have a Wikipedia page. Surely, that amounts to some celebrity status." He joked. You closed your eyes, tension slowly disappearing after the vibe of the conversation changed back to casual banter.

Was he insinuating what you thought he was?

You got your answer as soon as the four of you headed to the hotel. You bid your goodbyes to Emily and Penelope before turning to put the keycard in the door to your room. You heard a couple of doors close, and just when you turned the handle, there was a hand on your shoulder, pushing you inside and closing the door. You whipped around, only to be faced with Spencer.

"Spenc-"

"You deflected earlier." He interrupted.

"Deflected what?" Your heart was racing. Whether from the shock of his sudden intrusion or the proximity, you weren't sure.

"The definition of a groupie. And how Garcia is right, you totally are one."

You gaped at the insinuation.

"Don't look shocked now! You are totally one of those girls who audit my class." He grinned.

"You wish! I'll have you know you were scrawny at best when you gave that one lecture I attended." You huffed, crossing your arms.

"Were scrawny? Past tense?" Spencer egged you on.

"Shut up. You know you've built up some muscle since then. Hell, maybe you even grew a couple of inches." You rolled your eyes.

Spencer decided to ignore the comment and put his hand in his pocket, fishing for something. He finally pulled something out, looking way too smug for his own good. "I brought a Sharpie. You know, for your autograph."

Fine. If he wasn't going to stop this ridiculous teasing, you were going to cross the 'groupie' line.

"Oh my god! I like, totally want your autograph, Spency!" You started, looking him dead in the eyes as your hands made their way to the hem of your shirt.

"Will you sign my tits?" You challenged, lifting your top far enough to expose your bra to its fullest extent.

Spencer obviously hadn't expected that, struggling to come up with a quick-witted response. You shrugged as you took the shirt off.

"I see. You require a larger surface area. I get it. Big ego, bigger signature." Spencer finally broke when you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"Hey, hey. Stop. I can sign them like this just fine, sweetheart." You knew he was simply going along with the rockstar act, but the nickname sent blood rushing to your cheeks either way.

"Okay, hot shot." You smirked, pushing your chest out. He hadn't expected you to actually let him sign your chest. He scrambled to take the cap off. He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

"Stand still. You want it to come out perfect, don't you?"

You held your breath when he brought the Sharpie up to your breasts. You looked at his face as he appeared laser-focused on giving you the best autograph of your life. Why was it that such a stupid joke felt like the most sensual experience of your life?

The tip of the Sharpie tickled as it danced across your chest. He finished the signature with a dot on the I in Reid.

"There, perfection." He whispered, but his eyes were no longer glued to your scantily clad upper body. You searched his face for hesitation but only found his determined gaze settled on your parted lips.

He made eye contact as if asking permission. You'd barely nodded before his hands cupped your face, and lips were on yours, sucking all the air out of your lungs. His body pressed up against your own, frantically shedding the layers keeping you separated. You kept kissing him while desperately reaching for his belt.

You hadn't noticed you'd slowly made your way to the bed in the back of the hotel room until Spencer pulled away to remove his tie. You let yourself fall onto the sheets, ridding yourself of your bottoms. They got stuck at your ankles as you forgot your shoes.

"I got it." Spencer's voice was unrecognisably hoarse. He kicked off his own shoes and made his way over to the bed in only his boxers. He tugged at your shoes after undoing the laces and discarded them somewhere in the room.

You'd never seen a sight quite like Spencer leaning over you as he rested one knee on the bed. He put his hand beside your face and you met his eyes. His head blocked the dim yellow ceiling light, lighting him perfectly from behind. It was ridiculous how angelic he could look, even in these stereotypically sinful circumstances.

"Are you sure about this?" Spencer asked. Always considerate. What a gentleman.

"I've been sure ever since that stupid lecture, dork." You joked. Spencer smiled and leaned down, placing a kiss under your ear. His breath was hot on your neck as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, down to his crudely placed signature.

You leaned on your elbows as Spencer reached behind your back to finally unclasp your bra. You let your back meet with the sheets again as he pulled the straps down your arms. You heard him take a deep breath as he took in the sight before him.

You pulled him down for another kiss, unsatiable now that you'd gotten a taste. His hands reached for your chest and experimentally pinched a nipple. You inhaled sharply through your nose. The combined sensation of his mouth and large hands on your body, as his hips sought more and more friction, was delectable.

His hands slowly reached further down, toying with the edge of your underwear.

"Don't tease." You whined, already too riled up.

"Patience is a virtue," Spencer murmured against the skin of your jaw, hooking his finger under the elastic band.

"Patience, my ass, Reid. I need you." It came out more desperate than you intended, but it seemed to do the trick. He yanked the underwear down your legs, followed by his own.

"Condom?" He asked. You shook your head.

"Don't care. I'm clean, and God knows you are. Wanna feel you." You answered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spencer laughed, taking his cock in his hand and running it through your folds.

"Have you met yourself? You won't even shake hands, Doct-oh, oh Jesus Christ." Spencer interrupted your banter by sliding inside in one go. You closed your eyes as you pulled him close, begging him to kiss you.

He slowly started moving as you regained your ragged breath. The low grunts falling from his lips against yours were magical, but you wanted more. Your fingers made their way up to his hair, tentatively tugging at the roots. Your grip tightened at a particularly harsh thrust, and Spencer's response was everything you were searching for.

"Holy fuck, oh my God- Uh-" His grunts slowly tuned whinier as you kept your grip on his hair. He brought a hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

"Look at me, baby." He moaned in your ear. He leaned back, and your eyes fluttered open, though with difficulty. Your instinct was to squeeze them shut with pleasure. He looked ravenous, pupils blown wide, panting with the physical effort.

You lazily wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him even closer.

"Shit, Spencer," you moaned as the new angle reached a spot inside you you'd only ever dreamed of. Your eyes squeezed shut again, unable to keep them open. Spencer removed the hand rubbing your clit and moved it to your chin, placing a small kiss on your lips.

"Eyes on me, come on. I know you can do it." He encouraged. Something about his coercive tone let you know there was a side to Spencer you had yet to see. You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of his eyebrows furrowed with effort.

The noises coming from Spencer sped up along with the desperate pace of his hips. The combination of his whines with yours and the sound of skin on skin was anything but serene. You felt yourself nearing the edge, clawing at his back in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Spencer! Fuck, oh my god," it was hardly distinguishable what you were saying, mumbles of pleasure stringing together into an unintelligible mess. His cock slid again and again and- you couldn't take it.

Your hands left his hair in favour of running your nails harshly over his back. Spencer was seemingly a glutton for pain, moaning at the sensation.

"I- Shit, I'm gonna cum. D'you want me to pull out?" Spencer's thrust faltered. You knew you had to answer fast. You tightened your grip on him with your legs.

"Please, Spencer. Please come inside me. Want to feel you cum." You begged.

"Fuck, okay. Okay. O-" His head dropped down to your shoulder as his unrelenting hips sped up one more time, bringing you both to your high. You felt his cock twitch as your walls tightened around him.

"Spencer!" You shouted as you came, feeling him spill inside you.

"So good for me. So gorgeous. Perfect." Spencer mumbled as he peppered you with kisses, hips slowing down as he came down from his high. Your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath.

Spencer carefully pulled out, making sure not to spill anything and soil the sheets. He stepped off the bed and spread your legs, before leaning back down and licking a drop of cum threatening to spill.

"Shit, Spencer! Too sensitive!" You pushed his head away. He laughed before heading to the bathroom, returning with a dampened towel.

The nighttime routine that followed felt domestic. You peed, brushed your teeth, ignored the sight of his signature and hickies on your boobs, and headed to bed.

"Can I borrow your toothbrush?" Spencer asked from the bedroom. He hadn't asked to stay. But then again, you hadn't asked him to leave. You didn't want him to.

"You just licked your own cum from my vagina, and you ask if you can borrow my toothbrush? Be my guest, Reid." You scoffed, lying down under the sheets.

"Hey, people have their preferences, okay? Didn't want to overstep." Spencer said as he returned from the bathroom, lying down beside you.

Against your better judgement, Spencer stayed. You knew the entire team would be up and around, bright and early. But you didn't care. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

He left early the following morning. You were sure he hadn't had nearly enough beauty sleep. He could nap on the plane, you shrugged. There were no regrets from either party over the loss of sleep.

You hadn't thought too much about your outfit before heading down to breakfast. An honest mistake one can make when staying up late and getting up early. You were exhausted, let alone hung over. You realized your mistake when the ever-stoic eyes of Aaron Hotchner immediately snapped down to the tank top you were wearing the second you stepped out of the elevator, the words 'Spencer Reid' still obscenely sprawled across your chest, accompanied by several suspicious bruises.

Your eyes went wide as you followed his gaze, quickly zipping up your hoodie. How could you possibly have forgotten that part? You met Hotch's eyes. Before you could try to babble yourself out of this one, he held up a hand to stop you. "I don't want to know."

You clenched your lips as you nodded. "Noted, bossman."

The small smile tugging at the corner of his lips didn't escape you, and neither did the exchange of money between him and Rossi not 5 minutes later.

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genderkoolaid · 2 years

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So I read this interesting post from the MensLib subreddit, about how men's issues are always blamed on men themselves and never on society. The post itself as well as the comments are a very good read in digging in to antimasculism & the ways in which feminism has failed to critically examine men's suffering under the patriarchy. For example (all bolding by me):

Here again, the problems predominantly affecting women are addressed by changing society, while those predominantly affecting men are addressed by changing men (or by telling men to change themselves). The difference is not that one approach is right and the other wrong; they are both 'right' in the sense that they highlight genuine issues, but the approach to men's problems is more superficial. When dealing with men's problems, we focus on the immediate cause, which is usually the men's failure to cope with mental strain ("he should have gone to therapy", "he should have learned to open up more"); in contrast, when dealing with women's problems, we focus on "the cause of the cause", and try to remove the systemic social issues causing the mental strain, rather than telling the victims what they should have done to better cope with it.

I think this is a great point, and something we really need to tackle. OP also goes on to talk about self-repression, comparing girls avoiding sexual harassment and boys avoiding bullying:

Boys (and men) are notorious for repressing their emotions. They have a good reason: in boys' peer groups, a failure to control your emotions is almost as shameful as a failure to control your bladder; it is a sign of weakness, and any sign of weakness makes you a target for bullying and ridicule. So boys learn to wear a permanent mask of aloof toughness to avoid inadvertently revealing any sign of weakness or uncontrolled emotion, and many keep this habit into adulthood. It is generally well recognized that suppressing emotions is unhealthy in the long run, but it seems to me that the commonly proposed antidote is misguided: boys (or men) are told to "just open up more and be vulnerable" or to "learn how to cry", as if their reluctance to show emotions were some kind of irrational emotion-phobia, rather than a perfectly reasonable, perhaps even necessary, defense against the ridicule, contempt and loss of respect that society inflicts upon those who can't keep their emotions in check in the proper "manly" way.

It's something we don't really question in mainstream feminism. Women's issues have a societal root, and men's issues are issues that men put on themselves, and therefore men just need to fix it themselves and change.

And while yes, we all have a responsibility to unlearn harmful societal teachings, just saying "men need to fix their shit" doesn't help anyone. I've been annoyed for a while at how people will react to men suffering under the patriarchy with "UGH they need to go to therapy", as if

Needing therapy is a sign of failure or a bad thing, and someone not going to therapy when they need to is them being an asshole on purpose and not potentially a sign of them not feeling safe enough to go to therapy, feeling too ashamed, not having enough money or time, etc.

Individual men getting individual therapy will solve the societal problems of forcing boys and men to repress their emotions and view themselves as only valuable if they can perform manual labor and have a lot of sex with women. It's a problem that is only perpetuated by men themselves and if they just stopped doing that, then the problem would disappear.

No self-respecting feminist would ever react to a woman obviously suffering from the patriarchy with "ugh, she needs to go to therapy and fix herself." Yes, therapy would be helpful most likely, but that's not going to actually fix the underlying cause of her issues. So why do we, as feminists, think that "men just need to fix themselves" is an okay response to societal suffering under the patriarchy?

Who does this help? Who benefits from us ignoring these issues? Why do we assume that men's experiences under the patriarchy are so one-dimensional and that we have no responsibility for unlearning our societal biases around men and masculinity?

Someone in the comments also added this quote from the "perpetually relevant" I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out essay by Jen Coates:

Have you noticed, when a product is marketed in an unnecessarily gendered way, that the blame shifts depending on the gender? That a pink pen made “for women” is (and this is, of course, true) the work of idiotic cynical marketing people trying insultingly to pander to what they imagine women want? But when they make yogurt “for men” it is suddenly about how hilarious and fragile masculinity is — how men can’t eat yogurt unless their poor widdle bwains can be sure it doesn’t make them gay? #MasculinitySoFragile is aimed, with smug malice, at men—not marketers.

And then another commenter left this (and referenced bell hooks' work on men!!):

"Do you agree that we tend to approach women's problems as systemic issues, and men's problems as personal issues?" Yes, and there's even a name for this: Hyperagency. Individual men are assumed to be immune to systemic pressures because the people at the top of the hierarchies generating those pressures are also men. "And if you do agree with that, do you think this difference in approach is justified, or do you rather think it is a case of an unfair bias?" It's pretty clearly not rooted in reality. The idea that billions of ordinary men aren't beholden to the social constructs under which they were raised is just plain silly. I'd blame the empathy gap, but honestly I feel like it's more than that. Patriarchy hyper-individualizes every struggle a man faces as a way to shield itself from critique and gaslight ordinary men. The motivations there are readily apparent. However, we see the same blind spot appear even in more academic Feminist spaces (taking for granted that "Feminist" spaces on social media are hardly representative of the cutting edge of Feminist thought). bell hooks once postulated that some Feminist women are deeply afraid of acknowledging how little they understand about men, let alone taking the steps to broach that gap.

Another person explained hyperagency by saying "Every single individual man is a hyper agent who is just expected to bootstrap his way out of the patriarchy through sheer force of will."

#m.#antimasculism

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beatrice-otter · 1 month

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The President and the Police

It is curious to me that people who are (rightly) outraged at the police being sent against the college protestors and want to reflect that in their voting in the next election are focusing on the office that has zero power over the police, and not the offices that actually control the police. (This is especially aggravating because we've been talking about the police a lot over the last four years, and so if people actually wanted to change things you would think they would have figured out basic things like "who controls the police.")

The President does not and never has controlled the police. Anywhere in the US. Policing is a local matter. The vast majority of law enforcement is done by the city police (employed and governed by the city), county sheriffs and their deputies (employed by the county), and state police (employed and governed by the state). The laws and regulations and policies are made at the local level. So are hiring decisions! If you want to change things--and God knows the police are corrupt and violent and bigoted and awful, and DESPERATELY need to be changed--you can't do it through which presidential candidate you vote for (or don't vote for). You do it by voting for your local elected officials: town mayor and city councilmen (or whatever the exact positions are in your area), your county sheriff, and your state representatives. And then following up by doing things like attending city council meetings and raising the question of police reform--and talking to your neighbors and people in your community and building a coalition of people to work on alternatives to the police and convincing people to try some of them. If you live in a city that has a protest that the cops have been called to, please call your city government and complain. It won't magically change things but it'll be a little bit of pressure in the right direction.

The President does have some control over Federal law enforcement, but that's the FBI, DEA, ICE, and other more specialized groups (like the military police and Fish and Wildlife enforcement officers). And God knows that they could desperately use reform as well! ICE in particular should be abolished. So yeah, your vote for President will affect those organizations. (Trump, of course, loves ICE and wants to expand its powers and reach.)

But if you are rightly concerned by police response to the protests, and want to use your vote to do something about it, you need to be thinking locally.

And good news! Local elections have far fewer people voting in them, so it's actually much easier to affect things at a local level than it is to affect national affairs.

I know this, because I've seen it happen in my community. I am a supporter of an immigrant rights group in my community, and a while back our little local police department hired a guy who had been fired for racism by the biggest city in the region. This is extremely common; most trained and experienced police would much rather work in larger cities which pay better. So a lot of small towns and county sheriff's departments have trouble getting "qualified" people who want to work there, and regularly hire cops who are only willing to move to rural areas because they've been fired for cause and no larger police department will touch them.

But in this specific case, the local immigrant support group was watching, saw he'd been hired, and swung into action. They encouraged their members to call the city council, and go to city council meetings, and write letters to the editor, and after a couple of months of this the city council conceded and got rid of the guy. If you get a group of people together to make a concerted effort, you can make a difference in the policing in your local community.

But the President can't do jack about it. So don't blame him, blame the people who actually hire, train, and write the policies for the police. Who are all local people living in your area!

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weird-is-life · 9 months

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hiiii!! can i request aaron hotchner x bau!reader where reader gets sooo jealous of the women flirting (or trying to flirt) with him (at jacks soccer games, when they’re away on a case or when he did that fbi triathlon)? i’m curious to see how you think she’ll react and what aaron will say when he realises she’s jealous 🤭🤭

Hii, thank u for this request, lovely!🥰Warnings: pet names, mentions of food (kind of), like one kiss, (1k)

It's not your first time at one of Jack's soccer games. But it is your first time witnessing what is happening in front of you.

The other kid's moms are ogling Aaron like he is some kind of famous painting hanging in Louvre (which you can't really blame them for). They also keep smiling and waving flirtiously anytime he looks over their way.

And it is even worse, when you realise, they are all dressed up, make up done with pretty clothes on. It looks like they dressed up just for him. It causes a pang in your heart.

You didn't think about wearing anything special, as you dressed up this Saturday morning for Jack's match. Compared to them you look like a bag of potatoes, you with the loose jeans and a comfy hoodie on.

It makes you feel kind of anxious, but you also feel one even more intense feeling, which can be only described as jealousy.

But you didn't come here to be angry at ridiculous moms, you came to watch Jack score some goals and see him have fun. Which is exactly what you force yourself to do now. Occasionally, your gaze slips from Jack to Aaron, but most of the match you just cheer Jack on loudly.

During the half-time, you fight the want to go to Aaron. You don't want to distract him from his coaching duties, even if it's a friendly match between the kids.

So you stay seated, still having to see and listen to those moms. They even started to talk about how hot and handsome Aaron is, which has you squirming in your seat uncomfortably. You can't decide if you want to run away from them or if you want to go tell them off from talking about your Aaron.

But you don't, you power through the second half of the match, but the urge to go say some very rude things to them doesn't dissappear.

Finally you hear the whistle, signaling the end of the match. And while the kids shake their hands with happy faces, you sheepishly walk towards the bench. Aaron is standing next to it and when he notices you walking his way, his whole face lights up.

"Hi," you greet him, you smile at him, but it's not your usual big smile.

Aaron immediately picks up on it, but he doesn't say anything. He just opens his arms, inviting you to hug him, which you gladly do.

"Hi, honey," he quickly kisses your temple, "Did you have fun?" You've come separately here, having slept at your on place for a change.

"Not as much as Jack," you grin at him, "oh, before i forget, I've brought a little snack for the kids." You gesture at the big bag in your hand, it's full of juice boxes.

"Ah, you shouldn't have, the kids will want it every time you come here now," he teases you.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't mind getting them something every time," you respond. Aaron knows that you wouldn't mind, because you are the biggest sweetheart on the earth, which is one of the many reasons why he loves you.

You are grinning at him, when suddenly your smile dissappears and you start to frown. Aaron has never before seen that kind of frown on you.

"What's wrong?" he questions, eyebrows drawn up.

"Nothing, i just thought of something, " you murmur, but your frown deepens. And it doesn't take Aaron long to find out the reason behind your scowl.

He notices you frown more and more every time, one of the other moms speak near by. So he puts 2 and 2 together.

"Did those moms say something to you?" He asks you with stern voice, because if they did, he won't hesitate to go talk to them.

"No, it's just...," you feel rather embarrassed to say it now, "they talked about...-about you."

"About me? What did they say?" he puzzles, he hopes, that it isn't something to do with his coaching.

"Oh come on Aaron, you must know what I mean," you whine with slight frustration, it is clearly not directed at him but at them. Still you are a bit annoyed by his cluelessness.

"I really don't know, tell me?"

You sigh, "t-they talked about how hot and handsome you are, how they would love to go out with you. They waved and smiled at you basically the entire game," you grumble it silently. Face scrunched up in vexation.

"Really?" he asks, surprised.

"You must have noticed it by now."

"Well, I haven't," he tells you honestly, "I am too busy giving instructions to the kids and," he pulls you towards him by the sleeve of your hoodie," I am too distracted by you, to notice those silly women."

His words, as always, have you blushing, "Yeah?"

"Oh most definitely, have you looked in a mirror lately, sweetheart? Nothing compares to you and for sure not those moms," he playfully jabs his finger into your side, but his words are as sincere as they can be.

And after he says that, he quickly looks over to those moms to make sure they are looking and kisses you hard. It catches you off guard, but when you kiss him back, your kiss is just as eager as his.

When you pull away, he whispers against your lips, devilish smile on his face," I don't think you need to be jealous anymore, honey. I think, they understand now, that I only have my eyes for one person, that is you." The only thing you can do as a response to that, is to hide your red face in his neck.

You shyly smile at his words and inside you are beaming, happy that Aaron showed off your relationship even if he isn't the biggest fan of the pda. And you are a little, and i mean a lot, proud that he showed you off like that, because the irritation on those women's faces was priceless.

"I love you," you whisper bashful into his skin.

"I know, sweetheart. I love you, too," he responds warmly, "now let's go quickly hand out the snacks to the kids and get that breakfast, before those moms burn a whole into our faces."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner

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kyupidos · 9 months

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I would like to request a twst overblot gang x reader ( separate and only do a few of them if you can't do all!! ) :D , the idea is reader missed their birthday cause it was on the day they overblotted ( things was so chaotic and they literally just forgot about it ) and only remembered it after they started dating them!! (I would absolutely love you if you make azul's first cause he's my fav lol)

09/10/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

ink flavored cake ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘when your future boyfriend turns into a blot-consumed monster, things can get hectic; forgetting things is only natural, no?”

characters. overblot boys : riddle rosehearts , leona kingscholar , azul ashengrotto ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, silly romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. ty for the req anon ^-^ !! this took me some time to work on because i was trying to figure out how it would work, but yk i had to get it out before monday; though i had to cut back on the amount of characters. maybe i’ll do a part 2 if i’m motivated enough. usually i order characters by order of dorm, but i’ll make an exception for you here since, what’s not to love about azul?

a. ashengrotto

— you don’t blame yourself for having forgotten your own birthday, though it’s a shame; three days to obtain a picture in a museum under the sea or else your only living space will be taken from you, being forced to spend the nights at savanaclaw, and then finally, the third overblot of the year. the third! in the end though, you figured it didn’t matter too much. who would be able to celebrate your birthday with you, people from a whole different world than you?

— though you also didn’t expect things to get hectic romantically, you’re not upset about that either; so you sat with azul in his office, spending time together in comfortable silence as he got some work done. it seemed as though something had randomly popped up in his mind, though, as he carefully put his tea cup down on the coaster and turned to you. “also, i should ask, angelfish— when is your birthday? i’d like to remember so i can treat you.” for a moment, you debate how to respond. it’s already been three or four months since that day. “well..it already passed.” azul sighed, looking disappointed in a way you could quite express, before he continued, “oh? well that’s a shame. but nonetheless, what’s the date?” “ah..the day you overblotted?”

— you can’t help but notice the air turn heavy as the silence once comfortable turned awkward, azul appearing more miffed than before. at least, not long before; “well, is there anything in particular you wanted for your birthday?” you hummed in confusion before he started again, this time more confident, “it doesn’t matter if the time has gone, you’re my lover correct? i still might as well get you something special.” in any normal situation you would have probably shook your head politely and say it wasn’t necessary, but this was related to your birthday. of course, you took up his offer— you weren’t going to give up a birthday gift that easy.

l. kingscholar

— some people believed that no matter how different you two were, in some ways you were certainly akin to your lover, leona. after all, you didn’t seem too concerned with the way you missed your birthday, which was on the day of your lover’s overblot, no less; in fact, though you did seem upset to some degree, you didn’t seem to be nettled at all by the concept. although such a fact wasn’t exactly something people were aware of yet, at least not until leona himself became aware of it.

— “eh, herbivore. by the way, when’s your birthday? i don’t think you ever told me.” ..right, you nearly forgot again. well, it’s not that big of a deal, you suppose; at least it was the day after, but you’re over that now. you guess. “ahh, yeah, it already passed.” leona yawned, facing away from you as he laid on his bed with you next to him, in a sort of sitting position. “oh? well when exactly was that?” you shrugged lackadaisically, counting your fingers as if counting down the days since it had passed. “probably..the day you overblotted, i guess?”

— very slowly, to the point it was almost funny, leona’s head slowly turned to face you. usually he wouldn’t be bothered by sentiments like this, as his face was downturned with a chagrin frown, but after all you were his lover. and plus, it’s a little embarrassing to have overblotted on said lover’s birthday; even if you didn’t know. he wasn’t even able to spoil you the day after in apology! “in that case..write me a list of everything you want.”

r. rosehearts

— having a birthday near the start of the school year wasn’t exactly the best in terms of celebrating with new school friends; especially when on your third day of school, your friends’ housewarden raged into an overblotted monster, pretty awkward, isn’t it? but in the end, you’d completely forgotten anyway, what with your whole in-another-world dilemma, and the aforementioned overblot— oh, and that you almost got expelled on the whole day, and moving into ramshackle..certainly some tough times on your end.

— but now, things have calmed, and you’re together with your now partner, riddle, having a two person tea party in heartslabyul’s garden. most of what you’re talking about is related to the things going on in heartslabyul, but you don’t really mind; if you want to change topics, you know he’ll listen. though suddenly as he rambles on to you about unbirthday parties, a highlight of the aftermath of his overblot ( as well as your birthday, not that he knew ), he looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes, “—oh and i must ask, when is your birthday, dear? we don’t only hold unbirthday parties, you know.”

— had it not been for that, you’d probably have forgotten again, having been months since the beginning of your journey in twisted wonderland; though, you’d probably still complain internally every now and then. “ahah, it already passed this year, y’know. totally forgot to mention it.” riddle looked perplexed for a second, unsure how one could forget their own birthday, before returning to his casual expression a second later. “..is that so? but when was it, even so?” “mm, third day of school.” riddle wasn’t an idiot, he remembered what happened that day. the main star was him, after all. so inevitably, he couldn’t help but feel upset that he unintentionally ruined your second day. “r-really..then..i’ll dedicate today to you, instead. tell me what you want, i’ll get it prepared; like i said previous, we take parties seriously.”

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hellyeahsickaf · 5 months

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You know how you look back at past shitty connections, friends, family dynamics, and relationships and you're like "I can't believe I let them treat me that way"? I think it hits differently with disability because when you're disabled you don't always even know that you're being mistreated and/or abused in regards to it.

I know statistically disabled people are more likely to be abused but sometimes there's an additional type of abuse that's hard to identify even in hindsight because no one tells you how abusive it is.

But ableist abuse relating to your disability can look like:

Pushing you to do things beyond your limitations despite their awareness of them.

Blaming you for the "inconveniences" brought on by things beyond your control (ex: missing a movie because you had to wait for your pain meds to kick in).

Not allowing you to take breaks or antagonizing you when you do.

Bullying or making fun of things you can't help like gait, a lisp, an embarrassing symptom.

Trying to "cure" or "fix" you, often framing it as "helping" you. Sometimes they look similar and you might be able to tell by their reaction towards lack of improvement.

Holding over you the things they have to do for you (cooking, cleaning, driving, working, etc).

Giving ultimatums that demand things of you that you can't do (getting a job, keeping up with multiple chores).

Using insulting terms, language, and/or slurs that you have not permitted them to or in a context where there is intent to harm you.

Interrogating you about your disability or trying to find discrepancies between your experiences and what they've heard/read/seen about it.

Implying or saying anything along the lines of you faking, being lazy, or exaggerating. Reducing you to a hypochondriac, saying you enjoy being disabled because you seem to like having things done for you, or that you're lazy or abusing them by depending on them for things.

Asking you about it not to learn more, but to use it against you in some way.

Having a martyr complex, acting as if they're a hero for giving you the support you deserve.

Calling you a burden, implying you to be one, or treating you like one.

Acting like you owe them a debt, sometimes even demanding some kind of repayment. Keeping track of money they spend on you that you won't be able to pay back, feeling entitled to things like control, sex, a portion of government benefits, etc.

Self victimizing. They act like you being disabled causes more suffering to themselves than you.

Accusing you of being addicted to your medication. If you genuinely develop an addiction a normal response is concern not rage, finger pointing, etc. if you don't have one baseless claims are very harmful

Trying to force you to stop "depending" on things you need like medication and disability aids

Comparing you to others that are doing "better" than you. Maybe showing you inspiration porn of someone with no legs for example doing incredible things- which is great for them but the "I don't let my disability stop me so you can do anything" shit is harmful. Some of us will get very unwell if we try, and some just can't.

Trying to make others also see you as dramatic, faking, or lazy. Often embarrassing and mocking you as well.

Withholding things you need like medication or disability aids as a punishment

Saying your disability is karma or something inflicted by a divine entity/religious figure. Maybe as punishment for not praying, being queer, or something else they disagree with.

Saying that it's a result of being "promiscuous"/LGBT. For instance if you have HIV or ME/CFS that was a result of something like mononucleosis ("kissing disease").

Shaming you for things related to your disability beyond your control or expressing embarrassment over these things. including but not limited to: appearance (general but also things like say a lupus butterfly rash or weight gain/loss), having to lay down in public (ex: with POTS), inability to keep up with hygiene, etc.

Lacking boundaries and acting as if they are entitled to information or intrusion of your space/belongings due to the power they hold over you and assistance they may provide.

Implying/saying you're living an extended vacation. Maybe one they say they wish they had because they have to do x y z while you "sit around"

Abandoning you solely for your disability (ex: because you can't hang out, they don't want a disabled partner, think you're faking, etc)

Note that someone doing one or two of these things a few times doesn't always mean they're abusing you (also depends on which). It's about the patterns and frequency of this behavior as well as refusal to improve once aware that they're hurting you. People who care about you don't want to hurt you and the normal response is to do their best not to repeat the action that negatively affected you

There are more examples and you can feel free to list some

✨This is about physical illnesses and disabilities, please don't derail✨

#I've experienced most of these unfortunately and it took a long time to identify some of it as abuse #chronic illness #chronic pain #disability #fibromyalgia #cfs #chronic fаtiguе ѕуndrоmе #actually disabled #spoonie #me/cfs #cfs/me #long covid #tw abuse #medical ableism #ableism #cpunk #cripplepunk

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l1ndseyper3z · 4 months

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I really don't know wether I like him or hate him

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS ACTUALLY DISGUSTING THE FILTH IS FILTHING PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION I DONT KNOW WHY I DID THIS

DATING MARK HOFFMAN HEADCANNONS

[SFW & NSFW] [F!READER]

warnings: Mark being Mark, daddy kink, bondage, age gap (both over 18), praise, degrading, gunplay, public sex, thigh riding, cock-warming, cumming inside, p in v penetrator, eating pussy, sucking cock, petplay, bootlicking, boot grinding, thigh riding, choking, sir kink, master kink, spanking, strong language

you are responsible for your own media consumption. minors dni.

SFW

master of PDA and physical touch

he needs everyone to know that you are his and NOBODY is allowed to even glance at you the wrong way.

if anybody even looks at you for slightly too long he perfectly flexes to expose the gun on his hip

if you're younger than him (which chances are, you are cause idk he gives off younger gf vibes) he is so protective

it does get a bit much sometimes but with the knowledge of his sister you can't exactly blame him

he always plays with ur hair

it grounds both you and him

he has to be big spoon

he likes having control and being able to keep you safe

100% teaches you self-defense

with the shit he sees (and does) he wants you to be able to protect yourself when he's not around

worries that jigsaw will test you

even though you've done nothing to deserve that because you're an absolute angel in his eyes

defo that boyf that follows you around stores carrying all ur bags and clothes

always kissing ur neck and hugging ur waist

he took quite a while to get used to you and begin to trust you because of his sister

will watch all ur fav movies and shows with you but complain the whole time (even tho he's secretly enjoying it)

pet names for you 100% consist of baby doll, baby girl, my girl, my girl, darling and sweet girl

he's so sassy for no reason whatsoever (name a saw dude who isn't???)

can be a bit cruel sometimes

and his ego gets in the way of apologising

when he realises he's fucked up he'll buy you flowers or something

he isn't great with his words so prefers to let his actions speak louder

he tries to like the music you like

if you tell him you relate to a song he'll figure out what it means and read through the lyrics to try and understand you better

THIGH GRIPPER

he so caresses your thighs when he's driving

half the time he dosent even realise he's doing it, it just happens

cooks for you

he so puts his hands in your back pockets

he just does

NSFW

100% gets bricked when you wear his clothes

ROUGH DOM

makes you beg to cum

uses vibrators on you as punishment

call him daddy in bed

just do it

it awakens something in him

will tie you up and use handcuffs on you

edges you

overstimulates you

has made you suck on his gun

or fucked you with his gun

absolute master of sucking pussy

chokes you when you aren't behaving

icl he is quite selfish when it comes to sex

wants you to suck him off all the time

ESPECIALLY IN HIS OFFICE AT WORK

He just loves looking down at your little pathetic tear and spit coated face as you suck on his big fat cock

King of praise and degradation

"look at my pretty little whore, sucking daddys cock so well"

"spread your legs slut"

so forces you to warm his cock when you've been a bad girl

and makes you ride his thigh when you're being a desperate slut

always cums inside you

he's not very vocal but you can get the occasional groan or curse out of him

lasts scarily long

will have sex anywhere, anytime

he has such a high sex drive

why do I get the vibe he has made you grind on his boot before

gags.

collars.

he's a kinky bitch and is probs into petplay of some form

"pups don't talk. now, if you lick daddys shoes clean he might just fuck your desperate little pussy"

just wants to see you panting on your knees below him as you obey his every command

will fuck your little pussy like there's no tomorrow

"good puppy, taking it so well for daddy"

will bend you over his knee and spank you as a punishment

and make you count aloud

and thank him

"now, bratty girls have to be punished, count out loud and be sure to thank master for teaching you how to behave"

"pup, I can't quite hear you, should sir up it to 25 spanks?"

his aftercare is okay

cuddles, water and maybe a shower but thats pretty much it

I'm sorry this turned out to be utter filth 😭

#saw posting #sawposting #jigsaw #saw 2004 #saw franchise #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #headcanon #headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #Spotify

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thesilmarillionblog · 10 days

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 6

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, language, PTSD, violence, mention of drugs, mention of torture, mentally unstable Soldier Boy, anger issues

Word Count: 3127

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

For the previous three days, Soldier Boy, Butcher, and Hughie had been searching for you and researching research from several decades ago. Ben wasn't doing well since he was becoming more and more impatient every day and was preoccupied with what he had done to you. The most difficult part was that you might still be tortured while he is free, in spite of his failings. He was struggling not to punch the two idiots who said they could help him find you, but the fact was that he felt guilty for not finding you quicker.

Soldier Boy was constantly smoking weed, and Hughie was staring at the screen of the device he had in his lap, which he called his "laptop." Soldier Boy was taken aback to discover that the device's internet genuinely knew everything. He studied everything fascinating about the modern world during the night so that when he found you, he could teach you such things.

“According to an official statement, Y/N betrayed the company by selling specific highly confidential information to Russia. This had to have happened after you were captured and taken to Russia. Am I correct?” Hughie questioned, showing Soldier Boy the date.

Ben became outraged and said with rage, “Yes,” taking a tenth sniff at the drugs that were on the table. “She didn't rebel against the government; screw that. Selling information to Russia? She wouldn't even offer her flowers for sale.” He truly wanted to prevent himself from punching Hughie or the internet. “Fucking snakes.”

Hughie and Butcher exchanged a look as Soldier Boy went on to swear and praise your innocence. Hughie got a bit anxious when he heard his heater's alarm go off.

With a swift “Okay, okay,” Hughie calmed Soldier Boy. “You can't always rely on the Internet. Everyone knows that already.”

With a suspicious voice, Butcher asked Soldier Boy, glancing at the TV from Hughie's other side, “Why did she leave them though? There has to have been something that happened.”

Soldier Boy was making a lot of effort to move past these painful recollections in order to start over, but those guys were a little too inquisitive and were doing everything in their power to make him feel uncomfortable. He lied, not knowing what to say, saying, “I don't know.” He could feel the heat rising in his chest every second as a result of their pointless questions.

Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and paused for a moment, ruminating on the day he fired you from the team in a very jackass way. If he had seen the previous version himself, he would have suffered a major head injury. You wouldn't have had to go through such things if only he had listened to you once. He caused you to be hurt in every manner possible.

“She didn't do anything wrong, yet I dismissed her from the squad. Noir is the reason everything happened. What a fucking traitor!” In an attempt to hide his errors by placing the blame elsewhere, Soldier Boy said it aggressively.

Butcher's eyebrows rose up, and he turned to face Hughie, who had been trying to figure out what Soldier Boy was saying.

“What action did Black Noir take? I take it that he didn't fuck her or something during the time you developed feelings for her.” Butcher questioned him in a humorous way.

Ben growled, “Watch your fucking language, or I'm going to make you gargle my hairy balls in that garrulous mouth of yours,” while Butcher gave him a frightened little look to Hughie, who was about to pee in his trousers since the alarm of the heater was freaking him out with his every word. They wouldn't do well if Butcher continued to annoy Soldier Boy in that way.

“You don't need to know the fucking details; just find her,” Soldier Boy continued, cutting Butcher off before he could say anything else.

This states that she would be imprisoned in America for the rest of her life due to her betrayal and that her body would be studied in the future. It appears they covered up your situation but not hers. Hughie continued to scam every headline about you, saying, “There is no more recent news.”

When Hughie said your body would be examined by the best scientists and doctors, Soldier Boy cursed again. Despite being the strongest superhuman in the world, they had tried to kill him by torturing him severely for years. Even to him, they were all downright painful and disgusting. He didn't want to think about how much pain you endured for decades because of his mistakes. When he saved you from the lab, he would make sure everyone who had harmed you died there, and you could start over.

“Actually, we have a very good friend from Vought. She is also conducting extensive searches by herself. It won't be long until we locate your teammate for you.” Hughie said as he picked up his phone as soon as it began to ring.

Despite the fact that it has been a week and the explosion he created is still being shown on TV every night, Soldier Boy cautiously listened to every phone call in the hopes of learning something about you. However, there was still no single sign. He was sure they were plotting new plans to capture him once again. All of them were fucking cowards.

Butcher offered Soldier Boy a glass of whiskey while Hughie was on the phone with Annie in the kitchen.

“Is he fucking a supe woman?” Soldier Boy asked in disbelief. That guy, Hughie, was full of surprises, though his face was screaming that he was a bottom.

“Never judge the book by its cover,” Butcher smirked.

“So the whole thing was a lie, huh?” As if Ben hadn't repeated the same thing a hundred times, Butcher inquired again. “She must have done something really bad to find herself in a situation like yours.”

Butcher was interested in hearing the story because he wanted to know what was ahead. Dealing with Soldier Boy was dangerous enough, but it would become even more problematic if you shared his anger management issues. For a week, Butcher watched your films and interviews, but he was aware that the media was the least reliable source on earth, particularly when it came to superheroes.

With a menacing glance at Butcher, Soldier Boy merely stated, “She didn't do anything wrong. All she wanted to do was get herself free from the team. It seems that they decided not to respect her decision to leave.”

“What do you think she’ll do when she’s free?” Butcher asked with curiosity and added, “Will she team up with you again despite all?”

For days and hours, Soldier Boy had considered saving you, but he dismissed your feelings upon seeing him again. Thinking about it was not something he wished to do. Even though he was well-known for his confidence, he had been secretly experiencing some insecurity lately, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. It wasn't that he didn't look nicer; in fact, he was in better form than before, but he was anxious that your opinion might change about him. He was aware that your rescue was more essential than those things, though. Later on, he would be considering the relationship between you.

“I don’t know, but of course she’ll team up with me,” he said trying to sound confident and sure of himself.

Soldier Boy instantly got up from the couch when Butcher's lips parted to ask another question. He focused on the woman Hughie was speaking to on the phone. She was talking about a supe expert physician who had been assigned to study the bodies of the captive supe for scientific purposes for decades, someplace in America.

With great excitement, Hughie hung up the phone and turned to face Butcher and Soldier Boy. He said, “Annie found something. Searches conducted by the government on supe bodies appear to have begun decades ago with Soldier Boy and Y/N. They recruited the world's brightest physicians and scientists to work strictly with Vought.”

Soldier Boy impatiently urged him, saying, “Go on” and tell all the shit already.

“All right. There is a single scientist in charge who watches over all supe captives for his scientific studies. He is required to report to Vought twice in a span of three months, in great detail. It has continued for many years. He is retired last year, but he most likely has knowledge of the location of Y/N.”

Soldier Boy thought, Fuck. At last, he located you. As Hughie spoke about the significant possibility of somebody knowing your whereabouts, his heart raced with excitement.

Butcher said, “Starlight did a really good job there, huh,” with a meaninful grin at Hughie's bashful but proud smile.

After a little period of time spent lost in thought, Soldier Boy eventually grabbed his shield from the corner, straightened his suit, and exclaimed, “Let's fucking give a visit this son of a bitch.”

Soldier Boy ignored Butcher and Hughie's warnings and used a forceful move to smash through the old man's door after spending hours on the road and thinking about you. Soldier Boy cast a glance in the direction of the elderly man and thought, ‘They could go fuck themselves.’ Because of his alleged scientific accomplishments about the supes, he was obviously living in luxury. As Soldier Boy cautiously made his way inside the doctor's huge home, his heart was filled with immense fury. He considered the number of times this old cunt had tormented you in order to send Vought a disgusting report.

The doctor was sitting on his couch, watching the news on TV, when he noticed Soldier Boy standing right in front of him. As the strongest supe and two other men entered his home as if they intended to kill him, he was in disbelief and did not know what to do.

After cleaning his spectacles, the doctor said in a shaky, scared voice, “What's happening? Why are all of you in my house?”

Butcher replied, “This is not very welcoming of you, old man,” and he turned off the TV before sitting down on the closest chair. Hughie swiftly but gently took the phone from the old man's hands when Butcher noticed him reaching for it. Hughie made the doctor sit down again with the same gentleness.

Soldier Boy gripped his shield more firmly, as though he were about to engage in combat with his greatest enemy. He gazed at the elderly man in front of him who was in fear and worry, and he loathed him. Still, he had good reason to be frightened. After all, that would be his last day.

“You live in a nice, big house, huh?” Soldier Boy spoke as he moved slowly in the direction of the doctor. “It appears that you made a good living off of the supes you tortured.”

As Soldier Boy approached with menacing steps and a look like a bloodthirsty murderer, the doctor gulped down nervously. “It's not what you think. I don't know how you escaped from Russia, but you need to stay calm and listen to me,” the elderly guy remarked, raising his hand in protest. “My actions were crucial for both the ongoing wellness of the world and the study of supe.”

"Why the fuck would I listen to your bullshit at all?" Standing by the elderly doctor, Soldier Boy remarked fiercely. “You tortured and used supes for money, you fucking old shit.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows slightly and replied, “Not for money. My work throughout the years has contributed to a better understanding of superhero bodies, which has made it easier to bring your kind to the pinnacle of perfection.”

Before Soldier Boy, Butcher growled, “Perfection? Fuck that. You just made the government's weapons better, served their evil shit for years. Nothing more.”

Soldier Boy battled to contain the heat rising from his chest. Instead of apologizing and beg for his life, the doctor didn't acknowledge that what he had done was wicked and immoral and continued to defend himself which made Soldier Boy even more angrier.

“I saw the explosion in New York from the TV,” the doctor said, adjusting his eyeglasses and looking at Soldier Boy carefully. “You cannot deny that what you experienced in Russia made you stronger and better.”

“I killed people there, you sick old fuck.” Soldier Boy grunted and looked at the doctor with disgust. “Have you fucking lost your humanity by examining the supes for years?”

Without letting the doctor talk any further, Soldier Boy asked angrily, “Where is Y/N? Don’t tell me you don’t know a shit, because I fucking know you sent some reports about her to Vought.”

Butcher and Hughie worriedly watched Soldier Boy, his hand clenched into a fist, as if he may blow at any moment. Soldier Boy grew angrier the longer the old bitch talked.

The doctor honestly said, “Yes. I spent decades working on her. I can't dispute that she's a bit of a rebel, or somewhat resistant. But because of the research we were able to conduct on her body, we were able to perfect Comp-V, which undoubtedly contributed to Queen Maeve's current status as the strongest female supe in history. And without a doubt, your body assisted Homelander in becoming the strongest supe ever.”

Hughie muttered, "Holy fucking shit," at witnessing the ascending smoke rising from Soldier Boy's chest.

“Where is she now?” Soldier Boy repeated, trying to maintain composure and control over his body while ignoring what the doctor said. “Where on earth are you keeping her concealed?”

“Calm down. I'll tell you where she is,” stated the doctor. “It appears that there will be no stopping what is about to come about, which will ultimately bring the two of you face to face with the Seven. When you get back to where you belong, you'll both realize how weak and worthless they are; you'll see they are the upgraded versions of yourselves.”

Hughie and Butcher quickly left the house after realizing that Soldier Boy would soon blow up the entire place. The doctor didn’t feel anymore as he realized it was his end. He knew such thing would happen sooner or later. He had already a good life after all.

It's fine, he thought, if it was a challenge. If needed, he could simply kill those seven whores. Soldier Boy was willing to remind them all how fucking stupid it was to fuck with him. If this fucking old dick believed he had made the new supes better than him and the rest of the world agreed with his bullshit, Soldier Boy would show them how wrong they all were.

“Where is she?” Soldier Boy growled again as he was getting closer to blow up.

“She’s in Ohio,” the doctor said, giving the full address just before Soldier Boy exploded the whole place into ashes.

This time, unlike the second explosion he had in New York, he did not pass out. He was relieved and at ease at the same time because it appeared that he was becoming more adept at using his new powers. Luckily, he was also able to locate you at last. He got in the car and gave the address he was given to Butcher, who had been looking into the damage Soldier Boy had done after leaving the burned-out house. Hughie's eyes widened in fear as he crouched where he was seated.

After several hours, Butcher drove them to a massive, desolate structure that resembled the one in Russia. Soldier Boy was more nervous and angry than ever as he recalled unpleasant experiences, but his need to see you overcame these emotions. His gaze was fixated on the building as they all got out of the car. So that's where you were imprisoned there for years, apart from him and all alone.

Soldier Boy led the way without speaking a word, and when five guys came up to stop him from entering inside, he threw them hard against the wall. It was funny because some of them started shooting at him, like they could hurt him or something. Soldier Boy killed some of the men with his shield, cutting off their heads, and killed some of them with his bare hands, making sure not a single one remained alive.

Butcher followed behind Soldier Boy, providing his assistance with his own firearm while blasting at men who were making desperate attempts to stop them.

As Soldier Boy massacred everyone there and killed those who were wailing in agony, the place fell silent. After all, each and every one of them had a hand in hurting you.

Soldier Boy and Butcher looked everywhere for you. He knew you were in the lab when he walked into a massive, frigid room. Your soothing scent and presence were sensed throughout his entire body despite it was weak. He swiftly ripped off the metal door and killed the last person standing behind it, ripping her heart from her chest in one motion and ignoring her cries.

He found you in a similar-looking metal box to his, with an item covering your face and putting you to endless sleep. Soldier Boy approached your capsule while laying his shield on the ground and with a heavy heart.

“I kept my promise,” Butcher stated, hoping Soldier Boy wouldn’t betray their deal and thankfully, he gave him a promising nod.

“Here's my sleeping beauty,” Soldier Boy murmered, unable to contain his smile as his heart warmed upon seeing your peaceful face, before he violently tore off the metal door to free you.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Thank you for your comments for the previous chapter! They made me really happy. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! -`♡´-

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konigsblog · 9 months

Text

RUINED — in which your lieutenant teaches you a valuable lesson.

simon ghost riley x afab!reader

warnings: feminine terms, female anatomy, degrading and humilating, corruption, mean dom!ghost, choking and slapping.

synopsis/summary: you and ghost don't seem to have the best relationship. always groaning when put on a mission together. this time, you took it too far with your backtalk towards you lieutenant, leading to your very harsh, cruel punishment.

a/n: i don't post fics often, but if this does well i'll think about posting them occasionally whilst doing my drabbles and blurbs, of course. reblogs and comments appreciated.

to say you and ghost got along was a lie. you envied eachother, glared at eachother from afar and talked behind eachother's back. your captain knew this. he knew you two didn't get along, deciding to team you up for a duo mission in the hopes you'd get along.

oh, how wrong he was.

not only did you two not get along, ghost had been shot in the shoulder and arm twice, leading to you having to call medic and help him in the meantime. the enemies took their opportunity and fled, knowing they wouldn't get away with a successful mission either. your goal was to eliminate all of hassan's men, which was now turning into a failed mission, and hearing ghost scoff and blame you didn't make it any better

“if you'd done your job correctly, you wouldn't have been shot. be glad i even bothered to help your ass.” you practically growled out, pushing yourself forward and infront of price who held you back. disappointment hung heavy in the air, and the tension was thick between you two. “it's no one's fault. we'll send you out once you're better. rest, simon.”

you rolled your eyes before turning your heel, walking off to your barracks where you would rest grumpily, seething at the thought of him blaming you for causing a failure.

a hand shuffling your body awakened you. you rubbed your eyes and attempted to see through your sleepy haze, seeing simon stand above you, his arm covered in gauze, standing shirtless above you. “simon?” he continued to stare at you. “you need to be taught a fuckin' lesson.” his tone harsh and strict, stern and demanding as he gripped the blanket beside your head.

“wha—?” you were only cut off by his calloused hand placed and wrapped around your neck. you squirmed, scratching and attempting to pull at his wrist, his eyes narrowing in on you as he caged you beneath him. “say you're sorry, doll.” you wouldn't, it wasn't your fault, and you wouldn't take blame for anything caused due to his stupidity. “let go—!”

his hand collided with your cheek. it wasn't too harsh, he could do better, it almost seemed he was saving any anger or energy for something else. you rubbed your cheek and sat up slightly, struggling underneath his bodyweight. “i didn't do anything, why would i say sorry?” simon tilted his head and smirked almost sarcastically, tightening his grip on the blanket. “you should've shot the enemies, obviously. get tha' through your thick skull.”

you bit your lip to supress your anger, he chuckled seeing the effect he had on you and your built up rage for him. “don't be oblivious, simon. you know that wasn't my fault, if anyone's; it's yours.” his thigh managed to work it's way between yours, you squeezed around him when he pushed your head against the bedframe, a loud thud while he kept his hand tightened around your neck. “who's fault, love?”

his accent deepened when he spoke, and you found yourself grinding down against his knee. he was wearing grey shorts, his skin against your barely covered pussy made you wince and shudder, almost whining when he rubbed it continuously against the thin material covering you and giving you some decency. “the military isn't made for anyone like you, not for people who can't admit their fault.” you managed between gasps, before he slapped you harshly, this time making your jaw drop.

simon glared at you with a tone that could make any recruit drop their arms to their sides and nod obediently. you, on the other hand, wanted nothing but to listen to him. but, as he continued to apply more pressure, almost begging to hear you squeal, you found yourself with tears welling in your eyes. “simon, please—”

as he continued to grind his thigh against your cunt, you became wetter. you felt something inside your stomach turn and how hard he was holding you by your neck made you dizzy and hazy. “'m sorry, simon.” you whimpered finally. you'd rather admit fault rather than die by his touch. “mm', not sure if i can accept it, sweetheart. give me something, something in return for that bratty attitude.” a smirk grew on his face as he let go, trailing his hand down to your chest where he squeezed your breast.

you moaned unexpectedly, arousal pooling at your wet sex, his thigh beginning to get soaked as your juices seeped through your panties. in the dark, you could make out his eyes,, the bedsheets moving as he moved your body down to rest your head on the pillow. his forehead pressed against yours, letting go and tilting his head as he kissed you sloppily. his lips attaching to yours and your tongue interwined, grinding against eachother through your desperation.

he made you feel vulnerable. and to him, you seemed so inexperienced in the military. how you freaked out and rushed over to him when he was shot, anyone else would react calmly. but you seemed like you were worried, like you'd never seen this before. “so whiney, yeah?” simon's voice deepened again as he leaned back in, growling between kisses. “mmf', simon...”

he was being unfair, he knew you were getting off at this; how weak and small he made you feel under his grasp, feeling guilty for kissing your superior, and upset for admitting you actually apologised despite how you said you wouldn't. “up. now.” he practically barked out, ordering you onto two wobbly legs.

simon pushed you against the wall, lifting and hiking you up into his arms, two large hands cupping your waist and yours gripping his shoulder tightly for support. he laid hickeys onto your skin, moving his lips up to yours again, messily sucking on your tongue till you were gasping for air. his bulge hardened at the thought of turning you into an obedient slut who finally listened whenever given an order.

“so desperate...” your thighs were soft, feeling as he let you go and down onto your feet again, tugging at your shirt and pulling it up to reveal your titties. “off, all of it.” and being desperate for that release and the knot in your stomach to snap, you did as you were told. shakily removing your pretty, light blue panties and taking your shirt off, hard nipples sensitive whenever he touched them.

his heavy shaft just pulled out from his boxers, before discarding both and pushing you against the white wall again. “you're drippin', love.” simon commented, rubbing his hand against your slit before bringing you back up into that position; legs wrapped around his waist and his hands groping your ass. simon's bare, wet shaft rested against your stomach, angling his hips to push inside, swallowing inch by inch till he bottomed out with a loud slap. “god—fuck! so fuckin' tight, so fuckin' tight, pretty...”

broad hips smacked against your own as he thrusted sloppily into you, fucking deep and hard into your tight hole, groaning when you spammed around him. your sounds stuttered and almost silenced, coming out breathless and whiney as he fucked into you. you could hear the wet, sticky sounds of his girthy cock stuffed into your pussy, your juices and your sweet musk addictive. “takin' it so well, ain't'cha? bet your used to bein' fucked, huh? bet you're a dirty fuckin' whore,”

“or maybe you're a dirty virgin, desperate for a thick cock shoved into your cunt..” he buried his head in the crook of your neck as he ploughed into you. your hand gripped his shoulder tightly, emitting a wince from him as some blood began trickling from the wound. too distracted by his heavy dick laying in your hole, you closed your eyes and moaned out his name.

he became animalistic with his pace, angrily shoving and pounding into you as you held his bicep tightly, gasping and whimpering at each thrust he made. “dirty slut, swallowin' my entire cock like the greedy fuckin' thing you are.” simon growled out, slamming into you repeatedly, hips smacking against your own and his thick tip ruining your insides.

you gasped as tears began forming in your waterline, threatening to spill as his pace got faster and faster. “take it all, all of it.” you cried at his words, salty tears soaking into your skin as he degraded and humilated you. “what would they think? if they saw your tight pussy bein' assaulted by my pace, huh? they'd think you're a whore desperate for cock, wouldn't they?” you mumbled and babbled, his teeth biting into your neck before he made eye contact with you.

“look at me.” you listened to his order, moving upur hips with his pace, grinding down against him and feeling his happytrail grazing against your soft stomach. he made you feel dizzy, and the knot in your of stomach was beginning to get ready to snap as you soaked his shaft in your cum. each vein on his cock was prominent, grazing against your gummy walls as he bullied his way into you — probably bruising your cervix.

you felt him increase his pace further, getting ready to cum deep into your tightening, clutching hole. a whine left through your swollen lips, stolen as be attached his lips onto yours, taking your moans away while fucking deep and hard into you. “simon, simon— simon!” simon's hard cock twitched inside, groaning and grunting as you squeezed around him rapidly, clutching onto him while you shuddered and shook, sobbing out and cumming all around his dick, his thick girth stretching you out before he got ready for his release.

he threw his head back and growled, the sounds of skin slapping loud and heavy before coming to a halt, his cum buried deep in your hole, still thrusting and fucking it deeper inside. “naughty fuckin'...” he panted, breathing heavily in your ear as he slowly slid from your ruined hole, slit raw and clit sensitive. you felt him carry you over to the bed, grabbing a tissue and wiping your pussy clean before sitting down beside you. “go to sleep, love. i'll be here, just relax...”

you barely noticed his arm, crimson blood trailing down it, it just managing to catch your eye as you sat up. “oh god, did i do that?” you hurried over to him and grabbed a tissue from the box, holding it against him before looking for your medical box that you kept for small smergencies during the night. removing the old gauze carefully, hearing his wince as he kept quiet, the new and clean gauze wrapped around after you managed to stop the bleeding.

“i'm sorr—” “'s alright, doll..” simon cut you off, running his hand through his hair and gripping his bicep before squeezing a few times. “c'mere...” he pulled you onto his lap, kissing you softly a few times, pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder.

“'s safe to say that you probably kept the whole base up with your noises. price will be happy we've made up, yeah?” he joked and teased, seeing you fall asleep in his arms. placed gently against your bed, the blankets covering you. he whispered quietly as you slept,

“mission was my fault, love.” little did he know, you weren't fully asleep just yet...

do not repost onto any other website without prior consent. — konigsblog⭒

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utilitycaster · 21 days

Note

Can I get your opinion, since you seem to be a pretty straight shooter ?

Do you think that Orym is lying to himself when he says he doesn’t want the sword for revenge or isn’t motivated by revenge? In the same way that Laudna was lying to herself and the others about why she wanted the sword?

I’ve seen a lot of ~discourse~ over whether or not orym is being truthful here and tbh I don’t know what to make of it.

My short answer: I suppose it's possible revenge might be among the many factors motivating him, but I don't believe it's his primary motivator.

My real answer? Who fucking cares.

There has been a pretty consistent pattern in which a lot of people who defend Laudna (and Imogen, for that matter) are so laser-focused on their motivations that they utterly ignore the actual consequences of their actions. Because that's the thing, right? You can make speculative claims about motivations; there is no true way to prove that Orym has absolutely no vengeful bones in his body since there's a myriad of reasons to go after the Vanguard and its leadership of which revenge absolutely is one. But you can't deny actions without someone inconveniently pointing out the truth that the action was, in fact, performed by a particular character. So it's a popular focus for people who don't actually have any evidence of their points.

Intent and motivation is, obviously, useful in understanding what a character might do. It's useful in understanding whether they could perhaps be swayed one way or another (eg: Liliana's intentions are in fact of vital importance for that reason, because if they understand what drives her, they might be able to change her path). But it's useless in judging harm done to other people. If someone kills a pedestrian in a crosswalk because they fell asleep driving because they'd stayed up all night for a charitable cause, or if they kill them because they were drunk driving, someone's still dead because of their actions. (For that matter, and I said this in an earlier post, the pedestrian is also equally dead if the driver were drunk driving because they are a well-intentioned alcoholic who fell off the wagon vs. an asshole who doesn't think the rules apply to them.) I don't blame the victim's family for hating the driver in any of the scenarios, even though I think that the some of the above drivers are far more likely to be people who will attempt to rehabilitate themselves and for whom I as a person more removed from the situation may have more pity.

Ultimately, how others see a character in-world is going to be a measure of their actions. So, for example, it does not actually matter if Imogen floats allying with the Vanguard because she wants to connect with her deadbeat mom; Orym is still justified in being hurt and offended because she said something insensitive in front of him. It's better that Imogen is doing this out of an idealized desire rather than malice; I think far better of her as a character and believe there is room for growth; but that doesn't change what she did and that it was, in fact, insensitive. It speaks well to her that Laudna's pressure point is "this sword could hurt your friend" and not "hey what if you could have a sick evil sword of your own", but she did still attack her friend in the middle of the night even with good intentions.

If Orym wants to kill Ludinus out of vengeance for the deaths of his family or if he wants to do so because Ludinus has done immeasurable harm already and very well might destroy the world (and I certainly do believe Orym is motivated by the latter, even if the former plays a role), Ludinus still ends up dead. Sure, if he's motivated only by revenge it might change how you interact with him, the way how Bells Hells treat Keyleth quite differently than they do Ira, but in terms of analyzing whether any specific action was helpful or harmful? Utterly fucking irrelevant.

Anyone making the argument that Orym might not have the purest motives either, as a means to defend Laudna, is either too dumb to even find the correct questions to ask or deliberately throwing up a smoke screen, and as this post indicates, doesn't fucking matter if they're stupid or malicious - they're a waste of your time. Don't even bother.

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers #critical role #cr discourse

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redxx95 · 8 days

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How Cherry Magic avoids romanticising self-sacrifice

Alright strap in boys, this is gonna be a long one.

Spoilers for the manga (mostly the english volumes but I will include a bit from vol 12. I'll mark it tho so yall may skip it if you don't want to be spoilered).

So in this one I want to examine how cherry magic does a great job at portraying self-sacrifice in a relationship as an actual flaw rather than a romantic ideal to aspire to. Very often you'll see characters in media putting their own needs aside for their lover. A lot of people will swoon at that because it is usually presented as proof of how dedicated they are to their partner and their wellbeing. (See... well the thai adaptation actually).

But what has pleasantly surprised me is how Toyota handles this in her manga.

Starting from the beginning, we all know the millions of things Kurosawa did for Adachi to get closer to him. After all, that is what's usually expected of him if we talk traditional gender roles. But one of the reasons Adachi even starts falling for Kurosawa is because of how he was for once able to do something for him.

For someone with very low self-esteem, being able to help this super-capable perfect man is a big boost in confidence and also raises his own selfworth.

So now let's look at a few instances of selfless action and the consequences resulting from them.

First one is the disaster-date in volume 4

Kurosawa does his very best to choose activities that he thinks Adachi will enjoy. That is his primary concern.

The effect this has on Adachi though is that the gap between them feels impossibly wide, only worsening his already low opinion of himself.

Whenever Kurosawa does something big, it makes Adachi feel that much smaller. That's why he'd rather them be equals in everything instead of one giving more than the other.

Next is the argument they have in volume 8

Kurosawa attempts to, very selflessly, protect Adachi from his lowkey homophobic parents. He doesn't want them and their opinions to hurt Adachi personally, so he ends up lying to him to keep the peace. The effect this has on Adachi though is disastrous. At first he's just generally worried about why Kurosawa would even lie to him in the first place, but then they have that fight in their living room and you really get a good look at how negatively this affects Adachi.

The very first conclusion he jumps to is that he's not doing good enough for Kurosawa to feel secure with him.

The next one is even worse, where he thinks he's not good enough in general. Both of these show how when pressed, he will default to blaming himself, believing that he is the problem first and foremost.

And then, if all of that wasn't bad enough, this happens next:

He's actually being self-deprecating again, something he hadn't done ever since Kurosawa told him not to in volume 5. And yes you can actually go back and check for yourself. Whenever he has negative thoughts after this point he's always pushing back.

So there's an escalation happening here, one that is entirely caused by Kurosawa not sharing his burdens with him, by making their relationship unequal.

I think it also hurts him extra bad because they've had this argument before, just with their roles switched.

So to him it must feel like Kurosawa is betraying the important lesson Adachi learned from that argument, which is that communicating with your partner is important, even when you feel like it might hurt them.

There's also something to be said about how most people would've probably stopped prodding when someone says "it's something I can't tell you", but Adachi knows that Kurosawa has a pattern of hiding his issues from him thanks to the mind reading, which is the whole reason they had that argument in vol 6 in the first place.

So, to summarize: Whenever Kurosawa acts selfless it takes a toll on Adachi's mental health. Because of his low self-esteem he needs to feel on equal terms with Kurosawa to be able to see himself as worthwhile. (And obviously he also loves Kurosawa and doesn't want to see him in pain just in general.)

So after all that, surely Kurosawa would have learned his lesson, right? Surely he wouldn't just do it again, right?

... Spoilers for volume 12 start here ✨

So volume 12 is all about Kurosawa overworking himself because he's been assigned this big project by their chief to oversee their company's spot at a stationery convention. (I didn't look up whether or not that's a real thing but it is in the manga universe I guess lmao.)

Adachi tries to help alleviate his burdens with mixed success.

(On the left he feeds Kurosawa because he needs to finish his work and doesn't have time to eat. On the right he tries to take a phonecall for Kurosawa but gets told that Kurosawa needs to hear it personally so relaying a message won't do.)

Then Adachi muses to himself how Kurosawa was always helping him out in the past and how Adachi can't do anything for him in return, especially since they're in different departments. He feels very useless, which is once again bad for his mental health.

Later at home, he offers to at least take over the chores for the time being, but gets told that Kurosawa actually enjoys doing chores so there's no need for him to help.

Kurosawa tells him that all he needs is Adachi to be close to him, while making out with him on the sofa. And right here we see how he only got half the lesson he was supposed to have learned in volume 8: In their fight Adachi told him that they should both be happy and he should share "all the hurt" with him, too. Well, the simple solution to that is not to see all his burdens as burdens, then he's not hurting and Adachi doesn't need to bother fussing over him! Win-win. Epic mind gymnastics 😎 (To be honest, I feel like this is actually very relatable to people that tend to give more than they take. We get so used to the weight of the burden that we don't notice it slowly pulling us down.)

So Adachi obviously notices what's going on and berates him about not having understood anything he said from that fight.

Throughout the volume Kurosawa gets more and more overworked, makes mistakes and is confronted with unexpected complications. He's very adamant about not asking anyone for help though, stating that he "can't be bothering his senpais any more than he already has" and that he's "doing this all for the sake of his future with Adachi".

He also still has some hangups about people seeing him as just a pretty face, as you can see in that flashback in the second page. He constantly feels the need to prove himself to others, which prevents him from ever seeking out help.

So when he inevitably reaches his limit, Adachi is finally able to be there for him, being the only one that sees through his facade.

(That hand kiss is so precious 😭)

Also, on that first page Adachi asks him whether or not he's fine, which reminds me of this panel from volume 6:

He really knows him so well.

Emboldened by his husband, Kurosawa finally does ask for help and is, of course, met with understanding and sympathy.

Spoilers for volume 12 end here ✨

So all this to say: Sometimes, when we try our best to be selfless and to protect the people close to us, we do more harm than good. Sometimes we cause harm to others (see volumes 4 and 8) and sometimes we cause harm to ourselves (see volume 12). It is of course a noble cause but it's not something to strive for at all times and can sometimes be actually counterproductive to what we wanted to achieve in the first place.

As someone who breaks themselves apart to help all the people around them, this aspect of the manga resonated very strongly with me and is probably the biggest reason I got so obsessed with this silly little BL romcom.

I know that this manga is not like, the best in quality. I know it's super niche and silly and cannot compare to the big popular mainstream manga with lots of depth and thought put into it, BUT.

A piece of art doesn't need to be "good" in order to resonate with people. You don't need to paint the mona lisa to reach someone and make them feel seen. You just need some sort of medium and a will to communicate something to the observer. (Something an AI could never replicate but that is a whole other discussion.)

This manga reached me when I needed it and it communicated a message that resonated with me and that is all it needed to do for me to love it to the point of obsession. 💖

Finally I'm done with this essay it is so long oh my god. If you reached the end of this, I'm so sorry. I hope you enjoyed it tho.

#cherry magic #happy pride month I guess #alternate title: adachi has 99 problems and kurosawa is all of them #he's also the solution tho so there's that lol

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