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#i'd let him do terrible things to me
most days I'm so chill with the fact I'm non-contact with my father, it was the best decision, I hate him, my life is so much more peaceful without him
then bam it's a random Tuesday at 8pm and I'm sobbing because I miss having a dad, like, excuse me what is this??
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egg-emperor · 3 months
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Can you even blame me for the way I am when in my second Sonic game and first game where I really got to know Eggman, he says things like this
Calling himself my master. Telling me to know my place. Demanding that I obey him and follow his orders like a good boy and threatening to absolutely obliterate me if I don't. Saying I was asking for it when he punishes me, getting very violent and aggressive, calling me an idiot and saying he needs to teach me a lesson.
Sir yes sir I AM ON MY FUCKING KNEES 😍💜💘💕dhsbfjsnfjsnfbsjgb
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mooseyspooky · 1 month
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the old twat in question
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ohmygraves · 3 months
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after one of your leave, you came back to work with a ring around your finger.
you didn't mention it to anyone, and people simply noticed it when talking to you or handing you things. they congratulated you, talking about the ring. you nervously brushed it off, trying to explain it.
ghost didn't know about it either, and when he overheard someone talking about it, he dropped his mug of tea on the floor, the pieces scattering around the place.
this was such a shock to someone who had planned to propose to you.
well, propose might be a bit too far, considering you two are not even dating. he wanted to say it, but things were a little too hectic and he didn't have the guts to ask you out and moreover you're not sure if you'd like him... even if you two have been friends in the taskforce for years.
then again, in his mind, you two are practically an old married couple.
he was clearly upset by this, ignoring you and trying to push you away. he was undoubtedly hurt. did you elope with someone? why didn't you tell him? invite him to the party? did your "friendship" with him mean nothing at all?
ghost was snappy, in a terrible mood overall. he snaps at johnny, yells at gaz, and even glares at price. he was constantly on edge and it's starting to piss you off. so you confront him.
"what the hell's up with you?"
he didn't feel like humoring you, sitting down all irritated over his meal instead.
"you've been avoiding me all week, snapping at people... did i do something wrong?"
so he went off at you.
"wanna know what's wrong? you. coming back to base with a bloody ring. let me guess, you eloped with someone? is that it?" he hissed, "and here i thought i'd propose, that's out of the fuckin' window now."
you sat there, taking his words in. "... it's a fidget ring?"
you showed your hand to him, using your fingers to spin the little parts of your ring. he didn't realize how you've been fidgeting with it, or how you explained to people over and over that you're not married or engaged.
all of the sudden ghost felt like his blood ran cold, not only because he just acted so stupid jealous over a trinket, he basically admitted that he wanted to marry you.
"... wait, you wanted to propose to me?"
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Please, if you can, take a moment to read and share this because I feel like I'm screaming underwater.
NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) stigma is rampant right now, and seems to be getting progressively worse. Everyone is using it as a buzzword in the worst ways possible, spreading misinformation and hatred against a real disorder.
I could go on a long time about how this happened, why it's factually incorrect (and what the disorder actually IS), why it's harmful, and the changes I'd like to see. But to keep this concise, I'll simply link to a few posts under the cut for further reading.
The point of this post is a plea. Please help stop the spread of stigma. Even in mental health communities, even around others with personality disorders, in neurodivergent "safe" spaces, other communities I thought people would be supportive in (e.g. trans support groups, progressive spaces in general), it keeps coming up. So I'm willing to bet that a lot of people on this site need to see this.
Because it's so hard to exist in this world.
My disorder already makes me feel as if I'm worthless and unlovable, like there's something inherently wrong and damaged about me. And it's so much harder to fight that and heal when my daily life consists of:
Laughing and spending time with my friends, doing my utmost best to connect and stay present and focused on them, trying to let my guards down and be real and believe I'm lovable- when suddenly they throw out the word "narcissist" to describe horrible people or someone they hate, or the conversation turns to how evil "people with narcissistic personality disorder" are. (Seriously, you don't know which of your friends might have NPD and feels like shit when you say those things & now knows that you'd hate them if you knew.)
Trying to look up "mental health positivity for people with npd", "mental health positivity cluster bs", only to find a) none of that, and b) more of the same old vile shit that makes me feel terrible about myself.
Having a hard time (which is constant at this point) and trying to look up resources for myself, only to again, find the same stigma. And no resources.
Not having any clue how to help myself, because even the mental health field is spitting so much vitriol at people with DISORDERS (who they're supposed to be helping!) that there's no solid research or therapy programs for people like me.
Losing close friends when they find out, despite us having had a good relationship before, and them KNOWING me and knowing that I'm not like the trending image of pwNPD. Because now they only see me through the lens of stigma and misinformation.
Hearing the same stigma come up literally wherever I go. Clubs. Meetings. Any online space. At the bus stop. At the mall. At a restaurant. At work. Buzzword of the year that everyone loooves loudly throwing around with their friends or over the phone. Feels awesome for me, makes my day so much better/s
I could go on for a long time, but I'm scared no one will read/rb this if it gets too much longer.
So please. Stop using the word "narcissist" as a synonym for "abusive".
Stop bringing up people you hate who you believe to have NPD because of a stigmatizing article full of misinformation whenever someone with actual NPD opens their mouth. (Imagine if people did that with any other disorder! "Hey, I'm autistic." "Oh... my old roommate screamed at me whenever I made noise around him, and didn't understand my needs, which seems like sensory overload and difficulty with social cues. He was definitely autistic. But as long as you're self-aware and always restraining your innate desire to be an abusive asshole, you're okay I guess, maybe." ...See how offensive and ignorant that is?)
Stop preventing healthcare for people with a disorder just because it's trendy to use us as a scapegoat.
If you got this far, thank you for reading, and please share this if you can. Further reading is under the cut.
NPD Criteria, re-written by someone who actually has NPD
Stigma in the DSM
Common perception of the DSM criteria vs how someone may actually experience them (Keep in mind that this is the way I personally experience these symptoms, and that presentation can vary a lot between individuals)
"Idk, the stigma is right though, because I've known a lot of people with NPD who are jerks, so I'm going to continue to support the blockage of treatment for this condition."
(All of these were written by me, because I didn't want to link to other folks' posts without permission, but if you want to add your own links in reblogs or replies please feel free <3)
#actuallynpd#signal boost#actuallyautistic#mental health awareness#narcissistic personality disorder#people also need to realize that mental health professionals aren't immune from bias#(it really shouldn't come as a shock that the mental health field has a longstanding pattern of misunderstanding and mistreating ppl who ar#mentally ill or otherwise ND)#the first therapist i brought up NPD to like. literally pulled out the DSM bc she could barely remember the criteria. then said that there'#no way I have it because I have low self-esteem lmaoooooo#anyway throwback to being at work and chatting with a co-worker. and the conversation turning to mental health. and him saying that#he tries to stay informed and be aware and supportive of mental health conditions & that he doesn't want to be ignorant or spread harmful#misinformation. and then i mentioned that i do a lot of research into mental health stuff and i listed a bunch of things. which included#several personality disorders. one of which was NPD.#and after listening to my whole ass list he zeroed in on the NPD and immediately started talking about how narcissists are abusive and#he knew someone who had NPD and how the person who had it had an addiction and died from the addiction in a horrible way and he#was glad he did#fun times#or when i decided to be vulnerable and talk abt my self-criticism/self-hatred bc i knew my friends also struggled w that and i wanted to#support them by sharing my own coping methods. and they both(separately!) started picking and prodding at my npd through the lens of stigma#bc i'd recently opened up to them abt having it. they recognized self-hatred as a symptom and still jumped on me for it. despite me#trying to share hurt vulnerable parts of myself to help them and connect with them.#again..... fun times
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eff-plays · 8 months
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There's one convo with Astarion that's one of my favorites that I haven't seen mentioned or discussed yet happens (I assume) if you have high approval with him but play a good-aligned character. (This is at 60+ approval, start of Act 2.) It's probably because it's not a romantic cutscene so it doesn't get mentioned as much as the others (or because he's racist in it and some of y'all don't like to acknowledge that he has character flaws), but I think it's vital to his character and to explain his early relationship with a good-aligned Tav.
I would like to break it down a little, step by step. Because we are all cringe here.
First, he claims to feel a connection between Tav and himself, and the reason for this is because he believes he's identified "ambition" in Tav (and I'll explain why he's wrong later, but that's mostly headcanon territory, so we'll ignore it for now).
But, there's also clearly something holding Tav back from realizing their full potential, which is their naivete.
"Just that you ... have a big heart. You like doing what's right."
(The animations and voice acting here make him look and sound so fucking condescending, 10/10.)
However, Astarion doesn't tell them this is wrong, or that he disagrees. He implies it's a flaw, but doesn't state it outright. That's dangerous territory, see, and might predispose them to get defensive and reject what he has to say next.
No, he tries (and fails in my case, but it's cute that he tries, bless him) to manipulate Tav by appealing to that big heart of theirs.
"So I was thinking, what would be the right thing to do when we get to Moonrise Towers? When we come face-to-face with whoever is controlling the parasites in our heads."
"I'm just saying there's an opportunity here. If we can control the tadpoles, we can keep ourselves safe and liberate the world from this evil."
See what he's doing? You like doing what's right, so what would be the right thing to do? We can keep ourselves safe. Liberate the world from evil.
It's very blatant, but he's trying to appeal to Tav's good nature by framing his questionable ideas as something that will benefit the greater good, something that's morally righteous that they would agree with.
And of course, it's incredibly funny when you ask how he thinks you'll do that, and he fumbles and admits he's not a "details person," but it's also revealing.
He thinks he's found in Tav ambition, when all he's actually found is ability. Tav exercises power proficiently, while Astarion does not. If he had the authority they have, he'd let ambition drive his actions, which is why he assumes that's what drives Tav when they exercise their power. A good-aligned Tav has very little ambition, I'd argue, but they have plenty of opportunity to exercise their power, which they do when their hand is forced.
So what Astarion is saying is, in effect, hey, you have power, I have ambition. Will you please use your authority/ability to do what I want? Here's how it'll totally be for the greater good, I prommy.
This is brilliant writing, and I really applaud Larian for managing to walk that fine line of making Astarion so sympathetic while he's literally trying to manipulate the player character. Because when I first got this convo, my thought was both "wow, I adore how blatant and terrible his manipulation attempts are, it's kind of endearing" and "he's so terrified, it's genuinely quite tragic."
If we control the tadpoles, we can keep ourselves safe. This works only somewhat as an appeal to good-aligned Tav, because it could also potentially sound very selfish, especially if Tav is the self-sacrificing sort. So notice how, when he says "liberate the world from evil", it sounds kinda tacked-on, an afterthought designed to bury his main goal, which is keep "ourselves" (i.e. himself) safe. Like, yes, this will keep us/me safe, but if you're not into that, then it'll totally help the world, too! It doesn't quite work, because he still sounds ironic and like he doesn't believe they'd be liberating anything from any evil (work that 10 Charisma, boy), but that's the intent, I think.
Does he want power for power's sake? Yes. Is he gleefully powerhungry? Absolutely. But he's also fucking terrified, and that slips through just a little bit, even behind the smug and confident facade.
He's trying to get Tav, whom he's seen exercise their power over others, to lend some of it to him, so that he may never fear anything ever again.
All of this from a short, smug convo where he admits he's too stupid to figure out how to fulfill his dreams of world domination.
God tier characterization, 10/10.
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evilminji · 1 month
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I wanna Make Bruce "Father of Many Terrible Terrible Gremlins" Wayne... babysit Lil Baby Man.
It's... it's the fuckin Fenton Dream Catcher again, man. Danny was so certain he BURNED it. After the last... Incident(tm).
But, NO! Here he stands. Well, floats. Barbecue sauce on his ti- *cough!* He means! Be-split between two Selfs! Like... *checks watch* FUCK. Less then 25 minutes before the Big, Fancy Ass, Multi-Realm Council of Stuffy Significance Etc Etc. He can never remember the name. It's long, takes up like three pages. NOWS NOT THE TIME!
Look.
There is Responsible Him! And.... THAT.
THAT is his inner gremlin. His "but it would be FUNNY tho" impulse. The grand ol "do it for the Vine, fenton!". Commit to the bit! It has three brain cells and uses ALL of them for Cartoonish slap-gag evil. That time he super glued the screaming chicken voice box into the exhaust pipe of Vlad's mo-ped? The Oorbez? Hiding all his novelty socks under the snow to be found come spring like a bountiful Packers themed harvest?
Do not let the tiny dimwitted blep face fool you.
He is a MASTER of psychological manipulation.
And YOU, Bruce. Owe me that Favor from *sees multiple intrigued people trying to listen in* .... That Batman Thing we did. (OH COME ON!) So pay up. Watch him. Here's the Ectoplasmic Container Play Pen. The Kiddy Harness he can't phase out off. A list of contacts. And a fresh bottle of advice.
O7
I'd pray for you. But that would probably be condescending, given where I'm headed. So instead, I'll remember you as you were. Moderately well rested and free of my nonsense! See ya in... probably a month!
Toodles~☆
@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @spidori @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @lolottes
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vivwritesfics · 6 months
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Better Than He Ever Was - MV1
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This gif makes me feral - I am on my KNEES
Y/N is pregnant and Max is sweating
Related works: Mini Me Prodigy
When Y/N Verstappen found out she was pregnant with Fabian, Max was terrified. He was utterly, utterly terrified.
He played it well, cheering and happy smiles when Y/N showed him the pregnancy test. To everybody on the outside, he was the overjoyed father to be, talking about Y/N and their baby on the way any chance he got.
There were very few people who saw beneath the facade Max was putting on. The first was Christian Horner, who himself was like a father to Max. The next was Charles Leclerc, who was way too excited at rhe prospect of being an uncle that he forgot he wouldn't actually be related to the baby.
Both said the same thing: that Max should talk to Y/N about it.
But where was he to begin? How did he tell her, after seeing how happy she was, that he wasn't ready to have a baby.
When she started showing? Oh boy.
It was never something Y/N wanted to keep hidden. As soon as she had all the tests she had taken come back positive, she posted something to all of her social media's. Max did, too, playing his part well.
Y/N didn't wear baggy clothes to hide her bump; she showed it off with pride. At every single grand prix she'd be standing beside her husband, hand over her stomach and the press took pictures of them.
Most husbands, when their wife's baby bump began showing, would be over the moon. But when Y/N started showing, it just made Max more fearful.
Y/Ns very first proper indication of the was when they were discussing baby names.
Any moment she got, Y/N was writing down potential names. She had at least twenty of each.
"How do you like Felix?" Y/N asked him as they watched a movie together. Max had been sim racing all day; this was the first proper moment she'd had to spend with him. "Or Daniel?"
"Daniel can be the middle name if it's a boy," Max said as he fed her a Malteaser.
Y/N moved over to her list of girls names. "If it's a girl, I liked Mila. Thought Mila Verstappen had a really nice ring to it."
Max just hummed.
It was two weeks after that Y/N finally sat him down.
"What's going on with you?" She asked, her hand resting on her bump. That morning her snack of choice had been stroopwafels, and she'd accidentally finished the entire box (but who could blame her? They're addictive).
"What do you mean?" Asked Max as he lifted the box to see what he was inside. Nothing, empty. He made a mental note to buy more.
A terrible, horrible feeling settled in Y/Ns stomach. "Please, Maxie," she placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. "Tell me what's going on. I'm begging you!"
Max let out a huff. He hated himself. "I love you," he said, which definitely wasn't concerning. "I love you so much and I know how excited you are to have our baby, but I don't know if I can do it."
Her heart was beating so loud she was sure Max could hear it. "Wha-what are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to say that I'm so fucking scared, Y/N. I'm terrified of being a dad. What if I raise our child like my dad raised me and the kid ends up like me? I'd never be able to forgive myself if that happened."
Oh. This wasn't a dire as Y/N thought it was. This was something she could deal with. "Come here," she said softly and tried to pull his chair closer. Max shuffled over. He let Y/N wrap her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Do you remember last summer, when we went on holiday with my sister and her kids? Do you remember how they loved you so much that they wouldn't leave you alone?"
They'd rented out a villa. Max and Y/N had just come back from their honeymoon when Y/N's sister had invited them away.
As soon as they had their things unpacked, the kids grabbed their uncle Max's hands and dragged him into the pool. "Let's race!" The oldest shouted. Max was more than happy to oblige. He raced them to the other side of the pool and back, letting them win, of course.
When Y/N and his sister started on lunch, Max was blowing up the inflatable pool toys and looking after the baby. He was a natural with all three of them. Y/N watched them out of the window as she buttered the bread and passed it to her sister. That was when she realised how wonderful of a father Max was going to be. That was when she realised she wanted to have his children.
By the end of the holiday, the children were obsessed with him. According to Y/N's sister they didn't stop talking about him until at least two weeks after the holiday.
Max nodded his head. At first he'd been secretly reluctant to entertain the kids. But he loved it, and he actually found it fun. Of course, it wouldn't be the same when it was his own child.
"You're going to be an amazing father, Max. You're so kind and caring and kids love you. Plus, you're aware of how shitty your dad was to you, you know what you have to differently," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'll be there with you every step of the way," Y/N whispered and kissed the top of her head.
Max was still terrified, but he was trying not to be. But Y/N saw him change. He really did become that cheering and happy father he was pretending to be at the start.
Aside from Formula One, Max's life became getting Y/N whatever she and the baby were craving. Stroopwafels, mostly.
They discussed names more when Max became more comfortable. He was a big fan of Nora. Nora Sophie Verstappen. It had a very nice ring to it, Max thought. Little baby Nora.
They'd struggled to settle on a name for a boy. After Max had suggested his mothers name for the baby's middle name, Y/N was afraid Jos' name was going to be thrown into the mix. Not after all of Max's fears and anxiety. They'd decided Hugo, Hugo Verstappen was to be his name.
If it was up to Y/N, Jos wouldn't be in the child's life. But, of course, it wasn't just up to her. It was a decision she and Max had to make together.
When they found out they were having a little boy, Y/N and Max were over the moon. They decorated the nursery, painting the walls to be like a Formula One track. The bottom third was all grass, the middle was the track and the rest was blue skies with fluffy clouds.
The track went all the way around the room, with little race cars painted onto the track. There was a little Red Bull with a 33 on it, and a little Ferrari with a 16. It was a friend who painted it for them, going into intricate details for the cars and garages.
And then Y/N went into labour.
All of those fears Max had managed to get past came flooding back. His wife was about to give birth to his little boy.
Max wasn't much help through the delivery. Actually, through most of it he wasn't allowed in the delivery room, since he was panicking too much.
He wasn't a Hugo. That was what Y/N and Max decided the moment he was born. He was a Fabian. Fabian Hugo Verstappen. He was the most gorgeous little boy in the world. That was all Max could think as he stared at him, cradles in his wife's arms.
His son. His boy.
"Welcome to the world, Fabian Hugo Verstappen."
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fourmoony · 9 days
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𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟐
f!reader x PT!Jamie (modern au) 1.5k words
summary: reader has a bad gym experience and jamie gets protective
cw: working out, mention of potential injury, mentions of sexual harrassment (ass grabbing)
sidenote, that I've seen a lot of this behaviour in the gym before and it makes me sick. writing about it and imagining how jamie would handle it makes me less sick. imagining big strong pt!james making the world better, one set of keys at a time. please, always be aware of your surroundings if you are working out at the gym, especially alone <3
James pulls you out from under the bar of the smith machine by the hips seconds before it clatters to the ground with a sickening thud and clang of metal. You stumble under his harsh hands, land on the ground at his feet and let out a pained whoosh of breath. Luckily, the gym is empty save for the two of you, sparing you the embarrassment of having people watch the commotion.
He's on you in an instant, gentle hands that cradle your neck as he crouches in front of you and pushes your head from side to side with a little pressure from his thumbs. All you can do is blink, try to process what, exactly, just happened. "You're not sore here?" James asks you, brows furrowed and almost touching in the middle, his fingers pressing into the base of your neck.
Your first thought is that James doesn't suit frowning. A silly thought, considering you almost decapitated yourself with a one hundred kilogram squat rack. "No. Just my ass from crash landing." You don't fail to notice the way your voice sounds distant, detached.
James' hands are warm on your neck, a burning touch that you want to lean into. You don't, and it's gone as James collapses down across from you, his elbows resting against his knees. His face turns stern, "What's going on?"
You feel like you're being scolded, and maybe you should be. It's a well known fact that form is everything, that being distracted in the gym can lead to serious injuries. You'd known you wouldn't be able to focus today, you'd known you should've stopped that set and corrected yourself when you could feel the weight more in your back than your legs. But, you hadn't. You're distracted, you're angry. You'd walked into the gym full of frustration and it'd almost ended terribly.
Tears fight their way to your eyes and they burn. You feel a lump forming in your throat that forces you to look away from James. Kind, patient James, who allows you the moment to collect yourself as you pull your legs to your chest. "Shitty week." It comes out mumbled, your voice defeated.
James nods understandingly. "A shitty week doesn't make you lose focus like that, though. There's something more to it."
It's not like James to push. He's friendly and he's kind, he can be a menace when he wants to be, and sometimes you even think he's flirting with you - but he never pushes. You want to open up, you want to step out of that weird area of professionalism you can never seem to get past with him. But unloading your shitty week on him doesn't feel like the way to do that. So you shrug, pulling your knees to your chest until your chin rests atop them, "I'm just stressed. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I knew my form was wrong but I was too distracted to stop and fix it."
"I don't care that your form was wrong," James shakes his head as though offended you'd think such a thing, "I mean," He pauses, searching for the words, "Obviously, I care that it was wrong because you almost got hurt. But what I mean is that you should've told me you were stressed, that you were feeling a bit distracted."
You find yourself nodding, eyes downcast at your crossed ankles.
"I was waiting for you to correct the form yourself. If I knew you were distracted, I'd have told you to stop. I'm sorry, too." James' voice has turned soft, less stern. He nudges his foot until it's in your line of vision, tapping it against yours until you're looking up.
He's waiting with a smile, his eyes gentle and patient. It feels odd. New, foreign. You can't really describe the feeling. "A guy grabbed my ass in the gym, yesterday." You breathe out, unsure really of what it is that's made you tell him.
It could be that you trust him. It's hard not to build trust with someone in James' position, it's literally his job to stop things like one hundred kilogram bar bells falling on top of you. Or, it could be that not telling anyone, reliving how powerless you'd felt, going over everything you could've done differently, it's eating you alive. Sharing this with James, who sees every day what gyms are like, how people in some gyms behave, you have a feeling that he'll get it. That he'll help you process.
But, he doesn't say anything. Just stares with a look that you can't read. The muscles in his arms shift, his hands clenching around each other tightly, and his jaw clenches. You think he might not say anything, though, you know James is better than that. The silence stretches until the tears in your eyes abate, then James finally croaks, "He what?"
Your veins crackle with the anger in his voice, the darkness that clouds his eyes. You'd never have imagined James in such a light if he wasn't sitting right in front of you, the very picture of livid. You shrug, as though feigning nonchalance might abate the white hot anger you know very well the feeling of. "I was doing those stupid kick back thingies you're always on about. Just messing about as a cool down, trying to correct my own form. He came over and started giving me advice, which I thought was just him being nice."
James shakes his head, remorse like a white sheet of dread across his beautiful face. You swallow, picking at a hangnail on your thumb, "He kind of just," You shift your hands as though grabbing your own hips, "Grabbed me like that and my throat went dry. When he was leaving he grabbed my ass and said 'you're welcome'."
"You didn't report him to the gym staff?"
You shake your head, lip trapped between your teeth. "I wasn't even planning on telling you until I nearly killed myself with the smith machine."
James sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub at his face. He looks nauseous, almost. "I'll get you a set of keys for this gym. You can work out here, from now on. No one will bother you."
It's a nice offer. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks heat. James has always gone above and beyond. He fits you into his schedule despite your crazy work hours and never charges you for the session if you have to cancel day of. But the reason you don't have a membership at his gym is because it's not in your price range. So you smile, kind, if a little tight lipped, "James, you know I can't."
"I'm not saying get a membership. I'm saying I'll get you a set of keys. You can come and go as you please, even after work, whatever time you want." His voice is thick, his eyes earnest and almost pleading.
"I can't ask you to do that."
James scoots closer, fingers flexing as though he might reach out for you, but is stopping himself. He chases your gaze, waits until he has it, until your lips part under the weight of it and your heart hammers against your chest, to speak. "You're not asking. I'm offering. I can't believe that happened to you and it makes me so angry. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing about it."
You sigh, unwilling to argue when James sounds so passionate, so sure of himself. A smile makes its way to your lips, timid, unsure, "Thanks, Jamie."
He nods. "Any time."
"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" You ask.
James grins, some of the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, "He's my best mate, it'll be fine."
He offers you a hand as he stands, the storm clouds passing and the weight already lifting from your chest. It feels brighter, in the gym. You take James' hand, let him pull you up. He does his signature move of tugging you until you're stumbling towards him, his laugh echoing off of the concrete walls when you curse him out for it.
"Start from the beginning?" James asks, moving to return the smith machine to where you need it to be.
You take a breath, watch the way his shoulder muscles strain against his top as he bends and lifts. It brings a smile to your lips, the feeling of familiarity you hadn't felt upon entering the gym earlier. "I believe I was at five reps when I dropped the bar."
James tsks, "Dropping it doesn't count as a rep. Call it four."
"Cruel."
James only winks, offers you his award winning smile as you settle yourself under the bar. This time, with the correct form. He nods, and you twist to unlock, eyes on his in the mirror.
"That's one." He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.
You consider dropping the bar on his head, next.
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s1m0nth3swag · 20 days
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i apologise if i already sent this ask, my memory is terrible! if your requests are open, may i get an easily flustered male Reader/doorman who is mercilessly teased and flirted with by a doppelganger Francis and the real Francis watches? Whenever it's smut or not is up to you
I just absolutely need to imagine Scarlet Milk Francis and regular Francis.... thats a physical need actually.
Like flirty Scarlet Milk and Francis who's just like "bro i would never say that, cringe" UNTIL HE NOTICES READER GETTING FLUSTERED AND HE JUST GOES "damn. whore." (judgy Francis for the win <3)
I'm not at all down bad for Scarlet Milk Francis wdym this is normal, isn't it?
Also, uhm, uhm, a little badly written because I wrote this in Latin Class, and my brain is positively fried!
WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Slight suggestive themes (not full blown smut though), Francis being judgy, Reader being down bad (relatable), part two worthy bullshit (because i love the thought of taking Scarlet Milk and Francis (totally in a fight.))
Blood. That's the first thing you noticed as your favourite Milkman walked in. He was covered in blood. When asked about it, he simply said it was 'Scarlet Milk', a new type of milk. You had simply nodded along, like yeah. This was totally normal. Not like you had let the actual milkman in just a few minutes later, and you knew that if you called the apartment his voice would sound from the telephone. You reached there, eyes fixed on the doppelganger - you had always thought Francis was attractive but this.. well, it was definetly a new high. "Don't call him." The doppelganger spoke, voice too sweet and buttery. He knew he'd gotten caught, but seemingly he.. didn't mind. He smiled at you through the small window that seperated the hall and your office. "Bet the real one doesn't even bat an eye at you, hm? You're so good looking, he really should." You flushed slightly, even though you know you shouldn't. This was a doppelganger, for gods sake! A ruthless monster that could easily kill you! Yet here you were, blushing at the fake Francis. And he knew he got you on the hook, you could tell by the grin that adorned his face.
If you had known that the actual Francis still stood just outside the door that led into the building, and had seen the fact that a Doppelganger with his face had walked in, you probably wouldn't be talking to it anymore. Much less if you had known that Francis hurriedly made his way to your office - he trusted you didn't have a memory of five seconds, but something told him you were in trouble. He didn't even bother knocking, just opened the door to what was probably the weirdest scene ever. You with a bright blush covering your face, his doppelganger having a shit eating grin on his face... Yeah this had to be a fever dream.
Meanwhile, you were absolutely done for. Sweet nothings, things you didn't think anyone would dare speak out loud - the doppelganger had probably given you the most compliments you'd ever received in your lifetime. You turned around in shock as you heard the door open, staring at the real Francis like a deer caught in headlights. "Look who decided to join us! Real me!" The doppelganger chuckled. "Was just telling this sweet thing what I'd do to them if they let me in." He purrs, tapping against the window teasingly. "They got real shy about it." You glared at the doppelganger, looking between him and the actual Francis. "What'd he say." Francis practically demands to know, and your cheeks flush a deeper shade of red at the thought of having to repeat the things the doppelganger said. This was probably a moment to sink into the ground forever. "Just said I'd give them something to do with those pretty lips. And then some other things.." The doppelganger answers in your stead. Yup, you definitely want to get swallowed by the floor at this point. Francis looks at you, raising a brow in silent judgement. "Seriously? I'd never say stuff like that. That's stupid." He sighs, his face scrunching in a frown. "And honestly, you see me covered in blood and think "Yeah I'd fuck that"? Really?" He adds, serious annoyance in his voice, and you don't even know what's happening anymore because this whole situation is so unreal. "I'm sure I'm really handsome." The doppelganger quips in. "Though.. I would look better without this awful uniform, don't you think, sweets?" You let out a silent groan, covering your ears in embarrassment.
You don't know why this continued, but now Francis and the doppelganger are yapping about how the doppelganger doesn't get Francis' speech right - you seriously stopped listening after they both told you to shush when you said you'd just terminate the Doppelganger... you only listened to hints of the conversation. Something about sharing is caring or so.
God, how did you get yourself into this...
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dixons-sunshine · 13 days
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Breathe With Me | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader
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Summary: With you and Daryl being in a good place, kissing coming naturally to you both and cuddling no longer awkward, it was inevitable that your make out sessions would start to heat up into something else. However, in the heat of what should've been a hot moment, Daryl's mind started to wander to it's usual self deprecating depths. Luckily, you were there to help him through it.
Genre: Kinda angsty but mainly fluff
Era: Pre outbreak.
Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.
Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes, self deprecating thoughts, hyperventilation/panic attack.
Word count: 1.2k
A/n: Another young!Daryl fic in a span of not even two days? Who would've thought it was possible? It's mainly because I've been enjoying writing for young!Daryl recently, and I'd be happy to get any requests for this au. Also, I've never personally experienced a panic attack myself and this is all based off of what Google told me, so if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can fix it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!
As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Shit, girl. Yer gon' be the death of me.”
You giggled against his lips, allowing him to push you down onto the bed. He followed soon after, moving to hover over you before reattaching his lips to yours hungrily. He used one of his hands to hold his weight up, the other one wandering over your exposed stomach. Your shirt was already disposed of and long forgotten, leaving you clad in only your shorts and bra.
To your surprise, when your hands wandered under Daryl's shirt, he only hesitated for a quick moment before withdrawing from the kiss and tugging his shirt over his head. Old and new scars were on display for you, leaving Daryl completely vulnerable under your gaze.
You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss, a silent way of thanking him for trusting you. It wasn't the first time that you had seen his scars—you had helped him with his wounds too many times too count, leaving you familiar with all of his scars—but you always tried to make sure that he knew you didn't judge him. You loved every part of him, scars and all.
You gasped against his lips when he let his hand trail down, his fingers lightly tracing over your clothed cunt. His tongue entered your mouth and he groaned at the taste. He pulled back momentarily to look at you, his pupils blown with lust.
“Fuck, yer so perfect,” he whispered, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck.
You moaned when he kissed a particularly sensitive spot, leaning your head back to grant him better access. Your mind was starting to get cloudy, the only thought on your mind being how good Daryl was making you feel. Admittedly, you were also nervous, since this would be your first time doing something like this, but you trusted Daryl. He wouldn't ever hurt you.
In an unexpected move, you managed to roll you both over. Daryl's eyes slightly widened in wonder, before smiling and leaning up for another kiss. His hands settled on your waist, allowing you to take the reigns for the moment.
Daryl was thoroughly enjoying himself. However, when he felt you subconsciously grind your hips against his, his mind zoomed in and focused on one thing—you would regret this. You would regret giving your first time to someone like him. He would be terrible at this and you'd finally kick him to the curb after figuring it out. He didn't deserve to have you in this way, in your most vulnerable state.
You would regret him.
Daryl's breathing started becoming erratic. Although you could've easily misinterpreted it as him simply getting more turned on, something told you it wasn't that. You pulled back from the kiss and looked at him, noticing the slightly pained expression on his face. His breathing was quick and choked off, and he seemed to be in some sort of daze. You instantly knew something was wrong.
“Daryl, hey, look at me,” you whispered, cupping his cheek and gently urging him to look at you. When his blue eyes met yours, you could very clearly see the panic in them.
Instantly, all previous lustful thoughts left your mind, concern for your boyfriend taking root in their place. You knew exactly what was happening; Daryl was busy having a panic attack. You helped him into a sitting position, still straddling his lap. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest right above your heart, hoping to divert his attention away from whatever negative thoughts were plaguing his mind.
Still looking deeply into his eyes, you gently caressed his cheek with the hand that wasn't holding his over your heart. “Try to breathe with me, okay?” you whispered, starting to breathe in a controlled rhythm.
Daryl nodded and began to copy your breathing, his sounding more choked up than yours. He tightened his grip on your waist with his hand that was still resting there, desperately trying to ground himself back to reality. It took a while, with you soothingly rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone and breathing with him in a controlled rhythm, but soon he was calming down.
Daryl felt ashamed of himself. There the two of you were, half naked and sharing what should've been a blissful, enjoyable experience, and he let himself get into his own head. He let his own insecurities get in the way. He should've just sucked it up, but instead he just had to ruin the moment.
“M'sorry,” he muttered, looking down to avoid what he thought would've been a disappointed stare.
You frowned slightly and gently grabbed his face with both hands, urging him to look at you. “Hey, it's okay,” you assured him. When he shook his head in denial, your grip became more firm. “It is okay. Don't blame yourself for something that was out of your control, alright? Do you wanna talk about it?”
Daryl hesitated for a moment, but nodded slowly. “I jus' got into my own head. I was nervous and convinced myself ya would regret givin' yer virginity to me. Started feelin' overwhelmed. M'sorry.”
You pressed a kiss against his forehead, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don't be sorry. I get it. I was nervous too, you know? But I wouldn't have regretted anything. I trust you. There's no one I'd rather do this with. But it's okay if that doesn't happen right now. I'm ready whenever you are.”
Daryl gave you a small smile before leaning forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. “M'still sorry. I was lookin' forward to this.”
“Me too, but it can wait. Let's get you taken care of, okay? And I don't wanna hear any buts, mister.”
Daryl nodded. “Alrigh',” he agreed, but made no effort to lift you off his lap. Instead, he pulled you closer to him, hugging you tightly. “Thank you fer understandin'.”
“Of course.”
There was a lot of things going through Daryl's mind at that moment. Despite your reassuring words, he still felt awful for what happened, his mind continuing to shame him. However, with your hands now gently threading through his hair to bring him some comfort, not giving a damn that you were still half naked and straddling him, he forced his mind to shut up.
And in that moment, it was confirmed in his mind—Daryl Dixon knew that he was never letting you go.
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its-weeping · 9 months
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ii. 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ! ‧ ₊˚ ❀
𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄
summary: how is it as miguel's wife? (NSFW)
warnings: 18+ smut, suggestive content, like 1 spanish curse word
pairing: miguel o'hara x wife!reader
notes: part 2 of my miguel x wife!reader headcanons! also this is my 2nd time writing smut so it might not be good–
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i can see miguel as a classic romantic. it's vague, but mentioning him with gabriella i'd say he's 100% a traditionally romantic guy.
dinner dates, movie dates, picnics, etc.
your husband is respectful, and will not perform pda unless you are comfortable with it. (if you aren't, he'll just stick close to you)
although, he's only a gentleman up until you initiate a heated night. miguel lets you issue a safe word before anything else. he's aware of his rather.. sizable prostate, so it's better to be safe than in the hospital.
your husband is a firm believer of using pet names during sex. ones like baby, my precious, sweet girl, gorgeous, and mami are his go to. (he'll usually say them in spanish since he can't think of the words in english because of the pleasure.)
a heavy groan ripes from miguel's throat as he finishes inside you for seemingly the 7th time tonight.
the male smirks upon seeing your trembling state: face flushed with tears, chest rising and falling at a quick pace, and your body littered with his marks.
"you did so good for me, espléndida.. tan jodidamente buena para mi." gorgeous.. so fucking good for me.
miguel praises, kneading your sore thighs out of habit. you take this as a moment to catch your breath, but then yell out your husband's name as he suddenly goes deeper into your cunt.
"did you think i was going to stop there?" miguel's words fly past you as the pleasure builds up once more. your putty in his arms, the feeling of his cock continuously hitting your g-spot erases any other thoughts from your mind.
he has an incredibly large build, so he's always concerned for you and the state of your body after a long night.
your husband having anger issues potentially leads to angry sex every once in a while. his anger doesn't necessarily have to be directed at you.
any aggravation miguel experiences and he's running straight to you to cool off—expect that your ability to walk will be null and void after.
hot and needy kisses / make out sessions when he's missing you terribly.
if miguel is horny enough, he is willing to do it in any semi private area, such as public bathrooms, dressing rooms, etc.
you pant, sweat trickling down your forehead as you grip tighter onto miguel.
"hah– not here, miguel, please."
"no te preocupes, baby, it'll be quick." don't worry,
your husband whispers abut your neck—the area already riddled with scant red marks. you squirm in his hold, desperately wishing not a single soul can hear you both so you could let loose.
the sensation of miguel's tip against your hole snaps you from your wish making. you bite back a whimper, miguel is half way in you and it burns.
"but– mm– what if someone hears us?"
"then so be it."
aftercare comes with his service, it's not an add-on but a requirement.
you're consistently grateful for miguel's unfailing need to take care of you after a long night, and no matter what, you always return the gesture.
regardless of your husband being a traditional guy when it comes to wooing you, fucking you is quite different.
he's not so traditional in the bedroom, and will try whatever it is you want to do. (he's head over heels for you so nothing is really off limits, but no illegal things...)
miguel might have a breeding kink—could possibly be because of his more animalistic instincts.
when the idea of breeding you comes to him, it'll be the only thought he has for the next few days.
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© its-weeping — do not plagiarize or translate.
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Hi! Can you pretty please do a Percy x child of Hebe headcanons where they both are out of Tartarus and healing? Thanks ur the best! 💜
⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x child of hebe! reader hcs
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content: percy jackson x child of hebe hcs warning: in depth conversations about trauma and all the icky stuff that surrounds tartarus author's note: a little short but so so sweet!! comfort like you've never been comforted before. this is actually such an interesting concept that i wish i could dive into with the other boys like...what would jason do in tartarus??? my fav boy leo??? franky-poo???
one year out
it's been one year since you and percy finally got out of tartarus
so why did you still feel like you were trapped down there?
the nightmares were never ending and the tears felt just as bad
it helped that percy, your beloved boy, was going through it with you too
there were nights in which he couldn't let you go, scared you'd slip away in the darkness and he'd never see you again
scared you'd fall, this time with no one to catch you
he couldn't be apart from you on this nights, even following you into the bathroom, sitting on the lip of the bathtub while he waited
it was exhausting for the both of you and you rarely got full nights of sleep anymore
so on this horrid anniversary, you and percy had a plan
you'd talk to clover over in the hypno cabin, kindly requested anything to help to the two of you sleep
he'd been more than happy to hand over his demigod level melatonin gummies, in the shape of pegasus and sheep and little lions
the two of you stocked up on favorite childhood movies, snacks, and - your favorite - coloring books
and you sat inside the poseidon cabin, determined to not be bother the whole day
every interaction with anyone outside of the pair of them would be a reminder of what day it was, which would bring all those terrible and gross feelings bubbling to the surface
and you two were determined to have a care free day, DAMN IT!
you were coloring and smiling and cuddling and just enjoying each other's presence
as a child of hebe, you loved coloring books!!
made you feel like a little kid again, that innocence of no one telling you whether or not it was good or bad.
it just was
then, as the night was coming to an end and you and percy had just started to reach for the melatonin gummies, a huge bang! rang through camp
followed by shouting, tons and tons of shouting, leo's voice easily heard above the rests
"I SAID NO, YOU LITTLE SHITS!! YOU THINK THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT?? FIREWORKS?? TO CELEBRATE WHAT, EXACTLY?? GET BACK HERE, YOU-"
your breathing had picked up and your hold on percy's bicep had tightened nearly enough to draw blood
he froze too before pulling you into his chest, shushing with a broken voice as he ran his hands through your hair
and you were getting flashbacks, your brain tricking you into thinking you were hearing rushing wind again and the way percy was holding you was just so similar and-
"breathe, y/n. it's me and you, always, but you gotta breath," percy whispered, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a sword
"okay, okay," you muttered back, resting your forehead to his chest and attempting to match him the best you could
admittedly, his breathing wasn't exactly even either, but it was better than yours
"i love you. so so much, baby." percy whispered this and similar sweet nothings into your ear, desperate to sooth you and himself
"you know, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, percy jackson," you managed to get out, looking up at him like you've never looked at him before, something more than devotion and admiration and love all combined. a look that rivaled aphrodite's definition of love
"i'd say im the luckiest guy in the world to have a girl as precious as you by my side. i- i don't deserve-"
"don't you dare. not today, percy, not today of all days," you cut in, shaking your head against his chest.
and percy could breath again, unknowingly needing that reassurance more than anything on that day
that cursed day that they were determined to stain with good memories, memories so fond and love-soaked that the bad ones simply faded away.
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suuuupernovaaa · 10 months
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Clean | Hobie Brown x f!Reader
You got yourself into a little bit of a fight, and Hobie has to patch you up.
Mature. 18+. Mention of blood.
The cloth meets your tender skin, and you hiss and try to pull your hand away.
"Hobie, that hurts," you say through gritted teeth. "What is on that?"
Holding your hand tightly to your chest, as if to protect it from him, you look up to see an exasperated expression on his face.
"Stuff to clean it. Give me that back." He grabs your hand a little gruffly, and puts the cloth back on. When the sting subsides, it does feel nice and cool.
"Someone out to teach you how to throw a proper punch," Hobie says, dabbing the cloth gently, moving it up your arm to where your other scrapes are. None of them are terribly deep, except a slight gash on your thigh from, you think, falling onto some broken glass.
"I know how," you reply quietly. He moves to your other arm, and you feel the stinging again. "It wasn't much punching, anyway. It was like... clawing and shoving. It was chaotic."
He gives you your hands back, and looks down at your legs, noticing the cut on your thigh. He lets a whistle out from between his teeth, and stands up. He rinses out the cloth he's been using, and grabs a new one from his kitchen drawer. He puts more 'stuff' on it, and returns to you, sitting down.
"This is gonna hurt." He scoots close, so that your legs are between his, and without another warning, presses the cloth to your cut.
"Oh crap!" you shout, and you're annoyed when Hobie starts chuckling.
"Oh crap!" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, meant to resemble yours. He places a large bandage on your leg, and a couple others on cuts that look a little nastier on your arms, and then sits back. "Think you'll survive," he comments. "Now, you need to tell me why you were in a fight. Looked like a couple of cats in a bag when I arrived."
You turn away, looking from where you sit at his kitchen table over to the TV, which is showing the news. Hobie always has the news on, even though he hates it and everything they ever talk about.
"It just, escalated. She was a fan, I guess, of the band. And she asked if I knew you, and I said yes. And she said... some not nice things. She was just drunk."
You're his whore, then? Do you think I could get in on some of that? I'm sure he's not very picky. I mean, look at you.
You can feel the way she grabbed at your stomach, pinching it. It felt like something scripted out of a bad teen movie, except it was really happening, and she just wouldn't stop.
"What did she say?" Hobie asks. When you look back at him, he's leaned forward, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
"It doesn't really matter. It's over."
"It matters to me."
You shake your head and wave your hand in the air, as if to dismiss the conversation. "Really, Hobie. It was just, I don't want to relive it."
He reaches out and places a warm hand on your bruised knee. "Tell me."
You roll your eyes and sigh. "She said like, I must be, uh, sleeping with you and your standards must be low because... I'm like, fat, or whatever."
Hobie sits up, his back straight as a board, his eyebrows raised and his jaw a little slack. "And you beat the shit out of her?"
You draw your line into a straight mouth and nod. "Sort of. I mean, I can't fight but, she was bleeding and crying at the end of it. I was bleeding too but, I wasn't crying."
He nods, as if in approval. "Why does she think we're sleeping together?" he asked. "She's seen you, at a show or something?"
"I didn't get a whole backstory, Hobie. I guess so."
"Hm." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Must've noticed how I look at you. Everyone has. 'Cept you."
How Hobie looks at you? You try to think of what he could be referring to. Sometimes when he's on stage, he finds you in the crowd and smiles. But, you're good friends, so that doesn't seem all that exciting to you - does it seem that way to everyone else?
"How do you look at me?"
"Like I'd like to fuck you, Y/N. Like the shape of your body is all I can think about, and it really doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks about it. It fucking keeps me up at night."
It feels like you've been slapped in the chest, and all the air has left your lungs. Your mouth is instantly dry, and your legs feel weak.
Hobie is so dry, so even-toned, it's hard to tell if he's joking or not - but would that be a funny joke right now? Hobie is a lot of things, but he's not insensitive, and he certainly wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose.
"It does?" you ask finally.
He leans forward again, bringing his face just a few inches from yours. "I want you, Y/N. I thought I'd made it obvious, but now I see, I didn't."
You lick your bottom lip, and Hobie glances down at your mouth.
"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, as if asking for permission turns him on. You feel his fingertips on your cheek, running upwards, until he cups your face in his hand.
You should close your eyes, you think, but the sight of him coming towards you is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. His soft brown eyes, his full lips, his sharp cheek bones, his glistening piercings; you want to remember every sharp edge and round corner.
He pauses, just before your lips meet and whispers, "Anything you want to do to me, you can."
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magpie-murder · 5 months
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it'd be wild if they gave asgard's citizens phones in marvel i bet they'd have the best drama
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👴🏻 is-odin-dead-yet
No.
#date: 2023/11/23 #when will he croak #i've been running this blog for centuries #frigga for allfather #kick the bucket already i'm getting bored of posting here
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⛈️ god-of-thunder
I come to Tumblr with a regretful update. As you may know, my family and our fiercest warriors have been traveling between realms in search of our stolen relics.
While attempting to recover one, my brother lost his life in battle while protecting us. He shielded me with his body. My brother died a hero.
einherjarl-deactivated20231120
May he reach Folkvangr. My deepest condolences. But I thought Baldur was impervious to all harm...?
⛈️ god-of-thunder
It was Loki. :( I'm devastated.
einherjarl-deactivated20231120
Oh.
🐍 magic-theatre
is that all you can muster? "oh." you thought i was dead, and that's it? that's all you have? what do you mean by that? let's talk. :)
⛈️ god-of-thunder
You're alive? Where are you?
⛈️ god-of-thunder
Wait, what happened to @einherjarl? He deactivated?
⛈️ god-of-thunder
Loki?
23,034 notes
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🎨 bragis-apprentice
Just finished custom making this handle
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#metalwork #artists on tumblr #double sided axe #my art
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⚔️ aesir-warrior-tournament
⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️
einherjarl-deactivated20231120
?
einherjarl-deactivated20231120
Lady Sif is not one of The Warriors Three. It says it in the name. There are three of them. Not four.
Correct this.
✨️ the-dashingest
I voted for Sif.
🪓 valiant-festivals
I voted for Sif.
🔺️ grim-warrior
I voted for Sif.
✨️ the-dashingest
Wait, Hogun? But you didn't tell us you had a phone?
🔺️ grim-warrior
I don't.
#lady sif propaganda #lightning round #poll reblog #only one more round after this! #i'm so glad lady sif doesn't have tumblr lol #i hope you guys dont mind that a mortal is running this blog btw #i really didnt expect any of you to see this 😬 #and srry for the reblog spam #also hogun lol
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🐍 magic-theatre
i see your thirst edits, you sick freaks.
#start tagging me in them #and/or sending them to me
689 notes
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⛵️ modern-technologist Follow
umm i'm in ohio to visit my parents and there's like. um . a giant wolf running alongside my car? i'd call animal control but this thing is ginormous and i don't think that would do anything.
it doesnt have a leash or anything (obv its bigger than my car) but it's covered in chains. what do i do??
@identifying-d𝚘gs-in-posts ??
🐕 identifying-dogs-in-posts Follow
Fenrir Lokison?
#😨
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✨️ the-dashingest
I really don't think Loki is that bad. Sure, he's had a rocky history, but I don't think he's done anything worthy of scorn. Besides, hasn't he just died and come back or something like that, anyway? He has a blank slate, in my book.
#is it just me? #i hear people saying we should banish or kill him #i find that idea preposterous #he's just misunderstood
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einherjarl-deactivated20231120
I'm not going to @ them, but ugh... Someone I'm acquainted with just died in battle, and honestly? I'm so relieved. Is that terrible? Don't answer that, I know that it is. I'll probably delete this in a few hours.
🐍 magic-theatre
that's what you get for vagueing.
cowards don't go to valhalla.
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🔮 alchemist-aura Follow Sponsored with Blaze 🔥
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volensnolenss · 3 months
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𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭
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𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: nsfw! mdni, friends to lovers, drunk sex, unprotected sex, riding, praising
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“such gifts are made for a reason” mei mei whispered in your ear, her eyes glittering, looking at the necklace given to you by gojo. it lies in a dark blue box, on a black velvet backing.
“but i'm just a friend to him.” you frown your eyebrows, glancing at her sly face, “darling, you’re one of his fantasies” she laughs loudly, not caring that she gives you her friend's secret. After all, it had to happen.
“are you kidding now?” you're still serious, you don't show your emotions.
“have i ever joked?” she takes you to the mirror, adjusts your dress and hangs a necklace around your neck, “surprise him today on your birthday” you had no idea at that moment what was waiting for you.
“do you like my gift?” gojo twirls the necklace around your neck with his fingers, which he gave you for your birthday, with his other hand he squeezes your breast, “mhh, it's very beautiful” you dig your nails into his shoulders, scratching his skin while you ride his hard cock for quite a long time. you can't feel your wet, numb thighs, but you're still desperately chasing your orgasm.
because of the alcohol you drank, you remember in fragments how you and satoru got to this hotel. you no longer care about this, because his length rests so pleasantly against your walls that you are ready to spend your whole night on it.
“is it true what mei mei told me about you? am i one of your fantasies?” through the moans, you turn to him, sinking lower on his cock, “haha she doesn't know how to keep secrets it turns out. fuck— baby” he strokes your cheek and pulls your face towards him, “i dreamed about how to fuck you. i wanted to see your sweet tired face after i cum into you. hearing more than just your voice and your moans is all I wanted” he can't describe the thrill that you give him with your sopping tight cunt, your walls delightfully wrap around his cock, squeezing it and forcing cum over and over again.
“shit— i'm sure, you were created to bring me such pleasure” he grabs you by the waist and convulsively impales you on his dick, “satoru— ah! it's too much!” you squeal, his tip pressed against the very bottom of your cunt, frantically caressing you, “sweet, please. you're my good girl and you can take it. just let me cum again—”
you get ahead of him and move your aching hips, “no-o, i'll help you” you abruptly and casually bounce on his cock and rub your aching clit against him, “yeah, baby, keep me up all night like that. feels so good, cum on my cock— don’t stop” you and gojo moan loudly as his shaft twitches inside you, shooting white jets, filling you, “satoru!” you lose yourself as you are crushed by orgasm, throwing back your head, feeling how terribly your legs are shaking.
you get off satoru, and he sighs heavily as his cock lands on his thigh. you fall face down on the pillow, and he turns to you, without taking his eyes off your necklace, “if i had known this was going to happen, i'd have given you lingerie” you chuckled and rolled over on your back, “you have a lot going for you.”
he put his hand under his head, removed his gray hair from his forehead and began to play with the sheet, “when i sober up, there will be a lot of interesting things waiting for you too.”
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