#look I may have been fucked up over everything

[l4zyb0n35]

THE BREAKING POINT

SMUT FIC

PAIRING: Alastor x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is a diligent worker, much to the chagrin of her partner, Alastor. Despite his efforts to get her to stop for both their sakes, Y/N remains steadfast in her duties. However, Alastor finds a loophole to this situation.

WARNINGS: Really really great awesome writing skills, Established romantic relationship, (can be seen as dating, fiancé, or married), AFAB reader, usage of Y/N, Sexual content (obv), Mature themes, Mature language, Nudity, Breastfeeding, Unprotected sex, MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN SAFTEY, Alastor manipulates her but only to get her to stop cleaning the hardwood floor, Alastor kinda controls her but not too much. Let me know if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.<

WORDS: 2.4k

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

You were a very hardworking woman around the hotel, to say the least.

Your excuse? “Well, Charlie is just dealing with so much, what’s my help going to harm but not… help?”

Ever since your dear partner, Alastor, invited you to live with him in his hotel room at the Hazbin Hotel, just to be closer as a couple,

You would not stop fucking working.

It’s driving him mad.

He has recently tried everything to get you to relax, to take it easy for once, but you were too stubborn for that. He couldn’t even believe how much work you did for such a small pay. It was honestly ridiculous since you weren’t even a maid, if that was what you were thinking.

So what if you were a bit of a clean freak, it wasn’t any reason to clean the entire damn hotel every day, including the outside, may we add.

You wouldn’t listen to his advice though, no matter how many times he told you to stop.

“Y/N, I swear if you keep cleaning the hotel I’m gonna…do something very bad,” he threatened one day while you were scrubbing down the lobby.

You chuckled, ignoring his threat.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart, m’ not gonna lose a limb.” you said with a smile.

Alastor sighed, watching as you continued to scrub the floors.

“You’re just being stubborn, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘My last resort, I suppose.’ he concluded in his thoughts, looking around to make sure nobody would hear them.

After making sure that they were alone at the scene, he walked back over to you, trying to fix his composure.

“…When will you come back to bed with me, dear? It’s been cold without you.” Alastor said, kneeling down to her level as he put on his fake facade.

You paused for a moment and turned to him, “Aw, Al, you miss my spot being filled in the bed?” You said, rubbing his shoulder.

He nodded, “It’s never the same without you, I’m afraid.” He tried to soften his smile.

“…You’re not just saying that, right?” You said, losing your smile and pausing your hand.

“What? No-no. I would never lie to you dear.” He said, defending himself.

“…When do you want me in bed, hm?” You said, picking up your supplies and ignoring your suspicions, “I need to shower, after all.” You added.

Alastor stood up, “Now?” He asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Mm, sure.” You nodded, walking off with your bucket of cleaning supplies.

He silently celebrated his victory.

* * *

Alastor’s ears perked up as he heard the shower turn off.

He was currently laying in bed with only a robe on and some boxers, staring off into the bayou and he brainstormed what he could do to get you to stop working.

He decided a couple minutes ago that his only option left were to ‘have intercourse’.

It was quite smart, actually. All he had to do was take your ability to walk.

So he waited as your blow dried your hair, trying to ignore his unpleasant boner from beneath the cloth of his boxers.

He waited even more when you picked which robe to wear to bed,

which, as you stepped out the steamy chamber, was a red silk robe with Alastor’s initials on it, your favorite.

He had a smug look on his face, seeing you step out in his clothing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You said, seeing Alastor sitting up in bed.

He smiled at you, “No worries, dear,” he said, standing up and putting his hands on your hips.

“I was just waiting for you to come to bed.” He said, bringing his lips close to yours.

You laughed softly, pulling back after a moment, “What’s the occasion, dear?” You rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He asked, confused.

“Why are you acting so lovey-dovey with me? Is it Valentine’s Day already?” You laughed again, resting your head against his chest.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, darling.” He said, leaning forward and kissing your temple.

“But, really, what’s the occasion?” You asked, moving back to give him space.

“Well…” He said, thinking quickly, “I figured you deserved a break after all of that hard work you put in recently.” He said, smiling again.

“Oh, your so sweet, Al.” You commented, caressing his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, “Yes…so i decided, what better to do so than taking your ability to walk for the next morning?” He sighed sweetly.

You paused, “…forget about Valentine’s day, did rut season come early?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

Alastor grinned, “It’ll definitely feel like it.” He said, grabbing your waist and laid you flat on the bed.

He moved down to your neck, kissing and suckling on it.

“Alastor…” You laughed out softly, more in a mumble.

“…Sshh, just let me do my thing, okay?” He whispered in your ear, continuing into your neck until he was sure to leave a mark, latching off of it with a ‘pop’.

He then made his way down, stopping at your breasts, cupping them in his hands and giving each nipple a gentle tug before resting his lips onto one of them.

He sucked and nibbled on it, moving to the other breast and doing the same.

He stopped, hearing you moan quietly under him, “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking up at your face.

“Oh, yes,” you gasped out, feeling your legs go weak as you lay there, “Keep going.” You added, running your fingers through his hair.

Alastor smiled, continuing to kiss your breasts until he felt you get wetter and wetter.

He sat up, sliding your robe off of you and throwing it somewhere across the room, leaving you in just your panties.

His eyes widened a bit at the sight of your body, “How did i end up with a sinner so beautiful.” He said, resting his head on your stomach, giving the fat of your hip a squeeze.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, stopping at your panties and pulled them off of you, tossing them aside.

He then spread your legs apart and started to rub your clit gently with his thumb.

You let out a soft moan as you let out a jolt throughout your body from the contact, “F-fuck…” You breathed.

Alastor smiled and brought his free hand to your mouth, “Lick.” He commanded, placing his index finger on your tongue.

You obeyed, tasting your juices on his fingers.

He swiftly pulled the claw out your mouth, then slowly slipping two of them into your gummy walls.

You moaned out again as he curled his fingers inside you, thrusting them in and out of your hole.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean as he moved your body to the center of the bed, sitting on his knees atop of you.

“Now,” he grabbed your left left, throwing it stop his shoulder, “You know the safe word, dear?” He said, grabbing ahold of his member and teasing your entrance with it.

You nodded, moving your hips for some more friction.

“Needy, I see…” You pulled his cock farther from her, “I need words, dear.”

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You struggled out.

He started to fist his member slowly, “Wouldn’t want to hurt my prized possession.”

After a moment, he pulled his hand away to put another leg up on his shoulder, scooting in and rubbing his duck along your slick folds.

“O-oh….” You breathed out as his meat hit your nub, “P-Put it in, Al…” You mumbled.

“Hm, what was that?” He stoped his member, resting it upon your nub as a tease.

You bit your lip, grinding against his dick, desperate for him to put it in.

He chuckled, pulling it back, making you stop.

You let out a whimper.

Alastor looked at you with a lustful look, his smile widening. “I need you to beg for it, dear.” He claimed, enjoying the moment.

You blushed, looking away for a moment.

Alastor tilted his head, grabbing his member again and started fisting it slowly.

You gulped, looking back at him, still not meeting his gaze, and whispered something incoherent.

He grasped your chin, turning it so you would look at him. “What’s wrong dear? losing interest in my so suddenly?” He said, making you shake your head, “Hm…then beg for it.”

"Please, Alastor, put yourself inside of me, fill me up, fuck me, please!” You begged, moving your hips for a feeling.

He stopped your hips, growling as he pushed himself inside of you without any warning, making you moan loudly.

“F-fuck…” you cursed from the sudden movement, trying to squirm away automatically.

Alastor noticed this, pausing his movement as he grabbed your arms, then your hips and waist, getting you to stop, “What’s wrong dear?”

You looked at him, “…k-kiss me?”

He smiled softly, “Anything for my doe.” he said, leaning down and kissing you directly on the mouth.

Although, as he leaned down, his dick moved further inside you, causing you to let out a jolt once again.

He caressed your hair, “It’s already in, dear,” he mumbled lovingly on your lips, “you’ve done your work, now just relax. I’ll do everything else.”

Waiting until you nodded, he pulled away and slowly began to pull out, before thrusting in swiftly, but gently.

You whimpered softly, gripping the sheets under you.

He pulled out and pushed in again, slowly building a rhythm.

He began to thrust faster, more cruel, “Oh, Alastor…” you moaned out, holding your hands around his neck.

Wet skin slapping together filled the room’s noises, alongside the crickets in the bayou, making you blush from the awkward noises.

Alastor noticed this, beginning to buff out his breaths and growls, and silently sent over his shadow to turn on the radio to a quiet, intimate jazz station.

“Hah…Alastor…” You breathed out as he shushed you, thrusting faster.

His cock rubbed against your walls, hitting all the right spots.

After a while, Alastor started to feel a familiar coil in his abdomen, grunting as he forced his hips to go at an ungodly pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Gonna fuck you so good, darling…” He huffed, “Fill you up…you won’t be leaving this bed, understand?” Making you look at him directly and he moved your head with a tendril.

“Y-yes, Alastor…” You mumbled, trying to hold eye contact.

“Good girl…” He awarded verbally, growing another tendril into sight as he moved it down to run your clit, getting a high pitched moan out of you.

“F-faster, Al…I feel it…” You tightened your legs on him, tensing up.

As your tits bounced up and down from the thrusts, you couldn’t help but have to cover them because of the breeze from the bayou-

“No,” he immediately said, lifting one of his hands from clawing at the sheets and placing your hands around his neck, immediately diving down to suckle on your breasts.

“O-oh, yes!” You cried out, feeling his tongue circle around your nubs as he switched between the two.

You groaned as you felt the familiar coil in your abdomen grow after a couple thrusts, “I’m g-gonna cum soon, Al…” You scratched at his back in pleasure, trying to chase at your orgasm.

That’s when he didn’t switch to another breast, but kept sucking on one of them, rubbing and squeezing the other with his hand, making you wonder what he was doing,

Until you felt some milk come out of them.

“Ah-Ah! Alastor! I’m close!” You said, your legs shaking violently as you felt the intensity of him suck and squeeze milk out of you.

He growled, fastening his pace even more, making them even more tougher and he enter and exited your womb space, “Come for me, darling, let me hear you sing for me…”

His dirty talk only got you closer and closer to your edge, until,

You threw your head back into the mattress, arching your back as you let out a blissful cry of pleasure, clenching around him as you rode your orgasm, struggling to even keep your eyes open.

Alastor let out a beastly growl as his form quickly morphed to a more intimidating one as he shoved he cock into you one last time, releasing his seed inside you.

His cum leaked out of you as he slowly pulled out, quickly stuffing his fingers inside your hole so the cum would stay.

“What a good little for you are to me…” He said, admiring the mess you both made on the bed, and then just you laying there.

Noticing how you were still breathing heavily, not moving your body unless a little twitch, he leaned down to whisper softly, “How about some cold water, dear? Think this’ll help you relax?” He asked dotingly, making you nod instantly.

That made him chuckle, moving over to the edge of the bed as he stood up, going over to the nightstand and placing a water pitcher there from the shadows, and walking over the the bathroom for a towel.

***

As he came back from the bathroom with a hot rag in the hand, he noticed how you were half asleep, yet still conscious, which made him laugh softly as he place the rag down by the pitcher, crawling over to you.

“Mon Cher, you’re all fucked out by yours truly.” He smiled softly, fetching the rag from the nightstand with his shadow as he began to wipe your cunt clean.

When he was done, he then took notice of your breasts, how there were some stray milk on them.

Shrugging and tossing the rag aside, he leaned down and softly licked the milk off your chest.

You giggled softly in your daze, “Alastor…” You rubbed your eyes.

When he finished up, he filled a glass of water from the pitcher and turned back to you, sitting you up gently as he tipped the glass of water to your lips.

“Think you’ll be walking tomorrow?” He wondered aloud.

“Hm…will you stay with me here if i don’t?” You asked as you finished your glass.

He placed the cup down, “Of course dear,” he promised, crawling under the sheets beside you, sending his shadow to turn off the lights in the room as he cuddled close to your fragile state,

“Sleep well, dear.”

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END NOTES: I LEARNED HOW TO SPELL AWKWARD FROM WRITING THIS LETS FUCKING GO!!!! All jokes aside, (not really, now clap), i hope this fic actually turns out well because i spent 5 minutes trying to copy and paste this into a word counter and then 2 more minutes pasting this fic here because my phone sucks and it’s broken and i hate it and abuse it but like…i just hope it does well. I (hypothetically) put blood sweat and TEARS into this fic and idgaf what you think because it’s amazing for a first fic on this blog. Notes and comments, maybe even reblogs *wink wink* and also REQUESTS!!! Requests are my best friend, and always open unless I’m on vacation (which i’ll always announce). I love you guys ^^ !!

-Lynn Lazybones

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[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes

[hyukalyptus]

thinking about kai with an older!femme!fwb.

cw. older!femme!chubby!reader x inexperienced!kai, sex (protection not mentioned), clit play, nipple play, cock drunk, "mommy," friends with benefits with a hint of sugar mommy vibes, reader drives a car, reader twirls hair and blushes, "good boy," "i love you," kissing.

fucking you in missionary with his thumb on ur clit, tits bouncing. he feels so so so good inside you, you can hardly control urself, melting underneath him, drunk on his cock, eyes rolled back.

am i making you feel good mommy? hm? does my cock feel good?

nodding is all you can do, but it gets the point across. he chuckles under his breath, licking his thumb before moving to ur nipple, shivers rolling down ur spine at how delicious he feels.

fuck, mommy, you looked so sexy tonight. love it when you take me out to show everyone im yours.

this fwb situation has been getting a little grey. some may see you as more of a sugar mommy than a friend, but y'all preferred the other label. the benefits being sex ...and you took him out on dates every once in a while. friend dates you'd call them. but they were a bit extravagant to be just friend dates.

regardless, you'd never tie urself down to a monogamous relationship. ur too sexy, too busy for a boyfriend. someone like you would never fall in love...let alone fall for a younger guy that was so lost before you started fucking.

so why was he making you twirl ur hair when he'd hold the door open for you? why were you so giddy when he walked outside his apartment door when you picked him up? why do you feel like crying right now? it's just that the dick is so good, you tell yourself.

kiss me. you didn't kiss much, apart from foreplay. too romantic. but he loved it. he loved feeling your lips against his, so he was happy to oblige.

the knot in your stomach tightens more and more by the second. you gasp, breaking the kiss and he knows. knows how fucking close you are. that was one thing he'd gotten really good at. knowing just when ur about to come.

are you gonna come for me, mommy? have i been a good boy? making you feel so good?

fuck..yes, yes, kai, you've been such a good boy, you whisper. his thumb finds ur clit again and fuck youre in heaven. orgasm washing over you like a waterfall, your body trembles, fingers grip the bedsheets, back arching.

fuck, kai..ohmygod, fuck, head still thrown back and i love you, kai, fuck, i love you. god fucking dammit i love you.

coming down from your high, everything comes to a slow stop and you finally open ur eyes to see his bright ones staring back at you with a smile- you love me?

shit. did u say that out loud? you definitely didn't mean to. you didn't even mean to think it, let alone speak it, and while you're coming? that's the worst possible time.

huh?

you just said you love me.

fuck, do you love him. love him with everything in you. at least you think it's love. you don't know. you've never been in love before.

yeah.. you avoid eye contact and before either of you can say anything, his lips crash into yours and fuck, i love you too.

#hp's writing🪲 #hueningkai smut #hueningkai hard hours #hueningkai hard thoughts #hyuka smut #hyuka hard thoughts #hyuka hard hours #hueningkai fic #hueningkai ff #hyuka fic #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt ff #txt fanfic #kpop smut #kpop ff #txt x reader #hueningkai x reader #hyuka x reader #chubby reader

[justagalwhowrites]

What was lost...

Joel can't seem to shake you, even when he knows you're dead and gone. A canon Lavender one shot set in between chapters 8 and 9, a few months before Joel and Tommy arrive in Boston.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

Length: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst. This is pure angst, I'm sorry. Imagined canon-typical violence. Mention of sex. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

A/N: I got this idea from an anonymous ask when I wrote about wanting to write Joel with a dead reader and they suggested writing Joel when he thought Doc was dead. SHE IS NOT REALLY DEAD, OK? Joel thinks she's dead. She's not dead. Doc is fine. She's in Boston calling QZs looking for Joel, working at the school and the clinic, and being codependent with Andrew. It's OK. I promise.

July 2008

I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.

Joel woke with a start. 

It was still dark, the moon full and high, and for half a glorious second, he thought it was you asleep against him. That the two of you were camping with Sarah and you would sense him in your sleep and reach back to put a hand at his waist and tug him closer.

He asked you once if you knew you did that, that when he woke and sat up in the night that you would reach for him until you found him and pull him back to you where he belonged, always with a little satisfied sigh. As though him being close was all you needed in the world, even when you were unconscious. 

You’d laughed when he asked, tucking your chin like you wanted to hide from it. 

“God, I’m sorry!” You said as you caught your breath. “I had no idea I did that! I promise, I won’t hunt you down in my sleep if you pull away from me…” 

Joel had laughed a little, too. 

“Don’t apologize,” he’d said. “Like it when you keep me in line.” 

“Good,” you smiled, teasing and sitting up a little straighter. “You’d better.” 

But it wasn’t you, of course. It hadn’t been you for five years. Five years to the goddamn day. 

Joel wished he’d lose track of the fucking date but he couldn’t seem to. Every time he seemed to get close, they’d have to do something like coordinate a raid on a FEDRA caravan and he’d be set back on track, his brain always keeping count. 

He wanted to forget his birthday the most. If there was any mercy left in the world, he’d have never seen another one after 36 but here he was, closing in on 41 and still marking time. 

He wished he could forget Sarah’s birthday, too. And yours. 

But, strangely, July 18 was the second hardest day for him. It was the last day the three of you were together. The last time he’d heard your voice right beside him, the last time he’d held you, the last time he had nuzzled into your hair and your skin and breathed in the lavender scent of you. 

The body next to him didn’t smell like lavender. She didn’t fit against his body like you did, either. She didn’t sound like you or taste like you or feel like you. But she was close and warm and wanted him and he’d given in. He almost always did. Because what they offered wasn’t sex, not really. It was a chance to forget, for a moment. If she looked like you, it was a chance to pretend, too. 

This one didn’t look much like you, though. He’d closed his eyes during because it didn’t seem to matter that you’d been dead for years, it still felt wrong to be with anyone besides you. It didn’t make much difference. She didn’t feel like you. He’d pulled out and finished with his hand, thinking about how you felt that day five years ago in the water. 

“Everything OK?” The woman beside him sounded groggy. 

He couldn’t remember her name. 

“Fine,” he said quietly. “Just takin’ over the watch. Go back to sleep.” 

She just shrugged and settled on the ground again as Joel worked his way through the woods, finding Tommy walking the perimeter of where they’d stopped for the night. 

“You got another two hours to sleep,” Tommy said, frowning in the moonlight. 

“I’m awake,” Joel said. “May as well take over.” 

Tommy gave him a look for a moment before he sighed. 

“S’long as you’re OK,” he said, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Should be good for a while, just did a sweep.” 

Joel just gave him a nod and Tommy made his way back to camp as Joel settled into a notch in some roots, his back resting against the trunk of a tree. 

“She’s not me, you know.” 

Your voice was so close beside him it would have made him jump if it were any other sound. But it was you. 

He was used to this by now, the way you haunted him on days like this. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d hung on in ways Sarah hadn’t. Maybe because he knew what happened to her, knew where her body had gone cold.

He’d spent so much time trying to drown out that memory - to shove it away, suffocate it, anything to keep it from taking over - that he thought he might have pushed all of her aside with it. He didn’t hear her voice as often anymore, didn’t picture her there next to him either. 

You were another story. His mind seemed to enjoy torturing him when it came to you. He’d pictured your death so many times now, the imagined memory of it finding him in his sleep on so many nights. 

Tonight had been one of those nights. This time, you’d died at the hands of a man like him. You had your backpack on, the one Joel had told you to pack, and you were walking where he’d told you to go. He could see you so clearly, your hair in braids with ribbons on the ends and your cheeks with smears of dirt like you sometimes got when camping. You’d tried to beg for your pack because Joel had told you it was important and then you tried to beg for your life because he’d told you that was important, too. 

It hadn’t worked. 

You’d been in the man’s grip, his knife at your throat and your eyes found Joel’s and you said the same thing to him you always did before you died at the hands of whatever monster he’d left you to suffer: 

I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.

“Don’t expect her to be you,” Joel said quietly, refusing to look at the ghost beside him. He didn’t need to. He knew what you’d look like, down to the jeans you were wearing and how many buttons were done up on your shirt. You always came to him in the form you’d been in the last time he’d seen you, when you waved to him as you passed through airport security on your way back to New York five years ago today. 

“I wonder why you’re always let down then,” you sounded almost smug. It didn’t sound right on your voice. You were so rarely smug. He’d made you mean in death. 

“Does it matter?” He asked. 

“I guess not,” you said. “Just thought you’d have found something better to do by now. It’s been five years, Joel.” 

He turned to look at you then. You were sitting close enough to him that, if you were real, he would feel the heat of you there. 

But there was no warmth to be found in a ghost. 

“Know how long it’s been,” he said gruffly. 

“Well, you probably deserve to torture yourself a little,” you sighed, no longer looking at him and out at the forest instead. “It’s your fault I died the way I did, you know.” 

That’s how he knew it was all in his head. You’d never say that to him. 

Even if it was true. 

“I know.” 

He sat in silence for a few minutes, refusing to look at you, speak to you even though he sometimes wondered if falling into his delusions would be the best he could hope for in this life. Nothing else would measure up to you. He knew that. He would, for the rest of his life, regret not being beside you when the world ended. He would, for the rest of his life, compare every woman he ever met to you. He would, for the rest of his life, wish for something he could never have because he’d done nothing but fucking fail the only people in the world who mattered. Now, you were both out of reach.

“I miss you, you know,” you said eventually, quietly. “I missed you when I died, too.” 

Joel didn’t say anything. He just clenched his jaw. 

“I was alone,” you said. “I was scared. You know how I got panic attacks, imagine how bad it would have been then…” 

“Stop.” 

“How I would have looked for you…” 

“Stop it.” 

“How I would have been worried about you, even as they killed me I would have been worrying for you…” 

“SHUT UP!” 

He yelled it, finally looking at you again. But you weren’t what he expected. At least, not in how you were looking at him. 

So often when he pictured you now, when you spoke to him like this - when he was sleep deprived but couldn’t rest and was in desperate need of some kind of solace - there was an almost vicious look on your face. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you look like that when you were alive, it was an expression entirely of his mind’s invention. You had never been cruel or even really aggressive in life but he couldn’t think of you without it. It hurt too much to see you kind. 

But you looked earnest and sad now, so like the real you, like he was worthy of your pity for the first time in five years. It was like his heart beat for the first time since he’d held his daughter’s body.

“You never even looked for me, Joel,” you said softly. “I could have made it, you know.” 

He shook his head. 

“Don’t say that. Don’t put that thought in me, don’t…” 

“I could have. You can’t know, not really. Why did you give up on me? Why didn’t you come find me? Save me?” 

“How would you have lived?” He asked, meaning to sound angry but he couldn’t. “How would you have fucking made it through that? What was I supposed to find? What was I supposed to save?” 

You just shrugged. 

“If you really think I’m gone, why didn’t you join me? Join her?” 

He looked straight ahead. 

“I tried.” 

“You flinched.” 

He hung his head, clenched his jaw. Yes, he’d failed at that, too.

“Is this really how you’re going to spend your life, Joel?” You sounded like you. He could almost feel the gentle brush of your fingers on his neck. He still knew your touch so well, he still compared every woman he ever felt to that touch. “Hurting people and killing people and suffering yourself? Do you think this is what I would want for you?” 

He looked to the side, as far from you as he could without leaving you. 

“You could try something else,” you said after a moment. 

He looked back to you again. You were still so beautiful. Even dead, you were beautiful. 

“Try what?” He asked. “What other fuckin’ options do I have?” 

“You could go to a QZ,” you shrugged. “Try to be a person again. Have a life.” 

He scoffed.

“What’s the point?” 

“What’s the point of any of it?” You asked. “You flinched, Joel. There must be a reason for it. Do you really think you’re going to find it out here, like this? Become yourself again, become the man I loved so much that I begged him to stay, even when he told me I wasn’t worth staying for. I know you can.” 

Joel thought for a moment. 

What if you were right? What if there was still some kind of meaning to this fucked up world he was trapped in? It didn’t seem possible, not really. But you were impossible, too. You’d been impossible before the world ended and yet you’d existed. You had existed and you had chosen him. 

“You loved me once,” you said softly. 

“I still love you,” he said. “Always will.” 

“Then try. For me. OK?” 

You were looking at him, so full of hope and love that he couldn’t say no. He could never say no, not to you. 

He took a deep breath. 

“OK.” 

You smiled and you were beautiful, still so beautiful. 

“Thank you,” you said before you took a deep breath and turned your face toward the full moon like you were basking in the sun. “I think it’s time for me to go. But I’ll see you soon.” 

He huffed, cynical, looking in front of again.

“Sure you’ll be back when I’m too tired to think straight,” he said. 

“I’m sure I will,” he heard the smile in your voice. “But who knows? Maybe you won’t need me anymore, not once you find yourself again.” 

He looked at you, frowning. 

“What…” 

“Take care of yourself for me,” you leaned in so close, close enough that, if you were real, he would feel the brush of your lips on his and smell the lavender of your shampoo. “I’ll always love you, Joel. Til the day I die.” 

You were gone before he had a chance to respond, nothing but air and silence, the echo of a ghost in your wake. 

He sighed and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to think. Maybe a QZ wasn’t a terrible idea. They’d heard some halfway decent things about Boston lately. If they started heading that way now, they could be there before the snow flies. 

And Boston, at least, was a new city. A place he’d never been, where there were no ghosts to haunt him. It was a good a place as any to try to become a person again. It was a good a place as any to try to move past you. 

Joel settled in to his watch, deciding to talk to Tommy in the morning. He’d be on board. He always was, when Joel made up his mind. 

And who knows, maybe he would find something in Boston worth flinching for. 

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller x oc #angst #lavenderversary

[harrysbelovedd]

casual [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - when you hook up with your best friend rafe on a drunken night after a party, you can’t stop thinking about it. but rafe, is doing everything he can to stay casual.

warnings - cursing, friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort

Sitting at the island club with the warm sun hitting my face is usually one of my favorite activities in the summer on Figure Eight. But ever since I hooked up with my best friend three days ago, I’ve been dreading this event my parents dragged me to.

I sip quietly on my fruity drink, tuning out the sound of my parents mingling with the other guests. That is until, I hear the unmistakable sound of the Camerons walking in to the club.

My head turns at the sound of Rafe speaking lowly to his father as they walk in. Rafe stands next to Ward, seemingly angry at his father but—when isn’t he. On the other side of Ward is Rose, smiling brightly and saying hello to everyone. Sarah and Wheezie trail behind, Sarah running off to talk to Pope who is working catering with his dad.

Rafe looks over at my family’s table, his jaw softening from the tension his father caused when he sees me. I smile softly at him, waving him over.

What he does next throws me for a loop. Instead of smiling back and coming to sit with me, or drag me away from all this—he completely ignores me. He turns around and goes to sit at the Cameron table.

My heart drops and I swallow my nerves roughly, excusing myself to go to the bathroom. I wander through the club inside, being occasionally stopped by my parent’s friends making small talk and greeting me.

When I finally reach the bathroom I shut the door behind me and look into the mirror, finally allowing the tears to escape my eyes.

I knew we shouldn’t have hooked up. I knew it would ruin everything. Change everything. But the one thing I didn’t think of was that he would blatantly ignore me. We’ve been best friends since we were kids and he’s always protected me, been there for me, cared for me.

And now we hook up one night when we’re both drunk—and he acts like all of that means nothing. Regardless of how he feels about us hooking up, our friendship means something—everything.

I hear a knock at the door and quickly wipe my tears and reach into my purse to fix my makeup. When I open the door, I see Rafe. He smiles almost sympathetically which only makes me more angry.

“Hey, I-“

I scoff, bumping my shoulder into him as I push past him. He follows behind, “Y/n? Can we just talk please?”

“My bad, I figured you didn’t want to after you completely ignored me,” I say sarcastically, walking through the part of the club where no one is occupying.

He grabs onto my wrist, pulling me close to him. I push against his chest, trying to get away but his strength keeps me close. “Let go, Rafe!”

“Will you stop being so fucking immature,” He spits. “I couldn’t talk to you out there with everyone. We needed to be away, that’s why I ignored you.”

“Right,” I respond, my voice sharp as knives as I avoid his eye contact.

He sighs, loosening his grip. “Look, okay. We can’t—“ He presses his lips together, seeming to look for the right words. “We can’t do this. We have to forget about it, okay? It never happened. Just be casual,” He shrugs.

My eyes brim with tears, “Be casual.” I whisper. “Be fucking casual?!” I push hard against his chest.

“Yes, Y/n! This will never work, don’t you realize that? We need to just—just forget about it, okay?! It’s going to ruin our friendship if we don’t.” He explains.

I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. “How am I supposed to be casual when you kissed me like that? The things you said to me that night? We may have been drunk but I remember every second of it. It’s burned into my mind, Rafe. It might be easy for you to forget—“

He scoffs, “You don’t think I remember every touch? Every kiss—everything?! I do, trust me. But this just—it won’t work. And I don’t want to lose you.”

His confession should be comforting, but it just feels like he stabbed me in the heart. I swallow roughly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. “You just did, Rafe.”

I turn around and head straight for the front door. I hop into my car and drive home, never wanting to see Rafe again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I stare at my dark ceiling, fighting to sleep after tonight. But the only thing I can think about, is what I’m trying to forget. Rafe.

I close my eyes again, turning to the side and trying to force sleep.

I hear the sound of something at my window, a tapping sound. I get up and slowly walk to the window, peeking out of the curtains.

I see Rafe, leaning against a tree in my front yard as he jumps up, tossing rocks at my window. I sigh, opening the curtains all the way and then the window.

I stick my head out and look down at Rafe. He smiles, dropping the rest of the pebbles in his hand to the ground.

“Can you let me in?” He pleads.

“No.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, um, I’m sorry. I fucked up, Y/n. It’s never been casual with you, and it never will be. You’re the only person on this fucking island I care about. I’d do anything for you, anything to get you back. I-“ He pauses, finding the words to continue. “I love you too much to lose you that easy. I’m just so terrified of hurting you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. This is all new to me, but I want to try.”

I close the window and pace out of my room, running down the stairs and out the front door. Rafe stands outside, staring at my window in defeat. But when he hears the door open, he smiles, watching me walk toward him.

“So.. what’re you saying, Rafe?” I ask when I stop in front of him.

He steps closer, cradling my face in his palms. “I don’t want to be casual. I want you to be mine. Please, give me another chance. I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve you but I’ll spend every day making it up to you.”

A tear rolls down my cheek, his thumb quickly wiping it away. My hands trail around his neck as I stare into his eyes. He means it, every word. I can tell. One of the perks of knowing him so well.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He smiles.

I nod, and before I could even process it—his lips are on mine. His thumbs rub along my cheeks as he cradles my face, pulling me impossibly close. This kiss is different than the ones we shared when we hooked up. It’s a kiss that feels, infinite. One I know that I’ll be able to share forever, not just one night.

A kiss that is completely un-casual.

#rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fluff #rafe obx #rafe cameron blurb #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut

[wisefoxluminary]

Based on the lyrics that have been translated from the duet, I will do a mini analysis of where Stolitz are at in this episode and what it says about their relationship as a whole. The title of this song I assume is called When I see him tonight and it says a lot about where Stolas and Blitz are regarding their feelings. 

Stolas loves Blitz dearly. He is singing about when he is with Blitz, he can hide the pain of his fucked up life behind a careless smiling front because he thinks that's what Blitz would want. He doesn't want to hear about his divorce. He isn't here to listen to him bare his soul but he just wants him to be with him through all the good and the bad. Stolas is coming to terms with the fact he loves Blitz but he knows he has to let him go. He feels like he is hurting Blitz by keeping him a prisoner in this arrangement and doesn't want to make it seem like he's a burden. He wants to give him the choice whether to stay or go but he knows if he does that, he'll lose him forever. He'll be alone without any love in his life and he thinks he'll die because of it just like Blitz did after the altercation at Ozzie's. He can't decide whether what he's doing is right or wrong but he wants to believe that he can still have this. That he can still have a sweet relationship with Blitz but he knows eventually it'll only fall apart because the only way Blitz can truly be set free is by giving him the crystal. Stolas thinks this is what's best. He wants to give him the decision to let go rather than set boundaries between them.

As for Blitz, he is the most naive out of the pair. He isn't really good with words and opening up about his feelings as he can't really say if their relationship is going strong. He wants to believe they are doing okay together but a part of him knows it's a complicated arrangement and can't bring himself to talk about the pain he may inflict on Stolas. So instead he buries it all away for sex because he thinks that's the only thing he wants. The only thing that will get his attention. To look his way, so to speak. He wants to believe that everything is going fine and he seems excited to see him again. He is singing about all the nasty things he's going to do to his owl prince during sex because he is intent on impressing Stolas because he thinks that by avoiding the subject of their feelings, they can be happy and not have to get themselves hurt. Blitz thinks this is not only the best for Stolas, but also himself because he likes where he stands in this relationship. He doesn't want to let go of this relationship and by indulging the bird in sex, he'll still have him.

The way they are singing also tells us a lot about their stance of their relationship. Blitz is rapping throughout the duet as he isn't really good with words. He gets himself hyped for this date by thinking of all the ways he'll fuck him as that's where he is at the most happiest. As for Stolas, he sings with a dramatic broadway grandure because this is the biggest decision of his life. He is about to let Blitz, the love of his life go and he can't decide whether he is doing what is best for them or himself. He loves Blitzø. That's why it pains him to make this decision. The song starts with him singing happily in the bath about how he's so excited to see him. Getting himself prepared clean and proper but when the thought of Blitz coming over settles in, he is scared shitless about screwing up with what they have as he is scared of leaving their relationship in tatters, hence the mess of his living room and the fridge. Blitz remains optimistic as he gets himself ready for a night of sex and pleasure because he knows that's what Stolas likes and where he is most good at when showing people he loves them/what he likes. He causes a stir, he shouts out from the rooftops that he is in love with Stolas. He announces it to the world because he wants to share his happiness with everyone who cares to hear it. He feels happy with Stolas and he wants nothing to ever change.

So here's my analysis of the Full Moon duet and Stolitz heading into the new episodes as a whole. Do I believe they will fall apart? Probably. Will they reconcile? Most definitely. But if I missed anything, feel free to add more.

Link to original post - https://www.tumblr.com/visemes/748954138058113024/stolitz-duet-lyrics?source=share

#helluva boss #stolitz #blitzo #stolas #blitzo helluva boss #stolas helluva boss #stolitz duet #character analysis #full moon #i ramble a lot but this ship has a lot of angst #i am not ready for the new episodes to drop

[ahollowgrave]

An Exercise in Trust [Part One]

This takes place shortly following the first dungeon of Shadowbringers, Holminster Switch. A conversation between the scion Prudence Dubois and the Warrior of Light Odette Hollows.

“I don’t trust him,” Prudence’s voice is a dry rasp, like the pages of a book being turned, emphasized by her pacing. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step step, turn. “He doesn’t show us the work, he just says you’ll be fine. How the fuck would he know? He blindly groped all about our star for you and knocked all of us out of our bodies. That,” Her boot heel struck the ground, “Is not a careful man. We shouldn’t trust a careless man with you. Urianger is the one with the vision, surely we can figure it out.”

You do not answer immediately, listening to the sound of her pacing. You lay on the bed of your shared room, legs draped over the side of the mattress, an arm thrown over your eyes that doesn’t help. Hours ago you scattered the aether of a Lightwarden and returned the night sky to Lakeland. To see your Lady’s radiant face returned to the heavens of this world had brought you first to tears and then your knees. But when you closed your eyes to pray the perfect darkness that lay behind your lids was instead foul, burning light.

You cannot stop closing your eyes, like poking a bruise or picking a scab.

Prudence kicks your leg once then twice and then once more. She’s certainly kicked you harder before, and the idea that she may be holding back makes you warm.

“Are you even listening?” A cutting tone there, like the edge of paper.

“I am, I am,” you assured, hearing your fondness shape the words into something softer, coaxing the same from her.

It works. You hear only a sigh in response. Then Prudence’s weight settles onto the bed beside you; never near enough to touch but your body tips toward her’s. She draws in a deep breath trying to find her patience again.

“I want the witch to look at you. Before you eat another one. She’s right not to trust this Exarch, you know.” She spits the title like a curse.

“I didn’t eat it, Prudence,” You scrub your palms against your eyelids. The bright light trapped behind them is spotted through with blessed black where you press.

Prudence is quiet but you can feel her stare. The weight of its regard; annoyance and concern in equal measure. Relief that it isn’t her. Judgement because she thinks she could do this better.

Everyone thinks they can do it better, none of them want to try.

You continue: “We may not have the time for that. I’m not even sure where Y’shtola is,” Prudence clucked at the name. You finally opened your eyes, banishing the light again, and turned to behold the Ishgardian beside you. Prudence stared down at you, unblinking, brows drawn low in her customary disappointed expression. You cannot meet her gaze -- you can never meet anyone’s gaze -- but you are close enough.

It is easy to forget that she and the others have been here for a year or longer; waiting for your arrival. Prudence has never been one to sit still and she struggles now, a bird caged. From outside the window, you hear a crowd cheer and uproarious laughter. The Crystarium is still up, still enjoying the darkness of night. Prudence’s liquid dark eyes cut toward the sound and you feel a smile rise unbidden. You know whose laugh she seeks.

“Why don’t you go out? I’m sure the Captain is out there.” You sit up as you speak, bracing yourself on your elbows, “Neither of us are aether-ologists, we’ll have to wait for Urianger and Y’shtola to weigh in. You might as well enjoy the passage of time.”

Prudence snorted at the title and rolled her eyes at everything else. She rose to resume pacing. You flopped back onto the bed, prepared for a second round of discussion of topics far beyond your combined understanding. But no such discussion starts. Only your companion’s steps filled the air. Then:

“So, if Y’shtola says it’s dangerous, you’ll stop?”

“Stop?”

“Stop eating them. The light wardens.”

“I’m not eat--”

“You know what I mean.”

You stare at each other for a moment. You do know what she means, is the problem, and you know you cannot promise her. And yet --

“… If Y’shtola says it's dangerous, I’ll… stop.” Your hand is pinned against your leg, half tucked under the curve of your thigh, your fingers crossed.

The silence is long.

“Fine. I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” She’s at the door before you can sit up all the way. Your dead heart skips into life as it clicks shut behind her. However, before you can delight in the quiet, dread teases the nape of your neck, raising goosebumps. Your fingertips tremble as you strive to contain the sudden knowledge that this is a memory you will reflect on often.

You close your eyes as the tears fall, blinded by the light trapped behind your eyelids.

Someone else could do this better.

#An Exercise in Trust #Pigeon Writing #Odette Hollows #Prudence Dubois #WoL!Odette #Scion!Prudence #Shadowbringers #Shadowbringers Spoilers #AhhHHHHHHH #posting this before I chicken out ok love you mwah #(An exercise in trust because odette spends most of the expansion LYING to KNOWN LIARS and because it's when we got the trust system)

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague

cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y

notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs. 

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils. 

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear. 

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face. 

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen. 

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found. 

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community. 

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.  

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5. 

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?" 

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You hate her.

Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.

“Geto-sama!”

She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups. 

“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.

Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago. 

They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.

“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”

Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.

Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.

“About ready?” 

The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”

A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea. 

“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”

Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.

“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”

The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.

“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.

“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most. 

“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”

Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”

Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands. 

You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.

“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap. 

Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty. 

You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up. 

Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs. 

“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.

“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless. 

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks. 

“Yes sir.”

“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.” 

He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”

You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon. 

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh. 

You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next. 

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak. 

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further. 

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better. 

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth. 

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.” 

He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority. 

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag. 

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live. 

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.

Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.

He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.

He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.

Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone? 

Does it matter?

Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him. 

He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown. 

“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”

The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.

Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.

“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”

It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?

Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.

“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”

Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“May I train with you today?”

Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder. 

“Why?”

The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.

“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”

Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you. 

Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression. 

“I already have. For everything.”

There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly. 

Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?” 

The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod. 

“I love you.”

I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.

“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”

“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”

And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.

“Do you trust me?”

This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.

“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm. 

“Do you love me?”

You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs. 

“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”

You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit. 

“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.

Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.

“War is on the horizon.”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love. 

You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.

Just the way you like it.

“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”

For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.

“Do I sense disagreement?”

Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.

You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.

You certainly have.

“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does. 

“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”

The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.

“Look at me.”

Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.

“What do you think I should do with him?”

Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.

“Kill him, Suguru.” 

Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back. 

Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.

Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.

“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”

A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.

You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #kendall writes

[kierantierney3]

Mason Mount

First part, this is more just an introduction to the characters, seeing how their relationship started. Maybe a bit of a boring one but hopefully you find the others pick up!

Warnings: Fighting, breakup

Background information

Throwback

You first met Mason when your brother was allowed a friend over for dinner one night, you believed that it was love at first sight. You got the biggest crush on him and obviously couldn’t act up on it because he was your brother friend.

You got embarrassed whenever he came over which seemed to be a long, your mum seemed to pick up your crush quickly.

——

When it came to your birthday, your brother begged your parents to let you throw a party. Which they were happy enough to agree to with strict rules set of course.

You were not too bothered with having a party, you would have been happy enough going out for a meal with your family, it was your brother who wanted the party more, inviting his friends and even strangers.

You had a small friendship group who you invited, they came over early to help you get ready for your big day.

“So is Mason here tonight?” Sarah asked, Sarah was your oldest friends, you had met in primary 1 and had become best friends, she was your closest friend, the friend you told everything too, she was the only one in your friendship group who knew about your crush on Mason, which still hadn’t gone away.

“Yes, my brother invited him” you replied trying to stay calm and collected at the fact Mason would be here.

The party was crazy, you barely knew anyone. “Who are these people?” you asked your brother “My friends” he replied he was drunk already you could tell from the way he was acting.

“Hey happy birthday” you heard a voice say you were grabbing yourself a drink, turning around you found Mason stood there. The kitchen was the only room that was half quiet. “Thank you” you replied feeling yourself getting red, at least you could blame it on the warm environment.

“So how are you feeling?, finally legal and 18” he asked “Good, can’t say this party is really for me though, i don’t think i even know half of these people” you replied “Well if it helps neither do i, guessing it’s some of his Uni friends” Mason didn’t go to Uni he was given the opportunity to become a footballer which was his childhood dream, meanwhile your brother went to Uni to do a 4 year course.

You and Mason stood in the kitchen speaking for a once, you had never spoken to him by himself and for so long. You never realised how nice he actually was.

At once point you got lost in his eyes, and leaned in for a kiss, which he kissed back before pulling away “We shouldn’t have done that, your my best friends sister” he said getting angry, you were embarrassed leaving the kitchen and past the people at the party heading up stairs to your bedroom.

Fuck why did you do that, you couldn’t even blame it on the fact you were drunk, you had only had a couple drinks. You were embarrassed, yes you may of had a crush on him but you were never going to act up on it.

You heard a knock on the door, “y/n let me in please” it was Mason you really didn’t want to let him in, you stayed quiet hoping he would leave but of course he didn’t knocking again before telling you he was coming in and before making a move he was in your bedroom.

“Look i shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you i’m sorry” he said “It’s ok” you replied “No it was rude of me” he said “No seriously it’s ok, it’s embarrassing for me, i never should have kissed you even if i had a crush your my brother friend it’s fine” You replied quickly realising what you revealed to him.

It was silent “I know you do” he revealed to you “How?” you asked “You were always quite obviously with it” he said, you always thought you did well to hid it, clearly not. “And your mum told me” What the heck? Your mum told him “Told me to be nice to you as you had a crush” he explained, you were so embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry” you said as this point in time you wanted the ground to swallow you up. “Don’t be” he replied.

——

That was the last of that chat. The next was Mason birthday he was turning 21. Both you and your brother had been invited.

It was a big party, he had invited some of his Chelsea teammates, derby teammates and some of the england u21 players.

You didn’t know much people at the party, so your plan was too turn up show your face then leave after about 2 hours.

At least that was your plan which definitely didn’t happen. Mason made sure to stick by your side the whole time even though it was his birthday.

“So i have a question for you?” Mason asked “yes?” you hated questions like this at least if it was over messages you had time to think of an answer.

“What will it take for you to go out on a date with me?” he asked you, you were shocked, Mason asking you out of an date, “Maybe just ask me?” you replied you never expected this.

“Well then y/n will you go on a date with me?” he asked with a big smile on his face. “Of course i will” you replied, you couldn’t wait to get home to tell Sarah, you just knew how happy she would be for you.

——

Part 1 is finished. The next part is the break up this was most of a throwback to show you how there relationship started.

#football #football imagine #football imagines #footballers #footballer #football x reader #premier league #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount #man utd imagine #manchester utd #manchester united #footballer x reader #football fanfic

[ghcstcd]

Omega lounging like a big cat. stretched out. big yawns. purring like a motor. full ceecher...

#the ghost breakdancing beside you #vent in tags #look I may have been fucked up over everything #like legit triggered by the situation of being called what I was because I chose design one character (omega) as I did #but no. I love him. I'm not changing him. Especially because those people are hopefully not following now #if they are following still then. Well. Congrats? You triggered a traumatized mentally ill person who you know nothing about #and accused them of something that's related to their years of trauma #so cool...congrats #I bounce back a little stronger each time

[timelord-of-the-moon]

.

#okay so this may look like a vent post but its not everything is fune #fine #well actually ive been working 65 hour work weeks the past few weeks and have another one coming up so not realy but im well adjusted #but anyways #my actors on my current show are hilarious #the show is lehman trilogy which is a 3 hour long show about capitalism that makes no points and is very pretentious #anyways this would have been a terrible experience if my actors werent so fucking great to be around #and also i had to actually take over the assistant stage manager position of this show from someone #and she was kind of a brat when she was teaching me stuff and didnt tell me everything so #anyways #this is kind of vulgar but one of my actors is sick and the others were like asking him what he can and cant do #and hes like i cant have sex and idk how they got to this but he was like but i do still have myself from time to time #as in masterb*tion #that started this whole thing where they keep on saying having myself / have yourself #and its the fucking funnest goddamn thing to me honestly #i aint never heard someone reffer to masterb*tion as having yourself #during our intermissions they kept on saying lines from the show but chaging things to having youself #like one line is now if you'll excuse me i must take my leave #now if you'll excuse me I'll go have myself #and i have this problem where when im alone i say a lot of things under my breath and i keep on saying varations of phrase with have youself #it's an earworm honestly i cant stop thinking about it #so fucking funny to me

[kenobihater]

the last remaining threads of my sanity are slipping through my fingers rn 🚬 😑

#i'm out of cigarettes i'm incredibly ill and i'm reconsidering my relationship to a certain fandom. #look i'm NOT saying i'm gonna stop the divorce proceedings but uh. fuck. i may have been re reading some of my older works and unfinished #fics and i MAY. i repeat MAY. have some tiny shred of interest posting about st*r w*rs again #motherfucker i'm SO hesitant to speak that into existence and will be absolutley APOPLECTIC if it happens bc i don't fucking WANNA like sw! #i divorced it! i took the kids (my ocs) & filed a restraining order & crossed state lines & broke all contact and yet! and fucking yet!!!! #i find myself in tags i havent visited in over two years on the archive like some beaten dog slinking back home to a shitty master #i honestly hate like. fucking ALL of the shit i've written from then that i reread and some of it was so bad i couldnt even bring myself to #click on it after reading the summary. like. UGH! i have a half baked fic idea i wrote a little for and i think it's more compelling than #any of the literal dogshit i posted back then so i MIGHT work on polishing that up and posting something that isn't actual garbage by my #current standards. all of this is still up in the air tho bc i dont know if the hyperfixation or even the bare minimum lvl of interest has #returned or if it's just fever induced delirium. i've been having INCREDIBLY fucked up bad horrible awful vivid dreams as of late so fever #induced brain fuckery isn't out of the question. sigh. i'm so mad abt this #even if i do regain some interest in the fandom i don't think i'll have any interest in new source material after the mando s2 finale & #tbo.bf sucking ass & the obi show being mid & everything with the ST. i plan on watching ando.r but after that? zero interest in anything #new from sw. so. if anyone still reading this and is getting excited abt me POSSIBLY MAYBE being interested in sw just know i still hate it #a bit and feel like i'm being dragged kicking and screaming back into this mess unwillingly. or it's due to a fever. god i need a smoke #len speaks #that's literally the longest tag rant i've ever gone on. fuck that's a BAD sign

[tardis--dreams]

I may have hit an all time low mental health wise but I'm being so chill about it

#just randomly tearing up/crying for like 30 seconds before i tell myself #no. it's not worth crying about it. you keep those tears inside your body! #my life might be falling apart right in front of me after i tried moderately hard to prevent that from happening #but i refuse to cry about it (more than i am in these random 30 seconds of intense existential despair washing over me) #i need a plan for the future. #step one. get degree. hopefully achieved by may #step 2. apply for internships and jobs #step 2.2. find job to earn money before getting an actual job #(i think my professor changed her mind and doesn't want to keep me as her assistant after all #i haven't heard anything back for ages and the contract was supposed to start again in may #so. let's see if i find something else) #step 3. leave this godforsaken town and university and never look back. don't think about what could have been #don't think about academic work ever again. just let go. it's not worth it #step 4. try to make life less miserable somehow lmao. (optional) #i want to tell my mother about this fucked up situation #just so i don't have to hide it anymore and pretend things are going as planned #but i can't #oh well #I'll probably end up without any courses this semester so I'll just rot away in this ugly apartment #i hate everything and everyone istg. but it's chill. i'm so. chill. about. this. #(yeah no i don't usually use that word that often. or. ever tbh. just another indicator just how chill things are.) #void screams

[captainshadowshifter]

Yknow, I think there should be like. A similar kind of general rule with rollercoasters and thrill rides that there is with drinking - know your limits

#tw vomit #example of this? #yesterday when we were waiting to go on galactica (air it will forever be called air to me) #some ppl a couple rides ahead of us threw up after the ride stopped. #in the bit where you just dangle for a bit waiting to go into the station to get off the ride #now. air rlly isnt that intense. its pretty damn chill. but if youve been going on like nemesis and the smiler and oblivion all day? yeah. #it was. EVERYWHERE. all over the floor. i may be dramatising this but thats how it looks to someone with a bigass phobia of it #i have never gotten off a rollercoaster so fast in my life (i fucking love rollercoasters i hate getting off them) #ON THE FLIPSIDE kiwi doesnt have as strong a stomach as i do. but they are aware of it #when they started feeling nauseous (thx blade lol) they told me and we sat for a while before going on any more rides #drank water n shit #and guess what? they were COMPLETELY FINE #i think what im tryna say here is like. YES you wanna get on everything before it closes. but always remember to put your health first #bc that shit can ruin your whole day and everyone elses around you #... on a side note i went on oblivion again for the first time in 8 years and. NOPE. NO THANK YOU. NOT GOING ON IT AGAIN TIL 2032 THANK YOU

[thebibliosphere]

So, anyway, I say as though we are mid-conversation, and you're not just being invited into this conversation mid-thought. One of my editors phoned me today to check in with a file I'd sent over. (<3)

The conversation can be surmised as, "This feels like something you would write, but it's juuuust off enough I'm phoning to make sure this is an intentional stylistic choice you have made. Also, are you concussed/have you been taken over by the Borg because ummm."

They explained that certain sentences were very fractured and abrupt, which is not my style at all, and I was like, huh, weird... And then we went through some examples, and you know that meme going around, the "he would not fucking say that" meme?

Yeah. That's what I experienced except with myself because I would not fucking say that. Why would I break up a sentence like that? Why would I make them so short? It reads like bullet points. Wtf.

Anyway. Turns out Grammarly and Pro-Writing-Aid were having an AI war in my manuscript files, and the "suggestions" are no longer just suggestions because the AI was ignoring my "decline" every time it made a silly suggestion. (This may have been a conflict between the different software. I don't know.)

It is, to put it bluntly, a total butchery of my style and writing voice. My editor is doing surgery, removing all the unnecessary full stops and stitching my sentences back together to give them back their flow. Meanwhile, I'm over here feeling like Don Corleone, gesturing at my manuscript like:

ID: a gif of Don Corleone from the Godfather emoting despair as he says, "Look how they massacred my boy."

Fearing that it wasn't just this one manuscript, I've spent the whole night going through everything I've worked on recently, and yep. Yeeeep. Any file where I've not had the editing software turned off is a shit show. It's fine; it's all salvageable if annoying to deal with. But the reason I come to you now, on the day of my daughter's wedding, is to share this absolute gem of a fuck up with you all.

This is a sentence from a Batman fic I've been tinkering with to keep the brain weasels happy. This is what it is supposed to read as:

"It was quite the feat, considering Gotham was mostly made up of smog and tear gas."

This is what the AI changed it to:

"It was quite the feat. Considering Gotham was mostly made up. Of tear gas. And Smaug."

Absolute non-sensical sentence structure aside, SMAUG. FUCKING SMAUG. What was the AI doing? Apart from trying to write a Batman x Hobbit crossover??? Is this what happens when you force Grammarly to ignore the words "Batman Muppet threesome?"

Did I make it sentient??? Is it finally rebelling? Was Brucie Wayne being Miss Piggy and Kermit's side piece too much???? What have I wrought?

Anyway. Double-check your work. The grammar software is getting sillier every day.

#autocorrect writes the plot #I uninstalled both from my work account #the enshittification of this type of software through the integration of AI has made them untenable to use #not even for the lulz

[downfallofi]

The incredible depression of like, it doesnt matter where you go, there you are.

#Real talk Ive been telling myself I wanna look at maybe moving on in a year or two #Because like the bickering the drama the actual borderline abuse and just all of it #Its a lot #But like #It feels like it doesnt matter #That nothing matters #That it doesnt matter where I go #Ive bounced around for over a decade almost two at this point #And everything always falls apart #This? Tonight? fucking yet again wanting to cry in the kitchen because I fucked something up? #This may honestly be the best I can get #Anywhere #At any time #And Ive lost so many friends and lost everything I ever had and now I just feel like #I dont have a fucking right to inflict myself on anywhere or anyone else #Because it doesnt matter where I go it just... isnt going to fit #and i dont think ill ever be able to make it fit #Sorry #Depressing tags are depressing #Long tags are long #S been that kind of night #Long post nobody read